#fic: interstellar

[goteique]

| PAPRIKA + UMEMIYA HAJIME .

+cw. — fem!reader x prince!umemiya hajime, undertones of smut, angst, and fluff & strangers to lovers. | +wc. — 1k | +syn.— a tryst just before his big day and that was all it took to for him to be fearless. | +notes. — i do wanna write more. . .maybe continue it as mini series but lets see if the stars align or not! | redirect to blog navigation.

“Nobody needs to know about this,” Umemiya rasps against your shaky lips by breaking his tantalizingly lazy yet turbulent kiss.

“Yeah.” You breathe out a whisper, running your hands over his palms that rest on your cheeks. 

“Right.  . . Nobody.” His lips dash on yours again as his hands slowly travel down to your shoulders, deft hands, gnarly fingers slipping underneath the hem of your robe, little by little, peeling the robe off you. His Imperial Mantle conceals your body, always has been; since the day he laid his eyes on you. Even if the weight of it is too heavy to bear it alone sometimes, Umemiya believed that it was a little less when he was with you, when he saved you on that fierce stormy starless night. But even without it the high golden curtains and the pillar would provide both of you enough time to flee if anyone were to come, which is why Hiragi is standing at the advent of this gigantic hallway.

You feel the cold of the air grace one of your shoulders with goosebumps. Umemiya’s face is buried in the nook of your neck, one of his limbs holding the back of your nape keeping you in your place. still. The tip of his tongue licks your collarbones once before he flattens his tongue which travels from the head of your collarbone to the back of your ear lobes while his other limb follows the same trail from your waist up to your breast. His teeth nip your ear lobes at the same time as his hand squeezes your breasts making you stand on your tippy toes and then, you moan; the roused sigh flowing right into his ear making him recoil from this ravishing reality being reminded of his status as well as the consequences of his actions: that with such personage there come responsibilities followed by certain boundaries with it not leaving behind a promising morbidity either. You have always known that the tragedy that comes with the throne, and it never leaves you. It is epoxized to one fate and blood as if the other side of a coin thereby running from it was foolish, fighting against it is nothing but a pity so all you can do is to stand beside it.

Any pitchier than that, your voice would have echoed through the corridors. You have become exceptionally good at controlling your voice with the passage of time. His facial muscles squeeze at the thought of how cruel time it is that it passes. If only he could stop the time. . .

“We shouldn't do this,” Umemiya mumbled with a moan laced underneath, devouring desire palpable oozing from his breath. He skids away from you, saunting straight towards his inner chambers. Those fingers that have held a thousand swords, sparred day and night, fought battles that shook heaven and hell once refused to have the valor to disrobe you. Were you supposed to believe that? Your breath ceases at the bottom of your throat as you stand with your back glued against the wall in that gigantic empty corridor. There is a sound in the air. You can hear it; but no one is talking, neither walking or even taking a breath. You look at the end of the corridor only to see royal guard Hiragi standing just like before, a bronze statue except this time his palms are at the valley of his torso are twitching upon each other. 

You walk into his chambers finding him sitting at the edge of the bed with the crown of the prince in his hand, eyes scrutinizing it as if he could see the fate it holds once it finds its next rightful place since it has to find a new head to burden with a glorious purpose; since Umemiya would not be bearing the weight of such a burden anymore, after all, he is going to be appointed as the king today— a crown of heavier in status, weight, power and tragedy than before.

“Well, my knight, do you wish to save it after the coronation ceremony?”

Umemiya nods. . . simply nods, like six times in a row as if he did not expect such a question from you.  A crescent curve along your lips appears as you mumble to yourself, “Such a puppy.”

You two have not gotten to that stage yet. Umemiya stands up straightening his spine as you walk towards him. You take one good look at him, the knight you met that night before you fix his robe. You tie the knot of the laces of his dress shirt that has been undone by those same fingers not so long ago. Then, you move on to tying his coronation mantle. Umemiya looks at you as you take your time preparing him for his coronation ceremony. He thinks it is an act of galore valor that you can take responsibility for the things you mess up. 

“Are you nervous Haji?” 

“A little,” He says grabbing your palm, ceasing your movements as you were just about to deprive him from the touch of your hands. 

You look up. His eyes are as dark as the ocean. Your fingers clamp around his wrist pulling it on your chest. “Here.” You place your other hand on the left side of his chest. “No matter what or who turns their back to you I will never.” His eyebrows pinch ever so slightly that it is barely pinnable. The sincerity you have in those sparkling eyes, the loyalty that courses through your veins whenever you are around him, the devotion you have when you touch him is too much for him. It scares him. It scares his sanity to think what if . . . he loses you or something much worse . . .

“I know, my love.” He chimes leaning down. “I know.” His voice is now a weak whisper, a prayer as it says your name. His forehead touches yours as his free hand rests on yours which is still on his chest.

[blueparadis]

MOMENT OF SPAR | KEN ( DRAKEN ) RYUUGUJI. cw-gn!reader,fluff, pov!draken, one-sided pinning, oblivious!reader. word count: 1k note : requested by @acidsbeats via ficforgaza initiative. | redirect to blog navigation |

The sun is busy kissing the sky making it blush shamelessly. The birds are perhaps returning to their nests. The street lights are alive one by one and then there is you who has not given up on the challenge to spar with Draken. 

You swing your hand against Draken’s face. No hit. You repeat the movement of your arm, again and again, Draken doges it gracefully. “So, are you gonna give up yet?” Draken’s voice is loud and even suggesting that he is not even a slight bit exhausted unlike you who is having a hard time forming an answer in between the panting and irregular intake of breathing patterns. 

“Why should I?” You gasp out taking a breather for a mere few seconds. “I mean, I haven’t won yet,” You are correct though which makes Draken think that you will never be able to defeat him; at least not like this. He tries to jog his memory and look for that particular memory where you decided to challenge him knowing full well the warped difference between you and him with regards to skills as well as strength. Was it days ago? Months perhaps? It can’t be a year. . . Draken can not seem to remember it right. 

“Listen, Redhead.” Draken is not even going for defense techniques while you are giving the whole range of offense that your body can offer. “How long this bet of yours last?” He does not need to execute any sort of defense tactics. 

Perhaps, he does not even consider you as a threat at all or take your challenge seriously. He should start getting serious because any day you could win; any day now.  Wait, are you even serious yourself?

Draken gets impatient with the way you keep throwing non-stop messy punches at him. He was stepping backward while dodging your attacks but all of a sudden his feet halted, getting a firm placement on the ground while one of his came out of his pocket to touch your head. He has practically stopped you. It is endlessly frustrating that what is like finding a needle in a haystack is nothing but a walk in the park for him. Why can’t you win? Not once?  Not ever? Not that you take these moments of spars seriously either. 

Relationship with him has always been like this ever since you met him. The veil of un-comfortability that comes with touching each other has been lifted long ago. It has been filled with moments like these: sparring with him that inevitably includes nothing but him dodging your attacks.

“Redhead, are you listening?”

“Yeah. What did you say?” Draken’s hand that rested on your head travels back to his designated place, that is, in his pocket, and a visible pout forms on your face. Draken can not ignore that yet at the same time he can not go on sparring with you anymore. Come to think of it, you have a lot of tenacity for someone who gets easily defeated. But for now, for today the sparring session has to stop. He has to go home and believe it or not he is punctual.

“I said, let's call it a day.”

Draken knows it is useless to propose this trail of thought but still, he can not help but try. He will keep saying until your mind gets tired, muscles too exhausted to keep up anymore and then he can carry you in piggyback to drop you at your doorstep. This is the only part that he looks forward to the most and for which he goes through all the hurdles you put him through without ever raising his voice or getting annoyed with you. 

Maybe he could have let you win once, make it seem like you won and finally stop this stupid bet all for once but Nah! That is not going to be an option because you will be able to tell upon his tricks. You might not be as good as him at fighting but you can definitely know the way to separate water from milk, well sometimes when the adrenalin rush is at its peak.

“No. One more round,” you whine punching him lightly in the stomach. He bends in response to your touch releasing a grunt. It is not even misleading. Your arm retorts and you bonk his head lightly saying restlessly, “Don’t mock me, Draken.” Your hand slowly recoils back towards your body but Draken catches your hand. 

He isn’t though. His head is still tipped down. Perhaps you do not realize but he is still holding on to your hand. There is a surge of warm flush of emotions all over his face spreading up to his nape, creating goosebumps. He knows if he straightens up his spine, he will have to let go of your hand. Can’t he get any more closer than? Or maybe hold on to your hand a little longer?

“What’s up with you today?” You ask being wary of the fact that he is still jocking down, holding on to your hand ever so tightly. Did you hurt him?

“I’m hungry,” Draken exclaims looking up towards you. Your eyes go wide for a second seeing his face. He is okay. He is doing just fine. A wave of relief washes over your worn-out muscles as the fact sinks into you. At first, you snort then a laugh emerges from you. It swells so much that your free hand wraps around your stomach as he watches you smiling like a sun with your auburn hair floating in the air under the influence of the warm gusts of wind.

Ceasing your laughter for a moment you manage to divulge the reason of your laughter.  “You look like a freshly picked ripe tomato Draken. Did the summer heat finally get you?” Draken’s breath catches in his throat drowning in embarrassment. Swatting your hand away he ruffles your hair trying to hide his emotions even though you will probably not be aware about it under any circumstance.

“Oh my god. Stop it.” you protest running away from his grip.

“Well, in that case. I can call you red-head and you can call me tomako-kun.”

You snort again but this time you fold your lips so as not to laugh again. Your tummy still hurts. 

You have the same hair color as the setting sun while Draken’s face is now a dawning sun as both of you walk towards the exit of the park.

[dancingaura925]

As an experiencedTM danmei reader, I've come across many genres, and I feel like that the one genre that the SVSSS fandom needs to exploit is the interstellar genre. Why? Because it'd be fucking hilarious. Hear me out:

In the original work, Luo Binghe is - instead of part demon part human - is part zerg part human. Zerg, if you aren't familiar, is basically the interstellar genre's version of reallyyyyyy strong aliens, and depending on the author, can range from actual literal beasts to human-like creatures with insect features to just straight up humans with nice-ass wings, which can then have different degrees of autonomy due to this hivemind they've got with the Zerg Queen. Basically, nobody has any clue on what a proper Zerg should be, but nobody cares :D

In addition, these stories often have a human empire dedicated to fighting against these Zerg. This may include a main planet where the emperor lives and other planets with different nobles, territories, military bases, etc. It almost always has a research lab on the main planet that usually have some sort of dastardly scheme related to the main plot. On top of that, these empires are very militaristic, with mechas and combat and mental power and all sorts of interstellar travel

...

Do you see where this is going?

Once upon a time, Tianlang-Jun (perhaps the descendant from the Zerg Queen) and Su Xiyan (a researcher) fell in love with each other in the research facility. SXY was assigned to TLJ because the research facility wanted to know how to harness the Zerg Queen's power to once-and-for-all wipe out the Zerg race. However, once the two got together, they started to plot how to get out and along the way, LBH was conceived. OPM, the ex-head researcher got FURIOUS and badabing badaboom, you've got SXY on the run before sending LBH to another place to survive.

Fast forward a lot, LBH shows up at the Cang Qiong Military Academy, which is split up in different divisions under different commanders. For LBH, he goes to the Qing Jing division where he is led under General Shen Qingqiu, someone who often boasts of his own mental power and lies and takes other people's credit to get to the lofty position he is today.

