#hydrogen breathing machine

[h2lifetech]

[ptxson]

How to use hydrogen inhalation machine TX-H3000B -new arrival

[moreshine]

3000ml Home Usage Hydrogen Oxygen Inhaler Pure Hydrogen Inhalation Machine

[hauntingkiki]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do venture waking up from having a nightmare about reader dying and readers like lying right next to them and hears venture crying but reader try’s to comfort venture? Just some angst fluff please :c

OMGGG AWWW, IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS!!

Hellish Night

Venture x Reader

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

venture scrambled into their room, tears poured out of their eyes, rolling down their cheeks and dripping on their clothing, skin and the wooden floor beneath them. “oh my fucking god.” they shakily sobbed, their mind backwards as they immediately forget where everything was located around their room.

their knees gave out from under them, catching themselves on their desk with a sucked in breath. their heart hammered against their chest, the scene from a few hours ago replaying in their mind.

~~

“SLOAN!” you screamed, struggling against the strong hold that was around your waist. you threw your fists into the back of your kidnapper, trying to wiggle out of their hold.

sloan chased after you, stumbling as they tried to keep up with the pace. “Y/N!” they cried, reaching a hand out in your direction.

your kidnapper turned his torso, grabbing his mini gun then firing at sloan, dropping the weapon back to his side as he continued to make his way to the get away helicopter that drowned out the loud mini gun sound with the obnoxious whirling of the propeller.

venture was lucky that all the shots missed, punctuating the ground that was at their feet. venture came to a halt, skidding against the orange dirt as they started at the flying machine in front of them.

your attacker threw you off of his shoulder and onto the metal floor, enemy troops snagging you off the floor, trying to detain you but struggling as you kicked and bit, wiggling around.

venture covered their face with their arm, turning their torso away as the wind around the helicopter pushed them back slightly. when the wind slowly stopped, sloan peeled their arm away and cocked their head up towards the pink and orange sky, wide eyes, horror completely washing over their body as they watched the helicopter zoom off. they faintly noticed you reaching out the open side of the vehicle, getting pulled back by the troops inside.

“SLOAN!”

~~

it kept playing in their mind.

over and over and over again.

a hand shot over their mouth, wide eyes as they gagged, but thankfully swallowed it down. sloan started at the wooden floor beneath them, the wax having a faint reflection of themself.

they felt so stupid.

they could’ve prevented all of this from happening.

sloan should’ve been more cautious about the situation, they could’ve warned winston about their past encounter so he could’ve been kick out of overwatch.

sloan knew what he was capable of. fuck, they’ve seen it first hand! back at illios, talon and some of his troops came into the sight, including mauga.

groaning through gritted teeth, sloan pulled themselves off of the floor, whipping their head around to find the needed supplies they were going to need for this journey.

their eyes landed on their canteen that was hanging on their doorknob. ripping it off of the door, they stormed out of their room and into their kitchen, placing it onto the island before walking off.

they did this for about 15 minutes, going into different rooms and grabbing things that they were going to use.

letting out a breath they didn’t even notice, they stood in front of the island, glancing over all the items that were scattered around the countertop.

a first aid kit; full of gauze, wrapping tape, hydrogen peroxide, alcohol wipes and a lot of other shit sloan didn’t even know were medical stuff.

a canteen with backup water bottles.

a few snacks; crackers, chips, small baggies of fruit and some assorted sweets. anything to give them and you fuel.

a pistol that their grandfather gifted them with boxes of backup ammo.

and their drill.

with backpack in hand, they started to pack, trying to organize everything so it would fit into the pouch the best it could.

just as they finished filling up their canteen, a knock echoed through the room. turning the tap off, they twisted the lid on the metal container, gently placing it on the counter as they walked over to the door.

“angela?” sloan gasped when they opened the door, revealing the medic. their eyes looked around her face, brows knitting together. “what are you doing here?”

angela peeked behind sloan, getting a glimpse of their backpack and their drill. she sighed when they stepped over to the side, blocking her view from inside, even though they were too late. “venture, you can’t go there alone.” she muttered, adjusting her glasses before reaching out and grabbing their calloused hands. “lucio’s getting winston now; we’ll all go with you to save y/n.”

venture turned their head to the side, eyes glued to the ground. “i can’t wait, angela.” they huffed, looking her in the eyes, watching as her face slowly softened at their words. “she needs me. she’s my girlfriend for christ’s sake!” they chuckled faintly at the end, shrugging their shoulders.

the two fell silent, angela letting go of their hands with a nod. “go get her then.” she whispered, nodding in approval. “just…stay safe. and bring her back safely.”

venture started at her with slightly wide eyes, their lips parted at her words. they nodded faintly before nodding eagerly. “i will.” they reassured, running a hand through their chocolate locks. “when winston gets reported of it, you guys can head straight there.”

angela hummed in agreement, giving them a quick hug before running down the hall to alert the others about the situation at hand.

venture quickly put the backpack on, then their canteen around their body. they grabbed the gun and put it in their waist band before dragging their drill and walking out, making sure to grab a pair of keys with them on the way out.

locking their door, they made their way over to all the hero’s vehicles, speed walking over to their motorcycle. they got their drill adjusted onto the back of their bike before they hopped on, putting the keys into the keyhole and started up the bike. revving the engine a few times, they slowly drove out of their parking spot before accelerating and driving off.

•••

coughs and hacks filled the room, the sound of liquid dripping into the floor faintly made it’s presence. shoes clicked around you as one of the soldiers walked around your hunched over body, all of the soldiers who took you hostage watched with chuckles and smirks as blood slowly started to cover the floor from their torture.

tears pooled into your eyes, your attention glued on the blood and spit mixture that dribbled down your chin and into your legs, rolling down your skin and spreading onto the concrete. you slowly turned your gaze over to mauga, your body shaking as you watched one of the soldiers try to coax him into joining the torture, but thankfully for you, he declined, staying in the shadows with his arms crossed.

“i’m going to ask you again!” a male voice spat, baton in his right hand. he got onto one knee, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head up, making eye contact with your wide, tearful eyes. “WHERE is the ffFUCKING ARTIFACT?!”

you shook your head against his hold, blood and spit rolling down your chin. “i don’t FUCKING KNOW.” you spat, blood spattering onto his mask that was covering his identity.

he let go of your hair and spun the baton in his grasp before swinging, landing a clean hit on your jaw.

you cried out, your head snapping to the right. you scoffed faintly, opening and closing your jaw before you spat out some more blood.

the soldier pushed you over with his boot, making you whimper as you landed on your fresh cuts and bruises. you brought your knees up to your chest, hissing as blood gushed out of your abdomen from one of the many stab wounds you’ve received. he raised his arm over his head, getting ready to hit you before pausing.

everyone froze, turning their attention onto the doorway as faint gun shots echoed throughout before a booming drill sound followed.

then silence.

your heart fluttered in your chest, pushing yourself up from your laying down position. you knew that clunky drill sound from anywhere.

venture walked into the room, blood slightly dripping off their drill and off their coat.

your eyes went wide, shuffling forward as tears started to pool into your eyes again. “VENTURE!” you sobbed, your body violently shaking as you wailed.

