Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win
May 16
For @littlestartopaz : Steve
catches Wanda sulking and invites her to Disney Night with Nat and Clint. Wanda teases him, and Vision ends up there
too. Better yet, not MCU so we can also
have her brother. Or just ignore that
part of the MCU.
GOOD.
Also, Quicksilver is alive and healthy after a while in a healing coma,
as speedsters do. I read a wild AU once
where he was shot and died, and the comments were full of complaints about how
it didn’t make sense. I am RIGHT THIS
MOMENT deciding that this fic and this and this and possibly some others with small tweaks exist in the
same universe as this one
(I do not have a timeline to speak of) and also I’m disregarding that same wild AU’s belief that
Clint lives? On a farm? Rather than a shitty apartment building in
NYC and the Tower/Mansion? And that Nat and
Clint are not soulmates on a level that makes romance look downright petty,
kay-thanks-bye. AND also I’m so glad we
all remember how Wanda and Pietro were kids who were pressganged and conned
into service of HYDRA rather than being voluntary recruits.
It wasn’t like Wanda had expected her relationship with Pietro to be all
roses after he came out of his coma, but her worry had also done a spectacular
job of blurring out some of his less desirable qualities as a brother. Like, just for example, his overwhelming, pointless, overprotective bullshit. She muttered a bitter Sokovian curse under
her breath and stripped off her jacket, dropping it on the bed without a care
for the soot that would certainly stain her sheets. The rest of her uniform was given the same
careless treatment, abandoned on the floor as she yanked on a pair of leggings
and a soft shirt two sizes too big.
She wasn’t even sure who she was more frustrated with—Pietro, for
yanking her out of the way of a spider ‘bot that she could have taken care of,
or herself, for losing focus for long enough to let him take the hit for her. Someday, he was going to suddenly realize
that his fragile twin sister had gone and turned into an adult while he was
busy fending off the world. She hoped it
was sooner rather than later, or she might have to beat it into him. Assuming he even lived that long, which was
beginning to look increasingly unlikely.
“Stupid nervous bastard,” she muttered in English, and flopped down on
her bed, flat on her back with her fingers laced over her face. “Martyr.”
“Hazard of the profession,” Steve’s voice said, amused. Wanda turned her head, untangling her fingers
to look toward the door, where Steve was leaning against her doorjamb. He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt,
standard fare for any of them after showering upon returning from a
mission. His hair was a rumpled mess and
he had a nasty purple and blue bruise marbling over one cheek, where Bruce had
diagnosed a cracked zygomatic. In
combination with the blood that had been leaking from a split in his lip,
Natasha had cheerfully commented that he was looking very patriotic indeed.
“Put ice on your face,” she said, frowning at him across the landscape
of her comforter. Steve grinned at her,
and winced, raising the cold pack in his hand back to his cheek.
“Like I said,” Steve said. His voice
was muffled, but his eyes were bright and wild with adrenaline, like blue fire. “We’re all fucking martyrs, or so I’m told. Your brother just wants to keep you safe.”
“Well, I just spent months at
his bedside because he took eight bullets to the chest and severed his spine,”
Wanda said, sitting up sharply. “So he
can get over it.”
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”
The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.
The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.
Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.
The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier.
The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”
The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”
The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”
The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”
The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”
The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?”
The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.
Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.
The man demands the key to the stone door.
The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.
He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.
Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire.
So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.
Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”
The man is relieved to no end.
He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.
But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk
the way i learned this, it was always told through spoken word. And you’d do the door thing for ages. AGES. literally just making up any old material. ‘behind the foam door is a door made of spinach’ that kind of shit. Go on until whoever is listening has already begged you to stop and has now gone on to pleading, clutching your shirt on their knees pleading. And when you finally said the last line? People went fucking nuts Like there was a good chance of just getting the teeth knocked out of you after telling that joke.
A friend of mine did that shit for 30 minutes on a camp once. The entire fucking bus just exploded in anger when she finished. It was a fucking massacre.
Dancing under the moon light in a grassy field in Alabama with your S. O., you notice that the lightning bugs that had started out as only a few clusters were now completely surrounding you in a tornado of bugs. After staring at them for a few minutes, you look back at your S. O. They now have a face of a giant bug. What happens?
They’re an animorph, and they’re ready to take off as a firefly in an attempt to infiltrate a new Yeerk facility.
I was out with a friend tonight doing one of my fave things. Reading the backs of romance novels aloud. Found this gem.
This is honestly the most wild sounding romance novel I have ever seen and thought it might brighten someone’s day.
OK FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON’T REALIZE, SANDRA HILL IS THE WOMAN WHO WROTE “ROUGH AMD READY” ANOTHER EROTIC VIKING NOVEL. SOME OF THE MORE MEMORABLE QUOTES BEING:
“As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.”
“Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.”
“Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.”
YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE I HAVE READ THIS TO AT COLLEGE. ONE GUY COMPLETELY LOST IT FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES AFTER HEARING THE PHRASE “DICK ANEURYSM.”
jesus could absolutely, unequivocally beat the shit out of richard dawkins. i’m not saying he would, just that he absolutely could. like, round one knockout, whole fight uploaded to vine, embarrassing. dawkins’ feeble, mortal body crumbling to the mat. he finally saw jesus, but never saw those hands coming. richard dawkins searching for god while he’s in la-la land. no fucking chance for old man honeyjars. down for the count as the entire arena converts to christianity on the spot
So… I have a guilty love of the prohibition era. I’dd never want to LIVE then, but int terms of really interesting social dynamics, fashion, art and narrative possibility, its really, really interesting. During the ‘Would-Bacta-work-as-lube?“ question posed by @poplitealqueen a few months ago, I set about scouring-SCOURING, I TELL YOU- Wookieepedia and all my SW-related material to find out what Bacta actually COST, and how it operated, to answer the question of whether it was economically and practically feasible. And I found out that:
1. It apparently makes ideal lube, as long as you don’t mind the smell of Pineapple.
2. It’s basically ultra-thick saline with suspended nutrients and ACTUAL BACTERIA in it.
(so, these next couple conclusions are made in the face of conflicting canons, but it’s the one that makes the most sense for how shit plays out)
3. Bacta is the GMO reconstruction of Kolto, which is a psuedo-parastic microorganism that may or may not be related to midichlorians that alters it’s DNA to turn into the host’s cells. (IDK it’s science fiction, roll with it) Kolto was the more effective substance, able to treat things like cirrhosis, brain damage, etc,- but was wiped out by a virus during the KOTOR era as part of a plot to get rid of the Jedi.
Good job guys.
So Bacta is the GMO they managed to cobble together afterwards with the remaining info they had, and while it’s pretty miraculous as a traumatic injury treatment, it doesn’t do chronic diseases like Kolto did
4. Bacta is literally grown in cultured vats, much the way insulin is farmed today.
5. While it’s heavily regulated in the TPM era, because it’s MEDICAL EQUIPMENT, it’s still really easy to grow once you get your startup costs out of the way.
6. The expensive part of bacta is the administration devices- bacta doesn’t do well in tubes, so you either need to keep a small live colony (a bacta tank ala ESB), or flash-freeze them in the ultra thick saline, and have a small…bacterial microwave, essentially, to thaw bits of it out for use.
7. During the clone wars, Palpatine subsidized the crap out of the bacta industry so he’d have enough for his army and the worlds loyal to him- post 66, he was a punitive asshole who controlled all “legitimate” (but not necessarily well-run) bacta production, and would just not ship it to worlds he didn’t like.
The point I’m getting at is- The conditions are PERFECT for there to be a massive Bootleg Bacta trade starting in TPM and going all through the empire (and into TFA probably, we’ll see what the timeline looks like once this all shakes out) Just thing- ALL the shenanigans people got up to with bootlegging, but with bacta.
People with illicit ‘stills’ in the basement, people doing insane planetary runs to get it to worlds in need- or pirating Imperial ships for the stuff. Kids going to school with an “ice pack” in their lunch bag, only to give the frozen bacta to their Rebel-sympathizing teacher. Imperial Facilities get raided by Bacta Pirates, not for the shitty imperial strain, but literally to pull the piping and saline tanks out of the walls.
Of course, some people are gonna be unscrupulous and cut corners with their vats, resulting in horrible mutant strains that do god knows what (but that’s another plot bunny). Or Strains of bacta that are more refined and effective, because much of the scientific Community was not friends with Sheevy P, even before the war.
AND CLONES WOULD KICK ASS AT BACTA FARMING- because a LOT of bacta farming happened On Kamino, and hell, it was probably part of chores to tend to the tanks. “Feed the vats so your brothers can live”
The HARD part about starting your own farm is 1. finding/making suitable vats 2. GETTING YOUR HANDS ON A GOOD STRAIN.
Kix becomes an unintentional fucktillionaire distributing the Kamino strain. He wasn’t even charging, people just kept giving him money.
“Uncle Jesse’s Extra-Viscosity Varmint Grease” is the joke name of the best strain. Kix is SO MAD that drunk Jesse named it that but you know? No imp inspection officer has ever wanted to open those barrels.
The things people pretend to be shipping instead of bacta though, which might actually include booze:
"Booze! Twelve million gallons of Zanbar Blue!“ “Oh that stuff is gross. Carry on.”
