#Power and Signal Transmission

[electronalytics]

Instrumentation Cables Market Analysis Growth Factors and Competitive Strategies by Forecast 2032

Instrumentation Cables Market Overview:

The instrumentation cables market involves the production and distribution of cables specifically designed for transmitting signals in various industries. These cables are used for connecting instruments, sensors, and control devices to ensure reliable and accurate data transmission in industrial processes, automation systems, and control networks.

Key Points:

Types of Instrumentation Cables: The instrumentation cables market offers various types of cables, including twisted pair cables, coaxial cables, multi-core cables, and shielded cables. Each type serves different purposes and is designed to meet specific industry requirements.

Industrial Applications: Instrumentation cables find extensive use in industries such as oil and gas, petrochemicals, power generation, chemical processing, manufacturing, and pharmaceuticals. They are used for connecting instruments and control devices to measure and monitor temperature, pressure, flow, and other process parameters.

Signal Transmission: Instrumentation cables are designed to transmit low-voltage signals accurately and reliably over long distances. They provide protection against electromagnetic interference (EMI), noise, and signal loss, ensuring the integrity of the transmitted data.

Demand and Opportunity: The instrumentation cables market experiences significant demand and offers several opportunities:

Industrial Growth: The growth of industries such as oil and gas, power generation, and manufacturing drives the demand for instrumentation cables. As these industries expand and modernize, there is a need for reliable and efficient data transmission in various automation and control systems.

Infrastructure Development: The development of infrastructure, including smart cities, transportation systems, and industrial automation, creates opportunities for the instrumentation cables market. These projects require robust and advanced cables to ensure accurate and real-time data transmission.

Increasing Automation: The trend towards automation in industries, driven by the need for efficiency and productivity, boosts the demand for instrumentation cables. These cables play a critical role in connecting sensors, instruments, and control devices in automated systems.

Future Forecast: The future of the instrumentation cables market looks promising with the following trends:

Technological Advancements: Advancements in cable technologies, such as improved insulation materials, enhanced shielding, and higher data transmission rates, will drive market growth. These advancements will enable better performance and reliability in data transmission.

Industrial Internet of Things (IIoT): The adoption of IIoT technologies in industries will create opportunities for instrumentation cables. IIoT relies on seamless and reliable data transmission, making high-quality cables crucial for connecting sensors and devices.

Focus on Safety and Efficiency: The demand for instrumentation cables that meet stringent safety standards and offer high efficiency will increase. Cables with features like fire resistance, low smoke and halogen-free properties, and high data transmission rates will be in demand.

In summary, the instrumentation cables market is expected to witness significant growth due to industrial expansion, infrastructure development, and the increasing demand for automation and reliable data transmission. Technological advancements and the adoption of digitalization will shape the future of the market, presenting opportunities for manufacturers and suppliers to cater to the evolving industry requirements.

We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.

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Market Segmentations:

Global Instrumentation Cables Market: By Company • Belden • General Cable • Nexans • Prysmian Group • ALLIED WIRE & CABLE • KEI Industries • Olympic Wire & Cable • RPG CABLES • RS Components • Southwire Company • TE Connectivity • TELDOR Cables & Systems Global Instrumentation Cables Market: By Type • Unarmored Cable • Armored Cable Global Instrumentation Cables Market: By Application • Utilities • Oil & Gas • Aerospace • Others Global Instrumentation Cables Market: Regional Analysis The regional analysis of the global Instrumentation Cables market provides insights into the market's performance across different regions of the world. The analysis is based on recent and future trends and includes market forecast for the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Instrumentation Cables market report are as follows: North America: The North America region includes the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. The U.S. is the largest market for Instrumentation Cables in this region, followed by Canada and Mexico. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the presence of key market players and the increasing demand for the product. Europe: The Europe region includes Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe. Germany is the largest market for Instrumentation Cables in this region, followed by the U.K. and France. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive and aerospace sectors. Asia-Pacific: The Asia-Pacific region includes Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, and Rest of Asia-Pacific. China is the largest market for Instrumentation Cables in this region, followed by Japan and India. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing adoption of the product in various end-use industries, such as automotive, aerospace, and construction. Middle East and Africa: The Middle East and Africa region includes Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, and Rest of Middle East and Africa. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the aerospace and defense sectors. South America: The South America region includes Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America. Brazil is the largest market for Instrumentation Cables in this region, followed by Argentina. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive sector.

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Reasons to Purchase Instrumentation Cables Market Report:

Market Insights: The report offers comprehensive insights into the current market trends, dynamics, and drivers shaping the instrumentation cables market. It provides a detailed overview of the industry, including market size, growth potential, and key market segments.

Competitive Analysis: The report analyzes the competitive landscape of the instrumentation cables market, identifying key players, their market share, and strategies. It helps in understanding the competitive strengths and weaknesses of market participants, enabling informed decision-making.

Application Analysis: The report offers a detailed analysis of the various applications of instrumentation cables across industries such as oil and gas, power generation, manufacturing, and more. It helps businesses understand the specific requirements and demand drivers for instrumentation cables in each application segment.

Technology and Product Analysis: The report provides insights into the technological advancements and product innovations in the instrumentation cables market. It highlights new materials, designs, and features that enhance the performance and reliability of cables, enabling businesses to stay updated with industry trends.

Decision-making Support: The market report serves as a comprehensive reference guide, providing data-driven insights and analysis to support strategic decision-making, market entry strategies, product positioning, and overall business planning in the instrumentation cables market.

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[sw5w]

Approaching the Signal Transmitter Platform

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:54:23

[unisol-communications123]

Medium Din Rail Patch Panel/LIU

UNISOL Medium Din Rail Patch Panel offers up to 24 ports for connection and is designed to be compact in order to save cabinet space. These DIN rail LIUs can be installed in substation automation networks to give as many fiber connections as possible in the smallest amount of space. The maximum number of cable entries that the fiber enclosure can support is four. They are used in the oil and gas, cctv surveillance, rail signalling and control, process automation and control systems, renewable energy, and power transmission industries, where they can be mounted on the backplane or side panel of a compact cabinet. Various adapters, including ST, SC, FC, and LC, can be added to this fiber patch panel.

[zhejiangleihaoelectric]

[liulith]

Sooo about Vox and Alastor...

The Radio Demon controls radio waves. Guess what?

Over-the-air television: Television broadcasting through radio waves, from a transmitter (TV station) to a receiver (TV antennae)

Satellite television: A TV signal transmitted by radio waves from a satellite.

Cable television: Radio frequency signals transmitted via cables

Until the early 2000s, TV signals were entirely transmitted through analogue signals: for decades, the original television technology only worked thanks to RADIO technology.

Those antennae on Vox's head? They're 'rabbit ears'!! Dipole receivers, meant to intercept radio waves broadcasted by TV stations, convert them to radio frequency electric currents, and send those to the TV via a radio currents transmission line, to be converted and processed to produce pictures and sounds.

It makes perfect sense for Vox and Alastor to have been "pals". Alastor calls him an " old pal" mockingly, but there's no way Vox would have been able to implement any kind of TV technology in Hell without the help of radio technology - technology that Alastor had control over. For decades, TV was literally radio with pictures. Alastor used to tolerate him (despite Vox encroaching on his territory) at worst, but might have supported him at best!

In my opinion, the beef between them comes from Vox's transition from Analogue to Digital, aka the digital switchover.

When Vox asked Alastor to join his team, it's possible he suggested Alastor switches to digital radio broadcasting (better sound quality, less transmission power required, a compressed digitized signal that allows for more radio programs in the same radio spectrum...). Of course, Alastor didn't care for that.

Was Vox's transition (partly) motivated by a desire to be more independent from Alastor? In any case, he's certainly not that much more independent now: streaming television and the streaming platforms & other services available on digital TVs depend on internet connectivity. And Wi-Fi uses radio waves.

In other words: Alastor's radio waves still live in Vox's TV head rent free, in the most literal way possible :3

[reality-detective]

GWEN TOWERS

GWEN (Ground Wave Emergency Network) allows specific frequencies to be tailored to the geomagnetic-field strength in each area, allowing the magnetic field to be altered.

They are connected to HAARP, smart meters, cell phones, WIFI etc...

"GWEN (Ground Wave Emergency Network) transmitters, placed 200 miles apart across the USA, allow specific frequencies to be tailored to the geomagnetic-field strength in each area, allowing the magnetic field to be altered.

They operate in the VLF range, with transmissions between VLF 150 and 175 KHz. They also emit UHF waves of 225 – 400 MHz.

The VLF signals travel by waves that hug the ground rather than radiate into the atmosphere. A GWEN station transmits up to a 300-mile radius, the signal dropping off sharply over distance.

The entire GWEN system consists of, (depending on source of data), from 58 to an intended 300 transmitters, spread across the USA, each with a tower 299-500 ft high.

Three hundred (300) ft. of copper wire fans out in a spoke like fashion from the base of the underground system, interacting with the earth like a thin shelled conductor, radiating radio wave energy for very long distances through the ground.

The USA bathes in this magnetic field which rises to 500 ft, even going down to basements, so everyone is subject to mind control.

The whole artificial ground wave spreads out over USA like a web. It is easier to mind-control and hypnotize

people who are bathed in an artificial electromagnetic wave."

Research: Gwen towers❓

Everything you need to know about GWEN towers: 👇

Knowledge is Power 🤔

[jamneuromain]

Divorce with either Steve/Andy I'm feeling angsty.

Whether happy/sad ending is up to you :)

Hi bestie <3 I'm sorry it has taken more time than I thought but my drabble turns into a one-shot before I can even realize skjksjskjskjksj

hope you'll enjoy this <3

Lie, Lie, Lie

Steve Rogers x You (Mutant!Reader)

Warning: Swearing, Angst, Divorce, (also asshole-ish Avengers?)

W/C: 5.4 K

Summary: A small leak will sink a great ship. -- Benjamin Franklin

A/N: My first entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

It starts with a minor, insignificant detail.

Just some static in the phone, really.

A snippet of sound that common people would interpret as bad signals, considering that Steve is phoning you from thousands of miles away, while you are using the landline.

For holy Mary’s sake, who the hell still uses landlines today?

Apparently, the academic conferences you attend do.

Steve notices the small static buzzing the call you are having, after which you grumble in frustration, “Stupid signals, can’t even function properly.”

He smiles, knowing that you can’t see the expression on his face. You are cute even when you are complaining.

You sigh deeply on the other end of the phone, your voice slightly distorted from the electronic, or wireless, transmission, “I miss you, Stevie. Can’t wait to come home.”

“It’ll only be two more days,” Steve reassures you with his soothing timbre, “I’ll be waiting for you at the airport, alright? First thing you’ll see after getting off that plane.”

“Okay.” You know he can hear you pouting, but you pout anyway, “Gotta have some sleep now. I’m going to the keynote tomorrow morning.”

