#open ( mahia )

[louisupdates]

Two nights sleeping outdoors in A Coruña to see Louis Tomlinson: "We come from Madrid"

More than a dozen fans of the former member of the band One Direction camp at the gates of Morriña Fest two days agoing the festival begins: "We want to be as close to the stage as possible"

Paula Mahia, July 24, 2024 10:01

[Translated from Spanish]

This morning it was surprising to see almost a dozen people camping in A Coruña at the gates of the Calvo Soleto pier in the port of A Coruña, where the Morriña Fest festival will be held on July 26 and 27. In the queue you could only hear about one person: Louis Tomlinson.

Fans of the former member of the boy band One Direction have traveled kilometers to "see up close" the last concert of the tour, which will be held this Friday in the Herculine city. Alba and Blanca are two friends who arrived this morning at the entrance of the festival: "We expected more people."

Three days and two nights after the port opened its doors to the festival-goers, these young women traveled from Madrid to take a place in line and "be as close to the stage as possible." In front of them sleep three other people, who have already spent their first night at the interperie. However, although they seem few, Alba and Blanca are numbers 24 and 25 on the list.

“Alang with the other girls there are another 10 people: they take turns to save space. The first person who arrives is the one who is in charge of distributing the numbers," the fans explain. The wait is made to beg to see the former One Direction unique and exclusive, although the truth is that many of them have already seen him perform live before, "but this is the last concert of the tour."

Blankets, food, and warm clothes: only one suitcase is what accompanies them in this stay. "We come directly from the bus station. Nine hours of travel from Madrid," they explain in unison excitedly. After spending the night on the bus, the young women will save the accommodation once here, since a mat and a couple of blankets will be their beds in the next 48 hours.

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slice 4

Alexander Sweetapple series

@idontknowreallywhy asked:

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

I could have taken this many ways. I might still. But thi is what happened this time :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the late night read ::hugs you tight::

This is a male/male romance, so if that is not your thing, this isn't your fic.

The first 350 words of this were posted last night, here be the rest :D

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil gripped the keep-cups a little tighter than he probably should. Especially as they were full of scalding hot coffee. But he was worried, and his flight down to Mahia may have been a little impulsive and over-reactionary.

Landing a four hundred and six tonne Thunderbird in the middle of the Tracy Industries R&D Facility at 3am was likely to get his butt toasted by a certain older brother.

As it was, several staff had come running out and he had had to wave them off.

No emergency. Everything’s fine. Sorry for waking you up.

Just need to check in on someone.

He’d probably made everything worse, come to think of it.

But they’d all wandered off back to bed. The one remaining person had been Fireman Fred and his expression had been far too knowing for Virgil’s comfort.

So he’d proven that the second eldest Tracy brother wasn’t perfect and possibly was a little far too smitten for his own good.

But it was the absence of one person that had him worried the most.

The housing apartments for employees were sufficiently upmarket to lure in talent to the business. Each employee had their own space, be it cabin or apartment.

Alex had opted for an apartment on the end of a row. It had been obvious the few times Virgil had been invited back to the engineer’s home that Alex spent little time there.

The man lived for his lab.

To the point that Virgil had initially headed towards that building only to be diverted by a nudge from Fred. “Erica kicked him out. He was makin’ a racket. Yelling at his computer like it had threatened his first born, or somethin’”

Virgil winced. Or somethin’

“Thanks, Fred.” A sigh. “Sorry for waking you up.”

The big man dropped a weary hand on his shoulder. “Yer a good one, son. Bein’ there when he needs yer. The rest, well, shi’ happens.” With that, Fred patted him once more on the shoulder, turned, and walked off into the darkness, presumably back to his quarters.

Leaving Virgil to make his own way to Alex’s home.

There was a light in the window, as he expected, but Virgil still approached the door with a little hesitation.

He didn’t ring the doorbell, only tapping on the wooden door.

Footsteps had Virgil straightening where he stood.

Alex flung the door open. “What?!” His eyes widened. “Oh! Virgil! Come in. Ohhhh, you brought coffee! I love you!”

Something in Virgil’s belly relaxed as Alex flung the screen door open and virtually dragged him inside. This was his Alex. He didn’t need to worry. It was all going to be okay.

“You on the way back from a rescue?”

Virgil handed him his coffee and couldn’t help but smile when Alex immediately scarfed half of it down. Probably not the best at 3am, but considering why Virgil was here, it was a gift of…some kind.

Virgil’s shoulders dropped just a little. He hadn’t meant for Alex to become involved and he really hoped he would be forgiven.

“No. No rescue.”

Apparently no competition for the coffee either because Alex downed the remainder of his cup in one gulp.

And Gordon thought Virgil inhaled his stim juice.

The cup was put down on a side table. “Hey, what do you think of fractal polymers?”

And there it was, the core of the issue. His heart melted as Alex finally showed how agitated he really was. He walked backwards, obviously not sure what to do with his hands, and towards the glowing face of his laptop. The familiar graphics glared across the room at Virgil.

“Uh-“

“I’m so glad you’re here, Virgil. I need your opinion on this.”

Virgil dragged his feet forward. A breath. “What’s up?”

“Do you keep up with the engineering boards online?” Virgil opened his mouth to answer, but Alex kept talking. “Of course, you do. What a stupid question. Umm, I like to keep abreast of the latest in polymers, because, well, Siliwrap, and I came across this amazing article by V.T Green. I mean the guy is a master.”

Virgil swallowed as Alex gestured emphatically with his hands.

“You have heard of him, haven’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Total genius with polymer work.” Alex was really getting into the topic now. “Awhile back he had this idea for a self-healing polymer. It was amazing, Virgil. The design was beauty itself.” The expression on Alex’s face had Virgil’s heart beating so much faster. “But anyway, hero worship aside, the guy knows his stuff.”

“Sounds like it.” Virgil just wanted to kiss Alex until all his worries vanished. He could do that. His job was saving people, wasn’t it?

“Yeah.” Alex’s shoulders dropped. “There are too many assholes in this world.”

“Alex-“

“The article proposed the idea that if we could generate a finite fractal-structured polymer, it might be able to create an interlocking chain strong enough to support weight over long distances. He described fishing line that could lift an ocean liner from space. He even proposed that the chain could possibly be built on demand, constructed electronically when needed and similarly disassembled when not.” Alex grabbed both of Virgil’s upper arms. “Can you imagine the possibilities?!”

He didn’t need to. The technology now powered Thunderbird Five’s elevator.

“Alex-“

“But where there is genius, there is always idiocy.” Alex flung up his hands in frustration. “He was called ridiculous. Some claimed his theories were no more than technobabble from a science fiction show. One said he was a sellout and goodie-two-shoes who licked Tracy ass!”

Virgil opened his mouth.

“What is wrong with trying to do good?!” And yeah, there was the passion that had been shouted all over the engineering boards. ApplesWithAttitude had made his point very, very clear. Even taking on the annoying Coloncous - V.T. Green’s nemesis.

