#holy shit radon

[punk-rocking-rose]

this video literally made me say holy shit out loud with this near ending part. "the largest amounts of radioactive elements like uranium and radon are actually released by coal"

#less toxic but treated with less respect too #Youtube

[unclefungusthegoat]

THE STRANGER - Far Cry 5 Week Day 1 (Hope County)

Hooray I actually did something for Far Cry 5 Week! Anyway, today’s theme is HOPE COUNTY, and this piece is inspired by the Henbane Region, particularly with the Bright Warden Radon Spa. When you go in, fairly close to the entrance, you’ll find a couple of odd corpses- a young woman lying in the arms of an Angel. 

Well, this is their story.

This can also be read on AO3: HERE

“This used to be a place of healing. People would come from all over, hoping for a miracle. The diseased, the old, the dying. Bodies collapsing in on themselves. All decaying. All ending.”

Faith.

Sister Faith.

Mother Faith.

She laughed, so pretty, so much like song. I couldn’t see her feet. I couldn’t see my feet. I could barely remember the word. All that haze, all that Bliss. Somehow my balance was better than it ever had been before. I wanted to thank her, but I couldn’t.

I just stood. It was my nature. 

“When you cannot work anymore, you are sick. And the Father takes care of his sick children. He allows them to let go and find peace, because isn’t that what you’re searching for, really?”

She danced. Arms stretched in the darkness. Voice echoing down to the depths. Perhaps there was more than one of her, so many sisters, so many mothers, helping us, shielding us from sorrow? She moved like the wind through the flower fields. 

I just watched. It was my nature.

“Lucas?”

That wasn’t my mother’s voice calling from the night. She had flaxen hair that shone in sunlight. This stranger had dark hair. What had it felt like to have hair? Freckles. Crooked teeth I found endearing. But she was a stranger. A stranger with a tongue. Her eyes were not green like mine, she was not like me, she did not know the loving embrace of Faith, Sister Faith, Mother Faith, lead me to the Bliss.

Noise.

Loud.

Bang.

My back was against the wall. I was hurt. There was metal in my chest and my shirt was stained. Why was I so unclean? Should the metal not be between my eyes? I thought that was the way. When I had reaped the fields, the fields so far from here, they told me that was the way. Angels blind with their holy light… Angels blind. Blind the Angel. Eye. Head. Eye. Between.

“A leap of faith is all it takes. You were welcomed into the arms of the Father. You made the jump once and now you must take it again. You’ve earned your wings, little Angel, now all that’s left is for you to fly.”

Sister Faith, fear of tomorrow, would there even be a tomorrow? She was still dancing. Laughing. Singing. The sight of her kept me safe, gave me hope, ignorance looked so pretty. She would heal me in this old healing place.

I thought she was beautiful. It was my nature.

“Lucas? Oh God, no-”

I thought this stranger was beautiful too. She looked sad. There were tears in her eyes. Most are more beautiful when they have found Bliss, but this stranger was perfect without. Her hands were soft on my face. Her lips were gentle on my forehead. I knew what her tongue tasted like, but I couldn’t remember how I knew. Why had I forgotten? 

More strangers.

Voices.

Closer.

Metal between my eyes, between her eyes.

I wanted her to leave. I wanted her to stay. Choices confused me. I never had to make them. I was free from choice, free from loss, I had everything from Faith, the shackles I wore can’t be touched or be seen, I had no shackles at all. Sister Faith, Mother Faith whispered to me. Beside me. Tongue. Ear. Head. Brain. 

“She doesn’t understand. She never will, unless we help her. Unless we show her that death is just a path to freedom for people who aren’t our family. We are saving her. Sparing her the horrors to come. Isn’t that what you want? What she would want?”

I agreed. It was my nature.

The stranger would not leave. I was happy. I wanted to give her flowers, but there were none growing here. She might like a rock instead. Something shiny. Something dull. More choices.

“Lucas, can you hear me? I’m going to take you home, you have to come home- what the fuck did they do to you…?”

I couldn’t remember who ‘they’ was. I only knew Faith. Loving Faith. Pretty Faith. She sang me to sleep when the noises at night frightened me. And she let me walk in the forest. Green and white. Sparkling. Butterflies. It smelt sweet. The Gates were open. Maybe the stranger would like to see the forest too? There would be flowers there, there always were, I could make her a bouquet or she could wear them in her dark hair. 

Like the flowers at our wedding.