“GET EM!” a soldier from behind you called out, the rest of the soldiers (besides the one that’s next to you and mauga) started to shoot at the archeologist.

sloan dived behind a pillar, using the pistol to pick off some of the soldiers, groaning when they remembered they left their bag full of ammo back with their bike. tossing the gun to the side, their hands wrapped around the handles of their excavator before they burrowed under the concrete.

you watched your partner with a twinkle in your eyes, your lips parted slightly with a faint smile.

you were going home.

mauga slowly walked over to the soldier who stood a little ways behind you, clearing his throat to gain the man’s attention. once he had his gaze, he jerked a thumb over towards you. “she, uh…she won’t say anything.” mauga admitted, rubbing his neck as he glanced over to you before turning back to the soldier. “we just need to find someone else to tell us.”

the soldier’s eyes landed on a dagger that mauga was holding out to him. he gently took it from the inked up man, caressing the blade between his fingers, being careful to not cut himself with it. he slowly nodded, getting a comfortable grip on the handle. the soldier inched his way over to you, kneeling behind you and-

your eyes shot open, the coldness of the blade entering your skin before it quickly left. you slowly and shakily looked down, blood oozing out of your skin, soaking into your shirt. you felt the liquid trickle from your chest and your back, seeping into your pants.

breathing quickly became hard to do, making you put all of your energy onto a simple task.

the two men behind you quickly left, the dagger staying behind on the floor a few feet away from you.

sloan had their back towards you. their chest fell and rose rapidly, sweat building up and collecting in the blood that spattered onto their skin; they were covered, almost head to toe.

sloan snapped out of their odd state, turning to you with a grin before it quickly slipped of their lips, fear washing over. “y/n!” they gasped, dropping their drill as they ran over to your laying down frame. they slid on their knees when they got to you, rubbing a bloodied hand through their hair. “no…no, nonononono.” tears collected in their caramel eyes, gently lifting you up and holding you in their arms.

you wheezed, coughing as you felt the blood pool into your lungs, time quickly running out for you as you were drowning by your own blood. your own body was killing you.

slowly, you reached a freed hand towards your partner, sloan meeting your hand halfway as they leaned their head down into your touch, placing their bigger, calloused hand over yours.

tears were flowing out of venture’s eyes, dripping onto your face as they slid down. “i love you, cariño.” they whispered, their shoulders shuttering as they sobbed. “don’t leave me…please.”

you smiled meekly, caressing their cheek with your thumb, the blood on their face and on your fingers smudging into their skin. “i love you too, baby.” you muttered, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling, your eyes closing for a brief moment. “i…” you sighed, before going quiet, falling limp into sloan’s arms.

•••

sloan let out a gasp, clawing at the bedding that was placed over them as they shot up. their hunched over frame stared at the base board at their feet, their chest rising and falling quickly.

sweat rolled down from their temple, their shirt was drenched in the salty liquid, so they quickly tugged the shirt off, some of the left over sweat sticking to their chest from the shirt, but it seemingly disappeared once the ac kicked on.

their vision was a haze, impossible to see in the dark. they blinked a few times and their vision got adjusted to the darkness. they glanced around the room they were in, their eyes stayed glued to the right side of the room first. a bunch of maps, drawings, rocks and gems, history books and other things littered the side of the room; their side of the room.

slowly they turned their head to the left side, their eyes immediately shot down to the bed that they were in.

there you were. sleeping peacefully, your lips slightly parted as you lightly snored, your hands gripping at the sheets and comforter that coated your body.

sloan immediately broke down at the sight of you, relief quickly washing over them when they realized that it was all a dream, a nightmare more than a dream. they threw their face into their hands, their back pressed against their pillows and the head board.

their hics and weeps were quick to wake you up, your hand rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes as you let out a yawn. “babe?” you yawned, fluttering your eyes open once you were done rubbing them with your knuckle. you let out a gasp, pushing yourself up into a seated position as you leaned over to the person sitting next to you. “sloan?! w-what happened? are you okay?” you panicked as you turned on the small lamp on your nightstand, the soft light casting a gentle glow onto the two of you.

your eyes darted around the backs of their hands, scooting your way in between their legs so you were front of them.

sloan peeled their hands away from their tear stained face, choking on their sobs as they struggled to make eye contact. “i…i had a nightmare..” they admitted, almost embarrassed that they were sobbing like this over a nightmare.

you nodded, showing that you understood, sincerity lingering in your eyes. “okay..” you whispered, your hands rubbing gently along their bare, muscular arms. you would be lying if you said you didn’t blush a little at the sight of their bare chest, a small skull with your favorite flowers in your favorite color on their left side immediately catching your eye. you shook your head, scolding yourself at the thought. you can think like that later, you cursed to yourself. “what happened in the nightmare?” your left hand reached out towards their face, gently cupping their cheek as you gently made them look at you, a worried look twisted at your face.

sloan swallowed thickly, their hand atop of yours. they also linked their other hand into your free one, immediately getting a reassuring squeeze from you. “you were taken by talon…” they started, their eyes flickering between your eyes as you watched them. “and you were killed.” they whispered, you almost didn’t catch it.

you let out a huff, a frown tugging on your lips as you brought sloan into a hug. “oh, you poor thing.” you muttered, rubbing a hand in circles along their bare back as your other hand got lost in their thick curls.

sloan dove their face into your chest, gripping at your top as their body shook once again, sobbing into your pajamas.

you shifted around as you comforted your partner, your legs straddled their hips as you gently shushed them, your chin atop of their head as you gently pressed kisses against them every now and then.

“i don’t want to let go.” they muttered against you, loud enough for you to hear it. they pulled away from your body, looking up at you as your hands cupped their cheeks, thumbs grazing under their eyes.

“you don’t have to.” you whispered, kissing their forehead. “i’m not going anywhere.”

sloan sniffled, nodding their head against your hands as they leaned into your right, kissing your palm. “i love you.” they whispered, hands snaking down to your waist as they pulled you closer. “so much.”

smiling, you bright them into a kiss, their lips chapped from the cold air that was being blasted into the apartment. “i love you too.” you muttered against their lips, pulling them into another hug.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

oh…my…god…

that took so long to write holy😭 but totally worth it! (if you couldn’t tell, they’re my favorite character to write) i hope you enjoyed!

[reasonsforhope]

"It may sound surprising, but when times are tough and there is no other food available, some soil bacteria can consume traces of hydrogen in the air as an energy source.

In fact, bacteria remove a staggering 70 million tonnes of hydrogen yearly from the atmosphere, a process that literally shapes the composition of the air we breathe.

We have isolated an enzyme that enables some bacteria to consume hydrogen and extract energy from it, and found it can produce an electric current directly when exposed to even minute amounts of hydrogen.

As we report in a new paper in Nature, the enzyme may have considerable potential to power small, sustainable air-powered devices in future.

Bacterial genes contain the secret for turning air into electricity

Prompted by this discovery, we analysed the genetic code of a soil bacterium called Mycobacterium smegmatis, which consumes hydrogen from air.

Written into these genes is the blueprint for producing the molecular machine responsible for consuming hydrogen and converting it into energy for the bacterium. This machine is an enzyme called a “hydrogenase”, and we named it Huc for short.

Hydrogen is the simplest molecule, made of two positively charged protons held together by a bond formed by two negatively charged electrons. Huc breaks this bond, the protons part ways, and the electrons are released...

The molecular blueprint for extracting hydrogen from air

With Huc isolated, we set about studying it in earnest, to discover what exactly the enzyme is capable of. How can it turn the hydrogen in the air into a sustainable source of electricity?

Remarkably, we found that even when isolated from the bacteria, Huc can consume hydrogen at concentrations far lower even than the tiny traces in the air. In fact, Huc still consumed whiffs of hydrogen too faint to be detected by our gas chromatograph, a highly sensitive instrument we use to measure gas concentrations...

Enzymes could use air to power the devices of tomorrow

It’s early days for this research, and several technical challenges need to be overcome to realise the potential of Huc.

For one thing, we will need to significantly increase the scale of Huc production. In the lab we produce Huc in milligram quantities, but we want to scale this up to grams and ultimately kilograms.

