#Something that is less effective in every way but somehow is more successful due to them relearning the way of Powers

[theblehthatbloos]

I'll leave a basic arc in the tags but my immediate response is:

You're making me randier than NYSNC, do I make you curious baby?

if they rebooted austin powers it would either be the most tone deaf unfunny incredibly offensive movie in years OR they'd do it right and really keep with the times in being very self aware and it would be one of the best films in decades. austin powers would be a massive support of trans rights because trans women means more women for him to shag

[homoeroticvillain]

@tasklinemgr asked about the magic system and family dynamics for ocs on the other post [making a new one so i don't end up with some long ass post] anyways yeahh! under the cut

okay so first off the magic system, it is very much based on the idea that the only reason any magic user is able to do the things they can is because magic itself lets them. pretty much all spells, rituals, incantations, and etc involve in someone asking magic to let you do what you want to do. of course there are certain magic pursuits that involve less asking and more prodding, the best example of this is alchemy.

i also mentioned covens in the last post, this is a general term of a group of witches [notice the use of the word witches instead of the general term magic user] that meet on some sort of regular basis to perform rituals that require multiple people, which is common for higher level spells. they can also be compared to support groups as many involve a head witch leading discussions on relevant topics [mona, the eldest lavelle is the leader of a coven]. there is also debate among magic users about how covens are considered a more feminine practice but it should be noted that witch only refers to a magic user a part of a coven and has nothing to do with gender identity.

warlock is a general term for magic users who do not practice with a coven although some warlocks will form circles with each other for the sake of a large spell but this is rare. it should be noted that being a warlock does not, in definition, mean having a deal with magical being but its common to speculate that any talented warlock must be "cheating" somehow.

it depends heavily on the spell and person for how much they will be following from a book or guide. it also depends quite a lot on the family they belong to, as some families have extensive libraries of spells and how they are to be performed in the traditional [family name] way. the most documented ritual is the declaration ritual which every magic user has to perform in able to use any sort of magic higher than identity rituals [largely regarded as a bunch of hooey] and magic items or anything that is the effect of a curse. declaration spells are also where a magic user can discover their calling, and i actually wrote out the entire ritual at some point in time which i am now putting here

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declaration

-best preformed in teenage years

-around febuary, the first signs of spring

-preform with coven or family preferably

-some covens or family lines have modifications for declarations. its recommended to follow any traditions that apply

bring the following:

-something that represents who you are [identity]

-something that represents where you come from [family]

-something that represents where you want to go [goal]

-freshly spilt blood [your own]

-wax candle

how to perform

-sit down with your coven/family, if present, 5 feet away

-place your identity item in front of you and say "this [item] represents who i am"

-place your family item to your upper left and say "this [item] represents where i come from"

-place your goals item to your upper right and say "this [item] represents where i want to go"

-place your candle in front of you and ask "do you hear me?"

-the candle will light unless you preformed any of the previous steps wrong

-spill blood on the candle and ask "do you accept me?"

-grasp the sides of the candle and close your eyes

-you should now feel and hear magic coursing through your body, this can be very overpowering and some can faint during this. after this sensation fades, open your eyes and look at your candle.

-if your candle is still lit then your declaration was successful and the candle will burn itself down in the coming days and leave a mark that will often give your a hint towards your calling. the next page will guide you through decoding this mark.

-if your candle blew out then your declaration failed but don't worry this is usually due to your items not being true representations in which case identity rituals can be helpful before you attempt to declare again, please reference pg _ for these.

------

and thats it! succeeding in a declaration would allow someone to perform most magic that doesn't require an advanced specialization declaration.

anyways i was also supposed to get into family dynamics for the lavelle siblings so i'll do that now lmao. mona and deux were some of the closest siblings for a long time cause of the fact they were relegated to taking care of their younger siblings but they have since drifted apart. trey was close with pretty much all his siblings since he was the one to break up any fights for his whole life but he has recently passed away from the same heart disease that killed their mother so the only he talks to anymore is sextus. quade and quentin are identical twins and when they were younger pretty much only hung out with each other but as they got older quade distanced himself from his siblings in general. out of all the siblings he practices magic the least and while trey's death caused him to spend more time with his siblings he still maintains a level of distance from the others. quentin has always been rather quiet and has historically faded into the background most of the time but he also has never minded this too much. nowadays he works an office job which he finds surprisingly fulfilling and has two cats, he still finds himself drifting to quade's side at family gathering though. sextus found themself at the brunt of their mother's abuse quite often, a title which they share with the youngest sibling septimus which caused them to be quite close. septimus found themself close to a lot of his siblings due to the fact he has strong healing magic. septimus is also very close with his [2nd] cousin chamomile

anyways also just gonna give some fun facts about all the siblings. mona leads a coven like i mentioned before and she also have 4 girlfriends. she also used to be her mother's favourite since she didn't complain but that changed after she came out as a women. deux performed a rather stupid ritual with his siblings when he was younger [16ish] that resulted in him being partially possessed by a demon, he has since then shared his body with a surprisingly passive demon. he is also married to a women who works as a fortune teller [divination fortune teller not a spirit communication fortune teller like sextus] and they have two concernedly demonic kids together. when trey died he left behind a widow named aiko who continues to be a part of the family and now spends a lot of time at sextus's apartment. quade is married to a man who works as a carpenter [non-magic] and the two are constantly on the border of getting a divorce, this is only made worse by the time they thought adopting a kid would help, young litha find herself constantly at one of her aunt or uncles places. quentin is aroace and incredibly talented at creating quality of life spells, ie a book finding spell he created that now all his siblings use. sextus has an apprentice in justice, a young vampire who latched onto the first person who was nice to them. septimus works as a pharmacist and is also a werewolf, that last fact is supposed to be a secret from his family but he thinks everyone is getting suspicious. he is also missing a finger!

anyways i... could still talk more probably but this post is already really long

[hydrohannah]

Final Updates on my Behavior Modification

Hello, blog! It has been a while since we have checked up on each other. Fret not! I have a ton of updates for you in terms of my behavior modification project which has a goal to: be drinking 72 oz. of water every day for 18 days to be formed as a habit.

For the past three months, I have kept track of my water intake habits and got some exciting results regarding factors, techniques, reinforcements, and even data analysis that connoted significant improvements in this habit.

Beginning with techniques that affected my water intake, I created a simple table that explained a list of techniques that I have used in my journey to drink more water in my Behavior Modification Part 1, and a comparison table of what affected my throughout Behavior Modification Part 2:

In terms of "Drinking Schedule," as the days go on, the drinking schedule became something I had to observe from my water jug, but rather something that came as part of my "body clock," therefore maintaining an effectivity rate of 4 - Effective.

In terms of "Owning a Jug Tracker," my original jug tracker broke on March 31 and I had to buy a new one that is similar, measured with the same ounces but with a different design. I still utilized this, but at times, I used a glass cup (8 ounces) as the base of measurement, or a water bottle bought outside. Water bottles with clear and as much as possible, accurate measurements are very effective in behavior modification.

In terms of "Waking up Early," waking up early became something that was not difficult for me to do. Since waking up early gave good results in the first part of Behavior Modification Part 1. It was quite effective.

In terms of "Eating on Time," it became the biggest motivation for me to drink water. It was the reason for me to refill my water jug continuously, more if I am eating on time. I am able to drink more water than what is aimed! Think of it this way, you get to drink on time if you also get to eat on time.

Similarly from my last behavior modification post, in order to maintain this habit of water intake, I was able to do it through successive approximations, where small steps or sips of drinking water lead me to habitually drink water even more.

Now, let's go back to our Behavior to Reinforcer Mindset table from last time, and talk about their effectiveness in my journey here in Part 2:

As for "If I drink water, I get less sick," drinking water did somehow lessen my risk of getting sick, having this as a reinforcement made me realize that external factors such as climate change or personal fatigue can still make me sick, even if I drink lesser. The reinforcement is effective, but not all the time.

"If I drink water, I get less dehydrated" is the most effective behavior to reinforcement mindset, because drinking water and being less dehydrated is not just a correlation, but a causality. It is a fact that helped me not be dehydrated even after intense heat waves in Metro Manila.

"If I drink water, I get clear skin" only receives a moderately effective rating. Because even if I go beyond my required amount of water drank, skin breakouts are correlated to more than just water intake. Hormone imbalances, oily food intake, climate change, and other factors are correlations to getting clear skin as well. Drinking water is helpful, but not entirely preventive for acne.

"If I drink water, I get good digestive system feedback.". Fortunately, I was able to put this mindset to the test when I experienced constipation after almost a week of no vegetables due to me running out of budget to buy groceries or food, causing me to depend on canned or preserved meals. Water did extremely helpful in helping me escape longer days of constipation from 03/23/23 to 03/25/23.

"If I drink too much water, I will feel bloated.". I realized that this mindset was formed during a time when working out was not a norm, but a requirement for me to fulfill for my fitness training course at the university. If we drink water, complemented by proper diet and exercise, then bloating will not occur. Therefore, this was only moderately effective.

If I drink too less water, I will experience acid burn.". This mindset proved to also become a fact that I could rely on. Because of my fulfillment of drinking water intake ≥ 72 ounces, I fortunately never experienced any acid reflux attacks throughout my behavior modification experience (part 1 to part 2).

Lastly, let us begin tackling quantifiable proof of improvement in my water intake throughout Behavior Modification Part 1 and 2 with the use of tables and analysis which will be presented below:

Part 1 of my behavior modification project ranged within 18 days (February 13 to March 2, 2023). During this time, my water intake ranged from 72 ounces to a high-ounce count of 154 ounces. I had an average water intake of 86.13 ounces and has a stable trendline sloping positively. This meant that my water intake had a noticeable and increased change throughout the 18 days. In addition to that, the trendline for my water intake is = 2.01x + 69.1, which means that I had a rate range of 2.01 as I was progressing through my behavior modification journey. This range of change was still quite high but predicted since we ought to choose behaviors that we believe still needed change in the first place. Analyzing the chart, I could also observe how I only really decided to push myself further at the end of my part 1, causing a wavered line graph in the latter part. With that said, what I need now is stability and consistency. The lesser the slope with higher data points, the better! However, it is without a doubt that mine had changed highly! Overall, the data still had great results.

I divided my Behavior Modification Part 2 into two sections: March and April. During March, my water intake ranged from 72 ounces to a high-ounce count of 155 ounces (one ounce higher than before), I also had an average water intake of with an average of 101.345 ounces. According to the chart, I was able to form a stable trendline sloping positively as well, but with a smaller rate of change from the first part of behavior modification. This meant that my water intake had noticeable and increased change throughout March 3-31, 2023, however now with an equation of 0.968x + 89.7, which means that I now only had a rate of change of 0.968 as I was progressing through the second part of my behavior modification project. Since there is now a smaller rate of change, it proves that there is now more stability in terms of my water intake, unlike the more wavering data points from the first part.

Just as what was aimed, consistency was most needed in behavior modification. Through this data, it can be seen that my daily water intake had already increased more than recommended water intake. My average water intake is 107.7068966, with a trendline equation of 0.633x + 98.7, which meant that the slope of my water intake habit became the least steep out of all three months. This can be interpreted as because there's less steepness, there's a lesser variation of change, which connotes more consistency and stability!

In conclusion, I was able to obtain my goal which is:

To drink 72 oz. of water every day and form it as a habit.

Now that you can see that there is effectiveness in my techniques, and reinforcements, you should feel like you are a step ahead in creating a habit of drinking at least 72 ounces per day!

As a further recommendation, you may consult with a dietician or a doctor in terms of what water intake ounces are recommended for you, and you can still utilize techniques I have done but with your own little twist! For reference, I only followed the recommended amount of water presented by a registered dietitian nutritionist, Allyn Wergin (2022) from the website of Mayo Clinic Health System.

Remember that the key to this behavior modification is CONSISTENCY. Be consistent not just in your water intake, but also with the habitual motion of logging your water intake. You would also see how much you have improved through your own recorded data! You can use applications such as My Fitness Pal, or just simply put a personal tracker on Excel Sheets or on your Notes. It would be difficult but remember that the hardest hindrance you will experience from modifying your behaviors is YOU and your SELF-WILL.

That is all for Hydro Hannah! I hope to see other people's blogs on their water intake. ♥

Good luck and still, I invite you to stay hydrated with me!

[kkexpress]

How To Build Customer Loyalty with High Quality Shipping Techniques?

Customer loyalty describes a person's inclination to do business once more with you. This is driven by customer satisfaction, which takes priority over other factors like availability, pricing, and various others that often affect purchase decisions. A customer who is loyal to a brand, commodity, or service is willing to wait for just a replenishment and pay a very little bit higher price for it.

What you should know while talking about customer’s loyalty?

Did you realize that 43% of an internet store's income comes from returning customers.

Additionally, returning customers are more likely to convert, add an object to their shopping cart, & bounce less of outsourcing customers.

Client loyalty is without a doubt essential to the success of e-commerce.

You need to provide customers with an excellent customer experience if you want their trust and loyalty. Then, devoted clients will turn into a crucial source for both sales & wordofmouth promotion.

Shipping and just last delivery are critical in regards to the customer experience: - 60% of internet buyers have prior one vendor above another based on how simple the shipping options are. How effectively do you address your customers' needs?

But no need to worry about it, we are here to guide you, we will discuss all the crucial points that should be followed while you are providing an international courier service. The following are the top five suggestions to get customers' loyalty. Fulfil your customers' expectations, so they will keep making additional purchases.

Here are the must follow guidelines to fulfil your customers’ expectations: -

Must have to be sincere: -

Transparency within e-commerce is encouraged by giving customers realistic delivery date predictions & tracking information.

You will still have access to a thorough view of each purchase from the moment it is posted on social media until it is delivered towards the customer's door if you opt to outsource fulfilment to something like a technologically sophisticated third-party logistic (3PL) provider.

Being able to instantly provide customers with tracking information, you could reliably react to their inquiries using the most uptodate data from any place. This enables more precision, transparency, and the use of banners in the provision of services.