“Take care of yourself.” Steve holding on to his phone, wincing again as the static buzzes again, but it appears only on his end, as you seem unaffected by it, “Take care of my favorite scientist and my favorite girl for me, okay?”

“I am your favorite girl. And you know I have my powers.” You try your best to stifle a large yawn, but Steve senses your tiredness right away.

“Sleep tight, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Steve blows a kiss, hoping that it would travel across oceans and lands via the phone, and reach your forehead.

“Night, Steve.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

You are about to hang up when the static tortures his ear again.

You hang up.

Static isn’t a problem for most people, who, unlike Steve, don’t have super hearing and super memory.

Steve could think that the static is a minor interference, however, static that appears during phone calls are hardly inconsistent. And if he has learned a thing or two during the time that landlines are still fairly popular – 40s, by the way – is that static doesn’t go on and off, nor does it blur on different pronunciations since static should naturally have a pattern.

Since Stark phones issued by the friendly billionaire is certainly off the question, he suspects that someone might be tapping into your landline.

Something is off. His intuition is telling him. So, he called Tony and asked for a favor.

After some analysis that Steve couldn’t fully understand, Tony presses his index finger to his lips tightly, humming to himself.

“Anything?” Steve watched as Tony chugged down the fifth cup of coffee ten minutes ago, and now Tony has been unusually quiet.

Tony spins his chair around, looking thoughtful. He waves his fountain pen in midair, pointing at his screen in general, “This isn’t some sort of prank Bruce asked you to play, is it?”

“Prank? Tony, this is my wife we’re talking about.” Steve is about to lose his patience. He crosses his arm, dead serious, “What is … this? Am I being paranoid or …”

He wouldn’t dare to think about you in actual danger and he’s sitting cozily in Avengers Compound. He could’ve been risking your precious rescue time. Or warn you, somehow.

Even knowing that you have your special powers.

Your mutant powers.

Still, there are hundreds of ways for you to be defenseless.

A collar could suppress all your powers. A shot of the new dose of Mutant Serum could make you lose your X-gene once and for all. And all those terrible things that could happen to you.

Tony scratches his goatee, his expression is puzzled, to say the least, “this static that you provided, looks like the interface Bruce and I were cooking up for a Friday-upgrade.”

“English, please, Tony.”

Tony magnifies the example of static extracted from the recording that is automatically stored on Stark servers, and pulls out a random MRI brain scan from Steve’s health exam last year, “See what I mean?”

Steve watches the two waves on the screen closely, almost stuttering from what he is summarizing, “They look … similar.”

“Exactly.” Tony throws the MRI scan off the screen and points to the static, “This? This isn’t sound. This is human thinking. Hell, thinking, I’m not even sure it’s human. And it has a purpose. The reason you are hearing the ‘static’ – I’ll name that thing later, is that it serves as a relay, that patches you through its – thinking, whatever, and directs your call to Y/N.”

“It isn’t Friday?” Steve blurts out the only AI he could think of.

“If it is Friday, the Nobel committee is handing me the award right this moment.” Tony snorts, but he turns serious as soon as he notices Steve’s worrying look, “but with this fragment, I can locate Y/N,” and with a few taps on the keyboard, a global map appears in front of them.

Tony mutters to himself, “Can’t track the relay itself, but I can … ”

Another few keystrokes and a red dot blip.

“… in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.” Tony isn’t even sure about what the blipping dot shows, “Now this can’t be right-” Tony looks back at Steve, whose eyebrows are tying up like knots, “Where did you say she’s having this academic conference?”

“Leipzig, Germany.” Steve answers without a second thought, “Quantum 2023.”

Tony looks awe-struck.

“I’m sending a team to get her.” Steve stands up from his seat abruptly, heading to the doorway, but Tony’s words make him stop.

“Quantum 2023 is next week, Steve. And it isn’t held in Leipzig.”

“But that’s impossible,” Steve turns on his heels, glaring at Tony, “She told me that she came into contact with some Professor, who invited her to this conference because she was doing so well with her panel back in January.”

“And what’s that panel?”

“CPS Quantum Computer-”

“CPSQ was never held this year.” Tony shakes his head, “The conference was cancelled because a main member of the CPSQ committee passed away last December. What else has she told you?”

“I can’t tell you.” You dare not read his face. Your gaze lands on the marble counter that you and Steve agreed on two years ago, instead of him. You lied. And you know you lied. And the fact that you know that you can tell him nothing, makes you even more scared and frightened, as you are well aware the last things Steve would tolerate are betrayal and infidelity.

Your shared home, once a sanctuary for you and the love of your life, now withering and shaken, cold and gloomy. It no longer is a safe haven for you.

“Did anyone blackmail you with anything?” Steve asks calmly.

He’s prepared for the worst things to come.

He spent the whole night with Tony trying to figure out the so-called “academic conferences” you were supposed to be a part of, and there were eight of them during the last three years.

Some calls were too old to trace, but Tony has figured out it with the recent three conferences, you weren’t doing Keynotes or presenting your results to academia, but in the same spot in the Pacific doing God knows what.

It was undocumented waters. Tony could only gather so much info that the islands in the vicinity were bought by a mysterious wealthy man who paid through his Kaymen Island account.

And you were visiting it almost every four months. Like clockwork.

There were a few heat signatures on the island, but with no visible vehicle, neither ferry nor helicopter in sight, Tony would have to guess that you would need someone who can transport you from where you were to the island.

“No.” You have no excuse. No reasons. No idea what you should say.

But you weren’t blackmailed. You went there voluntarily.

His gaze feels heavy on your shoulders. From the corner of your eyes, you can see he’s looking at you intensely. Trying to figure out whether you are still lying to him.

“Are you cheating?”

The other possible explanation he has thought of. Frightening, if an answer of certainty comes out of your mouth, but it would explain your lies. Steve curls his hand into a fist, the veins on his hand popping briefly onto his skin.

The hands that caressed your hair and your jaw, cradling your face when he leaned in to kiss you. All the gentle moves. Treating you as a soft and delicate being. Now a hard fist on the table.

He didn’t touch you on your way back to your home. Nor did he accept your hugs and kisses at the airport.

He was very disappointed.

“No.” You answer, with your head low.

How could he doubt your relationship? How could he doubt your love for him? Waiting for him to return after every battle, taking care of his wounds, having-

How could he think all of those were lies too?

“Then what are you hiding?”

Steve maintains his best manners not to crush the table under his fist into bits and pieces. He wants you to answer. Something. Tell him why he has been kept in the dark.

Anything.

You open your mouth, but no word comes out.

“I can’t tell you.” You whisper, your resolve of keeping the secret faltering under his piercing gaze. But you can’t tell him.

There’s turmoil in your stomach, wreaking havoc in your guts. You want to throw up when thinking about the truth, but cannot say it. Not with your teeth and tongue. Not with pen and paper. You cannot. You physically cannot.

Nothing remorseful or any expression similar appears on your face, as Steve observes your reaction closely.

“Please, Steve. I promise I’ll tell you, but now is not the time. It was – is an important … deed, to do.”

Steve stands up from his chair slowly.

Not even looking at you anymore, he sounds emotionless. Cold.

“I thought for a moment you were kidnapped. Tortured. Lured into a trap.”

“Steve-”

“I was this close,” he pinches his index finger and thumb together, “sending a full-blown rescue tactical team, to get you out.”

“Steve, please, just listen-”

“And are you talking, Y/N? Are you telling me what I need to hear?” He stands with his back to you, shaking with uncontrollable anger. “The truth, that’s all I want.”

“I can’t-”

“I can’t, either.” He interrupts you. For the entire time you can remember, from his cute and sweet attempts to ask you out on a date, from his chivalry of taking you out and asking you to be his wife, from the start of your happy marriage, he hasn’t once interrupted you when you were talking.

Tears roll down your eyes as you are tongue-tied, unable to utter a sound.

But Steve didn’t see those tears. If he did, he would have some idea that you are truly sorry for what you have done.

Steve stands with his back to you.

“I’ll save us the trouble and ask Tony to wipe our marriage from the system.”

Almost a shriek, your hands and feet are placed in the bottom of the ice pit, “You can’t-! I- You can’t!”

Your sobbing fills the room that was occupied by a dreadful silence. From your husband.

You would never imagine that a lie would go this far.

“Watch me.”

He can’t, not when you are-

Not when you are working on-

Not when you are trying to-

He can’t.

Realization dawns on you that even if you did tell him one thing that you can say to make him stay, he would consider it a lie.

Or an effort you make, trying to be bound to him.

That your trust is broken forever.

With that realization hitting you, he leaves the room.

Five years later, somewhere near Hawaii.

“This is really nice, what you got over here,” Tony comments in honesty, taking a step back to observe the rippling portal gate, “How long has it been put into use?”

Jean, the woman with flaming red hair and a scarf around her shoulders, has an impeccable smile on her face, leading the way as Natasha and Steve boarded the small vehicle up ahead, “Four. We used to transport to and from all over the world with the help of mutants who can create a portal. But as larger machines and construction materials were needed on Krakoa, the very land that you are standing on, our top scientists decided to benefit us all by inventing an instant portal device- Devices, should I say.”

As there are three large portals, each the size of a house, standing next to each other on the founding stones.

“Why are we even here?” Steve murmurs to Natasha, sounding confused, “I thought bargaining was Tony’s specialty…?”

“Smile, Rogers.” Natasha murmurs back, her eyes scanning the tropical island for any anomaly, “It’s a diplomatic event, not a business one.”

“Like a photo Op?”

“Like a peace offering.” Nat lowers her voice as she notices a mutant with bright green hair start the engine of their car, and take the position as their driver, “Krakoa now has the most efficient cancer eradication solution, and if we all behave and act like adults, the world would accept the possibility of the first mutant country. The UN is considering whether to add Krakoa as a new member country as we speak.”

“And if we blew it, WW3?”

“Worse. We will be hanged before we could say ‘assemble’.” Natasha sits straighter when Tony and Jean, the woman with red hair approaches the vehicle, and asks with a louder voice, “Would you mind telling us about the three-day trip planned on Krakoa?”

“Certainly.” With a look from Jean, the green-hair starts the car and drives away from the beach, heading towards a road that leads to the Krakoa city center. “We don’t have anything planned for this evening, so Lorna – our temporary driver - and I will show you around this place in general and escort you to your residence, where you will have dinner with our high council tonight. Tomorrow you’ll visit our university facilities and our most advanced laboratory, with our head scientist Hank. If you would like to visit any place else, feel free to tell us and we’ll try our best to satisfy your demands…”

Their residence is a small building near the city square. After a brief tour of the area, Jean tells them that normally they wouldn’t expect many visitors, so the building, though more well-equipped than most hotels, only resides the three of them, plus Jean for now.

Natasha strides across the room as Tony takes voice notes on his phone.

“… Their technology is at least two decades, if not three, more advanced than our top scientist.” With that as a summary, Tony stuffs his phone in his pocket.

And the room is filled with deafening silence.