When LBH is training, he starts standing out in unusual ways. His physical prowess is through the roof, but his mental power is abysmal, which is bad because that's kinda how you use mechas, and often, physical strength can be enhanced with mental power (kinda like cultivation). So LBH is bullied, harassed, etc, and all the while, SQQ is like "this dude is a beast/derogatory".

Insert a long few years, including a Zerg invasion with none other than Sha Hualing. You go, girl.

When the Empire's Military Academy Tournament (could not think up a name rn) shows up, he's sent to go and instead of being sent into the Abyss, he's sent through a wormhole to a Zerg-infested place, where he learns more and stuff. Wowee!

He comes back with revenge on humans and stuff and integrates both the humans and Zergs under his iron fist. The fight against the emperor takes up like a hundred chapters or whatever.

So that's the OG version. Now, let's insert a millenial mess that is SY as SQQ and see how he handles being in the military. He better put to use that military training Chinese kids are put through.

On the other hand, if you wanted to take a completely DIFFERENT direction, have LBH be a test subject in the lab and have SY transmigrate into a researcher. LBH was supposed to be a human weapon, designed from intentional breeding. SY, knowing LBH will break out and cutely demolish the human race, tries to befriend him, teaches him everything. LBH, despite being a weapon designed to destroy the Zerg race, falls in love. And then he breaks out. Cue drama and kidnapping.

[maxsix]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity| An Interstellar Ateez story Part I | Part II | Part III (Words 4727, Warnings: none)

"HONGJOONG!"

Wooyoung's full weight comes crashing into him and Hongjoong catches it tightly in relief. He sees a wall clock out of the corner of his eye and is surprised to learn that they've only been here for a hour. He didn't even realise he could miss his brother this fiercely in such a short amount of time.

"Are you okay-"

"THERE'S A ROBOT HERE." Wooyoung hisses loudly, hands flapping with wild energy he couldn't contain.

CAASI blinks his red light at the mention and stands taller in attention.

"Yes, I know that but did-"

"He built him here! And did you know that this is a whole underground building?! They have tons of computers and I swear there's another drone back there but they totally denied it and didn't let me look but I know what I saw-"

Doctor Park is walking quietly next to them, hands in his pockets, icy demeanour intact but even he cracks a small smile at the ramblings.

Hongjoong catches it curiously, filing it away to process later, before going back to check his brother for any signs of injuries, but apart from a head of messy hair (self inflicted) and clothes in disarray (also self inflicted), he's grateful that Wooyoung seems perfectly fine.

Better than fine actually; buzzing with excitement and seemingly lacking any concern that he's in an underground facility surrounded by military technology and strangers whose intentions were still not clear, though not entirely unkind. It's the type of foolishness that is genetically inherited then nurtured for years by a like-minded older brother.

And it's then that Hongjoong suddenly has an awareness of the Swiss army knife in his pocket. It's still there. They took the map, notebook, his wallet and his own brother but left the knife.

It's another thought to file away for later processing.

Wooyoung continues to list off everything he's seen so far: tunnels, robots, computers, drones and electronics that were far more advanced than the farming tech they were used to. The excitement in his voice gradually crescendoes into shrillness and, as always, had a tendency to carry into every corner of a room, or in this case, a corridor leading to a boardroom.

Through the glass doors there's a large wooden table, around which several people in suits were already sitting and seemingly waiting for their arrival.

Hongjoong pulls his brother closer to his side as they make their approach and Wooyoung moves easily with him. Doctor Park walks half a step ahead, keeping polite distance as he moves comfortably, even in the dark parts of the long corridor. He never once takes his eyes off them and Hongjoong can feel it like a prickly heat on his skin that he wants to scratch off.

The boardroom is familiar, Hongjoong has seen variations of it before: government grey carpet on the floor, dark wood with soundproofing pyramids on the walls, no windows but plenty of harsh overhead lighting designed to prevent laziness, encourage innovative thought and sometimes, to provoke discomfort.

A military grade room.

Wooyoung abruptly ends his ramblings as they enter, instinctively grabbing the back of Hongjoong's jacket when he sees the table of suits; it's a nervous habit he's had since he was a kid and one that only seems to resurface when he can't process a sudden unexpected wave of anxiety.

"Hello Hongjoong."

A familiar voice calls out from behind them and when Hongjoong whips his head around, he's met by an older man leaning heavily on a cane.

"Professor Park?!" Hongjoong stumbles back in shock, seeing but not quite believing what was in front of him.

"Well, you look like you've seen a ghost." The old man chuckles.

"You're......alive?" Hongjoong stutters. "But the court hearing and the trial-"

"-a formality that was eventually overturned." The Professor replies with a mischievous grin. "I was the first astrophysicist with a criminal record but only the second to be threatened with one."

Before Hongjoong could ask any more questions, they're ushered into two empty chairs near the middle while the old professor takes his seat at the head of the table. Doctor Park makes his way towards the other end.

A young man with ashy blond hair clears his throat and leans forward. "Could you please explain how you found this facility."

Hongjoong doesn't know who he is but judging by his young age, being the first to lead the questions and the copious notebooks and folders in front of him, Hongjoong guesses he's the face of public relations and the most level headed one in the room.

"It was by accident. We stumbled on it when-"

An older man with grey hair and a sharp navy blue suit leans forward impatiently. "This is an undisclosed government facility. Nobody stumbles in and nobody stumbles out. So we would appreciate a little more specificity."

Hongjoong shifts in his chair with irritation. He's been interrogated before, he been trained how to handle it, but his nerves and patience are wearing dangerously thin.

"Hongjoong," Professor Park says gently, "Please co-operate with these people."

"I was being specific: it was accidental. We didn't go looking for it." Hongjoong starts begrudgingly, "Look, it's kind of hard to explain. I suspect it might have been an anomaly because it sure as hell didn't feel scientific."

The young blond man nods unfazed and has his pen poised, ready to make notes. "What kind of anomaly?"

"I'm not telling you anything else until we get some guarantees."

The blond looks at him in confusion. "Guarantees?"

Hongjoong moves across to block Wooyoung's ears before whispering, "That we're going to be able to leave here tonight and I don't mean with some fine we can't pay or another criminal record we can't fight."

Wooyoung struggles against his hands like the little shit he is and Hongjoong gives up trying to protect his brother from what he knows is going to be highly classified information.

The blond man looks stumped for a split second, clearly unaccustomed with managing security breaches this egregious, but recovers swiftly.

"Our organisation does not have those kinds of powers or any intention to cause harm."

“So why is your organisation hiding underground in a secret location?”

“We are not hiding Hongjoong,” Professor Park says in bemusement. “You know what this is: this is NASA.”

“NASA?!” Wooyoung squeaks. “You exist?!”

“Yes.” Professor Park nods and smiles at the teenager. “We are what’s left of the theoretical astrophysics division."

"We’re underground for your safety, not ours.” Doctor Park adds helpfully, if not ominously.

With the confirmation verbalised so plainly, Hongjoong feels like he's been punched in the chest. He didn’t want it to be true even if he had suspected it all along: from the sight of the drone, to the coordinates on the floor and CAASI's first appearance, of course everything had pointed towards NASA. Still, Hongjoong didn't want to believe it. The denial had kept him hopeful that his life, and his brother's lives, didn't need to change.

If NASA was dead, then his old dreams and his old life could stay buried too.

But now, with a sinking feeling in his gut, Hongjoong knows they've passed the point of no return.

Across the room Doctor Park is watching him; every twitch, every scowl, every reaction. Hongjoong doesn't know what to make of it.

The impatient navy blue suit speaks again. "Now that you know who we are, you need to explain why you have the co-ordinates to a highly secure and undisclosed government facility circled on your map."

Hongjoong's mind is still swirling with the day's revelations and he pauses to think of an explanation that won't send him on a one way trip to the mental hospital.

"It was gravity." Wooyoung pipes up, causing all the adult to turn towards him. "And a magnetic field ghost who writes in binary codes."

The boardroom appears taken aback, seemingly disbelieving that they were having a serious conversation about national security with a fourteen year old boy.

"A gravitational anomaly?" Professor Park murmurs, sitting back as if recalling something else. "Please elaborate Hongjoong."

“There was an un-piloted Indian fighter drone circling around our crop fields. I should’ve known then that it was drawn to the magnetic field that our home must be built on."

Wooyoung gasps quietly next to him, putting it together for the first time.

“I’m not saying it’s something supernatural but there were binary codes written in dust on the floor of our home. I had to decode it in reverse but that’s where the coordinates came from.”

The navy suit is grinning ear to ear now. “Let me get this straight; the magnetic force in your home led to a dusty binary code on your floor? Which you somehow deciphered into coordinates that you mysteriously had the knowledge to reverse and piece together?”

It sounds even more unbelievable out loud. Hongjoong can’t even blame them for thinking he’s crazy.

Another person speaks from down the table. “The chances of that are-“

“About one in a trillion.” Professor Park replies. “And yet. Here he is.”

“Why didn’t the previous home owner decipher the code then? Or a neighbour? Assuming the magnetic field has been around their location this whole time.”

“A coincidence?”

"Just another unexplained anomaly."

“An accident.”

“Pure random luck.”

The debate is silenced by Professor Park again.

“No. This is Murphy’s Law. Only a person with binary knowledge, half a physics degree, aerospace training and the complete disregard for proprietary law and personal safety could’ve found us the way he did.”

“Aerospace training?" Wooyoung murmurs to himself. "Why does he know that Hongjoong? What does that mean?”

Before he can reassure his brother, Hongjoong is interrupted by the Professor addressing the room again.

“The real question we should ask is if They wanted him to find us.”

“Who are They?”

There are uncomfortable looks exchanged between the other members of the boardroom but Doctor Park doesn’t look at anyone but Hongjoong. It was beginning to get unnerving.

“Professor, with all due respect, this is now classified information.” The blond man says. “In the wrong hands, this could be dangerous.”

“Those aren’t the wrong hands.” The Professor states, pointing at Hongjoong. “Did you not conduct the background security check on him yourself, Yeosang?”

“Yes, I did but it’s my job to remind you that he is not on active duty and might not be aware of the new protocols we now operate under.”

“Oh he is aware of more than he realises.” Professor Park says, getting up now to walk towards the exit. “He knows all about NASA's protocols, don't you Hongjoong?”

“Yes.”

Wooyoung gapes at him as the rest of the room falls silent. Nobody offers any further protest.

“Excellent!" Professor Park exclaims, "Then perhaps we might make use of his lucky accidental knowledge to solve our little problem? Come walk with me Hongjoong."

And with that, the main meeting seems to be done. Several board members exit without much protest, even if there were skeptical looks on their faces.

Wooyoung stays seated at the table, staring at the wood grain patterns.

"My brother-"

Professor Park nods to Yeosang and Doctor Park. "Perhaps Wooyoung would like to meet our other robots? He seems to like old CAASI here."

The fourteen year old lifts his head up then, interest piqued at the promise of more robots. He pauses to look at Hongjoong for permission.

"What kind of robots? Will he be safe there?"

The blond man, Yeosang, nods firmly. "Yes you have my word. They will be service robots."

He doesn't know what makes him do it but Hongjoong looks over to Doctor Park with a clear question in his eyes and is surprised when he gets a nod back in response.

"He will be safe. CAASI will stay with him."

Doctor Park walks over to the robot and whispers some inaudible instructions that causes CAASI to blink his red light in acknowledgement.

"Affirmative."

“Nothing will happen to him here, Hongjoong. We’re scientists, not criminals.” Professor Park reassures, “Besides, CAASI’s protection settings cannot be adjusted by anyone else."

