#observing from a safe distance like a scientist

[simpingforbots]

I really love your transformers series about a human being on cybertron. Kinda wondering if they ever met a human, so this little organic is just a very, very, VERY, smart rat. Anyway, I was wondering if you could make a part 4? It's ok if not.

Was hoping if you could do Alpha Trion, Shockwave, and Soundwave? Maybe even maegatronus Prime for D-13?

Don't do this request if you are busy, don't want to, or sick. I can wait a few months and years.

Have a good day/evening!!!!!!!

thank you so much.

sadly this is a human we are talking about as Transformers One yet to learn that humans are actually sentient and to learn English, and so is human. their language sounds like a clicks, whirls and other metallic noises. So it's more like figuring out by their body language and repetitive noises they make. like a certain noise thay make at you means its your name. they can see you are smart and if you were to be given buttons with certain sounds like in one video you would be able to communicate. so yes they know you are smart, just not realizing that you are THIS smart to be actually considered a sentient.

What if human ended up in transformers one

part 4

Alpha Trion

Alpha Triton, being one of 13 primes, was one of a few son's of Cybertron that realised you were more then just some organic. HE found you during one of Quintessons attacks, with your space ship being an unfortunate target to their fire. out of all your crew you were the last.

he decided it will be best for your own good to keep you by him self and try to establish some kind of contact and maybe even learn where you are from and what planet is your home. so safe to say it was not an easy task and with you being small week and made out of flesh - you quickly become something every Prime grew soft on. you were pampered with pets, soft coos and nice flesh food they could find on surface. he kept you close by, and did his best to keep away from Sentinel as he could see something dark in his eyes and fake smiles. other Primes seemed to trust the kid for some reason and Triton just decided to keep you close to him self. you did protest at first, being manhandled and treated like a some kind of pet. but soon you got used to it and even felt comfort in hand of a huge cat. You also distrusted Sentinel and just tried to avoid him. you enjoyed your life as much as you could until Sentinel lead all primes in to trap. Triton did his best to keep you out of harms way and fight, but he can only do so much. in the end he had to watch you fall and killed by Sentinel, before he was hurt. what he did not expect as to still be alive after all those years and when Pax woke him up, he saw what was left of you - just a pile of bones, near his body, you probably crawled towards him on his last breath and passed away by him. he wished he couldv'e done more, but now he need to do is give this new generation a fighting chance. though when he is captured and was decapitated, he was a bit relieved to see that Prime deemed you worthy enough to joing their after life.

Shockwave

Shockwave probably would see you as something more interesting that anything on cybertron. And before he would become the mad scientist we know of him now, before Megatron, he would 100 percent would run more safe, though still hurtful, experiments. And mostly because of lack of equipment. He would find you as your ship crashed not far from the hideout, and you only one who survived. He observed you from a far at first, trying to understand just what you are. Some strange organic life matter, super fragile and somehow very-very resilient. He observed from afar, keeping tabs and even running his own little experiment - he would find some edible fruits and place them near cave you were hiding in. He watched as you at first was warry, not knowing if you could eat it, but after time you sort of relaxed around food suddenly appearing on your "door". Then Shockwave moved on to next step. Instead of hiding he kept the distance so that you could see him. Of course first time you hid in your cave that was to small for his servo, but with prolong exposure he was even able to get closer and closer. Even one time you came close to him, watching him with curiosity in return. HE reached out with his only servo poking at your head and you touched his finger. After some time he was sure you won't mind if he brings you with him to show to Soundwave. HE was very proud of his little study! So he decided to "study" you more. You were poked, probed and measured in all sort of ways, without your consent and you protested every test he had done. by the end of all the experiments he would keep you on his shoulder, proudly showing you off to other High guards and proud with his experiments. you just wish to go back to your cave and wait for rescue ship to arrive to pick you up. What you had no idea is that Shockwave knew about the signal and already took care of it, stomping it to the ground and making sure that the signal would come of as false. so you are stuck for his intertaiment.

Soundwave

Soundwave would probably find out about you through Shockwave when he was tagged along to observe you. Soundwave was bored at first, but after some time he would come to your hide out without Shockwave, just observing you. You tinkered with some machine, clearly trying to get of this planet by sending some signal. he did not wanted this to happen as YOU were the only intertaiment here for now and kept Shockwave from dying from boredom. you did not even had a chance to properly scream when you were kidnaped by the bot and brought to High Guards and you sort of become a mascot for them. Every other bot found you entertaining, a bright light of hope to lift the gloom. Shockwave was a bit happy as well as he could run his experiments more closer. Soundwave how ever kept you close, not letting you out of his sigh because of what you were. you did not had anything to protect your fragile flesh body and easily got hurt by ether "walking" in to think, stumbling, tripping and falling on a flat surface. YOU are NOT allowed any where outside the fortress at all. Sleep? you thought you will be able to have a moment of solidarity at such moment? Forget it - your recharging place is in his chest so that Soundwave won't have to worry about you sneaking of while he rests. And Soundwave wiling to go to such lengths as to wrap a chain around your body and keep you close, as scaning your head is a bit more troublesome as the reading always come "wrong" and it's just easier to keep you closer then to know what you wanted to do. Food? you can scavenge for it only when HE brought you out and you better to gather enough to last you for weeks. so yeah. have fun with overbearing bot.

part 1 part 2 part 3

[nasa]

Navigating Deep Space by Starlight

On August 6, 1967, astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell noticed a blip in her radio telescope data. And then another. Eventually, Bell Burnell figured out that these blips, or pulses, were not from people or machines.

The blips were constant. There was something in space that was pulsing in a regular pattern, and Bell Burnell figured out that it was a pulsar: a rapidly spinning neutron star emitting beams of light. Neutron stars are superdense objects created when a massive star dies. Not only are they dense, but neutron stars can also spin really fast! Every star we observe spins, and due to a property called angular momentum, as a collapsing star gets smaller and denser, it spins faster. It’s like how ice skaters spin faster as they bring their arms closer to their bodies and make the space that they take up smaller.

The pulses of light coming from these whirling stars are like the beacons spinning at the tops of lighthouses that help sailors safely approach the shore. As the pulsar spins, beams of radio waves (and other types of light) are swept out into the universe with each turn. The light appears and disappears from our view each time the star rotates.

After decades of studying pulsars, astronomers wondered—could they serve as cosmic beacons to help future space explorers navigate the universe? To see if it could work, scientists needed to do some testing!

First, it was important to gather more data. NASA’s NICER, or Neutron star Interior Composition Explorer, is a telescope that was installed aboard the International Space Station in 2017. Its goal is to find out things about neutron stars like their sizes and densities, using an array of 56 special X-ray concentrators and sensitive detectors to capture and measure pulsars’ light.

But how can we use these X-ray pulses as navigational tools? Enter SEXTANT, or Station Explorer for X-ray Timing and Navigation Technology. If NICER was your phone, SEXTANT would be like an app on it.  

During the first few years of NICER’s observations, SEXTANT created an on-board navigation system using NICER’s pulsar data. It worked by measuring the consistent timing between each pulsar’s pulses to map a set of cosmic beacons.

When calculating position or location, extremely accurate timekeeping is essential. We usually rely on atomic clocks, which use the predictable fluctuations of atoms to tick away the seconds. These atomic clocks can be located on the ground or in space, like the ones on GPS satellites. However, our GPS system only works on or close to Earth, and onboard atomic clocks can be expensive and heavy. Using pulsar observations instead could give us free and reliable “clocks” for navigation. During its experiment, SEXTANT was able to successfully determine the space station’s orbital position!

We can calculate distances using the time taken for a signal to travel between two objects to determine a spacecraft’s approximate location relative to those objects. However, we would need to observe more pulsars to pinpoint a more exact location of a spacecraft. As SEXTANT gathered signals from multiple pulsars, it could more accurately derive its position in space.

So, imagine you are an astronaut on a lengthy journey to the outer solar system. You could use the technology developed by SEXTANT to help plot your course. Since pulsars are reliable and consistent in their spins, you wouldn’t need Wi-Fi or cell service to figure out where you were in relation to your destination. The pulsar-based navigation data could even help you figure out your ETA!

None of these missions or experiments would be possible without Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s keen eye for an odd spot in her radio data decades ago, which set the stage for the idea to use spinning neutron stars as a celestial GPS. Her contribution to the field of astrophysics laid the groundwork for research benefitting the people of the future, who yearn to sail amongst the stars.  

Keep up with the latest NICER news by following NASA Universe on X and Facebook and check out the mission’s website. For more on space navigation, follow @NASASCaN on X or visit NASA’s Space Communications and Navigation website.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[subway-boss-jericho]

Fossil Ingo meets a new friend.

Writing + bonus art beneath the cut:

Little Pearl

TWs: Mentions of Former Death/Revival ~1200 Words (4-5 minutes)

Amidst the chaos of all the other events his Sinnoh "vacation" has thrown at him, Emmet receives a call.

The mines where Ingo was initially 'recovered' had been sectioned off since the day he sat up on the table. (Not that Emmet had any intention of going back.) The archeologists and historians of the region were concerned there may be a burial site nearby or some other location of cultural significance and so mining in that area was closed off. However, they've found something else important while they were excavating the site. Very near to where the rock was first disturbed, they uncovered a fossil- a proper fossil this time. A dome fossil.

No one has been able to confirm it yet, however, because of its proximity to where Ingo's remains had been unearthed... It's very likely that this Kabuto is the one he now shares DNA with.

Emmet brings Ingo with him to the Oreburgh museum- Although, it is more like Ingo is dragging him along for the ride. He is far more enthusiastic about this than Emmet is- In fact, he'd really like to be anywhere else. He would really like to go home, but they can't do that until they find a safe and comfortable way to help Ingo travel long distances. And also, he needs to wait for the investigation on him to close. Preferably with an innocent verdict. Which is probably the more pressing matter of the two.

They're allowed to take a look at the fossil before its revival. Without a doubt, and with proper steps taken to verify this time, this is a Dome fossil. There are a few pearls, likely the same from Ingo's burial, that have become embedded in the surface of the rock around it. A familiar thought crosses his mind. This could be verrry special. Even the minor influence caused by the rare mineral could potentially shape this pokemon's future- Ingo had been changed just because of the spare stuff that happened to be in the earth with him.

The wait in the lobby is excruciatingly long, for Ingo. Emmet can tell he would be pacing if he were any younger; his spines are constantly twitching, betraying some kind of emotion that Emmet hasn't puzzled out yet. The correct answer is Excitement. Ingo is positively thrilled at the prospect of getting to meet the pokemon with which his fate has intertwined.

Moreover, he can raise it himself! They can start this new life together, two strange beings out of place in this time, no one else quite like they are. Ingo isn't alone anymore, not with Emmet by his side. This little pokemon won't need to be alone either. Never has the prospect of a fresh start sounded more bright.

The moment the scientist returns from the back to give them the good news, Ingo lifts himself to his feet. He'd like to be the first to welcome back this new life. He turns the corner to find a little rock-type on a nearby countertop. It's barely been moved from the machine that restored it, frozen stiff. If it was any more still, Ingo would mistake it for the rock it use to be minutes before.

The various kind folks in charge of the operation give him a bit of space to approach the little pokemon, coming closer at a gentle pace to keep the tension low. Joints bidding, he kneels down at the counter to reduce his height as a factor. Up close, he can see it trembling oh-so-slightly.

"Welcome back, little one... How do you feel..?" He keeps his hands on his knees, only observing as it subtly shrinks back before poking forward again curiously. He can just barely see the tips of its claws peeking from under its shell. He chuckles softly, turning to the kind folks nearby. "Remind me, what did you say was the name of this species?" "Kabuto, the Shellfish Pokemon." Respecting his careful handling of the situation, they answer quietly.

"Thank you very much." He returns his attention to the Kabuto, who has slowly inched closer to him on the table. There are pearls encrusted along its shell, reflecting the afternoon light brilliantly. It's claws are less hidden now, revealing a gorgeous iridescent luster.

"I imagine you are quite confused... Perhaps, overwhelmed." "However, you need not fear," Ingo's knees protest as he picks himself back up again, bending to keep himself lower than his full height. He offers a grateful whisper to Mighty Sinnoh for whatever was done to him having eased a lot of the aches that came with his age.

Softly and slowly, he sets his rougher, rockier left hand on the table a few inches away from his shelled friend, letting it lay loosely on the smooth countertop. "You see, little one... Our lives are quite interconnected." He smiles as it curiously shuffles forward to investigate. "Our chance encounter through an accident of unlikely proportions has tied us together. I was returned to life, just as you have been."

It pokes a claw at his hand, and he slowly picks up his fingers to offer forward. "Through whatever happenstance caused us to share the earth between us, through however the burial rights of my clan have affected the fabric of your being, regardless... Our cabs now share many traits, you and I."

"I feel a closeness to you, silly though it may sound." The Kabuto repeatedly taps its pearlescent claw against his thumb in quick succession, as though swatting him away. It doesn't hurt even slightly.

"I will keep you safe. We can explore this grand world together, no matter what changes may await us." "...Would you like to join me on this new frontier?"

It taps its shell against the tough exterior of his hand a few times, continuing to poke around at anything that appears to catch its attention.

After a minute or so, Ingo can feel positively itty pin-pricks over his skin as it uses its hooked claws to crawl over his hand. He can't help but laugh, rewarding its curiosity and trust by bringing his less armored hand to pet it softly. "Excellent!" It seems ticklish around its underbelly, he notes with delight as he scratches the edges its shell. "I look forward to exploring the new tracks ahead of us! I'd best study up on how to use these merits of yours, especially now that I have one to teach... Or perhaps I've gained a teacher?"