And the retaliations had been worse than nasty.

“How can people be so disappointing? Why is money and power the ultimate goal?” Alex sat back on the edge of his desk, deflated. “Why are people such assholes?”

Virgil put his coffee cup, still untouched, down beside Alex’s empty one, and took the handful of steps to get up and close to the man he was in love with.

Yes, in love at this very moment.

He dropped a knuckle beneath Alex’s chin and nudged the engineer to look up at him. “Your words were beautiful, you know.”

Alex stared at him a moment before his eyes slowly widened. “You-“

Virgil kissed him before he could say anything more, hard enough, soft enough, for the man to melt in his arms.

It was a long moment before he was forced to break off for air. Alex hung in his arms, staring up at him, possibly a little dazed.

Virgil’s lips curled into a small smile.

“You’re V.T. Green.” Quiet awe.

“Yeah.”

“You’re brilliant.”

His smile quirked to one side. “Sometimes, maybe. But then, you’re not so bad yourself. ApplesWithAttitude taught them a few things tonight.”

Alex blushed. Just a little. Enough to widen Virgil’s smile just that little bit more.

“They pissed me off.” And there was the fire again. “They had no right.”

“I must remember not to anger you myself. You’re scary.”

Alex let out a small laugh, but he reached up and brushed his fingers across Virgil’s cheek. “How are you so…”

But Virgil didn’t let him finish, touching his lips softly with his own, kissing gently. “Thank you for coming to my defence.” He whispered the words.

Alex drew in a breath, catching Virgil’s lower lip. “My pleasure.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

But Alex suddenly broke off the kiss. “Hey, that means we can talk fractal polymers!”

Virgil stared at him a solid moment before he lost it, and cracked up laughing.

-o-o-o-

AN: Sorry, forgot to add that you can find the V.T. Green story here if this makes no sense.

[strawberista]

⚅ — @rubiesintherough asked: — ⚅ ⚅ — "could you show me how to preen?" ( mahia ) — ⚅

Winged Muses

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

Hanekoma's head snapped up from the computer he was working on when those words reached his ears, looking a little like he was about to cry. And maybe he was. Her wings were just a part of her, they were a part of her body that she hadn't even asked for, something that could often present as a burden for her, and he knew that the act of preening would likely be little more than maintenance. It couldn't mean as much to her as it did who him, whose wings embodied his entire soul.

But he really didn't need it to, did he? He would have to keep it to himself, how important, how intimate an act like preening was for angels, but he didn't need her to understand to find joy in this. He would take care of her, and he would teach her, and maybe he could help her find some semblance of peace and relaxation in the ritual of the act as well. She didn't need to have a soul in her wings to be able to find it soothing. After all, self-care and grooming were things she so rarely got the luxury to enjoy in the first place.

"A'course I will," he said softly. "I know it's not easy to figure out on your own. Come here and sit beside me, and I'll show ya step by step out to handle it. If you think you can withstand the pressure, I can even open my own wings to give ya a demonstration here an' there."

[halofcrged]

@rubiesintherough mahia sent a meme.

send me   ‘ imprisoned ‘   for your muse to find mine locked up in a cage or cell

Chasing pirates didn't typically fall under Spartan purview - there were much bigger fish to fry with the Covenant's constant push further and further into UNSC territories but John had felt compelled to take a special interest in this particular ship after they'd decided their best option was to open fire on his Prowler when all he'd been wanting to do was make his jump to slipstream and return to the fleet. His initial reaction had been to simply blast them out of the sky, but he'd held his hand, opting for a few carefully placed shots that Cortana had emitted to cripple it. If they'd been desperate enough to fire on a UNSC ship than just flee, or hide, it had made him think there might be a particular reason for it. Stolen UNSC goods, perhaps, had been his first thought, but what he had found instead left him somewhat baffled -- which wasn't a common occurrence.

The firefight had been relatively brief. Their weapons and piece meal armor had stood no chance against his MJOLNIR armor. He'd left a few of them alive and trussed up in case he needed to question any of them about what they were carrying or where they were heading before their chance encounter. He was beginning to regret that. Fortunately, it wouldn't be a difficult mistake to correct.

The figure that huddled in the corner of the cell was ... unique. He couldn't make out much of her features, only a slender, petite form that huddled beneath the dark, trembling wings as an attempt to shield her from harm. One swift tug against the bars of the cell crumpled the lock and swung the door open as he analyzed what information his suit could offer him on his heads up display of the figure. Sporadic, weak life signs. Seemingly human.

He hesitated only briefly before reaching up to detach his helmet from the rest of his armor, bending down to one knee at the entrance to the cage - it was the best that he could do to make himself seem less ominous. "Master Chief John 117, of the UNSC, ma'am, I'm here to help."

[spacenutspod]

A new NASA mission is testing a new way to navigate our solar system by hoisting its sail into space – not to catch the wind, but the propulsive power of sunlight. NASA’s Advanced Composite Solar Sail System is led by the agency’s Ames Research Center in California’s Silicon Valley. The microwave oven-sized CubeSat is scheduled to launch aboard a Rocket Lab Electron rocket from the company’s Launch Complex 1 on the Mahia Peninsula of New Zealand. The launch window opens at 3 p.m. PDT on Tuesday, April 23 (10 p.m. UTC). Successful deployment and operation of the solar sail’s lightweight composite booms will prove the capability and open the door to larger scale missions to the Moon, Mars, and beyond.   Once it arrives in its orbit, roughly 600 miles above Earth, the CubeSat will deploy a lightweight sunlight-powered composite solar sail system that measures more than 800 square feet. Much like a sailboat uses wind to traverse the ocean, the solar sail technology will use the pressure of sunlight to travel through space and perform a series of maneuvers to demonstrate orbit raising and lowering. Throughout the demonstration, the spacecraft may be visible to the naked eye in the night sky. Media interested in scheduling an interview with one of the NASA Ames engineers involved with the development of the CubeSat should email the NASA Ames Office of Communications at arc-dl-newsroom@mail.nasa.gov. A media resource reel including animated clips of the solar sail system is available here.  Get launch updates, breaking news, and images on the small satellites blog as well as NASA Ames’ Instagram, Facebook, and X. For more information about NASA’s Ames Research Center, visit: https://www.nasa.gov/ames -end- Rachel Hoover Ames Research Center, Silicon Valley, Calif.650-604-4789 rachel.hoover@nasa.gov

[potestmagice]

@rubiesintherough asked: "is somebody there?" ( mahia / muse of choice )

The TARDIS doors creaked open, and the Doctor stepped out. He looked around at the enclosing corridor. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

[freedomshaped]

@rubiesintherough said: ❛ here, let me help you. ❜ ( mahia )

“Oh?” The sudden voice catches her off-guard as her trunk opens, but she smiles nonetheless. “I would really appreciate that, thank you.” Natasha taught her to speak with a more neutral accent, but her Sokovian roots assert themselves now and again. Maybe people were right when they said pregnant women were treated differently. And Wanda, being as clearly close to the finish line as she was? She'll take it.