Also, the REALLY enterprising people who figure out how to start mixing spice in with their bacta- and create a medical revolution in the process. Glitterstim is a bad idea to snort, but the trace amounts in the “Candy Cane” strain heal nerve damage! "Pineapple express” is a strain that essentially acts as a topical PTSD treatment "Beskar Berserker” is a strain that has some pretty awesome painkiller/amphetamine combo, and while it was meant to keep people from coding, it becomes REALLY popular with former ARC troopers.
Hera gets Kanan a strain called “second sight” after he loses his eyes. She did it because it was supposed to be good for treating optic injuries and numbing visual hallucinations… they find out later it’s basically bacta + Midichlorian chow.
Anyway, this was a fun thought, please feel free to play with it if you want and tell me all about it
This is such a cool idea! If anyone decides to run with this, here are some facts about bacteria-growing to consider in case it helps (I’ve worked in a bio lab).
Bacteria can be frozen down at around -70˚C with a bit of glycerol (presumably the “ultra thick” descriptor of the saline). This doesn’t hurt the bacteria and it can be re-grown simply by scraping a bit off the frozen tube and rubbing it on an agar plate. You then pick the colonies that look right on the plate and grow only those ones.
It’s really hard to grow the bacteria you want and only the bacteria you want. The good bacta strains have probably been engineered to have resistances to some cheap and common antibiotics. The plates, ultra thick saline and any growth broth would contain these antibiotics to help limit bad/useless strains.
It’s an ongoing struggle to keep everything reasonably clean and sterile to prevent bad/useless strains from growing. There’s probably space-technology that makes it easy and the illegal stills may or may not have access to them.
Bacteria that interact with human bodies grow best at 37˚C (internal human body temperature) and when they’re shaken. The vats would absolutely be as sealed as possible. They would also have to be purified out of the growth broth and put in the ultra thick saline for use in humans.
Lots of bacteria are kind of smelly when they grow up to large numbers. A well-seasoned lab person can tell if the good kind or bad/useless kinds have grown just by the smell. Pro-tip: some bad/useless kinds smell rank.
OH MY GOD YOU ARE THE BEST
I’m running another EotE game soon and bacta-farming is almost certainly going to come up.
The concept of humanly toasty vibrating tanks is HILARIOUS tho, becuase we have a cat-dude in the party.
I figure that if SW has whatever magical tech that keeps kamino’s pristine halls pristine despite being occupied bu appx 5 million teenage boys, your average bootlegger can keep a few hot vibrating tanks reasonably clean. Space Windex or whatever.
*slams hands* man im curious. People following me who haven’t read or watched FMA (bless your patient hearts) what’s the most confusing thing about the series you’ve seen me say/reblog/tag?
I’m a huge slut for out-of-context interpretation
Congratulations anon you stumbled upon THE SHOW’S VERY OWN FAVORITE RECURRING JOKE
The little one, Ed, is in fact the Fullmetal Alchemist. There are at least 10+ instances in the show of some secondary characters being like “Hey the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother are here” *both look to Ed and Al* “Yes I understand why they call him Fullmetal in that large suit of armor also who’s the short kid?”
1. Doctor finds anecdotal evidence that people are passing kidney stones after riding on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disney World
2. Doctor makes 3-D model of kidney, complete with stones and urine (his own), takes it on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad 60 times
3. “The stones passed 63.89 percent of the time while the kidneys were in the back of the car. When they were in the front, the passage rate was only 16.67 percent. That’s based on only 60 rides on a single coaster, and Wartinger guards his excitement in the journal article: ‘Preliminary study findings support the anecdotal evidence that a ride on a moderate-intensity roller coaster could benefit some patients with small kidney stones.’”
4. “Some rides are going to be more advantageous for some patients than other rides. So I wouldn’t say that the only ride that helps you pass stones is Big Thunder Mountain. That’s grossly inaccurate.”
5. “His advice for now: If you know you have a stone that’s smaller than five millimeters, riding a series of roller coasters could help you pass that stone before it gets to an obstructive size and either causes debilitating colic or requires a $10,000 procedure to try and break it up. And even once a stone is broken up using shock waves, tiny fragments and “dust” remain that need to be passed. The coaster could help with that, too.”
SCIENCE: IT WORKS
Update:
“In all, we used 174 kidney stones of varying shapes, sizes and weights to see if each model worked on the same ride and on two other roller coasters,” Wartinger said. “Big Thunder Mountain was the only one that worked. We tried Space Mountain and Aerosmith’s Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster and both failed.”Wartinger went on to explain that these other rides are too fast and too violent with a G-force that pins the stone into the kidney and doesn’t allow it to pass.“The ideal coaster is rough and quick with some twists and turns, but no upside down or inverted movements,” he said.