beebazooka

[beebazooka]

FIRE SERIES 🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

backwash | daisuke

author's note: part one of a future series... the mouthwashing brainrot is real... if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) The first day on the Tulpar is short as the reader and the rest of the crew adjust to their new day-to-day life in space. While settling in, she gravitates to Daisuke, the ship's impromptu intern, during a brief but meaningful encounter

word count: 1,153

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Mook - "Malmo"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 001—

My mom wasn’t happy I accepted this job. She knows —like all of us do— that space transit is a dying market. She said: “It’s all automated now. People don’t belong out there anyway.” And yet, Pony Express is still afloat, despite it all. Why did I want to go? I don’t really know. This is all I seem to understand. I mean, what the hell else am I supposed to do with this degree? With my piloting certification? This has been my dream my entire life. If you can tell me that there’s anything better, then, please, let me know. I know I’m under contract now, and there’s no backing out. I don’t plan on it. This is what I love, isn’t it?

DAY ONE—

You would never forget the feeling of the Tulpar taking off. The shaking. The back and forth of force and resistance rocking the old ship as it exited Earth’s atmosphere, launching itself into space. It was similar to riding a rollercoaster. The build up in your torso as your stomach seemed to rise, lifting up and up until it felt like it was bulging at the base of your throat. Then it fell deep into your belly, as if trying to push itself out of your body all together, tipping over the peak of a tall slope. After a moment of nausea, there was nothing. A staggering stillness as the ship settled within the embrace of zero gravity. The persistent rocking ceased. The whining of metal warping hushed to a whisper, and then into a chilling silence. The adrenaline which had built up blended with something else. Something almost euphoric.

The cockpit was a sickly green, illuminated by the various nearby screens that signaled the take-off was a success. Under the tight grip of your seat belt, you shifted in your chair, attempting to loosen the rough fabric fastens.

Captain Curly leaned into the microphone and spoke over the intercom: “All right, folks. Thank you for flying with Pony Express,” he laughed at his own joke. “You’re free to walk around and get yourself acquainted with our lovely ship. Afterall, she’ll be housing us for another three hundred eighty one days. Let’s make this haul a good one. Cheers.”

He looked over his shoulder from where he sat, a proud smile gracing his lips. It was an almost cocky expression. He appeared proud of himself, maybe even happy to get to show off in front of a new pilot.

“How was that?” Curly asked in your direction.

“Incredible,” you said breathlessly. Your eyes were still wide from the excitement.

The pilot let out a low belly laugh. His smile stretched from ear to ear. “Always happy to please.” He turned to his co-pilot, Jimmy, whose face was almost as green as the screens that surrounded you. “How about you, Jim? Doing okay?”

“Never better,” Jimmy croaked, his eyes closed as he focused on not being sick.

Curly’s smile transformed into a smirk. A rough, friendly hand landed on Jimmy’s shoulder as Curly gave it a good squeeze.

“Still acting like a first time flier,” Curly teased him, eyes flicking back to you. “Go ahead and get settled in. Make some friends. All of that good stuff. Tomorrow the real work begins.”

“Right. Thank you.” You nodded in response. There was a quiet click as you unfastened your seatbelt and stood up straight. Your legs swayed beneath you, still adjusting to the feeling of being upright again.

The walk to the sleeping quarters from the cockpit was a short one. As you ventured down the hall —drawn deeper within the belly of the Tulpar by the sound of distant conversation— the rib-like pipes groaned as if greeting you. The door opened with a low hiss, revealing a short hallway with two rooms on either side and one at the end of the hall. In comparison to the cold, metallic halls from room to room, the sleeping quarters were a warm and welcoming sight. Out-dated wood paneling stretched up the walls, the floor a tacky linoleum in a similar tone. Inside of that tiny hallway, you started to forget you were on the ship at all.

