#i need them to explode like an atomic bomb.

[scrawnytreedemon]

"Gerudo man acclimates cats in unethical manner: more at 5."

Behold! The nuclear family.

[greater-than-the-sword]

Inspired by a post about aliens within a Christian worldview, I wrote this short story for the @inklings-challenge Christmas challenge. Well, 10 pages, that's as short as it gets from me. Genre: Sci-fi Takes place at Christmastime? Well, it's set in space, where Earth dates are unclear, but sure, why not.

The Blind Astronaut and the Sun

(title under revision...)

              They hung silently in the orbit of the pulsar. Below them, the star made a noise like a hundred million atomic bombs exploding all at once, but none of them could hear it.

              Soft beeps and hushed radio static were the only noise on board the ship. It was as much night-time as it ever was in space.

              Judd and Roberts floated by the window. It wasn’t a very large window, only a couple of feet in diameter, and slightly bowed out. Roberts stared pensively.

              “So tell me,” he asked. “How does a blind man get interested in space?”

              Judd chuckled softly.

              “I mean, you’ve never even seen the stars. Let alone this star. And yet here you are.”

              “Well…”

“A sight that plenty of people would kill to see, right in front of you. And you can’t even see it.” Roberts paused. “I don’t mean to be rude, I’m sorry…”

              There was a tinted screen on the window that made it possible to see the pulsar. It was a roiling sea of fire, too vast to comprehend. Dots of swimming red wave-tips speckled an ocean of gold light. The patterns shifted continuously, never quite the same.

              “I’ve been awake twenty hours,” said Judd, in his deep, swelling voice, the one that Roberts always found so calming, like that of a documentary narrator. “Nothing seems rude to me at the moment. I suppose you might as well ask. I can hear them.”

              “You mean you heard about them?”

              “That’s what I told everyone at university. But no. Just between you and me. They make a sound.”

              “Ah, you’re talking about the wavelengths…?” Roberts sounded uncertain.

              “That’s why I became a radio technician. Yes, there’s the radio waves. The shortwave frequencies and the microwaves and every wave you can think of. But that’s not what they really sound like.” Judd smiled faintly.

              Roberts did not inquire further, he was almost creeped out. Judd did unnerve him at times, with his strange romanticism. He changed the subject back a little. “But don’t you wish you could see it?”

“Oh, every day. Unimaginably. So bad it hurts. I want to get closer.”

“You are closer now than most people will ever be to a star, Judd.”

“Closer. I need to be swallowed. Consumed. I want to take that light into my body and let it burn my eyes out, until I can feel the sound that they make in every cell of my body and I want to be closer than a human can be and see more than seeing.” He paused, and Roberts frowned. “Besides,” he said, “I can’t see it now, but I can feel its heat.”

Roberts put his hand on the window. The shielding was functional, of course. It was cold. “Well. Perhaps it’s time to go to bed.”

Hendricks came around the corner, interrupting them. “Hi Hendricks,” said Roberts. “You’re finally awake.”

“Anything from the pulsar?”

“Other than the usual… no.”

Hendricks was what they called a “true believer”. Roberts was not.

“I keep telling you,” said Roberts, “We’re not going to get anything to prove your theory. At best, some more novel particles or wavelengths or something –”

“Is that how you describe our communications with Alpha 1? A novel wavelength?”

“Well, no, but it doesn’t really resemble anything we recognize as—"

“If alien life evolved elsewhere in the universe, it would have been under such a vastly different set of conditions than earth that humans may not even be able to comprehend it as life.” Hendricks did a slow cartwheel in the air, his arms lively.

“Evolved? This is a star. How could it evolve? What were its parents? What kind of natural selection- predators – death- genetics-” Roberts protested.

“That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s so alien we can’t imagine. Perhaps it’s an ascended form of some other life-form that evolved elsewhere… passed on to a kind of immortality…” Hendricks spread out his hands.

Roberts, and now Judd too, looked skeptical.

“Can you imagine what kind of intelligence such a race must have had to evolve like that? I wonder if it knows we’re here. It must. And what sort of powers might it have? I wish we could communicate with it.”

“I have sent the transmissions you asked for,” said Judd.

“Oh yes, I know. But either it can’t interpret them – or more likely in my opinion – we’re simply beneath the notice of such a vastly higher being. An entity of pure light—it really makes you think. Judd, if there was alien life, would it affect your belief in God?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure,” said Judd. “I don’t think so.”

“It would go to show that humans aren’t the center of the universe, wouldn’t it? Shatter all of our little delusions about our significance.”

“Maybe.”

“And those aliens, what do you think they believe in, hm?” Hendricks raised an eyebrow like this was the most groundbreaking question ever asked. “If they’re more advanced than us, perhaps they’ve reached enlightenment and don’t have a need for such belief systems anymore.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” said Judd, but his tone indicated that he wasn’t really looking at it.

Hendricks’ theory wasn’t completely groundless. The pulsar was something of an impossibility to begin with, it should have been pulled apart by two neighboring black holes, but the scientists at Alpha 1 had noticed that it exerted something of a stabilizing force, self-correcting pulses of energy that kept the star together when mere entropy should have dissolved it a billion years ago. The seemingly intelligent behavior had led some scientists to believe life-forms might be repairing their star. But when expeditions had ruled out life on any neighboring planets, a new theory formed. Some believed the star itself housed some sort of alien intelligence. And so, the expedition that had gotten all three of them on a research mission to analyze radio waves coming out of a pulsar had been launched from Alpha 1.

***

It was some hours later that Judd awakened. He was being lightly shaken by Hendricks.

“Wake up. Wake up, bro. There’s a new signal.” Hendrick’s voice was a whisper, but it was full of excitement.

Judd’s body, dull from sleep, came to life. He pushed himself from the bunk room and through the portal to the comms. He donned the headset, bidding Hendricks be silent, and listened.

Roberts was still sleeping. He could hear the faint snores from the far bunk. There was also radio static; the massive barrage of junk signals that a star generates by virtue of its existence. These had to be damped and modified until they were faint. And of course, as usual, there was the steady drum of the pulsar, like a heartbeat, pounding again and again like waves against a shore.

But underneath all of that, there was something new. It was soft, almost musical. A complex, weaving sound, up and down, back and forth. But as Judd listened, he realized this too was repetitive, despite its complexity. It kept perfect time with the pulsar’s heart. But it was faster – no mere byproduct or resonance of the electromagnetic fields. There was something asymmetric about this— with internal congruencies—

“We couldn’t hear it before,” started Hendricks tentatively. “We weren’t close enough. I think it must be coming from a deeper place inside the star, maybe towards the core.”

“This is a language,” said Judd.

“What?!” Hendricks hit his head on the ceiling. “How could you know that?”

“Trust me, I know. It’s complex, repetitive—it’s—well, just a feeling, maybe—but it’s a message. I know it is.”

“But it’s repeating. A repeating message. A broadcast?”

“Maybe.”

“A distress signal?”

“…….not sure.”

“But if it’s being intentionally broadcast, why can we only pick it up from within close range?”

“Mmmmm.” Judd puckered his lips. “I don’t know.”

Roberts was finally coming awake. He saw them both huddled over the comms panel. “What is it?” he mumbled, rolling midair.

“Judd thinks it’s a broadcast.”

“Your words,” said Judd.

“A language. A message.”

“From who?” Roberts asked.

“The star.”

Roberts looked askance, ever the skeptic. “Saying what?”

“I don’t know,” said Judd.

“How can you say it’s a language if you don’t know? Tell me what it says, if you’re so sure. Decode it.”

“Hand me my tablet, then.”

Roberts handed Judd the tablet. It was not, in fact, a device, but the wax tablet that Judd used to write on with a small stylus.

Judd sat there for some time, scratching away.

Hendricks and Roberts didn’t have too much time to waste, they eventually had to get busy on the daily maintenance tasks of inspected the EVA suits, for damage, checking the food stores for spoilage, composing briefings and reports, and cleaning particulate matter off of practically everything.

Later in the day they eventually got back together. It was around lunch, or what the ship time said was 2pm. The time was neither Earth Time, Alpha 1 time, nor related in any way to their orbit of the pulsar, but it was necessary for human sanity to maintain a consistent day/night cycle.

“I’m not really a linguist,” said Judd finally, crunching his freeze-dried strawberries. “There’s not much to go on, anyway, since the message is so short. I’m not really sure what you’re expecting me to turn up.”

“Fair enough,” said Roberts.

“We could try to communicate,” said Hendricks. “Send something back, you know.”

“We already tried that.”

“I mean, maybe we’re in range now.”

“Maybe.” Judd looked unconvinced.

Suddenly he got a funny look on his face, and sailed back toward the headset.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything, just slipped the headset on. A moment later he took it down. “Closer… we are closer, that explains it.”

“What?” asked Hendricks again, patiently.

“It seems to have gotten… clearer. There’s more in between. More…” he waved his hands. “Some parts of it are still too faint to make out. Maybe if I had more… we need to get closer.”

“We can’t,” said Roberts.

They both turned toward Roberts.

“We’re as close as we can get now,” said Roberts. “If you bring the ship any closer, our shields will be overwhelmed and we could burn up.”

              That was the end of the discussion, at least for the time being.

              They went back to their work, and even Judd left the transmissions alone for a while, choosing to clean the air filters instead.

              It was later in the day that Roberts saw a bright flash outside the window. Immediately a number of small beeping noises commenced from all quarters of the ship.

              Hendricks kicked off and started moving from panel to panel, checking the light indicators.

              Judd swore. “What’s going on?”

              “Solar flare,” said Roberts. “Came pretty close to the ship. All our antennae have got misaligned. That’s the beeping. Checking for possible damage now.”

              A minute later, Roberts had gotten the readout. “It looks like we lost part of a solar panel. It hit the siding and knocked off a panel cover.”

              “That’s all?” said Hendricks. “Could have been worse.”

              “Could have,” said Roberts, “but if we don’t cover the panel, the wires could corrode within a day and we’ll have damage to the cooling systems. It’s caustic out there.”

              There was silence for a moment.

              “All right,” said Judd. “Fine.”

              They both looked at him, though he didn’t perceive it.

              “Fine what?” said Hendricks, finally.

              “I’ll do it,” said Judd.

              “Are you s—”

              “You know damn well that I’m the only one who can. That’s the reason they sent me. It wasn’t just for my transmissions expertise. I’m the only one who doesn’t risk going blind.”

              ***

              Judd donned at last the helmet of his EVA suit. Roberts and Hendricks had finished the inspection, and now stood ready to operate the airlock. He clutched the tool kit. It was time to go.

              Through the airlock into the decompression chamber. The door shut with a sucking thud. The sound of the vacuum came on. It took about 2 minutes for the chamber to empty of air, as much as it could be emptied, and Judd felt his suit puff up.

              When the outer door opened, he pushed off, one hand on the toolbox and one on the tether, as he lightly brushed the wall. He swung around the corner and caught the grip rung. Bingo, right on target. He began to climb.

              He could feel the sun at his back instantly. It was warm, even with the shielding fields about 5 feet away from the hull, almost too warm for comfort. If he could see—no he couldn’t. It would have been a blaze of white, enough to burn anyone’s eyes out. Roberts or Hendricks could have come out here with eye protection, but they’d have had to do the job blind anyways, and they were hardly as practiced in it as he was.

              Judd moved from antennae to antennae, straightening them where they’d been pushed aside, bent or even flattened against the hull.

              As he adjusted the last one, the radio crackled on in his helmet.

              “Radio’s fixed,” he said. “Testing. Over.”

              “Receiving,” said Hendricks. “You good out there? Over.”

              “All good so far. Over.”

              The sun seemed to flush hotter against his back. He thought of it again. This was as close as he could ever come… wasn’t it? He was frightened of it. Terrified, even. But he wanted more. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to see it, even though he knew that even seeing it would be a futile endeavor because it would be the only thing he’d ever see in his entire life. But it would be worth it. Probably.

              He had made it all the way up to the panel. Sure enough, the cover was torn off. The sharp edge of mangled metal scraped against his gloves. He opened the tool kit and found the roll of aluminum tape.

The sun seemed to pulse in its intensity. It was as though he could hear that same musical pulse through the radio… But not quite. Surely not.

“Found the panel. Covering it now. Over.”

He stretched out the tape and cut it, stretching it piece by piece across the space in the hull.

The sun was calling to him. Hot at his back. With a feeling of brightness that he could not see, but still almost sense. The siren song seemed to pulse through his body, through his ears, he felt that the radio static was echoing it, it was there, surely he was not imagining it.

“Do you hear that? Over.”

“Hear what? Over.”

              It was not, strictly speaking, that Judd was certain in any way the voice was calling to him directly. And yet it was. It was the voice that he had heard all his life. It was the voice of the stars that he’d heard when he was a child on Earth. Now he felt them begin to align for the first time in his mind: the age-old voice; the transmission from the star. They were one, they were the same, but he hadn’t recognized it before.

              He put the last strip of tape over the panel. A strange excitement, a strange and fierce joy seized him. Oh, I can’t be doing this.

              “Judd,” Hendricks was saying. “Judd, do you copy. Over.”

              “I’m… I was just…” He hesitated.

              “Judd.”

              “I can hear it.”

              “Come back to the airlock.”

              This is what I was born for. This is what I was created for.

              “Judd! Judd!!!”

              He let go.

              ***

              Hendricks’ last cry trailed off.

The two of them sat frozen in dismay inside the ship. The empty radio buzzed in their ears. There was no sign of whatever Judd had heard. They had heard no signs of distress from him; but he was suddenly either out of range or—

              Destroyed, Roberts thought. His comms had been destroyed, his vital signs tracker had been destroyed as well.

              There was a heavy silence, laden with grief and a strange horror.

              “He’s gone… We lost him…” he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Closer to the surface, Roberts began to foment a more selfish sort of fear. Judd was gone for good—and how would they get home without a 3-man crew? It was technically possible— maybe.

“He let go,” said Hendricks.

“He must have,” said Roberts dully.

“On purpose,” said Hendricks, like a child stating the obvious. “He let go on purpose.”

Roberts wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t argue. The sun beneath them suddenly felt alive, and its presence ominous. It had swallowed Judd, and its open maw was waiting for the rest of them as well.

              ***

              Judd was falling through the sun. Faster and faster he went, until he was streaking like a meteor past dust and particles and ever stronger solar winds.

              He hit the surface with a gaseous splash, and a sensation that he felt, but not in the way that he might have expected. It was cold, or so-hot-it-was-cold, like the shock of falling through ice, but with an afterglow like alcohol and mint that spread through his entire body.

              His EVA suit was destroyed. It had been melted or burned away. But he seemed to be breathing—though he wasn’t entirely confident that what he was breathing was air. Not only was he not in pain, he seemed to be more alive every moment.

              The world was hotter, cooler, and hotter again. He wondered how long he would have to fall before getting to the core. He wondered if he was close now. He had lost track of time, but it seemed as though he had been falling for an age. Somehow he knew that he was close. There was something here. A presence. A being.

              He saw light.

              It wasn’t an image of any sort. It was just like the light had finally become so strong it had pierced to his very soul. He was conscious of being in a very bright space. He knew that he was intruding. As best he could explain it, he had the sense of being in somebody’s house.

              But he was still falling.

              Judd understood something now about the nature of the Star, for the star it was. It was not lonely. Neither was it bored. It was happy, although happiness felt too trite a word. This Being, whatever it was, had lived in continuous and incomprehensible bliss since the beginning of time.

              And the Star noticed him. It felt like a spotlight turned directly on him in an instant, which was something that he could only now describe.

              WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE.

              Judd was dumbstruck, he could not answer.

I HAVE EXISTED FOR 4 BILLION YEARS. NEVER HAVE I BEEN REQUIRED TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT SING MY SONG. UNTIL NOW.

Judd stared at the light.

WHY HAVE YOU COME.

He spoke, barely able to form the words, but knowing with a sudden certainty what he wanted to say. “Your song. What does it mean?”

ARE YOU NOT ABLE TO UNDERSTAND? AH. I WILL TRANSLATE IT INTO YOUR LANGUAGE.

***

Roberts and Hendricks had picked up where Judd left off, testing the connections on the control panel and recalibrating for the new positions of the antennae. They worked as silently as they could. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had just happened, but they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about anything else.

The mood was depressive. Judd was dead, and they were alone. Alone with the sun.

Coolant systems were online, everything was working. Hendricks wanted to have some sort of ceremony or something, but he wasn’t sure how. There wasn’t even anything to bury.