However, our work demonstrates that Huc functions like a “natural battery” producing a sustained electrical current from air or added hydrogen.

As a result, Huc has considerable potential in developing small, sustainable air-powered devices as an alternative to solar power.

The amount of energy provided by hydrogen in the air would be small, but likely sufficient to power a biometric monitor, clock, LED globe or simple computer. With more hydrogen, Huc produces more electricity and could potentially power larger devices.

Another application would be the development of Huc-based bioelectric sensors for detecting hydrogen, which could be incredibly sensitive. Huc could be invaluable for detecting leaks in the infrastructure of our burgeoning hydrogen economy or in a medical setting.

In short, this research shows how a fundamental discovery about how bacteria in soils feed themselves can lead to a reimagining of the chemistry of life. Ultimately it may also lead to the development of technologies for the future."

-via The Conversation, March 8, 2023. Article written by the authors of the study.

[writers-potion]

Hi! I just wanted to ask if you have any world building tips? I'm considering making a whole society and culture about a species that live on a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy.

Now for context, In my story, Earth doesn't know for sure that aliens exist, there are three characters that are going to be focused on in that universe are basically the first scouts that were sent after their society recently discovered Earth. Two on the planet and one stationed in a nearby celestial body which is where their "base" is, Their goal is to gather intel without alerting humans.

In terms of trying to imagine their biology, would it be good to first imagine the environment and climate of their planet and then address how their bodies adapt and deal with it or vice versa?

I'm also a bit worried about making them too humanlike in terms of their way of thinking since I thought they'd likely be very different from us without any chance of one influencing the other before the story.

Could I use certain myths and legends about non-human creatures as inspiration for the race of sentient beings I'm trying to come up with?

This is a lot so thank you so much if you do answer and I'm sorry if I asked too much of you. Have a nice day!

Inspiration for an Alien Species

For non-humanlike alien characters, look into pre-exising creatures and try tweaking them:

Take a historic/extinct animal and change it. 

Take two animals/insects/bacteria and combine their features. Tweak them until you land on something original.

You can start with a human, and add/subtract features. 

Use mythological creatures – they should offer a good source of intelligent nonhumans! Research about the kind of terrain these mythical creatures live. 

You requirements of how intelligent the aliens are, and what their primary activities are will also determine what physiological features you give them. 

Are they intelligent enough to use tools? What kind of machines? If they are to navigate complex machinery you need to give them arm-like appendages like tentacles, etc. 

What do they like doing most? What kind of sports do they play, and what kind of body parts would they need for that?

What do they eat? How do they eat? 

How do they reproduce?

Are they “pleasurable” to the typical human, or are they “disgusting” or “monstrous”?

Here are some features you could work with:

lead claws (for poison)

quil shooting

mantis arms

fire breathing (hydrogen also works as a flamable if you don't wanna use ethylene)

acid sptting (add venom sacks at the nose to squirt the acid) WARNING make sure the creature is immune to the acid, add a mucus to protect it from its acid.

multiple heads

forked tounge

electricution

bioluminesence

geovores (feeds on rocks)

whip tails

infared vision

gas (if you have seen poppy playtime chapter 3 catnap did this, if not than just imagine a creature breathing accept breathing out deadly gases on command)

Camoflouge

beaks

mandibled and/or multiple jaws

Alien First, or Planet First?

The choice between adapting your alien to the environment or adapting the environment to your alien depend on which of those your worldbuilding depends on. 

If your story is about an asteroid slamming into Earth and there happens to be life on it, the environment is more important. 

If the story is about a human girl befriending an alien, the alien is more important. 

Since you mentioned that your aliens are visiting Earth, your aliens (and how they navigate in a spaceship/Earth) seem more central to the storyline – you can think up of the alien you want, then build a planet they would thrive in. 

How to Differentiate Them 

Religion

Human religions provide (1) an origin story for the world and humans and (2) provide meaning to an essentially meaningless human existence. But what if your aliens have the ability to see far into the past and into the future? God as a Creater wouldn’t work in their world. 

Religion as a response to their physiological needs. E.g. An alien species that have to hibernate would value the God of Warmth the most. 

Religion as a response to a hostile envrionment. What elements of nature do your aliens fear the most? Are they agricultural? What’s their main source of energy? 

Language

Human language is mostly dependent on sound and vision. What if your aliens only communicated via touch, taste or smell?

Based on their habits and social organization, come up with a list of alien vocab. 

French musician Jean-François Sudre created an artificial language called “Solresol”. His language has seven syllables to match the heptatonic musical scale. However, a writer could convert the notes into the seven colors of the rainbow and use Solresol as the basis of a color-based alien language.

What body language do they have to express emotions?

History

Come up with a rough timeline of alien world history. Outline major wars, technological developments, major pandemics, artists and politicians. 

Given their history and culture, how would they view humans?

History repeats itself. 

Art

Standards of beauty are dependent on biology. Scientists say that the faces humans find the most attractive are the most likely to be healthy and fertile.

What standards of beauty would your aliens develop?

What sorts of biological advances would they look for in a mate?

What kind of art would aliens develop if they saw heat, rather than light? 

What about aliens who communicated via smell? 

What kind of art would a race of sentient trees create? Could you create art if you were immobile?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content,  become a Writing Wizard 

[hihomeghere]

Tesoro | Five Hargeeves / Reader

Rating : Teen Word Count : 3k Summary : While working at the commission as a field agent you are assigned a new partner, Number Five. Warnings : Gore, description of bodily harm, mentions of kidnapping (this is the start of a sort of series. I watched TUA and now I cant stop writing about Five)

Pins and needles, it was as though your very essence was being torn apart and put back together again. Atoms, Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen. Your bones snap, your skin tears apart. A scream rips its way through your throat as everything is strung back together. The pain is almost worse than when your very existence was being torn apart, it was as though you were held together with only staples and duct tape. That familiar taste of copper fills your mouth. The crackle of static came over the speakers. Your head pounded, the lights nearly blinding you. The ringing in your ears was constant. 

“Experiment #371, unsuccessful.” The cold voice says, sweat covering your body. Then the words you dreaded most left his mouth, “Begin experiment #372.” He said with a sigh.

-

You sat up with a gasp. Your hair was stuck to your forehead with sweat. You take in your surroundings, trying to take deep breaths. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Your hands gripped your wood desk, you were back in your office. Your office at the commission. You were safe, no longer trapped in that lab. Instead of white walls these are cream, with framed pictures of wooded landscapes.

“Y/n?” Herb knocked on your door, you jumped your hand coming to your chest. You shook your head chuckling slightly.

“Yes? Sorry, you spooked me.” You said, giving him a smile.

“Oh,” he chuckled as well, “I just wanted to pop by and give you your next assignment.” He shrugged, taking a breath before handing you a yellow folder. He stopped in front of you looking at your hair, he chuckled before pointing to his own head. You pulled a strand down only to find in your shocked state you must have accidentally changed. The hair you were holding was now purple instead of your normal color. You smiled sheepishly, changing it back. “Thank you Herb.” You took the file from his hands, he nodded before walking out of your office. You opened up the folder flipping through the file. 

There was the normal amount of mission jargon as always, except where your partner was introduced.

Partner? 

Number Five, written in bold ink stared back at your very confused expression.

You had never had a partner before, but if the commission requested it they obviously knew something you didn’t. 

You sighed, couldn’t put it off any longer you thought, pushing yourself up and out of your chair. The man you were going to see was of course a legend, but hey, so were you.

You were Y/n l/n, there was no other shapeshifting killing machine like you. 152 confirmed kills, 129 timeline saving missions. You were specially trained by scientists, dead set on turning you into a weapon for mass destruction. Lucky for you, escaping was easy when you could be anyone you wanted. A quick glance at someone and you could recreate their being as your own. It didn’t take long for the commission to pick you up after you escaped.

