#Long wave ultraviolet

[arockmaniac]

Fluorescent mineral display at the 65th Annual Dallas Gem & Mineral Society Show.  Long wave ultraviolet on the left, short wave on the right.  Pic 1 shows both the long wave and short wave UV lights on.  Pic 2 shows just the long wave.  Pic 3 shows just the short wave.  Pic 4 shows the rocks after all the lights have been turned off.  They glow in the dark!  Pic 5 shows what they look like under regular, ordinary, boring white light.  Pic 6 shows seven rocks that are tenebrescent.  Can you find them?

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Figure 20.3 summarises the wavelengths and frequencies of some regions of the electromagnetic spectrum. (...) The infrared region of the electromagnetic spectrum (figure 20.3) covers the range of wavelengths from 7.8 × 10-⁷ m (just longer than the visible than the visible region) to 2.0 × 10-³ m (just shorter than the microwave region).

"Chemistry" 2e - Blackman, A., Bottle, S., Schmid, S., Mocerino, M., Wille, U.

[jpitha]

Do What it Takes

Everyone goes on and on about the humans, how strong they are, how dangerous their world is, their risk management (or lack thereof) and even their ability to process the rather worrying things they call “food.”

One thing I haven’t seen though is people discussing their… aspect that I find fascinating. They even have a word for it - grit. It’s this ability to take on unimaginable stress, and maintain that strength of resolve. That realization that the only thing they can do is endure. They even have a saying. “When you find yourself going through Hell, keep going.” Hell here is a substution for any kind of hard times they’re currently experiencing. It’s an idiom, don’t worry about the specific meaning of the word. The saying implies that if you’re “going through hell” then you need to keep going, because otherwise you won’t ever get out of the hard situation you find yourself in.

When it was first explained to me, a lot of what I saw about the humans snapped to place, like magnets on a table.

Once, back during the war I saw a single human shoulder a crew operated slug thrower and - by themselves - hold off an entire Zenni boarding party long enough for the rest of the ship to mount a defense. Not only did they shoulder and fire the weapon themselves, but they survived!

Others weren’t so lucky. I’ve heard tales of humans walking into active reactors to stop an overload, blinding themselves from ultraviolet radiation to repair a hull, and sustain withering gee forces to crush attackers. When asked why they’d do that, most of them replied that they just “did what they needed to” or that “they do what it takes.”

I’m not here to say that we can’t do that either. Having grit or strength of character isn’t solely a human development. But maybe as a result of the world they evolved on they tend to have grit in greater supply than other sapient species. They “do what it takes” because they’ve always had to do what it takes to survive.

A human friend has recently offered to take me to Earth, their homeworld to “see the sights.” His only warning about his own planet was that we should probably avoid some months. I asked why.

He waved his hand dismissively as if it was just a minor trifle, an inconvenience. “Oh, it’s hurricane season in the fall. I don’t know if you want to experience one of them.”

“What’s a hurricane?” I asked, cautiously.

“It’s a large storm that spins up over the ocean as the planets way to help remove some heat from the water. They can get pretty wild sometimes.”

When a human tells you that something can get “pretty wild” one’s fur tends to poof out.

I said I’d think about it, and went back to my cabin to research these Hurricanes. About an hour later I was shaking in my seat, glued to my pad watching video after video of houses just… disappearing in the wind and water.

The next day, I confronted him about the hurricanes. Once again, he was dismissive. “You get plenty of warning, and time to evacuate, they’re not that big of a deal.”

I bristled, and my ears twitched. “Not that big of a deal? But your homes get destroyed!”

He nodded. “True, that does happen. But, it’s not a surprise and we come prepared. You do what it takes if you want to live there.”

I think I’ll take him up on his offer.

[bettysupremacy]

gahh im excited???!!

could i request a prompt with poly!marauders and reader at the beach? Helping each other put on sunblock (which by the way is adorable AND hot lol) after they settle down on the beach. I feel like one of the boys would try to make it all sexy or flirt or whatever but reader is super adamant about the how important sunscreen is (being sunburnt, cancer, ext.). EVEN if remus is only planning on lazing around under the shade of the umbrella with a book, reader WILL slather him in sunblock as well. Nobody is safe LMFAO

I am such a sunscreen girlie, you can't catch me outside without it on ;)

thank uu!!

-🫀

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

Bringing the boys to your childhood home was exactly what you’d imagined.

You’ve spent your time walking around the town, eating fried clams, and sipping lemonade. You’d find shade from the sun and sit with the boys, sharing the food clumsily. Remus would find a bookshop, Sirius would gravitate towards the music, and sweet James is content wherever you are. Though, he does like football night.

You’d bring sandwiches your mother made and sticky treats to eat on the sand of the beach, running into the sea and letting the waves crash over you. James is more fond of the ocean than the other boys, though they indulge you as well.

It feels nice bringing them a slice of your childhood here. Showing them where you spent your summers away from school with them, where little you scraped her knees and had her first kiss. The ice cream shop you used to sit in and the stretch of beach you’d unconsciously reserved as yours.

You sit on that stretch of beach peacefully with them now. Well, as peacefully as you can with them. You’re fussing, as Sirius puts it, over their physical wellbeing that they’re perfectly capable of protecting themselves. Whatever.

“Fuck,” Sirius gripes behind you. He’s dropped a tomato slice in the sand. You ignore him.

“You need to protect yourselves.” you ‘fuss.’ “Your skin is vulnerable.”

You’re reminiscent of your mother’s words growing up as you kneed in the sunscreen into James’ freckled back. He’s broad shouldered in front of you. Sun kissed, tan, and proud. He sucks juice out of a caprisun pouch loudly.

“If anything,” James puts in cheekily. “We need protection from you.”

"Y/N sunscreen," Remus hums, his eyes focused on his book. He lies on his stomach with his back directly under the blazing sun. You cringe, moving over to him with a warming a glob of sunblock in your hand before applying it messily over his back.

"What does that mean?"

Sirius laughs. “Cause you’re so hot.”

"Oh," you murmur, feeling warm under the sun's heat. That's the only reason.

Sirius sets aside his sandwich, leaning over Remus to kiss you. He tastes like sandwich and coke. Tomato and fresh burrata.

"It's not so much that the sun is hot," you explain as he pulls away. "It's more that your skin can't handle the ultraviolet radiation.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.” Sirius grins. Remus laughs from under you, his chest rumbling sweetly.

“You guys.” You whine.

"Stop," James murmurs lovingly, focused on undoing the parchment paper of his own sandwich. "She's flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

The waves crash behind you. They’re so loud and large this time of day, you’re surprised James is still here nursing a sandwich in small bites instead of running against the water with the board he found in your attic. You’d gone up there on the first day looking for things to busy yourselves with when he’d seen it tucked away in the corner. Remus had found scrabble and Sirius had refused to go into the ‘dust bunny room’. It was bad for his hair.

He’s is your next victim now. You crawl over to him, gripping his strong shoulders. “Getting freaky in public?” He asks.

“Protecting you from skin cancer.” You grab the bottle. “In public.”

“I’m turned on.” Sirius cheeks, peeking behind to look at you.

You laugh loud, startled. “Shut up.”

[elioslover]

Afterparties on Tour (One Shot- Italrry x reader).

Premise: Love on Tour is over and Harry needs to tell you how he feels.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: / Other writing

[I'm a little late to the party but here's a little snippet of Love on Tour ending and Harry's vay-cay in Italy. Obviously Italrry! is my favourite, I have a whole fic about it lmao.]

🪐

The moon bounces across the gentle but choppy waves, coming to a crash against the scattered rocks before dissipating and retreating from the shore. It must be loud considering the celebrations behind you, a chorus of cheers and booming base. 

Feet devoid of shoes, toes buried in the cool sand, nursing a drink and gazing out at the ocean, all that dancing has rendered you an unfit kid in gym class. It’s taken longer than you expected to even your exhales, and once it had settled, the feeling of your skin enveloped in the sand has you staying put. At least a moment longer. 

It would help soothe your thoughts about that succubus dressed in only a pair of short-shorts and a loose-fitted button-up, dancing far too close, eyes far too bright, glimmering under the ultraviolet strobes. 

He is so unaware of how unhinged he makes you feel, it seems like he only aims to pull you in further- so unaware, that he couldn’t begin to comprehend the concept of needing space and is already making his way over to your hunched figure. 

You hear him long before you see him, his steps are heavy and uneven, you can just picture the way he fumbles about, a faint and fond smile soothing your frown.

Once he is only a foot away, he announces his presence, 

“Oi! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.” 

He comes to a halt, and as you tilt your head to acknowledge him, your face is levelled with his thigh, bare, unnecessarily thick, and begging to have teeth sunk into its fleshy skin. 

Your brain is buzzing with profanities, ‘Jesus fuck’, ‘fuckin’ unfair.' 'fuck, fuck.' But you hold it together with perseverance, patting the empty spot in the sand beside you an invitation, 

“Hi, Lovie. Have fun?”

He obliges with a loopy, and cheesy grin that obliterates your sense of composure. He is so clueless as he drops to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him, arms stretched out to keep balanced. His finger brushes against your thigh, and you are furious with how easily your skin flares with fireworks. 

Harry takes a deep breath, craning his neck and tilting his face to fix his gaze on your own, his eyes sultry, pupils swollen with celebration. His smile only widens, 

“Much better now.”

He has to know what he’s doing. Surely. You cannot risk looking into his eyes for even a moment, fearful it will end with your lips trailing along his neck, tongue lapping and nipping at the nape. And for obvious reasons, you cannot look at his mouth, instead diverting both your gaze and the topic,

“I like the hat.”

“I’ll give it back, I swear.” He doesn’t want to. 

“Don’t. it looks better on you.” You want him to keep it forever. 

There’s a hopeful look that flashes across not only his green gaze but the crinkles of the corners of his eyes, swelling dimpled cheeks, and dramatically raised brows.  

You don’t like that look; it makes your insides melt into one big ball of overwhelming happiness and hopefulness. He could set you alight with one facial expression, just imagine what would happen if he did even more. 

You cannot will yourself to find out, choosing to commend him instead,

“You’ve been dancing up a storm.” 

“Mm. Wanted you to dance with me.” He nods, eyes lulling shut, his chin tilted to the stars.

“I did. For a good three or four songs.” 

He seems the opposite of satisfied, bushy brows creasing into a furrow and crinkling his forehead,

“Want you to dance with me all night.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You take the risk of brushing your shoulder against his own.

“And you’re beautiful.” He instantly retorts, tainting your skin with blushing berries, thankful that the moon reflects on the ocean instead of your cheeks. 

You’re even more thankful when Harry moves on without your help, inquisitively pointing at the cup still clutched in your palm, 

“Whatcha drinkin’?” 

“I think vodka and cranberry.” You ponder, glancing down and swirling the cup, liquid sloshing against the glass. 

He motions for it, holding his hand out, and you are more than tempted to drop the drink and wrap your palm in his. But he waits with anticipation, and you can only oblige and pass him what he wants, settling for a swift moment of your fingers brushing against his own. 

Tilting back, neck mercilessly on display, Harry takes an unintentionally large sip, swallowing with sudden unnerving panic. His mouth is an explosion of sugar sticking to his gums, sending electric charges straight to his brain, 

“Christ that’s sweet!” He exclaims, eyes scrunching with distaste, his hand blinding stretching out to return the concoction to your custody. 

“Just like me.”

