Burning hot gasp a daze
Yowling growls of strays
Fan in a box at my knees
whipping up weak breeze
It does nothing for bubbling
Itching sweat sticking of my skin
Still I scorch outside
Grin and scribble
And bide my time
Counting the days
'Til my next pay
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Fma-naruto chapter 21
The sun is higher in the sky, and the toe cramp is no better in his left foot as he stands frozen in mid step. His muscles still refuse his mental commands, and Ed keeps his glare carefully aimed at the rather large stump as he hears the crunch of foot steps around him. If he could frown, he would have already, beginning soon after his stomach rumbled its displeasure near his rib cage. At the moment, the low growl of anger bubbling in his throat is nearly as loud.
Occasionally a pair of sandaled feet breaks his rather bland view of the world, and sometimes the body they belong to scrunches low to allow a curious face to float by. He ignores them all.
He runs the story relayed by that Shikamaru, that he somehow managed to destroy a building, (ok, ONLY half a building, big whoop), through his mind. He recalls many such buildings he destroyed in the course of performing his duties. Hutchinson's castle. What a blast that was. Laboratory 5. Not entirely his fault, that. Then there was that stupid church in Liore which he didn't technically destroy, per se, just half transmuted into a statue. So what. At the time he was righteously pissed.
Try as he might, he finds no memory of doing any such demolition in the place stupidly called "Sand".
Sure, he knows he's beaten people up in his sleep, but to have no recollection of doing it? Especially when he could only dismantle something that big with.. With..
...Alchemy?
He blinks, wondering at his mental tripping over the very word that is as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. With a mental shrug, he attributes the slip up to his overloaded mind.
..And of that Temari's promises! He is still fukken a prisoner. Or a slave. Like...
He feels his skin crawl in revulsion as he recalls the cold look that bastard poor excuse of a father, Hohemheim, gave him as the door closed on their lives together. He shoves the memory back where it belongs.
Ed wiped at his forehead as he sat on the log by the campfire, and looked blankly over at the slums the Ishvallans had built and settled in. Every wooden plank of the squashed together structures seemed to add to the fleeting hope of the place which gave them shelter for the night. He ignored the older blond looking at him for the time being, and flexed the joints of his false right hand as he seriously considered punching the bastard's face once more.
It wasn't as if it would hurt the immortal bastard.
Well not that much anyway.
Four hundred years. Ed thinks. So. The old bastard is a stone? From Xerxies. I'm fukken Xerxian?
And Al is Xerxian, too..?
He narrows his eyes at the awful features that his own face is beginning to resemble. The wide forehead. The prominent nose. The strong jaw line and that chin which supported a thick..
Wait. What happened to the bastard's freakken beard..? Come to think of it, the guy sitting there doesn't look a thing like the old bastard...
"Brother.."
AL!! He immediately screams in his mind. The sweet sound of that welcome voice would have his head swiveling for the source if he could move. Instead, he burns holes into the stupidly huge tree stump that suddenly reappears before him like a mirage. He lowers his brows, and vaguely wonders if he's feverish.
Well, it would certainly explain much. His eyes are certainly playing tricks on him lately. First those dancing arrays at the edges of his vision, and now this.
He squeezes his eyes shut as an unwelcome hand settles on the top of his head, and the world begins to twist off to the right.
Alchemy.
He sees through his pudgy fingers, and gazes at the millions of stars dancing through the void above his head.
He sees the broken bits of steel at his feet, and stares blankly at the shattered blood seal that once housed his precious brother's soul. His best friend is gone. His only family. May looks up at him with a tear streaked face, shoulders hitching with every breath.
"I'm sorry..!" She says brokenly as wipes her eyes.
"It wasn't your fault" he hears himself reply. "It was Al's choice."
He focuses his mind on grasping for a solution, eyes sweeping to the familiar and unfamiliar faces surrounding him in the rubble of Central. Never stop thinking, he thinks. He lingers his gaze on Hawkeye, who's hopeful face is huddled close to the ear of the blinded Colonel. She gives him an encouraging nod that the blind man can't see to give.
"Dammit, Fullmetal..status!" He hears the man call out. "Report to me now! What the hell is going on?"
He hears ecstatic cheers of "we won!" in the distance, but the faces on soldiers closest to him show at least some realize how very hallow the victory really is. Someone else will fill the blind bastard in, and he lingers his gaze on Hawkeye. She nods and speaks softly into the Colonel Bastard's ear as she helps him to stand.
"One life for another. That's equivalent trade." He hears Hohemheim say with a cracked voice. "I've been such a lousy father to you, that I owe you both that much.."
"No." Ed hears himself snap, "Don't. Listen. Al wouldn't want..."
One glance of Hohemheim's face, and on impulse, he slaps his palms together. At the same instant the bastard reaches out for the remains. He sees red lightening dance up Hohemheim's outstretched fingers as the great eye opens beneath them both, and he grimaces. He knows he just managed to match the old bastard's speed. He feels the tiny hairs on his arms rise in alarm as the tiny black hands rise up around them, and offers up no resistance as his body is taken apart molecule by molecule.
He hears someone cry out in pain. He sees a long blond ponytail flying high in the elderich wind just before his irises completely deconstruct and he leaves the world.
Instead of the timeless white, Ed feels quivering fingers in his scalp. He frowns as the hand on top of his head lifts, and opens his eyes to unexpected blackness. He jerks his shoulders, and feels his arms pinned to his sides.
There is no point in yelling out, so he scowls his displeasure instead.
"Well..?" Ed hears in muffled Gibberish somewhere behind him. It a few moments later that he recognizes the voice as Shikamaru's. He grits his teeth against several moments of clanking noises filling his ears. The sound is suspiciously like metal bits drilling their way into his skull.
"You alright? What happened, Inoichi?" Another says in Gibberish as a weighty something lifts the darkness from his eyes. Ed squints his eyes against the sheer brightness of the spacious, mostly empty room, and takes in a startled breath. His heart thunders in his chest as he renews his fruitless struggles to free his arms.
He is wedged in the very center of what could be mistaken as a rather large tree stump, and the round shape of it chills him to his core. What array could it be hiding? He thinks. In this room, he doesn't quite sense the subtle hum in his bones that an active array usually produces, but that doesn't mean that being in the possible center of one brings him any sort of comfort.
"Can you understand me?" Someone says in flawless Amestrain. Ed darts his eyes away from the contraption pinning his arms to his sides and stares at the man for several heartbeats. He then scowls and resumes jerking his upper back as much as he can to one side, which admittedly isn't all that much.
"Please stop struggling. You will only tear your own muscles."
Ed flares his nostrils. Being helpless and on display amongst complete strangers is nothing new, but he certainly refuses to put up with it for long.
"Fuck you." Ed growls in reply.
The man who spoke stands before him, holding what looks to be a flat topped helmet in his hands. Blue eyes squinched in pain, his hair is blond, and although the front is spiky, he has the back in a long flowing ponytail that reaches his lower back.
"I ran into something that broke the connection." The blond man says in Gibberish. As he rubs his fingertips at his temple, he closes his eyes. "I was at least able to breach his word bank, so simply speaking with him should be easier. At least for me."
Ed narrows his eyes and warily sweeps his gaze toward the older blond. The jaw line in particular looks far more familiar on the stranger than it should be. He recalls the flash of memory of Ishballan slums; specifically the strange image of the campfire.
His stomach performs a few unsetting back flips as he compares the unbearded companion he saw from moments ago, who had somehow stepped in the place of the old bastard: There is a strong resemblance to the older blond before him. In fact, the two could be twins.
He has no answers for how that can possibly be aside from a mental contusion. Perhaps he really is feverish. He swallows again, and abandons his obviously faulty recollections to grasp the more trustworthy information presented to him thus far in the room.
"You are Inoichi." Ed states in careful Gibberish.
"That's correct." Inoichi says in Amestrain. "Allow me to apologize. Under normal circumstances such extreme measures as this would not have been authorized much less implemented without first performing a simple interrogation."
Ed freezes a moment to chew on the phrase "extreme measures", then turns his head. He glimpses several more figures towering behind him, but not much else.
"Where am I?" Ed asks in Amestrian. "This doesn't look like that Sand village."
Inoichi squats down and rests his hands on the platform of the "stump". From that position, his steady gaze is comfortably eye level, but doesn't quite completely remind him just how small he is.
"That's because it's not. You are the guest of the Intelligence Division of the Allied Shinobi Forces."
"Prisoner more like." Ed snorts.
"Hardly." Inoichi says with a bit of a flinch.
"Some words translate real badly then." Ed drawls and tries to flex his fingers. He feels his fingernails scrape against his thighs, and remembers the small transmutation circle he scratched on his left. He decides the right will have to do now, as he can't remember if the thing completely faded from his skin or not.
"Fair enough." Inoichi says. "Now that we can communicate, I need you to agree to cooperate with us."
"What do I get if I do?"
"If you do not cooperate, we simply reseal you back in the scroll to deal with after the war."