“Listen, kid.” You saw an older man, Swansea, standing in a doorway, his north-eastern accent heavy as he spoke. “It’s all right to take it easy today, but tomorrow I’m gonna need you to take this seriously. It won’t be all coloring books and cartoons out here, you understand?”

“You got it, sir! You won’t have to worry about me one bit, I’m pretty self sufficient. Y’know, my friends back home say I’m the best-” Another younger voice spoke from inside of the room before quickly getting cut off.

“I don’t need your life’s story, kid. I just need you to pull your weight,” Swansea said.

You walked down the hall quietly, trying not to disturb the two as they continued back and forth. Each door had a last name displayed on the front, with yours at the very end of the hall. As you passed, Swansea looked over his shoulder at you and offered a small nod of acknowledgement. Just past him, you could see Daisuke who stood in the middle of his room, saying something about how he would do his best.

Daisuke’s gaze shifted from the older man in his doorway to you. Although it was only for a moment, his eyes seemed locked on yours as a soft smile spread on his lips. He stopped what he was saying, and raised a hand to wave at you. A short, but sweet gesture, which you happily returned.

“We’ll see about that,” Swansea spoke up, grabbing Daisuke’s attention once more. “I’m gonna nap until dinner’s ready. Your first task is to leave me the hell alone. Think you can do that?”

“No problemo,” Daisuke responded. He raised his hands into finger guns, shooting two shots at Swansea.

Shaking his head, the older man rolled his eyes while trying to suppress his obvious annoyance. “God, what did I get myself into…”

You entered your room as Swansea entered his, closing your door behind you. The room glowed with soft, yellow light. It was small, and almost clinical, but somehow cozy at the same time. In one corner sat a twin sized bed with a red blanket and golden sheets, and in the other was a mid-century dresser. Your bags and belongings rested in a less than neat pile in the middle of the room, clearly shaken from take off.

The high of your adrenaline had fizzled out significantly. Although you knew it would be wise to finish unpacking, your head felt heavy and your body ached, yearning to lay down for a bit. You kicked off your boots and crawled on top of the scarlet comforter. Before you knew it, you were like old Swansea, napping just before dinner.

[beebazooka]

THIS IS AMAZING

ONESHOT - Address Unknown - pt. 1

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 (𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦) 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐'𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝘖𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨-𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘌𝘔𝘚 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 '𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵' 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘶𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘳.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 :)

Part 2

✩

𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 ��𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚜, 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝙼𝚂 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚔𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍.

The spacecraft was small, fit for four. There were periods of time you'd be out for a week until you could refill at the hospitals for fuel. Those were the times you dreaded. You were scrolling on your phone, looking at funny monkey videos until you heard your usually silent co-worker quietly panic.

"𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌?" "𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?" you perked up from the attached clinic, into the pilot room. The drive slowed into a halt by an aimlessly floating ship. It looked like some kind of nasty bacteria with foam popping out of several areas. The rust rotting it away at the edges.

You immediately hopped back into the clinic, grabbing several pairs of vinyl gloves and your emergency pack. Your gut told you this would be a fun wellness visit. From the cockpit you heard;

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬?" the radio clicked off. There were several silent seconds where your heart pounded. "𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐨?" you looked at each other

Several more silent seconds went by. The ship was old, probably sprung a leak. It floated for several minutes. No direction, no control. 

The co-pilot of your ship decided to make the call. 

"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞, 𝐮𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨."

The ship whirred and made a harsh drifted turn into the large door for cargo of the abandoned ship. You held onto the rails around the room, watching through their window. The cargo room hadn't been opened or broken into. You braced for the suction seal of your ship to attach. 

𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘩-𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘬!

The square tunnel extended from your tinier vessel onto the aimless ship.

The co-pilot climbed from his seat into the clinic room with you. He changed into gloves and grabbed the C4 explosives in your utility room to set off after the makeshift hallway provided safe oxygen. The small lights on the inside of the ambulance back entrance flashed green. It was safe to enter the tunnel.

"𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠." the pilot stated. The co-pilot walked to the other end of the room, putting in the code and opening the door to the makeshift hallway and loudly stomped to the front of the now-attached cargo door. 

