#i jump from philosophical shit to i want them to bang so hard in a blink of an eye

[aenslem]

the fact that you can't get into those suits without help. yeah, yeah I love this, cos we have not seen it, but young and rush helped each other getting into those suits, and they had to be oh so close after almost killing each other... god, Im so loving this

Im gonna imagine the tension when they did it

perfect perfect

[whooambouttamakeanameformyself]

Beautiful Bloodshed

Otis Driftwood x Transmasc! Reader. (18+)

Chapter Two

(Chapter One below)

Same summary and warnings apply here. Please enjoy this absolute shit show of a book.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Chapter two starts two weeks after Chapter One, Baby and Y/N have been hanging out almost every day.)

Y/N's shitbox truck pulled up infront of the now somewhat familliar Firefly house, idling for a few seconds before finally turning off. Y/N got out and excitedly ran up to the door where Baby met them, equally as excited as they were.

"Y/N! I've got something really fun for us to do today!" Baby squealed excitedly, her blonde curls bouncing as she jumped around, looking like she drank several redbulls before coming down to greet them.

Y/N giggled at their friends giddiness. "Oh lord, what crazy plan do you have cooked up for today?" Baby's plans ranged anywhere from laying around her room and listening to music while they painted eachother's nails, to going out and luring unsuspecting men back to the house for Mama Firefly.

Baby grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the house like she always did, but this time she pulled much harder, dragging them to her bedroom, giggling and laughing the whole way. She stopped outside her door, turning to them with a crazed grin on her face.

"Okay, get ready, because this is going to be wicked cool!!" She put her hand on the door handle, turning it and counting to three before swinging the door open so hard it hit the wall with a loud 'BANG'. "Ta Da!!" She yelled as Y/N peered into the room. A brunette girl sat on a chair in the middle of the room, bound and gagged, looking terrified. "I thought you and I could turn her into a living doll today!" Baby giggled, pulling them into her room.

They spent about three hours dressing up the girl, doing her hair, and putting makeup on her. Baby seemed quite pleased with the work the two had done, looking over it with a proud smile.

"She looks great! But I'm hungry now, wanna go make lunch with me?" She asked as she walked out the door. Y/N nodded and followed her, walking out out into the hall, stopping, when they see that Otis's door is open. He could see some of the art Otis had drawn on the wall around the tv, mostly a bunch of small doodles around some bigger, more detailed drawings. He was really good at what he did, and they had to admit they really did love the art of his they were able to see. Baby noticed they weren't following her anymore and went looking for them, finding them standing in the hall infront of Otis's door, staring into the room in awe.

"Hey, whatcha lookin' at?" She asked curiously as she approached them. Y/N jumped and looked at her, trying to think up an excuse but coming up with nothing.

"O-Oh! Uh, nothing! Just got lost in my head..." they lied, but Baby wasn't fooled. "Yeah, sure, whatcha lookin' in Otis's room for?" She asked, playfully nudging them, attempting to relax them a bit. Y/N let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, okay... no matter how many times I see the art on the walls in his room, it's always so... amazin', I've actually been meaning to ask you about it." They clear their throat. "You know anything about any of his art?"

Baby crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "why don't you just ask him, man? I'm sure he'll tell ya if you ask." The thought of talking to Otis made them nervous, not because they were scared of him, no, it's because they didn't want to bother him while he was busy (and they probably wouldn't understand the philosophical answers Otis has been known to give, and has given them many times in the past when they asked a question.) "N-No, it's fine! I'll ask some other time." He shook his head quickly, attempting to walk past Baby, but she caught him and guided him into Otis's room. "Otis! You got a sec?" She called out. Otis looked up from his book, about to say something rude or snarky in response, but stopped himself when he realized Y/N was there. "Depends, what for?" He asked, setting his book down on the bed beside him. Baby grins, gently pushing Y/N toward Otis. "They wanna know about your art, can you tell him about it?"

Hearing this actually shocked Otis. Y/N wanted to know about his art? Well shit, he'll tell them anything they wanna know!

He clumsily got off his bed, excited to finally spend more time with Y/N.

Otis mentally cussed himself out, he wasn't supposed to feel that way toward ANYONE, let alone someone of the same gender... but he couldn't help himself. The few times they hung out together (mostly drinking and talking shit about people) he'd feel his heart flutter when they laughed at one of his stupid jokes, and he'd get the feeling of butterflies in his stomach every time they looked at him with those damn doe-ish eyes or gave him even just a slight smile. Jesus, he felt like a teenage girl getting her first highschool crush and he hated it.

Baby left the room, happily leaving the two alone. Otis wasted no time in beginning to explain each piece to Y/N, getting less and less philosophical when he realized they didn't quite understand it as well as he did himself. Actually, he began to ever so slightly touch on the emotional side of it, allowing himself this one instance of vulnerability. Y/N listened intently, finding each piece and the meaning behind it extremely interesting. Otis found himself smiling as he answered Y/N's questions, feeling those same feelings he felt when he first saw them.

Shit, it's just gunna get worse....

Since Y/N was so interested in his art Otis decided to test just how far he could go before his art grossed them out or scared them. He first asked if they wanted to see some of his other art, and after they said yes (maybe a bit too excited) he pulled a few of the smaller bone sculptures from behind the curtain that hid the more grotesque pieces he'd done. He showed them one of the sculptures, one that was made to look like a bouquet of flowers, it was morbidly beautiful. Y/N let out a soft gasp, their jaw dropping in absolute awe.

"Holy shit, it's gorgeous! How the fuck...." the words left their mouth quicker than they could stop it, gushing over the tiny bone flowers.

Y/N's reaction made Otis's smile bigger. Someone loved his art, truely loved it, saw the beauty and emotion behind each piece....

There was no escaping it, Otis's feelings for Y/N were already too strong.

~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 2.

Hope everyone enjoyed this shit! Chapter 3 coming soon. :)

[werezmastarbucks]

guest

the reader opens up to her boyfriend about the demonic intruder haunting her at nights

tyler joseph x reader x kai parker

genre: horror

warnings: stalking

word count: 2950

music: ode to sleep by twenty one pilots, o come o come by tyler joseph

At night you put the drawer to the door and put your lava lamp on top. You fell asleep every time looking at the changing neon soft lights, to get woken up at three exactly, to the sound of his fists drumming on the door. Every night.

