Sooo... Explosions!!!

Well, this is my first ever tumblr post(Yay!), sorry if it goes a little wonky. Anyways! Found this blog a few hours ago and have been reading through it on and off. Hilarious, and I just could resist making my own little twisted and hopefully comical contribution. :D

So, we’ve seen the posts about fire, injuries, even the cleaner bot know as Stabby. Even a few about invasions and fights and the like. But what about recreational shooting? With modern-era firearms, not the super-quiet no-recoil sci-fi things everyone always thinks could be in the future. I mean, it seems like everyone enjoys a good ole giant gun going off. You just can’t help but grin! So, without further delay, here we go!

It was - insert unpronounceable alien name(Let’s just call said alien Zeb and for the sake of sanity, use the same gender pronouns as we do.) - Zeb’s first of his two recreational rotations for this cycle. After the long and boring time of this most recent cycle, Zeb figured he could go for a bit of excitement. After all, there was rarely anything to do during a lowly Level 2 patrol. Apparently the captain had… irritated someone higher up.

Shaking his head, Zeb banished those thoughts as the door to the on-ship shooting range opened with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, he checked in with the range master and headed to a free spot. Setting the case containing his personal grav-pulser onto the deck and removing the weapon, he soon fell into the comforting rhythm of shooting, all other worries being drowned by the various whines and hums of other shooter’s weapons.

A while later, during a short break as Zeb recharged his weapon’s power cells, he noticed one of the human members of the crew check in with the range master. Dismissing it after a moment, he went back to shooting. As he drained one power cell and went to smack another home, he felt a tap on his lower right shoulder. Pausing and glancing down at the human, he tried to recall the name of the figure before him.

“Ah, Human-James, may I assist you with something?”

“Nah, just wanted to make sure it was alright if I set up here,” the brown head-furred human replied, gesturing to the shooting bay beside Zeb’s.

“Certainly. I thank you for asking.”

“Thanks, not a problem.”

For a moment, Zeb watched as the strange little human placed two cases on the floor, one of which was almost as long as Human-James was tall! The short human then extracted a wood and metal contraption in the vague shape of a beam-rifle from the smaller case. Taking obvious care with it, he started to go through a series of checks that honestly left Zeb quite bored. Turning back to his shooting, he thought nothing more of the human he was now sharing the shooting range with.

Moments later, Zeb nearly dropped his grav-pulser as the human bellowed.


In a moment of utter confusion, every single Chlivloit in the range turned to look at the lone human. That human looked back at them with just as much confusion.

“Eyes and ears?” he repeated, befuddled by the lack of response.

“Yes, our visual and audial organs are functioning properly, why do you ask?”

“Look, just… put the blast shield down on your stations for a moment if you don’t have safety glasses, and cover your ears.”


“Please? Just do it?” Human-James seemed to be getting increasingly agitated, Zeb noted, as he quickly followed the instructions.

Nodding in satisfaction as the rest of occupants do the same, curious about what was about to happen, Human-James put a small box into the bottom of the rifle-like thing before moving a large lever of polished metal in what seemed to be a very specific motion. Bringing the stock of the weapon up to his shoulder, Human-James took aim down the primitive optic sights. With barely any warning, the human squeezed the trigger of his weapon.


Ears ringing, Zeb thought his heart would leap out of his scaled chest both from fright and the invisible hammer that smashed into his body. Worse was when he saw Human-James’ upper body jolt from the apparent catastrophic failure of his weapon.

“WOOHOO!!” Human-James cried out, setting the thunderous weapon down and pumping both hands into the air. “Bullseye, baby! That’s what I like to see!”

“My… congratulations on your impressive marksmanship, Human-James. But why are you so happy, if I may ask? Your weapon failed, did it not?”

“Failed?” the human seemed genuinely confused. “Why would it have failed? This was my great-grandfather’s gun, and it’s been handed down ever since. My family has taken pride in keeping it in top shape.”

“Then why did it explode so violently, as it if it was a micro-nuke launcher, not some form of rifle?”