“Do you think they cleared this place out when they are expecting us?” Steve sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Tony and Natasha.

“They are afraid of us, as we are afraid of them.” Natasha says slowly. Not really answering Steve’s question, but hinting at the opinion that she has in mind. Her striding comes to a halt, “The looks we had on our way here? Not all friendly.”

“Too bad we don’t have a mutant as a middleman.” Tony clicks his tongue, moving around his jaw like he has a toothache.

“Tony-” Starts Natasha warningly.

They all know one mutant who helped around in the Avengers a few years ago. They know one mutant was exceptionally close to Steve. Hell, they were even there to witness the wedding of-

“I’m gonna go get some air.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a long exhale, before walking out of the room.

Of Steve and you.

You were not a powerful mutant. But you would be helpful, under a circumstance like this.

But Steve divorced you a few years back.

No one knows why. No one knows any information regarding the terrible divorce that made Steve leave you, leave the States for months.

Except that you were “missing” from time to time.

Natasha sits on the other armchair in the room, looking closely at Tony, and his greying beard. She chooses her words very carefully, “Was she…” Were you cheating back then? On Steve?

Tony shakes his head, “He never told me.”

“But is it possible that…”

“I wanted to believe the other way.” Tony nibbling at his bottom lip. In the end, he looks back at Natasha, the former Russian spy, “But the incident right after she left…”

A breach that erased all of your data, along with the data of three staff within the Avengers Compound, happened a few months after you left the Compound and disappeared. Not only the records of your information, but also calls and texts, almost every trace of your presence was erased completely from both Avengers Compound and the government system as well.

The three staff later identified as mutants. They fled from the compound on the same day of the incident.

No one knew where you were. No CCTV or surveillance camera has recorded your prescence ever since.

It's a shame to admit, but no one bothered to look either.

After all, there were no demands or ransoms asked. And they were too busy saving the world to care for such trivia.

Nothing else was missing.

A few printed photos that Steve kept in his office survived. Printed photos of you and him together. That he had kept in the bottom of his drawer ever since your divorce.

A week later, Krakoa was established, announcing itself as a country and providing shelters for all mutants.

Steve suspected that the two events might be connected somehow, but Krakoa banned anyone who isn’t a mutant from entering the territory and has been moving on the map ever since, refusing any prying eyes.

Steve wanders into the patch of green a few hundred inches away from the hotel, heading towards the beach.

He was painfully reminded of you.

Of your happy times together.

And the determination you showed when you refused to tell him about your affair.

Yes, your affair. Even though you denied it. Steve believes that you were lying to him. About your location, about your everything.

About your lover.

“… come on down little monkey!” A familiar voice ghosting his ears.

A little girl screams at the top of her lungs, before giggling and sitting at the far end of a branch on a tree a few meters away, “But it’s out of power-Hi, Uncle Hank!”

The girl has blonde curly hair, bouncing as she jumps on the thin branch that could snap at any second. Steve is about to sprint to rescue when he hears you.

Your familiar voice.

“Come on, Mommy will catch you.” You clap your hand, your back facing Steve, who is hiding in the bushes. Your arms stretched wide open, urging the little girl to come down.

Urging your daughter to come down from the tree? From a branch seven feet in the air? How are you even encouraging the little girl while she could break her neck is unfathomable to Steve. This is stupid. Reckless. Irresponsible. A total -

“Come on, little monkey.” You clap your hand again, “It won’t be half as fun if I have to come up and get you.”

“Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know that the rocket boots will die so soon,” begins a man on your side, apologizing. A thin man with glasses in his 40s. “The battery is supposed to last five hours when I put them on- Oh.”

“Yes.” Steve hears your grumpiness, “Batteries. Hank. My expertise.”

Steve knows your expertise.

Although you studied quantum physics and its application, your interest in Physics derived from your ability to absorb power and power transformation. However, you were not particularly interested in fighting bad guys, that’s why you weren’t on missions as often as he thought you would.

Batteries. You would absorb electricity from it in an instant, even when you are not intentionally doing so.

“Exhibiting her abilities so soon?” Hank gasps in disbelief, raising his head to look at your daughter jumping on that twig, “Normally it would be until their teen years.”

You chuckle, “Missing out on the latest Bio lab, aren’t you? They just published a paper about how mutant parents would cause a higher rate of mutant children, and as a result, their abilities tend to show earlier. Even so,” you kick the sand under your feet, your voice less exciting, “Hers is showing earlier than I did.”

“You showed your ability when you were five, right?”

“Two months till five. But yeah, pretty early. She made the light in our room flick on and off, starting from a month ago.” You make one last attempt at your daughter, who is having her fun with those thick rocket boots on her feet, “Be a sweetheart and come down, alright? Mommy is getting tired and we haven’t had dinner yet.” You plead softly.

“Alright, Mommy.” The little girl answers.

As Steve watches from afar, worrying sick that your daughter would fall from the tree, she spreads her arms and falls from the tree. But like a piece of paper, descending slowly into your arms.

Absorbing gravity to cancel it out. One of your typical moves too. Steve thinks bitterly. No doubt the little girl is your daughter.

Hank offers something as you three walk further from Steve and the bush he’s hiding. Steve didn’t quite catch what he said, but he hears you reply with a certain “Yes”.

Your voice trails away, “But it’ll be fine. Won’t we, little monkey?”

The little girl giggles again.

“Do you want Daddy back, Mommy?” Your daughter Maddie asks abruptly as you take out the storybook before bed.

“I-” It would be a lie, to say that you do not want Steve. But years have gone by and you’ve built your life around Maddie and Krakoa. While you were desperate, wanting him back when you found yourself pregnant with Maddie, the night when he left your house, you knew that the only reason Steve would stick around, which is knowing that you are pregnant. Despite the responsibility he would be burdened with, he would also doubt whether he’s raising some other people’s child, since he already suspects that you were cheating, and your life would be miserable with his indifference.

You remember your panicking and fearing his leave.

Thinking that he can’t leave you, not when you are pregnant, not when you are working on a home and a shelter for your future children, trying to create a safe haven for you and your family.

But he left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” You tuck a strand of her blonde curls behind her ears, gazing into her beautiful cerulean eyes, “I hurt your father really bad when I made the big mistake that we talked about. And he hurt me too. Not that he wanted to, but he left me alone in this world.” You kiss her short chubby hand, placing her hand on your cheek, “We won’t be happy ever again. Because I lied to him. And he will always remember it.”

“Oh.” Maddie sounds disappointed, scrunching her little face together, “But Daddy knows you are doing the right thing, right? Building Kra-Kra-Krakoa and our home?”

She tried a few times to pronounce the word “Krakoa”, making you smile.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” You explain to her with more patience than you can ever imagine, “I have never seen your father ever since.”

“He should!” Your daughter curls herself up into a ball in your arms, nuzzling your soft pyjamas, “He should be proud of you. And what you did. You help build the island, Mommy. Daddy should know. And he will forget your lying.”

Kids. Always thinking everything in the world is so simple. A small grin creeps up your lips.

But in your heart, the bitterness swirls into a dark pit.

Everyone else understood. Other mutants who had a family, who told their partners they will be gone for a while, who lied to their partners that they were needed for a job.

Their partners did. Their partners understood the cruelty of separation and the pain that those mutants cannot utter a word about their whereabouts, or the details of the job. The worst you’ve heard of, aside from yourself as an example, was a huge fight between Lorna and her boyfriend, but in the end, she forgave him after a week, having enough trust for both of them to continue their relationship and got married two years ago.

But no. Not Steve.

Steve, who quickly jumped to the conclusion that there was no need to continue this marriage.

Steve, after leaving word of divorcing you, left. To some shit-eating place in South Africa, for two whole months.

Two months. Two months of prying eyes and prodding questions from the Avengers, which you knew they were being kind and helpful, but you couldn’t stay there. Not when it brought pain and scars to your chest every time you’d see some possession that belonged to him, and cry your eyes out, nearly losing Maddie as a result. Not when they were also suspecting that you cheated on Steve and scolding you lightly, telling you to “speak to Steve and ask for his forgiveness”.

They were his family. Not really yours.

Yours is here.

You kiss her forehead, tucking her in, “I sure hope so. Good night, sweetheart.”

Your smile fades as your mind drifts to the human delegation that is alleged to arrive today.

You asked to be kept out of the loop and out of the trails that the delegation is visiting. You even confirmed with Hank today that you would take these three days off from the lab.

You blocked all relevant information regarding those visitors.

You were raised by this mutant family, by mutants such as Jean and Hank and befriended them, and you had your heart broken in the human world. You don’t want anywhere near humans ever again.

“These are some state-of-the-art devices. I have to say, I’m very impressed.” Tony tilts his head to the side, reading the metrics recorded on the screen in the up-state Bio lab, “This is not quite my expertise though, the project you are operating here.”

Hank magnifies the part Tony is observing onto the huge screen behind them, “We are trying to incorporate human thoughts into robots, but in a wireless form. With a thought-” Hank, the man in glasses, places two stickers onto his head, and a robotic arm on the far end of the lab begins writing “Welcome”, stopping dead when it comes to “O”. Hank shrugs, not even bothered by the failure of the demonstration, “We have a talented specialist that helps with coding, but there are always some interferences with the transmission.”

Natasha clears her throat to gain their attention, “I’m also very impressed with the construction of the island as a whole. A construction this large should take … what, five years and a couple hundred workers?”

“Two and a half, to be precise.” Hank gestures for them to move forward onto the Physics lab, peeling the stickers off his temple, “About three dozen mutants involved. It would be sooner if it weren’t…” As if he suddenly was reminded of something, Hank let out a short “Ah”, and a brief pause, “if it weren’t some … unintentional held-up with one of our finest mutants.” His eyes land on sulking Steve, only for a few seconds.

Hank said it with a proud smile on his face. It didn’t take Steve forever to recognize the man from the beach last night, who gave your daughter, very irresponsibly, Steve might add, rocket boots.

Your daughter’s father is very irresponsible too. Not even showing up when your daughter is in danger. He thinks, clenching his jaw, praying for strength that he would punch that guy in the face if he ever meets him.

Natasha and Tony exchange a glance behind Hank, failing to notice Steve and his stern expressions.

“But it must have been a huge effort, even with three dozen, to keep them silent?” Natasha jokes light-heartedly, “There’s hardly any secret in the Avengers Compound without the full staff knowing it in three days.”

Hank nods politely, holding the door for them to come through, “Well, yes. But as you are well aware, a few of our best mutants are telepathic, meaning they could plant a gag order in our heads,” Hank taps his temple with his knuckle, “We couldn’t speak to anyone else about Krakoa for three years until it’s established. Our mind forbade us to speak of it because of the gag order.”

“Masochists, and they are proud of it,” Natasha whispers to Tony in a rush.

“It is troubling. Misunderstandings and arguments have aroused based on the gag order and its implementation.” Hank walks them through the long hallway from one building to another, “But we agreed it’s for the best at that moment.”