He’d come from the corridor, a tall shadow, as you once saw him, not in a hurry at all. He knew you wouldn’t run anywhere, not even through the window, because you were always afraid of getting too far out of it.

He’d walk down the corridor and to the door, and try to open it. Once he succeeded, and was inside your room, and you woke up, to see the silhouette standing above you. In the dark of night, he looked completely black. His eyes were vaguely glowing, and you were completely cemented in your place. People are generally divided into two groups when scared: those who scream, and those who freeze. There’s a legend that there’s also a thin layer in between, a group of people who fight, but you’ve never met one. The closest to that was your boyfriend.

You never told Tyler about the ghost hunting your house. You were scared to seem nuts; you had no proof and hasn’t caught it once, largely because the ghost was trying to catch you.

At school, you weren’t really the people’s favorite, so you just got through moderately peacefully by sticking with your best friend and your boyfriend.

What would you say anyway? Hey, Tyler. There’s this dude, he started manifesting himself at my house at nights. He’s invisible to everybody except me, and he always appears in the middle of the corridor, and walks to my room, and I don’t know what he wants to do with me, but he scares the shit out of me.

You were afraid he’d think you got some issues, and find someone better.

There wasn’t much you could do except put the drawer close to the door, and make it heavy, piling all your tings on top, and turn on the lava lamp to see when he comes.

Sometimes you thought it was all your imagination. You’ve heard that urban legend about a girl who thought her house was haunted. The things disappeared, and she heard voces constantly bothering her day and night. She saw shadow people lurking outside, trying to break inside the house, and one of them actually smothered her dog; when she realized she’s the only one seeing all of them, she took it upon herself to protect her family. That girl had a little sister, too, and didn’t want any harm to come upon her. Maybe she was a witch, or just had this thing that some people have. The kind of sensitivity for supernatural things. She was the only one who could defend her loved ones.

She got armed with a kitchen knife and attacked them the next time they tried to get inside. Strike, before they make a move. The girl allegedly spent a tough long afternoon chasing ghosts around her front yard, and killed all of them. To then discover they were, in fact, her family, and she’s been hallucinating the whole time.

That’s the kind of stories that were floating around in the town. No one would really believe you if you told what’s happening. Although your case was slightly different from that poor girl’s. The black shadow guy coming for you almost every night seemed to only have interest in you. It was like he was uncertain yet; that one time he actually got inside the room, he vanished, as you lay there, paralyzed by fear. You never managed to get rid of the sight of him, disproportionally tall, completely silent, watching you in bed. He seemed like he was about to bow, but you opening your eyes made him change his mind.

Other nights he was more persistent and you bet he regretted not having acted while he had a chance.

Usually he wouldn’t get past the door barricaded by the drawer.

You’d look at the lava lamp sending her orange, red, green and infernal blue light across the room, like it was a safe beacon of protective fire; as if it could actually stop him. While he hammered his fists on the door, pulling and twisting the handle, you held the blanket with your numb fingers. You were never religious so you never prayed. You had a strong feeling he wasn’t afraid of Jesus.

The worst thing was seeing the drawer move and wiggle when he pushed the door with his shoulder. Once, the lava lamp nearly tipped over, and you moaned with fear. Nobody heard anything in the morning, and that one time you screamed, unable to hold it inside anymore, you got in a big row with your parents.

Tyler took your fist and tried to undo it, to interlace his fingers with yours.

It was that hour after school when you’re not ready to go home yet, and the street seems gray even in the middle of the afternoon, and everybody looks like zombies.

Maybe I am going crazy after all. Thinking about stuff like that, and listening to depressing music, all those things at school weighing on you, made you feel like you were tied to the house, because the demon boy was there. You were afraid he’d do something to your family, too.

“You don’t seem like yourself these days”, Tyler complained, but his voice sounded pondering, as usual. He was a philosopher, this guy, always analyzing stuff and the words people say, reading into them.

“I don’t sleep well”, you said, putting your head on his shoulder. His soft black hoodie was warm even on the outside. His baggy clothes, his hands, like the lava lamp, seemed such a safe territory. You were scared he’d take it all away if you told him.

“Why?”

You knew Tyler had insomnia, too. He was suffering from regular headaches, turning into prolonged migraine, that started on the top of his head and cralwed down to the very base of his neck. You suspected he had some kind of injury he never spoke about. He did double work; taking care of you and fighting his own pain all the time. You knew it hurts even during the day. You read him when he suddenly put his head into his hands or stopped talking in the middle of the sentence. His silence was soft and dignified. He carried it well. You wished you could help him somehow. Sometimes he’d look so sad, such deep regret in his eyes, that you’d think it was something more serious that he let out.

Now you just needed him.

“I don’t know”, you shrugged.

“Huh. Doesn’t seem true”.

You hid a little guilty smile in the fold of his hoodie sleeve. Your arms vined around his shoulder, and you two watched the playground for some time, silently.

“Is something happening, Y/N?” he asked.

You felt bad.

“I don’t know”, you muttered again, like a dummy. “I’m sorry”.

You kissed his cheek as he tried to read you with his dark eyes. His ears caught your soft whisper.

I love you.

You heard the footsteps and rolled onto your back. Your elbows started hurting almost instantly as you tried to lift yourself up. Sleeping with the lava lamp on, you ruined your dreams completely, and you were sure the sleep wasn’t as healthy as it was supposed to be. You were dozing instead of sleeping, waking up every five minutes, horrible visions floating around.

You knew what came next. He stopped at the door, and for the hundreth time, you couldn’t believe it’s happening. How, in the rational boring world, do you get to have a night intruder vanishing in thin air, getting out of the darkness of your house like a vampire; why you?

The soft knock on the door didn’t, and wouldn’t wake your parents up. You were glad you didn’t have any pets; you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to a dog barking at him.

Your heart pounding, you sat yourself, back to the wall, feeling the glossy smooth surface of a poster with your bare shoulder. Your own hand snaked up to your neck, holding the whimper inside the throat.