Ed widens his eyes.
"Hold on. Stop right there. I was sealed? In a scroll?"
"Why is that so surprising? I saw that you are not entirely unfamiliar with such methods."
"Prove it." Ed interrupts. "Let me out of this thing, show me that, and I'll... I'll cooperate with you."
Inoichi's brows lower a fraction of a second as he frowns. For a moment Ed holds his breath, but he keeps his gaze on the blue orbs of the older blond.
"Equivalent exchange." Ed adds eagerly as the man's gaze wavers. "Do we have an agreement?"
A heartbeat later, Inoichi nods and directs his gaze to someone behind Ed. In Gibberish, he hears something like: "End the drag of a tree illusion while you're at it. It's giving me a headache."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Occasionally a pair of sandaled feet breaks his rather bland view of the world, and sometimes the body they belong to scrunches low to allow a curious face to float by. He ignores them all.
He runs the story relayed by that Shikamaru, that he somehow managed to destroy a building, (ok, ONLY half a building, big whoop), through his mind. He recalls many such buildings he destroyed in the course of performing his duties. Hutchinson's castle. What a blast that was. Laboratory 5. Not entirely his fault, that. Then there was that stupid church in Liore which he didn't technically destroy, per se, just half transmuted into a statue. So what. At the time he was righteously pissed.
Try as he might, he finds no memory of doing any such demolition in the place stupidly called "Sand".
Sure, he knows he's beaten people up in his sleep, but to have no recollection of doing it? Especially when he could only dismantle something that big with.. With..
...Alchemy?
He blinks, wondering at his mental tripping over the very word that is as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. With a mental shrug, he attributes the slip up to his overloaded mind.
..And of that Temari's promises! He is still fukken a prisoner. Or a slave. Like...
He feels his skin crawl in revulsion as he recalls the cold look that bastard poor excuse of a father, Hohemheim, gave him as the door closed on their lives together. He shoves the memory back where it belongs.
Ed wiped at his forehead as he sat on the log by the campfire, and looked blankly over at the slums the Ishvallans had built and settled in. Every wooden plank of the squashed together structures seemed to add to the fleeting hope of the place which gave them shelter for the night. He ignored the older blond looking at him for the time being, and flexed the joints of his false right hand as he seriously considered punching the bastard's face once more.
It wasn't as if it would hurt the immortal bastard.
Well not that much anyway.
Four hundred years. Ed thinks. So. The old bastard is a stone? From Xerxies. I'm fukken Xerxian?
And Al is Xerxian, too..?
He narrows his eyes at the awful features that his own face is beginning to resemble. The wide forehead. The prominent nose. The strong jaw line and that chin which supported a thick..
Wait. What happened to the bastard's freakken beard..? Come to think of it, the guy sitting there doesn't look a thing like the old bastard...
"Brother.."
AL!! He immediately screams in his mind. The sweet sound of that welcome voice would have his head swiveling for the source if he could move. Instead, he burns holes into the stupidly huge tree stump that suddenly reappears before him like a mirage. He lowers his brows, and vaguely wonders if he's feverish.
Well, it would certainly explain much. His eyes are certainly playing tricks on him lately. First those dancing arrays at the edges of his vision, and now this.
He squeezes his eyes shut as an unwelcome hand settles on the top of his head, and the world begins to twist off to the right.
Alchemy.
He sees through his pudgy fingers, and gazes at the millions of stars dancing through the void above his head.
He sees the broken bits of steel at his feet, and stares blankly at the shattered blood seal that once housed his precious brother's soul. His best friend is gone. His only family. May looks up at him with a tear streaked face, shoulders hitching with every breath.
"I'm sorry..!" She says brokenly as wipes her eyes.
"It wasn't your fault" he hears himself reply. "It was Al's choice."
He focuses his mind on grasping for a solution, eyes sweeping to the familiar and unfamiliar faces surrounding him in the rubble of Central. Never stop thinking, he thinks. He lingers his gaze on Hawkeye, who's hopeful face is huddled close to the ear of the blinded Colonel. She gives him an encouraging nod that the blind man can't see to give.
"Dammit, Fullmetal..status!" He hears the man call out. "Report to me now! What the hell is going on?"
He hears ecstatic cheers of "we won!" in the distance, but the faces on soldiers closest to him show at least some realize how very hallow the victory really is. Someone else will fill the blind bastard in, and he lingers his gaze on Hawkeye. She nods and speaks softly into the Colonel Bastard's ear as she helps him to stand.
"One life for another. That's equivalent trade." He hears Hohemheim say with a cracked voice. "I've been such a lousy father to you, that I owe you both that much.."
"No." Ed hears himself snap, "Don't. Listen. Al wouldn't want..."
One glance of Hohemheim's face, and on impulse, he slaps his palms together. At the same instant the bastard reaches out for the remains. He sees red lightening dance up Hohemheim's outstretched fingers as the great eye opens beneath them both, and he grimaces. He knows he just managed to match the old bastard's speed. He feels the tiny hairs on his arms rise in alarm as the tiny black hands rise up around them, and offers up no resistance as his body is taken apart molecule by molecule.
He hears someone cry out in pain. He sees a long blond ponytail flying high in the elderich wind just before his irises completely deconstruct and he leaves the world.
Instead of the timeless white, Ed feels quivering fingers in his scalp. He frowns as the hand on top of his head lifts, and opens his eyes to unexpected blackness. He jerks his shoulders, and feels his arms pinned to his sides.
There is no point in yelling out, so he scowls his displeasure instead.
"Well..?" Ed hears in muffled Gibberish somewhere behind him. It a few moments later that he recognizes the voice as Shikamaru's. He grits his teeth against several moments of clanking noises filling his ears. The sound is suspiciously like metal bits drilling their way into his skull.
"You alright? What happened, Inoichi?" Another says in Gibberish as a weighty something lifts the darkness from his eyes. Ed squints his eyes against the sheer brightness of the spacious, mostly empty room, and takes in a startled breath. His heart thunders in his chest as he renews his fruitless struggles to free his arms.
He is wedged in the very center of what could be mistaken as a rather large tree stump, and the round shape of it chills him to his core. What array could it be hiding? He thinks. In this room, he doesn't quite sense the subtle hum in his bones that an active array usually produces, but that doesn't mean that being in the possible center of one brings him any sort of comfort.
"Can you understand me?" Someone says in flawless Amestrain. Ed darts his eyes away from the contraption pinning his arms to his sides and stares at the man for several heartbeats. He then scowls and resumes jerking his upper back as much as he can to one side, which admittedly isn't all that much.
"Please stop struggling. You will only tear your own muscles."
Ed flares his nostrils. Being helpless and on display amongst complete strangers is nothing new, but he certainly refuses to put up with it for long.
"Fuck you." Ed growls in reply.
The man who spoke stands before him, holding what looks to be a flat topped helmet in his hands. Blue eyes squinched in pain, his hair is blond, and although the front is spiky, he has the back in a long flowing ponytail that reaches his lower back.
"I ran into something that broke the connection." The blond man says in Gibberish. As he rubs his fingertips at his temple, he closes his eyes. "I was at least able to breach his word bank, so simply speaking with him should be easier. At least for me."
Ed narrows his eyes and warily sweeps his gaze toward the older blond. The jaw line in particular looks far more familiar on the stranger than it should be. He recalls the flash of memory of Ishballan slums; specifically the strange image of the campfire.
His stomach performs a few unsetting back flips as he compares the unbearded companion he saw from moments ago, who had somehow stepped in the place of the old bastard: There is a strong resemblance to the older blond before him. In fact, the two could be twins.
He has no answers for how that can possibly be aside from a mental contusion. Perhaps he really is feverish. He swallows again, and abandons his obviously faulty recollections to grasp the more trustworthy information presented to him thus far in the room.
"You are Inoichi." Ed states in careful Gibberish.
"That's correct." Inoichi says in Amestrain. "Allow me to apologize. Under normal circumstances such extreme measures as this would not have been authorized much less implemented without first performing a simple interrogation."
Ed freezes a moment to chew on the phrase "extreme measures", then turns his head. He glimpses several more figures towering behind him, but not much else.
"Where am I?" Ed asks in Amestrian. "This doesn't look like that Sand village."
Inoichi squats down and rests his hands on the platform of the "stump". From that position, his steady gaze is comfortably eye level, but doesn't quite completely remind him just how small he is.
"That's because it's not. You are the guest of the Intelligence Division of the Allied Shinobi Forces."
"Prisoner more like." Ed snorts.
"Hardly." Inoichi says with a bit of a flinch.
"Some words translate real badly then." Ed drawls and tries to flex his fingers. He feels his fingernails scrape against his thighs, and remembers the small transmutation circle he scratched on his left. He decides the right will have to do now, as he can't remember if the thing completely faded from his skin or not.
"Fair enough." Inoichi says. "Now that we can communicate, I need you to agree to cooperate with us."
"What do I get if I do?"
