#intragalactic

[azuremallone]

👇

[ambresinister]

who's to say humans are the average? that may just be a matter of perspective. we may be the best at thinking, or the worst at thinking. hell, maybe the way species generally develop causes the vast majority of them to be horrible swimmers and WE are the best in the universe. What the universal intelligent species "average" really is is what i would LOVE to conceptualize.

Humans are average at everything

And that makes other species crazy

"You swim well for your limb configuration but you will never be as fast in water as a Majoriranji."

Mo agreed with a nod. "They have fins, it's an unfair contest really."

"Nacbaqurs climb cliffs better than humans."

"Longer limbs, more fingers, that's no surprise. I know some elite climbers who could keep up but mostly ture enough."

"Chexits run much faster."

"Ah," Mo raised a finger. "They run on four legs, different configuration, unfair comparison. "

"My point is still valid. And you don't fly either."

"Mmm, no," Mo stopped to consider that one. "I don't think we have a winged ancestor. I have been sky diving, though, so I'm sure we missed out there."

"Sky diving? No, I have no wish to know. My question is this, why are you so feared? You cannot swim like a Majoriranji, or climb like a Nacbaqur, or run like a Chexit. Can you do anything special? Why should anyone be scared of humans?"

"Is that why you captured us? That's what you want to know?" Mo smiled as he leaned back in his chair. He had been afraid. Now he was amused.

He knew rescue was on the way. Just before the invaders managed to grab him and the other researchers, they were able to send a distress call. The Earth Alliance took attacks on their people seriously, they knew swift responses discouraged casual piracy.

"Okay, you'll probably be dead soon anyway so I'll give you a freebie. We're not the fastest swimmers, but most of us can swim and dive, and we can all hold our breath. We're not the fastest climbers, but our ancestors lived in trees, tall canopy plants, we can all climb. We're not the fastest runners, but we're not bad in a sprint, and we'll still be going hours after your fancy fast runners have collapsed and died of exhaustion. We don't have to be the best at one thing when we can be pretty good at just about everything."

[namorian]

losing my shit bc this episode confirms that there's JUST A BUNCH OF PUPPIES ON THE ENTERPRISE?????????????

[slightly-knot-insane]

Rubbing the Wrong Way

Monstertober 2024 - day 30 [ Alien ] by @ozzgin

[ m!alien reader x m!human ]

a/n: i accidentally deleted this ask but not before making a print screen apparently? also i don't know anything about military so please forgive all the mistakes! content: spanking, rimming, anal tw: power imbalance, implied self-harming

Being a officer in this newly formed Intragalactic Interspecies Cosmonaut Army Academy isn't an easy job. Since one of your previous jobs was self-defense instructor, you volunteered to teach new cadets some very useful moves.

The cadets under you have mostly been of your kind. Vaanxi have exceptional build for melee fighting and their natural armour protects them from most bullets and small sized explosions. Being 63% made of aurorum is quite convenient when it comes to magnetic metal manipulations. But Vaanxi are also quite slow and suffer from poor eyesight (despite their 3 pairs of eyes) because during their entire evolution they've been exposed to aurorum radiation.

Humans, on the other hand, have exceeded as pilots or artillerymen, and especially infantry. Even though they are delicate and soft, they are quite nimble and excellent at avoiding punches аnd exploiting weaknesses. Since your species is quite different physically, you haven't expected a human among your proteges.

Last winter, a young human man joined your newest group. He applied for your course because he wanted to improve. Nothing wrong with that except... he could barely fight at all. How did this human survive high school? On the other hand, he was so cocky and insisted that he was amazing all the while clumsily tripping and getting beaten by other cadets. He took the blows bravely, with a borderline insane grin, wiping away the blood from his lips. He was quite impressive in his own way. He would get up every time no matter how hard he was hit. He never got knocked out or seriously hurt. He would never get tired and he never complained. Strange human, indeed.

One day you hear a commotion. In the loading area, you find a group of cadets roaring and cheering. Somehow, you know the human is involved. You run toward them and - lo and behold - he is on the ground, bruised, bloodied, panting like an animal. He taunted another Vaanxi, a significantly larger and more experienced cadet and got his ass beaten in a secret spar. Without supervision, cadets could get themselves seriously hurt.

You roar at cadets and pull the human away, almost carrying him. He is giggling. "What the fuck are you doing? This is unacceptable!"

"I'm fine!" he answers, and you know humans enough to recognize a painful strain in his voice. The audacity of this human! "I was winning."

"The fuck you were! You were about to be turned into tomorrow's breakfast."

"Ha! Well, at least you would have a nicer meal for once."

You scoff bitterly, slightly amused, but worried at the same time. There is something going on with this human. You shift and your aurorum breast plates make a sound as they usually do.

"You need that body bucket of yours oiled up," the human says and winks.

You blink with all six of your eyes at the same time. It would be highly unprofessional to strangle and spit on your cadet, wouldn't it? "And you need to get into my office, now."

***

You need to take a few deep breaths before entering your office. Human is waiting for you, standing next to a chair, as proper. You decide to stand in front of him, blocking the celling light. Even though just slightly shorter than you, the human stands in your shadow and looks straight in front of himself, through your body.

"What is your problem? How do you always get in trouble? I hear you cause most of it. This is a free course - nobody is keeping you trapped. You can leave any time you want."

"I don't want to leave," the human says. His voice is different. Calm. Cold.

"Explain."

