#Star Trek is smooth sci-fi

[technoturian]

The real difference between Star Wars and Star Trek is that Star Wars is dials and knobs sci-fi and Star Trek is screens sci-fi.

Even in the 60′s when they couldn’t imagine a handheld touchscreen interface becoming as commonplace as it has, the Enterprise still had an interactive viewscreen. Even now when everyone has a smartphone, the folks over in the galaxy far, far away still prefer grainy holograms on a chunky black dais. And that is just how it should be.

[alpinelogy]

@hypersoft-fest week 2: sci-fi star trek au, collab with @testarossa

Lieutenant George Rusell dreamed of the stars. Ever since he was a child, he wanted to lose himself in their light, chart courses to distant galaxies and fly off to worlds unknown. His head has always been beyond the clouds, above the stratosphere, drifting through the far reaches of space. Ensign Alex Albon dreamed of fantastic planets. As a child, his imagination ran wild, drawing worlds with lilac rivers and fifteen moons, grasslands as wide and deep as oceans, plants that could talk and stones that would sing. He studied for hours, memorizing the flora and fauna of Earth and Vulcan and every planet in the federation, and still his mind wondered at the mysteries to be found on new planets. Alex and George both enlisted in Starfleet to travel the galaxy, but the realities of life on a starship didn’t quite measure up to their dazzling expectations. George was scheduled at the helm for beta shift, a time during which both he and the universe were endlessly sleepy and nothing interesting ever happened. Alex’s attempts to grow moss for water filtration were both slow and fruitless, the results of his experiments muddy and disappointing. Then of course, there was the food: replicated, bland, and often chalkier than expected.  Charting unknown depths of the galaxy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be – until the two join the landing team to the mysterious planet AMG-Zeta. There, the two discovered a life form that would alter the course of their lives, and the course of the universe. Read on for an excerpt from Astral Connection, coming this fall from Hypersoft Press.

George has volunteered for every away mission for which he’s qualified since they have entered deep space, and some of the ones he isn’t. For any trip that was dangerous enough to require a pilot, they sent Lewis, and for all the rest, George stayed on the Mercedes, fulfilling his regular rotation at the helm. It did not take a rocket scientist to keep a starship in steady orbit, so George was stuck onboard, trying not to fall asleep on the bridge, while teams of scientists and security officers and half the regular bridge crew got to explore all manner of planets.

Until today. 

Not only would George join the away team for this mission, but he would pilot the shuttle. The atmosphere around AMG-Zeta, while safe to breathe, was prone to sudden electromagnetic storms and near-constant rain that made beaming directly to the surface inadvisable. 

He was practically bouncing in his seat as he went through the final departure checks. “Are we all buckled in?” he asked, glancing back at the other members of the landing party.

One of the scientists – Adam, he thinks, or maybe Alan –gave him an amused look. “Can we stop for snacks on the way?” Alan asked.

George grinned. “Right, I’m taking that as a yes,” he said, pressing the button to radio the bridge. “Mercedes, this is Shuttle One confirming we’re clear for departure.”

“You are clear, Shuttle One,” came the staticky reply. “Enjoy your trip.”

“That we will,” George said, as he pressed the release button on the locks and allowed the shuttle to drift into open space. 

Despite the thick clouds, navigating to the surface was easy, and the landing quite smooth. George followed the rest of the team down the ramp and took his first steps onto an actual planet in months, into an oppressive mist that instantly coated their space suits. Even the miserable weather couldn’t quite dampen George’s spirits.

At least, not for the first five minutes. The team divided into smaller groups, a few of them traveling to the west to investigate the species of animals native to the planet. According to the briefing, most of the planet’s fauna were varied species of slugs. Not the most interesting subjects, in his opinion, so George stayed behind with Alan, who was on his knees on the mossy ground, his face inches away from a silvery, bell-shaped flower.

“Are you sure you should be that close?” George asked, peering down at the plant. It looked mostly harmless, but even on his very first away mission, George knew better than to trust an innocent appearance.

Alan consulted his tricorder, then looked back to the plant, then at the tricorder again. “Yeah, I think it’s fine,” he said, glancing back at George. “Hey, mind your feet.”

George looked down, then shifted his feet. He’d crumpled one of the bell-shaped flowers beneath his left foot. “Oh bollocks,” he muttered. 

Alan shot him a look, shuffling around on his knees to run his tricorder over the damaged blooms. “We’d better hope this isn’t a butterfly effect situation,” he said. “Oh, that’s odd.”

Alan’s eyes drifted slowly upward, fixed on something around George’s knees. 

“What is it?” George crouched to get a look at whatever it was Alan was looking at, then promptly sneezed as a shimmering powder blew into his face. “What is that?”

“I have no idea,” Alan said softly, studying his tricorder again. 

And here George had thought Alan was some sort of expert botanist.

It’s Alex.

What?

My name. It’s Alex. And I am a botanist, but I can’t claim to be an expert on the properties of previously undiscovered alien flora, now can I?

George blinked. The air still shimmered faintly, the pollen clinging to the heavy mist permeating the air. “Alan,” he said experimentally, earning an exasperated glare from his research partner.

“I just told you it’s Alex,” he said.

“No,” George said, staring at the plant in dawning horror. So much for AMG-Zeta being a boring little planet. “You just thought that. But I heard you.”

“That’s impossible,” Alex said, his voice faint. “Wait, okay. What am I thinking?”

George, having exactly zero telepathic experience until a minute ago, had no idea how to go about reading someone’s thoughts. He looked at Alex, focusing on his – rather handsome, really – face, watching as he broke out into a teasing grin.

You think I’m handsome?

“Oh bollocks,” George repeated, so startled by hearing Alex’s thoughts in his own head that he fell back on his ass. He probably launched even more plant spores or whatever they were into the atmosphere, and now he’d be stuck with the entire crew of the Mercedes hearing his every passing thought.

“Hey, none of that,” Alex said aloud, his voice low and soothing. “I’m an expert botanist, remember?” George nodded silently, watching as Alex clipped the plant near the roots, secured it in a vessel, and tucked the entire thing into his supply kit. “We’ll just take this back to the ship, and I’ll find a way to synthesize an antidote.” Alex looked back up at George, that smile back on his lips. “Who knows, maybe it’ll wear off in a few hours.” Or maybe it won’t, and we’ll be stuck like this forever. Could come in handy sometimes, a bit like a superpower.

You can’t be serious.

I rarely am. Alex’s smile turned wry. Looks like we’re going to learn a whole lot about each other, George.

[constellationandcompendium]

Writeblr Intro

Greetings traveller!

About Me:

She/her, early 30s

PhD graduate working in heritage

British (obsessed with tea)

Also sings and crochets

Enjoys both Star Trek & Star Wars

Occasional NaNoWriMo participant

Fanfic writer of 15 years making the jump into original fiction (find my fandom blog @thetamehistorian)

Happy to take asks / play tag games etc.

Has a habit of designing covers rather than writing

Second attempt at this blog (main blog this time, cha cha real smooth)

Tends To Write / Read

Sci-Fi & Cyberpunk

Urban Fantasy & Fantasy

Historical

Comedy (this suprised me too)

Introducing My WIPS

A crime thriller with a touch of cyberpunk...

Featuring

Man with habit of doing wrong thing for right reason

Best buds to reluctant allies to ‘I would die for you’

That ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’ meme

Conspiracies and double agents

Lots of angst and hurt (with some comfort)

Wholesome parent / child relationships

Summary

Solaris City has a problem. Whilst the metropolis flourishes, down below in the old mines the Undercity grows wild and dangerous, it’s people cut off from the prosperity above, dreaming of the sun and spreading Haze - an addictive drug.

Elias also has a problem. Working for the Bureau has cleaned his slate but he hasn’t cut all ties with those underground. Now there’s a girl hidden in his flat and something big has been uncovered that has his contacts in a flurry.

With two days to go to a vote on unifying the two halves of the city, and his friend Sebastien caught right in the middle, Elias has a feeling that it'll only take one domino falling for everything to come crashing down.

Work Page

First Draft Complete, If Messy (Mind the Plot Holes)

A sci-fi comedy of a ship of misfits...

Featuring

Puns for ship names (and just bad jokes in general)

Captain packing up the ship and all its crew because they can no longer thrive in this household

Overly social parents (please stop inviting my professor over to dinner)

Space worker unions (and aliens)

Learning self-worth and finding strength through working together

Found family

Summary

The United Earth Ship Archimedes patrols the border of charted space. Beyond it - the vast and unexplored reaches of the universe.

It’s an exciting prospect for Aster Kobor, newly graduated from the fleet academy and hoping to make her mark upon the stars. Unfortunately, it only takes a few weeks for Aster to realise that the Archimedes is nicknamed ‘the screw’ for a reason. It’s a ship for the rejects and misfits, those deemed unfit to serve in the frontier ships and command never lets them do anything exciting. Still, Aster is determined to make the best of it and, unbeknownst to her, her meddling Captain is about to give the crew of the Archimedes their chance to show command what they're made of.

Soon a bad reputation is the least of their troubles and, whether the crew like it or not, they’ll have to learn to survive in deep space - where their only certainty is each other.

Work Page

Currently Wrangling Vibes Into ~ Characters ~ and ~ Plot ~

A historical novel about determined women, trains, and winning a war…

Featuring

One woman’s obsession with the railways

Code breaking commuters

Breakfasts cooked on a coal shovel

Being accidentally adopted by an elderly fireman and driver duo

Occasional air raid for added ~spice~

Solidarity in the face of adversity and outdated systems

Summary

Bea had always been fascinated by the railways, but her dream of driving one of the locomotives always seemed out of reach. Working the trains is dangerous, dirty, and completely off limits to the fairer sex.

Then the war came and the men went off the fight. Answering the call to help, Bea and her fellow railway volunteers find themselves with an opportunity of a lifetime. Obscured from judging eyes by steam and smoke they shadow the veteran drivers and engineers, learning what they can on the job and hitting the library when they can't.