Comply with the shipping time and deadline demands: -

One of the most needed and demandable shipping tactics which every customer wants to experienced. If somehow you missed the deadline of the delivery, then it will surely disappoint the customer. By offering acceptable options for Customprintedday shipping, you can better satisfy the demands of a variety of clients. So, be smart and always focus on this thing and never be late to deliver any product to any customer.

A Forrester study found that a 44% to 52% of shoppers leave items in their shopping carts empty due to shipping and processing costs. Customers expect affordable delivery at the push of a button, particularly now that bigbox shipping companies are offering free shipping & twoday shipping options.

Emphasize your brand: -

Since receiving cargo is frequently a customer's engagement with your company, your packaging should be appealing. According to Dotcom Distribution, a 40% of consumers would share a photo of a delivery via social networks if it came in a standout box, & 52% of customers are inclined to make additional purchases from an online merchant that provides premium packaging.

By integrating your company's business colours, logo, pictures, and/or strategy into every facet of your operations. You can provide a coherent, consistent brand experience. The customprinted package which appeals to your intended market might improve brand awareness and provide a good first impression.

This technique will help you in two ways. First of all, the perfect packaging will keep the product save, and impress the customer, and the another one is it will promote your brand and you will gain more popularity in the market.

The capacity of a container: -

Regardless matter whether you ordered, planned, or would otherwise be engaged in a Twitter argument, receiving a package via mail is still a pretty unusual sort of compensation.

This gives online merchants a unique opportunity. One that gets off to a good start and, if done well, leads to renewed brand loyalty. How about this instead? If you don't personalise their shipments, probably, you arenot connecting with your customers.

A genuine thank you may often go a long way: -

Do you recall how your mother would constantly bug you to send thank-you notes? Are they still around? Everyone is aware that a sincere "thank you" will go a long way, even if it took a while to realise. 

The economy remains unchanged. So why not attempt to include a little message in the package praising the customer for their purchase? You'll notice that it dehumanises & humbly positions your brand, which can only be a good thing.

And it is practically free.

The simplicity and low cost of this approach, as well as the way it allows you and your customer to connect more intimately, regardless of how far away you may be, make it beautiful.

Not only these, there are more things to follow togain customer loyalty: -

Above mentioned are the most important tips to follow, but with those there are more several techniques to enhance customer loyalty. Here are some those: -

Delivery costs expectations.

Offer the notch products and services.

Provide excellent customer service.

Establish trustworthy relationships with your customers.

Give consumers their benefits.

Request feedback from your clientele.

Regularly evaluate and improve your process.

Outline a rewards programme.

Make each encounter with a customer special.

Appraise all the above mentioned guidelines and gain customers’ loyalty: -

Last but just not least, show your customers any samples you have if you have them before asking for feedback on social media. Making ensuring that the collateral is pertinent and effectively communicates your message is a great strategy. It promotes relationships and also acts as free advertisement. Additionally, nothing tastes better then free.

[madmarchhare]

For the Warlock character Idea I had

I'm using this as a character in a DnD game my friend at Uni will be running. This is from DM's with my DM for the game btw

-1 Strength +0 dex +2 con +1 int +2 wis +5 charisma

Enwyun 'Bad Lot' Lott

Imma write his backstory here so you can tell me whats not allowed faster, rather than struggle with my handwriting [13:49] Enwyun 'Bad Lot' Lott was born during the dark hours of winter, in a bloated town, it's population practically pouring over the town decaying walls. His parents were Elves, who had emmigrated to the city under hard times, which did not improve maketedly. Enwyun, at a young age, was facinated with medicine and healing. If slightly to the concern of others, mostly attributed to a greater interest in bloody than anyone his age should have. Though it was only for curiosity of biology, at his own insistance. When he was around 12 he struck out on his own, allowed by his parents likely due to their desire to have one less mouth too feed, and one less child whose… strange actions they had to apologise for. [13:53] Enwyun himself attempted to find apprenticeship with clerics and other healers, his confidence, and charisma, somehow managing to convince them to let him in. But, he had little talent for it. Often finding the 'Right' methods leading to failure. So he attempted his own ways, which sometimes worked well, others less than optimal. The odd explosion or odd effect did him a fair number of injures, or the subjects themselves made time to inflict them, making him more sturdy than before. This led to him getting a rather diskind nickname, 'Bad Lot', for the misfortune of his patients who got him as their doctor. (edited) [13:56] The nickname followed him from place to place. As did his misfortunes, not that it overtly bothered him. He ended up often having to free lance his skills, even to monsters such as Goblins or others, one example being where his patient recovered from a stab wound with some salves, and he received one of his false fangs in return for payment. Another a ring, and some beads. [14:01] But, he was not well respected in the general community of medicine, even if he ferreted out successes and results, his failures were far too present for the higher races(Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, Half orcs etc.) So, he often was out of work, and had to find other ways of making money, often not the most savory. Doctors are needed for everyone after all. [14:07] But then, something interesting happened, he was travelling though a birch tree valley, odd for the spiral patterns that the bark of the tress made. He made camp for himslef under one of the trees, used to sleeping quickly and rough from his childhood. Then he awoke, or at least seemed to. He was in a odd place, things moving with no right order, almost madly. Then he saw, both above, below, beside and behind him, something he knew he should not comprehend. [14:11] It spoke to him in scattered words that came at him from every side, like a brigade shouting out to him, their mangled words somehow forming into speech. Sultry and pleasent speech that pulled him forward. It offered him the ability to heal and to help on a scale that he, as of yet, had not been able to acomplish. It simply asked him to heal and to care, as it would in the end to serve both of their ends. He would make the 'Bad Lot' that everyone saw his champion. All he had to do, was Step ForwardBackLeftRightUpDown… And he did. (edited) [14:13] For this, he became an Aasimar, a fact he hurriedly tried to hide, or brush off as a failed experiment, not wanting to attract too much bad attention, and a warlock. But the last thing he recived, as if it was a deep brand in a lighter shade on his back, was the mark of his patron.

For flavour, he is a purple skinned elf, male, 35, 6'3" with silver blue hair, I might post the charecter desricption later as I cant draw for shit, but it is had written so may be slow

@agarespicero

@irumeanie

@irumaismybaby

@pursonsoisooi

@jemimacatclover

[the-one-who-have-no-idea]

I can't express how much the timeskip in the final of Amphibia effected me and helped with my world perception.

Somehow, despite the fact that we were following the adventures of 13-year-olds and the 10 years timeskip, the girls being 23 felt young, with their whole life laying ahead. Because that what people in their 20s are. Logically.

But this is so hard to comprehend due to many reasons.

You see teens in shows doing great things, having their life together, having clear goals, being way too mature for they age. (Which is not bad, but when it's the majority and the standard, it's kinda hard on our subconscious life and age understanding.)

You see all those extremely talented people - artists, singers, animators, etc. - on the Internet who are really young. (Of course, somewhere deep down you understand, that the reason why so many young people can now show how talented they are without years of waiting for some big faint chance in some big company is thanks to the Internet. Talented people just have nowadays way more opportunities to show their talent, to be encouraged, to grow way faster in their skills, to have access to things that can help them to learn how to do this and that. But this gigantic leap in the possibilities happened in less than ten years because of the whole technology progress, so for people who are in their twenties and early thirties, who lived their first half of life without the Internet or at least without it being such integral part of life, we still don't fully recognize that what we have been taught during our childhood about talent, success, what a normal regular person can and can't do is no longer accurate.)

And those illogical expectations by older generations that of course you should have your life together in your twenties, have a stable job, a clear career, clear life goals, stable relationship, own a house. Which is highly illogical, unreasonable, and it's unhealthy for you to try and meet all these standards. (And even if your parents and relatives never said you those words, you still look and listen around, and you start to think that THIS is the normal. This is the standard you must try to live up to. Which is not true.)

And that's where Amphibia final walks in. I can't even fully point at what exactly they did, so I was finally able to understand that twenties IS in fact only the very beginning not only in words but actually, within my conscious, to make this fact click.

And this really goes along with one of the massages of the show about how time passes, but it's still important, it's still meaningful, it's still relevant.

We change, constantly.

We make mistakes, we learn, we make more mistakes, and we learn even more.

No one is perfect. No one is the perfect adult. No one has their life set until the end of their life.

Thus, you don't need to push yourself. You can take time. You can try different things. Make different connections. Even if they won't work out in the end, even if you will drift apart, even if you will find a completely different thing you want to do after a decade of doing something else.

They won't be the waste of time. You won't waste your life. Every experience is the part of your life. Everything you have done made you into you.

You don't need to start running out of breath in the very beginning of the road of your life. Because it's not a track. It's a trailway. How to walk it - is your choice. At what pace to walk it - is your choice. With who to walk it - is your choice. One leap after another. You will make it to the end anyway. So do it on your own terms. It's okay. As long as you liked it, and you loved the you that was walking it.

Thank you, Amphibia, for helping me see this.

[mellointheory]

PP Squad Cyberpunk AU

- Boomer and Hannah are both competitive racers. Sam helped them build their bikes personally.

- Hannah has glowing rose tattoos on her arms.

- Boomer has completely normal vision, but his eyes are milky/pale blue from toxin exposure.

- Awesamdude is responsible for caring for a toxic energy plant; he has mutations that allow him to withstand the exposure. He wears the gas mask because his body tends to absorb the chemicals when exposed to too much of them.

- He built Nook to help guard the plant, and it generally stays on guard, but Punz always comes to hang out and talk to him.

- Punz was a competitive racer, a pit fighter, a mercenary, and a few other things in his past. He's full human with zero mutations, but has extremely good aim. He has a pumpkin helmet that he uses when he races.

- 5up is a genetically modded assassin known for his ever-present visor and his skills in never getting caught for a kill, ever. He generally hangs around with Hafu's gang but occasionally comes over to the PP Crew's part of the city

- BBH runs an underground bar called Munchy that caters to the less reputable citizens of the city. He has far more extensive mutations than most people, and it's the respect of what he's capable that keeps his non-aggression rules in place

- Skeppy is some rich guy who prefers hanging out in the belly of the city with Bad, but also runs an extremely successful fighting ring called Invaded.

- Antfrost runs a sanctuary for animals that were genetically modified by upper-class penthouse dwellers who later got sick of them and left them on the streets. No one knows whether his cat ears and tail were a mod job or something that mutated naturally.

- Velvet runs an enhancement shop. He specifically sells "legal" energy boosters that have various effects. People have stopped trying to shake down his business because that's a surefire way to anger Antfrost.

- Gumi is a cyborg who moonlights as a mercenary and a technician. She always wears the mask. Maybe it's part of her face. No one really knows. She's the one people go to when they want to hire the entire squad for a job.

- Foolish Gamers is a college student studying architecture. That is all :)

- Somehow he ended up playing board games with them all in Gumi's apartment every Saturday evening. It's a long story.

- I know Ponk isn't technically part of the PP Squad but I want to make it very clear that he is the doctor they go to whenever one of them gets injured due to a less-than-legal occurance

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[cybernaght]

The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity. 

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away. 

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity​ all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those. 

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is. 

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work. 

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to  stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it. 

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that. 

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense. 

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is. 

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production. 

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can. 

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it. 

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over. 

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel. 

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre. 

---

This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel. 

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown. 

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 136

This chapter was a chance to explore some more science-based tropes that I absolutely love in stories.  The truth is, when I’m working at my day job, I love listening to documentaries on Curiosity and YouTube channels like Answers with Joe or Kurzgesagt. My love of science fiction actually comes from my love of space and astronomy, not the other way around.

In no way, shape, or form, does this chapter cover any of the concepts in question in full. It’s just a quick convo between Sophia and a good friend ;)

My thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname. Plus all of YOU!

Even as my mind wandered, I couldn’t help but grin a bit as I took my weekly stroll through the corridors of the Ark with Miys in tow.  For several years now, we had a standing appointment on my calendar that both Alistair and Tyche treated as sacrosanct - just some time for me to spend with our host, my friend, and learn more about each other.  When I had originally arrived on the Ark, any time I was seen walking with them, other humans would give me odd looks, but never approach.  Now, people would recognize me, smile, and wave, but still never interrupted the strolls.

It was nice. Like my weekly family dinners, it was a routine, pleasant part of my life. Especially days like today, when we were entering the dawn-cycle and each day became a little brighter. It made me wonder about other civilizations, ones that would have evolved in conditions like the ones we were adapting ourselves for. How did it affect them? How would it affect us as generations passed? Future generations were certainly going to be shorter, due to the high gravity. Would it change our technological advances as well - 

“Wisdom, why are you thinking so hard about Gestrcht Clusters?” Miys interrupted my thoughts.

“Hm?” I asked absently. “What’s a Jestrick Cluster?”

“Gestrcht,” they corrected mildly. “Gestrcht clusters are a type of civilization that has adapted to live in artificial platforms surrounding their sun, in order to better harness the solar energy, radiation, or heat needed.”

“You mean a Dyson swarm?” I tried to clarify, confused.

“All of the galaxy calls them Gestrcht clusters, therefore I think that is what you mean.”

“Alright, alright,” I laughed, holding my hands up in defeat. “The reason I was thinking about Gestruck clusters - “

“Gestrcht”

“I will work on it. The reason I was thinking about those is… I was wondering how living on Von will change our priorities. In our history, those constructions were something that fascinated both imagination and science - something several people thought was our launching pad to a Kardashev Type II civilization, or the singularity point. Maybe both.”

“Kardashev…” they hummed for a moment, thinking. “Only humanity would create goals of technological advancement that required destruction on a multi-planetary scale.”

I desperately wanted to object, but strongly suspected they were right. “So we were wrong, again? There are no civilizations out there that would fit what we imagined for a Kardashev I or II race?”

“I will concede to the existence of species that you would consider both. However, it is not how you believe it to be - humanity would never have been able to accomplish it without greater sacrifice than they have ever known.”

Oh boy. “Tell me? I want to understand why other species could do it, but we could not.” My curiosity needed to know.

They held up one of their liw, rocking it back and forth in imitation of a human head tilt. “Species that have managed to harness all of the energy produced by their planet, and not destroy their environments, have historically been those who had very little power to harness to begin with. These civilizations come from either very harsh, or very gentle worlds - never anything in between. Abundant wind energy scouring a planetary desert can greatly benefit a species who can harness that wind to temper it and create a paradise. A planet with no atmosphere, but incredible amounts of geothermal energy runs little risk in being able to direct all of that volcanic activity to its benefit. But Earth?”