"If you do not cooperate, we simply reseal you back in the scroll to deal with after the war."
Ed widens his eyes.
"Hold on. Stop right there. I was sealed? In a scroll?"
"Why is that so surprising? I saw that you are not entirely unfamiliar with such methods."
"Prove it." Ed interrupts. "Let me out of this thing, show me that, and I'll... I'll cooperate with you."
Inoichi's brows lower a fraction of a second as he frowns. For a moment Ed holds his breath, but he keeps his gaze on the blue orbs of the older blond.
"Equivalent exchange." Ed adds eagerly as the man's gaze wavers. "Do we have an agreement?"
A heartbeat later, Inoichi nods and directs his gaze to someone behind Ed. In Gibberish, he hears something like: "End the drag of a tree illusion while you're at it. It's giving me a headache."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Fma-naruto crossover..chapter 20
It isn't long before Ed feels the drag of his lids. It feels as though the thin membrane is at least a ton or so weight, and he settles a sort of squint towards the three people gabbing on and on in Gibberish before him. The harried words flow past his ears much like so much mist, and he finds he couldn't care less that his tiny toehold grasp of the linguistic "code" slips away more and more as he props himself up stubbornly by the bathroom door.
He smells the lingering sickly sweet wafting in the air, and recalls the sharpness of the poisoned blades that recently hovered over his head. More than that, he swallows as his gaze drifts to the hooded "Kankuro", sitting on the monstrosity of a couch. He recalls the relaxed ease that this "Temari" and "Stinkamaru" had to their gait as they entered to such a sight. Temari's tone contained a bit of a scolding note to it, as though Kankuro often played such nasty tricks on passersby or something.
For his own amusement, Ed muses darkly.
As the three are busily yakking, Ed drags his gritty eyes to bathroom door and mentally debates the relative merits a quick splash of water on his face would bring.
He decides the fix would be far too temporary, and shifts onward to the tiny round windows shining brightly high on the wall. His gaze settling there proves to be a mistake, as he calculates the glassy openings far too small for even his body to squeeze through. Painfully stabbed with cheery sunlight, his eyes water with each leaden blink, and when fleeting equations shine at the edges of his sight, he knows he's far more tired than he realized. He knuckles the annoyance of a liquid away, and huffs heavily to hold in the yawn that reminds him ever more of his fatigue.
He smacks his own forehead with his fisted hand, belatedly hating himself for ever thinking himself as "small", and thankfully, the jab awakens both himself and the lingering throb of his broken nose. He thinks he'll have to resort to stabbing his own eyelids open with those damnable sticks these people use to eat with long before he'll feel anywhere near safe enough in here to ever allow himself to droop away properly.
He assesses that those three don't look to be about to leave anytime soon, and mulls over the remaining option as he studies the floor.
He was assured he wasn't a slave or a prisoner by this Temari person, and he knows the wakefulness he feels certainly won't last long at all. He has no choice but to find someplace else: there has to be someplace somewhere he can feel somewhat safe enough to sleep.
His hand twists the knob of the easiest exit by the time his name is called, and he's past the threshold a heartbeat later.
He rubs at his eyes as he walks, but the mirage doesn't completely fade. He supposes if he weren't so tired, he'd be way more weirded-out at seeing the things actually leaking forth from his brain.
Head down, he shoves his hands into his pockets as he strides, allowing a portion of his mind to devour one of the shining equations floating in the persistent hallucination. He puzzles over the coils of power that elegantly re-enforce the stabilizing runes, and just as he works out what the overall design is for, the inner circle abruptly shatters apart.
He blearily blinks several moments, making a study of the many cracks on ground under his mismatched sandaled feet.
He finds by a painful cramp that his weight is on his living toes, body precariously balanced between one step an another. He tries to move, but his body refuses to answer. He can see he faces a rather large stump of a tree. The curtain of his long bangs obscures his view of everything else.
Fingers wave too close to his face, and he growls, longing to jerk his head back. He breathes in, smelling the tang of ozone. He squeezes his eyes shut at a sudden sharp bitterness on his tongue, and instinctively scrapes the surface of his taste buds with his teeth.
"...we found him passed out in the hall." Shikamaru says somewhere far behind him. Ed narrows his eyes and peers down at his shadow. It's a shade darker than it should be this early in the morning. "We couldn't just leave him there, so we moved him. He was completely out even while being carried, and still out a day later."
"Sure he's not a Nara?" Someone quipped.
"Bother. Shut it. The Kazekage ordered us to move out. As everyone else was busy, an academy student was sent. I wouldn't agree with the kid's drag of a method, but the worst of the damage to Suna happened soon after."
"Care to explain?"
"The student ran in from tossing kunai's at practice, and came up with the drag of an idea that holding a kunai to a throat would really wake anyone up."
"Oooooh."
"The drag of it is, Ed here somehow blew apart half of the Kazekaze's tower, and most of the street."
Ed widened his eyes. How..?
"..w-without chakra?"
"..Without having access to any chakra." Shikamaru confirmed.
"And Gaara let him live..?"
"Apparently, no one was killed in the incident, not even the prankster. Any way, since we previously confirmed he had some sort of involvement with the Akatsuki, Gaara ordered him sealed until the Alliance could question him. Mr. Yamanaka. His language skills are not the best."
"Understood."
"Byakuban!" A unfamiliar male voice says beside him, close enough that he supposes the voice and the waving fingers belong to the same person. "Your assessment?"
"Near as I can tell? He's sleep walking." Shikamaru replies. "See his face..? Blank and..."
"Not anymore." Fingers says in interruption. "He indeed, has very little chakra, but as I can judge by the trickle of energy, he's very much awake."
ooooo
A/N- I was stuck as to how to approach this. Sorry for the confusing abruptness, but there is a good reason. And I couldn't figure out any other way to get Ed to the ninja war camp setting without him going completely ooc. You'll find out exactly what happened to dear Eddie in further updates, and besides, after all that hard work, he needed a nap.
ooooo
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Monday, August 15, 2011
Rotten poem..
A/N: Today is technically Monday, so by the schedule, I should provide you all a lousy stinkin' poem to read and enjoy.
Well 1 out of 2 ain't bad..
ooooo
I look over my precious collections,
Of which contains all my recollections,
Of the vast and growing,
Mostly vapid, and yet moving,
All provided by the media,
My oh so messy and useless trivia.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Crickets...
When I woke up from an afternoon's slumber, I was startled by the ringing of my phone. I looked to the screen with bleary eyes, but for all the good it did to learn to read anything, for the life of me I just couldn't make out what that little square of light was saying to me. I gazed at it for a good while, mind a complete void, when I say movement off to the side of me.
I looked over, and lowered my brows.
There, on the surface of the little wooden box I happen to use as a side table, was a amassed small army. Hundreds of six-legged, antennae bearing, brown jumpers looked on, and all of which were lined up in neat little rows. They marched along as though they were another species altogether.
I watched owlishly as they moved across the rough plank and on up the drab wall, where their shiny bodies darted into a rather deep crack above my head and vanished from my sight.
Creepy little faces stared, mocking me, for the duration of the insectoid parade. I swear I can still see every insectual smirk when I close my lids.
You can hear them right? Chirping away somewhere between the beginning of one wall and the ending of another?
Crickets.
I suppose they usually are quite happy to sing about dust and cobwebs. I should warn you that today the creaking churrups will likely be quite different.
Oh. That's right. I haven't told you, have I? What should likely be the dreadful cause of a future crickety symphony?
Upon every one of their brown bulbous backs, tucked neatly betwixt their long and spike-covered back legs, were the very letters that composed this day's posting.
I don't have the foggiest how the awful things managed to smuggle the bits of data from the computer file.
And that is why I haven't got today's post for you all to see.
Yep.
Crickets.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
I looked over, and lowered my brows.
There, on the surface of the little wooden box I happen to use as a side table, was a amassed small army. Hundreds of six-legged, antennae bearing, brown jumpers looked on, and all of which were lined up in neat little rows. They marched along as though they were another species altogether.
I watched owlishly as they moved across the rough plank and on up the drab wall, where their shiny bodies darted into a rather deep crack above my head and vanished from my sight.
Creepy little faces stared, mocking me, for the duration of the insectoid parade. I swear I can still see every insectual smirk when I close my lids.
You can hear them right? Chirping away somewhere between the beginning of one wall and the ending of another?
Crickets.
I suppose they usually are quite happy to sing about dust and cobwebs. I should warn you that today the creaking churrups will likely be quite different.
Oh. That's right. I haven't told you, have I? What should likely be the dreadful cause of a future crickety symphony?
Upon every one of their brown bulbous backs, tucked neatly betwixt their long and spike-covered back legs, were the very letters that composed this day's posting.
I don't have the foggiest how the awful things managed to smuggle the bits of data from the computer file.
And that is why I haven't got today's post for you all to see.
Yep.
Crickets.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Fma-naruto crossover 19 continued...