The trains need to run, they are vital to the war effort. All it would take is one rogue bomb, one mishap to take out a driver and the wheels stop spinning.

Or at least, that's what the station manager thinks.

Work Page

Currently Doing Research and Initial Planning!

[geekyimagines]

FANDOM:

Star Trek TNG

CHARACTER(S):

Q x GN!Reader

GENRE:

Mystery, sci-fi, humour

WARNINGS:

None

SUMMARY:

Reader is the unfortunate pawn in Q's game... until they become the sole player.

Think

Life had been good to you lately. Not only had you just been promoted from an ensign to a lieutenant, you had also been reassigned to the Enterprise. An engineer on the flagship of the Federation. Your family was ecstatic when they heard the news.

At first you thought it would be stressful serving aboard such an important starship, but you were pleasantly surprised at how nice everyone was. The head engineer, Geordi La Forge, was definitely no nonsense when it came to work, yet every time you two spoke it felt like you both had been friends for years. Any difficulty you encountered you always had at least five people to turn to for help at any moment. The Enterprise really was as good as everyone said it was.

The living quarters alone made your jaw drop. No ship you had ever served on had quarters quite as good, nor beds quite as soft. You were truly beginning to wonder what good deeds you had done to deserve such blissful karma.

Naturally, you soon found out the hard way what the price of heaven was.

Chaos had erupted on the ship. People were being thrown around by shifting gravity, consoles around engineering were sparking, and the warp core was making a strange whirring noise that made your skull vibrate. You weren't sure what was happening exactly, only that the entity known as 'Q' was involved somehow.

That wasn't good. You had heard of Q. Everyone in Starfleet knew about the godlike entity that put humanity on trial for barbarity. You had hoped that it wouldn't appear again while you were stationed on the Enterprise, but apparently you weren't that lucky.

Geordi was yelling out to Captain Picard over the intercom while gripping for dear life to one of the consoles. You were hugged against a wall, trying to hold on from being thrown into the ceiling. Just as you lost your grip and flew forward through the air, you landed hard, face first, on a smooth metal floor. The gravity had stopped shifting. It was dark. You looked up and squinted around at what now appeared to be the interior of a shuttlecraft.

"What the...?"

You were alone. The Enterprise was nowhere in sight. You went to the shuttle console and did a quick scan of the local area.

Nothing.

No Enterprise. No planets. Nothing.

Somehow, you had been transported onto a shuttlecraft right out in the middle of nowhere. Judging by the distance of the stars from where you were, you definitely didn't have enough power to go and find a planet or moon to land on. For some reason, this was your life now.

"Better try and send a distress signal anyway," you murmered to yourself as you repeatedly tried and failed to reach Starfleet. "Never know if someone is nearby to help."

"I doubt it," a voice scoffed from the seat beside yours. You startled and snapped around to see a man dressed in a Starfleet captain's uniform. He was leaning back against the shuttle window with one leg crossed over the other and staring you down with thinly veiled contempt.

"Who the hell are you?!" you yelled, completely forgetting your Starfleet training on rules of civilised conduct in possible first contact situations. If your old tutor could see you now, all flustered and loud and rude, they would be hanging their head in shame.

The man gave a mildly amused smile. "Q," he replied. "I would apologise for snatching you from your tedious duties, lieutenant, but unless you humans now find being flung about a room to be an important part of engineering, then I think you being here is a far better use for your existence."

"You're Q?"

"Indeed I am! I know, this must be quite a spectacular moment for you. You must be asking yourself, 'what could an omnipotent being possibly want with a lowly, insignificant human such as me?' Well, as it happens, you have been randomly selected to be one of twenty crew members your dear captain has to rescue in my little game."

Panic swelled within you. "And what happens if he loses?"

"Lost forever in an alternate dimension. Everything you see out of these windows," he tapped on the glass with his index knuckle, "is all just a bubble of your own dimension put here by yours truly. I guarantee if you saw what this dimension was truly like we would be here all day scraping your poor melted brain off the floor."

You stared out of the windows at the distant stars, or at least the illusion of stars that had been put there for your benefit. You didn't know whether to be in awe of the fact that you were literally where no human had gone before or to huddle down in your seat and cry.

You did neither - not with Q sitting right next to you, scrutinising your every move like you were the sole example of your entire species and he was wondering whether or not to squish you all under his boot. He seemed relaxed, if not a little bored by you, but you didn't want to sway his opinion one way or the other. This was the single most powerful creature Starfleet had ever encountered. The last thing you wanted to do was piss it off.

"Well, while you come to terms with what's happening to you and where you are," said Q, breaking the brief silence that had fallen over the shuttlecraft as you gawked out the windows, "I'll be off talking to more interesting people. Farewell!"

With a quick wave goodbye, he vanished in a burst of white light, leaving you utterly alone. You weren't sure whether you or not you were relieved that he was gone. With a sigh, you sat back in your seat and waited.

Captain Picard was a smart and honourable man. You knew he would save you and the others, even if that meant playing whatever game Q had come up with to torment him.

Hours later and you were still waiting alone, in the dark, in the dreadful silence. You had taken to humming to yourself and inspecting your fingernails to pass the time. At the very least Q could have left you a book or some sort of indication of how long you would be waiting.

A flash of white light in the seat next to you startled you upright. Out of the brief flash appeared Q with a disgruntled look planted on his face.

"You humans," he sneered. "Honestly, I don't know why I waste my time with you! How can such a simple concept elude you all so consistently?!"

"Um... Hello to you, too?" you replied awkwardly.

Q huffed, apparently unimpressed by your response. He held up his hand and in a smaller flash of white light a deep blue spherical device appeared in his hand. He held it out to you, which you took from him without hesitation.

"Your beloved Picard has failed my game, as have all other nineteen of your stranded crew. Now it's your turn to play. If you can't figure it out, then that's it - no more chances. You're getting abandoned out here along with your nineteen other crewmates. I really can't be bothered to be charitable at this point, so you had better think hard on this."

"No pressure then," you muttered to yourself as you turned your attention down to the sphere in your hands.

There was a single screen on the front of the sphere. From what you could tell, it was touch sensitive. On the screen it read:

Unknown [?] In [?]

[?] [?] to [?] [CONFIRM]

You pondered the text for a while as Q summoned himself a book to read while he waited. Finally, after studying the text for some time, you asked.

"What dimension am I in?"

"Fourteenth," Q answered, not even bothering to look up from his book.

"Fourteenth?!" you repeated, stunned. "How many dimensions are there?!"

"More than you could possibly comprehend."

"Oh boy..."

A smirk flitted across Q's face as he studied his book. "If it's any consolation, I never really intended for you to be doing this. This was supposed to be Picard's challenge, but he failed and I guess I'm going soft. I've decided to give you all a chance to save yourselves. So far it's proving too much for all of you. Let's hope for your sake you do better than your predecessors , though I sincerely doubt it."

"Thanks for the support."

Q gave you a wide smile, completely ignoring your blatant sarcasm. "You're very welcome."

With a weary sigh, you turned back to the device in your hands. You pressed the first box in the text and a keyboard with the numbers one to nine popped up at the bottom of the screen. You pressed three. In the second box you typed fourteen. When you had exited the second box the text on the screen reloaded itself.

1 [3] in [14]

[?] [?] to [?] [CONFIRM]

"One three dimensional being in the fourteenth dimension," you confirmed.

"Congratulations," Q said half-heartedly. "You're already further than some of your comrades."

"And the second part relocates the being detected to another dimension?"

A sparkle came to Q's eye. He sat his book down on the shuttle console and peered at you with an impish smile on his lips.

"You've gotten as far as Picard, then, but how do you plan on finding all twenty of your crewmates scattered across the dimensions? You could spend the rest of your life searching, but I don't have the patience for that. Picard got to the ninth dimension before I realised he would actually sit there for years, going from dimension to dimension, until he found all twenty of you. I'm not sitting around for that."

"Can't I just...?" You pressed the second box in the text and brought up the keyboard. You had noticed earlier that there was a small black arrow in the bottom corner. You clicked it and the keyboard turned to the alphabet. You typed 'all' in the second box. When you exited the box, the text reloaded itself again. You then carefully entered the same numbers to the second part of the text.

8498512086340724549371025753 [3] in [all]

[8498512086340724549371025753] [3] to [3] [CONFIRM]

"That looks about right to me," you said, turning the screen to Q. He took one look at your work and that sparkle came to his eye again.

"You hope."

You didn't let his words deter you. You felt confident that you had it figured it out. Still, as your finger hovered over the confirmation button, you couldn't help the tiny lingering doubt that you were not only risking your life, but the life of every other three dimensional being in existence.

But that pleased look worming its way onto Q's face out of the corner of your eye said it all. You pressed the button.

Suddenly you were falling flat on your butt in the middle of the bridge, along with the nineteen other crewmembers. The bridge crew ogled all twenty of you as you all picked yourselves back up in a confused daze. Captain Picard's eyes instantly locked onto the device still clasped in your hand and relief swept over the man.

"I see Q thought it fitting to give you a chance to save yourselves," said Picard, a light smile pulling onto his face. "Lieutenant...?"

You blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were back on the Enterprise and the captain was speaking to you directly.

"(Y/N), sir," you answered.

"Lieutenant (Y/N), of course. Well, lieutenant, I expect a full briefing of your experience on my desk by tomorrow, and that goes for the rest of you, too. For now, I'd like you all to head down to medical, and (Y/N), you can give that device to -"

In a flash of white light the device disappeared from your hand. Picard gave an exasperated sigh.

"Never mind, lieutenant. Please, head on down to medical with the others, and I'd like to add that you have my sincerest gratitude for completing Q's game."

"Yes, sir," you replied. "Thank you, sir."

Your trip to medical was quick. There had been no side effects from being trapped in an alternate dimension. You suspected that was mainly because of Q's bubble of influence. He wanted you all to solve his game, not dissolve in it.