You stood up, clutching the folder to your chest. Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you passed the familiar offices. Many well manicured fingers tapping away on typewriters, your eyes falling on your old desk. You did miss the camaraderie, the shared lunches, meeting after work for a drink or two. 

Sometimes you wished you could go back to your desk job. More than anything you wished you could wash the blood off your hands. That stain would always remain, no matter how hard scrubbed. Even if you didn’t show it, you remembered every single kill. Maybe it made you soft. You’d rather be soft than a machine. 

“Excuse me?” A rather annoyed masculine voice said. You realized quickly that you were standing at the doorway of Number Five’s office. 

“Oh.” You said collecting yourself, a shy smile on your face. He was different than you’d have imagined. Instead of the rugged, scarred man you’d envisioned. He was thin, dark hair in a neat side part, his body seemed well defined but not bulging with muscles. Possibly 35?He raised an eyebrow at you, you blinked coming back to earth.“If you wouldn’t mind sweetheart, I really need to get back to this.” He said, sighing, clasping his hands as he leaned forward at his desk. Your face flushed, sweetheart?

You scoffed walking into the office and sitting across from him. He sighed leaning back in his chair and muttered something under his breath. “Is this the normal act you pull with people?” You asked, crossing your arms. It was his turn to scoff. 

“This isn’t an act, now are you going to hand me that folder or…” he trailed off, his hand stretched out expectantly.

You tilted your head, this man really had no idea who you were. You shook your head, throwing the file onto the desk . You plopped yourself down in the chair across from him, crossing your arms. He eyed you warily before opening the folder. The only noise in the office was the turning of pages, he stopped, his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Well sweetheart, looks like I’m your new partner.” You said squinting your eyes as you smiled smugly, your nose wrinkling. He set the folder down on the desk, he mirrored you, his arms crossed. 

“And why would they pair me with someone like you?” He grumbled. Was it because of your age? You scoffed looking off to the side, breaking eye contact. 

You’d play if that’s what he wanted, but you never lost. Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen. You watched as the smile slowly fell off his face, you felt your muscles tighten slightly and your hands stretch along with your legs. Soon Five was staring at a carbon copy of himself, only there was no paradox psychosis. Since after all he had just witnessed you turn into himself. You studied him for only a second before mirroring his stance, his body language was easy to pick up on. 

“How did you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“How did I what?” You asked furrowing your-his- brows. 

He eyed you warily, leaning back in his chair. You smiled before putting yourself back together again. You smoothed your hair down, running your fingers through it. Your head throbbed slightly, a side effect of your ‘power’.

“Five Hargreeves,” he said, reaching out his hand. You took it.

“Y/n L/n.”

-

That’s how it was, you and Five against the world. Sure, he was sarcastic, egotistical, a bit of a know it all. But he was your partner, it wasn't like you were faultless.  Slowly you began to peel back his layers, how he took his coffee, when he started to work at the commission, little things like that.

You were an open book anyone could flip through at any time. You wore your heart on your sleeve, which wasn’t always a great quality in your line of work. 

“Theresa!” You called waving to one of the ‘desk worms’ as Five so ‘lovingly’ called them. She was one of your first friends after joining the commission. She stopped, gripping the files she was carrying tighter ever so slightly. Something only Five seemed to pick up on.

“Y/n…” she smiled slightly, her eyes darting to any exit she could find, “How lovely it is to see you again.” 

“You too!” You said grinning, “How have you been?” You asked walking up to her, your hand touching her forearm. She winced slightly looking down at your hand. Five walked up behind you two, staring down at Theresa. She met his gaze only for a second before looking back at you.

“Fine. Just fine.” She forced a smile again, Five crossed his arms watching the interaction. She pulled away ‘readjusting’ the files in her arms. Your smile faltered.

“Oh, well I’ll catch you around! Maybe we could get lunch together? The old gang.” You nudged her arm. She looked down at where you had touched her, before she met your eyes again.

“Oh, well we had an early lunch today so… Maybe next time.” She forced a smile before all but running away from the two of you. You stood like a statue watching her run off. Your smile dropped from your face, Five clenched his jaw. 

“Well,” Five said, breaking the silence, your head whipped back to look at him, “She’s a piece of work isn’t she?” He huffed, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“Huh?” You asked furrowing your brows, “No! No, they just had an early lunch, that's all.” You said nodding to yourself, trying to make yourself believe your words.

Five looked at your face, the slight pout in your lip, your face was flushed. He internally fought with himself over his next choice of words. He would suffer through any awkward moments to see you smile again.

“How about you have lunch with me today, tesoro?” He asked, bumping his shoulder against yours. Your face broke out into a grin, a real one.

“Really?” You asked, the twinkle returning to your eyes. He nodded, the corner of his lips pulling upwards. “Absolutely!” You cheered, linking your arm through his. Normally he would have blinked away from anyone who dared touch him. But the feeling of your arm in his felt… right.

-

“So do you have any brothers or sisters?” You asked as you took a bite of your sandwich.

“Next question.” He looked back up at you. You sighed, lifting yourself up onto a desk. You swung your legs, picking up a chip and throwing it into your mouth.

“I don’t even know if I have any siblings.” You said as he picked up his own sandwich, he stopped eyeing you warily. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, setting his sandwich down and crossing his arms.

“Well from what I know my parents sold me to those so-called scientists. I only know their names from the information on my birth certificate.” You shrugged meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed as he returned his attention back to his lunch. You sat in silence for a moment. The only sound in the room was your chewing. Five cleared his throat, you perked up looking at him. He seemed lost in thought, like he was picking his next words carefully. 

“I have six siblings.” He said finally, his eyes on his desk. 

“Six? Jeez your parents must have been going at it nonstop.” You giggled, but he only shook his head.

“Adopted siblings, we were all adopted.” He said, picking up his own sandwich, “our father knew we were special somehow.” He shook his head slightly. “Much like your parents.” He added gesturing to you. You furrowed your brows.

“I wasn’t special before they tore me apart and put me back together again.” You said picking at the skin on your hands, he got up and walked over to you. You looked at his oxfords, perfectly shined, reflecting the led lights. He grabbed one of your hands. You looked up, surprised by his actions. He had touched you before, but not like this.

“Everyone is special.” He said matter of factly, “You don’t have to have powers to change the fate of the universe.” He said his expression soft, his green eyes peering into yours. “Hell, my sister Vanya doesn’t have any powers, and she’s the best of us.” He chuckled, running his thumb over your knuckles before pulling away. Your heart sped up, drumming in your ears. He returned to his desk, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. That was the moment you fell for him.

-

It was hard to pinpoint the moment he fell for you. Everything about you enticed him, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. The way you laughed, deep and hearty, throwing your head back. 

The way you took the time to truly understand him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

He could finally understand Klaus, he became addicted to you. He lived for the next hit. Nothing could touch you, alcohol didn’t come close. 

You were all encompassing.

He didn’t think he could love again after Delores. He didn’t think he wanted to. At first it felt like a betrayal as you stole his heart, like a thief in the night.

It infuriated him. You infuriated him. He tried being cold to you, but every time your smile fell he would find himself apologizing. He didn’t fall in love with you in an instant, his love took time. Like the way he started meaning it when he called you ‘tesoro’ instead of it being a tease. 

“What does that mean?” You asked one day, walking down the halls of the commission. He stopped, you walked past him turning to lean on the wall in front of him. You crossed one foot in front of the other in that certain way you always did.

“What does what mean?” He asked, feigning ignorance. 