“Just like you.” He mirrors. And he’s looking over at you now, eyelids swelled and intoxicated, lashes wisping, irises flickering in the moonlight. His expression slowly morphs into one of soft sorrow, and he can’t stop himself from speaking the silly truth, "'M gonna miss you, y’know.”

“You’ll still see me.” You attempt reassurance, but you’re almost certain Harry can hear the way your words stay trapped between your teeth, squeaking out with disappointment. You are disappointed if that even begins to cover it. 

“Not every day though.” He whines but before your heart can skip a full beat, he panics and presses on, “You’re the best assistant.” This is partially true- you are the best assistant, but Harry will definitely miss you for much more than that. 

You scoff softly, lacking the courage to take his words as anything other than platonic banter, a culmination of spending a prolonged period together- over two years to be precise. 

In honesty, you hope Harry shares same ache as your already-churning stomach at the thought of spending the unforetold future apart. It's embarrassing, though, knowing you feel far too much for a boy whose only obligation is to be shared with the world. 

“Oh, please. You’re just gonna miss being waited on hand and foot.” 

“That too.” He teases, hardly able to hold any sternness in his words, more focused on proving his feelings of fearing the distance from you. He needs to make sure you know. Before it’s too damn late, “But I'm gonna miss you more.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” You try to rationalise and lighten the mood for both of your sakes. 

“Hardly! My heart’s been breaking for days.” He flails his arms with a flair of dramaticism, even stomping his foot into the sand with extra emphasis. Dramatic display aside, Harry means every word, just the statement has his chest closing in. 

“I think that’s all the Scotch talking.” You say in an attempt to stop your own chest from aching the same. 

“I’m serious!” He defends, frustrated that you seem to have mastered the art in denseness… or diversion… which is worse?  

It’s obvious to Harry that you’re gonna need a little more convincing, and he is happy to oblige, turning his torso to face you, eyes fixed on your nerve-ridden ones, 

“Gonna miss your clumsiness, and your positivity,” he likes the way your face tilts down with shyness, lips pressing together bashfully, “and your sweet laugh.” He’s heard it once, he wants to hear it on a loop for all of eternity. 

His truthfulness is almost believable, but even if it was, you aren’t sure what to do with the information. He’s just begging for you to smother him in kisses at this point, and the conviction that he is simply unaware of the effect his words have on you is encouraging you not to indulge. Instead, you are rerouting the conversation again, 

“None of that has to do with me being your tour assistant.”

“Still.” 

Contradictory to his tongues distaste, Harry wants to touch your hand again, even for just a second, so he reaches for the glass of reddish liquid, skin sizzling when your hold lingers, taking an extra gulp for good luck, a small droplet of cranberry slipping down the slope of his bottom lip. 

The silence, though comfortable is deafening, and Harry needs to hear your velvety voice again, 

“Say it.”

You turn yourself to accept his authoritative switch, eager to see where he plans on going with this. Ignoring the desperate temptation to rub your thumb across his peachy, puckered lips, absolving him of the merciless sweetness, you take back the drink and finish its contents with one swift, throat-swelling swallow. Eyes crinkling from the candy cruelty, you discard the glass and give him your all,

“Say what?” 

“Say it!” 

He persists, looking at you with the most darling of pouts, a glimmer of mischievous knowing- wanting you to confirm his wishes. And, who would you be to deny him such an obvious confession?

“I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

“How much?” 

“You really are ridiculous!” Your eyes roll in sync with the huff that slips from between your teeth. 

“And you’re beautiful.” He says like it's old news, “We’ve been over this, how much are you gonna miss me?” 

Your stomach is in your head, your head is in your heart, and your heart is in Harry’s hands, unsuspectingly holding your entirety between the creases of his palms. 

He cannot know. So, you gesture your thumb and pointer finger together in matrimony but leave the tiniest of spaces in between- the false space in which you hold your sorrows for his soon departure, 

“This much.”

“So little?” He playfully pouts, and unbeknownst to you, his pupils are swelling with desperation for you to miss him as much as he, you.  

“Hmm, maybe this much.” With little leeway, you expand your two fingers as far as they will stretch, allowing your longing to settle in the gap. 

Harry's eyes light up with some sort-of satisfaction, his forehead raising, creases disappearing as his dimples swell from the force of his fiery smirk,

“Just as I suspected.”

“What’s that now?” 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that… I win.” He concludes, boyish grin only growing- if possible- and with as much grace as one could have after two Scotchs, Harry stretches his arms out, swerving to miss you, his muscles spanning like that of a proud swan, “Cause I’m gonna miss you thisss much.”

His body is starting to stiffen and then loses all rigidity, he can’t stop- well, even if he could, he wouldn’t- his arm from wrapping around your shoulder, tugging you down with him as his body starts to tilt back, threatening to sink into the sand. 

“Harry!”

And your bodies are pressed to the trillions of pearly grains, giggles escaping through your parted lips. Your hair is surely sprinkled with sand, as must Harry’s, bodies awkwardly pressed together, his chest criminally close to your own. 

“Y/n.” He mocks, confirming his cheeriness over pulling you into his grasp, your back balancing on his stretched-out arm. 

The party plays on in the distance, the sea is still singing, and you can hear the soft and stable breaths of the prettiest boy on earth, his face tilted towards your own, freckles flickering under the silver sky. Harry is looking at you with an unreadable gaze- one that you have curiously noticed the past couple of months- it may be fondness... But whatever it is, it quickly dissipates into a woeful stare, and he glances away from your wondering gaze in favour of the sky. 

It's quiet for a moment- theoretically only a minute, but it feels like an eternity. Your eyes are tracing the curves of his chiselled jaw, swooping cheekbones, softly kinked nose. He seems miles away, leaving you alone on the beach just as you feared the future would be. 

But he is back on earth, and his eyes are back on yours right before your body threatens to rip itself apart. His brows are furrowed, and his chest hurts so carelessly that he wonders if you might feel it too,

“’M a little sad, y’know?”

“Would be weird if you weren’t.” You reassure, from a practical point, this is true. But from an in-love point, you need to ensure he understands you mirror his melancholy, “I am too.”

“Cause you’re gonna missss me?” Harry coos.

Harry wants to hear you say it in your own words, and the only way he knows how is to sugarcoat his words with a sweet and playful demeanour, scared of what might happen if it turns out that his feelings truly are one-sided. You wish he had said it seriously; you want to tell him that you’re being more than serious, that you will miss him, and that you’ll spend the rest of your life missing him, everything about him, everything he makes you feel, 

“Have you always been this annoying?” 

“I think you’re mistaking annoyance for attraction.” He tries a new tactic. 

“Even so…” You concede. 

“Even so…?”

“You’re both, alright. And you already know it.” Perhaps you’re giving away too much. 

To Harry, not enough. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen; did he really think you would confess your devout attraction for him? Did you even feel the same way? You give him the tiniest of hints, always so cautious and thoughtful. He knows this; he feels your fondness, feels the fiery connection… there has to be more, and how much longer can he wait? Threatened by the reality of the two of you going your separate ways, Harry is fighting this obstacle, fearful that this is his only and final opportunity, having to give you something more, some sort-of encouragement,   

“Just like to hear you say it.” 

What are you supposed to say to that? It has to be obvious that you feel so much more for him than mere attraction. Stumbling on words, a blushing mess, tripping over your own toes whenever he expressed his endearment or wonderment. 

It was certainly easier to chalk his affection up to close proximities, homesickness, and maybe even pining over another woman. Theoretically, Harry had more on his mind than spending his time seeking out your affection. 

Your lips are sealed, unwilling to separate and spill your secrets- the only thing stopping you from saying every little thing you love about him.  

But Harry is watching and waiting, carefully checking out the way your forehead furrows, eyes darting with some deep thoughts that he just wishes you would share with him. He’s seen this look before- sometimes showing up during difficult days on tour when you were challenged with a particularly gruelling or complicated task, and on occasion, Harry had noticed this conflict in your eyes during the duet of late-night conversations. 

He knows you’re stumped for words. He knows you don’t plan on speaking up. He needs to know what you’re thinking about, his face leaning forward, trying to close some of the merciless gap preventing him from being able to peck your cheek,

“Tell me a secret.”

“Yeah, right.” You can tell this is a trap. 

You’d be a fool not to know what he was trying; this was his last resort in deciphering your hidden agenda, and the last thing you need is the humiliation of finding out that this little thing going on between you two would remain just that; a thing of the past. 

“Tell me, and I’ll tell you one in return.”

He insists with such sweet innocence that could surely coax you into doing whatever he wanted,

“Okay.” You’ll go with the thing that’s been torturing you for weeks now, “I think you should grow out your moustache.”

“Done.” He answers so quickly, with such authority that your heart is doing somersaults. Before you can overthink his hastiness, he continues, “Tell me another.”

“Hey, that’s not how this goes.” 

“I make the rules. Tell meeee.” He’s a needy little one and he has you trapped, nowhere to go but nowhere you would rather be. 

What’s the point of keeping anything from him when it’s clear his persistence will only be soothed by your obligation? 

Harry is as Harry as ever, so welcoming and understanding before even hearing what you have to say. As far as you’re concerned, he’s been seeking you out for a reason, wanting to make sure that this ending isn’t eating away at you. 

It is eating away at you, though. You both know without verbalising it. If it remains unaddressed it may very well result in severing the ties you so tenderly share, 

“I’m nervous about going home.”

“Had a feeling.” He needs you to know that he knows. “‘M sorry, darling. Promise we’ll see each other, okay?”  

“Pinky swear.” Your eyes are like a puppy dog. 

“I’ll come over, and we can watch Normal People and… pretend we are.” Harry wants that more than anything.

“I’d like that… a lot.” Your eyes lull with the promise of his loving presence, “I’ll make you a warm cuppa.”

“You’ll have hot chocolate.” He notes proudly. 

“And I’ll let you use my fluffy blanket.” You do the same. 

“Ugh. I love you.” 

He whines dramatically, eyes rolling back, deliciously biteable lips parted and glossy. He really does though- love you. You loathe the flippancy with which he uses these words, substituting playfulness for the failure of his reciprocating your feelings, 

“It’s hard not to.”

“That cranberry’s giving you a big head, huh?” He nudges himself against you.

“Don’t be mean.” Also nudging against him in an attempt to reprimand his cheekiness.

“I could never be mean to you.” He pouts cutely, hoping you can tell that he certainly means it.

He’s close- too close- churning your common sense into a spiral of neediness to nearer his face, scatter kisses wherever his skin forfeits. Shuffling back slightly, you miss the way his brows twitch with misunderstanding, and you misdirect the conversation once more,

“Did you see the video I sent you?”

“That puppy was so cute I could have cried.” His features turn to mushy lovability.

“Don’t cry, you’re too pretty.” You tease. 

“Too late.” He tries to add a convincing pout. 

“Such a crybaby.” A cute, fuckable little sulk. Your diversion has certainly worked, but now you long for the back-and-forth of will-they-wont-they, and you cannot resist letting the words come out, “So, what’s your secret?” 

“I already told you.” He says it like it should be apparent. 

“You did?” Had you missed something? 

“Yep.” 

Harry’s certainty is cast-iron, peering over at you with palpable perceptiveness. If his secret was that he planned on growing a moustache, then he had done a marvellous job at fishing you onto the hook. A simmer of frustration bubbles in your belly, shyness and foolishness teasing you for falling into his trap with such ease. Your tone reflects this, retreating to the sanctity of defensiveness,

“Your secret is that you’re a crybaby? We already knew that.”

“Not that.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, well, tell me again.”

“Ask me nicely.” He keeps you baited. 