The flash of guilt is soon overwhelmed by a heavy scowl.
ooooo
"No." Temari swings her arm out. "Shut that door."
"Yeah. Got it." Kankuro drawls extending a single forefinger from where he leans on the far wall. Ed widens his eyes as he watches the door to sanctuary obey with a slam.
"I don't believe for a moment that your don't follow exactly everything of what we are saying." Temari says.
Ed stomps, fully intending to kick that damned door in, but pauses as a faint glittering of something catches his attention. He turns his head a little as if to answer Temari, and narrows his eyes at the glimmering strands of-- is that energy?-- he can see extending out from a space of empty air. The threads resemble the flow of an active array but lack all of the underlying structure. The more he tries to analyze it, the more it flies in the face of the science he knows.
The odd effect may be based on some sort of air array, he thinks. Figures. The one field of alchemy I haven't bothered much with.
The focus of the energy strands shift very subtly. Almost all of them point to the doll on one end. No. Puppet. And the other end seems to gather like it's converging...
"Is Fact: I can't." Ed replies in halfhearted Gibberish as a working theory forms in his mind: If the source is really human shaped, much like a mirror of the so called "Lord Kankuro" crouched down by the door is, then the calculation for the skull should place it roughly..
Ed is careful not to grin.
"Convenient is it? That you pick up a book and..suddenly can speak with us?" Temari snarls.
Instead, Ed scowls as he turns. At the same time, he flicks out his right fist. His knuckles slam with a satisfying meaty thunk onto the nothing. An "OOPH" and a swirling flicker of colors later, Kankuro's painted jaw appears: in the flesh. The sight of the jerk's face smashed bloody against his curled fingers has Ed smiling savagely, and he calmly checks his knuckles over the body slumps to the ground.
Somehow, the possibility of being poisoned feels so worth it.
Ed leans over to prone form as he hears a startled gasp behind him.
"For "small"." Ed says in a low hiss, and smoothly steps over the dark dressed body. He pivots suddenly on his living toes and punches again, aiming into the softness of placid kidneys. He is rewarded with a loud, pained grunt.
"And "dwarf"." Ed snaps as he shifts back to a balanced stance. He flicks his eyes the others in the room.
Temari's face twists with rage, and she darts two steps forward. Ed scowls her way, and she pauses with a calculated look to her dark green eyes.
"I pay what I owe." Ed says as way of explanation. He sees Shikamaru grasp Temari's forearm, and only when he sees her turn her head, does he take the remaining steps to the bathroom door.
ooooo
"We're getting nowhere here." Shikamaru says. Temari frowns as she helps Kankuro to sit up. His legs wobble, and he settles with them splayed out on either side before him.
"You think?.." Temari snaps.
"No. No. There was something." Kankuro says as he works his jaw back into place.
"What. Fear of puppets?" Temari demands.
"Not exactly." Kankuro says as the toilet flushes. He rubs his injured jaw. "What a punch. Sure he doesn't have chakra?"
The door creaks open, and Kankuro watches as Temari rises to tower over the short blonde. Ed's fierce golden eyes never waver from hers as he stands in the doorway, and Kankuro slides his eyes to his elder sister's hands as waves and waves of her killing intent spill over him.
"You were asked specific questions, regarding this scrap of cloth." Shikamaru says, breaking the tense silence. "Tell us."
Ed sighs, and slides his hands to grip his elbows.
"Said you yet. I up for sale. Saw two wide straw hats wearing cloaks with red cloud sitting with others."
"And..?" Temari snarls.
Ed shrugs.
"Fuzzy. Much very sick. Can no walk. No. Barely. Walk." Ed says, and pushes up sleeve to finger the tattoo. "Woke with these next day. Much fuzzy. Think next day. More days..no. Weeks.."
Ed frowns and looks off, then shakes his head.
"You mean to say you got sold?" Shikamaru says.
"Then why were you there with the others and.." Temari adds.
Ed shrugs, and shifts his weight as he glares back at Temari.
"Better be question. Who want sick slave?" Ed frowns, and runs one hand through his hair. "Should dead. Where I come of slaver would dump body."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Fma naruto crossover chapter 19
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The sun is nearing the horizon when Gaara makes the decision, clasps his hands behind his back and breathes in a deep breath.
He gazes out of the window, looking over his Suna, but keeps his face rigid within an unreadable mask of sand. Behind him, through the reflection on the glass, he can see Temari standing with folded arms. Beside her stands a slouching Shikamaru Nara.
"I am the Kazekage." He says solemnly. "Only one of five Kages that this matter truly concerns. I have heard both of your arguments."
"Shikamaru Nara." Gaara says, and watches the chunin pause, looking up from the open scroll in his hand.
"You have succeeded in convincing me." Gaara shifts his gaze to his sister, and watches as the corners of her mouth tug downward in clear disapproval. "You are correct. I find it true that Temari's recommendation would have be much like the late Danzo Shimuro's way."
Shikamaru bobs his head.
"However, there is a condition that must be met for the sake of the Alliance."
"What a drag. More seals?" Shikamaru drawls. "He's already so covered in seals, that no one here can figure out how they interact, much less what they do to him."
"That is not necessarily what I have in mind. I judge the golden one to be a foreigner. All indications I have personally witnessed thus far show he knows nothing of the ways of shinobi. In short: This is not his war.
"He may prove useful. However, at this time, we know as much about him as we do the plans of the Akatsuki." Gaara turns and looks steadily at Shikamaru. "As he is somehow involved with our enemies, we need that remedied."
"What a bother..."
ooooo
Ed mulls to himself that what Matsuri called a "library" proved to be something of a disappointment. The place was small, and barely much more than a cupboard. The walls were covered in dusty shelves that reached from floor to ceiling, and stuffed in every cubby space were piles of rolled up paper scrolls. After shuffling through a dozen or so piles, he had indeed found two thick books.
Both happened to be chained up to the walls as though they were slaves about to run off.
He had browsed about a quarter through one tome when one of his escorts had the gall to shut the covers on him. He graced the med-nin with a glare, but the overly cheery girl immediately said something that sounded to be about food.
That was when he realized his stomach was roaring. The meal that followed was, as always, a strange one with a side of long noodles.
As Ed drags his tired feet over the threshold of the guest quarters, intent on aiming for most of the mattress as he collapses, he can only stare blearily at the unwelcome sight sitting on the room's newest addition.
The poor excuse of a couch, somehow squeezed in next to the mattress and the low bookcase, is bad enough. The behemoth of a piece dominates the room, and on it, dark eyes looking right at him, slouches "Pride." He tells himself that the only reason he doesn't outright attack the creature is because of "Not!Sheska".
No. "Matsuri" he reminds himself.
Yep. It's her fault.
He watches owlishly as she ducks her head in Pride's direction and turns her face back his way with a great grin plastered on.
"Ed. This is Shikamaru Nara. Mr. Nara, this is Ed."
Ed blinks a slow blink, and stares some more at Pride as he wills his mind to work.
"You one of shadow who took, and I wake to chains in hated place."
"Huh. Uh. Hated place?"
"Hospital." Ed waves one hand. "Hate hospitals."
"Ah." Pride leans his elbows on his knees. "Don't like them much myself."
The tone of voice is highly polite, and before his brain can properly analyze it further, Matsuri nods to someone. Ed turns his head to see who.
"I see you have met Mr. Nara. He is our guest like your are, and will be staying in here with you." Not!Riza- "Temari" says. He firmly reminds himself of her name as his gaze glides over the four ponytails.
"Your rescue was a joint effort between both of our villages."
"Villages." Ed looks to the headbands, and fiddles with his watch chain attached to a loop at his waist. He remembers that he should really find a better belt than the braided cloth one tied there now, and drags his eyes off of Temari's forehead and stares blandly at the plate tied on Nara's shoulder. "Snail village...?"
"Its a leaf." Matsuri says with a snort. "The symbol of Konohagakure."
Ed narrows his eyes, and supposes it looks sort of like a leaf if he squints at the thing too long. Instead of saying so, he yawns.
"I owe." He says as he looks at Temari as he straightens his sagging shoulders. "Now. Questions I yes?"
"What a drag." Nara whines. "Can't it wait for morning?"
Ed frowns, and drags his eyes longingly to the open door. He hopes Temari can read his unspoken request.
"Considering what the questions will concern, Kankuro will want to be present." Temari says coldly. "Expect him early."
Ed swears silently as his stomach seems to drop to the floor.
oooo
It is late into the night, and all the lights in the guest room are still on.
Shikamaru leans his head back into his clasped hands and studies the brightly lit ceiling from the vantage of the lumpy couch.
He hears the uneven thumps of mismatched footsteps, accompanied by a soft rustling of paper, and follows the short blond with his eyes. By the drag of cold glares he receives from the startling pair of blazing gold irises, he judges that he is, at the very least, an unwelcome guest to these quarters.