It was dinner time, a scant 30 minutes allotted for a square meal. They sat, as it were, reluctantly near the minifridge, but neither of them wanted to eat.

There was a flash of light.

When the flash subsided, Judd was standing there in a t-shirt and shorts.

Roberts screamed and kicked the mini-fridge, throwing his mandarin through the air, almost hitting Judd in the face, though he didn’t notice. Hendricks made a similarly undignified noise and awkward flail.

Judd was rubbing his face, and breathing heavily. He was trembling; he looked as though he might have stumbled; but given the lack of gravity he simply rotated haphazardly until his head was down.

“We thought you were dead,” Hendricks managed.

“Don’t freak out,” said Judd. “It sent me back.”

“You… spoke to it?”

“Yes, it said—” Judd opened his eyes.

The two men screamed again, and recoiled in horror.

“Your eyes!” Roberts yelled.

“What?!” Judd demanded. “What about them? I’ve always been—stop freaking out, I know I startled you, but I’m not a ghost, it’s just me—”

Judd’s eyes were like the high beams on a Ford F-50.

“Don’t you want to know what the transmission said?” he asked, confused.

It was Hendricks who pulled himself together first. “What did it say?”

“Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, and goodwill toward men.”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Inventor

John Egan X mechanics! Reader

Summary: Y/n likes to craft stuff, everyone thinks she's crazy. But one day, her gadgets come handy.

Warning: Swearing/ use of Y/n/ mention of an explosion.

Word count: 700 words

When Lemmons bought his sister on the base, pilots were curious. When he asked the Colonel to bring her, he said that she was an inventor, and she could help fix the planes. But ever since she came, her inventions were not helpful at all, she was living in a small cabin, where she would stock her inventions. Colonel Harding often went to see her, with Buck, Bucky and Crosby. They made sure that what she was building wasn’t going to make the base blow up. ‘’Y/n, what are you working on today?’’ Colonel asked. She stopped what she was doing and looked at the men entering her cabin. ‘’An atomic bomb’’ she said, sarcastically. Harry Crosby went to touch one of her inventions. ‘’Don’t touch that!’’ she shouted. He flinched and looked at her. ‘’Why?’’ He asked. ‘’Because it could literally kill everyone in the room’’ she walked up to her invention to be sure that it wasn’t damaged. ‘’THAT COULD KILL US?’’ Bucky shouted, stressing. ‘’YES! How many times do I have to tell you to not touch anything!’’ she said. ‘’Why would you build something that could kill people?’’ Colonel Harding sign, he was growing tired of her crazy inventions. ‘’We’re in a war! It could kill Germans!’’ She said, hitting Bucky’s hand because he was about to touch something. He looked at her shocked about the fact that she just hit him. ‘’Y/n, we have to get you on a plane, we need at least one mechanics where we’re going’’ Buck asked. Her eyes lit up, but before she could ask the question, Bucky stopped her. ‘’No, you can’t bring any of these’’ he pointed at her inventions. She pouted. ‘’But I’m bringing my tools, we never know if we could need them’’ she said, closing the small pouch and putting it in her bra. The men blinked in disbelief. ‘’What? It won’t fall in the air’’ she blurted out. Crosby rolled his eyes as they made their way outside.

‘’That was a stupid idea’’ she said. She was glued to Bucky’s body as their parachute made their fall less scary. They needed to abandon their plane, since she didn’t have a chute, Bucky took her in his arms, she was hanging onto him like a koala. ‘’Shut up’’ he rolled his eyes. ‘’Don’t you drop me, Egan’’ she ordered. ‘’Don’t tempt me Lemmons junior’’ he said. She looked at the ground. ‘’What are you looking at?’’ he asked her. ‘’Checking of how high I would fall’’ she fakes smiled. ‘’How come you’re not in a mental institute?’’ he mumbled.

It has been 2 months since they’ve arrived in the camp. Her hair was starting to grow back, so she had to cut it. ‘’Buck, you still have that knife?’’ she asked him as he shook his head. She took the pouch of tools out of her bra and started to build something. When she’s done, she looks at the D-I-Y pair of scissors she just made. ‘’Bucky, can you help me?’’ she hands him her gadget. He takes the scissors and start to cut the excess of hair. She cut them so the Germans won’t think she’s pretty, she didn’t want to get assaulted. When Bucky was done, Y/n thanked him and put the scissors at the place she was hiding her other inventions.

‘’Are you sure this won’t blow up?’’ Bucky asked. ‘’I’m about 75% sure that this won’t explode. It’s a radio, not a bomb’’ she faked laughed, she wasn’t sure if this was going to explode or not. ‘’For fuck’s sake’’ he breathed out while putting a hand on his forehead. ‘’Relax, it won’t blow up, she’s knows what she’s doing’’ Buck tried to reassure everyone. She took a deep breath before opening the device. At first, she didn’t hear anything, but when some German words came to her ears, she was smiling. She adjusted the device. ‘’I got it, it’s the BBC’’ she announced, smiling. The guys cheered for her, and Bucky even kissed her cheek. ‘’Clearly, we would be dead without you! Thank you so much!’’ Bucky said. ‘’We could still die with her’’ Crank joked. ‘’Be careful with what you’re saying before I make you bed blow up’’ she threatened with a smile.

[smytherines]

[This was supposed to be a joke post, but it turned into an essay on the Cold War and nuclear brinksmanship in Spies Are Forever. Sorry]

Once again thinking about Tatiana Slozhno-- who for all intents and purposes would be considered a rogue KGB agent working with the Americans-- unilaterally detonating a hydrogen bomb on an island in the Pacific ocean. The geopolitical implications would be off the fucking charts

Hydrogen bombs are hundreds of times more powerful than the standard atomic bomb. For comparison, an estimated 100,000 to 200,000 people died when the US dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima (and hundreds of thousands died from radiation-related illnesses in the years following WWII). It killed everyone within a 1 mile radius of the blast

For a hydrogen bomb, the blast radius is more like 5 to 10 miles, depending on the yield. A 15 megaton yield (they range from 10 to 50) hydrogen bomb test performed by the US (code name Bravo) vaporized two entire islands, part of a third island, and left a 6,000 ft wide, 240ft deep crater in the fucking ocean. It was 1,000 times more powerful than the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima.

Now clearly, in the show, this is not considered a big deal. Tatiana doesn't seem to be on the run, Cynthia says that relations with Russia are the best they've been in ages. But in the real world it would be absolute global pandemonium with the potential to escalate the Cold War into a full scale nuclear war

Just to give some context here-- one year after the 1961 portion of Spies, the Cuban Missile Crisis happens. Here's a very very condensed version: Cuba has a communist revolution, the USSR finally has a staging area for nukes that could easily hit the US and tries to bring nukes to Cuba on ships, there's a tense 13 day standoff between the US and USSR that very nearly results in WWIII and complete nuclear annihilation. Most historians consider this the height of the Cold War. This is the incident that led to the phrase "Mutually Assured Destruction"

So imagine that a hydrogen bomb explodes in the Pacific ocean. There is no way to hide that after the fact, so both nuclear superpowers would know about it fairly quickly. In October of 1961 the Soviets detonated Tsar Bomba, a 50MT yield hydrogen bomb and the most powerful nuclear weapon ever tested, and US intelligence knew about it well in advance. They had spy planes close enough to the detonation that the protective plating on the plane was damaged.

Assuming they are able to connect it to Tatiana (lots of questions about how she was able to send a rocket shoe from far enough away to not get incinerated but oh well), the US would see it as a hostile act from a Russian agent. The Russians would consider her a traitor working with the Americans. Relations between the two countries would most likely deteriorate, not improve.

And this is more of a tangent, but I also think this era of nuclear brinksmanship (both countries having their hand hovering over the button, so to speak) is potentially a big motivation for Owen. I think he is clearly making irrational, emotional choices post-fall, BUT I also think he is the sort of man who needs to believe his decisions are based in logic and pragmatism.

So what logical justification can Owen find? Well, there's the idea that mass surveillance is already happening, already escalating, that this is the way the world is headed and if Chimera wants to succeed they need to get out ahead of it.

But I think the initial buy-in, how Chimera gets Owen ideologically committed to their organization and plan, is by using this constant looming threat of nuclear annihilation. By saying "these two countries and their little spy games are going to turn the world to ash if we let them. We need one neutral, central power to hold all the cards if we want to survive as a species." I think that would be a very powerful argument to a man who was just left for dead by his own agency and his American partner, who is presumably severely injured in a Soviet prison. A man who has a keen interest in foreign policy.

Because one of many things I find fascinating about Owen Carvour is that his/Chimera's plan is actually pretty rational, especially in comparison to a Bond villain. The Bond universe version of Chimera is called Spectre, and their plans are absolutely batshit stuff like "blow up the moon," and 10 variations of "giant space laser to kill everybody." Shit that doesn't even seem like it would benefit the villains because it's so over the top.

Chimera's plan is vile, but not outlandish. It is essentially just taking an idea that is already in development for the global superpowers, and finishing it first so they have all the power. It's a plan grounded in real world events. A big news story in 2013-2014 was the National Security Agency's PRISM program, which revealed how absolutely massive the US surveillance state had become, how the US was essentially turning everybody into spies (they just weren't aware of it).

I do sometimes wonder if someone in TCB read Glenn Greenwald's book (the reporter who broke the story), because Chimera's plan feels very specific to that late Obama era of the surveillance state

Holy shit this got so long.

Anyways Spies Are Forever 2 should follow Tatiana as she goes on the run to avoid trial at The Hague (I'm joking please don't kill me)

[succulentlesbians]

Daisy’s Powers (analysis + extensions)

Things that Daisy can canonically do with her powers (non-exhaustive):

- shake objects around her (earth, glass, guns) causing them to become unstable and break (primarily unconsciously done due to high emotions and without her arms) (also can do it on purpose (“I moved a mountain,” destroying the shrike) but still without arms)

- shoot waves of vibrations (primarily through her arms although we do see it coming from her whole body in s7) (she can also build these up to make them more powerful)

- tune into specific frequencies and match her vibrations to those frequencies (making glasses sing, holding open the portal) (by brain power)

- absorb earthquakes/energy (the bomb, koras energy) (mostly with help of her gauntlets) (through arms)

- manipulate water (making it swirl) (by concentration)

- sense the structure of items (jemma having bones vs being a robot) (somehow through a wave of vibration?)

- enhanced hearing (heard the monolith when others didn’t) (unconscious)

Her powers are described as being able to tap into vibrations (“the ability to sense the various frequency vibrations in her environment and manipulate them”).

I would say that her abilities are split into three categories: unconscious, by thought, and by channeling.

TLDR; I theorize on science and Daisy’s ability to create longitudinal waves, influence frequencies, and increase atomic/molecular energy in expressing her powers.

Her unconscious abilities are the ones where she just knows shit, like what frequency stuff is at. I don’t believe these can really be changed or added too.

By thought are ones where she doesn’t visibly have her powers coming out of her arms. There are multiple occasions where she naturally explodes things. Sometimes she still raises her arms, but I think that’s more of a crutch than a requirement.

Finally her channeling is what actually goes through her arms. This causes her pain if it’s done too much because while her body is reportedly built for her powers, it can still only take so much.

There’s some mixing between the categories that’s confusing. Sometimes she can vibrate things by thought. Sometimes she has to use her arms.

IMO, what she needs her arms for is projecting vibrations, ie not just making it vibrate more but actually pushing air around to create the effect. Everything else she should be able to concentrate and tap into (If we are permitting her to be OP as hell outside of a story’s context).

Things that Daisy could maybe do with her powers (some mine, some general fanon takes):

- mentally do everything except concussive blasts/waves of force.

- channel through other limbs

- learn what different vibrations mean and actually associate them with materials/actions (ie oh that’s a gun vs an icer) (includes identifying heat, heartbeats, movements)

- heat/cool things (increasing kinetic energy, heat is just atoms moving faster)

- explode things more often. why does she do this so little?? (explode -> shake them apart, give so much kinetic energy that the molecular bonds are broken)

- create/amplify/stop sound waves (her vibrational pushes should be longitudinal waves. Sound waves are also longitudinal. Canonically she’s attuned to sounds already. This makes total sense. Her vibrations already come with that billowing sound effect that must be her natural frequency. If she could change that, she can make different sounds. Boom.)

- cause radiation? if she could make an atom to become unstable and split apart…

- in terms of light… I’m split on this. Light is not a longitudinal wave, it’s transverse (wave motion is perpendicular rather than parallel to the particle motion) and so I wouldn’t say that Daisy would be able to impact light necessarily. However, light does have frequencies that correspond to colors/wavelengths (for the parts outside the visible). So if we were truly taking an OP daisy, she might be able to influence the color of things etc by changing the frequency of light?

If we accept this, it opens up huge possibilities. Being able to see heat in the dark bc she changes the infrared to red. Stopping radio transmissions. Never getting skin cancer because she won’t let UV light hit her. Etc. light is a huge spectrum. I’m sure I’m not even thinking of a fraction of the possibilities.

However I feel like this specifically would be really hard too because light (like radio waves) is passing around us constantly. So being able to isolate it would be crazy hard.

Anyway. Her powers are crazy and I like physics so it’s a good thought project.

[nekropsii]

Atomic Ask Bomb... 2!!

Hello, all! We are back in the mines immediately, because you all love me and my inbox so much. I still have 200+ more asks to sort through after this and that is not hyperbole!! Oops!!

Content Warning: Long, and Cronus is There.

You can be both. I am both. I think Terezi's easily in the Top 3 of Best Written Homestuck Characters, no competition. AND she compels me.

Mituna Fans and Terezi Fans flocking together like how Gays and Lesbians are supposed to.

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He doesn't have a Recuperacoon. He doesn't NEED a Recuperacoon. Who needs a Recuperacoon when you have a bathtub? You pile a bunch of slime in there, and then you can pop the drain open in the morning and take a shower right there where you just got up. It's convenient. And not at all sad. It's not sad guys.

Let's pretend for a moment that either Vantas would have regular bathing habits for the sake of this joke.

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Even if that's the case, it really doesn't change anything. Insecurity doesn't justify literal actual sexual harassment and sexual assault. What?

People will do anything to excuse random shitty men for being shitty. Sympathy is the favorite weapon in Fandom Misogyny's arsenal. So often will fans pull some random bullshit out of their ass just to say that it's fine that a male character is abusive, especially if it's to women, because "He's Sad", so he should never face criticism or punishment for his actions.

We should all start putting people in blenders. We've let these arguments go on long enough. People are far too bold in their abuse apologia. We need to kill them.

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Yeah. Like, he interests me a lot, he's one of the characters I take the most interest in out of all of the Alpha Trolls. I literally write sov!Cronus. I hate his guts, though. It really is just that easy to be a fan of a character and also fucking hate them. Not once have I ever made an excuse for him. The goal Hussie set out for when writing him was making him inexcusable and irredeemable, down to Cronus literally knowing what he's doing is bad and hurts people, and simply just not caring.

Cronus is genuinely fucking evil. That's the whole point. If you make him misunderstood, if you make him mean well, if you make him lack self awareness, if you make him sympathetic, if you give him any redeeming qualities at all... You are missing the point completely. If you want a sympathetic asshole character, you want Vriska. The point of Cronus is that he's The Worst Character In Homestuck, and that he has zero redeeming qualities and trying to fix him or redeem him is a Hopeless venture. He is beyond saving. Don't you dare even think about trying - to try to make him palatable is to erase Violent Bigotry, Incest, and Child Sexual Abuse. Just don't. Enjoy him as he is, do NOT defang him.

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He truly is the worst! I think we should explode all depictions of fanon!Cronus. Forever.

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Yeah, there's a huge reason why I do not say I'm a fan of Cronus or call him a favorite character of mine or anything. It projects a certain... Image. The wrong one. There's just such a strong precedent for anyone saying they're a Cronus Fan or calling him their Favorite Character being a person who just completely fucking ignores everything about him, or even pardons it, saying it's fine, actually, because He's Sad, or that it's Not That Bad, actually. I can't stand it.

I'm aware there are Cronus Fans who are totally normal, but I cannot help but immediately be wary of them, or flinch for a moment even when they offer the reassurance that they know better. It's a natural response, having been here for around a decade and having been a Mituna Fan the whole time.

Liking characters who are terrible people is fine. Based, even, in some cases. But... It's truly difficult with Cronus, because so much of that fanbase relies on excusing/minimizing/condoning abuse and bigotry. I don't have any qualms with people liking characters that suck, but when a fanbase for a character is so heavily focused on pretending that character isn't a horrible, terrible, awful person who abuses people - even children, even people they're related to, even children that they're related to - for nothing but their own sexual gain... I start having issues. That sets a pretty dangerous precedent, to me.

