#tw nuclear detonation

[sashanels]

[aprocessionofthoughts]

The Best Laid Plans

ectoberhaunt24 day 7- EH past, bury fandom- dp x dc TW- implied major character death summary- they can't let them win

masterlist ao3

This hadn’t been the plan, not really. The portal needed to be blown up before the GIW could send a nuke through, but they had wanted to evacuate the town before hitting the button to blow up the portal.

They hadn’t expected the GIW blockade, including the ghost shield around the town. There were GIW forces surrounding the entire town, there was nowhere to sneak through, and the ghost shield went underground. Danny had checked. 

They were blocked in. No one could get out. 

Now Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and Danny sat in Sam’s room, staring at each other.

“What are we supposed to do?” Danny whispered. “There’s too many agents, and there are too many protections against ghosts and people.”

“We can’t let them nuke the Zone, that would destroy everything. On both sides.” Sam said.

“But if we destroy the portal…” Jazz trailed off.

“It would blow up the whole town.” Tucker finished. “That much backlash energy… who knows how far the destruction would reach.”

“So, what do we do?” Danny asked. How could they decide? If they failed to stop the GIW, it would mean the end of everything. But if they went through with their plan, then… the whole town would die. His friends would die. His sister and parents would die. And what would happen to him? Would he become a full ghost? Would he be Ended?

“We need to do it.” Jazz said. “It’s–it’s the only real option. We’ll die either way.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Danny kept hoping Clockwork would intervene, would make the GIW disappear, or let Danny go back in time to stop everything sooner.

“I agree.” Sam whispered, drawing her knees to her chest. Danny and Tucker scooted closer to her, leaning against her sides. Jazz sat next to Danny and draped her arm over his shoulders.

“Tomorrow.” Tucker said. “They aren’t planning on nuking the Zone till tomorrow evening. So, we’ll act tomorrow morning. We deserve one more night before…”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Danny said. 

They spent the rest of the day together, curled into each other, talking quietly, or watching movies, playing Doomed. But mostly they just sat silently together. Danny only left once to check on the GIW to make sure plans hadn’t changed.

They fell asleep all curled up together.

The next morning, there were tears and hugging before they sat gathered in a circle around the remote detonator. 

“There’s just… one more thing.” Jazz said, sharing a glance with Tucker and Sam before getting up and grabbing something from Sam’s dresser behind Danny.

His friends shared a look before turning to him.

“Danny…” Sam started. Tears were welling up in her eyes, and Danny’s eyes started to well up again. “Just remember we all love you. And you deserve a second chance.”

“What are you–” Danny started, but then there was a click behind him, and he was enveloped in blue light.

—--

Way up, in a secret satellite orbiting the planet, sensors began to scream as screens flashed. Heroes rushed to see what had happened. The data indicated a huge burst of energy had originated from somewhere in Illinois, an area that, according to mapping data, was supposed to be uninhabited. 

But when Batman looked into it to see what the possible source could have been, he came across government censors. His fingers froze above the keyboard for a second before he began issuing commands for a reconnaissance mission.

Whatever had happened, Batman was almost positive, it was not without casualties. 

And he was right.

The center of the destruction stretched on for miles of barren land originating from a large crater. And the towns nearby were showing signs of destruction as well as the effects that were associated with nuclear radiation. Most of the League had gone to those areas to help, but Batman, Superman, and Martian Manhunter had remained to investigate the starting location.

So far, they had found nothing. But then Martian Manhunter had paused.

“What is it?” Batman asked.

“I sense a presence. They are barely aware, and their thoughts are muffled, but there is someone here.”

Batman and Superman followed Manhunter toward a seemingly empty patch of land. “Under here.” he said.

Superman scanned the ground before he began digging through the dirt. It wasn’t long before he pulled up a small cylindrical object that resembled a– thermos?

“The presence is coming from in there.” Manhunter said.

Batman frowned. “We’ll take it with us. We can investigate further in the Watchtower once we’ve made sure it wasn’t the source of the explosion.”

They headed back to the ship. Batman looked once more over the destruction. He couldn’t help but think that this could have been prevented if he’d noticed something sooner. There was something that he had missed. And it wasn’t just that this area looked uninhabited on maps. Someone had gone to great effort to hide something here. He’d need to look into it. Find out what had been hidden.

He looked at the thermos that Superan carried. Hopefully, whoever, or whatever, was in that thermos could help. And hopefully, the League would be able to make up for not preventing this in the first place.

[lennadanvers]

Tsar Bomba*

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Reader

A/N: This is just angst. I wrote it quite some time ago, but I guess it's time I post it. I'm not sure if I really like it, but at least it has a cool name lol. It may or may not have a part 2. The ending I have in mind is not happy, either way. Other than that, I guess the only TWs are mention of past trauma, mentions of a narcissistic father, past narcissistic abuse, and just Johnny fucking up. If I missed anything, please let me know and I'll add it.

*Tsar Bomba: Soviet thermonuclear bomb that was detonated in a test over Novaya Zemlya island in the Arctic Ocean on October 30, 1961. The largest nuclear weapon ever set off, it produced the most powerful human-made explosion ever recorded. (Amy Tikkanen, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2024)

Soap is an asshole. A complete and utter idiot, with zero regards for other people and their feelings. A stupid pile of scottish-

“Aren’t you gonna go after’er?”

When Ghost is giving you relationship advice, you know it’s bad. Not like Johnny didn’t know that before Simon asked one of the most useless questions he’s heard. Which is to say something, because even he's asking himself that same question.

Am I not gonna run after her?

Of course, the question doesn’t come alone. It implies many others, each of them a punch to the guts.

Should I? Does she want me to? Would it change anything? Do I deserve to drag this any longer? Why would she want me to be with her? Is she even capable of forgiving me? Am I? How could I do it? Why am I so stubborn? Why couldn’t I just do as she said just this once?

Truth be told, most of the questions are accusations. Guilt. Johnny doesn’t fight them. On the contrary, he sides with the feeling in an absurd display of a split personality. One part of him punches, kicks and bites (sadly, in his head he doesn’t carry any guns… Which is, now that he thinks about it, okay, because he deserves a very long suffering); and the other bares the weakest parts of him: neck, belly, the way he’s always known he doesn’t deserve the love he needs… Both versions of him have red cheeks and wet eyelashes.

For the first time since he’s met you- but not the first in his life- Soap thinks he should die. The same way he knows any object he lets go of will fall to the ground, he should die. It’s the next logical step: he let go of you- more like threw your heart to the floor, the thought makes him flinch-, so now it comes the end. You ran out the door, and now…

Now you’re coming right back.

You’re stomping in his direction. You’re blushing, dark red cheeks and nose that he usually finds beautiful, but that right now look awful. Because it’s rage red, hurt red, indignation red;and it’s all directed to him. All provoked by him. Stupid, idiotic him. Asshole him.

Maybe it’ll help you, to yell exactly that at Soap. Even better, you’ll do it in front of Simon. His closest friend, his coworker, his superior… He deserves the humiliation. You deserve to inflict it. You deserve everything.

You stop where it’ll be clear you’re yelling at him, but not close enough for him to touch you- he wouldn’t dare, either way. Except you don’t yell. You just take a deep breath and clench your fists.

“I fucking told you, Soap.”, your voice is shaking, and so are you. And him, now that you didn’t call him Johnny, “I told you to not do that. I told you why I… Why he… I told you!”

You had told him. Twice. He even had asked about it the second time. “I don’t have a relationship with him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in high school. I moved away as soon as I could, and I’m happy I did. He’s not in my life anymore”. You were so proud when you said that, that there wasn’t a place in your life for your father.