Tony makes a face that isn’t as obvious, but Steve and Natasha could tell that’s his disapproving face.

As Hank opens another door for them, the first thing they see is a little girl playing with her toy car on a tall chair. She slides the car down from a colorful track, and the track would deliver the toy car back to her hands.

“Maddison!” Hank rushes to her side, looking up and down to see whether the girl got hurt, “What are you doing here?”

“Mommy needs to pick up something.” Maddie points at you, cheering, “Look! Mommy Mommy!” She drops her toy car to the ground, and jumps off the tall chair, running to you and hugging your thigh.

Steve stops breathing. Seeing you, well and alive in front of him, with your daughter, in a rosy-pink dress that you bought while dating him a few years back.

You look … the same.

“Get behind me, Maddie.” You tug the little girl on her arm, to have her shielded fully behind your legs. An undetectable shakiness in your voice.

Maddie peeks from behind you. She doesn’t understand where this tension is coming from, but she understands one thing: “Mommy, is that Daddy?” She raises her head and asks.

You hate to lie to your daughter. But you are not going to let her be exposed to Natasha and Tony, and most importantly, Steve.

“Christ. It’s Y/N.” Tony mutters.

“Mommy, he looks exactly like the photo you showed me.” Maddie asks in confusion, pointing towards Steve, “He looks exactly like Daddy?”

“Maddison, not now.” It takes all your willpower not to push them all out of the lab at once, “Hank, would you mind?” You glance icily at Hank, urging him to solve the problem at hand.

“Yes, of course.” Hank starts to head the other way, “I’m sorry, but we’re behind schedule. If you would come with me-”

“No one is coming anywhere until we deal with this,” Tony announces, one hand already on his wristwatch, which you know contains a small plasma canon if he activates it.

“Is she…?” Steve knows the answer to his question before he asks. The hair and the eyes are similar to his, and the nose and lips resemble yours-

“Boys,” Natasha raises her voice, “Let’s be civil, shall we?”

“How old is she?” Steve feels a lump down his throat, “is she-”

“Civil?” You let out a dry laugh, the exact opposite of amused, “Tony Fucking Stark is ready to attack when he pulls out that wristwatch. And Natasha, long time no see, the same goes for your widow bites too. Yeah, I saw the glowing blue under your sleeves. You are trying to take my child away from me in a heartbeat and call yourself civil?”

“Tony, Nat.” Steve speaks.

Two words that bring the two of them away from their weapons.

You pick Maddie up from the ground, having your back to the Avengers, protecting your daughter from their grasp, “Let’s go, Maddie. I am apparently not welcomed here.”

“Y/N!” Steve calls to your back, “Y/N, please!”

Natasha is tempted to step forward and ask you to stay and talk this out, being blocked by Hank.

“I assume it is best that you stay right where you are,” Hank says politely, though his thin body has no intention of moving.

Maddie hugs your neck, laying her head on your shoulders. Her blue eyes focusing on Steve while you walk away.

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[drnikolatesla]

The Anniversary of Nikola Tesla's Death

January 7th marks the anniversary of Nikola Tesla's death, who passed away on this date 81 years ago in 1943. He died in poverty, but his achievements, along with his hope and dreams for the future, place him among the greatest scientific icons in human history.

January 7th in the Orthodox Christian Christmas calendar also marks the date when the birth of Jesus Christ is celebrated. It aligns with the Julian calendar, and for Orthodox Christians, this date is significant as the day to commemorate the nativity of Jesus, similar to December 25th in the Gregorian calendar used by Western Christianity. The choice of the date is rooted in historical and calendar differences between the Eastern and Western Christian traditions.

Coincidentally, this date also marks Nikola Tesla's last diary entry in his "Colorado Springs Notes." Apart from the usual description of photographs, Tesla writes about experiments he intends to carry out on his return from Colorado Springs. He qualifies the experiments to date as satisfactory, considering that his aim in Colorado was "to perfect the apparatus and make general observations." The apparatus, which he was then envisaging for future experiments, was to be an improved oscillator which would enable better results than any he had so far obtained. This improved oscillator would become his Magnifying Transmitter. It was meant to transmit signals via telephony, and most importantly power to any part on the globe, regardless of distance, providing the world with cheap and clean energy.

On January 7th, 1905, Nikola tesla would also publish an article titled, “The Transmission of Electrical Energy Without Wires As a Means for Furthering Peace.“ The article discusses Tesla's idea of transmitting electrical energy wirelessly as a means to advance global peace. Tesla believed that this technology could enhance accessibility to resources, fostering cooperation and harmony among nations. His vision was centered on using scientific advancements for the betterment of humanity and international relations.

Even though it has been 81 years since his death, the legacy of Nikola Tesla continues to live on in his achievements which are almost beyond calculation, and are a major integral part of the entire world as we know it. Today, we honor this great genius. We celebrate his extraordinary life, his triumph which is our triumph, a victory to everyone on earth. We celebrate his many contributions to our livelihood, and his visions of the future that we have yet to realize.

“Let the future tell the truth and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I really worked, is mine.”

–Nikola Tesla

[fancypersonaskeletonturtle]

Jay’s Powers- ‘Pain Inhibitors’

Submission for @sharksandjays’ s creative challenge .

⚠️ MILD BLOOD AND GORE WARNING ⚠️

My headcanon is that Jay has the ability to manipulate the electrical transmission of pain through his brain and direct it to another region of his brain. This means that even if his body is physically damaged he can supress feelings of pain and continue fighting until it is convenient to heal the damage. He started practicing the ability when he was imprisoned on Nadakhan’s ship (vengstone didn’t stop him from using these powers as it is an internal ability).  This ability grows stronger through the seasons but Jay uses it sparingly.

The process would theoretically look something like this:

Normal pain feedback loop:

Injury/damage site >  electrical signal stimulated > signal travels to spinal cord> signal travels to brain to process> brain initiates response

Interrupted pain feedback loop:  

Injury/damage site >  electrical signal stimulated > signal travels to spinal cord> Jay redirects it to another part of the brain > different sensation is processed> response other than pain is generated

This ability is hard to perform, as Jay tends to panic, especially in a battle and regulating the flow of electricity to block his pain receptors takes lots of concentration. Redirecting the electricity to a different pathway also causes side effects such as increased stress levels and mood swings. When he does manage to inhibit the pain of his injuries, he just stands there like  :) im good, while sporting a massive cut or a broken arm. This particular power gets on Zane’s nerves however, as he *insists* that it is dangerous to alter his brain and body functions stating that >: <  pain receptors exist for a reason, Jay.

[beemovieerotica]

Hello it's me Anon

I purposefully misinterpreted your post and now I demand for you to explain to me how to determine whether the weird noise my car is making is because of an old serpentine belt, a transmission problem, or an old wheel bearing.

I hear what you're saying about the recognition of biological realities not holding significant weight in the context of human behaviour, but like... I drive a Subaru Outback (2006, with about 170K miles on it) and every time it's cold out, I have to wrench on the steering wheel to get out of my parking spot??? Also when I go at high speeds on the freeway, there's like a really loud humming noise, but when I go at low speeds, especially when I'm turning tight corners (like parking and unparking) there's like a squealing screeching noise, and the battery light flips on.

I just think it's like, y'know, you have a popular blog and so it's important to know that I also Literally Just Last Week replaced the back passenger side wheel bearing, plus got a whole transmission fluid change, and the noise is still happening???

Like, I dunno, like maybe it's just me, but I think a lot of us, especially those in kink circles, would like to hear your explanation of this

thank you for bringing this to my attention.

a Subaru serpentine belt is supposed to last for 50,000 to 100,000 miles, and with your mileage it definitely puts you in the danger zone

the rubber belt is going to contract and change shape when it gets cold, which is probably why you hear it squeaking in cold weather

it also powers your alternator which handles your car battery + electrical, so it makes sense that if the belt is old and messing with the alternator on tight turns, your battery light is getting tripped

it's important that the kink community is aware of this. please signal boost.

[illuminatedquill]

All Mine

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Story

Story Summary: A mission for the Ghost crew takes an unexpected turn when Ezra Bridger reunites with a childhood crush, Shana Tavorri. Sabine Wren, his close friend and partner, must deal with newfound feelings of jealousy - and possibly more - over their relationship.

For Sabezra Day 2024, @sabezraweek

Prompt: Confessing

Bright Jewel System, Mid-Rim Territories

"Look lively," called Hera from the Ghost's cockpit. "Just picked up the Phantom II signal."

Sabine was sitting with Ezra in the Ghost's communal area, playing a game of dejarik. At Hera's call, Ezra sighed and turned the game off. "Well," he said regretfully, "looks like duty calls, Sabine."

She smirked at him and replied, "Lucky for you that it's calling. I was about to bulldoze all over your pathetic defense there at the end." Sabine knew that she had him on the ropes at the game's end. Much as she respected her friend's prowess in battle, Ezra never was much of a tactician.

But, then again, his powers as Jedi certainly did give him options that weren't available to an average combatant. His strategies tended to fall outside the usual box of combat thinking, as Captain Rex - a veteran of the Clone Wars and no stranger to Jedi tactics - put it mildly one time.

It's probably why we work so well together as a team, Sabine reflected. She was one of the only people who could keep up with whatever crazy plan Ezra developed on the fly.

Ezra scowled at her. "My defense was solid, thank you. I was actually about to achieve victory. You're the one who is lucky."

That elicited a laugh from her. "Whatever makes you feel better, goober."

He opened his mouth to further argue the point but was interrupted as Hera emerged from the cockpit followed closely by Chopper. Sighing at the sight of them bickering, she planted both hands on her hips, her expression exasperated.

"Come on, you two," she said. "Let's be good hosts and greet the guest."

Ezra threw Sabine a 'we'll settle this later' look and followed Hera towards the Ghost's stern where the Phantom II had docked. Sabine replied by cheerfully sticking her tongue out at him, as she fell in step behind.

This 'guest', as Hera put it, was a Rebel spy part of the Fulcrum agent network. Three days ago, the Ghost crew had received a transmission from an unexpected source: Princess Leia Organa, the daughter to Senator Bail Organa. She had asked them to rendezvous in the Bright Jewel System where this spy had requested backup to make a trade with an Imperial informant for a data disk containing crucial information to the Rebellion on the nearby planet of Ord Mantell.

Being familiar with the Ghost crew and their capabilities, Princess Leia had requested them specifically for this mission. Once they arrived in system, Kanan and Zeb had then piloted the Phantom II to secret coordinates in deep space to transport the Rebel spy onto the Ghost from an undisclosed location.

As they approached the Phantom II docking bay, Zeb was the first one to disembark, the hatch hissing open to make way for the Ghost crew member. The big Lasat stretched as he emerged, wincing at the crackling noise his joints made. He greeted everyone and, upon seeing Sabine and Ezra, asked with a big grin, "Who won the dejarik game?"