He reflects on the journey ahead of him and the life he left behind as he views the world through the reflection of the largest pearl along its spine. The sensation of its claws along his hand is the same as that from the darling kits of his Lady. The pearls were bestowed to him in his passing, a demonstration of the pride and honor felt by his clan for his service as her warden. The lives of many loved ones have been closed to him, now, but the lives of those he had forgotten have opened to him once again.

He will draw comfort from the past, and bring their strength ever onward into the future. An easy smile graces his lips as he lifts his new partner higher, supporting it firmly but with great care. Mirth fills his old soul under the gaze of four beady eyes. In his renewed beating heart, compassion burns warmer than the sun.

"...I cannot wait to grow alongside you, Little Pearl."

Fossil AU Masterpost

[charmwasjess]

This unstable spring weather is reminding me of when I was a teenager, I had a massive, irrational phobia of tornadoes, despite growing up in an area with little to no chance of them. It was so bad that my mom took me to a psychologist because I'd do irrational things like hide in the bathtub instead of going to school if there was any chance of severe weather. It didn't help. Every time the sky got dark, I'd get that weird, frantic, achy-itchy feeling.

And then, one day, I'm sixteen, working my first job at a coffee shop and I get a panicked call from my boss. I look out the window and almost comically, like it showed up just for me, to make some point, there's this beautiful white tornado dancing right towards us. I remember thinking it looked like the skinny part of an hour glass. It's true what they say about them appearing to hold still when they're heading for you, so I got a very good look at it. The trees were bending flat to the ground and the double doors of the shop were getting sucked open. Me and the other teenaged employee crowded the kids (we were also an ice cream shop, there was a birthday going on) into the center room, and we sang "happy birthday" over and over again to drown out the sound of it hitting the building. We were okay, but it took off several adjacent roofs and smashed up cars in the parking lot.

This was a weird way to start loving tornadoes. (cut for weather geekery)

They are like dreams - for all the data, we know relatively little about why they happen. We can see their ingredients: moisture, atmospheric instability, wind sheer, but sometimes all those pieces are in place and a tornado won't form. In fact, most often, it doesn't. They're still rare. The language we use to talk about them endlessly fascinates me: they are born out of thunderstorms called super cells, which have a 'lifecycle.' One thunderstorm can birth a single tornado, or many that live and die along the greater lifespan of the thunderstorm. The way they multiply is fascinating, one tornado can be circled by wispy, smaller, satellite tornadoes, or more rarely, two full-sized tornadoes side by side, a pair of twins. A group of tornados is a "family."

They come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a skinny rope funnel, and a relatively weak example - F1 on the scale. The 1925 Tri-State tornado, F5, the strongest on the scale, was the longest recorded tornado in history with a 219-mile track. Part of the danger of that storm was that nobody even realized it was a tornado until it was right on top of them because it was so huge: it was said to look like a red, boiling fog from horizon to horizon because it was rain-wrapped, and had sucked up a lot of red river mud. Water tornadoes and fire tornadoes are both a thing.

They behave inconsistently too. The El Reno tornado that killed the storm chaser and scientist Tim Samaras in 2013 is often personified as evil, a storm set out to kill storm chasers, because it seemed to behave with particular, intentional nastiness. In 30 seconds, it went from a small tornado to a 2.6 mile wedge. It's hard to even imagine the scale of something like that: someone observing from a safe distance miles away is suddenly inside the literal tornado within less than a minute. Most tornadoes move in a more or less straight trajectory - this one repeatedly changed directions. But this is just another example of how even when scientists know how tornadoes generally behave, we're still figuring them out.

Of course, all of this is not about overly romanticizing a phenomenon that kills a ton of people each year, a fact that is only going to get worse with climate change. And certainly research funding and money for early warning systems or national weather services being less prioritized in the politicization of climate change.

I still have tornado nightmares a lot. I had one last night, which is I guess why I'm still thinking about the shapes. It's always the same: I'm standing in a house, usually my childhood home, and there are families of tornadoes that go right past it, but never hit. I still think they're so interesting. And it's funny the way anxiety can turn into fascination under the right circumstances.

[puddleslimewrites]

False Promises (Part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

All those promises of protection - of loyalty and safety - were rather useless when the main threat to Scientist was standing right in the doorway of their lab.

Supervillain took their time closing the distance while Scientist stood there, frozen. Their eyes trailed over the lab bench - an organized mess covered in beakers and haphazard observational notes. "New project?" they hummed, as if this was just another visit. As if they weren't the reason Scientist's previous lab had burned to the ground. As if they never tried to kill Scientist. The only reason Scientst was alive was because of Hero.

But where was Hero now? They had promised to protect them. Just like Supervillain had once promised the exact same thing. Protection from the heroes and their dogged recruitment efforts, in exchange for information and favors. Scientist never minded. It hardly felt like work to do what they enjoyed, and to do so without the annoyance of Superhero breathing down their neck.

But look at them now. Against their better judgment, Scientist did end up with the heroes, didn't they? They'd refused to choose a side no matter how persistent the approaches, but Supervillain forced their hand when they'd been left for dead.

And when the time came - when the villains did inevitably betray their trust - it was easy to convince Scientist to join the heroes' side. Had they known all along? Is that why Hero was there that day? Like a true hero, they'd arrived just in time to save them.

Scientist believed they were safe. That the heroes were trustworthy. That there was someone they could believe in that wasn't themself. It was all a ruse, an elaborate plan that hinged on their own ignorance, and now, as Supervillain drew nearner, Scientist would have to pay for their idiocy.

They believed all the lies, all the promises of protection, and look where that got them: on their deathbed, once again.

~

Tagging: @big-armed-mar, who requested another part c:

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Doom hunter x mechanic/techy reader that has an obsession with demons. Head scientist reader's cousin/j takes in a partially wounded doom hunter, that SOMEHOW survived the slayer, and is now forced to live in a geek's basement while this crazy human fixes him.

With your underground bunker doubling as a high-tech laboratory inspired by your former workplace, it's the perfect safe haven from the demonic invasion, allowing you to observe those hellish creatures from a safe distance.

After everything went to shit at your UAC division, you took some of the logs, equipment, and schematics and hightailed it out of there. You're fairly certain you were the only survivor--not that you cared too much about finding other people and sticking with them.

You worked better solo, anyways. No more Samuel Hayden reprimanding you for gawking at every demon the facility brought in for study. No coworkers calling you "crazy" for talking about said demons like they were a spectacle.

It was just you, your cozy little bunker....

And the Doom Hunter that somehow survived an attack from the very man he was designed to eliminate.

By some miracle, he hadn't lost the sled yet, although at the time you found him unconscious, you noticed a lot of flesh wounds on his body, and upon dragging him back to your lab for diagnostics you realized he lost the ability to regenerate its plasma shield coating--his most critical defense mechanism.

You've been on a tour to the Doom Hunter Base once before., and while you haven't actually looked at the schematics of this demon before..you wanted to at least try repairing the poor thing.

As of this moment, he was awake and alert with all vitals signs reading steady. Yet despite you being a human with a fresh soul, he didn't seem to have any desire to attack you.

It's not like he could even if he wanted to, given you've detached him from his sled, removed his arm cannon, and kept his chainsaw in a tight restraint.

Even so, his lack of initial aggression was interesting.

"Doom Hunter, could you state your objective to me, please?" You attempted to make conversation.

If only your coworkers could see you now. Being polite to demons and saying "please". They'd probably think you were one of them in disguise.

"Eliminate the Slayer." The Agaddon responded robotically, glancing all around the room, the yellow optics in his visor flickering with a hazy glow. "Unable to locate the Slayer--ERROR....have...I failed the mission? Am I still a useless machine?"

"..now who told you that? Deag Ranak?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you fearlessly stepped closer. "You don't have to listen to him anymore, big guy. He's um...done with the Doom Hunter project indefinitely."

You considered saying "dead", as you've overheard chatter on the broadcasts that another hell priest in the tundral area has fallen, significantly crippling the demonic invasion.

But perhaps...you shouldn't say that straight to his creation's face. You don't know what reaction that would provoke.

"..he is?"

'Shit, I hope the deag didn't install a lie-detector into these fellas..'

"Yep." You insisted. "He called it quits and fed you to the wolf in green armor."

"......"

"The Slayer, I mean."

"Release me." He growled, baring his teeth as he stared down at you. "Must find and eliminate the Slayer."

"Why? So he can kill you properly?" You huffed, shaking your head at his defiance. "If I were a demon, I'd be bless--erm..relieved. I heard he's like a god...but I guess even gods can make mistakes."

"The Slayer is no god." The Doom Hunter was growing aggravated, as the computer screen showed his heartrate elevating. "Release me, mortal, and you may be spared when this world is created anew-"

"Yeah I'm not buying that--woah!" You quickly shuffled back as he snarled and tried grabbing you with its long claws. "C'mon, don't be like that. I can't just send you back out there to die. What if...I made you more combat-efficient? Give the Slayer a real challenge? Will you comply if I gave you special upgrades?"

His hostility faltered for a moment, and he tilted his head. "Upgrades? To kill the Slayer?"

"Those, and then some. But you'll have to listen to me and...protect me from other demons. I can't exactly give you any upgrades if they take my soul, y'know."

"....understood."

"So...do we have a deal?"

"....deal accepted. Awaiting further upgrades." He confirmed.

"Sweet!" You grinned like a child on Christmas morning, before rushing to the table that held a holographic projection of the arm cannon. "But first, I wanna make some cosmetic changes to this. Oh this is gonna be fun!"

"Fun...yes.." The Agaddon emitted a small robotic chuckle.

At first, he wasn't too thrilled at the idea of being trapped in some ex-scientist's basement with a soul fresh for the taking.

But if you could give him the means to exact revenge on the Slayer?

How could he possibly refuse?

[jynxd]

Ever the predator, a wolverine stalking their prey, Jinx had kept a watchful eye on the scientist as he left singed's lab. She had been there, hidden herself away and listened to every single word they said. Just like she had a dozen times over in Piltover. However, this provided an opportunity she never had in piltover.

In Piltover, Jinx was an unwelcome trencher and most Zaunites who made their way into the city of progress were promptly thrown out worse. She would have been no exception, thus she stuck to hidden networks and resorted to disguises to blend in if she had to. Most of her spy work, however required venturing into the academy where she would most certainly be taken away.

This was where she had found out about Viktor. A Zaunite who had been welcomed into the academy. It caught her attention quickly, because she didn't understand why. Why help a city that only condemned their people? So anytime she was in Piltover, she made it a habit to check on him. The only person topside that mattered. Maybe the more she observed him, she could finally learn why...

Now that he was in Zaun, she had the chance to finally approach him. After following him to the bridge, maintaining a safe distance just out of view. Silco had taught her that tactic, to stick to the shadows, climb buildings. Treat them like prey. Jinx only revealed herself when he touched the first part of the bridge, walking slowly behind him.

"So you're Viktor, huh? A Zaunite who managed to work his way into the academy. I suppose congratulations are in order." Jinx clapped her hands slowly for dramatic affect as she slowly approached the scientist. "I wonder, though, why would someone affiliated with topsides finest come here? Does your beloved hextech wonder boy know you are here?"

The loose cannon came a stop, tilting her head to the side as she watched him curiously. Sapphire eyes found the sachel which she figured held the vial of shimmer she spotted Singed giving him. "I highly doubt that partner of yours would approve of the use of shimmer, too. Or were you planning on hiding that from him, too?" @mxchineherald

[kaijuposting]

Average Pacific Rim Imagines: The World Keeps Moving

Robots built for small robot tournaments often resemble jaegers, if they aren't just designed to look like miniature versions of famous jaegers.

In the US, midwestern cities swell in size as people leave coastal areas. Of course, these are just the ones who can afford to move. Many poorer residents remain stuck. Also, poorer residents of midwestern towns are evicted as landlords prepare to welcome wealthier residents.

You watch a kaiju scientist you follow on social media grow increasingly frustrated as they find themselves explaining repeatedly that kaiju are not reptiles because they're aliens and therefore not part of the class reptilia.

You know how there's tornado chasers? There are kaiju chasers. They follow kaiju around from a hopefully safe distance and make videos, take observations, etc.

Coastal cities pass ordinances prohibiting the construction of tall buildings near the coast. Not that anyone wants to build them anyway; the insurance rates are excruciating and few people want to live or run their business there.

You know of a guy on social media who has successfully predicted every kaiju arrival. The PPDC has seemingly taken no notice of him. He's also not a kaiju spiritualist; in fact, he seems like a pretty normal guy.

Controversy exists over whether to recycle the iron in old jaeger hulls into new buildings (such as housing, perhaps), new jaegers, or to leave the jaegers intact as historical relics.

Due to kaiju attack risk and the corrosive effects of kaiju blue on cargo ships, the cost of international shipping goes up. Any product that is or was shipped across the Pacific drastically raises in price. Many products you took for granted skyrocket out of your price range.

As the jaeger program fails, an arrogant billionaire claims that if it was privatized under his company, he could make it work. He describes his plans to optimize the jaeger program. They would never work.

[sandrockianblues]

Heyyy you have any hcs about Andy? Esp with the builder and/or Logan? Always love readin ur hcs btw :3c

Andy? You mean my child? The one I kidnapped expressed adopted without the paperwork? My lil ray of sassy sunshine, Andy? Bold of you to assume I would waste my time creating some headcan-

🦸🏼‍♂️Andy🦸🏼‍♂️

-what a smart adorable little cookie. I mean, look at his adorable freckles and tired eyes!