You give Simon a quick glance, and the man stares back at you. He’s not going to pretend he hasn’t been present for the whole interaction. He’s not going to pretend he isn’t listening to you. It clearly makes you uncomfortable, but Johnny is willing to let you know that Ghost will probably kick his ass after this- maybe it’ll help a little with the awkwardness.

Your voice sounds more like a growl when you keep talking.

“I said I never want to see him again! Why would you do that?! Why did you…! He knows where I live! He went to my fucking job, MacTavish!”

Your lips trembles. You’re breaking a little, and he doesn’t know what it is. Pain? Fury? Frustration? Betrayal? Fear? Whatever it is, you make it disappear with another deep breath.

Johnny is terrified. One deep breath and your whole face relaxed. Your eyes don’t look like they’re about to flood your cheeks anymore. It’s a mask that says nothing. You’ve closed off.

It’s a stab to his spine. He knows you used to do this. You used to cry in the bathroom, quietly, and come out like nothing happened. You used to not be able to let him know how you felt. It took you years to cry in front of him for the first time. To trust him. To learn that he was safe.

And he violated your trust.

“This is over. We are over. I warned you! You knew not to do this, the only thing I… I don’t… If you wanted to do it you should have said so, that way I wouldn’t have wasted… You had no fucking right, Soap! I fucking told you I hate him. He went to my apartment! He was there! Why would you…? You had no right!”

He opens his mouth. Doesn’t know what to say, though. Or, actually, he doesn’t know what he can say. Sorry? Not nearly enough. Not even a fraction of what he feels, and even less than a portion of what you deserve. Soap knows the only thing that would fix this, he can’t do: not having done it in the first place. Not tracking your father down. Not asking him to meet up. Not thinking he wasn’t that bad. Not telling him how good you’re doing, despite how proud Johnny was of you. He should have never asked him for his blessing to marry you.

But you don’t want to hear his silence any longer.

“Don’t! I don’t want to see you ever again. I hope you’re happy. You know him now, congratulations! Now you know everything. I bet he was so fucking nice with you. I bet he said he was so proud of me, even if I never treated him right, didn’t he?”

No, Soap is every opposite of happy. Yes, he said that. Yes, at the time he thought your father was nice. He wants to stab himself in the heart for thinking that. He knows that man was an awful parent to you- hell, he wasn’t even a parent.

But that was his mistake, wasn’t it? For Johnny MacTavish, family is the most important thing. Without family, nothing else is worth it. And seeing you celebrate birthdays and holidays only with friends, knowing your family was out there, far from you… He didn’t want that to happen in your wedding, too.

Key words: he and wedding. First mistake: it wasn’t about him. Fucking selfish asshole. Second mistake (this one was more of an idiotic fantasy that he didn’t deserve): wedding. Yes, maybe his father had asked his mother’s dad for her hand before proposing. And? Those were Johnny’s parents. Why in hell would you want him to ask someone else if it was okay for you to marry him?

“He does that! I’m not crazy... He’s- he's nice to other people! He’s manipulating you. And I’m not going to have that narcissistic bastard in my life. You and him can stay the fuck away from me! Even if you didn’t love me, there was no need to do it.”

Don’t love you? Soap wants to cry- his body is just frozen in place. He is a miserable person. All he does is love you. How did he manage to make you think otherwise? To make you feel otherwise? How did he dare do the only thing- the worst thing…?

Your head snaps violently in Simon’s direction, and Soap can almost see him bracing himself for what’s about to come. Which is an unnaturally calm and controlled voice.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Simon. And I’m so sorry you have a friend who doesn’t understand boundaries or respect, at the very fucking least. I’ll put his stuff in a bag, and I’ll leave it with the doorman, in case you want to go get it for him. I’m sorry you got involved in this, I… I’m so sorry.”

There you are, apologizing again. Johnny was working on that with you. He had been for the past couple of years. But you’re doing it again, even though it is not your fault. It never is, and you’re always sorry, and he wishes he was dirt so at least you could step on him without feeling guilty. And he wants to rip his own heart out and hand it to you. He wants to use his stupid nails to scratch his stupid chest open, his stupid hands to break his fucking ribs and any other bone he can find in the way. He wants to crack his head open against the wall. He wants… It doesn’t matter what he wants.

Because you’re leaving.

You’re leaving, and you’re not crying. You’re so hurt that all the effort you did to open up, all these years working on learning how to be vulnerable, just disappeared. You’re back to the place you were when he met you. Except it’s worse now.

He made a mess. Johnny fucked you up.

For the millionth time today, he wants to die.

[thedailyplatypics]

TW//pretty violent descriptions of Doof’s traps and wondering how they might actually kill Perry/Death/Falling/Suffocation/Burning

Perry Could Have Died A Lot:

Doofenshmirtz’s Traps Becoming Tamer, The Evolution Of Perry And Doof’s Relationship, And The Expendability Of OWCA Agents.

In Season 1 and 2 many of the traps created by Doofenshmirtz aimed to KILL Perry, either unintentionally or intentionally, and sometimes in the worst, most horrifying ways imaginable.

It’s genuinely concerning how bad some early traps were and what exactly Doofenshmirtz was expecting when these traps succeeded? I usually like to imagine Perry as an invincible fighting machine, but what if he wasn’t invincible? What if some of these traps actually succeeded? And What happens to the other poor OWCA agents that aren’t as skilled when their nemesis has something cruel in store?

Showing the de-escalation of these traps also shows just how much their relationship evolved over the course of the show.

But before we get into that though, let’s quickly go over some of these traps and just how badly they would have turned out for poor Perry.

I’ll be rating them from 0-10 on how awful each death would have been (10 being the worst) based on how slow the death would be, how helpless he would be, how horrifying it would be, how painful it would be, what the treatment of the remains would be like, and how bad it still is for Perry even though he escaped to give a FULL look at just how messed up Doof’s traps were.

A very slow, lonely death by suffocation and a helpless situation. What would Doof even have done to clean this up? Would he just keep Perry in there forever??

8/10 worst way to die

A long and horrifying death from falling as he would have been completely helpless to do anything, but wait for the inevitable thud and darkness at the end. If he fell on a hard surface the only thing recognizable from him would be his hat. More like Perry the Splat-ypus (I’m sorry)

7/10 worst way to die

A lot to breakdown here: Dismemberment, decapitation, blown to shreds by a canon ball, and literally a murder s**c*de bombing by nuclear detonation wtf☠️??? And imagine the cleanup for half these things..

7/10 worst way to die

Death by being mauled, torn to shreds, and eaten by crocodiles all while Doofenshmirtz watched with a smile on his face is pretty sick. (This is the second time Doof’s tried to feed him to crocs/gators)

7/10 worst way to die

This was mostly unintentional, but death by either hypothermia or suffocation.

6/10 worst way to die

This trap placed under a rocket booster would have instantly incinerated them if it had succeeded. While not very painful compared the rest, it’s equally as scary. Imagine being there for one second and then poof. The only thing that is left of you is ashes.

If they took too long to escape the health affects from the toxic gasses released by rocket fuel such as, NO2, HNO3, hydrazines, and other substances would have been destructive towards their health.

5/10 worst way to die

One of Doof’s worst traps if it wasn’t so easy to escape. Try to imagine a laser cutting into you like this, cutting into one organ after the other, slow, searing hot, and also yes, extremely painful. If the pain didn’t kill Perry first through something like cardiac arrest, then multi-organ failure would have.

AND Literally what else was Doof expecting to come home to after the LOVE MUFFIN event??? NOT a dead platypus cut in half??!! What would he even have done with his body after that!??

10/10 worst way to die

This one is just the worst one. Based on the color of this lava, it’s around 1,600 F°!