He knocked again, mockingly polite, as always. He never said a word, like he didn’t have a voice, which was way scarier.

Knock knock knock still sent a very clear mesage: let me in.

You just wished you’d get through your night routine as usual, and he’d leave again. You felt exhausted, old, thinking, you were slowly getting used to being haunted.

Suddenly, a hammering knock shuddered the door, and you jumped. The back of your neck started sweating. The lava lamp changed from orange to purple, the color you hated because it was too dark for the night. The people on your posters, smiling indifferently at you, they had no idea. They wouldn’t help.

Bang bang bang!

His hand was heavy. He was hitting the door like he was a drumming machine, at the fast pace as if trying to drive you crazy. The door stood, loyal and hard, but when he started colliding with it with his shoulder, it shook like carton.

Suddenly, the thing happened that hasn’t occurred before, and you put the hands to your mouth, feeling the blood pump in your ears.

The drawer actually moved.

He is getting stronger.

The lock clicked, and the door opened half an inch. Lava lamp tipped and fell on its side, banging on the wood, and you closed your eyes for a second.

You held your breath. The demon boy stopped. All of a sudden, there was whistling silence, and you heard the night wind outside. The narrow black line between the door and the wall was sucking the light out, the blackest you’ve ever seen, like space vaccum. Magnetizing your gaze.

You couldn’t sleep like that. The crack was big enough for him to watch you.

You crawled out of bed and listened again: nothing. Perhaps he exhausted himself opening the door. It seemed like he only had so much energy for one night.

Your knees were shaking violently as you stepped to the drawer and put the lamp back up. The jelly soft bubbles were drifting inside, like soulless clouds, casting neon colors on your face.

You reached for the door to push it back closed, having no desire to look into the crack... as your fingers touched the wood, a violent push crashed on it, moving the door and the drawer together. You jumped away, unable to hold a yell.

He was getting inside.

You crashed into the opposite wall. The drawer now stood almost sideways, and door was open wide enough for him to slither inside.

“Go away”, you begged.

“But I love you”, a voice said.

Your knees gave in, and you slid down on the floor, grouping so hard you could come off as a big cat. Your arms wrapped around your legs. He sounded hollow, alien, as if he was standing far away, wrapped in a plastic bag. The door moved a little, and he showed his head inside the room. Seeing him, a human looking guy, was so catastrophically sobering that your mind went numb.

He didn’t have horns or black eyes, or sharp teeth of a monster. His face wasn’t distorted or disfigured; he looked like a usual boy. Only, there was this predatory hungry look about him. Sadistic smirk curled his lips when he looked at you sitting on the floor.

“Go away”, you asked again. He cocked his head, mockery in his eyes.

“That’s a pretty lamp”.

He moved so sharply you jumped again, throwing yourself into another corner of the room, like a cat that doesn’t think at all. Your joints were burning, working to escape, but there was nowhere to run.

He held onto the door, and with the other hand, he snatched the lava lamp from the drawer. You didn’t look, pressing your face into the wall, but there was a characterisical click, and the room went dark.

He stole your lava lamp and stole your beacon light.

The walls of his house were stiff and reliable. You liked to be in Tyler’s room because of all the things connected to him. You appreciated his constant musing; some people even said he was a bit slow sometimes. Tyler was a bit sad. But the saddest people are the most precious when you make them smile, and you made Tyler smile a lot.

He was funny when he swung his baseball bat, pretending to be a bad boy, about to smash some heads. He had a quirky sense of humor that always entertained you in a way that stuck with you. He was special, and he was good, and you were completely fine with others not getting him.

You were looking at the baseball bat put against the wall next to the book case.

Tyler came into the room with the towel on his head, rubbing hard his short soft hair, and then threw in right onto the bed. You stood up, sighing, and tried to find a place to hang it.

“You’re messy”, you noted. Tyler puffed, disinterested.

“You okay? You never get up so early on a Saturday”.

“Uh-huh”.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

There was hope in his voice; obviousy. He wasn’t fooled by all the badly masked secrets you kept. Like an owl, he watched you closely, but never intruded, probably, trained well by his folks: he knew how much it sucks when someone is trying to get under your skin. Even his mom thought he was weird, while he was simply sanguine; so she bugged him constantly.

He patted the bed next to him, inviting you. You liked to sit close so that your thighs touched, you connected to him.

“I need to tell you about what’s going on in my house”.

Tyler was quiet.

“There’s someone... uh”.

Anything you’d say, it would come out fucking stupid. Like in a movie.

“There’s this person who comes to my house at nights and tries to get into my room. I’m the only one who can see him. At first I thought I was sick, but last night, Tyler, he took something from my room, and it isn’t there. I think he exists”.

His face hardened. Tyler changed; the expression of his usually kind demeanor was something you’ve never seen before. It was hostile, and for a moment, he felt very distant.

“What does he look like?” he asked, his voice low.

You were taken aback by his question. No ‘are you sure’, no ‘you mean like a ghost?’, no ‘is this a joke?’.

His arm went up your shoulder, and he hugged you, bringing you close as if to keep this conversation quiet and between you. You were getting a strange sensation.

“Y/N, what does he look like?”

“Like a boy. A usual, teenage boy. You believe me?”

“You should see yourself nowadays. You look tired and horrified”.

Tyler never called you ‘honey’, or ‘baby’. His ‘you’s said much more than that. Sometimes they communicated way more tenderness than any nickname.

“You spoke quietly, and then he said he’d stay with you for the night. He got very upset you didn’t tell earlier. His frustration at it seemed very deep; like something made him profoundly uncomfortable. You’ve also never seen peaceful, quiet Tyler so menacing.

He took the baseball bat with him.

“Shithead!”

A sound of broken glass pulled you out of sleep, vivid and simultaneously, ghostly. You couldn’t tell if you dreamt it or not.

The room was dark; without the lamp there was no way of telling who else was in here. You searched for Tyler next to you, and he wasn’t in bed. The sheets were stil warm, and you had a sensation of his skin under your hand.

You sat in your bed, dizzy. As your eyes got used to the dark, you finally realized the drawer is moved away from the door.

There was something happening in the upstairs bathroom.