"Me," said Sabine at the same time as Ezra. They turned to each other with bemused looks as Zeb guffawed at their expressions.

"I'll take that to mean that Sabine was about to win it then," Zeb chuckled.

Ezra pouted. Sabine grinned but gave her partner an affectionate pat on the back.

Hera sighed again. "Kids, please behave," she said.

Kanan's voice drifted out from the open hatch, speaking softly to someone. "Watch your step here," he advised, his hand outstretched to the guest.

The Rebel spy stepped through. She was young, around Sabine's age. Lustrous black hair that fell slightly past her shoulders and a beautiful, statuesque face that belonged in holo-dramas. Her eyes were a light gray that shone with a cool intelligence, taking in the Ghost crew with a swift look. The white combat suit she wore was Rebellion standard uniform but, somehow, looked perfectly tailored to her slender body. The holster on her belt had a mean looking blaster tucked inside and judging from the marks on the weapon, it had seen use plenty of times.

Beside her, Sabine heard Ezra take a deep breath in surprise. Frowning, she looked to him - and noted the look of dumbstruck recognition flashing in his piercing blue eyes.

Before she could ask him what was up, Kanan introduced the spy to the crew. "Everyone, this is the Fulcrum agent we've been assigned to escort. Her name is Shana Tavorri."

She nodded in greeting. "Hello, everyone. Pleased to meet you all. I'm grateful for the assistance in this mission. Princess Leia has given you the highest of recommendations."

Shana smiled as her gaze fell upon Ezra. "Especially you, Ezra Bridger."

Sabine narrowed her eyes at Shana. There was an intimate familiarity with how she said Ezra's name . . . and, for some reason, it bothered her.

Ezra took a cautious step forward. "It really is you," he said in amazement. "I can't believe it."

Sabine crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. There was an odd, pinched feeling emanating somewhere inside her chest. Grimacing, she watched her friend practically float towards the new arrival.

Shana's smile widened into an easy-going grin. "Been a while, Ezra. You've certainly grown up from the little street thief I remember back on Lothal."

"You know Ezra?" asked Kanan in surprise.

Shana nodded. "We go way back. Our families were close, and we were childhood friends . . ." Her expression turned sad. "That was before the Empire took over. Ezra - did you ever find out about your parents?"

Ezra went still, a pained expression briefly passing over his face before smoothing into a neutral look. "They died some time ago," he said.

Shana's face fell; she reached out and gripped his hand in sympathy. "Oh, Ezra. I'm so sorry. I was always hoping that they met a better fate than my own family."

Ezra looked down at his feet. "No such luck, I'm afraid," he said. "It's okay. They died helping people."

"It's not okay, Ezra. It'll never be okay. Look - come here," she said and suddenly pulled him into a deep hug. Ezra's face went red in surprise, and he glanced at Sabine with an odd look - like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

She just frowned at him and felt another uncomfortable twinge in her chest. Sabine rubbed at the spot, wondering why she felt this way looking at Ezra and his old friend embracing - and became aware of Hera, looking directly at her, with an amused look on her face.

I don't like this, Sabine thought. I've got a bad feeling about this.

She coughed loudly, interrupting the tender moment between Ezra and Shana. Stepping forward, she stuck out a hand at the Rebel spy. "I'm Sabine, by the way," she said. "Sabine Wren. Ezra's partner."

Shana released a flustered Ezra from the hug and turned towards Sabine. The Fulcrum agent's gray eyes glinted with amusement as she took in Sabine's blunt manner and colorful appearance.

Shana replied coolly, "I've heard all about you, Sabine Wren. You have quite the reputation." The spy took Sabine's hand and gave it a tight, yet amiable squeeze in acknowledgement. Her grip was firm and steady, Sabine noted; her hands, while looking delicate, were calloused. It meant that Shana was not unaccustomed to hard work, despite her model appearance and elegant demeanor.

Normally, that would have impressed Sabine. But, for some unknown reason, it made her dislike the spy even more.

"Good or bad?" asked Sabine as they shook hands.

Shana gave a polite smile as she responded. "Depends on who you ask."

Hera clapped her hands together. "Right. Well, seems like our guest and Ezra have some catching up to do. Ezra, you'll have the honor of giving Shana the tour. Kanan and Zeb, you can go rest. I'll punch in the coordinates to Ord Mantell and get us on the way. And Sabine . . ."

"Yes, Hera?" She was staring at Shana who had already sidled away to speak with Ezra.

"Go freshen up your room. Shana will bunk with you for the night."

Sabine felt her stomach drop out from her abdomen. "Seriously?" she asked. "She's in my room?"

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Sabine gritted her teeth. "No," she replied. Shana had slipped her arm through Ezra's and was walking with him towards the Ghost's communal area. Ezra said something to her, and the young woman let out a peal of laughter that rang through the corridor.

Sabine felt her heart twist viciously as she watched Ezra give a shy smile at Shana.

"No problem at all," she said and went to clean her room, doing her best to ignore the turbulent feelings buzzing inside that were saying something else entirely.

Hyperspace, Mid-Rim Territories

It had been a long day, despite the relative lack of activities, and Sabine was ready for bed. Ezra had given Shana an in-depth tour of the Ghost at her insistence; at the end of it, Sabine had the amusing thought that their guest now possibly knew the Ghost's interior better than any of them. Once finished, Ezra and Shana had lounged in the Ghost's communal area, chatting about various things that had happened in their lives while they had been apart.

Sabine had spent that time lurking nearby, working at a nearby computer station - or, at least, pretending to be working. She was trying to get a better read on this mysterious Shana Tavorri; a Fulcrum agent, after all, was a notable position within the Rebellion, especially for someone so young. There were many of them, she knew, scattered throughout the galaxy performing various missions of critical importance to the Rebellion. The only other one she knew personally was a Jedi Knight, much like Kanan and Ezra, named Ahsoka Tano.

Shana was clearly no Jedi, but she definitely had exhibited skills that the Rebellion deemed worthy enough to put her in the same position that a Jedi had previously held. That made her dangerous.

But Shana's conversation with Ezra failed to disclose any of those potential skills, despite Sabine's best efforts to listen in. She was, however, embarrassed by her response whenever she did hear her name mentioned by Ezra, which came up more than a handful of times in their discussion; a warm, fuzzy feeling that left her feeling pleased.

After a while, both Ezra and Shana wrapped up their chat with a hug (Sabine felt her jaw clench so hard that she could hear something creaking) and retired to their respective bedrooms for the night. Sabine finished her work at the computer station half an hour later and followed suit.

Checking a nearby chronometer, she registered the lateness of the hour and stepped inside her room, deciding to spend some time maintaining her weapons before sleeping -

Only to find Shana laying in the top bunk, reading something on a data pad. Sabine winced, having forgotten that she wouldn't be alone for the night.

"Don't mind me," said Shana amiably, almost as if reading Sabine's thoughts. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Gladly, Sabine thought. But she said, "Hope I didn't disturb your reading."

Shana chuckled. "You didn't. I was just finishing up, actually." She rolled over in the bed to get a better look at Sabine. Her gray eyes took in Sabine's casual appearance, glittering with an almost feline interest.

Sabine, uncomfortable with her gaze, settled down at her desk and reached for her blasters and maintenance tools. "Anything interesting?"

"Oh, plenty," replied Shana. "I was reading about this superweapon developed by the Empire called 'The Duchess'."

Sabine froze, her hands twitching on the grip of her blaster. Her heart began to hammer away, a thousand beats per second. Slowly, she turned towards Shana, finding her sitting at the bed's edge, her feet dangling. There was a slight, polite smile on her face, but her gray eyes flashed again with that cool intelligence.

"You have led quite the life, Sabine Wren," remarked Shana. "Tragedy after tragedy. Does anyone in this crew know about any of that?" She cocked her head at Sabine. "Does Ezra? What would the gallant Jedi think of his friend if he really knew her?"

It was a thought that had kept Sabine up through the night on several occasions.

She crossed her arms and stared at Shana. "You've been reading up on me."

Shana shrugged. "On everyone, really. Princess Leia recommended you all so highly, so I couldn't help but take a peek at your files and histories. Quite the achievements you've pulled off for a crew so small."

"I've been reading up on you, too," replied Sabine coolly. Shana arched an eyebrow in surprise, eliciting a rush of satisfaction - clearly the spy had not been expecting that. "You ran with Saw Gerrera's crew for five years before working directly under Princess Leia. Did he kick you out, I wonder? What does it mean if you're too extreme even for someone like him?"

Shana dropped down from the top bunk and leaned against the bulkhead; her arms crossed in a similar fashion to Sabine. She wondered briefly if it was intentional, to mimic her. "Those files are available only to the top brass of Rebel Command," she murmured. "You hacked into the Rebellion's encrypted database at that old computer station? I assumed you were just skulking about, trying to listen to mine and Ezra's conversation."

Sabine shrugged, hiding her humiliation at having been clocked so easily by the other girl. And here I was thinking that was discreet, she thought. "I'm clever like that," Sabine retorted.

Shana grinned. "Your reputation precedes you, Sabine. Gifted prowess in combat, especially for a Mandalorian, and notable demolitions expert - but everyone seems to overlook that you are a child prodigy. I suspect your rough, blunt demeanor disguises that fact well. But you are, without a doubt, an enormous threat against anyone that chooses to go against you."

Sabine rocked back mentally at Shana's high praise of her talents. But all she said was, "Thanks, I guess."

Shana nodded in acknowledgment. "I can't say the same for Ezra, however." Shaking her head, she added, "I'm surprised he's survived this long."

"What do you mean?" asked Sabine.

"He's hopeless," said Shana in an exasperated tone. "I mean, yes, he's a Jedi now - or so he claims. I understand they're in short supply of capable students but to recruit him into the fabled Jedi Order? Desperate times, I suppose. He could barely tie his shoelaces together when I left him last."

"Ezra Bridger," said Sabine hotly, "is more than capable in any situation. Not because of his Jedi training, but because of who he is. He's saved all our lives - and many others - countless times over."

Shana eyed her skeptically. "You don't have to pretend to me, Sabine. I was just like you before. He's a loyal pup to be sure and good for a distraction I admit, but it's a stretch to say that he's capable on his own." She sighed. "I understand that this crew needed a mascot, perhaps, to cheer them up during these dark times but I think it's irresponsible to take someone like him - "

Sabine struck her with an open hand so hard that the other girl's head bounced off the bulkhead. Before Shana could recover, she shoved her against the wall, pinning her with a well-placed forearm. Sabine, through the red haze that obscured her vision, dimly noted the cut lip on the girl's face but found that she didn't care.

"Do not insult Ezra Bridger in front of me ever again," she said in a voice that was barely recognizable. It was a harsh rasp that Sabine didn't know she was capable of. "Do you understand?"

Shana tapped on Sabine's arm, gasping for air. It took a few moments for her to realize that the other girl couldn't reply due to the lack of air. Sabine relented, feeling her heartbeat pulsing rhythmically inside her skull; she looked down at her hands and found them shaking from the rush of adrenaline, now subsiding.