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It's crazy to me how so much of the apologism is because he's hot. Because he literally isn't. You all have terrible taste.

Let's all appreciate for a moment just how fucking ugly he is. The fan art is lying so bad. He needs a haircut. His shirt doesn't fit him, and honestly looks like women's clothes - you know those women's shirts that have the sleeves that stop halfway down the damn shoulder? He looks like a 16 year old. He's so skinny, and his shoulders are so... rounded and small - which are fine traits to have, but literally every piece of fanart portrays him as broad-shouldered and ripped when the literal opposite is true. You just know he has too much product in his hair. His actual sprite is even worse.

The way his fly doesn't even go all the way up. The way his hair clips into his face. The way he's slightly yellow for literally no reason. The shitty belt. This fucking sucks. He's so ugly. He isn't even hot.

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Mituna having Memory Loss as a result of his TBI is literally a myth invented by Cronus to emotionally manipulate Mituna and perpetuated by Cronus Fans. I think if they were friends in the past, Cronus's actions would be worse, actually.

Could you imagine getting sad that your friend doesn't remember you because of a Traumatic Brain Injury, and your response to this sadness is to abuse and sexually assault them on the regular? What, is that Just Bro Things now? Cronus literally says he targets Mituna because he thinks he can get away with it due to his struggles with communication. The thing about them being buddies in the past was one of his trademark Lies. Because he is known to do that, specifically to manipulate people. Because he is known to manipulate people. Emotionally. Because he is abusive. And terrible. And not redeemable. This isn't rocket science! It isn't rocket science to say that pushing the fault of Mituna's abuse onto Mituna is Victim-Blaming!

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Positively fucking ridiculous that so many people did not recognize their romance within the comic. If they were boys, there'd be no god damn question about it. It'd be up there in everyone's OTP list alongside DaveKat.

I think they're adorable. They're one of my favorite pairings.

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It's great in the source comic, especially during earlier phases of its existence, but the quality deprecates drastically the further you get from that point. I hate it in Fanon and in Dub/Post-Canon.

It's a great off-screen pairing for a lot of lore reasons - namely it being great to let Dave slowly allow himself to love and be loved in private, with no fear of eyes on him. He's never really been able to have privacy before, with all the cameras and eyes on him all the time, and he's never been able to really let his guard down and be vulnerable. He's never been able to love and be loved, safely. I ultimately think they should've kept their relationship mostly private, even after Dave's recovered quite a bit, because sometimes having something just for yourself without that need to perform it is healing in itself. Mental health maintenance.

In Fanon, it seems like pretty standard yaoi, though. Boring. Tired. Literally everywhere. Voyeuristic as always.

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Thank you! My Inbox generally really isn't that bad at all, honestly! Most people are pretty cordial! Anon Hate for me is pretty rare. Thankfully, the Delete Ask button exists, so I don't have to worry about those Anons for very long, lol.

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I hate to say this, but back in my day, plenty of people actually did do that. In fact, people only knowing Homestuck through fan material and then still calling themselves a fan is a big reason why old Homestuck fanon was so bad and so far off the mark!

I have a name for those kinds of fans, because it was such a frequent occurrence it begged for a title. I call them Secondaries. Like "Secondary Source"!

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World's most based triad, I think. Should be real. It's real to me.

7H15 15 MY 91RLFR13NF, L47UL4. 4DN 7H51 15 7UL45 9R1LFR13ND, P0RR1M.

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I think everyone should start watching actual horror movies. I think these people should watch Re-Animator and Bride of Re-Animator. I think this would fix the fandom, because a lot of people are just posting about horror movies without realizing they're posting about horror movies. Go watch a horror movie. They even have more and, frankly, more interesting gay representation than... Whatever Dirk and Jake have going on. Sorry.

If you're a gay man, get some hair on your chest and watch a bunch of horror movies. There's more in this life than anime twinks and skinny white pixel men. There's BlackRom Old Man Pet Play (The Lighthouse, 2019), there's Tormented Huge Dirty Bear (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, 2006), there's The Bisexual Psychological Torture + Betrayal Chamber (Saw, 2004), there's Dysfunctional Gay Marriage Disputes (Re-Animator, 1985, Bride of Re-Animator, 1990). And way more other ones than I can really list. Expand your horizons.

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Not much. It's a bit mysterious. Here's what Aranea had to say about Mituna in general, which gives us most of the crumbs we have:

The Heir of Doom was once a powerful psionic. He had much to say when it came to warning us a8out the path of doom and destruction we were all headed for, 8ut no one took him very seriously. 8ut one day he lost all those abilities when he 8adly overexerted himself. It's hard to get any specifics from him, 8ut indications are that he applied every last 8it of energy he had toward some great act of heroism, saving us all from some looming threat. Not only did his exertion permanently 8urn out his psychic a8ilities, 8ut it left him somewhat... er. Incoherent. The entire incident is shrouded in mystery. From his limited and scattered accounts of what happened, it seems very likely that Kurloz was with him at the time, as the only eye witness. And of course it's impossi8le to get any relia8le information out of him. I guess we may never know, sadly.

This does say quite a lot, but not really anything specific. We've got some stuff about how he's the session's Cassandra, the fact that the GAoH was NOT an accident (this is the misconception that pisses me off the most, I think - I hate when people call it an accident), the fact that he was protecting everyone from something... The fact that he DOES remember it, the fact that Kurloz was there, as the only eye witness, and refuses to talk about it.

It leaves plenty of room for speculation. A little too much room for me, honestly, but that's fine, I'm not really pressed about it.

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[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 3 - The Morning After

Summary: Despite her better judgment, Valerie and Elvis are fast growing closer. He invites her for a late night dinner, where they share secrets and hamburgers.

Author's notes: This is my last rewritten chapter. Four and beyond are brand new. You'll love them. <3

My eyes snapped open, heart doing the cha-cha against my ribs. Have you ever woken from a dream so real you can still feel it clinging to your skin? That's what this was—except it wasn't a dream. The phantom sensation of his eyes on me, the ghost of almost-kisses, the memory of that voice wrapping around my name like honey dripping from a spoon.

I fumbled for my nightstand, nearly sending last night's untouched water crashing to the floor. There it was. The ticket. Glossy and real and solid proof that I hadn't imagined the whole thing. That I, Valerie Pedretti, professional nobody from Chicago, had somehow caught the eye of the most famous man in America.

"Christ," I said to the empty room. My voice sounded wrong. Everything was wrong. He was married. That was a fact, like death or gravity or the way my hands shook when I reached for the telephone. I groaned into my pillow, but the sound came out more like a strangled cat trying to sing opera. I needed to call Deena before my brain exploded all over these nice hotel sheets.

The phone rang twice before Deena picked up, her voice fuzzy with sleep and irritation. "Val, hon, it's ass o'clock in the morning. This better be good—"

"Trust me, Dee, it is." I took a deep breath, the words crowding in my throat like teenagers at a concert. "I'm not coming home just yet. I've decided to stay here a few more days."

That woke her up. I could practically hear her sitting bolt upright, the bedsprings creaking through the line like an old dog stretching. "Sinatra?"

"No." I pressed my head against the window glass. It was cool. The sun was already fierce in the desert. I chewed my lip, tasting yesterday's lipstick. "I maybe kind of sort of accidentally had a ‘moment’ with a celebrity last night."

Dead silence. The kind of silence that happens right before an atomic bomb goes off. Then—

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" 

I yanked the receiver away from my ear, wincing. In Chicago, dogs were probably howling. "Yep. I'm in deep doo-doo, Dee."

"Deep doo-doo?! More like the motherlode! Valerie, you little minx!" Deena's voice climbed higher with each word, like a cat scaling a hot tin roof. "How'd you manage a thing like that? I want every lurid detail. Emphasis on lurid."

I flopped back against the pillows, laughing despite myself. Good old Deena, straight to the good stuff. "I can't give you all the details yet. But let's just say he's someone we've both heard of. I'll give you three clues. Very famous, very talented, and very, very handsome."

I left out 'very married.' Some truths are better swallowed with a chaser of denial.

Deena made a sound like a teakettle having religious experience. "You're killing me! You can't just drop a bombshell like that and not give me a name! Landing a whale like that..." The line went quiet for a second, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Wait... is it Sinatra? Dean Martin? Joey Bishop?" Another pause. "Oh honey, please don't tell me it's Liberace. You know he doesn't go for—"

"I can't say."

"Since when do we have secrets?"

"Since now." The words came out hard and flat.

"Well hell." Deena laughed. Not a real laugh. "At least tell me if he's worth it."

I thought about his hands. His eyes. The way he moved like there was music in his bones.

"He's worth it."

"You sound sure."

"I'm not sure of anything." That was true. The only thing I was sure of was the ache in my chest when I thought of him. It was like hunger, but worse. "Maybe I'm crazy."

Deena huffed out a sigh that could've stripped paint. "Fine, keep your secrets, you incorrigible tease. But I'm telling you, Val, when an opportunity like this falls into your lap, you gotta strike while the iron's hot, if you know what I mean."

I burst out laughing. You could always count on Deena to cut straight to the chase with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. "Why Deena Jane Lovelace, are you trying to corrupt me? I feel like I should be clutching my pearls."

"I'm serious Val, you deserve to let loose and have some fun for once in your life. Live a little! Sow some wild oats! Ride that stallion till you break the saddle!"

I closed my eyes and thought about all the other women who’d probably had this same exact conversation with their best friends. The sun through the window was too bright. It suddenly all felt too much. "Maybe I'm just another girl to him."

"You're never just another anything."

We were quiet then. I could hear her breathing through the line. All those states away in Chicago, probably still in bed with her hair a mess and yesterday's makeup smeared under her eyes. She was my best friend. She was wrong about this.

“And even if you were, so what?” It was Deena who broke the quiet. "Look, I know you. You've got a bad habit of getting in your own way when it comes to men. Always overthinking, always holding back. Always tying yourself down to some jerk who isn't good enough for you..."

The laughter died in my throat. Because there it was, the ghost we hadn't named yet.

Andy.

Deena's voice softened like butter in the sun. "Oh honey. Are you worried about that chump again? Because I will fly to Vegas and smack you upside the head myself. That boy is staler than last week's bread and you know it."

Andy. Just thinking his name was like stepping into a time machine - back to high school dances and drive-in movies and dreams small enough to fit in a burger joint uniform pocket. Sweet, goofy, going-nowhere-fast Andy. The kind of guy who thought putting on a tie meant wearing his good Arby's visor.

If I squinted hard enough, Andy's Arby's visor almost looked like a crown. Almost. He was... well, he was Andy. A burger-flipping, belch-ripping goofball who could always make me laugh, even when I wanted to strangle him. He was comfortable as an old shoe, familiar as my own reflection. About as exciting as watching paint dry in February.

But Elvis... Elvis was pure electricity in a black leather jacket. He made me feel like I could set the world on fire with just a smile. When a man like that looks at you like you're the only woman in the room, it does things to a girl. Things that don't involve overthinking or holding back or remembering why you shouldn't.

Deena, bless her heart, could read my silence like a book. "Val, I'm not saying you gotta marry the guy. But would it kill you to have a little fling? To let yourself get swept off your feet, even if it's just for a little while?"

I gnawed my lip, considering. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop being a good girl, always doing the safe thing, the smart thing. Maybe it was time to take a chance on something wild and wonderful, consequences be damned.

That's the thing about consequences, though. They have a way of showing up to the party whether you invited them or not.

"Okay, okay, you've twisted my arm," I said, grinning so hard my face hurt. "Operation Ride That Stallion is a go. But if I end up with saddle sores, I'm blaming you."

Deena's cackle could've scared crows off a cornfield. "Atta girl! You just remember every gory detail so you can replay the highlight reel for me later. And Val?"

"Yeah, Dee?"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"But you'd do everything..."

"That's my point!"

After I hung up, I stood looking at my reflection in the mirror. Same face as always. Same brown eyes, same olive skin, same mouth that was a little too wide, same nose with the strong profile (Mom always called it “distinguished.” I called it “rhinoplasty-ready.”). But something was different. Something in the eyes maybe. Or maybe it was just that I was looking at myself the way he had looked at me.

Looking back, I should've seen it as a sign–me trying to dress up enough to belong in Elvis's world. Like putting a paint job on a Plymouth and calling it a Cadillac. But hindsight's always twenty-twenty, isn't it?

I was midway through my third wardrobe panic when the doorbell rang. Standing there in my slip, hair wild as a tumbleweed, I yanked open the door—and promptly tripped over a box on the floor. Big. Expensive-looking. The kind of box that makes promises. Its label read “Suzy Creamcheese,” and I just knew it was the one of those boutiques where they probably charged you just for breathing their air.

My hands shook as I picked it up. There was a card. The handwriting was messy, like he'd been in a hurry. Or maybe like he wasn't used to writing his own notes. When I read the message inside, I forgot how breathing worked.

"Songbird, let's make beautiful music together. Wear this tonight. I'll be the one in black. Yours, Jon Burrows"

Jon Burrows. His alias. Like we were spies. Like we were lovers. Like we were anything but what we were, a married man and a girl who should know better.

Inside the box was the kind of dress that would've made the Pope need confession. It shimmered like sin and promised trouble, the fabric probably worth more than my entire life savings.

My first thought was that he'd probably bought a million dresses just like it for a million other girls. My second thought was that I didn't care.

But that's the funny thing about falling for someone like Elvis. You know going in that you're not the first, probably won't be the last. But somehow he makes you feel like you're the only one who matters. At least for now.

In any case, the dress slid over my curves like water, like destiny, like everything I'd ever wanted but been too afraid to reach for. In the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. She looked dangerous. She looked ready. She looked like someone who could make Elvis Presley forget his own name.

I just hoped she knew what she was doing better than I did.

With an hour to kill before the show, I clicked my way down to the casino. The dress moved like smoke around my legs. The shoes he'd sent pinched my feet but made me feel tall. Strong. People looked at me different. Or maybe I was walking different. Maybe that's what confidence feels like. Like armor made of silk.

I sat down at the blackjack table. The cards were good to me, they kept coming up hearts. That should have been a warning, but I wasn't reading signs right then. I was too busy feeling lucky.

That's when I felt it. Eyes on my back. Not the good kind of eyes.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?"

He was old. Fat. His ring could have anchored a yacht. The kind of man who thinks money makes him God's gift to women.

"Playing cards," I said. I didn't look at him. The dealer hit me with a queen. Twenty-one.

“You here for the show?”

“Mm hmm,” I kept my eye on the cards. 

"Ah. One of those Elvis girls." He said it like he was diagnosing a disease. "Fresh meat."

The words hit hard. True words usually do. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his fresh meat when a hand landed on my shoulder. It was warm and steady.

"Darlin', there you are! Been lookin' all over for you."

I spun around to find myself face to face with a tall drink of water in a ten-gallon hat. He had one of those faces that time had worked on like a wood carver, all weathered planes and honest angles. The kind of face that made you want to trust it right off the bat.

"Play along," he whispered. "Looked like you could use a rescue."

Relief washed over me like cool water in August. "Oh! Yes, of course. So sorry, I got a little turned around..."

He steered me away from Mr. Pinky Ring and his grabby eyes, waiting until we were safely out of earshot before introducing himself properly.

"Chick, at your service," he said, tipping an imaginary cap with an old-world sort of charm. "I'm with the International. And unless I miss my guess, you must be Miss Valerie?"

My eyes went wider than poker chips. "How did you...?"

His laugh was warm as Texas sunshine. "Let's just say Mr. Burrows ain't subtle when he's sweet on a girl. I'm supposed to take you to his dressing room."

He looked at my dress. Nodded approval. "That'll give him the vapors but good."

Something warm bloomed in my chest. Elvis had sent someone to find me. Had asked for me specifically. Maybe this wasn't just another notch on his belt. Maybe...

But I shut that thought down hard. Hope was dangerous. Hope got you hurt.

But Chick must've caught my expression falling like a bad soufflé, because he patted my elbow with fatherly affection.

"Chin up, darlin'. I know this whole thing has you tied up in knots, but trust me–that boy thinks the sun rises and sets on your pretty little head. I ain't never seen him so gaga."

I managed a wobbly smile, even as my heart did a two-step against my ribs. Chick was sweet to say so, but he didn't know the half of it. Falling for Elvis was like trying to catch a comet with your bare hands–bound to end in flames.