You jumped off the bed. You couldn’t lose him. Tyler was yours.

You went to the door and opened it wide, stepping into the darkness. Few feet away, the narrow line of light was indicating someone was in the bathroom. Okay, maybe Tyler just knocked something over because he’s sleepy.

“Come here!”

His voice was hissing like a snake. He was whispering, but it sounded like the rain noise. Something bumped against the door, like there was a swift fight.

“Tyler!” you called.

Silence. Then, a sudden burst of laughter of that hollow, distant voice again. Your feet carried you on, and you pulled the handle, opening the door. Laughter rang in your ears, fading away in the depth of the house and your own brain. For a second, you were blinded and frightened by the light.

Your lava lamp sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, and Tyler was holding onto it, panting, his back humped like he’s been trying to outpower someone. But there was no one else.

His neck was covered in black, something that looked like blood, or oil, but was complete, vanta color, and it moved, as if darkness was consuming, coming up to his chin. Tyler’s jaws pressed together, and then he turned and looked at you - with the eyes of a stranger instead of his own. Like there was somebody else inside.

[planetsam]

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate

Huge shout out to @signoraviolettavalery who made a great post about a Martian au that I cranked up the angst on by deciding Alex would be a great space voyeur to Michael’s space pirate. 

Being stuck on the graveyard shift feels oddly appropriate.

He thinks Michael would have loved the irony of it.

Alex takes a long drink from his coffee. He watched the launch after it happened, in one of the staff break rooms. He didn’t think much of it, only the 3AM shift he had the next morning was on his mind. Now he wishes things were different. Not that he fully expected his high school fling to remember him, or to realize that he was working for NASA as well. Alex is in SatCom, he monitors their satellites. Eyes in the sky, some people call him, but he likes to think of himself as an Interplanetary Voyeur. Most of his education and training goes to waste. He didn’t mind it when he felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, making sure that everyone got home safely. 

Now when he looks at the red planet, all he thinks is how Michael finally got his wish. 

Michael always wanted to be part of something bigger. He also wanted to get the hell off the planet. Alex remembers their endless conversations about it, laying under the real stars when they could and the fake, tacked on stars when they couldn’t. Michael found his way off the planet. And was the most popular astronaut to boot. He was the only one surprised at that. Alex saw his face everywhere. Each time it kicked up a gut punch of emotions. Mostly now it was a sadness that was far too familiar when it came to him, to them—now though there was a finality to it. The idea that Michael would be bones on Mars and the only way Alex would ever see him was in old footage was borderline incomprehensible. For the moment Alex let himself not think about it and focus instead on his job. The storm had cleared and he focused on what they could see. It was highly unlikely they would ever see Michael’s body, the dust storm would have buried him. But Alex hopes he does. Michael deserves that closure.

Taking another hit of caffeine, he turns to scrolling through the pictures and cataloguing things that have shifted in the dust. He frowns and zooms in towards the HAB. Alex refines the pictures, teasing out a clearer image. He can picture the conversation in his head, he knows the exact arguments. He brings up the images from the past few days. The way things have shifted does not line up with what is in front of him. The solar panels should be completely covered, but they are clean. Spotless, or as spotless as anything gets on Mars. He looks again and triple checks just to make sure. The chance is impossibly slim. But his hand is already reaching for his phone. He thumbs in the number for security.

“I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Kapoor,” He says, “this is Alex Manes in SatCom.”

“Are you sure it’s an emergency?” The bored voice asks. Alex isn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“Yes,” He says instead.

The head of the mission is wildly above his pay grade and Alex has been raised to respect the chain of command. Why his violations of it seem intrinsically linked to Michael Guerin is something he doesn’t have the capacity to figure out at the moment. Not after the phone rings twice and he hears the man on the other end clear his throat. God, he’s woken his boss up at 3:35 am. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is Alex Manes in SatCom,” he says, “I think Michael Guerin is alive,” there is a distinct bang and a groan, a whispered apology and the sound of feet moving, “the solar panels are clean.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the wind?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, glancing up at the screen as the next round of images come through. He almost drops the phone, “sir, the Rover has moved.”

“What?!”

“The rover moved,” he says, scrambling to look at the photos again, “the solar panels are clean and the rover has moved.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Fuck. Mars.

Fuck it so hard.

Michael is over this planet. He wants off. Why he can’t find a planet he wants to stay on is beyond him and now definitely is not the time for those deep philosophical questions. He’s got more pressing issues like making sure the hole in his gut closes without infection, finding a way to supplement his food and, oh yeah, contact earth. 

“Look, I’m not upset about being left behind,” he tells the log, “that’s protocol. What pisses me off is the fact that I’m doing everyone’s homework,” he shakes his head, “here’s my new universal constant: a group project will always end with one person doing all the work. We’ll call it Guerin’s Law.”

He has an idea for contacting earth. The problem is that it rides on earth knowing he’s contacting them. He’s got no idea if anyone has even figured out he’s alive. He doubts it. But there’s a chance. He knew it was bullshit but he had an affection for the dramatic Rover that gave it’s dying words and sang itself a birthday song every year. Michael has had plenty of those birthdays. And of course when he’s already doing everyone’s work, he now has to do the extra credit and pull off the save. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s fucking suing. He looks in the camera, aware this could be his last message.

“Captain Evans,” He says, “none of this is your fault, I forgive you for everything if that’s what you need to hear,” his solemn face turns deadly, “but if this doesn’t work and I die listening to your alarmingly inclusive Donna Summer, I will turn your life into the karaoke bar from hell.”

Seems like a good note to go out on.

Summer eat your heart out.

Alex looks over the chart again.

And again.

The spotlight is nerve wracking. They have established Michael is alive, but they don’t have a way of communicating. He knows Michael is trying to figure something out and everyone is scrambling to find it. He also knows he has an advantage. It’s been years, so many thing have changed, but he’s got a good idea of how Michael’s mind works. He follows the paths the Rover is making and connects the dots before anyone else. 

“Opportunity?”

“It lines up,” he says, “he’s going for the Rover.” 

“Let me make some calls.”