Behind you, the pilot was contacting local authorities.

"𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩? 𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐍𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫." click. The conversation continued without your need to interfere. 

You opened the doors for the co-pilot to climb back in after he unraveled the roll of wires and glued the explosives to the cargo door. Catching yourself not doing your job, you ran around the clinic, placing a mask on and grabbing a code-scanner and flashlight to access the ship.

He ran back with a controller attached to a few wires from the bomb. He shut the door to the outside. You watched him look over his shoulder, prepared to enter the torn up ship at any moment. 

"𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞." he told the pilot from across the room.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝." they gave a thumbs up from their seat.

𝘍𝘖𝘖𝘔𝘗!

There was a muffled explosion in the hallway, it was always much quieter than you remembered. It effectively broke the cargo door but contained your ship's tunnel attached to it.

You both peered out the window, letting the smoke settle. The foam safety device set off on the Tulpar, sealing the edges around your attachment immediately. Your vacuum door sensors flashed green, meaning it was completely safe and sealed with oxygen once more. 

"𝐆𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?" you asked.

Your co-pilot looked at you and gave a curt nod.

"𝐆𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞."

He put in the back door code and you pushed the vacuum sealed door open.

𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘬!

You let him go through and followed after, carefully stepping over the debris. The air was much staler than inside your ship. Could be the dust settling, could be a bad sign.

"𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬!!" he yelled stepped through into the large garage. 

"𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨! 𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬!!" your voice echoed after. Stacks and stacks of crates seemed to be untouched. Endless rows of cheap wooden boxes. You both flashed your code-scanner flashlight devices around the room. Approaching the next door exit at the end of the room, you saw at least 4 crates cracked open.

It reeked of minty sugar.

You peeked into each one, empty bottles of 'Dragon X Mouthwash' were tossed into the crates.

"𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟." you commented. If you recall, the high amounts of sugar counteracted any kind of germ killing. 

"𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝." he answered. He flashed his code scanner to open the next door.

"𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲-" your co-pilot gasped. There was crusted blood along the ceilings, floors, and walls. There was so much foam disguising what used to be a hallway to the cock-pit. The blood trailed all the way to the stairs, you both wasted no time running up onto the next level. 

There was blood, much less stale than what was down stairs but just as bad.

In Curly's state of consciousness in the pod, he could hear you. He was looking around the cockpit room. Jimmy has left him to check an e-mail from corporate. They were getting laid off. This was a nostalgic scene, but not the kind he wanted. He felt a pit, like a stone, sitting in his gut waiting to sprout a peach tree. 

'Emergency Medical Services!!' there it was again. So faint. It echoed off the halls. He tried standing up from his seat. He was glued to it. Looking down, there was no rope bounding him to the chair. There was a frozen layer of ice coating him. He could feel it on his eyelashes, his hair. The tips of his fingers felt frozen. He wanted to yell back but he couldn't. Something burned in this throat. Something minty and sugary and. and... bitter. 

"𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬!!" "𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬!!" it echoes through the halls.

Still as quiet as the other end of the radio.

You walked into the hallway, into the closest room, the lounge. Neither of you were prepared for the scene plastered in front of you.

Your coworker had to take a small lap from the brief glimpse he got. 

"ᵒʰᵐʸᵍᵒᵈᵒʰᵐʸᵍᵒᵈᵒʰᵐʸᵍᵒᵈ" he whispered. He took a mask from his bag, much too late, and secured it to his face. 

3 dead bodies were propped up at the table. Slack jawed and in decay. You could almost hear their moans of pain from the doorway. The both of you walked closer, much to your dismay. The animated screen was partially broken. Half of it was a flickering sunset, the rest was the blue sky reflecting the actual time of day on earth.

It smelled to the heavens. Your mask almost felt useless with your eyes watering. You pursued on, staying a foot away from the bodies. 

