#Space Harpoons!!

[hephaestuscrew]

I was on the Wikipedia page for 'Harpoon' for Entirely Normal reasons, and I have discovered something wonderful:

The Wikipedia page for 'Harpoon' has only two main headings and one of them is 'Space'!!

[thresholdbb]

Year of Hell is on again, and I'm wondering how the dynamics would have worked if any other combo had been abducted by Annorax

[doolallymagpie]

if Dominator-pattern Tactical Dreadnought Armor mounted an Ursus Claw would he wear it like this?

or like this?

[terrorland]

So thursday night I couldnt sleep at all so I came up with this idea. What about Whaling? BUT IN SPACE? So here it is. SPACE WHALING. ¨In the far future of 2004 the global warming led to the world being flooded so mankind had to escape into space to survive. That didnt mean the flooding stopped though and in the end the oceans went over the atmosphere and became one with space. That meant that the now resource low mankind once again had access to the resources from the oceans!¨ A big insperation for their space suits is from Captain Harlock! *

[keeps-ache]

mm i Neeed to go the beach

[clonerightsagenda]

Realized the 'shoot the gas line' bit of the Alien Minkowski AU is just me revisiting my perennial theme of why are there guns in space. It always comes back to that.

[maulfucker]

gives one of my pirates a whole fucking harpoon gun

[meeeeeeese]

How is Rugan underwater? I.e. if an underwater section comes up does he have a plan/a diving suit or does he grumble about it.

(I'll come up with better questions at some point just gotta get a generic feel)

Rugan, while he functions fine underwater, very much does not like fighting while submerged. For one thing all the gadgets and weapons he lugs around tend to make him sink in water, and while he has floatation and propulsion devices he can install into his armor, he could also like, just not fight underwater.

The other big, and arguably more important, reason he doesn't like swimming is that it fucks with his mane. He has it out pretty long and when it gets drenched it takes HOURS to dry, so he ends up looking a bit like this

[countthelions]

Spacesweeper was so fun yall ;;

[dontlistentothemmoose]

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol* moon’s stuck in a time loop. do you have extra ammo? this won’t be enough. nasa employee: enough for…what? astronaut: *finding extra clip of ammo, pocketing it, and getting back on the rocket-ship* don’t worry about it!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *emerging from supply closet with a space harpoon, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut:   oh hey u guys are back early astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: what?  nasa employee: how did you know what i was going to say?  astronaut: *punching in key pad code for base evacuation signal, getting back on the rocket-ship* i told you…moon’s stuck in a time loop. *red warning lights begin flashing*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *rifling thru bookshelf of operating instructions, selecting one that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. hey, do you have anything to eat? i’m starving. *opens random drawer, finds nothing, closes it* nasa employee: a time loo- uh, we don’t have food in here…we can’t…eat in the control room, only the break-room. astronaut: *sighs* nasa employee:…my lunch is in like 10 minutes, though, and if my lunch is actually STILL THERE and not STOLEN, AGAIN, i can share it with yo- astronaut: nah, that’s ok…no time. *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* or…too much time. but thanks, anyway. OK, bye! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: you’re…welcome? wait, a TIME LOOP?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: yup. nasa employee: …?  astronaut: *sitting down next to nasa employee* so…do you ever like…wonder what the meaning of life is? the secrets of the universe? nasa employee: aren’t you supposed to be ON the MOON?! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: hey, what the hell is that? astronaut: that’s the code red override klaxon. moon’s stuck in a time loop. oh, and there’s an explosion imminent. But don’t worry, we can deal with that tomorrow. So, you have any siblings? *pulls beer out of space suit, cracks tab* want a drink?

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: do you know frank in IT? nasa employee: what?  astronaut: do you know frank, who works in IT?  nasa employee: yeah, but why are you guys back so early?  astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. call frank, tell him there’s a virus in the security patch and the system’s compromised. then get the hell out of the base.  nasa employee: wait what? what? where are you guys going?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* back to the moon. it’s stuck in a time loop. call frank!  nasa employee: *picks up phone* ugh, straight to voicemail. i wonder wha- *alarm begins blaring*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: *grim silence* nasa employee: i said, you guys are back early…hey, what are you…?  astronaut: *randomly opening drawers until they find a pair of scissors and some duct tape, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. *sticks head back out the door of the rocket-ship* by the way, if you go to the break-room in exactly 2 minutes and 45 seconds, you’ll catch the person who’s been stealing your lunches for the past two weeks. nasa employee: what?! WHO IS IT?! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: *running for the break-room* FUCK!!!!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *sits down, sighs, pulls a beer out from their spacesuit* moon’s stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: …ok, and? hang on, how did you get a beer? you can’t have that in here. astronaut: what do you know about project floyd? nasa employee: I mean, the usual amount? i’m not really on the project anymore, why?  *alarm begins blaring*  astronaut: COME WITH ME TO THE ROCKET-SHIP, we don’t have ti-

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: yeah. moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. see you tomorrow. maybe. nasa employee: WHAT?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *sighs, rubs hands over face, and loads pistol, before getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. and, uh…you should call your mother like you’ve been meaning to. and tell her you’re not actually mad and that you will come to dinner tonight. you’re gonna be hungry. nasa employee: wait, what? WHAT?? how do you know my mom?! why am i gonna be - *alarm begins blaring* 