Thankfully the Opportunity team is largely still around. By the time Michael gets  it up and working, they are ready. The images come in and patch together. Alex is awake for twenty hours straight but he’s there when the images come in. Michael standing in front of two signs and holding a third. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat and it’s got nothing to do with the truly staggering amount of coffee he has consumed. A cheer goes up and he sits down before his knees can do anything like buckle. Michael’s face is just visible. Alex can make out a single curl that’s half escaped from his cap and it’s always the little things. Michael is alive. They point the camera towards the ‘yes’ sign and the next image is blurry but only because he’s jumping up and down. He’s got no back up supplies and he’s jumping up and down.

Alex thinks he might be the one who dies in all of this.

OPP: Huston we had a problem.

DSN: Good to hear from you. 

OPP: You have no idea.

So the communications issue is more or less resolved which is awesome. And he’s saved Opportunity. Which makes him even more awesome. All around it’s awesome. Except Isobel still thinks he’s dead which is less than ideal. So he’s in a little trouble on that one. But he would trade everything for her to yell at him. Not that he’s got a lot to trade. 

OPP: hey, DSN whose babysitting me tonight?

DSN: SatCom

OPP: no shit

DSN: language

OPP: fuck

OPP: whose babysitting? got a name?

DSN: alex

OPP: i’m michael

DSN: i know

OPP: does this mean i’m super famous? think i can get free fries at the mess?

DSN: no it’s alex. from high school.

Michael is literally on a different planet but he jumps anyway and twists around like he’s being spied on. Alex was a punk kid who, okay, he may have been slightly in love with. But his homophobic dick of a dad ended that. He may have crossed Michael’s mind a few times, but never enough to do something like look him up and see that they worked for the same place. For some reason he feels more comforted by this news than he has by almost anything else. Except maybe that people knew he was alive at all. 

OPP: no fucking way. i thought you said you were joining the Air Force.

DSN: i did. then I went to grad school and joined NASA. 

OPP: wait SatCom figured out i was alive. was that you?

DSN: yes

DSN: i saw the solar panels were clear

OPP: and you thought that was me?

DSN: i figured even you would clean if your life depended on it.

Michael snorts, it’s not like he’s had much to clean back when he knew Alex. He was living in his truck. But when he thinks about his desk at NASA—okay it is a mess. He can admit that. It blows his mind that Alex has been here the whole time. That Alex figured out he was alive. He tries to reconcile the idea of who he remembers with whoever found him. But all he can picture is the kid who unknowingly saved his life more times than he can count. More times plus one, if he thinks about it. Probably plus more to come, if things keep going this way. 

OPP: do you still have that septum ring?

DSN: go to sleep

OPP: come on, do you? 

DSN: no

OPP: too bad, I thought it was kind of hot.

DSN: bed, michael

OPP: yes dad

DSN: please do not call me ‘dad’, they are reviewing these

OPP: ok daddy

Captain Isobel Evans reads the message several times to be sure. Then she gathers everyone together. She’s thought she was a good leader this whole time, focusing on getting the crew that was still alive back home even though the only thing she wanted to do was cry over the loss of her crew member. She runs the scenario over and over again. But it remains the same. There was no other choice. Now she doesn’t know what to think when she has to tell them. It’s only Max she looks at when she speaks. 

“Michael’s alive.”

Pandemonium erupts from the others but Max stares at her. His own horror and guilt reflect hers. Michael is alive but he’s on another planet. Michael’s alive but who knows for how long. She made the call to leave him, but as the ship’s doctor he made the call that he was probably dead. They are both culpable and innocent, but Isobel blames herself more than anyone. She should have given the order to wait, no matter the risks. They all scramble over to the communications screen. Kyle gets there first because it is, after all, his chair. He refers to it as his ship too. Then again he is the one who flies it. 

HRMS: sorry we left you on mars, we just don’t like you that much. 

OPP: assholes

OPP: hows the cptn?

HRMS: we’re all good. how are you?

OPP: bored af

OPP: look. boobies ( . Y . )

HRMS: michael!

That night Max sits hunched over in his bunk, arms wrapped around himself. He never should have said that Michael was dead. But he and Isobel have been running over everything. But now it turns out Michael is alive and he can’t fathom what it must be like for him to be back there alone. Did he know that they would learn he was alive? Did he think he would die there a second time and no-one would know? The thoughts are horrible and each occurs to him in rapid succession until he thinks they might drive him crazy.

“Hey,” Liz slips into his pod, “how are you holding up?”

“I told Iz there was no way,” he says, “he’s been there the whole time and i had no idea—“ he stares at her, aware he is asking for answers she doesn’t have, “what if he dies there? How is he going to spend four years there until we launch another mission?” 

“He’s going to be fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands. He ignores the rules, the fraternization line they always dance around and leans into her touch, “he’ll be okay and soon you will laugh about this,” she smiles, “after you buy him all the vodka on earth.”

“I’ll buy him whatever he wants, as long as we get him back.”

OPP: alex

OPP: ALEX

DSN: i’m sorry, Alex has been transferred to SatCon.

OPP: GO GET HIM

Huddled in the Rover, Michael forces his breathing to be steady. He cannot afford for something else to go wrong. Behind him, the HAB stands as a shell, blown when he failed to pressurize it correctly. It broke. He broke it. His crops are gone and he feels like crying. Which is not going to help. He can’t panic. He can’t flip out. He wants Max and Isobel and his pod on the ship that’s getting farther away with each second. Mostly he wants the person on earth whose his lifeline in this. He forces himself to look away from the screen. Maybe Alex is asleep somewhere. Maybe he’s just as fed up with his bullshit as he was in college. Michael grips the chair. No, no he is not giving into his abandonment issues because he’s literally the only person on a planet and his only friend won’t answer the phone. Mars is his planet and he refuses to have them go down like this. 

DSN: michael what happened?

“Thank you Martian God,” he breathes

OPP: the hab depressurized 

OPP: i’m ok. crops are gone. all of its gone.

DSN: you’re ok. thats the main thing.