Tired and sore after a long and unusual day, you returned to your quarters in the hopes of getting your briefing to the captain written out quickly before getting a good night's sleep. However, upon entering your room you found none other than Q himself, lazing across your bed, grinning at you.

"There you are!" he greeted cheerfully. "A trip to medical? I do hope Doctor Crusher's bedside manner has improved since I was forced to be her patient. What a dreadful time that was."

"What are you doing here?!" you asked, shocked and more than a little frightened. You thought completing his game meant that he would leave you alone, that you were safe.

"How rude!" he cried in mock offence. "I'm merely here to offer you my congratulations!"

"Oh, well... Thank you, I guess."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," he grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. "Just wait until I tell you what your reward is!"

Your stomach dropped. "R-Reward?"

"Me!" he exclaimed, sitting up on his knees and spreading his arms out wide. "From now on, I'm going to drop in all the time to make your dull little life more interesting!"

Oh no.

"But it wasn't even that hard a game!" you argued.

"Ugh!" Q rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. "I know! And yet you were the only one to figure it out!"

"You're telling me this is all happening because the captain didn't see an arrow on a keyboard?!"

"It's shameful, isn't it?" said Q, shaking his head. His eyes brightened. "Luckily, I have a brand new human to focus on! I'll admit, I didn't expect this outcome when we first met, but who doesn't love a pleasant surprise?" He chuckled lightly before throwing you a wink. "I'll see you soon."

In a flash of white light he was gone. You stood alone in your living quarters, alarmed and upset.

"I just wanted to be an engineer!"

[eastgaysian]

honestly there is something interesting to me about star trek's transparent hamfisted allegories that i think gets lost in really lovingly detailed thought-out sff worlds, maybe especially because trek's aliens are so often awkward and revealing of the prejudices/stereotypes/cultural shorthand that the writers were relying on. like first of all, i know you based your aliens/fantasy people on a hodgepodge of real life cultures just be upfront with me and don't make me dig through veiled implications and sketchy coding. it's kind of the same feelings i have about... like if you've ever seen that post talking about how looking at tos vs tng you see different visions of what technology would look like in the future - big blocky colorful buttons in tos vs the beige interiors and smooth panels of tng. there's something interesting and almost endearing to me about like, being an obvious reflection of the current culture and time period that's making a sci-fi show, so what's being suggested about an imagined future is very directly about real issues and ideas in the present. even the shitty parts! there's just enough work done to make it sci-fi but it remains immediately recognizable/relatable. i think at a certain point a desire to create this in-depth believable world of your own that's distinct and intricate and Not The Same as our world does, like, technically succeed, by becoming alienating.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Bradley’s First Christmas

It's Bradley first Christmas and the Bradshaws (plus Pete) want to make it special.

Words: 4593

Nick awoke to the steady feeling of Carole's body strewn across his. Shuffling around, he realised his hand was placed on her thigh. He smiled with his eyes still closed. She was wonderful. Warm and cosy. He nuzzled into her hair as he felt her wiggle. This was heaven.

He opened his eyes gently and saw her smiling up at him. They'd been apart for four months. She was staying in their new house in Texas while he finished off his last year at the Academy. They spoke on the phone as often as they could but still missed each other more than they knew they could. But soon they'd be married, as soon as he was done with the Academy he'd put a ring on her finger, kiss her as his wife and dance the night away. He couldn’t wait.

"Morning," he croaked. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

She wiggled up so she could kiss him on the lips. He tasted her morning breath and sighed. He'd missed that. So many little things meant so much more now. Watching her fuss over her multicoloured closet of clothes not being in order or how she'd get annoyed if he didn't brew her tea long enough or when he talked during movies.

After some more manoeuvring, she managed to position herself to sit on his hips. His old, white t-shirt hung off her body. In the slight chill that being out of the covers gave, he could see her nipples poking through the shirt.

She lent down and kissed him again. It was slower, softer. Although his brain was still groggy, his body knew what to do. He turned his head slightly to sink deeper into the kiss. His hands slid up her bare thighs, feeling the thin hairs on her legs before he rested them on the base of her spine, his fingers splaying to grab her butt. 

He hummed as she shuffled in his lap. She lent back, putting her weight on her arms as she cocked her head and smiled at him with hooded eyes. Going down onto her elbows, she traced his Adam's Apple with a finger, laying kisses after it. The kisses got higher and higher, over his chin and reaching his mouth. She left a gap between their lips, stroking his face with her other hand as she went in for another kiss.

A shrieking wail broke the moment. They pulled apart, the growing tingle in his groin dissipating as the new addition to their little family made himself known.

Carole sighed and rolled off him. She kept one hand on him, rustling his hair as she gave him a sweet look as smooth as honey.

"Want me to get the baby?" He whispered.

"Please," she said, just as softly. "He's probably hungry."

He nodded and tucked her up in the duvet again. Laying a kiss on her nose, he scooched out of bed. He felt the cold of the wooden floor leach into his feet, he was glad his slippers weren't too far away.

Bradley was coming up to six months in the new year. He was growing so fast he could hardly keep up. He wished there was some sort of way he could call his family and see them at the same time, like in Star Trek, but that was sci-fi stuff. He had to make do with a normal telephone call.

His bedroom was next door. Smaller than theirs but already fully decorated with pictures and toys and photos. There were their handprints in paint in a frame. Nick’s big one, next to Carole's smaller one and Bradley's tiny baby hand. They had a similar one for feet. Pictures of them in the hospital, of Pete holding him for the first time, of him meeting his parents, aunts, uncle and cousins. He was so loved.

Right now, though, he was the little rascal who broke up Nick’s sweet Christmas morning with his fiancée. Not that he was mad. Bradley was a baby. He couldn’t manipulate anyone. All he knew was that he was hungry and crying got him fed.

Opening the door, the white crib was illuminated slightly by a blue plug-in nightlight. The curtains were drawn but daylight seeped through the cracks. Bradley was still crying, his ears had gotten used to his falsetto, but he hurried to the window to let in some light.

No snow. It was Texas, but the temperature was still low like it should be in winter. He'd heard of ice storms in El Paso and hoped they didn't get them soon. They had to visit Carole's parents and his family out in Tennessee over the holiday period and deep snow would ruin their plans.

Turning back to Bradley, a smile grew on his face. His baby boy was wide awake and crying at the top of his lungs. They'd put him to sleep in a candy cane onesie then in his soft, blue swaddle. Despite his contorted face, he still thought he was the sweetest thing in the entire world.

"Morning, baby boy," he said, lifting him out of the cot. "Merry First Christmas, bud."

Bradley had no idea what Christmas was. He just continued to wiggle in Nick’s hands as he removed the swaddle. His crying did quieten a tad upon seeing his dad's face. Apparently babies started to remember faces at three or four months old, so at five and a bit, he definitely knew his dad's face. Although he wondered if he could tell his upper lip apart from his moustache?

"This is going to be such a good Christmas, baby boy, just you wait. You've got so many presents, and we'll eat so much food, maybe you'll even try some stuff, hey?"

He held him against his chest and gazed at him from above. Bradley's cries turned to whimpers as he stared back. He had his eyes, big and brown, but his mother's sparkle. He had her curls too, when her hair was extra short or wet or not straightened, it curled up around her chin and ears, it was also excellent to play with when cuddling.

"You don't care about presents right now, though, do you?" He said, pushing him up so his head rested on his shoulder. "You just want some breakfast, don't you, baby?"

Bradley whimpered. Nick stroked his soft hair and wiped the tears off his chubby cheeks.

"How about we see Momma, okay? Get you some breakfast?" 

Bradley let out a more excited squeal at the mention of Carole. He must recognise her as momma, he spent more time with her. Yet, he did hear Bradley squeal the same when Carole mentioned him while they were on the phone. It was comforting to know that no matter how far away he was, his son loved him.

He left his bedroom and rejoined Carole. She'd pushed her cushions up to support her back and sat one on her lap to place Bradley on. Upon seeing his momma, Bradley squealed even more. Nick held him up like a football and let him wiggle to his heart's delight.

"There's my baby boy!" Carole exclaimed.

She took him with ease as Bradley made grabby hands at her. His hands pulled at her top as she shuffled around.

"Alright, alright, I get it, you're hungry, just give me a second," she joked.

Supporting his head on her bicep, she managed to pull her top down enough to expose her right breast. She smoothed her son's face with hesitant practice. 

Nick was so proud of how much she'd adapted to being a mother. Even though he wasn't planned, even though she'd called him in floods of tears because he wouldn't settle. Despite the postpartum period and messy hormones, the change in her body and new stretch marks and cellulite, she fit the role in such a way that it screamed Carole. He loved her so much.

Guiding him to her nipple, Bradley began to suck. She held his head with her free hand and she smiled at him.

"Merry Christmas, baby boy."

As Bradley continued to feed, Nick curled into her side. He kissed her jaw and stroked his son's face. 

"What time's Pete coming over?" She asked.

"Around nine, so-" he checked the time. "In about half an hour."

"I better start getting decent, then."

"You know Pete doesn't care about appearances, you shared an apartment for years," he chuckled.

"I know, I know. I just draw the line at him seeing me with my tits out, that's all."

After a moment of silence, Carole said, "You know Bradley's got a favourite boob?"

"I mean, so do I, it's not that hard to believe."

She elbowed him in the ribs with a smile. He feigned betrayal and rubbed where it hurt.

"For different reasons, silly," she said. "He only feeds from my right boob."

"Huh, I wonder why?"

She shrugged, "I've asked the other moms at my mom and baby group and they've had the same, I still don't know why though."

Nick hummed before the warmth set in. He was so happy, so, so happy. There was nowhere he'd rather be, ever. Just him, his fiancée and his baby boy. The only other person he needed now was Pete, but he'd be along soon enough.

"What's your plan for today then?" Carole asked. "You did tell me last night that you had it all planned out."