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” starting to get back on the rocket-ship, but dropping everything with a horrendous clatter* FUCK! goddamn moon’s stuck in a time loop. *alarm begins blaring*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-  astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*  nasa employee: what? WHAT?! astronaut: *loading a single pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop, sweetheart.  nasa employee: what?!? astronaut: a time loop!!! i love you!!! get out of the base!!! stay alive!!! nasa employee: *presses fingers to lips, confused but intrigued, as alarm begins blaring* 

nasa employee:…. nasa employee:… nasa employee: ho hum what a regular day at the office *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: what the hell is that?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-  astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*  nasa employee: what? what?! WHAT!?!? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, then cupping nasa employee’s cheek with free hand* moon’s stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: the moon’s stuck in a what?! astronaut: a time loop, sweetheart, but we don’t have much time ourselves, so you have to listen to me RIGHT now nasa employee: *faintly* …“sweetheart”?! astronaut: in 2 minutes and a few seconds, you need to go into the break-room and find frank. nasa employee: wait, frank from IT? astronaut: yes. nasa employee: how do you know he’s gonna be in the break-room? i can’t just call him at his desk right now? astronaut: how do i know this?! because, one, time loop, ok? and…also…because…heismaybetheguywhohasbeenstealingyourlunchfortwoweeks nasa employee: that BASTARD i KNEW it astronaut: BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT’S IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW. hey! listen to me! go in there, catch him red-handed with your burrito, and tell him lunch is on you FOREVER if he goes RIGHT NOW and checks the last security patch - because there’s a virus and the whole system’s compromised. then you need to get the hell out of this base, ok? nasa employee: …ok. ok. and…and what about you? astronaut: *cocking pistol and getting back into rocket-ship with duffel bag* me? i’m gonna shoot for the moon.

EPILOGUE:

nasa employee: so, how many loops in total? astronaut: i mean, it was hard to keep track. somewhere around six months, if i had to guess. nasa employee: damn. astronaut: yeah. nasa employee: and in those six MONTHS, the best zinger you came up with was “shoot for the moon”? astronaut: hey, you know what, i had some other stuff on my mind! nasa employee: i mean, i guess. it sounded like you found time to flirt with me each time. astronaut: yeah, like i said. other stuff on my mind. *they look at each other, blush, and look away* astronaut: sooooooo. you’re sure your mom is cool with me coming over for dinner? nasa employee: can’t make the day any weirder. plus, i owe you for ratting out frank, right? astronaut: he did help us save the world; we can’t be too mad at him. nasa employee: you’ve had a little while to get over it, i might need some more time. and it wasn’t even your food! astronaut: ok, that’s fair. what if i buy you lunch to make up for it? nasa employee: hmm, when? astronaut: tomorrow? nasa employee: well, i’ll have left overs from my mom, and you might too if you play your cards right. day after tomorrow? astronaut: honestly, anytime is good for me.

*FADE TO BLACK*

[todays-xkcd]

If they're going to make people ride bikes and scooters in traffic, then it should at LEAST be legal to do the Snow Crash thing where you use a hook-shot-style harpoon to catch free rides from cars.

Urban Planning Opinion Progression [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Typical urban planning opinion progression [Each panel is connected to a point on a timeline]

Cueball: I wish there wasn't so much traffic to get into the city. They should put in more lanes. Megan: And more parking. Megan: Parking is so bad here.

Knit Cap: I have to go to Amsterdam for work next week. I hear they all ride bikes there. Ponytail: Bikes are fine but people shouldn't ride them in the street! I worry I'm going to hit someone!

Cueball: It would be nice if we had better transit options! Cueball: I tried a scooter. It was fun but I wish there were more bike paths.

Megan: It's funny how widening roads to speed up traffic makes them more dangerous to walk near, making driving more necessary and creating more traffic. Megan: Really makes you think.

Knit Cap: Visiting the Netherlands was cool! Knit Cap: Amsterdam is really neat.

Cueball: We've ceded so much of our land to storing and moving cars, with the rest of us tiptoeing around the edges and making drivers mad for trespassing on "their" space. Cueball: Even though we're the ones in danger from them!

Megan: Those giant trucks with front blind spots that keep hitting kids should be illegal.

Knit Cap: We should be more like the Netherlands. Knit Cap: They design their street to prioritize...

Cueball: The problem is car culture. It's systemic. Cueball: I don't know if we can fix it.

Megan: People approach road planning decisions from the point of view of drivers because that's how we're used to interacting with the city, so we make choices that make it more car-friendly. Megan: It's a vicious cycle.

Knit Cap: Netherlands! Netherlands! Netherlands! Netherlands!

Cueball: Anything that makes a city a worse place to drive in makes it a better place to live, short of scattering random tire spikes on the road.

Megan: Honestly, I think the city council should consider the tire spikes thing.

[thetyger]

Kind of obsessed with my phone case rn. Watson and the Shark by John Singleton Copley my beloved❣️❣️❣️

[naffeclipse]

To Survive

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

The lovely @crazedauthor requested some good ol' hurt/comfort with a orca!reader with orca!Eclipse. You lost your entire pod but ever since Eclipse found you, you haven't been alone. Your grief, however, comes in waves, but Eclipse will hold you through them.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and blood.

———

The white-blue ice of the continental shelf juts out into the dark gray waters with jagged edges like the upper teeth of a great maw. You bob slowly along the surface, swishing your tail, treading water idly. 

You are not unlike an orca in pattern, strong black and white markings painting you as an apex predator, but you are little without your pod. As unassuming as a lone seal caught in waters far from shore. The colors tipping your fins and flukes are soft and cool against the otherwise bleak waterscape but those too seem to have dulled as you drift without purpose.

These waters have never been so empty. Without Eclipse, you sink back into a cold, numb shell-like rime coating the ground. 