“Lucas, I need you to stand…”

Wedding march, white banners, Eden’s Convent, white flowers, work work work, black tie, black strap across my head, a different kind of butterflies, all just words, no meaning. Only Mother’s words had meaning. 

“I know you made a vow. It’s cute. And it can be forever, like you promised. All you have to do, is show her that this is the only way. Till death do you part...”

I obeyed. It was my nature.

Strangers back from the darkness.

Metal for my eyes.

“Oh shit, please no, no no no, please don’t hurt him-”

Noise. Loud. Bang. Heavy. Warm. Soon cold. The stranger was lying on me. I held her close. She was still pretty, even with a dirty shirt. I thought she might have made me laugh once. Maybe twice. If I could find a laughter in me that was not Faith’s, maybe I would have laughed again. I could not find it. I found a tear on my face. I wondered if that made me pretty. 

And so I made a choice.

That was not my nature.

The stranger likes stars. I do too. She likes coffee. I only drink soda. She likes singing in the bar and the smell of new shoes. Sometimes I sing with her. The stranger often forgets things and I tease her when she does. She sneezes around dogs. I bought her a cat, or maybe two rabbits, but I cannot remember their names. She likes being naked in my arms. I would not know that feeling. She wants children. I want them too. 

I could not be sure. But I think I knew these things, or at least I used to, or at least I decided that I knew them, against everything I knew in myself, but with everything Faith was telling me to do, as I crawled towards the gate with little time left, I cried what have I done, what have I done, what have I done-

What have I done?

Helena.

Noise.

Metal.

Nothing.

Gone.

#far cry 5 #FC5Week #FC5Week2019 #faith seed #henbane river #angels #I spent hours going back through my thousands of likes to find that picture hahaha #thanks to lycienne who posted it originally! #also SHOCK HORROR #this is the first far cry fic I've ever written WHERE JOHN ISN'T MENTIONED ONCE #SOME FAITH LOVE <3 <3 <3

[a-case-of-neverland]

When It Rains, It Pours: Part Two

       Jackie had never often talked about the place he had lived before he was with Radon. He gave Radon a vague description of where it was, but it had been enough to get him here. But once, in passing, Creator had mentioned that his old apartment with David and Stella had had an alley next to it, in which there lived a family of raccoons in a laundry basket someone had left one day. Sure enough, Radon peeked down the nearest alley, and there it was. For a moment, Radon stood and took the building in. It was rundown and falling apart, he could see bricks forced out of their holes, sitting in a heap by the front door. What Jackie had never mentioned was that there was more than one apartment in the building. Radon gave an inconvenienced sigh. Well, time to go rouse some civilians.

Rousing up people in places like this was a bit of an uneasy task. For example, they often fought back.

Such was the case when he banged on the first door, demanding that the door be opened. A girl was the first person to open it, and Radon found himself staring down the barrels of a double-barrel shotgun. He was, at first, surprised on how the girl could lift the gun. She was surprisingly short, surprisingly small. A child, really. Her blonde hair stuck out in all directions and she wore a man’s shirt and pants. The air around her was almost electric as she snarled, “Whataya want? We ain’t got nothing for you to steal, thief.”

Radon rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to rob you, shortstack. Goodness. I need information.”

A girl with long orchid color hair came up behind the youngster, pulling a cigarette from her lips. “Easy, Sparky,’’ She told the girl before she looked Radon up and down. “Come in. Try anything and I’ll blow your brains out.”

And with that, she turned and went inside.

Radon internally groaned. He didn’t want to sit down and talk with this girl. He wanted to go bash David’s skull in so hard the police wouldn’t be able to identify the body. But this little girl, Sparky, she was holding a gun at him still. She stomped her foot. “You heard Echo. Get in there! And don’t touch my stuff!”

So, with reluctance, Radon stepped inside the apartment, Spark following him. He could feel the barrels on his back as he walked.

The place reminded Radon of where Raz lived, really. It was dark save for a few candles here and there, an oil lamp on a milk crate. There appeared to be not many doors, as if they’d all been taken off the hinges. Holes decorated various patches of the wall, loosely concealed by adhesive tape.

He could see two kids, probably twins about his age, both with snow white hair, lounging against a wall. The girl was damned near beautiful, he almost looked twice. But a look from her brother convinced him otherwise.

Following Echo, as he’d learned her name was, he entered a small kitchen nook with another table, round and small. A shelf on the wall held a few Mason jars filled with different preservatives, and a tiny ice box sat against one wall.