“Tesoro, you always call me tesoro. I want to make sure you’re not calling me a bitch or something.” You giggled, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes. It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on him. He felt caught, like when his father had caught him in his study. 

“It doesn’t mean bitch.” He wrinkled his nose trying to walk past you. Get away from the conversation and hope you forgot you asked.

You stopped him, your warm hand pushing him back.

“You aren’t getting out of this that easily.” You teased, he gulped peering down the hall. You were alone.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled straightening his jacket.

“Huh?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Tesoro means sweetheart-“

“No, no I heard that.” You clarified a grin working its way onto your lips.

“Oh I hate that smile.” He loved that smile.

“You actually like me Number Five.” You grinned, that mischievous glint in your eye.

“I tolerate you, let’s put it that way.” He said stalking away from you. You had to run to catch up to him. 

“Fine, fine. Whatever you say.” You put your hands up in surrender matching his stride. That damned smile beaming up at him. 

-

The moment neither of you could deny your feelings anymore was an entirely different situation. This was months after the incident you had shared in a rather small hotel room with only one bed. Sure he had been fighting his feelings since that fateful night. Partners could fuck every once and awhile without developing feelings right? Now you were running down an alley, chasing a nasty fellow named Oliver Nicholson. This man, if you could even call him that, had been holding human fight clubs, but unfortunately for the fighters it wasn’t voluntary. Kidnapping people off the streets for these illegal rounds. If he were to continue his so-called ‘cock fights’ he could alter the timeline permanently. So here you were, running full speed ahead, briefcase in one hand and a revolver in another. Unfortunately, Oliver turned sharply down a corner, which put him in a bit of a blind spot. Five blinked after him, disappearing from your line of sight. You sighed picking up your pace, sometimes you hated your partner's power. The danger he put himself in with no means of back up drove you crazy. Just as you predicted he didn’t know that he was jumping into a fight he wasn’t prepared for. He was immediately tackled by some hired men, they punched him in the face. Hot liquid started to run from his nose, not liquid he reminded himself, it was blood. His vision was fuzzy and the ringing in his ears was all encompassing.

“Five!” You yelled he turned his head slightly to see you, the look of pure rage on your face still gives him chills to this day. You made quick work of ending those SOB’s lives. You shot the one on top of Five. The man slumped against him, his blood spattering onto his face. Five pushed him off jumping back into the fray.

Once all the men were either knocked unconscious or dead, you rushed over to him. You took his face in your hands, tsking at his bloody face.

“What happened to staying together?” You asked, pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket, wiping away any blood, “Hold this.” You ordered, he held the handkerchief to his bleeding nose. You stepped back crossing your arms, “You scared me half to death.” You huffed, biting your lip, avoiding his gaze. The damp pavement was the perfect backdrop for the lights to reflect onto your face. Your beautiful face. He tried blaming the pounding in his chest on the adrenaline running through his veins. You wiped away at a tear and his heart seized in his chest. 

It was like his body was moving without his knowledge, he stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, his hands reaching out to you. One wrapped around your waist while the other came up the back of your neck. He crashed his lips against yours, you let out a small squeak. You were frozen, your brain short circuiting. He pulled away looking at you for permission, or for any sign of rejection. You grabbed at him, pulling his face back to yours. It was messy, his blood now on both of your faces, teeth clashing, both of you taking each other in like oxygen. It was perfect. Kissing Five was like taking a hit and he was entirely too addictive. 

“Was that ok?” He pulled away out of breath, his hard exterior came crashing down around you both. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands held your waist. You smiled looking into his eyes, his expression reminded you of that fateful night in the hotel room.

“More than ok.” You giggled, your hand coming up to rest on his neck. He chuckled grinning, he studied your face. Taking in every freckle, line and blemish. You were the most amazing piece of art he had ever seen. “Come on mister, let’s get out of here.” You took his hand, opening the briefcase.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

[what am i]

Mutant

It is 2004. Is the Geiger Counter heavy because it’s Old Tech, or because it’s a Geiger Counter? I do not ask the question aloud. My father is talking. I rotate it in my hands, examining it. He is talking about his father. The Geiger counter is a relic of my grandfather’s military service. It is older than me. It is older than my school. It is older than my father. I turn it on. A red light glows. The dial fidgets. “Are we safe?” I ask aloud, as it softly, slowly ticks. “Are we ever?” My father answers. My look of horror is met with laughter.

It is 1999. There is a photo of a mushroom cloud rising out of a deep blue ocean. It sits inconspicuously in a wooden frame near my grandfathers chair. I stare at it. I have recently learned about atomic weapons in an abstract sort of way in school. My grandmother speaks. “Your grandfather took that picture.”

It is 2002. “These are some of my favorite books.” My father believes I am old enough for his old novels. The entire John Carter of Mars. Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke. Foundation & Empire. Edgar Rice Burroughs. Tarzan.

It is 1971. My father hunts wild pigs. Dogs he has raised from puppies explicitly for this purpose rustle through the jungle ahead of him. He is like the pigs, the descendants of Europeans on tour, left behind by boats bearing death. He is armed only with a large knife and his dogs. He survives.

It is 1955. My father plays with the Geiger counter that I will hold in my hands one day. It is humid and hot inside the Quonset hut. My father points it at my grandfather. The dial dances; the machine goes tickticktick. My grandmother is sleeping, or trying to; migraines take her out for days at a time, sharp pain and vivid halos exacerbated by the tropical sun. The noise wakes her, and my grandfather takes the Geiger counter away.

It is 2009. “Weird.” Not the sort of thing you want your doctor to say. “Has your heart always done that?” I ask him to explain what he means. “Oh, it’s just, it’s… beating… funny?” He indicates some squiggles on a monitor, as if I could see the patterns as he did. “Do you mind if we run some tests?” I would be a fool to decline.

It is 1977. My father watches the stars. The sea is still. He has turned off the lights on his boat, and the nearest artificial light is over the horizon. He eats fish he caught during the day. He comes to land to get the supplies he cannot catch; tools made of metal; rope, line, medicine. He spends seven years on that boat, going from island to island. He survives.

It is 2019. My father puts dilute hydrogen peroxide in his water bottle. We dress and depart. He hike through the craggy desert highlands, rich browns and ambers of the desert varnish broken by the occasional brilliance of a tarantula hawk. The local wildlife is smart enough to seek shelter at this time of day, but we are Sons of Empire and ignore the sun, like Adam turning his back on God. We traipse over broken boulders, fighting gravity for a scenic view. He tells me about the past between breaths; this mountain was sacred, once. Those who sanctified it are dead now. The way he talks, you would think that he killed them himself. The breeze is hot and dry on the ridge top. Looking down on the valley below, he drinks deeply from the bottle. He offers me some. “Extra oxygen” he says, with the air of someone sharing valuable advice. Tentatively, I take a sip: It is slippery, and burns slightly. My 70 year old father climbs back down from the mountains with me. We pretend the desert sun does not exist.

It is 1946. The War is Over. The Good Guys have won; or so the story goes. My grandmother is newly married, and loves her husband very much. Once, she had been a daydreaming farm girl, a fan of the Wizard of Oz books; She feels like Dorothy, transported, when her husband’s work whisks them away from rural California to The Pacific. They’re working on something big, he says, but loose lips sink ships and he says nothing else.

It is 1949. The migraines are paralyzing. The doctor tells her she is pregnant, and her mind fades to static. This is the 5th time she has been told this in her life, but she has yet to give birth to a single living child. The Geiger counter ticktickticks whenever her husband is near.

It is 1950. My father is born.