If the rope didn’t burn through first he would have basically suffocated, seared his lungs to a crisp from the hot air, roasted alive slowly, and burst into flames (Anakin Skylwalkered) but if the rope broke he would probably feel (and not feel) the worst pain imaginable on earth for a good few seconds as all the water in his body would boil, nerves would desintegrate, every single organic molecule in his body would denature, and the lava would wrap around him like grease when you put bacon on a frying pan (that last part might just only apply to rocks though). The bones would burn for the longest, but soon there would be no trace of him left.

It should be noted that lava is a dense liquid and would feel pretty solid unlike water.

Even though he did escape this one, imagine the burns he got and seared lungs. Getting this close to molten lava typically sets people on fire and gives them serious burns. There’s also the toxic gases, heavy metals, and carcinogenic matter he inhaled. Additionally, this lava was bubbling and spraying everywhere. Once a drop of this molten rock like that hits your skin it burns your skin, burns your nerves, cools, and sticks on you. You wouldn’t feel it yet, but how did he hide that stuff when he came home to Phineas And Ferb? Burns can also lead to infections which could be serious and lead to removal of infected areas and amputation or even death,

While the long term health affects he suffered from this experience might not directly lead to his death in the future unless he does get a deadly infection, it could contribute significantly to things like future lung diseases and cancer. There’s also no doubt this experience (mostly from the hot air likely searing his lungs a bit) at least gives him breathing trouble now which would be incredibly depressing.

10/10 worst way to die

Perry didn’t deserve this.

Now, did Doofenshmirtz really have the intention to seriously injure or kill Perry or did he know he’d always escape and wreck his plans? I can’t say for sure, but he survived all of these and he’s also OWCA’s best agent. So, what happens to the lesser skilled agents….?

Perry’s Not The Only One (Tangent):

What percentage of OWCA agents have died in the field of battle with their nemesis and vice versa? We are shown that the one Canadian evil scientist almost died in MML: Agent Lentee Diogee and we know that Agent T (Turkey) was unfortunately killed on Thanksgiving (PNF: The Remains of A Platypus), whether he was mixed up in the turkey harvest process, it was actually because of a scheme unrelated to Thanksgiving, or because his Nemesis did in fact eat him is still unclear.

Also, does the government use animals in OWCA for secret missions because they have advantages humans don’t have or is it really because they’re actually more expendable compared to people. If you think about it, if a human dies because of U.S. government missions, everyone asks questions and there’s a lot of liability, but if a random pigeon or someone’s pet mysteriously goes missing, it’s not national news and no one’s asking the federal government what happened to it. An animal agent is not just a silly cartoon thing, it’s the perfect way to spy, and the US Government has literally tried and used animals as agents before (obviously those ones didn’t have human consciousness like in Phineas And Ferb though since it is a cartoon). They are very expendable and inexpensive.

Back To Doof And Perry:

When did Doof’s traps become more tame? Around the end of season 2 Doofenshmirtz sort of stopped the deadly traps that were designed to kill Perry and mostly focused on traps designed to restrain Perry instead. Sure they still have their laser fights and very dangerous situations and what not (like the Where’s Perry incident), but Doof and Perry are much closer friends now, and we know neither really want the other dead. As Dan Povenmire said, “they really are the most important person in each other’s lives.”

So, when did Doof stop/reduce the death traps? (I use reduce because I checked, but I’m not 100% certain the pnf wiki got every trap)

The last time I remember Doofenshmirtz actually fine with Perry dying was in the Across the 2nd Dimension Movie when he was perfectly okay with Perry being sent to his doom. However, at the end of the film seconds before the 2nd Dimension Doof is about to crush Perry, Phineas, and Ferb, Doofenshmirtz basically saves Perry’s life by stopping 2nd Dimension Doof at the last second and giving him his toy train. (Maybe a little because the horrifying thing 2D Doof did to his Perry too)

Of course he doesn’t remember this because of the Amnesia-inator applied to him and everyone else at the end of the movie, but as we know from the Giant Tire Swing episode when the kids start singing the Summer song from AT2D spontaneously, but cannot recall where it’s from, that memories are still somewhere in the subconscious of these characters.

So, I’d like to think that Doofenshmirtz’s desire to kill Perry sort of faded after actually seeing him come the closest to death he’d ever been in the entire series and while he doesn’t remember it, it’s still there subconsciously.

There’s More:

By the end of the series Doof really isn’t that evil anymore. He’s just a guy pretending to be evil. Perry and Doof are a lot more casual with each other and friendlier, but Doofenshmirtz in The Last Day Of Summer kinda sucks. It’s really the big, real, last push from his evil phase and it shows. He really sucked to both Vanessa and Perry.

In this episode a time looping machine gives Doofenshmirtz multiple tries to finally complete his scheme. In the looping he tries to perfect a trap that can restrain Perry and returns to the type of deadly traps from S1-2, but the mega-trap never overdoes itself and somehow only fails catch Perry, not kill him. Despite every deadly piece and Perry almost getting chopped in half by a bear trap, the mega-trap strangely doesn’t ever kill Perry. It only fails to catch Perry A LOT. This could just be luck and shows that Perry is truly invincible, but since this is later seasons we already know Doof doesn’t want to kill Perry anymore so is it that far off to say that he also didn’t just perfect this trap to not only restrain Perry, but also to not kill him and keep him alive? Does this mean sometimes he could have overdone the trap and there were failed tries to not kill him??

He probably considered that the day repeated so even if he overdid it and killed Perry, the day would restart anyways and he could tone down the part of the trap that killed him, but without the looping he knows the only way to stop Perry is to kill him.

This would be another reason for why he did what he did next.

In one of the final loops when he succeeds with his trap after an unknown amount of tries and finally becomes mayor. The time loop machine also disappears, so he thinks he can no longer loop time now which means no trap will ever be as affective as his time-loop trap and the only affective way to keep Perry from ruining his schemes as he now knows from the time loop, is to kill him. So he uses his new power to legally make it so that Perry can no longer fight him to avoid that entire problem and keep his power, and continue to be evil without hurting him.

It’s somewhat thoughtful that he still doesn’t want Perry dead which is consistent with his character development, but ultimately he chooses evil over his best and only friend and loses him.

Of course we know it works out when he turns good, and he mostly gives up evil after the finale.

This is just another angle to look from when it comes to their relationship.

I don’t know how to end this because that’s about all I’ve got and I have been completely sidetracked from my day to write this and I should probably get back to it. Hopefully this blog makes sense. Feel free to suggest corrections or mistakes or add on any details you’d like to point out.

[starandcloud]

Broken Arrow

Tw: A blip of beheading, but no detail

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

COD Mainlist

Mainlist

A term used when a nuclear weapons have been accidentally launched, fired, detonated, stolen, or lost. Since 1950 there has been 32 broken arrows. Not counting those one's from Hassan. Every now and then you're reminded of the news around your town when a military boy got to chatty. You remember how he talked about how an American city nearly got destroyed and how your country could be next. How your blood went cold and how you wanted to throw up. You weren't surprised when that boy disappeared but... you were mortified when men came in and interrogated your friends and family. But nothing you felt that day prepared you for the terror you'd experience when your town went up in flames. How people speaking another language came in and took hostages and killed others. You understood little. But you understood the command to kill. If your English understood anything, it was kill. You were taken into a truck with your mother and sister, you watched in horror as your father's head was separated from his body and as your brother's body hit the ground. A scream came from you as you lurched forward. A tarp hit you in the face and you sobbed. Tears fell so heavily and your sobs so frequent your breath couldn't keep up. Your chest heaved for air and... then it went black.

That was... years ago. You didn't remember your age, or most of the people from that day. But one person you did recognize was that wrinkled old man. Who looked at you in distain as he tried to get you to speak again.