“Y’know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tilt your nose to the sky, giving him the perfect sight of your neck craned, cheeks like apples, lips pouted and puckered. 

“Yes, you do.” He informs.

“Nope.” Your lips pop at the P. 

“It’s gonna eat away at you.” He sing-songs. He’s right. 

“Glad to see you’re getting off on this.” Grumbling, you avert your gaze. 

“Would rather get off with you.” He torts, muttering, sudden arousal slipping from his lips and settling anxiously in the already-small gap separating your bodies.  

“Filthy boy.” You friskily reprimand.

“And you haven’t seen the half of it.” He promises.

“Is that your secret?” You press on curiously, “Not a surprise. I’ve seen your ‘fuck me’ eyes before.”

“When I was looking at you?” 

Harry knocks the breath out of you, not even out of you- it’s trapped if your throat, body stilling like a statue, tied and bound by the predicament he seemed to so blatantly provide,

“Not me in particular…”

“Apparently I have two secrets then.” He muses. 

“Just tell me!” You are clearly too focused on secret number one to notice that he just revealed secret number two.

“Hmm… Maybe.” Since you seem so clueless, Harry thinks he should drag this on a little longer, becoming more-and-more discouraged by your blatant dismissal of his attempts to express his affection. 

“Harry, I swear-”

“Alright, missy.” He can hold out no longer. “I love you.”

“I know that-”

“Love, love you.” 

“Oh.” You finally let the realisation sink in, and it sinks in slowly whilst Harry patiently watches the way you process both his feelings and your own. 

The fear of rejection humidifies the air around him, but the relief of having you hear him say it aloud is something he had not known he needed. 

Your entirety is like electricity escaping a plug socket, shocking you with such passion that the only thing left to do is give in,

 “Well, I guess I have another secret, too.”

“Tell me.” He need not know because you have said it in your own words. But, how nice would it be to drizzle your ‘I love you’ like honey across his aching heart. 

You will; coat him in so much caramelised molasses that he will have no choice but to understand that you love him... Right after you make him play a round of his own proven-pointless little game,

“Hmm. Maybe.”

—

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW (azriel x reader)

006: “ this ultraviolet morning light. ”

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‼️‼️ written portion below the cut ‼️‼️

the coffee shop had suddenly looked way more inviting than the last time you’d been there. had they left the blinds open? it seemed way brighter than last time. or maybe it was just at the absence of eris.

more importantly, you see your childhood friend sitting quietly at a table in the corner, two takeaway coffees in her hand. feyre smiles when she sees you and motions for you to sit down with her.

“y/n! it’s been so long,” her voice is a relief to you and you’re grateful she doesn’t treat you any differently after seeing the dark circles under your eyes or how your demeanor changed.

you two make small talk about your families, personal lives, and school; it was nice seeing her again. while you weren’t as close with feyre as you were with her sisters, she had always been that one friend you could randomly meet up again and pick up where you left off. eventually, she cuts to it, “i heard about what happened with eris, are you alright?”

the question appalls you for a bit. you stare at spot on the wall behind her for a few moments before snapping out of it. “yeah… i’m alright,” you manage to push your lips into an insincere smile. feyre immediately doesn’t fall for it, taking your hand into hers from across the table.

“y/n, you and nesta are really alike,” she laughs. “all you guys want to do is hide your feelings from everyone. it’s okay to feel bad and it’s okay to be upset about it. you were there for me during that situation with my ex,” your face scrunches when you hear his name. “you even let me stay over until i figured things out. you’re okay with everyone depending on you, at least let some of us return it.”

“i…” your throat feels dry before you begin. “i just feel so embarrassed over what happened with eris. i know he was in the wrong but i feel so… stupid for believing it. i think i was caught up in this fantasy of still having a chance with my childhood crush… and he took advantage of that.”

feyre nods, “don’t blame yourself too much for it y/n. he’s been friends with us for so long now and our families have been through so much with each other. it must’ve felt like it had to work out with him or those years of friendship would’ve been ruined.”

you nod before making some joke about how delusional you were before both of you start laughing. you catch up for a few more minutes before feyre sighs happily, “this has been really fun y/n, i’m glad you’re feeling better. we should really come here more often, actually, another one of my friends started working here too.”

“same here,” you start, “actually, i think there might be someone else—”

you’re distracted by feyre waving at someone behind you. you see that same tall figure from last time coming closer to you. he stands at your table, fixating his gaze on you and quirking an eyebrow.

“azriel?” you look up at him from your seat.

“wait,” feyre blinks. “you two know each other?”

“it’s a long story,” you chuckle. feyre checks the time on her phone and pushes herself up.

“holy shit,” she grabs her bag, “i’m gonna be late for my next lecture. sorry to cut you off, y/n. it was great seeing you,” she hugs you and bids azriel goodbye before walking away hurriedly.

azriel slides into her seat. “so what now, are you stalking me?”

you cross your arms and stare right at him, “definitely not.”

“you should’ve told her i was your boyfriend too,” he laughs. “just like last time.”

you turn your head away, “last time was an emergency.” your expression softens before you continue, “but i am sorry for dragging you into that situation. i panicked in the moment.”

“it’s alright, i completely understand. that’s why i stepped in. something about this eris guy… he doesn’t feel right,” azriel mutters. “why don’t we just actually start seeing each other if we’re going to pretend we are?”

you remember what nesta had told you about needing to move on and the conversation you just had with feyre. what could go wrong? “okay then,” you smile. “i think you have my number anyways.”

— NOTES

you, feyre, and lucien have always had your own friend group within your families but it definitely became a little strained when feyre left tamlin, who was lucien’s friend at the time (not anymore tho 👀)

you were there for feyre when she went through everything with tamlin and wasn’t even in contact with her sisters

azriel saw you there at his work and went 🤨🤨🤨

— TAGLIST

@ithan-holstroms-girl @strangelycami @fell-in-luvs @goldenmagnolias @glam-targaryen @acourtofdreamsandshadows @bloombb @mp-littlebit @gamarancianne @stqrgirlies-blog @peachcontour-blog @azriels-shawdowsinger taglist is open!! lmk if you want to be added

[pinkanonwrites]

snow day with the earthspark maltos and bee, or a day at the beach with the TFA crew?

AAAGGHHHHH Both of these sound super duper fun. Personally I'd pick the beach with the TFA Crew though, cause I have absolutely NO tolerance to the cold. I'm a freeze-baby...

"So this 'sunblock' protects your skin from the ultraviolet rays of your local star..." Optimus holds the small bottle between two fingers, squinting as he scans the even-smaller label.

"Yep! Also makes sure I don't get burned. Speaking of which... SARI!" You stop slathering sunscreen on your thigh long enough to call out to the young girl currently flying circles around Bumblebee and Bulkhead with a massive inflatable beach ball in her hands. "You better have put some on already!"

"I did! Seriously, you don't have to baby me all the time!" She sticks a playful tongue out at you before launching the ball towards Bumblebee, who quickly thwacks it back into the air.

"Gotta be faster than that, Sari!"

"Ooh! My turn! Send it over here!" Bulkhead calls, waving his massive servos in the air. You roll your eyes, turning back to Optimus with a smile.

"Do you want to come look for shells and agates with me and Prowl? You're invited too, Ratchet."

"And risk getting even more sand between my stabilizers? I'll pass." Using a massive tarp from the factory as a makeshift towel, Ratchet sits cross-legged as he scrolls through a data pad. Meanwhile Prowl, barely a few paces away, seems to have found his first target. He cradles a tiny cone shell in his servo, staring down at it in open fascination. You and Optimus look to each other and exchange a small shrug and a chuckle.

"I'd be happy to join you, if you'd have me."

[five-rivers]

Turpentine

An AU following the same 'ages' concept as Baroque. You do not have to read Baroque to understand this.

.

As a superhero, ghost-based or otherwise, Danny tended to be hyper-aware of changes in his environment.  So long as he wasn't sleep-deprived, anyway.  Which he was.  Frequently.  But Frostbite didn't spar with him when he was sleep deprived, so, when he called a time out to their bout, he wasn't.  

"Is everything alright, Great One?" asked Frostbite.  

Danny, a little out of breath despite not needing to breathe - it was a psychological thing, okay? - shrugged and pointed.  "What's that?"

Frostbite turned to look and stiffened.  Danny didn't blame him.  The sight had surprised him, too.  A flat, black disk, about the size of his pinky fingernail held at arm's length, hung in the Ghost Zone sky, over what had formerly been its brightest part.  It looked like an eclipse, only with a lot less light escaping from around the edges.  

"Oh, dear," said Frostbite.  

"What is it?" 

Frostbite turned and flew quickly out of the training stadium.  

"Driftice!" he called.  "The age is turning!  We need the telescope!"

"The telescope?" asked Danny, matching his pace with Frostbite's.  

Frostbite spared a moment to smile down at Danny.  "It's very impressive, I think you'll like it."

Danny nodded.  He’d never met a telescope he didn’t like.  

By the time they reached the buildings proper, yetis were starting to stop and stare at the black spot.  A few of them would then start running, doing something, but others just… kept staring.  

“The telescope!” Frostbite called again.  That spurred a few more yetis into action.  He started giving people directions.

Soon, they were dragging a long, ridged tube from within one of the larger caves and hooking it up to all sorts of equipment.  The lens inside winked at Danny, its curve seeming highly exaggerated for the length of the telescope, until Danny realized it must be made out of ice, which didn’t bend light as much as glass.  

… He may have looked into making a few ice telescopes of his own.  Hey, having a hobby under his circumstances was hard!

“What’s going on?” asked Danny, after Frostbite paused in his orders.  “Are we being attacked or something?”

“Not… as such, no.”  Frostbite looked back up at the black spot, clearly worried.  “Every so often, the Realms… change.  We call it the turning of the age.  It begins with the color of the ambient ectoplasm, and the color tends to indicate the character of the age.  So far, we have been experiencing a green age, which tends towards the more natural or chaotic, with differences between ghosts exaggerated.  With ghosts themselves exaggerated to a degree.”

“Okay,” said Danny, “so… it’s not normally like this?”

“Normal is relative.” Frostbite waved his hand as if dismissing the entire concept.  “Ages can last from anywhere from one year to thousands.  This one has lasted only a few hundred.”

“And I’m guessing black isn’t a good color?”

“It is somewhat more complicated than that.  It is possible that it isn’t true black, which is why we’re looking.  To make sure.  It could be a very deep blue, or green, or red, which tends not to be terribly comfortable, but is still bearable.  It could be the color of a starry night, which is a good deal better.  It could be a color we do not have the senses to see directly, such as ultraviolet or infrared, both of which give rise to rather alien ages, but…”

“But black?” prompted Danny.  

“I do hope it is not truly black,” said Frostbite.  “How to put this… There are certain popular conceptions of afterlives, and other… let us call them worlds beyond worlds, yes?”

Danny nodded, not sure where this was going.  “Like heaven and hell, or the Greek underworld?” he asked, to clarify.

“Indeed,” said Frostbite.  “The Realms reflect those.  Or, perhaps, they reflect the Realms.  Again, the color is the indicator.”

“So, what does black mean?  Hell?”

Frostbite shook his head.  “No.  Hell is red, and… to be truthful, Great One, despite all the woes that come to the fore when we become demons, red ages have positives as well.  Black, true black, is… nothing.”

“Nothing?” repeated Danny.  He was hoping he was misunderstanding.

“Nothing,” confirmed Frostbite.  “Cessation.  Nonexistence.  Not Ending, but stopping.  It is–”

“You’re going to die?”