Mutant

Survivor

Son of Empire

Human

[eddieintheocean]

currently writing a short story about a time travelling microbiologist (cambrian noctiluca my beloved <3)

Through deep breaths, Farah explained, “Getting enough hydrogen ions was the limiting factor. Why did we not put them through CRISPR?” She gripped Cambrian’s shoulders in return. “Make the mitochondria and enzymes resistant to acids and put them in solutions with high ion concentrations. The enzymes go into overdrive and start producing way more energy than before. It’s enough to power the machine, Brie. I went back in time.”

i apologise to the biologists who know things. i wanted my time machine to be powered by mitochondria and by god theyre powered by mitochondria because the plot wills it

[lostispring]

Alien Ghouls

Hello, this my first post here and I want to share this thing that me and my sibling @sweetieoujialien created quite a long ago.

You can also find it on Twitter at

Warning: further information is purely the piece of our sick imagination and does not have the goal of offending someone, undermining the reality and perception of this world. We ask you not to take further information seriously, because it all started with the simple question "what if?". We hope for your understanding, the Martian Misha and the demon Lost😈

Since ghouls are hellish creatures, they are probably very different from the living creatures familiar to our world, my research friend and beloved brother suggested that, in this regard, they may have an unusual physical manifestation "as if they are, but as if they are not." According to the theory of infinity of matter nesting, matter is closed in space. starting from this theory, we can assume that ghouls are the so-called dark matter, or at least consist of it having an absolutely different structure from us at the atomic level, let's assume that ghoul cells have dark matter in their structure. But given the almost intangible physical manifestation of this dark matter, we can say that not even this very matter, but holes in it. Again, taking the theory of nesting as a justification, everything in space is a vicious circle and any long-term action will lead the object to its initial and/or inversion point. It is the same with dark matter, if you put strong pressure on it at some point, the intangible matter will break and become tangible.

Since ghouls are holes in dark matter, it means that they lead somewhere. The inner subspace of the ghoul is exactly the place where the astral body can go in case of severe damage to the physical form in order to regenerate and restore strength. The inner subspace visualizes the inner world of ghouls and is based on their sense of self. When the astral body goes into subspace, the physical remains disconnected.

Now let's consider the internal structure of ghouls based on their elements.

Based on what was said above, the structure of the ghoul will be extremely different from the human, but at the same time have some similarities. So, for example, they have a brain, a heart and a circulatory system, a respiratory system and a reproductive system.

Air ghouls have wider complex lungs that have a layer of muscle tissue under the pleura allowing them to blow out very strong air currents. Earthlings have a special layer of skin similar to mycelium or moss rhizoids that allow poisonous moss-like integuments to germinate on some parts of the ghoul's body.

The quintessence has an additional part of the brain that produces special chemical compounds that help ghouls create visual hallucinations to others.

The fire ones have pouches with flammable liquid under their lungs, thanks to which they can breathe fire like dragons, and the aquatic ones have gills and tenacles, and much stronger arms and legs in they're physical form.

Multi ghouls have the characteristics of all the elements, but this is very dangerous since the simultaneous presence of all the elements entails unpredictable behavior and the probability of destruction of both the physical and astral bodies.

The reproductive system of ghouls differs significantly from any previously known ones, because they are cosmos in their structure. After thinking for a long time about their way to reproduce, Lost and I came to the conclusion that ghouls are born like stars. Stars appear from interstellar gas and hydrogen. Put two and two together and find out that the reproductive system of ghouls is a smoke machine. The smoke of male and female individuals has a different composition (helium and hydrogen, two constituent elements of interstellar gas), the smoke combines and contracts under the influence of gravitational instability, warming up and entering into a thermonuclear reaction, which forms the astral, and then the physical body of the ghoul.

Ghouls do not have human sensory organs like ears or eyes, their skin has a layer of special nervous tissue, thanks to which they see, hear, smell and navigate in space. Ghouls are similar to bats and use echolocation in addition to their thermal vision. Also, older individuals can see with X-ray vision due to their SR.

The prolonged presence of a ghoul under the influence of several different SR at once leads to the emergence of a so-called spontaneous disease, leading to symptoms of psychosis and loss of reason.

Ghouls have a collective mind, which in turn means that, being separated, arriving in their physical shell on the surface of the earth, they will hear each other's thoughts, feel emotions, any physical effects, as well as the previously mentioned feelings inherent in individual elements.

Considering that ghouls are essentially space, they also have various radiation from space objects (radioactive, X-ray, and the like). Radiation and its background in a ghoul depends on its element, in the case of ghouls with a multi element, they also have a huge amount and variety, which again can negatively affect them.

Spontaneous radiation or SR is a way of dividing the territory of ghouls, different SR is felt differently depending on the ratio of charged particles and gamma quanta. SR is produced in the ghoul's body during a burst of energy as a natural reaction to an excess of adrenaline. Prolonged presence of a ghoul of one element under the influence of another SR can cause side effects such as; increased sensitivity, auditory hallucinations, a sharp drop in blood pressure, malaise, dizziness, weakness and irritability.

The prolonged presence of a ghoul under the influence of several different SR at once leads to the emergence of a so-called spontaneous disease leading to symptoms of psychosis and loss of reason.

Well, we hope that you liked our work, quite a lot of effort, nerves and time were spent on it. Once again, we would like to say that we do not insist on the canonicity of this material, but we believe that a little diversity among the fandom will not hurt. I would like to say a special thanks to Misha for the wonderful illustrations.

You can also find it on Twitter at

[h2lifetech]

https://h2lifetech.com/try-our-best-hydrogen-spa-machine/

[thy-hydrogen-theory-2023]

Thy Hydrogen Theory 2023 | J.D. Slayton

So, what's up with Hydrogen?

Did you know that Hydrogen is the lightest element?

Did you know that your soul is like a bubble in cosmic terms?

And when you pass the physical constraints of this life, this carbon-based realm, this third-dimensional existence, your soul--like a bubble--rises in ascension to transcend the primitive existence of the temporal human being...perhaps? Yes!!!

#soulsnack #mindsmack 💗💙💚

Have you ever considered that HYDROGEN-BASED beings could live in all that Hydrogen that exists in a universe we can't explore--but because we are third-dimensional, carbon-based, primitive beings, with ten-percent-limited mind capacity, we can't possibly perceive it to be...?

Maybe we can't comprehend with our limited, human senses just like we can't comprehend what a black hole really is...or where it leads.

Because holes don't exist. Holes are just the name humans give to an entrance because they don't know where it leads. But all holes lead somewhere.

A hole in your head leads to your skull and brain, a hole in your jeans leads to your leg, a hole in the earth leads to dirt and water and fire...you get my drift, I'm sure!

So, we live a limited, timed life as human beings in the third-dimensional, carbon-based realm. We live in a realm that is a timed existence from the time we take our first breath of oxygen until we take our last.

We can only perceive what the third-dimensional limitations of existence allow us to perceive.

We can't perceive the fourth dimension--or what could possibly exist infinitely there--or the hydrogen-based realm that exists simultaneously with our own because we are limited and confined to the ability to perceive in the carbon-based third dimension only.

We won't be able to perceive the next dimension until we divinely travel (supernatural, cosmic transportation) to it via the passing of our physical human vessel -- or what humans call "death"...

Perhaps, the "universe"--as we see and perceive it--is NOT all the universe is.

Consider this...there are many universes called the Ever~Verses, and our universe is only one dimension and one perception, and one base out of the many.

Even if we use machines to see and technology to perceive, the machines and technology still are perceived by the human eyes, so our perception of what a machine or technology shows us will still be a limited perception according to what our limited eyes and minds allow us to see and perceive via the technology and machine.

It falls back to our limitations as carbon-based, oxygen-breathing, third-dimensional human beings indeed.