“What does that mean?”

“It means he follows my programming." Doctor Park replies, "He will keep your brother safe.”

“Is he autonomous?”

“Only within the confines of my programming.”

“He's got ex Marine programming too." Hongjoong points out, "Aren't you worried he’ll go rogue?”

“No.”

"Isn't that kind of naïve? I've seen plenty of ex-Military programs malfunction after years of service.”

Doctor Park leads CAASI over to Wooyoung, smiling as the teenager tries to shake hands with the robot, only to realise that the robot doesn't actually have hands.

But the smile slides off the young Doctor's face as he regards Hongjoong again, "CAASI won't malfunction."

"How are you so sure of that?"

“Because I built him.” Comes the cool reply.

Wooyoung looks between the two bickering adults, unsure what to make of it. The tension in the room is only broken when Yeosang clears his throat again and motions for them all to move out of the boardroom.

Just before they temporarily part ways, Hongjoong pulls Wooyoung aside and hugs him tightly. "Do not let them do anything weird to you. Do not agree to anything. Don't tell them anything about us. I mean it! You scream for me if something happens okay? Don't trust anyone here. Got it?"

"Got it!" Wooyoung is nodding as he hugs his brother back before following CAASI and Yeosang into another atrium, presumably where the other robots lived.

"Do not worry about him Hongjoong," Professor Park says with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Both CAASI and Yeosang are one and the same; both programmed to follow the rules."

They are walking down another corridor now, one with two very large steel doors at the end.

“Our planet is suffocating Hongjoong. You know this. The air quality has been steadily deteriorating since 2025. The reduction of nitrogen in our soil is killing off the majority of mass produced food crops. Our agriculture colleagues are doing an outstanding job keeping up with the Earth's changes but they can’t do it forever. Eventually there will be an inevitable end point where it will be impossible to modify the chemicals in the soil or adequately filter the air. We need a radical solution.”

“It’s called the Lazarus Mission. Six of our bravest astronauts sent off world to discover a new planet capable of sustaining life.”

“They have enough supplies to make it stretch a decade if they go into hibernation mode. Their on-board computers have been programmed to send regular binary signals back to Earth regarding the viability of their planet. We plan the rescue missions based on the ongoing signs of life.”

Hongjoong shakes his head at the incredible stakes involved. “What if the planets aren’t viable? They just die there?”

“That’s unfortunately where the bravery comes in.” The older man says solenmly. “Tell me Hongjoong, what do you really think of the mission?”

“The Lazarus Mission? With all due respect Professor, it sounds crazy.” Hongjoong says, “I can’t believe you got the funding for it.”

“We were fortunate to secure some private investors before they died of dust-lung, benefactors who believed that the answer to humanity's survival lay amongst the stars. The government ran out of money for this years ago. We haven't been able to recruit enough new blood into the program. This is our last hope.”

“Why did you call it Lazarus then? It’s a bit depressing isn’t it?”

"I named it." Doctor Park replies coldly. “Lazarus came back from the dead.”

“Yeah but he had to die first.” Hongjoong reminds him. "And wait for some miracle to happen."

“It worked didn't it?" The young Doctor counters. "He then went on to live and prosper, free from his sickness. He spawned generations. Or is that all too depressing for you?”

The old Professor sighs and shakes his head. "Seonghwa, please be civil to our guest."

Turning to Hongjoong, he smiles apologetically. "My son isn't used to being challenged like this. You'll have to forgive his enthusiasm on the matter."

Son?

What.

Seeing the shock in Hongjoong’s face, the Professor laughs. “I am sorry I did not have time to introduce you earlier. Seonghwa here only takes after me in the science department. Fortunately for him he takes after his lovely late mother in all other aspects.”

“Father, I don’t think he needs to know this.”

“Of course he does, Seonghwa! How will you be friends if he knows nothing about you?”

Doctor Park, Seonghwa, lets out a small, barely visible, huff. “My autobiography is earned, not given.”

Hongjoong desperately wants to eye roll back and tell the other man that maybe he has no interest in being friends either. That his own trust is also earned, not given.

They stop as they reach the steel doors at the end of the corridor.

"Hongjoong, we cannot proceed further unless you agree to be involved in the mission. NASA protocols, as you know."

Hongjoong thinks of Yunho then, waiting at home and worried about being the last remaining member of their family. He thinks about his brother's graduation in a few months. His eighteenth birthday. Whether or not he'll ever meet the boy on the motorbike. He thinks about Uncle Kyungmoon and Jonghoon and their small community of farming families.

He thinks about Wooyoung losing another father figure.

Maybe this is too much adventure.

“I understand. This all sounds like a very ambitious mission Professor and I wish you all the luck with it but there's nothing I know that could help you.”

Professor Park laughs heartily, the sound echoing loudly off the walls.

“My boy, I think we both know that’s not true hm?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. "That was a long time ago-"

"Perhaps this may change your mind then."

Hongjoong watches, heart thumping in his chest, as the steel doors slowly buzz open, revealing a vast cavernous hangar and what is unmistakably, irrevocably, undeniably, an unfinished space shuttle with its accompanying solid rocket boosters and twin engines.

The wind is knocked out of him and Hongjoong stumbles back speechless.

The shuttle stood nearly sixty meters tall and each single engine spanned five meters in diameter and eight meters in height; the biggest that anyone has ever been ambitious enough to build.

Hongjoong has so many questions he wants to ask but only one that his brain will allow.

“Who’s going to fly that thing?”

The Professor leads them onto a bridge overlooking the shuttle build and Hongjoong can't stop staring at it with a mixture of both fear and awe.

“We’ve been training a team for it in the simulators but we could always use a good instructor with real world experience. We’ve lost so many of our old space program crew in recent years. It’s fortuitous you found us when you did.”

"You didn't even know I still existed an hour ago." Hongjoong points out. "You were always going to go ahead with this mission anyway, what do you really need me for? I barely did an orbit."

"These astronauts have never even left the simulator." The Professor tells him. "There is not enough money or resources for us to do training missions in orbit. We simply cannot waste fuel for training purposes. This is the only chance we have and we have to get it right the first time."

"No pressure then." Hongjoong laughs at the ridiculous scenario. “So you want me to train your new pilots?”

“So to speak, yes.”

“NASA kicked me out of the program before I finished, remember?”

“I do."

"For being a liability with a death wish."

Doctor Park looks over, his graceful eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yes, I remember." The old Professor sighs, "I was there. It was for your own good. You know that.”

Hongjoong tries not to dwell on the past and chooses to ignore the remark. "How good are your simulators? You're putting a lot of faith into those thing aren't you?"

“When you don't have the luxury of experience, all that's left is faith and training. We simply have no other choice. The past generation of NASA is dying. What's left of the old aerospace crew are either on the Lazarus mission, on their death beds or in their graves. You survived precisely because you were kicked out of training before graduation. I like to think it is fate that brought you here today."

Hongjoong listens, though begins to wonder if the Professor's brilliance is merging with insanity.

"We need a new generation of pilots for the rescue missions Hongjoong, and what good is it to discover new worlds if we have no pilots to take us there?"

“That's another thing you haven’t answered Professor: how did you discover these new worlds? The nearest galaxy is light years away, without solving relativity and time dilation, it would take a lifetime to reach."

The old man turns to his son with a cheeky grin. “Didn’t I tell you he’s the right one?”

“Hm.” The younger Park replies non-commitally.

“We received signals from Saturn's location that indicates the presence of three new potential worlds and several more exo planets that may be be orbiting a new black hole. We believe They sent the signals to Earth."

Hongjoong laughs. “They? What? You have ghosts too? Giving you secret binary messages?”

“What if it came from the same beings that sent you here?”

“A bit of a crazy coincidence isn't it?”

“There are no coincidences in science.” The Professor replies with a smile. "And yet, here you are."

Hongjoong shakes his head at the impossible scenarios presented to him. “The nearest star system is too far. Everyone would be dead by the time they arrived. You need a space elevator going at the speed of light.”

"That's cute." Doctor Park scoffs. “We prefer the scientific term for that: worm hole. And to answer your question, yes we found one near Saturn.”

“Worm holes aren’t a naturally occurring anomaly, they have to be created.”

“Thank you, I am aware of that.”The Doctor smiles smugly. “We think They must have formed it and provided us with the location of its existence. We have sent probes into it, followed by our Lazarus mission astronauts and received at least 3 binary pings back.”

“What is this They you keep referring to? You think some alien Godlike beings are out there helping us save our race?” Hongjoong asks incredulously. “That sounds insane.”

“Well it worked for Lazarus didn’t it?”

“That’s a just story!” Hongjoong says in exasperation, turning towards the Doctor. “Are you seriously suggesting we base a billion dollar once-in-a -lifetime-mission on a story and a few binary pings?”

“Of course not." Doctor Park replies snarkily. "We also jotted an equation down in chalk and pressed a few buttons on a calculator. But as I recall, out of the three of us, only two are astrophysicists. One did not actually finish the training.”

“Seonghwa…”

“No, your son is right Professor." Hongjoong says with a clenched jaw. “I didn’t finish. I am the least qualified here. But you have to admit this sounds crazy to an outsider. Let’s say your shuttle makes it, let’s say your new pilots survive, let’s say your worm hole works, let’s say you discover new worlds, let's say your Lazarus astronauts are alive, how can you transport 7 billion people across space?"

Hongjoong takes the time to look at his old Professor now. They first met when Hongjoong was still a teenager bursting with arrogance and over confidence but lacking any real discipline. He was wild and uncontrollable but always capable. Many hard years have passed them both now, and the once spritely Professor was harshly weathered by time, over burdened with intelligence and weighed down by responsibility.

"You’ve been trying to solve the mass exodus equation for years now Professor. So unless you’ve solved it already, this whole thing is futile isn't it?"

Doctor Park opens his mouth to offer more evidence and data to the contrary but his father silences him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Your brother's generation will be the first to starve or last to suffocate. The End is inevitable Hongjoong. Whether you believe in our mission or not, no matter how preposterous it sounds to you, don't they deserve our best efforts to save them? We could spend those billions on Earth of course but it would only delay a certain death. Humans were born here but we don’t all have to die here.”

Hongjoong lets out a defeated sigh.

“All we are asking for is some of your flight training skills from the old program." The old man says, motioning to the shuttle in front of them. "We need the knowledge yes, but more than that, we need the bravery and problem solving skills that you were so good at."

"Thought you all said I was a liability?"

"I'll take a liability over the extinction of humankind." The Professor shrugs.

“I’ll have to think about it." Hongjoong shakes his head. "I still have a family.”

“I know. So help save them.”

*

The drive home is filled with Wooyoung's mile-a-minute-situation report (he had the time of his life it seems) but it’s the Professor's words that keep echoing in Hongjoong’s mind:

Your brother's generation will be the first to starve or last to suffocate.

“Hongjoong?”

“Yeah?”

“How come they knew all those things about you?”

Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably in his seat. It's the question he's been waiting for. He knows his brothers were never really told about his past, they were much too young then and he had lived away from home for most of those years.

“I used to be in the military aerospace program for NASA.”

"Oh my god, so it's true?!" Wooyoung stares at him with big round eyes and if he weren't such a little shit, Hongjoong might have called it cute. “So can you fly rocket ships?”

“Yes.”

“Well how come you never told us that?! Was it when you were away?”

“Yeah, you were just a little kid then. Mum and dad were going to tell you when you were older.”

“Have you been into space?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god!” Wooyoung screeches again. “Why aren’t you doing that now then?"