The bright lights reveal that the boy's eyes have massive bags under them, indicating days of little sleep, and the bruising of the broken nose adds an almost Tanuki shading to the boy's sockets. No. Not a boy. According to Kankuro, this Ed's in his late teens. The blond restlessly flips through more pages of the books, and abruptly turns away, muttering rather loudly in that non-sense that Shika can't follow.
Shika sighs. The bother of an assignment is to get information, any sort of information, about this foreigner. The drag is, he has to force a friendly sort of interaction with a certainly unfriendly fellow.
"You're keeping me awake."
"No care." Ed growls, and squats at a low bookcase without turning his way. "You no like, you can go."
Shikamaru lowers his arms. The teen is certainly intelligent. It could be a challenge.
"How about a game?"
"Busy." Ed snaps. "You words.."
"...Are better understood if you speak them properly. What a drag. Me telling someone this, but you really need to be practicing speaking with someone." Shikamaru leans his elbows onto his knees as he watches the tenseness of the teen's back. "I want to show you to a favorite game of mine. It's called Shogi."
"Shogi." Golden eyes narrow his way.
After a moment, Ed nods.
Shika proudly brings out his board from his pack, and dumps the tile pieces onto the middle cushion. He points to the far end of the couch, and waves Ed to the tiles.
Ed selects one, still standing, and holds it by the edges between his right thumb and forefinger. As he narrows his golden eyes, peering at the writing, Shika takes in a breath to explain.
The movement is quick. A slap of two palms together followed by a blindingly blue flash of light.
Before he can do a thing, Ed snatches his forearm and slices into the flesh with something in his right hand. Shika squawks at the stinging cut and does his best to kick him off. Ed's grappling hold persists though he squirms mightily.
Blood dribbles out in a heartbeat's time.
"You human." Ed breathes with relief. "All human."
"Of course I'm all human!! What the..! Tell me. What was that about?" Shika shouts as snatches his arm back. He sees the cut is shallow, and covers it with a cloth he finds in his pack. The bleeding stops in a few moments.
Shika watches Ed warily as the teen settles himself at the opposite end of the couch, fierce golden eyes flickering with unguarded astonishment. It's some time later when the teen seems to come to a decision, and lets out a breath.
"We meet. I call you name."
"Pride?" Shikamaru says. "Who's this Pride?"
"Is thing not who. Can do like you did. Shadows. Near word is "beast". " Ed wrinkles his nose. "Demon. Pride thing worse. Smart. Much smart."
"What if I tell you that my whole clan can do things with shadows."
Ed swallows, and blinks a few times. Then he nods with a creeping grin. "Neat trick." Ed then busies his hands with game pieces. "You..ah... villages battle coming. Yes?"
"War."
Ed nods, and fiddles with the tile as he softly tastes the word.
"Yes, so?" Shikamaru prods, taking a game piece himself from the mess on the floor. It happens to be the king, and the narrow end has a curiously sharp taper to it.
The golden eyes flicker his way.
"Hope you no die."
Shikamaru brows nearly touch his hairline, and he places the piece on the game board. Tiles click on Ed's side, and Shika frowns.
"Tell me. Of this, um. "Pride"."
"Uses people." Ed says. "Um. Eats. People. Um..no....worse than "eat"."
"Eats..? People...?"
"Yes." Shika's hands move as if one automatic, placing the tiles in their proper places.
"Tell me, what's worse than a thing eating people.?"
"Your move. Porcupine hair."
Shika looks up from his half-set up side and sees a wide smirk on Ed's pale face. The pieces of tile on his side are all set up in perfect order.
oooo
A/N: ok.. The plot bunny bit me... couldn't resist... a round two....
oooo
The rising sun kisses the dunes when he knocks on the door, but he widens his eyes slightly as the door swings wide, as if opened by a ghost.
Kankuro takes a step forward, and pauses to look about for the guest that was supposed to greet him. This Ed is supposed to be alone in the room, as Temari had come by to be debriefed by Shikamaru barely fifteen minutes ago.
As he turns his head, a fist flies out, striking his exposed painted cheek.
"For. "Small"." Ed bites out angrily, and straightens his spine to adjust his stance from behind the wooden plank of a door. Kankuro raises his hand to his cheek as the blond cups his hands together, and pops his knuckles one by one.
A heartbeat later Ed grasps a firm hold of the front of the dark colored shirt with one hand, and Kankuro widens his eyes. He watches in amazement as the skinny arm not only easily holds his weight aloft, but slams his back to the wall.
The blond cocks his arm back for another blow, and growls "Now "dwarf"."
Kankuro's fingers fly through the signs, and with a poof of smoke, the illusion breaks. He smirks as he settles himself, leaning casually against the far wall well out of the blond's sight.
He never tires of seeing the surprise the body switch spell has, even on seasoned nin, and with the puppet taking the brunt of the short blond's blows, he finds he was more than wise to use such a tactic here. That the puppet, named Crow, happens to have on one of the Akatsuki cloaks Suna had collected from a defeated Sasori is just part of the plan.
After all, what better way is there for Kankuro to glean information on what the short blond knows?
He watches in silence as Ed immediately releases his grip on the cloth and pedals back a few steps. He tilts his head with interest as Ed then narrows his eyes, and breathes in deeply. Then touches his palms together.
ooooo
He sees two pairs of arms rise through the mist, and given his many field assignments, he may be forgiven if his first thoughts of the thing before him gather around the term "chimera".
The hallow clanking he hears, as he ducks beneath the useless strikes of the arms, force him to shove that theory aside. He listens to the incessant clicking of wood against wood, the creaking of many wooden mechanisms, and his brain stumbles to catch up with sudden events.
Lord Kankuro: a puppet?
He chokes down a bitter laugh.
"Stupid." So stupid. "You all stupid as me."
And that is not all. That's not all that he is aware of. There is a distinctive odor that he had smelled earlier coming off of that "Lord Kankuro", and he broke off the righteous smack down because of the alarm he felt over it. He could not quite place the smell at the time, true, but now the sickly sweet sort of odor gave rise to many dark suspicions.
As an Alchemist, he has long heard of poisons, and while working as a field agent, he occasionally ran into them. The worst he found worked by seeping into the bloodstream, sometimes just by contact with bare skin, and it was those times that his automail arm proved to be a real blessing.
The sweet smelling alkaloid, surely dangling off someone else's hemoglobin, is certainly dangerous, but he doesn't have the time to check if his skin is clean of it. The puppet swings about, arms flying wildly with more stupid slapping attacks, Ed quickly determines his best course of action. He flips to his hands, leaping back, kicking out his left leg to keep the bulk of puppet back. His metal toes strike true, and as the wooden body bangs against the far wall, Ed rises to his feet.
He frowns, and watches with widened eyes the two pairs of arms hovering about him in defiance of gravity. At the junction where the shoulder should be on each is a long wicked blade. He crouches low and as far away as he can from the dripping points directed at his vital parts.
"Blood seal..." Ed says in Amestrian. "Where is it.."
He swallows the lump forming in his throat. He knows well that he doesn't have to know where exactly a bloodseal is. He just has to deconstruct the material it is on.
"Kankuro." Ed says in careful Gibberish as he hovers his splayed hands over the floor. "Sorry. You stuck in.." Ed scowl, tries for the word, but settles for.. "..Stupid doll. Bad. I know. No want kill.."
".. Ed?" Temari says behind him.
He doesn't move as he sees her stride into the room, but he feels her slide her glare his way. A heartbeat later she snaps."Kankuro!"
"Hey! He attacked me." Kankuro's voice says across the room. Ed darts his eyes and sees him give a smooth, flesh hosted shrug. He scowls, and feels his ears burn at how easily he was tricked.
"What are you doing?" Shikamaru says in a harsh whisper that makes him jolt.
Ed shoots scowling glare over at Kankuro, and darts his eyes to the arms. Instead of floating, possibly poisoned, blades, he sees thick smoke obscuring the ceiling.
"Tell clownface." Ed shakes out his hands and rises to his feet. "Too old to play with toys."
"As you know, Kankuro is here for a reason. We have questions." Temari says firmly. "About people who wear cloaks like the puppet."
oooo
Kankuro raises his hand and the puppet moves over to slump on the other end of the couch. Ed watches it move with tense shoulders, and Kankuro finds he can't resist making it move in a very life like manner.
For Ed watches it with wary glances as the questions begin.
Mostly, the questions are direct and to the point, asking about both the slavers and Akatsuki. He watches as Ed's jaw sag with rising confusion as between the two of them, Temari and Shikamaru gradually speed up peppering him with query after query. Rather than actually listen much to the increasingly halty answers offered, Kankuro busies himself with his new amusement.
Kankuro finds he enjoys the watching the many conflicting expressions fluttering over the short nothing's face. Disgust wars with relief, dusted over well with hurt, and oddly, with every passing minute, a great underpinning of guilt.
Kankuro frowns at the sudden, long, and loud line of non-sense that the short blond shouts, not understanding a thing except for the highly expressive gestures the boy makes with his arms at the entire room.
"Too." Ed snarls, and frowns and repeats with he eyes squished shut. "Many Too. Wording.."