You contacted the pilot immediately upon inspecting the bodies. You clicked on your radio. 

"𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 3 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬. 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬... 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐲... 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫."

"𝐘𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 2 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫." you sighed at their response.

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬? 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫." click. 

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫." static, click.

Your coworker didn't touch anything but put his face dangerously closer than you would to the dinner plates on the table. Decaying meat, but ships like these don't serve steak or venison? Only freeze dried meals. He looked at you with his brows furrowed deep into his face. 

The young man had a sloppy cut through his face, from his left temple to the bottom of his right jaw. The older gentleman had bullet holes through the left side of his face and directly through his eye. The ravenette lady was covered in bloody vomit and bile. These are three distinct ways to die. The lady had decayed the most. From her crotch to the bottom of her pant legs had previously dripped with blood. 

You'd have to let the police handle evidence, you shouldn't waste time telling yourself a story you'll never know. 

Your heart yearned for these people. The company hadn't reported any missing persons cases along your route. You wondered if they even cared. These man-serviced freighter ships were supposed to be out of service by now. 

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥." he pointed at one of the moldy plates.

"𝐎𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝." there were two extra plates with meat that looked like it had been eaten off of.

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭."

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝?" you were scaring yourself even.

"𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐬." His response gave you the shivers. You never dealt with death well, better than most, but this was the worst disaster you've witnessed.

You looked back over at the table. A nurse, and two mechanics without a jumpsuit. Neither of the men could be the pilot. The pilot has to be in top shape to drive. And of sound mind...

You were about to exit when you saw the Polle statue tipped over. Something, heady of scent was floating over to you. You flashed your light on the fat plastic horse. There was a hole carved into the bottom of it and mold flowing out.

You clasped a hand to your mask. Nearly gagging and turning around. You bumped into something tall.

"𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒- 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭." your coworker giggled to himself. You slapped his chest and stomped out of the old lounge.

He looked at what you saw in disgust. Someone had some fun with Ol' Polle. He had to refrain from commenting. 

You sighed, carrying on to the med-bay across the lounge room. There was crusting molding vomit on the floor next to the bloodied hospital bed. You picked up the patient clipboard off the end of the bed, avoiding the splotches of body fluid everywhere. 

"𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲. 4𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲... 𝐝𝐮𝐡, 𝐝𝐮𝐡 𝐝𝐮𝐡," you read on "𝐀𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬."

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫..."

"𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥."

"𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲, (𝐲/𝐧)." he joked with you.

"𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲." you looked at the pill bottles around the lake of vomit on the floor. Miscellaneous medications from the cabinets, generic variety. Very few pills were left un-swallowed. On a silver tray near the bed, you saw orange ones. Oxycodone. Pain-killers neatly aligned with written instructions in messy cursive. A nurse's hand writing if you've ever seen it.

How strange that the nurse took everything, left them scattered on the floor. The most addictive medicine was left neatly on the trays with written serving amounts and instructions.

Even stranger than the medication, they were moved and set up like some kind of dolls for a tea party.

"𝐂'𝐦𝐨𝐧. 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬." your coworker snapped you out of your thoughts. His flashlight burned your eyes and you squinted.

The bedrooms were left like bedrooms. 4 people in one, and presumably the captain in the other.

"𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲?" he looked back to you.

You shook your head no.

Back through the stairway, and into the destroyed hallway. The utility room was unlocked with the code scanner. Another disaster,

A gentleman with a bullet in his skull laid across on the floor on his stomach. His thin brown locks splayed out. The gun was not far from his reach. What shocked you to your core was the 'mummy' in the cryopod.

You stared, it stared. Your coworker stared.

"𝐔𝐡, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲." he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Through the muffled hallways you heard him contacting the pilot about the situation, again.

You walked up to it, and spoke.

"𝐔𝐡𝐦. 𝐔𝐡. 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬? 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬." you tapped on the cold glass shield. 

