#astronaut transmissions

[applestorms]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BOY. THE MAN. THE GUY. 🎉🎉🎉 at long last i can post this fic ehehehhehe ☺️☺️ we’re HERE it's creepy ass cult leader L time get sent to the torment nexus light yagami 🔪🔪whooo hoooooo

also once again submitting this to @octobernote under the prompt birthday sex :))

[commbowman]

How’s the autism diagnosis coming along?

I don’t see how my medical records are a point of interest? It’s been years, actually it was brought up to me during general testing.

[bitcoinversus]

NASA Enables Astronauts to Vote From Outer Space

Astronauts aboard the International Space Station (ISS) are set to vote in the upcoming U.S. elections by casting their ballots from space. This initiative ensures that even those in orbit can exercise their voting rights. The process begins with astronauts completing a Federal Post Card Application before their mission, indicating their intent to vote from space. Subsequently, a secure…

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Chevrolet Astrovettes, 1969. The crew of Apollo 12 - astronauts Pete Conrad, Richard Gordon, and Alan Bean - ordered custom-painted Corvette C3s. Each astronaut ordered a matching Corvette Stingray coupe, powered by 390hp, 427ci Turbo-Jet V8 engines with 4-speed wide-range transmission and PosiTraction 3.08 rear axles. Bean (the fourth person to walk on the moon who passed away in 2018) played a key role in the design of the Corvettes, choosing the black on gold color scheme. The design included distinctive black “wings” styled by Alex Tremulis, the industrial and automotive designer. The C3 Corvettes became known as the Astrovettes with the only difference between the cars being the red, white, and blue badges on each fender used to identify which car belonged to which astronaut

[bogleech]

Great end credits art from the movie "Planet 51," which I just watched, and it's as underwhelming as reviewers always said but I really really want to know what was supposed to be going on with the aliens culture??? They have a concept of "human astronauts" as horrible cyclops monsters they're all afraid of, yet they have a civilization that looks exactly like 1950's Earth, has the same popular music and things like bowling and drive-ins, and this clearly isn't just dumb cartoon logic because the human astronaut character even remarks on it as weird??? He has a line like "we didn't expect to find aliens dancing the oldies" Meanwhile their government keeps them ignorant of whether outer space even exists at all, with their equivalent of a "planetarium" having barely anything in it and their scientists claiming space is "NEARLY 500 miles long!" I feel like the writers intended a twist where this planet's leaders must have had prior contact with humanity and that a lot of their culture must have been based on Earth transmissions, but it all got covered up and hidden from them. The entire film seems to be setting up this reveal that just never comes, I wonder what kind of meddling went on. It also turns the whole movie is about McCarthyism, but maybe you already gleaned that from "1950's setting where everyone is terrified of a vague outside threat."

[seat-safety-switch]

So many of my friends love to go camping. In "camping," you take your car somewhere else and then sleep there for the night. This is basically what I do anyway – but their cars run properly when they get there. Me, I just throw a tent out of the trunk and sleep through the wee hours when the thing decides it's not going to keep chooching.

Envy is the real demon, though. Just as I started getting comfortable with my humble little tent, I visited a modern camping store. I was only in there because I wanted to see if they had a little stove or something for me to reheat a frozen oil-pan with, but then they hit me with the sales job. Camping with glamour. I could buy this solar panel, and this inverter, and these television sets, and put all this expensive stuff in a van, and live off the land. No need to ever buy a house again, which is good, because I won't have any money left after purchasing an eighty thousand dollar van.

"So you'll want two of the Toto Washlets," expressed the salesperson, almost gleeful in her anticipation of my luxury-grade shitting inside my luxury pseudo-motorhome.

All of this was very tempting, for the same reason that we have fantasies of being astronauts. Getting some distance on all of our problems, having a chance to sit and think by ourselves without the constant buzzing and hissing of Civilization Itself in our ears. That's what I liked about my shitty little tent in the first place, but I could only stay there for so long before the cops started asking questions about the car whose transmission is currently on fire in the parking lot. Plus, I would miss charging my phone, which would keep me from buying more shitty cars.

Ultimately, I realized with a start, the only true freedom is not having a job. And shitty cars helped liberate me from that obligation, many years ago, when I didn't show up for work because I was sleeping next to a disused horse arena in rural Saskatchewan after my differential exploded.

Sadly, the vanlife dream came to an end. Just like in many previous sales interactions, she soon found that I had absolutely no money and made security kick my ass out in the parking lot. It's not all bad, though: when I woke up, I found that the dumpster of the camping store contained a perfectly good, if slightly stained, sleeping bag. Now I'll be resting in the lap of luxury the next time I get stranded in the middle of nowhere.

[todaysdocument]

Telegram from Foreign Minister Gabriel S. Valdes of Chile to Secretary of State William P. Rogers

Record Group 59: General Records of the Department of StateSeries: Subject-Numeric FilesFile Unit: SP 10 US

[written by hand in upper right corner "SP 10 US"]

[handwritten in left upper corner "43"]

Department of State TELEGRAM

UNCLASSIFIED 928

Page 01 2401132

85

ACTION ARA 17

INFO OCT 01, CPR 02, JPM 04, NSC 10, P 04, RSC 01, SS 20 USIA 12, SCI 05 NASA 04, RSR 01,/081 W

068484

R 2120082 JUL 69

FM GOVERNMENT OF CHILE

TO SECSTATE WASHDC

UNCLAS

OFFICIAL TRANSLATION

TO HIS EXCELLENCY WILLIAM P. ROGERS

DEEPLY IMPRESSED BY THE MARVELOUS FEAT ACCOMPLISHED BY THE BRAVE ASTRONAUTS TO WHOM WE WERE LINKED BY TELEVISION, WHICH TRANSMISSION WAS POSSIBLE THROUGH YOUR DEPARTMENT'S GOOD OFFICES, I SEND YOUR EXCELLENCY MY MOST SINCERE CONGRATULATIONS ON THE PRODIGIOUS ACHIEVEMENT OF YOUR GREAT NATION.

GABRIEL VALDES S.

MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS OF CHILE

UNCLASSIFIED

[basicallyaturtle]

never been part of a tag game, sounds really fun! tagged by dear Lanvender, @khan-crete

Do you make your bed? A freshly decrumbed, stuffed animal arranged and dirty clothes removed bed feels great. How often do I do this? We mustn't ask (like once or twice a month) that's all making the bed entails for me, I just have a fitted then normal sheet and blankets

Favorite Number? 4 4 4 4 4! I've loved four my entire life she is like a goddess to me. 2+2 2*2 2^2, divides into halves twice. can only compete with sixteen, whose status and 2^4 and 4^2 is nice, but not as symmetric. 37 and 73 have a place in my heart as the 12th and 21st primes, but not a large place compared to 4

What's your job? What do I get paid for? undergrad lab TA, what do I do? grad research in low energy nuclear physics

If you could go back to school, would you? In school technically still. Would I rewind time to experience school again? highschool no college yes. would I go back for another college degree? I could be convinced if it would be cheap and unobtrusive to my current schooling. Was always torn between physics and linguistics. I made the right choice but I always wonder what if.

Can you Parallel Park? I have done it, on the driving test, like four or five years ago. I think I could do it again, but not too confident

Do you think Aliens are real? Eh, probably in a 'the observable universe 9.3e+9 ly across, it must have happened more than once' kinda way, but not in a 'they've been feeding us tech for thousands of years or are visiting us' kinda way.

Can you drive a manual car? Never tried, hubris tell me yes, anxiety with even normal cars tells me I'd probably fuck up the transmission while trying to leave the driveway. gonna say yeag

Guilty Pleasure? I think like cheesy childhood disney live action movies?, generally I'm pretty full chested about the things I enjoy

Favorite Type of Music? yeah, hard, a lot of vocaloid, which isn't reallly a genre, a lot of edm genres from like old school monstercat, a lot of jrock by way of anime OP's of show's I've never watched then finding other songs by those artists. some rock music though that genre is also extremely expansive and I'm not sure how I'd categorize a lot of it. Generally my music consumption consists of a group of maybe five songs completely unrelated on repeat for months at a time and genre is not a huge factor in that

Do you like puzzles? twisty puzzles like rubik's cube type puzzles are really fun working, towards doing a 3x3 blindfolded but challenging, I used to do jigsaw's with my mom but over the course of a very long time because we'd get frustrated. crosswords, but I'm no good at them

Favorite Childhood Sport? Soccerrrr. Wish I'd stayed with it, but there were only a couple more years before there wasn't a league for my age group anyway, been trying to get back into it recreationally

Do you talk to yourself? I do, but as if I'm talking to someone else. I prefer not to do it because I'm not content with my voice atm, but I find myself doing it a lot especially when getting stuck on research stuff trying to talk it out or I will say a comment to someone I disagree with outloud rather than typing it and posting it. A lot of this is to my reflection which is probably part of the reason it feels like someone else lol

Tea or Coffee? tea all the way. drank iced sweet black tea my entire childhood and started drinking it hot with milk in college. I was the kind of person that disliking coffee was a sort of pillar of my tastes, but then a few years ago made it with like half milk and a lot of sugar and like it, lotta people wouldn't call that coffee, but eh.