Her shopping cart is completely full. Another customer even helped her get a flat of water onto it. Maybe Stark feeling guilty and giving her money isn’t such a bad thing after all. Wanda runs a hand over her huge belly, then directs, “If you can start with putting big things in the back…” she swallows. “I'm Wanda. This little man does not have a name yet, but he is also pleased to meet you.”

[silvcrignis]

SEND 🌑 TO CRAWL INTO BED WITH MY MUSE ( mahia and the sad man(tm) )

Meme: SEND 🌑 TO CRAWL INTO BED WITH MY MUSE {x}

He was on his phone as per USUAL when everyone else with work hours like HIS would already be SLEEPING but a pointed ear MOVED at the sound of a rustling duvet though he did not have to look up to KNOW who it was considering his sense of SCENT. His mouth opened to greet her but before that happened a WHINE came from the foot of the bed & he SIGHED as a head of PAINFULLY familiar curly head of hair popped up, yellow eyes NARROWED.

"CHRIST on a cracker, HIA! If I wasn't made of ROCK you would've snapped my spine in two!" Victor groused, frowning.

"... Go BACK to bed, GRANDPA," Claude scoffed, as his free arm coiled around her waist.

[notquiteahitman]

Send me 🚪  ( or ‘door’ )   and I’ll generate a number for my muse to show up on your muse’s doorstep ( mahia / Ryan? )

@rubiesintherough got covered in blood (theirs)

When he first opened his eyes, he had absolutely no idea where he was. This was not a particularly unusual occurrence for the wizard, however, so he pushed himself rapidly to his feet, his entire form flooding with adrenaline as he stared widely around him. He expected to see either stone walls or steel bars, and yet, all around him were... trees? Were these trees? It was rather hard to tell, as his head was swimming and his vision blurry, yet as he reached out his hand and felt the cracking bark beneath his palm, his suspicion was confirmed.

Well, shit. He wasn't entirely certain if this was better or worse than being in a cell, for at least there, he knew where he was.

It was only when the adrenaline began to wear off, when he managed to gather his wits about him and head towards the sound of running water, that he was able to take better notice of his situation. He was stumbling, to begin with, although he wasn't entirely sure whether that was due to an injury to one of his legs or whether he was simply dizzy from being knocked out, because he also had a huge lump on his head. And, even more worryingly, he was covered in blood, some of it fresh, so it must be his own. Where it was coming from, he couldn't quite figure out, because there wasn't really any pain anywhere.

And, perhaps most worryingly, he seemed to have developed a touch of amnesia. It was nothing serious, he told himself; he knew who he was. He just had no idea where he was, or what had happened to get him into this situation, or even where his home was really. The only thing fixated in his mind was a woman's face, and, as he finally reached the river, what must have been her voice floated to the top of his memory. But... was it his memory? Was her face really in his mind? She seemed so real, so vivid...

And so, without even pausing to consider that this may have been a terrible idea, Ryan plunged into the water, immediately crossing the river towards the possible mirage. The water ran red with blood, yet still he moved, half-wading, half-swimming, entirely unsure whether what he was seeing was real or not.

[tinymute]

@rubiesintherough​ asked:

( 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄 ) ; one muse wakes up the other after having a horrific nightmare. ( Mahia )

When both people in the relationship had trauma, nights were...questionable. That is why Juliette’s response to the sound of Mahia’s screaming wasn’t fear. She woke startled, sure, but quickly that anxiety shifted to concern and love. Immediately, she flipped over, turning on the light. The soft, warm toned light cut through the darkness, immediately removing any fear of a creature lurking there.

Juliette turned, gently touching Mahia’s shoulder.

“Darling, sweetheart,” she spoke softly, almost melodically. The tone was near sing-song, a gentle, careful tone. She was calm for both of them. The nightmare’s grip on Mahia was firm, but Juliette’s was firmer. She smiled sweetly as Mahia’s eyes opened.

“There you are, you’re alright,” she was swift, pulling Mahia into a hug.

“You’re alright, you’re okay. It’s me, Juliette, you’re safe, you’re alright. Listen to my voice, okay?” She gently fixed one of the feathers in Mahia’s wings as she spoke.

“Look at the wall, there’s the preserved flowers from our anniversary,” she continued softly.

“Smell my perfume, it’s the one you helped me pick out last week. You’re safe. You’re so safe. I love you, they can’t hurt you.”

[rubiesintherough]

open ( esp. to any medical based muses, but anyone’s welcome! ) --- mahia

Awareness returned like a gradual sunrise... slow glimmers of consciousness slipping through the dark, and bringing the distant sting of bruised and stitched skin with it. It was daylight. It hadn’t been when she was ambushed, she remembered that. The choked cry of startled fear still felt trapped in the back of her throat, it not even having time to escape before the first bullet struck her and she’d crumpled to the ground, a pile of feathers, and blood, and tattered fabric. 

She should be dead. That thought came slow, but it gripped firmly onto her mind. Why wasn’t she dead? This couldn’t be the realm of the Ancestors... there was still pain, still fear. A fear that fought its way to the surface, up from beneath the strange numbness which took her another long moment to identify: a powerful painkiller. Strong enough to haze her mind. Everything felt like a dream, moving slowly and too fast at once. 

Hands, that didn’t even feel like her own, fumbled beneath clothes --- not her jacket, not her worn shirt, something far softer...? --- and found a bandage, adhered in place over her wounds. Someone had found her, rescued her from what would have surely been certain death. And just as that realization struck did her periphery catch sight of a shadowed movement... and her fingers stretched out to grasp weakly onto passing sleeve, then collapsed, just enough to alert her savior that she was awake... 

[rubiesintherough]

It was a necessary skill she had honed every day of the past decade... how to move between shadows, invisible, unnoticed, and silent. It had kept her alive within decrepit walls where she hid for her life. It had allowed her to slip away, unseen, from those who wanted nothing more than to return her body --- breathing or not --- to those who had stripped her apart in the first place.

And it was a skill proving itself useful, again. For once, it was not her own safety she feared for. It was not for her own sake that she slinked between alcoves and hallways, breath catching at every sound. It was for the woman she'd seen hauled in here, who'd showed a kindness to the healer she'd not felt since she was only a child, those long years ago... a lifetime past, now. Mahia did not spare a thought for what might happen if she, herself, was captured. No, the only concern she had was how she was going to free Wren.

Bare feet padded, soundless, through the doorway. A finger jerked upwards to meet the healer's lips, motioning for silence, then slipped down into her pockets to draw a pilfered needle free and raised it up toward the lock on the manacle nearest. If she could just work it open, then she was certain she could get the both of them safely out of this dingey prison...