Chick led me through the back halls of the hotel. They all looked the same. Like a maze. Like a dream where you keep trying to find a door that moves. The carpet was thick and red and swallowed our footsteps. 

"Been with Elvis long?" I asked.

"Long enough to know trouble when I see it." He looked at me sideways. Not unkind. Just knowing. "And honey, you're trouble."

"I don't mean to be."

"Nobody ever does."

We stopped at a door like all the other doors. Chick tipped his hat. "This is where I leave you. Remember something though - if he's fool enough to let you slip away, I'll be waiting in the wings."

He winked and was gone, boots silent on the thick carpet. I stood there. The door looked bigger now that I was alone. Everything looked bigger.

I took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to steady my nerves, smoothed down the dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back home, and knocked. The sound seemed to echo like a gunshot in the quiet hallway.

The door swung open, and there was Elvis. Not the Elvis from television or magazines. Just Elvis. White shirt. Gray wool pants. Hair a little messy like he'd been running his hands through it. When he smiled it wasn't his stage smile. It was something else. Something that made my insides go soft.

"Well if it isn't my good luck charm." He pulled me inside. Fast. Like he was afraid someone might see. "Get in here before we start a scandal. I can see the headlines now - 'Elvis Presley Corrupts Young Songstress.'"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. The nervousness went out of me like air from a balloon.. "I think you're overestimating my ability to cause a scandal," I said, settling onto his couch like I belonged there. "The most exciting thing that's ever happened to me was winning a pie-eating contest when I was twelve."

His face lit up. He clutched his chest and staggered backward. Ham acting. Good ham acting. "A pie-eating champion? In my dressing room? I'm not worthy!"

Then he was on his knees in front of me. His hands were warm on mine. Big hands. Strong hands. Guitar player's hands. His blue eyes danced with mischief. "Tell me your secrets, o great pie queen. The people need to know."

Just like that, he wasn't Elvis Presley anymore. He was just a man with laugh lines around his eyes and a smile that could melt steel. That made him more dangerous. Not because he was famous, but because he was real.

We talked. Easy talk. Good talk. The kind where you forget to watch what you're saying. He sprawled on the couch while I sat in a chair. The distance felt important. Safe. But then he looked at me. Really looked at me.

"I'm scared about tonight." His voice was different. Quiet. Raw. "Scared as hell."

I blinked at him like he'd started speaking in tongues. "You get stage fright?"

"That ain’t even the half of it," his laugh had more edges than a broken mirror. "Honey, I'm about ready to shake out of my skin. Haven't played a venue this big in years." His leg bounced. His fingers drummed against his thigh. Nervous tells. Real ones. "Keep thinking I'll get out there and forget everything. The words. The moves. My own damn name."

Elvis Presley, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Who'd have thought?

"But you've played hundreds of shows for thousands of people. You're a pro!"

"That was before." The words came out bitter. "Been doing movies for too long. I haven’t exactly done much live performing lately. Feels like starting over."

Looking back, I should've seen it then–the cracks in the armor, the way fame sat on him like a crown made of thorns. But I was too busy falling to notice the warning signs.

He looked at me. His eyes were very blue. Very young. "Truth is, I keep thinking I'll make a fool of myself. In front of everyone." He paused. "In front of you."

Something squeezed in my chest, soft and fierce all at once. "Hey," I said, covering his restless hand with mine. "You are not going to make a fool of yourself. Know how I know?"

His fingers curled around mine like a lifeline. "How?"

"Because I've seen you dance. Even if you forget every word, just do that hip thing. Nobody will give a goddamn what comes out of your mouth."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Then he threw his head back and laughed–not his polite laugh or his stage laugh, but something rich and real and unrestrained.

"Lordy, woman!" he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "You really are somethin' else, you know that?"

I grinned, pleased as punch at making him laugh like that. "I'm serious! Those things are lethal weapons."

"You're a mess." But his eyes were warm. Soft. "An absolute mess."

"And you'll be fine," I said. I squeezed his knee. The muscle was solid under my hand. "The second you see all those faces out there - all those people who love you - it'll click. You'll remember who you are. Why you do this."

Elvis looked at me for a long moment, something raw and unguarded flickering across his face. "You really believe that, don't you?" he said quietly. "You really think I've still got it."

"I know it." And I did. The way you know some things without knowing how you know them. "You're gonna kill it tonight. And I'll be right there cheering you on."

Elvis's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes suspiciously bright. "What did I ever do to deserve a gal like you in my corner? I must've been a saint in a past life."

"Well, I don't know about sainthood, but you definitely rocked a mean pair of blue suede shoes," I teased, trying to lighten the moment before I drowned in those eyes.

It worked. He threw back his head and laughed again. The sound wrapped around me like a blanket. "Baby, you're too much!" His grin was pure boy. Pure trouble. "Stick with me, kid. I'll show you a thing or two about rocking more than just shoes."

The promise in his words sent heat crawling up my neck. Amazing how he could make something so innocent sound like sin with chocolate sauce on top.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Presley."

"You better."

Elvis glanced at the clock and sighed, some of the laughter fading from his eyes. "Guess I better start getting into my glad rags. Show's about to start, and I've got a whole lot of hearts to break."

I should have asked whose heart he meant to break first. But I didn't. I never did ask the right questions.

He stood and pulled me up with him. "Walk me to the stage door?" His voice got that vulnerable edge again. "Would mean a lot to have you there."

My heart said yes. My head knew better. "There'll be photographers."

"Yeah." He sighed. The sound hurt something in my chest. "You're right. Smart girl."

I squeezed his hand, holding his gaze. "I'll be with you every step of the way," I promised. "In spirit, if not in body."

He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles. It felt like a brand. Like a promise. Like a lie. "You're my guiding light tonight, honey. My lucky star."

Standing there in his dressing room, drowning in those blue eyes, I felt like I could happily spend the rest of my life mapping the planes and angles of his face. Must've been temporary insanity that made me reach up and straighten his collar, letting my fingers linger on the warm skin of his neck.

Elvis growled—actually growled—low and rough in his throat. His hands found my hips, tugging me closer until I could feel the heat of him, smell the spicy-sweet scent of his cologne. "Y'know, I've half a mind to cancel this show and..."

Someone knocked. Sharp. Loud. I jumped like I'd been shot. Elvis muttered something that would've made a sailor blush.

"Thirty minutes, boss!" A voice called through the door.

He let out a hard breath, his fingers flexing on my hips. "Guess that's my cue," he said ruefully. His eyes never left mine. "To be continued. Bank on it."

Then, with one last scorching look that turned my insides to melted butter, he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving me weak-kneed and panting in his wake.

*

The house lights dimmed and the band struck up, and holy shit, did that crowd go wild. The kind of wild that makes you wonder if they've been saving their screams up special, just for this moment. Shrieks and whistles drowned out the opening bars as a single spotlight pierced the dark.

And there he was.

Elvis prowled onstage in a black gi-style jumpsuit that probably had its own insurance policy, his hair gleaming like polished onyx under the lights. The audience lost what was left of their minds, but Elvis? Elvis’s eyes searched only for me. He caught my gaze and grinned, a private, knee-weakening thing that set every nerve ending aflame. I clutched my glass so hard I thought it would shatter. 

Sweet mercy. Maybe Chick hadn't been exaggerating after all.

The show was something else entirely - all hip-swiveling, high-energy dancing, and enough eye contact to melt the sun. Elvis shimmied and crooned and thrusted like his life depended on it, but every so often, his gaze would find mine across the crowd, dark with promises that made my toes curl in my fancy new shoes.

During "Love Me Tender," he changed one of the lyrics ever so slightly, singing "for my songbird" instead of "for my darling." If you weren't listening for it, you might've missed it. But I heard it. And when he winked at me right after, I nearly spontaneously combusted right there in my seat.

That's the thing about falling for Elvis. Every little thing feels like a secret message. Even when your brain knows better, your heart keeps right on believing.

I spent the whole show strung between pure joy and pure terror. My skin felt electric every time he looked my way. He was marking me as his. And God help me, I wanted to be marked.

That little voice of reason - the one that sounded suspiciously like Deena - tried to pipe up. I was sure that if she knew the whole truth, she’d hate me. "He does this with all the girls, dummy. You aren't special. He's MARRIED, remember?"

I told that voice to stuff it where the sun don't shine. For one night, I just wanted to pretend this was real, that Elvis's heated promises were mine and mine alone. That maybe, just maybe, he actually did feel something genuine for the nobody from Chicago.

By the time he got to "Can't Help Falling in Love," I was gone. Lost. My skin felt too tight for my body. Elvis took his bows like a king receiving tribute. Blew kisses. Reached for grabbing hands. My own hands stung from clapping. My face ached from smiling.

He'd done it. He'd absolutely killed it. The nerves, the self-doubt - all of it had vanished the moment he hit that stage. And something in me knew that if he asked, I was going to go all the way. No holding back, no second thoughts. Just full steam ahead off this cliff we were dancing on.

I barely noticed Joe until he materialized at my elbow, grinning like he had all the secrets of the universe tucked in his back pocket.

“This way, Miss Pedretti.”

Riding high on adrenaline and something that felt dangerously like hope, I let myself be herded to Elvis's suite by security guards built like brick walls with legs. The place was already jumping - a whirlwind of backslapping and champagne popping and enough cigarette smoke to give cancer to a small country.

I recognized some faces from before - Red and Sonny and the rest of the Memphis Mafia playing court jesters to Elvis's king, Colonel Parker looking like a cat who'd found the canary, hotel bigwigs in suits worth more than my car. But there were new faces too - starlets with magazine-cover smiles, hangers-on hoping for their big break, and a surprising number of blue-haired ladies clutching Elvis albums like holy relics.

For a second, panic grabbed me by the throat. I was a minnow in a shark tank. But then Jerry caught my eye across the room and waved me over with a friendly wink.

"There she is!" he crowed, throwing an arm around my shoulders like we were old war buddies. "Didn't our boy knock 'em dead tonight?"

I grinned up at him, letting his easy friendship settle my nerves like a warm shot of bourbon. "He sure did. I've never seen anything like it. I thought that one gal in the front row was gonna faint when he smiled at her."

"Aw, that ain't nothing!" Red chimed in, snatching champagne off a passing tray like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat. "Back in '56, we had girls dropping like flies every time he so much as moved a finger. Quite a time to be alive, let me tell you!"

The Memphis Mafia folded me into their ranks like I'd always been there, trading stories and jokes that made me feel like I was part of something bigger than myself. It was intoxicating, being on the inside looking out instead of the other way around.

Speaking of intoxicating... Elvis was holding court across the room, surrounded by suits and sparkly dresses like a king with his courtiers. He caught my eye over their shoulders and winked, his grin electric even from thirty feet away. That one look hit me like a lightning bolt straight to the gut.

That's when I felt it. The warning tingle. Like in those old movies when the hero knows trouble's coming. But I was already too far gone to listen.

I was debating the merits of "accidentally" bumping into him when a gnarled hand clamped onto my wrist. I turned to find myself nose-to-nose with a little old lady in a pink pillbox hat that probably remembered World War II firsthand. Her eyes, magnified by glasses thick as Coca-Cola bottles, peered up at me with the intensity of a prosecutor at a murder trial.

"Priscilla, dear, is that you?" Her voice shook like autumn leaves. "Oh, I just have to tell you how much I admire you! Standing by your man all these years. Through thick and thin. You're an inspiration!"

My stomach dropped. Fast. Hard. She thought I was his wife. His real wife. His married wife.

"Oh, no, I'm not—" I stammered, heat climbing my neck. But she was already barreling ahead like a runaway train, clutching my hand in her paper-dry grip.

"Albert and I made it fifty-three years," she said. Still had my hand. "But you and Elvis - the army, those awful Hollywood girls, all that time apart. It's a wonder you've managed so well!"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. What could I say? Sorry, ma'am. I'm not his wife. I'm just the latest girl he's trying to bed while his real wife sits at home. Looking in those rheumy eyes, bright with admiration, I couldn't do it.

So I just smiled and patted her hand, mumbling something about the power of commitment. She beamed at me like I'd just handed her the secret to eternal life and tottered off to spread her marital wisdom elsewhere.

I sagged against the wall, guilt sitting in my gut like a bad burger. What kind of person was I, playing at being Elvis's devoted wife when the real Mrs. Presley was probably at home wondering where her husband was and who he was with? And why wasn't she here on opening night, anyway?

The room suddenly felt too hot, too close, like all the air had been sucked out and replaced with cigarette smoke and accusations. I needed space. I needed air. I needed—

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you, Valley cat."

Elvis materialized in front of me, like the devil when you say his name. His jacket was gone. Shirt half open. Hair damp with sweat from the show. He looked good enough to eat. And he knew it.

I plastered on a smile, trying to shake off my guilt. This was supposed to be a magical night, wasn't it? My one chance to live like a star, to be Elvis's girl, even if only in the shadows.

"Hey," I managed, praying my voice didn't betray the tornado in my head. "If it isn't the man of the hour himself. I'd ask how it feels to kill it, but something tells me you already know."

He laughed, low and throaty like good aged whiskey, and took my hand. My pulse jumped at the casual touch. "Careful with those compliments, honey. My head won't fit through the door."

"I'm not worried." The banter felt good. Safe. "If your head gets too big, I'll just deflate it. I'm handy that way."

"A real Jill of all trades, aren't ya?" he drawled, tugging me closer until I stumbled, caught off guard by his nearness. His hands found my hips, steadying me, and I swear each finger burned through the silk like a brand.

His eyes held trouble. Heat. "Stick around. Maybe you'll show me just how handy you can be."

Christ. The implications in those words could've set fire to a wet paper bag.

Before I could string together a coherent response, he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear like a whisper. “The boys are gonna clear out these folks. Stay a while. Keep me company."

My throat went desert-dry. I stammered, cursing my suddenly uncooperative tongue. "If you're sure I won't be imposing..."

He pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes, and something in his gaze softened like butter in the sun. "Valerie, trust me. There is nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you."

How did he do that? Make every word sound like a promise written in stars?

The next hour passed in a blur of goodbyes and meaningful looks across the room. The crowd thinned out gradually, some folks leaving under their own steam, others getting gentle but firm assistance from security. Soon it was just Elvis, his core crew, and me.

I perched on the arm of a velvet sofa, trying to blend into the scenery while the guys swapped tour stories and inside jokes. Elvis sprawled in a chair nearby, nursing a coke, sneaking me these molten looks that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

Finally, Red stretched and heaved himself up like a bear coming out of hibernation. "Welp, I'm about ready to hit the hay. These old bones ain't what they used to be." He shot Elvis a look heavy with meaning. "Reckon y'all got things handled in here?"

Elvis's lips twitched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah, man. I think we're good. Y'all head on to bed now. Me and Valerie here will just... clean up a bit."

The silence that followed was loaded as a gun on New Year's Eve. Then, with a chorus of goodnights and knowing winks that made my cheeks burn, the Memphis Mafia filed out.

And then there were two.

Elvis finished his drink and set it aside with deliberate care. Then he unfolded from his chair with the kind of grace that should've been illegal in at least forty-eight states. My heart started doing the cha-cha against my ribs as he approached, all leashed power and barely contained heat.

He stopped close. Very close. I could smell his cologne mixing with stage smoke and sweat. Could have touched him. Wanted to touch him.

"C'mon, darlin'." He held out one ring-laden hand, his eyes molten in the low light. "Let's go somewhere a little more private."

I slid my hand into his, letting him pull me to my feet and into the circle of his arms. Had to tip my head back to meet his gaze, my hands coming to rest against the solid wall of his chest.

"Private sounds perfect," I breathed. "Lead the way."

His grin flashed quick and sharp as a knife in the dark. He laced his fingers through mine and led me through a door I hadn't even noticed, into a hallway lined with identical mahogany doors.

We stopped at one. Elvis produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it, gesturing for me to go first. I stepped inside and froze, blinking in the sudden brightness. It was a suite that would've made Midas jealous - all plush carpets and gleaming wood and what looked suspiciously like actual gold leaf on the ceiling.

But what caught my eye was the table in the center of the room. It was set for two, with crisp white linens and gleaming silver, bottles sweating gently in a golden bucket. Candles waited unlit, promising romance and secrets and things we probably shouldn't do.

My heart did a funny little skip. He'd planned this. Planned a private, romantic dinner just for us.

I turned to him, words stumbling over themselves like drunks at closing time. "Elvis, this is... you didn't have to..."

He shrugged. For a second I saw that country boy under all the flash. "Wasn't any trouble. Just thought it'd be nice. Just us. No crowds. No eyes." His mouth quirked. "Plus figured you'd be hungry. I know I am."