“Nah, it didn’t explode, it’s supposed to do that. This is a gun, not those fancy grav-thingies we tend to use now. Shoots a small piece of shaped copped-coated lead down a rifled barrel using the expanding gasses of a controlled explosion. It’s much more fun than those new ones. So much less… clinical.”

“Fun. You call nearly deafening yourself and removing your arm ‘fun’?”

“Oh, that was nothing. This is just a .30-06. You should see my .50 cal! Here, I’ll show you.”

And then Human-James pulls a “gun” almost as long as he is tall out of the other case before holding up two different size cylinder-shaped pieces of brass.

“This is a .30-06,” he said, pointing to the smaller of the two. It was about the size of Human-James’ second smallest finger. “This is a .50 cal,” he finished with a grin on his face. The larger of the two was bigger than the .30-06 by almost half in length, and more than twice as large in diameter.

“What is that?! A missile?!”

“Able to penetrate some forms of armor at decent range, or take out a target at the very edges of believability. Now people just use them for fun.”



“…I think I need to talk to the captain… The briefing on your species needs to be updated… again.”

Things that confuse me in Fallout 4:

  • you can heal Nick Valentine…with a stimpack??
  • burnt and ruined books, empty lunchboxes and napkins somehow don’t count as “Junk” but functional circuit boards, biometric scanners and distress pulsers do
  • How the Institute hasn’t found the Railroad HQ yet, considering there is a massive red line leading directly to a location that has their fucking logo painted on the outside wall
  • the password is  R-A-I-L-R-O-A-D ffs how has nobody besides some random dude from a vault figured this out before
  • how did Ironsides get on that ship. also where did he get that sweet hat
  • Diamond City people remember what Halloween and Christmas is, but have forgotten how baseball works despite living in an old baseball stadium
  • how can the Bobrovs have a Russian accent when nobody’s had contact with Russia in 200+ years? same for Cait’s Irish accent or Proctor Quinlain’s british
  • “yes I’m sure this 200 year old irradiated canned slop is still good to eat”
embrace-tranquility’s waaaaaay overdue 1400+ follower forever!

                      Thank you kamai-tachi for the promo image!

A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, I reached the 1000 followers. Then, not too long after I reached 1100, 1200, 1300 and eventually it landed on over 1400+ followers. All this time, ever since the 1000 I said I would make a bias list and a thank you post. But being the goofball that I am, and the fact that I cannot edit pictures for shit, it never happened. But it had to happen, I had to do it! So I kicked my own butt, asked some help from a lovely friend for the image, and here it is!

            embrace-tranquility’s 1400+ follower bias list!

I have been on this blog for a loooooooooooooooooong time. Dating all the way back to begin June 2016. That’s eight months already, and I’m still kicking! (eight months is long for a rp blog…right?) 
But honestly, eight months or not, I would not have been here without all of you, my followers! 

I have had my ups and downs. I’ve seen many of my rp partners come and go. I am terrible at formatting, I don’t use icons, and sometimes I jumble words or sentences because english is not my native language. Yet here all you guys are, supporting and following me! Often I wonder if I portrait Zenyatta correctly, or wonder if I am still wanted considering there are so many other Zenyatta’s, and each and every time you guys tell me otherwise. For someone with depression, it is sometimes hard to believe and recieve compliments, but I have never felt so welcome and loved as that I have here. I simply cannot express the feelings that I feel. If I did, then this post would turn into an essay!

  TLDR: I love each and everyone of my followers, and I am       blessed to have such amazing people surrounding me!

Now, onto the bias list. These are people that I actively chat with, love seeing on my dash, or are just people dear to me. If you’re not it, don’t be discouraged. I still think that you’re hella cool!

         Either way, thank you for helping me get to 1400+                             followers! Here’s to a hundered more!♥ 

Keep reading

Give me all the everyday uses of the metallic arts.

