#Air Craft Asteroids

[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere Curly x Captain!M!Reader

Prologue: Decay (~2k words)

CW: Canon typical gore and violence, yandere themes, named original characters. Vomiting, blood and decay, no beta we die like Anya

This work can be skipped, since it's just a prologue.

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

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As the captain of the Astraeus, a colonization ship in which you take crew back and forth to barren rocks with no life save some algae that's a few million years from walking, you'd seen some shit. The only constants in your life were your ship, your base crew of just six, your nephew, and your title as captain.

Your life was good enough; you picked up around sixty colonists with various skills, dropped them off on a moon or a planet with the things they needed to flourish, then flew back to do it again. You had your late sibling's kid dropped in your lap recently, but he was a good kid and a promising pilot. You hardly spoke to the passengers below deck, but your little gaggle of crewmates were good friends, usually.

You thought you'd seen all that the vast, empty space had to offer until an unidentified object entered your flight path. The red flashing lights warned you that this clearly wasn't an asteroid, but in a meeting your resident doctor claimed that, regardless of its identity, it was in your best interest to ignore it and simply hop over it. When he suggested this to your crew, they were much less than happy to hear it.

"Are you kidding? Whoever it is, their SOS light is on, it's objectively immoral to ignore them. They'll die, if they haven't already!" Sascha protested. Sascha, with her spiky and colorful hair, was always the loudest and most abrasive, so it was no surprise she was vocal in her opinion against it.

"I understand that, but it'll add days to the trip. The passengers will be outraged, we could miss a supply drop—" he defended earnestly, but shut off once you raised a hand to silence him.

"Rhodes. She's right, and it's in our scientific interest," you emphasized, "that we dock at an undocumented craft. If there's living people, it is our responsibility to save them. If there's samples, we should get those, too, since there's no telling what the craft has."

Rhodes sighed and sat back, relinquishing the argument to your wise opinion.

"I motion to investigate the craft," you announced.

"I second the damn motion," Sascha growled.

"All opposed, raise your hand," you instructed. Nobody raised a hand, so you adjourned the meeting and prepared a team to investigate. The passengers didn't really care, not after you explained the cruciality of it all, so you and gathered your selected team.

You were a given; your nephew was in charge in the event that something happened on the Astraeus. Rhodes, with his medical expertise, was forced to come along. Harbor, the resident cook and communications leader, wanted to volunteer, but was overrode by Sascha. Finally, Lucille, who was just about the only person who specialized in combat, came with.

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With that, you donned your suits and ventured into the ship. Once you got inside and depressurized, you were immediately greeted with the thick air of rot. Fuck.

There was no oxygen in the ship and the lights flickered dully as the automatic doors showered with sparks once you left the airlock. You and Lucille forced the door open whilst Sascha and Rhodes bickered over whether or not anyone could still be alive. Sascha was optimistic, and Rhodes was less than.

"Hey, this is a Pony Express freighter," Sascha suddenly realized. "That... uh, fuck, what was her name? The pony mascot, Polle! Yeah, her face is all over the place. What were they hauling?"

Once the broken door opened with a uncomfortable screech, Lucille spoke slowly. "...Mouthwash."

You were stunned. That must have been a million empty bottles in here, all strewn about or in piles. "They ran out of food," Rhodes said softly. "No shit, dumbass. You think they drank it for fun?" Sascha huffed.

"You two, quit," you spoke up. "Pair up and focus. If anyone's alive after this long, it's not going to be pretty. Lou, get your gun."

"Will do, Captain," replied Lucille, waiting for your go-ahead to continue on. You ventured left and met with a wall of insulation foam. Ugh. Of course Pony Express would use insulation instead of spray metal; why wouldn't they cut corners with the cheapest material possible? Makes you glad that they went under a couple decades ago.

"We need to find a new route. These old kinds of ships have a central kitchen, a few other rooms, and a downstairs cargo bay," Sascha informed.

"Get with your pair. Lucille, go with Rhodes. Sascha, you get Lucille's extra gun, come with me. You two, take the right fork and we'll take middle. Keep your mics on."

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As you and Sascha went forward, you found long abandoned bedrooms belonging to a couple crew members. One door, the one without a lock and the only one open, held a woman's ID card, which prompted you to collect the IDs of all members.

"Huh, she's cute. This generation ship had cryopods, maybe she's a popsicle," Sascha joked.

"Be on the lookout for... four crew members and a captain. Young Anglo female named Anya, teenage East Asian male named Daisuke, middle aged Anglo male named Swansea, and a young Anglo male named Jimmy," you announced. "Looks like cabin's cut off from the rest of the ship. They probably had to sleep in the kitchen or medbay."

"Hm. Found the utility, but the door's jammed. I'll circle back," Rhodes said over the mic, passing by the room. "I'm in the medbay. It has traces of blood and vomit on the floor and—fuck, that bed is soaked in dried blood. Empty pill bottles; Captain, I think someone overdosed. It'd be easy, these painkillers are only a little less strong than what we have."

Rhodes observed the room while you and Sascha ventured back and followed their path to meet up.

"There's a gun case. Gun and bullets are missing. Be prepared to see either a crazy, gun wielding bastard or a whole lot of brains on the wall," Lucille said bitterly as you entered.

Sascha had been abnormally quiet since the Medbay news was delivered. "I'm a little nervous to check further now. But I guess we have to, huh?" she muttered.

Emeto and Gore warning.

You pressed on, and in the cockpit was a mess of foam and some dried blood. Nothing too damning just yet, though. You and Sascha lingered back to check out the control panels and determined that the ship steered directly into an asteroid, something virtually impossible with how simple the instructions were. "This was a purposeful crash, gu—" you began, but was cut off by a gag and the sound of vomit hitting a helmet.

"Lucille? Lucille!" You shouted, springing up to rush into the central room.

Ho-ly Fuck.

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Three people of the four you'd seen earlier were slumped across a table, party hats either hanging from their neck or somehow still on their head. You'd never wished to throw up more than in this moment. Lucille, since she'd already thrown up once, had to deal with the vomit coating her helmet, which only prompted her to go again.

The girl, Anya, had bloody saliva and puke dried onto her lips and decay around the her face, while her eyes were bloodshot and her body exhibited every symptom of opioid overdose. She slumped backwards, her position hardly mattering to whoever set this disgusting sight up. Fuck.

The boy, Daisuke, was unrecognizable with his face caved in. He was gruesomely propped up with his head on his hands, which had blood dripping down the forearms. His lips were twisted into a mockery of a smile, and the party hat had stayed on throughout the years of stationary movement. His bowels were nearly spilling out, clearly having been cut by a large sharp object before having been killed by the blow to his face.

The man, Swansea, had a clean bullet hole through the head and had both arms on the table like he was waiting to eat. His head fell backwards and the crust of regurgitated blood caked his lips and chin. Furthermore, his eyeball hung loosely around his chin and he'd been clearly beaten up before hand.

Five steaks lined the plates, and the barely-started decay made the sight worse. Five steaks... in a ship that had no real meat.

Not only were the crew in space with no decomposing lifeforms to feed off of them, they were in a room cold enough to freeze their bodies now that the heater power failed, so decomposition ceased entirely. They were stuck like they had just been killed days ago, their skin bloating and their organs slush inside them. With every poke and prod you made, Lucille gagged and only worsened her condition as she attempted to lift her helmet, since she suddenly had no oxygen but was hit with the smell of rot.

"Look away," you said firmly, motioning for Rhodes to bring Lucille to the side.

"Sealegs, this is your Captain speaking. Do you copy?" You spoke into your microphone, radioing back to the ship.

"Captain, this is Sealegs! I copy!" A young boy's voice chirped out eagerly.

"Sealegs, I want you to talk over the intercom—the big, red button I tell you not to touch—and tell the passengers to send up anyone with 'for-en-sic' or medical expertise. They need suits and tell them that it's a 'Rated R' sight. Three 'ca-da-vers' so far, and to bring barf bags," you said carefully, using words he was unfamiliar with to try not to traumatize your nephew.

You spring into Captain mode, reassigning roles to fit the crew's comfortability and capability. "Sascha, lead the passengers up and make sure they bring actual supplies. A gurney or something in case one of us passes out. Lucille, hand Rhodes your gun. You're dismissed; go shower and clean the vomit from your helmet. You don't need to see this."

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A full inspection of the ship, including the storage, determined that two crew members were missing—Jimmy, and the captain, whose name you hadn't yet found. Unfortunately, both of the captain's ID cards were destroyed beyond repair in a manner that seemed on purpose. The only room not observed yet was the utility room, which was seemingly blocked by a fire axe and multiple furniture items. In the spirit of a full check, you and about a half-dozen passengers broke through and gasped as you finally saw the inside.

The Util room itself was fine, but the final crew member, Jimmy had shot himself in the chest.

It didn't kill him immediately.

He crawled to beside a cryo pod and used his hand to make a handprint on the handle, as if begging someone else to open it.

"Check all of the other pods. I want someone to get that gun, too," you organized, then followed the handprint and lifted open the hatch. Oh. Oh, fuck.

"Shit! I need medical, now! Gurney, respirator, and morphine!" you shouted as a man—the former Captain, you were sure, fell out of the pod in the fetal position, shivering, choking, and staring at you with a wide, terrified eye.

You picked him up, wincing as you felt his raw skin squish under his weight, and removed your helmet to set it over his head for a gasp of real air. God knows how long he'd been without fresh air. You may have been suffocating, but you had good lungs. In less than a minute, the team brought a respirator and oxygen tank with a gurney.

You set him down and placed the mask over yourself, gasping and gagging at the rotting stench in the air, then rasped out to the man, "It'll be okay. We've got you."

You took back your helmet and put the mask over his lipless mouth, then sprinted back to the ship. Once you looked back down at him, you saw a tear escaping his eye and piercing blue irises set upon you.

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Yay... first post on this blog! This is obviously not the only part, I have plans, but this is essentially a skippable cutscene, since you could probably just ignore this part and head to the next once I make it. I just wanted to set the tone and setting, try my hand at gore, and voice my post-judgement headcannons. Anyways, I really hope my writing wasn't bad and it made sense! No Curly just yet, but just wait lol.

[startrekprodigyfan]

Okay, this is going out to the die-hard old-school Trekkies. And I’m going to be including spoilers because at this point if you haven’t been watching Prodigy yet, this is the only other way I know how to convince you to start! And even seeing spoilers won’t give you any context to the how or why they’re there, so that should hopefully give you incentive to watch the show!

For starters, what is Prodigy? Star Trek Prodigy is a 3D animated Nickelodeon show meant to introduce kids to the world of Star Trek. But don’t let the “kids show” title fool you, this is a show for ALL ages and even the most die-hard Trekkie will find something about it to enjoy.

The story centers around a group of alien kids who have been imprisoned on a mining asteroid as they stumble upon an abandoned Federation Starship and use it to escape with the hopes of one day joining Starfleet.

Are you happy that Star Trek is back but haven’t been excited or jazzed much about some of the recent shows? Then please watch Star Trek Prodigy! Here’s a visual list of things to expect to appease your continuity and cannon loving hearts:

1) The Enterprise D bridge on the holodeck, alongside Uhura, Odo, Doctor Crusher, Scotty, and Spock (using original legacy voice clips for many of the characters too)

2) The original Enterprise (non-Strange New Worlds) bridge!

3) An explanation for what happened to the original Galileo shuttle craft from the TOS series.

4) Both the original Vice Admiral Janeway and the new Hologram Janeway.

5) Wesley Crusher!

6) The Voyager-A!

7) Chakotay and the Holographic Doctor!

8) Original TNG (pre-First Contact) style Borg!

9) Legacy side characters returning such as The Outrageous Okona, voiced by the original actor Bill Campbell!

Currently the show is on Netflix. There are two seasons, 20 episodes each season that run around 24-30 mins long each for a grand total of a whopping 40 episodes! And there’s hopes that if Netflix thinks the show is worthy a 3rd season could be ordered. But only if you watch it now and get those ratings and viewership numbers up!

Please! Prodigy needs the help! Paramount+ canceled the show and yanked it from streaming before season 2 could even air (it had already been completed too)! Through a grass-roots campaign fans were able to get Netflix to pick it up and release the second season! Without Netflix this show would’ve just disappeared!

So please… if you love old school Trek and just want to exist in this world, you’re going to love Prodigy! And trust me, even those spoilers I showcased don’t even begin to scratch the surface of what this show has to offer!

[st4rbe0m]

PAIRING ▸ Choi Yeonjun x reader

SUMMARY ▸ On a hazy summer evening, where the air hung low above everyone like a buzzing, heated static, you met Choi Yeonjun in a new light. And he met you, not for the first time maybe, but definitely in a more impacting way. A second, first meeting. And with that second, first meeting came the idea to strike a deal - a mutual agreement to help both parties out favorably, till the end of summer. Luckily, or unluckily, it just so happens that the summer doesn't last forever.

GENRE ▸ strangers to lovers, highschool au, fake dating au, suggestive scenes, includes kissing, jock Yeonjun, kinda nerdy (?) reader (they're friends with Soobin and Beomgyu if that helps), fluff with angst, includes underage drinking and swearing.

PLAYLIST ▸ High School in Jakarta by NIKI, I Like Me Better by Lauv, Bubble Gum by NewJeans, Ghosting by TXT, Ditto by NewJeans, small town by Clara Benin.

WC ▸ 12.9K words

A/N ▸ She's finally here 😭🥹 I'm quite proud of this one guys. It's loosely based off my own high school relationship (which unfortunately, didn't end as great as this fic did). It's also my first time writing such a long story, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it, and please do let me know how you guys felt about it. Love you!!

PART OF THE ANTHOLOGY SERIES

The world as you know it is ending. There’s meteors and asteroids crashing down, balls of fire and smoke rapidly descending on your world. The world you’d built since middle school. 

Not the world as we know it, of course. No, the world with its 8 billion population and sprawling cities and countries wasn’t coming to an end - but it was your world, with its own islands and own niches coming down to debris rapidly. 

Your world meant the things you did - it meant how you stayed up all night on school nights to play Minecraft with Soobin and Beomgyu, your two closest friends since childhood. It means the music you listened to. Usually that included whatever preppy tune that used to overtake the charts. The One Direction boys’ perfect harmonies were all the rage of 2014. Justin Bieber had the hearts of young girls by the fist. But that was middle school. That was 2014, which ended a few months ago. 2015 was the incoming year of the new batch of freshmen in their town’s high school. 2015, and there’s new artists and new bands and new games. It’s 2015 and the world you crafted with wide-eyed dreams and glitter pens is over, and the swooping lurch of reality hits you square in the chest just as the summer heat settles over everyone. 

The First Summer - summer before freshman year 

“Soobin, can you pay attention maybe? Fucking hell.” Beomgyu’s loud usually. Beomgyu’s louder when irritated however. And today he decided to be loud, irritated and angry, and the unnecessary screaming match between Soobin and Beomgyu was just the strike of the match of patience you had needed. “Enough!” Seriously, if you’re gonna fight this much, just beat each other up! I’d rather have you both in battle than this silly screaming match.” Your voice is shrill and the annoyance is heavy. Yet, it does nothing to affect the pair. Instead, all they did was give short laughs. “You can’t shout at us like that you '', the pouty eyes and whining tone of Beomgyu softened you up immediately, and you grinned back with a retaliation ready. “Beomgyu, let Soobin text his sweetheart next door, or else he’ll wilt like a plant deprived of sunlight.” The statement leaves the both of you in a fit of giggles the moment the entire sentence left your lips, and left Soobin to be the pouting one this time. “What do you both even know? To be in love with someone?”, the dramatics were oozing off Soobin, the sore subject of his very strong feeling for his next door neighbor making him more susceptible to teasing from you and Beomgyu. “And what do you know? You haven’t confessed either!”, accusatory, as you told him. It would be wonderful, absolutely delightful for Soobin to pull up his big boy pants and finally ask the other girl out. Not only because they’d make a delightful couple, but also because maybe he’d shut up about the qualms of unrequited (which honestly was quite requited if he just stopped being so blind) love. 

“How’s the existential crisis popping along, you? Are we still the lamest duo you could hang out with that will kill your nonexistent street cred?”. Chucking a throw pillow at the boy, you sighed, the dramatics being your concern now. “You guys don’t get it, do you? This is highschool. The real deal. The next four years of people’s cherished memories.” “You want to peak in highschool badly, don’t you?” “Shut up Soobin!”

They wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t get how highschool mattered to you. How being 15, then 17, then 18 happens only once in life. You’re young in love as a teenager once, and you’re living life on the cusp only one. Romanticizing highschool was a silly cliche, and you were by no means a daydreaming romantic (Eh, maybe sometimes). But living, to experience, to feel, to love, meant something to you. It meant something to the little girl who watched those romcoms in the darkness of her room on a blue light screen. Watching how wonderful guys fell in love with wonderful girls. Watching how the boy loved the girl regardless of status quo. High School was a lake and you were a small pebble ready to skim its surface with accuracy and precision. 

“Are you Machiavelli or something? Stop making that scheming face, seriously. It’s giving me the creeps I’ll be honest. This just resulted in another pillow to the face.

The summer heat, a slow wave of buzzing energy that rolled over the entire town, made most of its residents lethargic. But lethargy wasn’t an option for 15 year olds, especially 15 year olds in the Y/L/N household. Several nags and a good scolding from your mother had you working at the convenience store two blocks down. A job that you were certain of, might just be the first of its kind in the way it could kill the employee of boredom. “At least you get the AC. And us!”. Huening Kai was an absolutely wonderful person. Honestly, there was no way to say anything negative according to you, which made Taehyun roll his eyes often. The two boys would frequent the store often. The first day because Kai was craving an ice pop to battle the heat. But once the pair had seen you prettily working the register all by your lonesome, and the boys not having anything interesting to while away their time with, began to visit you on your shifts, eating the almost expired stock and chitchatting. 

Even from the corny sentence Kai had just said, you could only bring herself to frown, but not get annoyed at the sunshine boy. The summer reinvention was in full swing. Calling it a reinvention made you uncomfortable sometimes. It was just a few tweaks right? It’s not like you were going to lose yourself completely.  A harmless fine-tuning of the machinery, shinier gears and fancier covering.

Convenient store afternoons were idyll - no customers, and usually no Kai and Taehyun, who’d take the most deep afternoon naps they could take. Today, however, they’d decided to forego the naps, and they hung around the back, to analyze which candy was the best for the summer. 

You're sitting at the till, bright light shining right through the spotless plexiglass, hair gently swooping over your face, illuminating the strands. There’s a slight breeze from the droning AC that cools whatever sweat was beading your forehead. A lazy afternoon, light and airy, with the low hanging summer making the world around simmer like a boiling pot. It was this afternoon, that the bell tinkled as the convenience store’s door opened, the sound jingling faintly over the sound of buzzing cicadas and grasshoppers. It was this afternoon, uneventful like the rest, until it wasn’t - that you looked up to meet the eyes of Choi Yeonjun. 