“It’s complicated. You know that." Hongjoong sighs. "Things don't always go to plan."

The mood suddenly drops in the truck and Hongjoong had been expecting that too.

"I needed to come home and take care of the farm and everything.”

“And us.” Wooyoung adds quietly, deflating in his seat in his seat as the realisation of his brother's history hits him all at once. “Did you have to give it up because of me and Yunho?”

Hongjoong takes in his brother's dejected face and slows the truck to a stop on the side of the road.

“Hey listen, I left the program for a lot of reasons. I don’t regret having you and Yunho. I've never regretted it. None of this is your fault or his. Don’t ever let someone tell you otherwise okay?”

Wooyoung nods but doesn’t make eye contact. “But you could’ve been an astronaut?”

“I could’ve been a lot of things but my job now is important too, it's the most important. I don’t hate my life Wooyoung, I promise."

Wooyoung just shrugs in response and Hongjoong knows that despite what he just said, his brother is letting the guilt take over.

"Things don't always go to plan, I know you know that. Sometimes something worse happens but sometimes something better comes along. I mean, it's because of you that we found those scientists today and they offered me a job training the new pilots in their program. They might even let you could come visit and see the robots again.”

Wooyoung lifts his head in interest.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

That was a minor lie. He hadn’t committed to anything yet and he definitely wasn’t in any position to be making requests to NASA.

“Can I train too?”

Hongjoong laughs as he turns the engine on and manoeuvres the truck back onto the road.

“Sorry kiddo, you're still too young. NASA don’t except fourteen year old gremlins.”

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @devirnis for WIP Wednesday! Here’s a whole scene from proposal fic because why not… (vomit content warning)

Bobby shows up on the doorstep before Buck's first PT appointment after being discharged and Buck is hit by sudden intense gratitude for the stupidest possible reason. Ah, he thinks, thank god Eddie isn't going to see what I'm like during one of these. And then What the fuck, Buckley? Eddie did see him after that first session, and it's not like his patheticisms start and end within a 45 minute time frame and the clean walls and persistent disinfectant smell of Dr. Shelley's office. He's spent the last two days in a shivering little lump on the man's bed, sleeping 16 hours out of 24. He's not really sparing him anything he hasn't already seen. What, then? Spread the different facets of exactly how fucked up he is around? Like if no one has to deal with too much they won't get tired of it? Here, Eddie, you can have helping me go to the bathroom because I can't stand up on my own. Maddie, you get me crying whenever I see you or even hear you on the phone because you're my big sister so I get to dump all my feelings on you, that's fair right? Bobby, you can hear me screaming in pain, is that ok with you? You were there last time, I'm sure you'll do fine. It's too much for any of them. It's too much for Buck.

"You ready, kid?" Bobby says, with the softest little smile. God. Buck is going to fall apart into tiny, gross little pieces. Eddie can mop the floor and be done with him.

“Ready,” is what he says, knowing it sounds like a lie.

They have him walking between the parallel bars today. He remembers them, from his leg. They don’t start there, most of the hour is more stretching (ow) and fine motor skills practice (frustrating). But they told him at the beginning they want to get him walking again as soon as they can to avoid any further muscle loss or atrophy, and they want to work with him to see if they can figure out how much of his dizziness is from brain injury and how much is from vestibular damage.

Well, he’s up on the bars now and he couldn’t fucking tell you. The whole world is just spinning around him at a sickening speed as the physical therapist and Bobby both mutter encouragement, tell him to keep taking one more step, he can do it. Buck tries, he really tries, he wants to take these five steps on his own and for the doctor to tell him he’s progressing fantastically and to be tired but happy on the drive home with Bobby, both of them smiling and cracking jokes. Instead he collapses three steps in and vomits on the soft plastic-y blue floor covering. His ear is ringing and he only has a split second to feel humiliated before there are arms around him.

“Sweetheart,” Bobby is saying over the background hum, “Sweetheart, I’ve got you.” There are hands in Buck’s hair and he chokes out a sob. He doesn’t really stop crying until they’re almost back at the Diaz house, how he got from the office to the car a mysterious blur. Bobby is holding his hand on the center console. When Buck squeezes a little tighter he hears him sigh in relief and it almost starts the tears up again. Bobby is out of the car as soon as he's parked, hurrying around to the passenger side to help Buck to the house. He’d protested, days ago, about the need to rent a wheelchair until he could carry a little more of his own weight, but now he guesses getting rolled to the door is more dignified than Bobby having to put him in a fireman's carry.

He’d do it. Buck knows he would, Bobby would pick him up and hold him in his arms and carry him as far as he needed to go. Bobby settles him on the couch, handling him as gently as he would a child at a disaster site, running to bring him mouthwash to get rid of the bitter taste of stomach acid, finding saltines in the kitchen, pouring ginger ale on ice and procuring as if by magic a bendy straw in old fashioned, environmentally unfriendly, single use plastic. He sits on the coffee table in front of him, at attention, ready to appease any want.

"Thanks, dad. Bobby! Thanks- thanks, Cap," Buck slams his eyes shut and drops his head onto the couch behind him. The indignities never fucking end, apparently. He's stopped from withering away entirely by the warm weight of a hand over his own where it lays on the armrest. Buck opens his eyes. Bobby is staring down at their hands, jaw working, breathing through his nose.

"It wasn't even-" Bobby frowns as his voice fails, and clears his throat to try again. "I kept wishing I could be mad at you. Being reckless again, running into danger, getting yourself hurt." He exhales heavily, breath stuttering into a sad little laugh. "But I watched you climb that ladder. I kept playing it over and over in my head. You had three points of contact the whole time. Could have filmed it for a goddamn safety manual. It could have been-" his voice catches again, and Buck turns his hand to grab onto Bobby's. "It could have been any of us. It could have been any of us up there. All the stupid stunts you pull that you walk away from, and it's-" Bobby's free hand waves wildly into the room. "It's a random fucking act of god that nearly-"

"Bobby-"

"That nearly takes you from me," he finishes, squeezing Buck's hand. He's crying, and Buck thinks he might be again, too.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Oh, kid," Bobby says, leaning forward, gathering Buck up in his arms. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re right here. You’re still breathing. That’s all I need.”

Buck weeps again, into Bobby’s shoulder, his captain or father or good friend’s hand rubbing up and down his spine. He is still breathing. He’s still breathing. Bobby’s soft flannel shirt smells like grill smoke and Eddie’s couch is familiar beneath him, and Buck hurts and feels sick and dizzy, and he exists. “Bobby-“

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Bobby’s face is wet when Buck pulls away after however long it takes for each breath to stop aching so bad as it rattles in and out of him. Buck wants to say all sorts of things, most of which amount to I love you, but what comes out is a nod towards the TV and “You wanna stay for the game?”

Buck doesn’t even know what sports, if any, are on today, but Bobby seems to hear some of the other words he meant to say because he smiles so kindly at him and says “Yeah, Buck. Anything.”

Tagging @iinryer @bigfootsmom @shortsighted-owl if you’ve got anything to share!

[constantfluxx]

Interstellar, Ch 16: Everglow

"I think it’ll be safer to set up one of our holding cells for the test. We minimize the risk to Mundanes, and if anything goes wrong that has us opening up a demon portal or something it’ll be in a controlled area flanked by plenty of Shadowhunters to deal with it.” Izzy snickered. “Guess my brother’s on board after all!” She gave him a playful pat of his shoulder on her way towards the main elevators. “I’ll go get a cell set up for the test. Text you when I’m done?” “Likewise,” he replied with a nod, moving to one of the armament panels lining the Institute’s control room. As he retrieved a bow and fresh quiver of arrows, he grumbled, “Let’s go catch us a Ravener.” “‘Catch’?” Alec’s eyes widened. Alarmed, he swirled around to intersect what he knew would be an at-best awkward situation— —but the other Izzy already had her bracer leveled between his mother’s eyes, lips pursed so tightly they’d nearly turned white. Beside her, Magnus’ arm mirrored hers, though his sported a split hand to expose an embedded blaster humming with swelling energy. An intense, yellow glow consumed his eyes, though it remained clear they focused upon a small, blue dot the other Izzy’s bracer projected upon Maryse’s brow. “Isabelle?” Maryse was murmuring, hands raised and anxious gaze fixated upon the bizarre and unsettling version of Magnus staring her down. “What’s going on?!”

Read the rest on AO3.

[awesomedurraworld]

“ wipe your tears, Edward.”

This is what I came up with after watching the movie Interstellar few weeks ago with my siblings, and after I saw Cooper and his dughter hug I was like,

“ I need to draw that.”

And somehow that drawing turned that I need to write something and that draft became a nightmare that I was able to kill today 🎉

This art and fanfic are a gift to my beautiful angel of a friend @justanotherinterneruser ❤️🫂❤️

This is the pose I referenced my drawing off

To be honest I am little too proud of this and how it came out!

Tell me guys what you think 👀❤️

Here is the link, enjoy 💖🫂

[pretentiouswreckingball]

A place among the stars

“How did you know I was going to come back?” Harry asks, still not believing this is real.

“Because you promised me,” Draco says and Harry can see that same determination in those grey eyes, the same fire they had when Harry left, all those years ago. “My Harry promised me.”

Harry's bottom lip trembles. “The library, the books on the shelf trying to communicate with you; Draco, you were right, it— it wasn’t dark magic, it was—”

“It was you,” Draco squeezes his hand lightly, “You were my ghost, Harry, you were with me even before you left but,” he searches Harry’s face, eyes softening at him, “You never really truly did, did you?”

Harry shakes his head lightly, kissing Draco’s knuckles.

“Never.”

[dalia1784]

Interstellar Detectives is coming to AO3, stay tuned for updates and new art.

[goteique]

| BLIND + IZUMO HARUICHI.

+cw. — izumo haruichi x f!reader, coworker to lovers, oblivious pinning, flirting, confession, description of panic attack, claustrophobia & coping mechanisms, forced proximity, fluff, angst, character study, smut ( kissing ).

+wc. —3.1k ( shocker )

+syn.— last summer Izumo Haruichi came under your radar but this summer he has managed to get under your skin.

+notes. — part of ‘HELP WANTED’ mini server collab hosted by @interstellar-inn | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @dear-koi @qichun @violet-turning-violet

The refectory of the office is oozing with ruckus this afternoon. It is not unusual but today it is just unbearable. The compartment plate in front of you is still filled with rice, curry, and salad as when you started eating your lunch. The line for the food is still alive; people are gossiping, taking food onto their plates, gossiping, taking spoons and forks, chopsticks— the sound of utensils clanking against each other one after another or sometimes all at once in sync is bugging you today. Your ears should be used to it by now after working for two years straight but it seems like a bother today. It is awfully loud in here. Everything is, even the heat.

Among this hustle and bustle, the only sound that bothers you the most is someone’s voice. It is faint to catch on from where you are sitting but the voice keeps coming to you in bits and pieces, like ebb and flow. Sometimes it is there and sometimes it is not. Sometimes your ears pick up on it but sometimes not and when it does not, your heart waits for it, even searches for the sound to reappear. And the heat is just making it worse. You can practically feel the beads of perspiration cascading through your cleavage as you search, waiting for the voice to turn up again. The air conditioner is on though, and the fans are working perfectly fine but with this kind of crowd, and heat in the dining place is at par with some blast furnaces.

“Well, I can take you there sometimes if you want,” Izumo states as one of the new interns, sitting diagonally to him, places a dumpling from her plate to his. Aoi Kaguragi, Izumo Haruichi, Reno Ichikawa, and Iharu Furuhasi are sitting at one table but Izumo is the most disconnected from them. 