"Listen girl. We've been at this for well over a decade. What. Is. Your. Name." "Me llamo Y/N" (My name is Y/N)

You answered, your eyes holding his before he slammed his hands on the table. The sound echoed off the walls and you could see a few guards jump but you gave no reaction.

"No hablo su idioma. Imbécil." (I don't speak your language. Jackass.)

You said, your head tilting slightly as your hair swayed and fluttered into your face. Your eyes never leaving his. You watched as anger filled his eyes and frustration filled his body as he tensed up.

"Fine. You little bitch. I'll bring someone else into talk to you."

You didn't understand but as he stood up and pressed a button on the wall, you watched as the guards shifted uncomfortably at the mention of a name. Your curiosity was peaked. You watched the door swing open and a woman walk in. Her hair was short and she would've been pretty if it wasn't for all the military gear she wore. You watched the two talk in a hushed voices before she turned to you. Her eyes scanning over your, as yours had already done. You kept your eyes on her and watched how her eyes hardened on you when your eyes met. She pulled up a chair and stared down at you, not seeming to care if she scared you. Which it didn't. You straightened your back and glared right at her. Holding her gaze before she broke and laughed softly.

"Mi llamo Valeria."

[a-problematic-writer]

It was a pretty Autumn day. The sky cloudless and a perfect deep blue. Pleasantly warm and just the slightest whisper of a breeze. A perfect day for the park, for a trip to the lake, to go to the local super duper mart to buy a costume for Halloween. An unassuming kind of day, one expected to go as mundane as any.

One that should have been mundane.

One that wasn’t.

Jesse was at the kitchen table, enjoying a midday bowl of Sugar Bombs and reading the latest issue of Grognak the Barbarian. A normal routine these days.

Jess had flipped on the TV some moments ago needing the background noise. The monotone drone of the announcer came through in a buzz. Jesse continued her comic. A dog barked in the distance. The news anchor droned on...

Then something shifted. The news anchors usually upbeat voice grew grim. Jesse raised her eyes. The dog went silent.

“Followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sound of explosions... we’re... uh we’re trying to get confirmation,”

Jesse’s breath stilled, something cold and numb washing over her.

“But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate station...”

There was a pause. Nothing but silence and then;

“Yes, we do have... coming in... that is, uh, confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania as well as one heading for Boston,” the news anchors voice dipped and then trembled, “My God...”

The world stilled. Jesse’s breath hitching as her fingers involuntarily laxed around her spoon; the utensil dropping into the milk and splashing up onto her shirt and table. She blinked once then twice. The stillness shattered with a shriek from someone she could only assume was her neighbor. The TV now only showed the standby screen.

Jesse pushed herself up from the table quickly and bolted for her door. She was greeted outside by her neighbors all running up the street. Momentarily, she was confused then her eyes caught on the Vault-Tec billboard.

The vault.

She broke into a sprint falling in line with the rest of the panicked crowd all along watching the sky. She couldn’t see the missile. Perhaps that was a good thing. There was a dense crowd leading up the gated, guard-protected entrance. Jesse weaved her way to the front, mind blank.

“Name?” the guard asked firmly. Jesse blinked eyes darting to the sky. Searching for the missile and finding nothing once more.

“NAME?!”

She jumped and stuttered out: “Jesse Lawrence!”

The guard flipped through a clipboard quickly. The was a clamor from the crowd. A cacophony of panic. Jesse’s gaze shot to the skies again. Nothing.

“No ‘Jesse Lawrence’ on the list.”

Jesse blinked. “What?”

“There is no ‘Jesse Lawrence’ on the list. Just Tanya Lawrence and Alvin Lawrence.”

Jesse blinked again. “There has to be a~”

Before ‘mistake’ could leave her mouth, Jesse remembered that when her mother and father applied for entrance to the vault that her app had been declined... over a typo in her birthdate.

They had planned to clear that up the following week; after her parents got back from California...

“I’m gonna have to ask you to step away from the gate, miss,”

Jesse inhaled sharply. “But...”

“Or I will use force to make you.”

Jesse jumped back with a yelp as the soldier lifted their gun, her hands up as she backed away. She turned on her heel afterward. Everything numbing as she absently made her way back down the dirt path into town. She passed neighbor after neighbor that was scrambling up the path to the vault that was an annoyance but now salvation.

She stopped at the oak tree in the middle of the culdesac. Her eyes finally lifting to the sky. Nothing. Maybe they had been wrong. Maybe this was just a scare. Maybe nothing was wrong...

Someone else shuffled up next to her. Jesse’s gaze cut over to them and she blinked.

She had went to school with him. They were part of the same graduating class. She had only recently found out they only lived a block from each other. She found her heart aching. He must have been denied entry too.

His eyes turned to her. She always remembered the young man looking tough, cocky, mean. Right now, he had tears glistening in his eyes and a tremble in his frame that matched her own. They just looked at each other for awhile.

“Jesse, right?” his voice shook. It wasn’t at all what she remembered.

Jesse nodded. “Was it Aiden or Aymin?”

“Aiden.”

It went quiet between them or as quiet as hysteria could be. Aiden had always been a bully. Though he had mellowed out in about 10th grade. From then, they were just acquaintances. Jesse had paid him no mind and he paid her none in return. She had always wanted to try making friends with him. The opportunity was just missed and, now, was gone forever.

“Why aren’t you in the vault, Jesse? I know I saw you and your parents at the vault-tec office.”

She frowned gaze darting away from him. “There was a mistake on my application. I wasn’t put on the list.”

“I’m sorry.” he murmured.

“Why aren’t you?”

“There were only three spots left. So I chose to stay while my sister got into the vault.”

Jesse blinked at him. She hadn’t taken him as the selfless type.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It-it had to be her.”

Silence stole in again. Something flashed in the sky. Her breath hitched.

The missile had entered the atmosphere.

She watched the smoke trail from the tail of it. They had all feared this day. The day when tensions grew to taut. When the war would finally destroy them all. And here they were standing in the fire. She wondered if her mother and father were safe.

She wondered if they knew she wasn’t.

Her legs gave out from under her and she landed on her knees in the dirt. Aiden knelt down with her. They watched the missile’s distance grow closer and closer to the ground. A air strike siren could be heard in the distance. The ground rumbled as vault 111 closed its doors. Jesse could only think about everything she didn’t do. She didn’t get to tell her mother and father ‘I love you’ that day. She didn’t get to know the boy next to her.

A hand connected with hers. She turned to Aiden and he turned to her. Their fingers interlaced. She decided to only look at him. There was a flash followed by an explosion.

And then nothing.

[tinyhousegirl]

Astro - Chapter Six

TW: n/a

Read the synopsis and master list here!

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Read on Tumblr below. Coming to AO3 soon!

He did it. The twelve pilots watched the fighter jet on the screen twist and turn with ease on the board as the timer ticked down. He was at least ten seconds ahead of where any of them had been the entire two weeks of training and gaining. They watched the live feed of the detonation, heard his comms as he tackled Coffin Corner, and emerged victorious on the other side of the exercise. The pilots around her cheered and celebrated with one another but she could only focus on the timer blinking rapidly.

Two minutes and fifteen seconds. It was possible.

—

The twelve pilots stood at attention in the belly of the carrier as Cyclone and Warlock gave them their final debriefing amidst the deck crew and other personnel of the ship. Her father stood at their side, a solemn look on his face as they ordered him to choose his wingmen.

After his stunt in Fightertown he had been promoted, not court martialed, to team leader. Her father’s guardian angel had pulled through one last time. She was equally proud and angry; losing one of the spots on the 4-jet team just made her odds slimmer after the plummet she took out of the sky less than a week ago. But she left the final decision to her Captain.

“Phoenix and Bob, Payback and Fanboy.” 

“And your second?”

