Under Pressure - Tumblr Posts
09.12.21
« Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, / Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends. » —Victor Hugo
I’ll be starting off my day early to go comet-hunting tomorrow. Still reeling from seeing Boötes spelt out in IPA.
Most of my finals are take-home exams, but I write my first test tomorrow. You know, the one I’ve been studying four days for… the one I found out today is actually open book… Spent today in a losing battle against a mostly blank screen. Shoutout to Good Omens for raising my already unattainable writing standards.
Listening to:
Under Pressure—Queen & David Bowie
26/02/24
you’ve been given all the right cards,
now you just have to play them right
Thaddeus Ross goes after Tony because he won't surrender the location of the Rogue Avengers. Tony hides that Ross is trying to get him on charges of treason because he may be hiding the Rogue's location, but things become intense when Ross takes things into his own hands by sending agents into into Tony's home, arrests him, and kidnaps Peter at the same time. The avengers must band together to save the two before Ross kills them.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot.
Chris was certain he was messing up the shoot. Being perfect was putting him under a lot of stress. So died that make him more than perfect or less? Whatever. There was something going with his hair.
I have the opening to Under Pressure stuck in my head. This happened often before I was even aware what the rest of the song was. Neither I nor anyone I know is particularly interested in Queen or David Bowie, so I'm not sure where this came from.
help
I am in pain and 2019 has been nothing but shitty so far sooo... to lighten up the mood here are a few of my favorite Queen related pictures
A very beautiful classy Rogerina moment
But also a little bit of sneaky deacy
And let's not forget about Brianna feeling like the beautiful woman she is
Or the Queen herself... being the Queen of Queen
And one of the best moments... this needs no explanation let the picture speak for itself
Into the Abyss: Incredible Shrinking Cups
Marine biologists and ocean scientists are somewhat of a tribe unto themselves. They spend weeks and months in cramped conditions aboard research vessels, doing science that’s a bit unlike any other science, and drinking enough to make Jack Sparrow proud. So it’s perfectly natural that their tribe would have some unique customs.
I discovered one of those today: Sending styrofoam cups to the bottom of the ocean as souvenirs.
When exploring deep ocean trenches and thermal vents, it’s usually a robot or a high-tech manned submersible doing the dirty work. The Cayman trough (where the top cup went) is home to some of the world’s deepest hydrothermal vents. At around 5,000 meters deep, the cup experiences nearly 500 times the pressure we experience at sea level. And since styrofoam is a foam made of air pockets inside a hydrocarbon polymer, it compresses under the added weight!
The bottom cup began as a normal-sized drinking utensil. But after it went to the bottom of the Mariana Trench (the world’s deepest point), it returned the size of a ketchup packet. The pressure down there is about a thousand times higher than at the surface!
It reminds me of a song …
(Squashed cups via Southern Fried Science and imgur)
Saw someone typo 'queerbaiting' as 'queenbaiting'. Is that when you think you hear Under Pressure but it turns out to be Ice Ice Baby?
Whumptober: Oh, Breathe Without Me (Under Pressure)
A/N: Oh look, a song verse as a title (Wozwald by Yuu Miyashita)
-----------------------------
Leonardo tested the door first, then signaled to his brothers that it was alright as he slid the door open just enough for him to creep in and duck into a hiding place. His family followed suit and disappeared into the shadows, hiding from prying eyes, invisible if you didn’t already know that they were there.
The building itself that they were “breaking into” was a large, multi-tier warehouse that Raphael reported seeing Purple Dragons at when he was with Casey. He said that they looked like they were taking only specific crates, and it was decided upon with unanimous vote that it was worth checking out, since the new leader of the street gang had been willing to step things up quite a bit.
“So, here’s the plan,” Leonardo whispered, “Raph and Donnie will take this level, look around for any gang members and see if they can learn anything or see what they’re taking. Me and Mikey will go to the top level and do the same thing, then we meet midway. Any objections?”
When he received only silence as a response, Leonardo took that as a sign that nobody was against it and began walking over to the staircase, Mikey following close behind.
The two went to the top floor, and worked their way through the whole level, finding a single member moving about, but nothing important or worthwhile, not what they were looking for. Still, they covered the whole floor, making sure that they checked every suspicious object, every nook and cranny, anything that looked fake and could be hiding something.