‘Mama?” Echo called into a room separated by a thick, red curtain. “We gotta visitor. Don’t step out without your robe again.”

For the first time that day, Radon was tempted to chuckle.

A mused reply came from the room, as if the person inside was half asleep and couldn’t stay awake another moment.

Echo walked out to the kitchen and sat at the table, and one prod from Spark told him he was to do the same. He faced this girl with odd hair and waved a hand. “Look, lady, I’ve got somewhere to be-”

“You ask me for information, you’re gonna get it.” Echo cut him off. “Don’t try me, thief boy. I know who you are.”

Radon sat back, slightly deterred. But he still said, “Alright then, what do you got for me?”

“Depends, thief boy, whataya need?” She asked, taking a draw on her cigarette.

“I need to know where a David Batch lives. Now, please.” Radon said.

A loud snort came from the other room. It was clear that this name wasn’t uncommon here, in this dingy apartment.

“Everyone knows that troublemaker. Lives with his half sister Lynx on the floor right above us, third from the entrance. What business you got with scum like that?” Echo asked as the white haired boy walked in, looking Radon up and down.

“I know you.” The boy said, nodding before he slid into the seat next to Echo.

Radon shrugged, “I know a lot of people. But I’m going for, ah..” He pulled out his gun and twirled it around in his hand. “Revenge.”

Though Radon didn’t look at him, he swear he could see a smile burst onto the white haired boy’s face. He reached into his own jacket and handed Radon a pistol. “Tell him Salt said I told him so.”

The place he had seen Salt finally registered with Radon. “Oh, I know you. You work with Capture, yeah?”

Salt gave a grunt. “Somethin’ like that.”

Leaving the apartment of Salt, Sparky, and Echo didn’t take long after that. Radon studied Salt’s pistol as he went up the stairs to the floor above. The words ‘Bang Bang’ were carved into the handle, and Radon grinned. Bang bang, indeed.

When he got to David’s, he didn’t bother to knock. He saw the lock on the door, hanging off, and knew that one good shot would blow right through the lock. Easy enough. He fired through it and kicked in the door and held his pistol in before he entered, firing at random. A clattering crash sounded from inside as Radon stifled a laugh. Curses came from somewhere, a loud female voice screeching, “David! Somebody’s breakin’ in!”

“You’re damn right I am.” Radon said, murder in his green eyes as he blew off the smoke from Salt’s pistol and switched to the revolver in his back pocket.

When David clambered in, Radon didn’t hesitate. One shot, then another, and another. With every shot, he sent revenge into the air.

David ducked, rolling out of the way of Radon’s shots and fired his own. Radon ducked behind a counter, grinning like a madman the entire time.

“Who is it? What do they want?” A shrill, high female voice demanded. The same one that had shouted a moment ago.

“I know who he is.” David rolled his eyes. “And you should too, considering everything.”

Radon popped up from behind the counter and aimed his pistol directly at the girl with bushy brown hair, standing behind David. She wore a dime store dress and scuffed up heels, and as soon as Radon’s gun was aimed at her, her pink covered lips drew back in a ‘O’ shape.

“Everything? How interesting.” Radon’s smile was wide, crooked as he slid up on the counter. “Why don’t you describe it? I’ve got nothing but time, Batch.”

David pointed his gun at Radon. “Drop the gun, Pescin. It’s two on one.”

A laugh came rolling from Radon’s chest. “I can’t believe you think that!” He said, before he swung his gun and shot David right in the face. The girl, who he figured was Lynx, screamed as David hit the floor and dove for his fallen gun, aiming it at Radon, her hand shaking.

Radon shrugged, “What, cat? Gotta another round in you? We can fire again, if you’d like.” He was mocking her, leaning forward with every word.

“You’re a monster,” Lynx said, her voice stuttering on the last word. “You killed my brother!”

Another laugh. Radon took a step forward, aiming his gun back at her. “You’re just like me. We’re two demons in the depths of hell, aren’t we? You’ve ruined lives. You’ve had people held for ransom, tortured..” He shrugged. “Me? I get revenge. Oh, and by the way. Salt says he told you so.”

And that were the last words Lynx would ever hear.

i told yall stuff happens

#holy shit radon #murder?? death?? #character death

[talons-mcbeak]

More fun anecdotes from my mom’s notes about baby/toddler me:

6 months old: Laura trembles with excitement when she sees a pen move while someone is writing.

7 months old: She really laughs when we shout out a word with several syllables, like “banana.”