“No,” said Frostbite.  “As I said, no Ending.  Typically.  But… if the age is truly black, then we will cease to exist until the next age, only returning when it turns again.  It is not sleep.  It is not death.  We simply will not be.”

Danny wasn’t sure if that was better, and he was sure that showed on his face, but Frostbite didn’t look all that enthused, either.  

“The black ectoplasm will spread from where it began, affecting other ectoplasm constructs, including ghosts, on contact.”

“So, if it touches you, you just… stop existing?”

“There is generally a small amount of time between contact and cessation, but… yes.”  Frostbite turned more fully to Danny.  “That is why, if the age is true black, you must leave and not return until the age changes again.”

“What?  Why just me?”

“Think, Great One.  We are fully ghosts.  We cannot survive without ectoplasm.  Yes, some might try to hide in the human world, and avoid the touch of the black.  Some might even succeed.  But they will be much weakened, perhaps even to Fading, should the age last long at all.  But here, we will return, even if much time has passed.  But for you… You are different.”

“Because I’m a half ghost.”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  “You may be affected just as we are, but imagine, what might happen to you if you suddenly lost your ghost half?”

“I’d… lose my powers, at least,” said Danny, swallowing against sudden nausea.  That was a little too close to what had happened in the bad future, even if it was in the opposite direction.  

“Yes, and if that happened here, while the black was coming, you would not be able to escape.  You would simply fall, unless you managed to hit something.  What is the other option?”

Not one Danny wanted to consider.  “I might… die.”

“And your ghost might come back at the end of the age, or… it might not.  I do not mean to frighten you unduly, Great One, but let me say it again: if the age is black, leave, and do not come back.  Close your portal, leave town, go where you will not be found.”

“Because other ghosts might be affected and bring it through the portal?”

“Because the portal itself would go black, and radiate throughout your town before collapsing.”

“Oh,” said Danny, softly.  “Okay.”

“I would not wish to come back to this world, only to find that you were unmade by black ectoplasm.  I would far prefer to learn that you had died after a long and happy life.”  He smiled.  “But the age might not even be black!  There could be stars, or–”

“Chief Frostbite,” said one of the technicians, nervously lacing and unlacing his fingers. 

“Yes, Flashfreeze?”

“It’s black.”

.

“I’m so sorry, Danny,” said Jazz.  

“It’s not like anyone is dying,” said Danny, mouth dry.  No one but him, if he screwed up.  

No one but him, Vlad, and Dani.  

“It’s still a loss,” said Jazz, who looked like she wanted to cry herself.  “How are we going to tell Mom and Dad?”

“I–”  He hadn’t made a decision to tell them anything.  “I don’t know.”

“They won’t close the portal unless one of us says something,” said Jazz, which was very true.  “We’re going to have to tell them, especially if we have to move away to get away from the natural portals.”

“I know,” said Danny, hunching his shoulders.  

“I know,” said Jazz.  “This is awful, but…  I don’t want you to die, Danny.  I don’t even want you to have to lose your powers.”

“I know,” said Danny.  “I know.  I’m just…  I think I need to talk to Vlad first.”  Vlad was out of town for the rest of the weekend for some business thing, but he’d be back on Monday.

“What?” asked Jazz, making a face that was a very appropriate reaction to Danny suggesting they talk to Vlad.  

“He studied the same stuff they did.  He’ll know how to explain it to them.  And he might know how to find Dani.”

Jazz cursed softly under her breath.  “I didn’t even think–  You haven’t heard from her lately?”

Danny shook his head.  “Last time, she was in Eastern Europe and it was a payphone.  She’d broken the burner Sam got for her and couldn’t get a new one.”

“Crap,” she said.  “Wait, what about Valerie?  Isn’t her board powered by ectoplasm?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny, chewing his lip.  “Maybe.  Oh, gosh, what if she falls out of the sky or something?”  He rubbed his face.  “Do I have to tell her, too?”

“Maybe we can get Mom and Dad to warn her,” said Jazz, in a blinding display of optimism.  “Maybe after we tell them, they can make a public service announcement or something.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, significantly more dubious.  “I just– I think I need to tell Vlad first, that’s all.”

Jazz nodded, then paused.  “We have time?”

“Yeah, it didn’t look like it was getting any bigger from where I was,” said Danny.  “Frostbite said it could take months for the age to completely flip over, depending on stuff like where it started.”

“Okay,” said Jazz.  “Then we can wait until you tell him.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Great.”  He rubbed his arms.  He itched to leave, to run, to fly and put this behind him, but…  The idea of a touch of black, then falling–  

Jazz hugged him.  “It’s going to be alright,” she said. 

Danny hugged her back.  “I hope so.”

.

“Anyway,” said Danny, picking at a sliver of veneer that had come off Tucker’s desk.  It was only attached by one end.  “That’s it, I suppose.  The end.”

“That’s… a lot,” said Tucker.  “Are you… okay?”

“Not really,” said Danny.  “It’s–  Maybe it’s a good thing?  I won’t have to fight ghosts anymore and all that, right?”  He rubbed his eyes.  

“I mean, maybe?  I’m a little… stunned about it, too.”

“So am I,” said Sam.  “It’s just going to disappear?  All of it?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

“How long?”

Danny shook his head.  

“Oh my gosh.”  Sam got up from the beanbag chair and started to pace.  “It’s just, we have friends there.  And they’re just going to–?  Are you sure we can’t do anything?”

“Frostbite was pretty sure,” said Danny, curling up.  

“But–”

“I don’t want to die again, Sam.”  That brought Sam’s pacing to a stop.  “I’ll always fight if it seems like there’s a chance, but.  I really don’t want to die.”

Sam sat back down.  

“Frostbite really made it sound like there was nothing we could do,” continued Danny.  “He’s been around for a while, you know?  It sounded… It sounded like he’s done this before.”

“Okay,” whispered Sam.  “What do you want us to do?”

Danny shrugged, then made himself laugh.  “Get into whatever college I do?  That’s a joke.”

“Hey, you tell us where you’re going, and we will,” said Tucker.  “Fast as anything.”

“At least the same city,” said Sam.  

.

Danny had to ring the doorbell three times before Vlad opened up.  Jerk.  

“Why, Daniel,” purred Vlad, who had clearly just been taking his time, “are you skipping school for this?”

“Shut up,” said Danny, already annoyed by Vlad’s whole… everything.  “We need to talk.”

“By all means, come inside.”

Vlad’s mansion was as opulent as ever.  

“Can I offer you some breakfast?  Guaranteed not to come alive.”

Danny forced down the thought that soon his home wouldn’t be at risk for that, either, and shut the door behind him.  “No thanks,” he said, and began to share what Frostbite had told him.  

As he did, the smug look slipped off Vlad’s face, replaced with something stonier.  

“I’ll have to confirm independently, you understand,” he said.  It didn’t sound like a taunt or a joke, just a fact.  

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.  I have to go to school, so don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’m touched by your concern, Daniel, but unlike your father, I do understand basic lab safety.”

That had to be a new addition since college, but Danny kept the snark behind his teeth and just let the door bang behind him on his way out.

.

Vlad was waiting in the parking lot for him when school got out.  

“Why’s he here?” asked Sam.  

“Probably because he’s just as freaked out as I am,” said Danny.  He sat down on the steps.  “I’m going to wait for Jazz.”

“You sure, dude?” asked Tucker.  

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” said Tucker, dubiously.  

“Call us if you need us to kick some vampire butt.”

“Got it.”

Danny only had to wait a few more minutes before Jazz came out.  “Why’s he here?”

“Dunno,” said Danny, getting up and brushing off his pants.  “Want to find out?”

They walked over to the running car.  It wasn’t quite a limo, but it was long, and the back seats faced each other.  

“So?” asked Danny, climbing in.  

Vlad looked wrecked.  “You were right,” he said.  

“Wow, no kidding.”

Vlad waved off his sarcasm.  “This is not time for jokes, Daniel, I–  Jasmine.”

“Vlad.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Well, you get both of us or none of us,” said Danny.  “You can drop Jazz off at home just as easily as you can drop me off.”

“And Jasmine’s car?”

“Aren’t you rich or something?” asked Jazz.  “Just drive me back.”

Vlad rolled his eyes.  “I can send someone to come pick it up.”  He leaned over to close the door after Jazz, then tapped on the closed divider between them and their driver.  The car started forward.  

“So, you’ll tell them?  Our parents?” asked Danny.  

“I’ll try.  But do you really think that will stop them?”

“Yes,” said Danny, forcefully.

“If they know it’s something that could hurt Danny, they’ll stop.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” said Vlad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vlad’s sneer was a shadow of its former self.  He looked genuinely ill.  “Daniel, they already know their research has hurt you.  Or do you think they forgot about bringing you to the hospital after your accident with the portal?”

“That’s different.”  That was an equipment problem, not an issue with the content of their research itself.

“Is it?  They are very aware that the same research landed me in the hospital for years, no matter how much they like to ignore that little fact.”

Normally, Danny would dismiss this as just another ploy of Vlad’s, an attempt to turn him against Jack and become Vlad’s evil apprentice, but…  Not today.  There was a little too much truth to his words.  

“Did they even put up any safety measures after that?  How about when they learned their portal was spewing dangerous ghosts into town at all the hours of the day and night?”

“They did,” said Jazz, although her tone rang false to Danny.  It was true that they’d installed the doors on the portal, and the ecto-exodus alarm, but… for all they claimed to be dedicated to protecting people from ghosts, they hadn’t done much else.

Vlad leaned back.  “As I said, I hope you’re right, for both our sakes.  Based on my calculations, we should leave town before the month is over, to be safe.  If they haven’t left by the thirtieth, I advise you to come with me.  My lawyers can sort everything out after the fact, and if not, I have enough contacts to be able to create entirely new identities for both of us.”

“Do you have any idea how threatening that sounds?” asked Jazz, peeved.

“It’s a service Daniel might find himself in need of, if Jack and Maddie are unreasonable.  I have no intention of dying or letting Daniel die because of this.”

The declaration made Danny feel better.  Not much better, but better.  

The car rolled to a stop.  “In the meantime, I will try to use less drastic measures.”  Vlad raised an eyebrow.  “The question now, I think, is whether or not you will tell them.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and fiddled with the door handle.  “Yeah,” he said.  

“Excellent.  Then we can begin.”

“Wait,” said Danny.  

“What?” asked Vlad, flatly, clearly annoyed.

“Do you know where Dani is?” asked Danny, reluctant to bring Vlad into this particular problem, but unwilling to give up even the thinnest lead.

Vlad gave him a baffled look.  

“Danielle,” clarified Danny, annoyed.  

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “Don’t look so surprised, Daniel.  We may have parted on less than amicable terms, but she’s still my daughter.”

“You tried to melt her.”

“A misunderstanding.”  

Danny wasn’t sure how that could be a misunderstanding.  

“We all do unwise things under the influence of our passions, Daniel.  The important thing is that we rise above them.  You’ll understand someday.”  He climbed out of the car. 

“I hope not,” muttered Jazz.  

Then, some of the conversation’s implications caught up with Danny.  

“Wait,” he said, phasing through Jazz to get out fast and jogging after Vlad.  “Wait.  You don’t expect me to tell them now, do you?”

“Daniel, there is no time.  Tell them now, or tell them never.”  Vlad opened the door and walked in like he owned the place.  

“Vladdie!” exclaimed Jack, who had been tinkering at the kitchen table.  He leapt up and embraced Vlad, swirling him around.  Vlad looked like he wanted to die again right then and there.  