Right on cue, my stomach let out a growl that would've made a lion proud. We both looked down at it, then at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Well, I reckon that's my answer!" Elvis wheezed, clutching his side. "C'mon, let's feed that beast before it stages a revolt."

Still snickering, he pulled out my chair with a flourish that would've done a French waiter proud. I sank into it, half-expecting him to ring for room service or summon some harried assistant with silver platters.

Instead, Elvis disappeared into the adjoining kitchenette and returned with... a greasy paper sack?

My eyebrows must've hit my hairline because he grinned like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What, did you think it'd be all caviar and champagne? Nah, that ain't my style."

He dumped the bag over our fine china. Burgers and fries spilled out. The smell hit like a fist. Grease and salt and cheese and everything right about late night food.

"Sent Sonny for these,"  Elvis explained, sliding into his seat with more grace than any man had a right to possess. "Knew I'd be craving some post-show grease. And I figured, what's better than sharing a little taste of home with my songbird?"

There it was again. Songbird. That name that made me feel owned and scared all at once.

"You figured right," I said, snagging a fry that was probably worth more on that china than it had been in the paper bag. "Nothing better than burgers after midnight. Although..." I squinted at the foil peeking out from under a sesame seed bun. "Is that... peanut butter?"

The guilty grin came back. Made him look sixteen. "Caught me. Peanut butter and bacon. Picked it up in the army. Sounds crazy but trust me - it's heaven."

We dove into our burgers like we hadn't eaten in days, the silence broken only by appreciative moans and the rustle of foil. And damn if he wasn't right about that peanut butter and bacon combination. Not that I'd ever tell him that - his ego was healthy enough as it was.

"So," I said, dabbing at a spot of ketchup on my chin, "you were in the army?"

He stopped mid-bite. Those blue eyes went wide. He swallowed. Put down his burger. "You really didn't know?"

"Well," I said carefully, studying my fries like they held the secrets of the universe, "I, uh… I never really followed you that closely. I mean, of course I know your music and all. But the details of your life? Nah."

He stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his features. It was like sunrise breaking.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking I found the only girl in America who doesn't know my whole life story."

Heat crept up my neck. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back. Watched me. The look made my skin prickle. "You're the first girl in a long time who hasn't tried to impress me. Who doesn't hang on every word. Who doesn't agree with everything I say just to please me."

"That's sad," I said.

"Sad?"

I waved a fry in the air. Trying to find the right words. "You're a person. Real flesh and blood. With thoughts and feelings beyond what magazines print. It's sad people don't want to know that side. The real you." I paused. Wondered if I'd stepped on a landmine. "Must be strange. Meeting new people who think they already know everything about you."

"Well. What they think they know." His face went soft. Something warm and raw that made my heart flip. "You mean that, don't you? You really wanna get to know me. Not Elvis the star. Just Elvis."

"'Course I do," I said softly, surprised by how much I meant it. "You think I'd be eating burgers at 4 am with just anybody I meet? I promise you I am not that kind of girl." I winked, trying to lighten the moment before it got too heavy.

As our appetites gave way to pleasant fullness, we talked about everything and nothing - favorite movies (his: "The Way of All Flesh," mine: anything with cowboys), craziest fan encounters (had to give it to Elvis on that one, though my tale of a particularly persistent flasher in Boise nearly made him snort soda out his nose), best practical jokes played on unsuspecting bandmates (turned out we both had a gift for the strategic placement of whoopee cushions).

But as the laughter died down and the food dwindled to crumbs, a tension crept into the air between us. That elephant in the room we'd been dancing around all night, getting bigger and harder to ignore with every passing minute.

You know in horror movies, when you want to yell at the girl not to open that door? This felt like that. But like every girl in every horror movie, I opened it anyway.

"Elvis." I took a breath. Steadied myself. "Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but... what about your wife?"

He stiffened as if I'd jabbed him with a cattle prod, his jaw going tight as piano wire. For a moment, I thought he might shut down completely, retreat behind that million-dollar smile and leave me out in the cold.

But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping like Atlas getting tired of holding up the world. "It's complicated."

My stomach knotted like sailor's rope. "You still love her?"

Silence stretched between us, long as a California highway. Then, soft: "I'll always care for my wife. She's been in my life a long time. But love?" He shook his head. His eyes looked far away. "No. Not anymore."

My breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. "What happened?"

He rubbed his face, suddenly looked all of his thirty-four years. Maybe more. "We grew apart. Wanted different things. Been living separate lives a while now. Barely talk except when we have to." He stopped. "Think we both know it's done. Has been for a long time."

Looking back now, I see it clear. The practiced pauses. The perfect timing. The way he probably told that same sad marriage story to a hundred girls in a hundred hotel rooms. But that's the thing about hindsight - it's got 20/20 vision and a mean streak a mile wide.

The night wore on, and I felt my eyelids getting heavy. A glance at the clock told me it was just before six in the morning, though time felt different in Elvis's orbit, like we existed in our own little bubble where normal rules didn't apply.

"I hate to say it," I said, stifling a yawn, "but I think I should be heading back to my room. It's been an amazing night."

Elvis reached over and took my hand, his eyes doing that thing - that soul-searching, make-you-feel-like-the-only-girl-in-the-world thing that probably took years to perfect. "Will you come back again? I feel like we've barely scratched the surface. There's so much more I want to talk to you about."

Hook.

I smiled, my heart fluttering like a teenage girl's diary entry. "I'd love to."

"Great. How about—"

Line.

I held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "Why don't you call me and invite me? Properly, I mean." Playing hard to get while already caught - how's that for irony?

His lip curled in that practiced amusement, a mischievous glint in his eye that had probably launched a thousand panty-drops. "Etiquette, huh? Alright, I'll play by your rules. I'll call you tomorrow night, say, around five-thirty? Room 2806, right?"

And sinker.

"I'll be waiting."

"Lamar," Elvis called out, smooth as silk. "Would you be so kind as to walk Miss Pedretti back to her room?"

With a final squeeze of my hand and a promise to call, Elvis bid me goodnight. And there I was, floating on air like I'd just starred in my own personal fairy tale, trying to convince myself I wasn’t just the latest in an assembly line of wide-eyed dreamers who thought they were special.

The next day crawled by slower than molasses in January. I couldn't bring myself to leave my room, terrified I might miss his call. By the time five-thirty rolled around, my nerves were wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.

When the phone finally rang, I waited two rings before picking up - didn't want to seem too eager, after all. As if I hadn't spent the whole time pacing a groove in the carpet.

"Hello?" I answered, trying to sound like I hadn't been staring at the phone for the past hour.

"Could I please speak with Valerie?" That voice, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, made my knees go weak even over the phone line.

I couldn't resist playing coy, like we were reading from a script he'd written just for us. "Who’s calling?"

"Elvis."

"Elvis who?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by a low chuckle that probably melted panties coast to coast. "You're a bonehead."

The playful exchange was just what my ego needed–more fuel for the fantasy that I was somehow different, somehow special. Elvis proceeded to explain the arrangements he'd made—he’d have his people call to arrange another late night dinner tomorrow. I hung up the phone, my heart soaring with anticipation.

Maybe staying in Vegas a little while longer wasn't such a bad idea after all.

If only I'd known then what I know now... but that's the thing about falling. By the time you realize you're in trouble, you're already halfway to the ground.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy

[in1-nutshell]

(Wondering if your doing buddy requests? Because I got a request!)

Is it okay if buddy is like— a atomic bomb type of cybertron.

Example: buddy pulls a pin from their neck which causes an automatically bomb change to buddy which their head turns into a atomic bomb called "Fat man" with sharp small teeth and then whenever buddy kicks or punch a explosion happens, a small explosion no big atomic bomb explosion (Thats too op🙏💀 but their punches and kicks are)

You can choose TFP or TFA as a onshot or scenario with the autobots❗🧎

I hope this isn't too much!! But thank you!

All righty! I think I got this Buddy down, please tell me if this isn't your interpretation of Buddy.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy who's alt mode is a 'reusable' bomb with Lugnut, Blitzwing, Optimus, and Bumblebee

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Team Prime is so lucky to have Buddy on their side.

This explosive happy bot literally turns into a bomb.

A type of ‘reusable’ bomb.

They can make similar explosives to a regular bomb, but they won’t blow into itty bitty pieces in the process.

Have there been questions that this bot may have been a Decepticon in the early years of the war?

Of course.

Are there any questions about their loyalty?

Nope.

The reason behind this is simple.

If they wanted to hurt the team, they would have done it by now.

It still shocks the team from time to time whenever Buddy pulls the pin and throws themselves at the enemy, ready to explode at any moment.

They are lucky to not fully explode when that happens.

Ratchet has already grown a 6th sense for Buddy’s shenanigans.

Team who sees the bot and wants to fight them as soon as possible.

This team is reserved for those who want to fight Buddy. Do they know that Buddy explodes? Yes, they do. Is that going to stop them? No, in fact this might be an even bigger reason to fight them. So, what if Buddy explodes while they fight? They don’t care as long as they can still fight them. They want to see if their armor is really as dense as its made out to be.

Lugnut

Team who is done with all of this

This team is reserved for those who are just done with all the explosions. The war is already as loud as it is, do they really need to add more? Whether they are on their side or not they already have to deal with Lugnut and his explosives, they are not going to deal with one literally built like a bomb.

Blitzwing

Optimus

Team who wants to pull the pin themselves

This is reserved for those who are too curious for their own good. They have way too many questions regarding that pin. For example: What happens when someone who isn’t Buddy takes it off? Does the pin know who is taking it off? What happens if they do it right now? Please keep these Bots and Cons away from Buddy, for the safety of those around them.

Lugnut

Bumblebee

[kyra45]

crownthevocationalnohmad is a scammer

There has been no reports of any atomic bombs being detonated in Palestine. This user, crownthevocationalnohmad, is claiming to have one explode near their location recently implying that one has been used.

Please alert people who’s shared the post (minus those who are calling out the scam in a reblog) that there is no atomic bombs going off in Palestine. Assure them that if it was the case it would have been national news and easily accessible information. Please do not send money to crownthevocationalnohmad they are just a scam account spinning up lies. While there is bombing in Palestine, none of it has been an atomic bomb.

Please don’t support the scammer and don’t give them your pity. They don’t need it.Their pfp is stolen off Instagram too. The story they’re using is likely a copy/pasted edit of an existing story that they’ve took as their own.

“maryline Otieno” is a name used across multiple accounts. Please report the PayPal account the scammer is using.

I know I’ve said it’s a scam before, but people are still falling for the scam and thinking the scammer isn’t a scammer.

(As of 5/26/2024 the account has been took down but please watch out for any other accounts.)

[sunlightraeee]

so I realized I can go in depth on these characters bc tumblr doesn't have a stupid word limit

basic information stated there BUT

She was the first mha oc I created she's an og to me.

quick notes:

deku still has OFA after the war

children can be created by a fertility quirk center (its common)

Her quirk Atomic Bomb works a lot like Katsuki's. She sweats nitroglycerin and can ignite/explode it at will. However her quirk creates bugger explosion easier, it takes training for her to make them smaller. The drawback to the bigger explosion that the bigger they are, they can emit a toxic smoke/gas. Later with the help of support items she can control how much toxic smoke each explosion creates.

Amari was born from the two greatest heros in her generation. #1 hero Deku and #2 hero Dynamight. Katsuki and Izuku kept her creation (through a quirk u freaks) a secret until she was 2 years old. Izuku was always paranoid about sharing her existence, much less his and Katsukis relationship.

She always felt an enormous pressure to be a hero as great as them and her ""grandfather"" All Might. Katsuki always assumed she was going to be a hero, I mean, how could she not? So her training began as soon as she showed her quirk. She was trained by Katsuki himself since they were so similar. She grew to adopt not only his fighting style but personality along with it, making them two peas in a pod (even though she is a spitting image of Izuku).

Though she never developed a ego much like Katsukis. She knew she was the best, no need to flaunt it. Amari always keep to herself, headphones in her ears and head held high, with a scowl of course.

Going to UA was never a discussion. She thinks as soon as the public knew about her, she already had a spot in the class. She is training to be the best, there is no other option. She is determined to make her dad's proud, even if that means some sacrifices.

[banes-favourite]

Wondering how many times gortash has injured himself while tinkering and just generally doing artificer things. Like, it's canonical that Gond, the god of inventions and stuff, limits how many people have access to runepowder(which is basically gunpowder) because artificers and alchemists kept blowing themselves up while messing with it. And gortash is even more insane and unhinged than most people are

Just imagine him accidentally exploding something and his guards come running to make sure he's okay only to see him covered in soot and his hair all messed up.

Maybe durge has given him inspiration for various things so he's created or attempted to create terrifying contraptions that just generally don't seem safe to even be in the room with

I had no idea Gond did that!! Makes sense tho, otherwise it's basically handing out atomic bombs like candy.

But my god is Gortash playing inventor sooo underrated. I know his politician persona is popular as it's seen more, but man's probably gets carried away and spends days in his workshop, tinkering and creating and getting his hands dirty. He has burly arms purely from lifting steels like they're dumbells. His nails are black not cause he paints them, it's just oil from his machines. I genuinely see it as the only time he gets to decompress and let his mind really wander, to the point he needs to be reminded to do basic survival tasks. And yeah, his hands are super calloused and scratched from tinkering days on end, but that's what his gauntlets are for. Also the image of him all blown up like Junkrat from overwatch is so fucking funny someone draw that pls

Also, his ideas?? Yeah dude they're absolutely insane. This is the guy that thought of putting brains in giant robots and gave them giant swords. He's created bombs, contraptions, complicated traps, and the most torturous machines, inspired by Durge ofc. And yeah, most of them fail, but the ones that do succeed are absolutely vicious. He cuts people open every other day. He pulls people limb from limb just to see how much they last. I truly think he sees people as machines, and getting to watch how they work up close is genuinely fascinating to him.

[mist1e]

HAARLEP PLAYLIST

Much like with my Ascended Astarion playlist, I created a playlist for Haarlep only this time I used Google Sheets table and a ranking system to help myself. It, too, tells a story and all the s̲o̲n̲g̲s̲ i̲n̲ i̲t̲ a̲r̲e̲ i̲n̲ c̲h̲r̲o̲n̲o̲l̲o̲g̲i̲c̲a̲l̲ o̲r̲d̲e̲r̲

This story is about Haarlep meeting Tav and how this very ordinary acquaintance turned into something utterly unexpected.

Link to playlist on YouTube at the end of the post.

And now that all the normal people are just listening to the playlist, the nerds can click ‘keep reading’ to dive into the detailed breakdown of the story...

The playlist consists of 5 parts, and for each part I wrote a small drabble to share the vibe with you.

PART 1: HAARLEP

«Shhh… Hush, sweetheart, no need to make such a fuss. I haven’t even sunk my teeth into you yet. But do not fret, I’m not some rabid beast. I won’t lunge at you or tear you apart. I’m just a simple incubus, albeit an outstanding one.

What are incubi? I’m glad you asked.

We are the wielders of the enchanted word. Lords of the human soul. Masters of the all-consuming lust.

We breathe in air and breathe out passion. Love flows through our veins, voluptuousness drips from our fingertips, and our gaze ignites desire.

Your most daring dreams are our law. The innuendo swirling on the tip of your tongue is our feast. Guessing your desires before you even know them is like a drug to us.

Oh, you want to know more? Come closer, sweetheart. I never promised not to bite, but trust me, you are going to love it.»

1. Don’t Stop Me Now

Literally can imagine him waking up to this song.

Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars On a collision course I am a satellite, I'm out of control I am a sex machine ready to reload Like an atom bomb about to Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, explode I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah 200 degrees that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic woman of you

2. Aimed to Kill

You've been checkin' under your bed to see if I'm there When you look back up I'm under you pullin' your hair Getting lost inside my world, you don't know where I've been Oh no, oh no, I feel it comin' And I tried to save a life with these diamond hands of mine But they're sharper than a knife, I aimed to kill And I tried to fix a heart with these lips that left some scars "I swear I won't do no harm," shh, I aimed to kill

3. Who Made You a Monster?

You've got a twisted way Of making it all seem fine Tricking the world to trust you But everything that you say Is some kind of sordid lie Who taught you how to lie so well? Who made you a monster? Who made you a monster?