The hollowness within you yawns. You have no energy to escape the whirlpool-like drawl of the abyssal grief within you, and so, you are sucked down into the churning depths. 

You weren’t always alone. There were your sisters, your mother, your aunts. They swam and weaved along the surface, breaching with loud bursts of laughter. They combed your hair with their fingers. You look down at your empty palms. Water slicks your skin and empties your hands of the sisters you once doted on. Your sides lie empty, unflanked by your mother and aunt as they guide you towards your next meal. No prey escaped your fine claws. 

A morning fell upon you, and you awoke to your pod becoming prey. Your eyes opened, and there were nets and harpoons, and scarlet swirled in the water as your aunt thrashed and your sisters cried out.

The songs were sharpened with piercing magic. Harsh and demanding, your sisters sang and drew men into the surface until they could drag them down by their ankles. The frigid water claimed the humans without qualms. You’ve killed prey before but the men struggled and fought until you felt sick. 

They never saw the sunlight again.

But humans are relentless. You have learned how tirelessly they follow, lying in wait for a few of your pod members to drift into uneasy sleep before throwing the wicked blade through the surface and into your mother’s side. You held onto her, bleeding panic. You tried to sever the cord with your teeth before they dragged her into their smaller, swifter vessel and left you behind.

A taste of copper, ghostly and faint, spreads over your mouth. You stare, eyes wide, but you see not the shelf of ice nor the dark waters softly rippling with your bobbing frame.

Sirens do not drown—not without reason. Not without a weight tied around their bodies, trapping their arms down and exhausting their tails until they can no longer push toward the surface. Wounds bleed freely in the salty brine. Cries and screeches of pain overlap until there is no more music.

You haven’t sung since you darted away, lost in the chaos. So cowardly, you took only the vision of your mother’s pained expression, and it pressed itself to the back of your eyelids like the burning glare of sunlight at dawn. 

You are the last survivor of your pod. You double over the carved-out space within you, like a carcass eaten from the inside out, and gulp down air.

Water splashes from a sharp flick of a tail. You jerk, your heart climbing into your throat as you whirl around to find a burning set of frills breaking through the surface. Looming over you, the orca siren displays a sharp grin of teeth perfect for stripping flesh from bones. 

“Happy day,” his voice rumbles in an abysmal chord. “You’re being so good, little love, staying right where I can find you.”

You place a hand over your chest and take a moment to recover from the fright, your heart pounding against your sternum. Being pried so swiftly from your thoughts leaves you reeling, but the orca siren’s strong, sleek form and his pronounced, red and orange colors along the edges of his person anchor you back into this moment. The memories are left to storm far away like distant black clouds.

“Eclipse,” you breathe. The emptiness within you shrinks by a slight margin. Lowering your hand, your eyes roam over him, searching every inch of his sleek body for a fresh wound or a patch of netting. “Are you alright?”

He tilts his head, his eyes upturning in equal parts delight and curiosity.

“Of course. I am more than alright now that I have you within reach.” He flicks his tail. Slipping closer, he begins to circle you like a shark catching the scent of blood. 

You float in place and follow Eclipse with your eyes. He preens under your gaze, arching his back and flaring his fins to allow you to admire him fully. The sunlight is bright upon his black and white flesh. His lithe body is corded with sinew and sleekness, speaking to his strength and speed in rough, cold waters. 

Eclipse slips behind you. You try to turn to keep up but a shiver erupts down your spine when his black-bone claws touch the small of your back. His touch falls lower to trace the curve of your dorsal fin to the very tip. A flutter erupts within your middle. 

“I have a gift for you,” he whispers, his hot, metallic breath dusting the nape of your neck. 

The air you so carefully stored in your lungs when you dive deep below is loosened by his touch as if he brought you back to the surface to breathe again. 

“You do?” Your heart becomes a floundering thing within your rib cage. “What is it?”

You turn, your flukes brushing his longer, bigger tail. You eye his other fist, clutched below the water. Another courting gesture, as he has been pursuing for the past few weeks. Since he found you drifting alone, almost inconsolable in your wretched mourning, he has not left your side to save for brief hunts of gifts or food. Heat pools in your chest, hotter than any sunshine dusting the surface of the sea. 

“Yes,” he whispers. “Give me your hands, little love.”

You obey. A soft flick of your flukes gives away your excitement. Lifting your palms and opening them, you stare into his burning gaze, like twin flames of yellow and red. He doesn’t look away. The intensity of his gaze claims you, capturing you within his grasp without lifting a finger. 

He slowly unfurls his claws and presses a smooth, cool bone into your palms. The flickering burns of his attention remain on you, earnest, and if you dare venture a guess, fearful. 

The beautiful bone is pale and clean, though it seems too fresh to have been found leftover in the frozen land. Strangely, it’s been carved. The smooth grooves along it indicate a sharp tool—claws perhaps—have shaped the gift from merely a bone to a finely curved arch. A token of time and affection.

Your pod would have adored Eclipse. Your mother would have fawned over him, pleased by his skill and strength, and the many, many gifts he’s since bestowed upon you. Orca sirens do not have a strict season of courting ships unlike other sirens, like the whales. From the moment he found you, he has made his intentions clear. 

You were uncertain, so afraid to have encountered one away from a pod—but you were no better. He did not leave your side the first night. He kept you warm in his arms as you grieved silently, unable to speak through the emotion trapping every breath in your throat. He did not ask you to speak. He sang softly, gently.

Your mother would have approved of him.