“Any ice cream?”, the older boy asked, eyes shining like two pebbles under a clear lake on a summer’s day. Breaking out of your stupor, you just nodded, a bit frantic considering how you were caught in such an awkward way. Brushing whatever hair that had surrounded your face, you got up with a slight metallic screech of the chair you sat at, stumbling to where the freezer was. Opening up the box, you gestured to an assortment of cold treats that were laid out for the customers. Humming to himself, Yeonjun just scanned the ice creams, then shifted his eyes to you. You, who was already staring at his sharp side profile, the way the sunlight seemed to poke out from the sharp bridge of his nose to the way his lips seemed more plump than they were with the way he was chewing at them. Making eye contact with him, he simply asked with a slight smirk, “What do you suggest?”. “Huh?”, you asked dumbly, not catching his question with the way you were busy ogling the older boy. “Which flavor do you like?”, “Oh! Personally, I’d say you can never go wrong with chocolate. The chocolate chip choco cones are wonderful for this season. But if you need something to beat the heat, a lime popsicle would be the best.” “You seem to have a PhD in ice cream.”, the boy teased, as he eyed the way your cheeks grew warmer and your pupils widening slightly at his jest. “Oh sorry if that was too much! Um yeah, I guess th-that’s my suggestion.”, hurriedly avoiding his eyes and going back to gesturing at ice creams. A pale veiny hand reached into the ice box to pick out two ice creams - a choco chip cone and a lime-berry popsicle. Slightly waving the two at you with a smile, he proceeded to strut up to the counter, head turned back at you as he said with a voice that made your heart constrict and release butterflies, “ Why not both then? Can’t go wrong with recommendations from the master, can I?”. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was quite obvious now. You were absolutely enamored by Choi Yeonjun. Hurrying up to the counter and reciting his bill, he paid the money and a bit extra with a wink, for the “pretty cashier at the register who has a thesis on sweet treats.”. And just as easily he’d appeared, with a flirtatious smile and charm to knock any girl off her feet, Yeonjun was gone from the store, with ice cream and quite possibly your senses and bearings. “TweedleDee and TweedleDum, you can come out now. I can see the tops of your head. I can also feel your annoying presence”, you groaned as a sheepish Hueningkai and Taehyun appeared, both clamoring about how they didn't “mean to eavesdrop” and how “they were leaving the back store room when they say the interaction between you and Yeonjun take place.” But honestly, that wasn’t your biggest concern right now. The two kids were harmless, anyways. What concerned you was how the image of those dazzling eyes wouldn’t leave your head. How smooth his voice was when he spoke to you. For someone ready to break out of the daydream land you found yourself in, Choi Yeonjun was insistent to keep you under. And for him, maybe going breathless was worth it. 

The Second Summer - summer before junior year

It’s 2018 and it’s the end of your life. Well, to be fair, your life has been “ending” since freshman year, and your two friends have been watching you become the one who cried wolf every single time. “You don’t get it Soob,” with the cellphone perched on your shoulder, “I don’t know how you and Beomgyu aren’t freaking the hell out right now.” Soobin lets out a disinterested hum, deciding to conference Beomgyu in, because why would he be the sole victim to this torture? Sitting down on the bed with a force and a breath of indignation leaving your lips, you just continue your rant. “Soobin and Beomgyu. This is the year it gets real. College prep. Entrance exams. Volunteering and extracurriculars. Don’t you get it? At least Rin gets it. Rin’s with me-” “And that must suck for you, Soobin” a teasing Beomgyu interrupted, while Soobin stayed wordless, probably sulking behind the phone, too pouty to retaliate. This sudden remembrance made you laugh, and joining in on the fun, you said, “Yeah Soobs, how have you still not gotten the balls to ask her out?”, but you regretted the words that came out of your mouth, immediately anticipating what was coming and what's next. And just as you predicted, Soobin launched off on his monologue, “Crushing on Yeonjun isn’t a problem then huh? What about that? You’ve spent a year and half pining for the most wanted guy in the school, Y/N? Isn’t that funny?”, all the words spilling out in a single breath of a sentence. “Alright Soobin, I’ll lay off your case if you lay off mine. Besides, it’s easier to target Beomgyu, no?”. And with that the bickering went off again, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A lot has changed since that summer in freshman year, with the chance encounter with Yeonjun. For one, you stopped working there the moment summer ended, which disheartened you slightly considering you would see less of Huening Kai and Kang Taehyun, the two boys you’d grown quite fond of in this short span of time. But the missing soon expired the moment the duo entered highschool themselves in your sophomore year, growing slightly closer to your friend group despite the year’s gap in age. They were the new addition along with Rin, Soobin’s neighbor and longtime crush, to your lunch table. A moment in time where SAT scores and classes, crushes and heartbreaks ceased to exist, and it was just your friends and you, suspended in an emulsion of feelings of friendship, and youth. 

Another thing that had changed since that summer was you yourself. Though your reinvention didn’t go the way you had planned - you still had matured. The crybaby 14 year old had grown into someone who knew how to stand up for themselves. The same person who’d spend nights crying because of mismatched schedules was moving up the academic ladder. 

And reappearing on that same lunch table on the first day of sophomore year, and then sticking it out till the end of the academic swing, with a whole new set of expectations crammed into binders and assignments, and the promise of new memories to make, was your friend group and you - a couple of kids ready to take on the world. Hand in hand, laughter shared and fondness obvious, it was going to be a good summer. You could feel it, in the jokes Beomgyu shared and the shrieking laugh Kai let out without fail. Grinning along to their antics, your eyes scanned the lunchroom.

One thing hadn’t changed with the seasons, and that was your fascination with the school’s IT boy, Choi Yeonjun. A wonderful enigma - athletic, kind and good looks all combining to create the most perfect gentleman you in your years of living had had the chance of meeting. He sat at the table diagonal to yours, and with a piercing heart did you remember that with all the changes, Yeonjun changed too - in the sense that he’d gotten a girlfriend. A girlfriend whom he adored, which was obvious to anyone with two eyes. 16 nearing 17years old and a heartthrob with a heart of gold himself, it was written clear as day in the leaflets of destiny, that Choi Yeonjun would be someone who would make a mile-wide crater of an impact on people’s lives. And as your eyes moved away from where Yeonjun sat with an arm slung around his girlfriend, the disappointment was quite evident in them, that you found yourself locking eyes with Rin, who held a look of pity. Shaking your head and offering a smile that said, “No worries”, you shifted your attention back to your friends. 

Choi Yeonjun may be at a school lunch table less than a foot away from you. But anyone who had lived through the apocalyptic land of highschool could tell that in reality, he was miles away. 

And this summer, he would be light years away - no longer a friendly customer at a convenience store where you no longer worked, but rather a fading memory of a golden summer’s afternoon, where you could for the first time, feel sparks lighting up inside your eyeballs when they looked into his. The first time your heart would do somersaults to be in his presence. The first crush. Your first crush, the golden boy. 

Being in the middle of the food chain of status quo meant having its own advantages and disadvantages. And a certain disadvantage was that sure, you were moderately more liked then the people above you, and you weren’t picked on nor where you shunned into isolation. But it meant that a very mediocre position came with a mediocre life. Your friend group wasn’t the type to be firstly favored to be invited to parties and blowouts with the older kids like some of your peers were. And frankly, your friends weren’t the type to be dying for those coveted invitations either. They were the ones who’d rather watch the Scream movies in order despite the fact that the entire group, minus Taehyun, were deathly afraid of horror movies. And honestly, you were all content with that - to make bad predictions to the endings and have Taehyun poke fun at the way you all fell for the jumpscares every single time.

But to reach to maybe even the periphery of Yeonjun’s area meant having to put yourself out there, just a little bit. And the time was no better than now, when Miyawaki Sakura, the foreign exchange junior you had the opportunity to help out when she first arrived in the beginning of the year, invited you to a blowout on the last day of the school party being held at her place. The lovely Japanese girl, who’d been meek and as quiet as a mouse had blossomed just like the flower her name signified, and grown out of her shell to be one of the rather popular girls in not only her year, but the entire school. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, but also possessed the kindest of hearts - evident in the way that even after her rise to popularity, she hadn't forgotten the helpful sophomore who had shown her the ropes around school. 

Scoring the invite wasn’t an issue but rather convincing your homebody, introverted friends to tag along was - Taeyhyun and Kai were already on their ways to their respective family homes, so it was between Rin, Soobin and Beomgyu and if luck would have it, all three. 

“Guys please. We always have some other time to do these things - Rin I promise you, I’ll sit and finish the lego set with you myself. Soobin, Gyu - be so serious right now. You’re missing the hottest party of the year to watch freaking anime? Guys please!”. The whining and pleading and pouting along with shining up big puppy-dog eyes at all of them was all you had in your arsenal. “Y/N.” A single, serious utter of your name has you shooting another helpless look Soobin, putting quite possibly all your charm into this one. “We’ll go. Shut the hell up now.”

Jumping up from where you were sat on the floor of his bedroom, you shot off to where he and Beomgyu were on the couch, browsing through streaming services for new animes, to engulf him a bone-crushing hug that had him releasing his own expletives and swears, begging to be released, but chuckling along, nonetheless. Pulling Rin along with you, with a complaint from Soobin and Beomgyu about where the two of you were going off without them, giving a loud laugh, you just called out - “It’s a party, we have to dress up!”

Rin was humming along to whatever pop music had begun auto-playing as the playlist you both had put together for the process had exhausted itself, and it was something neither of you paid mind to, too busy concentrating on fixing eyeliner wings and choosing the right accessories to match your outfits. It wasn’t that you and Rin weren’t friends - no it was great having a girl in the group to help you handle Beomgyu and Soobin’s antics. But it was rather that Rin was the closest to Soobin, which had made conversation stall a bit. Yet the silence was friendly and not awkward at all. A few more beats and a song later, Rin off-handedly mentioned something that had you freezing in your spot. “Now that Yeonjun’s single, it won’t hurt to make your move Y/N.” “Yeonjun single, since when?” you asked perplexed. “But they were sitting together at that table just last week?”. “That’s the thing, Y/N. Right on that very day, Yunha and Yeonjun unexpectedly broke up. There’s no news on why, or how. But many speculate from what they saw that Yeonjun was the one who cut it right off, the one who initiated it.”

Your mind was spinning. A perfect guy and a not-so-perfect girl. What could’ve gone wrong with them? What made them fall apart like that? And so much so - it wasn’t that you were one of those people who would see him as an object on the market again. No, he was fresh off a relationship he recently broke off - and it surely would leave a stain on any person’s life. So many questions and so many feelings, and the nagging reminder of your own crush on Yeonjun felt like an anchor inside you, pulling at your heartstrings in a way that made them creak the most bittersweet tune. A boy you’d loved from afar, was now slightly closer in the binoculars you viewed him with. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still distances away. 

“I don’t think so Rin”, came your thought-out reply. “Freshly broken up with? I don’t stand a chance. Not to mention that it’s not only me, but half the school that likes him”. Looking up to where Rin sat snickering, you pointedly asked her, “What?”. Halting her laughter, she just said with a warm twinkle in her eye, half turned towards you, pulling a hair brush through her locks. “The school may have a crush on Yeonjun, but you, Y/N, are head over heels.”

And this was something that weighed heavily on your mind all the way to the party, crammed in Soobin’s mini SUV which he borrowed from his parents for the night after incessant begging and pleading. Rin had a point, you thought, when you glanced at her from where she sat up front next to Soobin, the two lost in their own lovesick bubble. You really were head over heels of Yeonjun, and it had you tripping on your feet and falling more often than not. Pulling up the street crammed with several other cars, the bass reverberating through a specific house on the cul-de-sac lined curb made it obvious what the destination was. Finally managing to tightly squeeze the car into a spot far down, the four of you made your way down to the house, now emitting different sorts of LED lights and boosting party hits, with a hand wrapped around Beomgyu’s, both of you stuck in your own conversation that was continuing from the car. 

Standing at the door were two heavy-set boys, part of the school football team - Seo Changbin and Lee Chan, both coincidentally being Yeonjun’s closest friends. The fourth of their little musketeer squad was Jung Wooyoung, the wild spirit of a boy, filled with spunk and charisma, was probably inside the house, tearing up whatever makeshift dance floor the party provided. Nodding slightly in recognition at you, no doubt already informed about your invite by Sakura, Changbin just shot you a charming grin, accented with the obvious amounts of copious liquor he’d already downed before your arrival, and said, “You know Y/N, I’m not going to lie, I always thought you were too pipsqueak to come to one of these”. He’d given a look to Chan to man the doors himself for a while, and an unspoken second agreement between the both you couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, I couldn’t turn down Sakura at all”, you laughed sheepishly, flanked by Soobin’s lanky frame who was clutching on to Rin, and Beomgyu next to Changbin, all of you crossing the threshold to the zone of booze, loud music and people ready to share some skin. Changbin seemed insistent to talk to you, for some reason, as he continued, “Whatever magic Kkura played on you, I’m glad it worked, because you’re here.”, he beamed with a confident sort of happiness. “O-oh, me too.”, blinking at the sudden confession. “I’m glad I’m here too. This is Yeonjun’s house, is it?”, you cringed slightly at yourself. Of course it was, everyone knew this was his party. Barking a short laugh, he said, “Yeah, of course. Resident party boy couldn’t help himself on the first day of summer.” You had no idea where Changbin was leading you to, but judging from the way you guys were walking towards an ajar patio door, you figured he wanted you in the backyard to hear you better over the music, where the number of partygoers were much less. Why he wanted to hear you at all, was still a mystery. 

With all the questions and slightly flirty lines being thrown at you from Changbin, you’d managed to completely ignore how you’d lost your friends in the crowd, how Soobin’s comforting presence was not near you, or how you couldn’t hear Beomgyu’s raucous laughter anymore. Finally breathing in the fresh gale of air as you guys stepped on to the wooden flooring of his back porch, it seemed Changbin’s agenda was made clearer - the way he cupped the curve of your cheek, staring deeply into your eyes. And it made you brake in your steps, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Y/N. You’re cute. I’m cute. Cuter, maybe”, he giggled with a wink, as the thought that he might be quite tipsy had already washed over you. “Let’s get out of here?”, he said, beckoning towards the back gate of the house. And you, were absolutely fucking frozen. Here was an attractive boy asking you out, and all your stupid mind could think of was how badly you wished this was Yeonjun, and not his friend. And maybe you wished too hard, because from right behind the waiting figure of Changbin seemed to materialize Choi Yeonjun, black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, smiling lightly as he met your eyes. The sharpness of his nose and the way his eyes seemed to crinkle around its corners. God damnit. Even in the worst of your moments, you seemed to be absolutely haunted by this six feet tall soccer player. 

“Hey, convenience store. Is this guy bothering you?”. Your mouth was open, but it seemed that no words would be coming out anytime soon. Glaring at his friend for icing his game, which just hardened when Yeonjun put an arm around his friend’s plentiful bicep, he just ushered Changbin away from you, still smiling at you as he explained, “He’s quite drunk right now. I’m glad you didn’t answer him anything, I’m surprised this dumbass can even stand on his own two feet, with the way he was pre-gaming before. Again, my bad, uh- what’s your name again? Can’t keep calling you convenience store now, can I?”

Here was Choi Yeonjun, talking to you about more than just ice cream flavors and homework. Here was Choi Yeonjun, helping you from making a dumb move with a drunk guy. Here was Choi Yeonjun, awaiting your response while you continued standing there mum. 

“U-uh yeah! It’s Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. I worked at the convenience store, yes. But I stopped working there now!”

There was some odd spirit cursing you, for sure. If there was a god of embarrassment, he seemed to have taken a liking to you. 

It seemed that Changbin, who was now reeling from the alcohol in his system, hunched over, ready to hurl, which seemed to distract Yeonjun from your nervous rambling. Hauling his friend over to the side of the patio, he entered with a Changbin hanging limply on his side. Looking back to where you still stood, he just smiled and asked, “You planning to help me out here?”

The floor of the bathroom where Changbin was sitting, curved into the toilet bowl, spilling his guts out was cold. Cold enough to make you and Yeonjun move to the baby blue ceramic tile bathtub, knees pulled into your chest while Yeonjun’s long ones were draped over the rim of the tub. Honestly, your jitters are much less now. The nerves had already made you almost forget what a disaster the first meeting with Yeonjun was, and it seemed he paid no mind to it either. “So Y/N, how do you know Kkura?”. And thus began a short and simple conversation with Choi Yeonjun in a baby blue bathtub, while his friend hurled in the toilet next to you both. 

“I don’t know how to do it.” The conversation was streaming steadily like a river, and the topic started digging deeper. Yeonjun asked about highschool, and how it was going for you - your plans for the summer and then junior year, the same way you asked him and how he felt about his last year in school. “What do you mean?”. “I wish I had a guidebook, you know? To tell me what sorts of things I should do, how to be someone in highschool who makes memories. Who lives. I’ve been trying ever since that last summer of middle school, and I’m still coming up short.” This just made Yeonjun let out a few giggles in amusement, which had you snapping your neck, shocked how he found your problems so funny. Shoving him lightly with your shoulder, you laughed too. “It’s not funny! I’m serious. Everyone except me knows what to do!” “Including me?” asked Yeonjun, head tilted towards you slightly in curiosity now. “Well..” and the look he gave you spurred you on. “You’re the Choi Yeonjun. You’re popular, smart, funny and talented.” “I know”, a lazy grin that had you clenching your fist in response to the butterflies. “So you get it right? You know the ropes.” This had Yeonjun’s smile faltering a bit, as his gaze dropped down to the floor. “If I knew Y/N, I’d know why I’m never enough for my girlfriend.” But as sudden as that confession was, he seemed to return to his original state. And you didn’t like that one bit. Sliding up a bit closer to him, you offered a token of friendship. “Wanna tell me about it? Sounds like you need a listener, and that’s something I’m good at.”

“Well, for starters, the rumor going around that I dumped her is false. It was the other way around. I would say it’s not that the relationship was running smoothly, but I guess I was holding on to that bit of whatever we had, floating a piece of driftwood. Splintering me, but I was holding on. She let go, I guess.”

You’re not sure what it is about you that has him baring open his soul so vulnerable only to you, but you’re glad. Because you saw the boy as more than just a shimmering silhouette in the distance now. He was much more up close, and much more beautiful.

On a hazy summer evening, where the air hung low above everyone like a buzzing, heated static, you met Choi Yeonjun in a new light. And he met you, not for the first time maybe, but definitely in a more impacting way. A second, first meeting.

The Second Summer - June

The days after the party at Yeonjun’s - where after you both had let each other read each other’s stories like open books on display, he’d walked you home due to “his extremely generous and chivalrous nature” (his words, not yours.), you’d been caught yourself far too many times revisiting that night in your head, replaying the smiles and the laughs, the banters and the jokes. You had something else too. Something that your friends were unaware of. Sure, you’d told them about your escapade with Yeonjun and why you were so absent at the party, which had led to hours of teasing from both Soobin and Beomgyu, with Soobin, roping Rin on to the antics kept making smooching noises at you, and Beomgyu, in the most Beomgyu-esque fashion ever would loudly and immaturely sing “Y/N and Yeonjun sitting on a tree” on the top of his lungs. But something you had yet to reveal to them, mainly because your patience would give out if you had to hear more taunts from them. But in your phone, locked away in your contacts, Yeonjun’s number.

“Lemme get your number, tubs”, he’d said with cheek as he called you that nickname he’d decided on the spot and a tongue poking out cutely from his lip, as he thrust his phone into your hands, still strolling along with one hand in the pocket of his black baggy jeans and the other brushing your own, sending sparks shooting right down your knuckles. Typing the digits in, he smoothly pulled your own phone out of your purse that he was carrying upon his insistence, and entered his own number, no doubt saving it under some sort of stupid name. “Why am I Tubs?”, you asked curiously. “Because I just had the best conversation of my life in a tub with you, tubs. Can’t let someone like you fade away now, can I?”. The street was lined with harsh white lamps, and little moths fluttering around the buzzing lamp made shadows dance around on the pavement. “So would you actually use a highschool guide if you got one?”, “Yeah, why not? A Popularity 101 or Escape High School for Dummies might be nice.” Humming, he seemed to be contemplating something, that you had to nudge him out of with an inquisitive look. “Nothing, nothing”, he said, shaking his head reassuringly. “Just something I thought of. Something that might help the both of us out.” “What do you mean?”, you asked him. “I’ll tell you about it. I’ll text you.” And just as elusively he’d entered your life, he left you on the front of your doorstep, with a promising smile and an electricity that wouldn’t leave your palms. 

The nickname had left a blush warming your cheeks that you hoped he hadn’t noticed. And when his contact lit up your phone screen, it was the same blush making its appearance on your face again. 

[Yawnzzn] 11:32 AM: meet me at the convenience store, tubs. kinda wanna talk to you ab smth

While the text’s ominous nature did leave you a bit nervous, the excitement of seeing him again, as a friend, as someone he wanted to hang out with by his own volition, overshadowed it. You knew it had to do something to do with what he’d referenced that fateful night. And skipping down the avenue, past the winding streets of the suburbs lined with trees and their apple green leaves, you made it to the convenience store on the corner, where Yeonjun stood staring into the ground, head bent, wearing a new pair of washed up baggy denims, a white form fitting shirt and a red-and-black cap turned backwards on his shaggy mop of black head, that seemed to highlight the brown undertone in the sun. Spotting your appearance from the sound of footsteps, he smiled and beckoned you into the store where you followed him, settling down on the outdoor seating arrangement shaded by the roof of the store. The sweat was starting to bead on the back of your neck which you tried your best to ignore. Focusing on the boy in front of you, meeting his twinkling gaze just set off an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. 