" Shhh, I do not think I have been noticed. We need to keep quiet for it to remain that way. "

@rubiesintherough said: send ⛓️ to find my muse bloody, bruised and restrained ( mahia )

an old meme    /    PROBABLY ACCEPTING ↷

She’s not sure if she’s simply been  left here  to slowly waste away, or if they are trying to play mindgames with her, making her think she’s in isolation, but actually monitoring her, waiting for the right moment to interrogate her by slowly torturing her first. Trying to make her more pliable? Wren doesn’t even know what they want from her, that’s the tricky part; she has no indication on what to expect.

That, alone, has her psychologically on edge, and tensing up further when she hears someone approach. Not that she can do much but be tense, the way she’s forced on her tiptoes in the middle of the room. Heavy-duty metal cuffs secure her wrists together, the bands too tight and large to slip, extending from the smallest part of her wrist several inches along her arms; even if she could try to dislocate a thumb or break her own wrist, it doesn’t seem likely that’d help her. The cuffs are secured high above her head, likely deliberately making it so that she has to keep balancing on her tiptoes in a constant effort to try to alleviate the strain on her shoulders, arms and back. Slow torture is what it really fucking feels like; it’s hard to think with the physical strain, and Wren is barely even aware of the other injuries she’s sustained, of the dried blood down her forehead, or the bruising on her half-naked form (they had stripped her down to her underwear).

More dazed from exhaustion than the relatively minor head injury, Wren is having difficulty knowing how to react when she recognises the woman, from the glimpses she manages, craning her neck to look at the doorway behind her.

❝ It’s you, ❞    she says, feeling a little stupid about the comment, but too tired to truly care. It’s that woman, the woman collapsed at her doorstep on her Citadel apartment a month or so ago. The woman with the wings. Wren had tried to help her, done her best to erase any evidence of... well, her unusual physique, from any security footage that might’ve caught her, afterwards; mystery or not, Mahia hadn’t appeared like a threat, and Wren hadn’t been keen on being the reason someone, a person, from some unknown humanoid species ended up enduring gods-knew-what...

But to come across her again, here?

Has she misjudged her? Is this her captor, or her saviour, returning the favour...?

[prophecyread]

@rubiesintherough amos & mahia. vday application.

Name:  Amos Burton. Age:  mid-late 30′s (36?) Do you like to cuddle?:  Uh, sure, I guess. Can we make-out?:   If you want. A night in or dinner out?: In’s good.   Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Both. What makes you a good Valentine?:  I won’t let anybody bother you that you don’t want to.  I can keep you safe as long as you want me to.  I won’t let anything bad happen to you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.  I’m okay looking, I guess, and I think we make a pretty good pair.  Would you cook for me?:  Sure.  I can cook all right.  Maybe not much that’s fancy but my food’s never killed anybody yet it wasn’t supposed to. Would you let me cook for you?   Yeah, but only if you really wanted to.  I’m not all that picky, I can get by on rations and what not just fine.  No need to put yourself out or anything.

[strawberista]

⚅ — @rubiesintherough asked: — ⚅

⚅ — [GIFT] Sender gives receiver a small gift. Assorted flowers and pretty foliage she's found, bc it's how she shows love ( mahia ) — ⚅

Platonic Intimacy

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

Hanekoma stepped out into the lobby of his cafe and immediately wondered if his shop had been turned into a bird's nest. He knew she had wings, but he had never thought she created homes this way, too. Though, as he brought the warm soup out to her, he began to really study the offering and began to understand it for what it was.

His face lit up, and he opened his arms to carefully encircle the gift in them, "What a beautiful collection, Sparrow~ Did you find alla this stuff yourself? Ya got quite the eye for floral arrangement."

[existslikepristin]

Bullyrene (chapter 4, "Twisted")

Missed a chapter? Here’s a handy link to the index!

Thanks to @brokennightmares01 for beta reading and @worldsover for editing (yeah I know you didn't get very far, but you deserve credit and have always been good moral support, so) Okay it was mostly self-edited

