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xtruss · 2 years ago

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Looking for Art in the James Webb Telescope

Artists are Finding Inspiration in the Newest Images of Old and Ancient Stars.

— By Matthew Hutson | September 14, 2023

“Beyond the Light” opened in New York in June and will have its D.C. Première on September 15th. Photograph courtesy ArtecHouse

In the Film “2001: A Space Odyssey,” an astronaut travels through a seeming tunnel of light. (In the novelization, he radios to mission control: “The thing’s hollow—it goes on forever—and—oh my God!—it’s full of stars!”) Earlier this summer, Artechouse, an organization producing immersive, technology-based art, started offering a science-backed version of a similar trip at its New York venue. The show, titled “Beyond the Light,” is a looping twenty-six-minute journey through space and other realms inspired by images from the James Webb Space Telescope (J.W.S.T.). Artechouse began talks with nasa about a show in 2018, and started pulling this one together earlier this year, after the first images captured by J.W.S.T. were released to the public last July.

There’s a long tradition of art about the stars. More than sixteen thousand years ago, cave explorers in what’s now Lascaux, France, painted animals that are believed to represent the constellations. A few hundred miles away and many centuries later—near Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, in 1889—Vincent van Gogh made “The Starry Night,” a swirling blur of color looming over a village. “I’m sure people have been painting the heavens for as long as they’ve been looking at them,” Maggie Masetti, the nasa social-media lead for the J.W.S.T. mission, told me. “Beyond the Light” is high-tech—video is projected on three walls and the floor of a vast room, while a powerful sound system thrums—but it’s also connected to traditional astro-art in the way it’s largely abstract and impressionistic (sometimes even Cubist). Although the show makes use of images taken by the Webb telescope, it is mostly imaginative. Splashes of color, bubbles, tubes, machinery, and glowing rocks covered with runes flow across the room in response to what the telescope has found.

When the show premièred, in June—its D.C. première is this Friday—a number of researchers involved with the J.W.S.T. were in attendance, among them Stefanie Milam, a nasa astrochemist; Macarena García Marín, an astrophysicist at the European Space Agency; and Mike Menzel, nasa’s mission-systems engineer for the Webb. They stood talking with Sandro Kereselidze, one of Artechouse’s founders. “It’s absolutely fantastic and beautiful,” Milam said. “We already tried to do our own art,” she went on—scientists producing images with the Webb had used “different components of the instruments, different wavelengths, or different filters, to really tell the story about a given image, because we want you to see the baby stars being formed in a giant cloud, or to see the Great Red Spot on Jupiter in multiple colors, or other storms in planetary atmospheres.” But now artists were telling other kinds of stories using the images. “What we do is sort of amateur art,” Milam said.

“We designed the telescope to wow the scientists,” Menzel agreed. Now, he said, “We’re here in an art show, watching some images that we helped produce becoming things that are almost iconic.”

Kereselidze saw similarities between the artists he worked with at Artechouse and the scientists. “We speak the same language,” he said. “We have the passion for expressing what we discovered.” There were some small science exhibits on a mezzanine, but the venue wasn’t trying to be a science museum. Instead, Kereselidze said, “The goal is to open up curious minds. If everything is, like, ‘A, B, C, D,’ it becomes like PowerPoint, right?”

Later, over Zoom, Riki Kim, the executive creative director of Artechouse, explained the meaning behind some of the seemingly disconnected visuals. The floating rocks with glowing inscriptions on them alluded to prehistoric cave paintings; the drifting bubbles represented quantum foam, theoretical fluctuations in space-time. “Every exhibit that we produce is a celebration of a combination of science and technology and art,” she said. Her favorite Webb image, she said, showed the Phantom Galaxy, a spiral galaxy thirty-two million light years away, which the telescope captured using an infrared instrument. Something resembling a blue, glowing eye sits at the center of what looks like a cobweb going down the drain of a black marble sink. She contrasted it with the Cosmic Cliffs and the Pillars of Creation, two regions of nebulae that had also been strikingly photographed. They were like pop stars, she said—winning and charismatic—whereas “the Phantom Galaxy has that rock-star kind of appeal to it. It’s moody. There’s some mysteriousness.”

Kim said that she was moved not just by what the telescope shows us but by how it does so. “There’s decades of humanity’s best efforts in science, optical engineering, you name it” behind the pictures, she said. “That whole process is really inspiring for people who are behind the scenes, like us, the studio team and the designers.” Some of the imagery in the show—such as wiring maps and shards of machinery—is dedicated to the telescope’s engineering. At a high level, Kim noted, the show is about how we’ve experienced light throughout the history of civilization, and about how we keep pushing boundaries to see more of it. “This is our tribute to the technical infrastructure of discovery,” Kim said.

In July of 2022, Ashley Zelinskie, a Brooklyn-based conceptual artist, was at nasa’s Goddard Space Flight Center, in Maryland, when the first Webb images were revealed in the presence of scientists and the media. “It was a very emotional room,” she recalled. “Everybody was very excited and misty-eyed when the images came back.” That October, her solo exhibition, “Unfolding the Universe: First Light” (curated by nasa’s Masetti), opened at onx Studio, in New York City. One piece depicted the telescope itself, with its array of hexagonal, gold-plated mirrors. The 3-D-printed sculpture, “Exploration,” portrays those panels with three arms reaching out, the arms wrapped in the math used to build the telescope. Another 3-D-printed sculpture, “Southern Ring Nebula,” looks like a porcupine crossed with a snake, its loops meant to evoke the eponymous planetary nebula in the constellation Vela.

Some of the art is interactive. The movie “It’s a Wonderful Life,” from 1946, includes a telescopic image of five galaxies called Stephan’s Quintet; the Webb produced an updated, high-resolution image of the galaxies, and the grouping reminded Zelinskie of the five figures in Matisse’s painting “La Danse.” She brought them to life by creating her own “La Danse,” a hologram of dancing stars that viewers can control using a motion sensor. Scientists created an image called Webb’s First Deep Field by pointing the telescope at a patch of black sky that was approximately the diameter of a grain of sand held at arm’s length, and collecting light for more than twelve hours; the process revealed thousands of galaxies in layers, each containing light collected at a different band of infrared wavelengths. “The way they described the process, I was, like, ‘Oh, my God, that sounds so much like silk-screening,’ ” Zelinskie said. So she made “Deep Field,” a silk screen of the image. Viewers can place plastic pegs into dark patches of the work, and the pegs light up, conveying the possibility that, if the telescope had looked even longer, it might have found something there, too. “There’s probably a star there, everywhere you look,” she said.

In part because of the telescope’s hexagonal mirrors, stars appear with six points in the images it creates. The points are visible in “She Signs Her Work in Stars,” a 3-D-printed sculpture. “It’s kind of like the telescope signs its own art work—like the telescope is an artist itself,” Zelinskie said. “These images are extremely daunting for an artist to make art work about because they’re just so beautiful. How can we improve upon them?” When the first Webb images were released, Zelinskie didn’t attempt to make art in response to one in particular; she kept returning to an image titled “Cosmic Cliffs,” of the Carina Nebula, for months. “It’s just so breathtaking that I just said, ‘What can I say about it?’ ” she recalled. When we spoke, she was working on a tapestry that she hoped would do it justice.

Zelinskie sees artists and scientists as not so dissimilar; they are people trying to figure out their place in the universe. “Humanity is the universe observing itself,” she told me. “I want people to walk away from my art work just feeling very connected to the universe.”

In the Nineteen-tens, Gustav Holst Composed “The Planets,” an orchestral work inspired not by astronomy but by astrology. Its seven movements focus on Mars as the bringer of war, Venus as the bringer of peace, and so on. (Holst excluded Earth; Pluto had yet to be discovered or demoted.) Despite the suite’s grounding in the zodiac, Wade Sisler, an executive producer at Goddard, once created a film of nasa imagery to accompany “The Planets,” as he has for other musical works. A couple of years ago, Piotr Gajewski, the music director and conductor of the National Philharmonic, in Maryland, decided to flip the process, asking Sisler to create films of stellar imagery which a composer would then score. In May, in partnership with nasa, the National Philharmonic premièred “Cosmic Cycles,” an art work combining images with compositions by Henry Dehlinger. Its seventh movement, “Echoes of the Big Bang,” musically dramatizes cosmological images, including many from the Webb.

Dehlinger looked at the Webb’s version of Pillars of Creation—a nebular area where new stars are being created. The Hubble Space Telescope had photographed the same area, capturing brown, almost opaque appendages, but Webb’s near-infrared camera pierced the clouds and revealed stars within them. “You’re looking at a nursery of stars,” Dehlinger told me. “You’re kind of taking a peek at what the origins of our own solar system might have been like. And you can’t help but feel a certain feeling of love.” When that image appears during “Cosmic Cycles,” the sound ceases. “I used a combination of strings and woodwinds played very pianissimo,” he said, along with “tone clusters that give one a feeling of upliftment.” The strings and woodwinds play off each other, creating a moment that’s both ethereal and imperial.

“That was a classic case of how music followed the emotion that was being generated by the images,” Dehlinger said. Orchestras, he went on, are well suited to conveying multiple feelings simultaneously—something that the space images can also do. “You can have majesty, wistfulness, and ethereality coexist,” he said. “You know you’re dealing with wonderful material when it can elicit more than one emotion.”

Professional artists aren’t the only ones inspired by the telescope’s source material. In 2016, nasa invited twenty-five applicants, including Zelinskie, to visit the instrument while it was under construction at Goddard. Most of them made works based on it for a show called “Art + Science” the following year; among other creations, they produced paintings, poetry, and music. Then, in 2020, Masetti widened the scope of the effort, creating the social-media hashtag #UnfoldTheUniverse and inviting anyone of any age to post photos of themselves and their art expressing what they thought the Webb might uncover. People shared hundreds of pieces, and continue to: there are paintings (and painted fingernails), tree ornaments, a cake, a teapot, and a quilt. “Art is a good way to build bridges,” Masetti told me. “A lot of people think science is hard or isn’t for them. But science can be inspirational, and space is for everyone.”

A few weeks after seeing the Artechouse show, I escaped the city and went to Montana. Looking up at night, I saw how crowded our neighborhood was, on a scale larger than city blocks. The sky was—oh, my God!—full of stars. I felt both small and large, a minuscule component of something majestic. I was seeing the art work that is the universe—and I was part of it. ♦

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leasthaunted · 9 months ago

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The images are below!!

"Big Sur" California

Bixby Creek Bridge, Big Sur. One of the most photographed and filmed bridges in the world.

Same bridge, and how Big Sur coast looks most of the year. Perfect conditions for the Dark Watchers.

Mission San Antonio de Padua, near the town of Jolon. Established where Spanish overland explorers found the coast too rugged to explore. The Spanish Mission system, a series of 21 church compounds, were established as way stops for Spanish travelers, and as a way to subjugate, enslave, and commit acts of cultural genocide against the indigenous Californian peoples.

John Steinbeck (1902-1968) grew up in the area of the Salinas Valley, and the Santa Lucia mountain range. He wrote of the dark watchers in his short story, "Flight."

Poet Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962) called Big Sur home, and mentioned the Dark Watchers in his poem, "Such Counsels you Gave to Me."

The Summit of Ben Macdui in the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland. Alleged home of The Big Grey Man, a similar entity to The Dark Watchers.

Johann Silberschlag (1721-1791) German pastor and scientist who first scientifically explained the phenomenon of The Brocken Spectre.

A Brocken Spectre. Named after the Brocken Mountain in Germany. It is an optical illusion caused by a shadow being cast onto mist or clouds, and gives the impression that the shadow is both solid, and very large. And is sometimes accompanied by a "Glory."

The Brocken

A "Glory" is a series of glowing halo-like circles of light that sometimes surround a Brocken Spectre, and are caused by the moisture in the air focusing light through polarization.

Brocken Spectres can be objects and vehicles as well as people. In the case of a Glory, it will always be directly in line with the light source, and the observor. In the case of this plane photo, the very center of the glory represents where the photographer is sitting on the plane.

"The Sun Stone" a crystal of Ulexite. It has perculiar properties caused by the matrix along which the mineral is aligned. You can see the vertical grain of the crystal in this photo.

The grain of the crystal cause polarization of light. So when viewed from the right angle, the crystal appears transparent.

The polarization properties mean that the crystal can be used to locate the source of light through the creation of a glory. Here is how it works to locate the sun on a cloudy day in the redwoods. (Come to the Least Haunted Discord to see a video of how it works.)

By causing the haloes of the glory to line up in a specific pattern one can locate the sun through the clouds.

Could this be the fabled "Viking Sun Stone" of the eddas? Could be. And if it is, Least Haunted claims credit for the discovery! (Copyright. TM. TM. TM.)

(Sorry about the delay, I was hiding from the cats at the LH HQ. ❤, Mabel)

Episode 114: The Dark Watchers

From the coast of Big Sur, to the top of the second highest peak in The British Isles, Cody and Garth explore tales of giant shadow figures in the mist. What are The Dark Watchers? Who is The Big Gray Man? and What does a specter from Germany have to do with it? All of this and the opening of your third eye await in the latest episode of Least Haunted!

As always, please come join the episode discussion on the Least Haunted Discord!

#leasthaunted #podcast #funny #paranormal #podcasts #skeptics #cryptids #dark watchers #big sur #big gray man

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icharchivist · 2 years ago

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"Cecil isn't a tumblr sexyman" whom the fuck is Cecil? An herb??

ANON.

ANON??????????????

IS THAT A JOKE 😭😭😭

I guess only the 2013 tumblrinas (gn) know properly who Cecil is.

Cecil is the protagonist and narrator of Welcome To Night Vale, a surreal horror podcast (perhaps THE surreal horror podcast that kickstarted the trend you see those days like tma and stuff). (go listen to the Pilot, though huge warning for unreality stuff if that's a problem with you)

The show is set up to be a radio show set in Night Vale, a city where weird things happen all the time except that for the narrator, all of this is normal. Yeah of course a 5 headed dragon is running for mayor against the faceless woman who secretly lives in your house. Of course no one is supposed to go to the Dog Park. Of course everyone must give their offering to the Mighty Glow Cloud. Of course there's a ghost cat in the bathroom floating and having kittens, isn't she adorable.

One of the extremely refreshing thing about this podcast, especially in 2013, where tumblr was mostly obsessed with queerbaiting shows, is the fact that in the very first episode, Cecil meets Carlos the scientist, and immediately falls in love with him. Meaning there's a lot of episodes going "the eldritch monster camping on the highway once again committed some new incidents and people died. but that's not important. DID YOU SEE CARLOS'S HAIR? ISNT HE DREAMY?" (and they went on dates and eventually got married).

And the thing with Cecil, outside from his dreamy voice, his gay crush, and the beautiful existential sentences he could spur sometimes (“The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first and settles in as the gentle present” is one of my fav quotes), is that he was just a voice. There never was a single canon design about him.