“Alright, before I say what I have to say, promise me you won’t be weirded out, okay? And I swear it only sounds as complicated.” He seemed nervous, and slightly uncomfortable about what exactly he was asking, which just made your fingers twitch slightly in anticipation. Anxiously biting your lip, you just nodded for him to continue, mustering up the best reassuring slight smile you could manage. “What if I taught you how to master highschool? And in return, could you pretend to be my fake girlfriend?”.

You blinked at him once. Then again. Honestly, you were awaiting that burst of ebullient laughter from him, where he’d then say how he was joking. Why would I date you Tubs? I’m not mad, he’d say. But none of that came. Instead there was still a patient Yeonjun eagerly awaiting your response. Sputtering in confusion and disbelief, you just asked him, “What? Why? Why do you need a fake girlfriend? Why do you want me to be the fake girlfriend?”. Giggling at your discombobulated state, he just waved his hand in the air in a gesture to relax. “Look. I’ve thought long and hard about this. You need a High School for Dummies, and I want to, well, show Yunha that I can be the boyfriend she needs me to be, you know? When she sees what a good boyfriend I can be with you, she might want me back!”. His radiant smile of excitement was throwing shadows over the cracks in your heart. Of course, he wanted her. Perfect, wonderful, Yunha. This would be severely, severely bad for your heart.

“I’ll do it.”

Recounting this debacle was shaping up to be exactly the kind of drama you were expecting from Soobin,Beomgyu and Rin. “You’re not serious. She’s not serious guys.” Rin was still in the denial stage of the process your friends were going through - with Soobin on anger and Beomgyu on grief, clutching your plushie on your bed and looking at you with sorrowful eyes as if you’d kidnapped his dog in front of him or something. Soobin’s mouth seemed to fly at miles a minute, berating you for how badly this would obviously end.

“Maybe this will help me, Soobin! To finally get over him! Clearly staying away just made me yearn more.” This just had Soobin turning more red. 

The both of you had drawn up unspoken rules about this of course - that the agreement would continue until the goal was met. Hopefully, it will happen by the end of this summer itself, Yeonjun had added. There was, of course, an agreement of mutual platonic feelings from both parties. Strike one in the deal.

You didn’t like doing things that your friends disapproved of, who despite their silliness and playfulness, were still your best friends. But God, did holding hands with Yeonjun as he led you through the colorful lights, bustling stalls and zooming rides of the carnival feel good. His hand was encasing yours and tugging your fingers, which had your own heartstrings cinching with each pulling movement. There was a wide smile on your face as he sped towards the stall selling animal headbands, insisting that you both needed matching ones. 

“You know, Yeonjun. If you’re secretly a furry or something, you can tell me. It’s okay, I won’t judge. I mean I will, but you know”, you said in faux sympathy while patting his shoulder jokingly, which had him adorably pouting at you. “Shut up, don’t you want to know what makes me so cool? These headbands do. Chicks and dudes alike dig my childlike whimsy.” He said proudly, which just had you raising an eyebrow at you. Stubbornly placing the matching fox ears on you, he pulled his cellphone out while explaining - “Okay, so step one. Kiss my cheek in this photo so that I can upload it to my story.” Kissing Yeonjun (albeit on the cheek) was like tasting heaven to you. Surely your heart would give out, if you even got closer to him. Kiss on the cheek?

“Come on, quickly! I wanna get a corndog after this”, he said signaling at the dimple on his cheek. Breaking out of your stupor, you hesitantly pushed your lips on to the soft flesh of his cheek, as he titled his more towards you, making your lips plant firmly against his dimple. Your mind was raging as the brightness around you, and his body warmth made your head spin. The sound of the shutter of a camera from his phone seemed to push you off your rollercoaster thoughts,moving quickly away. “Nicely done, Tubs.” he praised, examining the picture and wasting no time to post it. The sudden ding on your phone made you check the device, seeing the same picture being sent to you. “Set it as your wallpaper. Gotta make the gimmick more believable.”, he added nonchalantly. Nodding, you did as he told, until he said in an afterthought, “Plus, I look sexy as hell in that picture.” Scoffing at his confidence, you jokingly said, “And what makes you think I wanna stare at your face every time I open my phone?” “No rebuttals on the sexy part I see”, he winked at you. 

If your chances at surviving this date with an intact heart weren’t already horribly low, Choi Yeonjun was hell-bent on leaving you an absolute goner by the end of the date. 

The second date commenced equally as smoothly, with you taking the initiative this time by taking him to a pottery studio which doubled as a cafe - painting each other small trinkets to keep to remember the good friendship you were both fostering. And as you both opened up more to each other, you found yourself regretting what you’d said to Soobin. Because if anything, being close to Yeonjun just had you spiraling more into this lovestruck rabbit-hole. And you had to dig yourself out, fast.

One of those moments where clarity hit you about digging out, you’d decided to meet up with a fellow classmate of yours - Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin was a family friend of yours and you both had been quite close in your childhood years. Your mothers were best friends, who honestly wanted their kids to end up together. But they also didn’t want to force any unwanted romance on you both as children, which is why they’d left the matter alone all together. If it happened, it happened. If it didn’t, it didn’t. 

Your mothers shared such a deep friendship that they even had their own anniversary - the day they first became friends. And along the years, it turned into quite a wholesome celebration for them, celebrating their friendship together. And this anniversary was coming up soon, which is why when Hyunjin had texted you, asking if you wanted to help in throwing a little surprise party for the both of them, you’d eagerly jumped at the opportunity, ready to do anything to distract you from the boy you were so hopeless for. 

Pushing the grocery cart around as Hyunjin mindlessly added to things that might be required for the party, you both idly chatted, catching up with each other’s lives. Hyunjin was a quite good looking guy, and had all the girls in your class breaking their necks to get a good look at his prince-like beauty. Maybe you would’ve been one of those girls currently, if a different guy didn’t have your head up in the clouds. 

“And what’s up with you and Yeonjun? Don’t play with me and tell me, ‘cuz I saw that story of his? Does the shy Y/L/N finally have a man? The most fine, coveted man in school, even?”, he said, his cute dumpling smile and nudging making you blush slightly. “Well, we’ve been hanging out and stuff, I guess? He’s a good guy.”, you said bashfully. Hyunjin opened his mouth to say something but froze midair. Looking forward to seeing what had halted Hyunjin, you made eye contact with Yeonjun’s warm caramel brown ones. 

“Hi Y/N”, he said with a slight edge to his voice, eyeing you and Hyunjin suspiciously as he did. With a clipped voice, he also threw in a “Hey Hwang”, out of whatever courtesy he could find within the unexplainable pit in his stomach and the slight anger clouding his vision as he kept staring at how Hyunjin had an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder while he was teasing you. He didn’t like that hand. At all. And he needed it off of you, immediately. 

“Hyune, take the items up to the cashier, please? I’ll be with you in a moment”, you requested, gulping as he left your side understandingly, leaving only you and Yeonjun standing in the fresh produce aisle. “Tubs, looks like you don’t need my help getting cool at all, if Hwang is the kind of guy you hang out with.”, he said light-heartedly, even though he felt nothing of the sort currently. Seeing you with another guy had put him off so much, so suddenly that it had him reeling. But, of course anyone wouldn’t be mad if their fake girlfriend was with someone else, right? Even if the word ��fake’ gave him a bitter taste in his throat?

“Hyunjin is my family friend! His mom and my mom are best friends, you see. And we’re throwing them a little party, you see.”, you explained, suddenly feeling shy in his gaze, intense and burning right into you. His eyes seemed to soften at this, and he nodded. Feeling this odd urge to add more, you hastily spit out, “Do you want to come?”. The invitation was out of the blue and frankly had you feeling stupid. Who the hell would want to come to this? “You bet. I’ll be there in my finest suit and everything”, he added jokingly. “What time?” “Huh?” “What time is it starting?” “You actually want to come?”. “‘Course I do. Gotta impress my in-laws, right?”, he said cheekily. 

“You’re burning up, Y/N-ie!” Hyunjin later said, as he felt your skin as he had gone to poke your cheek. “Was it something in the store?”. Seeing how frozen you were, he slyly put two and two together and asked, “Or was it someone?” 

There were some streamers put up in the living room, and some balloons blown up by both your dads, who’d also become great pals because of their wives. You and Hyunjin were setting up the table, when the doorbell rang. “That can’t be them already?” you asked perplexed. “No, their spa appointment only ends at 6PM, I checked thoroughly”, said Hyunjin’s dad. Moving towards the door, confused about who it could be, you opened the door to find Yeonjun, casually dressed and clutching two small bouquets. “I’m not early, am I?”

When your moms arrived, your mother was pleasantly surprised to find you chatting happily with a boy who was not Hyunjin or any of your friends. Noticing the knowing twinkle in her eyes as you introduced her to Yeonjun, you silently promised her an explanation as you both moved around the room to where Hyunjin was, as your dad beckoned the parents over to the living room while letting the youngsters socialize on their own. With the three of you moving towards the backyard while cracking jokes, you could feel the one-sided tension between the both melting away, which made you glad. Settling down on the lawn chairs on the yard, the three of you streamed through various topics to talk about, with Yeonjun and Hyunjin bonding over their mutual interest in dancing. “I didn’t know you danced.” you’d voiced a bit quietly to him as Hyunjin went to his house just next door to get some beers for the three of you. You hadn’t drank before, so you were planning to sit this one out and let Yeonjun and Hyunjin get tipsy. “Yeah, it’s just been something I’ve always wanted to do. And my teacher before sophomore year reckoned I’d be good too.” “Why’d you stop?”, you asked him. “It was interfering with soccer practice. And soccer gets me into college - dance doesn’t.”. He seemed a bit shut off about the topic, and sensing how this was a sore spot for him, you didn’t press for much. “Well, there’s a life outside college. A life where you could do both - and maybe more dancing like you want.” you offered him in reassurance, which seemed to spark an interest in his eyes. Looking gratefully at you, this look on his face seemed different this time, like there was something deeper simmering beneath the cool guy smack he’d always give you. Your hand which was quite close to his own, hanging limply across the handles of the chair, suddenly was encased in warmth, with his own palm giving yours a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Y/N. I’d like to show you one day, perhaps.”

And indeed, there was something cooking underneath that aloofness of his, because for the first time, he wished that he could show you his dance skills as his girlfriend, and not just a platonic agreement of the season. 

“Beer wench has arrived!” exclaimed Hyunjin, as he set down three bottles of Beer Lite on the wooden table in front of you. “Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but I’m ready to get cracking. Now Yeonjunnie, did you know that when Y/N was 11 she-""Shut up Hyunjin! You swore you wouldn’t talk about that!”. 

Hyunjin and his parents had departed as the evening neared its close, and the sky was black with dark maroon clouds spread out shielding the glimmering stars. Yeonjun had insisted on helping clean up for the party, claiming it was the least he could do as a guest. He was helping your dad clean up stray paper plates and napkins, until you showed him the way up to your room to get a garbage bag to dispose of the waste. His lanky body was right before you as you both bounded up the stairs, and opening up the door, a sudden realization hit you - Yeonjun was going to see your room. Your kind of messy, lame, postered up room. He was already two strides in when you were frozen up, terrified for the teasing onslaught that was bound to begin anytime soon. “No way, you listen to HONEY too? I freaking love that band.”

This was odd. No teasing. No making fun of your weird posters or your figurines and stuffed toys. Only a very heavy compliment on your music taste. Whistling long as he eyed the rest of your room, he seemed to giggle at the obscene number of plushies on your bed, which you took offense to. “It’s our year of the lord 2018 and you’re gonna make fun of plushies on the bed? Really, Yeonjun?”, you told him off with feigned disappointment as he laughed at this, chuckling while shaking his head. “Not making fun, just admiring.” His speech was only slightly slurred, indicating that he was only barely on the cusp of tipsy and sober. Moving towards your closet to bring out a garbage bag, he ambled up to stand right behind you, his arm resting against the wooden frame of the wardrobe as you ruffled around till you found what you were looking for. “Alright! Let’s go then”, spinning around only to bump your nose slightly against his hard chest. This caught you off guard, breath catching in your throat as you stabilized yourself by lightly holding on to his forearm. “Yeonjun?” you asked unsurely as your eyes hesitantly looked up to his pupils blown wide as he stared at you in an entirely different way. Like you were the only person he wanted to look at for the rest of his life. His lips were tantalizingly plump and pink, like easy to grab, low hanging fruit, the smell of cranberries and beer wafting on to your face gently in the most tempting way possible. Inhaling sharply, you saw how his vision flitted between features of your face, as if he was memorizing every curve, every mole and every lash. Eyes blown wide as saucers, you could only stand in bated breath, expecting nothing and everything at the same time. His lips were scanning your lips, and you swore your legs would give out right then and there, from the way he licked his own lips while eyeing yours. 

A call from downstairs seemed to separate you two like similar poles of a magnet, coughing slightly and silently going downstairs, garbage bag in your hand. There was a soft smile on both of your faces as you handed him the bag, going to join your mom in washing the dishes. Your currently flustered state was all the explanation your mom needed about who Yeonjun was to you in your life.

You and Yeonjun ambled by the door just killing time, neither of you wanting to say goodbye. But he knew it was time to go. Standing on your front porch, he offered the last sucker-punch of feelings to your gut as he said, “You know what, Tubs? I still don’t think you need my help. I think you’re the coolest person I know.”

The night when you laid in your bed, an hour after bidding him goodbye, you found yourself staring at the HONEY poster and smiling like a lovesick fool. This summer, you swore, was going to be beautiful.

The Second Summer - July

If you smile at your phone any longer, you’re afraid the shape would be etched on to your face forever, and everyone would know you as the lovestruck idiot who can’t stop smiling. At Least that’s what Soobin says, and obviously he’s never wrong. But even you had to admit, the rate at which you and Yeonjun had spent every waking moment together, including digitally over text messages, was just abysmal. Something seemed to have shifted in him ever since that encounter in your room, and it seemed like he’s exploded with affection. Almost everyone in your school knew that the both of you were in a relationship. A fake one, a snide voice in your head reminded you. That’s what this was for, anyways. A way for him to show Yunha how perfect he was. He wanted to be perfect for Yunha, and you were just practice. But the dark thoughts seemed to evaporate from your mind as another text message from Yeonjun lit up your phone, the wallpaper - the photo of the carnival - just making you more giddy. He’d invited you to your new date/hangout (you weren’t sure which word to settle on during this convoluted situation), a movie night at his place, after you’d relentlessly teased him for not knowing some of the most famous rom-coms. He’d apparently already watched Princess Diaries, which was a shock to you at first, until you found out it was only because his friend Chan had insisted that it was pure cinema, which it was. So tonight, you’d decided to make him watch the second installment of the series, a superior romance with just the right amounts of tension and tropes. He was picking up snacks from the supermarket while he was messaging you, asking you your preferences, the thoughtfulness melting your heart. Your leg was bouncing up and down in excitement as you laid on your bed, ready as ever for the night. 

At 7PM sharp, you had made your way to his house, rapping sharply at the door. He’d confirmed previously that the house was going to be empty save for his younger sister, since his parents had already jetted off for an anniversary couples vacation, leaving their two children in charge of the house. Fully expecting Yeonjun to open the door, you were surprised to find a smaller girl standing at the door with unblinking owlish eyes. From the similar fox-like features to the jet black hair, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that this was Yeonjun’s younger sister, Yena. She seemed to smile, metal braces glinting under the yellow porch light as she welcomed you in. His sister, who was due to start freshman year herself this fall in the same school as you both, seemed to spend no time in starting to talk to you, treating you like a friend she’d known for a long time. “You’re her, right?”, she seemed to ask mid-ramble, “You're Y/N. God that idiot can’t ever shut up about you! Of course, I see why considering how gorgeous you are, but please, some of us are sick of hearing about how much you like spending time with her!”, her voice growing louder and angled towards the staircase you both stood at the bottom of, clearly as a dig towards Yeonjun. His loud footsteps ran down the flight of the stairs, hair damp as if he’s just hopped out of the shower and bangs flopping against his forehead, clad in gray sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. “Yena, don’t you have idols to ogle at on your iPad like a middle schooler?”, he asked with a huff of annoyance towards his sister, who just promptly stuck her tongue out at him, and walked away, not without giving you a teasing wink before she did. Clearly, this targeted teasing seemed to run in the Choi family genes. 

“We’ll watch the movie in my room, so that the little parasite doesn’t bother us”, he explained as he grabbed your hand to pull you up, almost like it was natural to him. A faint “I heard that!”from Yena in the living room made you chuckle wholeheartedly, loving their sibling dynamic. The sound of your laugh seemed to liven up Yeonjun even more, who could feel the warmth in your hand in his igniting a spark in his heart. So much for pre-made plans of how things go. It is the first time, he thought to himself, that someone’s made me feel this way. And I like it.

Settling down on his queen sized bed, the navy blue duvet and bed covers complimented with gray pillows surprised you, because to be honest, you were expecting some sort of Pokemon bed covers. Which earned you a frustrated and angry sound from Yeonjun, who in his annoyance often behaved exactly like a toddler. Endearing. 

Pressing on the button on the remote, he settled down comfortably right beside you, elbows touching yours as a bowl of popcorn mix was precariously balanced on both of your thighs, his body heat making you feel like a furnace. 

It got worse as the movie continued. Every minuscule move he made, every tiny shift or brush of him against you had you writhing in your head, having to restrain yourself from just imagining. Imagining what it would be like if you were both a regular couple having a regular date night, with your head on his chest, just above his beating heart. He would run his fingers through your hair that would probably soothe the next ten years worth of worries in your life. He could cup your chin and just dip down, giving you a taste of what it was like to be kissed by the magnificent boy. But that beating heart you fantasized of listening to, was currently beating for Kim Yunha. 

You’d never had your first kiss. You frankly saw no big deal of it, and you didn’t want to share a meaningless kiss with some boy who’s name you’d probably forget in twenty years during those eighth grade spin the bottle games at birthday parties. You didn’t know what your first kiss would feel like. If it would be the sparks and fireworks, the bubbles of champagne kind, or the comfortable one, like the breeze that enters through your window at night. Like home. The kiss you currently craved, you guessed, would taste as sweet as candy.

“Hey, hey she did the foot pop when she kissed him! That’s what she wanted in her first movie right!” Yeonjun exclaimed, deeply interested in the movie while you dealt with the dilemma in your mind. He added on, “Oh man, a foot pop kiss would be fun. Different to the kisses I’ve had. Have you had any of those, Tubs?”. His questions seemed to fly over your head, until he asked again, inquisitive eyes looking at you, the dialogue a dimmed background in how close he was. Gulping, you didn’t really feel shame or embarrassment as you told Yeonjun about your lack of experience (read:none) in that department. It was Yeonjun, of course. You couldn’t find anyone else to admit this kind of information to. 

Yeonjun doesn’t know why he’s said it; it flew out of his mouth faster than he could register. But all he did know is that he did want to kiss you. To give you your first kiss. A foot-popping, rom-com, magical kiss. You deserved it. He wanted it. 

“Wanna kiss me?”

His voice has a low timbre to it when he asks this.

There’s an ocean ringing in your ears in the midst of your raging emotions - confusion, shock, and above all, glee. To be kissed by Choi Yeonjun, was like plucking a star from the sky and handing it to you. 

Your neck moves almost mechanically in a single nod. And then his lips are on yours. 

There’s colors yet darkness behind your eyelids that flutter close. Your lips are moving softly and shyly against his, which are gentle yet firm. Like he wants this as bad as you. Like tasting you wasn’t a chore, but a reward. 

You think Yeonjun tastes like popcorn and excitement. He thinks you taste exactly like summer.