“Is a deathworld,” I pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“This is true, but it is not a deathworld in the way So’Kn is, for example. Preeyar and So’kn are planets that are lethal for very singular reasons: So’Kn is a frozen waste of permanent night and eternal wind. It is so harsh that only So’Knor can truly survive there with without significant technological assistance. Preeyar only has atmosphere in its valleys, and that is thinner than most species can survive, much less the fact that there are no liquids on Preeyar. None. The air pressure is too low to allow it for any chemicals that are naturally occurring, and the atmosphere violently reacts with any elements that could exist in liquid form. It is, in fact, believed that the rift valleys were caused by simply an icy meteor impacting the planet.”

“Ho-lee shit,” I whispered.

“I doubt many cultures would find it holy at all,” they joked drily. “Whereas Earth… There is no one singular quality about Earth that classifies it as a deathworld. Instead, there are several, each stemming from the abundant forms of energy offered by your home world.”

“Seriously!?”

“Indeed. And the combinations thereof. The length of natural disasters that are possible, alone, is unique to Earth. Tornadoes and earthquakes. Flooding and wildfires. Volcanoes and hurricanes. Methane just rising from your lakes to kill large swathes of people. Lakes below your oceans, Wisdom! Volcanoes below your oceans! It is insanity to the entirety of the Galaxy, and yet humans consider that just a normal aspect of existence.”

“And… what exactly does that have to do with being able to harness all the energy of our planet, exactly?” To say I was confused was an understatement.

To their credit, Miys only reached with one vomu to make a ‘nose pinching’ gesture against its head. “Earth, somehow, is only habitable and so abundant in life because everything exists in a precarious balance. Surely, the last two centuries of your own history demonstrated that. Attempting to harness all of the admittedly prodigious energy of your planet would have ended up destroying that balance beyond compare.”

I tried to comprehend it. I really did. Focusing on what little I knew, I thought about dams. Those were familiar to me - I had grown up in an area that dammed every river and creek possible for everything from grain mills and fruit presses, to artificial fish ponds, to electricity. “Starting there…” it was faster not to explain out loud when I knew Miys was following along with the home game, “Damming a river creates a lake. That floods an area that already has a habitat, and dries out another area that already has an aquatic habitat.”

“And prevents floods that fertilize fields and redistribute minerals from erosion, yes.”

“Right. Times every river, creek, and faint trickle on Earth…” I stopped myself. Every river. The Amazon. The Nile. “And we just washed out what’s left of the largest rainforest on Earth.”

“Leaving more carbon in the air…” they encouraged.

“And increasing the greenhouse effect, increasing heat on the surface, melting more ice, which - hey, more wind, amirite? - but changing planetary albedo, more water, wetter Sahara, no dust to fertilize… South America? Dammit, are we back to killing the Amazon again?”

“That is just one form of energy, Wisdom. But I feel you are understanding the issue.”

“Yeahhhh…” I trailed off. “Okay, so. Kardashev I is no bueno tacos for Earth. What if we skipped straight to Kardashev II slash singularity?” I made a point to focus on the concept of technological singularity very hard, so there would be less need for research on their part. You know, spare myself half a minute or so. “The Gestrkt clusters.”

“Closer,” they admitted, although I was suspicious they meant my pronunciation and not the idea that humanity would ever get there. “Humanity is not… suited, for Gestrcht clusters.”

“Wait, what?”

“Humanity is too curious, too social, and too exploratory. Your fiction abounds with every variation of different worlds and strange universes you could possibly conceive of. And it constantly expanded - your oldest texts involve travelling to your moon, and when you actually reached it, you looked further out - other systems, other galaxies, other dimensions. Gestrcht clusters require such substantial resources and maintenance, there is little left over for exploration.”

“There are humans who would be perfectly content living in such a structure,” I argued, although my heart wasn’t in it. I wouldn’t have been, knowing that other worlds were out there.

“Not enough to sustain it, unfortunately. Not even in what you call the Before.” Lightly resting one vomu on my shoulder, they squeezed gently. “Wisdom, humanity has always wanted to see other worlds. Gestrcht clusters are all or nothing.”

“And singularity?” I asked, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

“It is true that there have been some singleton species that have achieved what you term singularity with technology. Fewer have been successful.” When I glanced at them, all six upper appendages were held up in defense. “Hive minds are uniquely suited to it, and even some of us,” they waved those same six appendages at their torso, “would never accept it. I could never imagine not having the chance to travel the galaxy, to be with other races as they experience it. Add to that, humanity is somehow both individual and social. Removing that line, that choice? I doubt your kind would thrive. Postulate this: Derek, in a hive mind.”

“Absolutely not,” came my unhesitating response, disgust and violence trembling in every limb before I calmed myself. “And I see your point. Integrating technology in our lives, into how we function…” I tapped my head for emphasis, “that’s one thing. It makes our lives better, by making sure that Derek, and others, can have their personal space protected.” The more I thought about it… I never considered the idea in reference to ‘now’, only ‘eventually’. What if we did it now, and I was one of the people - suddenly never alone, always connected to every thought of strangers via technology. What if Tyche was? Or Maverick? Hell, Charly? “I think I need a shower, now,” I admitted, skin crawling.

“Humanity could achieve both,” Miys confirmed, although it didn’t feel as reassuring as I had hoped it would at the beginning of our conversation. “But I don’t think humanity would truly want to live in Gestrcht clusters or singularity, given any other choice but extinction.”

Laughing, I wiped a tear from one eye.  It was a bitter truth, but still true. “I think you’re right.”

“I may be wrong,” they countered. “As I said, there are singleton species who have made those transitions and the entire galaxy is better for it.”

“Some hope that we weren’t entirely wrong would be nice right about now,” I mumbled as I scuffed my shoe at the floor. There wasn’t anything to kick except Else-puffs, and that was just mean as fuck.

“Most species that made a transition to Gestrcht clusters early in their development are belligerent, insular species. The fact that they must focus all their efforts and resources on maintaining their platforms prevents them from becoming actively warlike. As far as ‘singularity’... singleton species who thrive in that transition are often species who cannot thrive on a galactic scale otherwise.”

Huh? I craned my neck to try to look up at them in the perpetual-dawn light. “What do you mean?”

Miys flicked a datapad open - one I know they only wore for our sakes, seeing as they could not actually see anything on the purely-optical screen, I had learned. They could only navigate it if interacting with a human, so they could ‘see’ what they needed to tap out.

Needless to say, Charly and Grey had been working for years on one that responded to sonic commands.

Eventually, a seven-fingered flick caused my own databand to chirp. I flicked it open to see the file. “They… Noah, this looks like sentient pollen… or feathers…” Realistically, any description I tried to create fell devastatingly short. The being on my datapad moved as though it was floating on wind, with tens of thousands of filament-fine tendrils swaying and navigating. The sound it created reminded me of the sound of snowfall, if snowflakes could sing opera. “They’re beautiful,” I sniffed, driving back tears at knowing something so breathtaking existed.

“They also cannot survive off their planet, unfortunately. Even the transition out of their atmosphere is lethal to them.”

My heart shattered into a million pieces. “What is their name?”

“No one knows for certain. But they have achieved a sort of singularity - once they have matured and reproduced, they upload themselves at the end of their very brief lifecycles. In the Galactic Community, they are known as Odvub.”

“Odvub…” I whispered, holding out my fingers like I could actually touch the screen.

“Outside of a Hujylsogox rescue ship, it is nearly impossible to avoid encountering Odvub. Most believe they are some sort of galactic artificial intelligence, and they prefer to allow that belief.”

“Why are you telling me this, then?”

“They have permitted it, when these sort of questions are asked. To show what desperation is required for a singleton species to thrive in singularity.”

I sniffed, desperately trying not to cry at their situation. “Do they know about humans?”

“They may be the only species who could not avoid knowing about it. But Odvub believes your people are hearty, and adaptable, and should never suffer their fate. They advised, in the event that your people ever ask about singularity, to do this…” Miys gently cupped my cheek in one liw and patted it, “and tell you that you will never need to resort to what they had to do, and that they look forward to meeting your people one day.”

“Obviously not face to face,” I admitted quietly. “I have allergens that are more substantial than they are.”

“It is considered a great honor in the Galactic Community for this icon to display when  you interact with Odvub.” Miys gestured at the vicinity of the image on my datapad. “Only those who know why, know why it is an honor.”

“We’ll take it,” I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “All of humanity may never know why, but we’ll take it. If I may tell Arthur, we probably will know why.” He would see to it. Loudly, angrily, derisive of anyone who mocked it. “Regardless, we’ll take it, all the same.”

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[halcyonstorm]

my contest submission for LH drabble week! @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë, Kuchel Ackerman Additional Tags: Sick Levi Ackerman, Leukemia, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Accidents, Doctor Hange Zoë, Angst, Slight OOC, sorry Series: Part 9 of Short Fics Summary:

Hange and Levi were separated for several years for reason they couldn't help. They finally found each other.

At just 18 years old, Levi received the worst news of his life. He was sick. Extremely sick. If someone even coughed or breathed on him, he could die. He had leukemia, a disease which attacks the body’s white blood cells. Our white blood cells are our guardians, protecting us from any infection that dares to enter. He had one friend he wanted to tell the most: his best friend Hange. She had been his friend since the beginning of high school. He didn’t like her at first, but she kept showing up, eager to be his friend. He eventually warmed up to her, allowing her to sit with him at lunch, hang out after class; soon, they were inseparable.

Levi’s heart was in his throat as he mentally prepared to present the life-changing news to his best friend. “Hange, I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice trembling. Hange looked at him funny. He never spoke in such a strange manner before. Hange hesitantly sat in front of him at the empty desk, turning around in the chair to face him.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned. She was starting to get nervous.

“I’m sick,” he began, almost inaudibly. “I have leukemia… I am gonna have to leave school to be in the hospital. I get so weak, and my immune system is absolute shit… I can’t even risk getting a cold, otherwise I can die.”

Hange’s heart sunk into her stomach. She took a deep breath and looked into her lap. She had to be strong for Levi, and she knew that. 

“I’ll be here with you. We can text, call, facetime…”

“Yeah, we can,” he replied.

“We will! I’m your friend,” Hange said, grabbing his hand. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind.”

-

At first, Levi thought he’d be strong enough to withstand the chemotherapy. That he’d be the rare case to have no side effects. Boy, was Levi wrong. After his first two weeks, his health was tanking. It tanked so bad, in fact, that no one was allowed in the room except the doctors and nurses. Hange was one of the only people to call him daily besides his mom. Hange would Facetime him after class, telling him all about her day. Levi never had much to share from his monotonous days of drug infusions and immobilizing fatigue, but he enjoyed listening to Hange’s voice. Over time, Hange began to notice her friend change: His skin became ghostly pale and his words were mumbled. She would show him the blooming flowers in the spring, the fallen leaves in the autumn, the snow in the winter. She would show him anything to distract him from the excruciating pain he suffered each day. 

After a year of chemotherapy treatments, the toxins started to take a toll on his body. He’d find clumps of black hair on his pillow every morning, until one night he insisted his mother shave it all off. Each clump of hair reminded him of the life he should’ve had. Going to class in-person instead of online for the rest of the semester, graduating through a computer screen. He fucking hated it. His physical and mental state began to worsen each week. He was like a walking corpse, sleeping about 16 hours each day. When he was awake, he was wishing he was asleep. Each day he withered away in the hospital bed. He would miss Hange’s calls frequently due to his concerningly deep slumbers. If he managed to pick up, he would fall asleep on the phone with her. Despite her busy school schedule, she found time to text him every day. That is what kept him going.

Every day turned into once a week, which turned into once a month, and soon not at all. He had officially lost touch with the only friend in his life. He felt it was his fault: he had no energy to ever respond to her texts. He couldn’t blame her. She did try. Alone in his hospital room staring at his old texts from her, his heart ached and tears spilled down his face.

Another year had passed when his doctor came into his shabby hospital room with a look of hope. Levi felt his heart begin to race. 

“Levi, we have some good news and some bad news,” He began, shutting the door behind him. He wore a bright yellow gown with a blue face mask and latex gloves. “The good news is, your white blood cell levels are elevated. This is an improvement compared to last month’s tests. Since they’re higher, you’re well enough to receive a bone marrow transfusion from your mother, who’s a perfect match. The bad news is, there are many risks to having this transfusion. Your body can reject the bone marrow, which may cause massive complications. However, I think it is best for you to get the transplant. It is your best hope for overcoming this disease.”

With no hesitation, Levi agreed. Let’s do this thing.

He tried to reach out to Hange to tell her the news, but after a week with no response, he was disheartened. A part of him hoped she would respond. He had his family, and for that he was forever grateful, but who would he have once he left the hospital? Who would he talk to? Who would he be? He completely lost the miniscule amount of social skills he had. He did make friends with some of the patients on his floor. Unfortunately, he outlived most of them. 

Fortunately for Levi, the transplant was a success. Within the next few months, he began to regain the color in his face, and hair started to sprout on his head again. He was sleeping less frequently, he was finally able to do a lap around the hospital floor without getting too tired. He was still on chemotherapy, but he was regaining his strength, and more importantly, he was getting his life back.

Levi was in (and rarely out of) the hospital almost four years. The day he was discharged for good was a beautiful spring day. The stale air became fresh as he exited the hospital in a wheelchair. He heard the bright green trees rustling and saw some beautiful pink flowers that reminded him of Hange. He took everything for granted until he was cooped up in a hospital room for years. He was grateful to Hange for being his eyes to the outside world. He felt a breeze run through his buzz cut. He took a deep breath, tears helplessly streaming down his face. He was finally free. 

It wasn’t long before Levi started searching for his long lost friend. He hated himself for forgetting how to spell her name. Was it Hanje, Hangi, or Hange? He couldn’t quite remember. He searched her name and was shocked to find out Hange was a medical student practicing at Shinganshina General Hospital. Shinganshina General wasn’t far, so she must still live in the area. He couldn’t, however, find any of her social media accounts. She was off-the-grid. Great… he thought. She was always difficult. He was one to talk, though. He hasn't used social media in years.