So everyone could make their own Cecil. Everyone had their own version of him in mind, though we all somehow agreed on him wearing Night Vale's purple, and you would often see tattoos of eyes and tentacles on him (or that pushed with literally showing them off outside of his skin).

in the early 2010s on this website you couldn't go ANYWHERE without knowing about Cecil. Everyone was talking about him. Anyone who has been on this website for about ten years would talk to you fondly about their friend Cecil Palmer from the radio show.

We're discussing Tumblr sexymen. if you think tumblr sexymen just means a man tumblr finds sexy (even though it's weird), you're dead wrong. And Cecil had earned his place because HE was THE Blorbo.

On another note for you to understand exactly what it means on tumblr, you heard of Dashcon? Everyone's heard of Dashcon. Many people weren't here when Dashcon happened. I was here. One of the scam the people of Dashcon ran in order to get people from tumblr to come was to invite the wtnv's cast. However, last minute, they didn't pay them, and the condition of hosting were deplorable (the nearby hotel was stacked, and the organizator of the con didn't even pay the con's site at all, which means they locked all the teenagers who had came into the lobby to ask them to pay for the fees of the con's rent. Do you even realize how insane that is). So the wtnv crew didn't come.

But it was literally THE thing that represented tumblr enough that it ended up wrapped in this horrible scam. It was the moment. The thing that truly defined the early 10s on this website.

Of course you might think he's not a proper sexyman for tumblr (tbh i think Sans and the Once-ler are the real sexymen of this website) but Cecil has been the embodiment of the early 10s culture of this website. (and personally i think it'd be somewhat very vindicative of the website to have him become the sexyman this time).

Somehow... the way history gets lost in here i swear.

#tbh i think people are just. completely unaware of how the early 10s were on this website #it was widely different in term of how we interreacted with one another #i don't mean it in like 'it was better before' it just was different #i always get a grip when i see ppl talk about 'the new once-ler' or 'the new superwholock'#and everytime all they mean is 'this chara is popular' or 'those three saga are popular at the same time'#this is not what those were. god the early 10s were weird.#anyway. we put respect to Cecil's name in this house thank you.#ichareply #anonymous #unreality #unreality cw #sorry making sure but this show might be extremely unreality indulcing so be careful

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merelygifted · 3 years ago

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40-Year Study Finds Mysterious Patterns in Temperatures at Jupiter | NASA

These infrared images of Jupiter with color added were obtained by the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope in 2016 and contributed to the new study. The colors represent temperatures and cloudiness: bluer areas are cold and cloudy, and the orange areas are warmer and cloud-free.

Credits: ESO / L.N. Fletcher

Infrared images of Jupiter

Based partly on data from generations of NASA missions, including NASA’s Voyager and Cassini, the work could help scientists determine how to predict weather on Jupiter.

Scientists have completed the longest-ever study tracking temperatures in Jupiter’s upper troposphere, the layer of the atmosphere where the giant planet’s weather occurs and where its signature colorful striped clouds form. The work, conducted over four decades by stitching together data from NASA spacecraft and ground-based telescope observations, found unexpected patterns in how temperatures of Jupiter’s belts and zones change over time. The study is a major step toward a better understanding of what drives weather at our solar system’s largest planet and eventually being able to forecast it.

Jupiter’s troposphere has a lot in common with Earth’s: It’s where clouds form and storms churn. To understand this weather activity, scientists need to study certain properties, including wind, pressure, humidity, and temperature. They have known since NASA’s Pioneer 10 and 11 missions in the 1970s that, in general, colder temperatures are associated with Jupiter’s lighter and whiter bands (known as zones), while the darker brown-red bands (known as belts) are locations of warmer temperatures.

But there weren’t enough data sets to understand how temperatures vary over the long-term. The new research, published Dec. 19 in Nature Astronomy, breaks ground by studying images of the bright infrared glow (invisible to the human eye) that rises from warmer regions of the atmosphere, directly measuring Jupiter’s temperatures above the colorful clouds. The scientists collected these images at regular intervals over three of Jupiter’s orbits around the Sun, each of which lasts 12 Earth years.

In the process, they found that Jupiter’s temperatures rise and fall following definite periods that aren’t tied to the seasons or any other cycles scientists know about. Because Jupiter has weak seasons – the planet is tilted on its axis only 3 degrees, compared to Earth’s jaunty 23.5 degrees – scientists didn’t expect to find temperatures on Jupiter varying in such regular cycles.

The study also revealed a mysterious connection between temperature shifts in regions thousands of miles apart: As temperatures went up at specific latitudes in the northern hemisphere, they went down at the same latitudes in the southern hemisphere – like a mirror image across the equator. ...

#Astronomy #Space Exploration #Jupiter #NASA #WHOA

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ennaku-sirri-da · 3 years ago

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Moon ( GUYS THIS WAS FROM MY EDGY PHRASE WHERE I THOUGHT DENTISTS WERE SO UNCOOL ITS OUTDATED ANYWAY IF U STILL LIKE IT U CAN RB)

Plaintext:( guys this was from my edgy phrase where I thought dentists were so uncool it's outdated anyway if you still like it you can RB)

[ ID: Digital fanart of a redesigned version of Kamal Bora from Smile For Me the game. In this version he has dark skin, acne, stubble, a visible Adam’s apple, a central gaptooth. His long, messy hair has white streaks in it making him look older. On his chest are Inverted T top surgery scars.

He wears purplish-blue goggles with brown framing, a single silver earring on his left ear, a Howie style black lab coat unbuttoned at the top showing his chest, dark gloves, and dark brown ankle top boots.

He grins sideways with a determined expression, pulling a glove on. One eye is visible through his goggles. The way he is colored is with overlapping watercolors of many shades of the same color.

In the first picture the background is a glowing laid-down crescent moon behind him against a deep blue night. Light blue lines hang from the moon with white glowing dots representing stars. Some of these lines end in purple roses. Deep grayish-blue clouds crowd the bottom with touches of purple. Neon purple lightining strikes behind his head. The coloring of most things besides the lightning has a slightly rough, brushy painted texture to it.

The second picture is the same Kamal but without a background, as a PNG. end ID]

My Kamal <: ) (smiley emoticon)

He’s a washed out scientist with wide interests. I associate him with the moon.

#kamal bora #s4m #smile for me game #fanart #my art #moon #i love my old queers

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nasa · 2 years ago

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5 Years, 8 Discoveries: NASA Exoplanet Explorer Sees Dancing Stars & a Star-Shredding Black Hole

This all-sky mosaic was constructed from 912 Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite (TESS) images. Prominent features include the Milky Way, a glowing arc that represents the bright central plane of our galaxy, and the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds – satellite galaxies of our own located, respectively, 160,000 and 200,000 light-years away. In the northern sky, look for the small, oblong shape of the Andromeda galaxy (M 31), the closest big spiral galaxy, located 2.5 million light-years away. The black regions are areas of sky that TESS didn’t image. Credit: NASA/MIT/TESS and Ethan Kruse (University of Maryland College Park)

On April 18, 2018, we launched the Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite, better known as TESS. It was designed to search for planets beyond our solar system – exoplanets – and to discover worlds for our James Webb Space Telescope, which launched three years later, to further explore. TESS images sections of sky, one hemisphere at a time. When we put all the images together, we get a great look at Earth’s sky!

In its five years in space, TESS has discovered 326 planets and more than 4,300 planet candidates. Along the way, the spacecraft has observed a plethora of other objects in space, including watching as a black hole devoured a star and seeing six stars dancing in space. Here are some notable results from TESS so far:

During its first five years in space, our Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite has discovered exoplanets and identified worlds that can be further explored by the James Webb Space Telescope. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

1. TESS’ first discovery was a world called Pi Mensae c. It orbits the star Pi Mensae, about 60 light-years away from Earth and visible to the unaided eye in the Southern Hemisphere. This discovery kicked off NASA's new era of planet hunting.

2. Studying planets often helps us learn about stars too! Data from TESS & Spitzer helped scientists detect a planet around the young, flaring star AU Mic, providing a unique way to study how planets form, evolve, and interact with active stars.

Located less than 32 light-years from Earth, AU Microscopii is among the youngest planetary systems ever observed by astronomers, and its star throws vicious temper tantrums. This devilish young system holds planet AU Mic b captive inside a looming disk of ghostly dust and ceaselessly torments it with deadly blasts of X-rays and other radiation, thwarting any chance of life… as we know it! Beware! There is no escaping the stellar fury of this system. The monstrous flares of AU Mic will have you begging for eternal darkness. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

3. In addition to finding exoplanets on its own, TESS serves as a pathfinder for the James Webb Space Telescope. TESS discovered the rocky world LHS 3844 b, but Webb will tell us more about its composition. Our telescopes, much like our scientists, work together.

4. Though TESS may be a planet-hunter, it also helps us study black holes! In 2019, TESS saw a ‘‘tidal disruption event,’’ otherwise known as a black hole shredding a star.

When a star strays too close to a black hole, intense tides break it apart into a stream of gas. The tail of the stream escapes the system, while the rest of it swings back around, surrounding the black hole with a disk of debris. Credit: NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center

5. In 2020, TESS discovered its first Earth-size world in the habitable zone of its star – the distance from a star at which liquid water could exist on a planet’s surface. Earlier this year, a second rocky planet was discovered in the system.

You can see the exoplanets that orbit the star TOI 700 moving within two marked habitable zones, a conservative habitable zone, and an optimistic habitable zone. Planet d orbits within the conservative habitable zone, while planet e moves within an optimistic habitable zone, the range of distances from a star where liquid surface water could be present at some point in a planet’s history. Credit: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center

6. Astronomers used TESS to find a six-star system where all stars undergo eclipses. Three binary pairs orbit each other, and, in turn, the pairs are engaged in an elaborate gravitational dance in a cosmic ballroom 1,900 light-years away in the constellation Eridanus.

7. Thanks to TESS, we learned that Delta Scuti stars pulse to the beat of their own drummer. Most seem to oscillate randomly, but we now know HD 31901 taps out a beat that merges 55 pulsation patterns.

Sound waves bouncing around inside a star cause it to expand and contract, which results in detectable brightness changes. This animation depicts one type of Delta Scuti pulsation — called a radial mode — that is driven by waves (blue arrows) traveling between the star's core and surface. In reality, a star may pulsate in many different modes, creating complicated patterns that enable scientists to learn about its interior. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center

8. Last is a galaxy that flares like clockwork! With TESS and Swift, astronomers identified the most predictably and frequently flaring active galaxy yet. ASASSN-14ko, which is 570 million light-years away, brightens every 114 days!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#space #planets #exoplanets #science #tech #technology #astronomy #astrophysics #stars #black holes #NASA #spaceblr

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 months ago

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Webb unmasks true nature of the 'Cosmic Tornado' spiral galaxy

The NASA/ESA/CSA James Webb Space Telescope has captured a beautiful juxtaposition of the nearby protostellar outflow known as Herbig-Haro 49/50 with a perfectly positioned, more distant spiral galaxy. Due to the close proximity of this Herbig-Haro object to Earth, this new composite infrared image of the outflow from a young star allows researchers to examine details on small spatial scales like never before. With Webb, we can better understand how the jet activity associated with the formation of young stars can affect their surrounding environment.

This new composite image combines observations from Webb's NIRCam (Near-Infrared Camera) and MIRI (Mid-Infrared Instrument), which provides a high-resolution view to explore the exquisite details of this bubbling activity. Herbig-Haro 49/50 is located about 630 light-years from Earth in the constellation Chamaeleon.

Herbig-Haro objects are outflows produced by jets launched from a nearby, forming star. The outflows, which can extend for light-years, plow into a denser region of material. This creates shock waves, heating the material to higher temperatures. The material then cools by emitting light at visible and infrared wavelengths.

When NASA's Spitzer Space Telescope observed it in 2006, scientists nicknamed Herbig-Haro 49/50 (HH 49/50) the "Cosmic Tornado" for its helical appearance, but they were uncertain about the nature of the fuzzy object at the tip of the "tornado."

With its higher imaging resolution, Webb provides a different visual impression of HH 49/50 by revealing fine features of the shocked regions in the outflow, uncovering the fuzzy object to be a distant spiral galaxy, and displaying a sea of distant background galaxies.

HH 49/50 is located in the Chamaeleon I Cloud complex, one of the nearest active star formation regions in our Milky Way, which is creating numerous low-mass stars similar to our sun. This cloud complex is likely similar to the environment that our sun formed in. Past observations of this region show that the HH 49/50 outflow is moving away from us at speeds of 100–300 kilometers per second and is just one feature of a larger outflow.

Webb's NIRCam and MIRI observations of HH 49/50 trace the location of glowing hydrogen molecules, carbon monoxide molecules, and energized grains of dust, represented in orange and red, as the protostellar jet slams into the region. Webb's observations probe details on small spatial scales that will help astronomers to model the properties of the jet and understand how it is affecting the surrounding material.

The arc-shaped features in HH 49/50, similar to a water wake created by a speeding boat, point back to the source of this outflow. Based on past observations, scientists suspect that a protostar known as Cederblad 110 IRS4 is a plausible driver of the jet activity.

Located roughly 1.5 light-years away from HH 49/50 (off the lower right corner of the Webb image), CED 110 IRS4 is a Class I protostar. Class I protostars are young objects (tens of thousands to a million years old) in the prime time of gaining mass. They usually have a discernible disk of material surrounding them that is still falling onto the protostar. Scientists recently used Webb's NIRCam and MIRI observations to study this protostar and obtain an inventory of the icy composition of its environment.

These detailed Webb images of the arcs in HH 49/50 can more precisely pinpoint the direction of the jet source, but not every arc points back in the same direction. For example, there is an interesting outcrop feature (at the top right of the main outflow) which could be another chance superposition of a different outflow, related to the slow precession of the intermittent jet source. Alternatively, this feature could be a result of the main outflow breaking apart.

The galaxy that appears by happenstance at the tip of HH 49/50 is a much more distant, face-on spiral galaxy. It has a prominent central bulge represented in blue that shows the location of older stars. The bulge also shows hints of "side lobes," suggesting that this could be a barred-spiral galaxy. Reddish clumps within the spiral arms show the locations of warm dust and groups of forming stars. The galaxy even displays evacuated bubbles in these dusty regions, similar to nearby galaxies observed by Webb as part of the PHANGS program.

Webb has captured these two unassociated objects in a lucky alignment. Over thousands of years, the edge of HH 49/50 will move outwards and eventually appear to cover up the distant galaxy.