Tags: Red Velvet, Irene, a bunch of OCs, sexual stuff happens eventually but I wouldn’t call this a smut cuz it’s dark as fuck, if you don’t read stuff with trigger warnings don’t read this story, I’m just not gonna bother listing them all because there’s a lot, abandon all hope ye who enter here

~~~~~

Irene walked, as calmly and quietly as she could manage, down one of the main halls of the mansion.

What few people she passed paid her little mind.

She could remember some of their names. Dae-seong, the chef. Ada, the Hispanic woman she saw on her first day, some sort of PR manager. Mikkel, a heavily tanned European, the computer guy.

Others, she remembered only by a few distinguishing features. A young woman with nearly pitch-black skin who always wore a lab coat like Silje’s. A boy with an unreasonably long Japanese name who seemed to run around doing things for people like Mahia did. A middle-eastern-looking girl with enormous glasses.

Not all of the people in the mansion spoke Korean. It seemed that the few of them who couldn't speak Korean or English could get whatever information they needed through a chain of translations and a vibe of comradery that Irene had come to despise. The fact that they were so chummy despite all—or almost all—being here as slaves rubbed Irene the wrong way.

Simone passed by as well. Irene made eye contact with her just long enough to feel the disdain that Simone held for her. She was one of the few people who Irene saw leaving the mansion regularly. Irene, on the other hand, not only hadn’t stepped foot outside the mansion in nearly two months, but barely deviated from this one single pathway that led from her room.

Irene shook it off though. She had arrived at her destination. Silje's second floor office. The door was already open.

"Ms. Bae. Very good, come in."

Silje's insistence on calling Irene "Ms. Bae" was frustrating. Everybody referred to Silje by her first name, and she spoke casually to everybody else. Irene didn't want to be on a first name basis with her, but the distinction was annoying regardless.

Irene stayed standing while Silje walked around her desk, sat in one of the several comfortable armchairs in the room, and motioned for Irene to begin.

With a deep breath, Irene followed the silent order, lifting her tablet. "The president announced this morning that last week's trade deal with Japan is being revised to account for new concerns over conditions in the Fukushima area, as tech companies are building their chip factories nearby due to cheap rent."

For about a month, this is what Irene had been doing, once every day. She was to summarize any noteworthy news as it pertained to South Korea, and regurgitate it back to Silje. It seemed that the topics didn't necessarily matter, as Irene had covered news as insignificant as animal shelter funding, to as critical as North Korean peace talks.

Despite not always being noticeably attentive, Silje soaked the information up like a sponge. Even if she was busy writing a letter by hand, she would still double-check the information Irene provided with shockingly direct questions.

"Where is this Wagging Tails Shelter? I would like to send a donation."

"If the minister is unwilling to negotiate on the munitions demand, is he going to concede the nuclear deal instead?"

Irene had learned to anticipate questions and find the answers ahead of time to avoid Silje's impatient glares.

"... and Kim Choon-Hee was declared the winner." Irene finished her report on a high note about a baking competition, hoping to keep Silje in a good mood.

"Excellent! I was rooting for her. What was the prize?"

"One million won and a victory plaque made by Officer Hoseok himself."

Silje chuckled. "That might cover a month of rent. Some time today, ask Mahia to check if they cater. We could do with a macaroon day."

Irene forced a smile. "Of course. Will there be anything else?"

Silje stood and approached her. Irene tried to keep her smile up, but failed. She could already feel her heart rate spiking.

Just as expected, Silje's hand cracked across Irene's cheek, barely hard enough that it might leave a mark for a few minutes.

One hand clenched around her tablet while the other held her cheek in pain, Irene’s nerves went wild, and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears.

***

Irene ran from her room, stumbling over nothing but her own bare feet in the dark. Her throat still stung from the vibration of her scream.

She needed someone. Anyone.

The silence that surrounded her was hellish. She didn't understand how the only sound could be her frantic breathing, her gasps, and her feet hitting the floor. There had to be someone else in the mansion. It was too big to be empty.

Rooms with open doors were black voids. Rooms with closed doors were death traps. Any one of them could be Silje’s.

She flew down the stairs and missed the last step, crashing to her knees on the immaculate, hard floor. She could bear the pain. She'd fallen in the practice room more times than she cared to count.

Seulgi. She needed Seulgi. No, any of her members. No, anyone.

She heard voices. Laughing. It was distant, but she was getting closer. A light around a corner. An open door with a light on, finally.

"Bitch tried to crash my car!" It was Simone.

Irene slowed down and stood out of view in the hall. She smelled coffee.

"She's just dumb," said a man whose voice she didn't recognize, "She probably hasn't even bothered looking at slavery laws."

A couple of chuckles. Some words were spoken in Spanish. More coffee was poured. "She had to have been rich enough to have considered getting a slave for herself, right?" another woman asked.

Simone again. "I looked her up. She was super fuckin famous until some scandal. Big time diva, like literally the most popular chick in the country. Almost surprised I hadn't heard of her. I guess she was a bitch to some of… her employees, I think? Treated them like shit."

Irene scowled. She hated that anybody could talk about her that way, let alone while she was trying to find some justice, or comfort, or something. Someone in the room slurped their coffee far too loud.

"Guys, I think we should go easy on her," said a woman whose voice Irene recognized, but couldn't place, "You saw how she looked when she came in. She was a wreck, and her life just got flipped on its head."

Finally some sympathy. Irene put a foot out to step inside.

"Give her a chance," the woman continued, "After she gets to know Silje, she'll come around. The rest of us did!"

Irene stepped back. She was clearly not walking into the correct crowd to accuse Silje of rape.

"The rest of us aren't psychopaths trying to commit a murder suicide." Simone's snippy comeback earned a few chuckles.

***

Irene sniffed and composed herself as quickly as she could. Every day for sixteen days, Silje had hit her at least once during or after her report. It was all she could do to not strike back. Every part of her screamed at her to do it, except the part of her that told her to open her eyes on her first night in the mansion. Her self-preservation was in part to spite Silje, Simone, and everyone else, and in part to eventually see vengeance.

“Will that be all, Silje?”

“I think it will, Ms. Bae,” Silje said, sitting back down at her desk, “Same time tomorrow. Don’t forget the macaroons.”

The way she found herself meekly shuffling back toward the office door enraged Irene’s inner voices even more. She should be stomping and making a scene. Joy would tell her otherwise though. Joy...

She reached for the handle, but froze. “Silje… May I ask a question?”

There was no response, but Irene asked anyway. “When will the rest of my members be arriving?”

“They arrived about two weeks ago.” Silje’s bland tone and off-kilter accent were infuriating. Irene spun around, suddenly fully attentive.

“Where are they now?” Irene may have let some of her desperation slip into her voice, but was too wired to reflect on it.

Silje was already head-down in a notebook, scribbling away. “They’ve been staying in a room in the west wing but they left an hour ago, roughly.”

Once again, what little hope Irene had was swatted away. If she had squeezed her tablet any tighter, it might have broken. “Why wasn’t I informed that they were here?”

“You were, Ms. Bae.”

It was too much. Irene was sick of the way she spent so much time preparing answers to Silje’s stupid questions, of being treated like she had a disease by the rest of the mansion staff, of being physically abused daily, only to be lied to. It had been a month since she arrived, and one month since she’d been drugged and raped. Whether it was courage or stupidity that caused her to do it, she raised her voice.

“I was not!”