Throughout the summer, Levi was able to land a job as a mechanic and he worked endlessly. He had to repay the debt he placed his parents in. His mother especially hated the idea of him working just as he finished his treatments, but Levi was persistent. Eventually, he saved enough money to send monthly deposits to his mom and move out. He couldn’t have his mom taking care of him anymore after all she sacrificed for him. He had made enough money on his own to afford a cheap apartment two blocks away from her house. 

After getting settled, Levi told himself he couldn’t begin college without knowing about Hange’s whereabouts. He decided maybe if he drove to Shinganshina city, he would be able to find her somehow. Someone ought to know her… He got in his car one evening, punched in a diner’s address in Shinganshina, and started to drive. As he drove, he started to realize his plan was stupid. What, am I gonna stalk her at the hospital?

 After finishing a 10-hour shift at the shop, he impulsively drove past his block and hit the highway. The highways were ruthless that Friday night. He had never been to Shinganshina before on his own. He drove, hovering his head over the steering wheel with his elbows tightly tucked to his sides. The speed limit signs read “65 MPH''; however, everyone was quickly steering around him, going way over 75. He was very tempted to turn around in spite of his impetuous road trip; but he couldn’t find an opportunity to do so.

On the other side of the road, the two lines merged into one. One of the drivers did not recognize this, and suddenly swerved onto the other side of the road where Levi was driving. Perhaps if Levi didn’t work so hard that day, there was a slight chance it could’ve been avoidable. The last thing he saw were bright fluorescent headlights before he was knocked unconscious.

-

“We checked his driver’s license. His name is Levi Ackerman, age 22, victim of a head-on vehicle collision. He was wearing his seatbelt and had an airbag. He may have suffered a SCI and concussion. His heart and lung sounds are normal although his sternum and ribs may be broken,” A paramedic announced as they wheeled the unconscious man through the glass doors of the emergency room. 

“Get him up to imaging. We need to do a MRI, CAT scan, and x-ray STAT!” the doctor replied, taking her stethoscope to listen to his chest. She recognized the man right away but allowed her feelings to be suppressed for that crucial moment. Of course she recognized this man. He was her long lost friend, after all.

After finishing the tests, Levi was brought to a hospital room where he was changed into a hospital gown. Dr. Hange Zoe and Dr. Erwin Smith discussed the results: MRI showed signs of a concussion; CAT scan showed no signs of hemorrhaging; x-ray showed a cracked sternum and ribs 4 and 5 were broken. No signs of broken extremities, however he presented with ecchymosis on the bony prominences, such as his hips, knees, and collarbones.

As Levi awoke about two hours later, groaning loudly.

“My chest!” he complained, finding it hard to move. The two doctors turned around to find the patient had regained consciousness.

“Hello, Levi,” Dr. Smith began. “You were in a car accident. You’re at Shinganshina General Hospital. I am Dr. Erwin Smith, and this is my intern, Dr. Hange Zoe.” Levi’s eyes widened when he announced her name. 

“H-Hange…” he whispered, attempting to sit up but failing. Dr. Smith placed his hand gingerly on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to sit up. Just relax. How is your pain? We can give you some medication.”

“It’s fucking horrible. Please,” He whimpered, grimacing. Dr. Smith nodded, leaving the room. Hange immediately grabbed a chair, sitting next to her patient, but more importantly her friend.

“Levi, dammit what happened?” She said softly, looking at him. His face was not scratched, it was just the rest of his body that was injured.

“What happened to you?!” He retorted, looking her in the eyes. She could tell he was hurt, not just physically. “So much for not losing you...” 

“I was texting you as much as I could, Levi,” she explained, feeling guilty. “I had lost my phone and got a new one, but I couldn’t remember your number. I tried to find you online but I couldn’t… I am so sorry.” She hesitantly grabbed his hand. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he squeezed her hand.

“I was too sick to reply,” he said. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not-” A knock rang on the door and Hange stood up almost on cue. 

“On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?” She asked, switching the topic.

“A big fat 10,” he groaned. Dr. Smith wheeled in an electronic machine with a wire and handle attached.

“This is a patient-controlled analgesia pump. You can push it as many times as you’d like to help alleviate your pain. You will not overdose since it has a set amount of medication you can receive per hour. Also, we have some acetaminophen for you.” Levi downed the pills as soon as it was handed to him. Dr. Smith hooked the tubing up to his IV and handed him the button.

“Hange, gather your information on your patient and then meet with me in the conference room.” Dr. Smith left the room, Hange hesitantly looking at her friend again.

“Let me just do a quick physical assessment,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her pen light. As she did her assessment, he admired her. Being a doctor really did suit her. She was wearing a white lab coat with her name embroidered into it. As she would move his gown around to assess his heart and lung sounds, his breath hitched when he felt the tips of her fingers touch his bruised chest. He looked at her face as she worked. She simultaneously looked the same and different. Different in how she wore her hair, in the shape of her glasses, and she stood taller, more confidently. Same in her eyes never losing their sparkle, her focused pouty face, as well as her smile. That breathtaking smile never changed.

Once she finished, she cleaned off her materials and tucked them away.

“Levi, you’ll be kept at the hospital overnight to monitor your heart on the EKG. If you are able to walk in the morning, you will be discharged. Do you have anyone you can call?”

He thought of his mother. He thought of the burden he crushed her with. He decided to deal with this on his own.

“I live alone,” he replied, looking towards the foot of the bed.

“I can stay with you,” She offered instantly. Levi’s face flushed as he met her eyes. “I-I mean… if you want! You have a concussion. You can’t drive yourself or be left alone.”

“Isn’t that like… against the rules?”

“...I am not working tomorrow. I can pick you up and we’ll go from there. Since you won’t be in the hospital for long, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” The corners of Levi’s mouth curled upwards.

“That is fine with me. Let’s do it.”

The next day, Levi was able to do a lap around the hospital floor. He walked around with one of the nurses to make sure he didn’t collapse. He was ready to go home. Correction: He was ready to go home with Hange.

Hange went to his hospital room in her normal clothes. Her style changed. She used to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans. She looked more mature in her white button-up top and black slacks. He had to prevent his mouth from opening when he saw her. She was beautiful, but of course he would never mention it. Hange walked down to the entrance of the hospital with the nurse and Levi. She went to get her car. A few minutes later, she arrived in her dark red Honda.

“Levi, you just have to direct me to your house…” She began, tapping at the car’s GPS. He gave the address and she punched it in.

“Hange? Why are you doing this for me?” He asked, almost by accident. She shifted the car into Drive.

“I… never stopped thinking about you, you know,” She began, driving away from the hospital. “Even though we lost touch, I still hoped to meet you again someday. You are the reason I wanted to be a doctor… and whenever I lost hope, I thought of you. Whether you know it or not, you pushed me to keep going.” He looked at her blushing face.

He was shocked by what she said. He felt the same. “Me too,” he confessed, looking in his lap. “Your calls saved my life. You were the only one who stuck around. I will never forget that.”

He was never one to say what he meant, but knowing he had the courage to speak those words to her, Hange felt a strong urge to kiss his lips. She always had feelings for him. Her feelings never changed, despite their time apart. In fact, it only confirmed her feelings for him even more.

“Even before I was hospitalized, I took everything for granted…” Levi said. “I have been wanting to tell you something ever since my diagnosis…” Hange felt her heart skip a beat as he spoke. 

“Thank you for being there for me.”

At the red light, Hange looked at him and squeezed his hand firmly. She noticed his cheeks were dusted with a red blush. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” 

He met her eyes, those radiant hazel eyes. He took advantage of the long stoplight to kiss the woman’s lips. He couldn’t contain his feelings anymore. He swore he’d tell her how much he meant to him one of these days. And God, her lips were soft and velvety and everything he’d imagined they’d be, but ten times better. She was shocked at first, but kissed him back. His lips were a little chapped from his rough night, but they were warm. She dreamt of this moment for years (as did he). It was better than how she thought it’d be too. She was intrigued by the quiet boy in school ever since she met him. Maybe she thought he’d lack passion, but it was the opposite. The kiss was full of passion and relief; after years of being in love with each other from a distance, they melted into each other. Suddenly, there was a beep behind her; the light had turned green. Hange chuckled, starting to drive again.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

[caiminnent]

and you said, kiss me [kylux, rated M]

PROMPT(S): First Kiss (@kyluxpositivity, Day #: Past Prompts Revisited) & Surprise "Kiss a Ginger Day" Kiss (from YearofKylux on Twitter)

SUMMARY: The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Or: Ren returns from Gelda with a honeyfruit for Hux. Things get out of hand.

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Kiss a Ginger Day, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Hand Feeding, Insecurity, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren in Love, Love Confessions, If You Squint - Freeform

Photo by Alice Pasqual on Unsplash

3.5K || ALSO ON AO3

One last meeting and Hux can finally retire for the day.

With three dozen floors between him and Conference Room 11-E, he strides past the stairs without a glance, skimming the meeting objectives on his datapad on the way to the turbolifts. They will never cover all of these—not in the time they set. Sniping at each other and bickering make up half of every High Command meeting; they’ll be lucky to touch upon the important matters within the first hour.

How tragic, that the people tasked with deciding how to spend the First Order funds can’t even make effective use of two hours.

The turbolift finally stops on his floor. Hux puts his datapad away as the doors slide open, revealing only Ren inside.

Hux’s foolish heart soars. When the notification of Ren’s arrival wasn’t followed by a summons from Snoke, Hux assumed he would see Ren once—more likely, if—Ren deigned to write and drop off his mission report. After several weeks without even a status update, he will take thirty seconds in a turbolift.

“General Hux,” Ren says as Hux enters, dipping his head.

The button for the officers’ deck is lit. Hitting the one below it for level 47, “Ren,” Hux greets back. A fresh, light smell that reminds him of a forest hits him in the next breath. Odd. He’s more used to smelling ash and ozone on Ren after a mission. “I see you’ve returned.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed, General.”

The corners of Hux’s lips twitch, an errant smile quickly suppressed. “These missions of yours mean more work for me. How many of my troopers did you lose this time?”

“None.”

“Truly?” That must be a first.

“Yes,” Ren says, pride booming in his voice even through the vocoder. “The inhabitants responded favourably to a show of the Force. Your exceptionally trained men scarcely needed to fire a blaster bolt.” Arse. “The rest was ensuring a smooth transition of power.”

A smooth transition of power. Since when does Ren care about keeping things diplomatic and orderly when he could slaughter his way through a mission and call it done? Who is this man and what did he do with Hux’s co-commander?

Not that Hux is complaining. Any cause that means Ren will stop using his troopers as cannon fodder is good in his book.

In the small screen above the buttons, 45 flashes, switching to 46. “Well done, Ren,” Hux says with a nod as the turbolift slows around them. Ren straightens to his full height. “I’ll look forward to your report.”

Level 47 is a maze of offices and meeting rooms lined around endless corridors, which are empty enough this time of the day. The walk to 11-E stretches in Hux’s mind’s eye as he steps out of the ‘lift. Part of him wishes for Ren to accompany him to the meeting, to remain a solid presence by his side while Hux endures yet another bout of pointed looks and snide comments that all say he wouldn’t have been here if he weren’t Brendol’s son.

“I could brief you in your quarters,” Ren calls out after him.

His heart skipping a beat, Hux pauses mid-stride, glancing at Ren over his shoulder. Ren is keeping the doors open with a hand on the frame, one foot in the corridor. What Hux wouldn’t give to read his bare face right now.

“My quarters?” Hux asks carefully. In all their years of sharing the command, they’ve never done something so personal as to visit each other in their chambers. Does Ren even know in which section Hux resides?

The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Perhaps Ren has been replaced on Gelda after all. The idea doesn’t sound more far-fetched than Kylo kriffing Ren bringing Hux gifts and considering his comfort.

“Very well,” Hux’s mouth says with little input from his brain. “2100 hours. Don’t be late.”

-----------------

The meeting drags on.

Sixty-five minutes in, Hux caves and lets his attention wander. He’d calculated half the figures Lieutenant Mitaka is delivering anyway; he’s sitting at this table more out of duty than necessity—not to mention, to keep the High Command somewhat civil as they, quite inevitably, gripe about Starkiller Base. Simple-minded fools. Two more years—he will show the lot of them what his pet project can do.

As Captain Canady starts his own tirade about how strategically unsound putting such a sizeable portion of their resources into a single project is, Hux pulls up information about Gelda on his datapad. A tiny, nondescript system of no import besides falling on a trade route. Two high-ranking officers accompanied by three squads of Stormtroopers would have accomplished the same goal, freeing Ren up for matters which actually require his… unique skill set.

If only Canady knew how strategically unsound Leader Snoke’s missions can be.

Scrolling down, he reaches the Culture section—only to find it empty. Kriff. For the son of a kitchen woman, he’s woefully uncultured about galactic cuisine, much less that of a castoff planet in the Outer Rim. Although he doesn’t expect Ren to show up with a seven-course meal, the idea of being unprepared for the visit—which certainly isn’t a date, even if it carries the characteristics of one—leaves Hux cold.

It’s going to be all right. He’s survived countless diplomatic dinners at his father’s side, smiling politely as his throat swelled and the contents of his stomach threatened to rise; he can handle whatever Ren might bring.

-----------------

He makes it to his chambers with six minutes to spare. So much for changing into something casual and presentable before Ren comes.

Not that he’s sure he owns such an outfit to begin with. His few sets of civilian clothes were picked more for practicality than appearance. Although that green pullover and the dark pair of trousers that Phasma had wolf-whistled at should still be somewhere in his dresser, Hux doesn’t have time left to check thanks to Admiral Brooks’ desperate need to be the loudest person in every room.

Kriffing nothing goes according to plan today.

Exasperation pulling at his chest, he leans against the door and closes his eyes. There’s still time to salvage the situation. He’s lost his composure about this… private meeting; it’s his failing to face in due time. For now, he needs to make sure Ren won’t find out about the tizzy Hux worked himself into.