IMAGE: Angled from the upper left corner to the lower right corner of the image is a conical shaped orange-red cloud known at Herbig-Haro 49/50. This feature takes up about three-fourths of the length of this angle. The upper left end of this feature has a translucent, rounded end. At this same location there is a background spiral shaped galaxy with a concentrated blue center that fades outwards to blend in with red spiral arms. The conical feature widens slightly from the rounded end at the upper right down to the lower right. The black background of space is clearer, speckled with some white stars and smaller, more numerous, fainter white galaxies. Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI

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#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics #Youtube

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fleechin · 5 years ago

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Separatory Funnel

Here’s my 2020 Portal Secret Santa for @artistyutaki, she offered a few prompts but one that I thought was interesting was Chell and GLaDOS/PotatOS hiding from Wheatley in the later chapters of Portal 2. I thought I might as well tie it into some of Chell’s thoughts about the ordeal, while also showing what Wheatley’s up to. I also noticed she was interested in the idea of computer gore, with plates and cables all over the place, so I tried to incorporate a bit of that in as well. I also threw in a tiny nod to Mel and Blue Sky since she mentioned she’s a Blue Sky fan. So this ended up being longer than I thought, and it’s my first time writing a proper fanfic of sorts, but I really hope you like this! I had a great time making it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not the best place to be in right now.

Not that it ever was down here, but where Chell was at this exact moment was especially not great. She didn’t complain though, it could always get worse. Actually, it usually did get worse, especially right about when she would wonder if it ever could. Perhaps it was best not to ask that question right about now. Sure, she had just fallen from a deactivated funnel and landed in a dark office whose only door was blocked by overturned desks, monitors, and furniture, which happened to be heavy enough that it’d be a pain in the back to move but for whatever reason the Portal Gun didn’t want to pick up. On the bright side, at least she didn’t fall all the way back down to the 1950s again.

Realistically though, knowing Aperture, it was bound to get worse no matter what she did. If even superstition was anywhere near reliable at this point, it would have been an improvement compared to everything else in this insane complex that somehow had only gotten stranger and more… alien-like, almost, after its founder had died of moon rock poisoning. At least the idea of a set of metal underground spheres laced with asbestos and full of half finished test chambers, the brainchild of a man proudly named Cave, was somewhat navegable. There was an understanding that if one were to see some place and travel far enough in that direction, they would eventually get to that place. If that place moved downwards in freefall, it would be because of the design of the facility, not some sarcastic supercomputer trying to keep her testing while calling her fat.

This bundle of desks, chairs and monitors was somehow all tangled up, with the wires going all over the place. It looked like she would have to either pull the whole thing at once or remove each one separately.

The recordings she heard from Cave Johnson painted a general picture, though they didn’t get awfully specific. But seeing as ground up moon rocks were all the rage down here back in those days, and hearing Cave coughing while ranting about lemons for some reason, it wasn’t difficult for her to figure out exactly how they managed to finally bring down the founder of Aperture. The real surprise? That somehow every other employee at Aperture hadn’t inhaled the stuff and keeled over. It had to have been a possibility, as there was no way that anyone smart enough to work a portal gun would have taken it upon themselves to design any part of this place without being crazy enough to consider the idea.

This table was a lot heavier than it looked. Hopefully she could fold it over. It wasn’t exactly easy to see the parts that let the table fold on itself when it was this dark.

Could she have been one of those scientists? Chell couldn’t remember anything about herself before waking up under Her testing course, however long ago that was, or whether she was actually adopted, like every personality construct in this place seemed to think was a big deal. Any attempt at figuring out how she got down here would have to be based on guesswork. She was a test subject, which made her a likely employee at some point, though if Her insults were anything to go by, she was only a part time employee. Not committed to this job, just doing it on the side to make ends meet.

She finally managed to fold the damn table, and began to drag it out of the way.

At least that meant she wasn’t some Olympian from the 60s who got tricked into going here. Or a homeless person that got plucked off the streets of some town in Upper Michigan all for the promises of $60 at the end. She wasn’t sure how much that would be in today’s money, but wasn’t about to get optimistic. The real downside to it all was that she never would be able to figure it out. She didn’t even know how long it had been other than that it was long enough to concern Wheatley about brain damage, and even if there were information available about her and why she was here to begin with, she didn’t want to go out of her way to find it. Her main goal was getting out of here as quickly as possible, so there was no time for expositional detours.

At most, she could stumble upon her backstory without looking for it. Figuring out what happened to Caroline was enough for one day, or however long it had been since she had last gotten some sleep. Besides, it would probably be a huge letdown anyway. Maybe she really was adopted after her birth parents considered her completely unlikeable even as a baby. Maybe her last name was something boring, like Smith. Or Jones. Maybe her name wasn’t even Chell at all. But hey, at least it wasn’t Cave. Hopefully.

Of course, she could just ask the supercomputer turned potato battery where she came from. Yes, that would be a great idea, confiding in who up until recently was her own worst enemy about a detail that She had constantly made fun of. She definitely wouldn’t take advantage of that fact and tell her all about how little Miss Chell SmithJonesWhatever couldn’t hold a single job until she came here because everyone hated her. They seemed to be on good terms now, but she wasn’t going to risk jinxing herself. Besides, she had a rule. No talking in Aperture. Nothing that any AI said was ever worth a response.

So the lights didn’t work in this room anymore. Phenomenal.

Regardless, even though it still didn’t explain whether she was one of the employees, part time, or otherwise, who might have almost inhaled ground up rocks that cost anywhere from a TV to a house - she wasn’t about to do the math to figure anything more precise than that - it was at least clear that she had made it into Aperture under vaguely legitimate pretenses, and that they considered her smart enough to get her hands on a machine that, in the right hands, could’ve solved the world’s climate crisis by generating free energy. It was damning with faint praise.

Which just so happened to summarize the remarks from her semi edible companion. Not directed at her, for once, rather the situation at hand. Neither one of them were the most frequent of talkers, but She was more willing to comment on the situation. Funny enough, once they happened to agree with each other, Chell could reasonably rely on her as somewhat of a spokesperson.

“After seeing what he's done to my facility, after we take over again, is it alright if I kill him?”

Chell looked over at the glowing yellow circle, the only part of Her she could actually make out in the darkness of the room, and could only shrug her shoulders. Do whatever you want, she would have said. Frankly, as much as the two had been getting along, Chell wasn’t about to act like this was some new found friendship between the two. As far as she was concerned, the facility deserved to explode in a mushroom cloud with a giant blast radius. The bigger the better. If she was lucky, it would kill Her, Wheatley, and every other personality construct. Just as long as she wasn’t there for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since he was connected to the mainframe, Wheatley had been trying to figure out how to work this new body. Now that his only test subject was missing, admittedly due to a mistake on his part, he could explore further. There had to at least be some way to hack the solution euphoria program. But until then, the next order of business was to redesign his lair to his own liking. Not too bad a job She did, but it didn’t quite have the Wheatley style to it. Needed a bit more work. Namely, getting rid of that stalemate button. No way that could remain.

“Right, so, asking the announcer... voice... guy... didn’t seem to do anything.” He said out loud, “Guess he didn’t quite understand what I was getting at. Hmm, wait a minute, maybe if I go and change this setting, then- Это программное обеспечение повреждено. Удалите его и обратитесь к администратору. Aaaand, nope, still there. Hasn’t even budged a little bit. Guess that didn’t work.”

He then remembered the complexities of hacking the neurotoxin emitters and thought he might start there. “Oh, um hello, Mister button, there.” He said in an accent beyond the rage of any human’s hearing, “I’m a representative of the mechanical parts… association, and we are inviting you to a… convention! Yes, a convention, with all sorts of members, cubes, turrets, even other buttons! And we’d like to invite you! Full expenses paid, shuttle bus straight there to the convention. And there’s going to be a whole panel on buttons! Who knows, they might even have you as a guest speaker! All you have to do is head straight down to the lowest part of the facility! That’s where the bus is! Just head on down there and you’re good to go!”

The button didn’t budge.

“Not one for conventions I guess? Perhaps you’re more of an introverted sort of button. Doesn’t mind being pressed but also fine with staying where he is.”

Wheatley, being the genius he knew he was, figured he ought to look in the old tapes to see what Her old room looked like. Ever since She had been killed, the facility had been in some disarray, of that much Wheatley was well aware. The relaxation center had taken a hit, for sure, and it seemed the rest of the facility was none the better. Wheatley wondered how long it had been, and though he probably could have figured it out, this new interface wasn’t exactly what he would have considered user friendly.

Come to think of it, he could figure out a few things at once by going through the recordings. For one, he could figure out what Her old room looked like and what She had done about this pesky little button. Or more interestingly, how her whole room got destroyed just from being shut down, that was always a mystery there.

All he could find were tapes, and they didn’t seem too promising. Just video feeds of the room, none of which showed if the button was there at all or what she had done with it. Maybe skipping around a bit would work, perhaps it would show something. Nothing so far…

Wait a minute now, here were the tapes of when She was killed. Yes, this was definitely the same test subject all right. Silent as always, she was. Maybe her brain damage was pre-existing.

Well this was concerning. Neither neurotoxin nor the built in rocket turret defense station was enough to even faze her. All that nameless lunatic needed were a couple of seemingly easy portals and in less than the required six minutes She was dead.

If that silent test subject was still alive, she could find any flaw in his lair design and it’d be bye bye Wheatley.

First immediate order of business, no portal surfaces anywhere in the lair. That shouldn’t be too hard, just meant he would have to move some panels around. There, piece of cake, only a few panels detached and falling off. That was probably normal.

“Right, no portal surfaces anywhere. Check that off the list. Ding! Next we can- OW! Great, another panel just went and fell right out of the ceiling. Hit me right in the… to be honest I’m not sure what this part of me even is. Doesn’t really look like it does anything useful. Tell you what, how about I take this part off, don’t really need it do we? Won’t be hurting anymore, I imagine. Here we go, unscrewing… and done!”

The offending plate came off of his right side, pulling down several attached cables right out of their sockets, leaving them to dangle around and coil around the floor like snakes. Snakes that occasionally gave out electrical sparks. That probably existed somewhere in nature. Electric snakes. Maybe unicrons ate them. Wheatley made a mental note to look that up, right after learning how to play cards.

“OK, wow that was actually pretty painful. Guess they don’t simulate any anaesthetic in this thing. Aaand now the lights are flickering on and off. Those are the lights, right? The flashlight doesn’t seem to be helping, so maybe I killed that too. That’s probably normal. Happens sometimes. That’ll probably fix itself.”

In the meantime, he at least had time to see what else was in Her old archives. Maybe there was a guide to fixing whatever was going on. Nope, nothing there. He did find an old security protocol system. Aperture Employee Guardian and Intrusion System, it was called. Interesting, that could help make sure she never got anywhere near his lair. Wait, no, that system was shut down locally. Before She went back online even. Odd, not clear who did that. What else was there… Oh, hang on a minute. The Cooperative Testing Initiative. That sounded useful. Wheatley kept reading.

Yes, these two little bots seemed to be the fix for everything. As soon as he could he had one of each type assembled and sent straight up to his lair.

“Hello! Right, so I understand you guys are built for testing, and what have you. So, I have selected you two to be my next testers. I need a few favors from you two though. See those cables down there? The ones that are kind of sparking there a bit? Those? Yeah, ever since I unhooked those, the lights have been flickering on and off.”

Blue looked at Orange, somewhat confused.

“You guys don’t see it? Wait, it just happened again real quick right there.”

Orange shook its head.

“So that might just be my optic sputtering out then. Yeah, that’s not great. Either way, I need you guys to try and get those back into me so I can see again. Now you might be wondering why I can’t just use those grabbers of mine and do it myself? Turns out, if I ever try to fix myself without someone else to help out, I’ll die. So you guys will have to do it for me.”

They both suddenly appeared nervous, and Blue slowly approached the bundle of wires. They sent out a spark and they both flinched. Upon reaching the wire, Blue picked up the first one, which went back in without a hitch. The second one was still going through the exterior plate that Wheatley had just unscrewed off. Pulling it as hard as possible didn’t work. Orange, annoyed, went up and pushed Blue out of the way, then slowly pulled out the cable and stuck it back in. By now the flickering was still happening, but only in randomly appearing colors.

“Great! OK now just one more to go! Home stretch!”

Orange was ready to pick up the last cable, but Blue, unrelenting, snatched it out of Orange’s grasp, and emphatically plugged it in. And then the flickering stopped.

“You did it! Bingo! Oh, man alive, that’s much better. Aaand now it seems you guys are knocking each other’s heads out of their… socket, things, whatever they’re called. Not really getting anything productive out of that, besides I kinda need you guys for something else.”

Neither Blue nor Orange were hearing it though. Once they had decided to play the classic game of Knock the Other Bot’s Head Off, there was little that could stop the competition. For personality constructs designed to get along, they did this a lot.

“Ahem, knock knock, anybody there?!”

It was getting heated. Now Blue was running around with Orange’s head, Orange’s body trying to chase after it but only managing to flail around miserably due to lack of eyes.

“ENOUGH!”

Wheatley hadn’t had an outburst like that in a while. It was a little easier when his only test subject and her potato weren’t driving him up the wall smashing his monitors and not giving him the relief when he wanted it. But the lack of test solution euphoria was starting to make its presence known once more, and it made him impatient as ever. Both bots stopped to look over, then Orange snatched its head and put it back on, glancing angrily at Blue.

“You know, there are bots in orphanages that don't even have heads to steal. Maybe think about how lucky you two are and stop fiddling around like that, yeah?”

They both looked at each other, shrugged the mechanical equivalent of their shoulders and gave each other a quick hug. Wheatley didn’t understand how they could forgive each other so quickly, but he wasn't about to object.

“Right, so, what I need you guys to do is see if we can find any neurotoxin reserves. Ever since I hacked the main factory, genius, I know; we haven’t had any neurotoxin to dispense. So I’m building you a testing course that should lead to where the neurotoxin facility was to see if you can find any clues. Alright, Go team!”

Several panels cleared out of the way to reveal two elevators facing each other, one blue and one orange. The bots looked at each other before taking off and heading to the disassembly machines. In less than a minute they had reached the first test, a simple introductory course with a laser and a redirection cube. And no test of Wheatley’s would be complete without his signature, the word TEST written in lights on the wall.

These two were smart enough to have figured out how to solve it rather quickly, and Wheatley immediately felt the rush of solution euphoria. Whether it was the amount of time since he had last felt it or because he was testing new subjects, this felt much better than the last few tests he had gotten his other subject to try. Now he could focus on the text task, seeing if there was a trap he could build, just in case those two weren’t dead. Getting rid of the button would have to wait. Maybe if they found some turrets or explosives to keep anyone from reaching it, that could work as a solution. For a little while at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having cleared out all the tables, chairs, and any other debris lying around in what was once an office, Chell could finally get through to the other side and out the door. And the potato on her gun had done a great job at keeping her company.

“Oh good, now we can get going again. Maybe we can find a way out of here.”