Silje looked up from her work, piercing Irene with her gaze, but didn’t speak.

“I wasn’t! I just needed to know they were here! I wasn’t told! I want to know why I wasn’t told!”

“Because with an attitude like that, Ms. Bae, you can’t expect Mahia to try to tell you the same thing more than once, though she did.”

“She didn’t tell me shit!”

Irene’s sense of self-preservation kicked back in as Silje put her hands on the armrests of her chair as if to stand.

“I’ll let you in on a not-so-well-kept secret, Ms. Bae. Mahia happens to be the only person in this mansion who likes you, or even appreciates your presence. Be my guest if you would like to be so dedicated to this pattern of burning down bridges, but if you intend to see these girls, perhaps you should learn to take note of when and which people try to help you.”

“But she… She didn’t tell me about my members.”

“Mahia came to me in tears two weeks ago, ashamed that she couldn’t get you to leave your room to see your friends. She said it was like you weren’t listening to a word she had to say, or like you were angry with them. She was distraught.”

The connections started to form in Irene’s mind.

Silje continued. “Heartbroken, even. According to her, Seulgi was struggling not to cry because you refused to take a break from building your daily report. I'm still quite upset that what seems to pass in your eyes as hard work is more important than taking the time to comfort these girls you were supposed to have once led. I didn’t give you a difficult job.”

***

Irene frowned at the tablet propped up on her desk. She couldn't decipher what she was looking at. She knew that it needed to be deciphered, but she didn't know why. An article in a Seoul newspaper said that Soo Man was willingly divulging all of his tax information. He'd already had his finances exposed once before and it was damning. Why he was doing it again, Irene couldn't fathom. It couldn't just be an act of goodwill. He didn't have anything especially incriminating come out in the first reveal, but the bad stuff was a mere hour's worth of digging beyond that.

But it had to be related to why he sold Irene. It was obvious. Irene chewed through a fingernail as she read and reread the article, searched through more and more, looked for any threads she could grasp.

"Ms. Irene! Are you there?" Mahia’s voice and knocking startled Irene out of her concentration.

"I'm busy. What is it?"

Opening the door wasn’t necessary to hear and be heard through it.

"I have a surprise for you! I think you'll really like it!"

Irene paused. That woman had so much nerve. She should check Irene’s calendar. They were required to make them publicly viewable, and Irene had started to make a habit of blocking out time for research.

"Later, Mahia."

"Are you sure? It's very exciting!"

"I'm sure. Leave me alone please."

There was a pause. Irene glared at the door. When it seemed that the interruptions were finished, she looked back down at the computer. An interview with Soo Man. He wanted to prove that he had nothing to hide from the Korean public.

If that’s what he wanted to prove, he shouldn't be revealing everything.

"Ms. Irene? Please, I cannot open the door without your permissi—"

"Then stop trying and leave!"

Perhaps it was harsh, but Irene didn't have much time to research without it seeming suspicious. She didn't know how much of her activity was tracked. She had to focus. There wasn't time for treats. Irene must have struck the right tone, because she got the blessed silence she was hoping for.

"Please. I really…" Mahia just couldn't shut up. There was another voice layered in with hers, quieter. Irene recognized it, but she couldn’t place it. Likely just another slave or employee talking shit. She stepped up from her desk and slapped the door as hard as she could. The sounds of stumbling on the other side were enough for Irene to know that her point was getting across.

"Stop! Leave! Now! I don't want your surprise, and you're interrupting my work!"

"But—" It wasn't Mahia’s voice, but it wasn't welcome.

"No!" Irene screamed, "Get the fuck away! Do I sound like I'm in the mood for this?"

Another pause. "No, Ms. Irene. I apologize."

And finally, silence. Irene sat back down and finished her work for the day. She'd look into the Soo Man story another time. Surely it wouldn't be long before more information was released.

The time for Irene’s report came quickly that day. She took her tablet to the office and made her presentation. Nothing out of the ordinary: A painter pulling off a major publicity stunt, parents vehemently protesting a raunchy new television series, a couple of feel-good bits in between it all, and an accused corrupt politician facing backlash to finish on a serious note.

It was different from most days though. Irene could feel sweat beading on her forehead as Silje picked something from the desk, stood up, and slowly approached, bit by bit, pausing to listen to the news stories, but appearing somehow distracted, deep in thought.

"... and he has declined interview offers across the board." As she closed the last story, Silje closed the last meter of space between them. She held her breath as she caught a glimpse of the object Silje was holding. A scalpel.

Irene had nearly forgotten the difference in their heights. It was like standing beneath some grand, oversized monument. The kind that would make you dizzy if you looked up. Irene felt that dizziness, even without looking. She tried to focus on the tiny blade in Silje’s hand without looking directly at it, ready to spring back. If not for that focus, she might have seen the hit coming from the opposite direction.

"Leaders? Hmph."

It was all so quick. The pain came first, then the staggering, then the rush of air. It wasn’t until she was on her hands and knees that Irene processed what happened. Her breath hitched.

"I didn't give you a difficult job."

Irene's thoughts were immediately taken back to her first night. She wanted to scream again. But instead, she choked out a few tears, scooped the tablet off the floor and ran past the doors and to her room where she doubled over the toilet and wretched.

***

Irene clamped her eyes shut. “I swear, Silje. I didn’t understand that Mahia—”

Silje snapped back, louder than Irene could recall having ever heard her speak. “Perhaps you should listen to her more carefully, then!”

Irene flinched. Her instincts told her that she had to placate Silje, avoid more pain. That instinct struggled against her desire to shout in kind. Her voice cracked from the effort of holding back. “I’m k—sorry.”

The idea of looking so pathetic made Irene’s eyes burn, but tears would only lend more authenticity to her words, both true and untrue, swirling around each other. “You’re… right. I should have. I will, I promise. I need to… I need to see them. I need to apologize.”

“To whom?”

“Her members” was the correct but inappropriate answer. “Mahia. And Seulgi.”

“Start with Mahia. Your friends will be back in a week.” The answer was stern, but it was exactly what Irene wanted to hear.

Irene opened her eyes, cursing the sticky feeling of her wet lashes prying apart. “Yes. Thank you Silje.” She turned to leave and avoid seeing Silje’s face any longer than needed to assess the threat level.

“Ms. Bae.”

Stopping in place only resulted in silence, so Irene spun back around. Silje was holding her scalpel, twirling it slowly. “I expect to hear of your apology very soon, and then I want you to articulate to me how you intend to adjust your behavior before you will be seeing anybody. Understood?”

Irene dug her fingers into her palm. “Yes, Silje.”

“I will see you tomorrow.”

Of course.

Irene wasted no time. She checked Mahia’s schedule, found her, and gave her a brisk apology. The woman was a bleeding heart, accepting immediately and crushing Irene in a teary-eyed hug. From there, Irene ran to her room and drafted Silje’s second demand. It was easier than she expected. Years of spouting promotional bullshit turned out to be useful experience after all.

But the presentation had to be given at the right time. The next day, Irene entered the office expecting Silje to hit her again, and she was correct. It was fine. She’d acclimated. The pain was unwelcome, but the end was in sight, she hoped. If Silje had any decency in her, an idea Irene scoffed at, or at least wanted to act logically, the abuse would surely stop if she made it seem like she was surrendering. Waiting an extra day would make it seem like she was pouring thought into this, feeling more repentant, as if there were really something to be sorry for.