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? The actual first thing was everything. I would amalgamate like all the stereotypes of things kids want to be into one so a firefighter-astronaut-whatever else. When I got a better sense of my interests, inventor, so I guess like product designer, but what that meant to me was I got to sit around and think of neat gadgets and items then figure out how to make them like freeze ray, time machine, clone gun, that kind of thing lol. the first practical idea of a job I wanted was theoretical physicist in like middle school, which I kinda am now so success I guess

What Movies do you Adore? not much of a movie person, but like to watch movies other people are interested in with them, love castle in the sky, LOTR, howl's moving castle, your name, probably others in those categories I don't know about yet or have forgotten and I have a strong soft spot for childhood halloween movies like twitches and halloweentown

I'm curious what @arc-archernar and @charyou-tree have got to say if they'd like to, and anyone else that wants to participate!

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 10

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: Since some of you were interested in exactly how accurate some of this is, fyi the experiments Curt and Bucky implement here, LEAF and LDA, are real experiment proposals that have been selected to fly on Artemis III. Not much info is available on them though, so much of their installation processes are made up by yours truly.

---

November 18, mission day 12 Ridge near Shackleton Crater, Artemis 3 Landing Site

It’s raining. 

At least, Bucky imagines it is. He imagines that there’s dark clouds rolling in overhead, pops of electricity jumping across them, flashing through the sky. He imagines he can hear thunder rumbling, a breeze ruffling through his hair the same way it did on launch day, when he stood outside and stared at the sky, no one to say goodbye to. He imagines big, fat drops of rain hitting his face, splattering on the tip of his nose and streaking down his cheeks. 

He can almost smell it, the damp earth scent of a hurricane mixing with the salty air blowing in from the gulf. Home. He can almost feel it, just out of reach.

Bucky opens his eyes. He has half a mind to close them again when faced with the reality that it is not, in fact, raining. But he sighs, deciding he can’t really complain, even if he misses something so simple as weather. The lunar horizon is a decent trade-off. He just kind of wishes it wasn’t so still all the time. It reminds him of survival training in the desert, when the only movement was the heat radiating up from the ground, creating a teasing mirage to goad his dehydrated brain. Except here, there’s not an atmosphere to do even that.

It’s their third full day on the lunar surface.

“Is it raining in Houston, Benny?”

There’s a brief pause. “Is that… some sort of code, or…?” 

Bucky thinks for a moment, and then realizes that his words did, in fact, sound similar to ‘are the flowers blooming in Houston,’ a coded transmission from Apollo 13. That’s what Commander Jim Lovell said in order to ask Ken Mattingly, on CAPCOM, if he’d contracted the measles, exposure to which had caused Mattingly to be scrubbed from 13 at the last minute.

“No,” Bucky clarifies. “Just wanna know if it’s raining.”

There’s another brief silence while, Bucky assumes, Benny asks if anyone knows the weather outside of their windowless Mission Control room. He doesn’t bother to ask Bucky why he wants to know. All the CAPCOMs have quickly figured out it’s easier just to answer whatever bullshit question the astronauts ask. “No. It’s colder than usual, though. Only 46 degrees now.”

Bucky’s satisfied with that answer, and he’s not really sure why. He imagines Gale, who at this moment is probably just waking up in their home on the bay. Since it’s cold, he’ll be bundled in flannel pants and Bucky’s Yankees sweatshirt, which is just the slightest bit too big for him and hangs off his frame in a way that makes Bucky want to wrap him up tight in his arms. He might even have a throw blanket pulled around his shoulders as he wanders groggily through the house. Bucky doesn’t know how that man doesn’t overheat, but he knows all too well that Gale’s hands are always freezing. Bucky usually takes it upon himself to warm them up.

Two huskies are probably trailing at Gale’s heels. Bucky hopes they keep his hands warm.

He wonders if that’s a weird thing to think about. He decides it’s not. He mindlessly grabs at the wedding ring dangling from his neck, only to remember that he’s in an EVA suit. His ring is in Starship.

“Quit whatever the fuck you’re doin’ and help me out over here, Bucky.” 

Bucky blinks and tries to turn his head to look at Curt, and then remembers that that doesn’t work in the suit either. He awkwardly turns his whole body before bounding several steps towards his crewmate, who is standing beside their rover. That’s the only way to move on the moon, bounding. Bucky used to mimic the movement as a kid, pretending to be Neil Armstrong in his backyard. But he’s learned in the past few days that it’s actually, literally, the only way to get anywhere in these bulky suits with almost no gravity to hold them down. Especially while they’re still early on in the EVA. The pressure in the suit is almost as high as it goes and inhibits their range of motion.

“What’s up?” Bucky stops in front of the open, unpressurized rover. They may be the first Artemis crew members on the moon, but as far as transportation goes, they drew the short straw. Starting with Artemis 4, surface crews will have a fully pressurized rover for long-distance drives. Bucky and Curt get basically the same piece of shit (sorry, NASA) that Apollo got, but bigger and supposedly less shoddy.

That last qualification has yet to be proven. Curt drops to his knees by the front left wheel. “Hold the damn tire while I replace the lug nuts.”

Bucky joins him on the ground and holds the tire in place. During their EVA yesterday, they took the rover on its inaugural drive, and that damn wheel is already causing them problems. But hey, at least they have the equivalent of a truck bed for hauling things.

Except, you need functioning wheels to haul things.

He grumbles about it the whole time, but Curt manages to get the wheel secured, though he’s still suspicious of it. “Well, good as we’re gonna get.”

Bucky stands back and stares at the wheel, agreeing that it’s still not quite right. But whatever it is is beyond what they can fix at the moment. So Bucky steps onto the rover, turns it on, and drives it forward. Curt takes a couple of bounding steps to catch up, jumps on beside Bucky, and they get on their way. It’s drivable, so they’ll take it.

–

“Oh shit. Fuck. Shit.” Bucky tries to reverse the rover, then tries to go forward again. Reverse, forward, reverse, forward. “Fuck.”

“Shit?” Rosie’s voice buzzes in Bucky’s ear. He and Alex are well on their way into deep space, approaching the furthest point in their orbit. 

“Why the fuck are you here? Don’t ya have observations or somethin’ you could be doin'?”

“This is so much more interesting.”

Bucky has gotten the front left wheel of the rover stuck between two rocks. They’re not even very big rocks, so it’s embarrassing in that same kind of way as when you get your hand into a small space but then can’t get it back out.

It’s also the same wheel that he and Curt just fixed. Curt looks on, judgmentally. “If you break that wheel again I’ll murder you with a hammer.”

Brutal. Bucky’s mouth moves on autopilot, like a parrot repeating something unhelpful, as he conducts a pathetic million-point turn, shifting the angle of the tire by mere degrees every time he changes gears. “If iron can kill a star it sure as hell can kill you.”

There’s a pretty lengthy silence as Bucky continues his sad attempt at getting out of this predicament. Personally, he’s thinking about how, at this point, it would be faster to walk to their destination. Everyone else, however, is still hung up on his little proverb.

“What the hell does that mean?” Alex finally asks. Oh great, he’s here, too. Witnessing Bucky’s failure.

“It’s something Buck says,” Benny offers helpfully. “Something about stars dying when they start fusing iron.”

There’s a chorus of understanding hums that rise and then trail off as everyone realizes that it still doesn’t really make sense. 

Alex: “Is that… a threat?”

Curt: “Can it be a threat if no one knows what he’s sayin’?”

Rosie: “Kinda makes it more of a threat, doesn’t it?”

Alex: “I don’t usually know what Buck is sayin’.”

Curt: “That’s just cause he don’t say much.”

Alex: “Or he’s too smart for us.” The others make noises of agreement. Major Gale Cleven. Mr. High school valedictorian, graduated summa cum laude with a degree in aerospace engineering and a minor in physics. Whatever.

Bucky: “Got it!”

The rover lurches forward, nearly throwing Curt, completely unprepared, off the side. He reaches out at the last second to grab Bucky’s arm, and for a moment it seems like they both might take a dirt bath on the moon, but Bucky holds tight to the steering wheel and keeps them both on their feet as he drives triumphantly into the distance.