The human looks uncomfortable. "I... did something bad. To a Vaanxi. Long time ago. I think that was partially what caused his death too. So I decided to... come here."

You are stunned. You've never expected to hear something like this. Not from him. "Please sit and continue."

"I'd rather stand, sir." He never called you "sir" before, either. You take a step back and lean against your desk to give him more space, and nod your head. "I... I'm a scum. I'm a lowlife. But I never wanted that Vaanxi to die. I hate myself because of that. I decided to join the army, especially the Vaanxi sector because of him."

"But..." You are confused. "You are not fighting. You are provoking everyone and get beaten."

He smiles a grim smile. "Yes. Vaanxi cadets can get the opportunity to learn about basic human anatomy, defenses and dirty tricks from me. They will also learn that humans are bastards and should stay away from us."

You sigh, dumbfounded. This human. This weird human. What in the name of Cosmos is going on through his head?

"I'm sorry I acted the way I acted, sir." His voice is shaky. "You've been very patient with me. You are an amazing person, too. A bit stiff, but you're an army dog, so that's understandable. But you're cool. Kinda hot too, ha ha... Shit..."

For the first time you see him awkwardly fidget like this. He's no longer arrogant and brash. His cheeks and ears get vibrantly red.

In order to prepare yourself for your new human cadet, you read a book about their anatomy and psychology. Red cheeks can be a symptom of few things, but the most common are: allergies (which the human doesn't have), alcohol consumption (which is strictly prohibited on this ship), overheating, or strong emotions. And it's quite cold in your office.

"I haven't met a lot of humans," you say, "and the few I have were a lot less complicated than you. You need to promise me to stop with this insane, ridiculous, self-punishing quest of yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I promise."

You stand up and approach him slowly. You tap your wrist-control with your elongated finger and set your office to a 'standby - don't disturb' mode. You take a deep breath, so nervous your aurorum breastplate vibrates.

"Unless I completely misunderstood the part about human sexuality, I believe you might... have something else... to say?"

The human looks at you and blinks with his not-swollen eye. And then his cocky grin returns. "Say? No, nothing, sir. But I just might do something if you allow me, sir."

He, of course, doesn't wait for your answer and is already gliding his finger between your breast plates, touching the soft and sensitive tissue connecting them. He read books too, apparently. This is the way Vaanxi usually initiate sex, especially by a submissive partner.

You grab him by his shoulder and twist him away from you before pushing him against your desk. You didn't only read books. You also watched interesting movies. And you had a few brief but intimate interspecies encounters with humans. And you know exactly what you and him need right now.

The human gasps in surprise once you remove his sweatpants and underwear in one swift yank and expose his plump ass. "Fuck...", you mumble under your breath. "I knew you are beautiful..."

"Shut up..." He sounds embarrassed but still spreads his legs. You can see his balls and it's enough to make you drool.

You spank him and he moans. "I'm still a sir for you, brat. You hear me?"

"Yes... sir..." The lascivious way he said it set you on fire. You lower yourself and spread his ass cheeks hungrily. You love human asses. Is it a fetish? Possibly. Without further thought, your tongue glides along his inner thighs reaching his perineum.

"Fuck!" he yelps and jerks forward, but you hold his thighs firmly getting him all wet and slimy with your saliva. Your sheath is demanding your attention so you undo your uniform and push your finger inside the moist tissue. Your long and already pulsating cock wriggles out, ready to work.

He chuckles. "I didn't know you have... this side... in you... sir," he can barely talk as he put his hand into his mouth.

With a last long lick you push your body up and press your groin against his. He gasps and looks at you over his shoulder.

"I noticed you immediately," you explain to him while caressing his back gently. "You are a mess, a rebel, full of spite and ridiculous destructive energy. You've been getting in my hair ever since you set your foot on this ship." You let your dick slide against his hole pulling a pathetic mewl out of him. " I fantasized about this moment for months."

"Please..." he arches his back, pushing himself against you. "Please, sir..."

You spank his ass again. "You want this bad, don't you? You know what you need?" You spank him again. "Therapy. And, fuck me, I'll probably need it too. But now? Now I'll fuck you until you forget everything but my cock."

"Yes! Please!" He almost screams as your slimy phallus prods his tight little hole, feeling around, stretching him. He feels so good. He sounds so good. "Please, fuck me..."

You can't help it but grab him by the elbows, lifting him up and push your cock all the way in. You knew it would slide comfortably, Vaanxi penises are extremely lubricated and made for deep penetrations. And this human - this crazy human - takes it so nicely. He moans, arching his back, letting you pull him hard toward yourself. You grunt, getting unexpectedly fast close to your climax, but you don't want to get there just yet. You slow down, grinding against him, and let one of his arms. "Touch yourself. I want you to cum."

"Yes... sir..." He presses his cheek against your desk and positions himself so that he could jerk himself off. You take your time, rock your hips painstakingly slowly, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm while listening to his beautiful moans. Fuck. You are so close even like this.

"Aaah... I'll... Ah!" The human cadet whimpers and shakes as he spills his white seed on the floor.

Finally! Now is your turn. You grab his shoulder, and pull him against your chest, pressing your fingers around his pulse. "Beautiful... You're so beautiful..." You're not sure why you said that while thrusting into him, grunting and panting. He looks at you, softly, and that's the moment your stomach unties and your release rushes through your veins. The strong aroma of your seed immediately invades your nostrils.