-this isn’t his first life. You can just tell by how he views the world and dispels random bits of wisdom that no preteen should be capable of doing.

-he’s a big lover of animals and treats most with kindness if they’re friendly and passive. Those that aren’t and that he can just refer to as monsters or mutants or beasts? He still likes to observe them from a safe distance

-you’d think his favorite monster would be a rockyenaroll or a boxing Jack, but nope. It’s a pensky and he’ll take that secret to his grave.

-fastest little thing you’ll ever witness if you manage to not blink. He’s impossible to catch up to or wrangle and he knows it too. He gives Jasmine a run for her money. Because of it, they always have random little races and make bets on them.

-he’s very loyal to Logan and Haru, especially Logan. How can he not be? They’re his dads! He never expected for there to be more room in his heart and life for another person.

-oh but hey, that builder. Hm.

-even after being such a little shit to them in the beginning, he can’t deny that they still treat him with a certain kindness he’s been missing from someone like them.

-ok ok, so what if he kidnapped expressed adopted another parental unit? What if he’s trying to push them towards Logan? What if he’s secretly planning the wedding between the two and seeking covert help for it? Like, mind your own business pls and thanks

-he’s getting better with his manners but sometimes forgets them in his excitement or in a moment of distraction. But he makes up for it when he has his sudden bursts of recollection like: “can you help me tie this?” And soon after you begin- “dang, I forgot to say please. Can you please help me tie this?” Orrr you give him something and he takes off after maybe shouting “awesome!” Or “you’re the best!”, and that’s fine. He’s a kid. But then he’ll either reappear just as fast (kid is like the Flash, remember) or he’ll stop by your door hours later and like “I forgot to say thank you earlier. Sorry ‘bout that. Thanks for earlier!”

-big big big fan of affection from the adults he trusts the most. As soon as he realizes the builder cares for him and loves him? He doesn’t care how tall or old he is even as time progresses, he’ll go from hugging their hips and pressing his cheek to their waist at a fireside meeting, to hanging off them when he’s as tall as Logan, he’ll hang off them.

-not this boy being a long and threatening shadow and- oh. No. It’s just him draping himself across the builder’s back and complaining about his homework again.

-once he realizes how human Logan is and vulnerable at times, he tries to read the man better and keep him from any pain. Even at a young age. He does whatever he can to prevent Logan from enduring any more hurt than before.

-Qi actually likes him! Everyone including the two themselves are surprised about it. Qi was ready to talk this kid’s ear off as a lesson for knocking on his lab’s doors when Andy suddenly told him he wanted to know his thoughts on space exploration for a paper he was writing. Kid actually nabbed the scientist’s heart and now he’s got someone to obsess over space and the stars with. Qi won’t admit it, but he always has time for Andy even when he’s busy.

-family dinners are a must!!! Everyone’s gotta be there. The builder, Logan, Haru, Nemo, grandma Vivi, Rambo, Jasmine. It makes Andy happy seeing some of his found family together.

-he becomes the town’s errand boy for a few years and he actually enjoys it. It keeps him active, healthy, in shape, and expends the energy that used to drive him up a wall! He doesn’t mind running here and there. But he does believe in breaks! They’re important and he’ll chew a person a new one if they tell him to take his break later.

-please please please let the builder ask Andy to help with some commissions. He’s a smart kid! He knows how to read instructions! Lmao what is this? Swedish IKEA furniture? He’s got an active mind and loves when his hard work and efforts are recognized. Plus, he loves the builder and wants to help them. It’s literally a win in his book.

-Jensen thinks Andy likes trains, but really, Andy is just curious about the mechanics and inner workings of them. He won’t break his heart tho so

-Andy often finds himself lounging on a work table of the builder’s when he’s got a free moment and doesn’t have any responsibilities to get to.

-the builder’s home is a second home for Andy. If allowed to come at any time, any day, he’ll take them up on the offer. Bonus points if Nemo has been adopted by the builder too.

-Andy’s got his own throw blanket in their living room. His own toothbrush if he spends the night. His favorite spot to sit. His own books at the bottom of their book shelf. Even his own preferred dishes and silverware.

-Andy’s got a great intelligence and is made for activity and being tasked with things, but for the life of him, he cannot focus on homework if he doesn’t have the right conditions and hasn’t expelled his energy. The builder has gotten used to unlocking their door to find Andy sitting on the floor with his throw blanket over his shoulders, Nemo in his lap, and the child hunched over the coffee table with homework spread across the surface. This even carries on when he gets older.

-Andy likes to let Logan, Haru and the builder know he needs them, even when he doesn’t. So sometimes he’ll request their help with things he’s capable of doing by himself. Or he’ll take on more challenging tasks and ask them for assistance if he knows they can do it. It’s his wordless gesture that he sees their value and reminds them of their importance in his life.

-Andy demands Haru be made a teacher for math and science. He doesn’t have anything against his current one, but the boy has lived with Haru long enough to know how he works and what he has to offer for Andy’s education.

-the builder is the one Andy goes to when he wants to confide in someone. Logan doesn’t really mind it considering he’s the more apparent father figure in his life and he knows how Andy sees him, but he also knows how hard it is to be emotional at times and the builder is someone both of them can trust to take care of his feelings and insecurities.

-if Logan and the builder are together,

-Logan’s gotta accept the fact Andy really loves affection from his S/O, especially if they’re f!builder because of that missing maternal bond he lacks and they make up for. He’s fine with it, just jealous bc now he’s gotta sit on the opposite end of the couch when the two of them are all the way over there, cuddled and bonding. He’s fine.

-it really feels like a family with both his express adoptive parents under one roof with him and their pet (he’ll riot if it’s not Nemo. Literally.) Nothing makes him happier than having them together

-Andy won’t call Logan or the builder “dad” and “mom”- though, he has slipped before and did so, but that’s a story for another time. But he views them as such and treats them like they are. To strangers, he’ll refer to the two of them as his parents or mother/father. He’ll brag about them too because how many other kids can say their dad was an infamous bandit? Or that their parent saved a dying town? That’s right. No one. He’s literally the coolest kid around.

-lmao but if Andy doesn’t get his way with Logan or the builder, he’ll sassily go “whatever, I’ll just ask my other dad.” Before heading to go see Haru

-it never fails to amuse Andy when Logan tries to help his builder in his free time with their commissions only to end up breaking a part they needed because of his brute strength or it just being too tiny in his hands. The boy will be in tears and carve another notch (with builder’s permission) into the side of their work table for amount of times Logan has accidentally destroyed something.

-Andy loves walking Nemo around town to get the pup’s exercise in. He especially loves it when Logan decides to join him and how they could talk about everything and nothing until it’s time to head back.

-and the builder is always there too, waiting for them both with more love and adoration in their eyes than they both think they’re worth.

[foxofsunholt]

What were the ROs like when they were kids? Asking for a fri- for science. A scientist friend.

Who is this scientist friend? Tell them I love this question. LOVE thinking about them as kids because it's so much of what shaped them into who they are now.

Now, many of the characters have had rough childhoods...and by many I mean all of them. AND THIS GOT LONG SO UNDER THE CUT

Adelaide (born and raised in Lyon, Sunholt)

Quiet, shy, and obedient; Adelaide was a very sad and somber child. She rarely smiled and even more rarely ever said anything more than a "yes" or "no" ("No" was rarely an acceptable thing for a princess to say, so it was mostly "yes"). Learning quickly that her excited outbursts were either ignored or met with disdain, she kept herself silent and pristine. Spending the majority of her time by herself, Adelaide learned to have a rich interior life; never once daring to reveal a more honest personality, lest people dislike her. When she felt safe (IE with Camille and Mars) she was cheerful, talkative, and curious. Her time alone allowed her to grow into an introspective and observant adult, and her childhood trauma gave her a strong sense of empathy. Adelaide attributes a lot of her better qualities to the people she admires: she learned her stubborn style of care from Camille and her gentle sense of compassion from Mars. Still, she has learned that there is nothing inside her worthy of praise; nothing that is all hers and only hers.

Camille (born and raised in Lyon, Sunholt)

Steadfast and stubborn, Camille as a child had a strong sense of justice and worked hard to keep the people she cared about safe. Once energetic and curious, Camille explored the castle as if she owned it, happily getting herself into trouble. She often snuck into Adelaide's room so the two could play, and broke Mars out of his training for the same reason. No one could say she wasn't a child who cared; she was well-liked as a kid. She always had a rebellious streak, and rarely ever did as she was told. Despite losing her parents at a young age--even then--she knew better than to let true emotion show. When she left Sunholt to study magic, she returned more like the woman you see her as now; cold, sarcastic, and bitter. Though pieces of the girl who cared for her friends so deeply she could rend rules apart for them remained, most of it was covered with the skin of a woman who actively sought to distance people from her. 20 friends turned into 10 who turned into just the 2 that were too attached to leave her.

Mars (born and raised in Lyon, Sunholt)

The child of the knight commander, Mars was not the son his father ever wanted. Sensitive, cowardly, and compassionate, Mars was unlike his father and showed little promise in becoming the knight he was meant to be. His days were spent training fiercely as his father hoped that if he could not act like a knight, he would at least be skilled like one. Mars was, to his credit, a hard worker. Mars cried often as a child, mostly over inconsequential events (oh no! someone stepped on a caterpillar! wahhhh). Even as a child, Mars carried a guilt complex and was often anxious and socially awkward. He always had a love and respect for life, though he didn't understand what the role of a knight entailed until he went into his first battle at 16. As a child, he idealized and romanticized fictional warrior symbols, a trap he does not fall into anymore. As the truth of his duty began to settle into his mind, the sensitive child steeled over to become the stoic knight. Mars hasn't cried in years now; he's barely sure he can.

Sidney (born and raised in Lion's Port, Sunholt)

An angry, aggressive, and paranoid child, Sid was often getting into fights he probably should have avoided. He didn't always win, in fact, he lost more. Always though, no matter what state he was in, he got up again and kept going. His childhood wasn't a story of survival, it was spite. Discarded by his parents, he took care of his sister and cursed the world that cast them out. In private, he was kind and quiet. He dreamed of better things but knew better than to hope for them. He had little reason to smile and rarely did so. It wasn't until a botched attempt to rob an old man that he learned what kindness could afford him. When the old man's generosity offered him a place on his fishing crew, he learned quickly how to work with people and how to make friends. Since then, he's never looked back at the kid he used to be. Except, you can still see it in the way he punches; like he doesn't care what happens to him or the person under him.

Yoon (born and raised in Fukirk, Craydor)

Despite his cheerful, friendly, and determined personality, Yoon was not popular in his village filled with humans. In the kingdom that saw the worst of The Famine of the South, and thusly a healthy fear of Fey and what they could do. It didn't help that his mother's infidelity was common knowledge; Yoon was considered a bastard in more ways than one. Still, he kept his head up and maintained a friendly smile on his lips. He was a nosy child, full to the brim with curiosity, and never once minded having to do some hard labor. With his natural charisma, he was able to win the hearts of a few people in his village, who encouraged him and his mother to move on to a friendlier place. The trip didn't work out as planned and without his mother's positive influence, Yoon's genuineness withered away. It'll be hard to ever get him to speak an honest word now, but once upon a time, it was the only kind of words he spoke.

Faith (born in Zarza, Noor later was moved to Coalfell, Noor)

There once was a shy orphan who possessed the uncanny ability to inspire hope into the hopeless. She herself was an optimistic young girl. When they took her away, to the cries of the children who had come to see her as a big sister, there was nothing but a smile on her face and a promise that all would be okay. The hopeful girl quickly transformed into one that was scared and quiet and obedient because she knew what happened to her if she wasn't. Then she became one that was angry. Then one with blood on her hands. Then one who has never stopped running.

Faith doesn't know anything about that little girl, not in any way she will ever admit to. She's always been flirty and confident and unafraid. That thing you just read above? That's just some silly story. It doesn't exist. Don't bother asking her about it.

If you run far enough away from yourself, you can forget that you exist at all. Then you can become something better, something cleaner. Why would you want to stay shy and naïve? Why would you want to remain sensitive and hope for love that never comes? How trite, anyway. Faith has always been the way that she is.

The Seventh RO (born and raised in ??????)

Shy, awkward, and easily frightened, once upon a time. So it's said, at least. What becomes of a child gifted the duty they will be bound to for the rest of their life? What is a child without an identity? These questions have no answer. There never was a child; not here, not once, not long ago, not in the killer who seeks you. There was no child. There could be no child.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Black hole destroys star, goes after another

A massive black hole has torn apart one star and is now using that stellar wreckage to pummel another star or smaller black hole that used to be in the clear.

This discovery, made with NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory, Hubble Space Telescope, NICER (Neutron Star Interior Composition Explorer), Neil Gehrels Swift Observatory, and other telescopes, helps astronomers link two mysteries where there had previously only been hints of a connection. The study is published in the journal Nature.

In 2019, astronomers witnessed the signal of a star that got too close to a black hole and was destroyed by the black hole's gravitational forces. Once shredded, the star's remains form a disk that circles around the black hole, like a type of stellar graveyard.

Over a few years, however, this disk has expanded outward and is now directly in the path of another star, or possibly a stellar-mass black hole, orbiting the massive black hole at a previously safe distance. This orbiting star is now repeatedly crashing through the debris disk, about once every 48 hours, as it circles. When it does, the collision causes bursts of X-rays that astronomers captured with Chandra.