It couldn't blink, or move of course. You tapped on the cryopod's controls and checked for a heart rate. The tiny screen flickered on. 55 BPM, it's alive. You gasped, using your radio.

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 55 𝐁𝐏𝐌, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲. 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫."

"𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫." You heard an echoing thumping coming closer to you. You flashed your light behind you. Closer, closer, closer. 

"jesus! fuck! ow!"

"sorry." echoed off the walls. It was just them. You snorted and smiled. You were psyching yourself out on this one. It was just a disaster, you'd have to remember. 

This time both of your co-workers walked into the room with the gurney. Two of you huddled around the pod and tapped into the cryopod settings, changing it into 'mobile mode' which hissed and released the box from the ground. You had 30 minutes before it defrosted completely.

"𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞." you nodded "1. 2... 3." you both lifted the unimaginably heavy pod and the other guy shuffled the gurney forward more. You slid to the other end, holding the head end horizontally over the stretcher.

You sighed and used your last remaining strength to gently place the pod down. You huffed, and then you were on the move again. You wheeled the stretch through the halls, into the cargo room, all three of you lifting through the makeshift hallway debris, and into the clinic.

You all huffed, watching the pod and the person.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, (𝐲/𝐧). 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡?"

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐫." "𝐘𝐞𝐬."

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲." The pilot walked back to his command center. You co-pilot looked at you.

"𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐞𝐝."

"𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚." you agreed.

You both pushed it to the clean bed. You grabbed two folding stools to get height over the pod. He used a series of protocol codes to open the cryopod, and it hissed open. Frost briefly coated the outside before melting back into fluid form. A chilly fog escaped the capsule door.

"𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲... 1. 2.. 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭!"

You cradled his head with one arm and the back of his shoulder. Your coworker managed the thighs and torso. Neither of you got off of the stool.

"𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞... 1. 2.. 3!!" you both stepped off the stools in sync and maneuvered the amputee onto the clean clinic bed. It almost hissed, air escaping its lungs. Your coworker shivered and backed away. He took the empty pod on a stretcher and hauled it into the small utility room to bring as evidence to the police later.

Walking back through to the cockpit he noted;

"𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧." he thought about making a joke about him being the most cooked, but, he also wanted to keep his career.

You gazed upon the burn victim. Upon closer look, it was the structure of a man. The unblinking eyeball slowly glanced over to you. He was defrosting already. At least enough to use his eye muscles. You dragged a metal try behind you, and opened up the clinic cabinets.

"I𝐕, 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐨-𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬..." you mumbled to yourself. You opened the fridge last, grabbing an IV liquid bag. There was a squeaking irritable metal sound of the makeshift hallway retracting back into your ship. The whirring of the system hummed on, making the lights flicker.

You brought the tray to the body and looked at his arms. They're scabbed over, skin could hardly grow back. You gently pressed two fingers to the inner elbow, checking for the proper vein.

"nnggg" a low grumble came from him.

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭. 𝐌𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 (𝐲/𝐧) 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥." you recited. You pulled apart the sterile paper, grabbing the tube and needle and placed it on the tray. You hung the IV bag and connected the plastic spike into the infusion bag.

You gently touched his inner elbow again, double checking the pulse spot before using a small square alcohol wipe to sterilize the area.

"𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡!" you recited this with all of the patients, at least the ones who liked a warning first. The needle almost went in with ease. Getting through the scabbed area took more pressure to push through into the arm.

He groaned louder in pain. You used hypa-fix tape and taped the base of the slip port down into his arm. Now for the temporary catheter. He needed to get out of this gown.

"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥?" you raised your voice to the cock-pit.

"6 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬!" yelled from the cockpit.

"𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭" you mumbled. You should change his bandages and get him comfortable, you think.

He looked at you, his chest heaving up and down.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩." you looked at him while once again rolling around on your stool dragging the metal tray along in one hand. You grabbed the supplies for a rewrap and catheter.

"𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐕 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦. 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭." he just stared. You assumed that's all he could do. You twisted the cap off of the eye drops and tossed it on the tray.

"𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬" you made sure he could see it. You stood up and over him, aligning the drops over his eye. He looked at it and you squeezed a few in. His body writhed in discomfort and what little of the corner of his eyelid fluttered rapidly, but couldn't fully close.

"𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?" you placed a pointer finger above him and moved it to his right. He focused on your pointer finger. A few drops. He writhed. "𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞." a few drops and he writhed one last time.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭." you smiled at him.

Curly was... distressed. He was removed from his crew and felt he should've died with the ship. He knew they were dead, hell, he watched it all happen in front of him or from a struggling distance.

He felt nothing as the crypod froze over and as he defrosted he was awoken with bright white lights. It was that sterile scent again. The first time he'd smelled it so clean in months. It didn't smell like vomit, decay, or Anya's shampoo that he'd grown accustomed to.

The first thing he recognized was a person, a figure in blue. Your flushed face and focused expression hovering over him, picking apart his condition with bright (color) eyes. It was a sore sight. Someone whole.

The IV fluids coursed through him, you had inserted cryo-defrosting fluid into his veins with the Y injection port and flushed after with saline. He felt the taste of saline in the back of his throat.

Everything came flooding back. Memories, feelings, trauma. He didn't know if it was the cold fluids or his muscles spasming. He choked, his throat closed from tears. His nose ran under the bandages, most of the fluid sliding down his throat.

His tear ducts were seared shut. It wasn't possible for tears to escape through anywhere but his nose.

You whipped your head around.

"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈?"

You put fingers up to his teeth and tried to pry. He kept his jaw shut. His chin wobbled and the bandage of his nose was soaked. He was crying the only way he could and you recognized it. You brought a bowl of warm water and a clean sponge to the bedside table.

You stepped back and got first aid scissors to cut the bandages across his face. You snipped ever so carefully, not to touch him with the round blunted ends. The cool metal lightly dragged across his face as you made small cuts to unwrap him.

He inhaled and you placed the scissors down. He exhaled with a wail which startled you. You adjusted the bed to sit him up better. You gently unwrapped the old gauze as he cried. If he needed to cry, he needed to cry. As long as he didn't hyperventilate and got air, you wouldn't mind it.

Dipping the soft sponge in warm water, you patted his face, just enough to wipe off excess plasma that had made the scabs soggy. You observed his cheekbones, and the triangle hole of his nose. You were impressed that he could move his jaw so freely. It didn't seem to be hanging by a thread.

Mentally you couldn't help but reconstruct his face. You didn't even know what hair color he had. You let his face breathe for now before putting on bandages later. 

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫?" you looked for a sign from him. He was staring at the cabinets straight ahead, and kept crying and choking. Okay, maybe too much crying to be healthy. You waved a hand over his eye, his blue pearlescent orb shifted to you. His shoulder shook, adding to the pain and overall how upset he felt. 

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧- 4! 2, 3, 4- 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝!" you head your breath to encourage him to follow along "2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7-  𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞 8. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8." you repeated this process. He joined in after the third time. He couldn't hold for 8 counts, his lungs were so damaged from all the smoke and debris from the cockpit crash.

You kept going, even if he couldn't. There wasn't a hint of judgment or condescension on your face. You were focused.

You exhale for a last 8 counts "𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐚𝐚𝐡-𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲..." you said. "𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫?" he weakly shook his head. You nodded to him and continued lightly bathing him with a small smile gracing your face. You decided to turn on the tv, to take his mind off of things.

"𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐛?" he shook his head lightly "𝐔𝐡, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲?" he shook his head again "𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰," he paused, and shook his head "𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝?" he didn't shake his head, he just stared. You took it as a yes after a few seconds and placed the remote on his bedside table.

You got to work on his catheter, cutting the bandages around the area and taking the old one out. Curly felt comfortable in the hands of a profession. It wasn't embarrassing having to feel helpless in front of his crew.