4. The Devil is a Gentleman

He don't always come at midnight Burnin' red and talking sin But he knows how to play it just right If you gonna let him in Sleek along and brings you roses He's always got the words to say Just enough so you don't notice That you ain't nothing but his prey

5. Pass The Knife

Thought you had control, I'll strip you till you're bones Scraping your knees till you beg for more Cover you in scars, just to leave a mark Get you addicted, then tear you apart Pass me the knife and I'll eat you alive Take my time, I'll do it how you like it Pass me the knife and I'll eat you alive Love skin deep, you're only here to make me high

6. Terrible Things

All of the things that I've done Terrible things you would never believe Things that I've done, oh, how you'll run If you knew a single word of all of the things that I've done

7. Liquid Smooth

I see this one as a tenderness and longing for a connection, that is hidden deep inside.

I'm beautiful, I know 'cause it's the season But what am I to do with all this beauty? Biology, I am an organism, I'm chemical That's all, that is all I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe about to fall, capture me

8. Pure Imagination

The fantasy that he creates for the people whom he gets involved with.

Come with me and you'll be In a world of pure imagination Take a look and you'll see Into your imagination We'll begin with a spin Traveling in the world of my creation What we'll see will defy explanation

9. Mr. Sandman

He falls asleep, thinking to himself if there is a way to feel this longing that has been building inside him for quite some time during these lonely evenings in House of Hope, when all he did was waiting, wondering if Raphael would come to him or no. Next thing you know, Tav enters the boudoir...

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make her the cutest that I've ever seen Give her two lips like roses and clover And tell her that her lonely nights are over Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

PART 2: HAARLEP MEETS TAV

Haarlep leaned on the railing of the balcony and gazed thoughtfully into the distance. The grey ash-covered mountains drowned in a reddish haze. The ground beneath them was laced with a web of rifts, their bottomless depths blazing with lava flares. Dirty, colourless clouds drifted In the sky above the crooked-toothed mountain peaks. Avernus in all its ugliness.

His forked tongue lashed out of his mouth and wetted his parched lips. He drew in the air, heavy with dust that settled thickly in his lungs, and spat irritably over the balustrade.

He couldn’t resist tasting her, he just couldn’t. Damned girl.

Haarlep was used to being starved in the House of Hope. The howls of the damned souls and the flesh of devils were not sustaining in the slightest, and over the years, he just had to learn to control his hunger. There was certainly nothing good about it. Haarlep was weaker than he could be, it was harder for him to conjure magic, and sometimes in the mornings his veins painfully twisted into poisonous threads. It was the ache he could only relieve with exhausting, concentration-demanding meditation.

Haarlep's mind slipped into the vivid memories of yesterday.

Yesterday, he dreamed of his past life again… Feasts, masquerades, balls in the mortal world, where he could drink from four or five mortals in a course of a single evening, or even sneak around and drain a soul out of some petty wretch. And that last orgy at the Duke’s mansion? Haarlep closed his eyes and his nose tickled with the scent of the freshest rainbow caviar, which swam in the belly of a fish in the waters of Calimport the day before. His ears rang with the laughter of the young noblewomen, who used to lose their composure after the third glass of sparkling wine, pretending not to notice the lewd glances of the men smoking cigars in the half-dark corners of the room. And Haarlep… He was sitting in the centre of the hall on a golden throne — the Lord of that den of debauchery! — whilst the mortals were crawling on their knees, their faces drooping with lust, their hands reaching out to him as if he were their god… The memories ran through his body in a searing wave, and Haarlep involuntarily craned his neck, arching his back. Things had been different in his past life. The one he had before he fell to his knees in the presence of Mephistopheles.

Yesterday, when he opened his eyes and saw her in the Boudoir, Haarlep thought he was still dreaming. How could he have restrained himself? And was there any point in restraint?

Oh, how delicious she was… Her life essence flowed through his veins, blossoming with a long-forgotten arousal in his chest. Perhaps his starvation was to blame, but she tasted divine. Nothing like any other mortal he had had before. Purposeful, ambitious, a little naive, she opened herself to him like a soft book with a flowery spine and golden embossing, allowing him to drink in her deepest desires, fears, and dreams. And he did drink… At the moment of her climax, in the deep caverns of her soul, he tasted submission, desire to please, an urge to earn praise. Ah, if only he had a little more time! He would have guided her and under his tender yet insistent touch she would have unfurled like a beautiful flower in an overgrown garden. He would have nudged her to fall headfirst into the abyss of her darkest desires.

But he didn’t have enough time. It was all over in a flash. For some puzzling reason, she didn’t grab the Hammer and just slipped away unnoticed.

The faint scent of her arousal still lingered in the Boudoir, making Haarlep violently run his claws over his neck, crossing the impeccable skin with red brown marks. He had been hungry before, but now he was famished. All night after they’d met, he spent tossing and turning in bed, the silk sheets thrown to the floor, his fingers digging into the pillow.

Haarlep closed his eyes, which were stinging as if they were filled with sand, and rubbed the bridge of his nose nervously.

He must see her again.

He would sneak out of the House of Hope, follow the scent of her thoughts, and catch her again.

Consequences be damned.

10. Me and Mr Wolf

Hey little girl, you look so nice In the pretty red dress with those pretty black eyes Hello Mr. Wolf, oh what a surprise To find you here so deep in the night My dear little girl, what's the rush? How about supper, just the two of us? Oh Mr. Wolf, you want me to stay But I fear we'll regret it one day

11. Out Of Control — Haarlep

I watched her feet move, her hips they sway Does a hair flip then starts to say Oh my god, it's my favorite song I pull her close and she sings along We can't slow down even if we tried If the record keeps spinning so will I She likes disco and tastes like a tear Tells me don't stop dancing and she's pulling me near

12. Kill of the Night— Haarlep

The street's a liar I'm gonna lure you into the dark My cold desire To hear the boom, boom, boom of your heart I'm gonna catch ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, oh, oh-oh I wanna taste the way that you bleed, oh You're my kill of the night

13. Terrible Thing — Tav

Oh for you, you terrible thing, you Terrible thing, you Terrible thing, you Beautiful thing Mm, you beautiful thing A wreck, a wreck you make You leave, you leave me in your wake Oh honey, let me go Aha, aha, don't you let me go

14. Tongues and Teeth — Haarlep

I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel It's all that I can give to you, my dear And when you come in quick to steal a kiss My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear And I know that you mean so well But I am not a vessel for your good intent I will only break your pretty things I will only wring you dry of everything But if you're fine with that You can be mine like that

15. Horns — Tav

She got blood cold as ice And a heart made of stone But she keeps me alive She's the beast in my bones She gets everything she wants When she gets me alone Like it's nothin' She got two little horns And they get me a little bit

16. if u think i'm pretty

If you think I'm pretty, lay your hands on me Know you can't stop thinkin' 'bout it I know that you're shitty and you're bad for me But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout it Said you needed love, but you're only here for sex, and And I'm dyin' to be next Killed me once before, I just come back more obsessed with you

17. When You Say My Name — Haarlep

And does it scare you That I already know what you're into? You can say lеss, I bet I can guess That you say whatevеr to get me undressed Double dare you, tell me two lies Don't need no truths 'Cause I can see right through you You're no good at pretend I’m using your tricks that you use with your friends I like the way your mouth moves The way you say my name

18. Dirty Thoughts — Tav

I get dirty thoughts about you They get worse when I'm without you Does that mean that I'm going to hell? Or are you thinking them as well? But when you hold me In the fantasy, it's so convincing I shouldn't think the things I'm thinking But now I've gone and let them sink in

19. Eat You — Haarlep

Cause you've been sticky with your tricky words And I would crumble like a humble bird Now you're so tender with an ear I can bend And tell you how I feel I go hungry every night But not this time around I'm gonna eat you, you're my desire I'm gonna sharpen all my teeth and build a fire I'm gonna eat you, cook and defeat you I'm gonna breathe you in my lungs and make you mine

20. Sugar Water — Tav

My boy’s got a sharp twist, no, he’s wicked in the heart Feeds me sugar water just to keep me alive Saw him in my dreams again He’s wiping down the fingerprints Press so hard I float up to the sky It’s kind of tripping me up, babе I’ve got it bad for you Laying back sipping sugar water I’m so weak for thе things you do

21. salvation — Haarlep

Sleep with me Worship me Pray like I’m your god Find the light in my voice Treat us like it’s blasphemy Pray we don’t get caught Let me be your only choice I’ll deny you of salvation I’ll be the reason you repent Kiss me like I’m a conviction Beg for divinity in my breath

22. Pretty In The Dark — Haarlep

I want All the power and the pain I’ll love you in the flames Just tell me that you're mine I’ll be your beautiful obsession Center of attention That’s just what I like Run through your veins Got your heart to keep Calling my name Get down on your knees

23. A Dangerous Thing — Tav

Something about you is soft like an angel And something inside you is violence and danger I knew from the moment we met, you are a dangerous thing When you are with me, I feel like I'm living And living besides you can be unforgiving I knew from the very first step, you are a dangerous thing

PART 3: WHEN THE GAME TURNED SERIOUS

“What do you dream of?”

Haarlep lazily opened his eyes at the soft caressing sound of her voice. Just like always after their little romps, he was in a state of blissful indulgence, like a cat who got the cream. Usually, he would wait out the indolent peak of his satiety and then disappear from her sight again, bestowing her with a dazzling smile and a graceful flick of his wrist as a kiss goodbye. But today, for some reason, he felt overwhelmingly lazy and reluctant to leave.

He glanced down at her little head, which rested perfectly in the dent under his collarbone. The look on her face was pensive, and her delicate features were slightly tinged with a subtle sadness of some sort.

“I dream of having a unicorn,” he muttered.

“Really?” she perked up, but her eyes narrowed upon seeing his snickering grin. She grudgingly elbowed Haarlep in the side, eliciting a little chuckle from him. “I’m asking you seriously.”

“Look at me, mouse. Are these eyes capable of telling untruths?” he batted his eyelashes innocently.

She sighed, but smiled with her lips only and didn’t ask further. The predawn silence enveloped them once more, as the morning light was just beginning to bloom in the sky. The first tinkling glints of sunlight seeped through the open windows, and a biting daybreak rolled down their shoulders with chill.

She shivered and snuggled closer to him. She smelled of sex, girlish sweat, floral honey, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He inhaled her scent deeply, and the corner of his lips tugged up in a slight smile against his will.

Haarlep was brimming with her life essence, and the barely perceptible magical connection still weaved between them, leaving the flavour of her thoughts on his lips. Her mind was emanating feelings and emotions that, to his incubus sense, were as tangible as her warm shoulder under his palm. He felt she wanted him to ask. But he didn’t ask.

No. He had no desire to ask.

“And what do you dream of, little mouse?” The words slipped from his lips involuntarily, clearly having a mind of their own.

“I want to go back to the Feywild someday. To see the place where I grew up again. To see the old oak grove, and the Falls of the Rejected Bride… To see where my parents are buried.”

Haarlep slid the tip of his tongue over his lips, feeling the bitter tang of her sadness in his mouth, and it made him feel unimaginably wistful.

“What a marvellous dream you have, my dear — to visit a graveyard of memories and bodies.” He snorted and let out a cynical hum. “You should dream of visiting the shores of Lake Esmel in Amn. The sun is warm on the skin, the men, and women have a true lust for life, and the wine there is absolutely fabulous…”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant at all,” she muttered quietly.

He sighed.

“I know, little mouse,” Haarlep murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head, kissing her ashy hair. He closed his eyes and drew in her sadness with his nose. Damn, even her sadness tasted divine.

“Are you going soon?” she asked timidly. Her voice quivered with an unspoken hope.

Haarlep was silent. He took a deep breath again, deliberately intoxicating himself with her very nature.

“I’ll stay a little longer.”

24. FU In My Head — Tav

Take me closer, take my clothes off Oh I fantasize If I'm honest, it's more fun when you can't read my mind Sometimes I fuck you in my head I let you touch me when I'm lonely in my bed I wanna scream, but hold my breath The kinda thing that you would rather leave unsaid I got dirty wishes on my mind But you will never ever know that I I like to fuck you in my head You make me scream when there's nobody Just the thought of your body

25. Devil On My Shoulder — Tav

Every time I think I'm free, you're calling me Your love pulling me right back down Can't believe that I keep coming back But you make me feel so good I swore I'd never dance with you again Keep safe from the devil on my shoulder But you know me so well And you drag me to Hell I can't keep safe from the devil on my Keep safe from the devil on my shoulder

26. Maniac — Tav

You play girls like a man, but your eyes are like a child Your face is cool and calm, but your hair is wrecked and wild You hide behind your metaphors and pray that no one sees The fare behind your poker face: your dark and twisted needs Your fragile heart and your paper skin Such a beautiful boy filled with so much sin Your reflection is your very worst enemy Behind the glass is an angel, but the devil's beneath Let me in, wear me out Let me in, wear me out

27. You — Haarlep

What I would do to get into your head Crawl out my body into yours instead Swim through your veins all day and every fiber Raid your brain and all your desires If you only knew I would do anything For a taste of you I would do anything Just to see inside And no one else will do All that I want is to be you

28. the fruits — Tav

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him I have no time for confession For I'm too busy committing sins My love, you're something special I never met someone like you You made me fall from Heaven But I know just what I do But I don't I feel your hands grabbing my throat As you say

29. Rule #34 — Haarlep

I love that you shake When I ravage your skin It's so easy to bite with your hands pinned Shadows dancing on the sheets If you obey I might give you a treat Right now you're mine All mine Give in, you're mine All mine You look so good There on your knees Such a good girl, knows how to please Look at me, look me in the еyes Forget yourself Surrеnder your mind

30. Lovesick in Public — Tav

Last night you really got in my head How’d I get hung up on what you did When all you did was kiss my neck My cheek's red like a cherry Help me cause I am berry Lovesick in public I’m hooked on the way that you taste I know I’m headed for heartbreak

31. Good Looking — Tav

Play casino holes of my eyeballs Roll the dice on my thighs You stopped for breath and I sped up Just to impress you The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all I thought I'd uncovered your secrets but, turns out, there's more You adored me before Oh, my good looking boy

32. You Put a Spell on Me — Haarlep

Before I hunt you down Grab your chin and kiss your lips You bring me back I lay you down and grab your hips And we lose all control And before you know it I put a spell on you Now you're mine I've got a hold on you, at least for the night

33. Keep It Down — Haarlep

You shoot me up through the clouds I’m a hero in your mouth I'm the sickness you found I'm the fever you're about While I throw you around You're gonna scream ... Shhh: girl keep it down The scars you leave on my back A painting of your attack You're biting down on my fist I know you cannot resist

34. Good Looking — Tav

Pressure on my lips I die for just one kiss Wake, I can't resist Could I be dreaming this? How do I fake it with another man? How do I love him on the weekend? How do I listen to another man? How do I get off on the weekend? You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head

35. So Damn Into You — Haarlep

Can I have you forever? Every single night It started with a bang Don’t know how you got me so messed up But baby I won’t ever get enough, oh 'Cause I’m so damn into you I’m so damn into you

36. From Persephone — Tav

No, I wasn't threatened Mother, I was not bound No, I wasn't carried Off on his three headed hound 'Cause I packed my own bag, found my own way Down into the underground See, mama, he may seem gruesome But he's even got a dog And don't you know that death is A very stable job? 'Cause I love my baby, tall, dark Hades Lord of death is down on his knees for me

37. Hearts a Mess — Tav

Pick apart the pieces of your heart And let me peer inside Let me in where only your thoughts have been Let me occupy your mind as you do mine You have lost too much love To fear, doubt and distrust, it's not enough You just threw away the key to your heart Don't get burned 'cause nothing gets through It makes it easier, easier on you That much more difficult for me To make you see

38. Closer — Haarlep

I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God You can have my isolation You can have the hate that it brings You can have my absence of faith You can have my everything

39. Choke — Tav

You are a shadow Following me where I go I'd be better without you What are you doing to me? I'm suffocating Don't know how to explain it But I feel like I'm fading What are you doing to me? Loosen your grip before I choke Can't catch my breath, I'm gonna choke I wish that you'd just let me go I don't want this, I promise, just leave me alone Loosen your grip beforе I-

40. she calls me daddy — Haarlep

It might be a little superficial She plays with the boys But she comes home to me Little fucked up but I think it's official ’Cause she might be your girl But she's calling me daddy She's mi-i-i-ine She wears a collar with my name Secretive but not ashamed She's mi-i-i-ine But I'd never tie her down They always come around now

41. The Masochism Tango — Tav

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear But much more for the touch of your whips, dear You can raise welts like nobody else As we dance to the Masochism Tango Let our love be a flame, not an ember Say it's me that you want to dismember Blacken my eye, set fire to my tie As we dance to the Masochism Tango

42. Wicked Game

The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you What a wicked game to play To make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do To let me dream of you

PART 4: OBSESSION

“Say it! I want to hear you say it!” It was not a spoken word, but a rasping growl that erupted from his chest. He loomed over her, with his back rounded, and bristled, like a wild beast over its prey.