OPP: says the guy with seamless at his fingertips

DSN: i told you you were going to have to learn to cook one day

Michael laughs despite everything. And okay maybe it ends in a sob, but just one. Alex throwing shade like they’re texting and this isn’t a life or death situation makes him feel so much better. He knows Alex is probably hyperaware of being watched but he’s still willing to do it. Michael knows it shouldn’t be a big deal but he’s alone on a planet. The only person who can judge him is in a mirror and he sure as hell doesn’t bring one of those on the rover. 

DSN: michael are you there?

OPP: i’m there i’m just outraged

OPP: i am an extraordinary boiler

DSN: do i want curly or regular fries with this sandwich?

OPP: asshole

OPP: thanks

DSN: hang in there

Maria Deluca, astrodynamicist extraordinaire figures it out. 

She checks her math, swears loudly and breaks her almost new piece of chalk. Guerin is a planet away and he still manages to ruin her love life for at least—ugh—another year. Asshole. Why couldn’t he have just stayed on the ground with Alex like he wanted to? She writes out her calculations and tells the mission heads. Then she does the right thing and hides the info in the latest data dump for the ship, knowing her wife and her bff will figure it out.

That evening she finds Alex in SatCon. 

He looks awful and she feels the same annoyance at Guerin. They’ve both slept with him and she might have had feelings for the mop haired cowboy at one point, but Guerin is good at leaving and being so focused on one thing that he fails to see anything else. Like an unhappy boyfriend or girlfriend. She sits next to Alex and hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Any word from the space cowboy?”

“His food supplies are ok but the rations are getting to him,” he says, “part of its mental but the rest—“ he shakes his head, “he shouldn’t have to deal with his issues up there.”

Michael was food insecure for most of his childhood. He’s good at functioning on limited calories but he’s also scared of not getting his next meal. The fact that Alex remembers that makes Maria want to hug him. She settles for sighing and shaking her head at the situation. All of NASA has been reading their back and forth. For science. The fact that it reads increasingly like a romance novel is definitely not important. And people definitely aren’t taking sides. She doesn’t have a Team Alex t shirt like some people. Just a baseball cap. 

“He’ll be okay,” she says.

Alex nods wordlessly but his eyes are glued to the screen where their communications occur. She nudges him. 

“Say hi,” She says. 

“I can’t. He needs to focus.”

“You can still say hi,” she says. 

“It’s a waste of resources.”

Rolling her eyes at men and their excuses she nudges his chair out of the way and gets at the keyboard.

DSN: hi

“Maria!”

Ten seconds later the reply come.

OPP: hey i was just about to message you

OPP: you miss me that much?

“Maria—“ Alex tries for the keyboard.

DSN: always

Alex grabs it finally.

DSN: adokfjosiaf

OPP: you ok?

DSN: sorry. yes. 

OPP: good. i miss you too.

Alex sucks in a breath and Maria grins. It’s almost almost worth another year with her wife. Not quite but almost. Alex gulps and stares at the message. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he hesitates, swamped by an insecurity Maria has seen before. She looks between him and the keyboard, sending every mental signal she has to him. 

DSN: keep going and we can see each other again

OPP: dunno, you could always come to Mars 

OPP: visit me

DSN: I like earth 

OPP: you’re making this song way too relevant 

DSN: what are you listening to?

OPP: I would do anything for love

“That is my song,” Maria says, “my song with my wife.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Alex offers.

Maria hates them both.

“This is a mutiny,” Isobel says, “we all need to participate and we all need to agree. Kyle and I know the consequences. We’re military. But the rest of you need to understand this could mean the end of your careers. They might not let any of you fly again,” she says, “it also means another year without your families. There isn’t any shame in wanting to go home. We do it together or not at all.”

“No one gets left behind if we can get them,” Kyle says, “I might be flying this thing but I am still a doctor. Do no harm. I vote we go back.”

“Michael is my brother,” Max says. 

“My family is here,” Liz tells them, gripping Max’s hand, “let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jenna, their long suffering media relations director says.

“The Hermes is in the middle of an unsanctioned maneuver to slingshot themselves back to Mars using earth’s gravity as an assist.”

“So a mutiny,” she says, “you want me to put out a press release that says a bunch of astronauts turned space pirates have performed a mutiny?”

“Actually it’s Guerin who would asked to be referred to as a space pirate, since he is technically commandeering a vehicular over international territory.”

She sighs. It’s too early for a migraine. 

“I hate everyone in this room.”

DSN: michael

DSN:  michael update me

DSN: GUERIN

DSN: captain blonde beard, do you copy?

OPP: CBB: i copy. everything’s good

DSN: you are taking this way too far

OPP: CBB: that’s kind of judgmental for someone whose not a space pirate

OPP: CBB: if you were here id make you walk the plank. by that i mean solar panel

DSN: find water and maybe it’ll work

OPP: CBB: i have to starve, become a pirate, now i gotta find water too?

OPP: CBB: anything else?

DSN: come home 

OPP: CBB: only because I want to, not because you’re making me

He modified the ship like they tell him but until he’s in there,  he doesn’t feel so great about sitting there. Not until his radio crackles to life with the first human voice he’s heard in over a year.

“Guerin, do you copy?”

“Iz!” His voice breaks around the syllable of her name.

“Michael, oh thank god,” she says. Isobel has had her game face on this whole mission, hearing the relief makes the tears break free, “we’re launching you, strap in.”

“Tell Valenti to be careful,” he says.

“I got you, Guerin,” Kyle says, “you ready to come home?”

God that sounds so nice. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having this all to myself,” he chokes out.

“We got you, hang tight.”

He blacks out. 

When he comes to, the ship is too far away. He can hear the swearing. It’s bad. He takes a deep breath and refuses to give in to the panic. The side door opens and he sees Isobel coming towards him. Max is on the side of the ship. His family is there. 

“I’m going Iron Man,” he says, punching a hole in his hand.

“Michael!”

He aims himself as best he can and propels towards Isobel. She reaches and just when he thinks this isn’t going to work, they collide. They lurch violently to the side but she locks her arms and legs around him and snaps a carabiner to the front of his suit. The lead connecting them snaps taut and for a moment he’s sure it failed. He’s dead in space. But he blinks several time and nothing has changed. The relief shatters him in a way he didn’t know was possible and Isobel lets out the best laugh he’s ever heard in his life.