Chell picked up the portal gun and made her way out of the office. To her disappointment, the walkway just led down to the entryway to another test.

“Great, it looks like we’ll need to keep testing a little while longer. And I’m not sure we have that much more time left. Look on the bright side though. Maybe we’ll get to see more of that moron’s inventions. Maybe he’s gotten so desperate he’ll have tried to fuse a turret with a redirection cube and give it laser eyes.”

Chell couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She resented that Wheatley had become like this, and somewhat missed him in a way, but it was nice to occasionally poke fun at his less than amazing intelligence.

“If a defective turret and a pile of trash had a baby, he would make an excellent pet for that baby.”

Chell’s smile grew slightly bigger and she chuckled silently. It was kind of nice to hear Her jokes while not also being the recipient. The classic insults thrown her way, that she was fat, adopted, unlikeable; those didn’t work on her at all. But they were at least well crafted, almost stand-up quality, though she never would have admitted that. Despite being a murderous former supercomputer with zero conscience up until this point, she did have a bit of a knack for humor. Chell would at least miss that when she left this place.

This was the end of the walkway, and Chell jumped down; her testing break was over. It was going to get tough before she finally did make it out of here.

#portal #portal 2 #portal secret santa #@yutaki #38's fics #portal stories mel #blue sky portal #fanfic #portal 2 fanfic

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amyrallis · 5 years ago

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We Were Gods In Each Other's Eyes -Gods Fall Too-

Written for the amazing (i love you) @akayauchiha for her birthday, happy birthday again anija uwu love you, and inspired and made for her MASTERPIECE, amen, we stan, just wait till i reblog uwu

And the MASTERPIECE:

İ love you and hope to write more for your pieces uwu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

-----------

Tobirama stretched next to Madara, his wings echoing the movement and widening out, the back wings -for precision, rather than power, like the bigger ones were- delicately tilting to avoid brushing against Madara’s face and awakening him.

It had been a long day. Hashirama had, once again, made it his business to deal with the mortals and settle their conflicts, even though they all knew that it was a part of them, something that couldn’t just be stopped, for humans were different, from each other and from everything else that existed in the between of worlds, an eclipse planet that most didn’t dare go to. Well except for the Senju and Uchiha, that was.

The planet was riddled with spirits and beings of all kinds, the place where lost creatures landed. It had been churning for millenium, a meeting point of the worlds and so very complex. Hashirama wanted to keep the chaos in it to a minimum, something that had always been impossible and Tobirama had been just about done with him, his sword hand itching while he twitched. Madara had been a blessing in that very second, reminding him that no, fratricide isn’t exactly allowed, Tobirama.

He could still dream.

Madara was always like that. There had been a time when they were little, both of them so very apart from each other and different, when he wasn’t supposed to do so much but still had, anyway, because what did the will of gods mean when it was right there in front of him? Madara was his gravity, the one thing that had always managed to pull him in and keep him in one piece, an orbit that Tobirama had chosen to keep, always and forever, because not everything ended.

And Tobirama knew, orbits, in most part, were things of destruction in the universe, tearing apart both the gravity and the planet but sometimes -when Madara’s hair fell in front of his eyes and a dazzling smile, just for Tobirama , lit up his face, when they were sitting in front of a fire and the crackling flames had licked Madara’s cheek, the impression of his inner fire making his eyes echo the flickering light- he felt like most wasn’t enough to give it up.

-earth wasn’t destructive, a full balance held on by a tether so thin but still holding on strong, thriving with the danger and so much better for it. He hoped they’d be the same.-

They were.

Madara shifted next to him, his face turned towards Tobirama – as it always was, their faces always towards each other, their eyes turned forevermore into the infinity hidden so carefully in the other’s- as Tobirama raised his head to gaze at it, the soft smile and relaxation of sleep making them both more like lazy cats than anything else. His own eyes softened, the unwanted glare that had appeared to protect his eyes from the light disappearing into the ether. A humming sound left his lips while he drew close, wrapping his arms once more around his partner.

A content sigh escaped Madara, probably from being enclosed in a warm place, Tobirama thought. Madara did have a preference for warmth and soft things and Tobirama tended to be his favourite warm soft thing when he wasn’t busy being his favourite mad scientist and humanoid. Something that tended to translate to hugging, especially when Tobirama was busy with other things. -Madara didn’t like it when Tobirama wasn’t paying attention to him and Tobirama, with his running four different directions at once mind, tended to do that. A lot.

He’d never admit he liked the hugging.

Madara, with his leech of a brother and Hashirama, had grown up with too many hugs and had chosen to be converted into the dark side, it seemed. He was also determined to make Tobirama join.

Tobirama really didn’t approve. -he loved it-

Hashirama was dealt with, for now, and Izuna was standing guard with him -Tobirama thought they both enjoyed the Hashiramasitting a bit too much to not give it away but it was their problem, he wasn’t going to deal with Madara when he inevitably found out and tried to commit first degree murder (he had plans for that situation, Anija wouldn’t know what hit him)- while they had the time to themselves, in the middle of the cloud cluster that Madara had called home for a while as he traversed earth, their eyes full of wonder and their magic leaking into the water that covered the air, making it feel like homesafetyhappywarm. –

Tobirama had always associated heat with home even though he was an ice inclined magic user, his wings tipped with the swirls of ice and White like snow, representing his soul and his magic. He had always liked and gone for heat even though his domain, his true safety was cold and water, the exact opposite. He had wondered once, his eyes focused on his hands, the tips looking like pieces of shattered ice and-

-Madara was heat. He was heat and warmth and safety, home and the one being he’d believe, trust above all. Of course Tobirama associated heat with safe and home. Madara was all of those and more.-

Madara breathed softly, slowly slipping to wakefulness under the reverent gaze Tobirama gave him because there was something almost sacred -and what did it matter if gods would take a slight? Tobirama would wage war on heavens for Madara, for his sake and for his name. He had, once. The ring settled upon his finger glinted under the sunlight, the sharingan in the uchiwa almost luminescent.- in the way sunlight caressed his face, his black mane all over the place and Tobirama didn’t mind, at all. Never would.

His eyelids fluttered decisively and Tobirama smiled as he was met with Madara’s sharingan, the three glowing red dots matching his own.

“Watching me, Senju? Didn’t know you had fallen that low.” Madara murmured, his voice lower than it’s normal squawk with the harmony of the moment, the instinctive need for silence they needed, always and forever because they weren’t made for words. They were together with their actions, not with sounds that would change and evolve within years, the sanctity of their bond feeling downplayed by such trivial things, made mortal instead of the light golden red and purple blue it glowed in Tobirama’s mind, ethereal and infinite.

Fallen. Well played, Madara. Tobirama smirked, a dangerous but playful glint in his eyes and quickly shifted, his body settling over the content and soft form of his lover. Madara gave him a smug look, knowing very well what he had just said and Tobirama smirked back, his wings rising up to present a majestic image as he leaned in, lightly brushing his feather crown over Madara’s horn. Madara’s breath hitched, a soft look gracing his face and his tail wrapped around Tobirama’s arm, the teasing soft and kind.

“Harder and faster than anything has ever dared to.” Tobirama muttered, their breaths mingling and Madara stared, something fascinated in his eyes before it turned into mischief, and Madara twisted, reversing their positions to settle over Tobirama.

Tobirama landed softly, a light chuckle escaping him as Madara settled over and leant his head down, resting on Tobirama’s sternum. He was more a cat than a demon and Tobirama would prove it, one day. “Your heart doesn’t beat like you fell. You lying, Senju?”

Tobirama raised his head, leveling their eyes once more and Madara smiled innocently from where he was laying on him, his tail drawing circles on Tobirama’s hand. “Because there was nothing scary or unexpected with falling for you. You on the other hand…” his other hand rose grasping Madara’s as a blush came over them both and laid his lips over Madara’s pulse. “You are everything I had loved and more, so much more.”

It wasn’t expected, it was filled with holes and deeper trenches, deep and mysterious like the ocean, their love, but Tobirama liked to think it was as wondrous as it too. Filled with secrets and fun, beauty unlike any other and maybe there were dark parts none dared to thread but that didn’t change it’s wonder.

He closed his eyes, settling down once more, and with the weight of Madara on him a grounding warmth, his mind slipped away, only the light of that burning fire lighting his way home.

#gods always fell the easiest #madara uchiha #senju tobirama #ficlet #anija it's always for you uwu #THE MASTERPIECE #AMEN #WE STAN #D E S E R V E #uwu #madatobi amen #hashiizu uwu #from discord lmao #anija tag

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graigoo · 5 years ago

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Jivin’ Bones (Chapter 1)

Summary: The above world isn't what Sans thought it would be, not that he had ever given it much thought. With all his old friends busy living their own lives, even Papyrus away from home more often than not— Sans is left to entertain himself. Bored, he turns back to the Underground. To the broken machine hidden in the back of his workshop. In the process of fixing it, the machine malfunctions and sends Sans into an alternate world.

Thrust into a harsher reality, Sans must survive long enough to find a way back home... while being pursued by a version of himself that's all too interested to know who the new skeleton in town is.

Inspired/Influenced by Sooner or Later You’re Gonna be Mine

Pairing: Bara!Mobfell Sans/Sans

Warnings: Mature, Graphic Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter One

Sans sighed, he huffed, he chuffed.

He lay on the couch, eyes straining as another raunchy comedian sauntered across the TV. The small square box’s glow was bright and the contrast between it and the dark living room was enough to pain his eyes. He rolled over on the couch to face the back of it, both to escape the light and because he was no longer enjoying the comedy special marathon. Raunchy comedians were the worst. Absolute party poopers. Why if Sans were in that crowd, he’d boo the bozo off the stage.

Anyone can spout swear words and point to their nether regions. It takes real comedic talent to get a crowd going with just one’s wit and line delivery. A talent Sans prided himself on, though he admittedly had a preference for puns over everything else.

There had been a time, when the monsters had first come to the surface, bright eyed and full of hope, that Sans had considered a career as a comedian. Touring the world, exploring, teaching the humans what monster comedy was all about. But then he’d really got to thinking about it, talked it over with his brother. And realized it would be… a lot.

He’d be on a schedule, have to actually plan the shows, constantly be moving based on where the crowds are and not where he wanted to be, not to mention having to workout contracts and payment. Too much work so soon after coming up from the Underground and Sans was too tired to be bothered.

Or at least that’s what he had told Papyrus.

He couldn’t have very well told his brother that if he became a professional comedian, then he would have to leave their newly settled home and that they wouldn’t see each other nearly as much. And after spending almost the entirety of his life caring for his younger brother, Sans was reluctant to leave him. For anything. The younger skeleton was a magnet for trouble and danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. Who knew what the hyperactive monster would get up to without Sans around to curb his enthusiasm?

That, and his brother’s dusty remains having slid through his trembling, segmented fingers enough times to be counted on both hands, might have also played a role in his unwillingness to leave his brother behind. Just a small one. Nothing major.

Knowing that Sans’ decision to stay in this little, cozy, do-nothing town was linked entirely to his desire to stay by his brother’s side, would make said brother feel guilty.

Just chalk another mark on the board next to the thousand other ones that represented all the things he couldn’t tell his brother.

Sans groaned as another curse-word laden joke boomed from the TV. Such poor taste, so low brow.

It didn’t suit their new little house, the same as their old, only with more windows. Papyrus, for whatever reason, loved the sun and raved about their home having natural light sources. Sans hadn’t seen the appeal, but was never the argumentative type, least of all over windows. Though he had wanted to mention how easy windows are to break in to. How human children were known to throw rocks through monsters’ windows, graffiti their walls, tee-pee their trees.

Mean spirited pranks that just spoke to how terrible human-surface-world comedy truly was.

Hundreds of channels and somehow the one that used to play in the Underground topped them all.

Tired as he was, lazy as he prided himself on being, the TV would be no distraction tonight. It was late, his brother was out on a patrol, having eagerly and early on joined the human police force. Their version of a guard, a much more boring version. With stricter rules, uniforms, and a harsher schedule. Too much work to join and not enough entertainment value to bother.

Undyne had taken to it immediately, though her more violent tendencies had somehow led to her never making it past the rank of police technician. A dumb name for a rank, because she didn’t actually work on anything technical, like the name suggested. She just helped kids and old humans cross the road, and handed out the occasional parking ticket.

Going from Captain of the honor guard to babysitter, and she wasn’t even bothered by it. Which probably had something to do with the street she regularly patrolled being directly across from the school Alphys taught at. Another step down, from royal scientist to middle school teacher.

The monster kingdom had fallen apart almost immediately after reaching the surface, the integration into human society easier than anyone had thought possible. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a jumbled mess of working parts left behind in the Underground. One no one seemed in any hurry to fix.

Being on the surface didn’t mean they could take it easy. There was more work that needed to be done.

It was just a pain being the only one to remember it needed doing.

The bother of it all didn’t stop him from smiling, even as another horrid joke came from the TV, threatening to put a damper on his already soggy mood. He slid off the couch and picked up the remote, pointing it threateningly at the glowing box.

“Sorry to cut you off early,” he said to the TV comedian. “But you’re not even remotely funny.”

Sans chuckled at his own joke, too tired to give it the proper guffaw it deserved.

“I’d telly you in person,” he continued at the screen. “but I got places TV tonight.”

That got a proper laugh out of him, at the same time the audience started roaring. Sans took a bow then clicked off the television, leaving the white glow from his eye sockets as the only light in the house.

Sans allowed his laughter to carry him out of the living room and to the front of the house. If he couldn’t focus on TV or hang with his brother, then there really was nothing for him to do in the above world, at least not this night. It was too late for anything to be open, and too early to try and get some sleep. That strange in-between that always came after midnight.

So instead he’d do the work no one else remembered needed being done.

Sans closed the door behind him as he stepped outside, only to shiver and shove his hands into his coat pockets. Even after spending so long in Snowdin, Sans still wasn’t a fan of the cold. Not like his brother, who acted like it didn’t affect him at all, the younger skeleton more susceptible to the heat than the cold. To the point that his brother wore crop tops in the winter.

Maybe the cold affected Sans differently because he was already such a chill guy.

Sans snorted, only to cringe as cold air filled his skull. Didn’t stop his smile, or laughter. What would he be if he couldn’t laugh at himself? Sans one funny-bone, is what he’d be.

His snickering was cut short as the first snow of the season began to fall. Looked like it was going to be a white one this winter. He held a hand out as if to catch it, but before a flake could land in his palm, he teleported.

Pop.

Sans landed outside town next to a great big, blue welcome sign.

Welcome to Delta| Population: Growing

Grinning, he nodded at the sign. “Sorry, didn’t notice you there.”