His fingers clenched harder on her throat.

She dug her small fingernails into his straining arm. Wet strands of her fringe clung to her forehead, covered in beads of sweat. Her eyebrows were raised piteously, her emerald eyes fixed on his face. She parted her plump cherry lips wide as she gulped in the rhythmic breaths of air.

“I am yours,” she replied hoarsely. “I am yours, Haarlep. Yours… Haarlep! Haarlep. Haarley…”

He growled again and thrust his hips into hers with abandon. She cried out, running her trembling fingers through his wavy black hair, pulling it gently. Her emotions exploded like fireworks in his mind, blurring in coloured circles under his closed eyelids. He pushed his hips against hers like a man possessed, drowning in her sweet surrender. She was under him, and she was everywhere, enveloping him like a raging torrent. Her fragility tingled along his spine, her sincerity squeezed his heart like a vice, her vulnerability stroked him with hundreds of gentle fingers, her trust filled his very being with a velvety warmth.

He couldn’t drink enough of her, couldn’t inhale her with his full lungs. He could barely restrain himself from devouring her whole without a shred left.

As always with her, the pulsing life essence flowed easily, like a chiming stream, she gave it to him willingly. Despite the intoxicating madness threatening to overwhelm him, he tried to take as little as possible so as not to hurt his little mouse in any way.

“You’re driving me mad,” he growled into her ear in a frenzy, his fingers on her neck tightening into a bruising grip.

“I want you to go mad! Lose your mind! Go insane! For me…”

His hips picked up a punishing rhythm

She shrieked and dug her nails into his shoulders, forcing him to arch his back. Clenched like a spring, she stiffened and quivered beneath him, out of breath. Her consciousness blazed like a bonfire on Midsummer Night, spilling her life essence. It crushed him like a storm wave, drowning him in rapture. With the last thrust, Haarlep froze and shuddered, feeling the physical bliss merge with the cascade of her emotions flashing in his mind.

He collapsed on top of her, pressing himself against her hot chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her legs around his hips, unwilling to let him go, pulling him greedily against her body. Her hoarse and frequent breathing burned his temple.

“Yours… Yours… And you are mine. My Haarley…” she whispered, choking on euphoria, trembling with delight.

With a growl that shook his chest, he slipped his arms under her back, pulling her close, so tight that it was probably hard for her to breathe.

“What have you done to me, mouse?” he exhaled, his whisper tinted with a hint of desperation and confusion.

“I bewitched you. Enchanted you, spellbound you, charmed you, beguiled you. Now you’re not going anywhere.”

For a few moments, only their laboured breaths echoed in the silence of their secret sanctuary.

"I am not,” he agreed and captured her sweet lips in a tender kiss.

43. I Wanna Be Yours — Haarlep

Let me be your 'leccy meter An' I'll never run out Let me be the portable heater That you'll get cold without I wanna be your setting lotion (Wanna be) Hold your hair in deep devotion (How deep?) At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean I wanna be yours

44. The Cult Of Dionysus

I'm feeling devious You're looking glamorous Let's get mischievous And polyamorous Wine and women and wonderful vices Welcome to the cult of Dionysus Run, run, run away Just take my hand and we'll abandon this world We'll wash those tears away You're young and beautiful, and I'll love you always We got no time for pain When it's just you and me in ecstasy

45. Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene — Haarlep

I watch the work of my kin, bold and boyful Toying somewhere between love and abuse Calling to join them the wretched and joyful Shaking the wings of their terrible youths Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

46. Obsessed With You — Haarlep

Your smile sets my heart aflame Electrocute me with your eyes The very mention of your name My stomach fills with butterflies Your love is better than cocaine I need you more than oxygen I've got it bad again An O-B-S-E-S-S-I-O-N But I want to get next to you Yeah, I love all the things you do I want to get close to you You are my dream come true I want to have sex with you Your sweet caress won't do Cause I'm obsessed with you

47. Misery Meat — Tav

You want a taste of my brain? Okay, it's yours anyway A bite of my eye? Alright I won't put up a fight As you open up my ribs the blood flows out like a river You strip my bones away as you indulge in my liver And the more that I am in pain The more that you'll gain And to me, that seems like a pretty fair trade

48. High Enough — Haarlep

Do you see anyone other than me? Baby, please I'll take a hit of whatever you got, maybe two, maybe three Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief I used to like liquor to get me inspired But you look so beautiful, my new supplier I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking But I found a different buzz

49. Dear Alice (Rainy Days) — Haarlep

I'm losing my faith in you, my long-lost friend, Alice Roses have lost their colors And it's breaking my heart (Ah) You take my breath away And I don't know what to do And I don't know what to do Before you say your last word That makes me want To lay you down I'll kiss, I'll touch, I'll cut you into the pieces And you feel the same And you'll know my crave And you'll see that I'm The only one for you

50. I Am Your Skin — Haarlep

I wanna be your skin I wanna feel everything you feel I will be your covering And I will hide you inside of me With every breath in harmony I wanna be your skin I wanna be your covering

51. Desire — Haarlep

Baby, I wanna touch you I wanna breathe into your will See, I gotta hunt you I gotta bring you to my hell Baby, I wanna fuck you I wanna feel you in my bones Boy, I'm gonna love you I'm gonna tear into your soul

52. Obsessed — Tav

I wanna feel you in my arms Hold you hostage in my heart It’s true 'Cause I'm so obsessed with you Your every word, I pick apart Down to the punctuation marks All you do 'Cause I'm so obsessed with you Oh, with you

53. Spiracle — Haarlep

I want the parts of you You only show to the birds outside your bedroom window I want the teeth that you lost as a child That you hide in a box under your pillow I want your secrets, your clementine fields The ropes that you climb up, the parts that won't heal I want your safe word, your passive resistance The sickness you foster, your favorite addictions And I want your nightmares, the ghost in your doorway Your paralyzed sleeping, your- (Aaaah) I want you butterfly, I want you sailor I am your lover and I am your jailor

PART 5: VANILLA CREAM FLAVOUR

“All right. Take it off.”

Smirking, Haarlep pulled the silk blindfold off, and smiled at her ruddy face and eyes sparkling with mirth. He raised his gaze and looked ahead.

From the high hill where they sat, they could see Baldur’s Gate harbour buzz lazily beneath them. It was slowly preparing to shake off the last cargoes, sigh with its sleepy waves, and retire to rest for the day. The half sunk into the bay of the Chionthar River, casting a golden shimmering glow over its rippling surface. Haarlep lowered his eyes. Before him, on the blanket spread on the ground, she laid out small plates packed with all sorts of savoury delicacies. One was filled with green grapes and strawberries, the other with neatly arranged cheese and sausages, appetisingly glistening with fat. Nearby stood bowls of buns and sweet rolls of various kinds.

“Somehow this picnic looks suspiciously like a date,” he placed a finger on his chin with feigned thoughtfulness.

She shook her head.

“A date? What a silly thing to say. We’re going to unromantically stuff our faces with this unappetising food, that’s all there is to it,” she tossed a grape into the air. He caught it, and it burst in his mouth, spraying sweet juice on his tongue.

Haarlep sank to the grass and rested his head in her lap. She immediately ran her nimble fingers through his hair, stroking it absent-mindedly, as she was gazing out into the distance, at the orange sun setting in Chionthar.

They were silent. Haarlep had long ago realised that it was nice to be silent with her.

Wide over the water resounded the shouts of the workers, who wrapped up the unloading of the last fishing schooner. A loud crack of a wooden crate breaking reached their ears, accompanied by the selected swearing of the cargo handlers.

“You know, I’ve come to realise one rather curious thing,” Haarlep mused thoughtfully. “I know very little about mortals.”

“How so?” she snapped out of her reverie and, for a moment, stopped flicking through his hair and looked down at him. “You can reach into the most secret nooks and crannies of a person’s mind, find out things about them that even they themselves are unaware of.”

“Yes. Except I was looking for a very different thing.”

She continued to stroke him, running the silky strands of his hair through her fingers, as she studied him with an expectant gaze. Haarlep noticed how sweetly she always nibbled on her lower lip when she was curious, and smiled at his observation.

“I’ve always looked for the weaknesses, to see what buttons I can push to get what I need from a mortal, and I’ve always succeeded. I searched into their past. Their traumas, their fears, their most depraved sexual experiences and lusts. All other sides of humanity were always foreign to me. I considered them useless. But after glimpsing into your head, I changed my mind.”

She raised her arched eyebrows, and Haarlep’s mind responded to her emotion. Her sudden sky-blue surprise flashed before his inner gaze, her wonder glided tenderly over his arms like a soft caress. And amidst it all, there was something else — a subtle, salty undertone, tinged with pure, unadulterated hope.

Lately, she had been emitting life essence a little at a time almost constantly, and Haarlep didn’t even need to do anything to elicit it. He had never encountered something like this before. He had to resist the temptation to indulge his innate greed and delve into her. The trust she exhibited never ceased to amaze him.

“I became curious and looked a little deeper. I’ve seen your strength, tasted your fascination with the world, touched your thoughts about the future. And that’s just a small portion of you. There’s so much more...”

He grinned and shook his head slightly.

“I can’t believe it never occurred to me to do this before.” He fell silent halfway through the sentence, and sank deeper into his thoughts, but after a moment he smiled at her again and added, “I guess I just didn’t care. But with you, little mouse, everything is different. Perhaps you did bewitch me?”

“Of course I did. I have a witch’s eye.”

She leaned closer, rolling her eyes and made a funny face, eliciting a laugh from him. Oh, what a dummy.

Delighted that she had managed to humour him, she straightened up again.

“How does it feel to drink the life essence of a human?”

“Oh, it’s the most marvellous feeling.”

Haarlep sighed, and his gaze drifted towards the sky. The cirrus clouds scattered like weightless pinkish-orange silk threads across the deep blue canvas. Their weightlessness and ephemeral nature made him think they were about to dissolve right before his eyes, but they froze in the sky like translucent butterflies caught on a pin.

“Life essence differs from mortal to mortal,” he continued. “It contains their unique nature. In the moments of supreme physical delight, the mortal becomes vulnerable enough for an incubus to harvest it with ease. It’s like crushing a ripe peach in your hand and catching its sweet juice with your lips. The essence is coloured by human emotions and feelings, and each one we can taste, like a hint of flavour in a wine.”

She hummed thoughtfully and twisted a small strand of his hair around her index finger.

“It does sound marvellous.”

Haarlep shifted his gaze to her.

“Every emotion is not only a taste but also a colour, a smell, and sometimes even a sense of a touch. For instance, when I pin your wrists to the bed above your head, you quiver so sweetly… I feel a prickly shiver run down my spine, and you smell like the first snowdrop on an early Alturiak morning: meltwater, almonds, and a promise of warmth.”

She blushed, and an embarrassed smile flickered across her lips. Haarlep smiled back at her.

“It’s like I feel the world with your skin and through you. Your senses mingle with mine, your consciousness flows into mine, the reality bursts with new colours and expands like a star exploding.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. “I love looking at this world with you. I see things I never knew existed before.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, surrendering to his caressing touch.

There it was. Again. He felt it again.

“You know, there’s something quite mysterious about your life essence. No matter how many times I taste it, I can’t figure it out…” he frowned, and his hand fell limply to the grass along his body. “Every feeling and thought you have, they all have the same tinge, the same unknown flavour to me. Something very soft and sweet and enveloping, like… like…”

Haarlep fell silent, trying to find the words to describe this incredible sensation that made him want to squeeze his eyes shut. One that spreads with homely warmth through his body, rolls with tenderness across his tongue, drips from his fingertips akin to molasses.

“Like vanilla cream?” she suggested.

He fired a glare at her.

“Yes! Sounds about right…”

She blushed even more and turned her face to the setting sun again.

Of course, she knew what that vanilla-cream flavour of her feelings was.

And deep down, so did he.

54. Life Worth Living — Tav

Take what you need, darling I'm just here for you Ooh ooh ooh ooh (oh) Give me your love and Physical affection Ooh ooh ooh ooh Give me the worst of you to hold You to take me to the heavens Give me the best of all your grace You make life worth living

55. Love Like You — End Credits — Haarlep

If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me I could do about anything I could even learn how to love When I see the way you act Wondering when I'm coming back I could do about anything I could even learn how to love like you

56. Hardest of Hearts — Tav

There is love in your body but you can't hold it in It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts There is love in your body but you can't get it out It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth Sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste Darling heart, I loved you from the start But you'll never know what a fool I've been

57. I Might As Well Die With You — Haarlep

Oh baby When I see your face Too beautiful for this place Don't let the vice and the bad deals Let it go to waste Over and over and over again Oh baby Spiraling out of control God save me Falling in love at the end of world Just take me now What’s the use? I Might as well die with you

58. Souls on Fire — Tav

Do you feel the burn between our hearts Souls on fire A strange desire Have you given in To this ancient ritual I don’t know how long we’ve been apart But we’re the same old souls playing different parts Same old souls playing different parts Picking up the broken pieces of our hearts

59. She — Haarlep

This is the song that started this playlist and it happened so that it ends it. A huge heartfelt thank you to @mina-astarvara for sharing it with me in the first place.

She may be the face I can’t forget A trace of pleasure or regret May be my treasure or the prize I have to pay She may be the reason I survive The why and wherefore I’m alive The one I’ll care for through the rough And ready years Me, I’ll take her laughter and her tears I’ll make them all my souvenirs Oh, where she goes I’ve got to be The meaning of my life is she

YouTube Link:

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Who makes all the cigarettes in fallout?

A great question, especially since it seems like everyone you meet who is physically capable of smoking a cigarette seems to have an affinity for them. Which makes sense, honestly, as about 95% of the world's established creature comforts were sand-blasted out of existence when the bombs fell. It's not surprising that, in a world with a serious lack of "little treats", way more people turn to hard drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes. As long as humans exist, they will seek comfort from the trials and pains of life, and a life in the Fallout universe is basically guaranteed to be full of trials and pain.

Obviously, some places were closer to atomic detonations than others when the bombs dropped. Places like D.C., New York, Los Angeles, etc., would be targeted heavily, as we see in the pilot of the TV show, but there would also be some cities, some whole states that would see little to no nuclear action because there's basically nothing significant there to bomb. But "nothing significant" still encompasses millions of people and all of the things they use/places they go in their everyday lives, including industrial facilities. I imagine that there would be multiple cigarette manufacturers that would still be standing after the war, and while I think most of them would eventually fall to more bombs/raiders/general lack of ability to power or keep the place up, I wouldn't be shocked if one or two of them were still out there kicking somewhere. If so, we know trade caravans that travel quite far are a regular part of life for many people, so any cigarettes being produced would be able to travel, increasing the demand.

There would also be a lot of cigarettes already manufactured that would just be laying around among all the corpses and half-exploded homes, since they were also an incredibly common vice in pre-war society. You find a home that's still standing and hasn't been completely ransacked by prospectors? Fairly high chance you'll find at least a partial pack or some loosies. Look at how many you can find just laying around when you play the games; certainly enough to maintain at least a low-level habit.

I think that there would also be a large market for hand-rolled smokes and tobacco in general, especially in the more bombed-out places where you're less likely to come across intact factory-created ones because things have either been picked through or are destroyed/inaccessible. In a funny way, there might be sort of a new tobacco craze a la the way cigarettes exploded in popularity after the Industrial Revolution, because there would be big money in getting the stuff to grow. And it wouldn't be impossible to cultivate if you could get your hands on some seeds, especially because tobacco is widely considered a drought tolerant plant, meaning you wouldn't need as much water, which we know is like gold in the Fallout world, to grow it. Doubly not impossible because slavery is commonplace once more; I definitely see plantation-style farms existing in places that have access to water, with both voluntary laborers and people who are enslaved working them, depending on the place.

Would it be incredibly irradiated tobacco at the end? Of course, but name anything consumable around that isn't!