10 months old: If you say “where is _______” she will touch or point to: my hair, nose, eyes, ears, glasses...the telephone...Cheerios...toast...

11 months old: She understands almost everything we say. [Uh...I feel like mom might’ve overestimated my comprehension here.]

12 months old: an inventory of my vocabulary, consisting of...holy shit, 65 words? Some of them are onomatopoeic sounds.

15 months old: Laura’s favorite playthings are books. She especially likes alphabet books, and she can identify at least 20 letters. She notices and names letters everywhere: on store signs, grocery carts, cereal boxes, etc.

18 months old: Laura talks all day now, in nearly complete sentences. She’ll repeat everything we say, and she surprises us with her pronunciations (“California raisins,” “hippopotamus,” “refrigerator,” etc.) She recites whole poems and nursery rhymes. [There is video evidence of this, actually.]

18 months old: Laura is still shy around other people. We haven’t had much luck with babysitters. She does warm up to friends and family after a short while. [Mom is understating this. I was inconsolable if my parents left me with a babysitter. Super clingy. Apparently that’s just a personality trait of mine.]

19 months old: Tonight Laura said a long sentence: “Jesus on the cross upstairs on the wall at Nona and Gramps’s house and also at the church. Crucifix is inside the church and outside the church - look up to see the crucifix!” [YIKES first of all - and it should be noted that my paternal grandparents were Catholic but I wasn’t really raised to be religious other than exposure to cultural Christianity. But apparently I was really into that whole crucifixion thing.]

21 months old: She wants to do everything “all by herself” now, including trying to dress herself. She often stays awake until late and sleeps late in the morning. [I am indeed still very occupationally independent AND very nocturnal]

21 months old: She screams and cries when someone else enters our house, especially a babysitter. She becomes frantic when I leave the house. She even worries when I leave the room she’s in, and she usually follows me from room to room. [Again: I’m bad at secure attachment]

3 years old: She asks “why” about everything. Why do we have evening? Why are there numbers on the calendar? Why does glass break? Why do people die in the cemetery? How do people grow inside the body? How do people get a year older? Were people around before the Earth?

4 years old: She has a pretend friend, Thompson, who died (“he ate too many calories”). She sent out handmade newspapers stating his death, then made a get-well card for him.

I may have had an incomplete understanding of the concept of death.

Other notable things that aren’t in this collection of notes but that I remember:

My favorite book at age 5 was a non-fiction book all about great horned owls. I checked it out from the library about a million times.

Age 5 was also when I really enjoyed reading Parents magazine and Reader’s Digest. There was an article in Parents magazine in the early ‘90s about common household toxins (lead, carbon monoxide, radon, asbestos, and formaldehyde, in that order) and I read that article so many times and got really obsessed with carbon monoxide in particular. The children’s librarian wasn’t sure how to respond to my request for a book about carbon monoxide, shockingly.

Age 8: I had Puppy and Kitty Surprise toys - a stuffed animal mama dog or cat with a Velcro pouch stomach that contained 3 tiny stuffed babies! I named the mama cat Fall. Her kittens were Down, The, and Stairs. Mama dog was named And. Her puppies were Kill, Your, and Self. And somehow nobody really told me that maybe naming your stuffed animals “fall down the stairs and kill yourself” might not be exactly appropriate?

Age 9: my favorite game (which I played by myself because I didn’t quite get the concept of friendship yet) was an imaginary role play in which I pretended that I was being held captive by an evil Scandinavian man named Lonkinor, who forced me to knit scarves for his gnomes. His wife, Helga, was nice to me and had conversations with me while I knitted. My other in-universe companion was a one-inch-tall doll named Joan who wore a gymnast uniform. Basically the game consisted of me sitting on the back porch by myself, knitting scarves in the middle of summer and muttering to myself.

Age 11: New fun game: repeatedly hitting myself in the knee with a heavy plastic toy during indoor recess. When my teacher asked me what I was doing, I cheerfully replied “I’m giving myself a bruise!” I genuinely had no idea that that was a bad idea for several reasons; it was more like a little science experiment. That teacher and I are facebook friends now. 🤷🏻‍♀️

This has been a detailed yet incomplete cataloging of Weird Shit I Did As A Kid.

#weird shit i did as a kid #childhood #weird childhood #yikes #babies #toddlers #kids #shit kids say

[myeyesarebrighter]

The house is a go. The sellers are installing radon mitigation. Inspection is clear. Mortgage approved. Appraisal will arrive tomorrow - but no big concerns on that front. This is happening. Holy shit.