After you both catch your breath and clean yourselves, you look at each other. You know it's up to you to break the silence. You unlock your office to a 'standard' mode. "So... stay out of trouble, cadet, you hear me!"

The human's face contorts into barely contained grin. "Anything you say, sir," he winks and leaves your office. You sigh and shake your head knowing damn well he will look for trouble as soon as he goes around the corner. And you need to make sure he gets properly punished for that - as many times as it takes.

[dduane]

(snickering) What…? Seems obvious.

DIANE AND PETER PLEASE

[ratpadawan]

if I wrote a motherfucking Star Wars mouthwashing AU would people be interested or is this a freak crossover bred by my brain. I just feel like the implications would be so interesting. In the game it’s implied that there’s intragalactic space travel at least (hence pony express being space amazon). But I feel like it’d be cool with like. Inter-species tensions of Star Wars and like. Maybe some of them being force sensitive? I could totally see swansea as the sensitive who dropped out of the Jedi academy when he was young so he’s cynical toward it but also he failed the trials because he cares about others too much at the same time. I also think Anya would be force sensitive Also like the different dynamics of obviously space is more well traveled in Star Wars than the mouthwashing universe. So the tension of that they could be found and how bad everything gets before like the police bust down the door and arrest jimmy or something. I don’t know the brain worms and worming.

[thatringboy]

Ruan Mei don’t reanimate another extinct intragalactic planet-swallowing invasive species any precent impossible challenge

[notarobot1006]

"Intragalactic", on the other hand, has a lot more wiggle room. On one hand, Plucky Protagonist moving from one planet to another qualifies as intragalactic travel.

On the other hand, so does me moving from my kitchen to my living room.

Said it before, will say it again: if your blurb for some scifi project involves the word “intergalactic”, you fucking better have worldbuilding that justifies involving two collections of hundreds of billions of stars.

Actually, motherfucker, you better have it involve two galaxies. A lot of the time it seems fuckers are just using “intergalactic” as, like, a space-y equivalent of “high-flying”.

[leohtttbriar]

it is groovy. i also want to connect my nervous system to the intragalactic-vacuum invisible mycelium that subverts the principles of general relativity and dissolves the loneliness of separate bodies spread out over too much space

[karanseraph]

how to tag interfacing

heed the tag

Some TF fandom events prefer that we tag the type of interfacing, which is cool. Readers want to know what they are getting into.

Um, what is the name/type for the one that I write?

I don't have a great example of it. I've been working on it and having characters in posted chapters discuss it, without depicting it acted out, yet.

It can, in some cases, look like 'sticky' but without the specific sticky element. It's more electromagnetic than some authors' version of sticky (there's a range within that type, as well).

But the core concept is that bots have an array (like in some other versions) of gear which generates forms at will (sometimes from a catalog, depending on compatibility mode), so there could be spikes and/or valves, but there could also be buttons or sticks or discs or slots, or claspers, or tentacles . Sometimes, where Quintesson or intragalactic marketing was at play the forms have specific names like Prysmosian death button, or disco stick classic.

It's like having alt-modes for their gear, I guess??

But this proposed type is not quite like the type of interfacing that I also sometimes write which is a hybrid between this and sticky where bots just have natural variation of gear and sometimes have a particular alt-form instead of the whole catalog/ability to choose at will.

I feel like someone else must have separately invented and written this over the decades. Is there a name for this?

Or do I have the burden of naming this?

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XVII: Dilemma

1 hour before the end of the SCR's assault against the Argonaut...

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"We'll get you fixed, oh dear... we'll get you fixed as much as possible."

Doctor Faulkner was intensely working at restoring a dying Jimmy splayed across his operating table, kept unconscious from the anesthetics the doctor had placed in his IV. The continual bombardment of the Argonaut had rendered several of his Surgery Bay's capabilities damaged, including the Cloning Conduit that produced new limbs and organs.

It didn't take long to repair all of Jimmy's physical injuries; including the mutilation of his fingers and eye, he was only left with surgery on his brain, completely intent on fixing every illnesses plaguing this man.

Unlike Hawkes, Faulkner was similar to Annie, in that he had sworn the Hippocratic Oath and was only revitalized in his beliefs to help others by the Day of Erudition. If God had personally given them a mandate to live, then why would he, a mere doctor, defy this divine mandate?

He knew how much Hawkes wanted to paint the room with this man's blood, but Faulkner was heavily set on redemption, finding a path which even this walking garbage could achieve. There was no place for Jimmy on the Argonaut, but if his unconscious body was left for the SCR to pick up, there was a very good chance he would be pressed into their service and could do some good in his own way.

Pirates? The Separatists? No, Faulkner didn't tell anyone on board, but he'd interacted with them outside the Argonaut many times in his younger years—except they weren't called the SCR, instead known decades ago as the Hannou Armed Forces. Hailing from the planet of Hannou, their homeworld suffered a global civil war over supply shortages and mass hysteria during the era when the Terror and its innumerable spawn were wreaking havoc across humanity's many colonies.

It was the usual 'planet falls into disarray' type of story that afflicted several worlds across the galaxy. Supply cut-off from Terra created shortages in several industries reliant on intragalactic trade, which led to a scarcity of products, which then cascaded into internal strife and wealth concentration, then into civil war, populist warlords, the deaths of hundreds of millions, and eventually a weak reunification of law and order under a now-depleted homeworld. From what Faulkner last heard, Hannou was now a third-world, barely sustaining itself on subsistence agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, mining, and fishing; a level of living that predated even the ancient 1900s industrial era. 