But they found nothing, so they went to the middle floor to get a headstart on looking there. Leonardo began to grow frustrated, though, feeling that familiar itch. Had they been too late? Had they missed the things that they actually needed to see? What if they missed something that had been really important, and everything was messed up just because of it? He bit back the low growl that threatened to leave him. Calm, he needed to be calm. They weren’t done here yet.
There were a pair of voices, and Leo was obligated to move closer to listen in, as he couldn’t yet make out what they were saying. It was a pair of gang members (finally, something they might be able to use!), leaned up against the wall and speaking in undertones.
“Are we almost done here?” The one to Leonardo’s left grunted. He had a long, winding snake tattoo that started on his snake and roped around his right arm, that Leonardo honestly thought was cool. However, he sounded like he had been chain smoking for years, which would explain the aged look on his face, even though Leonardo estimated that he could only be in his twenties or thirties.
“Almost,” The one to his right responded automatically. In contrast to the one on his left, this member looked a heck of a lot younger. There were no scars, no tattoos, he didn’t look nor sound any older than fifteen. Instead, he had long hair pulled into a tight bun and a few piercings, some of which were shaped like crosses. Huh, he was religious, maybe? “We’re just grabbing the last of things, and then they plan on blowing the place to the high heavens.”
Leonardo froze, exchanging a look with Michelangelo, who looked equally as appalled.
“Really? Won’t that grab us attention as terrorists?”
“Dunno, but the boss don’t care ‘bout that.”
“Huh.”
And then they just left, as if they hadn’t talked about blowing up a building in the middle of a highly populated city, risking probably quite a few civilians’ lives.
Michelangelo looked at him, and Leonardo nodded, understanding what he meant immediately. They needed to tell Donatello and Raphael, and get out as soon as possible, or try to step them from blowing up the building.
They bolted towards the stairs, just as the middle pair were coming up. All four of them ended up retreating back to the middle floor, ducking between crates as Leonardo and Michelangelo passed on what they had learned, earning almost yells and curses.
“We need to find the detonator before they set whatever bombs they have set up,” Leonardo said, stating the obvious. “The member with it is probably outside already, but I did see somebody lingering on the top level, and I think I’m gonna see, just in case. I don’t think they would blow up their own.
Leonardo didn’t want them in the building if it exploded. He was putting them in a potentially dangerous situation, he needed them outside, they couldn’t get hurt there. At least, not too terribly. Maybe from debris, but that would be more manageable then being in the building when it went down.
“Are you sure?” Raphael looked him over, eye ridges furrowed in concern. They were catching on.
“Mhm. I’m going to stay inside for just a minute, I’ll be out soon. Just try and check the people outside. At the very least, make sure that whatever they’re exporting stays here.”
Thankfully, they bought it, leaving him alone in the building. Now he just had to keep going with the act. And yes, he was afraid. No, he was terrified, he knew that he was probably going to die, but it was an occupational hazard, he guessed. They weren't always going to have some form of protection.
Leonardo turned and went upstairs, just in time to hear rapid beeping before a near deafening explosion. Then, everything went dark.
%%%
A splintering pain in his lower back and legs was the first thing, and Leonardo let out a low groan. What happened? Why did he feel like he was getting crushed? Had they fallen asleep in a Turtle Pile again?
Something shifted above him, and dust drifted down lazily. Oh right.
The only thing keeping him from having his skull crushed were some metal rods that creaked and bent under the weight of the concrete. A little movement revealed that his legs were most likely crushed from the boulders, and the only thing keeping his spinal cord from meeting the same fate was his shell, a natural armor he would be eternally grateful for. He struggled a bit, which only elicited protests and screams from his aching body.
Then he then heard people, humans, talking, close enough to feel them stepping over the concrete, but they sounded so far away…
He froze, then retreated into a cracked shell, holding his breath and waiting for them to pass.
“I could’ve sworn I heard somebody over here…”
A few minutes passed, then they moved on, leaving him alone to his misery. While the help would have been appreciated, he couldn’t risk letting humans see him, especially not in a state where he couldn’t move, much less defend himself.