The Second Summer - August

The windows in the car are slightly fogging up, and beating heat outside isn’t quite helping. The heavy and quick breaths, the faintest moans of pleasure, from the bitten lips to the few scattered hickeys on your neck, as his lips, as unrelenting as ever, kept devouring your mouth would make anyone feel shy enough to look away. His eyes are slightly dimmed and he looks up through his eyelashes at you from where he’s nibbling on your collarbone, which sends a searing flame down your spine and making you whine a sound barely audible to anyone who wasn’t in the kind of proximity to you that Yeonjun was in. The whine just got more loud as you complained when he pulled away from his ministrations as the sound of his phone dinging from messages from the rest of the Three Stooges which was his friend group - all of them asking how long exactly would he take to go on a simple beer run for the party they’re holding tonight at Wooyoung’s place. Shushing your complaints with a sweet peck on your swollen lips, he said, “Sorry Tubs, but these guys won’t leave me alone unless I get their alcohol. ‘Swear they’re like impatient babies about this stuff.” Starting the car as you got out, he held your wrist just as you were about to close the door, tugging as he asked, “I’ll see you at the party, right?”, eyes gleaming with hope. Smiling, you reassured him with a simple yes, and walked over to the short distance to your house, where the rest of your friends had already gathered, waiting in your bedroom. Already bracing yourself, you opened the door to find Beomgyu funnily gasping and shouting about the marks and your messed up hair, with Rin high fiving you and Soobin, while pretending to be a mad dad at you, just hugged you with a smile that had broken through. “You know Y/N-ie, not even Olympic athletes are this dedicated to reaching the goal like you did. I’m proud of you kid.” “What’s up with all this ‘kid’ stuff, old man?” you asked him laughing as you plopped down on the beanbag next to Rin who was sorting through your wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit for you to wear to the party, which would be your first public, public appearance with Yeonjun.

If you weren’t going to lie, you were quite nervous. Yunha was supposed to be at this party too. And Yeonjun and you hadn’t talked about the ‘deal’ you both had made, the one which would end with him being with Yunha again, at all since that kiss in his room. The rest of the days since then had since been blurred into kiss-filled memories highlighted with more dates and more memories with him. With not a single mention of what happened before, or what would happen later. If this was the only way you could have Yeonjun, in an unspoken way, the self-destructive, addicted part of you was okay with that. But all good things did come to an end. You had spoken to Beomgyu about your predicament, who had been nothing but a patient and attentive listener to you, despite the boy’s regular nature. He offered you some advice - the kind that you knew was so realistic that only Beomgyu could offer it. 

“Confront him about it at the party tonight. Perhaps being this publicly out with you might make him remember your contract too. Then you guys could come to a conclusion, hopefully a good one.”

You’re fidgeting with your fingers on the way to the party, non-verbal and staring out the window in Soobin’s car as the three of them sensed you needed your space, left you alone. Tonight was an important night. 

Jung Wooyoung’s house was no joke. A sprawling mansion with five private jacuzzis, countless bedrooms and more space than required, the party teeming across the entire property seemed to be in full swing when you all arrived. A text alert on your phone from Yeonjun made you look away from the sheer grandness of the house,

[Yawnzzn] 10:26 PM: come meet me at the jacuzzi marked number 3. it’s the one behind the fountain 🙂

Fountain? Jacuzzi? God, was Wooyoung rich. The number of amenities had your head spinning, and it was almost like deja vu, the way you found yourself separated from your friends again at a party. Fortunately enough, this time you’d told them about the message and about meeting Yeonjun. Beomgyu had given an extra reassuring look when you left, silently cheering you on for what you were planning to do tonight. Pushing past sweaty bodies and handsy couples, drunk teenagers and passed out bodies on the floor, you tried to find your way to the location that Yeonjun had messaged. The enormity of the house didn’t make it easy, and honestly you were getting quite dizzy from all the overstimulation around you. But you had to find him first. 

Finally spotting a cluster of palm leaves and an artificial water fountain, made of polished rocks and lighting from below making the water look ethereal, you ambled your way there, pushing past the leaves to get behind the fountain to where Yeonjun said the jacuzzi was. Making it past the rocks, you saw the jacuzzi, where your boy sat with his feet in the glowing blue water, the shadows of the water rippling across his face. There was your beautiful boy, sitting right next to Kim Yunha. 

You didn’t know what to say. Or do. He was looking at her the way you swore he looked at you, with all that hope and all that endearment in his face. Then his face fell, with a tinge of visible anger clustering in his furrowed eyebrows, when you heard the words in her voice, “So what, you gonna extend your contract with your pathetic little fake-girl? Or are you just man up and come back to me?” There seemed to be some sort of satisfaction in the smirk Kim Yunha wore, amplifying when she looked right at you, gleaming with some sort of vengeance. As soon as she did, Yeonjun did too, with a look of utter bewilderment and helplessness. Sort of like how you felt. 

It was like piercing a knife right through you, hot and searing which led to the same kind of tears running right down your face. The look you wore had something inexplicably sharp poking Yeonjun deeply in the chest. He was trying to get around the wet floor, trying to reach you, screaming something. 

But you didn’t hear anything. It was like there was that ocean in your ears again, raging violently this time. Your breath was quickening like falling sand. You didn’t know what to think right now. The summer was supposed to end, and this was the end of your summer, and fuck, he got what he wanted, didn’t he? And left you with nothing. You didn’t know what to do, so you did the only thing you could do, and you ran. 

The Second Summer - Yeonjun’s Summer

If you had asked Yeonjun how his summer was going, he would just say one thing. “This summer, I fell in love.”

74 missed calls have accumulated in your phone over the past three days, where you’ve laid just rotting in your bed. Your eyes are probably still puffy from the way that when you think the tears have ended, they begin again. Rin spent the night over the first night, after hearing your broken recount of the events that had happened to the best of your abilities, amongst the gut-wrenching sobs that wouldn’t stop and the horrible ache in your heart that just wouldn’t stop. The second night, it was Beomgyu, accompanied by Taehyun and Kai, who had come back from visiting their family and been filled in by the rest of the gang on the current happenings. Beomgyu seemed quite angry at himself, after all he was the one who had suggested that you seek out Yeonjun at the party. But when you limply just grabbed his hand while tears streamed down your face noiselessly, the three boys just gathered around you in a circle, encasing you and trying their best to shield you from pain; even though the pain was deep inside you, like a hurtful wrench determined to dig right into you. 

Soobin was here on the third night, declining all the calls from the boy who broke your heart, who seemed to be relentless in his attempts. He had gotten what he had wanted, didn’t he? He got his precious girlfriend back, and was he stupid enough to expect the both of you would continue to be friends? “I don’t get why he called me there if she was going to be there as well”. Your voice is as frail as a dying leaf in winter, thin like paper and watery that had Soobin himself tearing up for his friend. 

You did have quite a lot of unanswered questions that would remain a mystery to you, you guessed. Did everything really mean nothing to you? Was I the only one calling it everything? Do you miss me? I miss you. I miss you a lot even though I shouldn’t. I miss you all the time. I hate you. I miss you. 

Another buzzing call on your phone had you break out of your headspace. “Soob”, you began in a watery voice, “I’m gonna go shower. Maybe get rid of this stench and sadness on me. You go home and get some rest, okay?””But-” “Trust me.” He understood that this was something you needed, and giving you one last hug, he walked out, leaving you alone in the room where you first felt Yeonjun. 

He’s been driving around aimlessly for the past three days. Ever since that night, he’s been sleeping in his car, which had gathered protests from the rest of his friends. But he couldn’t stomach going into his room, where he’d kissed you for the first time. He was haunted now, by the most beautiful ghost. A ghost whom he’d hurt. 

He has been cursing out Kim Yunha in his mind continuously, but not as much as he’d been cursing himself. When she’d overheard the conversation he was having with Changbin, Wooyoung and Chan about how he was ready to cut the contract-deal bullshit between you both, to finally put an end to the Yunha business, and finally ask you to be his as much as he already was yours, he should’ve taken some action. He shouldn’t have fallen for her innocent act, where she pretended to be actually interested in hearing about you. He should’ve cut her off immediately, and then run to you and kissed you long and hard.

But he didn’t. He didn’t and now you were hurt because of him and he couldn’t find you at all. There seemed to be no activity about you. You hadn’t blocked him, but you didn’t pick up his calls. His texts were still going through, but left on delivered. He was lost, and you were the only one who could compass him back to shore. 

He doesn’t know when to pin-point to the moment being the moment when he realized that he’d fallen hard and fast for you. Every date with you made him crave your presence more. Funny jokes seem funnier when he hears your laugh. Movies were more entertaining only when you were sitting next to him, pressed up to him so that he could smell your shampoo and hold your hand, the pads of his fingers tracing every crease on your palm. Or maybe it was when you became the first person to take an interest in the real him - the Yeonjun who liked dancing and animal ears and popcorn and ice creams from the convenience store. Maybe he was a goner the moment he sat in that bathtub at the party with you. Losing an anchor like you meant he was back to being adrift at sea.

It’s the 4th day of being on no-contact with Yeonjun. Since that fateful day where your heart had been shattered to pieces. You’re back at the convenience store you’d worked that summer, on some sort of heritage tour of the moments you had before you were crushed. You walked on over to the ice cream box, chuckling sadly when you noticed the exact ice cream you’d recommended him still being there. You weren’t sure how or when you’d stop remembering him in the small things. But in some deep, deep part of you, you wanted to remember him. You wanted to remember how high you felt around him. 

“Y/N.”

It's like the temperature in the store drops significantly when he says your name. You’re refusing to turn around, shoulder seized up and taut. He’s here, he’s here, why the fuck is he here?

“Y/N, please.” He doesn’t want to get too close to you just yet. He wants to give you the space you need. But fuck, if he just didn’t feel the largest wave of relief in his chest when he spotted you entering the convenience store. 

“Y/N, Tubs. Please. Just hear me out. Please? I promise you it’s not what it looked like.”

He sounds so utterly desperate and broken that it makes your heart ache enough to make you turn around, making you gasp at his disheveled appearance.

There’s dark eye bags under his eyes which have lost any spark they held before. Despite the brightness of the sun outside, he seemed to look almost gray in color. Like life was sucked right out of him. His concerning appearance had you shuffling hesitantly towards him, which he was ever-so welcoming to. Opening his mouth, his voice was hoarse, as began explaining everything. 

You’re both seated outside that store again, where that godforsaken deal began. He seems much lighter now, and much better. His hand is inches from yours, and hesitating to close the gap. The moment is so tender, so precious, that even one wrong move has him fearing that you’d leave, and he’d be broken again. “Is the deal over then?”, you ask him, which has his eyes widening. “Fuck the deal, baby. I’m so sorry that it even was a thing. I like you, Y/N Y/L/N. I might even just be in love with you, and I’m mad enough about you to admit it. You’re like breathing to me, Y/N.”

He’s here again, and he’s so, so beautiful again. This time, it’s you closing the gap between your hands, his palm bringing back fond memories to your mind. “Well, Yeonjun, I hope the deal is over. I’d like to declare it over, because I would prefer it a lot more if you became my real boyfriend, instead of my fake one.”

It’s the summer before junior year and you’re only sixteen, but you swear that this is love. You may not know much, but you’re sure. Reaching here might’ve been hell, like fighting modern Sparta. But you wouldn’t have ended it any differently, with you and him and a summer in a convenience store, eating ice pops and sharing frozen kisses. 

Bonus: The first fall

You’re standing in front of your locker. The first day of school jitters were significantly lesser compared to your previous years. Picking up the singular post-it that had seemed to have found itself in your locker, you turned it around to find Yeonjun’s scrawling handwriting saying only one thing. I love you. And just as you grinned from the message, the boy in question wrapped his arms around your torso, planting a sweet kiss on the right side of your neck, and then deeply inhaling your scent, which made you laugh happily. “Cool people write post-its by the way. That should also be a tip you should consider for your highschool journey.” “Of course, my cool boyfriend. I’ll definitely keep in mind that post-its are for cool people.” If Yeonjun was a star, you were his star charter. You’d still have to get through the battleground of high school. But doing it with Yeonjun just made the whole journey much sweeter, didn’t it?

“Just for the record, I still don’t like him.” ”Shut up Soobin!”.

[swifty-fox]

Sci-Fi Horror AU

idk kinda word vomited this tonight after trying a new strain. I will be continuing it into a full story but not sure when

Entry Log 2043

-DateStamp: 14th July 5399

-Location: DeepSpace Sector G8677-65HG-76789_I

-Personnel File: Maj. J.C. Egan (Zoot Suit) 

Recording_

“This is Major John Egan, callsign ZootSuit, aboard the vessel M’lle ZigZag. Today is the dawn of my final day of exploration, putting an end to a sixteen-month foray into DeepSpace. Initial findings reveal little of note. A few developing stars and planets; an asteroid belt; and a total of six planets, two of which I will be recommending for a second more thorough exploration of due to planets possibly location being within the ‘Goldilocks Zone.’ I look forward to whiskey, solid food and to breathe air that isn’t recycled from a fucking can. I can’t wait to fuck my husband-”

John pauses.

“Ah, computer erase the last seven words. Reasoning: Irrelevant to mission. I will be entering Hyperspace within the hour, once I hit proper trajectory to slingshot around the primary sun.”

He taps the record button to end the log, carefully labeling the file and placing it in a folder with the few thousand other logs he’d recorded over the last year and a half. A verified library of data, observations and the occasional love-letter. A year and a half of research; one of the longest expeditions ever undertaken by any pilot. Considered bold by some and risky by far more. Deep space played with people's minds, the long stretches of isolation broken up only by Hypersleep creating the perfect recipe for a light case of mental instability.John had trained for this, ran through thousands of psychological tests and millions of scenarios. There was not a person in the universe more capable of this task. 

John rubs his jaw, feeling the scratchy beard and spins out of his pilot's chair, leaving the computer to guide the craft. 

Moving about the cramped space of the craft, built to maximize storage space; and to minimize comfort in his opinion, he begins securing anything not already safely battened down. He shaves in the cubicle sized bathroom, splashes water across his face and ignores the swirling flickers of color and light around the edges of his sight. Jaw smooth save for the now carefully trimmed mustache - just how Gale liked- he makes his way to the tail of the spacecraft to run an inventory check on his samples. Moon rocks and space dust and asteroid dirt. Anything the computer pinged or John spotted in his long hours gazing out into the empty void of space. 

He checks a few straps, making sure they’re tension tight before hitting the override on the artificial gravity. He holds the intentionally placed handle as he slowly lifts from the metal walkway. Giving himself several seconds to adjust he uses the similarly placed handles along the wall to pull himself back over to the pilot's chair. A second check on the navigation systems; the mathematical calculations for his trip around the sun and through hyperspace. Much of the process was left up to the computer these days, but John hadn’t survived twenty one missions - one of the highest in the force save for a handful - by not being thorough. 

Finding nothing out of the ordinary he switches all the lights off until his world is lit only by the approaching Red Giant, bathing everything a warm red. System lights blink soothingly as he takes a moment to take in the vast wonder in front of him. Years now it had been, and it still never failed to leave him breathless.

“Computer, begin countdown to Hyperspace entry, one minute. Beginning LCHS procedure, eta one minute.”

John pulls himself to the economically sized bunk, slotting into the space that barely left room for him to stretch and roll over, strapping himself down. 

“32…31…Thirty Second To HyperJump’’  the computer announces.

Bucky presses two fingers to his lips and then to the photograph taped above his bed. Folded so many times the crease lines were white and soft to the touch, Gale’s face gazed back at him. Caught unawares he was smiling soft and curving, glancing somewhere behind the camera. Laughing at something John had said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t. His cheek was rested in one elegant hand, gold ring glinting in the sunlight; a carbon match to the one on John’s own finger. 

“Be seeing you soon Buck.” John adjusts himself against the organic synthetic fibers of the mattress below him.

Fifteen seconds the computer chirps warningly. John always thought she got a little testy in those last few moments, as if scolding an unruly child. 

John reaches for the pouch beside his temple, withdrawing the last pill from the sheathe. Soft baby blue and the size of a quarter, he’d been issued exactly sixty-five of them upon the start of his expedition. Enough to get him all the way to the furthest reaches of the known galaxy in the shortest amount of time. Seven more consecutive jumps than had been previously attempted. Anything more than thirty and Federal Law was a minimum six months rest and recuperation before attempting further jumps. Risks for brain bleeds, heart attacks and Z-Sum sleep went up with every extra jump. John had stopped only once, stretching to forty five jumps before stopping at the nearest C-Class Planet Simulator outpost to rest. It had been his last chance to speak to Gale before he exited the reach of all communications. Eight months since he had seen that smile in any medium other than this photo. 

A quiet, tense conversation. Buck hadn’t wanted him to go; knew better than to stop him. 

“You’ll be careful out there John?” Buck was the only one to never call him Bucky. To the public he was Egan, Major if they were being formal. In private it was John, always John. His husband was strange like that. 

“More careful than a cat in a rainstorm.” 

Buck hums and squints his eyes at him. Stress sat in heavy lines at the corners of his lips, between his brows and around his temples. It had been eight months since John had kissed that mouth, tasted Gale’s sweet noises on his tongue. 

“You have enough LCHS’s to get through? None of them are compromised?” 

“Buck.” John sighs, “Come on.” 

Gale runs a hand through his hair, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth “I know you know what you’re doing...” His deep voice rumbled through the comms, staticky and pale in comparison to the in person thing.

“It’s just your job.” John finishes, grinning at Bucks self-amused shrug. “I checked them all twice. No leakage, no discoloration.” 

“I love you.” 

It never failed to make John’s spine tingle, hearing those words spoken so easily and effortlessly. The Gale he had gone to flight school with was a reserved quiet thing; John was better off trying to space-walk without a suit than pull an ounce of vulnerability from the other man. The years had softened him - John had softened him. 

“I love you too sweetheart. I’ll see you in eight months.”

Ten seconds. 

John startles, the pill slipping from his fingers and drifting in the gloom. He curses and reaches for it, straining against the straps holding him down. His steady beating heart kicks into panic mode. 

For centuries mankind had struggled to break out of the tiny confines of their miniscule corner of the universe. Confined by things like time-space and the limits of the human life span versus the distance needed to travel to discover anything new. They’d languished away certain of it was their destiny to never walk amongst the stars. Until HyperSpace had been discovered. The miniscule pocket between the folded pages of space-time. A way to jump through matter from one corner of the galaxy to another - and further. It blew the doors wide open on space exploration. They could go anywhere, journey past the point of creation they could find it. 

The only thing holding them back was the side effects of HyperSpace. It didn’t seem to pair so well with the cranial contents of human beings. The tendency to turn ones brain to pure soup was a drawback that left researchers, scientists and theorists all stumped. SMall jumps were manageable, with migraines and dizziness a much more risk-acceptable outcome. But in order for them to make any real progress they would need to find a solution,

LCHS. Lysergic Cerebral Hibernation Synthesizer.

The miracle drug and the solution to their dilemma. Developed initially from LSD the drug soothed the more vulnerable edges of one's brain and put the subject in such a deep sleep it took a reversal injection to bring one back to the waking world. It was used recreationally now as well; a way of opening one's mind to the world beyond the physical dimensions. Where light and color and feeling weren’t senses but physical states of being. It kept their pilots down for the jump; kept them asleep to the journey home. 

Without it. Well. Nobody had made a waking Hyperjump in as long as John could remember, at least had done it and lived. 

Five seconds.

John hisses through clenched teeth, straining for that little blue pill, technology his husband had dedicated his life to. Logically they both knew it was unlikely Gale had made the exact LCHS’s that sustained John, but he knew the other man pretended he did either way. The level of care put into each new batch as if it was made for his beloved specially. 

Three seconds.

John risks freeing one of his shoulders from the straps so he can get better reach. “Come on” he hisses. Closes his fingers around the dosage.

Two seconds.

John lays back, shoves his shoulder back into the strap so quickly the velcro scrapes his skin raw. He lifts the pill to his mouth, pressing past his lips.

One second.

_

_

_

Entering Hyperspace. 

Gale. John thinks.

His brain turns to mush.

[nateconnolly]

It takes one thousand saints nine-hundred ninety-nine years to make a new vertebra for the angel Uriel. First, the hallowed dead souls must find raw material. The saints wander the cosmos, looking for an asteroid or comet with the right chemical composition. Once they find it, the saints set to work with lava and thunderbolts, blasting the celestial rock into the rough shape of a vertebra. Then they refine the shape with hammers, awls, and saws. The tip of Uriel’s spine is like a lock—it will not accept a key unless each ridge and scratch is perfect.