And yet, for its gruesome and bloody history, the people of Hannou had never lost the traits inherent in the populace before its fall- compassionate, zealous, forthright and honorable. The only difference from those decades ago and now was...

The Hannou wanted to commit genocide against Canaris- primarily because Canaris was responsible for fueling the civil strife during that period of Hannou's lifespan, getting rich off the arms trade, espionage, and lending out mercenary groups to all sides of the conflict. That kind of interference was not forgotten, and it was the breaking point that led to the reunification of Hannou under a one-world government again- united in their murderous desire to seek revenge against Canaris for its historical atrocities.

Faulkner possessed this same hatred for the Canaris leadership responsible for that and several other exploitative practices, but his loyalty to his homeworld outpaced that loathing for the higher echelons of Canaris society. Additionally, with all the time served on the Argonaut and under Hawkes' oversight, he'd become acutely aware that Captain Hawkes had largely prevented and deterred more of that kind of exploitation as he got older and more ingrained into the elitist levels of Canaris.

A hero he was, to Faulkner. But a hero whose sense of morality Faulkner didn't agree with. Not after resurrection became possible, especially.

"Once you are patched up," Faulkner spoke to the unconscious body of Jimmy, as if airing out his thoughts. "I'll send you on your way, with little doubt you'll be taken by the Hannou. You will see their history, and know that they, too, are mired with terrible fortune and a sickening past."

He began the brain surgery, making use of medical devices and surgery tools to crack open the cranium as he continued his terse speech.

"A second chance. Doesn't that sound appealing? God gave you this chance, sir. You've done terrible, terrible things, and I expect this is your only and last chance to make up for it. Help the Hannou- help them recover, help them heal, no matter how small of a contribution you make. You will not be plagued by schizophrenia, nor narcissism, nor the other half-dozen issues in your mind since birth. Which means you will have no more excuses for your choices."

Several minutes passed as the surgery was ongoing, until Faulkner ran into a problem.

"Oh, dear... I'll have barely enough material left to remedy your last illnesses. Blast it!"

Not only that, but Faulkner was running out of time. It was looking like the only illness he would be unable to cure with time and material was Jimmy's reduced gray areas that resulted in narcissism. He sighed, looking down at the still-unconscious Jimmy, his face serenely peaceful despite the heavy bags under his eyes.

"You'll have to make do, sir. All you have left is your narcissism. Overcome it! "

Faulkner finished the brain surgery up, restoring skin, sinew, muscle, and bone before removing the IV from Jimmy's arm and hauling him onto his back, groaning as the weight of Jimmy bore down on him. Straining, he dragged Jimmy over to the medical door, opening it and keycarding the reinforced plating so it would slide into its interior hinges, allowing Faulkner to drag Jimmy out into the hallway and lay him down, looking around the hallways for any sign of the Hannou-

BSSSSSSSSSSSCH-KRRRRRRRRCH!

"LORD ALMIGHTY!" Faulkner screamed in terror as a breaching pod slammed through the hallway corridor a few meters south, sending a deafening roar through the hallways and a brief moment of depressurization. Not wanting to get kidnapped himself, Faulkner scrambled back into the office and closed the reinforced plating, looking through the one-way tinted window as SCR fighters cleared the hallways, arriving upon Jimmy's body and dragging him out of view, likely to be abducted and transferred back to the Armada. Faulkner slumped below the window, huffing in fatigue.

"May the Lord have mercy on your soul." He muttered. "And may you make the right choices this time around, Jimmy."

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Thirty minutes after defeat against the Argonaut...

The SCR Armada, or what was left of it, was forced to limp back home in humiliating defeat, having FTL jumped away from the Argonaut after the surviving boarding pods had returned to their capital ships. As the boarding pod reinitiated with the capital ship of Aurora, piloted by Captain Dino 'Don' Morettison, an eccentric and charismatic Italian who undoubtedly raging across the entire ship right now.

The pod opened its four-fold doors, allowing Pandan to limp out to a massive hangar bay filled with dying and injured SCR fighters being dragged to the Medical Wing, whilst other crewmates were scurrying about trying to repair the severe damages to the capital ship. Pandan groaned in pain and misery as he stumbled his way to a remote area, finding a janitorial closet and closing the door behind him before pulling up his shoulder radio to speak to the onboard ship's Communications Director.

"Quinn, redirect me to that useless fucking informant."

"On it."

Pandan waited a few seconds while the channel was redirected to an encrypted channel reserved for spies and informants.

"What is it?"

"Your 'spy' was fucking useless, you piece of shit. Said absolutely nothing about FOLDING WALL PANELS!"

"Our asset does not hide information from us. It is insanely likely they were not aware of this development on the Argonaut. Do not blame us for your shortcomings in strategy and tact, simply because you fail to act on your feet."

"FUCK. YOU!" Pandan cursed out the radio. "I'm speaking to the ship's Captain about this, BASTARD! I don't give a shit how long you've been 'reliable' to him, you FUCKED us completely!"

"You waste my time."

The radio clicked off, and Pandan tore the radio from his uniform and hurled it at the wall, watching in frustrated satisfaction as it burst into a hundred pieces scattering across the floor.

"FUCK YOU, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" He shouted in futile fury at the broken radio. "FUCK! FUUUUCK!"

Pandan groaned and shouted in utter frustration, infinitely in rage over how overwhelmingly they lost the battle. Utterly defeated, he fell against the back wall and slid down in complete misery, sobbing as he recounted the battle brothers and sisters that had boarded with him into that nightmare.