“No. No. Haruichi-san, it’s fine. I can manage.” The girl sitting beside him pleads. A group of four girls who joined as new interns have occupied the table beside them. There is just a slit of partition between the two tables. Most tables are for a group of four people, but cubicle tables are cluttered together to make the team bigger, and better to establish a good workplace culture to some extent. 

Izumo expresses his thanks with a sun-kissed smile to the girl who just gave a dumpling to him, without asking. You make eye contact with him for a second but it's awkward. Aoi's nose shrinks. It acts as a distraction from Izumo’s azure gaze. Aoi stuffs his mouth with the dumpling Izumo just received out of disgust earning an alarming glare from Reno. Izumo does not even bat an eye to it. But the girl protests, “Hey. . .” Aoi glups it before saying, “he hates dumplings.” Iharu is busy eating his lunch. This guy . . . he woke up early, made breakfast for himself, got so busy and immersed with cooking that he forgot to eat. So, he is eating quietly. Reno keeps telling him to slow down but who is he? His dad?

“Well, wouldn't it be easier if you could get some directions and details?” The girl looks confused so Izumo divulges. “I live around there. So, yeah I could get you in touch with some agents if you want,” The girl looks at him with so much hope as if she has a chance to ask for the moon. 

“Oh my God. Really? Thank you so much Haruichi-san,” she chimes

Oh Fuck! Here it comes. Aoi, Reno, and Iharu share a look as you get up. The clank of your spoon was a little too loud to be ignored. Okonogi asks, “You didn’t even eat today too. Are you okay? Do you wanna leave soon today? I can finish your work if you want . . . ” 

“No. Kono-chan. It’s alright. I don’t feel hungry. I will eat when I feel hungry,”

“Yeah, gallons of coffee and tons of cakes,” Kikoru prompts without missing a beat. Your shoulders sink at her statement. She is not lying but gallons? Tons? That’s surely an exaggeration. You take your plate and as you walk past his table he gets up. Please let him not run into you. . . please god, please.

“Going to share the rest with your boyfriend?” He grabs a bottle from its designated section. You watch him walk, pick a bottle, and then come back but he halts in front of you blocking your way. Of course. Why didn’t you expect that? You should have taken a different route. 

“So what if I’m?” you squint your eyes at him since his Adam’s apple shift. Now, that’s different, unlike other days. Your eyebrows jump. Teasing each other is as easy as breathing for you and him. So, you just give in to this golden opportunity. “Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single, Haruichi-san,” you snicker emphasizing ‘Haruichi-san’ since you have already been granted the authority to call him by his name but sometimes it is just amusing how he hates it when you do not use it; even if he specifically said that you can call him Izu-kun or simply Izumo. He just wanted to get included in your league of people; the people who you have given a nickname. It's almost like adopting a puppy.

Izumo rolls his tongue inside, along his bottom lip too quickly to pinpoint his frustration. He is pouting now. His hand proceeds to his nape scraping his hair for a moment in the hope of seeking some respite from this heat. Why does he even keep his hair long? Why not just cut it? Or put it in a bun. Your eyes go to the bunch of interns who are eagerly watching you two as if you are big stage actors. “My flirt game isn’t bad, . . . he trails off and then sighs. His hand swings back in his pocket as clarifies, “It’s just that . . . the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.”

You scan the group of interns at his valor display of vulgarity. Girls must find it hot, don’t they? That’s why he does it, isn't it? Good for him! He has an audience now. You bet they are practically swooning. Aoi’s face is a sight to behold. Iharu has given up. Even Reno has his head tipped down while holding the bridge of his nose. He is not someone who loses patience easily except Kafka Hibino, his mentor and co-worker.

“What a loverboy.” You opined to him before your gaze switched back to the girl who was trying all the ways to get his number. Yeah, it was very obvious especially since she was practically rubbing herself on him since the day she joined. How do people do that? Get hooked onto someone like the twinkle of a star. That too in this heat. It is hard enough to keep coherent behavior, thoughts, and habits intact but now you have another problem, Izumo Haruichi. He is being spectacularly annoying today. 

You look at the girl before saying anything. You will probably be doing her a favor. 

“don’t waste your time on him, he is going to break your heart, girl.” 

The spoon from her hands falls on the dish splashing a little bit of soup on her dress. People have already started to look at this table by now. 

“You’re just jealous,” the girl sneers back.

You part your lips forming an apology at the tip of your tongue but you realize the damage you have done. She hurriedly tries to clean herself with a napkin to avoid eye contact. 

You should not pick on people’s emotions like that, however small, however meek it may seem to you, it's a lot for them. What’s with you today? This is not like you. This is more like  . . . Haruichi. He has this habit. Maybe it's starting to rub off on you simply because he is now working with your team on this upcoming project.

Izumo has always been like this. Flirting with girls, leading them on, giving them hope, and then, breaking their hearts. Does he realize that? The hurt he leaves in his wake? He is like a swan in a lake leisurely swimming in the evening that attracts ducks, influencing them to be like the swan, elegant and beautiful when there is a surge of fresh batches of interns; every year. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it backfires.

His flirting is not limited to just girls. That’s how he became such close friends with Aoi. But then again, it is not exactly flirting. Could it be he is unaware of how he carries himself? Nah! That’s too much of giving him the benefit of the doubt or maybe has managed to charm a part of you. Yeah! That would happen in any case. He picks up on people’s emotions really quickly and does not hesitate to call them out. It’s a nasty habit. 

That is how much you know about him, as a co-worker. Outside this office, he is a total stranger to you. So, you do not have to look out for him, worry about being among the swarm of ducks, he might turn into one, or fearing if there hides a hawk among them.

“That’s too much talking for an intern,” Iharu remarks, taking his plate and standing up.

“I agree.” Reno nods his head. “Wait, what?” He is not surprised by Iharu’s statement but rather his wit. Before the situation gets elongated you try to put an end in your way but whether the bow will pierce the heart or the head you gamble on that.

“Yes. maybe you’re right. That was so rude of me. But you see,” you bow your head a little to match her eye level since her eyes are on her plate. “ I don’t go for committed boys.”

Izumo’s face is aghast. What did you just say? He is not committed. He is single. Excuse you, did you not hear him a while ago? 

Izumo looks at Aoi, clearly uncomfortable and frightened by your burst of bubbling behavior. That was odd of you. He has never seen you this annoyed. He has always been like this with you, teasing and flirting around you with other people. Maybe the heat is going in your head today. You walk towards the dustbin to empty your plate before keeping it on a designated table. Everyone watches you as Izumo follows you like a kicked puppy searching for his owner. It’s pathetic.

He is not pathetic . You are just dumb. How can you not get it? How can you not see it? His feelings for you? Well, not that he exactly laid his heart out in front of you but isn’t it obvious? Everybody on his team is aware of it. Everybody on your team is aware of it. Are you really that dumb? Or do you just choose to ignore his feelings? If it is the latter then he is done for. Perhaps, the fear of abandonment and rejection compels him to create backups while at the same time, it gives him a refuge to hide his feelings; keep them protected, warm, and soft; so that he can still talk to you, still be around you, breathe the same air as you.

After all, who would look for a leaf in a forest?

“Fancy a candy?” Izumo chimes as he leans against the door frame of the archive room while you slide the access card to open the door.

“No thank you.” You tartly reply with a poker face. God, he followed you here, which means he is gonna yap for as long as he is here and God forbid he better not talk about what just happened in the dining hall. 

Izumo mumbles to himself, stepping into the room, “Guess I’ll have it then,” with a pout.

“Did the storage closet door lock behind us?” you ask as the bang of the metal door sends jolts throughout your body.

“I think so,” Izumo walks towards the door to check. He hopes that you are not playing any prank or something but then again, who would like to be stuck in the archive room? Especially in summer when the air conditioner is out of service and the fans have been hopeless since last spring. Izumo hears a loud thud. As he turns he finds you curled up in a fetal position on the floor struggling to breathe.

“Oh no no no no” you blabber feeling the dread and anxiety piling on top of your body. It is getting heavier. Seeing you like that, Izumo forgets what to do. At first, his feet move slowly though, then he quickens his pace but finally skids towards you since his calf muscles betray him.

“Breath. Look at me.” His voice is so faint or maybe you are already sinking in the depth of the attack. You know what to do. The tactic to overcome this. But with people around it gets harder. Most people do not know what to do and even if they did they are only aware of the ‘321’ rule since it is easier to remember, faster to execute, and the default suggestion before the medic arrives. Right. Medic. You can call, right? You touch your hips for your cellphone feeling only your skin and clothes. Your phone is at your work desk. Fuck. Your only hope is this guy, Izumo Haruichi.

“That’s not. . . it. you inhale barely but manage to say the next set of words in one breath. 

“That 321 rule doesn’t work on me.”

Immediately, your chest starts to feel heavy. Your head feels heavy. Your breathing is labored.

“Yes, I know. I know.” Izumo assures. His voice is so still, so even that it gathers all scattered pieces on him finally. “54321 it is.” He adds. He tries to make you sit but you are so stiff under the influence of fear that even with his strength he is in no luck. Moreover, he does not want you to treat him as a threat rather than a cane to grab on.

“Identify 5 things you can see,” 

Your eyes roam everywhere, to the farthest point it can see things. It has already started to itch and water. You blink rashly before mumbling. “Files—you inhale a long breath. “cabinets, AC, tables, chairs” 

“Next. 4 things you can touch” 

“The wall,” you say and touch it. You can finally sit up now, leg sprawled on the hot floor. Next, you touch your i-card. “My ID card.” Then your hair clip. “my hair clip,” unfastening it from your hair letting your hair fall onto your shoulders; it's a turquoise one today, and finally his ID card. You grab it in your hand and watch closely, flipping it too to glance at the other side . What an awful picture of Izumo .

“Your ID card.” 

Izumo holds you by the arms. His touch feels cold against yours. The full-sleeve dress is the only barrier between his skin and yours. Your palms clamp around his upper wrists. 

“Okay, 3 things you can hear:” 

“A.C.” 

“Fans.”

“Your voice,”

Izumo nods every time but it becomes slow at your third pick. 

“2 things you can smell.” It sinks in him: how in desperation and hunger you seek whatever you can get.

You take your scented handkerchief out of your pocket. Izumo takes it and holds it against your nose. Your exhaustive eyes look at him. His perfume smells rather too sweet today. You fall into his chest, embracing him. “Your perfume,” You whisper nuzzling against him. He is still sitting with his legs folded. You can hear his heartbeat, yours too. You are alive. You are very much alive.

“1 thing you can taste,” He says in a low voice, like the start of a lullaby. Reluctantly you pull your face away and look up. At this angle you can see his tongue, it’s white due to the candy. Could it be lichi flavored? There is still a bit of it left, peeking against his teeth.

Curiosity cascades into your body like rain and soaks him wet in a fraction of a second. It is an entirely foreign sensation for Izumo: Your lips are plush and soft with no hint of lipstick. The way your fingers press into his chest is unforgiving to his taut muscles creating a sense of pain, but a different kind of pain; the good kind. You are desperate and forceful. Your lips taste like spicy and honey. What did you have for lunch today? 

WAIT. You break the kiss. Izumo is as stunned as you are. His azure is asking why did you stop? You are still holding on to him. How did he know that the ‘321’ rule does not work on you? Moreover, how did he know that you have claustrophobia in the first place? 

Ah! Now it makes sense.

