#you CANNOT tell me that every spy organization in the world isn't like

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I can now officially declare that there is in fact a plot to the Fast & Furious movies, and the plot is "group of poly overdramatic morons trip and faceplant into being international special ops, probably because they're given the jobs nobody else wants. news at eleven."

[miss-midnightt]

TELL ME MORE ABOUT TOXICOLOGY

Please.

If it needs to be related to FF7, maybe we could do "what's the best way to kill Hojo?"

Toxicology is, well, the study of poisons, toxins, and venoms and their effects...for our purposes, I'll just say that all three mean the same thing because it can get confusing. Well, there are many things poisonous to the human body; snake venom, heavy metals (like lead, not Metallica), natural poisons....so many. Well, there's a LOT of stuff that is dangerous to the human body. It can depend on quantity; the amount of, say, batrachotoxin (found on the skin of poison dart frogs) needed to kill a person is far less than the amount of lead--and far quicker.

I mean, I could go on and on about tetrodotoxins and amatoxins and anthrax and arsenic and more, but...that'd take a while. (I'm happy to answer any more questions you may have, though!)

And now, onto the question we've all been waiting for...what should we use to kill Hojo?

I have a couple possibilities.

Polonium 210-- It is highly, highly radioactive. Breathe in one speck of it, and the next day, bye-bye. Now, we don't want to wait years for enough lead to build up in him to kill him. Polonium 210 is nearly impossible to detect (despite the high radiation levels, it cannot be detected with a Geiger counter or more traditional ways of poison detection) and is incredibly lethal--in 2006, Soviet spy Alexander Litvinenko was killed after a speck of it was put in his tea. It causes what we call "extremely acute radiation poisoning," except the problem isn't external radiation. It's internal, because the Polonium 210 is inside. Yikes. This death would be painful but swift. (Thankfully, we don't have to worry about a little contamination in the water supply anywhere--while it does exist in extremely small concentrations in the soil, only 100 grams are made every year, worldwide, with the power to be lethal.

Amatoxins (specifically the destroying angel)--Amatoxins are found in mushrooms of the genus Amanita; this genus is responsible for the most annual lethal mushroom poisonings world wide. You may have heard of the death cap--that's an amanita mushroom. These mushrooms contain amatoxins. I'd say that Hojo should ingest the Destroying Angel. A couple hours after his meal, he would start feeling cholera-like symptoms. They would be gone after a few days; by then it is too late. He would then (if he still is alive) be in "the walking ghost" phase, where his internal organs (kidney, liver) had accumulated irreparable damage; the cholera symptoms would reappear, leading to death. Don't worry though--here are some of the ways to identify mushrooms in this genus to stay clear of them! They tend to have white spores and a veil--called a volva--that gets torn as the cap grows. There is also often a ring on the stem and they grow out of a cup. The Destroying Angel is white; the death cap is a brownish color. And remember--always, ALWAYS double check when foraging for mushrooms, and if you ate a mushroom that you think was poisonous, drink plenty of water, swallow some activated charcoal, and head to the hospital ASAP.

[velvet-verve]

MASTER FIC LIST

{ in alphabetical order cause i'm sexy like that }

pssst. green means active!

Blue Moon

deacon x male sole survivor

Deacon is a man who has lived through so many ends of the world. At least a handful, surely. He's gotten used to anticipating them. Timing them out, even. Then, he meets a man who has lived through a couple of atom bombs, and he feels an itch to check his watch. And it takes that man disappearing in a sci-fi bug zapper for shit to actually start to happen between the two of them. What a couple of stubborn pricks.

Cat Scratch Fever

butch deloria x female lone wanderer

Butch Deloria had always had bum luck. A little troubled, a little snarky, and quite possibly doomed. Everybody knew it. Janie Weissman had always been a little out there. A little temperamental, a little odd, and quite possibly suffering from a minor chemical imbalance. Everybody knew that, too. What the people of Vault 101 don't know, however, is that's just the shavings off the top of a very large iceberg. In a Vault that seems to shrink with every passing year, two restless spirits find they're more similar than they ever gave each other credit for. But will that newfound connection, the one that made underground life bearable, survive when a crack is found in the thick walls of Vault 101?

Dogfight; Mk II

deacon x female sole survivor

A woman out of time. A man out of options. And their story told out of order. Deacon has lots of rules. Rules, not to live by, but simply to stay alive by. Rule Number Twenty-Six: Never break character. Rule Number Five: No leather pants in the summertime. Rule Number Nineteen: If it's gone green, you must intervene. Rule Number Two: Never underestimate the enemy. And finally, Rule Number One. Never let your guard down. But in the end, aren't all rules doomed to be broken? It's ironic, really. All that pining over Vault 111, and when the Morningstar emerges, she seems intent on burning herself out.