Without waiting for a rebuttal, he teleported again. This time he landed at the base of Mount Ebott, the soft pop of his teleportation the only sound to be heard for miles. Well, except for the howl of the wind. Looking up he could see a storm coming, the moon slowly being eclipsed by dark clouds. The lack of luminescent light made the forest ahead of him appear even darker. Good thing he wouldn’t be traversing it.

That’d be a real pine in the neck.

With another pop, he teleported to the mountain’s summit.

Being so high up, looking down at the shining city down below the mountain, only made him wonder how a human could possibly fall from such a height and survive. Every time, he questioned it. Flowers weren’t so soft that they could cushion a body. He had theorized that it was actually the barrier that cushioned the human’s fall. It hadn’t parted to let her through, but rather bent forward from the power of her soul, her fall had been slowed by the barrier pushing back against her decent, until the she fallen too far for the barrier’s magic to follow. The little human had pushed through just close enough to the ground to survive.

Or, so Sans theorized.

If he cared enough, which he didn’t, he could always ask Frisk directly what her fall had been like. That was more along Alphys’ line of work, though. Sans had stopped bothering with the barrier years before the human girl had fallen into their lives.

No, his own line of research was much more… theoretical.

With one last look Delta City, sans teleported again.

Pop.

He landed just outside the ruins, his magic enough to get him past the Underground’s entrance, but not all the way to Snowdin. Not that he was in a hurry to arrive or return home. With his brother always patrolling or tired from always patrolling, Alphys and Undyne occupied by their own love lives, and Toriel busy reconnecting with Asgore and raising Frisk—There was no one to miss him.

The corners of his smile twitched, but didn’t drop. Work would distract him from those unwanted and unnecessary thoughts. He had no reason to be anything but content. To have everything every monster in the Underground had ever wanted now possible and only then start to pull a frown…

Well, it wouldn’t be very ice of him.

Sans chuckled just as he teleported to the main entrance of Snowdin.

Pop.

He sighed a contended sigh at the familiar sight. Or, mostly familiar. The town was dark, all the homes and shops empty, abandoned not long after the barrier trapping the residents in the Underground had been lifted. The only light in the town came from its own natural luminescent glow and the decorated tree at the other end of the town. Not even the welcome sign was lit. He’d call it a real ghost town, but he doubts even Napstablook would live here. No one did anymore.

And Sans couldn’t blame them. Even if he would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his days in the little town, he never expected his brother or the other residents to share his same sense of hopelessness. All from an incident that occurred well before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin.

It had taken Frisk threatening everything in the Underground to snap him out of his funk. Fighting the human over and over- and had he been a more narcissistic skeleton, Sans would have said it had filled with determination.

Then, one random reset, the fighting had stopped.

Sans had thought maybe Frisk had hit her head the last time she fell into the Underground. He hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, willing to ask her too many questions about it, should they reawaken some deeply buried memories. Like every reset prior, he had stayed mostly in the background, watching her choices, and for once the human refused to fight. Even with her life on the line, she hadn’t fought. It was enough to make him cautiously optimistic that Frisk would, at the very least, stop dusting his brother.

Not that he ever really remembered her doing it the first time, or second, third, fifth… But he knew when a reset occurred. The knowledge came to him as a feeling, no concrete evidence, but each time his spine would tingle, and the strongest feeling of déjà vu would strike his skull, feeling almost like a physical blow. It would leave him dazed for only a moment, but it was enough to let him know something wasn’t quite right. Conversations he never remembered the words to would repeat, and he would go through the motions of a normal day. Knowing that everything would reset and nothing anyone did really mattered made it really hard to take anything, anyone, seriously. He’d grown lazier by the day, thinking each one would be the day he stopped trying. But then he’d find his brother’s dusty remains, the pain a fresh wound every time. He never remembered enough to stop the murder from happening, never enough to change the outcome.

Then Frisk had stopped dusting monsters and started befriending them. Each reset that followed, she had come back friendlier and more determined than ever, making something he daren’t called hope build within him. The resets hadn’t stopped until she succeeded in breaking the barrier, at least twice, he thought. Not sure why it took two times, but he never asked.

It wasn’t important and Sans didn’t want to chance another reset.

He breathed out an amused sigh and started his lonely walk through the town. Only slowing as he passed Grilby’s. The place had closed soon after the barrier had broken, and he hadn’t seen the flame monster in a long time because of it. Like with most of Sans’ friends, they’d never been close enough to talk when not physically around each other. Certainly not close enough to share future plans and goals.

Two things Sans never had anyway. Unlike everyone else in the Underground, it seemed. They all had been so excited and hopeful, everyday looking up and thinking about what they would do once the barrier was down. Not that Sans had begrudged them their hopefulness. They just didn’t know what he knew. And Sans had been determined to keep it that way. Anything to keep that hopeful spark in his brother’s bright eyes.

Shaking his head, Sans continued walking. The years he had spent just existing were behind him. Not that he thought anything really mattered, it could still all go away one day. But while there was still some sort of motivation inside him, he would use it.

Gotta make up for lost time, and all.

Sans stopped in front of his and Papyrus’ old home. Looking at it with a wistful kind of longing. It’s interior was exactly the same as the one they lived in now. Save for one thing.

Instead of going in through the front door, Sans walked to left side. He placed a bony hand on the yellow wall and dragged his digits along it. The sound of wood scraping against something hard followed his movements. He didn’t stop until he came to a vertical parting in the wood, unnatural, but so thin as to be unnoticeable. Pulling back from the wall, he reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a silver key.

He opened the door, covered with wood and painted to blend with the rest of the house, and walked inside, closing the door behind him. The entire process made no sound, the door itself was silent, as it had needed to be. He hadn’t wanted to alert his brother to the existence of what lay inside.

Lest his dear brother become curious, lest he learn of Sans’ research. At first it had been to cover for his own lack of knowledge. That he was essentially trying to teach himself theoretical physics would have been too out of character for Papyrus to let go, and Sans would have been left with no choice but to tell him everything. He couldn’t lie to his brother, but he didn’t have to so long as the younger skeleton never asked questions.

The lights, attached to a sensor, clicked on as Sans walked further inside his small workshop. Tiled purple with blue walls, it was too small and sparse to be called a lab. Barely any tools and one piece of broken machinery in the back, covered by a blue tarp. Though, could a machine be called broken if it had never worked to begin with?

He’d built it not long after he and his brother had moved to Snowdin and his secret workshop was completed. He’d pursued the task with a fervor he’d not known himself capable of. That after it was completed, it hadn’t worked, was probably where his slacker attitude had first started. He barely remembered why he was building it, anyway. He had a name and a feeling.

W.D. Gaster and guilt.

Both confusing, where was the guilt coming from and who was W.D. Gaster? Sans still didn’t know, but he knew it had something to do with the blueprints he had found in the Hotland labs during his brief stint as an assistant to the head scientist there. Though, he had never worked for Alphys and she couldn’t recall at all his time there or just where the blueprint had come from. But he had the badge to prove he had, indeed, worked there. Alphys hadn’t been able to explain it and he hadn’t pressed the issue. Though, maybe he should have.

The most Alphys had been able to do at was tell him the strange text written on the blueprint was wing dings. Meaning it was almost impossible to translate accurately. She had then politely told him she wouldn’t be needing his assistance and fired him from a job she didn’t remember him having.

Sans hadn’t thought anything of it until he had gone home and discovered the photo album. Filled with pictures of himself and his brother during their younger years. And one single picture of himself, Alphys, and a skeleton he doesn’t remember knowing. Even now, the face was a blur, and if not for the photo, he would have forgotten it completely.

Whoever this W.D. Gaster was, the blueprints had something to do with his disappearance and... it was probably Sans’ fault he was gone.

It was the only explanation he could think of for the guilt. The guilt that had led to the generally lazy skeleton to teach himself theoretical physics, to create an underground workshop, to build a machine he had no idea the function of. And still didn’t know, because when he’d finished building the thing, it hadn’t worked. It had blinked, blooped, then shuttered off.

He’d given up then, with the intent to maybe, one day go back to the machine once the demoralization that came with failure lessened.

Then a human had fallen into the Underground and the cycle had begun. And how could he focus on fixing the machine when nothing he or anyone else did mattered?

Now that the barrier was down and everyone had started their new lives, the resets had stopped; there was no excuse not to continue his work. What else was he doing with his life? Nothing, and it was hard to enjoy himself with the guilt that W.D. Gaster was lost somewhere, not enjoying the freedom of the above world because of something Sans had done.

W.D. Gaster? More like W.D. Guilt.

Heh.

Sans chuckled to himself and pulled the blue tarp off of his machine. It was gray, cylindrical, nothing fancy. At least, not on the outside. There were different colored nobs and dials, it looked like every other high-tech science machine Sans had ever seen inside of Alphys’ lab. The only difference being the inside. It was just… a mess, a jumble of wires and pieces Sans still wasn’t entirely sure the function of.

Even though he had no idea what it did, after so many years working on the machine, it was very gear to his soul.

He’d been coming back every few days since moving to the above world. Though, it had taken some time before he actually mustered up the energy to begin working on the busted machine again. It was something to do, at the very least. Kept his mind off how empty home felt with Papyrus at work more often than not.

With that thought, he began his work. Using the few tools he owned, stashed away in cabinets in the wall, to pry open the back of the machine. He needed to see what had caused it to power off mid function. He’d already made the hypothesis that it was wiring related, just going through every single wire in the back of his machine was taking longer than Sans had anticipated.

He took his time, making sure every wire was connected properly, that the right kind of wire had been used. That nothing was crossed or had come undone. He didn’t keep track of time as he worked, not that he was ever one to do so even when timing mattered.

Eventually he came to a green and blue wire he thought had been mistakenly switched around during the building process. It was good a guess as any, and switching them around and trying to turn the machine back on wouldn’t hurt. Not like the thing could work worse than it already did… Well, it could explode, but Sans wouldn’t let the thought burst his optimistic bubble.

Chuckling to himself for what felt like the tenth time that night, Sans switched the wires, stood from his crouched position behind the machine, and turned it on. Time to test his luck. Heh.

At first, nothing happened. The machine sat quiet as it always has. Then he heard the telltale sounds of a machine booting up. The whir of fans and the hum of power going through its cables.

He watched, almost excited, as the machine’s knobs and buttons began to light up. His eye-sockets widened, however, when the machine started to shake violently. It rocked on the floor, scratching the tile and buzzing in a way that definitely sounded dangerous.

Thinking quickly, Sans reached for the machine’s short power plug, intent on pulling it out. But as his digits got close, electricity burst from the outlet, striking him, causing him to hiss and shake his hand. Smoke started to seep from the machine’s seams, dark clouds poured from where the back panel was open. A high-pitched ringing started to emanate from the machine, loud enough to be painful. Sans covered both his ear-holes, not that his bony hands were very effective in keeping the sound out. Seeing sparks come out of the open back panel was what finally convinced Sans he needed to leave. He’d flip a breaker in the house to cut the power, come back with a fire-extinguisher… Something he probably should have already had in the lab.

Oh well, live and learn- or burn, in this situation.

Sans gathered his magic to teleport, but just as he felt the area around him shift, the machine exploded. Heat blew past him, through him, Sans felt as though he was being torn apart. He shouted, clutching around himself as though to hold himself together. Teleportation had never been so painful. His body was being pulled into a thousand different directions. His teeth rattled like they were going to fall out. Just as he could feel the tips of his fingers disintegrating into dust—

Everything went white.

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Oh, man. Did anybody get the number of that bus? Because Sans felt like he’d been run over, backed over, a real case of navicular homicide. Only Sans was still alive… probably.

He wiggled his fingers just to see if he could. They moved, then he did the same with his toes. They moved as well as they could inside his socks and slippers. Not really wanting to, but knowing he needed to, Sans forced his eye-sockets open. It took a minute for his magic to flare up and the whites return to his eyes. And when they did, his vision was blurred. All he could see was darkness. He blinked a few times, and slowly his sight returned.

The first thing Sans noticed after regaining his vision was the snow. It was falling hard around him, cold and wet. He shivered, then winced. He felt like he’d been in a fight, or several, but the familiar feeling of a reset was thankfully absent, so likely not.

“Phew,” Sans sat up and rubbed his skull. “That was some guilt-trip.”

Maybe he’d teleported far enough to strain his magic. It was possible, a fight or flight thing after realizing the machine was going to explode. He took in his surroundings, blinking in confusion; they were familiar. Looking around, he could tell he was still in Snowdin, so he hadn’t teleported too far away. What confused him was that the particular view of Snowdin he was looking at could only be seen from inside of his old home, from the front. But he wasn’t in a home. There was no indication that there had ever been a house where he was sitting.

Sans rubbed his skull again, aw crud, had he blown the house up? Not that they were using it anymore, but when Papyrus found out he was definitely going to explode. And Papyrus had such a booming voice when he was mad; might be better for Sans’ developing skull-ache to just wait for his sibling to find out on his own. If he ever did. As far as Sans knew, his brother didn’t have any plans to go back to the Underground anytime soon. Good. Gave Sans time to come up with a banging excuse.

Groaning, Sans pushed himself to his feet. He almost frowned at the realization of what an explosion would really mean.

No more workshop. No more machine. No more blueprint. No more photo album. No more badge.

Without that blueprint, there was nothing for him to go off of to build a new machine. Without the photo album, he was bound to forget why he needed to build it in the first place. Without seeing the wing dings printed on the blueprints, he’d forget what the W.D. stood for. Without his old badge he’d forget that he ever even worked at the Hotland labs…

Eh, there were worse things in life. Sans shrugged the realization off, taking the opportunity to brush fallen snow off his shoulders and the top of his skull. Must have been laying in the snow for some time to get this covered. And besides, maybe with everything else, the guilt would fade too. Not a bad turn of events.

Shivering, Sans shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

Yeah, definitely nothing to lose his cool over.

Snowdin was colder than he ever remembered it being. Darker too, now that he thought about it. The tree at the end of town wasn’t on meaning there was nothing to provide light, what with the faux-clouds up above covering the natural luminescence of the Underground. His explosion must have knocked the power out, blown a fuse or something.

Oh well, a problem for another day. Right now, Sans was cold, and his mood wasn’t doing so hot either.

He was too tired to teleport, so he was forced to walk through the snow. Passing by empty houses that somehow looked more abandoned than when he’d first arrived. The dark will do that sometimes, he supposed. Again, he found himself slowing in front of the old bar he used to frequent. After the night’s disappointments, he could really go for a drink. The ketchup he had back in Delta just didn’t cut it. Even the expensive stuff tasted off, like the humans focused on the tomato and garlic flavor over the vinegar.

Sans looked over at the bar, smile forlorn, only to do a doubletake. The sign wasn’t lit up, but through the windows he could definitely see a light emanating from the back of the bar. And if his theory about the power being out was true, then there was only one monster bright enough to be seen from the outside.