Leonardo thrashed a bit, being careful not to let his shell hit things and make sounds that could draw attention to himself, but was quickly stopped by white hot fire in his arm, like a thousand needles pushed past his scales.
No, apparently that was not going to work.
Leonardo worked his mind for paths out of his situation, trying desperately to seek some way to get out of the hole he dug for himself, and eventually fell asleep. There was nothing he could do in the day, when he was at a higher risk for being seen by humans.
%%%
When he came to, he quickly realized that it was night. Unlike before, there was barely any light streaming through the cracks between the debris, leaving him nearly blind.
Taking hold of the situation, he started struggling. He had to get out, he couldn’t stay there, not when there were people depending on him to come back. By the second, his struggles grew more and more frantic, scrambling at the boulders pushing on his legs and shell to the best of his ability with his limited reach.
But the agony only grew in his fractured arm, pushing him to the point of tears, burning and tearing through his muscle. Him, Leonardo “Supernatural Pain Tolerance” Hamato, crying over a fracture. Shell, now the tears were flowing freely, racing down his face and staining the ground beneath him. Frustration and pain and anger, all mixed together and finally bursting free. How could he have been so stupid?
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly he was opening his eyes, head resting on his good arm. It wasn’t another day, as far as he knew, since the humans probably would have been working on removing the rubble. It was still dark, he still couldn’t see. The sounds of cars felt distant, although he wasn’t too far from the road, as far as he knew. Had the explosion done something to his hearing? Shoot, was he deaf? Or, at least, almost there? It wouldn’t be too terrible, he didn’t rely on his hearing that much, but. It was still a shocking development-
He couldn’t feel his legs. Frick, he couldn’t feel his legs. He needed to say alert, he needed- He couldn’t start losing then, trapped under cement and at risk all the time. Leonardo clawed at his arm, biting his tongue when it burned, spreading the same agony from before, but the pain was good- The pain was good, pain helped stay alert, he couldn’t lose himself then, couldn’t lose feeling.
Leonardo was loopy, he knew. He was in and out again, a faint blue light of the early morning streaming in. But he heard voices again, so close to him he wanted to cry. He knew the voices that time. His family hadn’t left him, why would they? They came back for him, even if they were risking coming early in the morning, when the humans were waking up.
He took a shaky breath, then: “Marco.”
The response that came was from Michelangelo, sounding overjoyed in his response and like he had been crying too. “Polo!”
“Marco.”
“Polo- Donnie! Raph! He’s here, I think he’s here!”
The grating and scratching was faint, but the light grew, he could hear them, he could hear them looking, they were trying to dig him out!
“Shoot- Don! I found ‘im!”
Strong arms wrapped around him as the last of the rubble was moved off of him, and slowly pulled him up. Beside him, Raphael growled: “You’re so stupid, Fearless. What were you thinkin’ playing a dang martyr?”
Donatello came running over from where he was a few feet away, a short, strangled sob leaving him.
“Oh my God- Leo! Leo I’m so sorry, we should have come sooner, we should have realized, I- You-”
“Hey,” Leonardo hushed him, struggling a bit in Raphael’s grip although he couldn’t even stand on his own, “It was my fault. My plan.”
“No, you shut up- Raph carry him, we need to be home fast.”
Leonardo bit his tongue to hold back a protest as Raphael smirked and lifted him up bridal style. He noted that the younger was careful not to jostle him too much. He was still being careful.
Once home, Leonardo received a thorough lecture (who would’ve thought?) and a check-up, before being told he needed bed rest, and couldn’t leave. Donatello announced that both his legs were, in fact, broken from the weight on them. His shell was the only reason that he wasn’t paralyzed from the waist down, taking the brunt of the hit. However, from being so close to the explosion, Leonardo was, for the most part, hard of hearing, just as he thought.
For the rest of the night, they all insisted on being close enough to him to smother him, but he wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t like he could run from it, anyway.
DAVID BOWIE WOULDVE LOVED CHAPPELL ROAN FIGHT ME GODDAMNIT
ok i hate writing for contests (keeps doing it)
love's such an old-fashioned word
and love dares you to care
for the people on the edge of the night
and love dares you to change our way
of caring about ourselves
this is our last dance
this is ourselves