Yet on the inside she felt calm, as though a stream of ice water were flowing through her veins. Many things from Shana had unnerved her tonight, but it was her insults toward Ezra that had pushed Sabine past the edge.

Doubled over, wheezing, Shana gave her an amused look to Sabine's surprise. "So, you do care," she said.

"You didn't answer my question," Sabine said quietly.

Shana nodded. "I understand. You've got this emotional wall up, you know that? Hard to see through - except when it comes to Ezra Bridger." She wiped at her lip, noting the blood. "Nice hit," she observed.

Sabine reached into her desk and took out a first-aid kit. "Patch yourself up," she said, offering it to her.

Shana accepted it with a nod of gratitude. "I hope you don't take what I said about Ezra seriously. I just needed to know where you stand with him."

Sabine sat back down at her desk. "You don't actually think that way about him?"

Shana shook her head and leaned back against the wall, opening the kit. "Not at all. I know Ezra. We used to scavenge together back in the old days on Lothal. Hit up Imperial patrols for food and water. He stuck his neck out for me plenty of times, at risk to his life. I know what he can do. And that was before he became a Jedi."

Sabine watched her apply medicinal gel to her lip, thinking over what she said. "You care about him."

Shana blew out a breath. "Deeply. He was the only bright spot in my life during that time. I think I loved him."

Sabine felt her heart stop at Shana's words, hearing the depth and sincerity of emotion within them. Feeling her stare, Shana looked over at her with a knowing gaze. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Deflecting the question, Sabine asked, "So why did you leave him? How did you two get separated?"

Shana sighed. "One of our little scavenging operations went sideways. An uppity Imperial lieutenant wanted to make an example of us for humiliating him in front of his troops. The chase was exhausting; Ezra led most of them away but the lieutenant caught up to me. I thought I was dead."

She closed her eyes, reliving the memory. "Saw Gerrera was there. Don't ask me why or how; he never explained. He killed the lieutenant and offered me a choice. He was impressed with my skills, you see. So he said that I could come with him and pay back the Empire for what they had done to me."

"And if you didn't?"

The girl smiled grimly at Sabine. "He would kill me. No witnesses. Apparently, he didn't want the Empire knowing about his whereabouts, should they find and interrogate me afterwards."

Sabine snorted. "Not much of a choice."

"Indeed," Shana agreed. "So, I went with him."

"And left Ezra? You never went back for him?" Sabine didn't mean to, but there was an accusatory tone to her questions.

Shana eyes glazed over with sadness. "I couldn't. He was just a kid. I didn't want to pull him into danger. I could tell Saw was dangerous, even if he was fighting for the Rebellion. The moment I had an opportunity to do so, I jumped ship. Princess Leia found me and offered a new path. I took it."

Sabine was silent for a moment, thinking about Shana's story. Finally, she said quietly, "Ezra would have followed, if you had asked. He would have gone with you anywhere."

"I know. He's silly like that."

"Loyal," she corrected. Shana cocked her head and smiled a little sadly at Sabine.

"Just like you are to him. Is it typical Mandalorian stubbornness? Or something more?"

Sabine did not want to have that conversation with Shana. Or with anyone else, for that matter. She stood up abruptly and said, "Good night, Shana."

Shana's smile became, somehow, even more sad. "A word of advice, Sabine?"

Sabine was already standing at the door, about to step out. But something in Shana's tone made her pause.

"Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy."

She considered Shana's words for a long moment before replying, "Whatever you think our relationship is . . . it's none of your business. That stays between us."

Sabine left before the other girl could respond. Her mind still buzzing with what happened, she wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the Ghost before running smack dab into someone.

"Sabine? What are you doing?" Sabine blinked at the person speaking - and almost groaned out loud.

It was Ezra. Dressed in his sleep wear, holding a mug of his favorite beverage, hot chocolate. His eyebrows were raised in an expression of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Sabine very desperately wanted to be anywhere else right now. Her face was flushed in embarrassment; her heart was thudding a steady tattoo into her ribs at Ezra's proximity. She felt exposed, like a raw nerve, her inner turmoil and feelings threatening to spill out the longer she stayed in front of him.

Racking her brain to find some last second excuse to get out of there, something caught her attention: Ezra's fingers were bandaged. Her fears momentarily vanished as she asked, "What happened to your hands?"

Ezra fumbled his mug, trying to hide the evidence but it was too late. Sighing, he said, "I was working on something."

Sabine arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Working on what?"

Blushing, Ezra said, "Promise not to laugh?"

A small smile curled on her lips. "Nope."

Ezra groaned but led her to the communal table where his "project" laid. She noted immediately the disarray of colored paper strewn about on the table, half folded in various attempts into a familiar shape -

It clicked. "You're trying to make a flower out of these?" she asked. Ezra sat down and nodded glumly.

"Ezra Bridger," she said, placing a hand on her hip. "You've been holding out on me in terms of artistic abilities? That come with your Jedi training?"

He gave her a despairing glance. "I wish. Been up most of the night trying to figure this out."

Stifling a laugh out of pity, she surveyed his work. "It's not half-bad. What kind of flower are you trying to make?"

Ezra rubbed the back of his head, not looking at her. "It's supposed to be a - well, a Lenora flower."

Sabine's eyes widened in surprise. "A Lenora flower? From the fairytale?" Princess Lenora and the Starboy was an old fairytale that she was familiar with - in fact, it was one of her most treasured stories. Memories of her father reading it to her when she was younger, were still vivid in her mind. The flowers from that fairytale held deep symbolic meaning that marked them as her favorite.

"Yeah."

"I see." Sabine studied Ezra's work some more, looking to see where he went wrong - and then felt her stomach sink, as a horrid thought came to her.

"It's for Shana, isn't it." The words tasted rancid in her mouth.

Ezra looked at her, surprised. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then - oddly enough - a small, relieved smile appeared on his face. He answered in an innocent tone, "Sure. It's for Shana."

There was a part of Sabine, operating from a recent frame of memory, that wanted to sweep the contents of the table onto the floor and stomp on them. She struggled to control her wayward feelings, however, and took a deep breath.

"You want some help?"

Ezra's expression turned amused. "You sure?"

Sabine sighed. "Yeah. I'm sure." He needed her help. Like always.

And she could never turn him down.

He patted the seat next to him. "Thanks, Sabine."

Despite the situation, Sabine managed a smile at her friend. "Anytime, goober."

Ord Mantell City, Ord Mantell

Ord Mantell City was a bustling acropolis, teeming with all manner of people far flung from the distant corners of the galaxy. Tall spires loomed over the city center; a sprawling mass of mis-matched architecture that spread far as the eye could see. Rumor had it that the infamous criminal organization, the Black Sun, operated out of here - a rumor that the Empire was desperate to quash, as it clashed with their image of retaining control over the entire known galaxy. Despite being a haven for ill-gotten gains and profit, it was certainly a far cry from the pits of villainy and scum that other planets were, and the citizens enjoyed a relatively peaceful life despite the tense cold war between the Empire and the criminal organizations that inhabited their city.

The Ghost had arrived mid-morning with time to spare before Shana had to make contact with her Imperial informant. After taking the time to do a quick survey of the locals to ensure that they weren't being watched, Shana revealed her plan to the crew: a simple trade made in the market square and then she would be shuttled off in a separate transport nearby with another Fulcrum agent who was waiting on stand-by. The Ghost crew would act as her escort, in case things got hairy.

It was a reasonable enough plan - except for one, glaring flaw that Sabine immediately noticed.

"Why is Ezra the only one going with you for back-up?" she asked, trying to keep the heat out of her voice. "I thought we were all going with you."

Shana shook her head. "My informant would scamper at the sight of a group approaching. Two is more than sufficient to handle him, I assure you. The rest of you will wait back here, in the Ghost, ready to assist should we need it. The market square isn't far from the landing pad."

Sabine looked to Kanan and Hera. "Please tell me you disagree with this," she said.

Kanan stroked his beard, thinking. "Hera?" he asked. "What's your opinion?"

Hera answered, "She knows the area better than we do. And I know Shana and Ezra can handle themselves in a fight." She glanced at Sabine. "It's her plan, Sabine. And we'll be nearby in case something goes wrong."

"Which it won't," Shana said reassuringly. "I know this informant. He won't be a problem."

Sabine glared at her, then turned towards Kanan. "Kanan?"

Kanan let out a deep breath. "I'm with Hera on this one. We'll leave it to those two. This information is important. We don't want to risk spooking her informant."

Zeb grunted in assent. Chopper whomped his agreement, as well.

Sabine gritted her teeth, preparing to launch an argument -

Ezra interjected before she could open her mouth. "Sabine."

She looked at him. He gave her a serious look and said, "It'll be fine. Trust me."

Sabine blew out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Leave your com-links on, though. I want to hear everything being said. The moment something goes wrong, we'll know."

Shana nodded. "Agreed." Turning to Ezra, she said, "Let's be off, Master Jedi."

Ezra bowed gallantly at her and said, "Lead the way, my lady." They began to make their way down the boarding ramp.

Sabine rolled her eyes. Shana paused at the entrance and turned around to face Sabine.

"What?" asked Sabine.

"He'll be safe with me," said Shana. "I promise."

And she left without another word. Sabine watched her catch up to Ezra, turn a corner on the street ahead, and then vanish into the crowd.

An hour later, they returned triumphant with the data disc in hand. Sabine bounded down the ramp, almost colliding into Ezra. She had been pacing inside the Ghost, listening to the tense conversation exchanged between Shana and her Imperial informant, expecting it to go sideways at any given moment - but it never did.

Shana did her job as expected. Ezra checked in a few minutes later to let them know they were on the way back, and that he hadn't spotted - or sensed - anyone following them.

"Huh," said Kanan. "That's a first for us. A job that didn't have any complications."

Hera glanced at Sabine knowingly. "Well, for most of us, anyway," she remarked.

She bit her lip and double-checked her friend for trackers, despite knowing there were none.

Shana said, "I'm fine, too, in case you were wondering."

Sabine threw her a glare and finished her inspection. "No trackers on you, far as I can tell. All clear."

Ezra raised an eyebrow at her. "That was a very . . . thorough inspection on your part, Sabine."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up, goober."

He grinned briefly at her and then turned to Shana. "I guess this is farewell," he said quietly.

The other girl shook her head. "Don't say it like that, Ezra. I'm sure we'll meet again - "

Ezra interrupted her. "Just say it this once. Please. For me."

Shana looked taken aback for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Good-bye, Ezra Bridger."

And then she leaned forward, giving a soft kiss on his cheek. Sabine looked away.

"Good-bye, Shana," he said softly. He turned back towards the Ghost and walked up the ramp without another word. Which left Sabine alone with Shana.

Sabine gazed at her, not sure what to say. Shana, however, merely smiled and offered her hand. Incredulous, Sabine gripped it and gave a firm shake.