Somebody knocks on the door of the campus Slider. It’s a student asking for help because of course they forgot to do the thesis which is due tomorrow and they could use some extra time. Or someone asking a Pulser to get them in the bubble because they have to wait for 20 more minutes for something and it is killing them. Concerned allomancers that know they shouldn´t keep the metals in for too long but have no chance of burning them (Thineyes and Thugs can meet this problem) going to a friendly Leecher for help. Jugglers using steel/iron to make their performance more interesting. Seekers getting special job offers at sports events and places where exams take place because cheating there would be really nasty. Special orders to give away all metals so neither the feruchemists cheat. At the same time, special competitions for Thugs where they give them equal amount of metals and let them compete. Rioters and soothers being great actors and scientists later trying to figure out how to transfer it to the film.

Aluminium and copper ferrings being the preferred spies because in case of interrogation they just…forget… Steelrunners and Archivists being the best-paid messengers based on what you wanted - speed or accuracy. During the early phases of elevators, skimmers being there as a counterweight. Everyone hating the electrum ferrings because you can never tell if theyĺl finish what they started. Literally. Bllodmakers testing out new drugs.Firesouls being the all-temperatures-champions because they can feel however warm they want. Spinners realising that what they´re getting into won´t go well but don´t mind it, so they just start storing luck to at least go down big time. Tin ferrings helping people with hypersensitivity and overstimulation problems. Just as Tineyes.

anonymous asked:

✏️ (heavy-pulser)

Send “✏️” for my muse to try drawing yours.

[[ Finding the EcoPoint drawings Mei did and then referencing off them is haaaarddd ]]

churchoftheshinji  asked:


So basically this turned into “what allomantic/feruchemic powers would the crew of Serenity have?” and I mean, we know we’re gonna get mistborn-in-space eventually, so, why not? Actually, we know we’re gonna get Allomantic FTL eventually, but for this crossover, we’re not quite there yet (for the sake of this crossover, I’m gonna say that there are planets/moons worth traveling to and colonizing that are close enough to Scadrial not to require FTL. This might contradict something Brandon’s said but whatever.) Also at the time of this crossover, Mistborn are known to exist but are very rare, and Hemalurgy is … like an urban legend, or a ghost story.


Serenity crew and passengers

Mal has no skill in the Metallic Arts. It speaks to his personality and leadership that he’s able to hold a crew together without any “special” ability—people tend to put a lot of stock into magical ability, think they’re worth less if they don’t have any, and Mal just casually puts those notions to rest. He’s got no time for religion but those who know him consider him the truest type of Survivorist.

Zoe is a Seeker (bronze misting). But it’s her toughness, reliability, and fighting skills that Mal really relies on. Allomancy might help show her what she’s up against, but training and discipline is what gets her through it.

Wash is a Nicroburst (nicrosil misting) as well as being the actual pilot of the ship. On most ships, a Nicroburst’s main duty would be to support the ship’s Pulser, but well, Kaylee’s got that covered herself with duralumin. Wash is happy to lend his support to whoever might need it (Zoe gets first dibs).

Kaylee is a Mistborn! But she doesn’t care about that flying-through-cities-at-night thing, preferring instead to put her powers towards making the ship run and figuring out neat mechanical tricks. There’s this idea she has, using Cadmium and Bendalloy bubbles together, and if the captain ever gives them any downtime maybe she’ll actually figure out how to make it work. People outside the crew have said this is a waste of her skills—that there are dozens of Cadmium mistings who could do what she does for the ship and that she should leave the research to the scholars, but the scholars—they can’t feel the mechanics of it all working together the way she does. Anyway, she just wouldn’t feel right trying to fit into everyone’s idea of what a Mistborn should be—for one thing, she likes balls and pretty dresses way too much to be a proper heir of the Warrior Ascendant.

Jayne is Twinborn, Thug (pewter misting) and Spinner (chromium ferring). However … he’s not always the best at predicting when he should be storing his luck, and when he should be tapping it, which has led to some … interesting … incidents.

Inara is also a Twinborn. Being both a Soother (brass misting) and a Connector (duralumin ferring) makes her an excellent Companion, however, she doesn’t use either of these abilities with the crew, preferring instead what she considers “real” relationships. Mal accuses her of manipulating him all the time, though.