Kankuro wiggles the puppet closer, and the golden orbs pop open once more in response to the noisy clattering. Kankuro's brows rise as Ed suddenly bolts up as one of the four arms brushes close to the long white sleeve over his arm. He stands, eyes on the puppet, panting aloud for two breaths, before darting his eyes towards the bathroom.
"I go." Ed says evenly, and steps away before another swinging arm can so much as touch him. Kankuro smirks as he sees, just for a moment, the flickering of an unguarded emotion.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Zombies..
The choice between being lunch to the undead and a spider hole was not an easy one.
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Mark covered his nose with his arm, the stench of rotting flesh striking him like a solid thing. He dry heaved over the side, but nothing fell upon the walking corpses reaching up for him. Their fingertips barely brushed the concrete just a foot below, but he certainly did not feel any safer for that.
With a glance he made a quick body count, and the frightening additions had him scrambling. He balanced his steps, clinging his toes to the rubbery sneakers that gripped the top of the cinder block wall, and leaped off to the adjoining drainage structure.
He heard the moans of want and the ragged hisses of those without much flesh as he moved, and felt the hair on his arms rise. He darted his eyes back for a moment, and saw the bony tip of fingers ripping at the stone.
There were more of the shambling slow moving --things-- now. There were more gathering with every passing hour, and the sun was setting. It was only a matter of time before the unthinking things somehow found a way to reach him up here, in this no man's land between planned communities built nearly atop one another.
The way was an easy walk as wide as a normal walkway, once one bothered to climb up the first ten foot section of wall. He knew it well as his personal playground, having run along it for years.
The flood drain of stepped gardens and cultivated backyards lead here, and flowed down all the way to the river. That was why he rushed along. He had to reach it in time to maybe somehow block it off from the dead things, to make it a sanctuary for the living. At least for the night.
The entrance still resembled a decaying concrete barrel lying on its side, with a rusted jagged mesh exposed like dried bones on a dead fish. Mark narrowed his eyes as he walked up to the shadowed maw, and cringed down into a leaning squat as he ducked his neck low.
He swallowed as his empty stomach seemed to drop to the earth's core.
From the fine clingy drapery that never failed to weave its way across his path, to the varmit's sprawling many, too many, hairy legs, spiders just always gave Mark the creeps. The cracks that he could see within the crawl space formed pockets and gaps that he knew spiders just loved.
He looked over his shoulder, almost longingly, and spied a scraping hand gouging a grip into the top of the wall. For a moment, he felt envy of them, for the dead did not have to face such things as these vile, skittering creatures.
Without so much as a "pop", the meat gave way with a sudden jerk, breaking the rotten arm off right at the wrist, and Mark's definition of the word "vile" solidly changed.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
ooooo
Mark covered his nose with his arm, the stench of rotting flesh striking him like a solid thing. He dry heaved over the side, but nothing fell upon the walking corpses reaching up for him. Their fingertips barely brushed the concrete just a foot below, but he certainly did not feel any safer for that.
With a glance he made a quick body count, and the frightening additions had him scrambling. He balanced his steps, clinging his toes to the rubbery sneakers that gripped the top of the cinder block wall, and leaped off to the adjoining drainage structure.
He heard the moans of want and the ragged hisses of those without much flesh as he moved, and felt the hair on his arms rise. He darted his eyes back for a moment, and saw the bony tip of fingers ripping at the stone.
There were more of the shambling slow moving --things-- now. There were more gathering with every passing hour, and the sun was setting. It was only a matter of time before the unthinking things somehow found a way to reach him up here, in this no man's land between planned communities built nearly atop one another.
The way was an easy walk as wide as a normal walkway, once one bothered to climb up the first ten foot section of wall. He knew it well as his personal playground, having run along it for years.
The flood drain of stepped gardens and cultivated backyards lead here, and flowed down all the way to the river. That was why he rushed along. He had to reach it in time to maybe somehow block it off from the dead things, to make it a sanctuary for the living. At least for the night.
The entrance still resembled a decaying concrete barrel lying on its side, with a rusted jagged mesh exposed like dried bones on a dead fish. Mark narrowed his eyes as he walked up to the shadowed maw, and cringed down into a leaning squat as he ducked his neck low.
He swallowed as his empty stomach seemed to drop to the earth's core.
From the fine clingy drapery that never failed to weave its way across his path, to the varmit's sprawling many, too many, hairy legs, spiders just always gave Mark the creeps. The cracks that he could see within the crawl space formed pockets and gaps that he knew spiders just loved.
He looked over his shoulder, almost longingly, and spied a scraping hand gouging a grip into the top of the wall. For a moment, he felt envy of them, for the dead did not have to face such things as these vile, skittering creatures.
Without so much as a "pop", the meat gave way with a sudden jerk, breaking the rotten arm off right at the wrist, and Mark's definition of the word "vile" solidly changed.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Fma-naruto crossover.. Omake?
Temari walks with "Pride" and they stride along close together, walking off to who knows where. Ed frowns, but knows he has to wait to test his theory. He has been mistaken twice thus far on two identities, but this one? The spiky haired guy used shadows as weapons!
That doesn't necessarily mean this Pride would be an enemy. Whispers his doubt. Here, he could be like Greed.
But then Greed wasn't exactly a friend.
The med nins mean to escort him on a guided tour of this "village", and reluctantly, for the time being, he turns away.
They begin with the building he is staying in. He wonders at the placard at the front of the building, and is told it says "Kage". He tries to work out how the blocky mess could even come close to the word, but can only shake his head. It still looks very like a garbled transmutation circle that a toddler would design.
The next stop is some sort of memorial, erected near a fountain, and talk begin about the forehead things. Not!sheska. No, her name is "Matsuri, reads off names and looks at him with saddened eyes. He works out that the plates seem to be as he suspected-- a sort of military badge.
He bumps his head against a soft something while trying to follow the explanation for her watery eyes.
"Look where you're going shrimp." The rough voice above him says, and Ed feels himself rudely shoved to the side.
"Shrimp..." Ed says, tasting the word. Its meaning he had readily found in the dictionary, and is of a small aquatic beast, barely an inch long. He scowls as he falls, as if he finds the taste rancid. He catches his balance easily enough, and turns the given momentum around into a smooth motion.
His left hand grapples the front of the dark tunic, and he continues on with the automatic throw of a solid right fist, right into the painted over cheek.
Ed half expects his blow to completely knock the guy over, and it would have had he still had automail for an arm. Instead, the feeble punch merely knocks the offending face back a few steps. He watches with clenched fists as a pale hand paws at the painted cheek.
"Why you little.."
'Little!!!!' Ed scowls.
His view is sudden taken by khaki as one of his escorts steps in. At the same time that another jumps behind him, he assumes to grapple his arms. It's not quite conscious decision to lunge beneath their grasp. He swirms around, butterfly light, and cocks his arm back for another blow, aiming up for the other painted cheek.
The body he dodged steps, and gets in his way. The air in his lungs rush out from the impact of another body, and he feels arms wrap about his chest before he can throw the deserving punch. The icy fear rises in response to restraint, and he flails. Struggling ever harder, breathless to be free, but the grappling body reacts by gripping even tighter.
He growls and froths, channeling it all into a potent, bubbling rage.
"NOT SHORT!!! No ant you can just loose in crack..!" Ed yells out to the sky.
"He did not say that." A girl's voice says somewhere by his shoulder. He pants for a few seconds, running the words through his frenzied brain. Breaths later, he works out is she who is grappling him. "and believe me, you do NOT want to get on Lord Kankuro's side."
"Yeeeaaaggh...!!! Let me...! Just one punch!!" Ed wails, not sure if he spoke the right language or what. "NOT SHORT!!"
"Bother what a temper. " He supposes Lord Kankuro says as he wipes at the injury. "Just how old ARE you?"
"SEVEN AND TEN!"
"Hu?"
Ed scowls a glare towards the voice, flaring his nostrils as he breathes hard through his nose.
"You. Clownface. Old?"
"Clown.. Same as you, Idiot Dwarf. And you say it, "seventeen"!"
"Dwa..."
Ed narrows his eyes as his body vibrates with all his fury. A heartbeat later, grips the girl's body and shoves himself back, free of the med nin's grip. He breathes deep as he straightens himself to his full, yet unimpressive, height, and points a single finger in Kankuro's direction.
"Wait you. I. Will. Grow!"
With an air of great dignity, he turns his attention to examining the round shapes of the buildings. He then snaps his gaze to Marsuri.
"Place of books?" He demands harshly, and he sees her brown eyes widen.
"Library? Oh!" She darts her gaze once in the "Lord Kankuro" direction, then looks away. "This way."
A/N: may keep for next chapter, may not..
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
That doesn't necessarily mean this Pride would be an enemy. Whispers his doubt. Here, he could be like Greed.
But then Greed wasn't exactly a friend.
The med nins mean to escort him on a guided tour of this "village", and reluctantly, for the time being, he turns away.