They’re heading in a straight line towards the sun on the horizon, and in Bucky’s mind they’re cruising at high speed like Thelma and Louise (though, ideally, not off a cliff). In reality, they’re bumping along pretty slowly towards a little greenhouse that’s going to house their little plants for their cute little moon experiment.

Bucky parks the rover outside of the greenhouse. They spent much of the day yesterday setting it up, flipping NASA’s assembly directions this way and that as they tried to make sense of them like a piece of IKEA furniture. It’s kind of laughable, how such an unassuming little structure can look so damn out of place. It’s not even pressurized, having to do nothing but stay standing and block some of the solar radiation. It reminds Bucky of the Wizard of Oz, as if a tornado just picked a greenhouse up off the Earth’s surface and deposited it in the middle of the moonscape, where it sticks out like a sore thumb. 

He steps down off the rover and walks around the back, where their first experimental payload is sitting on the bed. “LEAF” is printed across it in huge letters, and underneath, “Lunar Effects on Agricultural Flora.” 

Curt meets Bucky at the back of the rover and pulls down the little cart they’d brought with them. Together, they heave LEAF off the bed and onto the cart and wheel it, inelegantly and with a lot of swearing, to the door of the greenhouse.

“Okay, you go in, I’ll cover you.” Curt steps aside and presses his back to the greenhouse wall, holding his hands together in front of him in what Bucky assumes is supposed to be an approximation of a handgun. The effect is lost with the EVA gloves. 

Bucky glares at him – though that effect is also lost through an EVA helmet – as he opens the door and struggles to drag the cart over the threshold. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

Benny chuckles over coms. “Don’t let Buck hear you say that.”

“Buck ain’t here,” Curt says.

There’s a crackle, and then a warm, tired drawl. “Buck’s right here.” Bucky’s got no idea what time it is – that’ll happen when the sun stays basically in the same spot all day – but Mission Control must be in the middle of a shift change. 

Curt: “Shit, our cover’s blown.” He lowers his hands and steps away from the wall. 

Bucky: “Hey babe.”

Gale: “I’m watching you, Curt… Hi, John.” John smiles. It’s not darling or babe, but he grudgingly accepts Gale’s insistence on trying to speak professionally on shift. Even if Bucky refuses to do so.

Curt: “Actually, you’re only listenin’ to me.”

Benny: “That’s my cue to leave, boys. Have fun with your plants.”

Curt: “I will, thank you very much.”

Curt finally decides he’s had enough of watching Bucky struggle on his own and grabs onto the back of the cart, giving it a good shove that sends it the rest of the way into the greenhouse, narrowly avoiding knocking Bucky on his ass.

Curt: “Hey, Buck, wanna know what else I’ll have fun with?”

Gale: “No.”

Curt: “Bein’ Bucky’s big spoon since you ain’t here.”

Bucky: “Buck’s the little spoon. So that means you gotta be my little spoon.”

Silence.

Bucky wonders how hard Gale is blushing, and how many people just turned to stare at him in Mission Control. He wonders how many of them will start calling him Little Spoon, at least for the day. He feels a little bad. But only a little. Everyone’s always told him that he doesn’t have a filter, so it isn’t his fault that Gale married him anyways. 

Gale: “I want you to know, the only reason I’m not gonna give you both the silent treatment is because it’s my job to keep you alive.”

It’s a good thing Bucky won’t be home for dinner tonight, or any night in the near future, because he’s pretty sure Gale “everything you say is being transcribed” Cleven would give him the silent treatment for embarrassing him like that.

Gale: “Get to work, boys.”

Bucky’s not sure exactly how LEAF works, but they’ve been tasked with it anyways. It’s a little space-age terrarium straight out of a sci-fi movie that’s being housed within the greenhouse structure. Inside is an enclosed growth chamber, in which a few different crop species that Bucky has quite frankly never heard of are supposed to grow hydroponically. The chamber protects them from the lunar environment, allowing NASA to study the effects of space radiation and partial gravity on plant growth and stress.

Bucky and Curt have been instructed to give the seeds inside LEAF water and nutrients through some elaborate external insertion mechanism as well as monitor their progress every day. By the end of the week, they’ll hopefully be able to harvest some of the faster-growing plants.

Once LEAF is in place, Curt sets to work ripping strips of duct tape off the roll he keeps strapped to his EVA suit. He sticks them on the glass above each crop species and labels them: Duckweed, Field Mustard, and Thale-Cress. Bucky is setting up the cameras and sensors they were instructed to deploy around it. Gale is grudgingly forced to speak to them – and act nice about it – so he can relay instructions on what the fuck they’re supposed to do. 

“Is it working now?” Bucky asks. He’s spent far too long trying to get this one specific camera in front of the growth chamber to record.

“No,” Gale answers. “Did you turn it on?”

“Yes I fuckin’ turned it on.” Bucky crouches in front of the camera and gets as close to it as his helmet will allow. “Wait. wait wait wait.” He presses another button. “Okay now it’s on.”

Gale stays quiet for a moment, presumably waiting for video feed to pop up in Mission Control. “We see it now, Bucky.”

“Alright,” Curt says. “Let’s grow some moon plants!”

–

Thankfully, Gale doesn’t follow through with his threat of the silent treatment even after he finishes his shift and hands the console over to Helen. Thirty minutes after leaving Mission Control, he’s tucked into a small room at Johnson Space Center that they’ve designated “the Family Room,” where NASA has a direct two-way audio/video line set up for Artemis astronauts to talk to their family members, even on the moon. His tie is loose, top buttons undone, and his hair gel has given up. Exhausted, he takes a sip of his coffee. His… fourth? Fifth? Of the day? Maybe? 

Bucky has told him time and again that if he drank alcohol the same way he drinks coffee, he wouldn’t be sober a day in his life.

With Curt off in another corner of the lander, headphones on as he watches a movie downloaded on his NASA-issued computer, Bucky is in his commander’s seat. He’s looking back at Gale through the webcam on his own computer, for once able to talk to each other with some semblance of privacy. And they can see each other.

When the video call first connected, the first words out of Bucky’s mouth were that Gale looked like shit. Gale glared at him until Bucky rolled his eyes and gave him a more appropriate greeting. Then, and only then, did Gale drop the iciness and take the opportunity to talk to his husband.

“So you know how in The Martian they say once you grow crops somewhere you’ve colonized it?” Gale’s not entirely sure what part of their present conversation – about their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Mason’s suspected torrid affair – caused Bucky to ask this question.

To be honest, though, the ability, as CAPCOM, to disregard the why of an astronaut’s question and simply follow up without a second thought, is a trained skill. And Bucky has always been the only training Gale needs. “Pretty sure that’s not just from The Martian.”

Bucky narrows his eyes and shrugs. “Okay. But yeah?”

Gale nods. “Okay.”

“Are we colonizing the moon?”

“No.”

Bucky eyes Gale suspiciously and leans closer to the camera. “Why?”

Gale sighs and leans back in his chair, thinking about it for a moment. “Shouldn’t the plants be in the lunar soil to call it colonized? Yours are growing hydroponically above the surface. And they haven’t grown yet.”

“Are you just sayin’ that cause you’re still mad at me?” Bucky knew he wouldn’t escape his ‘little spoon’ comment unscathed.

Gale lifts his coffee cup and takes a sip to hide his smile. 

They sit in a familiar and comfortable silence for a moment before Bucky runs a hand through his hair and leans back. “I wish you could see this, Buck. I wish you were here with me.”

“I’m with you,” Gale reminds him.

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky glances out the window of Starship, and he looks so wistful and beautiful. His eyes are wide with love and wonder, at the beautiful alien world around him on one side of the camera and at the wonderful man that keeps his world turning on the other. He looks excited with a child-like awe, just like he looked on the station. Just like he looks every time he flies a plane. Just like he looked so often in college when Gale was still falling in love with him bit by bit. And just like he looked on their wedding day. That same wild wanderlust and love for the universe that has always blown Gale away. 

When Bucky looks at him again, Gale says, “Tell me about it.” He’s been right there with the crew almost every step of the way. He knows the mission plan inside and out. He’s seen the footage they’ve taken and he’s heard their reactions to almost every milestone. But he wants to hear it from Bucky. Not from Mission Commander Major John Egan.  

Bucky grins at him. “It’s like a dream, Buck. Like… nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s better than I thought it would be.”

“Even the whole being stuck in a space capsule and you die if you leave it without a suit thing?”

Bucky shrugs. “If I had to die, the moon isn’t a bad place to do it.”

He knows he made a mistake the moment the words are out of his mouth, and he’s not usually one to admit that. But he watches Gale deflate, his brow crinkle as he works his jaw and looks away from the camera. “Don’t say that,” Gale whispers at the same time that Bucky raises his hand and says “Sorry, not the time.”