Fugue State

rj maccready x sole survivor

Miriam Braxster. That's what it said on her driver's license. That's how conductors introduced her. It's a name she'd hoped one day would be printed on a brass plaque on a door in some prestigious conservatory. And it's what it said on the very top of sheet music the world didn't even get to listen to before it destroyed itself. Mac's pretty sure the only place Robert Joseph MacCready has ever been written down is on the note tucked into the basket his parents left him in.

Strange Fruit

noir! rj maccready x sole survivor

Boston. 2080. A city with as many shady secrets as it can hold, and maybe even a few more. The wealth gap keeps widening, crime isn't cleaning itself up anytime soon, and dark conspiracies run through banned papers in underground speakeasies. As if the threat of the Chinese atom bomb isn't enough. A stray comes in from the rain, and R.J. MacCready is sucked into a twisting, sordid mystery that sinks to the depths of Boston's most well kept secrets, all centered around the last girl you'd ever expect to have so many monsters in her closet. But, as Nick Valentine likes to say, one should always expect the unexpected. And looks can be very, very deceiving.

Solace, Part I: Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies

deacon x female sole survivor

Two souls marred by grief. She is a public figure. To the Commonwealth; a symbol of freedom, of resistance and strength. A prewar savior. An image He painted. He is a faceless, nameless man. A spy for an underground militant organization hanging on by a thread. A shadow of his former self. Their connection cannot be denied, even as subterfuge and paranoia runs rampant. They both have enough secrets to drown in. And they're struggling not to fall for each other.

Unobtainium

rj maccready x female sole survivor

It's often been said that R.J. MacCready has a bad attitude. He owns it. He flaunts it, at times. But when the Minutemen's growing influence leads to an encounter with General Preston Garvey himself, he's introduced to a woman who might give him a run for his money. Because Sabrina Minor, Doctor Sabrina Minor that is, is also famous for a very bad attitude. She's brilliant, and she's a pain in the ass. And unfortunately, she's about to become MacCready's problem.

[metanoiamorii]

Little X

Installment: Little X

Synopsis: You have grown close to Niexiao, you would dare call yourselves friends. It's tradition now, for the two of you to have afternoon tea together every few days. During tea, you meet in a private pavilion in the garden, you talk, you gossip, you relax and enjoy each other's company. Today, during tea, you assist Niexiao in a project he has begun.

Word count: 3.2k

Taglist: @poisonedpatchoulis @writings-of-a-narwhal @northernrosewritings

The reputation that precedes the Young Master of Beifang does all the justice in the world. Despite the refined age of twenty, he acts as if he still stands young and thirteen. Spoiled and pampered, he has no ounce of responsibility within his lands; his elder brother babies him, allowing Niexiao to get away with his antics. His days are spent shopping in the markets, painting and fan dancing, or interrupting the duties of his childhood friends to run off on adventures as if they were still young and wild children. 

He cannot wield a blade like his brother. It's too heavy, he will cry if forced to try. Why should I defend myself when I always have Ming, he will protest with a haughty head when questioned. I have better things to do, he will pout when pressed. There is no way to make him, he remains stubborn and pig-headed. 

He isn't aware of politics. He cannot sit through long meetings without growing antsy, having to get up and pace, or needing to interrupt with careless disruptions. He will suggest the worse option to resolve issues, and soon he grows fussy when someone points out his error. If he has a good idea, it always comes through one of his useless hobbies: painting, writing poetry, fan dancing, skipping his duties, caring for birds; how the list is endless. 

Strengths and wit he does not process, but whispered in the courts, at least he has his looks going for him. He dresses in only the most expensive robes and adorns himself in jewelry. He takes care of his skin to be unblemished in bruises and scars; only a patch of small dark scales can be found beneath his eyes and around his neck. His dark hair remains silky, often he will run his fingers through it and twirl it as he keeps his hair down, to cascade around his shoulder and chest. He takes pride in his appearance. That, everyone knows.

Lord Niexiao's a pretty face. Women envy him for being far more beautiful than they. Men question themselves openly, and privately, on being attracted to him; not because he was a man too, but due to what a fool he is.  

Selected few know better. His brother, his uncle, his childhood friends, and a few trusted advisors; yourself now included. 