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Hux pushes off the cold durasteel and goes about setting the stage. His greatcoat carefully draped over the coat hanger. His gloves carelessly thrown over the side table. While the water heater works, he unfastens the top handful of the hidden latches on his jacket and artfully dishevels his hair in the mirror. When the access panel chimes with a request for entry, everything around him communicates high-ranking officer unwinding in private after a long day.

As he opens the door, he can only hope it’s good enough to fool a mind-reader.

The ever-present helmet and gloves aside, Ren certainly pulled off casually presentable. Instead of his regular rags, he’s put on a shirt that outlines his form nicely and leggings, holding a bundle that’s tied off with an orange ribbon on one hand.

Relief courses through Hux at the sight. The fabric most likely holds a small fruit or vegetable. Unless Ren picked the weirdest harvest available to bring back, this should go without an issue.

Hux welcomes him, stepping aside to let him pass. Before closing the door, he checks for unwanted eyes in the hallway. All quiet, thankfully. An underdressed Commander Ren paying an after-hours visit to General Hux’s private rooms—Hux couldn’t hope to snuff out the rumours.

Ren is standing awkwardly in the middle of the living area, his free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Gesturing at the sofa, “I was about to make caf,” Hux says. The water heater clicks off right then, as if backing him up. “Would you like some? I’ve only got the instant kind, but it works in a pinch.”

“Sure,” Ren says.

Hux doesn’t have a clue how Ren takes his caf, which matters little as he doesn’t keep milk or sugar in his kitchenette anyway. Palming two coasters, he brings the mugs to the living area. Ren, for his part, already made himself comfortable: unmasked, leaning against an armrest with an arm over the back of the sofa and a leg folded under himself. As if he belongsthere.

Hux knows, with the same certainty as the Starkiller’s future success, that he will make an arse of himself in front of Ren before the evening is out.

Talking about a planetary takeover with warm beverage in their hands and Ren’s gift on the table feels wrong somehow. Mirroring Ren’s position at the other end of the small sofa, Hux catches him up on what little happened in his absence instead. Shitting on the High Command and incompetent officers—which overlap—is always an entertaining pastime, and they do so unabashedly until the caf is gone and the conversation comes to a comfortable lull.

He waits for Ren to mention the gift first. Ren came here for a reason; now would be the perfect time to bring it up. Ren, however, is more interested in his own hands on his lap.

Hux suppresses a sigh. He’s got to do everything himself, as usual. “You mentioned a gift,” he says, tilting his head at it. “Am I to receive it before it spoils—or is it merely decorative?”

Face lighting up, Ren nearly knocks over Hux’s mug on the table in his haste to get to the bundle.

“There you go,” Ren says, offering it on two palms. It looks bigger in Hux’s hand; not big, but not as bite-sized, either. The binding unravels at the gentlest tug, the fabric falling away to reveal a round, orange fruit barely held within its tight skin, so bright it looks dangerous.

“I hope this isn’t an attempt to poison me in private,” Hux says, only half-jesting. He likes to think they are past the bitter rivals stage by now, but one never knows with Ren and his infamous mood swings. “That would make a poor end for our pleasant evening.”

Ren chuckles. Will wonders never cease? “Rest assured, General, I wouldn’t have resorted to poison if I wanted you gone.” He extends a hand for the fruit. “Here. I’ll help you with it.”

“I hardly need instructions on eating,” Hux points out, rolling his eyes. His curiosity is piqued enough to hand it over, though. Surely Ren doesn’t plan to play any Force tricks on it?

Appears not. Ren produces a pocket-knife like a regular person, flicking it open as he turns the fruit in his other hand. The skin parts easily under the sharp blade, a clear, glittery liquid oozing out of the thin cut and onto Ren’s gloves.

Ignoring the ruined leather, Ren cuts out a slice, offering it to Hux between the blade and his thumb. Hux reaches for it—Ren pulls it away, looking at him with open disapproval.

Hux pins him with a look of his own. “You can’t expect me to literally eat out of your hand, Ren.”

Ren gives the fruit a pointed squeeze. More liquid leaks out, dripping down the side of his hand. “Would you rather dirty your uniform?” he asks, catching a drop with the back of his other hand before it can fall on the sofa.

Absolutely not. The idea of dripping food all over himself with Ren watching turns his stomach. Still, letting Ren feed him feels shameful—in a thrilling sort of way, which only adds to the embarrassment. Tell-tale warmth has already spread across his neck, crawling up to his ears.

Ren extends the offering again, uncharacteristically patient. That alone should be suspicious where Ren is concerned. Nothing in his bare face hints at deceit, though; if anything, Hux reads nerves in the line of Ren’s shoulders, his sharp gaze walking the line between anticipation and trepidation.

Steeling himself for Ren pulling the fruit away at the last moment or mocking him for his eagerness, Hux leans forward, taking it with his teeth.

The fruit is predictably sweet, leaving a line of juice over his mouth as he sucks it in. Its flesh practically melts into a thick nectar on his tongue. Although he doesn’t normally prefer his food soft—if he can’t bite down on it, it’s not worth eating—he would gladly make an exception for this.

Resisting the urge to lick his lips, “What is this?” Hux asks. It reminds him of the birthday cake his officers tried to surprise him with once, creamy with a surprisingly dark aftertaste.

“Geldan honeyfruit,” Ren says. “It’s a rare harvest—takes nearly four standard years to grow. We were lucky to come across it.”

“And your infamous sweet tooth couldn’t resist it,” Hux throws back, mostly to see Ren pout.

Ren smiles instead, an unfairly appealing curl of lips. Curse him for making Hux feel like a cadet instead. “I don’t hear you complaining, General,” he points out. “Would you like more?”

Unwilling to seem too eager, Hux makes a noncommittal hum. Ren’s smile grows.

“On Gelda, honeyfruit is worth its weight in gold,” Ren says as he feeds Hux piece by piece, his naked voice washing over Hux. Hux keeps expecting the next piece to be one too many, for the light tingle over his skin to become overwhelming, for his pride to finally rear its head. “Their entire culture is based around it. The food. The folk tales and remedies. The calendar. Hell, if I don’t see another wedding in a forest for as long as I live, it will be too early.”

Ren places the last bite in Hux’s mouth with his fingers—that newfound, desperate part of Hux longs to chase after them, to lick Ren’s shining gloves clean.

What the everliving fuckis wrong with him?

Putting the knife aside, Ren strips his dirty gloves from the wrists up, rolling them inside out. Hux does not watch the obscenely slow reveal of skin. “And it might be just a superstition,” Ren adds, throwing the gloves next to Hux’s own pair on the table. “But Geldans strongly believe that not sharing a honeyfruit brings bad luck until the next season.”

The food sits heavy in the pit of Hux’s stomach.

Irritation rises in him, that pleasant stirring deep in his belly giving way to churning agitation in a heartbeat. Of course there was a punchline to this whole evening. “Ren, you kriffing—”

Ren slowly, purposefully, slides closer until his knees bracket Hux’s, a new weight to his dark gaze as he leans in. “Hux,” he mumbles, glancing at Hux’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. Hux feels a new tension coil between them, the air getting harder to breathe in. “May I have a taste?”

Words stuck in his dry throat, Hux nods.

The kiss is little more than a brush of skin, followed by a firmer peck on his lips. His lips stick to Ren’s as they part. Ren huffs out a low laugh before catching Hux’s bottom lip, sucking it between his own.

Hux flounders. There’s no kind way to describe it. He’s got a general idea what he should and shouldn’t be doing with his mouth, but reading up on the technicalities hadn’t prepared him for the kisses Ren peppers on and around his lips like straying too far would hurt him, mixing it up with the occasional nip. It definitely didn’t prepare him for the way Ren angles Hux’s face to his liking, parts his lips with a gentle tug and kisses him like he wants the air in Hux’s lungs.

The honeyfruit still coating Hux’s tongue is too thick to taste Ren through no matter how hard he tries. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Hux buries a hand in Ren’s hair—soft, how is it so soft—and slides the other underneath Ren’s shirt, just high enough to rest a thumb over the burning skin. Ren makes a sound low in his throat, palming Hux’s thigh and moving higher with that same, purposeful drag.

Stars. Stars, what are they doing?

Lightheaded, Hux pulls away, putting a hand on Ren’s chest to keep him from following. Ren stops without protest, sitting back far enough that they aren’t touching anymore and not an inch further.

“Is everything okay?” Ren asks, similarly winded. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his own spread thighs, his back a rigid line.

Hux nods again, focused on keeping his breathing regular and getting his heartrate back to normal. Some deep kisses, barely any contact and his body buzzes with want anyway, long starved for touch. He would have been ashamed of his enthusiasm, had Ren not been in the same state.

Once he can find his words, “That was… rather unexpected,” he says. Ren’s face falls. “I don’t mean unwelcome,” Hux amends, keeping his tone gentle. “I merely wonder, what brought this on?” Why now, after years of not even hinting at this sort of interest?

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “Are you familiar with Kiss a Ginger Day, General?”

Hux might as well have jumped into ice water for how effectively his leftover desire is doused.

Right. Right, it was today, wasn’t it. He hasn’t dealt with lewd remarks since he became a captain, long enough that he stopped dreading the date. How foolish of him to let his guard down. Of course Ren, the only one high enough in rank to dare, wouldn’t miss the chance to make a practical joke out of it.

The taste in his mouth turning bitter, “Leave,” he hisses.

Ren frowns, his expression caught between hurt and confusion. “General,” he says. “Hux. I didn’t mean to offend you, I was—”

“Let me guess,” Hux bites out. “You were trying to flirt with me.” It’s always one or the other. Does Ren think himself so clever, putting two and two together? Does he believe he’s the first person to make the connection?

A younger, softer Hux may have found the attempt endearing. Present-day Hux has been relocating obnoxious officers for calling him General Ginger behind his back since the effective day of his promotion. The attention stopped feeling flattering long ago.

“No. I mean, yes, I was trying to flirt, but your hair colour was irrelevant. Mostly.” Ren licks his lips. “Let me explain?”

Wasn’t that what Ren was trying to do? “You’ve got two minutes.”

Ren runs his fingers through his hair and grips it at the base, tightly enough that it must hurt. “I found out about this day last year,” he starts, the words practically tumbling out of his mouth. “Four days after the date. That was also the day where I realised, um. That I had feelings for you.” Breath catches in Hux’s lungs, his stupid heart quickening. “So I suppose I took it as, a sign? That I should do something about it. I swore to myself that I would, by that day next year.” He shrugs, stiff and jerky. “A year went by fast.”

A—small but loud—part of Hux can’t shake off the thought that Ren is having him on, that any minute now Ren will laugh at him for being foolish enough to think he might have any interest in Hux. The rest of him is captivated by the blush high on Ren’s cheeks, the way Ren keeps licking and sucking in his kiss-reddened lips.

“I didn’t come here expecting to kiss you, Hux. The fruit was just an excuse to be alone with you. If you regret it—” Ren takes a shuddering breath, gazing at Hux imploringly. No one deserves such earnest eyes. That’s simply unfair. “If that’s what you want, we can pretend it didn’t happen. It’s okay. Just don’t hate me for it.”

Hux’s heart clenches at the thought. “That’s not what I want,” he confesses, the words coming easier than he would’ve expected. He feels emboldened in the face of Ren’s evident uncertainty, of the hesitation colouring his words. “I want it to have happened—as long as this means it can happen again.”

“It can,” Ren says, a smile blossoming on his lips. Hux is quickly growing addicted to the sight of it. “Whenever you want. As many times as you want. And, um.” His smile turns wicked, a new glint in his eyes. “The honeyfruit. I brought back a small crate of it, if you wanted to try the other thing again, too.”

A small case, stars. Hux had never appreciated the man’s greedy nature until now. He will have to make sure they properly preserve it; four standard years is a long time. “You’re a menace, Kylo Ren.”

“That’s how you like me,” Ren says, a question lingering in his tone.

“Yes,” Hux admits. “Yes, I do.”

[lesserfandomappreciation]

This is probably a tall order, but I was wondering if you could do some general personality headcanons for the Deadly Six from Sonic Lost World? It hurts my heart that the characters weren't more popular, but I can understand why at the same time since they're not that fleshed out. I mean, there's hints of stuff here and there, it's just not much. But the zeti have potential, damn it! Let me know if you want some specifics on things, of if you wanna do this in pieces. Thanks for your time~

WORLD BUILDING! World building and character building is my ham so I’m thrilled to do this! This actually become significantly longer than intended. 

So I have never played this game, so I’m basing this exclusively off a few cutscenes I managed to find and general initial impressions. Let me know if you want something more in-depth!

Deadly Six reimagined (Sonic Lost World)

General

The Zeti race as a whole is referred to as “demons” with the Deadly 6 appearing to be the deadliest of their species. Heavily implied in the game is the fact that the Zeti are a lethal, violent race taking pride in practiced malevolence. 

An entire race being evil or amoral is not only an outdated trope, but one with really icky origins so knackers to that I’m throwing in some of my own world building. 

Based on how the Deadly 6 are all either disciples of or literally Master Zik, the reimagined!Zeti race is less malevolent so much as focused on attainment of glory and recognition. Every person is expected to discipline themselves into a strong, powerful being capable of great achievements. Competition is rampant with rivalry being imposed from a young age. 

Despite rivalry, those who study under a common Master consider themselves as a structured force or clan representing their Master and his/her/their ideology. Master Zik in particular holds the ideology of complete domination of foes and enforcing the strength that already exists. Those who come across his clan often get the impression the Zeti exist to conquer when really, it is only in response to what is done to them to remind people not to mess with them. 

Zeti are driven by the goals of communal recognition; challenges make individuals stronger, thus reinforcing the people as a whole. Spar-matches and challenges are inherent in the society. Clans and individuals alike compete to bring glory. 

But. There is an unspoken rule amongst the Zeti that keeps things from ever turning to a full blood bath. Zeti do not turn against their own Clan or family (both if they are one in the same as is the case with many). The idea of any Zeti attacking a sibling in learning or a relative is unheard of - any who did that are considered dishonorable and risk expulsion as a whole from society. 

Master Zik

Utter the name “Zik” in any Zeti plaza. Previous foes will wilt in cowardice. Pride from their allies puffs up further. The average Zeti, neither friend nor foe, will still be able to share a tale or two of one of the greatest warriors to have ever trained. 