“I got him!” She calls and everyone erupts into cheers, “I got you,” she says.

“You have terrible taste in music,” he tells her. 

They reel them in. The only possible reason he would let go of her is to throw his arms around his brother. Max clutches him and Isobel together as the hatch seals and the chamber pressurizes. Michael collapses against his siblings who take his weight immediately, undoing his helmet. Their voice goes into his ears, no radio or texts. But the first human hands that touch him belong to a friend.

“Mikey!” He’s not even mad about the nickname as she hugs him and then works on getting the suit off him.

“Liz! Get me—“

“On it.”

She gets him out and then Max and Isobel are there. Kyle and Liz fall with them and it’s a big pile of tears and hugs and laughter and snot. He doesn’t care. The pile make their way to the comms to message that they have him. Unwilling to let go of each other even though Michael is very aware that he needs a shower.  

CMMND: good work! Come home.

 Alex has his last 3AM shift the night before they get back. Maria keeps him company. She suggests that he come with her to the families area but he turns her down. He’s not family. His boss insists he come with him to the command center. He watches the ship land. When he sees Michael pop out, throw down his helmet like he made a touchdown and throw his hands up, he feels like the breath he’s been holding for the six months it’s taken to get back to earth can finally be released. Michael is okay. Everyone is okay.  He staggers from the room.

“I’m gonna just—five minutes,” he says. He’s woken up every night certain the news will come in that Michael is dead. He has to go to a second funeral. Michael is fine. He’s dizzyingly exhausted with the thought. He drops onto the couch. It will be hours before he sees him. “Five minutes,” he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of hazelnut coffee. 

He opens his eyes, already knowing what he’s going to see. All the ways he thought about this going, Michael crouching there in a NASA onesie with his hair wet and two cups of coffee isn’t it. Alex carefully sits up, afraid that this is a dream. But Michael stays every time he blinks. When he’s sitting, Michael holds out the coffee cup. 

“A small token of my—“ 

Alex throws himself into his arms. The coffee goes flying as Michael bands his arms around him, equally tight. Two years of text messages sent through a Rover and suddenly all of their other senses are flooding with each other. Alex never wants to let go of him and he can feel Michael trembling against him. Their faces are buried in each other necks and he’s never been so glad they are the same height. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael breathes into his neck and Alex clutches him closer.

“This was all you.”

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t seen me.”

They pull back enough just enough to look at each other, taking in the differences. The reports all say how driven Michael has been with his recovery and Alex has been pushing harder at his own pt. In that moment he doesn’t think that it matters. He doesn’t care what either of them look like or what state they are in. He just wants Michael here. Michael presses his lips together, his eyes dragging to his lips. After everything, there’s something he immediately recognizes. 

“You’re not seeing anyone,  are you?” He says.

“No, this really infuriating guy named Captain Blonde Beard keeps texting me at 3am.”

Michael is still laughing when he kisses him. 

This, Alex thinks, is more than worth the wait. 

[ecotone99]

[SF] Episode 1 - Dragon Suit Pilots

I can't explain the how or the why it happened; it just happened, and I don't have a concrete explanation. Some might call it fate, destiny, or some kind of higher calling, but I believe it just happened. I was nothing more than a coincidental accident. I was living my life, as normal as the next guy; well, mostly normal, and then BAM! There it was. A Dragon. Okay, not a literal dragon, but it's what they're called. Some say they do have a mind of their own; a consciousness and self awareness that we can't explain. Well, it chose me.

I am a Dragon Suit Pilot. An elite force of military tasked with defending humanity from the threats larger than us. Everything from skyscraper sized beetles to city sized ships, we took them all on. Unfortunately, I did not mesh well with my team. As it turns out, I'm a special breed of Pilot.

Remember how I mentioned the Dragons have a consciousness? It's speculated it comes from their Power Cores. We've had philosophers and scientists agree that an actual soul may reside within these cores, and it could explain the self awareness. But, I digress.

What makes me so special? I'm of an even rarer breed, or rather I should say my Dragon is. All Dragon Suits have designations, depending on how much power they have, and mine so happens to be the top of the top; Bahamut Class. Sounds cool, right? Well, not really. There's only ever been three Bahamut Class Dragons in history, and I'm actually the third to "tame the beast", so to speak. To make a long story short, me being a Bahamut Class Pilot has made it difficult to make friends.

What is a Dragon, I hear you ask? Well, it's a bit of a long story. To keep it short, I will give you the important parts.

Long ago, dragons did exist; or so they say. They were powerful beasts and defenders of humanity, but a great calamity arrived. They sacrificed themselves and left us with these powerful cores, and mecha suits that could house them. Once, there were hundreds, but now we're down to a few dozen remaining Dragon Suits and even fewer Pilots. Dragons are pretty picky and particular about their Pilots. I still don't know why I was chosen. I was a complete nobody.

I apologize for the quick history lesson, but you've caught me at a bad time. You see, my team leader is kicking me off the team and I need to defend my honor.

__________________________________________________

"What?" is all I could say. I was quite perplexed at the outburst. Eden and I have been at one another's throats ever since I was placed on her team. It doesn't help that her father is the head of the organization that manages the Dragon Suit Pilots and I was chosen by a Bahamut Class, and she is on the slightly lower Nidhogg class. Nidhogg is still quite powerful and there's only a handful of Pilots able to tame them, but I suppose it was a hit to her ego when I showed up out of nowhere with a Bahamut.

Eden glared and stormed closer, her fist clenched and free hand poking me in the chest as she yelled at me. "What don't you get?!" she screamed. "You went off plan! My strategy was perfect! I was supposed to get the killing blow, and I was supposed to be on the news!"

Her face was red with anger, but it finally clicked. Of course she was pissed at losing all the glory, but it's not entirely my fault. Bahamut Class Dragons are powerful, so it's not my fault I took out the enemy ship in two blasts. Yeah, we are currently at war with the colony on Mercury.

I took a few steps back and raised my hands in a defensive gesture before speaking. "Look, I get it." I started in a calm voice. "You wanted the glory by getting the final hit, but it's honestly not my fault. Bahamut packs a punch. If it were any other Dragon, then yeah your plan would be flawless, but I don't have just any other Dragon."