Whatever would happen to Curly, he would be okay. He felt he would be okay, at least with someone watching over him like you.

✩

Author note: part 2? Idk. I'm not gonna baby him by any means. I could do a part 2 where Curly recovers in the hospital and he's able to get a skin graft. You hear he's doing better and donate some, but you have tattoos. - I hope I was not ableist in any aspect. If any parts made you uncomfortable, please tell me down below or message me. This was more meant as a horror at the beginning and then comfort at the end. I didn't make this to baby him but have a content ending.

[beebazooka]

papa me want more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴suke

WHY DID I LAUGH.

[beebazooka]

canon event to repost this ngl

finding daisuke content only to find the authors babying a grown man again…

[beebazooka]

just happened to land on you, who else?

----- pt. 1/2

daisuke x gn reader fic 𓆩⟡𓆪 word count; 1.1k

content warning: later smut, non-established relationship, awkwardness, NEEDY 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴suke, angst(post crash doomed-ness)

You were Anya's intern— you didn't know what career to pick so you followed whatever your parents thought was best. The money balanced out the negatives; long and unpredictable hours, patient interactions, and differing opinions from coworkers on how to deal with someone. All you needed to get that was a good recommendation and your parents would deal with medical school's expenses.

So you signed up for every advertisement that didn't look scam-y. Until no one would call back, it made sense. You had nothing on your record but a summer job you had at sixteen and a high school diploma. Not exactly the top candidate.

Your last hope was a faded-out pamphlet stapled to an electric post. Reluctantly, you ripped off one of the phone number handouts printed between the dotted punctured lines. That flyer was no doubt, the sketchiest thing you had ever seen in your life. That cartoon horse mascot smiling at you didn't ease any worries despite how much the company probably wanted it to.

<⟡>

Now you were boarding the Tulpar, you could see your new coworkers through the small crowd of higher-ups and last-minute maintenance workers; a bunch of sad sack adults, and a guy like you. Small carry-on bags either held or settled by their feet.

He was friendly, really friendly. He ran over to you immediately, imaginary tail wagging at the mere sight of someone in his age group.

"Daisuke Juárez." He blurted out, extending a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, what?" His eyebrows furrowed as he dropped his hand, looking away. You could see his lips mutter a swear but no sound came out.

"That's my name, sorry for no intro before that..." He gave a nervous chuckle before he offered his hand to you again. You took it, why wouldn't you? It would just make this already weird conversation worse.

A quick shake between new coworkers. Nervous sweat passed back and forth, a cold feeling and a 'clink' sound from his rings bumping against yours. This guy would probably be your only choice for socializing. He had a lot of enthusiasm to pass around and frankly, everyone needed it.

<⟡>

A couple of months on board and by some miracle, he wasn't your thirteenth reason yet. Your boredom wouldn't let you hate him. You looked forward to his shenanigans. To Swansea's dismay, you started participating.

Sneaking sugar packets here, teaming up to cheat on crew game nights there.

Then it happened. That fake scenic sunset display quickly changed to a message so contrasting; Crash eminent. You had no clue what to do other than prepare. The blaring alarms didn't stop even when you ducked down behind the kitchen counters.

<⟡>

Everything was ruined, tousled, destroyed. Emergency foam went off everywhere, closing off the sleeping quarters, and a couple of hallways.

Every day, every new experience drained you. You had to hold back Anya's hair four times as she vomited in between patching up Captain— no, just Curly now.

One day, Swansea gathered up everyone, well tried. He only got the interns to sit down in the living quarters, pacing back and forth while he gave a doomed pep talk to the only people who would listen.

"We're fucked. This goddamn company doesn't care about us or that one of their ships went offline. We're dead meat, just names on a fucking list." He kept pacing. He had that little rasp in his voice, probably from the fact he kept pausing his spiel to take swigs of mouthwash. Daisuke told you all about Swansea's drunken rants whenever the two of you got bored enough. He said he liked the burn. The knowledge that he was ruining his life all over again. He loved it.