Maverick sighed, looking between Hangman, Rooster, and Astro. This decision could kill any of them, and he didn’t take it lightly. 

“Rooster.”

The silence that briefly followed was palpable. Her chest felt like it had caved in as Rooster tensed next to her. Across the rows, she saw Hangman’s shoulders fall slightly. Then there was movement, ‘Congratulations’ and ‘Good Luck’ phrases thrown to the chosen pilots.

She felt a hand on her arm, and Taylor snapped out of her trance. Nat had a concerned look on her face, focused only on her friend amidst the men talking. Phoenix gave her a small smile and both women embraced, the stress of two weeks of training leading to this final decision.

“You come home, you hear me? I can’t be alone with all of these guys.” Astro joked, holding back the lump in her throat. 

“You know it. First round is on me when we get stateside.” She told her, before giving her another tight hug. Then she was whisked away into other celebrations. 

Taylor looked through the crowd at her wingman, who was doing all he could to hide his disappointment. She snaked through the crowd until she was in his face, and didn’t give him a chance to speak before she hugged him tight.

Jake returned the hug, breathing deep into her shoulder to let out his stress. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I know you wanted this.” She mumbled.

“I know how much you did, too.” He replied, still holding on tight. “Wingmen or groundmen forever, right?”  

She laughed at his terrible pun, grateful to have him at her side all of these years later. “Forever.”

He leaned back. “Go find your pilot. He’s gonna need you.”

She nodded with one final squeeze of his arm before going into the crowd to find her boyfriend. They had been given respite for the evening, however they wanted to spend the night before the early morning call time. Some of them agreed to play cards in Payback’s bunk, while some, like Phoenix, retreated back to their own bunks for quiet.

Bradley and Taylor found themselves in the gym, surprisingly alone. No words had to be shared; they knew what was coming. So instead, they found solace in each other’s presence as they pumped out reps, blowing off whatever steam needed to be blown off. 

After they showered, Bradley took her hand and led her through the decks until they found a quiet corner of the carrier, standing on a small balcony that overlooked the dark ocean. They were coasting slowly and by the morning, the carrier would be stationed a few hundred miles from the nuclear plant for staging.

Bradley bumped her shoulder playfully in the peace of the night. “I asked my C.O. to station me at home.” He mumbled quietly, lacing his fingers in hers.

She squeezed his hand. “Really?”

“I think I’ve had enough running around the world trying to figure out what I need in life. It’s always going to be you.” He paused. “And Mav.”

“What are you gonna do?” She kissed his knuckles lightly. 

“Thought I could join you and train newbies. If you’ll have me?”

“In the air and on the ground, baby. I’m yours.” She turned to face him more. “You and dad will have each other’s backs up there, right?”

Bradley shook his head with a sigh, looking down at his boots. “I wish I could go back to that day and take back what I said to him. I was so angry. Might be the biggest regret of life, only second to taking it out on you for so long. He’s the closest thing I have to a father, but I’m the closest thing he has to Goose. And I took that from him for a long time. I’m not abandoning him anymore.”

She wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Your father would be so proud of you. Of him. I’m glad I got to know him through the two of you.” She pecked his cheek. “I love you.”

He reciprocated the kiss on her lips. “I love you, baby.” 

—

By the time their early morning call came in, Bradley was already gone from her bunk. Not that he was ever supposed to be in there, but Phoenix would kill anybody that tried to confront the couple about it. She didn’t mind taking Rooster’s solo bunk at all during their few days at sea.

Astro met Hangman outside the mess hall, neither hungry enough to eat anything but they still scarfed down a few bites of eggs and something slightly akin to pancakes. Then it was time. Their squad was summoned to their stations. 

“You ready, Spare Two?” Hangman extended his fist, and she bumped hers against it. They had picked up their flight gear, completing the routine checkup before making their way out. When they got to the lower deck, their jets were ready side by side.

“Bullshit, I’m Spare One.” She clipped her helmet to her belt as the platform raised up to the main deck. The energy was bustling, a mixture of adrenaline and nerves electrifying the personnel as final preparations were made. It was a chilly, foggy morning, a stark contrast to the hot California sun they had spent the last few weeks in.

Across the deck, she spotted her two pilots. They were standing next to their planes, talking to one another. She could see Bradley’s mouth moving as she approached, but her eyes focused on her father’s solemn face. His Uncle Goose face. God, her heart would never not crack when she saw that face. It would never fail to make her feel sick to her stomach. She was regretting the eggs for breakfast.

Maverick turned as he faintly heard footsteps. He smiled lightly when he saw her but she could tell he was trying to mask the face. “Hey, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight, and he reciprocated with a laugh. Once she squeezed him hard enough, she turned to make eye contact with her aviator. He gave her a small smile, reaching his hand out to her. She gladly took it, mirroring the hug she just gave her father. She took in the smell of his flight suit - a mixture of gas, sweat, and his cologne lingering.

“You both come home to me.” She mumbled into his chest. Rooster and Maverick locked eyes with each other. 

“Taylor, baby-”

“Promise me, Bradley. I can’t lose the only family I have left.” 

He kissed the top of her head gently, nodding towards Maverick who nodded back. “We’re gonna be okay. Besides we have the best spare out there who will save us if something goes wrong.”  

“Don’t inflate Jake’s ego like that, his big ears can probably hear us over here.” She joked, forcing the lump back in her throat as her boys both laughed. 

Someone called Maverick’s name, signaling him to climb into his jet. He gave his daughter one more hug. “I love you.”

“I love you. Good luck out there, Captain.” She gave him a salute and he walked away. She turned back to Bradley as they called for him.

He grabbed her one more time, planting a deep kiss on her lips as he cupped her face gently. He could’ve stayed there all day. Forget the mission, forget the world, forget everything but the taste of her lips on his, the lingering smell of her shampoo, the way her hands fell on his chest. But this mission was now, and he had to go.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.” She mumbled into his lips, looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Show me the way home, honey. I love you.” He replied back, giving her one last squeeze.

Astro watched him walk towards his plane, and if the circumstances were different, she would have enjoyed watching him walk away. She couldn’t resist her man in a flight suit. But she couldn’t suppress the pit in her stomach as he saluted the deckhand, then climbed up into his cockpit. He gave her one final wave as the canopy closed over him. 

Astro made her way back to her jet, smacking Hangman’s leg as he climbed up his ladder. She saluted her team then followed suit, starting her pre-flight checklist like second nature, but for the first time ever, she hoped she wouldn't be flying today.

—

Their jets took off in rapid succession and now it was a waiting game. She listened to the six people in the air give comms to one another as they approached land. The pit in her stomach grew even more as the carrier launched a few dozen Tomahawk missiles a few minutes after the Dagger Squad left. 

“Jesus Christ.” Hangman mumbled as they watched the missiles take to the sky. 

“No turning back now, right?” She looked over at her wingman in his jet. He shook his head in response.

She listened as each Dagger sounded off their timer starts. Maverick had Phoenix and Bob while Rooster had Payback and Fanboy as their wingmen. She could deduce over the first minute that her father had pulled ahead, his wingman staying on him impressively. Astro smiled; Phoenix of course had been the stellar choice. But she also could tell her boyfriend had fallen behind, and the entire crew was yelling at him. 

In the midst of the chaos in her ears, she heard one sentence clearly: “Talk to me, dad.” And relief from multiple voices came through. He was back in the game. 

Her knuckles went white on her yoke as someone announced two bandits in the air, but it seemed that their team was unnoticed for the time being. Maverick called his climb up the first mountain. Rooster was still behind. Bob called the lock, and Maverick made contact.

Hangman cheered beside her. Miracle #1 had been done.

And then Miracle #2 was completed. 

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”

But there was no time to celebrate as the SAMs launched at the aircraft, and the harrowing leg of their mission was upon them.