You know, Niexiao is no fool. When questioned one night, he showed himself to you, truly. He wore a smirk and he confessed: 'I play the fool so others will become arrogant. When arrogant, they look down upon me, and they will ignore me. When they ignore me, I am allowed to go unseen. Then?' Comfortable enough then, he confessed the numerous plans he had concocted and the bills he personally drafted; he showed a collection of information to rival the famous Master of Dongbu. He no longer hid the responsibilities he in fact carried, and took with the utmost care. 

From then on, you saw the Young Master of Beifang in a new light; you caught the little things. 

Now, when he fusses, it takes energy to not burst into laughter. When he suggests terrible ideas, you shake your head and have to hide a smile. He plays his part in the public eye, behind closed doors you are able to see the truth when he stands at his brother's side and speaks his council. 

He plays his part. He truly lives up to his title of the Black Serpent of Beifang. 

Much like the serpent, although he radiates beauty, it masks all that truly festers beneath. 

That is a lesson you learned well and quick. One that is kept close to heart and mind, not to be forgotten. You understand the way the brothers operate, how they rule, how they balance each other now. That is not something you would jeopardize, simply to clear a few bad rumors Niexiao started about himself. 

With time that goes by, now in this inner, secretive circle of Lords Gouqiang and Niexiao, you spend more time with more responsibilities and more knowledge. You're not sure why, but you grow closer with Niexiao, to the point he allows you to call him Meixiu; a name reserved for family, or very close friends, and the two of you begin to dine together and gossip. Friends, you would dare to call yourselves with Niexiao. Perhaps it was the talks with Gouqiang, having a sabre held to your neck, and told to watch his baby brother, keep the brat out of trouble, make sure nothing happens to him, and if you did anything to hurt him… perhaps it comes from Niexiao provides a pleasant company, with his jokes and knowledge and scheming. Perhaps it's both. Perhaps it's neither. Perhaps there's another reason entirely. It's not something you ponder long and hard on. 

The two of you begin to have afternoon tea together, in the gardens. You meet at a pavilion in the far north. It's a long walk, yet it is always worth it. The pavilion is set in the far north, with a narrow stone pathway that leads to and fro, on a small island in the center of the river that runs through the garden. The space is clear and open, with the occasional lotus flower that floats through, and a small tree-bush. It is Niexiao's favorite place, when he wishes to be alone, at peace. He shares it with you. 

He is always there by the time you arrive. You're never sure when he arrives, but he sits, waiting for you. He has parchments and scrolls thrown across the table, with the smell of fresh ink in the air. There is a teapot already there, with a cup half full; by now, as expected, it has cooled off and is no longer steaming. He has removed his dark emerald outer-robes, carefully laid upon the back of his chair, and sits comfortably in his simple ebony inner-robes. His hair is slung behind his shoulders, to be out of the way, as he sits with his head half tilted and his brush tapping against his bottom lip. He wears none of his expensive jewelry, but rather he chooses to appear… plain. He is anything but. With all the black he dons— his hair, his scales, his eyes, his robes— and his pale skin, he could be mistaken for a ghost. He's ethereal, he's haunting, he's beautiful. 

Deep in thought.

A moment you stand, watching for a moment. Pondering what he could be so focused on... Is it a plan to out scheme the scheming White Demon? Perhaps it’s an infiltration into Ghost City, to spy and see what plans they were planning themselves? Was it only a few minor bills his brother asked him to draft? Perhaps it was an elaborate birthday present he was making for one of his friends? Or perhaps, it was only his usual scribbling of poetry and pretty flowers? 

Shaking your head, you press forward. Hands behind your back and head held high, you walk the pathway into the pavilion. Approaching, closer, you take a minute to scan the papers and scrolls thrown about without care. Some are bills, some are written in code, and some… some are just poetry. As expected. He never stays to one task for very long.

Clearing your throat as you approach, as formal as formalities are between you, which are almost non-existent, you call out to alert him of your presence, “Good afternoon, Mei.”

After a moment, he stirs. He sits upright, back straightened and shoulders raised. His hand twirls, and he is lowering his brush down. “Oh…” He sighs softly, after a hand is pressed to his chest, the initial fright over. “Afternoon.”

Already, you are moving to sit on the opposite side of the table. With care, you begin to roll up scrolls and organize papers into a pile. With a half smile, you begin to tease him. “Busy? Hard at work?” 

“Oh uhm…” He stares at his work visible for a moment, before he is looking back to you. A cheeky smile finds his face, and a painted nail is raised to gently scratch his cheek. “I believe…. I believe one may say so, yes.”

Softly, you're chuckling, shaking your head. “And what are we working on today?” You ask, despite already knowing the answer.