Bucky knows that Gale is a little scared, no matter how much he tries to hide it from everyone else. He won’t say it out loud, and he would hate it if Bucky did. So Bucky doesn’t. He’d be afraid, too, if the roles were switched. And one day they will be. Gale gives a curt nod to his apology, and they don’t speak of it again.  

“The sun is always so low in the sky,” Bucky says instead. “Like you’re always waitin’ for it to rise but it never does. The shadows are something out of a nightmare, I swear to God. They’re huge and fuckin’ dark. We use flashlights to walk through them. You know that.” He tells Gale every detail he can think of about what it’s like on the moon. The way the shadows streak the landscape like spilled ink. The way the soil feels under his boots, sinking and crunching at the same time like the sharpest grains of sand. The way Earth looks so small and unassuming, how peaceful it seems even though they know it’s anything but, a little blue oasis in the middle of a dark universe. He tells Gale that he looks at that planet in the lunar sky every night before he sleeps, and he thinks about him. Gale was right, after all. He is sappy. At least about his husband. 

He tells him about the parts of the EVAs that Gale missed, when Benny was CAPCOM instead. He talks about the rover breaking not even a full day into its life cycle, the tire somehow coming clean off when it got caught on a rock and causing Bucky to tumble into the dirt (“I’m fine! Gale, I’m fine. Benny would’ve told you if I wasn’t fine”). He talks about the strange rock formation that he and Curt found yesterday morning – several giant boulders stacked on top of one another in a way that doesn’t look a) natural, or b) balanced. Then they start discussing the other experimental payloads that Curt and Bucky are scheduled to install in the coming days, but they quickly agree that talking shop can wait until they’re actually working.

When Gale yawns and rubs his eyes, looking distractedly off to the side, Bucky frowns. “Hey, doll, look at me.” Gale blinks and then does as he’s told, lazily tilting his head and raising his eyebrow in a way that says ‘happy?’ Bucky wants to reach through the screen and brush back the loose strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

Gale huffs and nods, allowing the smallest smile. “Yeah, darlin’. I’d tell you. Just tired as hell.” 

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

As their call comes to an end, they spend a minute or two simply staring at each other, taking each other in. Neither of them know when, or if, they’ll be able to schedule another call like this during the mission. 

“Stay safe out there,” Gale finally says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bucky wants to say ‘don’t count on it,’ flash a shit-eating grin, like they used to before either of them did anything remotely dangerous. It’s their little morbid joke. Their way of dealing with the uncertainty and worry without having to think too much about it.

But he knows this time is different. This mission isn’t like the others, and there’s no use pretending it is. Looking at Gale, seeing how exhausted he is and knowing how tirelessly he’s working on the ground, how much sleep he’s probably losing between his job and worrying about Bucky… hell, Bucky can’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t want to risk making his husband’s face fall again today.

So instead, he says a quiet, “I miss you.” It makes the corner of Gale’s mouth pull up in a sweet little smile, and Bucky thinks he did something right.

Gale presses his fingers to the corner of the camera. “I love you.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, angel.”

–

When Gale gets home that evening, he grabs the mail out of their mailbox. Flipping through the various advertisements and envelopes, he stops short at the front door. Tucked into the middle is a piece of paper with unfamiliar, messy handwriting scrawled across it.

“Praying the queer dies on the moon.” 

Gale stares down at the message, then glances up and down their quiet, friendly neighborhood street. They’ve lived here for a few years now, since before Gale’s ISS mission. They’ve gotten to know their neighbors well. Other than Benny, who lives at the end of the road, it’s mostly a collection of young families – many of which are associated with the space center in some way – and retirees who have never been anything but kind to Gale and John. Everyone has always been very neighborly, and Gale would go so far as to call most of them friends. They have dinners together, throw a block party here and there, do the usual neighborly favors for one another. Hell, Gale’s even babysat for some of the families from time to time. John taught a couple of the kids how to ride a bike.

Certainly, none of them have ever expressed something like this, and Gale doesn’t believe for a moment that this message came from anyone around here. He has half a mind to go next door and ask Mrs. Mason if she saw anyone stick this in his mailbox. Aside from the fact that Gale is fairly certain the widow is having an affair with a much younger married man, she’s always looked out for him and John. She also takes it upon herself to play neighborhood watch and always seems to know everything about everyone on their street. If anyone saw this happen, it’s her. But he doesn’t want to worry her, and he certainly doesn’t want her telling their other neighbors about it.

He’s done a decent job of avoiding the worst comments on social media, mostly because he barely goes on social media unless Marge tells him he needs to keep up his online presence. He knows the naysayers are still out there, though. And now it’s crossed the digital line. 

If we’re lucky, the fag…

Disgusted, Gale grits his teeth, crumples the paper, and tosses it straight into the recycle bin with the rest of the junk mail. He takes a breath and tries to push down the anger. Then he walks into his house, the one he shares with his wonderful, brave husband, and he laughs as the dogs rush to greet him.

–

November 19

It’s close to 3am in Houston. Benny’s desk is littered with empty coffee cups, gum wrappers, and an empty takeout container from what he supposes is technically lunch. Meals don’t make as much sense when your work schedule is from midnight to 8am. Nothing makes as much sense when your work schedule is from midnight to 8am. He finds it funny: he used to eat tacos at 3am when he was in college, but that was a product of burning the candle at both ends rather than working the night shift. Night shift for NASA Mission Control.

Except, it’s not technically night shift either, because according to GMT, the time zone that Mission Control and the crew operate on, it’s actually nearing 8am. Which is a far less acceptable time for eating tacos.

The crew has been awake for two hours now. This morning’s wake-up alarm on Starship was Hot To Go by Chappell Roan. No one has admitted to choosing that song yet, but most people are betting on Curt. Benny, however, thinks it was all Bucky. He has to admit, there are few things funnier at 1am than a room full of extensively trained, highly professional, and terribly exhausted flight controllers in business clothes singing “H-O-T-T-O-G-O, You can take me hot to go” over and over.

“Missing the wife, Egan?” Benny asked once Bucky had shut off the alarm. There was quiet snickering from the flight controllers behind him. Bucky didn’t dignify that with a response.

Gale really doesn’t know what he’s missing with these wake-up calls. 

While Rosie and Alex are nearing apolune, the point in their orbit farthest from the moon, Bucky and Curt are now out on the lunar surface once again. They’re just about 15 minutes into their morning EVA, which is scheduled for 5 hours. Their first stop is checking in on LEAF.

Bucky: “Is that…”

Curt: “Yes.”

Bucky: “Hi there.”

The flight controllers look at the video feed in awe. 

Inside the growth chamber, two little seedlings have sprouted, tiny green leaves reaching up towards the sunlight. No matter how small, there’s something about seeing life take root in an environment designed to take life away that feels extraordinary. 

–

40 minutes in, and Curt and Bucky have driven the rover further out from Starship than they’ve gone thus far. That busted wheel is holding, but they’ve brought a repair kit with them, not liking the way it rattles here and there over the uneven terrain. “Ain’t no Triple A on the moon,” Curt had said as he tossed the kit into the rover. Then he looked at Bucky a little too pointedly. “But don’t think for a second that this is permission to do somethin’ stupid.” 

Either way, they made it to the other side of the connecting ridge next to Shackleton, and the rover is still intact. They’re surveying the surface, trying to hash out where they should install their second of three scientific instruments. The Lunar Dielectric Analyzer (LDA) is meant to use electric currents in the soil to detect the presence of water ice below the surface. The astronauts are also collecting soil samples for the geologists back home, dumping dusty regolith into bags and labeling them with their coordinates.

In the pitch black shadow of the connecting ridge, they have to work by flashlight. They were instructed to check a variety of sites, both light and dark, but they’re starting with the ones that receive less sunlight, since they’re colder and more likely to have the right conditions for ice to exist. Shackleton itself was identified by scientists as having ice deposits, making the ridge an ideal mission site. However, short of rappelling into the crater, which they will not be doing, this is the closest they can get to those known deposits at the moment. Bucky is closer to the crater, up on an incline with the rover, while Curt is further down, about 60 or 70 yards away.

“Note,” Bucky says. “Site B, sharp gray dust that won’t get the fuck off my gloves.”

“Hey, that’s what I have at site C!” Curt exclaims. He pops up in the distance, shining his flashlight up towards Bucky. Bucky shines his back, and Curt waves.

Bucky: “Houston, site B doesn’t seem any more promising than A, and I don’t like this incline. Thinkin’ we should stick to flatter surfaces.”

Benny: “Roger. We will eliminate site B as an option.”

Bucky: “Okay, I’m gonna head back down to Curt.”