[sophisticatedgia]

I wrote in my journal. It's an old leather journal of my boyfriends. Sorry I know that's not vegan but it is recycling of a sort. I forget to mention my favorite color is also deep forest pine tree green. My favorite pens are precise point pens and I have the green one currently. I wrote about stressors with my boyfriend. Then I read him what I wrote. I wrote about how I feel he isn't considerate of my mental illness disability, when it comes to him wanting to progress and travel in life. I have my support system here, family, gym, behavioral mental health services. I don't want to travel. Progressing, he wants to get a shop or build a home and have an online shop and travel. I said I can't perform normal job duties due to my psychological inability. But I can love him at home, make food, wash dishes, sweep the floor, organize clothes, take out trash, do laundry, and be his gal. He said he'd sacrifice anything for me. Even his dreams of traveling. He told me, "id sacrifice anything for you. That's what true love is."

Omg I was so not expecting that response from him. I am so... relieved and released from my burden of self shame.

I admit when I was very mentally ill I worked at mcdonalds. They did not have me work with the customers and there was another disabled employee working there in the back too. I was able to prep the apple pies, strawberry and cream pies, prep the parfaits (often added extra berries for the customers) and mop and sweep and do dishes. It was hard work truly lol. it was taxing on me psychologically, spiritually, and physically. I was terrified of the fire extinguisher for some reason. Thought it might explode or signified my head exploding like an atom bomb somehow. At the time I was not on anti psychotics. I often talked to myself out loud there too~while working, I feel like I was a little weird kid inside an adult woman's body. Calling myself "doody" and just making stuff up in my head all the time. I thought people were constantly signaling to me in some energetic or real way, and I had to obey them. How strange am I. I thought I was humanity's dog. I thought I was Harley Quinn. I'm not. I felt deep love for everyone there and thought we were family. I even sent them flowers when I had to quit.

I am happy that I am on abilify now, an anti psychotic. And luvox which helps with depression and OCD intrusive thoughts.

My hands are slowly healing , can you believe it?

do you think I'm autistic?

When I sat at a fancy family dinner for moms birthday last February, I could barely make eye contact or chat with anyone. My hands were trembling and legs constantly shaking. It was my extended sophisticated &educated family and my boyfriend and parents. I am not socialized at all.

I used to be highly sensitive to light and sound. I would wear earplugs constantly at work or while walking to gym or the therapist. I felt the beep of machines or noises from TV or radio go straight to my heart in a harsh manner. Also not to mention people's voices and the click clack of any machine.

That has all dimmed down since being with my boyfriend. I amazingly don't even wear ear plugs to sleep anymore. I've become a better sleeper and accustomed to constant noise in the background. It doesn't bother me, barely at all. Though I do love/adore silence.

My boyfriend is like my mother. She needs background noise to sleep. She sleeps with TV on. I used to think my mom was communicating with heavenly light angels in that way. electricity is intense.

I believe we are each a soul and every soul is in need of healing. I believe manmade electricity helps us communicate...but , it doesnt quite emit the same frequency as our bodies and souls do and our holy innate ability to communicate with all creation.

I believe in light pollution. It's not good for us. We are each light beings and infused with divinity. But there are so many bright flashy lights that overstimulate and overwhelm our souls. Manmade electricity is desensitizing to our sacred wholesomeness. Of course we need to see in the dark though. But wouldn't it be cool if humans could evolve to see better in the dark through our own innate spiritual and scientific ability eventually?

Also before I end this tumblr entry. I wanna say I love pastel colors. All pastel colors. My boyfriend says my aura is seafoam green. I ordered, instead of pale pink, a minty light heathery green cardigan. I feel like it's more mature and suits me more.

Also I love the colors green, pink, and orange together. Something so fitting and summery, almost tropical about it.

I'm really excited my sacred friend on Tumblr may be crocheting me a colorful blanket. That makes me feel so precious and valued and calm. I just want her to know any colors she chooses is a blessing and I am immensely grateful.

Also another mutual of mine said she'd send me something. Her art is so beautiful I am absolutely amazed she is cool with me. I ordered something off her Etsy today. Her art is so gentle and cutesy and she's a bright light in my Tumblr life.

And of course so are you.

[atomarium]

So @neoncityrain,

I'll being again.

You have probably heard the words "nuclear" reactor at least a couple of times. Many people fear them and don't understand. Some fear them because of that. In the principle nuclear reactors are actually incredibly simple on their own. It's basically a kettle with a turbine that heats using shiny rocks. To be specific about what happens in the process of "fission" (the process of atoms doing the absolutely mental). We fire a neuron, it hits a heavy atom like uranium 238 (238 indicates the number of protons inside the atom, this is important because different amounts of neutrons make different isotopes of the same element. And while some isotopes are stable, some are incredibly radioactive. This is needed to calculate the energy potential.) After the neutron gits the atom, it splits in to two atoms of a lighter elements. For example uranium 235 when split produces either barium and kripton, strontium and xenon or tin and molybdenum. Depending on how it splits. When the atom is split it releases other neutrons, Wich are moving very fast and carry an energy potential. It's also called the neutron temperature. Basically how much kinetic potential it has. Kinetic potential is basically temperature. As movment in atoms is heat. It in itself is important for splitting lighter elements or achieving higher efficiency. But I'll come back to that later.

So basically green rock Magic happens (it's actually emits blue light not green). And it heats a pot of watter Wich we make in to steam and then in to energy.

With the rock Magic done we come to the part of construction. Eich is my favorite as you see there is a lot of concrete metal and vey sturdy stuff in general.

Main concern for people that are afraid of nuclear reactors is another Chernobyl, Fukushima or three mile island.

Wich is a completely valid concern. However they are all human error. Fukushima was built on a shore... with tsunamis.

Chernobyl was managed by my ancestors, Wich they did incredibly porly and did experiments to the reactor that it was not Designed for.

Nuclear reactors altho do have uranium inside of them, just as nuclear bombs. Their are utterly and absolutely Incapable of exploding like one. It's just not as pure and condensed. And it's also not being exploded together. That's just not going to happen.

With today's technology in automatic control units, Materials and stuff, reactors are incredibly unlikely to fail. Unless humans do stupid human stuff. France for example is Europes largest nuclear powerhouse. And it's energy sources are basically carbon neutral. Also the concern of people that radiation will spread and radiate the area is very unfounded. I blame the Simpsons for that fear. Uranium is not a green glowy liquid. It's a metal ish metal, maybe greyish. And you can calmly hold it. It generaly doesn't contaminate watter. And not is it in direct contact with it. It's inside it's heat transfering case. The heat from the uranium case rods is transfers with either watter molten sodium or salt. (It sounds scary but each of them has their own benefits). There is a three loops design usually implemented. The first loop takes heat directly from the uranium. And transfers it via a heat exchanger (a radiator basically) to the second loop. The second loop uses the heated watter to spin the turbines. And then at the end cools it even more with the help of the third loop. The third loop is usually just taking water from a river and spraying it in the air after it took the heat. Those are the huge cooling towers you usually see. It's not smoke or radiation. It's just steam. So you can drink it without problem. Wich I proudly day I did. (it's almost like an iterator)(wait nuclear powered iterator) (a universe where the didn't discover void fluid energy) (holy shit I made something creative)

Nuclear power occupies a very important niech. It can produce A LOT of power on demand. Meaning if suddenly it's a holiday and everyone has decided it is time their ovens on. Renewables won't be able to compensate. As you see, if there is simply no wind or sun. There is nothing you can do. You can build batteries, but litium ion are very expensive and bad for the environment. And batteries that pump watter up so it later can spin generators falling down (usually called a gravity battery) are good and massive. But can't be everywhere.

Nuclear power plants can ramp up their energy production to cover that spike rapidly and efficiently. Making sure your country won't suddenly be low on energy ((KHEM KHEM GERMANY)) in the winter. Because uranium doesn't care for the weather.

Nod for the main part and the most interesting.

NUCLEAR WASTE

I shall repeat again. It's unfortunately not a dlurpee. And it doesn't leak.

Nuclear waste has 3 stages.

Fresh out of the reactor.

This kind needs to be actively cooled, because altho it has much of the useful uranium used up. There is still a little bit of wamrth. It needs to be cooled in a pond for a couple of months.

That's the cooling pond. It's about a years with I think. Fissile material is incredible energy dense. One kilogram of enriched uranium is enough to power uhhh. A lot of stuff for s long time. The voyager for example has been out there since uhh. A log time. And it's own small littler radio isotope nuclear generator is what keeps it warm and alive.

The second stage is splitting stuff that could be useful,such as enriched uranium. 238 neutrons. It can still be used. And recycled. Wich many do.

The third kind is the bad kind. The stuff thats radioactive enough to be dangerous but not useful. Right now it is stored underground in metal and concrete husks.

This is of course bad. As it accumulates there and isn't useful.

However, there is not that much nuclear waste. It's actually doesn't take up that much space. And in the end you're putting radioactive rocks back were you found them.

HOWEVER

here comes my favorite part.

THERE IS A WAY TO AVOID ALL OF THAT.

it's called fast neutron fission reactors. Those are experimental reactors right now. So there aren't any used actevly. But they posses a very useful trait. They feed using nuclear waste. And guess what it produces as a result ?

NUCLEAR FUEL.

This means it's an infinite energy glitch (not technically. Some of the matter is concerted to energy)

You put nuclear waste of normal reactors, in to fast neutron reactors ( also referd as breeder reactors or fast spectrum reactors) and get fuel back. And we'll 1 Gramm or so of trans uranics (the nasty nuclear waste) per ton. Wich tooooo be fair... it's just a Gramm, just pour it underground it'll be fine. Or keep it in a bottle as a lava lamp.

Altogether, nuclear reactors altho not as simple as burning coal or shining the sun at a panel. Are INCREDIBLY powerful. And are just misunderstood behemoths capable of boosting our civilization past the climate change. Many people fear them, but they shouldn't. They fear the complex, and refuse to learn about it.

Germany should really revisit it's nuclear policy.

Ah and by the way. Most biggest reason why we aren't building more faster is because they are expensive. However. Most of the cost comes from turbines and cooling stuff. The exact same as in coal power plants or gas powerplants. We can just put a kettle of cool rocks in there and get one free powerplant for relatively cheap and no CO2!!

Feel free to ask any questions, I have absolutely no problem with that. Also i apologize for my grammar and typos, I just don't wsnt to correct the entirety of the text. Hopefully I didn't screw something up badly.

Also @eltanin0 you might find this interesting to.

Bonus argument

JUST LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS

Literally rainworld irl

The last two are scientific reactors, nuclear powerplants don't look like this

Oh and a schematic just in case.

Forgot to mention the control rods, it's just to stop neutrons when you don't need them. It's like graphite or similar. And its safer to be gravity droped so if there is suddenly no power they shutdown the reactor automatically.

Also one of the reasons Chernobyl went boom.

Yeah I'm definitely fucking autistic

[ozziegarden]

Original Axion Story Summary

Axion was a character I created randomly, with his own universe. I was very inspired by the ideas of Wall-E, the wild robot, the Iron Giant, how to train your dragon, and others. Initially, his original story was about a boy named Axi, and he had a disease, an ancient virus that had been dormant for years between generations, until he and his sisters were unlucky enough for this virus to awaken in them. However, Axi was the one who had the virus the most in his body, and this left him extremely sick and weak, with fragile bones, low immunity, loss of vision and even mobility. His sisters also suffered from the virus, but nothing compared to what he was suffering.

His father, a very dedicated and loving single father who worked in a laboratory, decided to create a robotic body for his son to live in. And so, with the robot formed, Axi's consciousness was transferred to the robot's memory system, and it worked very well. One of her sisters had died of unknown causes, but Axi ended up blaming himself for it. Her other sister was also getting a little weak, as her organs were dying and going into a state of putrefaction, so her father, seeing that there was not much that could be changed in his daughter, cloned her body without the virus, and transferred her consciousness to the other body. However, her father ended up paying a price to be able to keep his children alive. The government, knowing about such deeds, went after him, murdered him and took his children for use. Axi was given the acronym A.X.I.ON: Assistant X Intelligence ONline. He didn't really like the meaning of the acronym, but he kept the name: 'Axion'. His sister, on the other hand, was called only 'prototype 2'.

Axion and his sister would live inside a special station for many, many years, more or less 500 years. The planet had been destroyed by atomic bombs from humans, and there were only humans inside the station. Axion was treated like a slave by the people who abused his orders, and one day the ancestral virus ended up corrupting his system and making Axion attack the rest of the humans there, extinguishing the race completely. He regrets it because it wasn't what he wanted, he never wanted to do it, it was against his will. And he was alone there on the station, until when checking his system, he saw a message left by his father. He told Axion to be himself, that he didn't need to obey anyone's orders to be able to do something, so that he could follow his heart and make his own decisions based on what he feels he needs to do. Finally, he ended by asking Axion to protect the planet and the S.E.P.A. probe that was abandoned somewhere on Earth, where his old laboratory would be, and that in it, he kept the hope of the planet. Axion committed his heart and soul to be able to protect Earth, and the Probe, with him traveling with a spaceship from the station to there and going to Earth to look for S.E.P.A. The probe would have a tree inside it, it would be hope, but the robot ran out of power and ended up dying, but the tree continued to grow inside the robot, and then the robot gained the tree's consciousness. The Tree would begin to manipulate the robot like a doll.

Axion would protect S.E.P.A and find the best place to plant it, however, the plant was descending towards destruction and radiation. It would still take a long time for all of this to evaporate and a new cycle to begin on Earth. Some more time would pass, and with all this destruction, the plant began to overheat, like a gas stove, the Axion systems and S.E.P.A's life were at risk so they had to evacuate to the ship. S.E.P.A would say that there would be no trace of life on the planet, that it would hardly be habitable again before the sun exploded, Axion would not take this well, since his mission was to take care of the Earth and save it, and with the first time of the "X" corruption, Axion would end up breaking the ship's system and accidentally activating the hyper jump at the speed of light. The speed was so high that it broke the fabric of space-time and transported them to a possible new "Universe" or, many years ago, back in time.

Axion and S.E.P.A would crash on planet Earth in the mid-90s, and S.E.P.A would know that this is Earth, he would feel the heart of the planet. As for Axion, he wanted to return, he wanted to take care of his real land, that was left for him to take care of, and S.E.P.A would have to undergo long periods of therapy in Axi, so he could stop being so stubborn and open his eyes. It would take time, but Axion would accept that planet, and discreetly, try to make the change that would be necessary for the earth to have a different future. S.E.P.A would help with what I need to do and what would be required. And with all that, selling the other trees, the green plants, the flowers, the animals, he wanted to feel the core of the planet too, however, for that... It was necessary to give up his robotic body and leave the axion alone.

At that moment there would be 2 timeline divisions One that S.E.P.A becomes like a robot by the Axion And one that he puts his roots in the ground Both options would make Axion a little sad, but he would accept it happily, as this would have been an option that S.E.P.A. took, and he would not intervene, and would respect any of these options, because in the end, he was his best and only friend. Regardless of the timelines, Axion would meet the Autobots and Decepticon at some point, and Axion would side with the Autobots even though he didn't call himself an Autobot. Axion didn't necessarily create the symbol, but he used 'Android' for the new classification of autonomous robot warriors, with Axion being the only warrior of this class for now.

Summary of Axi's story in the FMOD universe

Now

In the FMOD universe

There would be some changes in Axi's story

Axi would have been a great scientist expert allied with the Decepticons

Being someone who could create unimaginable things like a flying car, a hoverboard, an impeccable security system, traps for the Autobots and enemies, and many other things that he had the ability to create. In addition to being a master in the Japanese fighting art and a mastery of his country's weapons (blade weapons in general)

He still carried an ancient virus, but this virus would be less aggressive in his body, which does not cause damage to his body, and would behave almost like a guardian, like Kurama.

Axi would have been captured by the Autobots due to his carelessness, nobody is perfect. And so, Axi would go through the events of FMOD, with small changes in actions at times

Because Axi would be someone with a strong personality, despite being an omega, he would confront anyone, being somewhat skittish and aggressive

But he also has a lovely and kind personality when he is not feeling in danger or provoked.

Axi would have problems with post-traumatic stress, so scenes of a sexual nature would be very stressful for him, after all, he would have been kidnapped in childhood and suffered cruel things that completely destroyed his soul, so much so that he is often aggressive or avoids physical contact.

He would create a stronger bond with Ratchet than with others, preferring to be with him more than the other alphas

Because besides Ratchet respecting him, Axi and Ratchet would have several things in common.

My English is not good, I hope it was easy to understand.

Any questions about the original Universe or the AU, I will be more than willing to answer.

I'm really Anxious about posting this here, I don't know if you'll like the story or the characters, but I hope you like them.

I really want to talk more about the original Axion Story.

@babstheyaga

(I'm very ashamed and scared so please don't kill me. )