“Nothing of note.” He sighs deeply with an eye-roll to accompany. In your presence, he is already faltering: his shoulders slack, and he sits slouched, with an elbow propped on the table to hold his chin. “Ming asked me to review a few bills,  and I was returning Yanci’s letter…” 

He begins to ramble, and you listen. The bills deal mostly in taxes for the upcoming winter, inscriptions for more soldiers, and ways to advance growth in business and agriculture. The letter, on the other hand, those are always interesting to hear about. This once, correlated to Yanci— the Young Master Liuyanci— is all gossip, for the most part. Everyone reeling from the events of the Crimson Torrent Spree, and the audacity of all of Ghost City. Namely, it was them complaining about the interest shown into Diao’zi from that Silver Serpent. 

It’s amusing, listening to Niexiao rant as you clean up his mess and serve a new batch of tea. There are no snacks this time, which is fine. It was tea and company today. Company, Niexiao gladly provides with his rants and gossiping. It comes to a halt when you spot a few lines, in a few different documents you come to hold. 

One’s reflection/Gone, absence without a trace— is written on one, before the lines are drawn through and crumbled. 

This overwhelming/Feeling one cannot ignore/It chokes breath from lungs— is another, before it followed a similar fate.

In the darkness/Shine, stand out amongst the gloom— Another.

You shuffle the paper into an orderly stack. You set them all aside, in fair reach, simply out of the way. You go about nursing your cup of tea, listening to the rantings of Niexiao. You listen, distract yourself in his words and the stories he’s telling….

Nagging, poking, prodding in the back of your mind are those scribbled out poems. The meaning of them? What was he intending to write? Why had he not liked them? You sip your tea and ponder those few poems written. Had he written them before or after drafting the bills? Had he only crumbled them when you arrived? So many questions…. So many thoughts.

Finally, you blurt it out, through the teacup pressed to your bottom lip. “Mei?”

“Yes?” 

“Your poems.” With a head nudge, you gesture to the small stack you made; not the bills, not the letters, but the few poems. “May I inquire about them?”

He stills for a moment, a visible frown grows on his face. He shifts his curled index finger over his lips, gently rubbing his knuckle against his lip. His eyes wander between the pages and to you. He exhales, shakes his head, his hands soon thrown into the air as he reclines back, arms soon crossing over his chest. His brow furrows and his lips pout. 

“It’s silly…”

“I doubt it is.” You nudge gently with a soft smile. “I would very much like to hear this.”

His lips push out further as he sinks into his seat. “... Truly?” 

“Truly.” You speak with a reassuring nod. 

After a moment, Niexiao ceases his pouting. He straightens himself out and leans forward at the table. A finger idly traces the rim of his glass. He speaks softly, as the skin on his cheeks easily flusters and betrays his emotions. “I… believed it would be interesting to describe a color without making it obvious…”

Your head cocks to the side. “Like a riddle?”

“I suppose?” 

“Hm.” With a nod, you ponder the thought for a moment. “Alright.”

His brow furrows once more, he’s blinking with that look of confusion in his sharp eyes. “Alright?” 

“Alright.” You confirm. “Describe it to me, it may help to put it into words. See if I can figure it out.”

You watch that sly smile grow upon his cheeks. It’s soft and flashes the dimple in his cheek. Usually, he is hiding behind a fan at this point, so nobody can see it. With you? Here? He doesn’t bother. “I don’t…”

“Come on, let’s turn it into a game!” You press, knowing he would protest. 

"... Fine!" He sighs dramatically, as if it's the end of the world. 

You crack a smile, his smile grows, it's seconds before the two of you are openly laughing. You both finish your tea, clean the mess up, and you sit back with fresh parchment and ink, the brush now in your hand, as Niexiao paces the pavilion, a fan extended in his palm as his usual clutch. 

"Alright, Mei." You breathe in and exhale, shift your sleeve out of the way, and lean forward to begin writing for him. "How about we begin with…. What does this color make you feel?" That is a good place to start. 

"Hmm…" Niexiao paces, gently fanning himself in thought. In moments, he is closing the fan and tapping it into his palm. 

Watching him, you shake your head. He's overthinking. "Okay… what about memories? What does it remind you of?" 

"Well….—"

"First thing on your mind, right now!" 

With how you snap, he winces back, but he is replying almost immediately. 