She has infinitely many vertebrae, and her flesh has infinitely many cavities where a vertebra fits. The cavities are connected by little tunnels. These tunnels are thinner than the cavities. If a vertebra is pushed hard enough, it will squeeze into the thin, suffocating tunnels between cavities—but it will naturally pop into the next space under that much pressure. 

Every thousand years, the saints squeeze another vertebra through the slot in Uriel’s neck. It has to be one thousand years precisely—that is the unit of measurement. 

Uriel is a holy abacus. Her spine helps God count the millennia that have passed since beginningless time. At the end of each millennium, the saints finish another vertebrae. It always slips seamlessly down the slot in the back of her neck, right at the junction where her skull meets the rest of her body. 

“Why do you need an infinite amount of vertebrae?” I asked her.

“Because time had no beginning, and so there is an infinite amount of past,” she answered with a smile. When she breathed in to speak, the air whipped my hair and cloak about. I had to struggle to stand upright in the wind. “That means infinitely many millennia have passed, and each vertebra corresponds to one millennium.”

I looked to the saints gathered on her lap, sanding down what used to be a moon. 

“You will need a new vertebra soon,” I said, “so there must be a cavity for that vertebra.” 

“Yes, there is.”

“Will time go on forever?”

“Yes, it will.” 

“Then you will need infinitely many more vertebrae,” I deduced. “How is there enough room? I know that the cavities in your back are infinite, but the number of vertebrae you already have is also infinite. The number of cavities is equal to the number of vertebrae already there—after all, infinity equals infinity. That must mean your spine is completely full, and there is no room for this new vertebra that the saints are crafting.”

“When they are finished, they will make room,” Uriel explained. “The saints will push the vertebra at the top of my spine to the second cavity. At the same time, the vertebra that is currently in the second cavity will move to the third cavity. And the vertebra that is currently in the third cavity will move to the fourth cavity. All the way down my spine, each and every one of my vertebrae will move one cavity lower than before.”

“But what about the last vertebra?” I objected.

“There is no last. That is what it means to be infinite: however far you go, you can always move further down. For each vertebra, there is another vertebra below it. No matter how many vertebrae are pushed into the back of my neck, they will never completely fill the spaces in my back. No matter how many years go by, they will never outnumber Time.”

[winter-dayz]

For the Best

Pairing: Shin Ryujin x Reader Alien AU; Yandere Genre: Fluff; Horror Words: 2424 Warnings: dead dove: do not eat; implied kidnapping; insects; murder; strong language; violence

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

Ryujin,

'The first time I saw you, I was… well, for lack of a better word, amazed…'

You had been finishing a hike when you saw it.

A shooting star… well, a falling star really.

Falling rapidly, actually.

Fuck. It seemed like it was heading right for you, and you were just going to stand there making a wish like a fucking idiot?!

You were stuck.

You knew everyone died someday. You knew that you yourself would grow old and wither away as well. Or maybe die a bit prematurely from a cardiovascular disease or cancer—those are the leading causes of death globally after all. Hell, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you died in a car accident.

But a shooting star pummeling you into the ground? That hadn’t been on your ‘Ways I Might Die’ list.

“Fuck!” You screeched, dropping down to the ground as the object flew over you and crashed into the ground a few meters away.

You rolled over from your belly and flopped onto your back, breathing heavily to prevent the panic attack rising in your chest.

Smoke trailed where you had just been standing.

The—not really—shooting star would’ve for sure decapitated you.

You heard mechanics whirring and sat up, peering over to the cloud of dirt and smoke at the definitely not a shooting star.

It looked like a… car?

Like, kind of. But not really.

The metal hunk was car-sized and car-shaped but sleeker and with no tires. Where you would expect wheels was the glow that had given it the appearance of a star.

Or maybe a comet, if you thought hard enough about your science class days.

The glow was green and dying out as the whirring died down with it. The metal of the… UFO… creaked, and you heard the sound of pressurized air escaping. A door on the side swung upwards, very SLS AMG-style.

You stared, amazed, as a woman stepped out.

She was beautiful… otherworldly… terrifying.

“I apologize, human. I lost control of my aircraft.” She stated, very factually and less sympathetic than you would normally receive during an apology. “Have you been injured in any way?”

You couldn’t find words to answer her so you simply shook your head.

“Ah, good, you understand me. Do you also speak, human?”

Again, you just nodded. You were sure you looked like an idiot, with your eyes so wide you could feel them drying out and your mouth hanging open slightly. You definitely looked like the kind of stupid person who would die from a totally preventable accident.

Like a not-shooting-star crashing into you on an open hiking trail… at night… alone.

Or being murdered by a hot, albeit creepy, woman who came out of an alien spaceship on said hiking trail alone at night.

Her head tilted curiously as she observed you. You claimed to speak but continued to use no words. “Odd human.” She spoke. “Still, I require your assistance. My craft was hit by several asteroids in your planetary systems’ belt and thus fell into the gravitational pull of your homeworld. As such, it is your responsibility to host me until I can fix my vehicle.”

“Me?” You whispered.

She nodded, a smile upturning her purple lips ever so slightly. “Yes. You are the only one around, are you not?”

You shook your head rapidly, “Yes, but I mean… Shouldn’t you be asking me to take you to my leader or something?” “I have no use for your planet’s leader. I simply require shelter.” The smile dropped from her lips. You had to stop staring at her lips. Even if they were pretty and purple and kissable. “You will help me, human.”

Slowly, you nodded once more, the threat in her tone was subtle but clear. She moved closer, holding out a hand to help you stand.

“You may address me as Ryujin. How may I address you? Or is human sufficient?”

“Oh um… You can call me Y/N.”

🎃

'It wasn’t hard to get to know you. You seemed so up front about where you came from, your life and interests, and even your feelings for me…'

Ryujin was, surprisingly, easy to talk to… once you did some serious compartmentalizing and deluding about a spaceship nearly brutally beheading you and a beautiful alien somewhat forcing you to let her sleep on your sofa bed.

Either way, she looked human enough… if you ignored the permanently purple lips and faraway, yet calculative, gaze she constantly held.

She answered all of your questions and was actually rather excitable and cute when you would ask her about her home and interests. She loved telling you about her pets back home, Byul and Dal, in particular.

“You know…” Ryujin hummed, “I think I like you, Y/N.”

You choked on your food, and she sat back in her seat, observing you—as she often did—while you continued to cough and sputter. 

Ryujin had only lived with you for roughly two or three weeks at that point. The repairs on her aircraft had been slow, as she had casually explained that it was hard to get the right kind of materials for such advanced technology. You weren’t sure how her ship worked so you couldn’t exactly refute her claims.

She had also made the point that this wasn’t her planet and being so unfamiliar with the area made her vulnerable to go anywhere alone. Because of this, she insisted that you needed to go with her whenever she left your apartment. That also made progress slow since you had to work during the days and had even begun picking up a few more hours to help cover the cost of feeding an extra mouth. She didn’t love that you weren’t around for the majority of the weekdays, but she said she understood.

When you were free, you would spend the day showing Ryujin around the city. You explained about different types of businesses and shops, trying to help her in any way you could think to find somewhere that would have the parts she needed… or at least something that could substitute.

It was lucky for you that none of your friends had reached out the past few weeks either. It was odd… since you usually met up at least once a week for coffee or a meal or even drinks… but it was lucky. Really, how would you explain Ryujin’s sudden appearance in your life, and her confusion over particularly mundane things? No, it was definitely simpler that it was just the two of you trying to navigate this situation.

🎃

'You made it easy to fall for you. I don’t want to say no one had ever shown me interest before, but no one showed it quite like you did…'

“Tell me you feel the same.” Ryujin whispered. The back of her hand stroked your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed.

A smile lifted the corners of your lips, “Yes, I’m falling for you too…”

Her lips broke into a smile, wide and striking white against purple. “I knew you would.”

Ryujin had confessed to you about three months into her stay on Earth, and though it was fast, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

Something about her was so captivating and magnetic.

She pulled you in, and you didn’t want to be let go. She was comforting and warm to you, even if she looked so coldly at others. She listened and let you lean on her. She was like a life raft when you felt like you were drowning in anxieties.

Ryujin just made life easier. She made it better…

When you came home from work one evening and sobbed because of how your boss had berated you and how you felt like he might be right, she was right there with a shoulder to cry on and a comforting hand rubbing your back. Her sweet words, whispered in your ear, were about all your positive qualities.

And if you didn’t notice how your boss flinched whenever you looked in his direction the next day, it was for the best.

When the two of you went out for lunch one weekend and a clumsy waiter accidently spilled the table over’s meal on your new white dress, she was quick to pass her blazer to you so that you could clean and cover up the transparent fabric.

And if you didn’t see how Ryujin dumped her own food onto the waiter when you rushed off to the restroom while he was attempting to clean the floor, it was for the best.

When you worked late one night and just as you reached your walk-up apartment door someone tried to rob you, she was there in the blink of an eye, knocking the absolute shit out of the guy and pouncing on him. She had straddled him, fists raining down on his face, and it took all your strength to pull her off of him, scolding her that assaulting someone is something you can’t just do on Earth and that it could’ve been greatly unsafe for her.

And if you didn’t see her bright smile when the robber’s nose cracked and he staggered to stand with blood being coughed up, it was for the best.

When your ex sent you a long text, begging for a second chance and explaining what had gone wrong before and how much he missed you, you ranted to Ryujin about how he was just a little too late. You expressed your confusion to her because you hadn’t really ended on bad terms, but you didn’t really feel that way for him anymore, even if you still had some of your favorite memories with him. She listened patiently, reassuring you that it was okay to move on and turn him down.

And if you didn’t think too hard about it how a few days later when you tried to call him back and received a message that the number was no longer in service, it was for the best.

Everything was just easier with Ryujin around. She made it… the best.

🎃

'But, unfortunately, I found that our… interests… didn’t always line up. Of course, couples can have their differences, but our differences are too much for me to handle…'

“I swear, they need to do something about the smell.” Your neighbor complained, while you two loitered near the mailboxes.

You hummed in agreement. Over the past couple weeks, the main floor had started to smell… Like really smell. You had to sympathize with your neighbor. Since she lived on the first floor, the smell would’ve been stronger for her. You considered yourself lucky that on the third floor the stench only reached you occasionally through the air ducts.

Your neighbor continued, “It has to be coming from the basement.” She shook her head and added conspiratorially, “Smells like something died. And I swear to you, I saw a maggot crawling out of my floor vents.”

You paused at her conviction that something sinister was hiding in the basement. Glancing in the direction of the downstairs door, you hesitated while your neighbor headed back into her own apartment.

What she said didn’t sit right. Something in your brain worried you. Could it just be your general anxiety? It wouldn’t hurt to check right?

You headed down the stairs.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have gone downstairs. You should’ve minded your business. Your neighbor should’ve kept her mouth shut.

There were bodies.

So. many. bodies.

The first one you noticed was your ex… His number had been disconnected. After you had talked to Ryujin. Fuck…

Then you saw that guy who tried to rob you, with a still broken nose and missing tooth, and… was that the waiter who spilled food on you? Fuck, fuck…

Your boss was there too. You thought he had been on a vacation that week… Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

There were others too. Just bodies. Corpses.

Some fresher than others. Maggots and swarms of flies and… bodies.

You almost vomited.

If you hadn’t felt paralyzed, you probably would’ve.

You couldn’t scream.

You needed to get out of there.

You needed to… get away.

🎃

'I’m sorry, Ryujin. I had fun with you. I liked you… I really did. But, I think it’s for the best if we end whatever it was that we had. You need to go back to your home anyway, right? We should leave things on a good note and go our separate ways now.'

-Y/N

She was dangerous.

Of course she was, she was a fucking alien.

She had literally crashed onto your planet and told you that you were going to shelter her, and you had deluded yourself that you would be safe because what… she was pretty?

You believed she was sweet and innocent because she talked about her family and friends and pets back home so lovingly.

But you didn’t really know anything.

She had been killing people.

And you couldn’t even be sure of why.

Was she fully carnivorous? Did she eat humans?

No… There was no obvious sign that she had been… consuming them? So what?

You thought hard.

So many of them were a part of your life somehow. Had she done that… for you?

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be around her.

You were afraid.

If you tried to just end things… Would she kill you too?

Write a letter.

Yeah, that felt safe, you’d write a letter and leave it for her when you went to work. You wouldn’t come back. You’d leave right after, head somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

You’d be okay…

Except you weren’t.

You’d left the letter; she’d been asleep on the sofa bed still.

She looked so peaceful. So innocent.

You’d left the letter on the side table; you’d taken a bag with you.

She found you as you left work.

You’d never told her where you worked. You’d never showed her the building or what floor your office was on.

She was standing in the door to the office.

Everyone else had left.

You were alone.

You were afraid.

“I apologize, Y/N. However, I cannot let you leave me.” A slow smile split Ryujin’s lips as she peered at you. Before, you had loved that smile; now, you were so, so afraid.

Your eyes trailed from her sadistic smile to the letter in her hands. Your letter.

Fuck.

You were supposed to be long gone.

“I just love you too much to ever let you go.”

[thecreaturecodex]

Sphinx, Astrosphinx

"astrosphinx" © Weasyl user "xdrake", accessed at their gallery here

[Commissioned by @strawberry-crocodile. The astrosphinx is from Spelljammer, but hasn't gotten updated in the 5e Spelljammer box set. Maybe that's because they're super destructive in the original text--it refers to them living on lifeless asteroids because they immediately kill anything that fails to answer their impossible riddles. That makes them seem kind of one-note, and the commissioner asked me to make them more able to interact with other creatures. My idea was to make them malevolent game show hosts. Feel free to draw inspiration from Jigsaw, darker and edgier versions of the Riddler, and Sam Reich on Game Changer.]

Sphinx, Astrosphinx CR 10 CE Magical Beast This creature has the body of a lion, and its head is the skull of a ram. A third golden eye is open in its forehead. Its wings, mane and the tuft of its tail are covered in luxurious fur that glimmers with starlight.

An astrosphinx is a mad sphinx capable of flying between worlds. Although they do not talk about their origins, some sages suspect that astrosphinxes arise not through natural birth, but as a metamorphosis when a sphinx delves too deeply into mysteries of a cosmic nature. All astrosphinxes are, by mortal standards, completely insane. Like many other sphinxes, they enjoy riddles, but their riddles are typically nonsense—“what is the speed of blue?” and “how loud is down?” for example. Playing along may mollify an astrosphinx for a while, but it rarely finds the answers of other creatures acceptable in the long term, and responds to spoilsports with physical violence.

Astrosphinxes typically open combat with a breath weapon, a soporific gas. If all of their foes are knocked unconscious, the astrosphinx may take the time to cage their captives, or put them into diabolical traps that torture creatures to death in increments. If their prey remains active, they usually follow up with a blast of chain lightning, followed by melee attacks. Although an astrosphinx’s natural weapons are deadly enough, their dewclaws are flexible enough to act like thumbs, and some carry oversized weapons into combat as well.

An astrosphinx loves to subject other creatures to its riddles, whether they want to play or not. Most astrosphinxes have a dungeon complex rigged with traps and torture implements, sometimes staffed with lesser creatures that have agreed to serve the astrosphinx in exchange for room, board and their lives. Astrosphinxes act as deranged quiz-masters, subjecting their captives to trivia contests, word games and their obtuse riddles, increasing their torment by inches when they fail to answer correctly, and dialing up towards lethality if people refuse to play along. Some of these complexes exist in air pockets on asteroids floating through space, so even surviving an escape becomes part of the challenge (and sometimes a part of the challenge that the astrosphinx encourages).

Astrosphinx          CR 10 XP 9,600 CE Large magical beast Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +11 Defense AC 24, touch 10, flat-footed 23 (-1 size, +1 Dex, +14 natural) hp 133 (14d10+56) Fort +13, Ref +9, Will +9 Immune confusion and insanity effects SR 21 Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (poor) Melee 2 claws +19 (2d6+6), bite +19 (2d8+6), gore +19 (2d4+6) or masterwork Large greatsword +20/+15/+10 (2d8+9/19-20), bite +17 (2d8+3), gore +17 (2d4+3) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (60 foot cone, sleep 1d6 minutes, Fort DC 21 negates, 1d4 rounds) Spell-like Abilities CL 10th, concentration +16 Constant—see invisibility 3/day—chain lightning (DC 22) Statistics Str 22, Dex 13, Con 18, Int 16, Wis 11, Cha 23 Base Atk +14; CMB +23; CMD 34 (38 vs. trip) Feats Blind Fight, Hover, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Martial Weapon Proficiency (greatsword), Multiattack, Power Attack Skills Bluff +16, Craft (traps) +15, Disable Device +13, Fly +5, Intimidate +16, Knowledge (any one) +13, Perception +11, Sense Motive +8; Racial Modifiers +4 Craft (traps), +4 Disable Device Languages Aklo, Common, Sphinx SQ madness, no breath, starflight Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary Treasure standard (Large masterwork greatsword, other treasure) Special Abilities Madness (Ex) An astrosphinx uses their Charisma modifier on Will saves instead of their Wisdom modifier, and are immune to insanity and confusion effects. Only a miracle or wish can remove an astrosphinx’s madness. If this occurs, the astrosphinx gains 6 points of Wisdom and loses 6 points of Charisma. Starflight (Su) An astrosphinx can survive in the void of outer space. It flies through space at an incredible speed. Although exact travel times vary, a trip within a single solar system should take 3d20 hours, while a trip beyond should take 3d20 days (or more, at the GM's discretion)—provided the astrosphinx knows the way to its destination.

[the-helixverse]

Medusa-Class Battleship

Creator: Thai'Qul Length: 798 Meters Width: 378 Meters (Widest Point); 70 meters (Narrowest Point) Propulsion: Nuclear Pulse Drive; Five Fusion Drive Thrusters Crew Complement: 5,000-7,000 (Normal complement); 10,000 (Max. Capacity) Radiator Type: Solid-State/Droplet Armaments:

x8 40mm Point Defense Cannons (PDCs) (Aft)

x4 Cargo/Torpedo Bays (Aft)

x2000 5-kiloton driver warheads (Aft)

x4 Ultra-Relativistic Electron Beam (UREB) Cannons (Bow)

Interior

Because the Thai'Qul are an aquatic species, their ships are unique in being almost entirely filled with water. This pulls triple duty in protecting the occupants from intense G-forces, radiation and heat; providing resources for the fusion reactor and torpedoes, and in the event of a hull breach, lost water can be more easily retrieved than air. The consequence of this is that it increases the ship's overall mass, requiring more energy for any kind of acceleration or deceleration. This is also another reason for their ruthless pragmatism: the lack of air pockets outside the cargo sections prevents them from easily taking prisoners or taking larger ships aboard.

Creators

An average Thai'Qul male. Roughly 85% of the species is male, carrying out tasks for the rarely-seen matriarchs, who outsize them significantly. On ships such as the Medusa-class, prepubescent matriarchs- referred to colloquially as "Countesses"- serve the role of captains and admirals.

Strategic Overview

If there's any way to describe the Thai'Qul military doctrine, it would be ruthless pragmatism. Rather than engaging in widespread power projection, heavier ships are mostly concentrated within their own systems, while smaller vessels are the most commonly encountered. These represent the first line of defense, focused on patrolling defense perimeters.

Should a perimeter be broken and an enemy force infiltrate a Thai'Qul system, either by evading or destroying lighter vessels, this is when battleships such as the Medusa-class are deployed. This typically follows barrages of Thai'Qul frigates and corvettes, which will try to guide invaders into designated kill zones, where the Medusa-class will engage them at close range, such as near large asteroids, space stations or ring systems.

While these battleships lack high speed or fine maneuvering, they make up for it with powerful defenses and overwhelming firepower, particularly their UREBs. Once the invader's shields and other defenses have been exhausted, should they refuse to surrender, attacks from these beams will irradiate and effectively sterilize the target.

This is done because, rather than simply blowing up bellicose ships, the Thai'Qul will always try to salvage as much technology and information from them as possible, either to assess motivations or reverse-engineer whatever they discover. Of course, should a ship surrender instead, the Thai'Qul will gladly accept, taking the time to analyze captured ships just as thoroughly.