"This has been an . . . experience," she said. "I'm still not sure what to make of it."

"Can I tell you something, Sabine? I'm rather jealous of you. Ezra clearly cares for you deeply."

"And what makes you think that?"

"He didn't say good-bye to you when he left with me. He just asked you to trust him; trust that he would come back." Her smile turned melancholy. "I don't think he'll ever say good-bye to you, Sabine Wren."

Shana's com-link sent out a chirping noise. She checked it and said, "That's my ride. I should be going shortly."

"Well, safe travels. And good hunting," replied Sabine. The Fulcrum agent nodded and turned to go - but paused for a split second and turned back towards her.

"Yes?" asked Sabine, cautiously.

"Remember what I said. About not waiting." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then added with a sincere smile, "And take care of him, will you? He's all yours now."

And then she took a few hurried steps and disappeared into the crowded streets of Ord Mantell City.

Hyperspace, The Way Home

Later that night, getting ready for bed, Sabine came across Ezra sitting alone in the Ghost's communal area. He was studying something gripped in his hand, his expression lost in thought.

Sabine took a step closer and felt her eyes widen in recognition: it was the paper Lenora flower that he had made the night prior.

"You still have that?" she asked.

Ezra jolted slightly in his seat. "Oh, hey. Didn't see you there."

"Shana didn't want it?" Sabine asked. She couldn't imagine the girl refusing Ezra's present. Just the thought of it alone made Sabine wish she had hit Shana harder when she had the chance.

Ezra smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it wasn't for Shana in the first place."

He abruptly offered it to her. Sabine felt her jaw drop in surprise.

"It's for me?"

He nodded. "Hera told me that you were feeling a little neglected since I was focused on spending time with Shana, so I decided to make this as thanks. I appreciate you giving us the time and space to catch up."

Sabine took the flower gently from Ezra's hand. "How did you know to make this one? It's my favorite."

Ezra smiled at her. "You might have mentioned it a time or two during a conversation. It's from your favorite fairytale."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Try that again."

He winced. "Okay, I snuck into your room one time and saw the book laying on your bed. It wasn't for weird reasons, I promise! Zeb ate all my snacks, and I knew you had some stashed away, so I went looking while you were out."

Sabine snorted. "I believe you now." She rolled the flower between her fingertips, admiring the work Ezra had put into it.

All for her.

"You know what this flower symbolizes, Ezra?" she asked suddenly.

He thought about it. "Unwavering loyalty and dedication, right? I can't quite remember the whole story."

And love, she thought.

"Anyway," Ezra said quietly, "I just wanted you to know that . . . well, you're the only one for me, Sabine. No one will ever replace you."

Sabine's eyes snapped to Ezra; she could hear her heartbeat, pulsing loudly in her ears.

"As a partner," he added hastily. "I mean - well, you know - "

She smiled. "I know what you mean, goober."

Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy.

He's all mine now, she thought. All mine.

"We should probably head to bed now. Separately. But you knew that." Ezra's expression became increasingly mortified at what was coming out of his mouth. He looked like he wanted to very badly disappear in that second.

Sabine just laughed. "True. It's been a long day."

He shook his head, his expression flustered. "Good night, Sabine. See you in the morning." He began to walk down the hallway towards his room.

Don't wait.

"Hey, Ezra," she called. He turned around.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," she said softly.

Ezra cocked his head in an inquisitive manner. "Is that a Mandalorian saying?"

Sabine nodded.

"What does it mean?"

"A literal translation is 'I will know you forever.'"

Ezra mulled over the significance of what she said. "Nothing's certain in this galaxy, Sabine," he said. "But I hope that's true for us."

"Me, too," Sabine replied. She followed him down the hallway to their rooms.

"Does that phrase have another meaning?" asked Ezra. "I get the feeling it translates to something else."

I love you.

Sabine smiled at him. "It does have another, more famous meaning. I'll tell you about it someday. When this war is over."

"Ah," said Ezra dryly. "Well, that won't be too much of a wait, then. Between you and me, we've got the Empire on the ropes already."

Sabine laughed.

"Promise me you'll really tell me what the other meaning is?" asked Ezra. "You won't leave me hanging, right?"

Sabine looked at him, gazing deeply into his eyes. How blue they looked, she thought. How they shined like sapphire gems under the right lighting.

"I promise, Ezra Bridger," she said. "No matter what. If the galaxy tries to separate us, I'll find you and tell you."

[electronalytics]

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Details

Market Size by 2032

USD 31.98 Billion

Growth Rate from 2023 to 2032

CAGR of 5.78%

Largest Market

Asia Pacific

Base Year

2022

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[gingerlee-holds]

Ok ok so and idea for a fic: Alastor broadcasts one of his frequent tikl attacks on Vox so everyone in hell knows about his weakness (any length is fine)

oh!!! thank you for the idea and request anon/lovebug!! i hope you enjoy this!! its not directly related to the series im currently writing about ler!alastor, but its related, so maybe its on the same storyline just in the future- enjoy!!

aaaa i absolutely did not proofread this so ignore the terribleness xD

Tune On In

Words: 2228 Warnings: not proofread lmao- also mentions of alastor's violent tendencies but its offhanded

Pentagram City, among the only metropolitan areas in Hell, was bustling. Cars honked in endless traffic, clubs blared out noisy music, guns were fired, and demons screamed in agony or ecstasy, often both. There were a few moments when the city was blissfully serene, though these were rare occurrences accompanied by tragedy. For instance, after the formerly annual Exterminations, the entire city held its breath for the toll of the clock tower to signal that they were spared. These minutes of agonizing silence were rarely enjoyed, though.

There was only one other time when Pentagram City was so quiet: when the Radio Demon made a broadcast. Each radio and speaker in the city played the single, agonizing transmission. The hair on the neck of every sinner rose in fear, and every overlord held their breath. The terror and respect Alastor garnered by broadcasting the suffering of his victims made him the second most feared being in Hell, second only to Adam. Now, though, the commander of the Exorcists had been disposed of, meaning Alastor now had the top spot. And when the speakers across Pentagram City suddenly became overwhelmed by static, the Radio Demon smiled to himself, knowing he had the rapt attention of every demon in the Pride ring. 

"Testing, testing~! Is this thing on?" Alastor's voice echoed through the now-silent streets. “Salutations, sinners! Thank you all for joining me on this lovely morning! The temperature today is a downright balmy eighty-six degrees, and we're getting reports of a chance of acid rain in the southside around ten o'clock, so keep those umbrellas ready, folks! Now, I'm sure you're all wondering who I have with me as today's special guest on the program, and I'm thrilled to introduce him~!" 

Alastor spun around in his chair, grinning with delight at his victim, who lay on the floor of his recording studio, bound by magic tendrils. The businessman glared up at him, mouthing, "Don't you fucking dare," to no avail.

"Yes, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome everyone's favorite wannabe, the overrated picture box himself~! Everyone give a hand to Vox, CEO of VoxTek Enterprises and peddler of the same useless trinkets and gizmos corrupting today's youth! Yes, a big hand for the pixellated prince!" Alastor pressed a button on his soundboard to play a recording of raucous applause. 

Velvette looked up from her phone, blinking with realization. She cringed and looked over at Valentino, who looked like he was about to throw another tantrum. "How was he stupid enough to get himself captured?" she mumbled as she ran to the security cameras. Alastor continued his monologuing as Velvette watched, dumbfounded, the recording of Vox reading a letter before storming into a power outlet. She looked behind her as Val grabbed the letter from the table and began to read it silently, fuming.

Alastor wanted to prolong this as much as possible. "How have your stocks been doing, old pal?" he asked innocently, extending his microphone staff for his guest. 

"Just fine." The mic was sensitive enough to pick up Vox's angry sparks and glitched voice as he spoke, struggling to seem level-headed now that he was being recorded. 

The Radio Demon giggled. "Any new products you'd like to promote?"

"No."

"Ah, but enough of business. Let's get on to business!" Alastor laughed at his pun, standing up to walk around his victim. "You're very nervous, chum!"

"Get real. This has got to be the trashiest- ACK-" Vox froze mid-sentence as Alastor pressed the tip of his cane on one of his antennae. 

"Careful. Don't forget whose guest you are~!"

Vox growled in annoyance and squirmed a bit in Alastor's magic. He hadn't even bothered to wear his suit before running over, which he regretted as he lay on the floor in a button-up shirt and slacks. Looking down, his heart sank further: he was still wearing his slippers. 

Alastor removed his cane, walking towards those slippers. "Still pissed I almost beat you that time~?" 

"Uh… fuck you!" Vox snapped. 

"Just saying~!" Alastor grinned. 

Val looked up from the letter. "He stole my line. That bitch! He stole my goddamned line! I swear, I'm gonna-" he growled before storming off, leaving the paper on the table. 

Velvette quickly ran over and skimmed, murmuring to herself. "'To whom it may concern,' blah blah, 'scheduled for a meeting,' yada yada, 'meet an associate at 6 to…'" She stopped and squinted at the page. "Hell does 'vouchsafe' mean?" Her brows furrowed as she connected the dots. Alastor must have sent this letter to lure Vox out, and Vox, thinking he was late for a meeting, ran from the tower without telling anyone. "That idiot!" she yelled, punctuated by Val throwing a wine glass against a wall two rooms down. 

Alastor let a sinister chuckle escape his lips. "I think you have some things you should share with our dear audience! For instance, what exactly did you suggest I do seven years ago?" He waited patiently for the question to sink in.

"I- what?" Vox raised an eyebrow, not seeming to understand.

"Seven years ago, you came to me with a proposition. What exactly was it?"

The question finally clicked for Vox, but he scowled at the Radio Demon. He'd die before he gave that prick the satisfaction. He stayed silent, sparks shooting around his body. 

"Suddenly, the chatter-box is quiet~! Such strange times we live in. Don't worry, folks, I know how to make our guests talkative~!" Alastor quickly used his cane to flick away Vox's slippers. 

Demons looked away from their radios, wincing preemptively at the agony they were about to hear. Overlords felt beads of sweat rolling down their faces. Velvette leaned closer to the radio, pursing her lips, nervously fiddling with the pens on the table. Vox squeezed his eyes tightly shut, expecting Alastor to break his toes any moment now.

The moment stretched on. Vox tried to hold his breath, but when he couldn't, he finally exhaled slowly, and when he did, the Radio Demon struck.

“H-heehee- n-nohow wahahait, hohOld oHon a sehhec-!” Vox shot upward, looking down to see Alastor lying on his stomach, his legs swinging behind him as he gently traced one claw up and down Vox's sock. “T-theheere’s n-noho wahahy youhuhu're- c-cuhuhut ihihit ohuhut!”

"Hm, feeling a bit bubblier, are we~?" Alastor grinned impishly, slowly adding the rest of his fingers to scribble over Vox's feet. Now realizing what the Radio Demon had in store for him, Vox clamped his mouth shut, every muscle in his body straining to contain his laughter. An electric current had formed between his two antennae with the effort he was using.