Sans laughed at his good fortune. Looked like Grilby was back in Snowdin. Probably to grab anything he’d left behind, or close up for good, or maybe he, like Sans, had felt the cold call of nostalgia.

Either way, it wouldn’t be very cool of Sans to pass by without at least a hail and farewell.

Chuckling, Sans stepped forward and pushed the front door open.

“Bonejour,” he loudly greeted the flame monster, taking the opportunity to show off how he’d learned to make puns out of other human languages. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen the bar owner, and Sans planned to use the opportunity to fire up some of his favorite flame puns.

The lack of a reaction was the first sign something wasn’t quite right with the bar owner. Though, it really should have been the second. How could he have missed that the light coming from the back of the bar was purple. The monster at the back, behind the bar counter was purple. Grilby? Was Grilby purple now? The monster on the other side of the bar, paused with one hand in the air, holding a dust cloth over the dirty bottles on the rack.

Looked like the bar owner had been in the middle of cleaning up. The bar itself was covered in cobwebs, there was dust on every surface, and he couldn’t even make out what the bottles in the back on the bar rack were, they were so filthy. Surely so much dust and dirt couldn’t have accumulated in less than a year? Sans had gone an entire year without cleaning his room before, and it hadn’t looked half as bad as Grilby’s bar did now.

“A skeleton? But I thought…” Sans heard the flame monster mutter to himself.

A single eye-socket rose as he looked his friend up and down. Something was up, was off-color with the whole situation. Purple flame, run down looking bar- even Grilby’s attire was different. A long black coat with a white-furred collar, a red tie.

But then, the human world was known to change a monster; hue was Sans to judge?

“They’ll want to know…” The flame monster muttered again, and Sans decided it was time to join in on the conversation.

“Grilby?” He questioned, walking forward until he came to a stop in front of the bar counter, hopping up to sit on a dirty bar stool. It’d be difficult to talk if he didn’t; he was only just as tall as the counter itself.

“And if I am?” The flame monster snapped in response, as if irritated to be interrupted. “Who are you? What are you doing out past curfew?”

Grilby stared at Sans like he wasn’t glad to see him and the cold reception would have hurt, had Sans let it. Instead he just shook his head, perplexed by his old friend’s odd behavior. He sure sounded like Grilby, well, except for the attitude. But what was that about a curfew?

“Funny,” Sans laughed awkwardly. Grilby had never been one to crack jokes, though Sans supposed he could appreciate the attempt. Because that’s what this had to be.

“I don’t see how,” Grilby said, turning to face him fully. “Some strange skeleton I’ve never met before comes into my bar after hours, after curfew- and you think it’s funny?” There was a suspicion that couldn’t be faked in his old friend’s tone, and it shook Sans to the bone.

“Grilby…” Sans said. “… Don’t you recognize me?” He asked, trying to tone down his confusion.

It was apparently the wrong thing to ask, though, because the monster’s purple flame burned higher in anger. Even a different color, Sans recognized the signs of friendly fire headed his way.

“Don’t play games, skeleton.” Was the flame monster’s response.

Sans started to sweat, and it wasn’t just because Grilby was burning hotter than Sans had ever seen him burn before. “C’mon, I used to come here all the—”

“Are you trying to implicate me?” Grilby accused, cutting Sans off.

Implicate? In what, Sans wanted to ask, but he got the feeling more questions would only add fuel to the fire.

“Woah there pal, don’t go getting all hot under the collar.” Sans said, palms up to indicate he didn’t want any trouble. “You don’t know me, I got it.”

A theory started to form in the back of Sans’ skull, though he didn’t like it. The machine he had built had something to do with time, that much he knew. What if when it had blown up, the force of the explosion had thrown him back in time? Far back enough that it was before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin. Back far enough that Grilby still had trouble controlling his heat, was going through a purple phase, and was terrible at customer service. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that had ever happened to the skeleton. But he would need more time to think on it. Heh.

Plenty of time for a drink then. After all, when else would he ever have an opportunity like this?

“You got any ketchup in this place?” Sans asked, a blatant attempt to change the topic. “I’m usually more talkative after I’m good and sauced.”

Grilby groaned, but his eyes were no less suspicious than before, and without another word, the bartender turned away from him and back to his dusty bottles. Movements slow, contemplative.

Under his breath Sans muttered “Well, that backfired.”

Grilby’s flaming head snapped around to glare at Sans through impossibly narrow eyes, to which the skeleton only shrugged. If he remembered right, it had taken some time for the fire monster to come around to Sans’ particular char-isma. Maybe even further back in the timeline, Grilby had been an even bigger hot head.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Grilby started. “But since you are here…” Grilby turned back around to face him, seemingly calmer than before. A single bright finger was raised, pointing off to the side of the bar counter, and Sans’ gaze followed that finger. It was pointing to the left, where a small metal container held napkins, salt, pepper, mustard, and—Ketchup!

Grinning, Sans stretched for it, not above placing a knee on the counter top in order to reach his delicious drink. Ha, even years in the past and Grilby knew to keep the good stuff on tap. The bottle was glass, looking a lot fancier than Sans was used to. But it didn’t matter, ketchup was ketchup.

As he reached for it, the flame monster continued talking.

“Drink all you want,” Grilby told him, that suspicious tone ever present. “Just don’t leave until I return.”

That only elicited another shrug from Sans. “Sure thing, pal.”

Where would he go? His home was gone, the town empty save for the bar. It was cold outside, and like always, Grilby’s was the warmest place to be in Snowdin. The ketchup was lukewarm, just how he liked it, and just for a short while Sans could pretend like he wasn’t probably thrown back in time and that everything was still as it once was. Before a small human had come to the Underground, before the resets, before the surface world had brought everyone closer together while simultaneously drifting them apart.

Wow, that almost brought a frown to his face.

And if that wasn’t a sign he needed some ketchup, Sans didn’t know what was. Deciding tonight was one of those nights, he unscrewed the top.

“Maybe when you get back, we can ketch-up.” Sans said with a wink in the flame monster’s direction.

Grilby grunted in disgust then disappeared to the backroom of his bar, the door closing behind him, sign tacked to it, stating employees only, swinging from the momentum.

Once again Sans shrugged, not really getting the fire man’s problem. Maybe he was just embarrassed to have his bar seen in such a dingy state. If this Grilby had known Sans, he would know that the skeleton was the last monster to judge another’s cleanliness. But as Grilby had yet to meet Sans… or had met him, but at the wrong time? And probably won’t remember meeting him once everything was said and done—Sans didn’t really hold the curt behavior against him.

Forgiving skeleton that he was, Sans wouldn’t make a tissue of it.

Ahahahaha-ha-ha-haaaaah…

Without hesitation, Sans knocked back the ketchup bottle and chugged. A comfort drink if there ever was one. Or so he thought. The vinegar taste was stronger than he remembered, the whole taste an almost unfamiliar tang. If not for the distinct texture, he would have questioned what he was drinking. Was this really ketchup? Sans slammed the half-empty bottle back on the table, coughing and glaring at the fancy bottle with mild, amused annoyance. That sure was some strong ketchup. What did Grilby do, drown the tomatoes in vinegar? Heck, if Sans had wanted to get plastered, he would have asked for a shot. Not that he was the type for it.

With one digit, he pushed the bottle further away. His smile never wavered, even as the vinegar burned down his throat, heating his chest in a painful way. He placed a hand over his white shirt, feeling to make sure his ribs weren’t actually melting. Mean as it might be to think, but if all of Grilby’s drinks were like that, it’s no wonder the bar was empty. It had probably taken a while for Grilby to figure out the right tomato past to vinegar ratio. Good thing Sans was here to set him down the right path early.

Though, would anything he did now affect the future? Until he knew more about just what had happened, he would need to be careful not to let too much slip. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about running into himself here. Maybe—

The sound of a door opening pulled Sans from his own theorizing thoughts, and he waited for Grilby to come out of the back room so Sans could give him some well-meaning criticism. He waited, but the fire monster never stepped out. Actually, now that he was looking, the door to the back room had never opened. At the exact time Sans noticed, a breeze blew into the bar from behind him, causing him to shiver. Cold.

Had Grilby gone out the back and come back in the front? Maybe flame monster had needed to cool off.

Sans turned his head, ready to greet Grilby with a joke, only to stiffen at what he saw. Cold sweats rolled down Sans’ face and the chill from the wind sank into his bones. And in that moment, Sans didn’t think he could have moved even if he wanted to.

Even after living in Snowdin for so long, Sans had never been frozen in fear before. And if asked, he would never admit that might be what was happening to him now. And he definitely couldn’t say why.

It definitely couldn’t be because, standing in the bar’s wide doorway, was a massive monster. Tall and wide, the monster nearly took up the whole of the door frame. It blocked out most of the town’s natural luminescent light, creating a shadow that stretched from the entrance of the bar to just where Sans was sitting. He swallowed down nothing, the icy chill of the monster’s red stare having long since put out the burn in his throat.

Outside of King Asgore, Sans had never seen a monster so large. Though, why should it matter? Sans had always been on the short size, so height alone was never enough to intimidate him. In fact, Sans couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt intimidated. The ability to teleport and knowledge of resets had really taken the thrill out of life.

Not content to stand in the doorway, the large monster walked forward, the wooden floor creaking under its weight with every step. It didn’t take long for Sans to get a better look at the monster. The skeleton monster.

He was tall, taller than Papyrus. Wider than him too. Was he bigger than W-w… Gaster had been? The memory of the skeleton was already so vague, he can’t possibly begin to know. What if he was Gaster? Had he been thrown back in time too? Or did he just exist in this time period unrelated to the machine’s capabilities?

The monster was staring at him like he didn’t believe what he was seeing and Sans couldn’t help but do the same.

The strange skeleton’s clothes did nothing to distract from his impressive size. And they said black was supposed to be slimming! Sans blinked just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Because not only was the skeleton the largest Sans had ever seen, he’s also the best dressed out of… well anyone he had ever known. And Sans was good friends with royalty.

A black undershirt, shining like it was made of silk. The sleeves were up to the skeleton’s elbows with the top two buttons undone. A fashion choice, or had the guy left in a hurry? If it was the latter, Sans didn’t want to know the reason why…

Okay, he did, but that was only because it could possibly have something to do with his presence in the bar and Grilby’s disappearance to the backroom.

The only thing covering the undershirt was a dark red vest with thin black pin stripes. It looked tight on the skeleton’s massive body, and Sans doubted it was the most comfortable outfit. What with the dress pants, the belt, and black dress shoes with laces? Didn’t matter that they looked fancy and expensive with their red and gold accents—The monster would have to bend over to tie them. No level of fashion was worth that.

More striking than the clothes was the skeleton’s smile, it was wide as Sans’ own, though much less welcoming. Sharp teeth were clenched together, a single gold tooth glinting in his smile. It was the most threatening smile Sans had ever seen. Did it even count as a smile at that point?

The monster certainly didn’t look like any scientist Sans had ever seen. But then, Sans doubted he looked very scientific at a glance.

Their staring contest was broken first by the stranger, who had come to a full stop directly in front of Sans, the monster’s shadow completely covering his much smaller form.

The stranger chuckled, then asked, “and what have we got here?” The voice was deep, rough, but jovial. Sounding like he stepped straight out of one of those old mobster movies Frisk loved to watch.

The friendly tone gave Sans hope that in spite of the monster’s intimidating appearance, he didn’t want a confrontation. All good then, as Sans wasn’t sure what fighting the strange skeleton would do to the future timeline, if anything he did in this timeline mattered at all.

Them both being skeletons, Sans went for his tried and true classics when answering the most likely rhetorical question.

“Tibia honest,” Sans responded with a forced chuckle. “I’m not really sure, myself. You pa-tella me.”

Not his finest work, but Sans cut himself a break. It had been a while since he’d had to joke under pressure. His bone-saw was rusty, so to speak.

The large skeleton only continued to stare at Sans; his smile replaced with a look of confusion. What, had the monster never heard a joke before? Sans’ puns weren’t that bad, he’d definitely told worse. He tensed, prepared to teleport if the stranger turned violent. Only for it to be his turn to look at the other skeleton in confusion.

The monster had started to chuckle, a low menacing sound, then he placed his large hands on his stomach and threw his head back, bellowing the most guttural and intense laugh Sans had ever heard. The skeleton laughed, and laughed, and laughed, his large body shaking from the force of it. He showed no signs of stopping and for a moment Sans wondered if the guy had snapped. His jokes tended to do that with the more violence prone monsters.

Then the stranger wiped an invisible tear from his eye-socket, sucking in a breath and straightening back up. Those red eyes almost looked warm and Sans thought maybe he could make a friend out of this monster. Maybe it would mess with the timeline, but Sans doubted it. He suspected nothing he did in this time would affect the future. Besides, what was the alternative? Ignore the skeleton? That would be a level of rude Sans wasn’t comfortable with, and Papyrus had nagged better manners into him than that.

“Got a real funny-bone, don’t-cha?” The skeleton asked, voice wheezy from how hard he had been laughing.

Sans shrugged and leaned back against the bar; legs spread and posture loose. Intentionally appearing more relaxed than he felt. It never hurt to be underestimated. Literally.

“I’d say yes, but I haven’t got the nerve,” Sans responded casually. The urge to laugh at his own joke was strong, but Sans’ will was stronger. Once he got started it was hard to stop, and laughing too hard would leave him vulnerable. And until he was sure of his situation, he couldn’t afford that luxury.

Something the larger skeleton didn’t seem to worry about, as he laughed once again, shorter than before, but no less unnerving. Heh.

The stranger grinned down at Sans, and it was an unsettling enough look that Sans had to second guess his own ever smiling choice. Not that he could help it, most of the time. There was just too much comedy to be found in the world. Even now, with a six foot something skeleton towering over him, Sans couldn’t help but imagine how hilarious they must look from the outside.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The stranger asked, sounding sure of himself.

“What makes you say that?” Sans answered the other skeleton’s question with a question of his own.

Another question he never should have asked, Sans realized too late. The larger skeleton took it as an excuse to place both his hands on the counter behind Sans, caging him in. And had those teeth looked any less sharp, Sans would have snickered at the attempt of intimidation. The tough guy routine was always a funny one to witness. Though, the one usually trying to pull it off was his brother, and not some giant skeleton who looked like he could snap bones with just his jaw strength.

The strange skeleton’s good humor from before was gone, though the smile stayed. It was just too bad for the stranger that Sans’ wasn’t the type to be intimidated. He’d only ever felt threatened during one recurring fight in his life, and big as he was, this skeleton would never measure up to it.

“Now let me make something clear—I’m the one who asks the questions here, capisce? You cooperate, and maybe you’ll get out of here alive.” The stranger threatened with a smile that was too close for comfort.

“Whatever you slay, buddy.” Sans joked.

The other’s eye-sockets narrowed, and he lifted a large hand as if to strike the smaller skeleton. Sans tensed, but the movement toward his face was too slow to slow to be meant for a blow.