This doctrine has proven to be quite effective in multiple engagements and ensured invasions of their systems are rare.

Ship Diagram

The Bow Shield is a large dome entirely covered in ablative heat-resistant armor.

The nose of the craft houses the four UREB cannons, which cover a large hemispherical field. While the beams lose effectiveness over time or when fired at an angle, time dilation effects prevent them from completely dissipating over longer ranges. Maximum energy from the bremsstrahlung resulting from impact has been measured at over 5,000 Sieverts.

The UREBs are only possible via the battleship's length, where the linear accelerator (Linac) runs along the central axis of the ship.

The Medusa-Class doesn't have a designated bridge or command module, but instead 36 large windowless spheres, where most of the crew resides. Commands, controls and sensor readings are instead performed using holographic display interfaces that crew members can pull up at any moment. This ensures damage to one area of the ship will not compromise control, and that key staff can be moved into the interior.

The ship uses a combination of solid-state and droplet cooling with liquid lithium, firing the molten coolant into space, where it condenses into larger drops before being recaptured in a dish section for recirculation. Additional radiators vent excess heat to prevent the lithium from completely vaporizing. In times of duress, this coolant can be used as everything from makeshift flares to additional thrusters.

The aft section consists of a large octagonal cylinder, which houses bay sections designed to be drained of water so cargo, torpedoes and other craft can be sent into space. This is also where the ship's fusion reactor is housed.

The PDCs, nicknamed "Barnacles," allow the ship to fire at targets behind or beside the ship.

Contrary to popular belief, the piston supports are only painted blue and not transparent, though they are full of water to help cushion the impact following a pulse.

The pistons and their shock absorbers are attached to a set of electric motors, which extract a small, but not insubstantial amount of power from every pulse.

The Drive Cone is fitted with flexible rings and is even colored bright white to take advantage of as much radiation pressure as possible. Usage of this drive is why the battleship can't be used in a planetary orbit, as the risk of creating radiation belts poses a threat to orbital infrastructure.

[motionjames]

TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE FOR NEW PEOPLE, PT.1

or

char and amuro, snowden, mr.lawrence, the asteroid, the boy, and the place we were born

In the Snowden chapter of Catch-22, Yossarian wakes up in a cold sweat surrounded by probing doctors after getting stabbed multiple times in his side. The doctors ask:

‘Where were you born?’

The fat, gruff colonel reminded Yossarian of the fat, gruff colonel who had interrogated the chaplain and found him guilty. Yossarian sat up at him through a glassy film. The cloying scents of formaldehyde and alcohol sweetened the air.

‘On the battlefield,’ he answered.

‘No, no. In what state were you born?’

‘In a state of innocence.’

Before this it was all comedy. After this– after the knife comes down, after the woman cries for her lover, after Yossarian shrieks and falls to the ground in genuine terror as the past blooms in his side for an uncaring audience– it dies. From now on, there will be nightmares. It won’t stop until the end.

+++

I started watching Mobile Suit Gundam in middle school on the library computers and then I began saving the battery on my school-issued laptop so I could watch it on the bus as well. I loved the mechs and grand, sweeping arcs and most of all Amuro Ray, curled up with whited-out eyes in a near vegetative state as the world orbits around him. I drew him clumsily with a mouse in mspaint and made it my icon for various online activities. His hair was nice. I didn’t understand what I wanted for or from him, but I knew I wanted to watch.

At some point I began to question where exactly it is that Amuro gets doomed. We already know how it ends– in that brilliant burst of cosmic light, the sky painted with shooting stars– but when did it start? When did he lose it all? Amuro is so withdrawn, so singular, so depressing to watch in action, he’s nothing more than a doll for another doll, some flesh and bones that bring a killing machine alive when somebody else tells him to. There’s nothing left. Amuro believes in compassion but it’s too late for him. Maybe it wasn’t always like this.

Following the thread, I found it: It wasn’t in the burning cockpit at the end of CCA or in the elevator in Zeta or through the endless battles of ‘79, it was when he entered the mech. The RX-78-2, a tool for war and a plastic toy I have lovingly placed on my shelf. A machine his father built. His father is thrown into space. His mother rejects him for his atrocities. Amuro is effectively orphaned by the machine and pulled apart and reconstructed and told to continue onward. He despises it, and then he lives it.

Before this it was comedy. After this, it dies.

+++

Char Aznable never really existed. Because of that, nothing he says or does really means anything, no matter how much others would tell you otherwise. Quess adores him for the promises he feeds her, Garma latches onto his support, the world revolves around him. He has an undeniable magnetism. And yet, when he is up on a podium speaking to an audience, he fails. Char is a terrible politician. He has so much charisma but no real ideals– He was a boy with a gun and he’s been coasting ever since then.

A man who has spent his life under a mask will know the script by heart. These are not words of his own but he speaks them like they are, not because he means them or even that he wishes to but because it will advance him to the next scene. The play will keep going. He started this as a means of revenge but his role became too large and now everyone is watching, waiting for his next move, and frankly, there isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t continue. Casval never got to be a person. It’s just the mask and uniform now.

Unable to exist, there isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t destroy everyone around him. Quess is so easy for him. Nanai, too. He’s been doing this his whole life. Incapable of treating his fellow man with any sort of respect, how can he be expected to craft a better future for humanity? Only in the very end in tears and a burning cockpit does he realize something so simple– “Humans, who possess warmth, are still cruel enough to destroy Earth” – and the mask is gone at last. What was he doing this entire time? What was the point? Casval’s eyes open and he cries.

Hatred is so easy. It’s just nightmares to the very end.

+++

“How can you aim a gun at someone like that, and fire?”

Amuro’s mother asks this when they meet for the first time since being separated by the war. Amuro looks panicked because he doesn’t have a good answer– He’s been told to do this, to survive, but death is still death, except he never really wanted to hurt anyone, not really, they would’ve died if it wasn’t for him– and his mother cries and rejects him for what he’s become. She’s so ashamed of him. You’re no longer my son, she says. He’d lost his place in the world as soon as he’d entered the mech but now he really knows it, that the one place of unconditional love he could ever hope for has officially run dry. He is taken away by the White Base and the two strangers never see each other again. Somewhere, his father is melting away in a colony tinkering with trash trying to make gadgets of war just like the old days.

Amuro speaks to his mother in a foreign language. It is a language of violence. It was how he was taught to live. But there is no response and there is no love here; there are no words or violence that could possibly express how alone he has really become. The world revolves around him but he sits at the center unmoving and unchanging, tinkering with the toys that ripped him out of time. It’s the last place he has left to go. It’s too late for people like him.

+++

Amuro and Char are trying to craft a new world. They are the only people who could understand each other because they were both born on the battlefield and remember there must’ve been innocence once, if not in them then around them, and somehow it was lost along the way. If they saw something beautiful they wouldn’t know it because they only know how to speak in guns and swords and nights preparing for something terrible to happen, probably by their own hand. The story makes circles around them and they get closer and closer with time. In their final battle in the original series, Char tries to kill Amuro but then suddenly suggests they run off together instead. It’s such a selfish action. Humanity’s future lies with them.

It is too late for either of them and no matter how pure Amuro’s heart is or how powerful Char becomes, the future will never be born with them or anything they do. They cannot picture a world unlike the one they live in now. White Base’s beloved crew will grow up serving the government without question and have happy families and live in a hell they inherited but nonetheless perpetuate. Somewhere on the battlefield, a boy is born. He does something terrible. He’s given a medal. His father will kill him one day. He watches two pilots burst into light and the galaxy glow with the souls of a hundred mobile suits. With blood on his hands, he catches sight of a future where none of this has to happen.

It was always too late for Amuro and Char. But for the boy–

+++

At the end of Merry Christmas Mr.Lawrence, POW Jack Celliers is dying in the sand. He has been a rebellious spirit for the entire story, pushing back against the senseless cruelty with harmless acts of humanity . He has kissed the Captain of the camp and he is going to die for it. His head lays in a miniature desert with the skin flaking off his sun-scarred cheeks.

The Captain appears. He saws a small lock of hair from the man he’s sentenced to death before bowing and leaving forever. Jack dies. The Captain dies. The Sergeant beneath him is executed years later for his war crimes. Earlier, a young man bit his tongue out and bled to death. Emaciated prisoners collapsed to the ground after being forced to walk from their beds. So much death all around, and for nothing. All of the kindness was crushed underfoot and left behind in the march.

The dread is overwhelming but there are flashes of crimson throughout the film; there are sprouts of kindness between the blows that appear beautiful and bright before they are stamped out. Sergeant Hara gets drunk and hand waves the execution– a move that would normally get him shot– but the usually so venomous Captain Yonoi lets him off with a slap on the wrist and a cigarette with a notable red flower mark on its side. The red flower is not unlike the one Jack offered to him scenes ago and the deliberate act of unprecedented kindness has a similar ring. Hara, years later in his cell before his death day, looks up to his old friend and brings up a joke from the night he was drunk. Yonoi kills Jack but takes a lock to remember him. Everybody dies. Somewhere, there is love.

The sprouts are plucked out time and time again but they keep pushing out from the cruel earth regardless. Jack knew he would die when he stole that kiss, but he planted the seed regardless. It is too late for us, but true love is possible. Just not here. Not for me.

+++

+++

The only thing left for the two men is to die.

The Axis is coming down and it’s going to end at last, finally the play will be over and we can stop reading the lines and pretending like we mean them, but soldiers fly up in their war machines and try to push it all back. They dissolve due to the overwhelming temperature and vanish into stardust. Amuro screams for them to stop. But this is a radical movement of selflessness that will save them all and in the end the two men die and become a part of the green aurora that swims around the earth like a halo. The children look up at the sky and point to the light and smile. It was the best thing they could ever become. And it only lasted a night.

–When people speak of happiness, they almost always refer to the near-impossible everlasting kind, the one that you spend your whole life chasing. But it is easy to forget there were small moments as well; everyday occurrences or inexplicable happenings that plant a seed in us before being swept away forever. They’re a peek into the future. Somebody left it there for us to find. It was impossible for them, but for us…

+++

The moment Jack holds forth his flower is no more than 3 seconds long. But I can take that reel and I can find that frame and I can see it was there and alive and that it meant something. Things never really go. They just sit in a sequence of many other moments, and sometimes– hopefully– they’ll repeat.

+++

Amuro and Char and 100 other pilots become a green moonlit mist that the children of earth wish on. A boy in his mobile suit watches in horror and inherits this moment in all of its love and hope and pain forever and ever. He has killed someone and he is about to get a medal. The earth is saved. The children watch and send their wishes to the sky. For a moment before their evisceration, the centers of the universe saw the world they could never build themselves. It is too late– It is too late– It is too late—

Seeds are planted. True love is possible. A boy named Hathaway watches the dream of thousands pour out from the precipice of the new world.

Somehow, it repeats:

Humanity's future lies with him.

thank you for reading.

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [11] chapter ii, part vi

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : the morning after. loki and his guard play a game of twenty questions

recommended listening : toxic, 2wei

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Her expression tightened.

"Thanos," she echoed.

She gave it weight, acknowledging the threat.

A hidden tension within him slackened.

"I was captured by the Black Order," he said, his tone hushed, like haze of fine rain pearling the air, "the Children of Thanos, those he had taken from the planets he slaughtered, and trained to an elite corps, to kill and plunder at his bidding. The Mad Titan knew me. He knew who I was. He knew that I was Asgard's premier sorcerer, second only to my mother. He wanted my knowledge, and my magic. I refused. I was subsequently- incentivised."

Her nails bit divots into her cheek, her expression alarmingly blank.

Loki recognised it. He had seen it before, a lifetime ago- had witnessed it in her, and what had risen from it.

It was the serenity of pure, white-hot rage.

"Incentivised."

"They were very efficient," he admitted, masking his nausea with levity. Her eyes burned, cauterising, and Loki almost expected to see her throat glow and sparks purl from her lips. "Blood loss. Sleep deprivation. Starvation. They soon discovered that heat was particularly effective, given my- heritage," he spat the word out reluctantly. "Systematically weakening my body, draining my magical core, before attacking my mind. Ebony Maw was patient, and methodical."

Loki could still feel his leering contempt, as he stripped him open, idly rifling through everything he was and rearranging it to his liking with an almost dismissive hand, leaving Loki desperately scraping out the contamination when he was alone, only for the cycle to restart, losing a little more ground every time, his grip slipping- little prince, godling, would-be king, traitor, imposter, parasite, creature of ice and hate, you will break and burn before him-

"They wanted to know of Asgard, at first. Particulars that only someone at the heart and height of the royal household would know. Its defences, its weaknesses, its weapons and treasures. They dug deep, but I had spent centuries crafting my mental shields. When it became clear that they could not extract the information, they began twisting and corrupting every memory within reach- subtly enough that they appeared unaltered and authentic. They pulled out the moments and emotions that would serve their purposes, writ them large, until they felt like everything. I was imprisoned near the sceptre. When I recognised its influence, what it was doing to me-"

Loki halted. He could almost smell blood, and stone, driving him into madness amidst the barren asteroid fields, his mind swirling away from him.

"I realised that I had to make a choice, while I still had the ability to choose. I locked away what I could, and sacrificed the rest. And I submitted."

"Bend, not break," she acknowledged, eyes unseeing.

"Precisely," Loki agreed. "I struck a deal with Thanos. He would provide me with an army, with which to conquer and subdue Midgard. In return, I would collect and deliver the Tesseract to him. He didn't trust me, of course. I was trained for a while yet, with the sceptre, to make their work hold. Meanwhile, they forced a mental link with the Other, to ensure that I could never act beyond their sight. I was routinely reminded of the consequences should I fail, or betray them. Thanos," he said grimly, "has little tolerance for those of no use to him. I was only released when they deemed me ready, contingencies firmly in place."

"But, if they didn't trust your surrender," she cut in, holding up a hand to interrupt, "why not just control you directly, using the sceptre?"

Loki smirked. "That would be rather like locking me into a cell, then handing me the keys."

"Ah." Her expression cleared into comprehension, before glazing over again, fingers closing into her palm and falling into her lap. "I see. So I was right. You were-" Her brow creased. "If you were being watched- until that mental link was broken, you couldn't give anything away. You had to keep up the illusion. But your mind wasn't your own, so there was a risk of believing your own lie- you would need a failsafe. Something outside yourself, but within your contro- oh. Right. Selvig and Barton?"

"They were the perfect cards to play," he said with a quiet rush of pride. It had been an idea crafted in one of his rarer, more lucid moments, a lynchpin to hold his other scattered machinations in place, and it was gratifying to see it reflected in her eyes and ghosting smile. "Ones I could exploit while maintaining plausible deniability, on all sides. Barton was my double bluff, an unwitting double agent. He had heart, steadfast enough in his loyalties that he would use the slightest slack in his leash to counter me. And he would feed information back to the Avengers, once the control was broken. As for Selvig- he was the first domino I set in place. I instructed him to install the override protocol, but it was his idea to use the sceptre as the key, due to the similar radiation signatures. It was a stroke of genius. After all," Loki smiled innocently, "how could I predict that I would lose possession of such a powerful weapon, or that it might be retrieved before I could reclaim it? Much less that Selvig would be knocked from the sceptre's thrall and aid the Avengers in shutting down the device. If anything, it was really Thanos' fault for arming me with something that might be wielded to the detriment of his plans. Pity, really. Who could have possibly have foreseen this outcome."

She made a stifled noise of frustration.

"How did no one else see it?" She seehed. "I know I was looking for it, but there were so many opportunities- Stuttgart, that sluggish little brawl with Rogers-"

Unable to help himself, Loki interjected. "I will be injured if you thought that was a close match, darling."

"Exactly!" She exclaimed, exasperatedly. "And the obvious taunts to Fury, Romanoff on the Helicarrier- Stark, at least, he was just stalling- and Thor, he must have spoken to you, why- with every set of eyes on you, why didn't they see it?!"

This was not solely about him, Loki realised. He could only imagine how many times she had screamed truths until her throat was burned raw, only to be ignored or dismissed or heave people hear only what they expected.

"They do not know me," Loki stated mildly, gentling her. "Thor would not know me if I stood right in front of him. I spoke a language that they understood, and expressed motivations that they were familiar with, crafting an image that was easy to accept. I used the sceptre to my advantage, in that respect; I spoke the delirium it had driven me into."

Her fire flickered.

"You took the truth, and made it lie for you."

Loki wavered, at the way her words cut a little too close to the bone.

"I enjoyed it," he said stoically. "Wreaking havoc and destruction and pain. It felt- good. Temporarily."

"It's always temporary," she said dully. "The satisfaction of reminding yourself that you can make them bleed. But it never lasts long. You'll always need more." She blinked out of her reverie, giving a sharp exhalation from between her teeth. "Even though you felt that way, you still made yourself lose."

"They didn't make it easy for me," Loki muttered, and she exhaled a gust of rueful laughter. "I had expected a more organised response. But- yes. If it was Midgard, I knew that it could work. This realm is underestimated, amongst other worlds. With all that unrefined potential, with enough of a shove in the right direction, I knew they could defeat me. Thanos' reach is not yet so great that it extends to the dungeons of Asgard, and his power is not yet so consolidated that he will challenge Odin directly. It will not be so forever, but this will buy time, at least."

She tapped at her collarbone.

"Thanos won't stop." It was phrased as a near-question.

"No, he will not. He will bide his time, and strike again. And next time," Loki added darkly, "he will not send someone who is trying to lose. The Avengers Initiative is a start, but this planet will need far more to have a hope of standing against the Mad Titan, as will the rest of the Nine. No corner of the galaxy will be safe from him, once he makes his move."

Her eyes narrowed into the middle distance, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.

He watched her straighten a sharp tug, sweeping her calves underneath her and rising onto her knees.

"I have a question."

"You have many questions, darling," Loki countered, amused, lifting his boot from the bench and swivelling to face her directly.

"In my defence, I gave you fair warning about that debt."

Loki let himself laugh, rich as spilled wine.

"So you did. Very well. Ask, beloved."

She sobered swiftly, like stratospheric winds drawing clouds across the sun, the air cooling rapidly.

"Why does Thanos want the Tesseract? Enough that he was willing to gamble the sceptre for it?"

Loki bit down on the instinctive obfuscation, a misdirection already forming in the mercurial silver of his tongue.

He let it dissolve and liquefy, reforming.

"Thanos seeks a certain set of artifacts." Loki explained with feigned nonchalance. "Individually, they are sources of immense power. When combined, they hold the potential to reshape the universe with nothing more than a gesture. If the wielder can withstand their collective energy long enough to tame it to their will, that is."

Loki could taste her tension, hazel eyes wide and faintly panicked, gazing at him for a long moment.

"Infinity in the palm of your hand," she breathed.

Loki's breath halted in his chest, lungs icing over.

She exhaled sharply, her head dropping into her hands.

"Stars above-" she hissed, "verdammt, cào, faen, ben-zonna, it's- he's after-"

"Does SHIELD know?" Loki said urgently, low and sharp. "Do they know about-"

"No," she reassured him immediately, head whipping up, and Loki felt some of his alarm ebb, "no, they have no idea, they barely understand the Tesseract, they don't- they don't know those artifacts exist, or what they are-"

"But you do," Loki pressed. "How?"

Her fingers twitched, raking against the wool hem of her high socks, twisting into the fine lace of her shorts.

Loki could see her careful selection of her words, a final safeguard against anyone listening in.

"Eternity in an hour."

The meaning hit him with the blunt, concussive force of a blow from Mjolnir.

Slowly, Loki eased up in his seat like a cobra uncoiling, expressionless.

Internally, he calculated and recalculated and reworked his tentative plans, reshuffling pieces on the board.

"It's safe," she assured him. "It's been safe for a long time."

Loki gazed at her for a long moment.

Her eyes were intense, steady as gold.

The decision crystallised beneath his skin.

Loki watched her apprehension drain away when she saw it.

"That's two, then," he breathed out, "so far. Possibly three."

She laced her fingers together, pressed in a bridge across her mouth.

"The others?"

"Unknown."

"That may be for the better."

Loki gave a soft scoff of agreement.

Her shoulders were curled inwards under the weight of the conversation, her gaze distant and hard.

"What does Thanos want them for?"

Loki exhaled quietly, rising to his feet.