"Imagine a diver repeatedly going into a pool and creating a splash every time she enters the water," said Matt Nicholl of Queen's University Belfast, United Kingdom, the lead author of the study. "The star in this comparison is like the diver and the disk is the pool, and each time the star strikes the surface it creates a huge 'splash' of gas and X-rays. As the star orbits around the black hole, it does this over and over again."

Scientists have documented many cases where an object gets too close to a black hole and gets torn apart in a single burst of light. Astronomers call these "tidal disruption events."

In recent years, astronomers have also discovered a new class of bright flashes from the centers of galaxies, which are detected only in X-rays and repeat many times. These events are also connected to supermassive black holes, but astronomers could not explain what caused the semi-regular bursts of X-rays. They dubbed these "quasi-periodic eruptions."

"There had been feverish speculation that these phenomena were connected, and now we've discovered the proof that they are," said co-author Dheeraj Pasham of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. "It's like getting a cosmic two-for-one in terms of solving mysteries."

This tidal disruption event now known as AT2019qiz was first discovered by a wide-field optical telescope at the Palomar Observatory, called the Zwicky Transient Facility, in 2019. In 2023, astronomers used both Chandra and Hubble to study the debris left behind after the tidal disruption had ended.

The Chandra data was obtained during three different observations, each separated by about 4 to 5 hours. The total exposure of about 14 hours of Chandra time revealed only a weak signal in the first and last chunk, but a very strong signal in the middle observation.

From there, Nicholl and his colleagues used NICER to look frequently at AT2019qiz for repeated X-ray bursts. The NICER data showed that AT2019qiz erupts roughly every 48 hours. Observations from Swift and India's AstroSat telescope cemented the finding.

The ultraviolet data from Hubble, obtained at the same time as the Chandra observations, allowed the scientists to determine the size of the disk around the supermassive black hole. They found that the disk had become large enough that if any object was orbiting the black hole with a period of about a week or less, it would collide with the disk and cause eruptions.

"This is a big breakthrough in our understanding of the origin of these regular eruptions," said Andrew Mummery of Oxford University. "We now realize we need to wait a few years for the eruptions to 'turn on' after a star has been torn apart because it takes some time for the disk to spread out far enough to encounter another star."

This result has implications for searching for more quasi-periodic eruptions associated with tidal disruptions. Finding more of these would allow astronomers to measure the prevalence and distances of objects in close orbits around supermassive black holes. Some of these may be excellent targets for the planned future gravitational wave observatories.

NASA's missions are part of a growing, worldwide network of missions with different but complementary capabilities, watching for changes like these to solve mysteries of how the universe works.

IMAGE: Credit: X-ray: NASA/CXC/Queen's Univ. Belfast/M. Nicholl et al.; Optical/IR: PanSTARRS, NSF/Legacy Survey/SDSS; Illustration: Soheb Mandhai / The Astro Phoenix; Image Processing: NASA/CXC/SAO/N

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, day 22: Mind Control

Hello everyone! I hope you're having a lovely day. Here's my entry for day 22 because I'm behind again because I started my absolute DREAM JOB on monday. I'm having a wonderful time but it has cut down significantly on my fan fic writing time lol

Also posted on AO3 here!

Archive Warnings: Nobody makes Spock do anything he doesn't want to - there's one miscommunication about that but it's quickly handled - but if the idea of possession or mind control squicks you, maybe stay away just to be safe.

☆☆☆

The planet’s scans had shown that there were supposedly no carbon-based life forms on the surface and that it should have been safe for Kirk, Spock, and the science team to beam down, take some readings, and go home. 

Of course, Kirk thought, as a thick smog descended from nowhere and reduced both his vision and his cardiovascular capacity to near zero, those scans assumed that the life-forms on this planet were carbon-based, or that this was a life-form at all. It could simply have been an unlucky weather occurrence for which they were not prepared. But as his vision swam and oxygen deprivation squeezed his chest, he heard Spock cry out, “Not the humans!”

The smog whirled into a tornado shape and funneled itself into Spock. He collapsed. Kirk, as he caught his breath again in the suddenly clear air, scrambled to him across the grassy clearing as the other scientists scanned him rapidly. 

Kirk dropped to his knees next to his first officer, shaking his shoulder. Spock was warm and solid beneath his hand, and his chest rose and fell. He looked up at the scientists he had brought to the planet, who looked just as confused as he was. 

“There’s nothing on the scans, sir,” one of them said. “I’m not getting readings on anything that we just saw.” She raised her tricorder again. 

Spock opened his eyes, and Kirk’s stomach dropped. Spock’s irises, normally a deep earthy brown, were a pale seafoam color that reminded him of the ocean. He stood immediately, putting distance between himself and those eyes. 

“Whoever or whatever you are, remove yourself from my science officer,” he said. “Now.” 

Spock’s unsettling, incorrect eyes turned to him, glancing over him, before Spock sat up and observed the rest of their landing party. 

“You are… human?” Spock’s voice was wrong. It was light, higher and gentler than Kirk had ever heard it, almost feminine in its cadence and rhythm. “And what is he?” Spock ran a finger over his own ear, following its pointed path. 

“Yes, we’re human. He is a Vulcan. And who are you?” Kirk crossed his arms over his chest. 

“A Vulcan!” Spock’s voice contained more enthusiasm in two words than Kirk had heard him express in two months. “I see. Yes, I see now.” Spock stood. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, arms swinging wildly as he levered himself to his feet. “Oh, he’s tall!” 

“Who are you?” Kirk repeated. The scientists watched their department head with mixed expressions of horror and intrigue. Spock turned those strange sea-foam eyes on them in turn. 

“I’m the companion,” Spock--- the companion--- said. “I live here. Who are you?” 

“I’m Captain James Kirk, of the USS Enterprise. This is my science team. You are currently residing in my first officer, Spock of Vulcan. We didn’t…” He licked his lips and paused. “We did not realize this planet was occupied. If we had, we would have announced our intention before arrival. We were hoping to study the plant life on the surface---.” 

“Sure, sure, fine,” the companion in Spock interrupted. “You came here on a starship?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said. 

“I want to see it.” 

He blinked. “You want… to see our starship?” 

“Yes!” Could Spock hear his own voice, wherever he was? Kirk hadn’t previously thought that level of enthusiasm was possible from his vocal cords. “Very much so. I have seen you fly through space before and I’ve always wondered what it was like.” 

“We have never been out this far before,” one of the scientists said quietly. 

The companion waved one of Spock’s hands carelessly. “Not you. Others. The ones who came before.” Ignoring the tittering that comment caused among the scientists, Spock and those strange eyes turned back to Kirk. 

“Release our Mr. Spock, and you can see the starship,” Kirk said. 

Spock sighed sadly, his eyebrows pulling together in the middle. God, it was so strange to see someone else pilot Spock’s body. It was so incorrect. “I can’t leave the planet unless I accompany someone else. I don’t have form the way you do.” 

“Are you harming Mr. Spock?” 

“Oh, no,” the companion said, pulling Spock’s mouth into a smile. “But it was fortunate that he realized what I wanted before I did any accidental damage to you. Telepath to telepath is much easier than telepath to not.” 

“And when you’ve looked your fill, you’ll leave his body and return him unharmed?” 

“Oh, yes,” the companion said. She flexed Spock’s hands. “His mind is accustomed to psychic connection. I’m not hurting him. He is with me now, watching, though I am the navigator.” 

“Is there any way for us to remove you from Mr. Spock if you decide not to hold up your end of the bargain?” 

Spock bared his teeth, and those seaglass eyes flashed in the light. The planet itself rumbled beneath their feet in an instantaneous earthquake. “If you try to remove me before I get to see your starship, I will wipe him from his own mind and take both his body and your ship by force.”

Kirk felt the blood drain from his face. The affable, easy tone had vanished in the space of a heartbeat, and he had no doubt that the companion could do as she said, given how easily she had taken Spock hostage in the first place. 

“There’s no need for that,” he said. 

“No,” the companion agreed. “So I can see your ship?” 

Kirk looked at the scientists, none of whom gave any indication that they had any other ideas, before pulling out his comm. He flipped it open. 

“Six to beam up. Spock is going to act oddly. Do not get security involved.” 

“Aye, captain,” Scotty’s voice said. “Odd how?” 

“You’ll see,” Kirk said. “Energize.” 

☆☆☆

Kirk, the companion in Spock’s body, and the four scientists materialized on the transporter pad. Spock gasped, and shook himself like a wet dog. 

“Oh, I did not enjoy that sensation! Every atom of this body feels shaken!” The companion’s voice was sweetly indignant, still high and feminine, and Scotty’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sound. The companion turned Spock’s newly green eyes on Scotty, who blanched at the sight. 

“Who are you?” the companion asked. 

“Montgomery Scott, at your service,” the engineer said nervously. “And who might you be?” 

“I am the companion,” Spock’s mouth said. He cocked his head, as if he were listening to something. “Oh,” he said. He approached Scotty where he stood behind the transporter controls and loomed over him, entirely ignoring the boundaries of personal space. Scotty, to his credit, only quavered a little bit. 

“I feel… admiration? Is that what this is? Mr. Spock thinks you’re very smart,” the companion said with Spock’s mouth, not a trace of Spock’s stoicism present. His whole body seemed to have been loosened, like an untuned guitar string. With a quick half-smile, the companion turned back to Kirk, arms swinging with the motion. Scotty stared after him, flabbergasted.

The companion clapped Spock’s hands in delight. “Show me everything!” 

☆☆☆

The turbolift opened, and Sulu called, “Captain on the bridge.” Kirk and the companion stepped out. 

“We have a guest,” Kirk said. “Mr. Spock is… not present. This is the companion.” He gestured to Spock, who stared curiously at each of the bridge crew in turn. Uhura covered her mouth with her hand when he turned his seafoam eyes on her. The companion approached her first, again standing entirely too close. Uhura had to tilt her head back to see his face, and the companion peered back at her. 

“Are you all human?” the companion asked. 

“Everyone except Mr. Spock,” Uhura said softly. 

“You’re all such different colors and sizes. I never would have guessed you were all the same species,” the companion said in delight. “Are you and Spock of Vulcan friends?” 

“Yes,” Uhura said. She leaned back against her console to allow the companion to continue her investigation of the bridge, but the companion stepped further into her space and ran one of Spock’s hands affectionately over Uhura’s hair. Spock’s eyes were wide as he beheld her. 

“I feel his affection when I look at you,” the companion said. “But it feels… oh, it tingles in the brain. He thinks of you in his native tongue, not this language.”

“I’m the communications officer,” Uhura said faintly. “We speak Vulcan together.” 

“Wonderful,” the companion breathed. “Just wonderful.” The companion wandered to the science station before hovering behind Sulu and Chekov, staring over their shoulders at their panels. 

“Does Spock of Vulcan know very many things?” The companion turned Spock’s body to look back at Kirk. He nodded.

“Spock is our science officer. He is knowledgeable about a great many things.”

“I’m so glad to share his mind. He shares his context with me as I see things,” the companion said. “Though I am surprised that he is your science person. The last Vulcans I met were warriors first and everything else second.” 

Kirk frowned. “You’ve met Vulcans before? And they were warriors?” 

“Oh, yes,” the companion said. She ran Spock’s hand over Sulu’s hair, twisting a few of the silky black strands between two fingers. “When I was very young, I was carried by my parents through space. We encountered a ferocious and warlike people on a desert planet very far away, and discovered that they had the capacity to commune with us through their telepathy.”

“Pre-Surakian Vulcan, captain,” Uhura murmured, and he nodded. 

“Does your Vulcan still fight? He feels strong.” 

“Yes,” Kirk said, and watched as the companion stepped away from the navigation console and experimentally bent Spock’s knees and elbows. 

“I would like to see the rest of your spaceship now, captain,” the companion said. Kirk gestured Spock’s body into the turbolift ahead of him. 

“Sulu, you have the conn until further notice. I’ll be… well, I suppose we’ll be wherever the companion wants to see next.” 

☆☆☆

The companion, for whatever reason, adored Scotty, and he was happy enough to lead her through the engine room. Kirk trailed after them, watching Scotty gesture to each part of the engine, and Spock pointed to different parts like a child and asked questions. The companion seemed to be keeping her word: Spock’s body did not seem to be under duress. If it weren’t for the uncanny eyes and the distinctly un-Spock-like body language, he would almost think that nothing was wrong. 

“What is this?” Spock asked, sticking his head into a Jeffries tube. “Oh, can I climb it?” 

“If you like,” Scotty said. “They just go to the different levels of the ship. Climb away.” Spock jumped and grabbed the overhead rung leading up, ignoring the ladder below. 

“Oh,” the companion said, her tone full of wonder. “He’s so strong!” Spock did a chin-up to the bar, and the companion’s laughter burbled out of his throat. Spock vanished up into the tube, climbing higher until the laughter had died away and Kirk and Scotty could just hear the clang of clumsy footsteps against the rungs. 

“What the devil, captain?” Scotty said, leaning closer to him.

“I have no idea. She promised not to harm him, and he seems… fine. She also said if we tried to force her out she would destroy him. So I figure that she could see the ship and then we’ll send her home.” 

“Aye, captain,” Scotty said, peering up into the tube. “I would say that I think we had broken the prime directive on that planet if I weren’t harboring the suspicion that her people invented space travel.” 

“She’s over two thousand years old, Scotty,” Kirk murmured back. “She remembers pre-Surak Vulcan.” 

“Aye?” Scotty looked at him in surprise. “She moves great for her age.” The footsteps and clanging grew louder until Spock dropped back out of the Jeffries tube, face flushed. 

“You can climb everywhere!” 

“Aye,” Scotty said. “Useful for my engineers, needing to get to different points on the ship.” 