“Hello, Jack, is Maddie home?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, coming up the stairs from the lab.  Her voice was about as warm and cuddly as sandpaper left in Antarctica for three months.  “What do you want, Vlad?”

“I have discovered some disturbing news,” he said, “but I’m afraid that much of it will only make sense in the context of what Daniel is about to tell you.”

Everyone looked at him expectantly.  Jazz gave him a small thumbs up.  

Danny very much would have liked to strangle Vlad.  If someone had to out themselves, why couldn’t it be him?

“What is it, Danno?” asked Jack.  

Danny swallowed.  “Do you remember that time I got shocked by the portal?”

.

As far as reveals went… it was neither everything he’d feared nor everything he’d hoped for.  There had been a lot of shouting.  No one thought he was dead or possessing his own corpse.  Jazz had accidentally outed Vlad somewhere in the middle of an argument.  He was able to go to sleep in his own house without being afraid he was going to be dissected.  His parents had agreed to start the process of shutting down the portal.  The only reason he wasn’t super ultra forever grounded for the rest of his life was because of the whole ‘might die soon’ thing.  

It was exhausting.  Danny didn’t know if he was glad it was over or not.  

This whole week was exhausting.  

He pressed his face into his pillow and swallowed back tears.  He was going to miss his friends. Heck, he was going to miss his enemies.  

He didn’t want to die.

.

Every time he went to school that week, every time he went to Sam’s, or Tucker’s, or the Nasty Burger, or anywhere in town, he was acutely aware that it might be the last time he was in any of those places.  Every time he went ghost, he understood that this time might be it.  Every time he shooed off an animal ghost or spotted Valerie in the hall, or saw the green glow of ectotechnology–

It was ending.  It was all ending.  At least for Danny.  

He wanted to hold onto it.  He wanted to stop time - and wasn’t that a temptation?  To try to find Clockwork?  But he’d learned his lesson about meddling with time, and there was no guarantee Clockwork was even still…  

Danny settled on the word awake.  

So, he did his best to savor it all, even the bad parts.  It didn’t always work very well.  There was too much tension, too much fear.  

Tension and fear did wonders for his Doomed score, though.  He was actually close to beating Sam, for once.  

Except, no he wasn’t.

“No, no, no,” said Danny as Sam pulled a power move out of nowhere.  “Argh!”  Annoyed, he pushed his rolling chair back so he could stare more directly at Sam, where she was playing on the other side of Tucker’s attic.  She wasn’t even looking at the screen, but staring over her shoulder to grin smugly at Danny.  “You suck,” he said.  

“No, that’d be you.  You know, the one whose screen says ‘you died’ on it?”

“Ha!” exclaimed Tucker.  “I’ve got the key!”

Danny turned back to the computer and started smashing the resurrect button.  

Danny’s phone began to ring.  He juggled it open with one hand.  “Hi, sorry, Jazz, I lost track of time and–”

“Don’t come home,” said Jazz.  

“What?”

“They–”  Jazz inhaled sharply, angrily.  “The ectoweenies are dead.”  

Danny’s hand fell still.  “What do you mean… dead?”

“They’re just.  They’re hot dogs!  Rotting hot dogs.  I don’t–  I think they’re experimenting with it.  Mom and Dad.  I overheard–  I think they found some, and they’re experimenting with it, and some of them got into the fridge full of stuff we eat because neither of them ever heard about lab safety, and I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be around me, Danny.”

The death jingle played tauntingly over the speakers, three times over.  

“What- Why wouldn’t it be safe for you to be around me?”

“For you to be around me.  I could have black ectoplasm on me and not even know it.  I don’t think it’s really detectable without an energy signature, is it?”

“Jazz,” said Danny, voice cracking.  “Do you– Why?”  He gasped.  “Why would they–?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to know!”  Danny had to know!

“They said something about fixing– I don’t know if I heard it right.  I just–”  Her voice crackled over the phone.  “Go to Vlad’s.  Forget whatever they promised.  Leave now.  I’ll– If they ask, I’ll say you’re in bed.”

Danny closed his eyes.  His face was wet.  “Okay,” he said.  “Okay.  I– I love you, Jazz.”

“I love you, too, little brother.  Stay safe.”  She hung up first.  She must have known he wouldn’t.  

“You have to go, don’t you?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah,” said Danny, hoarsely.  He scrubbed at his face.  “I do.  But… I will see you guys again.”

Tucker nodded.  “You’ve still got our numbers and our Doomed codes, right?” 

Sam threw a pen at him.  “Not the time?”

“Then when is the time?” demanded Tucker, rubbing the back of his head.  “When is the time, huh?  When he’s gone and can’t contact us because he doesn’t have our phone numbers?”

“I have them,” said Danny.  “Memorized.  I– I’ll call.  As soon as it’s safe.”

“You’d better,” said Sam.  

He hugged them.  

(He hoped it wasn’t the last time.)

.

The sun was just beginning to set when Danny reached Vlad’s house, and the comparison between the darkening sky and the darkening Ghost Zone made him shiver.  He bypassed security and knocked on Vlad’s door.  

“Daniel?  What are you doing here?” Vlad asked.  Unlike before, he was wearing clearly casual clothes.  “Did something happen?”

“You were right,” said Danny.  “They didn’t stop.”  Danny’s voice cracked and he swallowed.  “Jazz says we need to leave, now.”

“Oh, Daniel,” said Vlad.  “I’m so sorry.  Genuinely, I would have preferred them to see reason, for both our sakes.’”  He reached back inside and grabbed a pair of long coats.  The first he threw at Danny, the second he put on around his own shoulder.  “Can I assume that second bag is your ‘go-bag?’”

Danny nodded.  He’d kept one at the school, and hadn’t brought it home after the reveal.  He hadn’t thought to.  He’d raided his locker on the way to get it, and before he’d left Tucker had shoved a lot of other stuff at him that had gotten squished either into his backpack or the go-bag.  

“Good.”  Vlad knelt and phased a hand through his entryway tile before pulling out a hefty duffel bag of his own.  “Then we don’t need to wait.  I’ve had my plane fueled and ready to go at a moments’ notice since you told me.”  He took two steps back into the house.  “We will transform and fly there invisibly, to avoid notice.  Can you maintain that for the entire journey?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.  

“Don’t let your pride get in the way.  Can you?  Surely, you’ve noticed our abilities becoming more difficult to access.”

Danny had thought that was just him.  Some kind of psychological thing.  But if Vlad had noticed it, too…  “I can do it,” he said.  

“Good,” said Vlad, transforming.  “Follow me.”  He turned invisible and flew through the ceiling.  

Danny paced him.  “So, where are we going?” he asked.  “On the plane,” he clarified, catching Vlad’s look.

“For now?  Missouri.  I have properties there that I never involved in my research and which should be safe for us.  Afterwards, we will be able to assess our situation and move from there.  I will have to contact my lawyers - our lawyers, now.  The child endangerment and neglect case against your parents will have to be absolutely airtight, which shouldn’t be too difficult, considering the deathtrap they have downstairs and how long I’ve been collecting evidence.”

Danny wrinkled his nose.  “And how long have you been collecting evidence?”

“Quite some time.  Don’t forget, I’ve just been vindicated, Daniel.”

He wouldn’t.  Not for a long, long time.  “Is there anything else I ought to know?”

“I was able to get into contact with Danielle earlier today,” said Vlad.

“What did she say?”

“Not much to me,” said Vlad, with a hint of wryness.  “She wants to hear everything from you before she believes anything I say.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

“She hung up on me.  Don’t worry, she’s far away from any major supernatural hotspots.  I thought I’d give her time to cool down and then contact her again while you were present.”

“Fine,” said Danny.  “Where is she?”

“Poland, at the moment.”  

They reached the airport and descended into the plane.  Danny let go of his invisibility with a heavy sigh as Vlad went about turning on the lights.  

“Our pilot will be here momentarily,” said Vlad.  “Make yourself at home.”

Home.  Danny put his bags on his lap and hunched around them.  He’d been bracing himself for this.  Really.  He’d known he was going to have to leave for a whole week, now.  

It still felt worse than getting thrown clear through a building.  

.

“It’s true,” said Danny, looking out the landscape windows of Vlad’s Missouri estate.  “I’m with Vlad, the Ghost Zone isn’t safe, the…”  He trailed off, not wanting to recap everything.  “I’m the one who told Vlad it was happening.”

“Okay,” said Dani, voice small and distant.  “So… What should I do?  If even your powers are getting harder to use…”  She trailed off, but she didn’t have to finish the sentence.  In more ways than one, Dani’s existence depended on the careful use of her powers.  

“Let Vlad bring you back here.  It’s– I know,” he said in response to Dani’s groan.  “I know.  But he doesn’t actually want either of us dead, and he’s got, you know, resources.  And– And I don’t want you out on the streets in a foreign country, okay?”

“All countries are foreign to me,” grumbled Dani.  “I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Please,” said Danny.  “Even if it’s just long enough for him to set us up in a boarding school or give us our own apartment or something.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I have no idea,” admitted Danny.  “He’s rich enough to.  Please come, Dani.”  Vlad was… not being as terrible as he could be, about all this.  Actually, he was being… fine.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.  “Alright,” she said, finally.  “I’ll come.”

.

Living in Missouri…  Well, living in Vlad’s version of Missouri was beautiful, lavish, luxurious.  Vlad was definitely going all out.  But every day Danny spent here, it felt more and more like living in a photograph.  The sunlight, the grass, the leaves on the trees… it all felt flat, as if something vital had been drained from underneath the world.  Even sitting in the garden, bare feet in the fountain, felt unreal.  

Danny didn’t know if that was just him, or if it was another side effect of the Ghost Zone going dormant.  He hoped it was just him.  That would mean it might go away if he got a grip.

“Daniel,” said Vlad, shoes crunching along the gravel path.  “I think you’ll be pleased to know the court case is going well, and I am attempting to develop a decontamination procedure that might allow Jasmine to visit us here someday.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  He swished his feet through the water.  “Do you feel like…”  He sighed, not being able to find the words.  

“Every day,” said Vlad, sitting down next to Danny.  “We won’t be able to stay here longer than a year.  Our own ectoplasm will tend to form a thin spot.”

“That’s fine,” said Danny.  “Dani likes traveling.”  She liked traveling, and hopefully Vlad would hurry up and get her fake passport made already.

“I hope you will come to like it, too…  Although, I’m not sure we’ll need to keep up that pace for very long.  Our ectosignatures are fading.  I suppose we owed more of our powers to the Ghost Zone proper than I expected.”  He shook his head. “In any case, we should look towards the future.  Our futures.  You want to be an astronaut, don’t you?”

“Does that even matter, now?”

“Daniel, you are aware of how rich I am, aren’t you?  I could buy NASA.”  Vlad’s dramatic gestures matched his words.  He even went as far as to light his hands with pink ectoplasm.  Danny watched them flicker through the reflection in the basin of the fountain.  

“No, you couldn’t.”

“No,” said Vlad, lowering and extinguishing his hands, “I couldn��t.”  He kept looking up at the sky.  “It’s strange, isn’t it?  It’s strange.  All this power we’ve had, and our passions, all our goals, simply… remained out of our reach.  But now we’re losing them.  Our powers.  Our passions.”

“Do you think we’ll find them again?” asked Danny.  

“Perhaps.  Perhaps if we live long enough, if we fight hard enough.  You do want to be an astronaut, don’t you, Daniel?”

Danny looked up, but not towards Vlad.  He focused on the thin, faint gibbous moon, visible even in daylight.  