But that's not to say it's the way it will always be!

I personally believe that's what eternal life is and the gift that Jesus Christ promised us for believing the truth. He did promise ETERNAL LIFE as the gift!

The infinitely unconditional gift of eternal life for you and me!

Perhaps the event that humans have termed "death" isn't a death at all...

Seeing as, humans--by means of limited perception, logic, phonics, and communication--are most likely the ONLY SPECIES in the entire Ever~Verses to call the event of passing from the physical realm to the spiritual realm..."death"...maybe it's not what we've always thought it was or perceived it to be; considering our perception has always been limited.

So, instead of believing what we've all been taught since birth by those before us and what someone taught them (predisposition due to learned behavior via culture and heritage) maybe it's time to understand humans leading humans isn't always the wisest path, and sometimes, what we learn is what they wanted us to learn--versus what reality really is.

Perhaps, spiritual health and wellness require we question everything in the pursuit of our awakening, even our culture and heritage and the learned beliefs and behaviors we've adopted and adapted to in the process of being born and living a life in a human-built society. The constructs of our global society as a species were determined long before you or I were born. But that doesn't mean we can't awaken to the possibility of a cosmic truth now!

Human terms are limited because they were terms devised by human perception. No other being in the universe is going to refer to any aspect of existence in the terms that humans know existence...because human terms are limited to human beings on Earth.

Hence, a human calls the sun the sun, but an alien might call the sun a sizz. You feel me? Humans call our own planet Earth, and a planet--while an alien might call our planet something like Testraa and all planets "orbs" instead of planets. You feel me?

Everything we do, think, feel, and speak is limited to human perception. Human perception is limited to carbon-based, and carbon-based is limited to the third dimension. We will never understand anything beyond the base and dimension we were assigned upon our cosmic birth to this realm.

So, it falls back to the terms we give events that are unknown/unperceivable to our limited perception...because, like a black hole, we don't know where it leads.

These assigned terms (like death) that life as a human being requires of us so that we can identify and understand what is happening to us as a species--like passing from our physical vessels, what happens to our souls, and where our eternal spirits go from here--are what we live by regardless of their cosmic accuracy.

So, what if the event of passing or leaving our physical, human vessels is the beginning of our cosmic, divinely ordained spiritual upgrade...and rather than an ending, a wonderful beginning? A fresh start for our souls!

The journey of our souls! Life on Earth is only one small fragment of the greater whole.

"What if you could roll back the sky like a scroll opening to see that you were like the "stickman" all along." ~ J.D. Slayton

[osakanone]

Hello Angel Cellar I am going into battle And I want your most biblically accurate angels

Music: New Mobilesuit Report: Gundam Wing: XXXG 00W0

A skeletal knight. Her armour is comprised of seashells curving like the body-panelling of some futuristic motorcycle. Metallic gold dances over ocean white. Her skeleton beneath is too, metallic shrouded in where light cannot reach of gears, pistons and swirling mechanical systems that make the F22 Air Superiority fighter of the US airforce look like the Wright Brother's flyer. Her shoulders and forearms are mighty pauldrons dressed about a rounded mechanical hub, like miniaturized riot-shields protecting fascists from the wrath of the people. Upon her chest is not breast, but the bonnet of a car, torn open by a hexagonal beak. Within it, a gemstone, an eye of enormous green like, a pearl held clamlike gazing and watching asll it surveys. Cast about are swirling panels like surf-board guitars of wings and winglets in dove-like forms. They branch like veins, arteries, muscular capillaries in incomprehensible forms supported by mechanical trusses of the space-station: wings lashed by rectangular crane-arms. She reaches to her left. She watches, beneath a samurai's gleaming white helmet, of elf-like long pointed winglet like ears and a steely gemstone gaze. Over her mouth, a facemask, studded either side by her helmet crown. Her chin, a bearded like horn. Upon her forehead, a third eye, upon the studed razorsharp twin boomerang of her tiara. Above, a fourth upon a mohawk of metal. This crustacean armour is made machine-like by rhombus and trapezoid like sections connecting flowing lines. Her boots of gold have goats-feet for heels, and forward some strange combination of a sneaker, and a hot iron press.

Her wings give the impression of a lacy white wedding-dress. Of the vapour-trails left by fighter-jets. There is vulnerability here. She looks dainty almost. Like you could hurt her. But you cannot. Upon her throughout are tiny holes, thruster vents which both inhale and exhale through mechanical insets. Bell thruster church bells like the mighty rockets that took humans to the moon in funnels of fuel frozen liquid hydrogen scream with nuclear fire. E equals Emm Cee Squared becomes diamonds of gasseous heat shocking our thick ocean-like atmosphere. Around her orbit rifles shaped like sabres in clusters of three all longways in a triangle together. They orbit her in mighty rings. Upon each hip, half of a strange rifle, a distortion of physics itself in which the very concept matter collapses and dies in its dragon's breath -- where the very particles used to conceal such mighty weapons are petrolium lit by her, as a match. Each, resembling a scientific instrument sit docked as if holstered. As if she is a cowboy ready to draw. Her feathers are like knives. This thing scarsely called robot, this being is filled with love. She will protect you.

Her name is Zero.

[xris05]

Geography, sustainability, etc etc

Despite popular demand to the contrary, I have returned, with a goal to achieve only the most utter of victories. Conquering this damn assignment whilst being passive aggressive to ideas I find unfeasible at the same time.

On todays schedule we first have up to the chopping block for prompt examination, Hydrogen Fuel Cells. For once, an idea that I have both initially heard of, and did not have a strongly negative opinion of from the onset.

A bit more of a deep dive is always scholarly (and required for me to feel like I've done my due diligence). Unusually, this didn't leave me immediately thinking it was the worst and most uniquely foolish invention conceived by a human mind.

Let's keep to that positive streak by thinking about the positives of hydrogen fuel cells. For one, they're not fossil fuel, gas guzzling nightmare apocalypse machines. This may be literally rock bottom in terms of bars to clear, but it's still a step up compared to 85% of vehicles sold last year.

Secondly, they produce zero air pollutants! Which is honestly quite good, as personally I don't like breathing in an unknown and potentially toxic soup of chemicals and letting it marinate in my ole respiratory system.

Thirdly, hydrogen is pretty damn efficient as a fuel source, pulling roughly 70 MPGe (that's miles per gasoline gallon equivalent)

However, this is where I'm going to pivot away from being positive and cheery because such relentless optimism has no place on my record, and thus, let's dive into the issues.

The first issue is some that the keen-eyed amongst you may have been able to note already. These are Hydrogen Fuel Cells. Now, for those unaware, hydrogen is the first element on the periodic table, and is also absurdly flammable. Quite famously so, in fact.

(Pictured above, the Hindenburg descending in flames, picture captured by Sam Shere, 1937)

So, understandably, there is some safety concerns about putting hydrogen into our little boxes which we cram ourselves into, and then hurdle down roads at 40mph. Especially because people have a habit of crashing said metal boxes quite spectacularly.

In the interest of fairness though, I will note that cars tend to be pretty hilariously dangerous anyway as gasoline tends to also be very damn flammable and explosive at the best of times anyway.

The next issue, is the question of my most beloved of subjects, infrastructure. Much like gasoline, one needs infrastructure to fill up their little mobile deathmachines with enough juice to keep it moving, and this requires a place for one to fill up the tanks, and the places and equipment to refine the hydrogen, which might be on sight, but equally so could be offsite and if it's offsite you need to transport it onsite and so on and so forth. But incentives and funding from whatever your local monopoly on violence is likely the response to this particular issue, even if most these days focus on electric cars

Now, one thing that is also pretty important to note is that all of this is expensive. Building and refitting production lines to make hydrogen fuel cell cars, and the fuel cells themselves, and to build the infrastructure and all that lovely stuff. I find this the least compelling argument personally, as money is last on the list of things that matters in the face of the climate crisis.