“Somethin’ about you seems…” The stranger ran his thick bony fingers over the top of Sans’ skull, the touch light and very unwelcome.

“What—what are you…” Sans was taken off guard and seconds away from teleporting. He’d never been one to shy away from touch, but something about the way this skeleton ran his digits over Sans’ skull really rattled his bones.

“Humerus me,” the skeleton responded, still sounding amused.

Sans laughed nervously; the whole thing was too strange to be funny. Well, almost. Everything was funny in its own odd way. Curfews, giant skeletons- turns out Snowdin was a crazy place before he and his brother had showed up. One day Sans would look back on this and laugh. One far, far away day.

For now, he just stayed still, allowing the stranger to turn his head this way and that, run his large hand over the back of Sans’ skull. Feeling him like he’d never seen one before. What, did the guy never look in a mirror? Sure, he looked a lot more textured than Sans, but still.

“So smooth,” the stranger murmured.

It was the perfect opportunity to interject with a joke. Being called smooth was such a comedic opening that he’d be remiss to let it slip by. But before he could get a word out, his jaw was gripped tightly and tilted upwards, forcing him to look directly into the larger skeleton’s eye sockets. They glowed a menacing red, the light reflecting off the sharp gold tooth that was all too visible.

Was the threatening look intentional? Why would a monster, outside of the royal guard, ever bother to appear a threat? Could… Perhaps…

More credence was being given to his back in time theory. Back far enough that he ended up in a time right after the war with the humans had only just ended? It would explain Grilby’s tense behavior and the lack of patrons in the bar. From what he’d read at the Libraby, Snowdin had taken several decades to really take off, most monsters preferring the warmer temperatures or water areas. Not until overpopulation in the capital had monsters begun venturing out into the colder regions. Even then, Snowdin had never been the most populated of towns. With such a low population, it didn’t even qualify as a village. With a population of less than one-hundred and fifty, it was technically a hamlet.

But then, Sans had never been one for labels. If the citizens of Snowdin wanted to call their home a town, what did he care? It just added to the town’s quirk. A great, interesting, place to live.

Why did they ever leave?

That’s a bad thought and Sans quickly cast it out of his mind. He was usually so careful about what thoughts and emotions he allowed himself to feel. Must be the cold, it was chilling his sense of humor.

The strange touch stopped and Sans didn’t bother trying to stop his sigh of relief. He couldn’t very well let the monster think his touch had been wanted, welcome, or appropriate.

“Definitely not from around here,” the other skeleton whispered to himself. Though, not quite soft enough for Sans not to hear, if that was even the intent.

“You look like you crawled out of a dumpster,” the stranger grinned at him, eyeing the smaller skeleton up and down like he thought the clothes he wore came from a dumpster too.

Sans’ own eye-sockets narrowed. He had a snarky quip ready to go— And you look like you escaped from a balloon factory— but he thought better of it. Not because he was intimidated, but because if a fight did start, Sans only had the one jacket. If it got torn during a fight, the chances of finding another like it in his size were extremely low. And it was cold outside.

So, he shrugged, maintaining his nonchalant façade.

“A skeleton’s gotta sleep where he can.” No joke that time, after the complete disregard for Sans’ personal space and disrespect toward his threads, Sans’ didn’t think the monster deserved his material. Mostly because the stranger seemed to actually enjoy it. Which would have been a welcome change of pace had it been literally anyone else.

“That I hear,” the stranger responded. Like Sans sleeping in a dumpster would be some normal, everyday revelation. “What I’m not hearin’, is why I haven’t ever seen you around before.”

That same deep, menacing timbre from before returned and Sans’ couldn’t stop his flinch at the abrupt shift in tone. What was this monster’s deal? One minute he was laughing at Sans’ jokes, the next he was getting too touchy and acting all threatening, the red in his eye-sockets glowing brighter.

“You know every monster?” Sans asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

“From Snowdin- and every skeleton, yeah.” Was the quick rebuttal. “And you’re not from here.”

Sans, not about to argue, simply replied, “I’m from out of town.”

“Way outta town, I take it. What’s a daisy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Daisy?” Sans parroted. If there was joke, Sans didn’t get it.

“You’re wearing’pink, ain’t ya?”

“… Yeah?” Sans said, waiting for the punchline.

“So that makes you a daisy.” The other skeleton replied with a nasty grin. Was it an insult, then?

… Sans didn’t get it, but out of respect for the art, he chuckled anyway.

Which was, once again, the wrong thing to do.

The large skeleton growled and Sans almost felt annoyance at the rapid change in attitude. One minute, everything was rosy, the next, he’s pushing up daisies. What in carnation was going on?

“Now listen here, you little daisy— That’s the third time I’ve repeated myself, and I’m not a man who likes repeatin’ himself.” Faster than Sans could follow, the larger skeleton summoned a sharp bone with his magic, and pointed it under Sans’ chin with a level of speed he hadn’t thought someone so big could possess.

“Now I’d hate to cut such a pretty face, but you won’t want me repeatin’ myself a fourth time.” The tip of the bone pricked the underside of Sans’ jaw. “Usually it’s three strikes and you’re out, but I’m lettin’ you take one more swing.”

The larger skeleton’s speed was interesting, the whole situation was interesting. It was something new. Being called pretty was new. But the threats? Sans eyed the stranger with an air of boredom about him and simply responded, “I’m more of a basketball man, myself.”

Then, unperturbed, he placed a bony hand over the one currently holding a knife to his face.

“You first, buddy,” Sans said. He was always one to hold what he knew close to his chest, and if the stranger wanted to know who Sans was, well, all the more reason not to tell. The whites of his own eyes glowed brighter, though the other skeleton didn’t seem to notice. The monster once again barked out a laugh, then looking at Sans like he didn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing.

“… You don’t know?” The stranger asked, like Sans should know.

Some ego on the guy, no wonder he was so big and wore such restricting clothes. He needed them to contain all that hot air.

“You must’ve had that dumpster locked tight if you’ve never heard of me before.” Just as quickly as it’d appeared, the bone dagger was wisped away in a cloud of red smoke.

“No wonder you don’t have any manners, you haven’t a clue who you’re dealin’ with, do ya?” It was said so matter-of-factly that Sans wondered if he had somehow overlooked the large skeleton in the history books.

“The name’s Sans, Sans the skeleton.” A hand was held out to him. “And you, lil’ daisy?”

Sans soul thudded in his ribcage, the large hand was directly in front of him, but he could no longer see it. Everything was a blur as those words played over and over in his head.

Sans, Sans the skeleton. Sans. The skeleton.

Sans.

Anything the larger skeleton—Sans said after was drowned out by the buzz in the back of Sans- his, skull. His smile waivered as the answer to his situation rattled around inside his skull. If only it would stop bouncing around, he’d know what to do.

“Take my hand, lil’ daisy.” It was an order said through sharp, clenched teeth. Whatever humor the other Sans had been getting out his lack of knowledge was apparently disappearing.

Just like he was about to. Haha.

Before his smile could fall, Sans teleported.

Pop.

To the mountain’s summit, completely covered by snow.

Pop.

To Mount Ebott’s base, the forest behind him looking gnarled and dead.

Pop.

He landed heavy in the snow. It was too dark and he was too far from the city’s welcome sign to read it. But he didn’t give himself time to collect his thoughts or to regain his usual cool. And though his smile was still stretched across his face as he stumbled forward, it was painfully forced. A wretched, familiar feeling of hopelessness was filling him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since those first few battles in the castle corridor. And given the circumstances, it didn’t make sense.

It was just a name, his name, so why did it fill him with so much dread? Like he was being faced with a problem that had no solution. Just like the resets all over again.

Sans stopped in front of the city’s welcome sign, hands on his knees, out of a breath he didn’t need. The sign was red instead of the familiar blue. Its paint was chipped and the edges rusted. It was obviously old and not well cared for. However, the black words written across it were clear, looking freshly painted. The strength in Sans’ legs gave way as he read the sign, his knees hitting the snow as he looked on with wide eye-sockets.

Welcome to Fell City | Population: Shrinking

~ End

AN: This will likely be the longest chapter of the fic, on account of all the exposition I had to fit in. I want to explore OG Sans' character with this, focusing on his wants, his intelligence, and I think the perfect foil to match up against Sans is Sans himself.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

1900s Slang:

Daisy - None too masculine

#kustard #underfell sans #sans #mobfell #sancest #bara sans #underfell #jivin' bones #jivin' bones 1 #my writ

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curious-minx · 5 years ago

Text

Heat Lamp vol. [i]

A how-to guide on harnessing the very best light for your under-lit overly priced hovel! In Style!

“Lighting is everything, you goon!” spits Magda Marlene, and, of course, she’s absolutely correct.

“Don’t call me a goon, Magda! I’m trying my best. Have you ever tried shopping around for the best possible lights? Of course not. The challenge of conceiving of wattage and luminosity in the abstract blue light tech etching our basic human retinas will never compete with the likes of you. “ Elroy wipes away the trail of verbiage slipping down his prominent jawline. He attempts to grab at Magda to make her take him seriously, but it was impossible, because after all she is enshrouded in light. She is the kind of bruising overwhelming beauty that is perpetually well lit. Magda has endured a panorama of over stuffed suits of testosterone tossing off a clip of one-liners about her “lighting up a room,” because she had already brightened her entire surrounding vicinity. Light seeping out as far as several stories above and below whatever apartment is lucky enough to grace her presence. You had to alert your local neighboring Vampire’s of someone like Magda coming around. To forget would be akin to a hate crime.

“I do take pity on you sallow beef man. You are close, so close I can nearly taste your success, but this lack of suitable lighting! This will be your ruin. That’s what all the Entertainment and Arts are all about-,”

“Yes, the lighting! The wonderful bright, but not too bright lighting. I know Magda. Ugh! I much prefer if we go back to when you would stick to sending me laymen articles on the anatomy of human eyeballs and the latest breakthroughs in light-based therapy, but now all I hear is your dogmatic barking.”

“You sure do talk a lot for a layman. Why did you want to touch me? Don’t tell me you’re starved for human contact!”

“Of course not! Don’t be foolish! You know I’m not attracted to you. It’s the only reason why you even bother gracing me with your infernal light. Why won’t you sell some of your light source already?”

“Oh no no no, not this this again. I will have no further discussion about the selling off of my light.”

“You won’t share your light, you won’t sell your light, but all I ever hear you go on and on about is the importance of light! Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish?” Elroy tries sizing Magda up and all around with his big soulful hazel brown dopey puppy dog eyes.

“What is this, ‘on and on’ slander? That’s a complete and total falsity! I barely even talk to you! You asked me to come over and help you pick out a new light. Yet here you stand insulting me and everything I represent. I knew all men were trash! I really wanted a reciprocal easy going friendship receptacle. Like the ones you see on flashy American sitcoms, but no! Instead you reek of man boy desperation. You are not Easy Elroy, nor are you sleazy enough to warrant a pass. Good day!” And with that Magda leaves Elroy in his room. A room that is painted a banana baby sick off-scrambled eggs shade of yellow that made Elroy think of himself as a “warmed over Simpson” whenever he looks at himself with his overhead lights on. Magda leaves him behind so that she can go attend a life devoid of preening men devoid of any elevated levels of cognitive stimulus. Magda had a strong feeling deep inside that being eaten out by Elroy would feel either like the confectionary sugar clinging to a beater or a cow pondering the universe with a cud. Magda has bigger prospects to attend such as the purchasing of a new Ultrasonic Television, a television for people too interesting to own a regular television. Now this is a process more grueling than picking out some sort of pathetic LED lights set out to emphasize poor life choices.

Magda’s candles burn ferociously for the scented perfume wick of her occasional beaux Hillary. Oh sweet sister Hillary. Magda flips a dizzy spell as she gets behind the wheel of her space craft. In the driver’s seat she grabs and teases pinching caresses onto her sides, hands running underneath her shirt and imagines Hillary’s hazy visage. Magda turns on The Quick’s Mondo Deco, the album is lodged into the fourth track already, “Hillary.” The porto-phrenetic ASMR zipper crunch! The perfect symmetry of a song making sense for the right woman in the right space and time. Magda wishes she could be some special somebody’s Kim Fowley. She knew she has the making of a Valkyrie companion. Mostly a bottom, but occasionally there’s a switch…a candy striped hypnosis stick being cradled in Magda’s hand turns her space craft into autopilot. The space craft assumes a sensible soaring speed, sharing the sky with all the other avians and sky ships. Magda lands onto the fetid grassless knoll where she finds the manor of Scent Maven Monique. A west coast equivalent of a Hobbit Hole in the Hills. Except instead of a 5,7” English gentleman it is a 5,7” Black American bohemian scientist woman. Magda lights up one of Monique’s Pixie Stix a jolt of nicotine, THC, estrogen, nootropicals, and most importantly caffeine. Cigarettes that don’t make you smell like cigarettes, that don’t make you smell like anything, but a hint, a wink, a whisper, and a prayer of exotic bubblegum.

A Vaping Assassin is prowling on her rooftop. Antonia, The Daycrawler, of course. A woman so intimidating in strength and beauty that all law officers around the country worship at her talon toes. Lines of swat teams, cops, and military official personally see fit the they get their asses beaten by Antonia’s hand each and every year at The National Cop Christmas Party. Monique is constantly alienating, offending and inspiring everyone she works with, but they usually only send soft assassins like Soy Hands Flannigan or the Detangler. Magda believes that this must be the opening salvo of a new killer regime.

“Quit your daydreaming Magda Marlene! Are you really about to let me red rover your special number one gal? I am dropping through the ceiling now! Catch ya later!” Antonia is always narrating her actions to her blind brother Donovan who makes glass sculptures for an assassin’s memento. Some assassins keep locks of hair, some assassins keep emails, some assassins bond and indulge their impotent’s brother pop art. The giant blocky neon green rotary telephone with each notch designed with a mysterious suggestion of a dreary person. A lot of guilt trips about being sent to mental institutions and the occasional rainbow clamshell birth control pill case. All glass blown by the Daycrawler’s blind and naive brother. Monique doesn’t stand a chance!

“Oh no,” mouths Magda. She’s going to be vaporized by that tall Nordic pillar of mayhem. Quentin Tarantino might as well be hanging himself up here on Monique’s roof turning himself into the human satellite, beaming this impeding cyclone of beautiful woman on beautiful woman violence for all of his cronies to see. “Not today,” mouths Magda. With a flick of her wrist, bracelets of light begin forming and overlapping. Discs of light coursing up and down Magda’s forearm. Magda then hides her arms underneath her long and flowing cherry blossom trench coat. Magda’s light does not instantly light up the rest of Monique’s abode. Antonia is hiding her frustration and she looks around Monique’s mostly spacious and poorly lit living quarters. Seeing only a completely stainless steel coated mini-kitchen and a chest level table top. No chairs. No other furniture or trace of personality. Magda hopes that this cat and mouse game will grow less cheesy and the Daycrawler will soon leave irate and hungry.