They begin with the building he is staying in. He wonders at the placard at the front of the building, and is told it says "Kage". He tries to work out how the blocky mess could even come close to the word, but can only shake his head. It still looks very like a garbled transmutation circle that a toddler would design.
The next stop is some sort of memorial, erected near a fountain, and talk begin about the forehead things. Not!sheska. No, her name is "Matsuri, reads off names and looks at him with saddened eyes. He works out that the plates seem to be as he suspected-- a sort of military badge.
He bumps his head against a soft something while trying to follow the explanation for her watery eyes.
"Look where you're going shrimp." The rough voice above him says, and Ed feels himself rudely shoved to the side.
"Shrimp..." Ed says, tasting the word. Its meaning he had readily found in the dictionary, and is of a small aquatic beast, barely an inch long. He scowls as he falls, as if he finds the taste rancid. He catches his balance easily enough, and turns the given momentum around into a smooth motion.
His left hand grapples the front of the dark tunic, and he continues on with the automatic throw of a solid right fist, right into the painted over cheek.
Ed half expects his blow to completely knock the guy over, and it would have had he still had automail for an arm. Instead, the feeble punch merely knocks the offending face back a few steps. He watches with clenched fists as a pale hand paws at the painted cheek.
"Why you little.."
'Little!!!!' Ed scowls.
His view is sudden taken by khaki as one of his escorts steps in. At the same time that another jumps behind him, he assumes to grapple his arms. It's not quite conscious decision to lunge beneath their grasp. He swirms around, butterfly light, and cocks his arm back for another blow, aiming up for the other painted cheek.
The body he dodged steps, and gets in his way. The air in his lungs rush out from the impact of another body, and he feels arms wrap about his chest before he can throw the deserving punch. The icy fear rises in response to restraint, and he flails. Struggling ever harder, breathless to be free, but the grappling body reacts by gripping even tighter.
He growls and froths, channeling it all into a potent, bubbling rage.
"NOT SHORT!!! No ant you can just loose in crack..!" Ed yells out to the sky.
"He did not say that." A girl's voice says somewhere by his shoulder. He pants for a few seconds, running the words through his frenzied brain. Breaths later, he works out is she who is grappling him. "and believe me, you do NOT want to get on Lord Kankuro's side."
"Yeeeaaaggh...!!! Let me...! Just one punch!!" Ed wails, not sure if he spoke the right language or what. "NOT SHORT!!"
"Bother what a temper. " He supposes Lord Kankuro says as he wipes at the injury. "Just how old ARE you?"
"SEVEN AND TEN!"
"Hu?"
Ed scowls a glare towards the voice, flaring his nostrils as he breathes hard through his nose.
"You. Clownface. Old?"
"Clown.. Same as you, Idiot Dwarf. And you say it, "seventeen"!"
"Dwa..."
Ed narrows his eyes as his body vibrates with all his fury. A heartbeat later, grips the girl's body and shoves himself back, free of the med nin's grip. He breathes deep as he straightens himself to his full, yet unimpressive, height, and points a single finger in Kankuro's direction.
"Wait you. I. Will. Grow!"
With an air of great dignity, he turns his attention to examining the round shapes of the buildings. He then snaps his gaze to Marsuri.
"Place of books?" He demands harshly, and he sees her brown eyes widen.
"Library? Oh!" She darts her gaze once in the "Lord Kankuro" direction, then looks away. "This way."
A/N: may keep for next chapter, may not..
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Monday, August 8, 2011
Awful poem
A/N: um. Yeah. No real inspiration for me today, so. Um. Yeah.
Constructed money slips through markets
Like fresh water slips through outstretched fingers
The bubble is bursting
Collapsing the lie it truly is
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Constructed money slips through markets
Like fresh water slips through outstretched fingers
The bubble is bursting
Collapsing the lie it truly is
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Fma naruto crossover omake...
A/n: I am in the middle of plotting, and this portion of it is so stupid that it really needs a rewrite.:P
"I am Gaara, the fifth Kazekage of the Village Hidden in Sand. Do you know what that means?"
"Don't really care." Ed says.
"We join with Konoha and the other villages in the morning." Gaara says, and nods to a mednin.
The woman in khakis whips out a scroll as wide as her shoulders and jerks it, the unrolling paper coming to a stop just short of Ed's mismatched feet.
Ed widens his eyes at the design, and compares it to one on his forearm.
Gaara says. "For what you know of those who wear this cloth, Konoha has a clan that has ways to get more out of your head than you currently have the ability to tell."
"What is this."
"You are being retained."
"I get no say."
"We are at war."
Ed slaps his hands together.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Zombies
Today, I woke up in the garage.
I gazed a while at the shadows, slumped and sweaty, tracing the rafters with my eyes. The tiniest shift of my hand moved the rest of whatever I was on, and by the sloshing sound beneath my ear, I soon worked out that I lay on a water mattress.
Only I had no idea how I had gotten there. And. Frankly. As lazy as I am, it was too stinking hot for even me to sleep any longer.
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes. The massive wooden door where the front is was gone, leaving a gaping maw wide open. Sunlight, all cheery and yellow, filter in through an area which I had mistaken for high set windows for some reason. Even in the shadows I could tell a gob of mattresses blocked the space up like a log jam.
I got up and moved one aside. It wasn't easy to do, as there was hardly any give the to thick padded behemoth. I opted to shimmi my way through between the layers, making my way into the hot summer sun much like a worm would through wet soil. I wish I could say it was easy going, but it wasn't. The heat, my grumbling belly, and sticky sweaty skin combined until I worked myself into a rotten foul mood.
I poked my head up to the last of the thick layers with a snarl. It was a rusted carcass of metal wires and coiled springs, stripped of its quilting. It reminded me much of the decayed skeleton of some ancient beast.
But beyond it was a sight the sent my stomach plunging to icy depths.
Shambling along, with rotten skin clinging to bones were things that weren't supposed to move. Zombies, my heated brain whispered, and I spied a few with shiny bits in place of arms. One even had a sheet of metal bolted roughly where his chest should have been, and the gory mess clamored across the long drive way.
Great. Robot zombies, my brain corrected.
I took in a startled breath as one, with bone tiped fingers and raw meat for a face, looked right at me. Eyes wide, I scutttled back as he swept his reaching hand a might too close for my comfort to my face.
Granted he was ten feet away, but that was close.
They moaned and groaned for hours, but the mattresses proved an effective barrier as I cowered low in a spider infested corner of the heated dark.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
I gazed a while at the shadows, slumped and sweaty, tracing the rafters with my eyes. The tiniest shift of my hand moved the rest of whatever I was on, and by the sloshing sound beneath my ear, I soon worked out that I lay on a water mattress.
Only I had no idea how I had gotten there. And. Frankly. As lazy as I am, it was too stinking hot for even me to sleep any longer.
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes. The massive wooden door where the front is was gone, leaving a gaping maw wide open. Sunlight, all cheery and yellow, filter in through an area which I had mistaken for high set windows for some reason. Even in the shadows I could tell a gob of mattresses blocked the space up like a log jam.
I got up and moved one aside. It wasn't easy to do, as there was hardly any give the to thick padded behemoth. I opted to shimmi my way through between the layers, making my way into the hot summer sun much like a worm would through wet soil. I wish I could say it was easy going, but it wasn't. The heat, my grumbling belly, and sticky sweaty skin combined until I worked myself into a rotten foul mood.
I poked my head up to the last of the thick layers with a snarl. It was a rusted carcass of metal wires and coiled springs, stripped of its quilting. It reminded me much of the decayed skeleton of some ancient beast.
But beyond it was a sight the sent my stomach plunging to icy depths.
Shambling along, with rotten skin clinging to bones were things that weren't supposed to move. Zombies, my heated brain whispered, and I spied a few with shiny bits in place of arms. One even had a sheet of metal bolted roughly where his chest should have been, and the gory mess clamored across the long drive way.
Great. Robot zombies, my brain corrected.
I took in a startled breath as one, with bone tiped fingers and raw meat for a face, looked right at me. Eyes wide, I scutttled back as he swept his reaching hand a might too close for my comfort to my face.
Granted he was ten feet away, but that was close.
They moaned and groaned for hours, but the mattresses proved an effective barrier as I cowered low in a spider infested corner of the heated dark.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, August 5, 2011
Fma-naruto crossover chapter 18 revisions..
The desert wind breezes through the village hidden in the sand, and onward to rasp against the curtains of the open window of the guest room. Ed chews his bottom lip as the gritty air ruffles his already messy bangs. He stares blankly at the darkened ceiling, forcing himself onto the study of the bizarre arrangement of unfamiliar lights he had seen above him earlier that night.
Stars are not remotely stationary, he knows. They move over time, usually taking eons to sweep their way across the universe, and insignificant humans hardly take notice of their grand dance in the heavens. The thought that they could have moved at all while he was in the dark has every little hair on the nape of his neck standing on end.