He sat up with a proud smile on his face, "Okay, so we get ready first, have some breakfast, go to church-"

"Pete's coming to church with us?"

"He said he'd be willing to try it, for us,"

Carole nodded and went back to stroking Bradley's cheek. Nick stopped for a second to watch them, his mind starting to wander before he got back to his point.

"Anyway, we'll come back from church and open presents, then start the Christmas dinner, eat too much chocolate and watch a Christmas film, eat the dinner, put Bradley down for his nap and go for a nap ourselves." He kissed her on the cheek. "How's that sound?"

"Full," she started, then broke into a smile. "But good."

Bradley pulled away from her breast. Carole lifted him up and patted him on the back to wind him. Luckily, no sick came with it.

"I better get ready then."

She handed Bradley over to Nick and rolled out of bed. That white t-shirt just about reached her thighs. He watched her leave with a sloppy smile. Maybe they'd finish off what they'd started this morning tonight?

Bradley, now in a much better mood after having eaten, pulled on his moustache and broke him out of his thoughts. He pretended to glare at him but broke into a smile and began to blow raspberries all over his cheeks and tummy. Bradley broke into fits of laughter as Nick continued.

"As cute as all that father-son bonding sounds, I gave him to you so you could get him ready, Pete will be here soon and we need to start breakfast."

Nick pulled away and shook his head, "Sorry, Brad Brad, fun's over, momma's orders."

"Hey! Don't make out as the bad guy, here!" Carole cried. 

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

They continued on as Nick carried Bradley back into his bedroom. His son had no idea what was going on but his smile grew wider and wider with all the silliness. He certainly was a Bradshaw.

----

Pete had barely pulled his hand away from the door from knocking when it swung open. For a Christmas morning, which he expected to be quite casual, it was a whirlwind of activity.

Carole smiled at him, holding her dressing down closed with one hand as she ushered him inside. He'd dropped all his presents off the night before so just had a few more trinkets with him, and a bottle of wine, which he'd spent a fair bit of time picking out.

"Come in, come in, Goose is upstairs getting himself and Bradley ready, I'm still getting ready but there's oatmeal on the stove, help yourself!" She said, then stopped to shake her head. "Even I'm calling him Goose, now." 

As he hurried upstairs, Pete realised that Goose was probably going to become Nick’s callsign. It started as a joke from some academy colleagues because he was a considerate friend. Then he'd had a kid, and Mother Goose turned to just Goose. Pete had found himself calling him that, and apparently now Carole too. 

He made his way to the kitchen. There were two pots of oatmeal on the stove, one larger, one smaller. Pete knew where the bowls were and grabbed himself one. He stood over the two pots, puzzled. Why were there two?

He guessed that the larger one was for the Bradshaws, well, Carole was a soon to be Bradshaw. Maybe the small one was just because there wasn't enough room in the big one? That must be it.

Scooping some of the oatmeal out of the small pot, he smiled to himself. He wasn't a breakfast kind of guy, never had been because he always forgot. That was until Nick and Carole waltzed into his life and made sure that he ate and looked after himself. His stomach grumbled, he hadn’t eaten today either.

He loved this house, he thought as he went to sit at the table. Loved the growing garden outside, the cracks on the walls, the old beige paint that they hadn't repainted yet that was covered by pictures and posters to make it brighter. 

All around there was evidence of life. Bradley's toys strewn about the place, Carole's half finished knitting projects all over. Unwashed mugs next to the sink and dew on the grass.

Big twinkly Christmas lights hung from door frames, held by sticky tape. He'd helped decorate the Christmas tree with tacky tinsel and abstract ornaments from Goose and Carole's childhoods. Everything was a vibrant explosion in this house and he loved it.

Nick entered the room, holding Bradley on his hip. They were both wearing atrocious Christmas garb, Goose's had 

surfing santa jumper on, Bradley had a Christmas pudding baby grow. 

"Merry Christmas, Pete!" He beamed.

Pete smiled over his bowl of oatmeal. Bradley squealed in his arms and wiggled around.

"Look Bradley, it's Uncle Pete!" Nick waved Bradley's little hand as he made his way over to the stove.

He stopped and pondered for a moment, then called to Carole, "Honey, which oatmeal is Bradley's?"

She appeared in the room in an equally awful Christmas garb. A red dress covered with candy canes and Christmas present prints. He remembered their first Christmas together and how they'd only worn the Christmas sweaters that Goose gifted them ironically. He wondered when she genuinely started to wear them.

"The small one, honey, it's made with my breast milk." She said, buzzing around him.

Pete stopped moving his spoon towards his mouth and looked down at his bowl. He thought there had been a weird taste to it but just put it down to it being a different recipe.

He tried to get up as inconspicuously as possible but caught their attention by the screech of his chair across the wooden floor.

"Something wrong with the oatmeal, honey?" Carole asked.

"Nothing wrong, just not too hungry, you know I'm not really a breakfast person."

Nick’s eyes went from Pete then down to the small pot of oatmeal, "Now I look at it, this small pot seems a bit empty."

They both smiled as Pete gulped. Bradley was just content sucking on Goose’s finger. He was quite oblivious sometimes.

"You had Bradley's oatmeal, didn't you, Pete?"

"Yes," he said in a small voice.

Carole started to laugh and made her way over to him. She stroked her cheek. Nick was trying not to jostle Bradley too much as he laughed. 

"Oh honey, didn't you suspect something?"

"I did think it tasted a little weird." He mumbled. "You're not annoyed that I ate it, are you?"

"Pete, we're not annoyed," she assured.

"It's pretty funny actually," Nick said. "And there's still enough for Bradley, anyway."

Pete smiled and calmed down. He let Carole serve him some of the non-breast milk oatmeal as they prepared for the day. And although he still felt guilty, he knew today would be great.

----

The peaceful present opening experience wasn't what she’d hoped it would be. She should know by now that anything to do with babies never went to plan.

First, she should've realised that churches weren't made for babies. They were stuffy and serious and boring. Three words that all babies were allergic to, apparently. He'd gotten about ten minutes into the service before he was shrieking at the top of his lungs. Pete had taken him to the kids area, partially to help Bradley, partially, she guessed, to get away from the sermon.

She understood where he was coming from. Her relationship with God wasn't the most active but at least there were known boundaries. She didn't really think of religion, she liked to believe there was a heaven and maybe a hell, she liked to believe in angels and demons, but there was no concrete certainty in her heart that it was all true.

But she trusted that God knew that. God was supposed to be all knowing and all loving, so surely whoever they were knew that she only called upon God in times of dire need or great joy and respected her decision enough to leave her be.

She'd wanted Bradley to be baptised, though. She didn't know why. Neither she nor Nick were in the fashion of forcing religion on people, so they wouldn't mind if Bradley grew up to be a strict atheist, as long as he respected that Nick did believe in God.

And believe he did. He believed in a way she just couldn't. Devout but not fanatical. He knew the main teachings but didn't try to skew them for what he wanted. 

She was almost jealous of his belief. It was all simple and clear in his mind. There was a god, he was just and kind, his son came to earth to preach that people be kind and died for people's sins. Nothing about hate, no skewing scripture to talk about sinning. He'd told her about how his childhood pastor preaching about homosexuality being a sin when he'd been a questioning bisexual fifteen year old nearly made him lose faith, but somehow he just couldn’t shake it.

But, yes, she was almost jealous of how capable he was of belief. She could see his faith in how he prayed. His hand clutched on his gold cross necklace, eyes scrunched shut and forehead creased. Yet, in the same moment, she saw how much peace it provided. His prayer seemed like a private conversation, like theirs when he was miles away and their only connection was a phone line. She wanted to ask what he prayed for but never got there. It all seemed so personal that she wanted to leave him to his privacy.

She guessed it provided a great peace when he was so far away. Peace and certainty that there was someone who was looking out for the ones he loved when he couldn’t. Maybe it took away some of the guilt of leaving them behind too. Although in her eyes, it wasn't a guilt. 

The second thing that had gone wrong was that they'd forgotten to marinate the turkey the night before or prepare the vegetables. Which meant a lot more doing when all they wanted to do was sit down and open some presents. 

Bradley also needed feeding halfway through so she had to instruct Nick and Pete on how to stuff a turkey, which she didn't know too well herself, with a baby attached to her nipple. He'd also needed feeding in the church too despite having oatmeal less than an hour prior. She didn't blame him, how could she blame a less than six month old baby for anything, but that didn't mean she couldn't also be annoyed too. 

But now they were all here and settled. Goose hurried in with three cups of hot cocoa. Pete sat on the floor, his forehead creased as he sorted all the presents into piles of who they belonged to. Bradley lent against her body as he took it all in. He liked to watch, she realised, watch them and the way the lights switched colours and glinted against the tinsel.

"Okay," she said. "Let's start!"

Pete sat upright and passed the first one to Carole. Reading the label, she realised it was for Bradley. Most of them were. It was easier to buy for babies than adults.

"Wanna open it, Bradley?" She said.

Moving his hands, he grasped onto the neatly wrapped paper she'd wrapped a few nights prior. He could only rip little bits off, so she helped him unwrap all of it to reveal a pile of thick cardboard books.

"Ooo," Nick feigned surprise as if he hadn't helped her pick them out. "They look useful, what do you say?"

Bradley babbled and let out a low squeal. He smacked the pile of books and stopped with surprise when one of the covers had felt on it.

"Very good," Nick said.

They carried on like this. Pete would pass a present, they'd feign surprise if it was from them or be a lot more excited if it wasn't. Baby clothes for now and the future, hats and socks, books, toys, pictures and teething soothers. All a lot more useful for Nick and Carole than it was for Bradley.

They received their own gifts too. Goose got a lot of funky shirts, a scarf Carole had knitted, some photos of Carole and Bradley, a moustache grooming kit and a lot of socks from Carole's mother. Carole got a lot of books, some yarn and knitting patterns, a lot of things for new mothers, and socks too.