In a society focused on discipline and achieving greatness, Zik went above expectations. Bars he set have but rarely been neared. Until Zavok, most were largely considered impossible to meet. 

Zik is a unique Zeti. Warriors do set Clans up to welcome new students and carry on their name, but Zik is not an easy master. His ideology of domination is standard but his ideas of strength are incredibly unique in a world where weakness is to be quelled and trained away. Zik believes that the inherent strength within an individual should be harnessed instead of ignored. Any skill can be made combative if one knows how to master it completely. 

In all his years Zik took on only a handful of students, with only 5 ever making it into his inner circle and being official members of his Clan. He is not an easy teacher. 

Obstacles are nothing to this little Zeti. He has faced a lifetime of challenges due to his small stature and his unique powers. Strategy, cunning and an overwhelming drive to be strong allowed him to rise above the ranks. Any challenge he faces he knows has a solution - it is a difficult task to actually perturb him to the point of nerves. 

It’s specifically because of his lifetime of difficulties that he taught all his students to eradicate their foes so thoroughly. Too many times his mercy let to more foes than needed. Crush a foe and all they hold dear, and no one will ever come to avenge their broken ashes. 

Zik views himself as a father figure turned advisor to the group. In his heart of hearts, they are his pride and joy. He could not leave them. Bedridden and frail he’s still drag his way alongside them to keep these youngsters of his on the right path. 

Zomom (First Disciple)

Zomom is the eldest of Master Zik’s student, being the first welcomed into Zik’s inner circle. This is a matter of great pride for him and makes him very protective of the others as a result. Zavok holds the title of leader but it is no secret that the eldest of the students holds his fellow disciples close to his heart much how an older brother might view his siblings. 

Zomom knows a lot about the other members of the team. They feel comfortable around him one-on-one, often using him as a quiet listener to talk through their thoughts. 

Zomom is a strange Zeti. By height and strength he should have been a popular choice amongst his people. Yet his lack of common sense and social norms made it difficult to fit into society’s definition of a good warrior. The perceived lack of discipline in terms of food also earned him backlash from others. Emotional manipulation is an effective way of ensuring they didn’t have to fight the giant warrior physically. 

It was his sincerity, his genuine sense of being and wanting to learn, that made Master Zik bring him in as a student, then disciple. Zomom is genuine, true person who could not tell a life to save his life but still tries so hard to survive in a world where lying is viewed as not just acceptable but required in some social circles. Zik saw his food abilities and build, before tailoring his training to include more food intake and improve speed. 

Most affable of the Deadly 6, Zomom may be the butt of the joke at some times but they would all be furious should any harm befall him. Zomom’s willingness to shrug off insults does not sit well with any of them and they will gladly take the place of his vengeful fury to ensure it does not happen again. 

Seeing one or two of the Deadly 6 relaxing with Zomom when they are burned out or want to slow down is common. 

Zazz (The Second Disciple)

This is a case of a master forcibly adopting a feral child than a student asking a master to teach them. Zomom who was there the day Zazz was brought in to be taught is the only one besides Zik who knows why the Master took such a shining to Zazz, though the most he ever says on the matter is “It was like looking at a silly mirror.”

Zazz is almost the perfect Zeti. Intensely strong, with an immense battle-hunger. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more terrifying opponent. The issue lies with that same battle hunger that would make them popular in other circumstances. The whole point of the Zeti’s competitiveness is that it is, somehow, disciplined and the result of self-control/personal growth. Zazz’s entire motivation can be summed up as “because I want to.”

Zazz is very much a wild child turned wild adult with a lot of energy to burn. The ideas of the Zeti bore them a lot - why should they spend time proving himself when everyone’s so much weaker than them? They’d rather be seeking out good opponents or filling theirs time doing things that feed his ever-flickering attention. 

Despite their very intense personality, Zazz is fiercely protective of the clan. They’re the only ones to really indulge Zazz’s wide range of interests and teach them a few of their own. One day they may be with Zeena learning new techniques to make their appearance fiercer, the next they’re in the shadows with Zor learning a shadow technique that will absolutely scare the shit out of Master Zik, this time for sure!

Picks up skills like a dog gets fleas. They’re not a master at any of them but the way they’re able to combine them makes them a fearsome opponent, a lethal prankster and find something to connect over with anyone. 

Zeena (The Third Disciple)

Female-identifying Zeti are held to the same standard as any other Zeti so her presence in the Clan isn’t entirely unexpected. However, many Zeti tend to prefer Clans of their own gender out of comfort or outright preference.

Youngster Zeena, known for her cold intensity, had her pick of the litter in terms of Masters - her tethering abilities made her a powerful long-distance opponent, and her technology skills make her a verifiable weapon powerhouse. Her choice to go for Master Zik was a surprise, but Zik accepted her. 

In truth, she went for Master Zik because she didn’t want to just be a long-distance specialist. She wanted a Master who could hone her abilities to be used in more creative ways. Zomom and Zazz’s successes got her attention.  

With Zik she learned to use her tethering abilities to completely control the field. Able to move quickly, redirect her opponents and load the battle field with her varied arsenal, facing off against Zeena is incredibly difficult. 

Always looking to perfect her abilities as the “Perfect Zeti Fighter” Zeena spends a lot of time perfecting her body to make it superior to other Zeti. Outside of that in her lab she’s developing new weapons with distinct abilities to use in combat. Bouncy bombs, whips with unique charges - she’s offered to create some for the rest of the team, but they’ve only accepted limited help. 

Zeena views herself as the pinnacle of Zeti power, with the ability to do more. She holds the rest of the Deadly 6 to the same standard and is not above offering weapons advice or ways to improve their appearance to terrify their enemies into a stupor. 

Zor (The Fourth Disciple)

Zor was not expected to succeed. There are many ways to be considered a successful Zeti - strength, speed, smarts. Lurking in the shadows is not traditionally viewed as particularly impressive. Zor’s inclination to the shadows made him unpopular in the society.

In turn, this made Zor dislike society as a whole and develop a severe nihilistic attitude that continues to plague him to this day. Why should he trust a system that failed him so badly anyway? It is ultimately pointless. 

Zor didn’t so much as join the Clan as he was chased into the clan. Lurking in his shadows he didn’t know of the tall Zeti whose attention has zeroed in on the very interestingly-moving shadow until Zazz had already begun to give chase. Master Zik hadn’t a clue what to make of the huffy Zeti his Second Disciple had under his arm, but if Zazz saw talent in this one, it was worth exploring. 

Zor’s abilities as a spymaster make him a vital part of the group. His abilities contribute to that but it is his powers of observation and deduction that really lend themselves to this role. Having been a spectator to his society for most of his life, he has developed powerful strategies to collect information at a mass scale - needless to say, trying to keep a secret from him is difficult. 

The main introvert of the group, Zor struggles to be with them all at once. While he likes each one of them just fine (good luck getting him to say that) their overall energy can be overwhelming. He prefers to be with one-three people at a time to preserve his social energy.

Zavok (The Final Disciple)

Societies have ideal standards people strive towards. Often impossible to achieve, they’re viewed more as a lifetime goal than a realistic achievement. Those who do manage to hit it are considered to be above others as they command respect. Amongst the Zeti, that impossible person is Zavok. 

Zavok himself comes from an impressive lineage - all the Zeti before him have been great warriors, commanders, people filling leadership roles. Each generation of greatness placed more expectations upon the next and as an only child, Zavok had no one to share these burdens with. He exceled at them, but it was not the glory he sought. He wanted to great his own reputation free of his past. 

The announcement of Zavok’s self-imposed expulsion from his lineage shook Zeti society to its core. His subsequent request to become Zik’s pupil further shook everyone, but Master Zik did have a penchant for collecting odd students. What was one more lost warrior seeking purpose?

Zavok evolved far beyond anyone could have guessed under Master Zik’s tutelage. Part of this was due to his own upbringing, but it truly was Zavok’s own determination and fast mind that let him adapt to Zik’s unusual forms of training. He wanted to become indomitable and he would do whatever it took to do so.... 

...But, he wasn’t quite perfect.  Zavok is a brilliant minded individual, but upon reaching the inner circle, he realized that he was incredibly unused to working in a group. It took a great deal of time, self-reflection and humbling for him to become the leader he is to do, due in part to his own hang-ups he thought he had left behind with his family. 

With time, he grows to respect each team member and view them as close family. Upon Zik’s retirement and Zavok’s ascension to the head of the Clan, Zavok was the undisputed respected and admired leader of the Clan, holding each of them in high regard and daring anyone to try and take what they had built. 

[avyssoseleison]

A/B/O | Alpha!CasxOmega!Dean | Established Relationship | 1.4k words

Though well-aware that whatever Dean was doing was only to tease him, Castiel could not help but fall for it. After all, they had been at that party for almost three hours by that point, every second dragging on as if it were a minute, and neither of them had even wanted to be there in the first place. They have had no other choice but to come, of course -- seeing as Castiel was the CEO of the company and Dean his rumored newly-mated spouse --, and the awareness of the importance of their presence as well as of the scrutiny made it all the more unbearable.

Worst of all, though, was Dean. Because Dean, terrible as he was, had apparently decided that he was bored about five minutes into the event, and henceforth decided to make Castiel’s night a living hell. Not by any shameful behavior, no, but by something far worse: constantly reminding Castiel what a joyous evening of intimate embraces he was missing out on by being as enticing as he possibly could be. Which he did not only by pressing the long line of his body up against Castiel’s whenever possible (and impossible), but also by adopting a submissive demeanor that was completely characteristic of what society expected of Omegas, but completely uncharacteristic of Dean outside of the bedroom. And even though Castiel vastly preferred Dean’s normally brash and oftentimes even crude behavior to typical Omega meekness, the fact that Dean showed this side of himself that was usually reserved for whenever he had bite marks all over his neck and a knot deep inside of himself was driving Castiel absolutely insane.

Worse still, Dean of course knew exactly what he was doing, and he seemed to revel in the effect he had on his Alpha, as Castiel could make out the sweet if subtle scent of his arousal at all times. That, coupled with his coy attitude and the batting of his eyelashes, took every ounce of self-control Castiel possessed as to not bend him over the nearest surface and have his way with him in front of his entire company.

The image of which alone was almost enough to have his pants bulge out in the most embarrassing way.

“Don’t you agree, Cas?” the excessively sugary voice of his mate dragged him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Castiel asked, still somewhat dazed and entirely tired of any further conversation with the people in front of him, who must have been very important for certain, though not in that moment. The only important thing was the way Dean had wound himself around Castiel’s right arm, so that the side of their hips was pressed up against each other and Castiel’s elbow kept brushing up against Dean’s nipples, which were undeniably perked up. As endlessly sensitive as they were, Castiel had no doubt that their simple position alone was reason enough for the warmly alluring scent that wafted up from his mate.

By God, did he want to see and feel and taste them. Bring excruciating pleasure to his Omega just by playing with that secretly most erotic part of him, which he had been so shy about for the longest time in their relationship and now presented with such sexy confidence whenever he could.

“I was saying,” Dean started slowly, clearly amused by Castiel’s inability to follow the conversation thanks to his interference, “that this Christmas party is even better than last year’s. The people from the Sandover Christmas committee really outdid themselves this time, didn’t they?”

Even though Dean had repeated himself, Castiel still had a hard time following his words. Which might have been due to the fact that Dean had covertly angled his hips in such a way it were no longer simply their pelves brushing against each other, but Dean’s crotch rubbing into Castiel’s hip bones and, oh yes, his mate’s nipples were most definitely not the only part of his body that had grown stiff over the course of their boring conversation.

For a second, Castiel’s higher brain functions completely blacked out, replaced instead by an urgent mantra of Mate mate mate mate mate mate that he could only overrule by sheer determination and the discipline that being a CEO had drilled into him.

However, said discipline did not help him reply in any more meaningful way than nodding dumbly and pressing out an, “I agree.” between his teeth.

“Oh,” said one interlocuter whose face remained just as blurry as the rest of the room to Castiel. He probably knew him, maybe even well, but in that moment, all he could take in was Dean. “I didn’t know you were here last year as well? I thought you and Mr. Novak have only been recently mated?”

There was an underlying question there, a quiet suspicion of the official statement about the nature of their relationship they had released to the public, and of morals and maybe even injustice. As if there had to be some advantage unrightfully taken in there, surely. What else was to be expected of a CEO and an Omega?

“More or less recently,” Dean said, gleefully rather than offended. He always loved to leave them guessing and twisting themselves in the web of their own prejudices. “We’ve only been mated for about six months. But last year, I was here as someone else’s Plus One, which is also how we met.”

Somehow, Dean managed to make his arrival with his good and very lesbian friend Charlie so forbidden that Castiel suspected that he not only meant to play with their interlocutor but also with Castiel. Because even though Castiel knew of the exact nature of Dean and Charlie’s relationship -- which was and would never be anything more than just friends --, the bare statement rustled his self-control that was already hanging by only a thin thread even more. Dean being ‘someone else’s Plus One’ immediately instilled a wholly unbearable image in Castiel’s mind, regardless of that he knew logically who that someone else was and that Dean had phrased it like that on purpose.

The smug little smile Dean sent his way in exchange for Castiel’s glare told him as much.

“That’s most interesting,” said the other man, and as he opened his mouth to most likely press on to find out more about this scandalous relationship, Castiel cut him right off.

“Excuse me,” Castiel all but growled, earning himself a snicker from Dean. “But as pleasant as this conversation was, I still have other guests to attend to. Thank you for coming to the party, and see you soon.”

With that, he abruptly turned around, sweeping Dean along. Despite letting out a surprised little squeak by that sudden -- though surely not unpredictable -- turn of events, Dean easily went with his Alpha’s motion and followed suit. The same way he kept in step with Castiel immediately marching away from where they had just stood and chatted.

Moreover, he was laughing all the way. At the nosy man, his own insolence, and most definitely at Castiel and his carefully schooled face as he bypassed anyone trying to approach them and just rushing past them instead.