In fact, that night, she determined she would give it two more days. She would wait to be slapped and pause, tear up again, collapse to her hands and knees and say, “I deserve this.” Willingly submitting herself to physical abuse is what would trigger it. Silje would ask for further elaboration. Irene would put her forehead to the floor. She would first beg to be allowed to see her members. She would wail about how she (and not Silje) was the cause of their grief, and that she needed them to tell her how to improve. Silje would interject with some snide remark about Irene’s improvements, and Irene would ask to be taught, promising to listen and act on the feedback. Of course, she’d play the part of the penitent after the fact while in secret, employing the help of her members to figure out how to be freed and finally find some truth. All she had to do was be Silje’s obedient little girl. Just like her trainee days. Disgusting, but easy.

Then, she didn’t sleep. Irene’s mind swam with her plans that night. She leapt out of bed to create the next day’s report and pad it with pleasant stories, and to refine her confession.

The next day went perfectly. The sting in her cheek didn’t bring Irene down. If anything, it strengthened her will. She brought forth tears again, refusing to break down yet, praising herself mentally. She should have been an actor after Red Velvet.

She replayed her script so many times. She even practiced out loud. Reaching the end for the hundredth time, on her knees in the dark of the night, one fleeting thought passed by. She didn’t know what Silje would demand of her yet.

The next day was not so perfect. Irene’s report was ready, but her performance was not. The memory of her first night in the mansion returned with a vengeance. Silje’s lightning eyes pierced through time to stare at her. Throughout the day she found herself briefly freezing in place, wondering if she’d been poisoned or drugged again, or whatever happened that night. Her limbs shook as she walked to the office. If she remembered that night correctly, and she knew she did, the concept of “being Silje’s obedient little girl” became sinister. She dropped her tablet when Silje slapped her, and forgot about her plan.

Irene had to revise. She snuck into the kitchen, late, to get coffee. Jitters plagued her through the night. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep anyway, so she didn’t. If she could come up with her own rehabilitation spiel, she could surely avoid whatever sick plot Silje was concocting. The sun came up, Mahia brought her breakfast, and she learned exactly when her members would be arriving. Four more days, not too long after Irene’s report for that day. That wasn’t too long. Focusing for four days was nothing Irene couldn’t handle.

Her report was fine. She was exhausted, but her ability to fake alertness was unparalleled. Her new script was ready, and all she needed was for Silje to strike, but Silje never even rose from her chair. Irene stood rigid, waiting.

“You can go, Ms. Bae.”

Those words shocked Irene more than the smack would have. She stepped out of the office, jittering as if the coffee from the night before was still coursing through her. Not a day had passed in weeks that she hadn’t been hit. “Why?” she asked the floor in her room. She was going crazy and she needed sleep, so she tried. She faded in and out, missing dinner and finding she was unable to get back to sleep once it was past midnight.

Irene stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. In every iteration of her plan, her speech always started when she got hit. Silje must have known somehow. The same thing would probably happen the next day. Irene needed another contingency. If only she could figure out how Silje was a step ahead.

The first night’s memory came back again. Irene felt her muscles locking up, and she needed to snap out of it. She glared into her own eyes and steeled her nerves, then slapped herself.

“I deserve this.”

Looking at the mark she left on her own cheek, processing her own reflexive words, Irene wrapped her hands around her shoulders. She didn’t deserve this.

Before she knew it, she woke up on the bedroom floor with an hour to get to Silje’s office.

“You look terrible, Ms. Bae.”

Irene blinked slowly. She knew how she looked. Silje didn’t need to say it. “I’m sorry.”

Either Silje moved impossibly fast, or Irene’s senses were having trouble keeping up. Her lack of motor control indicated the latter. Her hands lifted far too late to block Silje’s strike, and her mind caught up even later to tell her she shouldn’t have tried. “I deserve this,” she whispered.

“It’s good that you recognize that. Get some sleep tonight. I expect a proper report tomorrow.”

Clocks stopped mattering to Irene. They only conveyed chronology relevant to everybody else in the mansion. She didn’t deserve this. The sun’s rays and the moon’s glows weren’t indicative of the days and nights. All that mattered were her reports and the fact that she had to give two more before she could see her members again. “I deserve this,” she recited. She had to say it again, two reports in the future. After the next, she swore Silje hit harder, or more than once. It made no difference. She didn’t deserve this. It was only one more report until she could see Seulgi. “I deserve this.” Sleep in the afternoon or night or morning before was as sporadic and sparse as the next time frame. She didn’t understand. She didn’t deserve this.

Irene barely registered the transportation of her own feet to Silje’s office. She leaned against an armchair to stay upright while Silje remained behind her desk because she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. “The president issued the following statement about the integrated circuits shipment to the UK from last month…”

Her voice cracked. The office’s window had a high view of the mansion’s driveway, so she could clearly see Simone’s car pulling in. Simone had been scheduled to pick someone up from the airport. Irene dropped her tablet onto the chair and shuffled closer to the window. A voice in the back of her mind told her she was insane for walking past Silje, exposing her back to the most dangerous person she knew. That voice had nothing more to say when the car stopped and Yeri stepped out of the passenger seat.

“I deserve this,” Irene mumbled. She fell to her knees, barely able to watch over the windowsill as Joy, Wendy, and Seulgi exited the car as well. They looked so happy down there without her. They were laughing. “I deserve this, Silje. Please let me see them.”

“Stand up…”

Irene’s legs felt far too weak for that. And her words were no stronger. “I’ll do anything. Anything. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What nonsense are you talking about? Get. Up.”

Hot streaks ran down Irene’s face. She could only blubber between the beginnings of sobs. “Anything. P-please. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”

Silje’s jerk on Irene’s shoulder carried more power than it needed, twisting Irene around but also nearly throwing her to the floor. Irene’s vision was blurred, but she could still make out the blue of Silje’s eyes, impossibly high up. There would have been silence if not for Irene’s constricted whines.

“Finish your report, Ms. Bae, and you can see them.”

It was really that easy. Irene didn’t have to give a full presentation of any kind. She crawled back to her feet and dragged them to the front of the office. Her mind raced. That was it. Finish the report. She deserved this. It worked. The abuse was over, she was sure of it. She would see them so soon. Seulgi.

Irene’s mouth worked automatically, transferring information from her tablet into the air. She hoped it was enough. She wiped her cheeks and nose with the back of her arm. Her members couldn’t see her cry, or see that she was crying. That’s always how it was. They were allowed to be weak because she was strong. She deserved this.

She was done with the report. The text on the tablet wouldn’t scroll any further. Silje picked up her cell phone with one hand, twirling her scalpel with the other. Irene heard the muffled ringtone, followed by a muffled voice, then Silje. “Yes, Wendy! I hope the trip was lovely. I wanted to welcome you home with a small surprise. Could you and the girls come to my office, please…? Good. I’ll see you in a moment.”

Irene stared, silent and shaking. It was happening. Her knuckles turned white from her grip on the tablet.

Silje cocked an eyebrow. “They’ll be coming from the foyer.”

When Irene didn’t move, Silje jerked her chin at the door. Irene got the message. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her. She spun and flung the door open.

It was like seeing the light at the end of a tunnel. It was going to be an end to the suffering.