They'd been more than happy to see Pete open his presents. He always seemed surprised when they gifted things, like he hoped he would get gifts but pushed everything down so as to not get his hopes up. He, also, amongst other things, got socks from her mother. They must be a reliable gift. 

Pete rummaged around under the piles of wrapping paper. He seemed to be looking for something specific, and had been for a few moments now. His hand patted a squishy, sealed package and he smiled, picking it up and handing it to her. 

"Here's one more, from me, to Bradley," he said. 

"Aw-" she turned it in her hands and tried to get Bradley, who was steadily losing interest, to pay attention. "How about we open this one? Should we wait for daddy? Hm?"

She turned around, "Actually where is he? Nick? Where'd'ya get to?"

"Just getting something ready, open it without me" He called from upstairs.

She shrugged and put her hands on Bradley's. Ripping the package for him, she saw a glimpse of faux yellow feathers. She pulled off the packaging and picked up what turned out to be a fluffy chicken onesie.

"Oh, Pete, this is adorable!" She cried. "What do you think, Bradley?"

He reached out and pulled on the material. He grasped it, scrunching it in his hand as he fluffed the outfit and let out adorable giggles.

She heard footsteps thundering down the stairs and leant back to see him. He lent over and kissed her softly, then looked up at the onesie and smiled.

"Oh that's the best," he said. "Who's that from?"

"Me " Pete put his hand up. "I just thought how you call him chick and-"

"It's so cute, man, we're definitely dressing him up in this all the time," Goose said.

As he walked around to join them, Carole realised that he was hiding something behind his back. She patted the sofa next to her but instead he settled on the floor next to Pete. He took the thing from behind his back, it was a shiny red bag with gold holly leaves on.

He shuffled around so he looked Bradley straight in the eyes. The aforementioned baby chuckled and reached for his dad. Nick couldn't hold back the urge to squish his cheeks, Bradley was a satisfyingly chubby baby.

"Now, Bradley-" Goose started, his words as serious as they were when they were trying to get their mortgage. "This is a special present from me, and there's a story behind it"

"So, because of how caring I am, guys at the Academy started calling me Mother Goose, which shortened to Goose. Your uncle Pete starting calling me it, even your mom calls me it sometimes"

He averted his eyes to open the bag. A smile flickered on his face as he reached in to grasp whatever was inside. 

"So, considering this name has stuck, I got you a little something to remember me by when I'm away-" he pulled the gift out of the bag and held it up to him. "It's this."

The gift in question was a cute toy goose. It sat neatly in his hand, its neck flopping slightly to the left. Bradley let out a squeal upon seeing the toy and reached more desperately. He clapped his little hands as Nick pushed the toy into his grasp. His tiny fingers clasped around its neck, his grip tight as he swung it around.

Nick visibly gulped as he watched Bradley grip tighter and tighter around the goose's neck.

"Hey, Bradley-" he started. "How about you don't hold him by the neck?"

He reached towards him, trying to adjust his grip onto somewhere that didn't look like Bradley was trying to kill the very toy his dad got to remember him. Bradley, however, didn't like this, and let out a shriek at his dad.

"Okay, okay, but it's just that the goose looks a little uncomfortable, that's all,"

He didn't care. His smile returned as he continued to shake the goose so its wings flapped vigorously. 

Nick settled back on his feet and watched him. After a few minutes of watching him play, he scooped him up in his arms and kissed him on his chubby cheek.

"Hold it there," Carole cried. "I'll get the camera!"

She came back a few minutes later, the camera wasn't far as they'd been taking pictures all day. Bradley was still settled in Goose's arms when she returned, he was holding his finger in his fist and still shaking his goose.

"Bradley, look over there," Nick pointed at Carole with the camera. "Look at momma."

He squealed at her and stopped shaking the goose for a second. He didn't exactly look at the camera, not like his dad with his proud smile on, but more at his mother waving behind the polaroid.

With a flash, and a shake, they had the photo. Nick rushed over to her, baby in tow, and his smile only grew.

"I think that's one to keep, hey Bradders?" He said.

Bradley didn't care. He had discovered that the goose's head could fit into his mouth and was thoroughly enjoying covering the toy with slobber.

Nick kissed him on the cheek, "Yeah, I think that's one to keep, baby boy."

Carole looked at them, and Pete smiling over from the floor, and a warm satisfied feeling filled her. This was the best Christmas she'd ever had.

I didn't plan on writing a whole section on religion but I did. Also Bradley is the cutest baby, I decided. Tiktok has taught me a lot about babies, particularly that babies can't really have cows milk. This took me a while but I love it!

Thanks for reading!

[crowandmoonwriting]

Sci-Fi: Dreams and Nightmares, an Essay

You know, I have a problem with sci-fi. That isn't to say I dislike it, I just have a problem writing it, conceptualising it, and enjoying it. I'm a historian, and a traditional medieval historian at that, and I find most of my comfort in the past. My ideas about the future are very dark, and although I explore darkness and even horror in my writing very often, it's a darkness for once I'm not comfortable with. It's a little too close to home, I think. The further into technological advancement we go as a species, the worse I feel about the future. I have a few cyberpunk ideas I came up with in high school or even middle school that I doubt I will ever finish. I can't do it anymore. I feel vaguely sad about it all, and maybe I can work on them someday, even if I just adapt the characters and situations to a genre I'm more comfortable with.

I used to love sci-fi in all incarnations. I have always adored Star Wars and Star Trek. I favoured Star Wars for a while because it smacked more of fantasy, being a space opera and completely unrelated to Earth. It was escapist, it was mystical, it was just a bit closer to my true fictional love, Lord of the Rings. Star Trek I fell in love with later on, as I came to appreciate the social and political commentary and the intricate hard sci-fi aspects (I should note, I only adored the original series, and the other Star Trek media never captured me quite the way it did). When I found Dune, it swept me away, another fantasy, another mystical technicolour dream, and I loved it. When I first saw Bladerunner I was obsessed, and when I first read Asimov's Robot Series I was fascinated.

But something happened when I was in high school. Something that has ravaged my mental health and sense of well-being, my sense of self and my faith in humanity. It's something most of us rely on now, and it's something I can't escape (unless I do finally run away to the woods and live in a cabin as though it's 1470, growing and raising my own food and hunting to have furs to keep warm in the winter etc, as I long to do). I have to be online. I have to be on social media. I have to promote my brand, my writing. I have to be here to be aware of the news (I don't watch live TV at all). And worst of all, most crippling of all, I have to find inspiration. My desire to find media that will take me away (media I don't have to make myself) is what keeps me coming back. It's one of the things that keeps me here.

But I admit, I'm getting very tired. I'm traditional in several senses, and I'm tired. I miss dearly how I used to look at sci-fi. It was a wonder. Even dystopian sci-fi had its charm, its allure, its fascinating aspects. But then whatever electric sheep dreams I had became nightmares. And waking up, I found the nightmares all around me. It's painful that something I used to love I now avoid. Something I used to turn to for fun or pleasure is something I now fear.

But I am determined to love what I can. I am determined to have hope. As someone who's suffered from great mental illness in my life, and has come to a place finally, finally of stability, I think I can now reflect on things. The truth is, whether a dusty tome-perusing historian like me wants to hear it or not, the future is not a nightmare. It's not a dream at all, but reality. And fiction is not reality. Sure, I see things in real life I thought were just nightmares from Orwell's 1984. But I also see dreams, the iPad in my hand filled with hundreds of books, the stylus gliding brilliant colour over a smooth screen, the little device at my side an Alexandrian library of writing and music the likes of which no one in previous centuries could have imagined. I can type up a few words and my friends can respond to me within seconds. Through the gleaming portals at my fingertips I can learn about the entire world. I am connected. And connection is terrifying. It's vulnerable, and I think we're all just trying to figure out how this new type of human connection works.

I do have hope for the future. And I think it's time we saw that in sci-fi. Now I do note, there is some utopian sci-fi media. Star Trek the Original Series being my favourite. But I want to know what you have to say. Writers, artists, musicians, whatever you do, I want to see some hope.

I am not exempt of course! I need to change the way I think about sci-fi too. I need to take that hope in me and make something that will give someone else hope. Or at least let them have a little fun with a book, whether it's a paperback or leatherbound copy, or an intangible but nevertheless legible file. The interesting thing about sci-fi is that it's always somewhat based in reality (in science, of course!), but it's the 'fi' of sci-fi that's the best part. It's fiction. It's the dream. And as we have seen before, the dreams of one generation can become the reality of another. So it's time to write sci-fi with hope. It's time for me to stop being afraid of the future, and start looking forward to it.

[talentforlying]

🗒& 🤔

🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write?

as you can probably tell from the blog, supernatural and psychological horror are big favorites of mine. just as there's so many different and fascinating ways fear can present itself within the human experience, both internally and externally, there's also so many different ways of overcoming or mastering those fears, be it for better or worse, and i love the transformative element with all my heart. i also adore writing within sci-fi worlds, particularly sci-fi horror, action, exploration, and all flavors of robot stories; like constantine, i am also a huge star trek and doctor who nerd, and i love both the fascination and fear with/of the unknown. big fan of testing the limits of the indomitable human spirit, whether it succeeds, fails, or a secret third thing.

as for themes: transformation (physical, emotional, spiritual), repression, the different shades of guilt, defying fate, conflict (moral, internal, interpersonal, irreconcilable, ideals), loss of self, discovering & exploring purpose, the epic highs and lows of building/rebuilding yourself from scratch, push-and-pull dynamics (i.e. we both want very different things here and are both trying to get them w/o completely alienating the other person, so how far am i willing to bend to help you achieve your goals? are you willing to go that far or further for me in turn?), improbable found families, saying 'fuck you' to the inevitable, pushing your luck until it snaps, the price of forgiveness/the price of its absence.

i'm probably missing some crucial ones lmao but tl;dr i like to dig into the psyche and pit it against the impulses of the heart.

🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most?

slice of life stuff is tough for me because i personally feel emotions either very strongly or very little, so i struggle to fill in the time in situations that lack the pre-existence of an adrenaline response/a sense of urgency. romance is also difficult for similar reasons, but also because i'm dramatic as hell and enjoy exploring characters who may have complicated relationships with intimacy and commitment (COUGH constantine COUGH), though i think i'm getting better with practice! action can also be hard to write because i simply have Not read enough stories where physical fighting is more central to the plot other than as a brief, emotional peak, so i feel like i lack the language to make it smooth; but i do like to write action scenes frequently and have one in...just about every fic i've ever written lmao so i guess i like to challenge myself.

as for themes, characters learning to mellow out and give up that supercharged fight-or-flight response and healthy parental relationships are the only ones that come to mind atm. i feel like i love to find themes i'd never considered before in a story or a character dynamic, so i wouldn't say i consider any hard to reach so much as they are discoveries to make, if that makes sense.

@fightwing / MUN QUESTIONS

[legofanguy1999]

Sci-Fi September: First contact

A Star Trek Online fanfiction for @thepromptfoundry event Sci-Fi September day 14 first contact featuring my oc William Houseman.

Starfleet Captain William Houseman and his crew onboard the U.S.S. Tubman made first contact with a species known as the Lukari. Their administrator Kuumaarke was a bit stunned at William's dark skin unlike her people usual pink skin as well having a smooth face.

[youknowfuckalldandelion]

ngl the xin'trean wardrobes and sets are way too smooth and pristine, they're beautiful but they read way more sci-fi/star trek than medieval fantasy

[blackwaxidol]

hey bro r you okay?

i am watching. star trek discovery

and... too unsure/anxious/frozen to speak properly still i do not know how to navigate this. and i forget who i am too much to give a straight answer on if i am okay. i just exist.

[atopfourthwall]

Ive only recently gotten into classic Star Trek so I don't think I can properly answer but what is it specifically about Discovery and recent Star Trek that classic Trek fans hate?

Putting this behind a cut because... it's a lot.

Well, first of all a big rejection of it is just on an aesthetic level. Up until the 2009 movie (which was considered a reboot, even with time travel elements), Star Trek tried to treat the original series and how it was portrayed as pretty sacrosanct. Sure, they might occasionally make jokes about goofier aspects of it and discard some of the stupider stuff (like how in the final episode, penned by Gene Roddenberry himself, that women weren't allowed to Captain starships), but how TOS looked? That's how the 23rd century looked. Buttons and multi-colored outfits and boxy computers and smooth, undetailed ships WAS what was appropriate for the time. When Scotty came back in TNG, they had him on the holodeck and it was the TOS bridge. When DS9 traveled back in time to that era for an episode? They went onto the Enterprise and visited it. When in an Enterprise 2-parter we had a TOS-era ship? It looked like a TOS ship. They even did a 2-parter on Enterprise to explain why Klingons had smooth foreheads when later (and earlier) they didn't. Star Trek up until then cared about maintaining that continuity of appearance. But Discovery is set in the TOS era... but nothing looks like TOS. Even when we got the Enterprise and those uniforms and we saw inside the ship, it was an upgraded form. The only logic I've seen people try to argue about WHY it doesn't look like it actually did was "Well, audiences won't accept something as cheap as TOS being futuristic." Well, then you've got a few responses there: -Don't set in TOS era, then. -That's horseshit, because audiences from the 90s through the 2000s accepted it just fine. Even a piece of dialogue from DS9 explained it perfectly: "I LOVE 23rd century design." It LOOKS cheap, but it was just the aesthetics of the period. And the Enterprise 2-parter it still looked good in HD. Hell, arguably it looked BETTER in HD because they knew how to light it and create mood and its own unique flavor. -It's even more horseshit because people are STILL going back and watching it even today, as indicated by you saying you've started watching it, so clearly it's not that much of a barrier. But what's even more egregious is the TECHNOLOGY. You might be able to accept updated aesthetics if at least matches what was present during the period... and it doesn't. Holographic displays and communication (holodeck technology AT ALL, frankly - it's possible it was there, but TNG seemed pretty adamant that the holodecks were fairly new, very impressive technology), weapons not looking or acting like they traditionally did, Enterprise and Discovery having R2D2-style repair droids that certainly did not exist in TOS, the wrong sound effects being frequently employed, replicator technology for good-looking food instead of food dispensers that gave out marshmallows and cubes, and honestly the tech level shown in Discovery looks just as advanced - if not MORE advanced than seen on TNG 100 years later. And this is a minor thing, but despite the attempt to make the future LOOK futuristic, from a cultural perspective, the future looks... way too damn similar to now. The excessive swearing (it was said in particular in Star Trek 4 that while they certainly did cuss, it was less common and they sure as hell weren't dropping F-bombs), a party on Discovery that looked like a rave (when previously it seemed like the most popular music and culture of the 23rd/24th century was considered fairly high-brow entertainment [classical music, Shakespeare, great works of literature and plays, etc.] - and while you could certainly argue that that snootiness and love of that stuff is a problem with Star Trek and a sign of how sterile and homogenized it is, THAT is the future they presented and a character in Voyager loving some of the goofier parts of 20th century culture like jukeboxes and old sci-fi serials was considered unusual), and just the general way people talk betrays the idea that the writers aren't thinking about how society changes in the future. It's just the modern day, but with cooler technology. But hey, let's set aside the general aesthetics - some people aren't going to mind that and find

ways to handwave away a lot of stuff (even Discovery season 2 TRIED to handwave away stuff like the holographic communications, but did a piss-poor job of it). This brings us to the problem of the WRITING. And the problem with the writing is a big Michael Burnham-shaped indentation. To be clear, I don't mind Michael as a character or her actress - there are interesting aspects to her, centering a Star Trek show around the science officer is a neat idea (though that means you should probably NAME IT AFTER HER and not around the ship, because it suggests this is a standard ensemble group and not JUST her)... but the actual execution is that it feels like the entire universe bends over backwards for HER. She has a unique relationship with a beloved longtime character that is retconned in. She has unique relationships with several important characters to the point where the fate of billions of people hinges on her and the decisions she makes. She is presented as almost always correct about everything, and those that oppose her are often wrong, naïve, or active enemies. Now, this is less of an issue in the third season - but that has its own unique problems - but in the first season, the resolution of two major storylines (mirror universe and the Klingon war) revolves around her and her relationship to the Terran Emperor and Lorca. In season 2, her mother trying to help or save her is the basis of the ENTIRE friggin' plot with time travel and the like, with special knowledge and history having to do with her and everyone ready to abandon their lives for her so she won't be alone when she has to go to the future when arguably they barely know her (the timeline of the show is debatable). Season 3 has a few different problems with her - the first is that she keeps being involved in things that don't concern her (why is she going down to Trill?) and she keeps violating orders. Now, her violating orders is a problem throughout the entirety of Discovery - in fact, it's kind of the instigating factor OF the series. And arguably, other Star Trek characters are guilty of that and they face no consequences, just as she faces none... and yet it's the brazenness with which it happens, and in those other series it's arguable because the series tries to avoid excessive continuity changes for its episodic nature, so the status quo MUST return to normal... but Discovery is pivoted as one of MAJOR continuity, so her lack of consequences (and indeed eventual PROMOTION) is baffling to the point of frustration. Now again, let me be clear here - she is not a bad character in and of herself. Honestly what it shows is that being the science officer on a starship is not where her talents lie. She should be in a position where she has a lot more freedom to act and not in a major command structure... but being in that command structure, what we see in season 3 is that she lacks the discipline, emotional maturity, responsibility, leadership qualities, and general other traits necessary to be a Captain. Only once during season 3 did she display such a quality - putting the safety of the Federation above a friend and colleague... but other times she will happily disobey orders and put herself and others in harm's way, creating potential new problems. Now, again, Star Trek is rife with characters doing that... but usually not the Captains. And, in fact, when this happened once on DS9 with one officer disobeying orders and putting their own personal feelings above the greater responsibility, it was made VERY clear that the incident would mean that they would never be able to command a starship because of the unofficial reprimand. What's even more frustrating about her is that the character is ALWAYS shoved to the forefront so much to the point where we just get sick of her. SHE is the one giving log entries (usually pretty piss-poor ones, at that - very flowery and nonsensical and kind of dumb) and not the Captain. SHE is the one given so much focus and how the plot of the episode affects her. Barely anyone else gets any focus episodes - I STILL can't

remember the names of some of the secondary characters because they're so rarely said, and a PTSD-related plotline in season 3 for one of the secondary characters basically gets resolved OFF-SCREEN. Michael would be fine if we actually had a chance to miss her... but we never do. Arguably one of the best episodes of the show is in season 2, when it focuses on Saru and his people because Michael DOES take a back seat. It's his story and his development and problems relating to him and his people. And even if, again, we forgave the idea of so much focus on her even in plots that aren't about her... she never seems to really change that much. She'll TALK about how she's changed, but I see no real difference in the way she acts (MAYBE season 1 to 2, where in season 1 she was stiffer and more Vulcan-like, but that's it). But hey, let's assume that's not a problem for you - you really, REALLY like Michael and are fine with so much focus on her. Simply put, the writing of the rest of the show... is just kind of dumb. The ship is powered by magic mushrooms that let it teleport everywhere because the universe has super fungus capillaries throughout it that nobody can see and also it's magic and can resurrect the dead. The time travel plot of season 2 doesn't make any sense when you sit down and diagram it. Well-established Trek lore is just kind of sprinkled in, but now in ways that doesn't match what it was before or at least in ways that completely recolor how it's supposed to work, because it needs to serve THIS plot. Everyone remembering a murdererous monster fondly after she leaves because "Hey, she was coooool." The explanation for the big mystery in season 3 is just fricking stupid and one of the two big reasons why I've finally given up on Discovery, because it's just so absurd, doesn't match how anything works, and just feels like the writers giving the middle finger to the audience because they care more about "YOU MUST FEEEEEEL THINGS!" instead of it making sense. And indeed, there is certainly a balance to be made of plot vs. emotion-driven storytelling - some stories are dumb, but are forgivable because the character writing and emotion are so strong that they override how goofy the plot is... but sometimes a plot is just so dumb it overrides anything I'm SUPPOSED to feel. And it would help if I already liked the show, already gave it some benefit of the doubt... but I don't and it hasn't done enough to impress me. A little thing that's a problem with ALL of current modern Trek shows is that whole sprinkling lore thing - I don't think a single episode goes by in ANY current modern Trek series that doesn't have a random reference to classic Trek lore. A name, a line of dialogue, etc. It comes across like the creators don't trust you to enjoy it on its own merits, but want you to like it because "Hey, remember thing? We know about thing! Like us because we mentioned thing!" But hey, I recognize that these are things that other people may not have any problem with or just disagree in general. But for me and my family, these are the big ones that keep us from enjoying it. Hell, my brother and dad still watch it for hatewatching purposes, but I was done after season 3. I gave it plenty of chances to impress me, and while each season MARGINALLY got better as it went along, I'm tired of waiting to actually like it and to stop feeling like it thinks I'm a fucking idiot. If other people still like it, great - it clearly appeals to them in a way that it doesn't appeal to me and they are free to enjoy it. Other people probably have their own issues, but this long, rambly bit is the major stuff for me.