Your lips part. A smoky breath leaves your mouth but no words follow. Softly, you clutch the bone closer to your chest and lift your gaze to meet Eclipse’s. His brow is hard, caught between fear and impatience. 

“Little love?” he asks. “Do you not accept it?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you finally speak, and it is with great difficulty to keep a sob from slipping out of your chest and into the air. “I accept it. It’s beautiful.”

His eyes narrow in the slightest before he reaches for you. Weakly, you hold no resistance as he pulls you against him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“Tell me what is upsetting you.” He leans back, his tail cradling your own as you rest sideways against him. “I will rip apart whatever has done this to you.”

“No!” you gasp. “No, please. I accept your gift.”

His claws loosen from around you, no longer tense with the desire to sink into flesh. He cannot kill what afflicts you.

“Tell me,” he commands in a low voice. “I can’t bear to see you in anguish. Share your burden with me.”

You hold the bone tight to your heart. The smooth and defined arc of the bone reveals the thoughtful nature of what was done to it. This was not rushed nor effortless. This is Eclipse’s true desire for your approval. 

You lower your head and lay your cheek against his chest. He tucks you underneath his chin.

“I miss them.” The words scratch out of your throat and break your voice into a thousand shards. “I want them here. I want them to meet you and love you as I do. I want my mother to see my mate.”

It gushes from you like a melt of spring, streaming down your edges as you clutch his courtship gesture tighter to you as if it were your last anchor. Eclipse falls still. His arms encircle you, and he rumbles a smooth melody deep within his chest, and it fills you to the brim.

“I know, little love,” he rasps gently. His wide mouth finds your cheek. He nuzzles against you. You hiccup and sob, squeezing your eyes shut as his affection eases the sting of sorrow. “I barely remember my mother’s song. I can hardly recall my father’s face. I was small when they were taken from me. Then I was alone.”

You tilt your gaze up, tears shoving past your eyes. Eclipse bows over you. His eyes have dimmed almost into nothing. He traces a claw up and down your arm in a rhythmic touch. 

“Oh, Eclipse,” you whisper. You didn’t know. Not when, not how—not like this. 

“But I am not alone now.” He lifts his head, proud and unyielding. Your lips part in gentle awe. “And neither are you, my mate.”

“How did you…?” You have to swallow the thickness down. “How did you survive this grief? It feels hopeless.”

He gently noses your cheek. You close your eyes.

“I survived one day at a time, and then I found you.” He kisses your temple. He clutches you closer, holding you flush against his chest. You press one palm to his heart. The other locks his gift in your grasp.

“We are mates,” he declares, soft and low, whispering the truth to you delicately. “We can grow our own family.”

A flood of red overwhelms your face. You have to duck as he laughs softly, the lethal tips of his claws gently carding through your hair. You curl your fingers underneath the corner of his jaw.

It is not so horrible to think of a future where you are happy again. Where you and Eclipse have little ones of your own. Your heart pounds. Your eyes flutter, and you bleed pink. Your flukes flicker as Eclipse cradles you closer. 

“I swear,” he breathes against you, soft as sea smoke, “you are not alone. You are mine. And I am yours.”

You press his face closer to you. With tears in your eyes, less salty, washed anew with his promise, you nod your head.

You lean in and you do not have to wait for his answering kiss. His mouth captures yours. Softly, he tastes you, gently pushing and pulling like the waves surrounding you. His arms hold you against him. Ripples are carried out from the embrace of mates.

There is a future where you do not wallow in your grief, where you carry the last of your pod in your blood and give it to your children. Eclipse will guide you through it.

The emptiness within you is not so alive anymore.

[theonceandfuturefool]

daniel jacobi in the wolf 359 finale is in the fucking scenario of all time. imagine. imagine that, after a tense hostage situation, you get shot in the leg, even though you did nothing to deserve it. this is a non-issue, of course, because thankfully your evil science overlords brought an automated surgery system with them. leg gets patched up. you take none of their meds. eventually your team figures out that they probably popped a tracker in your open wound while their spaceship was playing operation™️ so, either by your own volition or someone else’s suggestion, you end up with the job of distracting the super dangerous dude who basically specializes in murdering other super dangerous dudes while everyone else handles the rest of the station. you decide to do this by locking yourself in a room with him. you probably have a little hand-to-hand combat training, but making shit blow up isn’t necessarily an intimate activity. you are only moderately dangerous. also, you still have a bullet wound. also, you’re a bit of an asshole. and for some reason you brought confetti into space.

so you get the absolute shit beat out of you for probably the better part of the day while everyone else does their part before the bomb you planted earlier finally joins the party and blows up the room you’re in. thankfully, you’re an expert, so you get out of the way in time to not end up in bits and exit this room probably feeling pretty good about how the plan turned out. only to join the rest of the crew to find that your captain is asleep, your commander is bleeding out in a pool of her own blood, your comms officer has no memory of what the hell he’s even doing here, the AI in charge of the station is rebooting, there are 11 minutes before you all end up freefalling into the star you’re orbiting, and someone fucking harpooned your (ex) boss. so you, your bullet wound, and your various injuries from several hours of losing at physical combat and surviving a bomb exploding gather everyone up into the one functioning ship you have left and take off into space. and somehow you still had the most normal day out of everyone else there

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| viii. eight | soulless dreams

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: mentions of self-harm. slightly obsessive behavior. nudity. slightly suggestive but nothing crazy.

↳ ❝ you knew that if you could dream you would dream of Hobie ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

It is said that sirens do not dream. That, to dream, one must have a soul. It is said that sirens eat the souls of people so that maybe – just maybe – they could steal their dreams for themselves and know what it means to truly be human.