The realization paints your mind like it's high on drugs. Before you can think twice, your hands trail up to his nape enveloping his face. He instantly pulls you into his lap folding his legs one over the other to make you comfortable. He is swift and strong. This time, he is the one to demand first. The candy must have melted by now. It was coconut-flavored. You do not remember swallowing it neither does he but only the feeling of your lips on his, his on yours. He pulls away from the kiss gasping for air. His mouth and nose are cherry-tinted. He is getting an earful from Aoi for sure.

“I have texted Aoi.” His hands recoil back into his pocket from under your shirt. “He will be here soon.”

Izumo looks at the ground. Is it awkward? Yeah! Definitely. Does he want this to get over with? NO!NEVER. Damn him for wanting you. Damn him for craving you even at desperation like this.

You give him a long hum. “Why do you look like a crumpled receipt? It’s not like I will break your heart once we are out of the room, Izumo.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “Still have to thank you for saving my life.” 

You get out of his lap. He blinks hopelessly. Yeah, his suffering isn’t going to end . You still are as dense as a cabbage and so defenseless, so tactless, by god it drives him nuts. “I love you,” Izumo mumbles to himself. Aoi opens the door as you look at Izumo. 

“What did you just say?” Both of you walk side by side as you two walk out of the room. Aoi is still holding the door.

“Nothing” You continue to scrutinize him with your eyes.  “I said, I hate you.”

You smile. “Yeah! I hate you too.” 

Poor Aoi is still holding the door witnessing the cheesiest corny confession ever.

—

network: @underratedcharactercorner

[hypnotisedfireflies]

We call this "tinkering" and "religious manual back-ups." 🙃

[lotusflowerbreakingthesurface]

[PX Fic Rec 119] 俘虏

by 写意/未遮山

Translated title: Captive

Relationship: Zhang Qiling/Wu Xie

Writer’s attribute: PingXie (unverified)

Rating: M/R

Status: Complete

Language: Chinese

Length: One-shot

Tags: AU Setting—Interstellar A/B/O, Empire General Ping × Alliance Commander Xie, Double A (AA), Alpha Ping × Alpha → Omega → Alpha Xie, Pseudo Dub-Con

What’s inside the fic: Third Person POV, PWP

Warnings: (Fake) Marking, kj

About this fic:

Wu Xie was captured and he was injected with Omega transformation drugs by the enemy.

Personal opinion:

It's very spicy with an interesting setting❤️‍🔥

Where to read: No link yet

[agusrkive]

“if we could find our place in the stars, do you think we could convince the universe to let us stay?" I know it’s a silly question of mine, but still I was eager to hear the answer.

“idk? maybe, but even the universe is finite and the only thing I know that seem like it could go on forever is time. and I hate it.” for a moment, it was only silence. then I looked at her, but her gaze was already set towards the blue horizon.

"Do you know why I hate Time?" a scoff followed her sudden animosity. eyes far ahead, lost in sea.

"Yeah, like they said 'time is cruel'- is it because you think it moves too fast and it doesn’t even let us breathe for a moment?” I pondered about that for awhile before I let the words speak. I was trying to read her.

"you are not wrong with that.” she laughed bitterly.

"I hate it because the timing is never right for us.. it’s like the time and the universe are plotting against us. and we don’t even have the upperhand.”

“Yes, but there is no such thing as the right time or the right moment. you just have to feel it and when you do, you grab it without wasting any second.” I told her while looking straight in the eyes. I saw a flash in them for what I thought was an emotion for a second, then it was gone.

"maybe you’re right. there will never be a right time, so let me-" her own words were cut off by the same mouth it came out from as she slammed her lips on mine in no time.. Time, it suddenly freezes for the both of us and the only thing I can feel is the way how our mouths seem to move in sync, her fervent lips desperate for air to breathe found mine that is hers for the taking. that I know time is not the only thing frozen, the erratic beating of my heart came to a halt, but our lips did not. even our hands seemed to have their own mind too. pulling each other closer, she held me tight and I engulfed her in my arms. for what felt like minutes then turned into hours, we finally pulled away chasing our breaths. "You don’t wait for the right time because it will never come, now we just have to make the most of it," I said to her and her eyes that were once dull have now a light glimmer in them. my heart tugs, this could be a start. a good one.

maybe this time, we finally have the upperhand.

[meatholf]

A couple things for the Security Breach Fic I'm working on

The logo

References for characters that'll show up in the first chapter (which I'm almost done with)

[maxsix]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An Interstellar Ateez story Part I | Part II (Words: 5994, Warnings: Minor Swearing)

"WHAT?!" Wooyoung shrieks through the passenger side window. "How can I be suspended! What am I supposed to do now?!"

Hongjoong knows he should feel guilty about his behaviour. He does. As the oldest surviving member of their family tree he can feel the decades of ancestral guilt being passed down to him but his parents did not raise a loser, they raised a rebel and a free thinking pioneer.

As much as he wants to discourage problematic defiant behaviour, he can't help but feel proud his baby brother is following in his footsteps of quiet rebellion.

But Wooyoung can't know that. Not yet.

"I'm sorry okay? I know I kind of overreacted but your teacher is a jerk. You didn't deserve to fail anything. I mean, everyone knows Einstein didn't dunk on Newton, he just-"

"-course corrected." Wooyoung finishes weakly before draping himself over the truck's window like a dying cornstalk. "My life is over. They're going to fail me. I'll never get into NASA. I don't want to be a farmer!"

"We'll figure this out. Don't worry about it. Just get in the truck." Hongjoong pleads as he scans the horizon for any late dust storms. "We gotta go pick up Yunho from work."

The sulky fourteen year old slumps into the passenger seat and sighs obnoxiously loud. Hongjoong has no idea where he gets this kind of passive aggressive behaviour from because Yunho was never like this and neither were their parents.

The drive to the Lucky Star Corn Mill is only seven minutes from their high school and Wooyoung uses the entire time to explain, in great detail, the catastrophe that is about to befall his life. Hongjoong, a prisoner in the confines of his own truck, has no choice but to absorb it all.

"Hongjoong! Are you even listening!?"

"I'm always listenning, kiddo. You're failing science because you're a little shit. Your life is over. You'll never get into NASA because they don't accept gremlins. Big sad."

Wooyoung looks over unimpressed and judgemental in the way only a teenager can be.

Hongjoong can't help but smirk and laugh at the dramatics. "Did I get it right?"

"Why do I even bother telling you anything?" Wooyoung grumbles, pulling up his hoodie in defeat.

"Because I'm your favourite brother."

"No you're not. Yunho is."

Hongjoong cackles loudly because they both know that's a lie. "Of course he is."

"Shut up."

The Lucky Star Corn Mill was run by Park Kyungmoon and his younger brother Jonghoon. They were once friends of Hongjoong's parents and in the months following the constant stream of crop deaths, dust storms and funerals, had been the ones who took the new orphans in and kept them alive. Hongjoong owes them a life debt that he doesn't know how to repay.

It must have been weighing on Yunho's mind too because he had insisted on helping out at the Mill after school as soon as he turned sixteen. It was what Hongjoong had done. They fought about it for two whole days; Yunho wanting to prove himself helpful and Hongjoong just wanting his brother to spend the last few years of his childhood without the heavy weight of adult responsibilities.

"You have a lifetime to be an adult, you know? Why do you want to grow up so fast, huh?"

"You really think I have a lifetime?"

It had been been sobering hearing that from a sixteen year old but he was no ordinary teenager, he had lost four family members in the span of two years and became an expert on grieving, something that the World should never have asked of him.

Hongjoong had lost the argument but in the end it was for the best. Over the next few months Yunho's confidence grew like roots that had finally taken in the soil; the self realisation of his place in the world had finally become clearer, even if he didn't fully understand it all yet. His grief, ever present, became a sturdy foundation to stand on instead of a heavy weight to carry.

Hongjoong had noticed the change with a sigh of relief; it had seeped into every aspect of his brother's personality: his posture, the way he walked, he way he spoke and the way he spoke back. They still fought but rarely had it ever been over something stupid.

They had both refused to take any money from the Mill as payment but more often than not, Hongjoong would find crumpled ten dollar notes when he was sorting out the laundry. One time, he found some food vouchers for the local store in one of his jacket pockets. It had been just after their father died from dust-lung, Wooyoung was so sickly and small then and Hongjoong remembers just sitting alone in their tiny laundry room, clutching those vouchers and crying until it was time to pick his brothers up from school.

"Hongjoong! How are you kid?" Kyungmoon greets him with a wide grin and fierce embrace. "You keeping well?"

"Hi Uncle Moonie. We're doing alright. How is your back?"

"Oh the old arthritis is being a rat bastard." Kyungmoon chuckles as they walk through the Mill together. Hongjoong greets the familiar faces of the old workers, some of whom he knows from his time working the corn grinder as a teenager and some who have hired him to fix their generators or trucks after he left.

They find Yunho operating one of the old forklifts in the back lot, attempting to lift crates of dried corn to be ground into corn meal. The jerky movements causing quiet cursing and several vegetables to go flying to the ground.

"You're letting him forklift now? You know he doesn't actually have his driver's licence yet, right?"

Kyungmoon waves his hand dismissively. "He wanted to try it and that old thing goes like minus two miles per hour. He won't hit anything but dried corn, which is their fate anyway."

Hongjoong shakes his head. "Only you could be poetic about corn, Uncle Moonie."

Not wanting to disturb the seventeen year old, Hongjoong leaves Kyungmoon to coach Yunho through forklift etiquette and makes his way over to the bagging station to greet Jonghoon, Kyungmoon's younger and grumpier brother. He had let his greying hair grow long now and it gave him the visage of wisdom but only until he spoke.

"Hi Uncle Hoonie, have you been well?"

The hug always knocks the wind out of Hongjoong. "Yes yes I'm fine but I'll tell you something kid, we gotta get some more muscle on Yunho. Did he grow two inches since last week?"

Hongjoong nods. "Oh, yeah he really takes after dad. He had a big growth spurt over summer but only vertically."

There's a pause then. Hongjoong lets it happen.

"Pity we couldn't say the same for you huh?" Jonghoon slaps his knee in laughter, the harsh sound causing a few workers look over at the sudden outburst but Hongjoong has let these jokes slide years ago, least of all because it was true: their father had been tall but mother of average height. Yunho took after the former but it seems he and Wooyoung took after their mum.

“Yeah yeah but you know mum was always the brains behind the whole operation anyway. I still won the genetic inheritance.”

“Oh, you calling your own brother and old man dumb?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Well, Yunho failed his driving test last week because he was too busy staring at some guy on a bike. I’m not even kidding you. It’s like he’s never seen a boy on a motorbike before.”

“Oh, sounds like a crush. Which kid is it?”

“That one in his year who’s even taller than he is.” Hongjoong says, unable to comprehend that his brother is even at an age where he might start dating other actual humans. "Can you believe it? He'll be eighteen soon but I still remember when he used to sleep with a teddy bear."

“Ah, he's going to be just fine. I don’t have any doubts about that one.” The elder man says before shifting tone into something more urgent. “Now that other kid you got though? That’s the one to worry about. Where is that gremlin anyway?”

Hongjoong groans as he's reminded of the parent teacher meeting. “He’s in the truck sulking because Yonghwan might fail him in science.”

“What?! Wooyoung? Our Wooyoung? Failing. Science?!” Jonghoon exclaims in disbelief, “You gotta be shitting me. Thought he was the smartest kid in his class?”

“He is.”