Suddenly, Alastor's voice appeared next to his ear. "Go on, you little gigglebug, let it all out~!" Vox shot a glance sideways to see Alastor's shadow whispering to him. "Besides, we both know you're far too ticklish to resist~!"

"F-FuhUhuhUCK! YoUhuHUHU oHohOLD-TihIhIMEy PRiHihiHICK!!!” Vox snorted and arched his back as much as he could. Teasing was just too much!

Velvette's shoulders relaxed a bit. It didn't seem like Vox was in trouble… However, when she double-checked her phone, she saw that social media was blowing up about the CEO of VoxTek being tickled, which had unfortunate results on the company's stocks. At least she could rest a bit easier knowing that her friend- no, business associate was in no real danger. She was shaken out of her thoughts by another staticky shriek.

"Come now, I know you wanna tell all our lovely viewers about how you-"

"NoHoHOHO!" Vox shook his head, but his eyes bugged out when he felt tendrils squeezing at his hips. 

"And now~? Let's change that channel~!"

"OKAHAHAY!! OKAhAhahAHAY! FuhUhuhUCK!!" Alastor slowed down but didn't stop the gentle tickles to keep Vox in a giggly state of embarrassment. 

"Go on~! What did you propose to me all those years ago~?"

“T-thahat… thahahat youhuhu chahahange youhuhur nahahame tohoho Vahalahastor-!” Vox’s screen turned red as he remembered the thought.

Alastor cued the laugh track again. "That's right! Since you wanted me to become a member of your polycule so much-!"

“IT’S NOT A POL- EEHEHEHEEEK!” Vox's indignant shout was cut off by a squeal he couldn't contain when he felt Alastor's claws scribbling against his shoulder blades. 

"Now, next question!" Alastor pretended not to hear the squealing mess on his recording studio floor. "When we fought those years ago, who won~?"

"NEhehHITHER!!" Vox desperately tried to weasel his way out of the question and his tickles, but with both, Alastor kept him pinned. 

"Technicalities!" Alastor smirked and added shadowy tendrils to the back of Vox's knees as punishment for his insolence. "Nobody technically won, but only because…?"

“THEHEHE VEEHEEHEES!!!” Vox bluescreened as electric shocks flew off in every direction, making Alastor step back a bit and slow down again. “Theehehe Veeheehees cahahame in ahahand sahahahved meehehehe!” 

"Right, since I was about to win~!" 

Vox growled in frustration, trying to get his composure back. "Yeah, but how about that fight with Adam? Talk about- ACK-!" Vox was again cut off by the cane on his antennae, and he looked up into the face of the radio demon, with eyes in the shape of dials and horns extended. A radio hiss filled the studio, echoing out across the city. 

Alastor waited a few moments before responding. "Many nasty rumors are going around about me, Vox, mostly thanks to you. Only one is completely and wholly true, and it's this." He bent down close to Vox's face, making him flinch away. "I do have a special appetite for the flesh of other demons. Vox, my good old friend, I need you to know I am famished at the moment."

"Y-yeah-? W-well-" Vox tried to think of something clever but came up short. "Y-you're not going to eat me, Al! I'm all wires. Wouldn't taste good!" 

Alastor hummed in thought. "Perhaps you're right. I have a refined palette, and junk food would just ruin my mood." He smirked at the insulted stammering Vox let out before continuing. "However, I just can't resist a little taste~!"

"What? WaitwaitAlasTOHOHOHOR!!!!” Of all the things Vox expected from his worst nemesis, nothing could have prepared him for when Alastor bent down and began gently nibbling his teeth over Vox's ribs through his shirt. Oh, he would never hear the end of this from anyone. 

"Final question," Alastor chuckled. "What is your biggest weakness~?"

'Oh, fuck, no, please don't make me say it!' Vox's mind raced. Was Alastor seriously going to- 

The Radio Demon let out a raspberry on the middle of his ribcage, sending him into silent hysterics. Yep, Alastor was going for the kill… metaphorically. 

"IHIHIHI'M!! IHIHIHIHIEAHAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAL!!!" Vox tried getting the words out, the words he knew would spare him from this hellish tickling. Alastor, mercifully, stopped and let Vox catch his breath, pointing the microphone on his staff to Vox's face. Vox sighed, feeling the built-in fans on his head whirring crazily to cool him down. He whimpered softly, defeated and made into a giggly mess, so he mumbled pathetically, "I'm deathly t-tihihicklish…"

"Yes, indeed he is, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you so much for joining us today. I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me! Although, I know Vox appreciated it the most~! Tune in next time for another exclusive interview~! Vox, will you be coming back on the show?"

"N-nohohoho…" Vox tried to hide his face in the tendrils but wasn't very successful. 

"What a shame! We have so many more laughs to share, don't you think~? I'm sure we'll all hear from you again soon~!" With that, Alastor flipped a switch, and the studio's large 'ON AIR' sign turned off. Across the city, speakers began playing their regular music again, and the city's noise returned in all its chaotic, messy beauty once more. 

The radio demon released his tendrils, and the businessman slowly and wearily rose to his feet. Every muscle shook, and he leaned against the wall for support. "This… This isn't over. You won't get away with this." He turned back and glared daggers at Alastor, sparks shooting off his hands.

"I have! Now, don't dawdle! You need to address the media~!" Alastor pointed out the window, and Vox turned to see a gathering crowd of reporters and camera crews assembling around the front of the hotel. 

"F-fuck." 

"Off you go~!" With a gentle push, Alastor sent Vox on the most embarrassing walk of his life as he stumbled through the hotel, his slippers in hand. 

Charlie, face glued to the front window nervously, whirled around when she heard footsteps. "Oh! Please, come again soon!" She smiled and waved at the demon, who simply huffed.

"I won't," he said under his breath, pushing open the doors to be greeted by reporters shouting and snapping pictures. What a mess. 

When he finally got back to V Tower, he got quite the earful from both Velvette and Valentino. However, when they were alone together, Velvette grinned and scribbled a hand over Vox's ribs to make her friend giggle. It was cute, and goodness knows she needed a stress reliever now and then. Maybe she had to thank Alastor sometime for unintentionally gifting her such precious information. At least Vox didn't lose a limb in there: only every last shred of his dignity.

[zhejiangleihaoelectric]

[era404-skib]

TCam 3.0 Concept*

(*with very quick and rushed art, my usual shit is better i promise,,,)

Abilities:

-Everything he previously had, plus the stuff he lost e.g. Blaster, hammer

-More shoulder blasters

-Return of the Ears :3

-Transmission receiver thing which allows him to receive broadcasted footage from ANY POV Cam, regardless of distance

-Wings, allowing him to fly more gracefully and still do a bullshit tough ram

-Followers:

So basically my HC is that the Cameramens main power is strength in numbers, so why not give TCam some followers to signify that?

Upgraded Orbital Camera Satelite

-Hide above clouds, only come down to shoot when TCam distress signals

-Glitch toilet movement

-Absolutely BONKERS lazer power

Orbital Engineer Camera Satelite

-Always surrounding TCam to protect him

-Equipped with two huge chainsaws

-Glitch Toilet Movement

-Lower down to the ground and uproot roads and other infrastructure in seconds with the chainsaws, killing small toilets in the process

-Ram into large toilets repeatedly to completely tear them apart

[breakerwhiskey]

200 - TWO HUNDRED

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Okay, I think I’m—I’m ready to read this note now. Beyond just the date and the first few lines.

“April 6th, 1975

Abigail—

I’m okay. If you do find this, I have a feeling you’re going to have questions about the blood. You always have questions about everything. It’s one of your best qualities and also one of your most infuriating. Though I suppose I should be grateful you’ve been dogged in your pursuit of the truth. Maybe this can be repaired.”

I don’t know if she means the jacket or…

“It’s chicken blood. I am not as capable as you when it comes to butchery.”

That’s…that’s as far as I got after finding the note. The relief hit me like a freight train but…

I don’t want to be capable of butchery. I know that’s not what you meant but I…

Anyway. Moving forward.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach our meeting in time, but after that man came to the house, I went to ground. I heard a car in the distance a few times over the last few days, but I couldn’t be sure it was you.

I got the car you left me. And the radio. I’ve been transmitting out regularly but I’m going to guess that you haven’t heard me. That’s what I’m choosing to believe anyway, given I’ve sent you more than a few messages over the months, with no reply. And, yet, somehow, I’ve heard many of your transmissions—not all, and they are very often full of static and breaks in the signal, but you have reached our garage even from Los Angeles.”

She crossed out something here. I think it says…(crinkle of paper) "I thought about joining you” but I can’t read the rest. Goddammit, Harry…

“Do you remember that one diner that we went to every month for all of ’69? I know that you’ve been to a lot of roadside diners in the last ten months, so maybe they’ve run together in the way that they’re almost purpose built to do. The one down the street, the one we could walk to—we haven’t been back in ages, because I got spooked the one time the neon sign flickered back to life, but we’d carry thermoses of tea and pretend that we were going out for a morning cup, because the monotony of our existence was threatening to destroy us both.

Whether you remember it or not, that diner has a working radio. I believe it too spooked me when there was a power surge, even if it was just static. In any case, I’m no longer at that diner, but I was briefly and heard several of your transmissions. There was no way to speak back to you, as it wasn’t that kind of radio, but it was picking up your signal just the same.

I’m not in the state anymore. I threw the jacket from the car as I drove out of town, a final ditch attempt to contact you. I had a feeling you would take it with you if you found it, despite the state of it, and just had to hope that you would find these pages sewn inside the lining.

I’ll keep transmitting, so we can find a time and place to meet, but there are conversations I don’t want to have over the airwaves, or in a letter. So I’m going to give you instructions now, that I’ll keep repeating on the radio, in the hopes that you’ve found this even if you can’t hear me.

Do you remember the show I did up north at that gallery near the water? You’d been in Provincetown with Francis for a few days and he drove the both of you up for the opening. It wasn’t a particularly short journey, but manageable. You both stayed the weekend, at that little B&B that shares its name with one of the planets.

I don’t think you thought very much of my show. It was one of my more abstract periods. I know you never cared much for that style, but I do have to wonder if you’d have been more generous to it if you’d known what inspired it. Then again—”

And she crossed that out too…

“It was still nice having you and Francis there. I always wondered why you’d agreed to come. You seemed so unhappy to be there. It makes me wonder if my demeanor made you think that I was unhappy to have you there. That was never my intent.

I’m headed there now. I think you left me with enough fuel to make the journey, and I want to get somewhere familiar that isn’t terribly close to where we've been. Meet me there.

I don’t want to write the name down, for fear that someone else will find this jacket and this note, but I’m going to assume you remember.

I remembered. The place where we had the picnic. I remembered. And I always knew that you were winding me up about Rothko, but I liked arguing with you. It’s why I never told you that I like Hank Williams. At least, I learned to.

Harriet”.

[click, static]