“I see,” the companion said. “I can feel in this body that he is not so different from the Vulcans that I remember. A warrior-scholar, I think.” She stepped towards Kirk, circling him. He allowed the companion to prowl around him, feeling the brush of Spock’s shoulder against his back. 

“Do we fight, captain?” Spock’s breath ghosted over his ear. He fought to keep himself from flinching.

“Yes,” Kirk said, keeping his chin high. “We spar frequently, to stay in shape.” 

“I would like to spar with you,” the companion said. “Please?” 

Kirk ignored the shiver from hearing Spock’s voice, even high and unfamiliar, say ‘please’ to him. “Sure thing,” he said. “I promised a full tour, didn’t I?” 

☆☆☆

Kirk stood across from Spock and the companion on a sparring mat in the gym. Unsure of what to expect and trying to protect Spock’s privacy, he had cleared everyone else out of the room. Spock bounced on the balls of his feet and rolled his neck, pulling his tendons taut against his skin. He never moved like that. It was uncanny. At least from this distance the color of his eyes was less prominent. 

“How does this work?” 

“Spock is teaching me Suus Mahna,” Kirk said. “It’s a Vulcan martial art.” He bent his knees, trying to place his arms correctly. The companion copied him, and in the movement he saw Spock’s muscle memory take over. 

“Yes,” the companion breathed. “I feel it now.” For the first time since the companion had taken possession, Spock’s body moved like it was supposed to. He struck forward, no warning, and Kirk dodged out of the way. They circled each other. As Spock’s body moved in a way that was finally, finally familiar, Kirk felt the tension he’d been carrying since that morning leak out of his shoulders. Spock was still in there, and he would be returned to them soon. Spock struck again, and they grappled, shoulders locked against each other. Kirk hooked a leg behind Spock’s knee, trying to topple him. Spock dropped and rolled, flipping Kirk over his shoulder, using his momentum against him. 

In a flash Spock was on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground, the length of his body pressed against Kirk’s. Kirk squirmed, fighting to displace him, but he was so damn heavy. All he managed to do was get his shirt rucked up, stuck under his back, and he could feel the rough weave of Spock’s uniform against his stomach.

The companion’s curious green eyes watched his face, slowly releasing the hold on his shoulder. Kirk lay flat on the ground, breathing hard. 

“Spock usually wins,” he said eventually. The companion still gazed at him, the weight of Spock’s body pressed against him. He said, “This is the part where you get off of me.” 

“It is?” The companion looked confused, and brought one of Spock’s hands to Kirk’s stomach. She trailed Spock’s long fingers against his exposed hip. “I thought that---” 

“Nope,” Kirk said, and squirmed harder. God, Spock’s hands on his skin felt good, just like he had imagined, but he didn’t want it like this. He didn’t want the body with the mind not present. “I don’t know what you thought, but he wouldn’t want this. You’re still a guest in his body. Please respect that.” The companion levered Spock up in a pushup, and Kirk scrambled backwards. He yanked his shirt back down and sat with his legs crossed at a safe distance. 

“I am sorry, captain,” the companion said, and Spock’s face was contrite. “I am only able to follow his existing neural pathways. The line between fantasy and memory is slender.” 

“Oh,” Kirk said, and his breath left him in a rush. 

“He thinks of you often, captain. You are his favorite. He wants---” 

Kirk held up a hand, stopping whatever words would come next. “Please don’t,” he said. 

Spock’s brow furrowed. “You do not want him? But I felt it,” the companion said, and she lifted Spock’s hands. Damn telepaths.

“It’s not that,” Kirk said. “If there’s something that he wants to tell me, he can tell me. I don’t want to know if he’s not willing to share that.”

“And you have not told him how you feel either.” 

“No,” Kirk said. “I haven’t.” The companion watched him for a moment longer before clambering to Spock’s feet. Kirk stood and readjusted his uniform, trying to straighten his mind back out, trying to ignore the idea that Spock might harbor the same unprofessional desires he did. 

“What would you like to see next?” Kirk asked. 

The companion turned to look back over Spock’s shoulder. “I would like to see ko-kai again. The communications officer.” 

“Ko-kai? What is that?” Kirk led the companion back to the turbolift to return them to the bridge. The companion shrugged. The informal gesture was unnatural on Spock. 

“It is how Spock of Vulcan thinks of her. Is that not her name?” The turbolift carried them back to the bridge, and as the door opened, Kirk said, “No, her name is Uhura.” 

Uhura turned at the sound of her name as Sulu called, “Captain on the bridge!” 

“Hello again,” Uhura said to the companion, and the companion crouched in Spock’s body next to her station. 

“I think I will go back to my planet soon,” the companion said. “I have seen many things, and I will have to think on what I have observed for a time.” 

“Did you have a nice time?” 

“I did,” the companion said. “I wanted to see a starship, and I saw it. I don’t think I understand the people on it, though.” 

“People are difficult,” Uhura agreed. “I have lived a long time, and witnessed many things. And so much of what I have seen could be avoided if people merely said what they meant, or thought, or felt.” Uhura turned to look at the companion, who petted her shoulder with Spock’s hand. “It was nice to meet you, ko-kai.”  

“Oh!” Uhura stared at the companion, but Spock had already turned away. 

“Take me back, captain,” the companion said, and he took them back to the turbolift. 

☆☆☆

Scotty met them in the transporter room. “Leaving so soon?” 

“Thank you for showing me the ship,” the companion said. “Spock of Vulcan is correct in his assessment of your intelligence.” 

“Well, tha’s very kind of ye,” he said. “And of Mr. Spock, though I’ll never tell him ye said that.” 

“That’s a shame,” the companion said, and stood on a transporter pad. 

Kirk said, “Energize.” 

The grassy planet materialized around him, and Spock at his side. His eyes were still green. 

“Thank you, Captain Kirk,” the companion said. “I’m sorry for the distress I caused you. I meant no harm.” 

“It’s alright,” Kirk said. “As long as you return Mr. Spock to us, we’ll call it even.” Spock cocked his head to the side. 

“He’ll be with you momentarily. I think you have a lot to talk about.” Spock closed his eyes, and from his mouth gushed a font of black gas. It whirled upwards, hovering for a moment over their heads, before dissipating into the air around them. 

Bye! A disembodied voice echoed in his ears before fading away, and when Spock opened his eyes they were the warm brown that Kirk had missed all day. 

“Captain,” he said, and his voice was deep and inflectionless. Kirk smiled. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Spock,” he said. He put his hands on his hips and took a steadying breath. “I think we should talk.” 

[dumdumsun]

Wax and Wane

A/N: Happy late Halloween! I just recovered from covid a couple weeks ago, so I was able to celebrate! It’s currently the week of the other show I’m doing, so I’ve been v busy. You guys get another chapter tomorrow. Stay safe and healthy! Much love and enjoy the chapter!

Warnings: PTSD, torture, drugging, violence, guns, gunshots, blood, mentions of death and murder

Word Count: 6533

—————————————

Chapter Eleven: E Pluribus Unum

“I don’t understand. You’ve seen this before?” Robin asked as the four descended the staircase they previously climbed. Shortly after the two males had caught sight of the opening gate, they cut their exploration of the underground Russian facility short.

“Not exactly.” Steve answered, still in shock.

“Then what, exactly?”

“All you need to know is it’s bad.” Dustin answered.

“It’s really bad.” Steve added as they returned to the control room they had first snuck into.

“Like, end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad.”

Robin furrowed her brows and slowed her walk to a stop, as well as the other three. “And you know about this, how?”

Erica peered at the space behind Steve’s feet. “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?”

The other three followed her gaze to see that the guard Steve had knocked out was nowhere in sight. One second later, an alarm was blaring throughout the entire facility. Steve cursed and ran to the door, opening it to find the guard amongst his comrades, the lot of them seemingly asking him what happened. When they spotted Steve, they began yelling in their language and rushing to the door. He quickly shut the door and motioned for them all to go back up the stairs.

Dustin led them all back to the door they had been looking through, throwing it open and rushing into the observation room. Every scientist within turned to them with wide eyes.

“Nice going, Curly!” Erica sassed as they flew down the metal stairs that led to the machine. Behind them, the guards spilled into the room, quickly catching sight of them and continuing their chase.

Below, Dustin had just pushed aside a hazmat-suited person with a screech, his friends following close behind. With nowhere else to go, they found themselves right next to the machine, at the edge of the facility. All that laid between them and the gate was the beam of electricity and a void of nothingness.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Dustin cried out in panic. “Holy shit! Holy shit! Shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!!!”

“Guards!” Erica called out when she noticed the lot of them right on their tails.

“This way!” Steve called out, jumping down the staircase that led away from the machine. He pushed aside another worker who was going about their business in order to get a clear shot. He pushed obstacles in the guards’ way until they reached a door. Robin led them all inside with Steve being the last, the young man shutting the door and putting his weight against it as several guards began banging on it. “Robin!”

She ran to his side and assisted him in holding the door closed. The very next moment, Erica found a metal grater that led to the vents. “Here! Come on, let’s go!”

Dustin let her go in first before turning to the other two. “Come on!”

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve shouted.

“No! Come on, now!”

“No! Just go get some help, okay?!” He watched Dustin hop in before the boy stopped and stared at the two. “What are you doing?! Go!”

“I won’t forget you!”

“Go!” They both yelled.

As soon as the grater was closed, the door was slammed open, sending the two to the ground. Russian shouts overlapped as the guards flooded the room, multiple guns being pointed at them. Steve and Robin silently raised their hands in defense, having no other choice.

A surprisingly not-so-long distance away, at the hospital, the children within the waiting room huddled together as they watched the lights above them flicker. Will reached back and felt the goosebumps that prickled the back of his neck with wide eyes.

“He’s here.” The boy shuddered.

Eleven’s gaze turned cold. “Where’s Doc?”

As if she heard her question, Doc’s screamed sob could be heard far down the hall. Immediately, the Party rushed to the bathroom, El throwing open the door.

The bathroom looked like a tornado had blown by. The mirror was shattered, the hand railing was broken off the wall, black ooze coating the jagged edge, a pile of clothes laid on the floor. They let the door close, revealing Doc right behind it. She was pressed against the wall, curled into herself and shakily sobbing.

Mike knelt down beside her and checked her for wounds. “Doc, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She didn’t answer, her gaze trained on the floor vent. It took Mike having to forcibly move her face for her to snap out of her trance. “Mike…?”

“What happened?”

Doc tearfully looked around at her friends, who were staring at her in worry. She went to answer, but a chill went through her body. She shivered and craned her neck up, where she could feel the presence. She knew the Mind Flayer wasn’t on the ceiling or in the room with her. But it was above.

On another floor.

“Nancy…”

Pushing past Mike, Doc clambered to her feet and burst out of the bathroom, a wild look in her eyes. She could hear the footsteps of her friends behind her, but didn’t warn them not to follow.

The Mind Flayer attempted to take Will from her, it managed to take her best friend, but it would not take her sister. Over her dead body. And in this case, maybe her actual dead body.

On the third floor, Nancy stared fearfully at the monster that had screeched at her. She quietly cursed before she heard Jonathan scream out her name, snapping her back into reality. She backed herself up until she was at the fire exit. She tried to push the door open, but there was something on the other side blocking it.

“Hey!” Jonathan desperately called out to the monster in hopes of getting its attention, but it was only focused on her. Nancy grunted as she pushed harder on the door with a cry, the monster’s growling sounding nearer and nearer behind her.

Jonathan ran to an IV pole and broke the metal off of it with great effort. “Hey!” He called out again just as Nancy got the door open and ran in.

On the first floor, the Party was rushing after Doc, none of them giving the receptionist a sparing glance. “Hey, hey, hey!” She called out. “Two at a time!”

Nancy panted as she ran down another unfinished hallway, the monster roaring some feet behind her. She blindly turned right when reaching the end of the hall, darting into the first room she saw. She shut the door and locked it before stepping back. On the other side, the monster slammed itself against the door.

When it realized it could not get in that way, it sank to the floor, slithering through the crack and the vent at the bottom of the door. Nancy watched in terror and backed away as the monster made its way into the room she had just locked herself in.

“Jonathan…” She quietly cried.

Said male had tiredly stumbled his way into the hallway, his heart dropping when he saw the monster going into the room. “No! Nancy!” He dropped the metal and ran to the room.

“Jonathan!”

He tried to slam his way into the room, yelling out when he tried the handle. “No, no! Nancy!”

Below, Doc hit the elevator button several times, waited exactly one second, and shook her head. “No time. Stairs.” She dashed down the hall to the stairwell, her friends right behind her.

Jonathan slammed his body against the door a few more times before huffing. “Goddamn it!”

Nancy watched through tears as the mass of blood and guts formed back into the monster it was before. It snarled and roared before whacking her with one of its legs, sending her crashing into a wall and then the floor.

Jonathan had found a few oxygen tanks and picked one up, slamming it into the door handle.

After regaining her composure, Nancy crawled back from the monster, pressing herself against the wall. The closer it got, the further she sank into the floor until she was laying on her back.

The tank had made its progress when Jonathan rammed it into the window, cracking it a bit.

The monster snarled as it loomed over Nancy, slime dripping from its limbs and mouth as it stared at her fear-stricken face. It let out one last roar before the door was broken into the room, revealing the Party.

“Jesus.” Mike gaped.

“What the fu-” Max’s exclamation was cut off when the creature roared at them. Doc’s eyes widened impossibly further at her sister on the ground.