Bucky steps up onto the rover and turns it on, waiting for the headlights to flicker to life. Then he eases into drive, and starts to slowly descend the slope. 

–

Benny sips on his coffee and jots down a few notes about the LDA candidate sites. They’ll have to make a decision in the next hour or so in order to stay on track with the EVA schedule. But with the issues they’ve been having with the rover, he doesn’t want to rush them along too much.

“Bucky, how’s that rover wheel doin’?”

“Seems fine,” Bucky replies, but Benny doesn’t like the hint of uncertainty coming through. “Still seems off, but goin’ smoother than it was.”

“I’ll check it when you get down here,” Curt says. “Might just need tightened again.”

Benny makes a note for Red Shift that they’ll have to build in time to troubleshoot that wheel a little better during the afternoon EVA. He relays the thought to Red Bowman, the Blue Shift flight director. He agrees.

“Alright Bucky,” Benny says. “We’ll get you guys some time to work on that wheel this afternoon. For now just take it easy and-”

“Fuck!” 

“Bucky?”

Benny hears Bucky’s breath catch, followed by a few aggravated grunts, and then silence.

What the fuck just happened?

“Bucky?” Benny glances around the room. Red and several of the other flight controllers are doing the same, many looking right at him. He blinks and looks at his console. His own heart rate is creeping up. “John? John, do you copy?”

Nothing.

He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t stand sitting down all of a sudden. He tries to keep his voice steady as he watches the seconds tick by on the mission clock. “John, come in John.”

“Flight?” Smokey, the Blue Shift flight surgeon, looks first to Red, and then to Benny. All three of them are on their feet, forming a triangle that stretches across Mission Control as they stare at each other in alarm. The rest of the room is silent.

Smokey looks down at his console. “Major Egan’s vitals are all over the place. His suit pressure-”

Benny is suddenly aware of a very faint beeping noise coming in over Bucky’s coms. A suit alarm.

He’s very worried, just for a moment, that he might pass out.

–

From where he’s kneeling in the darkness of the ridge, Curt can hardly see anything. Since the moon has no atmosphere for sound to travel through, he also can’t hear anything other than the voices over coms. He scrambles to his feet the moment he hears Bucky yell “Fuck.” One word, but the tone in which it’s said is all too familiar to Curt, a fellow pilot. It’s a tone that’s, all at once, as horrified as it is resigned. The moment you know you’re going down and there’s essentially nothing you can do about it.

His flashlight beam barely goes far enough for him to make anything out for certain, but he can see glinting metal flashing through the darkness. Its pattern isn’t consistent enough to be the rover easing down the slope like it’s supposed to.

He squints, watching it for a few more seconds, before he says “Oh god.” The rover is tumbling end over end down the slope, and part of him can’t help but think how wrong it is that there’s no crashing sounds, no sound of metal banging and bending. It’s just quiet. Like a silent movie. Benny’s in his ear, trying to get John to respond, and Curt realizes that, wherever John is, he can’t respond. John’s not going to respond. And he knows he needs to tell Mission Control what he’s seeing, but there’s not enough room in his brain for that. All he can think is run. 

So he fucking runs. 

His boots slip and slide in the regolith as he takes awkward, bounding steps up the slope, too much effort for not enough gain. His suit is still stiff, keeping him from bending his joints enough to run, but he has to. He has to. 

Smokey must note that his heart rate is spiking, because Benny’s saying “Curt, are you okay? You’re using too much oxygen.”

“I’m not concerned about my fuckin’ oxygen,” he growls. The slope is getting steeper, and he starts stumbling over his own feet after about 20 yards. The beam of his flashlight is shaking uncontrollably, but he can see the metal of the rover somewhere ahead, reflecting the light. It’s finally come to a stop, about 15 more yards away.

He hears Benny ask, “Curt, do you have visual?”

“Uh huh.” That’s all he gives them, trudging on even as the loose dust and rock under his feet falls away, making it near impossible to get anywhere. He’s practically running in place like a damn cartoon. He slips and goes down on his knees, catching himself with his hands. His flashlight tumbles away and he lunges to grab it before he gets himself lost in the darkness. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

He rips a piece of duct tape off the roll looped to his EVA suit and uses it to secure the flashlight to his shoulder. He adds a few more pieces over top, ensuring it’ll stay, and then he drags himself to his feet again. He’s breathing too hard. He knows with sudden clarity that if he doesn’t get himself under control, he won’t have enough oxygen to get back, just like Benny said. And if he can’t get back, he can’t save John.

He takes one more deep breath and then forces himself to calm down.

Benny is still saying John’s name. 

When Curt finally makes it to the rover, though, he knows there isn’t going to be an answer. All there is is a quiet beeping noise buzzing around Curt’s brain like a fly. 

The rover is on its side but, somehow, miraculously, still on, headlights shining into the shadowed unknown. That stupid left wheel is laying flat on the ground right beside it. All of the materials they’d packed, including the LDA payload and the repair kit, are scattered across the slope, and Bucky…

Bucky is lying on the ground, face up and half under the rover. When Curt gets to him, he drops to his knees and puts one hand on Bucky’s shoulder. With the other hand, he rips the duct taped flashlight off his suit and shines it on his commander’s face. “Bucky?” he whispers, even though he knows it’s useless. 

Bucky’s eyes are closed, and Curt can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. He realizes that the quiet, incessant beeping he’s hearing over coms is an alarm from Bucky’s EVA suit. In the glow of the flashlight, he sees something dark glistening inside Bucky’s helmet, above and behind his head. After a second, he realizes that it’s blood, seeping through his com cap. It's smeared across his forehead, too, trailing down his temple.

For all the oxygen he was using before, Curt can barely breathe, now. “Benny?”

“Is he awake, Curt?” 

Curt freezes, trying to sort through that question. Is he awake means he’s not dead. Houston still has his vitals. He’s not dead. 

Curt swallows and clenches his jaw. “Benny, we have a big, big problem.”

–

Alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

For how much longer?

Benny is forced to remain calm, something he’s familiar with as a pilot. It’s just, usually, as a pilot, your crew members aren’t on another planetary body hundreds of thousands of miles away.

But he works through it anyway. Work the problem. Work the fucking problem.

He guides Curt through getting the rover righted, through pulling Bucky’s unconscious body away from the wreckage, through tracking down the repair kit, through reattaching the wheel. He’ll barely remember any of this by tomorrow. He barely remembers any of it now. 

He looks at Red across the room as a horrible, urgent thought strikes him right in the chest. “We have to tell Gale before Red Shift comes in.”

Usually, when an astronaut gets hurt on the moon, they wait until the situation is under control to contact the family. It’s just, usually, when there’s an astronaut involved, the family members aren’t scheduled to come in for a Mission Control shift in two hours.

Red's eyes lock on him, and Benny sees them widen almost imperceptibly. He nods. They both know: it has to be Benny. There’s no other choice. Red turns to the nearest flight controller and grabs them by the arm. “Get Helen here. Now.”

–

It’s raining. 

Fat, heavy drops pounding on the roof of the house in Nassau Bay. Pops of electricity flash through the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud, and the smell of damp Earth mixes with the salty air blowing in from the Gulf. 

But none of these are what wake Gale Cleven. 

It’s not even the dogs, with their wet noses and hopeful eyes and insistent whines. Instead, it’s a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. John?  

No, not John. Can’t be John. 

“Buck, wake up.” The voice is calm and low and yet… sad. There’s only two other people with a key to this house. One of them is Marge, and the other… shouldn’t be here either. 

Gale opens his eyes and stares out the window into the eerie, rainy night. Slowly, he turns his head to squint at Benny in the dim light of his bedside lamp. “Benny? Why…? Am I-” 

Why are you here? Am I late? Did I oversleep? That’s not like myself. It’s still dark outside.

These are all thoughts that don’t make it out of his mouth, stuck in the quicksand of his brain as he groggily turns his head and looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s only 5am. He wasn’t even planning to get up until 5:30.

He stares blankly at the time for a few solid seconds, trying to understand, before his entire world comes to a screeching halt. If Benny’s here… 

Benny would’ve told you if I wasn’t okay. 

Gale’s heart starts pounding before he feels like it drops clear out of his chest, nausea rising to take its place. His lungs stop taking in air, and his hands scramble at the bedsheets as he tries to sit up straight.

No. 

Benny’s hand slides off Gale’s shoulder in his panicked movement, and the disappearance of that warm, comforting touch is another shock to Gale’s system. He’s untethered. A feeling of loss swells through him as he looks up at his friend. 

Benny is looking down at the floor, though, avoiding eye contact. He isn’t saying anything.

The room spins.

No. 