You’ve never had a dream in your life and you always wondered if it meant you didn't have a soul. You tried to feel it, your soul, or the lack of it. You wondered if the emptiness you felt within the cage of your chest was where your soul was meant to rest. You wanted to cut yourself open, wanted to search for it between your organs that always seemed to slosh around uncomfortably. Would you find it nestled between your heart and your lungs? Or would you find the cavity where some higher power meant to place one.

For many years, you wandered the endless seas in search for your soul under every rock and within every human trinket. And by fate, you had been harpooned through the shoulder by a royal navy ship and brought abord. You were shoved into a cage and days later, you were rescued by the most beautiful human you had ever placed your eyes upon. You knew it the moment you saw him that you had found your soul. 

That empty space in your chest had all at once been filled with admiration and a devout dedication to this pirate. You owed him your life and you were more than willing to give it to him even if he didn't seem to like you much.

But you knew that if you could dream you would dream of Hobie. 

You awoke curled up in the sand, your body unfurling from its fetal position to stretch your limbs. You blinked once, twice, the fluttering of your long lashes casting the sand from your eyes. A great yawn erupted from you as you sat up and looked around. Most were still sleeping in their drunken stupor, others were groaning and grumbling about the “damned sun in their eyes”. But among all of them, Hobie was nowhere to be found.

You got up and stood to your feet. You figured you’d go for a quick swim before the ship departed for sea again. You haven't had the chance to swim often these days, being injured. But Hobie and his crew had been taking great care of you and your shoulder was healing up nicely. You tried not to think about it, how once you were healed you’d be made to leave. How could you leave? Leave him? Leave all the friends you’ve made.

You walked into the sea that welcomed you with open arms and warm waters. The only mother you have ever known. She had birthed you, from seafoam and salty mist, and adorned you with pearls and made you beautiful. She made you empty, made you incomplete, but she made you beautiful.

You swim briskly, with your head still above the water in search of your beloved you weren't quite sure felt just the same. Your eyes scanned the beaches and it wasn't long before you found him in the secluded cover you had been in the night before lamenting over what he had done to you.

Hobie was standing in the water, bare of any clothes which he had left on a rock on shore. He had covered himself in oils made from fruits and flowers of the island, smelling of sweet peaches and lovely hibiscus. He stood with his back turned to you, the subtle curve of his spine leading up to broad shoulders. He turned but he didn't see you. He was lean, slender but built.

He could have easily been a siren himself with his unshakable beauty. He could seduce just as well as one. With his eyes and his lips and his lovely adornments.

You felt your face flush with blood at the thought of swimming over and touching him, helping him rub oil into his back, over his chest. The scars in his skin from being stabbed, shot – a long, hard life. You wanted to kiss them, his scars, heal them with your adoration, like using gold to fix a broken pot and make it hold again.

You watched him, you head just barely above water. In a daze, you hadn't noticed Hobie had turned in your direction. He noticed your head peeking over the water, milky eyes staring, daydreaming of a world where you had the confidence, the voice, to ask to help him bathe, to worship him.

Hobie chuckled softly, snapping you out of your lovesick daze. “Ya wanna get ma back fo’ me, pearl?” He meant it as a joke but as you poked your head up further and began approaching closer, Hobie choked and backed away. “‘M jus’ jokin’, luv.”

Flustered and embarrassed by your own eagerness to be near him even in his most vulnerable state, you tucked away under the water and swam away in your humiliation holding your cheeks that burned.

Hobie didn't hold it against you. He laughed about it on the ship as they sailed away on the island and gently chuckled with you as if you were any other member of the crew. You moved your head to look at him, your cheeks heating with the rush of blood to your face. Even the fins of your ears were tinted pink.

Hobie was kinder to you than he was before, in the beginning of your strained relationship. Everyone spoke of how Hobie was starting to return to his usual, carefree self. Yes, he was kinder but he was still an ever elusive character in your lonely life, never fully letting you get too close, always maintaining distance, never letting the two of you touch.

You sat on deck with your oranges, watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. Hobie was ordering people around, preparing them for their first night back at sea and you watched in admiration. He was cast in golden light, his necklaces and rings glinting under the fading sun. You sank your teeth into an orange and hoped that maybe he’d look at you, come sit with you, talk to you.

Instead, Gwen came and blocked your view of him. “Hey, you mind if I sit with you?” She looked down at you, smiling with a lopsided grin.

You liked Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. They all treated you kindly, accepted you as one of them without a hitch, more than the others. They were young. They knew little of beasts and monsters. All they knew, in their innocent youth, was of sweet kindness. You adored them. They were your friends, whatever that may mean to you.

You glanced around at Hobie who caught your gaze from just a moment, looking at you with something softer than before. But a crew member distracted him and he turned away from you. You could hear him murmured under his breath, but could not discern what it might have been. You nodded and shuffled to the side to make space with her on the stairs leading up to the forecastle.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while. You are your oranges, licking your sticky lips, watching Hobie while you did so. Gwen fidgeted beside you with fingers twirling her half-shaved head and shifting eyes. She looked as if she meant to ask you something but didn't know how, didn't know if she even should.

It took her many more minutes to say anything, working up the courage to ask what was on her mind. She came out with it in a quick babble. “Do you like Hobie?” She was sure to be quiet so as to not capture the attention of anyone around you, especially not Hobie himself. “I mean…the way me and Miles like each other.” She added on to differentiate platonic “like” from romantic “like”.