“I guess,” he said. 

Vlad patted his shoulder as he stood.  “There,” he said.  “Then we should start discussing your education, little badger!  You can’t become an astronaut by moping around my mansion all day!”

Danny turned his head to regard Vlad with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.  “Don’t call me that, fruitloop.”

“That’s more like it!  Now, come along.  We have tutors to vet!”

.

Thinking about potentially doing more with this continuity.

[technician-the]

The classic EPROM!

Each of these chips has a meg or so of computer memory, Only erasable by shining ultraviolet light through the top window. They were used to store operating systems in computers (and some synths), game software in arcade machines, among other uses.

In modern electronics they have been mostly been replaced with the E-Eprom, which stands for electrically erasable programmable read only memory. A phrase which I manged to impress one of my collage professors by recalling without hesitation at 8 am.

In music, you see these quite often in 80s synths. the need for stable memory was higher then in computers of the time, so they often had more rom and less ram. For example, Most wave table synths had several eproms for wave form memory.

In the 90s you see a shift to non rewritable masked proms, driven by japanese companies (mostly yamaha). these proms offer more memory per chip, and the best long term stability, but require more testing, and large production runs.

[melit0n]

One of my favourite lines in Higher is "Cause I look for scarlet and you look for ultraviolet."

The whole song is filled with these sorts of juxtapositions: "Fire" and "dry as bone", "Melody" and "silence" and "Danger" and "long way from home". However, as I said, this one is by far my favourite.

Of course you have the understanding that it's simply that; two juxtapositions that show the differences between Vessel and whoever he's talking about, but I wanna dive a little deeper.

Ultraviolet is obviously on the EM wave/light spectrum with a wavelength of around 10(-8)m, and is not visible to the human eye (hence its use of revealing things left unseen with fluorescence). You probably know of it because it's mainly used in crime scenes to discover bloodstains or other bodily fluids. The person looking for ultraviolet is looking for old wounds. Old blood long dried that they can trace back up to a scar they can pry open.

Plus, phonetically, Ultraviolet is similar to 'violence'.

With scarlet, outside of being a symbol for violence, blood, anger and love, can be traced to Infrared, which is also on the EM wave/light spectrum. Infrared doesn't have a colour, but will make things with heat appear scarlet. While they search for old wounds and things unseen to pry and pick apart, Vessel looks for affection and a warm body to attach himself to.

While the other lyrics are complete opposites, crackling fire to a feild waiting for the rains, melodies to calming silence, these two link. They're different and they're bad for eachother, but undeniably they click.

He is a danger, burning scarlet dripping from an open wound, and they, you, are a long way from home. From familiarity. And they are certainly in their right mind to keep the burning fire out of their home.

But the fire is warm, and he's looking for something that'll hold him and show him love anyways.

[arockmaniac]

Terlingua Calcite (pink, lilac, blue) with associated calcite from the Little 38 Mine in Terlingua, Texas.  It shows multiple colors from multiple generations of calcite growth.  A beautiful rock that doesn't have a bad side!  Some of the yellow fluorescing calcite phosphoresces (glows in the dark) under all wavelengths, some of it doesn't phosphoresce at all.  None of the orange fluorescing calcite phosphoresces.  The bits of Terlingua Calcite phosphoresce after exposure to both short wave and mid-wave UV.  Shown under long wave (pink), mid-wave (lilac), short wave (blue) and white light.

[flatoutin-eaurouge]

Brighter than the sun

Very much inspired by this and this 🥵

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

Michael wiped his forehead in the blazing Brazilian sun as beads of sweat dribbled down his face. It wasn't even that warm in Interlagos. It was just that the sun had so much power that is evaporated the liquids straight out of your pores.

The waves of heat rose off the tarmac like flames above a grill, making the air above the track sizzle as it expanded and fought the colder air on its way above. The rays of ultraviolet were so strong that Michael put on the darkest sunglasses he could find. The techinical briefing was over - Thank God - because so was his will to stay in the garage any longer. He wanted nothing more than that to spent some alone-time on the Interlagos roof terrace, where he could turn his chagrin about working in the heat into resignation, becoming at peace with relaxing in the heat. Maybe have a Mojito or two, since he had finished driving for the day.

To be honest, the Brazilian sun made him a bit restless. It were on sunny days like this one when he missed Corinna most. He just wanted to relieve some tension after testing. He needed that tension, currently coiling in his stomach, to be freed from its cage before tomorrow's race, or else his Finnish opponent might run off with his trophy.

Mika... the man was in fact his favourite opponent. He never had any trouble with Mika. Mika was fun to share the podium with. Mika was kind and gratious. Mika this, Mika that... Mika occupied his mind way too often the last couple of years.

When he arrived on the roof terrace, he quickly took refuge underneath a large parasol. Here, on the tiled roof terrace it seemed even hotter than down at the paddock. The mercury in the thermometer almost burst from its glass casing. Michael really could do with a cold drink. To his dissapointment however the bar was closed.

While his eyes had been scanning the roof terrace for the opening sign of the bar, he had noticed he was not alone. He stared at the alluring sight for a moment and grinned. Nevermind a cold drink... he needed a cold shower.

Michael always thought Finns didn't enjoy the sun, seeing as they come from boreal areas. Although they did like saunas, which made Michael change his mind in an instant. Mika was sitting there with his eyes shut, race suit unzipped and draped around his waist, looking like Helios. His skin more tan than Michael thought the cool Finn would ever be able to pull off, his long blonde hair weaving in the wind, looking even more golden in the sunlight. Michael sighed in appreciation and was glad for the sunglasses, because they were dark enough to hide the way he was staring so blatantly.

He stood up and took a seat closer to Mika. He wondered if he too should unzip his race suit, but his fireproofs were still underneath and he didn't want to give his rival a show... or maybe... oh well let's see how this pans out. For now he just sat there being way too hot and bothered.

Mika still hadn't noticed him. Michael watched beads of sweat trickling from Mika's hair down his broad chest and ignored the heat pooling in his stomach.

It was only seconds later that Mika noticed him. "Hey, Michael." The Finn looked around the terrace for a moment, then smiled at him. "Isn't it crazy how - apart from the two of us - empty this terrace is? On such a beautiful day."

Michael swallowed. Yes, just the two of us. Like all the time. It was always the two of them... on the podium... wielding champagne. "Yes, Mika. A good place to unwind after testing."

Mika nodded. "How did your testing go?"

Michael grinned. He wondered whether Mika genuinely wanted to know or if he wanted to pry out some information on the Ferrari F300. "Wouldn't you like to know," he teased.

Mika smirked. "Ah you're not giving me anything! Are you scared of me, Michael?"

Michael looked into the blonde's ocean-blue eyes and swallowed. I am not scared of you. I am distracted by you! How dare you sit like that! With all that skin on display!  "Scared of you? No, scared of Jean and Ross. They will give me hell if I give away the secrets of the F300."

Mika chuckled. "I wasn't asking about the F300. I mean just driving in general, Michael. Lots of tyre deg I am sure. It's so warm out here!" He noticed Michael sweating in his race suit and wondered what was stopping him from undoing it the way all drivers did in the heat. "But you seem to be coping well with the heat?"

Michael blushed. He was glad the afternoon heat gave him reason to be red-faced. "Yes, I have never had any trouble with high temperatures. I do quite enjoy it to be honest."

Mika nodded. "Yeah me too. And like this it's very easy to cope with it."

Like this. Michael saw it as an invitation to look Mika up an down as the Finn was definitely talking about his state of dress. He swallowed audibly as his mouth went dry. Michael knew Mika was broad-shouldered, but the sturdy McLaren silver racing suit never gave anything away when it came to the contours of his muscled upper body.

He looked like this only six months after his near-fatal accident. How? He remembered Mika being all skin and bone after leaving the hospital. What did they give him for breakfast?

Michael nodded. "Yeah, probably." He noticed the skin on Mika's shoulders was slightly starting to turn red. "Uhm... did you?" he stammered. "Did you put on sunscreen?"

Mika blushed. "Yeah, I brought it with me but I couldn't reach everywhere." He searched his skin for the sun burns that had probably caught Michael's eyes, but couldn't find any. He reached into the plastic bag he brought along and grabbed his bottle of sunscreen.

"You know..." Michael bit his lip. "I don't mind putting it on you." He laughed nervously. "I will have your back..."

Mika smirked his crooked smile at Michael's little joke, partly because he thought it was funny and partly to loosen the tension between the two. Surely there shouldn't be any tension. Having someone else put sunscreen on your back was a necessity, right?

Michael blushed as he reached for the bottle Mika was offering him. He squeezed quite a good amount of the white moisture on his hand and walked to Mika, who was now standing in his shirtless glory.

As soon as his hand made contact wit Mika's skin the Finn jumped.

"Perkele, ko on kylma! That's cold!"

Michael grinned mischievously. He started slow, light touches gently massaging the sunscreen into Mika's skin. His natural instinct took over, and next thing he knew, he was working out the knots in his upper back. Digging his thumbs in Mika's back muscles, Michael started to knead the flesh between his fingers. He pretty much had to remind himself that he was putting sunscreen on Mika instead of lotion.

"Oh Michael, that's very kind of you! I think my physiotherapist missed a few knots."

Michael's face turned impossibly red. He was caught in the action. Luckily he was facing Mika's back side, so the Finn couldn't see his flustered face. He continued without lingering his hands on his skin for too long, but Mika's skin was so smooth and alluring.

He swiped those luscious long blonde locks to the side to rub his hands over his neck and broad shoulders. Then let his index finger run down Mika's spine, making the Finn shudder in delight.

Fuck. Michael forced himself to think about Corinna, in order to make whatever he was doing with Mika feel as platonic as possible.

Michael regretted the job was finished when the moisture on his hands started to dry up, but he didn't dare to squeeze another bit of sunscreen from the bottle.

When he handed back Mika his sunscreen, the Finn grabbed his wrist instead.

"I don't mind returning the favour."

Michael felt goosebumps appear on his skin. God, yes please. He swallowed and schooled his glee behind an impassive mask, trying to appear aloof.

"Well, why not?"

Michael started to work on his Ferrari red overalls with nimble fingers. Slowly unzipping the garment, giving his rival the show he was very hesitant about giving fifteen minutes earlier. His fireproofs were next and landed on the ground between them.

And just like he'd with Mika, the Finn was eating him up with his eyes, staring at his huge pecs. Look at them! Carefully picking out possibilities to touch one another like a well played-out game of chess. So this is what they end up like on a warm brilliant day in Brazil without their respective girlfriends around?

Michael felt tense in his shoulders, flustered with the way he knew Mika was staring. A heat crept up to his neck which was definitely not from the sun. His fingers were like butter as he dropped the bottle of sunscreen. 

Mika picked it up from the ground and uncapped the bottle.

Michael watched as the handsome Finn squeezed the sunscreen in his hands and started lathering them with the stuff.

"To make sure it's not cold on your skin. You didn't think of that with me, so actually I shouldn't be doing this." He grinned. "But unlike you, I am very thoughtful."

Michael shivered in anticipation and gasped when he felt Mika's large hands on his skin. His hands felt robust unlike Corinna's. An entire different but very welcome sensation.

Thoughtful as he was, Mika made sure to touch every square inch of skin within his reach. Swerving his hands over the dips and hills between his muscles... just to make sure he wouldn't burn right? His own hands had been lingering on Mika's skin to make sure he wouldn't burn right?