Why? He thought. Why did we ever think it was feasible to attack that tyrannical behemoth? What were these fucking idiots thinking? I was right to protest. We lost so many, no doubt resurrected and imprisoned on their way to Canaris to be executed.

His head was placed in his hands, shaking quietly in disgrace. Maybe the bastard was right. Maybe he was just a bad leader, a bad strategist- a bad improviser.

"We captured someone? Who??"

"Some fuck from Pony Express of all places! What the hell was an employee from that shithole doing on the Argonaut?"

Pandan raised his head from his palms, interest piqued as he listened in on the conversation outside the closet.

"Where are they taking him?"

"Holding, apparently, next to all the Canary trash. They're gonna vet him and see if he's Canarisian, or loyal to the Argonaut."

Pandan's eyes narrowed, then lowered in malevolent but calculated, silent, sadistic eagerness, getting up from the floor and throwing the closet door open, smacking the face of one of the unfortunate grunts standing outside.

"OW! You motherf- oh-! Sir!"

The grunt's irritation quickly changed to discipline and humility as Lieutenant Pandan's face emerged from the closet with a violent grimace, speaking coldly to the grunt with a sincere, long-term plan in mind.

"Bring me to him."

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(Music: "Hex - Krushfunk version", by kxttn

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In the Terrarium, both garrison officers and crewmates were arm in arm, dancing and celebrating at the second major victory in their campaign; saving the Tulpar crew, and now having fended off an entire Armada of pirates with no (permanent) casualties! 

VICTORY!

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

A string of Argonauts were in a horizontal line standing next to one another, arms around each other's shoulders, kicking their feet up like a loony version of the Can-Can as they shouted the bestial chant from the song's barely discernible lyrics. Onlookers cheered and engaged in their own unique dances- Sergeants breakdancing, Privates doing the giddy griddy, Lieutenants and heads of departments moving their hands, arms, legs, and hips in jubilant, victorious fashion.

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

The bar staff had abandoned their duties hours ago, leaving the liquor and beer to be pilfered by heavily drunken crewmates, who were absolutely gurgling the abrasive substance like it was Dragonbreath Mouthwash on a stranded freighter. Some of the crewmates, who had been merrymaking long before the rest of the crew gathered in the terrarium, occasionally ran off to the restrooms to vomit their guts out, before taking a medical injector filled with ascetic acid to reset their intoxication and doing the whole thing over again.

Danny, who was a teetotaler on alcohol and drugs, was absolutely floored by the deviant, junkie behavior of the crewmates using this method to keep the party going endlessly.

"Are you fucks trying to revive an eldritch pleasure god?!" He shouted in outrage at the giggling, fleeing, and sobrietized crewmates leaving the bathroom for further merrymaking. The joke he made was quite esoteric in nature, referencing a grimdark sci-fi franchise he had become a fan of after uncovering an archive of them on a captured transport vessel carrying relics, and he was quietly hoping someone else would have knowledge of this fascinating genre he'd uncovered.

Then he realized that no, in fact, no one would have knowledge of a fucking relic from ancient times and the contents inside it. Danny nodded to himself, determined to share the manuscripts he found from the collection with others on the ship who shared the same love for gritty sci-fi.

"BLURRRGGHHH!!!"

"The fuck?" Danny muttered, hearing the sound of someone vomiting in the stalls and groaning in pain. It was, in fact, Emile with a low tolerance for alcohol, emptying the contents of their stomach into the pristine inside of the toilet bowl, whilst Marcel held Emile's hair back to prevent contamination.

"Was fifteen shots necessary?"

"Y-Yes... BLURGGGHHH!!!!"

"I don't know if the Captain would have made that decision."

"S-Shut up... Grk!... he probably drinks... Grk... like a fish-! BLAAARGGHHH!!!"

Danny silently laughed at the unfortunate crewmate's predicament, whoever they were. Even if sobering medical injectors were prevalent today, a person's constitution did not change even if the intoxication was removed. Nausea from alcohol is caused because it irritates the lining of the stomach.

Somehow, knowing this little fact and being able to use it at a time like this only made the crewmate's misfortune even more hilarious to him, and he bellowed out raucous laughter as he exited the restroom with imperial swagger.

"Who the fuck was that??" Marcel muttered confusedly. "What a madman."

"Fukkin... asshole, that guy... BLUURGGG-"

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Meanwhile, the crew of the Numia were permitted to attend the terrarium party and took the opportunity to suck in alcohol like there was no tomorrow- after the stress they'd endured, how close their lives came to an abrupt end, a party was exactly what they were looking for. Only a few stayed behind to head to the Medical Bay, where Annie was assessing Argonauts for mental trauma. Alina, Cortia and Haxel had been escorted by Derek and Sal (carried exhaustively for the most part) to where Annie was assessing a shockingly short line of Argonauts. They came upon her in the Bay, tiredly asking a retinue of questions to each Argonaut, and as Derek listened in, it went from genuine, to half-hearted, to straight-up bullshit answers.

"So, Mr. Lanskey, have you felt a surge of strong emotions since your return?"

"Yes... it feels like I'm going to explode from the inside, but it's also... amazing. I mean, it is euphoric. Honestly, I think you should try it out and see-"

"Uh, no, I'm good. Next! Hello Ms. Sandy. Have you noticed any mental or physical symptoms or issues after your revival?"