“That Kim Yonghwan loves lording it over everyone else. I heard that punk tried to fail Seungcheol's kids over an essay.”

“I bet Seungcheol took that really well.”

“Pretty sure Seungcheol walked into the room and Yonghwan just passed out on sight.”

They share a laugh.

“How’d the rest of the teacher meeting go?”

“I got him suspended for two days.”

Jonghoon stops sorting out the bags of cornmeal but doesn’t say anything, almost like it’s the answer that he was expecting.

“That's Murphy’s Law.”

“It’s not!” Hongjoong exclaims defensively. “I didn’t even say anything. Kids shouldn’t be punished for defending the founding fathers of gravity!”

“Anything that can happen, will happen. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Jonghoon recites. “Older brother with an authority problem, younger brother with a suspension: Murphy’s Law.”

Jonghoon grins at him with all the charm and glee of a Cheshire Cat and Hongjoong has no idea why his parents named after this man.

He makes sure his eye roll is dramatic as his sigh is loud but let's Jonghoon lead him towards the other bagging station where the pedal always seems to get stuck every second Wednesday. Hongjoong is happy to be left alone to fix it. He’s had enough conversations about the future.

By the time Yunho is done the sun is still mid sky and casts a palid yellow light over the earth but at least it wasn’t all smog and dust storms today.

“Your ass got suspended?!” Yunho laughs. “What did you do? Recite Isaac Newton on the playground?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Wooyoung grouses. “It’s Hongjoong’s fault. He got into a fight with my science teacher.”

That just makes Yunho laugh harder.

“Yep, sounds about right.”

“Hey!”

There's an argument right on the tip of Hongjoong's tongue that's suddenly interrupted by a mechanical whirring that flies over the truck.

“Hongjoong! It’s a drone!” Wooyoung gasps excitedly, as he leans forward to look out the window. “We haven’t seen one like that before!”

They haven't.

As one of the town's remaining mechanical engineers, Hongjoong had seen most of the drones that were still operating and this one was definitely larger than the ones they used for farming surveillance. An uncomfortable weight settles in his gut as he takes in that very specific shade of gunmetal grey, the lack of markings and the very distinct sound it makes. It feels eerily familiar, like a ghost from his past.

A military drone.

They were on the outskirts of the main town centre now and turning off the cornfields towards home. There were barely any cars out at this time of the day so this was an opportunity not to be wasted.

“Yunho, switch seats with me and tail it.”

“But I didn’t pass my driving test!”

“The Universe will forgive you!” Hongjoong yells hurriedly, before scrambling over Wooyoung to look out the passenger side window.

The drone is flying too slow and too low to be steered by someone nearby. Still it moves in a sophisticated loop that is faster than the truck can keep up with, especially with an unsteady seventeen year old at the wheel. Hongjoong watches it glide over the corn fields, towards their home, then back around again; a seemingly aimless path but he's old enough to know that military drones do not wander like this.

Wooyoung is practically in his lap as he’s handed the tracking gun.

“Here, get it Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong shakes his head and pushes the gun back. “No, you get it this time. Aim and hold the trigger until I get a signal lock. You know how to do this.”

Wooyoung nods and leans out the window with determination.

Hongjoong grabs his binoculars to try and find any identifying etchings on the drone's body but it’s impossible even from this distance. He boots up his laptop, letting it search through the available wavelength channels.

Not American. Not Russian. But in Hindi. An Indian drone?

Access Successful.

“Okay, kiddo, we're signal locked. Tag it.”

“What? Me?" Wooyoung looks over in panic. "What if I miss?”

“You won’t.” Hongjoong reassures him with a smile, "You know what to do."

“Er, guys? Whatever you do, can you do it fast because we’re gonna run out of corn field!” Yunho yells, as they cut haphazardly through the dense vegetation.

Sensing his brother's hesitancy and doubt, Hongjoong manoeuvres Wooyoung into his lap so he can steady his arm on the window frame.

"Yunho, take the truck to 65 and stay on that!"

Turning to Wooyoung, whose hand is beginning to shake now, he tries a gentler approach. “This is just science, yeah? Yunho is going to match the speed of the truck to the speed of the drone. It's just like what I said about relativity: the object going to be exactly where you think it will be. Just aim for the belly. Don’t think about anything else.”

Uncertain, but nodding, Wooyoung pulls the trigger with shaky hands and his eyes half closed. The recoil is unfamiliar and he's pushed back against Hongjoong's chest.

But the tracker lands with a metallic clang.

“I hit it?” Wooyoung asks in disbelief.

Hongjoong grins and ruffles his brother's hair. “You hit it. Now get off me, I need to land this thing."

“There’s no more corn!” Yunho shouts suddenly, “We’re out of corn!”

Hongjoong looks up just in time to see the fast approaching edge of the cliff. He jerks the gear stick into park as Yunho slams the brakes half a second later. Wooyoung goes flying into the dashboard.

Hongjoong's heart is pounding violently in his chest, half from the adrenaline of the drone chase but mostly from the unexpected near death experience at the hands of Yunho's driving. He's shocked the laptop wasn't a casualty.

“Yunho. I love you like a brother but we really gotta sort out this driving issue.”

“I AM YOUR BROTHER! You said to follow it!” Yunho cries indignantly, pointing to the drone outside the window. "And I followed it didn't I?"

Suddenly feeling so close to his parents (and his parent's age), Hongjoong runs a shaky hand through his hair before replying.

"Yeah okay okay, you did good. Just....stop when there's a cliff next time, okay?"

The drone glides over them again and Wooyoung scrambles to exit the truck. “Hurry up and land it Hongjoong! What if it falls into the ocean!"

They end up crouched on the grassy cliff to watch the drone flying gracefully through the air, neither too fast or too slow now, just aimless and waiting for a mission.

"Yunho, grab my toolbox from the back of the truck. Wooyoung? Come here, you can land this one."

They crowd around the laptop as Hongjoong hacks into the drone's flight control and once he's slowed down its flight speed he shows Wooyoung how to use the track pad to gently land the drone over a clump of long grass in the field behind them.

The younger boys take off immediately, sprinting over to the fallen machine before Hongjoong can even call out a warning not to get too close. Wooyoung is already crawling underneath to read the markings while Yunho cautiously touches a wing.

"What does this mean Hongjoong?"

The markings on the drone's belly are in Hindi. He can't understand all of it but he's seen something like it enough times before to fill in the gaps of his knowledge.

"It's an Indian military fighter drone."

Yunho pulls his hand away from the metal. “Indian military? How did it get here?”

"India had a big space program once and after they landed on the moon their tech got a whole lot more sophisticated. They sent out fight drones as surveillance when the food wars broke out but the war died as fast as it started and the world doesn't really need military services anymore so I guess this little guy got forgotten.”

They're able to inspect the details on the drone close up now: its gunmetal grey paint was faded in patches by the sun and weather, the markings on its belly were peeling off in some parts but despite all it's been through, it was completely intact otherwise.

"Yunho, get the flat head screwdriver. We have to get this panel off to disable it completely. You can try to jimmy it open this time."

Yunho nods in understanding as he listens to Hongjoong's instructions but Wooyoung watches them both with a mournful expression clouding his face, wincing in particular when they start dissecting the drone and pull out its wire-y guts.

"Maybe we should just leave it here." Wooyoung says quietly.

Hongjoong sighs, knowing a comment like that was coming.

“We can’t leave it here. Someone else will just take it and dump it. This battery cell could probably power our house for a year.” Hongjoong reasons gently. "At least we'd take care of it properly."

Wooyoung shoves his hands in his hoody and looks away. “Yeah, I guess so.”

It takes the three of them a monumental effort just get the drone into the back of the truck; Yunho does most of the lifting because he’s got the height advantage but it’s Wooyoung who insists on sitting out back “to watch it” on the drive back home.

“He seems spooked.” Yunho observes quietly. “You should talk to him later.”

“I know. I will.” Hongjoong nods in agreeance. “It’s been a big day for him. Maybe I should attempt a pizza tonight.”

"You gotta be kidding me. Hongjoong, I love you like a brother but hasn’t he suffered enough for today?”

Yunho cackles in glee as he dodges Hongjoong's punch.

“You little punk! Who raised you to be like this?”

“You did!”

*

The pizza wasn’t half bad. They used some bottled tomatoes from last season and the black olives that Kyungmoon had the foresight to preserve back in the days when olives actually grew on their land.

Wooyoung eats but is subdued and quiet.

Yunho stays to help with the dishes, taking care to methodically store them all upside down so they wouldn't collect too much dust by the morning. They draw plastic sheeting over all the appliances before Hongjoong lets him go to shower and finish his homework.

On most nights, Wooyoung could be found sprawled on the floor of his room but tonight Hongjoong finds him in their basement with the dead drone.

“I think it wanted to be found.”

“Maybe.”

“Was it really lost and forgotten?"

"I think so. There's no military around to catch them all, especially ones that have strayed off their path like this. The storms probably fried some of its electrics too."

"That's kind of sad."

"Yeah."

Hongjoong lets the silence sit comfortably between them for a few minutes, knowing his brother is reflective tonight, but he also knows that sometimes Wooyoung needs to be dragged away from his morose moods.

"Come on, show me the damage in your room."

Wooyoung had forgotten to close his window that morning and even though it wasn't the worst day for a dust storm, there was still a good blanket of it in the room.

Hongjoong doesn't think much of it until he looks at the floor where there are long lines of dust, thick then thin, alternating in some kind of sun burst pattern radiating from the book shelf.

"See? That's my ghost." Wooyoung explains. "It knocks off books it wants me to read and writes lines on the floor."

Hongjoong kneels down to take a closer look.

The lines are too straight, too deliberate, too orderly to be there by mistake. Wooyoung's lamp, one of the only metallic items in the room, was knocked over and now laying parallel to the lines too.

It's then that Hongjoong suddenly remembers something an old teacher once taught him and takes a coin from his pocket, letting it flip it in the air a few times before landing.

It doesn’t bounce but lands with a thud between the lines of dust.

"Unbelievable." Hongjoong laughs in disbelief.

"What is?"

“This isn't your ghost. It’s a magnetic field in your room. It’s gravity.”

“But there’s lines.” Wooyoung points out. “You told me it's rare to get straight lines in nature!"

“It is rare.” Hongjoong confirms. “This is an anomaly, written in binary."

“Binary? Like a computer?”

“Exactly like a computer.” Hongjoong nods. “Why didn’t you tell me about these lines before?”

Wooyoung throws his arms up in exasperation. “I did! I keep telling you about how my ghost leaves messages in the dust but you both think I’m crazy!”

"I never thought you were crazy, kiddo." Hongjoong says, "Now, give me your notebook. Let's see what your ghost is trying to tell you."

It’s midnight by the time Hongjoong gets anywhere. It was like writing a sentence using a mathematical alphabet. He substitutes the thin lines for 0s and the thick for 1s but it made no sense. It's only when he reverses it that there is a very distinct set of numbers that he recognises the start of immediately.

129. 35.

Co-ordinates.

Yunho stumbles in bleary eyed. “I know it’s the weekend tomorrow but can’t you guys sleep? After you finish praying to your dust God.”

Hongjoong isn’t tired but Wooyoung is yawning aggressively and trying to fight it but blinking comically slowly.

“Go shower. You’ll have to crash with me tonight. We’ll clean your room out tomorrow.”

Hongjoong doesn’t sleep that night at all, his mind continuing to buzz with possible locations and places he remembers being before.

129.

129 is Busan. Somewhere near the coast.

129 had a military base once.

He doesn’t believe in coincidences.