“Aha! You got me good Light Bright. Of course you knew she wasn’t here and distracted me. For such good work I will personally see to killing you myself. I haven’t murdered anyone in over twelve hours. Do you know how rusty an assassin can get in that time? First, I must take a shower. Surely this lab rat has some sort of hose or bucket and pulley system to wash herself?”Antonia begins sizing up the space, trying to squint a bathroom into existence.

“I believe her bathroom is right next the front door. You must have accidentally passed in when you were getting yourself worked up into this bloodlust.” Magda suddenly feels completely at ease. Yes, she could easily blind and frankly obliterate this toned and blonde killing machine. Doesn’t matter though, because Magda realizes that she has this whole ordeal in her pocket and it’s only a matter of Antonia getting into that shower. Magda goes to raise her fist in conquest but then meets resistance. Antonia’s silent rope snakes! They are giving Magda the world’s most cold blooded group hug. Magda knows she must submit to the plan. She grimaces feeling the ridges of her teeth and wait to unleash her light show.

////

Antonia has been in the shower for over and hour and half. Magda is only now starting to bruise because the rope snakes have grown lethargic and weak ever since the water started. The rope snakes are clinging on to Magda out of obligation and lethargy. The water stops and a shrill elongated sigh is heard from the bathroom. Antonia, the Daycrawler, emerges from heavy plump clouds of perfumed steam. Magda thinks she can detect a hint of Ceylon Cinnamon and gun smoke, but you can never tell with Monique and her smells. Antonia is a lot drier than you would expect for someone who has ostensibly been bathing for the past two hours and she is wearing an oversized clumsy kimono with her hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Alright, where is she?” Antonia asks in a voice that is almost saccharine and faint.

“She’s clearly not here. Let’s revisit the fact that you were going to behead me as a house warming gift. How about instead you rob me of one of my kidneys? They are oozing with glow-stick fluid, but they never stop glowing! Please don’t kill me!” Magda says fully aware that Antonia is not going to kill, at least not while she’s so fresh out of the shower.

“That’s what I need to talk to her about. I suddenly no longer have my urge to kill! Not you, you, or anyone else ever again!”says Antonia breathless like she is hearing her voice for the first time.

“I thought you were killing out of profession?”

Antonia crouches down and is almost blushing as she asks, “Why are you still on the floor like that? Can’t you not fry us up some rope snake snacks? Or wait! Are you like me and need the sunlight to fully operate?” Antonia begins opening up every window and even trying to create new windows in Monique’s house to let the light in.

“Fine! I’ll do it! You made me do it!” Magda unleashes her light that sets off as a retina unfriendly supernova. The light charged specifically around her arms were even still lit up and racing to be shot off as blades of light into the nearest surface.

“See? That’s wasn’t so bad! Why do you get so…so conservative about using your light whenever you’re around me?”

“I don’t want to end up blinding or hurting anyone.” Magda says still on the ground facing onto Monique’s steel plated sterile floors.

“Even someone who was moments ago trying to kill your friend and you for the thrill of murder?”

“Your an easy target Daycrawler,” Magda gathers herself back up into a standing stance,” You are exactly the type that would change your mind if given half a chance. I still feel like you could plunge your famous ribbon blade into my personal generator… ” Magda trails off realizing that Antonia is no longer listening to her. She is still running her reformed(?) killer’s hands through her honey flaxen unwieldy tower of hair that only a towering murderess could support.

“That shampoo it’s, it’s going to help a lot of people. I’m waiting to see the catch. Like with her cancer-free candy cigarettes they’re too good to be true, right?”Antonia takes in another long inhalation of her own hair and takes one lock and flecks her tongue only at the tip of the follicle. The one blank wall inside Monique’s apartment spins around revealing Monique on the other side who steps up and says without missing a beat:

“They’re called Pixie Stix!” Monique fully emerges from her illusion wall hiding the hint of a laboratory. She lights up a Pixie stick of her own which begins flooding the spartan space. Who needs furniture when you bask in a smell this sweet? Magda lets her guard down and lights up the rest of the space turning the formerly drab and empty hovel into a chic and spacious boutique. “Lighting!” Continues Monique, “With the right lights and an overwhelming pungent odor reveals the path to an enveloping inner peace. No matter how small or unfashionable your home or hovel happens to be there could possibly be an outlet for a chosen few people that the three of us could use to build our own society or something?” Monique turns on music by malodorous mall core cyborg nu metal pop band called Neon Betty Degenerates. Antonia goes over to Monique and gently forces Monique’s bangled and gloved clammy hand into a boisterous hand shake. A Kashmir blossom shaped pin attached to Monique’s vegan leather newsboy cap opens up and contracts. The blossom is spraying out a mist invisible to the human eyes, directed into Antonia’s face. Antonia then immediately releases Monique and she turns away from the gangly scientist, she unravels the towel from her hair and starts sprinting outside of Monique’s house. Antonia begins climbing up the lone ancient hundreds of feet tall redwood tree watching over Monique’s property. Antonia climbs up to the tree in record time, she is nothing but a blur of momentum and rustling branches. Antonia, the Daycrawler, jumps out into the sky with the grace of a flying squirrel leaving her nest, and she’s reached enough height so that she can use the heel of her shoe to write, “I’m sorry! <3 I will work on respecting your personal space” in a cloud-based font.

Magda turns to Monique who has completely flipped open her furtive laboratory, revealing the glow of scent analysis technology calling out to Magda begging her to crank up the wattage. Before submerging back into her lab, Monique turns to Magda and tells her, “Antonia is seemingly the only person my Perfumed Personality is working on. Do you think that will be enough?” Monique directs this question more to the ether than to anyone in particular.

“Looks like it’s really working on her though. Oh right, before you leave. I am going through this really tough crush on someone and was hoping that you’d have some-“ Magda stops talking. Monique enters her lab leaving Magda behind in the empty kitchen and the lingering vapors of the ethical strawberry and lavender pacifist shampoo. Magda knows that she probably won’t see Monique emerge back out from her work for another two weeks at the latest. Magda shivers and steps outside and all of her pent up light energy continues bursting forth from her navel, banners of light shooting from her forehead, spotlights dancing out of each of her fingertips. Magda’s light even causes the clouds that Antonia used as calligraphy to break into a sweat. The extreme daylight and the small patch of rain causes a family of foxes to burst forth from out of the ground and carry on a quick and sweet wedding. Magda climbs on top of a dune and watches the wedding ceremony from afar. She remembers Hillary and groans, a sticky and somber sound. Magda has her revery broken by the sound of a voice calling from below the dune.

“cOuld yOu pleeze take Our picha, lamp lady? Da lurvely cOupa wOuld be sO grateful!!” The source of the voice is coming from an approaching silver fox who has a slight wobble in his gait. Magda looks at the silver fox further and notices that he also has two plastic and springy legs. Magda not wanting to seem judgmental, sighs and takes the fox’s hefty Kodiak bridge cam and without even taking time to focus the lens takes the picture. The newly wedded couple and the silver fox open up the camera’s finder and look at the results and start panting in approval. They have never seen themselves look so well lit before.

“Daddy! You must pay this kind lady Beacon mucho ancient coins! I’ve never looked this good!” Magda smiles and shakes her head and puts her hands into her pockets, leaving the foxes behind. She readjusts her trench coat and puts on a large wide-brimmed blackout hat she keeps in a box shaped fanny pack. Even while wearing her light suppression accessories each and every passing streetlamp emits a powerful sphere of light that dims with each of Magda’s passing step. Most of the houses in Magda’s neighborhood are heavily tranquilized and sleeping in deprivation tanks so the dramatic light fluctuations don’t bother most. One overhead apartment pulls back its drapes and an angry shirtless and chiseled man has taken out a mirror and trying to reflect the light back down at the street. The power of the light’s heat creates another pothole into the road, which causes the man to start swearing and yelling incoherently. Magda kneels down onto the empty sidewalk and rubs her palms together causing the street lights to dim back down to their normal level. Magda’s face looks pale and she begins moving at a slower pace.

“Damn…I’m so close. Being mindful of so many people really sucks. I think I’m going to lie down in this pile of moss and maybe I’ll wake up back in my bed.” Magda hums a lullaby to herself and begins folding herself into a ball of fading light. Magda is blacking out.

///

She opens up her eyes as soon as she registers motion. Magda is being carried in somebody’s arms! Magda almost cranks up her internal light furnace but then she smells the tangy coconut cologne of Elroy.

“What did I tell you about picking up tramps?” Asks Magda with a yawn. “Put me down you goon!” Elroy immediately does so and gives Magda her space.

“Of course, I’m sorry Magda. I was out scouting shoot locations for a new headshot this week and saw your abandoned space craft on the side of road. Knowing you as well as I do I had a feeling that you were probably enjoying one of your unnecessary sojourns. Thankfully you left it in one of the bougiest possible neighborhoods so I think you’ll be fine with picking it up tomorrow. I’ll leave you be. Clearly you are wanting some time alone.” Elroy brushes off a twig out of Magda’s hair and starts walking back into his own shabbier Electric Hover Desert Rabbit.

“Any luck with your lamp search?”asks Magda causing Elroy to stop in his tracks and turn around revealing an excitable grin.

“I found this Ponce de Leon Torchier that promises to age and de-age me based on what kind of bulb I put into it. There’s this audition for a movie about a man breastfeeding his own child I got. The role comprises of both the child and the father, it’s a student film but the kid directing is supposed to have a real stash of connections.” Chatters Elroy, clearly trying to regain a sense of joviality between him and Magda.

“I have actually never really bothered playing with light in that way before. How are you so good at online shopping? And here I was about to actually consider giving you a droplet of my very own light” sneers Magda as she enters through the lamp shaded gate of her parent’s compound.

“What?! Really! Wait Magda I’ll gladly take some of your light off of your hands! Come on, come back!” Magda leaves Elroy behind once again and a roving street sweeper pushes him up the current of streaming sidewalk leading deeper into the Energy District. He calls out to Magda yelling her name as he’s being street swept away. Magda turns copper green with regret with even toying around with the idea of sharing any amount of light. Especially with a total goon like Elroy! The family leopard spotted moth, Sapphire, comes whooshing up to Magda giving her a silky kiss. Magda grins and brushes the silk away from her face and picks up a floating torch, lights it with her finger and tosses it as far as she can throw, which due to the pent up hormonal surging emotional cycle Hillary has gotten Mega into, turns out to be quite far. Sapphire flap flap flaps her wings into a column of speed and chases after the floating torch. The outside ladder leading to her room has been rolled up.

“Because of course!” Sighs Magda as she slips off her cycling light up shoes, the tongue of her shoes light up with a balloon showcasing the amount of miles Magda has walked from Monique’s house, nearly fourteen, if only Elroy hadn’t gotten in the way. Inside both of her parents are stationary as always. Wires running from the back of both of their heads so that when they glance over at the door in unison you can see the pulses of light traveling at the same speed from both of their skulls. Magda parents disgust her and she really tries getting up stairs into her room as fast as possible.

“Magpie! Get your cute little grown ass over here and tell me about this nice young man you’re considering giving up your light to!”

“Journey,” Magda says addressing her mom by her proper name which causes her mom to feign a twinge,”Why must you two always insist on watching the security feed whenever I am coming home. Every. Single. Time. Do you two expect me to be still be living here until either one of you finally burn out? Just so you can always have a little show of someone else’s lives to watch? You’re almost as much as a goon as that ‘boy’ you are referring to. You know him already, that’s Elroy, we’re just friends.”

“See Enterprise? What did I say?” Journey says peering directly into her husband Enterprise’s vacant light producing sockets.

“Aw dawlin looks like I owe you thirty pulses! I knew I should have betted on our Magpie giving her light away to some respectable enterprising lesbian. You’re donating your light to science right Magpie? That’s why you left today?”

“I am not donating my light to anyone! I am not anyone’s generator ready to be milked and sapped away for all of my worth.”

“Magda you know your light is strong enough that you could be a really successful crime fighter, or you could even be just another lamp builder like your lil brother and sister.” Coos Magda’s father, Enterprise.

“Or, she can be nothing too! Fine by me! Keep on going missy, I can see how much you are burning to get back into your precious room. All I ask is that at some point tonight please help your siblings make some kind of dinner. Your dad and I are going to be all tied up for the rest of the night running double concurrent shifts. Those damn strikers! We don’t need em! Ow ow ugh I’ve got to be quiet and focus.” Journey rubs her temple which emits a spark.

“Relax my love. This is just a rough patch. Once there is a serum manufactured we’ll be able to import more workers and we can recharge for the next decade. Maybe even more.” Enterprise says this to Journey and they hold each other’s hands not even minding that they are becoming entangled within one another’s connecting wires. Magda hears the quiet scrape scraping of her younger brother and sister’s lamp and neon shop that takes up most of the second floor. Magda ascends up one more floor and reaches her bedroom at the end of a hallway adorned with family portraits. Mainly of her siblings Gidget and Chester selling lamps around the world. See Gidget and Chester in Bali with a lamp made from resurrected coral reefs. There’s a picture of Gidget, Chester and both of her parents soft shoeing on the grave of Thomas Edison. See Gidget defile the Tesla’s tomb. Chester burning an effigy of Musk. There’s one picture of Magda and Sapphire, Magda is only visible as a beam of light. Magda opens up her bedroom and finds Antonia, the Daycrawler waiting for her, suspending herself from the ceiling. Rotating around like a monk’s slimy finger circling around the lip of a singing wine bowl.

“Hiya there Miss Shiney! I brought you a present!” Antonia says this in her persistently chippier and bubblier voice that has not subsided since taking her shower with Monique’s personality shifting scented shampoo. Monique raises her right eyelid causing one of her dimmest overhead lights to come on. The light reveals reveals the sight of a tied up woman sporting a bouncy pompadour sprawling out across Magda’s bed. Soy Hands Flannigan!

“What am I supposed to do with an assassin? All I want to do is curl up and shop. God I sound pathetic.” Magda says attempting to hide the anxiety spiking through the roof of her dome coursing down to her toes.

“She knows how you can find Hillary!”

That’s all it took. All Magda needed to hear was her name. The utterance of Magda’s one and only Hillary causes each and every one of Magda’s three hundred and eighty five lights adorning her bedroom to flare out bright beams of all encompassing light. The kind of light that only glows for a woman once thought lost and dead to the world soon to be rediscovered. Maybe, thinks Magda, having a reformed violent and dangerous assassin as a companion wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#short story #short fiction #surrealism #indoor lighting #science fiction #sci-fantasy #fantasy #power pop #The quick #Kim Fowley

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