Michael bit his lip when Mika smoothed the cream all over his exposed skin, the sensation sparking a warmth in his core. He could feel Mika's close proximity and he "accidently" arched his back into the Finn, reveling in the sudden skin contact.

In a reflex, Mika grabbed him by the hips to steady him. Holding him there for a moment, while eyeing the German's shimmering shoulders, until he noticed the stains of white on Michael's red overalls.

"Oh vittu! I got sunscreen on your race suit."

Mika let go off him and walked to his plastic bag to look for a handkerchief. He rummaged through his things and walked back to Michael with the cleaning cloth of his sunglasses.

"Let me get that for you."

Michael mourned the fact that Mika's attention was now on his clothing instead of on his skin. He didn't hesitate and grabbed his rival's wrist, squeezing softly. Emerald greens staring at saphire blues.

"Leave it. It's okay."

And at that moment they were so close they could kiss. It came up in Michael's mind for a fraction of a second. To grab Mika by his blonde locks and yank him into a kiss. To hold him and touch his delectable body.

But before he knew it, the moment was over. Both of them creating a distance with flustered faces. Had they been thinking of the same thing?

"Thank you. We are well protected now," Mika coughed nervously with pink-tinged cheeks.

A nod from an equally flustered face.

A crooked smile.

Michael walked back to his chair with a white sunscreen stain the size of Mika's hand on his red overalls at hip height.

[forlorn-crows]

Hey Crow! :D I think this might be my first time sending you a ficlet request, how fun! I feel like your style would scratch a specific itch I have so well ❤️

So listen, I've been having this persistent migraine for *days*. It's not constantly blasting me with pain, sometimes it lowers into just a fuzz for a few hours and I think it's gone but then it builds back up and it smacks me in the face again. I'm very tired of said migraine loop and in need of my projection ghoul going through it and the pack helping them. May I please request Swiss dealing with a shitty headache and getting some comfort from someone? Any other ghoul is fine, or a group of them, all good, I just want my projection boyo being comforted and cared for. Can be gen, can be smutty cause Satan knows some fun play time can take your mind off of a headache alright, it's up to you.

If that's something you'd be interested in wreiting of course, no pressure!

Mushy May Day 11: Unspoken 'I love you's

a little quip about Swiss' raging headache coming up! featuring Aether and Sunshine. what says 'i love you' more than helping your packmate ease their pain without being asked?

Pairings: Aether/Swiss/Sunshine

Words: 715

Swiss grumbles in Sunshine’s lap, begging her thighs to smother him so he doesn’t have to feel the incessant throbbing behind his eyes anymore. He claws into his own hair as a spike of pain sears through his right temple, knocking his breath right out of his chest. 

Sunshine gently pries his fingers out of his hair and redirects them to latch onto the hem of the blanket scrunched around his shoulders instead. She pets his hair with soft, flat palms, offering what little warmth she can conjure. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in their infernal language, the curse sounding more like a hex on his tongue. 

“That bad?” Aether asks from the hallway. When the waves of pain emanating from his packmate started branching off in sulfuric tendrils across the void, the quintessence ghoul roused himself from the comfort of his bed, unable to relax while Swiss was suffering. 

Sunshine nods. Her expression is one of empathy and concern, eyebrows upturned as she regards Aether across the room. “Going on hour three, now,” she says, still running her hands across Swiss’ tight curls. I’m trying, she mouths with a sad smile. 

I know, Aether mouths back, genuine. 

“Brain feels like it’s in a fist fight with my skull,” Swiss mumbles. 

Aether motions for Sunshine to let him switch places with her. She settles on the other end of the couch, lifting Swiss’ feet into her lap. 

“You’ve just got such a big one,” he jokes in hushed tones. “Okay, marshmallow,” he soothes as Swiss grumbles at the displacement, “there you go.” 

Swiss buries his face into Aether’s lap just as deeply as he had with Sunshine. The quintessence ghoul runs a hand down his neck, running between his shoulder blades and back up again in long, slow motions. 

“These bodies of ours,” he begins quietly, “are fragile. The magick that runs through all of us, in each varied way, hits a limit, in which it has nowhere productive to go.” Aether’s fingers sparkle with that telltale ultraviolet hue, floating just under the base of Swiss’ skull now. “So it manifests as pain. You’d do well to let that glamour go sometimes, give that soul a little more room.” The words are targeted at Swiss, but it serves a gentle reminder for all of them, really. 

The multi-ghoul sighs heavily as Aether brings his hand to the crown of his head, pressing gently with his fingertips. Sunshine tentatively rubs little circles into his calf muscles. She observes the way Swiss’ shoulders melt into Aether’s lap at his touch, quintessence seeping into the pain-filled crevices of his brain and scooping it out with its magick tendrils. He groans with relief, tail finally uncurling from around his own thigh. The spaded tip falls limp to the floor with a soft thud. Sunshine can’t help but trill happily at the sight of Swiss finally relaxed. 

“But,” Aether continues softly, “we can’t face the burden of pain alone. As I’m sure Sunny already told you, marshmallow.” The ghoulette nods in agreement, having done her best to usher a curled-up multi-ghoul into her lap after breakfast once he started wincing.

“I know,” Swiss whines, voice muffled by Aether’s legs. Aether just chuckles, continuing to massage his magick along his scalp, trailing down his neck and shoulders every so often. But he knows there's an unspoken thank you in there somewhere.

The three sit in silence, Aether and Sunshine running their warm loving hands over their packmate until a low purr kicks up in his chest, the multi-ghoul finally and truly relieved. 

“Hey Aethe,” Sunshine chirps inquisitively after a while. 

“Hey Sunny,” he parrots back.

She giggles. “How come you call Swiss ‘marshmallow’?” Swiss snorts a laugh in Aether’s laugh. 

“Well, couple years ago there was this little packet of hot chocolate in one of the hotel rooms—you know, the drink Papa likes to carry around during the winter time and insist it’s actually coffee?” Sunshine nods. “I don’t know why I noticed it. But the brand was ‘Swiss Miss’.”

“The kind with mini marshmallows,” Swiss chimes in. 

“So,” Aether gestures vaguely, “marshmallow.”

“So dumb,” the multi-ghoul mumbles amusedly.

“I think he secretly likes it,” Aether stage whispers across the couch. Swiss shakes his head in defiance, rubbing his face in the quintessence ghoul’s lap, but Sunshine can hear him holding back laughter. 

[a-typical]

The origin and evolution of life are connected in the most intimate way with the origin and evolution of the stars.

First: The very matter of which we are composed, the atoms that make life possible, were generated long ago and far away in giant red stars. The relative abundance of the chemical elements found in the Cosmos matches the relative abundance of atoms generated in stars so well as to leave little doubt that red giants and supernovae are the ovens and crucibles in which matter has been forged. The Sun is a second- or third-generation star. All the matter in it, all the matter you see around you, has been through one or two previous cycles of stellar alchemy.

Second: The existence of certain varieties of heavy atoms on the Earth suggests that there was a nearby supernova explosion shortly before the solar system was formed. But this is unlikely to be a mere coincidence; more likely, the shock wave produced by the supernova compressed interstellar gas and dust and triggered the condensation of the solar system.

Third: When the Sun turned on, its ultraviolet radiation poured into the atmosphere of the Earth; its warmth generated lightning; and these energy sources sparked the complex organic molecules that led to the origin of life. 

Fourth: Life on Earth runs almost exclusively on sunlight. Plants gather the photons and convert solar to chemical energy. Animals parasitize the plants. Farming is simply the methodical harvesting of sunlight, using plants as grudging intermediaries. We are, almost all of us, solar-powered.

Finally, the hereditary changes called mutations provide the raw material for evolution. Mutations, from which nature selects its new inventory of life forms, are produced in part by cosmic rays—high-energy particles ejected almost at the speed of light in supernova explosions. The evolution of life on Earth is driven in part by the spectacular deaths of distant, massive suns.

[mysticstronomy]

IS QUASAR A BLACK HOLE??

Blog#289

Wednesday, April 19th, 2023

Welcome back,

A quasar is a supermassive black hole feeding on gas at the center of a distant galaxy.

Quasar is short for quasi-stellar radio source, because astronomers first discovered quasars in 1963 as objects that looked like stars but emitted radio waves.

Now, the term is a catch-all for all feeding, and therefore luminous supermassive black holes, also often called active galactic nuclei.

It’s a bit of a contradiction to call a black hole luminous; black holes themselves are, of course, black. In fact, almost every large galaxy hosts a black hole with the mass of millions to billions of Suns, and many of these black holes lurk in the dark. Our Milky Way’s behemoth weighs in at 4.3 million solar masses, but its starvation diet mutes all but faint flashes and flickers.

We know it’s there, though, from the orbits of stars around it. Other dormant black holes occasionally shred an infalling star, making their presence known by the flare of radiation that ensues.

But quasars are a different breed of black hole. They reside in galaxies with plentiful gas supplies, perhaps supplied by a recent galaxy-galaxy collision, and they gorge on the inflowing material.

The gas spirals around as it falls in, heating up in the process and emitting radiation across the electromagnetic spectrum.

Supermassive black holes in nearby galaxies typically do not have that much gas available to them, so quasars are typically found in distant galaxies. The nearest quasar is Markarian 231, which lies about 600 million light-years from Earth.

A quasar is not only the feeding black hole itself, but the light-producing structures that surround it. Visible and ultraviolet light come from the glowing disk of infalling material, while even hotter gas above the disk shines at X-ray energies. Jets shooting out along the black hole’s poles emit everything from radio waves to X-rays. Farther out from the black hole, the prolific dust and gas glow at infrared wavelengths.

The size of a quasar accretion disk, which scales with the mass of its black hole, is typically a few light-days across. That dwarfs in comparison to its host galaxy; the Milky Way for comparison is roughly 100,000 light-years across. Yet quasars often outshine their hosts.

Despite their brilliance, quasars are so small and distant that even the most powerful telescope cannot resolve all the structures within a quasar.

Astronomers have to ferret out the details using other techniques, such as analyzing spectroscopy (spreading out the light by wavelength) or light curves (spreading out the light by its arrival time).

While the details are still up for debate, we can use current knowledge to paint a general picture of a quasar. Just remember that this picture might change over time as we learn more!

Originally published on skyandtelescope.org

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, April 22nd, 2023)

"HOW LONG DO BLACK HOLES LAST??"

[takingchences]

ultraviolet pt. 6 - BAKUGOU

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

If you wish to join the taglist let me know! Thank you for reading and an early Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

series masterlist + face claim

After the reporters were escorted off campus, the rest of the day went smoothly. Bakugou was back to his usual boisterous self, which Sana was actually happy about (not that she'd ever admit it).

Momo offered to treat the girls at a nearby cafe, but Sana declined. The girl felt exhausted after such an exciting day and longed for her bed. There was a part of her that dreaded going home though. Thanks to Bakugou, she'd managed to evade the press and their questions, but she was afraid that somehow her father had found out anyway and was waiting for her.

So Sana walked as slowly as possible, dragging out the twenty minute walk back to her house to about thirty-five minutes. She'd barely touched the knob before the door swung open. Carefully, she poked her head inside. The entryway was empty, and no footsteps could be heard approaching. The peach-haired girl wiped away an invisible sweat drop. Thank God he's not-

"Why are you just standing there?"

Sana shrieked, jumping back in fright.

Umi stood hidden behind the door, a duster in hand. Her other hand was still on the doorknob. The young girl doubled over, clutching her chest in fear that the vital organ might break free from her chest. Dammit. She'd actually felt the years being taken off her lifespan.