When Benny looks up again, Gale is staring back at him with the widest, most horror-stricken eyes, sitting there, looking exhausted and confused and wrecked and frightened, gripping too hard at the fabric of the old Yankees sweatshirt that Benny knows doesn't smell like Bucky anymore. Benny’s own heart breaks into pieces. He wants to fall apart right there and then, but he can’t. It's his job not to. Instead, he sits there calmly on the edge of the bed, puts his hand back on Gale’s shoulder, and he realizes that there’s a faint trembling there.

He takes a deep breath as he looks Gale in the eye. 

“No,” Gale whispers. He shakes his head. His breath starts coming back in slow and shallow spurts, like his body is trying to boycott oxygen until he knows that his other half is still breathing, too. “Is- Is he-”

Talk to you tomorrow, angel.

If we’re lucky the fag will die up there.

Praying the queer dies on the moon.

I love you.

If I had to die, the moon isn’t a bad place to do it. 

Don’t count on it don’t count on it don’t count on it... 

“He’s alive.”

Gale makes a terrible noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob, his heart and lungs going back to work in fast-forward as he bows his head, clutching it in his hands.

Benny swallows. “But it’s bad, Buck. It’s bad.”

…

…

Part 11

[the-perverse-library]

(Stranded Astronaut AU, Size Difference, Monster-folk)

Stranded after an unfortunate ship crash and armed with only a pistol and combat knife, how does Jaune (Dense and Jumpy but an Optimist) often react when he runs into the ‘locals’ of the planet.

Jaune: “Log entry #1: Locals. Honestly, where do I even begin with the locals on this planet? They look similar to humans but with additional animal like appendages or greater physical capabilities. They also vary in height as well, either being slightly taller than an average human to being twice the size of them. Who knows just how far their genetics have advanced to reach such adaptations.” *He turns around after hearing a knock at the door.* “Huh, who could that be? Gonna have to end the log here, need to see who’s at the door. This is Security Specialist Jaune Arc of the UNE Research Vessel UNS Intrepid, signing off.” *He then stops the recording before grabbing his handgun and walking over to the door.*

(If you weren’t expecting a story, then that’s my bad, I just really like to put context into something before I ask it? It also helps me to set the scene of something I want to ask as well.)

The moment he opened the door, Jaune was attacked by a wall of firm muscle, scales, and soft titflesh. The lost astronaut fell onto his back, staring up at the blonde she-dragon standing in the doorway to his living quarters. He was aware of the alien; she was merely one of the many native inhabitants that Jaune had encountered. Jaune was stunned silent. It was one thing to observe the Faunus from his base, but it was another thing entirely to have one loom over him.

"H-hi Yang." Jaune stuttered out the she-dragon's name. The blonde bombshell left Jaune completely nervous, and he had every right to be. Yang was as massive as he had noted in his observations and recordings. If his readings were to scale, he was barely half her size! Jaune took a big gulp as he slowly pulled himself to his feet.

Yang just beamed down at him with a mischievous grin, sunlight forming a halo around her thick scales, tail, and wings. "Hey there, mister space man," Yang purred as she rested her hands on her hips. "I heard from a delightful kitsune and a very strong-willed Snow Faerie you were interested in understanding our cultures on a more... intimate level." Yang finished with a soft moan as she ran her tongue over her lips.

Jaune was transfixed. It had been true that he had been discussing culture with Pyrrha and Weiss the weeks prior. Both Kitsune and Fae culture are steeped in traditions that left him feeling baffled beyond belief. But... something told Jaune that that blonde giantess wearing a wispy tank top struggling to contain her jiggling bust and a thin, black thong might not be about to extol the rich oral histories of the Draconids to him. "I-I have been i-interviewing some people. T-to help further u-ummm... diplomatic relations! Yeah, to build further diplomatic relations between Earth and here!" Jaune meekly offered as he tried to keep his eyes focused on just Yang's eyes. "Learning more w-would allow me to be integral in a-any partnership between our peoples."

His words only made her smile grow as Yang inched toward him. "Oh, I plan to make sure you never forget our ~partnership~, mister space man." The she-dragon coyly remarked before pulling Jaune's face flush against her black leather thong. Jaune could feel Yang's tail coil around his leg, teasing and massaging his throbbing bulge as she ground against his face. "Oh my~! No wonder Weisscream and Pyr-Pyr loved "exchanging culture" with you. You just have so much to give!" Yang excitedly teased him before the draconid tore Jaune out of his uniform.

"Director! Director, we have a transmission from the downed vessel. Yes, the UNE Research Vessel UNS Intrepid." A scientist remarked as they caught a transmitter signal. "I-it's a lot of data, almost like someone is recording and transmitting live data." The scientist turned to director Goodwitch who gave a curt nod.

"Play the footage; if nothing else, we can locate the Intrepid and Security Specialist Jaune Arc." Goodwitch remarked with a solemn tone.

The team set to work and cleaned up the signal before synchronising their system with the transmission signal from the downed vessel. The gargantuan monitor before them crackled to life, giving the entire research and development branch of the UNS a front-row seat of Jaune Arc, nude and mewling as a blonde giantess straddled him. They watched the winged alien lock the security officer in the Amazon Pose as she slammed herself down onto his cock over and over again. "~Oooh fuck yeah~! Pump all your culture deep into my pussy! J-just like that! Oooh fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!!!" The blonde alien chanted as she thrusted down harder and faster, making her entire body jiggle and quake with every thunderous slam of her hips against his.

The UNS R&D division watched as the she-dragon ravaged and lavished Jaune with her body, forcing the security officer to cum until his seed was spilling and oozing out of her quivering slit. They watched her bury him in her tits, hammering her massive melons up and down his throbbing cock until her face was covered in a thin glaze of cum. The wild, lustful alien only stopped when Jaune finally passed out from a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. The alien took her time cleaning her face, slurping up every rogue strand of semen she could before turning and winking to the camera.

"Hehehe, I hope you enjoyed the show. We'll be sure to send you more of these "educational" and "culturally rich" videos in future." Yang teasingly remarked. "Once I tell everyone just what Jaune's packing, every Faunus on this planet is gonna want to "exchange culture" with him."

[phenakistoskope]

i read three novellas by becky chambers this year, and experienced varying degrees of frustration with each of them. the monk and robot books were superficially serene and tinged with queerness, but beneath this facade, the world basked in utopian imaginations of the most vapid sort. no more conflict, save for those against nature and the self, and the condescending benevolence of humans allowing their robot slaves to take leave of their oppressors on discovering their enslavement. no struggle, only agreement, and endless forgiveness for the oppressors. and further down, beneath that, was a fish, left to die on land, gasping for breath, and this act of non-intervention, the refusal to kill a fish that would eventually be eaten was framed as kindness.

next was to be taught if fortunate, which, frankly read like a long form advertisement for nasa, where a group of four interstellar astronauts, through their spokesperson, find it completely appropriate to emphasize the nobility of their work when addressing the potentially ravaged population of the earth. science above all, the narrator condescends, in a transmission to what is left of the earth (and in practice, the reader), you might not be interested in this, or more accurately, you might understand nothing of what we do, but you must trust me when i say it is important, for i am a practitioner of the sciences, and science is a privileged domain of knowledge that few have access to for reasons i, as an astronaut refuse to make clear to you, for,

[...] what if science isn't your world? I admit I don't know whether people outside of my social sphere would care about this at all. I've spent my entire adult life embedded with scientists and the people who love them. I take it for granted that this knowledge is cherished, is yearned for. And I am keenly aware that in order to tell you what we found, it required a thousand words of explanation before I could get to the crux. Is this discovery of ours too obtuse? Did you skim through the science in search of the point? I won't judge you if you did; I'm genuinely curious.

all this to tie-off the most pedestrian explanation of chirality and the narrative discovery of organisms that don't display chirality. i wonder if a biologist reading this book might have thrown it against a wall in frustration, for even as a layperson, i was considering the act, given the patronising tone.

and at the end of it i wonder, who are these books for, exactly? the monk and robot books were dedicated to "[...] anybody who could use a break." and "[...] anybody who doesn't know where they're going" respectively. following this, the author makes it clear that these readers should indulge in some eclectic form of new age religion, visit a therapist, go on journeys of self discovery to the "uninhabited lands" (you know, where the robots dwell) as the inhabitants of the moon panga do, and continue with their lives in radical acceptance. and let me tell you, only a very specific kind of person can live like that on our home planet of earth.

now, i am well aware that many people reading these books look to them as a means of escape, but i am not one of them. i look to literature for reflections of the world i live in, however distorted they may be, and becky chamber's distortions are monstrous (derogatory; i am delineating her work from the joyful and laudatory monstrosities literature can produce) in a way that only an author from the united states of america could manage.