"Mm... no, not really."

"...Uh, okay. You seem surprisingly calm for having just returned from the dead."

"I mean, everyone handles death differently, right?"

"...The quote goes "everyone handles grief differently", but sure, I guess you have a point. But... I mean, really? No symptoms at all?"

"Nope."

"....Okay. Has there been a noticeable change in your worldviews or-"

"No, I'm tellin' ya- look, can I just go to the Terrarium?? I lost a bet and now I have to do a keg stand!"

"Uh...okay. I guess if there's nothing wrong with you... sure. What bet did you lose?"

"Dying during the pirate skirmish."

As the Argonaut officer stood up from the chair and pumped her fists in the air as she headed out the door, Annie could only stare confusedly at the exiting Argonaut, wondering if this whole crew was deranged beyond sanity.

"...Okay, then. Mr... Ramshack. How have you-"

"You know, I'm kinda pissed, because I got shot in the head by a heavy caliber round, so I didn't really get to see my death coming, you know? And, I'm pissed because, well, I was kinda interested in seeing what it'd feel like, but instead I'm just fighting in the corridors, and suddenly I wind up on the altar."

Annie stared with wide eyes and an unmoving expression at the demented man in front of her.

"So, I just had like, one request if you'd oblige. Can you shoot me in the chest and let me bleed out before you revive me again? Cuz this time around, I wanna-"

"NEXT!"

The Argonaut was saddened and dragged his feet out of the room. Sal and Derek came up next in line, with Alina and Cortia's traumatized bodies in tow, whilst Haxel walked almost as if he were in a daze.

Oh thank God, normal people, Annie was about to say. That sentiment didn't hold when Sal approached her and dumped Alina's body on the ground in fatigue, much to Annie's shock and concern.

"The fuck-! DON'T JUST DUMP HER ON THE GROUND LIKE THAT!"

"Fuckin... what? What do you want from... me! She's fuckin... heavy!" Sal protested, heaving gasps of air from both lack of fitness and exhaustion from hauling a limp body for hundreds of feet in distance.

Derek slowly lowered Cortia to the ground, letting her body flop across the hard-tiled floor like a dead fish out of water. He was heartbroken at the state of his fiance, but at the same time there was something... morbidly humorous about seeing one's fiance splayed out over a white-tiled floor like a vegetable.

"Heh." Annie chuckled under her breath, though still heard by Derek, who was hypocritically outraged.

"You're laughing at my fiance!" He chided her, receiving a 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' shoulder shrug from Annie, who stared him down in subtle contempt and loathing.

"And you brought a pirate armada shitstorm to our doorstep."

Derek had literally nothing to counter that with. Annie sighed and turned to look at Cortia, Alina and Haxel.

"How am I going to assess catatonic patients?" She asked them, much to their confusion.

"I-I don't fuckin' know!" Derek exclaimed, increasingly distressed at the state of his loved one.

"That's what we brought them to you for, Doc!" Sal accused Annie, who raised her palms up in a peace-making gesture.

"Fine, fine. Let me take a look."

Whilst Annie was doing boring medical shit with inconsequential persons, Wataru and Elliot were in another part of the ship- scavenging for dropped trinkets and other items from the recent battle. Whilst the bodies had been cleaned up, the myriad of blood, gore, dents, and left-behind items remained, as the near-entirety of the crew almost immediately surged for the terrarium to celebrate their victory. Discipline was an on-off switch on this ship, and it depended entirely on the orders and mood of the Captain, which was absolutely batshit insane in retrospect, but seemed completely sane and reasonable to the crew of the Argonaut, who had practically and collectively relied on their Captain's instinct and leadership for thirty whole years (both literally and through folklore and social reinforcement).

Wataru, who was usually a more naive and innocent soul, was only roped into the scheme by Elliot because he convinced her there would be unique and reliquary keychains and artifacts on some of the SCR fighters' weaponry and in their pack bags, gaslighting her into believing that these third-world militiamen were just as stylish as the Matlo Brigade.

"This place looks like the aftermath of a horror movie," Wataru mumbled nervously, unsettled greatly by the blood and gore spread amongst the halls like a painting gone awry. Elliot was deep in search of advanced weaponry, as he was working on a blueprint for a potential Dark Matter rifle capable of piercing even Achilles Series armor. With that kind of weaponry only available to the Argonauts, every close-combat battle would be won before the boarding even began. 

He felt a moment of deep gratitude for the Captain of this ship, who authorized its creation when Elliot pitched it to him. This wasn't legal AT ALL by any standard of any nation in the entire galaxy; but Hawkes had only authorized it because he intended to show the ruling class in Canaris these inventions, to get a permit, law and patent to use them in future battles.

He recalled this very short conversation about the questions of legality that Elliot had for Hawkes...

"I won't get killed for building this, right?"

"You'll get killed if you don't build it, is that good enough incentive?"

Elliot knew the Captain was joking, but with his seven-foot demeanor, scar-scattered body, and constantly-searing eyes, it was very difficult to take a dark joke from Hawkes lightly.

"I simply can't believe you can create such a weapon." Hawkes said coldly. "It took fifty-five, once-in-a-century geniuses to create the blueprints for the first Dark Matter Reactor and Quantum Positioning Relay. You... expect me to believe you can follow that precedent and craft a portable weapon with that kind of power? If it gets broken, does it create a 100 million mile explosion radius?"

"No, I think I can take it down to just 20 million miles."