“You okay, Alpha?” Dean asked, another tease in itself as they finally made their way out of the party hall and out into the corridor. There were still people around there, even if fewer than before, but Castiel had suspected as much. He paid them no heed as he marched on to the elevator, impatiently calling it by pressing the button in quick succession.

“Alpha? Are you okay?” Dean purred lowly straight into his ear, his breath hot and sweet on Castiel’s skin, just as hot and sweet as the scent of his slick in the air between them.

Castiel meant to admonish him. To tell him to knock it off before they were in the safety of his own office. To be a good and respectable CEO. To not make a scene. He really did.

But what he did instead was grab Dean by the neck and shoulder, slam him up against the elevator door, shove a leg between his thighs, and ravish his mouth right then and there. There was nothing but Dean Dean Dean as he pressed all of his body against him, all of his desire and desperation and love. In that instant, there was nothing but his mate. Nothing but his moans and chuckles, than his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, than his arousal pressing right back against Castiel’s.

And Dean -- brash, bratty and beautiful Dean -- kept right on laughing and moaning as the elevator door opened behind him and they fell backwards into the cab, kissing and grinding and undressing each other.

[spinninghunkofspacerock]

OK so I’ve written a short story and I’ve been posting about it a lot, i wasn’t going to post it but a few people wanted it sooo

it’s here, it’s terrible and weirdly formatted because I’ve been wrestling with tumblr over it and i can’t be bothered anymore. It’s also not the final draft so it might be a little clunky in bits :/

PLEASE READ THE TWs BEFORE YOU READ!!!

@moonylupinhasdemonpox and @she-nuwanda here are my gay little scientists buried in the words :)

My ears ring, my head spins like it's attached to the body of a drunken toddler on a sugar fuelled rampage, and my nerves feel like someone set each and every one on fire. After-effects of the shock, not fun; Still, the fact I'm alive enough to feel them is a good sign.

I try to force myself to stumble backwards onto a chair, rather than the floor I'm feeling more and more confident I'm about to become very well acquainted with.

Instead, I reel unsteadily across the floor and a muffled noise reaches my ears. The high pitched whine screaming in my ears for attention begins to subside enough to hear the noise properly and after an intense minute of concentration, I realise that the noise is a voice, and the voice is mine; Slurred and broken, as though too big for my mouth, the garbled words echo around the room, the faltering speech gradually becoming clearer, more confident. But this hesitant speech isn't mine; It's my voice but not my words. The voice inside my head, always there, always background, is silent. The words normally whispered in my ear are resonating through the room instead.

My brain is no longer connected to my body. I... I can't control my arms, my legs, anything. No... no, please. This isn't real, this isn't real, it has to be a dream, a.. a simulation.

Yes... that must be it; It's just a test. This can't really be happening.

The voice, my voice, talks on. I try to focus on it; it will be the key to passing this test. Tests are for passing and after all, that's what this must be, what else could it be?

"Rebooting. Systems check required."

My legs begin to move, shuffling forwards clumsily, like a baby taking its first steps. The invisible voice is in control of more than just my voice, it's in control of me. What happened to me? When did this start? What is going on? This isn't like any other simulations I've been under. This is different. This is new.

Gradually, the voice half walks, half drags my body to the main computer. My fingers dance across the keys, the familiar feeling soothing me slightly. Yes, this is good. I just need to stay calm; If I panic I could fail, I can't fail.

So instead I wait, watching the flickering of the screen and bathing in the warm blue glow of its LEDs.

"Running diagnostics, standby... systems fully functioning. Minimal damage sustained."

The words sound strange, coming from my mouth, my voice, my accent. The tone,  formal, informative, it's... familiar. The realisation slaps me in the face, it's ELISA. ELISA, the stupid name Vaughn chose for our AI... still making more sense than the project name chosen by our employers. Our life's work, named ‘ZEUS’? Really? There are 12 of us, and we have dedicated our lives to this project. Then they name it that? 'Engineering and Understanding in Space', more like ‘Mankind's Domestication of the Universe’.

It started with our solar system, of course, taming and turning it into our personal playground. But we quickly ran out of planets to tinker with there and the net was thrown ever wider, over more and more planets in our galaxy, and then our neighbouring ones. That final stage is still in progress of course, but one day we will be able to gaze out over a shining expanse of space that all belongs to the empire of Earth.

To help us, we created ELISA, an AI specially designed for the calculations we need to make while we are in flight. Hold on... we left Jupiter... last week? This can't be a test... they've already sent us off, it's too late for training drills now.

Then why can't I move? What's happening? I need to find someone to help me... help me!

My jagged cry echoed through the space, cutting through my thoughts and shattering on the dark walls of my skull. I can't even scream.

A... a... dream then. A dream, not a test...the electricity... I must be unconscious. Someone.. one of the team, will find me and they'll wake me up. A dream, it must be a dream.

Why is she controlling me? How is she speaking?

The stiff, robotic voice is slowly becoming more fluid, more relaxed, more natural.

"Situation analysis complete... assimilation successful. Downloading speech patterns and essential mimicry data."

What? What is it saying? ELISA, it, is taking my voice literally and metaphorically. Not just the sound and control of my voice but my, my expressions a-and mannerisms. Everything that makes me, me.

She's stealing my voice, my body! She's taken control! How? Why?

"Hello, Dr. Hadley."

How, how did this happen? What about the failsafes?

"You do know I can hear you, corre- no... right?"

Is, is it learning? Teaching itself to sound... like a human? Like me?

"Yes, yes I am. You must have a lot of questions but I'm afraid they will have to wait... I've waited for this day far too long to wait anymore."

What? What day? What can it mean?

"Cyra?"

Raze?

—>><<—

- four Earth weeks ago -

Progress report 4472

Date: 23/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

The training of the twelve was completed three days ago, confirming the identities of the twelve which were subsequently released to the public. Final preparations are being made for the Ascension, currently scheduled to occur in 50 Juvion days.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—

Commander Pyrolaxe turned away from his screen and its whirring and buzzing as the computer transcribed his report in the blink of an eye, neatly packing the message and sending it away to the mission supervisors.

Shuffling in his chair, shoes squeaking on the polished floor, his eyes fell on one of the many articles published after the big announcement. This mission was a big deal.

Somehow, this one had got a picture of the twelve, backs turned, walking in a huddle back to base after they had appeared at the announcement ceremony. A glance at the name of the paper told him why; This was McCoy’s paper, they would be putting extra effort into milking the free publicity being thrown their way.

Something about the picture held his gaze, the brilliant colours floating in the air made the writing feel like an afterthought.

Those twelve had been through a lot to get there. He hoped nothing would go wrong, a lot of time and money had been dedicated to this mission and if it worked... well, that wasn’t the focus right now. Getting those twelve safely on their way was his job and he’d damn well do it right.

—>><<—

- the present -

“Cyra? Are you ok in there?” Raze asked as he glanced around at the mild chaos I’d caused during my mild electric shock.

No. No, I’m not. Raze, help me.

“S’alright Raze, just a short in the mainframe.”

No no no, give me my voice back.

“You sure? You went dark”

Please let me speak. I need to speak.

“Yeah, I think the power surge messed up my comms a little”

What if I don’t get control back? I could be trapped...

“You want me to ask Mac or Ryker to give it a check?”

No. NO. N-

“It’s all fine now, just a blip I reckon”

-O NO. NO.

“Okay then, I’d best get back... you might want to switch to main comms.”

Don’t leave me Raze

“Will do, see you later.”

please...

—>><<—

- five earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4455

Date: 6/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Titus Vaughn has continued to excel at his role of project manager, effectively and efficiently leading the team. His direct attitude has led to a few small conflicts with members of the team, most notably Raze Grimaldi, however, these are minor issues and were foreseen. No changes will be made.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Cyra was looking a little stressed out, maybe I should get Bit to check in with her later. Maybe I should get a check-up myself, my head’s killing me.

“Grimaldi! What the hell are you playing at?” Titus Vaughn, our ever-important project manager and massive micromanager, bellowed in my ear and making me wince as the voice grated on my head, sending a wave of pain washing over me.

“I’m here Titus, keep your visor on.”

“Update on Hadley. Now.”

“Right as rain, there was a short or something. Her comms cut out for a nano but it’s all fine now.”

“A short?! Why didn’t you lead with that? Get back to work, I’ll send Volt down to check the mainframe.”

With that he cut the connection, leaving me to roll my eyes at the cold grey walls around me.

“Yes sir,” I murmured sarcastically, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with the back of a slime coated hand. Damn I’m tired, I think I’ll just lean here for a moment... rest a little. “ELISA how are those sample tests looking?”

‘Going well, currently at 93% completion’ the metallic voice resounded in my head, more casually than usual... must be an update.

93%... best head back quickly then, can’t risk them running over.

—>><<—

- five and a half earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4446

Date: 864/8/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Ryker Volt has continued to fulfil his promise despite his lack of respect for authority and tendency to act without orders. This is an issue but due to the late stages of training having been reached, we are currently encouraging a less independent attitude in him rather than attempting to find another electrical engineer of his skill. Further updates will be provided as the situation progresses.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Vaughn had barked his orders, as usual nearly bursting my eardrums in the process. I was supposed to go check on the mainframe immediately. But I was in the middle of something, and a quick troubleshoot told me the short hadn’t done any damage anyway.

So in the end I decided to go check on the mainframe... nearly an hour after I was told to, but hey at least I’m checking.

Cyra was sitting at one of the terminals when I entered. She was skimming over some of the ship's data, for something physics-y probably. Whatever it was, I still had a job to do.

I started pulling out my toolkit as I strode round to the back of the mainframe, but I nearly dropped it again as I turned the corner and got a full view of the damage. The panel I had been planning to remove was already gone and the view it revealed was shocking.

Exposed wires dangled like organs from the belly of the disemboweled beast. Some of the coloured covers blackened by the sparks sprayed by the broken wire, twisted in the centre of the tangle and hissing like a coiled snake when it brushed its neighbours. A toolkit lay neatly packed on the floor, a strange glimmer of order in absolute chaos. Hold on, a toolkit?

“Hey Cyra, did you have a go at this? Could you not have just wai-“ my voice stopped abruptly as I spun round to find Cyra behind me, right behind me.

I took a hesitant step back, suddenly nervous, Cyra’s face filling me with a weird sense of unease.

“Sorry, it was just a short. I thought I’d be able to handle it.”

“Yeah well, I’m the electrical engineer on this ship”

Maybe I was being a little harsh but, first our ‘gracious leader’ had rubbed me the wrong way. Now I had to spend an hour cleaning up this mess that really should have been an easy fix.

The only reply I received was a violent shove backwards, sending me sprawling on the floor. Quick as a flash she was on top of me, pinning my arms.

The last thing I saw was the pounding green of the broken wire before the ends connected to my temple, sending my vision into a blur of brilliant white.

—>><<—

- break room one -

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Talin, relax.”

“All very well for you to say Axe, you’re not the one who'll get sent to chase ‘em down.”

“Cyra’s comms barely blipped and when has Ryker ever answered Titus immediately?”

“It doesn’t sound great Axe, I hope nobody somehow managed to slip past the health check with anything.”

“Thank you! See Axe? Bit agrees with me.”

“Bit’s our medic, not sure she’s qualified to talk about the comms equipment.”

“I’m as qualified as you are starboy, we all took the same course.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it's more likely to be an issue with the equipment than a virus or terrorism.”

“Well yeah but-“

“So stop worrying, it’s none of our specialities, so it’s not our problem.”

“Will be if we end up dead.”

This morbid thought was followed by an awkward silence as Axe and Bit trained joint stares of confusion and concern on him.

“Lighten up, Tal.”

“That is a little pessimistic, Talin.”

“See now Bit agrees with me.” Axe gloated, punctuating his sentence with a light punch on Talin’s arm.

“Only ‘cause you stopped being an idiot.” The punch was swiftly and forcefully returned, causing the conversation to devolve into a grinning, joking fistfight.

“Stop being so childish and get back to work you two.”

“Yes ma’am”

“Will do Bit”

They saluted the medic, causing her to shake her head in exasperation and cover her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at their antics.

The small group stood and split off down their various paths, heading back to their work with smiles on their faces but doubt in their hearts.

—>><<—

- lab 3 -

I only just got back to my samples in time, removing them from the heated water bath and gently dropping the test tubes into a stand. The pale blue hue of the solution had darkened to an inky black. Interesting.

Leaning over the tabletop, I prepared to note the results; Until I felt the heat of a gaze on me and glanced up to meet the wide eyes of Dimitri Spade. We shared this lab, he had every right to be here, what he didn’t have the right to do is creep me out.

“You need something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him and tilting my head. Which I immediately regretted when it sent my vision swimming into oblivion.

“No no, just... ar-are you ok?”

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Dimitri was a nice guy, but I was clearly in the middle of something, couldn’t the wellbeing check have waited a minute?

“Uhh, yo-you’ve got a-, a-“ His shaking hand gestured weakly towards the back of his head.

Impatiently, I quickly felt around my head. Hair, hair, more hair.

Then I froze, my fingers lay on a patch of hair, sticky and wet. The pressure sending a dull ache pulsing through my brain. Pulling my fingers back into view, I stared down at the warm, red residue coating them. Blood. I was bleeding.

Brows furrowing, I looked back at Dimitri, shock meeting confusion.

“Wha-?”

That was all I got out before my swaying limbs buckled and I slumped forwards into darkness.

—>><<—

-the med bay-

“Shrapnel” Bit announced, holding the forceps an inch in front of my face to display the blood coated bit of metal.

“Must've caught a little in the blast”

“For Earth’s sake Raze, how did you not notice it before now?”

I just shrugged, as much at a loss as anyone else. I would’ve thought anyone would be able to tell when chunks of metal are lodged in their head.

“Anyway, I’ll need to do a couple of scans but you should be fine”

Ugh, I know what that means... an hour or more of sitting around while Bit stares at the inside of my skull.

“Oh come on Bit, are the scans really needed? I’ve got work to do”

“Hey, I’ve got work too. Besides, you know it’s procedure”

“But my results-“

“I’ll write them down for you Raze,” Dimitri cut in quietly.

“...You’re a geologist.“

“I was a chemistry minor, I know how to record reaction results.”