Eden seethed. "What?!" she yelled, somehow louder than before. "Are you trying to say Nidhogg is weak?!"

I didn't say that, right? To prevent any further outbursts I quieted down and looked away. It usually worked, though not this time apparently.

"You. Me. Fight. Now." said Eden in a serious and scary tone.

Honestly, I wanted to deck her. Again, but I knew it would get us nowhere. Besides, wasn't she kicking me off of the team?

"Fight me!" screamed Eden, but this time she began moving away. It wasn't too difficult to guess where.

We were currently in the team hanger, with our mecha suits busy being repaired. Well, their mecha suits were busy being repaired. Though it did not matter to Eden, because she was already entering her Nidhogg.

Okay, time to defuse the situation before it gets worse.

"Eden." I started, once again trying to keep my voice calm and collected. "I don't want to fight you. Our Dragons were not meant for that. Besides, if you get caught then it might be you that gets kicked out!"

Hopefully she would listen to reason, but I can see in her eyes that reason was out of the window and on another planet.

Eden, in her Nidhogg, stood. She was easily 15 feet tall. Her Dragon gleamed in the light of the hanger after receiving a fresh coat of gloss, but it still didn't detract from the entire look of her Nidhogg. Large plated shoulders, glowing ember eyes, red with orange accents and patches of white here and there. It made her look like an inferno.

I thought she looked like a rotten pumpkin.

"Fine, if you don't want to fight, then I will take that as your resignation." Eden said in a smug tone before turning around and facing my Bahamut on the other end of the hanger. "To make it official, I'll start by destroying that thing!"

She immediately began running towards my Bahamut. At first I wasn't worried, but some panic now set in as I processed everything. We had just returned from our sortie 15 minutes ago, and I haven't seen any of the workers show up yet. The Dragons were still armed. Oh shit.

I took off in a mad sprint after Eden. Normally, a human can't keep up with a Dragon, but we were special. Upon being chosen by a Dragon, we undergo special training and surgery to enhance our bodies. I wouldn't say we're superheroes, but I can easily bench a semi-truck, and I hear those are quite heavy. Being strong is nice, but it's what we do with that strength. In my case, I'm running as fast as I can. I think I can hear the floor beneath me chipping and cracking with every step.

I doubt Eden was expecting my speed, because I easily overtook her. She must not have been going full speed. Clever girl, she wanted me to get to Bahamut. Well, I wasn't about to fall for it.

Upon reaching my Dragon Suit, I quickly turned and opened my mouth. "STOP!", I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Eden stopped, got out of her mecha, and told me I am always welcome on the team.

Pfff, I wish.

Eden poured on the speed, and lifted her arm mounted cannon. Shit.

I quickly turned, but already found my Dragon's cockpit open and ready to receive me. Souls, huh? As fast as I was able to, I entered Bahamut and closed the canopy.

~BANG~

My world was thoroughly rocked. Bahamut and I were lifted off our feet and sent careening into a large shipping crate. The impact left a large indent in the side of it. Ouch.

Quickly standing, I engaged the Full Sense System. Now this part is hard to explain. We kind of become one with the Dragon. An outside observer may just see us Pilots activate the HUD, life support, and other systems, but it's much deeper than that. The eyes of our Dragon become our eyes. It's limbs are now our limbs. I am Bahamut.

~CRASH~

Nidhogg rams into me. I assume after seeing how little damage her cannons did, she decided to go with raw melee combat. However, it's not enough. Nidhogg is powerful, and considered to be almost equal to Bahamut, but there can only be one at the top.

I lean into the blow and grab her by the waist, then hoist her up until she's upside down and her head points downward. I saw this on TV once, but Nidhogg won't just let me piledrive her.

She activates her wings and ignites the thrusters, but I jump back before any damage can be done. She drops, of course, but she catches herself and reorients herself in the air. Bahamut may be powerful, but raw Dragon Flame can hurt even my chassis.

Nidhogg's eyes glower at me, or I think they do. They're always glowering, but I did notice the embers in them burning a bit brighter than usual. I think she's genuinely pissed.

I clear my throat, "Nidhogg! Calm down! We can talk this over!" I say, once more trying to be a voice of reason. "I don't know what got your fiery panties in a knot today, but we can get through this nice and calm like!"

She drew her Dragon Flame Sword and charged me. Was it something I said.

"ENOUGH!" came a loud and commanding voice. Nidhogg immediately stopped her charge and landed.

We both looked to the source of the voice and found her father, Victor, at the hanger entrance. He did not look happy.

"What the hell is going on here?!" he said in a not so calm voice. He was clearly pissed as he walked towards us. "It has only been 20 minutes since your return and you're already fighting?! And not only that, but fighting inside your Dragons?!"

"Father, I-", Nidhogg started.

"Silence!", spat Victor. "I don't want to hear it. This little feud has gone too far this time!" he said, still approaching us. "Eden, you get out of that Dragon. Now."

Eden obliged and began the shutdown sequence.

She was vulnerable now! If I land this shot, I can take both her and Nidhogg out. I raised my arm and prepared my cannon to fire. Wait. I loaded the shot with a loud click. Wait. The front of the barrel began to heat and turn red. Stop. Eden was being helped out of Nidhogg by her father. Stop! It'll be two birds with one superheated stone. It was then they both noticed what I was doing, and I could see the fear in their eyes. It was too late for Eden to enter Nidhogg. I pulled the trigger. No! I swung my arm the moment I fired.

The superheated blast blew past Eden and her father both and slammed into a military VTOL. We were in a hanger, after all.

What the hell was that?

"What the hell was that?!" yelled Eden's father. Did I mention he was the head of the entire organization?

Kill them.

What?

You have to kill them!

Bahamut?!

"Kazuhira!" Victor shouted. "I want you out of that mecha! Not only are you off the team, but you are no longer welcome at this organization! You're lucky I don't have you arrested!"

This all happened fast.

At that, Bahamut spread it's wings and activated it's thrusters.

What the hell is going on here?!

We're leaving.

Before I could protest, Bahamut was already launching out of the hanger at blinding speed.

What do I do now?

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