[applestorms]

hi!! may i please ask you 4 and 14 for the fic writer asks :-)

hell yes you can :)) original post for ref

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

stares dead eyed at my 10 page doc of fic ideas. uhh ok i have No Idea what kinda plotline this would be, but i Desperately wanna write something with bunny near... perhaps also ft. a catboy mello. i don't have a goddamn clue what kind of au would produce that, but i need it. somehow. it has to be stupid and mello has to suffer lol 👍

14. where do you get your inspiration?

a whole amalgamation of things-- i latch onto different visuals/themes/motifs from the Various Medias i consume and the connections sneak their way through whether i'm conscious of it while writing or not. specific story ideas literally kinda come to me in Visions lol, or like i'll make a connection between two things and 🤯 (though admittedly usually i just write something if i think it's funny =3=")

e.g. praise the sweetness (my lawlight cult au) was heavily influenced by me playing cult of the lamb and going "i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me :]" over and over, but a lot of other stuff too-- originally that story was a lot more midsommar inspired, actually, before i changed the setting to wammy's house. which, once i did that, then all the post apocalypse shit started coming out of nowhere, which was quite literally influenced by my dreams cuz i dream about the apocalypse a lot :] but also like uhh the poppy thing i think came from sabrina the teenage witch lore bc iirc in the live action show witches are allergic to/can be killed by (??) poppies and that idea/imagery has always Stuck with me.

i take a lot of inspiration from the fucking massive number of fics i've read over the years too-- superegos for example was heavily influenced by all the weird robot sex fics i've read over the years (in particular a bts fic which i'm not even sure is on the internet anymore, it was taekook and called Neptune and fucking changed me fundamentally when i read it at like 13 LMFAO) and also weird robot movies which i watch a lot of for some reason (i've had to watch ex machina for like, 3 separate classes by this point...) though i actually like that it ended up going against a lot of the classic tropes with the memory transfer shit (clearly influenced by my homestuck/dirk strider roots. laughs). also the sex scene was Very Much influenced by this old ass dirkjake fic everybody on your knees and testify, specifically ch.4 which is. very good AHAHASHL :]

[weirdsatellites]

Transmission #0968 from NROL-111 (Q CLEARANCE) 1. Pataphysical Astronauts 2. Labyrinth of Unspeakable Scalpels

[letmeridethatstaff]

The Truman and (Y/N) Show

Chapter 5: End Transmission

Word Count: ~2K

Pairing: Truman Burbank x Reader

Disclaimer: this is parody. I do not own the Truman show nor do I claim too. Do not repost. Do not translate or repost.

Warnings:

Drowning

not edited

Honestly I think that's it

----

Truman’s in the restroom as (Y/N) gets ready for the day. He stares into the mirror. He starts to whistle. “Come in major Burbank.” While whistling he starts to draw an astronaut helmet on the mirror with soap. “I hereby proclaim this planet,” he starts to draw a flag. “Trumania of the Burbank galaxy.” He wipes away the soap scum, smiling. “That ones for free.” He leaves the bathroom. 

Truman gets his briefcase from (Y/N) they share a kiss and spot the neighbors. “Morning!” (Y/N) calls out. Their neighbors reply. 

“Oh and in case we don’t see ya-“ he interrupted by the neighbors.

“—Good afternoon, good evening, and good night.” They call out. He laughs and walks away. (Y/N) goes inside to set up her paints in the backyard. 

“Morning Truman!” Their next door neighbor calls out. 

“Morning Spencer!” Truman calls back. 

“How’s it going?” 

“Hmm let me check.” Truman holds up his wrist watch to check the time. “Vital signs are good!” Spencer laughs as Truman reaches his car. 

—

After work Truman arrives home. They have dinner, start to clean up the basement on (Y/N)'s request, and go to bed…

—

The scene shows a cameraman working the angles. 

“Ready two.” He says through a mouthful of pizza. “Go to two.” The night vision camera changes. He sighs, “and back to medium. And one wide.” The night vision camera shows (Y/N) and Truman in the basement. They seemed to be camping down there. 

The intern notices Christof at the door. “Psst.” He announces to the cameraman to get his attention. The cameraman gets up and walks to the intern. He sighs.

“I was just trying to train the kid…to…” he shakes his head. “Nevermind.” 

Christof: “What are they doing in the basement?” 

Cameraman: “They started to camp down there after (Y/N)’s mental break with her mom.” 

Christof: “Why wasn’t I told? Any unpredictable behavior has to be reported.” 

Cameraman: “Uh th-their just sleeping, I thought.” 

 Christof: “This is the best shot we got?” 

Cameraman: “What’s to see?” 

Christof: “What’s on the clock cam?” 

Intern: “It’s uh it’s obstructed.” 

Christof: “What happened down there?” 

Cameraman: “They were just tidying up their junk.” He sighs, “I was gonna call you but half way through they both gave up, cuddled, and fell asleep.” Christof nods. 

Christof: “I wanna check on the setups for the insurance—“ 

Both: “Insurance convention tomorrow. Yes. Yeah.” They both nod. The cameraman gives the intern a slice of pizza. 

Christof walks away from them and stands at the windows with a moon film covering it. Then stops. Realizing. He scurries back to them, setting down his drink. 

“Isolate the audio.” Christof instructs. He picks up head phones to listen in, “Give me a close-up on their torsos.” The camera zooms in and snoring is heard from Truman. The cameraman sighs. 

“They're still breathing.” states the cameraman. Christof sighs. 

“Where’s Chloe?” He takes off the headphones. 

“Yes, sir?” She calls out behind him. 

“Call them!” He orders. 

“What do you–” She starts to ask  but is interrupted. 

“Tell them it's the wrong number!” He dismisses her. He watches the screen. She starts to dial a phone call. 

The scene changes to show two audience members. 

“What took you so long?” One guard asks the other. The second one sits down in front of the television. 

“Just had to wait for it. They were busy.” The phone dial keeps ringing on the t.v., “Here.” he hands him a napkin and food. “What’s going on?” He asks. 

“I don’t know…” the first guard gestures to the t.v., “they’re…” 

The scene switches back to Christof and his crew. 

The cameraman frantically is skimming through footage of the two just hours prior. “They came down into the room. They did nothing but stand around for a while. Cleaning junk since (Y/N) asked for help with it.” 

“Shut up and watch it!” Christof orders, peering closer to the screen. The scene keeps flashing forward. Eventually showing the two going to bed in the basement.

“Then we went to night vision.” The phone continues to ring in the background. “They’re asleep!” claims the cameraman. Then…a blip on the screen. 

“There!” Christof shouts. “Stop it!”

“What?” Simeon, the cameraman, questions. He zooms in and sure enough there is a hand. Truman’s hand. They start panicking. 

“He must still be in the room they never went up the stairs.” Claims Simeon. 

“Get Marlon over there!” Christof orders Chloe. 

__

The sound of tires are heard screeching outside their home. It sounds like someone’s breaking in. Knowing their exact location. 

Marlon comes bumbling down the stairs. “Truman! (Y/N)!” He calls out into the dark basement. “Surprise party!” He looks at the mess in the basement and lightly, airly scoffs. “Come on, buddies.” He turns on the lights. “I got a six-pack of cold brewskis with our name on ‘em. (Y/N)’s welcome to join as well.” He starts to clear a path to the makeshift bed. “Come on, pal. Come on, buddy.” He reaches the bed and realizes it was a snowmen with wigs. A sound recording was making the snoring sounds as well. He’s informed by Christof that they must both still be in the room. Marlon turns off the sound machine and begins looking around him. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

“That’s good. Keep it light.” Christof's voice comes through the ear piece to Marlon. 

“I know you’re in here. I’m gonna find ya.” He starts to look behind cabinets. 

“Check under the table.” Christof instructs. Marlon gets down and checks– no one. “Closet behind you.” Christof now orders, frantic. 

“Huh. Gee. I wonder where they could possibly be.” Marlon turns around quickly. Flings the map up that was hanging down. Swings the closet doors wide open. There– a hole in the ceiling of the closet. Marlon starts to climb up through the hole. 

“The lawn cam, get me the lawn cam!” Christof yells, frantically. The camera shows Marlon climbing out. Marlon looks into the camera. 

“Don’t look in the camera. Say something. Keep it going.” Christof orders. 

“They’re gone.” Marlon whispers to the camera. 

“CUT TRANSMISSION!” Christoff bellows. 

“Cut transmission?” Simeon questions. 

“CUT IT!!” Christof lunges to the computers, cutting the transmission. 

–

The audience gasps. For the first time ever since the show aired, it stopped transmission. People gasped some even dropped their drinks. 

Man: “Jesus! In heaven!”

Woman: “Everything’s black.” 

Man: “Give me the phone! Give me the phone!”