"I was six." His voice is soft, that gentle smile curls back across his cheeks. "I had snuck into my mother's room— we never cleared it out, we couldn't bring ourselves to…" He sighs for a moment, shaking his head to not be distracted by those memories. "... I tried on a few of her earrings and necklaces. They were so elegant, I decided then I wanted my own. They've become my own armor, when I wear them I am… untouchable." As he speaks, he raises a hand to touch at the necklace that isn't around his throat, but rather laying on the table a few inches from your palm. 

With a soft smile of your own, you begin to write. 

"It's being eight again." He exhales as he steps back, to sit on the railing of the pavilion. He sticks a hand out, the fondest smile visible, as he catches a falling leaf. "Visiting Dongbu with Ming for a conference that originally was meant for Nanfang. It was not knowing Master Meng and Ling were up to something, until Diao'zi introduced us to Yanci." The smile on his face breaks out to a full grin. He draws a hand back to cover his lower face as he giggles at the memories. "... It's us now, years laters, thick as thieves; a family. When we are together, nothing can stand in our way."

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, as he shifts where he sits. He moves his back against one of the posts, and pulls a leg up onto the railing with him. His elbow rests to his knee, and he gently taps his fan away to his leg, as he stares out at the garden. With the gentle breeze to come, he appears ethereal as always; light skinned, hair black as midnight, scales radiating, and the dark robes that compliment his form. Ethereal isn't always beautiful, it's otherworldly; otherworldly is exactly how Niexiao appears. There is never a day that goes by that he falters at being otherworldly. 

"... When I am my brother, where he walks, that feeling. His sabre on his back, my fan hiding my face. The looks given our way, the way people drop to their knees in respect, the whispers you can hear amongst the crowd…" He exhales, gathering his thoughts, to not become lost in the emotions. "That feeling." He presses with a nod. Yes. He has it right. "Knowing I hold that amount of… power over others."

 The smile slips from his face now. Quiet, his voice slips to a gentle whisper, to be mistaken as the wind. "Those nights I know Ming is at our ancestor hall, kneeling before our parents, telling them of the day, during midnight, when he's sure I'm in my room, fast asleep. It's him vowing, every night, he will bring them the heads of Fenglishe and Liliangzu. It's knowing there's tears on his cheeks, that he would sooner die than allow anyone to see. I know he's hurting… yet there is nothing I can do." 

"I return to my room those nights, sitting in the darkness. I never relight a candle, I prefer the darkness. To sit with those emotions, imagining every little detail I can of Fenglishe and Liliangzu, with what little I know of them. It's imagining their faces, their hands, their mad laughter, them sitting on their thrones, plotting their antics…" He exhales, deeply. His clutch on his fan tightens, hard enough a crack can be heard from the bamboo. 

He stops, loosens his grip, long enough to flick his wrist and open the fan. He shifts it to his palm close to his chest, inside out, with the fan covering the lower half of his face; only his eyes visible. "I dream those nights…" Eyes that narrow, opposed to being soft they are sharp. "My fan beneath their chin, them knelt over, their grubby hands grasping at my robes, 'mercy, mercy, mercy' they cry. It's watching, listening. Before I kick them over, flashing the fan to show the blades hidden in them. It's…" He sighs out. He doesn't continue. He doesn't need to. You know what he's going to say. He knows that you know. You both leave it at that.

He closes his eyes, as he grounds himself. You have no idea what he thinks of during those times, it always does the trick however. It cools his burning soul and soothes his aching heart. He closes his fan, and swings himself back around to stand on his two feet. He flattens his robes out and stands to pace a circle, before he's sitting back down before you. 

"Thank you." He says with an earnest smile. His hand reaches over the table, to lay on yours, offering a tender squeeze. "You helped me realize there were plenty of ways to describe it."

"You're very welcome." You reply, returning his smile. "I do believe I have it."

He raises his eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. "What do you believe it is?" 

You crack a half smile of your own. You pull your hand back, putting down the brush. Across the table, you slide the parchment to him. "Write this challenge to Liuyanci, and I will answer you." 

Without haste, he pulls back his written letters and gets to work writing them. By the time he finishes, it is late and both of you are expected elsewhere. You help him carry his workload as far as the path both takes you. When your path divulges, he pauses long enough to turn on his heels and stare back at it. 

"So?" He calls and confuses you for a moment. When he sees the confusion ring in your eyes, he laughs openly, almost dropping the papers. You have to rush forward and stop him, which causes more laughter between you. 

Once it settles, Niexiao is clicking his tongue. "Your answer. What is it?" 

Oh. Right.

After a moment of pondering it, you give your answer. 

━━━━━━━━━━

I do hope you enjoyed it. I decided to cut them all at the end like this, so you may have a chance to voice your thoughts on what you believe is the correct answer.