“Nancy!” She shouted, catching the monster’s attention. It roared once again and ran at her. She blinked, and for a split second, it was Brenda running at her with a glass shard at the ready. Heart in her throat, Doc stretched an arm out and sent her friend into the wall, impaling her on the metal railing.

When she blinked again, it was the monster. Eleven could feel her sister’s power slipping, so she took hold of the creature and angrily threw it into the other wall. Doc regained her senses and took hold, sending it up into the ceiling, El taking her turn and slamming it back onto the ground.

The monster slowly stood up once again and roared at them, the two using both the powers to chuck it through the window and out into the night. Doc heard the sound of a thump before her eyes fell back to her cowering sister.

“Nancy…”

“Nancy!” Jonathan pushed past her and went to his girlfriend. Doc finally registered the ringing in her ears and let it subside before she tore her gaze away from them and followed her friends back down the stairs.

Eleven threw open the doors to the exit of the hospital, but halted her steps and stretched out her arms to stop her friends from going any further. There, right in front of them, the creature was slinking through the metal of the storm drain. Seeing that it was getting away, Doc forced her way through everyone, Mike quickly catching her by her waist and pulling her back.

“Doc, no! Don’t go near it!”

She fought against her brother as she watched the monster, watched Brenda, slink away. “No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No!” She cried and broke from Mike’s grasp, ignoring everyone’s calls to her as she ran to the drain. The monster was out of sight, leaving nothing in its wake but bones. She didn’t know if they belonged to Tom or Bruce or Brenda or any combination of the three, but no matter whose they were, it still sent bile in her throat. “Brenda!!!”

Her knees gave out and before she could hit the ground, Mike and Lucas caught her in their arms. She let her tears fall freely this time, the girl throwing her head back and sending a body-racking scream of agony to the sky, any nearby glass shattering with the power her emotions stirred. Everyone gasped and moved away from the glass that rained down, Doc slumping her head and letting it drop onto Lucas’s shoulder as she heavily sobbed.

The Brimborn Steelworks warehouse welcomed in its guest through the metal bars, the sludge of Tom, Bruce and Brenda making its way to an even greater being than itself, attaching itself from the bottom and slithering up its leg until it was securely part of it, back to the source.

Billy and Heather stood before the Mind Flayer with dead eyes, watching it grow with even more victims.

“It’s time.”

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

Below the secret Russian facility, deep in the large ventilation system, sat Dustin and Erica. The boy was relaying the events of the last two years to his companion as he attempted to unscrew a panel that contained the wires to the giant fan just beside them. Despite the air being blown onto them for the entire time they had been there, the two of them were still sweating bullets.

“So, when we set fire to the hub, we made the fight easier for (Y/N) and drew the Demodogs away so El could close the gate. But now, for some insane reason, the Russians appear to be trying to reopen it, which just destroys everything we risked our lives and lost (Y/N)’s powers for.”

Erica raised her eyebrows. “By ‘we’, you’re including Lucas?”

“Yes, of course.” He frowned and went back to unscrewing the panel.

“So, all that shit you told me, Lucas was there?”

“Yeah.”

“My brother, Lucas Charles Sinclair?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dustin shifted on his knees, furrowing his brows in disbelief of her disbelief. “Wait, so you believe everything about El and (Y/N) and the gate and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?”

“That’s correct.” She nodded.

“Makes total sense.” He sarcastically muttered and went back to the panel. Erica watched him fiddle with it once again with narrowed eyes.

“Um, you need help with that?”

“No.”

“Well, I mean, it’s taking awhile, so-”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Erica huffed and blinked widely. “Alright, so if we don’t find a more efficient method to stop these fans, we’re never gonna find help, and your ice cream buddies are screwed.”

He slowly turned to her. “Yeah, with that attitude, they are. Jee-zus!”

“I’m just being realistic.” She checked her watch. “I mean, we’ve made it about… point-three miles in nine hours. Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately… twelve-and-a-half days.”

Dustin blinked at her. “Did you just do all of that in your head?”

“I’m good with numbers.” She shrugged.

“Holy shit. You’re a nerd.”

“Come again?”

“You. Are. A. Nerd.”

She sassily waved a finger at him. “Okay, you better take that back, nerd.”

He let out a fake wince. “Can’t put the truth back in the box.”

“But it’s not the truth.”

“Let’s examine the facts, shall we? Fact one: You’re a math whiz, apparently.”

“That was a pretty straightforward equation-”

“Fact number two: You’re a political junkie.”

“Just because I don’t agree with Communism as an ideology-”

“Fact number three,” He lifted the girl’s pink backpack displaying her favorite fantasy character. “You love My Little Pony.”

She quickly took it back. “And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?”

“Ah, let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we?” He sighed out. “The evil centaur team and Tirek turns Applejack into a dragon at Midnight Castle, and then Megan and the other ponies have to use Moochick’s magic to defeat his rainbow of darkness, saving them from a lifetime of enslavement. All the pink in the world can’t disguise the irrefutable fact that centaurs and castles and dragons and magic are all standard nerd tropes. Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.”

The Sinclair girl cheekily smiled with her chin propped on a finger. “And how do you know so much about My Little Pony?”

“Because I’m…” He removed the covering of the panel to reveal the wires. “...a nerd.”

His words wiped that smile off her face and sent her into silence as he ripped the wires out of place, emitting some electrical sparking and slowing the fan before them to a stop. He turned to her with raised brows.

“Let’s go… nerd.”

“You…” She hissed as she watched him crawl through the space between two of the fan blades, reluctantly grabbing her very nerdy backpack and following behind.

Above the two, Steve Harrington was strapped to a chair within a sort of holding cell. The metal bench he sat on chilled the backs of his exposed thighs, but that wasn’t the sensation that bothered him. It was the sharp, stinging, stabbing, throbbing, aching pain in every part of his face and abdomen.

Before him stood a Russian warden, calmly watching as the guard at his side sent yet another harsh blow to Steve’s face, adding to the numerous marks and bruises from the previous assault he endured before from the muscle in the room. The punch the young man just received sent his head whipping to the side, his swollen eye throbbing even more in fresh pain.

“That one stung…” He groaned, blood dripping from his lips.

“Who do you work for?” The warden droned.

“For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy! Scoops Ahoy…”

With approval, the guard sent a punch into Steve’s chest, causing him to cry out in pain.

“What the hell?!” He strained. “Look at my outfit! Look at my outfit! You think I just wear this?! Think I’m a spy in a sailor’s uniform?!”

Another punch to his gut cut off his screams.

“How did you get in?” The warden interrogated.

“I already told you. I told you before.” Steve gasped. “My delivery didn’t come, and my friends and I, we thought that it was left at the loading dock, so… we went in the room, and then it turned… into an elevator, and then… and then we dropped and then next thing we know, I open my eyes and- and we’re in this… wonderful facility.”

He took a second to painfully collect his breaths as the warden side-eyed him.

“But I swear to god, nobody knows about us, nobody saw us. You could just let us go, alright? And… I’m not gonna tell anybody about this, okay? Shit happens, life goes on,” He was sure he was getting through to the warden when he turned to him with curious eyes. “And, uh… ice- ice cream. Ice cream, okay? You guys know what ice cream is. Everybody loves ice cream. You- I don’t know if you have Russian ice cream or if that’s considered gelato. I don’t know what’s what, but whatever you guys want, seriously. USS Butterscotch, I mean, you gotta try it. It is out of this world, I’m telling ya!”

A tense pause filled the room before the warden burst out into laughter, his muscle quietly joining him. Steve’s eyes darted between the two of them as he nervously joined in the laughter.

“I like this guy!” The warden howled, his laughter bubbling down to breathless chuckles. “USS… Butterscotch.” His smile slowly vanished as he braced himself on his knees to get a closer look at Steve.

“Who. Do you. Work for.”

Hope gone, Steve desperately turned his head to the approaching guard. “Oh, come on. No, no! No, seriously-”

The devastating blow he caught with his face sent his vision into darkness and his body falling to the side. He could hardly make out where he was or how he was being moved, but whatever it was threw him to the floor of another room.

“Get your hands off me!” He faintly heard a familiar feminine voice before a thump sounded next to his body. Suddenly, the voice was at his ear. “Hey… Steve? Steve? Steve? Steve?”

A buzzer went off before the warden was let into the room. Robin looked up at him from Steve’s unconscious body. “What did you do to him? What did you do?!”

The warden slapped her harshly across the face, the girl falling to the floor in pain. He spoke an order to the guards in the room, and the next second, the two were being strapped back-to-back in chairs.

“Don’t touch me!” Robin struggled. “Steve- Steve, wake up. Steve? What did you do?!”

When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the warden lifting her friend’s limp head to get a look at his face. “Don’t touch him!” She growled, seething at the way he clicked his tongue and then dropped his head. “Steve? Steve, can you hear me?”

“I think your friend need a doctor.” The warden strode to stand in front of her. “Good thing…”

He bent down to be at eye level with her.

“...we have the very best.”

Robin glared as he turned his head to throw a laugh at his guards. As soon as he turned back to her, he got a face-full of saliva. This silenced the room. The warden reached his handkerchief to his face and wiped the saliva clean from his skin. When he looked up at Robin, she tilted her chin up in defiance.

“You are going to regret that, suchka.”

Her glare crumbled as frightened tears rushed to her eyes. She watched the warden order his guards in their native tongue before they all started filing out of the room. “Bastards. Let us out of here!” She screamed and thrashed as the door closed behind them. “Bastards! Let us out! Let us out!”

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

Doc wouldn’t even look at Eleven as the two aimlessly walked through the Void, the water at their feet gently splashing with every step they took.

After the events at the hospital, everyone was taken to their respective homes to freshen up and change into clean clothes. Doc decided she had to be more practical and not fight anymore battles in a mini skirt. She now wore a black button-up with red raven feather print all over it, a matching headscarf tied in her hair. Her shirt was tucked into a pair of black pants that were fastened close to her waist by a red belt.

The dark colors were very unlike Doc. In fact, her entire demeanor was unlike her. El supposed she couldn’t blame her, though, with everything that she had just been through. Once she had calmed down, she was able to tell her friends about Brenda and the devastating choice she had to make in killing her. Since then, the Party had been tip-toeing around her, not wanting to upset her more than she already was.

Eleven didn’t want it to seem that she was being insensitive when she asked Doc to help her find any of the confirmed flayed, but she needed all the help she could get. Her face had been stone-cold when she agreed to assist her.

Within their telepathic connection, Doc was whipping her head all around the empty Void for any sign of any other life besides her and El. Outside the Void, the two sat cross-legged across from each other on the floor of El’s bedroom, both their eyes covered by black blindfolds. Beside them, her television hissed with static, illuminating their faces in a soft glow. In front of the television, four photos were lined up. One of Billy, a newspaper clipping of Bruce, an advertisement for the local church’s bingo night with Doris smiling on the front, and then a Holloway family photo.

When Doc had gotten a glance at the last picture, she had inhaled sharply and immediately fastened the blindfold around her eyes.

On Eleven’s other side was a box of tissues and a pile of bloodied tissues growing with every minute. Doc had been working as hard as her, but not a single drop of blood slid from her nostrils. It was just something she didn’t do, and they never knew why. It was like the equivalent of a bodybuilder not breaking a sweat compared to a first-time weight-lifter. Perhaps Doc was just stronger than Eleven.

In the Void, Eleven noticed Doc’s form beginning to fade away for the fifth time now. Her focus was slipping the more her frustration and impatience grew. And the more her focus slipped, the farther she would fade from the Void.

“Where the hell are they?” Her voice wavered in and out along with her body. She grabbed at her hair as she marched across the water. “Come on… Come on.”

“Doc-”

“This isn’t working!”

“It will work. You need to focus.”

On the outside, Doc slapped El’s hands away when she felt them grab hers.

“I am focused.”

She sighed at her friend’s anger and silently continued their search. Outside the room, in the living room, Mike was pacing back and forth in a panicked manner. “It can’t be good for them to be in there for this long.”

“Mike, you need to relax.” Max sighed from the armchair.

“What if they get brain damage or something?”

“Oh, shit,” Lucas gawked at them from the couch, a box of cereal in his hands. “Is that, like, a real thing?”

“No, it’s not.” Max shook her head. “He made it up. Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

Mike’s face scrunched up at her. “Oh, and you do?”

Their banter could be heard from the kitchen, where Nancy, Jonathan and Will were, the former speaking on the phone. “Yes, from The Hawkins Post. I- I called a couple days ago about the- Yes, yes, um… I was just… following up to see if anything else had gone missing, or if- Okay. Um, sorry to bother-”

At the dial tone, she hung up and turned to her boyfriend. “Who’s next?”

“There is no next.” He crossed out the last farming supply store from the phone book. “Unless you want to start calling random people’s homes.”

She tossed her notepad onto the counter beside the book. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What part of any of this makes sense?”

“There’s a pattern, okay? A consistency to their behavior. They’ve been feeding on these chemicals since this started, and- and, what, they just stop, out of the blue?”

Will spoke up from the stool he sat on across from Jonathan. “Maybe they have all the chemicals they need. Maybe they’ve all turned into those… things.”

Nancy ran a hand through her hair. “But what about the source? I mean, did the Mind Flayer just suddenly stop infecting people? And even if the flayed are monsters now, why can’t the girls find them?”

The three looked up as Max and Mike marched into the kitchen. “Okay, can you guys settle an argument for us?” The Mayfield girl asked. “Who do you think should decide the girls’ limits? Mike or the girls?”

“The way that you frame that is such bullshit.” Mike spat.

“It’s not bullshit, Mike. This is your whole problem. And it’s also precisely the reason El dumped your ass.”