"He intends to destroy half of all life within the universe," he said unfeelingly. "And he is not particular about which half."

She bit her lip. Loki wanted to reach out and thumb the supple flesh from between her teeth, soothing the sting.

"Darling."

With a swift blink, she lifted her eyes to his.

"What can I do?"

A strained, sarcastic laugh hissed from between his teeth. "What will you do, my heart?" He retorted. "Take up arms, storm his stronghold, and rip the Mad Titan's heart out to be roasted upon a spit?"

Her irises ignited like witchlight, frightening away the dark, any vestiges of indecision falling away, and Loki knew all at once that he had said the wrong thing.

She unfolded herself and rose to her feet, carved resolute beneath the muted cotton and lace and wool. Her head canted sweetly, belied by the slice of her eyes.

"Come," she quoted, soft as swansdown, strong as pain, "bid me do anything for thee."

She was terrifyingly sincere.

"No," he blurted out, his heart strangled, "no, beloved, you don't understand-"

"Mephisto stole my father's soul." Her posture was loose, comfortable, brimming with understated intent, and Loki wondered frantically if he could summon shackles strong enough to bind her and resist her mana until he could talk her back into sanity. "I tore open an interdimensional rift, and entered his domain to bargain with him. He offered an Orphean deal- my soul as collateral if I failed. I agreed. He underestimated me. I reached the gates without looking back once, when Mephisto sent his hoards after me, to drag me around and force me to turn." Her fingertips skimmed her collarbone, a muscle in her jaw shifting. "The power I unleashed ripped through his domain, broke thousands of soul contracts, and collapsed the Infernal Gates behind me. I took back my father's soul."

She drew her shoulders back, rising to her full height.

"The devil made a deal with me, and he lost."

"Thanos," Loki said frigidly, "is not Mephisto."

She, of all people, couldn't overlook the truth in that statement.

Even in spite of it, Loki had no doubt that if he had asked for Thanos' head, she still would have turned from the chamber, and travelled east of the sun and west of the moon just to hack it from his shoulders- but Loki wasn't asking, would not ask, and he had to hope that it was enough.

She relented by a few grudging degrees, and Loki felt a pang of relief.

"Thirty seconds, then."

Loki frowned slightly. "What?"

"Thirty seconds," she repeated, scanning the room with an analytical gaze, clean as the sweep of a scythe, "at most, to take the Tesseract, and break open this cell. We can be gone before they even raise the alarm. The Tesseract wanted to help me- it wanted me to find you- and it responded to you, when you asked it to open the way to Earth." She spun back towards him. "It will help us now. We can use it to skip across the universe, out of reach. I can have us out in thirty seconds. All you have to do is say yes."

Loki gazed at her for a long moment, his heart in equilibrium and poised to tip the balance.

His eyes burned and his throat closed, blinking rapidly as he realised what he had to say.

"You have no idea," he said tightly, "how much I wish I could."

Her smile was bittersweet.

"But you can't."

It was a statement, not a question. He stepped forward as though he could reach out and soothe the sting.

"I want nothing more than to run away with you," Loki told her, tender as a fresh bruise.

"But you can't."

Loki didn't answer. He didn't have to.

She dragged in a deep breath, shaking her pale blonde hair back from her shoulders like a sun-struck cloud, and looking up over the top of the containment cell, arms folded against the pain singing through her.

"Alright. What else do you want, then?" She asked. "Beyond the obvious and immediate, what do you want? Liberty? Revenge? Redemption?"

Loki laughed quietly.

"I don't have much use for redemption," he divulged with a wry smile. "And absolution would be wasted on me."

"Then what?" She sank half a step closer, buffered by the external curve of glass, inexorable as the sun and ripping dazzling shrapnel through the aperture of his irises. "What else can I give you, Loki?"

The fine plate of her façade was breaking open, and Loki finally understood.

She was looking for the pomegranate seeds that he would be willing to swallow, for a cord to tether between them, for whatever would hook and keep him close long enough until he wanted to stay.

She was cutting her own heart out of her chest, to use as bait.

What else can I give you?

Loki kept his eyes on hers as, slowly, he moved and closed the last of the gap between them.

"What if I asked?"

"What?"

"Earlier. You said I had but to ask. When you said that you do not ask for what you are unwilling to give."

He heard her breath snag, décolletage skipping as her lungs stuttered, the shadow of her clavicle cutting deeper.

Something liquid-bright suffused through her.

Loki recognised it, at last. It was the same look she had worn when he had first spoken to her- and again, when he had told her that she should fear him.

Relief, victory, hope.

A sigh rushed out of her, and she looked away.

"Fuck. Daddy's going to kill me when he finds out," she muttered, resigned and remorseless.

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[taurussoulastrology]

Pallas in Sagittarius ♐️ Rx

Pallas in Sagittarius ♐️ went retrograde today through July 9th.

For those that are unfamiliar, Pallas Athene, she is technically a dwarf planet, not an asteroid, so don't under estimate her energy! She is associated with and governs the signs of Libra, Aquarius, and Leo.

She's a warrior queen; the virgin goddess of wisdom; a strategist, and was invincible in battle!

The mythology behind Pallas Athene starts with her birth from the head of Zeus, or otherwise known as Jupiter! Named after Athens in Greece, she is the goddess of wisdom and justice, and is a protector.

She has creative intelligence, she is sexual through the utilization of Venus. Her essence brings together mental qualities from the air elements( Libra & Aquarius) while her creativity attributes hail from the fire sign of Leo. These 3 signs form an aspect pattern that combines the opposition, trine, and sextile. This aspect configuration in the kite family stabilizes the inherent power of Libra- Aquarius trine, while the Leo- Aquarius opposition provides a focal point for the release of creative tension.

Pallas has an amazing story and she is most definitely a goddess that is undeniably fascinating. If you're interested in learning about her mythology more &/or what she represents and values astrologically, please lmk in the comments, I'd be happy to do a full write up on her.

For now here's some basic info on her rulerships and what Pallas going retrograde can mean to the collective.

As I've mentioned she's a goddess of wisdom, so she can indicate intelligence, genius, learning problems, perception of patterns and skills, foresight, artistic abilities ranging from the visual arts to pottery & domestic crafts like weaving or knitting, to musical instruments.(& oh so much more!!!)

She signifies healing powers, both mental and physical, homeopathy, psychological healing to cellular regeneration.

She is a goddess of justice and rules over political activism,a champion of the people, and a warrior for feminism. Having a well placed Pallas and Eris in your chart can certainly point to a champion and defender of the people, but most importantly for women! She brings in so much strength, it's seriously a shame that her (Eris, Ceres, Psyche & Vesta for starters) aren't talked about more and used more in chart readings being that they're dwarf planets, not asteroids...

♐️🪬Pallas Retrograde✨️🧿

As with any retrograde planet this period is about introspection. Pallas symbolizes our capacity for wisdom, strategy, and the warrior spirit within us. She urges us to fight for our beliefs and truths. However, when in retrograde, especially being in the expansive and truth-seeking sign of Sagittarius, the invitation is not external conquests. It's a deep, introspective pilgrimage into the realms of our innermost thoughts and beliefs. This retrograde period becomes a sacred pause, allowing us to sift through the sediment of our convictions, to question what we have accepted as truth, and to confront the philosophies that guide our minds and lives. It is a call for you to start an inbound journey that's just as significant as any outward exploration.

Pallas retrograde in Sagittarius magnifies & intensifies our search for truth and justice. Daring us to dream and think bigger, to question boundaries, ideologies, and outdated beliefs. She's asking us to let go of what no longer serves our highest good and to make room for new spiritual, mental, and authentic philosophies & ideologies & become more authentic with ourselves and with others. Asking you to become more braver than you ever have before in your life. This isn't always an easy retrograde but the results give you the potential to live to your most highest and most profound achievements. To balance all that inner wisdom, strength, creativity, and perception to not only heal yourself physically but mentally and emotionally as well.

This may be uncomfortable to start with especially with Mercury Retrograde around the corner(& North Node- Chiron conjuct), but by embracing it and working through it, the end results will be out of this world! I mean who doesn't want to live with a balanced inner warrior soul? Open yourself up to receive this wisdom, insight, power, and energy! It will not be easy, but the best things are never easy.

Adding in the Mercury Rx-Chiron- North Node conjunction & the solar eclipse(all in Aries mind you) this is no coincidence that she is going retrograde at this moment in time!

We are living in a karmic number 8 year; ruled by Saturn; the year of the 🐉 dragon! The dragon just happens to represent the nodes of destiny and karma -

with all these energies lining up before and after the solar eclipse I truly believe the universe has something magical and maybe even a but intense lined up for us.

So embrace all this energy positively and harness it not only for you on a personal level, but for humanity, as well!

#Pallas #PallasAthene #Sagittarius #retrograde #AstrologyCommunity #astrologyobservations #innerwarrior #innerhealing

[inqorporeal]

Post-66 Pirate AU?

The "Post-66 Pirate AU", which doesn't have a proper title, is basically a massive What If? where instead of taking Luke to Tatooine, Obi-Wan hides him among Hondo's pirate company and gets more involved with the rebellion from the start instead of hiding in a cave.

It took some time -- and some costly flying, breaking the remains of his fleet into smaller groups -- to triangulate the signal's source: a beacon dropped in an asteroid field on the outer reaches of an uninhabitable system. The code, however… oh, Hondo knew that code. He was one of perhaps only a handful of sentients entrusted with it, and assembling a response took the better part of a day. Their patience was rewarded when a small ship, barely more than a shuttle, emerged from its hiding place on one of the larger asteroids and made its cautious way out.

As hiding places went, it was a surprisingly effective one. One would have to be quite the pilot to make it through. Hondo commanded the hangar bay be opened and rushed down in time to see the battered craft settle in the tiny space between the other ships.

When the ramp finally opened, Hondo could have wept with relief. He restrained himself from running to the man who emerged warily, instead walking forward with his arms outstretched in welcome.

“My friend! It relieves me greatly to see you alive!”

General Kenobi -- oh, who was Hondo kidding, he had long since landed on more familiar terms with the Jedi -- cast nervous eyes around the hangar. “Hondo. I… had hoped that was your ship I'd spotted.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, Hondo gasped, “You truly hoped it was me? Kenobi, I'm touched!” Now in range, he reached out and grasped the human's shoulders. “You look dreadful, my friend. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but you smell dreadful as well. Does that tiny craft have only sonics? You must have been hiding there for some time! Come, come, we will find you something less, eh, aromatic to wear--”

Obi-Wan was protesting and finally raised his voice over Hondo's relieved babble. “Please! I need to talk to you first.” He pulled Hondo up the ramp into the shuttle, which was most definitely going to be stripped for parts and tossed back among the asteroids before they left this system.

Given the events of the past few months, Hondo could forgive his friend's paranoia. “What is it, Kenobi? How did you end up out here?”

The Jedi sagged into one of the few seats in the cramped lounge/galley. “I was trying to reach Tatooine, but there was an unexpected Imperial presence in the system. I got as far away as I could, but I'm almost out of fuel. And supplies.” He gave an exhausted laugh and scrubbed his hands over his unshaven face. “It's been a very long week.”

“So I imagine!” There was an additional smell in the air that Hondo couldn't quite place; he glanced around without being too obvious about it. “But why would you want to go to Tatooine, of all the dustballs? There are many more pleasant worlds to choose from.”

The Jedi ceased his fidgeting long enough to give the pirate a measuring look. “I was… on a mission, I suppose. But the Star Destroyers made me reconsider. You're not being pursued, are you?”

Hondo had to laugh; it came out sounding more cracked and fragile than he liked. “Us? No, no more than any other pirates now. We cannot stay in one place too long, you see.”

Obi-Wan was nodding as he spoke. “It might be for the best,” he murmured, more to himself, but Hondo tilted his head in curiosity. The Jedi shook himself and offered a small, half-hearted grin that didn't quite reach his exhaustion-bruised eyes. “Do you remember all those times you invited me to join your crew?”

Hondo’s heart leaped at the question, but he could play the cagey game, if that would set Obi-Wan at ease. “Of course! Your skills would be an invaluable asset -- and if I may say, you are every bit as conniving as a pirate should be, my friend. The life would suit you.”

The other man's mouth twitched with actual humor. “If your offer was in earnest, then consider me speculating. However, I have a… complication.”

“There are always complications.”

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan gestured for Hondo to wait as he went into the closet-sized cabin; he emerged a moment later with a blanket-wrapped bundle cradled in his arms. “This is my complication.”

Hondo stared at the sleeping… infant? He had never before seen a human so young or tiny. Carefully, he tugged part of the blanket back so he could see the chubby pink face. Something about the way Obi-Wan held the child suggested much more than simple protectiveness.

“Kenobi,” he said softly, “who is this?”

“One of the last Jedi younglings, rescued from the purge of the Temple.” It wasn't entirely true, from the way Obi-Wan's eyes shifted, but Hondo would let him keep the story. No wonder he clutched the bundle like it was priceless. “He must be kept safe from the Emperor. We had thought Tatooine would be beyond his notice, but it seems not. But it is very difficult to locate a ship in space….” He trailed off, glancing up at Hondo with cautious hope, even as Hondo filed the mysterious ‘we’ away for later questioning. “Staying with you might be safer.”

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Intelligent life

Some planets are built for intelligent life. Asteroids sculpted into warrens of caves; barren hunks of rock, terraformed or xenoformed and fashioned into some new sort of home. Even space stations, welcoming travellers to their titanium shores, may grow so large that they form fresh worlds in their own right, the perfect fit for their ingenious creators.

More commonly, they develop new intelligent life of their own: dominant species emerging from within a stable habitat, organically learning to improve their lot, finding ways to bend the rules of nature. They come writhing out of the ocean, clambering down from the trees, and crawling out of ignorance with their tools and words and memories, on the path to claim their birthplace as their throne.

Still more planets do not see intelligent life at all, passing their entire lifespan in that blessed silence, that blissful ignorance - although as such, any species they do possess are unaware of quite how fortunate they are.

But there are some - a rare, ill-fated few - which simply have it thrust upon them.

The Sierra 470 hadn't been meant to ferry pioneers through space. It was only a small gondola under a solar sail, suitable for brief trips between greater craft, with barely enough room for its current occupants. But it had been built as the lifeboat for the ship which had.

That mighty vessel, the SKG Ultramarine, had been en route to a neighbouring galaxy when it was grounded on an iceberg of asteroid debris, its hull ruptured beyond repair. Amongst that backdrop of catastrophe, these escape pods had been cast like dandelion seeds upon the solar winds.

Guntan-B3 was an ocean planet, a few bald islands in a frozen sea, and not the most welcoming to terrestrial life. Still, the crew of the Sierra met it with the gratitude of a drowning man clutching a proffered hand, without pausing to check if it belonged to friend or foe. Like beggars, refugees were seldom afforded the luxury of choice.

Their capsule arrived as a stray bullet, hurtling through the emptiness of space, and punctured the planet's atmosphere as much by chance as by design. For the tightly huddled masses inside, it was a welcome break from the terror of the abyss. They cannonballed into the lilac surf, sending a plume of water soaring overhead and giving rise to ripples which led waves to crash on distant shores... and then set about following them.

Their lifeboat had washed up onto a desert island, in a sense, although Guntan-B3 had few true islands to offer them. The Sierra 470 was not meant for life at sea, and the survivors had to repurpose it into a raft: broken girders turned to oars, the solar sail cut loose, and new sails stitched from the robes of those who'd fallen in the crash.

They cannibalised the ship's technology, air conditioning systems becoming a rudimentary motor, and it wasn't long before they thought about doing the same to each other. Day followed day, and their stores began to look as bare as the horizon, a hazy smudge between the ashen sky and purple sea. No doves appeared to save them from the flood, and lead them to their Mouth Ararat.

But then the peolops did.

They were roughly seal-like in appearance, rotund yet sleek, or simply adapted to a life in the sea. The crew named them for the sounds they made, a sort of bubbling greeting as they looked up to the makeshift deck. They were curious, friendly, unafraid - and why would they be? They had no natural predators, and had hitherto been alone above the waves, where they only came to breed in places where their young could also feel secure.

Intentionally or not, they led the Sierra 470 to one such site, a rocky atoll that barely rose above the surf. It was a snug fit for one corner of the spacecraft's hull, and they nestled into their new home, a place where they could stretch their legs and wade into the periwinkle shallows. They washed, and laughed, and thanked the peolops for their aid as they swam in circles around them.

But joy soon faded as their other needs returned. The pioneers were cold, and hungry, and desperate. It was nice to have friends, but all of the friendliness in the world couldn't furnish them with the other things they lacked. They had no need for companionship, on a lifeboat already crammed to the gills. They had a need for furs, and fire, and food. The peolops had a thick hide, and oily blubber, and plentiful flesh.

In future generations, the descendants of those settlors would tell each other stories of a world imbued with magic, of friendly animals that lived side-by-side, a world that could never exist. But there was no magic in their world. The pioneers had proven that. They scoured the oceans, tracked down every peolop on the planet, stripped them each down to their cartilage, and didn't find an ounce of magic in their hearts.

They had discovered a new life for themselves, utilising the remains of their technology to exert dominion, confusing their intelligence for wisdom. It was an oil lamp that cast a shadow over the rest of the planet. In the absence of the peolops to control their numbers, their prey species began to proliferate, and devoured the white coral which in turn gave them sustenance. Within a century of the Sierra 470's arrival, Guntam-B3 had become every bit as dead as the pioneers had first feared.

Again, adrift not in a flood but in a drought, a desert of their own design, they prayed for a dove to come and guide them on. Again, those prayers were answered: an intact spacecraft, making a controlled descent into the atmosphere in search of future colonies, discovered their atoll, the rusted, water-damaged homes, the apparent savages who huddled in the shallows underneath.

Once the language barrier was breached, they extended an invitation for the descendants to join them on their ship, and the survivors welcomed them with gratitude, sharing smiles of relief as they escorted them aboard. They were intrigued by this alien species, who seemed more advanced than they were now, and perhaps more than they'd ever been. Corralled into some sort of holding pen, they were curious, friendly, unafraid - and why would they be? They had grown up with dominion here.

Like the peolops, they had never known to fear a predator before.

[swifty-fox]

Do you have any Clegan fic WIPS or idea/hcs you haven't shared yet? Getting #Clegan withdrawal :'(

lemme rustle through my bag of goodies

I've got my Sci Fi Au:

Entry Log 2043

-DateStamp: 14th July 5399

-Location: DeepSpace Sector G8677-65HG-76789_I

-Personnel File: Maj. J.C. Egan (Zoot Suit) 

Recording_

“This is Major John Egan, callsign ZootSuit, aboard the vessel M’lle ZigZag. Today is the dawn of my final day of exploration, putting an end to a sixteen-month foray into DeepSpace. Initial findings reveal little of note. A few developing stars and planets; an asteroid belt; and a total of six planets, two of which I will be recommending for a second more thorough exploration of due to planets possibly location being within the ‘Goldilocks Zone.’ I look forward to whiskey, solid food and to breathe air that isn’t recycled from a fucking can. I can’t wait to fuck my husband-”

John pauses.

“Ah, computer erase the last seven words. Reasoning: Irrelevant to mission. I will be entering Hyperspace within the hour, once I hit proper trajectory to slingshot around the primary sun.”

He taps the record button to end the log, carefully labeling the file and placing it in a folder with the few thousand other logs he’d recorded over the last year and a half. A verified library of data, observations and the occasional love-letter. A year and a half of research; one of the longest expeditions ever undertaken by any pilot. Considered bold by some and risky by far more. Deep space played with people's minds, the long stretches of isolation broken up only by Hypersleep creating the perfect recipe for a light case of mental instability.John had trained for this, ran through thousands of psychological tests and millions of scenarios. There was not a person in the universe more capable of this task. 

John rubs his jaw, feeling the scratchy beard and spins out of his pilot's chair, leaving the computer to guide the craft. 

Two Fingers down(Bikeriders AU)

“I don’t like liars.”

“I’m an honest liar,” John whispers against his lips

“You cheated.” Gale accuses.

“Cheating implies I was playing to win. Throwing the game to lose on purpose is different.” his hands fumble at Gale’s belt buckle, the metallic sound of it undoing loud in the alleyway. Gale sucks in a ragged breath.