He thinks of standing in the timeless white, and that very.. timelessness ..causes a whole host of worrisome theories to arise.
Those pinpricks, which are really distant suns, should be in the very same places as he had last seen them. That they are not would indicate the passage of massive amounts of time.
He plucks gingerly at a particular theory, one which is gaining more and more weight. The thought that they're not even the same stars nearly has the heftiness of truth to it by the first inklings of dawn.
"The Gate must not only be a timeless thing, but possesses a much further reach than I ever dared to imagine," he whispers to dark. "Which would mean I'm truly screwed."
The first light of dawn chases the fleeing shadows, and he shifts to his side away from the window on the borrowed bed. He mentally grapples with the welcome distraction of crisp cotton sheets wrapping over his too thin limbs, and kicks his left false leg back to it free of encumbrances. He growls his frustration, the likes of which only the lack of sleep can bring.
The bed reminds him of something, of his time in what passes as a hospital in this place. His treatments had to have been very costly to these people.
They claim to not be his captors, and although the one called "Temari" said they had rescued him, he knows they were under no obligation to treat his ugly wounds, nor the resulting illness from the deep set infection in his chest. He thinks of the spear he pointed at this "Gaara's" vital points barely two days ago, and feels his gut wrench in shame.
Gaara didn't deserve to be treated like that.
He folds his knees up to his chest, and squeezes his gritty eyes shut. The problem of the strangeness of the night sky aside, there is a weighty debt here that he is responsible for, and a debt like that is something he can fix. But first he really has to get some..
His eyes snap open again at the rapping knock at the door. He wrinkles his nose, and wobbles to his mismatched feet. He looks down at his soiled boxers, and with a grimmace, wraps the clean sheet about himself before he reaches for the knob.
He hears the muffled jingle of metal, and widens his eyes as the knob wiggles, then turns on its own. Just visible through the forming crack is a face. Two others shift behind her, but Not!sheka catches his frazzled focus best. He knows he is staring.
"Good morning." She says cheerfully, filling the silence with a fake smile in place. "The uh.. hospital sent me..."
"Hospital" he understands well enough, but she speaks too quickly for him to catch the rest. He wrinkles his nose in absolute disgust at the thought of the place, puts his palm firmly on the wood of the door, and abruptly shoves. It clicks closed.
There are frenzied whispers. Some says "slower" and another says "stupid".
"I'm the med nin. Uh. I see you are...better." She yells out like he's a twit of a toddler, speaking far too cheerfully for his tastes. He chews his cheek, figuring her to be some sort of breed of nurse.
"No hospital." Ed says. "Fine I. Go away."
"No. No hospital." She says, and pauses. "Let me in. Lord Gaara wants me to check some..."
She babbles on, and Ed sighs as he again looses his tiny grasp on the language. He vaguely recalls Gaara pointing out someone he called a med-nin the night before as they made their way back to this room. The woman looked hard in his direction as he shambled through the door and immediately shooed out all the frowning people with the maps.
The gesture was a kind one, but as he has yet to manage to sleep, he swallows his yawn.
"No." Ed says, reaching for the word in his fuzzed up head. "No sharp. Thin metal sharps. Points. Arrgh! Metal things."
"Thin. Sharp.. Oh.! No no." She says. "I don't have senbon. None of us do."
"Senbon." Ed tastes the word, and swallows. He supposes it's their word for "needles". A few breaths later, he cautiously opens the door.
Not! Sheska walks in, and the two others dressed in khakis follow. He doesn't watch were they go in the room, as his attention is drawn elsewhere, and what he sees causes him to narrow his eyes.
In the hall, slouching on the wall, is the fellow with spikey pony tail: The one he once called "Pride".
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Stars are not remotely stationary, he knows. They move over time, usually taking eons to sweep their way across the universe, and insignificant humans hardly take notice of their grand dance in the heavens. The thought that they could have moved at all while he was in the dark has every little hair on the nape of his neck standing on end.
He thinks of standing in the timeless white, and that very.. timelessness ..causes a whole host of worrisome theories to arise.
Those pinpricks, which are really distant suns, should be in the very same places as he had last seen them. That they are not would indicate the passage of massive amounts of time.
He plucks gingerly at a particular theory, one which is gaining more and more weight. The thought that they're not even the same stars nearly has the heftiness of truth to it by the first inklings of dawn.
"The Gate must not only be a timeless thing, but possesses a much further reach than I ever dared to imagine," he whispers to dark. "Which would mean I'm truly screwed."
The first light of dawn chases the fleeing shadows, and he shifts to his side away from the window on the borrowed bed. He mentally grapples with the welcome distraction of crisp cotton sheets wrapping over his too thin limbs, and kicks his left false leg back to it free of encumbrances. He growls his frustration, the likes of which only the lack of sleep can bring.
The bed reminds him of something, of his time in what passes as a hospital in this place. His treatments had to have been very costly to these people.
They claim to not be his captors, and although the one called "Temari" said they had rescued him, he knows they were under no obligation to treat his ugly wounds, nor the resulting illness from the deep set infection in his chest. He thinks of the spear he pointed at this "Gaara's" vital points barely two days ago, and feels his gut wrench in shame.
Gaara didn't deserve to be treated like that.
He folds his knees up to his chest, and squeezes his gritty eyes shut. The problem of the strangeness of the night sky aside, there is a weighty debt here that he is responsible for, and a debt like that is something he can fix. But first he really has to get some..
His eyes snap open again at the rapping knock at the door. He wrinkles his nose, and wobbles to his mismatched feet. He looks down at his soiled boxers, and with a grimmace, wraps the clean sheet about himself before he reaches for the knob.
He hears the muffled jingle of metal, and widens his eyes as the knob wiggles, then turns on its own. Just visible through the forming crack is a face. Two others shift behind her, but Not!sheka catches his frazzled focus best. He knows he is staring.
"Good morning." She says cheerfully, filling the silence with a fake smile in place. "The uh.. hospital sent me..."
"Hospital" he understands well enough, but she speaks too quickly for him to catch the rest. He wrinkles his nose in absolute disgust at the thought of the place, puts his palm firmly on the wood of the door, and abruptly shoves. It clicks closed.
There are frenzied whispers. Some says "slower" and another says "stupid".
"I'm the med nin. Uh. I see you are...better." She yells out like he's a twit of a toddler, speaking far too cheerfully for his tastes. He chews his cheek, figuring her to be some sort of breed of nurse.
"No hospital." Ed says. "Fine I. Go away."
"No. No hospital." She says, and pauses. "Let me in. Lord Gaara wants me to check some..."
She babbles on, and Ed sighs as he again looses his tiny grasp on the language. He vaguely recalls Gaara pointing out someone he called a med-nin the night before as they made their way back to this room. The woman looked hard in his direction as he shambled through the door and immediately shooed out all the frowning people with the maps.
The gesture was a kind one, but as he has yet to manage to sleep, he swallows his yawn.
"No." Ed says, reaching for the word in his fuzzed up head. "No sharp. Thin metal sharps. Points. Arrgh! Metal things."
"Thin. Sharp.. Oh.! No no." She says. "I don't have senbon. None of us do."
"Senbon." Ed tastes the word, and swallows. He supposes it's their word for "needles". A few breaths later, he cautiously opens the door.
Not! Sheska walks in, and the two others dressed in khakis follow. He doesn't watch were they go in the room, as his attention is drawn elsewhere, and what he sees causes him to narrow his eyes.
In the hall, slouching on the wall, is the fellow with spikey pony tail: The one he once called "Pride".
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Horrible poem..
A/N: um.. Yeah. I'm evading tackling a certain piece today. So, uh. Here.
Today I visited the hallowed halls
Rudely encountered so many walls
That I find I thoroughly despise
The whining of the so called wise
Their many wants and needs
Building at breakneck speeds
Locked me out
To shove and pout
shackled closed my voice
Like there was no other choice
Oh academia
In your fevered mania
You are so overtly hide bound
I am so sorry you were ever found
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Monday, August 1, 2011
Character sketch..
The fat mellow sun creeped along the hedges when Mary looked for Joe.
Through the glass, just beyond the shaded porch she saw him swig down another mouthful. The brown liquid within the container was nearly half gone now, and that fact certainly didn't bring her cheer. She watched as Joe lowered the bottle, swaying slightly on his feet, as if a stiff breeze had upset his balance. She often imagined it that way, as it sounded far more poetic than the simple fact that the whiskey replaced his blood.
There was nothing for it. She could only watch. He was trying, and failing, to fill the gaping hole within himself once again.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Through the glass, just beyond the shaded porch she saw him swig down another mouthful. The brown liquid within the container was nearly half gone now, and that fact certainly didn't bring her cheer. She watched as Joe lowered the bottle, swaying slightly on his feet, as if a stiff breeze had upset his balance. She often imagined it that way, as it sounded far more poetic than the simple fact that the whiskey replaced his blood.
There was nothing for it. She could only watch. He was trying, and failing, to fill the gaping hole within himself once again.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
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