Nancy widened her eyes. “El dumped you?”

“Yeah, because she is conspiring against me.” Mike motioned to Max. “She’s corrupting her.”

“No, enlightening her. The fact is, she’s not yours. Neither is (Y/N). They are their own people, fully capable of making their own decisions.”

“(Y/N) is not capable of making her own decisions right now. You don’t know her like I do. She’s spiraling!”

“That doesn’t mean she’s incapable of being logical! Besides, El is helping her, and she understands her in ways you don’t.”

“They’re both risking their lives for no reason!”

Nancy frowned. “For no reason? Mike, the flayed are out there doing god knows what.”

“Killing… flaying…” Lucas added.

“Transforming into monsters.” Will also added.

“And the girls aren’t stupid.” Nancy continued. “They know their abilities and each other better than any of us.”

“Exactly, thank you.” Max nodded.

“And they are their own people.”

“Exactly.”

“With their own free will.”

“Exactly.” Max emphasized, catching a glimpse of the look of utter disbelief Mike was giving his sister. “El and (Y/N) have saved the world twice, and Mike still doesn’t trust them.”

Mike whirled on her. “You wanna talk about trust, really? After you made Eleven spy on us?”

Max’s eyes flitted away as Lucas pushed himself off the wall. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you this?”

“No.”

“Your girlfriend used El’s powers to spy on us.”

Max shook her head. “No, no, no, I did not make her. It was her idea. And why are we even talking about this, seriously?”

“Yeah, who cares?” Will shrugged.

“I care!” Lucas fumed.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “I guess girlfriends don’t lie, they spy.”

“We were just joking around.” Max defended.

“Wouldn’t it’ve been so funny if I was taking a massive shit or something?!”

“You weren’t.”

“But what if I was?!”

“Then gross!”

Nancy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Mike?”

Mike turned back to her. “I’m just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with Eleven’s powers. In fact, how careless all of you are with both of them. (Y/N) just got her powers back and she had to kill her best friend with them. Stressing about this right after cannot be good for her! You’re treating them like some kind of machine when they’re not machines, and I don’t want my sister to suffer anymore than she already has in the past forty-eight hours, and I don’t want El to die looking for the flayed when they’ve obviously vanished off the face of the earth! So can we please just come up with a new plan because I love her and I can’t lose her again!”

The room silenced as Mike’s words settled in for everyone. Max’s eyes widened, Nancy and Jonathan’s jaws went slack, Will stared down with his gaze frozen on his lap, and Lucas slid down to sit on the edge of the table with a cheeky grin. Mike’s heart dropped when he realized what he just confessed.

Before anyone could speak, they were startled by the slamming of Eleven’s bedroom door, Doc silently walking out. They watched her as she moved, not sparing anyone a single passing glance as she headed for the front door, throwing it open and flinging it closed with a screamed curse.

A couple seconds later, El stepped out of her room, blindfold around her neck. She rounded the corner and settled her gaze on Mike. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Mike immediately answered, eyes anywhere but on her. “Nothing.”

“Just a family discussion.” Lucas smirked.

Her eyes averted disappointedly. “Oh.” She muttered, forcing herself to look up at the group. “We found him.”

Nancy tilted her head slightly. “Found who?”

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

Dustin poked his head out of the floor after pushing a metal grater out of the way. His eyes scanned the see several storage tanks containing the vials of ooze. He and Erica rose from the vent in awe.

“Jackpot.”

They both crawled out and straightened themselves to look for a way out. Dustin turned his head and his eyes lit up instantly. “Oh-ho-ho!”

Erica followed him to one of the many carts they had seen the guards riding the facility through. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“How hard can it be? Max did it.” He hopped into the driver seat, groaning at the empty keyhole. “Awe, come on.”

“You seriously thought they’d just leave keys in there?”

“There’s gotta be a spare.” He sighed and began feeling through every nook and cranny of the vehicle. He checked under the seats, along the doorframe, near the wheel and buttons, but nothing.

“Hey, Dustin?” Erica called out a little ways away.

“Yeah?” He responded, climbing out of the cart.

“How big did you say that Demogorgon was?”

He huffed and walked over to a nearby table. “Big. Nine feet or so. Why?” When he didn’t receive a response, he shrugged it off and continued his search for keys. Lifting his head, he discovered a metal box on the wall above a table. Hope sparking, he fished out his screwdriver and walked up to it, making work of picking the lock. A smile of triumph graced his features as soon as he opened the box and took out the keys. “Found ‘em.”

When he turned around, his companion was nowhere in sight.

“Erica…?”

A loud zap sounded from behind him, the boy flinching and turning around to Erica, who held a rod with an electric zap at the end activated by a button. Dustin swallowed his heart back into his chest. “What the hell is that?!”

“A deadly weapon.” She shrugged. “Could be useful.”

He jumped back when she playfully zapped it at him again. “For what?”

“What do you think? Taking out Commies, saving your friends.”

“Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd.” He pocketed his screwdriver, watching as she rolled her eyes and walked back to the cart. “We don’t even know where they are, and even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that.”

He followed her to the cart she was already sitting in. “The best thing we can do for them is to get out of here and find… help. Easy with that.” He widened his eyes at the rod she was holding way too close to his face. “Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this. Please?”

Erica didn’t answer, so he took that as answer enough and started the vehicle.

Down the very long hallway they were to venture, and then down some more halls, Robin was still calling out to anyone who would be willing to free her and her friend from captivity.

“Help! Help! Help!”

“Hey,” Steve’s quiet voice slurred once he was stirred from his sleep. “Would you stop yelling?”

“Steve!” She grinned in relief. “Oh, my god! Steve… Are- Are you okay?”

He took a shaky breath. “My ears are ringing, and I can’t really breathe, my eye feels like it’s about to pop out of my skull, but, you know, apart from that, I’m doing pretty good.”

She smiled slightly at the soft and trying lilt of his voice. “Well, the good news is that they’re calling you a doctor.”

Steve raised his head and scanned the room. “Is this his place of work? I love the vibe. Charming.”

That pulled a chuckle out of her. “Yeah, tell me about it. So, okay, do you see that table over there to your right?”

He looked to his left.

“No, your other right.”

“Oh.”

He looked to his right to see a table of surgical tools.

“Yeah, okay. And do you see those scissors?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, well, I think that if we move at the same time, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap.”

“And I could cut the binds.”

“Yeah, and we could get out of here.”

“Gotcha. Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Yeah.”

“Those morons. They left scissors in here?”

The two laughed in excited hope. “Yeah, morons.”

“Total morons. Okay.”

“Okay, so, on the count of three, we’re gonna hop.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, good, hop on three. I gotcha.”

“Alright. One, two, three.”

Robin scooted to the left while Steve scooted to them left, bringing them a bit closer to the table.

“Okay, that worked.”

“Okay.”

“Alright. Uh, let’s try again.”

“Right.”

“One, two, three.”

They scooted even farther, an arms-length away if their limbs weren’t confined.

“Holy shit, this is gonna work!”

“We’re close. Ready?”

“Okay, one, two, three.”

The third and last time they scooted, the chair slipped and toppled over, sending the two to the ground on their sides. Steve groaned as his aches and pains he had just tolerated flooded back to his senses. But that slinked into the back of his mind at the sounds of Robin’s squeaks behind him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He tried to soothe. “Don’t cry, Robin… Are you laughing?”

Her squeaks turned into full on laughter, causing him to sigh out and slump back onto the floor. “I’m sorry!” She gasped through giggles. “I’m so sorry. It’s just… I can’t believe… I’m gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. It’s just too trippy, man.”

“We’re not gonna die. We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Just- You gotta let me just think for a second.”

She laid there for a second and let her laughter subside before taking in a breath. “Do you remember, um, Mrs Click’s sophomore history class?”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Mrs Clickity-Clackity. That’s what us band dweebs called her. It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And… you always had the same breakfast. Bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you… two days a week for a year. Mr Funny. Mr Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself. Do you ever remember me from that class?”

At his silence, she scoffed.

“Of course, you don’t. You were a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know…”

“But it didn’t even matter. It didn’t matter that you were an ass. I was still… obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular… accepted… normal.”

Steve deflated. “If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn’t all that great. Seriously. It just baffles me. Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just…”

He finally understood what Nancy meant all those months ago.

“...bullshit. But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?”

“I hope so.” Robin whispered. “I feel like my whole life has been… one big error.”

“Yep.” He chuckled, Robin joining him.

“At least it can’t get any more messed up than this.” She grinned.

“You know, I wish I’d known you in Click’s class.”

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Really, I do. Maybe you could’ve helped me pass the class. Maybe instead of being here, I’d be on my way to college right now.”

“And I would have no idea that there were evil Russians beneath our feet, and I would be happily slinging ice cream with some other schmuck.”

Steve snorted, a warm feeling blanketing his chest. “I gotta say, though… I liked being your schmuck. It was fun while it lasted.”

“It was.”

Their heart-to-heart was ruined when a buzzer went off, the door to the room opening and allowing access to the warden and his guards. His smug smile loomed over the fallen pair as he let out a huff of laughter.

“Where were you two going?”

The two were lifted and then plopped upright firmly onto the floor once again, sighing out in defeat. The warden crouched in front of Steve with narrowed eyes. “Try telling the truth this time, yes? It will make your visit with Dr Zharkov less painful.”

Steve winced and moved his head away from the man’s touch. He watched the warden nod before his place was taken by a man in white with a black apron at the front of his attire. In one hand, he clutched a sort of gun with a small container of a blue substance at the top of it.

“Wait a second. Wait. Hold on.” His panic rose as the ‘doctor’ moved closer to him. “Okay! Wait, wait, wait! What is that thing?!”

“It will help you talk.”

His body tense when the doctor grabbed him by the hair and angled his head so his neck was exposed. “Did you even clean that thing?!”

The doctor did not respond, only ejected a needle from the gun and sunk it into Steve’s neck, the young man crying out in pain at the sharp sting in his skin.

—————————————

Taglist: @yurtletheturtlehenderson @alexa-j-f @inthemourninglight @that-one-multifandom-chick @ariyabella @lonelywitchv2 @frogserotonin @mymomsdisappointment @hewwofriends @billieissad @get0ut0fmyr00m @143kae @satsuri3su @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @unordinary-simp @raquel12 @roman0ffsheart @jjjennyxii @hereiamhereigo @wizardsgrace @meowiemari

[trainofcommand]

Tell us more of the cowboys and golden retrievers retrieving a weird scientist

Well, okay then! :)

Cracky flash ficlet: Retrieved, with Science (Cam Mitchell, Jonas Quinn, Rodney McKay, two golden retrievers, cowboys 1950s AU).

"Those are some dumbass dogs for a cowboy," some idiot once said to Cam, his face scrunched up with disgust and derision. "Dumbest cowboy dogs I ever seen," he'd reiterated, drawing out the 'dumbest' into a slow drawl, and punctuating it by spitting a mouthful of tobacco on the ground.

The dogs in question – Killer and Fang – had looked up from where they'd been curled on the stoop of the little cabin where they all stay in the off-season, their mouths open, panting happily, exhausted from a long day of doing whatever the heck Cam had wanted them to do. He'd looked at the dogs, looked at the idiot who was talking, and figured to hell with him. Then he'd punched that idiot right in the mouth, smiling the whole while.

He'd kept on smiling while the guy spit out blood and a tooth, and smiled a little wider when Fang got up and ambled to stand between them, tail wagging, canines showing.

"Oh darn," Jonas had said when he came 'round the front of the cabin, buckets of fresh water from the well in each hand. "Insulting the dogs, huh?"

"Yup," Cam had replied, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt.

In the evening light, Killer and Fang's fur had gleamed golden, and so had Jonas's sun-bleached hair, and the idiot had looked at them all, thought better of trying anything, and walked away.

---

The truth is, golden retrievers make great dogs for a couple of cowboys out on the range.

They're loyal.

"They sure are," says Jonas.

They're energetic.

"Oh, definitely," Jonas agrees, as he bends to give Killer a good scratch.

They'll chew a man's leg off, just for the fun of it.

"Well, I'm not sure I agree with that one." But Jonas is smiling, so Cam doesn't have to argue about it.

And finally, they look fantastic in bandanas. Wholesome. Fetching. Downright red-ribbon-winning. "Heck yes, they do," Jonas says, nodding vigorously as he ties a new red bandana around Fang's neck. Cam likes it – the red looks great against Fang's fur, it makes her easy to spot from a distance, and it'll hide any blood after she sinks those teeth into an interloper's arm, or leg, or whatever's in biting distance that gets in her way.

"Ah, sure, Cam," Jonas says, stepping away and observing Fang's new look.

---

"Well, this is interesting," Jonas says, the evening that Killer trots up with what looks like a stick in his mouth. Turns out it's not a stick at all, unless it comes from a tree made of metal and covered in numbers and lines. Cam's seen a lot of trees out on the range, and he's never seen a tree like that.

Killer's path is followed, a few minutes later, by a guy who's huffing and puffing a little bit, his face red, his hands dirty, and his mouth yelling.  

Cam listens for a while, arms crossed, taking in the swearing, the exclamations about their sub-standard camp, the demands for something to eat, the admonitions that their food stores are inadequately out of reach from invasive wildlife, the complaints that it's now too late to safely get back to his own camp so he's going to have to stay with them for the night, and the accusations that Killer took an instrument that cost more than 'whatever the hell it is you two are' make in a month, which is really inconvenient, because there's science that needs to done.

Eventually the guy stops talking, mostly because he's alternating between chewing on a biscuit and tearing into some dried jerky. But even as he's eating, he's looking expectant, like he's waiting for some kind of response.