You slowly ate the rest of your orange and swallowed it with an obvious bulge in your throat. You nodded slowly and turned your face away, your cheeks hot and stinging, maybe from the sugar of the orange, maybe from the thought of Hobie being close to you. ‘Me no think he like me.’ You signed.

“I don't think that's quite true.” Gwen saw the way he interacted with you, the way he reeled from your touch not from disgust or hatred but from fear. Fear you might find out what he hides beneath that shell of his, fear that you might peel away his skin and find his soul already displayed for your taking, fear that he may already be willing to give it to you if you so asked.

“He's different now.” More accepting of his circumstances. He did not fight his life like it was not his own as much. “I think he likes you. He just isn't sure he knows it, I think.” Gwen looked at Hobie who stood talking to Miles, offering firm pats on the shoulder. He always took a liking to Miles, saw a lot of himself in the young boy.

“I'm not sure how it would work between a human and a siren but Hobie’s never been one to follow the rules, I guess.” She shrugged. You looked human enough, beautifully inhuman but your anatomy was close. You could kiss, you could hold, you could love. “I think it could work. Doesn't hurt to try.”

You listened to her words carefully and nipped at your bottom lip with your fanged teeth. Your eyes lingered on Hobie, still, your fingers tingled with the desire to touch and caress. Your innocent love for him, so tender. You wanted to hold him. You wanted him to find his soul within you too. You wanted him to dream of you.

You could not perform siren mating rituals even if you wanted to. For sirens, singing was the source of everything and to attract a mate, sirens would sing their most beautiful songs to each other. You were born wrong, your throat slit in the womb of the sea, cursing you to a life forever alone.

You lowered your gaze with disappointment and touched carefully at your hair to soothe yourself. You tried not to think of your brokenness, your soullessness. The sea had made you incomplete. You were meant to be human. You were meant to dream. You were meant to have a soul.

The next night, you sat outside of Hobie's cabin, waiting for him to retire for the night. In your hands, you held a small gift for him, fiddling with them to make them look presentable in your palms.

“Pearl.” Hobie had known you would return to his door at night the moment he apologized to you and for the first time, he didn't mind it. He saw that you held something in your hands, close to your chest, and knelt down beside you. “Whatcha go’ there?”

You pouted softly, shy to show him what you had so meticulously collected for him. Slowly, you opened your hand to him and showed him a few black pearls you had meticulously and delicately taken from a few clams while you were swimming beneath the boat. You were sure to only choose the most perfect ones for him and to thank the clams for their pearls.

Hobie took them carefully from your soft palms. “They’re beautiful, pearly.” He murmured softly, examining them for any flaw. There were none, not even a warp in the surface.

‘For you.’

“For me?” Hobie sat down beside you with the pearls in his palms. His eyes were soft, his calloused hands were softer. You looked at him and imagined a world where you’d have the courage to place your hand upon his cheek and him do the same to you. “Yer quite sweet, pearl. Thank ya.”

Hobie took your hand and gently placed his lips up on the ridge of your knuckles. It was the most intimate he’s ever been with you. The first time he's ever voluntarily touched you in ages. You felt your heart soar, beating against the cage of your chest so hard you thought it might tear through. You face was hot, you felt lightheaded. You smiled.

That night, when he left you — this time, offering you pillows and a blanket — you fell into a slumber full of fanciful dreams of Hobie and you, dancing together under the moonlight.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf @gayaristocrat

[severedfromthesource]

Weightless

No gravity and no heartbeat. M rescuer, M resus, suffocation, chest compressions, AED

Cohl fumbled to grab the straps on Yui’s suit. They were just out of reach. His body kicked like he was swimming, but he knew he was doing nothing but expending energy. They both tilted weightless through the station as debris floated between them. He couldn’t get enough leverage to reach him as his internal systems sounded an alarm, the visor of his helmet blinking red with warning. One of his life support systems was failing. Cheap fucking equipment, he spit internally. They’d scavved both suits from a small military post that had been pelted apart by a meteorite swarm. Both men figured the military would have half decent space suits. They were wrong.

Yui weakly clapped against his chest and throat, his body convulsing in the air with the overwhelming need to breathe. He could only stare helpless at the two red goose eggs on his HUD. Oxygen reserves: 0.0 percent. He looked to Cohl in a panic. The other man was trying to push himself closer in suspension, but he was moving so slowly, and there was nothing to help him gain leverage. Yui would pass out before he reached him. And even if he did, what then? The romantic idea that he would share his oxygen reserves was sweet, and more or less keeping with Cohl’s chivalrous swashbuckler persona. But if he stopped breathing, flooding his helmet with oxygen wouldn’t do much. His lungs would stop working before Cohl made it over, he was almost sure of that. Already blackness crept in around the edge of his vision and Cohl’s stricken expression and his useless wading through empty space were growing darker.

“Yui, don’t pass out,” he shouted over the comms. The jerky movements were getting fewer and farther between. Cohl was beginning to panic himself. His own helmet was throwing out warnings to slow his breathing, but he couldn’t. He racked his brain for some solution. He couldn’t just keep floating like a jackass and watch him asphyxiate. He scrambled to pull up his remote ship controls. He could see their vessel through the huge windows circling around the abandoned station, haloed by a distant sun. The cockpit was empty, he’d told the ship to hover and wait for their return while they harpooned the station and reeled themselves in. Now he woke its systems, and began manually operating it. He swiped at the controls and urged the little ship to ram the nearest support pillar braced against the outside of the station. Their Hawk was hardly a match for the size of the huge spinning top they found themselves aboard, but maybe. Maybe it could make a difference. Otherwise… he didn’t want to think of otherwise.