"You kids do whatever the fuck you want, 'cause I'm not doing shit. I'm not going to spend the last weeks of my life slaving away at the same company that already took forty years of my damn happiness." Then he walked off, too drunk to stomp away. Going to stand in front of the utility room. The only task he wanted to commit to; stopping others from doing something stupid; he always did. Daisuke could be his whole defense for that argument.

"So that's our advice... We do whatever because we're dying soon anyway." You mumbled after some struggle. Someone both you and Daisuke were supposed to look up to and ask for guidance just told you to fuck around while you still can.

"That's it? Our first fucking trip and we die here?!" You stood up, your anger wanted to move and right now, you didn't want to deny it.

Daisuke let out a quiet sigh, leaning back until his body hit the cold floor, he ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to ease something... anything. "I haven't lived yet. I partied. I jacked around. I don't have anything to actually be proud of. I haven't done anything."

That made you stop. He was right. He hasn't lived and neither have you. You were getting mad at people millions of miles away on Earth, that for sure didn't know your name or face.

"Bucket list." You whispered in that same tone you used to pass jokes to him during lectures with Swansea... a long time ago. He would give anything for this shitshow to be a dream that he could wake up to and have you joke about Swansea's under-eyes over and over again. "We make a bucket list. We do everything before we die when the food and oxygen supply run out.

<⟡>

They wrote down a small list each. It was cute at first, pranking the unbothered Swansea wasn't as fun as before but it was something. They shared a couple sugar packets, helped Anya out for a bit, and destroyed the kitchen by mismatching recipes.

Then their lists went cold and desperate; in tiny, rushed pen-written letters were four words. "Don't die a virgin."

After reading it from the other's list, they looked up at each other. "This is humiliating, you know," Daisuke spoke up first, despite his words he had a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I know." You replied back. This was a horrible way to lose something people said was so sacred, but now, you saw it how it was; just another experience to have before you died.

[beebazooka]

I GOT SO MANY REQUESTS TYSM IM WORKING ON THEM NOW (MAY TAKE A BIT)

[beebazooka]

guidelines——

i write x reader for headcannons, fics, and whatever someone requests me to do ASLONG AS IT FOLLOWS THESE GUIDELINES;

(requests/ new posts will take a bit, I try to work as quick as possible and I’m pretty much on tumblr everyday but yk)

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR: mouthwashing(im in so many fandoms but washing my mouth is an obsession nothing can compare to💀)

IM A-OKAY WITH WRITING THE FOLLOWING;

fluff ofc

angst - every now and then

AUs - i never stop yapping abt diff possibilities, and ngl it’s kinda hard to write reader x things with no au, did you spawn out of nowhere or something bro??

smut - screaming, crying, shitting, pissing (ok gen I would love detailed requests on this bc all the smut I write is so repetitive, GIVE ME IDEAS😭)

I use mostly gn pronouns and descriptions but for requests you can tell me to write whatever idc

Daisuke, Anya, Curly(pre crash + post crash but post crash will prob be limited to fluff), and Swansea - this is an old man safe space!!!!

mostly daisuke tho ngl

NAHHHHH:

genuinely upsetting content - ik mw has heavy themes but im NOT writing abt extremely detailed gore/assault/rape.👍

Highly specific kinks - IF YOU HAVE TO THINK ABT IF ITS ‘TOO WEIRD’ DONT SEND THE REQUEST BRO

junglejim - i do not enjoy writing him even if it’s before he did all the shit, I KNOW he’s a fictional character but at the end of the day he’s a wonderfully written horrible character and I will not be writing romantic/sexual themed things abt him.

ANYWAY, FEEL FREE TO SEND REQUESTS!(below will change depending on if I can take requests or not😈)

Requests: Open!!!

[beebazooka]

mouthwashing au where everything is the same but right after the crash curly had a 5 second delay before all his injuries got to him and fucking killed jimmy