So Cam shrugs, reaches down and takes the metal instrument out of Killer's mouth and says, "Not like we can expect much else. He's a golden retriever."

Jonas nods and holds out an apple, just in case the scientist-guy is still hungry. Jonas is real welcoming like that.

Science-guy scowls but he takes the apple.

---

Cam doesn't listen much while science-guy and Jonas talk details. Mostly it's boring. Plus there are golden retrievers curled up on either side of him, the cattle are lowing in the distance, the sun's starting to sink below the horizon, and all together, that's just bound to make a guy sleepy.

"That is very interesting, Dr. McKay," Jonas says excitedly, not for the first time. "Right, Cam?"

Cam just hums because it'll make Jonas happy, and leans back against a tree stump, already dozing off.

---

Science guy heads out in the morning with several warm, freshly-baked biscuits wrapped in a bandana in one hand, his metal stick instrument thing in the other, two apples in his pockets, and what Cam guesses must be the minimum amount of grumbling and complaints that he allows himself each morning. He leaves behind some a whole bunch of quiet, which Cam is real grateful for, and a jaunty wave from Jonas, accompanied by, "Have fun with your science, Dr. McKay!"

He doesn't leave behind Killer, who gamely gets up, stretches, and trots off after him, tail held high and wagging. And that's a real son of a bitch, because Fang is going to get lonely, and Killer was wearing Cam's third-best back-up emergency bandana.

"So much for loyalty," he mutters, watching man and dog disappear into the edge of the forest.

Beside him, Fang rolls onto her back, kicking her feet into the air and flashing her fierce canines. "Don't worry," he tells her. "Next time we meet him, I'll let you gnaw his leg right off." She kicks her back feet a little harder, baring all her teeth, and wagging her tail so hard it makes her lose her balance, rolling onto her side.

Then she picks herself up and shakes, loose fur and pieces of grass flying everywhere, and she looks deadly as hell.

Cam feels real proud.

[mr-camhed]

The LARD(Low Altitude Rapid Deployment) Missile is a prototype Nuclear powered supersonic ultra low altitude deep penetration strategic cruise missile envisioned, designed and built by Collins Aeronautics, a subsidiary of the former heavy industrial magnate Collins-Bishop Corporation for the Brabazonian Federation military and later came into the possession of Talon Corporation.

The project LARD started its life in the golden age at the aftermath of the Second Atlantide War, when Federation scientists proposed a project to scope out the world and the source of Atlantide City. The relatively new jet powered supersonic aircraft technology was proposed to be used for a high speed and altitude reconnaissance aircraft called the R-1. However, the jet engine at the time was still rather low on fuel efficiency, especially in the takeoff and climbing stage, meaning the aircraft would have an extremely limited range, while the satellites launched discovered an impenetrable barrier over the rest of the world which rendered most observation and reconnaissance equipment almost useless, and the prototype was quickly mothballed subsequently.

However, the project was revitalized when the Brabazonian Physicist Professor Waylon Magnussen invented the Magnussen Reactor, which was an extremely efficient nuclear reactor capable of insurmountable energy output at a rather miniature size compared to the regular nuclear reactor(at the price of being even more volatile when becoming unstable), which revitalized the project of a high altitude high speed long distance supersonic aircraft, which was now named project "OSHA"（Observational aircraft, Supersonic, High Altitude）, and would be utilizing a ramjet engine powered by a small Magnussen reactor. The aircraft would also be given a larger fuselage and wingspan. And midway through the design phase, the Black Tide Crisis broke out, and Collins-Bishop, smelling potential profit in military weaponry like a hound smelling blood, immediately changed the project from an Observational aircraft into a supersonic bomber.

However, during testing, it was discovered that the power of the Ramjet engine was so powerful that the structure of the airframe would NOT be able to both withstand the tension and stay within the weight simultaneously, and it would be extremely dangerous to a crewed aircraft. However, at the time, the project was already full steam ahead and Collins Aeronautics could NOT afford to just cancel the project with such a massive sunken cost. So the designers had to quickly come up with a plan to salvage the project, and they quickly found a solution by changing the aircraft into an unmanned missile by removing the aircraft's crew compartment, life support systems and landing gear, which means that the danger would no longer be a problem as the missile would only need to fly once. However, there is still the problem that the aircraft's unstability causes the reactor shielding and even the reactor itself to fail, but one military representative, Colonel Rand Toro, who was in visitation to supervise the progression of the projects of Collins aeronautics, where he made the drastic change in the project of making the missile fly extremely low, which not only mean that the missile would be nigh impossible to intercept, it would also weaponize both its supersonic capability and unstability, as the missile would NOT only deploy warheads against the targets, it would also fly over the targets at an altitude so low the sonic boom and the leaking radiation would further the devastation until it either crash or break up midair and explode like a nuclear warhead or eventually depletes its fuel and crash, essentially detonating a dirty bomb at the site of impact, making it an extremely devastating doomsday superweapon.

Unfortunately for them, before the first prototype could take its full test flight, the Black Tide Crisis was safely resolved, which caused a massive market crash of the Military Industrial Complex in the Federation, and the LARD Missile immediately became obsolete, and most of the unfinished prototypes and their launcher vehicles were scrapped, save for several complete and mostly complete prototype in storage until years later, when they were acquired by Talon Corporation, who refurbished and completed the missiles and their launch platforms and secretly shipping it to the new land as a mutually assured destruction system which would ensure widespread devastation of the new land and its residents should they unite against them.

[msofficerr]

Mom, I Never Liked Rambutan

It is the breakage of everything; the brink where the sides of the world were diverged, splitting the distance between safety and fatality. The wiggly lines means disorientation and when one opens the creaks, there is this white sweet lime strengthened by its seed within. At first, this description makes sense out of nothing, then there comes the strike of realization. For when this round clear jelly— from its breakage and wiggly lines— touched the bud of one’s tongue: its taste is indistinguishable. Bitter, sweet, addicting, or softly sugary and as one gulps the whole thing, the decision is to either get another one or never taste it again.

And yes, I am talking about rambutan. The fruit that I was eating back when I sat myself in silence while the whole world resides in their own dead quiet isolation. It was not in my best interest to evaluate rambutan months ago but I gathered I did not adore its fruit-worthiness. Now, I have the same set I am trying to ensue on my enjoyment as I compose this. However, today was all braving heat of sun and honking cars.

You see, what had transpired last 2020 changed the course of the curve. No analytics had anticipated the rebirth of the plagued renaissance other than COVID-19 and its first appearance in China, now unto its worldwide domination. Lift up a rambutan and scrutinize its circumference, the vision is the same. Red and uncertain. I remembered the time this fruit was called out in an article bemusing a Sci-fi movie as they tagged it as an alien fruit. It was correlative, as this pandemic prior to its name's popularity, was all foreign to us only then one day scientists showed a picture of a virus that we were all required to observe precautionary measures with— physically likewise to what I was holding now, except that it is edible.

Not a blink of an eye, you see death. Not even a squint of mourning, you are instructed to burn the ashes of someone who was just talking to you a week ago. Not a breath, your normalcy becomes prohibited with certain healthcare tips. Not a walk outdoors and someone in the smallest unit of government will tell you to stay back home where you caged yourself for almost six untethered months.

I was 16 by then but this moment did not allow me to see, breathe, and wend on my own. The only thing I could do is watch then look away, become distant as I cannot burden my family for being infected, froze hoping this will end, kill my time that I am not even sure if it was still ticking, and of course, ate a rambutan that my mother cleaned for almost 15 minutes of food sanitation.

I knew it was not safe but how would I know if I would just look at it? Then, I came to break it in half, only that— just like the surge of a pandemic— my mother did not inform me that this would be a hard task. I got the right stamina for a woman to simply open this but glory be to the strength I have lost for not doing any locomotive tasks for over two years it almost took me 10 minutes to hear its first submission to the forces of my fingers. It cracks and screams and weeps and all I can decipher from its crumbs is that I am now allowed to eat it.

I disown the fact that I lost track of myself during the pandemic. Everyone does. It comes crashing down to our collective seasons of unmoving bodies. I am not confessing this, but the rambutan in front of me was almost as if it was seeking an answer, so I must reveal myself honestly: pandemic is a real tough enemy to affront. Without forewarning, your energy is sucked right into the void and your life still continues— it cannot halt and when the clockwork of time does that, it only signifies that you have to move. I did today but I did not back then, you did today but you did not back then. We are in the same phase of the age-eldering era when people choose to sacrifice everything, to gudgeon themselves around the cages of martyrdom as they walk, work, and cope to what was losing, and outside, they were praying to not catch anything soon as they come back home.

“Oh, ano nabuksan mo na?” my mother asked me. I just nodded and smelled the fruit. It does not reek anything but I was scared with the possibility of tasting it knowing I might have chosen a spoilt one. Nostalgia hits at its aroma and suddenly I was a teenage dirtbag again scrolling to endless dimensions of social media. LED lights imprinted on my eyeball as I stare directly at my notes or as I watched this country fall at the hands of government non-urgency, no health plans, and the declining economy. Noise filled my eardrum as I heard the voices of hopeless help, the dearth of what Catriona glorified as silver lining through predicaments. I cannot confidently say that I survived but when conflict hit the fan, I was blown away with many whirlpools of contentions. It was a catch-22 scenario for everyone, even for the ones I loved. This is not a radical take but an positivistic observational approach of view-finding society through obvious lenses: everyone who we trusted our selves into betrayed and has bound the lines of our patience. When we become impatient, we cannot wait, and can only pace by our own without help for those who must have assisted or at least minimize the growing spread.

It did not happen and as my teeth surfaced the slime of rambutan— it tasted bitter and something about its chewability goes to my intolerable fathoms about food. That even if I tried it for second-tasting, my satisfaction is nowhere. It was rotten or if not, a letdown according to the standards of my mouth. Disappointed I was, I did not continue munching it.

That was the trial one. So, I picked up another with an intricate analysis of which among the set of rambutans may or may not be the stomach-friendly. From that, I was holding another; pale, dark red wiggles, and with an oddly specific smell.

Supercuts of regaining back the normal setting occurred in my mind, it was not fun because as desperate as I was on my second try for my first taste of rambutan, our situationship must come to its novelty and everybody agrees for it is already the truth of our reality. With a crippled era of baseless healthcare administration and the masterstrokes of our personal misdirection, each of us faced a hard decision to embrace a pandemic-configured setting which will become our eventual lifestyle. From education, technology, methods, and many fields, these scoured the pounding challenges of what must be followed under restrictions.

The moment we are slightly allowed to go back on the lives we left since, most of what has been inflicted throughout our silent days cannot be undone just by masking ourselves and covering our bodies with sanitary propositions. The fact is already ingrained that, from all which has deluged our customs, is now altered with something new. To me, that is another demise of something you must also surmount. To me, it felt as though I am coping again— only that I was not isolated and I am now out and about, forced to get up from a slump which almost figured to become the focal point of my life. It was yet again the unfamiliarity of feelings, trying to determine whether such things are possibly leveled at your gauge or any other of your mental bandwidth. This yet contests blind faith, then you are back praying to come back home without a stress of noise, without the introversive drifting from reality, believing that this time, you must not lose yourself as you morph anew from the stark phases brought by the virus.

Then, I broke the outer layer again revealing the same old reflective glassy fruit inside the menacing look of rambutan. Across was my mother doing her nails, waiting for my judgment. My teeth fanged and this rambutan was cold. It was its first good impression that although I had felt an opt-out touch to what was becoming new around my surroundings— my breath warmed my frozen ground then I was able to savor this new rambutan again. My face taunts that the taste was sweet, so did the smile of my mother when she confirmed her choices are still as better as this second try.

You are like this too. Trial after trial in times of questionable ideals brought forth by unprecedented happenings of your life. The same vision flashed between these moments of playing the rambutan’s jelly on my mouth and the moments I have had up until this date and forward. I have kept myself to waves of everything. Unfortunately, my whole becoming revolves to the dates when the pandemic was a monster in the hill and the axis of myself circles on my epiphany of what everyone has become: stronger and resilient. Albeit hurdles, we have known to others than ourselves— that when we have already the chance of walking the streets with minimal threats of virus, there comes the birth of modern renaissance. The art of helping, the compassionate artistry of selflessness. It was a painting of what we have become and you are like this too. I became my own and so everyone managed to break the rules of their limitations.

This pandemic, in its apex bitterness, is a sweet release from the prison of our old conventions. We become fugitives from isolation and almost everything good breaks into its platooning color once again.

After three years of widespread fear, something inside my personal leaning braved. I was chewing the sweetness of every bit of this rambutan. It was a real journey. This is my kind of honesty where I can almost feel the brushes of my tongue when I am enjoying a food, especially a fruit.

Of all elation and satisfaction, I chewed harder, forgetting one of rambutan's core parts: its seed. My teeth crashed right through it and it was not calcified enough to fight its solidity. Now, the sweet taste is not there and next thing I know my gums are bleeding. The sugar turned rusty and I could only taste blood.

I spat the whole roundness of rambutan in front of my mother's pedicure kit, revealing the redness I just spewed from the insides of my flesh. Something is coming.

After a momentary joyous bliss, I have become red as the rambutan’s body. A vision then occurred to me but it is just a sighting, a mere provoking prospect of unlived life. Despite the sweetness I confessed to enjoy, I came to a sense that I will not proceed to chew some of its bits.

This bleeding mouth and fazed tongue, there comes another impression; “Ayaw ko pala.”, I said at the verge of confusion on my mother’s face. No more, I was not hoping for a third trial.