[doomfox]

Can I talk about Star Trek for a moment?

No?

Fuck you ima talk about Star Trek anyway

Right, so there’s been like twenty different ships in the series that bore the name ‘Enterprise’ - here’s some of them here!

The Enterprise, of any generation, has never been the biggest or most powerful ship in science fiction - Hell, not even the biggest or most powerful ship in her own universe - but they’re arguably some of the most absolutely iconic spaceship designs in science fiction. And there’s a bunch of them. Every Trek fan has their own favourite version. But my favourite version of the Enterprise?

The original. The one from the silliest and campiest Trek series. 

As far as I’m concerned, this is the most beautiful ship in science fiction. It’s just so sleek, and smooth, and pristine - the more modern Trek gets, the more detailed the ships become, and while they hit a great sweet spot with the TNG era ship designs (the Galaxy-class is my second favourite Enterprise) from Enterprise onward, the designs just start to get more and more cluttered with shit. The original ship has none of that - it’s just absolutely spotless, and even though the show itself has aged like fine milk in terms of aesthetics and visual effects (the budget was about enough to buy everyone a sandwich) the design of the Enterprise is just timeless, and gorgeous. And unlike the more militarised look of most sci-fi ships popularised by Star Wars, the original Enterprise actually looks like something that evolved from space-exploration tech like that used by NASA. She’s a precise instrument of scientific endeavour and exploration, not a giant battleship like a Star Destroyer.

She’s also small - compared to every other sci-fi franchise, where BIGGER = BETTER and there’s just explosions and mindless action and shit all over the damn place (looking at you, end of Discovery season 2), Trek was always way more conservative (budget reasons - they couldn’t afford to go all-out with the action, which makes it more tense when things happen). Ships are smaller, battles maybe involve a couple of torpedoes and some phaser fire (space battles in classic Trek feel more like submarine warfare, at least until they had the budget to do more with the action), and the size of the ship reflects that - here’s every Enterprise compared to a Star Destroyer for example:

This works better (in both ways) - the Enterprise is the pinnacle of humanity’s scientific achievements, at least related to space, but she’s still small. Almost helpless. This is great, because it actually feels like the crew is in danger. They can’t just blow the crap out of whatever the threat-of-the-week is, they gotta use their brains and put their technology to use in clever ways. That’s what really gets me engaged with trek, and it’s basically the basis of every different version of the show. Discovery gets too into over-the-top mindless action (which I like in other things, just not Trek) with shit all over the screen, but it still sticks to the basic spirit of Trek with people of all kinds working together to overcome. If you don’t have that, you don’t have Trek.

The fuck was I talking about? I dunno something something I’m just in a big Star Trek mood so I wanted to ramble. I need to catch up on Discovery for season 4. I got my problems with that show but I still like it. 

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 9: Star Trek Movie Rankings

I spent waaaay too much time at work today thinking about Star Trek, the original series movies in particular, for which I blame B, so here’s a summary of my objectively correct ranking of ST I - ST VI.

1. The Search for Spock (III)

This film has it all: drama, love, humor, horror. It’s a story of found family banding together for a heist-plot to save their lost friend, and it ends with a beautiful reunion, and an appropriately emotional, slightly bittersweet, but still undeniably right conclusion for Kirk’s personal journey. Criminally underrated.

2. The Voyage Home (IV)

Undeniably the most fun to watch of the six, with an easily mocked but still honestly solid sci fi conceit at its base. I wholeheartedly love this film but I do think it’s a bit of an epilogue in terms of the overarching story of the movies, and in a way of the whole original series, so it comes a close second to ST III.

3. The Motion Picture (I)

The transition from TV to film was not smooth: this film is too long, has extremely questionable pacing, and features unintentionally funny costuming. But it also has probably the best sci fi concept of any of the films (even if it is slightly recycled from The Changeling) and really solid characterizations. Plus, This Simple Feeling.

4. The Wrath of Khan (II)

I’m just gonna say it: TWOK is overrated. The Genesis planet is a silly idea, Khan is a lame villain (at least by this point--I did like him in Space Seed), and Kirk’s characterization is spotty at best. It’s a smoother watch than TMP and definitely does have good moments, and it wins major points for the tear-jerking finale. But I don’t get why so many people consider it “the best.”

5. The Final Frontier (V)

I admit that in many ways, this is not a good film, and its most annoying quality is the way it utterly squanders a conceit that sounds really interesting on paper. The main story line is not an easy watch, nor a particularly fun one. However, the movie also has the best triumvirate characterization of, really, any of the films, and a solid 1/3 of its run time is just Kirk, Spock, and McCoy being silly, for which I give it major points.

6. The Undiscovered Country (VI)

Objectively, this is probably a better film than ST V. It has a solid plot and moves along at a good pace, and it’s a fitting final conclusion to the TOS story. However, I rank it last because my ST priorities are the characters, the science fiction, and the plot, in roughly that order, and this movie is not impressive on the first to fronts. It doesn’t do much with Kirk (other than having him complain about Klingons a lot and then sticking him in prison), it has basically no sci fi concept at all other than... the existence of aliens, and overall it feels more like a conclusion of this era of Federation history and a transition point for the larger Star Trek universe than a particularly important moment for these characters specifically. Yes, Spock is transitioning to diplomacy and Kirk is retiring, and this is a last little coda to their Starfleet lives. It’s nice enough. But overall the film does not have that je-ne-sais-quoi Star Trek feel, so I must put it at the end of the list. (Also... too many Klingons.)

[doyoufancyathought]

Through The Utility Closet Part 2: An Unexpected Visitor

Y/N looked up from where she had landed on the floor. There was a table of open mouthed individuals, and one very confused presenter, looking down on her. Whoops, this is something she'd have to text her best friend about when she got home.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N stood up and dusted off her apron. "I had no idea there was a second door in the closet, and I couldn't find the light switch, and-"

And she was cut off. "Where did you come from?" The presenter asked.

Y/N motioned to the closet she had just spilled out of. "The storage room?"

"That's a coat closet. And we don't even keep coats in it. How long have you been hiding in there?"

"I'm so sorry," Y/N started to back up, not liking the route her evening had taken. "I swear I wasn't hiding, I was just in the room to put a box on the shelf, I was only in there for a minute, I swear."

He looked confused, as did the people seated around the table. "We've been here for 20 minutes, and there's no way you snuck past us carrying a box."

"Oh, there must be a different door that I came through, then. I'm so sorry, I'll be going now."

"Wait a minute," the man walked over and blocked her from getting back into the closet. "This is my coat closet, and I want to investigate where you came from. Rogers, come here please."

A hulking blonde man stood up from the opposite side of the table and started walking towards our heroine. He said a quiet "Hi, 'scuse me." and maneuvered past her and joined the other man in the room.

"Tony, there's no other door, just the one right here." The blond man said.

I suppose it's important to establish that it's not normal to have secondary doors to coat closets unless you live in a haunted Victorian home full of ghosts that have already plotted 63 different ways to kill you by Tuesday.

"I know, Steve!"

"Then where did she come from?"

"I don't know! She certainly didn't sneak in since we've been here!"

The two men in the closet bickered back and forth for a few minutes. Meanwhile, Y/N turned to the room full of strangers who were observing both her and the argument in the closet in equal amounts. She caught the eye of a massive brunet, and gave him the classic smile given to those you wish to scootch past in the grocery store. He looked away, and a man who I could have sworn had just had a red complexion rose from his chair to stand beside Y/N.

"I do apologize for our manners. My name is Vision, what's yours?"

"I'm Y/N."

"Lovely name. And where are you from, Y/N?"

This gave her pause. She assumed that she was from the same place as they were, the town they were all in at this very moment.

"I'm from here?"

"And where exactly do you think here is?"

"What, you think this door teleported me? I'm in (hometown) of course, same as you!" Y/N chuckled as she looked around the room. She caught the rest of the group exchanging looks, and sighed. "Right?"

Vision gently patted her shoulder. "I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, dear, but you're not in (hometown) anymore. You're in New York."

Y/N looked between Vision and the others. "What? That's crazy! I'm not - there's no way. You guys are crazy." Y/N looked over her shoulder to see the two men in the closet peering out at the rest of the room. "Did you find the other door? I really should get back to work, and I'm sure you all should get back to your meeting."

They shook their heads and moved out of the closet, although it was a battle between who entered the doorway first.

"I'll find it, and I'll be on my way." Y/N charged back into the closet, and crossed the foot and a half wide floor with one step. Surely she'd be better at finding a mysteriously elusive door than two men, right? She ran her fingers over the walls, looking for a hinge or a handle or even a bump to indicate an opening of any kind. She'd even pull an Alice in Wonderland and crawl on her hands and knees through a hole in the wall if she must.