Hawkes stared him dead in the eyes, and Elliot cracked a grin.

"I'm joking. Yes, I can find a way to neutralize the possibility of collision entirely."

"Right. Well, when we get back to Canaris, you can get a trip to the Tylahar Research Station 200 million miles away and do your research there."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elliot looked back fondly on the memory, a big enjoyer of Hawkes' conversations more than most others on the ship.

"You said there'd be keychains, but I'm not seeing any." Wataru complained, much to Elliot's annoyance.

"Well, search harder, then!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Music: "BAILE DE LA VICTORIA", by IAMTRA$H)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crew of the Argonaut and Numia were still enjoying their time in the terrarium, which had gotten even more chaotic, trashed and filled with unconscious bodies lying around the longer the solar night went on. The dancing had become sloppy yet still remained full of passion, even more so in the revived.

Sammy, the Second Officer watching from an elevated floor above the terrarium, was utterly bewildered at how quickly the revived officers got over the trauma and returned to normalcy- completely different from how the Tulpar Crew's revival went. Perhaps it was because they were so used to violence and death that it didn't change their worldview much to return? Did they see any kind of afterlife when they died, or was it just immediate return to life from the point of death to the point of resurrection?

He was infinitely curious at the still-unveiling questions and answers about this phenomenon, but not as curious as he was about the conversation going on in the Captain's Suite- where Hawkes was desperately trying to keep the Tulpar Crew from going insane.

"Hhhh! Hhh! Hhhh!"

Anya was sat in a corner of the room, irises dilated and eyes widened in clear catatonic shock, breathing heavily as if reliving some horrid experiences continually in her head. Curly and Swansea had been restrained by their hands and feet, as they would not stop rabidly and ferociously trying to leave the Suite to track down and kill Jimmy- which they made plentifully clear by the raucuous shouting and screaming tearing out of their throats like verbalized murder.

Daisuke was left staring out the window of the terrarium blankly, his eyes seemingly staring past the hundreds of crewmates on the bottom floor partying.

Hawkes was absolutely miserable. But more than that, seeing how Jimmy had unraveled all of their mental growth in one fell swoop-

CRACK!

He growled gutturally as he felt the radio he was trying to thumb crush under his hand, and scattered the pieces across the floor as he stormed over to an extremely discomforted Caz. 

Please don't kill me, He thought in pure horror, seeing the look of broiling, silent RAGE lining every fiber of Captain Hawkes' body. He had never seen a silent, angry Hawkes in his entire tenure on this ship. Please don't kill me, Please don't kill me-

"RADIO." Hawkes spoke deafeningly at him, and Caz frantically unclipped the radio from his shoulder holster and offered it to the Captain with quivering hands.

"H-Here you g-go, sir-!"

The Captain snatched it out of his hands and thumbed the radio, trying not to crush yet another one with uncontrolled rage.

"LILY."

"Y-Yes, Captain!"

"WHERE. IS. HE."

"Our cameras captured him in the Medical Wing, he was last seen lying on the ground before getting abducted by the SCR-"

CRACK!

Another radio turned into dust, and an even angrier Hawkes was left with a blank mind that only yearned to slaughter millions of lives to sate this all-encompassing tidal wave of Apoplexy.

Looking back at the Tulpar Crew, seeing how broken they were in the moment, Hawkes suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion rush over him. After all the time he'd spent coaxing them to move past the trauma, it was back to square one.

"I...I... can't do this shit right now."

He was tired- even with his superhuman strength, intellect and endurance, he was still human. 

Turning to Caz with a bone-tired demeanor, he issued an order weakly.

"Get them... to the medical wing. Assessments, then to their rooms."

Caz nodded firmly, ordering the other garrison officers on standby to gently escort the four shattered souls to the Medical Wing. Captain Hawkes sighed deeply, dragging his feet to his quarters. On the way there, he was supplemented with another radio by a passing officer, who told him there was a message from Elise.

"Captain Hawkes."

"What is it, cheese-eating surrender monkey?"

"Where are you? I'm gonna beat your ass."

"What do you WANT!"

"The recorded logs for the Tulpar have finished. If you'd like to review them I've sent it to your holopad."

Hawkes sighed, thumbing the radio to respond.

"Thanks, Elise."

"Mhm, no problem Bigfoot."

Hawkes chuckled dryly, turning off the radio and heading to his quarters. He had practically figured out most of the history behind the Tulpar and what happened with the crew on it, but reviewing the logs would give him some more insight into how he could potentially bring the Tulpar Crew back from their mental degradation.

As he walked through the halls, he was considering whether or not to chase the SCR Armada and finish them off so he could kill Jimmy once and for all, and to prevent them from regrowing in strength again.

But... that didn't seem like the right path. Even if his BLACK RAGE was yearning for that choice, he knew the most optimal decision was to head back to Canaris with the Tulpar Crew and finish the mission they were on. And Hawkes had absolutely no desire to risk the lives of his family once again for petty revenge.

Before heading to his quarters, he made a quick detour to Curly's room, dreading to see what state he was in. As he opened the door-

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY."

"I-I can't, Curly-"

Curly was wrathfully confronting the garrison officer standing near the door inside the spacious room Curly was placed in. His face was stretched and contorted in unnatural and withering fury, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that blood was seen visibly running down his fingers and palms. It was a miracle he hadn't fought the officer yet.

Hawkes smoothly entered the room and greeted Curly to calm the tension.

"Hey, Curly."