“That’s not-” Gale groans as John gets his free hand around his dripping cock, “-even remotely what it implies. I don’t fuck cheaters.”

“You’re gonna let this cheater fuck you.”

“Is that so?” Gale's hips buck into the tight clench of John’s fist, his pubic hair darker than the rest, almost a sandy brown color.

“Yeah, if you call that cheating then I’m disqualified. Winner-” John bends over to spit onto the glistening head of Gale's dick, rubbing the saliva down his shaft, “-Takes all.” 

I've got my Pirate John AU which is just concepts at this point LOL

Little Beasts is still happening! Here's a snippet from part 4:

“You’re really hitting me in the ‘yes daddy harder’ places with that face you’re pulling right now,” John says, swirling his finger through the over-complicated mess of a coffee in front of him.

It tasted awful, but he ordered it just to see if the kid behind the counter could actually pull it off.

Chick continued to keep his ‘yes daddy harder’ expression, which was in fact a look of profound exasperation and disappointment. And didn’t really awaken anything in John, but he found it plenty amusing to see the way the older mans eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“I could have you thrown in jail today if i wanted, you know,” Chick Harding takes a sip of his own soy latte, “I could make up a reason, I hold your life in my hands.” 

“That’s a misuse of power and a miscarriage of justice, and also you like me. I’m your favorite little POW just admit it.” 

“Someone’s going to pop you one in the mouth, mocking veterans like that.”

John spreads his hands wide in a dont shoot the messenger sort of gesture “hey, I can claim it. My great gandpops was a POW. Got his flight jacket and everything hanging in my closet. This is my history.” 

“I think I should arrest you.”

John grins at him.

“You been meeting with Brady?” Chick asks, setting his coffe down with a pleased hum, begins folding his utensils wrapper accordion style until the cheap paper has become nothing more than a little square. It’s the same thing he does every time, restless fingers the only betrayal that the parole officer wasn’t just a robot.

Which John already knew was false. He’d looked the guy up the moment he’d had access to internet again. Had a neatly sealed Juvenile record and an exemplary military record which meant the guy was both secretly interesting and also probably a little batshit.

“Every couple weeks just like those fascist fucks tells me too. Just like i meet you every six weeks and we pretend I’m in need of babysitting and you pretend you’re not hoping that college boy will finally write his number on your coffee cup.” John leans forward on his elbows,the table creaking under his weight  “I could do it for you, if you’re too shy.” 

Chick doesn’t give him the satisfaction of blushing, but John can see the way his sholulders straighten slightly.

“He even looks like me a bit too. Curly brown hair,” John smooths his fingers across his mustache, “ the sexy landing strip. You sure you’re not displacing some sexual attraction?”

“You are the devil incarnate. That barista means nothing to me.” 

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy, meeting your favorite little felon.” 

“Only person around here that seems grumpy is you, Egan.”

“Me?” John stretches, tilting his chair back with one foot until he nearly topples backward, “Whay’ve I got to be grumpy about? I’ve got a shitty dead-end job, a dying grandma who, by the way, isn’t actually even my grandma, and i’ve got to check in with some middle aged drill sergeant with a thing for some guy who looks like Sean Cody’s next up and coming.” 

“I don’t know what that even means.”

“Oh you so do.” John smiles.

[heretic-saint-taliesin]

[Communications commence, Boris sounds reasonably normal_] 

Day Three salvage ship The Wretched. Flight Engineer Boris reporting. Crying yourself to sleep every now and again can be good for the body_

I’m not optimistic at all, but doing nothing just lets intrusive thoughts and imminent death creep in. I’ll do stuff_

Maybe luck isn’t entirely abandoned. Poking at the systems has granted me access to LANDING-04. I thought all the landing modules were lost when the asteroid hit since it was over that way. Maybe this one escaped unscathed. I won’t be able to tell the extent of it til I get down there but maybe. Maybe I can hope_

[Footsteps and doors opening and closing, Boris mutters to himself inaudibly for a little bit and then speaks up_]

ADAM would’ve been able to run me diagnostics without a manual look - save me the time and step count. But now it’s “if I want it done, I do it myself” around here. ADAM would’ve probably complained about running diagnostics anyways. Might’ve interrupted him and Ada playing chess again or something. God forgive the AI do its job_

[A pause, more footsteps and a keycard being used_] 

LANDING-04 don’t let me down_

[The sound of a door lock sliding open and a rush of air and steam escaping. Boris sighs_]

Hope is a thing with feathers and my bird got fucking plucked_

[Pause_]

Considering the scanner has been fucked and showing screwy blobs I should have figured it was wrong to show me this place was working just fine. Looks like it got hit just as bad as the rest. No breach in the hull at least and no depressurisation or anything drastically bad - but it still looks like LANDING-04 is not going to be doing any landing safely again_

[The clink of something metal being kicked and a small yelp_]

Fuck’s sake_

I just can’t have anything can I Arya? Nothing goes my way on this rustbucket of a ship. Urgh_

[Boris swipes his keycard again and it beeps. The door lock closes audibly. There’s a small pause and then the beep of a manual code being entered onto the pad_]

No point hauling extra useless baggage. Maybe if I jettison it the thing will go play fetch?_

[Boris laughs_]

There_

[A loud rumbling noise as the module detaches and breaks away. The main hull of the ship creaks and groans_]

Gone. I don’t want to hope any harder_

With LANDING-04 being a waste of time, I might as well see if anything else in this bucket of once-moving bolts is still operational. I’m no mechanic, or the kind of engineer who knows every part of a spacecraft, but I can try at least. I’ve done basic fix-up work on smaller crafts before and this is just… A really big version of them, right? I remember the schematics from training. Engines systems and such… I’ll take a look_ 

[The recording goes silent for a long while and there are some brief instances where it records sound. Footsteps, doors opening and the creak and groan of the ship struggling to maintain itself in space. Boris’ talk is mostly muttering about the works he’s attempting to do or is incoherent. A few loud huffs and bouts of swearing as he clambers about the engines_]

No… Nothing in this one. Not there… Ah_

[A loud thud_]

Ow! My head!_

[More rummaging about, the static on the recording device hums as there’s the sounds of tinkering_]

Well. That didn’t work_

Is nothing gonna work in this damn system?!_

[Boris huffs and there’s the sound of him slumping against a wall. Around him the hull creaks_]

No good. I don’t think I’m getting anything out of this at all actually. One problem fixed just sets up seven more issues I need to look into. Things need parts I don’t have, or need additional power and pairs of hands I can’t use. It’s a huge job. Even a full crew working back home would struggle with this one. Wouldn’t be shocked if they just said it’s a full write off on these engines_ 

[He bangs the metal a few times for emphasis and they echo around him. A loud creak in return makes Boris yelp_]

Still at least it's holding together the minimal systems I do have? I think. We’re not moving but we’re also not driving headfirst into a nearby star so there’s that… Fucking hell is that what it’s really all come to? I think being alone and drifting in space is really starting to get to me. Still I have no answers on the engines. I think there’s no point wasting more time on them at all really_

What the_ 

[An eerie hissing noise is just about caught on the recording device. Much of it is out of the range of the recorder but Boris’ breathing picks up_]

The… The fuck is that. Is that the comms system? Doug this better not be some legacy audio you left on the data system or some shit!_

[Running footsteps, the muffled sound of scratching and an incoherent, eerie voice speaking over the ship’s communications system_]

ADAM Are you playing a joke on me!? You’re dead and offline but if you’ve decided now to not be this is not fucking funny!_

[A quiet, suppressed whimper as a door opens_]

It’s using the comms. I don’t know how the fuck but it’s using the comms… I… I_

[Typing noises_]

I’ll kill the audio system. Before it says even more. It’s talking to me and I hate it! It’s like it’s inside my own fucking head! Stop it! Shut up shut up shut up!_

[Boris yells and slams his hand down on the panel_]

DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT ARKADY THAT WAY!_

[Silence. Boris’ breathing steadies carefully_]

No more comms. They’re shut down. This recorder just backs up onto the server mainframe but it’s otherwise disconnected. I can’t go broadcasting myself if that thing knows how to broadcast back. Jesus I didn’t even know it could fucking talk… Let alone say… Fuck! I don’t want to know that this thing has sentience!_ 

No more. No fucking more. The audio hack was a step too far for all of it and I need out. I need… Urgh I need a nap and a long break away from the comms room. That voice was unlike anything. Inhuman, unreal. It sees me as a toy it wants ahold of - like it played with Arya and the others. I… I’m just a game to this thing_

I hate it all_

Flight Engineer Boris Strugatsky Signing off_ 

[grayrazor]

White Knight

Sol’s Stalwart Defender

Length: 15 meters

Wingspan (fully outstretched): 10 meters

Empty Mass: 5700 kg

Armaments: 6 Mark-IX radiation-seeking fusion missiles, 1 particle cannon (12.1 GigaWatt range)

Maximum Delta-V: <redacted>

Minimum Turning Radius: <redacted>

There was only one thing more frustrating than the rejection of the Intelligence Air/Space Superiority Drone Prototype “White Knight” from front line service and its assignment to interceptor duty in the Outer Solar System.  That would be the fact that they left me on.  Five years the war had gone on now, and all I had to occupy myself was staring at thousands of dead moons around the four gas giants.   A post-human mind can only take so much.  Locked into my launch tube on Uranus’ moon Titania, I could not even move.  I might not have minded so much, but a layer of dust was starting to form, and the maintenance drones refused dust me, insisting that it was not a maintenance problem, as being dirty did not interfere with my primary functions.  They may not be legally sapient, but I swear those things have developed a capacity for a malicious sense of humor.  

Then one day, something unexpected happened.  My EM sensors picked up a pattern of radiation, the sort only produced by the formation of an opening into hyperspace.  Something was coming out near Saturn.  It was fairly faint, probably an attempt at stealth, I would be the only one in the solar system that could see it, who knew that a potentially enemy craft was entering our space, whether to spy or hit and run.  I sent a signal to Command, but it would be at least forty-five minutes before the signal would get there, five hours before any craft from Earth could get out this far.  I was on my own.  A cloud of regolith erupted from Titania’s surface as I blasted off toward Saturn at full burn.  

Coasting into the Saturn system.  I brake just above the rings and run silent, trying to minimize any internal radiations that could distract me from the intruder’s telltale energy glow.  To win this, I would need the element of surprise more than anything.  Then something moves below, a great fish amongst the school of glaciers.  It rises up out of Saturn’s rings like a breaching whale: the spherical hull of an enemy escort carrier.  This I had not foreseen.  I was expecting a covert ops craft, maybe a small frigate or destroyer.  That the enemy could smuggle in something like this so unobtrusively has dire implications.  But that’s not relevant now; now I need to worry about the fact that the detection equipment on this sort of ship could pick me apart from the debris in this system even if all my systems were completely online.  A feeling suspiciously like a fight or flight instinct kicks in as I fire my thrusters to dive into the ring, arcs of burning plasma close enough that I can feel their warmth on my metal skin.  I wonder if that was something my programmers built in, something like a simulated adrenal gland, of if it is all in my mind, something inherited from the human pilots whose minds were scanned, replicated, and merged to create mine.  

In this ring I have to move at what feels like a painfully slow pace.  This isn’t like the Asteroid Belt where you could fly all the way through without even seeing a single object; here the blocks of ice are as close together as I am long from nose to tail.  I have to concentrate every second on weaving between them as they spin and bob and collide with one another.  This isn’t helped by the fact the escort carrier has launched a flight of fighters after me, writhing octopoid drones with thrusters on their manifold tentacles.  I swerve in a flat spin and boost inches away from a large chunk; the missile chasing me can’t turn as tightly by a fraction of a degree and impacts, the glow of a nuclear fusion explosion blinds my rear sensors for a moment.  Unfortunately for a pursuer, its forward sensors were the ones blinded, it smacks head on into the shattered pieces of the late chunk of ring, adding its own fuel to the conflagration.

I notice one fighter hanging below ring level.  I drop out for a moment and launch two missiles.  The enemy’s point defence plasma cannon is fast enough to stop one missile, but by the time it shoots at the second it’s already inside the blast radius and melted in an instant.  

Flying back into the ring, I extend my landing claws and perch below an outcropping on one irregularly shaped bit of ice.  I fill the spectrum with static, drawing the enemy in but making them unable to find my exact position.  When two fly past I open my missile bay and launch my last four warheads at them.  Three all lock on to the same target, vaporizing the enemy before it can react.  The other sees the missile coming and ducks behind two colliding rocks, which absorb the blast’s energy.  This one’s a mite cleverer, his red stripes probably indicating a higher-end model.  He immediately traces the missile exhaust back to me, and matches my every move when I blast off again.  He saves his ammunition, opting to close to point-blank range so I can’t escape.

I burn through fuel trying to outfly this one, exhausting the spaceborne equivalents of zigs and zags, immelmann turns and aileron rolls, but somehow he’s always right on my tail.  I break out of the rings and make for the moon Titan.  After a few thousand kilometers of just barely outrunning my opponent, I hit the moon’s atmosphere at a deep angle, hoping the rapid deceleration will make him overshoot.  The drag feels like it’ll pull my wings off, I shake and knock about, a trail of fire behind me that could reach across a small country.  Then the missile comes.  It’s a near miss, detonated by the atmospheric shock waves, but it knocks me out of control.  The aerodynamic shear rips off the doors to my missile bay and one landing claw.  Something’s come loose inside.  I can hear it rattling around when I move.  I visualize gritting my teeth as I sever some pain receptors so I can concentrate.  

I rise out of the atmosphere to find him behind me still.  He fires three missiles, but is still a few clicks away so I have time to shoot them down with my particle turret.  His arsenal must be exhausted, he begins closing the distance between us so I can’t dodge his plasma cannon fire.  Perfect.  When he gets within a shiplength I cut propulsion and fire all the thrusters on one side.  As I spin on the spot to face him I fire my main forward particle cannon, the coruscating indigo beam cuts him neatly in half.  I hang about for a moment to watch the little bits of him spiral down and burn in Titan’s smog.

Through all of this the escort carrier has been steadfastly trundling along on its original course for the Inner Planets.  It now hung in front of Mimas, a tiny 150 meter-in-diameter replica of that moon in shape and color.  There were those who said all spacecraft should be such, that my own streamlined and mirror-polished form was inefficient and backward.  That was probably not the most positive thought to be dwelling on at the time but it took quite a while in computer time to get back to where the starship was now and that was where my mind went.  I am the sum of all human dogfighting skill, a gestalt of the minds of the best pilots Earth ever produced.  It was only natural they should give me the body of an aerospace fighter, a compromise of what a spacecraft needs and what an airplane does.  Lot of good that did me; first time in years I go into an atmosphere and I almost flay myself.  Though I wasn’t doing half bad outrunning those enemy ships even with these airfoils weighing me down.  

I must be in the carrier’s range now.  Bolts of plasma are streaking past my nose.  A pure AI would probably already be vaped now, tracked by the mathematical precision of the starship’s computers.  I am unpredictable though; a human mind with a computer’s speed.  They have no idea what I’ll do next.  Well, unless they have more like that last one.

The missiles come now, slower than the near-massless ionized gas.  Next will come fighters, but one problem at a time.  When they come closer I fire my particle cannon, groups of converging projectiles now close enough that their explosions catch one another, creating a wall of light between me and the carrier.  I use the distraction to find a small rock just larger than I am floating some distance from the ring.  

I latch onto its surface and rotate my side away from the enemy.  Hopefully before the enemy sensors clear, I fire thrusters, then turn everything off that would emit detectable radiation.  Hopefully the rock’s mass will shield me from their active scanners.  After an eternity of five minutes the greenish glow of the carrier’s defensive energy screen fills my passive sensors.  I immediately jump off the rock, and notice the plasma turrets on the carrier’s surface popping up and whirling to face me like surprised meerkats.  I am amazed at how close I managed to get, they must be very confident in their ability to withstand a meteoroid impact.

The guns fire.  There is searing pain as gas the heat of a small sun burns holes in an airfoil, but that was the only shot they’ll get.  I brake just above the surface of the enemy ship, closer than anyone could ever have expected in a space battle.  The plasma turrets cannot traverse low enough to shoot me, instead they anemically ram their magnetic barrels into the lowest range of their tracks over and over.  I suddenly become aware of my own reflection on the glossy ceramic hull below.  I...have never seen myself before.  Sure, there were diagrams, schematics, the diagnostic readout in my head, but that’s a fair amount different from actually seeing it.  I suppose I had always just visualized myself as just a more flexible fighter jet, an F-14 Tomcat or something with cockpit and wings on a swivel.  But I see the irony in my name now: the White Knight, once human, now cast into the form of a dragon to fight where no man or woman could.  Then I notice that I’m standing on one leg like a flamingo and the silliness of that rather reduces the profundity.

The holes in my wing are still glowing white-hot around the edges, but the pain reception must have melted.  I’m really more of a Black Knight now, my gleaming heat-reflecting coating having been mostly burned away.  I realize I didn’t really plan beyond this point.  I look up to see the enemy fighters swinging back from their sweep to find me.  Then I realize the opportunity I’ve been given.  I lean back and fire my particle cannon with impunity, as the enemy can’t fire back without collateral damage to their own starship.

A half dozen enemy fighters wither before my fiery glare, but then I notice another with red stripes.  He races forward, firing missiles with wild abandon.  The carrier’s turrets fire a bit delayed; some technician inside probably had to rapidly reprogram them to target “friendly” projectiles.  Through the dissipating energy the enemy lands right next to me, tentacles first.  He pauses for a moment to rip out its own communication antenna, some part of me imagining he’s trying to ignore the beratements of some superior inside the carrier,  I blast off, and though my speed is a relatively slow 300 kph, it feels like faster than I have ever been because of the carrier’s superstructure racing by as I hug its spherical surface.  I intentionally narrowly dodge antennas and turrets, but my enemy clearly has a much tighter turning radius than I.

He begins firing his plasma cannons, at this close range he cannot miss.  The damaged airfoil is severed completely, reducing my maneuverability and thrust by a fourth.  I slow and stop behind a large structure sticking out from the escort carrier’s hull.  The second Red Stripe just keeps on going, first trying to get me by blasting through the tower and taking me with it.  His cannons insufficient to penetrate its armor, he flies past and begins rotating back around.  He is still shooting, but not directly at me.  I’m damaged.  He could finish me off at any time.  This one’s intelligent enough to desire revenge, to toy with me and kill me slowly.  They really need to work on that bug.

Seeing my severed wing drifting by, I quickly run a trajectory calculation.  As Red Stripe gets right up close I fire its thruster, shooting the metal triangle right through his octopus head.  The airfoil tears keeps going and sticks in a turret gun, then explodes.  Red stripe makes a motion like a salute with one tentacle, though it could have just been a dying spasm, for he then goes limp and slowly spins away.

The I see a whoosh of gas escaping into the void and crystallizing a quarter of the way around the sphere.  One fighter comes out, then another.  The hangar doors are open, they’re launching reinforcements.  Just what I needed.  Actually, I couldn’t have planned this better.  I rocket into the path of the launching fighters, shooting blindly into the hole from which they emerged.  One fighter about to launch explodes, then another.  The escaping atmosphere blows me away from the growing fire and internal explosions.  The carrier’s engines go offline, and the festering hole in it’s side is now acting as a thruster pushing it back the way it came.  I check the time: it’s been seven hours since I sent a message from Titania.  I slowly spin there, watching the carrier’s crew in spacesuits desperately trying to make repairs.  Maybe I should sell them some maintenance drones.  

An hour later I see it.  A new star growing that I zoom in to see is one of our light cruisers.  It fires a warning shot two kilometers away from the stricken enemy with its railgun, a special round coated with brightly glowing chemicals and designed to self-destruct to prevent its eventually hitting somebody.

The world seems like it’s losing resolution, and I realize my sensor input is actually becoming more pixelated.  Soon it becomes dimmer as well.  I’m not afraid of termination.  Though granted, they can probably rebuild me if I’m anything less than vaporized.  It’s too bad; after all that I could have used a bit of rest.  I don’t know if my transmitter is still working, but I tell it to send a message anyways, “I see why you wouldn’t send you wouldn’t send us to the front!  You needed me to do all the work around here!”