The station groaned as the Hawk rammed against it and the room they found themselves in lurched. Cohl found himself being shoved to the side and smashed his ribs against a wall that rushed up to him, but finally, solid ground. He looked up to see Yui poised above him, and his heart lurched when he saw he had stopped fighting. His hands weakly flexed against the seal of his helm. “No, no, hold on,” he murmured under his breath, voice distorted by his helm.

Yui watched Cohl maneuver his legs underneath himself and kick out like a gold medal swimmer in the 100 meter. His lungs wouldn’t fill. His throat worked and his brain urged him to breathe, but there was nothing left. The last shallow pull of stale carbon dioxide made it down his throat and then nothing. His lashes fluttered. Pins and needles prickled in his limbs. Through hooded eyes he watched Cohl shoot towards him, dimly aware that he had tackled him and now grappled him around the waist.

“Got you,” he heard his voice exclaim over comms, though his mind was going dim, and he was starting to hear less and less. “Pretty sure I snapped off the Hawk’s beak, don’t be mad.” Arms encircled him as Cohl, his captain, his plucky rogue who earned every story about himself, shifted him so Yui’s back pressed against his front.

He kept him pinned there as he fumbled to disconnect Yui’s useless oxygen system. “You really made me look like an idiot back there, treading water like that,” he laughed shakily, unclipping one of his own oxygen tubes from his suit. It hissed and sputtered little clouds in the dark station and he attached it to the other valve, tightening it. He heard the click and then the hum as Yui’s suit once more flooded with air. He cupped his hand over his chest. “There we go, good as new.”

But Yui didn’t respond. His arms hung limply in the absence of gravity, his head rocked forward. Cohl felt his skin tighten in goosebumps. “Yui,” he said with some urgency, rapping a finger against his helmet, “Breathe in, bud. Come on, take a breath.” The terminal on his wrist blinked and he snatched his arm, lifting it to see what other god damn warning his suit was issuing this time.

CRITICAL CONDITION- RESPIRATORY ARREST DETECTED

He grabbed the collar of Yui’s helmet and turned it towards himself, urgently thumping his sternum with his palm. He called his name again and again, clutching at the second skin material of his suit as he turned to face him. He didn’t respond. Behind the glass, his face was slack, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Blue was creeping into his lips. Cohl fumbled with his limp body as they tilted in the air. The stupid thing was supposed to have a failsafe for this, but it wasn’t triggering. He swore as he punched in the controls on the wrist terminal and the helm slid open. The light of the distant sun shone on Yui’s pale face. He probed his hand in around the edges of the helmet until he found the little nozzle tucked away to the side. He grabbed it, hooking a thumb over the bottom row of his second in command’s teeth and tongue with his other hand. He plunged the rebreather into his mouth and it latched, making a seal in his airway. Cohl once more wrapped his arm around the smaller man’s chest and felt his ribs flex as the thing breathed for him.

He looked at the readout again as his oxygen levels began to climb back up slowly. Too slowly. The fluttering little line of his heartbeat was quivering, hardly making spikes. Cohl closed his helmet again and wrapped both arms around him, braced against his midriff and across his chest. “Yui,” he pleaded again and shook him once, hard enough his helmet clinked off Cohl’s own. He made a fist and scrubbed his knuckles hard against his sternum, between the lithe muscles of his pectoral. The mechanical breathing swelled against his hand as the rebreather filled his lungs with the oxygen provided by Cohl’s life support systems. It forced his chest to expand and he heard a sigh crackling over their comms, expelling each breath given to him, his chest deflating in Cohl’s hands.

The terminal chimed and threw up holographic words. CRITICAL CONDITION- VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION DETECTED. He knew it to be true. His heart was quivering into Cohl’s palm, shaking and uncoordinated, too fast to properly push blood through his body. He felt the nervous bird flitting against the cage of his ribs. He cursed softly and gripped him by the shoulder, spinning Yui around. There were four circular ports, two over the right side of the heart, near the shoulder, and two tucked up beside his ribs on the opposite side. He flipped the little latch beside these ports and the suit sucked closer to the skin, pressing itself especially firm in these spots. He watched as the little ports began to hum and glow brighter and brighter in the center of their circular, metal frames.

“Automatic external defibrillator engaged,” came a robotic voice from the terminal, “Select charge.”

If these things were worth anything, let them be worth this. Cohl tapped the 200j option blinking at Yui’s wrist. “Charging,” said the voice, the device whining. Yui’s muscles convulsed. Cohl had to grip him tightly by the arm to keep him from drifting away as the defibrillator discharged into his fluttering heart, making his whole body jolt. His head snapped back, his shoulders shrugging, back crooking. “Shock delivered. Analyzing rhythm, stand clear of patient.”

“Not gonna happen,” he murmured to himself, cupping the other man’s helmet to tip his head back towards himself. He only just looked over at the projected monitor when the voice piped up, “No pulse detected. Begin CPR.”

A flatline cut through the darkness of the lonely station. “No, you’re kidding me,” he hissed, cupping a hand over the center of his breast. Nothing. Weren’t these stupid things supposed to fix a fibrillating heart? They weren’t supposed to kill the person, right? His mind spun. CPR. CPR? How the hell was he supposed to do that? He couldn’t put any weight behind the compressions, definitely not enough to shove his heart against his spine. He gripped his shoulder with one hand and shoved the heel of his palm against his heart. He only succeeded in nearly shoving his body away from him entirely. He looped an arm around his shoulders and tried again; again, there was no way to get enough leverage for an effective compression. His eyes roved over Yui from head to toe, then their surroundings.