But he does believe in Murphy’s law.

*

“Where are you going?!” Wooyoung whines the next day. It’s only seven am and the sound is jarring against the quiet calm of the morning.

Hongjoong continues to pack his bag. “I need to go check something out. I’ll be back tonight. Uncle Moonie will-“

“I want to come!”

“Wooyoung, no.”

“Is this about the drone?” Wooyoung leans close to whisper. "Are you going to follow the coordinates?”

Yunho flips the pancakes over and looks at Hongjoong with concern etched on his face. “Coordinates? By yourself? That sounds kind of sus doesn’t it? What if they’re the CIA or something?”

“I'm just checking in out, I won't go near any buildings or people.” Hongjoong stresses. “I just want to see where these coordinates go."

“Ha!” Wooyoung slams his hands down on the counter, alarming them both. “I knew it! I'm coming!”

"Wooyoung, no." Yunho frowns deeply now. “This doesn’t sound too good Hongjoong. What if something happens? What am I supposed to do?”

“Uncle Moonie will come over to babysit. It’ll be fine.”

The spatula clacks harshly on the bench. “We don’t need a babysitter! I just meant what if something happens to you? What the hell are we supposed to do?!”

Hongjoong just wants tell his brothers that it will all be fine, that it was no big deal and how if you're not moving forward then you're just going to grow stagnant but halfway through his thoughts he takes in Yunho's frustration and Wooyoung's restlessness and decides that none of those answers would provide any comfort.

For all his premature stoicism and maturity Yunho was still a teenager who had loss two generations of family. He was always afraid to lose another.

“I’m just doing research. I’ll radio in every few hours. I'll just go look then come back. Promise!"

Knowing the fight is futile, Yunho sighs and turns away to tend to the pancakes again. Wooyoung has run off now, hating it when his brothers fight, so the house falls into silence as Hongjoong continues to pack his bag for the trip.

Kyungmoon drops by an hour later, smile fading as soon as he senses the tension in the kitchen. A questioning eyebrow is raised in Hongjoong's direction but all he gets back is a vague shrug.

Wooyoung doesn't come down for breakfast and they leave him be. Yunho refuses to engage in any conversation, preferring to eat in icy silence. Kyungmoon fills the room with non sensical light chatter and Hongjoong is once again grateful for his presence in their lives.

When it's time to go Hongjoong hesitates at the doorway, feet heavy all the sudden like they just don't want to leave. It's not a new feeling but one he still hasn't fully come to terms with yet.

“Be good. Look after your brother.”

“Yeah whatever.” Yunho mumbles, before holding out a thermos of coffee. "Here, it's black like your soul. Try not to do anything stupid this time."

The hug is awkward but accepted like always.

Kyungmoon walks him to the truck and Hongjoong looks up hoping to catch his youngest brother's face in the upstairs window but it remains empty. Wooyoung was always bad at goodbyes, no matter how short term it was. They were told it was a by product of all the trauma but they weren't told how to fix it, so it just stayed broken.

Hongjoong knows all this, it weighs heavily on his mind even as he gets into his truck now, but some leads just need to be followed and some questions need answers. Sometimes you need to betray your own heart.

“Are you sure about this?” Kyungmoon asks. “There's not much out that way and the boys don’t seem too happy about it. Wooyoung won’t even come out his room.”

“It'll be fine. I’ll only be gone till tonight and the location is just out of town. I gave Yunho the CV so I’ll radio in if there’s any problems.”

Kyungmoon nods, partly unconvinced but at the same time knowing he should trust the responsible and capable adult Hongjoong had become. This wasn't the volatile teenager he took in all those years ago.

“Thanks for doing this uncle Moonie. I’ll bring you back a cool souvenir!” Hongjoong salutes before reversing out the driveway.

*

It’s about ten minutes into the drive that the road gets rough and bumpy. The government had simply run out of money at a certain point and funnelled everything they had into food security and agricultural biotechnology. Most things on the outer edge of town remained largely forgotten now.

Reaching blindly into the passenger seat for his thermos of coffee, Hongjoong's hand finds a warm messy head of hair instead.

“AGH! What the hell!"

The truck slams its brakes and Wooyoung is thrown against the dashboard again with a painful grunt. He has the decency to look a little sheepish.

"Hi."

“HI?! What are you doing here! You can’t come with me!”

“You wouldn’t even be here without me! I found the information so I deserve to go see it!”

Hongjoong rubs his eyes tiredly but when he opens them again, Wooyoung is definitely still there in the passengers seat, grin as hopeful as it is annoying.

“This isn’t some field trip okay? You are not coming. I’m driving you back to the house and you’re gonna stay there. That’s an order.”

Wooyoung holds up his notebook. “But this was my idea!"

Hongjoong groans loudly and closes his eyes a a few seconds, wondering if he had the energy to get into this argument right now. What would his parents do?

They would say that adventure lives outside your door and if you don't keep moving forward then you just get stagnant and that's the real mind killer.

“Ugh, fuck it. Fine! Make yourself useful and radio Uncle Moonie to tell him you’re here.”

“Yes!” Wooyoung break out into a wide grin and he turns on the CV to radio home. Traditional phones weren’t as reliable anymore so they went back to using older farming towers and radios. It was an unusual juxtaposition they all had to live with now: having advanced agricultural practices but still having to rely on old traditional infrastructure. It's a clash of the past and future with barely any room for the present.

It's growing dark by the time Hongjoong's truck tells him they are near their destination. They were hours away from home now and the landscape had changed completely; the dust was pervasive everywhere but here there was nothing else growing, just miles of earth and rocks.

Wooyoung had fallen asleep for most of the drive and though he would never admit it out loud, Hongjoong had enjoyed having his brother with him, unconscious and unhelpful as he was.

The coordinates lead them to an unremarkable looking grey building surrounded by a similarly unremarkable looking fence that seemed to stretch on for miles in each direction. There were no signs of anything: location, identification or life. It makes the hair on the back of Hongjoong's neck stand on end.

“Wooyoung, we’re here I think.”

Hongjoong gently nudges his brother awake as the truck crawls to a stop.

“Oh. Is this it? It looks abandoned.” Wooyoung yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What a let down.”

“It’s not abandoned.” Hongjoong murmurs, scanning the fence and perimeter with his binoculars.

“How do you know that?”

“There’s a path leading to the entrance over there.” Hongjoong points to barely visible groove marks in the dirt. “Someone else has been here and recently.”

They would need to come back another time with some help and a few bolt cutters.

Wooyoung is silent for a moment before turning pale. “Hongjoong? There’s a light box on the side of that fence post. Is it meant to be blinking at us?”

Hongjoong’s body reacts before his brain does; his stomach plummets to the ground as his hand automatically flies to shift the truck into reverse.

“Oh fuck! Get down and stay down!”

Wooyoung crawls into the footwell of the truck and Hongjoong barely has time to throw a blanket over him before a piercing bright light floods the truck, so white and intense as it hits his eyes that he can feel the heat burning on his skin.

“Stay down! Don’t open your eyes!”

A mechanical whirring sounds off in the distance but grows louder with each passing second. Hongjoong can't see at all now and though he tries his best to blindly shift the gears of the truck, his arms and legs and senses are disorientated.

“Trespassing is a state and federal offence. Please remain in your vehicle. Please remain calm.”

Hongjoong has definitely heard that robotic voice before. A cold shiver runs down his spine and it's the last thing he remembers before being hit with an electric shock and blacking out.

There's no indication of how much time has passed when he comes to. He's on a concrete floor in a dimly lit room furnished with nothing but a table and two chairs. There’s one door. No windows. No clock.

An interrogation room.

It feels like hours before the door opens and a dark monolithic robot entity manoeuvres itself in. It stood tall, sleek and imposing, as if a soldier had been turned into a rubik's cube and there were a hundred moving parts with a million possible configurations.

The familiarity comes flooding back again: the robot is the same distinct shade of gunmetal grey as all military tech, the same regulation communication window and the same small faded logo that speaks of its service history.

“Who are you? How did you find this place?”

“Where's my passenger?”

The robot's light blinks erratically as it shuffles closer to the table. “You will tell us your name and how you discovered this location!”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“YOU WILL TELL US YOUR NAME AND-“

“CAASI, stand down. Neutral mode, Fifty Percent.”

The robot slides its panels back in place, perfectly sleek again, red light fading to black.

“Standing down. Neutral mode. Fifty percent.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, trying to make out the the shadowy figure that entered the room so quietly that he didn’t even notice.

It’s a man: tall and willowy, dressed in all black, relaxed and assured in posture as he walks closer.

“Don't you think it's bit risky using ex military programs for your guard dog here?"

“Oh CAASI is the least of your problems.” The man says, finally stepping out of the shadows to sit down in the other chair. "And it's all the government could spare."

Hongjoong takes in the face in front of him: he has big round eyes, bright and sparkling, even in the darkness of the room, with a sharp nose and strong angular jaw. His hair was short and black, with a few wayward strands tucked behind the left ear because they were too long. He looks older but not by much.

“Look, I can see that you don't want any visitor. I'm just a farmer who stumbled here by accident.” Hongjoong explains. “If you just give me back my passenger, we’ll be on our way.”

The other man just surveys him calmly.

“You’re terrible at lying. Did you believe any of that CAASI?”

“Zero percent truth detected.”

“Zero percent.” The man smiles. “So do you want to tell us the truth now?”

“I’ll tell you if you give me-“

“Your brother is fine. Quite hungry though.” The man interjects. “Exceptionally bright. Must not share much DNA with you.”

Hongjoong breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, so if you just give me my brother back, we'll be in our way. I'm just a farmer-"

“No you’re not.”

“Well, who the hell are you then? Where the hell am I?”

“I’m Doctor Park. I’m a physicist.”

Before he can even stop it, Hongjoong’s face twitches in recognition and judging by the smirk on the other man's face this was the reaction he was watching for.

“Doctor Park? I knew a Doctor Park once and you can’t be him. He was a professor of astrophysics."

“What makes you think I'm not?" The man asks coolly.

"Well, he was sixty and not very pretty to look at?"

The man barely conceals his eye roll. "Very logical deduction."

And for the first time in a long time Hongjoong realises, very disappointingly, that he was being completely outwitted by a stranger he's never met before.

“Listen, congratulations on the physics degree. That’s really great for you but I have a family I need to get back to and a brother to collect. So if you could just take me to him, we won’t cause you any more trouble.”

Doctor Park tilts his head for a few seconds to look right into Hongjoong's eyes. The intensity unexpectedly threatening, even to someone like him.

Then, without saying anything, the other man rises from the chair to walk towards the door, knowing but not even waiting for Hongjoong to follow.

Outside the interrogation room there was a long corridor, surprisingly clean and only marginally less dim.

CAASI the robot trails behind them both, its red blinking light oddly menacing for a non human entity.

“Should I be seeing all of this? Shouldn't you be worried about me telling other people?”

“You won’t.” Doctor Park replies. “They’re unlikely to believe that a place like this still exists.”

“I don’t even know what the hell this place is.”

They reach two steel doors and there’s a pause before Doctor Park swipes them in with a small sly smirk on his face.

“Yes, you do. Kim Hongjoong."

[friendlycursedspaceotter]

sometimes, you think you're making a character playlist for a character you're voicing and you realized you're accidentally characterizing them as a hurt nonbinary disaster bisexual who just wants love and maybe to create the world's best adblocker while also dealing with these maniacs who keep interrupting her work but also have good baked goods

on a completely unrelated note, Riley Harper from Welcome to Interstellar