So, here we are, the conclusion. Are Hydrogen Fuel Cells the future? Are they economical? Are they going to violently explode? The answer to all of these is probably not, but make your own opinions, don't just trust me, do your reading, look into it, come back and call me an idiot who knows nothing, I encourage it

See yah later folks, and remember, if you think you're about to solve the energy crisis, ask yourself if your new power source is as efficient, safe and cool as nuclear power.

[skullshoal]

Ok lol talking about the job I quit

So I didn't outright say it but I had to report them to OSHA because they made me clean up a biohazard with no training and no equipment. I worked in housekeeping at a condo resort and a guest broke a shower door and I was told to clean up the bloody glass. Afterwards OSHA made them right up a big letter and hold a meeting about how we are no longer allowed to clean biohazards and then ultimately nothing changed because when we asked if we could get sterile gloves and training on how to deal with biohazards because we were constantly getting them back in the laundry (which was processed on sight by us and a large part of the job despite never being mentioned on my job listing description lmao) they gave us a biohazard bin to dispose of stuff and nothing else. We got like.......blood and shit and piss and barf on sheets and towels constantly. Also I worked here during the monkeypox outbreak and had to convince my coworkers to even wear gloves when handling the dirty laundry in the first place. I strained my back from loading a washing machine and when I tried to go to the doctor I was denied after waiting an hour and a half because it was "supposed to be" workers comp and I hadn't gotten permission from my work place to be seen and it was sooooooo upsetting it sucked so bad. And then I was told to return to work on light duty even though I could hardly walk or stand straight and I told the doctor there is no sitting position at my work and he literally was just like ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯. When I returned I went back to normal work after like a day and it definitely did not help.

Also the whole place was so fucking racist oh my god. Unsurprisingly but I hated it the only poc were me and another housekeeping person and then all the contracted cleaners are Latino. And they were treated like shit they paid them the lowest in our area and had unreasonable expectations. Also one condo owner in particular was a huge racist and kept accusing her assigned cleaning company of being bad at their job and stealing stuff and when we did deep cleans during the winter she emailed out manager and said I spoke with your singular white cleaner (and not her black superior in the company she did not own) and we agreed she should do the deep clean so do it instead. I printed out the email here it is.

Oh also during deep cleans which are a week long and more than triple the price of a normal clean they started taking away units from companies who had been working in them all year long and didn't tell them to give them to another company. Our managers would not speak to them and one time one of our cleaners came in crying and the non management housekeeping had to tell her what was happening instead of LITERALLY ANYONE IN CHARGE.

Ever since the OSHA report they were like ohhhh we need to get ready cause their could be a surprise inspection anytime and came to find out MDMS sheets for the DANGEROUS CHEMICALS we used to process laundry were last updated at 2010 the latest and 2003 the earliest. 19 years out of date. Btw of course we didn't store them properly either :) here are pictures I took of the inside of house keeping. Oh yeah also we used pilot light dryers and there was no carbon monoxide alarm in this room. Also halfway through me working there we found out that one of the two fire alarms didn't even work. And no sprinklers!

Yes that is our only eyewash station and yes it did expire in 2019 😊. The Ceiling leaked and in multiple places mold grew that we had to keep spraying with bleach. All those open five gall buckets? They say to store in locked containers and keep them sealed. Yes we were breathing in evaporated hydrogen peroxide. And as you can see the walls of this room are lined with towels sheets and blankets all the way to the ceiling.

Anyway the reason I quit was the last day I worked there we were pulled into a meeting suddenly where our manager told us that everytime she was mad at us she added it to a list and now she was going to give us this list as our job guides. Because we had been saying "that's not my job too much". There are 2 dedicated maintenance departments of that property and they were sending me and my coworkers to fix a leaking shower, lift 50-90 lb packages that had been delivered to units containing freezers and chairs, change lightbulbs, and fix windows with 0 tools or training. We were in that meeting for over an hour and at the end she gave us all a write up for something that happened two weeks ago and we were never even told was a problem. My direct manager was there the whole time and said not one word in support of us despite verbally agreeing with us on all these issues. Oh and also she and my coworker had been getting into explosive fights on the reg that were giving me panic attacks. My coworker refused to work in the dangerous weather during a hurricane and my direct manager said "you aren't allowed to tell me what you are and aren't going to do." :) And by explosive I mean screaming and crying.

So yeah. There's like one billion other things but that's all for now I'm done I just started thinking about it this morning and thought I should share.

[songwritingtipsandtricks]

Object Writing Day 1

Hey people, I wanna embark on an object writing journey and would love you to join me.

Day 1: What Writing 02.11.2023

Sight Sound Taste Touch Smell Body Motion

5 Minutes: Sky

It looks like there is fire in the sky, a burning cloud devouring the air I breathe. The overflowing sun beams reaching out to the cloud and setting it on fire. The gleam of coal in the air as the heat is blazing though the collection of water particles in the air. After all, what happens on the sun is the same and water is burned into helium. Lighter than air, funny noises. If the sunbeams could talk they would be giggling all the way from the suns surface up until the time they reach the higher atmosphere, where they start to breathe in the cold and thin air. Tasting the metallic taste of ozone and being caught by a cushion of the atmosphere and some elements of hydrogen. Seeing the infinite blue separated by a million shades of green, brown, white and yellow. Their bodies dancing through the higher atmosphere and beaming down. In the blink of an eye they reach the surface, creating vibrations that result in colours, tasting the material and bouncing so fast leaving the colour for us to see. Touching the ground and being partially absorbed, turning into heat

10 Minutes: Crash

Sight Sound Taste Touch Smell Body Motion

A never ending honking noise in the distance, driving slowly towards a steep bent curve driving 20 miles an hour in absolute no visibility. The fog is unbroken. Disguising the road and hiding all but a few meters ahead that are scarcely lit up by my headlights. The cold air outside coming in through my AC is so damp that I decide to turn it up to a higher temerpature setting. I feel the centrifugal force gently pushing me to the left, as I take the steep right turn. The seat belt cutting into the flesh on the side of my neck. The stale coffee from the gas station an hour ago is still lingering in the air and it is as if I can still taste the metallic taste of the old machine they had in store to make the coffee. A bit to the left I can see an orange gleam of light repeatingly flashing. I bring the car to a standstill and cut the engine. I lower the window and listen into the dark fog around me. Was that voices? Was that something else? Screeching noises as if metal is pushing over stone and dirt. A distant radio blaring out a country song. Whimpering noises, of a female I suppose, can be heard softly. I step out the vehicle. Shoutingly asking if there was someone I could help. Taking my phone flashlight, my emergency kit and a fire extinguisher with me I slowly walk towards where I assume the noise to originate from. The taste of smoke is in the air, mixed with a pinch of oil or gasoline. The hair on my arm is rising up due to the cold damp air around me. I put one air pod into my ear and walk slowly, one step at a time. In the distance I can see the gleaming light repeating over and over again. The voice of the woman getting louder. The slow screeching of metal continues. ‚Can I help you‘ I ask but she just keeps crying silently. 

90 Seconds: Lily Pad

Sight Sound Taste Touch Smell Body Motion

An overgrown pond. I literally stepped into an overgrown pond and now my trousers are soaking wet. I need to find a way to get back to my camp site and dry this. In the dark I could not see that this was Lilly pads ahead of me and I stumbled into the pond. It looked so solid and as if there was a path in between them, but the majestic leaves somehow lured me into thinking this was real