“Evasive maneuvers!”

She hated this. She hated this. She hated this. The six pilots in the air were yelling over one another, somehow able to keep each other updated on missile locations and countermeasure use. But they couldn’t shake the dozens of SAMs that were closing in around them.

“You’ve got two on your tail, Rooster!”

Oh god, Bradley. Please. Please no. 

“I can’t shake them. I’m out of countermeasures!”

And then came the cry that sunk her heart into the depths of the ocean below her: “Mav! No!”

“Dagger One is hit!” Taylor’s stomach dropped as the comm came through. She couldn’t tell whose voice it was, but it didn’t matter. They vocalized the horror in the skies. Her father was hit. Her father was plummeting out of the air. Her father wasn’t responding. 

She wanted to cry, wanted to call for him. Anything that she could do to hear his voice. But she wasn’t in the air, so she wasn’t allowed to respond on their channel. She could only listen to her father’s final moments as his F-18 fell to the snowy mountains.

“All daggers floating ECP, you have bandits headed for you.” The tower communicated.

“What about Maverick?” Rooster cried, his voice cracking with fear. Taylor’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Dagger Spare, request permission to launch and fly air cover.” Hangman yelled over the commotion, a begging look in his eyes as he watched his wingman’s face turn whiter and whiter as time went on. He had to try, for her.

“Negative, Spare.” Hangman tossed his mask away in frustration. 

“Daggers, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage.”

“Dagger Two, return to carrier. Acknowledge. Acknowledge.”

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.” Phoenix pushed the ache out of her chest, trying to convince the lone aviator despite how much she wanted to turn around, too. She hadn’t seen a chute appear as they flew away. There was no way to know if he was alive, not in their current state. They had to obey orders or risk losing their own lives.

“Rooster. He’s gone. Maverick’s gone.” Bob added, the same defeated tone in his voice. 

Astro stayed frozen in her cockpit, listening to the Daggers in the air reason with one another about the loss of their leader, convincing and pleading with Dagger Two to disengage with them. Only a few of their twelve-man team had ever had the haunting experience of losing someone in the air, and none of the flying crew were taking this one well, watching their instructor and friend plummet in a fiery mess. Taylor wanted to jump in, beg the tower to search for her father, let her fly to find him. He was the most stubborn pilot out there. If anybody were to survive that, he would.

“Rooster, don’t be a hero!” Phoenix pleaded.

“I’m not abandoning him anymore!” Rooster finally yelled.

He repeated the same sentence he had mumbled quietly to her the night before, when the world had faded from their eyes and all they had were each other. When they were still invincible in their small corner of the carrier. He wouldn’t abandon him. She knew then that she was losing both of her men today. 

Taylor let out a quiet sob as Phoenix told the carrier that Dagger Two had broken off. The Tower continued to order them home, including Rooster. But she knew the inevitable was coming.

“Dagger Two, respond.” “Dagger Two! We’ve lost communications with Dagger Two.” “Dagger Two is hit!”

Hangman watched helplessly as his best friend sobbed in her aircraft when the comm that his signal was lost came through. Rooster was gone. Maverick was gone. Ice was gone. She had lost three family members in a week. How could anyone handle that much loss in such little time? 

Once the remaining Dagger jets landed, they were cleared to leave their aircraft. He rushed out as fast as he could, ignoring the four pilots who had seen death in the face. Instead he scampered up her ladder, grabbing and holding her tight as she sobbed over and over, clutching her photos of Maverick and Rooster tight. God dammit, Rooster. He couldn’t even curse at him anymore for doing this to her. And that thought made Jake tear up, too.

---

Tag List: @alanadetigy @yanak324 @luckyladycreator2

[fatehbaz]

Used to be easier to get online to find some news or academic-ish articles to read about imperial “sacrifice zones”, the legacy of uranium mining on Indigenous land, the nuclear uncanny, and nuclear testing in the South Pacific, before N*tfl!x released that one docuseries, and now many searches with keywords “nuclear” or “radiation poisoning” involve sifting through dozens of headlines like: “Chernobyl fans: You’re not gonna believe the size of this RADIOACTIVE MUSHROOM, must see!” or “Ten other twisted facts about Chernobyl that you WON’T believe!” or “Get ready for another binge-watch sesh y’all: Chernobyl’s giant catfish are real, and this team of American v-tubers is about to pay them a visit!” This alongside Tw!tter disk horse like: “Slavic countries are so weird!” and “Can’t believe the institutional/administrative negligence at Chernobyl, really good that things are different nowadays.”

In these disk horses, yet to see much significant mention of some important Chernobyl-adjacent subjects, like how the largest single release of radioactive poisons on “American” soil happened in Navajo Country in 1979, the same year as the Three Mile Island disaster and exactly 34 years to the day after the first atomic bomb detonation in nearby New Mexico (the “Church Rock” disaster released over 1.3 short tons of uranium and 94 million gallons sulfuric acid-laced tailing solution which poisons Navajo people to this day). Or how pinnacle-of-their-field 20th-century US scientists explicitly bragged about how they used the people of Rongelap (Marshall Islands) as “mice” and unwilling/unknowing human test subjects after dropping a hydrogen bomb near their islands, with no forewarning, and then they didn’t tell the islanders that their babies were being born without skeletons because of radiation poisoning. Or how between 1944 and 1972, the Hanford site in eastern Washington State released over 25 million curies of radioactive poisons in the inland Pacific Northwest, not-entirely-incomparable to the Chernobyl event’s release of 35 to 49 million curies of iodine-131.

Another fun “daily scholarship round-up” activity: Searching for news about environmental history and ancient humans by using keyword “Pleistocene.”

Except, there was a popular book series and HB0 adaptation which co-opted the names of (real-world, actual Pleistocene megafauna creature) dire wolves. And following the January 2021 publishing of some research about the evolution of and relationship between dire wolves and modern gray wolves, recent attempts to read about historical ecology from that epoch result in a flurry of pop-sci headlines like: “G*me of Thr*nes’ terrifying dire wolf was actually a mega-fox!” and “The epic Terror Wolf just got epic-er” and “Beyond G*me of Thr*nes: Life, Sex, and Death Among the Dire Wolves.”

bruh when I typed “Pleistocene” I was trying to read about terrestrial crocodiles in Polynesia, the apple and fig forests of Central Asia, deforestation in ancient China, human relationship with cats, and giant sloths.

[faebriel]

ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

-

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

[pronounsrus]

Can you do pronouns related to expl**sions (o,a) and such? Ty

yeah!

TW: variety of b*mbs mentioned (o)

---

Atomic/Bomb/Atomic bombs/Atomic bomb's/Atomic bombself/Atomicself

Bomb/Bomb/Bombs/Bomb's/Bombself

Boom/Boom/Booms/Boom's/Boomself

Blast/Blast/Blasts/Blast's/Blastself

Bam/Bam/Bams/Bam's/Bamself

Blow/Up/Blow-ups/Blow-up's/Blow-upself/Blowself/Upself

Burst/Burst/Bursts/Burst's/Burstself

Bomb/Shell/Bombshells/Bombshell's/Bombshellself/Shellself

Cherry/Bomb/Cherry bombs/Cherry bomb's/Cherry bombself/Cherryself

Chemical/Explosion/Chemical explosions/Chemical explosion's/Chemical explosionself/Chemicalself

Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamite's/Dynamiteself

Detonate/Detonate/Detonates/Detonate's/Detonateself

Detonate/Detonation/Detonations/Detonation's/Detonationself

Dis/Charge/Discharges/Discharge's/Dischargeself

Explode/Explode/Explodes/Explode's/Explodeself

Explode/Explosion/Explosions/Explosion's/Explosionself

Explosive/Explosive/Explosives/Explosive's/Explosiveself

Erupt/Erupt/Erupts/Erupt's/Eruptself

Erupt/Eruption/Eruptions/Eruption's/Eruptionself

Fire/Fire/Fires/Fire's/Fireself

Flare/Up/Flare-ups/Flare-up's/Flare-upself/Flareself/Upself

Grenade/Grenade/Grenades/Grenade's/Grendeself

Ka/Boom/Kabooms/Kaboom's/Kaboomself

Land/Mine/Landmines/Landmine's/Landmineself/Landself

Mine/Mine/Mines/Mine's/Mineself

Mushroom/Cloud/Mushroom clouds/Mushroom cloud's/Mushroom cloudself/Mushroomself/Cloudself

Missile/Missile/Missiles/Missile's/Missileself

Nuke/Nuke/Nukes/Nuke's/Nukeself

Nuclear/Nuclear/Nuclears/Nuclear's/Nuclearself

Nuclear/Bomb/Nuclear bombs/Nuclear bomb's/Nuclear bombself

Nuclear/Explosion/Nuclear explosions/Nuclear explosion's/Nuclear explosionself

Out/Burts/Out bursts/Out burst's/Out burstself/Outself

Pop/Pop/Pops/Pop's/Popself

TNT/TNT/TNTs/TNT's/TNTself

Time/Bomb/Time bombs/Time bomb's/Time bombself/Timeself

💣/💣/💣s/💣's/💣self

🧨/🧨/🧨s/🧨's/🧨self

💥/💥/💥s/💥's/💥self

🔥/🔥/🔥s/🔥's/🔥self

🎇/🎇/🎇s/🎇's/🎇self

⚡️/⚡️/⚡️s/⚡️'s/⚡️self

☢️/☢️/☢️s/☢️'s/☢️self

☢/☢/☢s/☢'s/☢self

⚛/⚛/⚛s/⚛'s/⚛self

☣/☣/☣s/☣'s/☣self

🧯/🧯/🧯s/🧯's/🧯self

🚀/🚀/🚀s/🚀's/🚀self

🎆/🎆/🎆s/🎆's/🎆self

🤯/🤯/🤯s/🤯's/🤯self

🌋/🌋/🌋s/🌋's/🌋self

⚛️/⚛️/⚛️s/⚛️'s/⚛️self

🧨/💥/🧨💥s/🧨💥's/🧨💥self

💣/💥/💣💥s/💣💥's/💣💥self

[kaizykat]

Adding more (disturbing) information!

TW: Nuclear explosions, bombs, mannequins, fire, nuclear war, Cold War

This seems to be footage from the Operation Teapot nuclear test explosions (specifically, the Apple 2 explosion) that was conducted in the United States at the Nevada Test site in 1955.

I can't find the original source material from an educational archive, most likely because this test was also the one where they filmed the Operation Cue educational film (1955 version, 1964 revision). Below is the 1964 version!

Nuclear blast starts at 8:50 into the clip!

This test was interesting because it was done in a simulated town, dubbed "Survival Town." That's what you see in the video!

Link to more information about the town: Nevada National Security Site (NNSS)

You can visit the remains of the test town! It's part of the monthly tour that the NNSS gives! But, it's still a government site, so you can't bring your cell phone, camera, camcorder, or tape recorders.

This particular test (or "shot") was a tower detonation at 500 feet with a yield of 29 kilotons.

I think that this gif is a mirrored version of this particular clip, which is managed by Science Photo Library.

Here's a compilation of nuclear blast effects on buildings from the 1950s (Sound added by uploader):

The Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory (LLNL) also scanned and archived recordings of nuclear detonations! Here's a pretty cool one.

LLNL Playlist Link (497 videos)

BTW: This bomb was tiny in comparison to the ones we have today.

From what I can find, this was an atomic bomb, but not a hydrogen bomb. Hydrogen bombs are much, much larger!

Here's what the Apple 2 test bomb would look like in Washington DC, directly over the White House (NUKEMAP link):

The largest warhead that the United States currently has in its arsenal is the B83, with a payload of 1.2 megatons (12,000 kilotons).

Since the Apple 2 shot was conducted at a 500ft airburst, we'll apply that same parameter for this warhead and run a simulation.

Here's what a B83 would look like with the same target (NUKEMAP link):

To say that it's bigger is a massive understatement!

The biggest nuclear weapon ever detonated was the Tsar Bomba, a 50 megaton bomb.

It was designed to be 100 megatons, but this was ludicrous. It wouldn't have allowed the pilots who flew the thing out there to survive.

Here's declassified footage of the Tsar Bomba explosion!

Check out NUKEMAP itself if you're curious about the modeled size and scale of many nuclear weapons.

Of course, the land that these nuclear weapons testing was and is not without its own indigenous peoples. I'm not very well educated in these matters, unfortunately, and this matter deserves its own post.

I did manage to dig up some articles and activists who speak about the literal fallout from the tests in the Nevada Proving Grounds.

"Nuclear Weapon States and Fourth World Nations" by Bernard Nietschmann and William Le Bon, Cultural Survival Quarterly Magazine, December 1987.

"NEVADA VIEWS: Nuclear tests and the Shoshone people" by Ian Zabarte, Las Vegas Review-Journal, 27 June 2020.

"A message from the most bombed nation on earth" by Ian Zabarte, Al Jazeera, 29 August 2020.

The Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA) is supposed to give compensation to the people affected by nuclear fallout and testing in the United States, but that comes with its own problems. Here's a good article about this act and some problems:

"Fallout: First cancer, now delayed compensation for Indigenous downwinder communities" by Wudan Yan, High Country News, 4 May 2020.

As close as you will ever be to a nuclear explosion

[kragnir]

This is yet another good example to think about important principles when a ruskie says something; never believe what a ruskie says, always assume that a ruskie is lying, always remember that a ruskie cannot be honest.

[mamacleo]

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER: You can't beat it. Or can you?

TW, CW: Frank discussion of mental illness, language

SPOILER ALERT: Triumph.

ADVISO: Long (yeh, surprise)

Everyone reading this who knows me knows about my struggles with mental illness especially borderline personality disorder (BPD). This missive is written because, after an entire adulthood of being its servant and its victim, at last I have a strategy. As of today.

I want to use this opportunity, then, to inform anyone who might not understand BPD. This is going to be an actual article, and I will repost this on Blogger, Medium, and Tumblr.

What I'll do is give a bit of info about BPD for anyone who might not understand it, describe how last night and this morning are typical in ways anyone can understand, and then relate my solution. I do this knowing that this solution is specifically for me. It may not work for anyone else. But you can try it and see if it works.

Let me talk about BPD. It doesn't exist among adults who did not experience trauma in their childhood. Childhood physical trauma can lead to PTSD in adults, and that's one thing, but BPD only comes out of emotional trauma, and bad trauma at that. Kids who were gaslighted, lied to, and subjected to wild, irrational mood swings are the most susceptible. BPD is, if you would like it put simply, those extremes of emotion you might feel from time to time ratcheted up to 11 and happening virtually every day. BPD is emotion magnified and amplified.

Offense becomes anger, anger becomes rage, rage becomes fury. A lot of rage junkies are BPD. It's not just fear of abandonment, it's terror. Shifts in emotion can produce panic, mania, and horror. Love becomes obsession. There's virtually no way to regulate it. Once it kicks in, rational thinking stops. Things that should make sense to most people don't make sense to the sufferer. Logical thinking becomes impossible. People can explain things to you reasonably and thoroughly, but your mind can't accept them. Every worry can turn into a soul-crushing depression. Every fear can turn into screaming paranoia.