Still, no luck. The wall was as smooth as a baby's bottom, which were usually quite smooth. So, Y/N returned to the boardroom with her arms crossed.

"Alright, this joke is very funny, but I'm really ready to go back to work now!"

"We're not pulling a prank here, I promise, we're just as surprised as you are."

"Seriously? Who paid you to do this? I don't know anyone who could pay you to pull this off. Who did it?"

"Seriously, lady, there's no joke here. We're not pranking you."

"Then," Y/N paused and licked her lips. "Hey, man, where did you say we are?"

Vision told her that she was in New York now. It was too much. Between the heat and the stress and the exhaustion, Y/N's brain couldn't take it any longer. Steve barely had time to leap back over the table and catch her in his arms before she crumbled to the floor.

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

When Y/N woke up, she was still in the boardroom, laid out on the floor, surrounded by good looking strangers. Weirdly, her life was looking better than it usually did.

"What happened?"

"You fainted, dear." A man with a goatee spoke up. "Don't worry, you weren't out for very long. I'm a doctor, by the way. Doctor Stephen Strange."

"That's, well," Y/N searched for a better word to describe her situation. "Strange." The man frowned down at her. "Not you, I'm sorry, just, I don't faint, I'm not really the damsel in distress type. Where am I?"

"This again?!?!" Y/N recognized the man from before, Tony. "You're in New York! Where did you come from?"

"I came from work, in (hometown). I don't just wear this apron around for fun, you know!" Y/N gestured to her apron, which conveniently had the company logo on it. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "So, I'm in New York. And I came out of your coat closet. And before that, I was at my job in (hometown), just going about my day. How did I get here?"

"Well," the man called Vision came back into the room. "I'm not quite sure, but if I had to guess, which I don't do often, you've just come through an inter-dimensional portal."

"A what now?"

"An inter-dimensional portal. You've travelled through space, clearly, possibly time as well, and I would guess you've also travelled across different planes of reality since you seem to have no comprehension of who we are. Thus, you've crossed into a different dimension that the one you usually reside in."

"That totally makes sense."

"Oh, really?" The blond giant from earlier asked.

"No, absolutely not. That did not make sense at all, Vision. I thought portals only existed in sci-fi, like Star Trek or stuff like that!" Y/N was, indeed, very confused.

"I think the science might be a little beyond your understanding, dear." Vision said. "But it appears to me that your storage cupboard was a doorway to this universe, to this reality. Sometimes these things just pop up, you know."

Y/N looked at Vision. "No, I don't know that these things just pop up! Pretty sure I would have heard about it on the news." Everyone sat for a moment, pondering their next steps. "So does anyone have any ideas on how to get me back to my world?" Y/N looked around hopefully.

The group of people around her all looked at each other, and Tony, Vision, and Dr. Strange looked thoughtful.

"I think that between the three of us we can probably figure out how to get you home." Dr. Strange finally said.

"And how long will that take? Like a couple of hours maybe?" Y/N asked from the floor.

"Uh, no." Tony stood up and started clearing off a whiteboard. "Inter-dimensional portals cannot be figured out in just a few hours, strange lady. It'll take a few days, at best. You got somewhere to stay?"

"Tony, she's not going to have anywhere to stay, she's not from here." Steve explained.

"She can stay with us!" a dark man with a buzz cut offered. "I've got a spare room in the basement still, she can stay there until we figure out how to get her home. I'm Sam, by the way."

"Hi Sam, I'm Y/N. You don't have to take me in, I can just stay in a shelter if there's one nearby."

"Hang on, I'm calling Fury." Tony dialled a phone, and pointed at me while it was ringing. "You're not staying in a shelter."

"No, it's fine, I'm sure it won't be too bad."

"They're terrible, you're not staying at a shelter, you're coming with me." Sam said.

"And why would I stay with you? I don't know who you are, why should I trust you more than some homeless shelter?" Y/N was standing now, and crossed her arms.

"We're the Avengers! You can trust us."

"I don't think you understand how little that means to me. Who are you?"

"The Avengers."

"And what is the Avengers? Sounds like either a league of superheroes or a terrible pop group."

"We're superheroes."

"Oh shit really?" Y/N blushed. "You're superheroes, for real?"

The group around the table nodded.

"So who's got the laser eyes?"

The group looked mildly confused, because none of them had laser eyes, but fortunately they didn't have a chance to answer, because Fury answered the phone, and Tony set it to speaker.

"What can I help you with, Stark?"

"Well, see, here's the situation. We're just sitting here, having our meeting, and the closet door pops open and this girl comes flying out onto the floor."

"Okay, so you have a spy, you know what to do with that."

"I'm not done yet. We thought she was a spy, but we've come to the conclusion that she actually just came through an inter-dimensional portal."

"So you have an alien in your conference room?"

"She's not an alien, Mr. Fury." Vision interjected. "I've scanned her, and she seems to be perfectly human."

Y/N frowned. She didn't like the thought of being scanned without consent. And how could Vision tell that she was human anyways? And did this guy think she was an alien? Were aliens common in this world?

The man on the other end of the phone sighed. "Is she there?"

"Yeah, she's been here the whole time. You're on speaker." Tony responded.

"I'd like to speak to her."

"Talk away, she's right here."

"Hello, what's your name?"

"I'm Y/n." she said, moving closer to the phone.

"Hi, well welcome to Earth. I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. Welcome to Earth."

"Thanks, but I'm already from Earth, I don't really need a welcome."

"Ok, we'll brush past that for now. Have they explained the inter-dimension portals to you yet?"

"They tried, but if I'm being honest that's a little bit out of my league."

"Fair enough. You're in good hands there; we have the best scientists in the world at those labs. As you might imagine, it's not really an exact science, these portals, so it might take our team a while to figure out how to get you home."

"So are you guys like the men in black? Do you have that movie here?"

"Yeah, we have that movie here. I'm guessing that your world is very very similar to ours, so we're going to be taking you down to one of our labs and running a few tests so we can better determine where you're from. In the mean time, I'll let the Avengers take care of you, they don't have any other pressing matters at this time, and just in case you're a violent alien, they're best equipped to deal with you going rogue."

"Uh, well, I guess that sounds good. I promise I'm not an alien though."

"We'll see about that." Fury hung up and I looked around the room.

"I should make introductions, pardon my manners." Vision stood up from his seat (he kinda seemed to float, but maybe he was just hella graceful).

"This is Steven Rogers, you might hear him referred to as Captain America." The blond man who had earlier joined Tony in a closet gave a quick wave and a smile. He seemed very friendly.

"This is James Barnes, he's very quiet, so don't take offence if he doesn't say much to you. He means no harm." Vision pointed to the brunet I had locked eyes with earlier, and he gave a small smile, but didn't wave.

"This is Sam Wilson, as you know. He, Steve, and James all live together in Sam's house, and I suppose you'll be joining them. I'd offer you our couch, but my wife Wanda and I," here he pointed to a lovely brunette woman seated beside him. "are in the middle of renovations, and I'm sure a spare bedroom would be more comfortable for you than a dusty couch."

Y/N nodded. She was going to have a bit of trouble keeping track of everyone's names.

"This is Bruce Banner, this is Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, and of course, I am Vision." They all waved as their names were said.

"Wait, what's your last name?"

"I don't have one, dear. I'm a computer."

"Oh?" Y/N was shocked, understandably so.

"Yes."

"We don't have that in my world."

"Yes, it's uncommon here as well. Are you ready to go do some tests?"

"Um, I guess so. Nice to meet you all."

Vision and Y/N walked out of the meeting room and started down the hallway.

Tony decided to pick up from where they left off. "So as I was saying,"

"Tony!" Steve yelled at him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting back to the meeting we were having?"

"We just had a girl pop through a portal in our closet, and you want to go back to the meeting?"

"Um, yeah. Vision's got her."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Not really."

"The first time something pops out of a portal and doesn't try to kill us, and you're not interested?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Dude, you're crazy. I'm going down to the lab to watch the tests." Scott jumped up from his seat and started making his way to the door.

"Yeah, me too." Steve and Sam stood up, and Bucky followed suit.

Soon enough, the whole team was exiting the conference room and following the path that Y/N and Vision had taken down to the labs. Tony eventually decided to follow them, because he didn't want to be alone.

They got down to the labs, and found Vision waiting in the hallway.

"They sent her to get changed," Vision explained as the team assembled. "If she's staying here for a while, we're going to have to get her some more clothes. I'm sure she doesn't want to stay in her work clothes the entire time."

"Yeah, I'll get Pepper to make arrangements." Tony said.

After a few minutes, Y/N stepped out of a room just off the hallway. She was wearing grey shorts and a black tank top, and nothing on her feet. She frowned as her bare feet hit the cold tile floor.

"Ugh, so cold. Alright, let's figure out where I'm from."

A nurse came and got her, and led her into another room just off the hallway. There was an observation window, and the team gathered around to watch the tests. They watched her as she jumped up on the table, and smiled at the nurse as she began to hook up wires and prep for a blood draw. Soon they would figure out just who this unexpected visitor was.

[moviehealthcommunity]

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

This is a Movie Health Community evaluation. It is intended to inform people of potential health hazards in movies and does not reflect the quality of the film itself. The information presented here has not been reviewed by any medical professionals.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan has several scenes with TV static that creates a severe strobe effect almost every time. A sequence in the latter half of the movie has extensive lightning, which also creates severe strobe effects.

The camera work in this film is very smooth. There are a few stationary shots where the camera is tilted slightly sideways. The final shot of the film shows the camera spinning slowly in space.

Flashing Lights: 10/10. Motion Sickness: 2/10.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: This film shows more visible blood than most sci-fi films. There is some medical horror, which is described in detail before it happens in graphic fashion. Several people are shown with burn injuries.