"I saw you walking up through the window," the housekeeper put a fist on her hip. Her head was tilted to the left, taking in the hunched figure before her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the solar girl sighed, pulling herself up to face the older woman. "Is he-"

"Gone. He's been in and out of meetings all afternoon." Sana breathed a sigh of relief. For now, she was safe. She noticed how Umi's eyes glanced behind her towards the street before returning to her.

"What is it?" Sana followed her gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"I just thought Shoto would be with you."

Hearing his name didn't help calm her heart. For months she'd made excuses as to why Shoto hadn't been around. She'd claimed that he was taking up more training for the entrance exam (which was probably true), or that he'd finally taken the time to visit Rei in the hospital. Anything she could think of to explain his absence, but honestly? She had no idea what her best friend had been up to all these months. She wasn't even sure what she'd done in the first place to deserve his silent treatment.

"We've both been pretty busy lately," Sana forced her lips to lift upwards. She'd perfected her fake smile over the years for all of the cameras and public appearances, but Umi knew her almost too well. She was scared that if she looked closer, she would see the overwhelming sadness Sana felt in her heart reflected in her eyes.

The housekeeper didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't press the subject, either.

Admitting out loud that they'd had a falling out made it real. And Sana wasn't ready to face that reality yet, so she happily fed into the fantasy.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

The next morning was uneventful. No sign of flashing cameras or pesky reporters camped outside the gates. No more stampedes in the hallway. The most excitement 1-A faced was Midnight surprising them with a pop quiz.

Lunch was peaceful. Sana sat at her usual table with Mina and the boys. She spotted Shinso lounging at the same table as yesterday and waved. His hooded eyes widened a fraction before jerking his chin in acknowledgment.

"Oh?" Mina leaned in close, her lips curled deviously. "And just who were you waving to?"

"A friend."

Mina gasped dramatically. "Do I know this friend?" Her bright eyes narrowed in suspicion. She leaned in close, though the volume of her voice didn't change. If she was trying to be sneaky about it, she was failing miserably. The whole table's attention was now focused on the them. "More importantly, is this mystery friend a guy?" Sana opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Mina clasping her hands together in prayer. "And if he is, PLEASE tell me he's hot!"

The solar girl laughed, shaking her head. She wasn't blind. Shinso was very handsome, but there was a specific type that she was attracted to. Normal guys just didn't cut it. She had her first love to thank for that.

"Am I not allowed to have hot guy friends?" Sana gestured across the table to two very smug-looking guys, one flushed redhead, and a snarling gremlin. She waved her hand dismissively towards the ash blonde. "And whatever you call that."

Kaminari and Sero erupted into cackles.

"THE HELL-" Kirishima grabbed his shoulders and pushed Bakugou back down in his seat. Sana sent him a wink, which earned her a demonic growl.

"Not ones that I don't know about!" Mina protested.

Sana took a long sip of her orange juice. She remembered Mina fangirling over Shoto on their first day. If she ever found out that they were childhood friends... well, she could only imagine the pinkette's reaction, but she had a feeling it would involve a lot of squealing and a few not-so-playful punches in the arm.

She could only smile and shrug. I'd gladly let her beat me up if it meant getting my friend back.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

After lunch, Mr. Aizawa stood at the front of the class wearing his hero suit, his hair still messy from the catnap he'd most likely taken during the break. "Today's training will be a little different. You'll have three instructors; me, All Might, and another faculty member will be keeping tabs on you." All around the room students gasped.

"Sir!" Iida held his hand up, like he was waiting to be called on. "What kind of training is this?"

"Rescue." His response caused the excitement level to rise even more. "You'll be dealing with natural disasters, shipwrecks, stuff like that."

A rescue mission? Sana leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. There were all types of heroes out there. There were those that specialized in battle, while others were better suited for search and rescues. It all comes down to how you can help the most in a crisis. If a villain appears in a public space, putting civilians lives at risk, where are you going to be most useful; in the evacuation or the takedown?

This training exercise Aizawa set up for them will test them in a way they couldn't prepare for. Fighting is easy, but protecting someone? Making split second decisions in a life-or-death situation that could cost not only your life, but countless others? How do you prepare for that?

Aizawa told the class to pipe down before continuing. "What you wear in this exercise is up to you. I know you're excited about costumes, but keep in mind that you haven't gotten used to them yet, and they might limit your abilities." The special compartments holding their suits slid out of the wall. "This special training is at an off‐campus facility, so we'll be taking a bus to get there. That's all. Start getting ready."

They all quickly changed into their costumes before congregating outside the school gate. Everyone was in full costume except for Midoriya. Bakugou had done a real number on his adorable green suit during their last heroics class, so the boy was forced to walk around in his gym uniform until the repairs were finished.

They reluctantly lined up outside the bus per the new Class President's instructions. Sana felt a cruel twinge of satisfaction as she boarded the bus and noticed the open layout. Nice try, Iida. She nabbed a spot in the middle next to Kirishima, who was practically vibrating in his seat. Everyone was feeling the excitement. The amount of energy pouring off of them was almost tangible.

"If we're pointing out the obvious, then there's something I wanna say..." Tsuyu caught their attention. She turned to the resident broccoli boy. "About you, actually."

The greenette blushed. "About me? What is it, Asui?"

"I told you to call me 'Tsu.'" The frog-like girl reminded him, flustering the poor thing even more.

"Oh, y-yeah. Right."

The green-haired girl help her finger to her lip in contemplation. "That power of yours. Isn't it a lot like All Might's?" The sound that came out of Midoriya's mouth nearly made Sana snort unattractively. The boy was a red, sweaty mess.

Yeah, I guess... if you ignore the fact that his limbs turn to spaghetti every time he uses it.

Kirishima also pointed out the big difference between their quirks before sighing. "Still, I bet it's cool to have a simple augmenting‐type of Quirk. You can do lots of flashy stuff with it." He held out an arm, activating his quirk. "My hardening's super strong and can destroy bad guys in a fight, but it doesn't look all that impressive."

Sana nudged his knee with her's. "Aren't you being a little hard on yourself?"

"Oh, no way," Midoriya shook his head in denial. "I think it's really awesome looking," he insisted. "You're definitely pro material with a Quirk like that."

Thank you, Midoriya, for being so kind. Sana shot him a grateful smile.

"You really think so?" The redhead brightened, but he still looked a little down. "Seems like it'd be easier to be a popular hero if I had something flashier."

"My navel laser's got the perfect combination of panache and strength." Aoyama proudly pointed out, but Mina was quick to pop his bubble.

"But it's way lame if it gives you a stomachache, sweetie." The French boy deflated at that.

"Well, if any of our classmates have pro Quirks," Kirishima steered the conversation back on track."It's gotta be Todoroki, Sakano, and Bakugou."

Sana was genuinely surprised to hear her name mentioned. Not that she didn't believe in herself and her abilities, but to have someone else acknowledge her strength was so rewarding. She'd been compared to Shoto her entire life, but this time was different. Finally, someone was seeing her as an individual, as someone capable of standing on their own, and not in someone else's shadow. Shoto and Bakugou had two of the strongest quirks she'd ever seen, and here was someone who viewed her on the same level as them. It just solidified her belief that she was meant to be here.

"Sure," Tsuyu admitted. "But Bakugou's always angry, so he'll never be that popular."

"What did you say? I'll kick your ass!" Bakugou jumped up from his seat, gripping the handrail tightly as if imagining their necks in its place.

Tsu didn't bat an eye. "See?"

She'd tried to hold it in, but she couldn't keep it in any longer. Sana clutched her sides, snickering uncontrollably. Kaminari joined in the teasing next, casually leaning back in the seat across from her and Kiri. "Y'know, we basically just met you. So it's kinda telling that we all know your personality is flaming crap mixed with garbage." The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

"You're gonna regret the day you applied to this school, loser!" Bakugou was perched on the rail now, ready to launch himself at the electric blonde.

Midoriya watched the one-sided argument unfold with a look like he was going to pass out or be carsick, neither of which Sana hoped to witness. They broke off into smaller conversations amongst themselves for the remainder of the short drive.

"We're here." Aizawa announced, standing at the front of the bus. "Stop messing around."

"Yes, sir."

The class stepped off the bus, only to be welcomed by a familiar face- well, mask. "Hello, everyone," The Pro Hero Thirteen greeted them with a wave. "I've been waiting for you! I can't wait to show you what's inside!" The young heroes followed their instructors into the building. From the outside, it didn't look like much. But inside...

"Holy crap!" Kirishima exclaimed.

The interior of the building was huge. A grand staircase led down to the main floor, where areas were sectioned off into mini environments. "A shipwreck, a landslide, a fire, a windstorm, etc..." U.A really went Plus Ultra with their budget, huh? "I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, but you can call it USJ!"

Aizawa and Thirteen whispered to each other, the rescue hero holding up three fingers. Their homeroom teacher looked annoyed as he turned back to them. Thirteen, on the other hand, was as cheerful as ever.

"Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing. Well, maybe two things... possibly three, four, or five."

The list keeps growing! 1-A sweatdropped.

"Listen carefully. I'm sure you're aware that I have a powerful Quirk called Black Hole. I can use it to suck up anything and turn it into dust, but my Quirk could also very easily be used to kill."

Shocked gasps filled the silence.

"Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous. In our superhuman society, all Quirks are certified and stringently regulated, so we often overlook how unsafe they can actually be. Please don't forget that if you lose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly. Even if you're trying to do something virtuous like rescue someone."

With great power comes great responsibility. Isn't that what the first heroes used to say?

"Thanks to Aizawa's fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your Quirk's potential. And because of All Might's combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons over to this class. Today, you're going to learn how to use your Quirks to save people's lives. You won't be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help. After all, that's what being a hero is all about. Ensuring the safety of others. That's all I have to say. Thank you so much for listening."

The class clapped and cheered, amazed by the Pro's speech. Mr. Aizawa, of course, already looked like he wanted to go home.

"Right. Now that that's over..." All at once, the group moved their attention to the plaza, where the fountain was acting strange. Suddenly, a dark, misty cloud appeared, a pale hand emerging from the darkness. Mr. Aizawa stepped forward, instantly on alert.

"Stay together and don't move!" Thirteen warned.

The class watched in confusion and awe as their homeroom teacher took a defensive stance, his capture weapon floating around him. His stance was defensive, but strong, as more people stepped through the purple mist.

"Thirteen," Aizawa commanded over his shoulder, his focus locked onto the growing amount of strangers downstairs. "Protect the students!"

Out of the mist appeared a hulking shape. Purple-black skin was stretched tight across bulging muscles. The being's eyes were wide and empty, it's brain exposed. It's beak opened in a reverberating roar. What the hell is that thing? Sana's hands clenched at her side, a slight tremble in her fingers. It obviously wasn't human... not anymore, at least. The students looked to their teachers for guidance on what to do, their voices strained.

"Wait, has the training started already?" Ochaco's voice was apprehensive.

"I thought we were rescuing people?" Kirishima asked.

Sana wasn't so sure herself what was going on, but her gut told her it wasn't anything good. It was clear that as unconventional as his teaching style is, Aizawa wasn't behind this. He looked too tense, too taken aback by their arrival. In that moment, he wasn't 1-A's Aizawa, but the Pro Hero Eraserhead.

So if it's not part of the training, then what-

Midoriya went to move closer, but was instantly scolded. "Stay back!" The raven-haired man threw his arm out. "This is real. Those are villains." Sana inhaled sharply, her gaze jumping between her classmates, her teachers, and the villains below.

It seems we're the ones in need of rescuing.