“Hang on,” he huffed, resituating himself behind him again. He slid both arms around him from behind, bracing a balled fist against his unbeating heart. Settling his chin against his shoulder, he thrust in against his ribcage, forcing it to bow in towards his spine. He’d never had to actually use the scarce first aid lessons he’d been forced to sit through, ironically at Yui’s insistence.

Something told him this was harder than normal compressions. He couldn’t put his weight behind it, or rely on the ground to help squeeze blood from his motionless heart. It relied entirely on the strength in his arms; those felt like they were ready to fall off with how hard his own pulse thundered through his limbs. He kept it up anyway. Yui’s ribcage shifted under his skin, bowing with each hard thrust and expanding with each breath. “C’mon,” Cohl grunted, “We’ve been through worse than this, huh? Huh? You’re gonna let-hngh- this shitty station- ungh- be where you die? Cause of a dumb suit malfunction?”

Again, Yui’s heart began to quiver in his chest, shaking the space between his ribs. “Shock advised. Stand clear of patient.” “Yeah, no, I’m good here.” Again, the ports whined and began to glow. The display showed the shaky line of his heart struggling to beat, beneath that the line marking the device as it charged to 250. Cohl instinctively wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. His breath was noisy in his helmet. “Come on, come on, come on…”

Yui’s body bucked, knocking against Cohl’s chest as his limbs seized in the current. His muscles tensed and loosened, his helmet clanging hard off Cohl’s own. “Shock delivered-“ “I know the stupid thing delivered the stupid shock,” he growled, pressing his palm flat against Yui’s heart. “Is he alive or dead?” “No pulse detected. Begin CPR.” “Fucking hell-“

He started the compressions anew, harder this time, if he could even do them any harder. He beat his second in against his chest, sweat tickling his brow and neck. His entire focus, his entire being, was centered on the man dead- not dead, no, he couldn’t be dead. He was destined to die in some awesome, awe inspiring way on a distant planet. Crushed in a salt avalanche, fucked to death by some charismatic mantis alien, shot in a card game with interstellar pirates. This was undeserving of him. This was how rookies died. They weren’t rookies. Cohl and Yui were wanted criminals, their faces graced holo posters in three different systems. Haruki Yui was not suffocating in an abandoned research base. He was not dying while Cohl still had breath.

As he shoved against his sternum, listening to the quiet “Huff, hff, haa, hff” as he forced synthetic air from his still lungs, he wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings. The quiet atrium might as well be a distant star. He didn’t notice the wall the two of them were floating towards until his back bounced off hard metal. Cohl kept bending his battered ribcage and craned his neck to look; his eyes widened. Gravity engine- the OFF button burned red in the dark. Life support systems- OFF.

“Jesus, yes, yes,” he gasped and flicked both switches on at once. The station groaned in protest as ancient motors whirred to life and air began to sigh once more through her vents. Cohl hardly had time to roll in midair and brace Yui in his arms before they were once more leashed by artificial gravity. It sucked them to the ground, slamming them both to the metal grating of a small platform. Something in his side cracked and the air squeezed out of Cohl’s lungs. He soundlessly wheezed, arms in a vice around his second.

His body hurt even worse with gravity weighing him down once more. His arms and legs were jelly. His muscles ached. It took him a moment, and he cursed every second of that moment, to roll Yui’s body off and push himself up on his hands and knees at his side. He tore off both their helmets, drawing in as deep a breath as he could manage. Stale air stuck to the sweat on his skin and he’d never been more grateful for it. “Okay, we can do this. C’mon…”

He descended on Yui’s chest, stacking his hands as he began to pound against creaking bone. At this angle, it was easier to feel the fractures he’d split through his second’s sternum, bone rubbing against bone. His head rocked, each compression causing a tide to roll from his shoulders to his fingertips, his feet. His belly bulged against the tight skin of his suit, snapping up as Cohl snapped down against his heart. Was he too late? Hell, had he even been doing any good before? These compressions felt more violent, going much deeper, and he couldn’t stop the little voice nagging that Yui was gone. Would he already be back if he’d found the damn switch earlier?

His hands sunk into the center of Yui’s heart again and again. He might have been saying something, but he wasn’t even sure. He was getting light headed from the rush of air and exertion. Even so, his entire body jerked as the robotic voice once more spoke, “Shock advised. Stand clear of patient.”

This time, despite how badly he wanted to just scoop him up into his arms, he sat back, staring down at his second’s moon white face. The suit’s oxygen system forced his chest to rise at regular intervals, even if the breath left his lungs, unable to stick.

“Charging,” it announced. The display flashed 360j. It emitted a few rapid beeps as it reached the end of its charge. Yui’s chest was pulled into into the air with a sharp jerk, his head snapping to the side, arms convulsing from the shoulder and then falling limp again. “Shock delivered. Analyzing-“

Yui’s throat came unstoppered and he drew in a rattling breath, loosing a moaning exhale. Cohl was at his throat in an instant, hooking his finger between his teeth. He took hold of the rebreather and it slid back, coming loose from his trachea with a wet gurgle.

“There he is,” Cohl almost shouted, cradling his neck, “There we go, deep breaths! Christ alive…”

Yui croaked something that might have been, “Captain.”

Cohl pressed his forehead to the other man’s temple, nose pressed to his cheek, stuck between laughing like a maniac and breaking down in sobs. Instead of doing either he huffed, “This scavver shit isn’t for us.”