–

The studio was in chaos. The phones were ringing off the hook. People who worked dayshift were now showing up to help. 

Suddenly the moon began to turn into a beacon, the townspeople were walking with linked arms in multiple lines trying to find them. A siren was blaring as well. 

Truman’s parents started to call for them. So did (Y/N)’s father as well. Marlon looks into a camera, “Yeah, I know…Got to go back to Barrymore, check the interiors. They gotta be in there.”

“Barrymore, huh?” Simeon questions. 

“Uh-huh,” Marlon confirms. 

“But what about the college? Who’s watching that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well send somebody over there, okay?”

“All right.”

Christof is seen passing. “We need more light. Or else we’ll never find them” He tells Chloe, “What time is it?”

“It’s way too early for that.” He doesn’t care, he needs his stars. 

“Cue the sun.” He orders. Immediately the “sun” comes blazing forth, briefly blinding the extras. Everyone goes to first position as ordered by Christof. Standing in their spots like statues. Then Christof realizes. 

“We’re not watching the sea.”

“Hang on a minute. Why would we watch the sea?” Simeon questions. 

“Sweep the harbor.” Christof orders. 

“Bring up the harbor cameras.” After a brief search they find a boat. Their boat. 

The transmission is now back online. Bets are being placed. Questions are being asked. The shot shows both (Y/N) and Truman smiling, sailing. (Y/N) opens a handmade photo of Sylvia. Sylvia is shown crying with relief, joy. The scene goes back to (Y/N) and Truman. She puts away the photo. Suddenly the weather starts to pick up, the waves start to become choppier, ruffer. They hold on tight, life vests on. Truman tries the engine. The sails are open making the boat harder to control. (Y/N) tries to tangle with the ropes, but lightning hits the sail. She’s flung overboard. Truman shouts for her. Rushing to pull her aboard. The audience is shown– stunned. They swam to each other and reached the boat. 

“Is that the best you can do!” (Y/N) shouts into the air– to them. Truman laughs. “You’re gonna have to kill us!!!” They start to sing sea shanties. As the wind starts to turn ferocious the waves begin to rise. 10ft…15ft…25ft…. Wave after wave they are being hit. The boat tips on its side. They were stuck under the water due to tying themselves to  the boat. It was capsized. The weather immediately clears up. The boat rights itself again. (Y/N) starts to cough up water alongside Truman. They start hoisting the sail once more. Getting farther and farther from Seahaven. Enjoying the sun and wind on their skin. Suddenly without warning they hit a wall. A wall of clouds and blue sky. The boat pierces this imaginary wall with its bow. They rush up to the wall, inspecting it. Touching it. Painted walls. They made it. Made it to the end. But not out. They start banging on the walls trying to get out. Taking everything they had in them trying to claw their way out. Truman starts to cry. They were so close, and yet so far. Then they realized to the right of them was a shallow shore. A lining of sorts all along the pool of water. Following it. They reached the stairs. Stairs to somewhere, outside, hope. The handle stated exit. (Y/N) opens it hoping. 

Christof: “Truman,” they gasp, “(Y/N).” It was like the heavens were speaking to them. “You can speak. I can hear you.” 

Truman: “Who are you?”

Christof: “I am the creator of a television show that gives hope and joy and inspiration to millions.” 

(Y/N): “Then who are we?”

Christof: “You’re the star.” Truman nods his head in acceptance. 

Truman: “Was nothing real?”

Christof: “You two were real.” (Y/N) looks at Truman and Truman to her. “That’s what made you two so good to watch.” They turn towards the exit. “Listen to me. There’s no more truth out there…than there is in the world I created for you both. The same lies. The same deceit. But in my world…neither of you have anything to fear. I know you both better than you know yourselves. Or each other.” Truman becomes upset and (Y/N) as well. 

(Y/N): “You never had a camera in my head.” She exclaims. 

Christof: “You’re afraid. That's why you can't leave.” Christof begins petting the screen. “It’s okay you two. I understand. I have been watching the both of you, your whole lives. I watched you both be born. When you took your first steps. First day of school, and first time losing your teeth. You can’t leave.” 

Due to the live transmission, Sylvia watches this play out, praying for her friends to leave. 

Christof: “You both belong here.”

Sylvia: “You can do it.” she whispers to the tv.

Christof: “With me….Talk to me. Say something. Well, say something, damn it. You’re on television.” Truman and (Y/N) look at one another. “You’re live to the whole world.” As for the world watching on, they watched in silence with bated breaths. Truman turns to look at the sky, to the camera, to Christof. He clutched (Y/N)’s hand into his. 

Truman: “In case we don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night.” He puts on a fake smile and laughs, “Yep.” They take one final bow as this show has run its course. They turn around and head out the door. 

Sylvia is ecstatic running out the door and putting her coat on. There were cheers, tears, tantrums, and mostly high fives from the whole world. 

Finally…

The transmission ends. 

The end. 

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Ambassadors of Death

Synopsis

The Third Doctor joins UNIT's investigation of the mystery surrounding Mars Probe 7. Space Control, headed by Professor Ralph Cornish, has had no contact with the astronauts on board since it started back from Mars seven months ago. Now the Recovery 7 rescue mission has run into similar difficulties.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Colony in Space

Synopsis

The Time Lords discover that the Master has stolen their secret file on the Doomsday Weapon. They grant the Doctor a temporary reprieve from his exile on Earth to deal with the crisis. He and Jo arrive on the planet Uxarieus and become enmeshed in a struggle between an agrarian colony and a powerful mining corporation.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Day of the Daleks

Synopsis

Freedom fighters from the 22nd Century attempt to thwart a new Dalek invasion of Earth, by going back in time to the late 20th century to assassinate Sir Reginald Styles, a delegate to the second World Peace Conference, whose actions their history blames for the subsequent Dalek conquest.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Time Monster

Synopsis

The Master, in the guise of Professor Thascalos, has constructed at the Newton Institute in Wootton a device known as TOMTIT — Transmission Of Matter Through Interstitial Time — to gain control over Kronos, a creature from outside time. The creature is summoned but proves to be uncontrollable.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Frontier in Space

Synopsis

The Third Doctor and Jo are caught in the escalating tension between planets Earth and Draconia and discover that the Master and the Daleks are secretly working to provoke the two into all-out war.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Death to the Daleks

Synopsis

An energy drain traps the Third Doctor and Sarah Jane Smith on the planet Exxilon with its hostile natives, causing the travellers to make an uneasy alliance with a Marine Space Corps expedition and a squadron of Daleks. The key to escape for all of them lies at the heart of a powerful and mysterious lost city, but only if they can navigate a series of deadly traps.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

[stuckasmain]

Rewatching 2010 thoughts

I did a bit of rapid posting last night as I rewatched the film as I certainly have a lot of thoughts about it. It has been a long time since I have and after reading the book I’m kind of sad? It’s still an enjoyable watch but some of the changes are just so unnecessary, especially when it’s noticeable the things they took effort to keep.

One thing I will admit is this movie definitely influenced how I read the book, appearances lined up (except for Katerina who’s male in the movie)

They accidentally demoted Frank in the briefing “co pilot” and “deputy commander” aren’t exactly interchangeable

I like Floyd being friends with Milson and Caroline being much more understanding but this is unfortunately at the expense of literally everyone else. As the conflict comes from within rather than the situation most of the time- it’s really unfortunate as the “insta friends” part of the novel works to its benefit

However, everyone’s a quippy bitch and it’s really funny

The movie is absolutely terrible to Tanya makes weird choices of her being military, no longer married to Vasili (for no real reason) and the absolutely insane illogical choice of making Max go out

All of Floyd’s transmissions contain elements from paragraphs from the book itself a nice touch

I really really wished they hadn’t went with the conflict/war route because the movie is at its best when everyone’s conversational and joking around with each other like in the book. The movie mentions it a few times but should’ve stuck with science>country astronaut bond

Do love the scene with Walter and Max going to the discovery and how instead of the focus being on normal breathing it’s hyperventilating

Something something burry your gays. The book goes into detail on how everyone thinks a manned probe to the monolith would be stupid and suicidal. But there’s no Katrina so we got to blow up the boyfriend (however i am a sucker for angst but my god)

LOVE Starchild Dave actually, I love the distortion and how his real voice beneath it is so soft and confused. How his eyes are freakishly blue and shiney- don’t like it implied he was married- idk why I hate that as much as I do

Actually do love the far more climatic blast from Jupiter. It really shows the “the message wasn’t sent to us because there was no guarantee we’d be ok”

Movie Chandra forever actually, he really encapsulates the general feel of the character and his care for Hal. 

They use the same two pictures of Frank and Dave for everything and it’s really funny because they’re just pulled from the movie and not actually nice photos of them