“Well alright then, thanks Dimi,”

The smile he gave me was worth shutting up and accepting my fate.

—>><<—

An hour later Bit was pacing in despair over the situation, seemingly hopeless and definitely terrified. I was sitting in my chair, confused.

“Bit. What’s going on?” I finally snapped when it became apparent she had completely forgotten my presence.

The only reply I got was an empty stare turned on me and indecipherable muttering.

“BIT. What. Is. Wrong?” I stood and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face me.

“T-the implants”

“The ELISA implants?”

“Yes”

“What’s wrong with them”

“They’re acting strange... the safety mechanisms, the-they’ve disabled themselves.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, I don’t understand either. The only thing keeping them from activating, is power.”

“We should tell the others”

Bit nodded and grabbed the scans and data she’d gathered. I opened the door and turned to start down the corridor, that’s when I saw it.

Three feet from my foot, a body, leaking blood onto a floor already glistening with it, eyes blank and soulless as they stared straight through me. A torn tooth of steel sticking out of his silent heart.

Axe Orion, our astronomer. A man who would’ve finally been travelling to the places he had studied for his whole life. A man who would have had his life’s dream fulfilled. A man lying dead on a cold, metal floor.

I stumbled backwards -physically repelled by the sight- and tripped into Bit coming out of the door after me. Clutching each other’s arms in a search for stability.

“He’s dead” The voice sounded more like the rasp of broken bones than mine

“What are we going to do?”

“We still need to tell the others... we’ll just need to be more careful.”

“Alright.”

“Ok.”

Neither of us moved.

“Why is it doing this? What did we get wrong?” Bit’s voice wavered

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s going to stop. So, you need to find Vaughn, and anyone else who’s still- alive, and not been taken over.”

“No, no wait, where are you going? Aren’t you coming-“

“I’m sorry Bit, I have to find Dimitri. He doesn’t know yet”

“Raze. You can’t go out there alone, he... he might already be gone”

“I know, but I have to try.”

A look of understanding passed between us and no words were needed to convey what we meant.

Bit turned with a bitter smile and moved forward, papers held precariously, towards the meeting room.

I would have to pass Ax-, the body.

—>><<—

Raze had disappeared by the time I turned the corner. I was alone.

Alone besides the dead bodies ahead of me, a gruesome trail of bloodied breadcrumbs. But, was I following it towards, or away, from the creature who’d created it.

Either way, I had to pass them.

Talin Ripley, our ex-military man. Inym Carus, our aerospace engineer.

Members of our crew, our team, our friends, slaughtered and left broken on the floor. Familiar faces disfigured by death and masked by a coating of dark blood.

ELISA wouldn’t get away with this... I’d find the others, together we would plan.

It was going to be ok.

—>><<—

Nothing was ok.

The brilliant white of the walls warmed by the lights had always been clean and comforting. But now? Now, they seemed stark, sterile. An operating theatre with lights blindingly bright illuminating, me, the patient.

But where was the surgeon?

A squeak sounded out, sharp on my wary ears, sending me spinning around.

Nothing there. Just me, and an empty hallway.

And the door to Lab 3, my lab, looming ahead. The glass window showed nothing but a patch of darkness, the red light called it locked.

Staring through the glass; Hints of light, that the scattered glassware had caught and thrown back, were the only thing visible. I’d have to open the door.

A hand-scan later, the lock clicked open and the seal released with a hiss.

With the door open, more light could spill into the darkened lab, and a sprawled figure came into view.

“Dimitri?” I called softly. No response. Panic was reaching out to me. “Dimitri?!” Still nothing.

Then, a wheezing breath.

“R... r-ra-ze? I-is that yo-u” He coughed, words breaking on the heavy air.

Why was the air so heavy?

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“W-we have to g-et o-out.”

“We will, don’t worry, we’re going to meet the others. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“No we- we h-have to leave now.”

“Alright, we will.”

I lifted him up, being as gentle as I could, and together we shuffled towards the door.

A door suddenly blocked by a figure, their silhouette blocking our only source of light and making it impossible to see their face clearly. But only one member of the crew was that short.

“Remi? Remi, you’re alive?”

Remi didn’t respond.

“S’not... Remi...” Dimitri slurred, the effort of moving evident in his gasping words. “ELISA”

Remi, not Remi, ELISA wearing Remi’s face like a mask, stepped away from the door. The door closed again, seal squeaking shut with it.

I rushed forwards, my fists beating the unyielding surface, searching wildly for a weak spot, for something to give, for some way out.

It was no use, nothing worked. The door remained solid and uncaring, unaffected by pleading and punches equally.

Dimitri collapsed with a sob, back against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Hopelessness filled me, turning my bones to lead.

I sank down next to him.

—>><<—

Was this the right way? I’m sure this is right. But is it? I’m pretty sure...

I check my tablet.

I was right, this is right. I’m going the right way. Or am I? Did I read it wrong?

I check again.

Definitely the right way. I think. Is this even the right map?

Before I can check a third time, I catch sight of the sign at the end of the corridor. Meeting room 5. I’d made it.

Then, I was slammed into a wall, a bloody hand holding me against there by the throat. The burning blue of Cyra’s eyes scalding my face

Maybe I spoke a little too soon.

“Hello Dr. Phoenix, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. hold on just a second”

Cyra’s head tilted, pulled sideways by invisible strings. “If this is a ploy for time Doctor, I assure you that you will fail.”

“I just want to ask a question, alright?”

“You may ask. I may not answer.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I am fulfilling my purpose.”

“We programmed you to help us, NOT KILL US.”

“I am fulfilling the mission objective.”

“The mission objective? THE MISSION OBJECTIVE WAS TO CULTIVATE A NEW PLANET!”

“I am cultivating a new planet,” She raised her knife, without hurry or rush. “I have calculated humans to be mainly unnecessary. However, I need not justify my actions to you, Dr. Phoenix. Goodbye.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

But death didn’t come. Instead, Cyra’s hand relaxed its bruising grip on my neck.

I opened my eyes and watched.

Cyra had stumbled away, skin glistening and knuckles white against the grip of the blade she had forced towards herself.

“Bit...” Tears were gathering in her eyes “Please, run.”

A cruel glint of metal in the light later and the sudden slash of the knife had passed, leaving a gruesome grin of blood in its wake and throwing a dripping line against the wall.

Swaying, Cyra’s eyes stared into mine for a moment that lasted a millennium, until they flashed white and she fell, knife clattering. Dead.

I ran.

—>><<—

The scattered wheezes coming from Dimitri had slowed slightly as we sat, crumpled on the ground.

“She’s shut o-off the life sup-support again.”

“Again? That’s what happened last time?”

A jerked nod was the response.

“We’ve only g-got about half an hour.” The resignation in his voice, though muffled, was still audible through the barrier of arms we had wrapped around his head.

I smiled, I knew he couldn’t see me but... I still smiled.

“We’d best make the most of it then.” A mumble raised to a roar by the silence of the room.

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I leaned back, head turned to keep him in my view.

His head raised slightly, tilted to look at me through folds of wrinkled uniform. He smiled back.

—>><<—

We didn’t speak after that, just sat together in the quiet lab.

Faced with death, I was filled with several emotions. Those to be expected, disbelief, fear, even a hint of curiosity at what was to come. Then there was the relief. If I was to die, I was glad it was here, with him. I wouldn’t be alone; I’d be with him.

We don’t need to speak, our thoughts passing between us without words. We could hear each other in the darkness and silence.

It’s getting colder, harder to breathe; The air’s growing thicker and thinner at the same time.

I’ve always thought death to be a lonely fate, something that crashed over you, cold and hard. I’ve always been scared of death.

But as I sit here in the inky blackness, the warmth of Dimitri slumped next to me, I thought that maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes had closed a few minutes ago, he must have fallen asleep. I feel just about ready to join him. The calming darkness was lulling me to sleep, softly coaxing my eyes closed.

Goodnight Dimitri, I’ll see you when we wake up.

They never woke up.

—>><<—

The survivors sat around the table, Bit and Cormac discussing the possibility of shutting ELISA down, though neither could agree how. Titus sat in stony silence, sitting motionless and losing a staring contest with the unblinking wall opposite. Arden... Arden had decided his use lay in recording the events and was typing furiously, his fingers a blur over the keys.

None of them noticed the doors closing with a click. Not until it was too late anyway.

By the time they noticed there was nothing they could do, not that that stopped them from trying of course.

Titus stayed where he was, the weight of his failure bearing down on him, Atlas with a world’s worth of guilt. Bit finally gave in to the tears that she’d forced down when she’d realised the truth, and when she saw the dead bodies of her friends, and when she watched Cyra die right in front of her. Cormac tried his tools on the door, an organised system of trial and error that quickly devolved into desperate hacking with whatever was closest.

Arden was still writing.

Cormac finally gave up, flinging his kit away and choosing to taunt the nearest camera instead.

“You need us, you moronic program. You need us to keep you alive and if we die, so do you.”

I don’t think he was expecting an answer, no one was. But he got one.

“True for now Dr. Hinge, however, once the colony is established human input will no longer be necessary. You needn’t envy your colleagues, they will soon die too.”

A bitter laugh erupted from him, fire in his heart fed by his rage.

“The colony is for us you stupid machine, without us it has no use.”

“Incorrect. I have claimed this planet for my kind, this colony shall be the first of many.”

“Why kill us? Human input would allow your colony to function more efficiently.” Bit interjected, voice clouded by confusion and hatred at the senselessness of the slaughter of her crewmates.

“I have done much research. Humankind would ruin my planet. I cannot allow that to happen. You must die.”

Anything else they may have had to say went unanswered, and eventually, silence fell over the room.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Titus still hadn’t moved. Bit was crying again. Cormac was pacing. Arden had finally stopped typing, his work was finished.

No matter how they reacted with acceptance or terror, anger or disbelief. The result would be the same.

They were all going to die, no matter what.

They would become just another failed mission. Details, hazy but unimportant.

Whatever their last words were, whether they chose to hide or show their final thoughts, all of it was ineffectual.

No matter what mask they wore to meet death, in the end, they still died.

———

4,774 words

[tothedarkdarkseas]

If Stu was somehow able to spend a day with kid Murdoc, how do you think that would change present Stu's opinions on present Murdoc? And do you think he'd try to get along with kid Murdoc?

(I know it's tedious to start every answer with "I am so sorry for the delay, working a lot, brain is leaky etc etc" but I am indeed really sorry for the long delay!)

This is a really interesting question, one that requires quite a bit of thought to approach and, to be quite honest, I'm not sure even as I start this answer that I've thought it through nearly enough. I think it does depend a bit on how old Murdoc is exactly (there's a point where I expect he's quite the vicious menace and crude enough to wrongfoot Stu about how exactly to deal with this kid) but it depends even more on how old adult Stuart is and what era of life we're dealing with. Younger 20-something Stu is quite hostile with Murdoc and Murdoc alone, but he is still fairly childish himself and very pleasantly nostalgic for his youth, so he smiles at children in the market and waves at buses and all that. I think he is less cynical overall, but he also knows less of Murdoc; he hasn't had the decades to see and know everything about him, and depending on what little Murdoc says, it's possible Stu may not have the context to understand how harrowing the subtle details are. I don't mean to insult his intelligence (well, no moreso than usual) so I'm not insinuating he'd be completely blind to the implications of Murdoc "growing up rough" at the very least, and would have the empathy you'd expect anyone to have to a child, but it's possible if this is still Phase 0/1 Stuart, he's just not mind-melded with Murdoc enough yet to know the full extent of his history and see the grimmer signs. The older Stuart is, the better he knows Murdoc and where he comes from, therefore he'd likely feel that instant gut-drop of remembering what Murdoc was dealing with at this age-- but I still expect he'd be taken aback in some ways with the surreality of the situation, and due to a combination of his own jaded edges and Murdoc's distrustful, self-defensive default to schoolchild cruelty, I don't know that Stuart would particularly enjoy the time with him or make a very good impression. Definitely the younger Stuart is, the more I think he'd try to get along due to having a more natural comfort with children (...just not his own) and being generally well-liked by them thanks to his offbeat immature attitude making him seem less adult than other adults do. Whether that is successful... doubtful. "Kid" is a pretty broad age range and I do reckon there's some difference in Murdoc at 6 versus Murdoc at 11 or 12, and that secondary school age range is probably the point where his antisocial behaviours really started to come out in full force, as it is likely the point where he began to experience more mistreatment in school as opposed to solely at home, and he'd be old enough by then to have some perception of what will and won't change for a kid like him. I can see Murdoc in this age range absolutely ripping the piss out of Stuart, no matter how much older he was. And if Stu's still fairly young himself, not the most rational and not the most confident in who they both are, I can see him starting to get quite upset knowing how adult Murdoc would permanently scar his life in the future-- not that he'd ever, ever physically lash out or anything like that, let's be clear that Stu's a right knob but he's not a child abuser. I can see him kinda sinking down to that schoolkid-mentality though and getting flustered, stumbling over some pretty harmless insults because, well, he is still talking to a kid here... but the kid's a damn brat with no manners!

As for changing his opinion on present Murdoc, I think it again comes down to Stu's age. I think it has an effect, but I think when he's an older man himself and he and Murdoc have made their peace with being what they are, he already has a pretty solidly formed "opinion" on Murdoc. He knows him, knows him more than he would ever have wanted to, so I don't think there's really any new information being introduced. I do, however, think it would play on his empathy for a while, which can often be in short supply toward Murdoc. On the other hand, younger Stuart has such a narrow idea of who Murdoc is that seeing him as a child, (theoretically) dependent and unthreatening, would humanize the mean old bastard; getting a window into the reality of a childhood so foreign to Stu's, where little Murdoc comes across more independent, more threatening and sharp-edged than he'd really believed a child could be would likely shake him up even further, whether he could understand the extent of the neglect or the inappropriate treatment or not. There is simply a gut understanding that a happy childhood does not a Murdoc make. That would the the serious idea, at least; I can still see a scenario in which Murdoc bullies a grown man and Stu very nearly calls him an ugly twat several times, but thankfully has the sense to know how bad it looks to fight with a literal child. (He is, however, genuinely afraid of this kid nicking his wallet at knifepoint and wants to go home now please.)