No, you can't control it. (Though as you read on, you'll see that this girl now has a strategy.) For my entire life, I have been searching for a key to unlock this straitjacket. When it kicks in, it's virtually impossible to stop. It has to build to a crescendo, a sort of anti-orgasm made of nuclear-fueled insecurity, before something makes it break. Then you return to normal and all you can do is try to cope with the fallout.

BPD people know what's going on. Maybe not in the moment. We can't always see what's happening, which frightens and confuses us more. Like the comedian John Mulaney said, "We don't want us to do this either." We know what happened once it's over, though, but not all the horror, regret, shame, and remorse can change what happened, and it won't stop it from happening again. Sometimes we even see ourselves starting down that road once it starts, but recognizing it doesn't help. Quickly it takes over our thinking, both rational and emotional, and whatever perception we had that we thought could rescue us vanishes. Then it's down the rabbit hole, where nothing makes sense and nothing stops the descent.

I have said and done terrible things during episodes. I have said and done them knowing *at the time* that they were terrible, yet I was powerless to stop them. That is what people do not understand, but perhaps these words will express to the unknowing the misery of this disorder. When I was in rehab for drinking, our facilitator used the phrase, "Somebody else is driving the bus." That is almost exactly it. Most of the time, Cleo is driving the bus, but when an episode kicks in, Cleo becomes an observer in her own head. Somebody else is driving the bus.

It happens in an instant. No warning. One instant it's not there. The next, it is. Nothing you can do will prevent it.

That driver is like a separate entity living inside you. Full disclosure: I also suffer from dissociative identity disorder, which manifests mildly for me, but dissociation is far from unknown among BPD sufferers. In fact, most people dissociate at one time or another. Ever state into space without thinking, then snap out of it? Not know how you got from point A to point B in your car, though you were driving the whole time? Ever "zone out"? That's dissociation.

But dissociative identity disorder, that's a different thing. It's what used to be called "multiple personality disorder," and the full range of the disorder is only recently becoming known. It was thought, classically, to be rapid switching from one identity to another, but it is far more complex. There are shadow areas where multiple identities operate simultaneously, grades of consciousness, grades of awareness... When I use the phrase, "someone else is driving the bus," it can be anything from one identity seizing total awareness to the core identity (Cleo, "me") watching in horror while my body and all its behavior are being "driven" by some other consciousness.

That happens more often than people know. I have had entire conversations with people, watching in panic as things I would have never dreamed of saying in my right mind flew out of my mouth. I couldn't stop them. Screaming internally accomplishes nothing. Pleading internally for it to be over has no effect. I have lost jobs because of it. And worse. Nothing I can do stops it.

Until today. Triumph approacheth.

Some of you have heard me say that I can see through a brick wall in time. I am not normally a fast thinker. The obvious sometimes eludes me. Sometimes it takes forever for me to see a pattern. I'm just kind of slow that way. But understand, that BPD/DID combo, like I said, is almost its own entity. I do not embellish or exaggerate when I say it fights for survival. The fight to stay integrated every day...well, sometimes it's a battle royals. Thing is, though, that entity is almost entirely composed of parts of my subconscious. It knows all the tricks it needs to survive.

That means that this thing I finally cottoned onto today.. The pattern has been there for me to see for a long, long time. Today, for whatever reason, it finally became apparent. If spirituality bothers you, I apologize, but the other night, a 3-day BPD rampage ended with, again, me aghast at my behavior. But this time, there was something--the expression on my wife's face when it hit its peak--that I could clutch onto. I prayed. I prayed to the Goddesses to help me through, as I have before, but this time with leverage. I prayed to the Goddesses to teach me how to use that lever.

Here's what happened. Last night my wife said something that might have been mildly annoying to a normal person, but which triggered the cascade of emotions I have come to recognize as the beginning of an episode. I left the room so I could calm down and try to organize my thoughts. With some success, I came back to bed, but it didn't subside. When I awoke, the episode was still there waiting for me. Then came the usual cascade of what I call, and what my wife has come to dread hearing, "dumb shit." The volume wouldn't go down. The cat knocked my phone out of my hand. Taking off my headphones accidentally flipped my glasses off my face. The episode started building up to detonation.

After calming it down some, I talked with Callie about it. I told her she needed to know what was happening so she could cope with it. Then I noticed something was bothering her and asked if it was me. She said no, but said she didn't want to tell me because it would make matters worse. Then: the spark.

No, I said, tell me. If it has nothing to do with me, maybe this will give me a problem to solve that can take my mind off the episode.

As she told me, the pattern I have been waiting all my life to see finally unfolded before me. Years and years of similar moments came to me. How often, when I am in an episode, one of my kids, or a friend, or a loved one, will reach out to me for help or advice, and I make that problem my own. I focus all my analytical intensity on it. I dissect it. I sort it out. I take it apart, then reassemble it in a way that makes sense. At the end, a resolution.

And the episode is gone.

So for the first time, just today, came the conscious choice to fix someone else's problem in the hopes it would resolve mine. I've done it before, subconsciously, but today I made the choice, and it worked.

IT. WORKED.

Now, at long last, I have a strategy. I have to know I am in an episode. It has to be an actual issue. No brain teasers, nothing without consequence. It must be real, vital, and complex, and it must be someone for whom I care. But it can be done.

This year will complete my 59th and begin my 60th. I have been borderline since my early adolescence, maybe before. That is how long I have been searching for a resolution. It took until now to find it. Years of therapy, years of shadow work, years of medication. And it took me this long.

Triumph at last, and a euphoria not unlike gender euphoria. It's bittersweet, though. I think of all the hearts that wouldn't have hurt without it. All the damage done. The friendships lost. The loneliness. The guilt. The helplessness.

At least my remaining years have promise that none before did. Some people never get this far. My egg donor didn't. She never approached this. Until her last breath, she thought all her moods were justified. What I have is rare and precious. I am sorry my wife ever had to endure a moment of it, but she now knows she has my eternal gratitude for leading me here--and she has the promise that the future will be brighter, kinder, and calmer.

I'll take that. Eight days a week. Twenty-five hours a day.

[crowcialist]

7 things I’m into this week: Apocalypse...now?

You know the drill.

The nuclear threat is back in the news again, and with it I think comes a duty to reckon with what nuclear detonations actually do--not as abstract hypotheticals, but clear and horrifying accounts from our recent past. You’d do well to learn about the Bravo Test, the largest detonation in U.S. history, one which is still hurting the Marshall Islands and the surrounding Pacific some 64 years later. (PS--there is no scenario on earth in which North Korea will launch a first strike against the United States. None. We need to reckon with our own capacity for destruction before worrying about others’.)

We’re a full two weeks and change into the new year, so “end of 2017″ pieces aren’t exactly trendy anymore, but what the hell. Here are two that hit me right in the chest: Bill Ayers’ “So long, 2017″ (”Never for a moment doubt that your life matters, nor that joy in the face of horror can be made into an exuberant act of refusal”) and Anthony Oliveira’s “The Year in Apocalypses.”

Ever wondered what stop-motion animation done exclusively with baseball cards would look like? Wonder no more.

 How do you beat back the Republican stranglehold on our government? It’s easy, dummy: start giving people the things they need, like universal single-payer healthcare. (My posting this is, I promise, unrelated to the fact that my premiums just doubled despite the fact that I make basically no money.)

A searing, thoughtful, and necessary essay by Splinter’s Charlotte Shane on all the ways the public takedowns of disgusting men still fall short of meaningful social change. (Major TW for this one.) 

Maybe the best and most educational webcomic I’ve ever read: “The Good War,” which dives succinctly into the consequences of our national obsession with reclaiming the glories of WWII. 

Monday was MLK Day, and it’s worth being reminded just how detested--yes, even by (perhaps especially by) liberals--this great and radical man truly was in his own time. 

7 things archive here.