Curly's face veered towards Hawkes, and seemed to dissipate from the rage for a moment.

"Wh- Hawkes. Hawkes, where is he? Let's kill him, I'll help you. Swansea will help you. Just put us in a room together for 10 minutes, please."

And here came an ultimatum. If he told Curly that Jimmy escaped, it was very likely Curly would hardly be able to recover from this wrath. The alternative...

Was to lie. Lie, for the first time, to his family. The thought of it sickened him to his stomach; he had no issue manipulating foes, rivals, and enemies for his own gain; lying to his family, the ones he loved, was something else entirely.

He couldn't deliberate long, as Curly was getting more and more restless the longer Hawkes stood there. Hawkes silently grit his teeth, despairing over the decision he was about to make.

"Jimmy was shot and killed by the pirates." Hawkes said. "Their boarding pod was exploded by one of our cannons, and his body was sucked out into the void. That's a permanent death."

Curly seemed shocked and highly unsatisfied by that answer, but his rage seemed to die down somewhat, his gaze beaming pure wrath at the ground.

"Lucky little fuck." Curly muttered furiously. "Lucky little... fucking cunt."

Curly suddenly seemed exhausted, crumpling into a sitting position and drawing several heavy breaths.

"...Fuck it. Bastard got what he deserved. No point wasting more thoughts on that scum."

Hawkes nodded emphatically, deeply hoping down that the pirates would torture and kill him so that there was no chance of any encounter with him again.

"I'll tell Swansea the same."

Curly nodded tiredly, and Hawkes left the room with a lump in his throat, waiting for the door to close before he silently cried to himself in the hallway. Lying to family felt terrible to him, as if he'd driven a knife into their back.

As some garrison officers were rounding the corner, he quickly wiped his eyes and saluted them before heading to Swansea's room to break the false news.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkes sat in his quarters, having done what he needed to do for the day and winding down for the solar night; the lights dimmed to reflect the night-time.

He scrolled through the footage inside the Tulpar, reviewing dozens of clips all at once and analyzing them within seconds. At the same time, he scrolled through news channels and media sources about Canaris to keep updated on any breaking news or developing events since he'd been gone. Luckily, it seemed rather tame for the last 10 months he'd been searching, aside from one article that caught his attention.

"'Crew of five disappear from voyager spacecraft after returning from the Hoila Nebula exploration, docks with space station and reveals no passengers onboard'. The fuck kind of horror story is this?"

Sighing, he swiped the article away on his massive, 2D projected interface, continuing to review the footage.

Two months before return to Canaris... he would be doing all in his effort to restore the Tulpar's crew mental states once more. It'd be harrowing, but nothing would stop him from saving them in their entirety.

Only two months.

[themynock]

they're intragalactic criminals, they have NO money, and they wish to BARTER with YOU

[followcb]

Born in My Soul

intragalactic galaxies

spinning, whizzing, coexisting

alchemy of poetry

transitions mysteries from history

rhythmic synergy of sublime rhymes

the one-two-threes of metaphors

sweet similies like harmonic melodies

overt overtures of silent symphonies

connect, entwine, mesmerize

hypnotize my spiritual eyes

everything my heart's always known

has been born in my soul

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

©️ @followcb ☆ December 19, 2023

[writing-prompts-for-palestine]

#187

Humanity is welcomed into the intragalactic council on one condition: that we stop sending probes beyond our own galaxy.

—

Today’s campaign:

Huda Alnounou, from GazaVetters. (#157)

$3,856/$55,000 [7%]

[tallyhallmpreg]

ok time for slop this is disorganized as fuck bevause i wrote it at 2am and went back 2 sleep. fuck em all 2025

this is super long so watch out

(im imagining this in the way of a videogame-style adventure)

nightmare king and nightmare queen are the big shabangs of this whole getup

nightmare queen is like into robotics n whatever n like shes eviler than nightmare king

nightmare king is kind of chill but in a way where hes as chill as it gets for an omnipotent evil overlord

unrelated (not actually) prince who is an android who is half robotic and half love (which is like anogher state of matter alongside solid liquid gas that kinda stuffz) he doesnt know he's a prince nor does he know he was created by the nightmare royalty

basically the prince is told (in-universe) to not have any relation to the nightmare royalty (he also does not have any ruling power yet) it is "confirmed" that the prince was made by a (i forgot this part Future fungus u gotta do it)

nightmare king and queen are lovers dating all the way back to childhood, and while being incredibly evil they do actually love each other

basically an INCREDIBLY long time ago the queen and king met at what could best be described as an academy for young mages. they became best friends and eventually fell in love

enough about them. theres also the direct opposite of the nightmare king and queen. Sola, a being comprised purely of love, who has existed for around an epoch. before her was another Celestial (what pure-loves are called) who had made her this eon's Zenith (basically the most powerful Celestial). she looks like an angel (feathery wings, halos) but no two Celestials look the same, Sola just looks like that

anyways basically the prince is like, the main character. hes aware that a lot of his origins are completely unknown, and his main goal is to find out what he is, who he is, and where he came from. all he knows is that he came from somewhere in space

in an attempt to get at least a clue on where to start, the prince goes asking any expert willing to answer him. eventually he finds one who has theorized about the nightmare royalty and tells him about them and their intragalactic origins.

the expert then tells him about the Celestials, which have been known to come on-planet during extremely dire and possibly world-ending times. 

this is as far as i got before i conked out. currently i dont have a reference for the prince but i do have one of Sola