Book follows the Path of Harmony, but he’s dropped hints that the face he shows isn’t who he’s always been (hint hint he’s a Kandra)

Simon is an Archivist (copper ferring), an ability that helped him immensely on his path to becoming a doctor. Now, though, he’s learning just how many things there are that he never learned in the first place.

River was a Sparker, (zinc ferring) before the Academy took her. Remember what I said about Hemalurgy being an urban legend? Yeah, someone’s trying to make that legend a reality again. River is the only one who knows what was done to make her what she is now and … yeah. Who can blame her for suppressing that? Since no one really knows anything about how Hemalurgy works, no one actually knows what River can and can’t do.

other characters

Badger also doesn’t have any Allomantic or Feruchemic abilities. He’s, shall we say, a bit more self-conscious about this fact than Mal is.

Saffron is a Trueself (aluminum ferring). I know we don’t really know how storing/tapping identity works, but she’s so good at wearing different identities that I thought it might fit.

Reavers are Space Koloss, okay. (Harmony supposedly changed Koloss so that they’re a true-breeding race, but Final Empire-era Koloss map better onto Reavers, I think.)

Atherton Wingis a Rioter (zinc misting) and is reputed to be very good with a dueling cane. Since he’s a Rioter and Inara’s a Soother, he’s been known to utter absolutely terrible lines like “we were made for each other” and “you complete me.”

Adelai Niska’s abilities, if he has any, are unknown. Everyone assumes it must be something quite powerful, but he keeps that information to himself. Because reputation, that is sometimes worth more than fact, yes?

The Operative is a Leecher (chromium misting), a skill that proves to be completely useless against Mal. After seeing how devoted he was to his cause, Mal suspects he might have been a Pinnacle (electrum ferring) as well.

Free Again

“What do you want this time? You have been a constant thorn in my side. I just wish you can just curl up and die like your pathetic boyfriend!” Clever shouted at Fleshy.

Fleshy merely grinned before turning his head and looking away, “then I guess you didn’t want my help. See, I decided to tell you something which could potentially get you more noticed as someone different from the other planner. But clearly you don’t want my help.”

Clever looked incredulously at Fleshy. Since when did the ganger ever wanted to help him in any way. Already, he was suspicious as to what the ganger was planning. 

“What are you getting at, Ganger? I know that you’re up to something.”

“Clever,” he said with a sigh and a bit of an eye roll, “I’m always up to something. And I decided that either we could spend the rest of our lives squabbling and locked in combat or we could live symbiotically. One helping the other out. Though I think it’s more me helping you out. There’s only so much struggling one can do before they’re tired of it. Consider this a gesture of good faith that I’m going to tell you of where something’s hidden.”

In control, Clever opened his eyes. His body was supposed to be resting, as it needed, but he wanted to find the planet-destroying weapon that the ganger had told him about and showed him of its location. Oh, the other Clever would be so proud (if cyberplanners could be) if he found and brought to him The Moment.

Jumping out of bed, he was already running before his feet hit the ground. He even left the door open as he ran down the halls into the Console Room. He knew the location the ganger had shown him. He could almost hear the other Clever praising him for such a victory for the Cyberiat.

He opened the lid to the compartment.

He frowned the moment he saw the glove-like device.

He could almost feel worry when he noticed that he’d lost control of the arm not holding the compartment open. He let go of the compartment as he could feel the arm stretch and reach for the device. He found that his feet weren’t moving as the device was situated on the hand. 

“No,” he commanded at the hand.

The hand met the metal plate at the side of his head and he let out one shout of “no” before the cyberplanner was no more.

He walked through the TARDIS corridors with a purpose, the pulser on his hand. There would be no more words to Clever. This was long overdue and there was literally nothing Clever could tell him nor do to stop him. He’d had enough long ago. He knew right where Clever could be found. It was all a matter of keeping his hand out of sight. And to do so, he merely kept the hand hidden by the jacket.

Once he saw Clever, he didn’t say anything. He merely reached out, stretching his arm like elastic and pressed the pulser against the metal plate. No warning. No greeting. Clever didn’t deserve any more words.

He just hoped that Clever had been wrong and there was some bit of The Doctor left. Some small seed, however small.