Suffering. Irene’s first night came back again. She felt so helpless, powerless, alone that night. Nobody was there to save her. Joy and Yeri weren’t there. Wendy wasn’t there. Seulgi wasn’t there. That wasn’t their fault. Irene loved them all the same, and she deserved this.

The adrenaline pumped again at the sound of Yeri’s voice around a corner. It was still distant, but it echoed, and there was no mistaking it. She sounded happy, the same way she and the others looked minutes earlier. It was good that they were happy.

Irene paused. The enormous, empty hallway seemed to grow longer. Her members were happy. She was miserable, and she might make them miserable too if they saw her like this. She deserved this.

The hallway shrunk and came into harsh focus as the first person rounded the corner. It was Seulgi. Irene didn’t care if she deserved this in that moment. She loved Seulgi. Seulgi knew she loved her.

Seulgi screamed and broke into a run toward her. Irene started walking again. She was doing what she was supposed to do. She didn’t cry. She deserved this. She loved Seulgi, and Seulgi closed half the distance before the other three came into view.

Unlike Irene, Seulgi cried. The closer they got, the more Seulgi broke. But when she slowed, arms outstretched for a hug, Irene broke too.

The crack of Irene’s palm striking Seulgi across the face echoed louder than Yeri’s voice did, and was followed by a stunned silence.

Irene lifted the same hand again. Seulgi’s glistening eyes went wide with disbelief. The hand came back down. The second attack was more of an inaccurate claw. Irene’s wrist clubbed Seulgi’s collarbone, and nails raked flesh. Seulgi dropped at the force.

In the background, Irene saw Wendy and Yeri bursting into sprints, but then her vision tunneled down to the crouched, cowering Seulgi. Irene’s other hand was still clenched around her tablet. She noticed Joy shrieking, but that was the last of her thoughts as she raised the device over her head.

“You deserve this!”

[spacenutspod]

SpaceX has yet another busy week of launches this week, with Rocket Lab, Russia, and China also launching rockets. On Thursday, SpaceX will begin their busy week with the launch of a Falcon 9 carrying another batch of Starlink satellites from Space Launch Complex 40 (SLC-40) in Florida. The company’s Thursday launch will then be followed by another Falcon 9 launch carrying yet another batch of Starlink satellites, this time from Vandenberg Space Force Base in California, on Friday. Towards the end of the week, Rocket Lab will return to flight on Friday with “The Moon God Awakens” mission. This comes after a previous mission, dubbed “We Will Never Desert You,” failed to reach orbit on Sept. 19, 2023, and will set a new yearly launch record for the company. Russia is expected to launch a Soyuz 2.1b with the Arktika-M n°2 remote sensing and emergency communications satellite on Saturday, and SpaceX will finish the week with the launch of a Falcon 9 carrying the Ovzon-3 satellite from SLC-40 on Sunday. Throughout the week, China is also expected to conduct three launches, with one potentially being China’s own reusable spaceplane, similar to the United States X-37B. Falcon 9 Block 5 | Starlink Group 6-34 On Thursday night, SpaceX will launch another batch of 23 Starlink V2 mini satellites at 11:00 PM EST (04:00 UTC on Dec. 13) on a Falcon 9 from SLC-40. This will be the first of two Starlink missions SpaceX plans to launch this week. B1081-3 is the first stage booster assigned to this mission, marking a 32-day turnaround after launching the CRS-29 resupply mission to the International Space Station in November. After launch, the booster will land on the drone ship A Shortfall of Gravitas in the Atlantic Ocean. Launch Complex 40 at Cape Canaveral pic.twitter.com/8GnI5aXpiW — Elon Musk (@elonmusk) December 12, 2023 Chang Zheng 2F/T | CSSHQ On Thursday at 14:10 UTC, a Chang Zheng 2F/T rocket is expected to launch China’s reusable spaceplane into orbit from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center in China. Very little is publicly known about this spaceplane, even less than the X-37B, which this vehicle is believed to be based on. If this launch does carry the spaceplane into orbit, it will mark the third flight of this spacecraft and will be the second time it is in space in 2023. The last launch of this vehicle occurred on Aug. 4, 2022, and returned to Earth earlier this year on May 8. Electron/Curie | The Moon God Awakens  On Friday, Rocket Lab will launch the “The Moon God Awakens” mission aboard their Electron rocket, officially returning the vehicle to flight after its last mission ended in failure when an electrical arc within the power supply system on the second stage occurred, causing the vehicle to lose power and shut down its engine shortly after separation from the first stage. Liftoff is scheduled to occur during a two-hour window, opening at 17:00 NZDT and closing at 19:00 NZDT (0400-0600 UTC), from Pad B at Launch Complex 1 on the Mahia Peninsula in New Zealand. Mission patch for “The Moon God Awakens” mission. (Credit: Rocket Lab) This mission will carry the QPS-SAR-5 satellite for the company iQPS. This satellite is a small, synthetic aperture radar satellite weighing only ~100 kilograms and will be used to collect high-resolution photos of Earth from orbit.  QPS-SAR-5 will join the other satellites in the iQPS constellation, and once completed, the constellation will consist of 36 satellites capable of monitoring specific points of the Earth as often as every 10 minutes. This mission will also set a new yearly launch record for Rocket Lab, closing 2023 out with ten launches, beating the company’s previous record of nine in 2022. Falcon 9 Block 5 | Starlink Group 7-9  Towards the end of the day on Friday, SpaceX will launch a Falcon 9 carrying another batch of  22 Starlink V2 mini satellites from Space Launch Complex 4-East at the Vandenberg Space Force Base in California. Liftoff is set to occur at 9:14 PM PST (04:59 UTC on Dec. 14). The booster being used on this mission is currently unknown; however, after launch, it is expected to touchdown on the Of Course I Still Love You drone ship in the Pacific Ocean. Chang Zheng 5 | Unknown Payload On Friday, a Chang Zheng 5 will launch a currently unknown payload from the Wenchang Space Launch Site in China. An exact liftoff time is unknown; however, NOTAMS indicate a launch window of 13:32-14:26 UTC. If the launch occurs as scheduled, it will be the sixth launch of the regular Chang Zheng 5 configuration and the tenth for the Chang Zheng 5 vehicle family. Chang Zheng 5 rolling out to the pad at Wenchang. (Credit: CASC) Hyperbola-1 | Unknown Payload On Saturday, the private Chinese aerospace company i-Space is expected to launch its Hyperbola-1 rocket with a currently unknown payload. Liftoff from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center is expected to occur at 06:00 UTC. Soyuz 2.1b | Arktika-M n°2 A few hours later, Russia is expected to launch a Soyuz 2.1b rocket from Site 31 at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. Liftoff is expected to occur at 12:17 Moscow Time (09:17 UTC). The Arktika-M is a remote sensing and emergency communication satellite designed to monitor high-latitude areas of Earth and weighs ~2100 kilograms. Arktika-M will be launched into an Molniya orbit. This highly elliptical orbit takes 12 hours to complete and allows a satellite to pass over the same spot every 24 hours, making it very useful for communication satellites in high-latitude areas. The Arktika-M n°2 satellite ahead of launch. (Credit: Roscosmos) Falcon 9 Block 5 | Ovzon-3  Finishing off the week on Sunday, another Falcon 9 will launch from SLC-40, carrying the Ovzon-3 satellite into a Geostationary Transfer Orbit (GTO).  Liftoff is set to occur at 3:46 PM EST (20:46 UTC). Ovzon-3 is a Swedish geostationary satellite and is the first privately funded geostationary satellite ever built by the country. The satellite weighs ~1800 kilograms and, once fully deployed, has a length of 27 meters. Once deployed from Falcon 9’s second stage, the satellite will use its onboard electric propulsion to maneuver into its final operating orbit over the next several months. The booster for this mission is currently unknown; however, after launch, it will touchdown back at Landing Zone 1 at the Cape Canaveral Space Force Station. This is unusual as many missions launching to GTO require more performance out of Falcon 9, thus usually requiring a drone ship landing. This may indicate that SpaceX has squeezed out even more margin regarding Falcon 9’s performance. (Lead image: Electron on the pad in New Zealand ahead of its launch on Friday. Credit: Rocket Lab) The post Launch Roundup: Rocket Lab to return to flight; SpaceX set to launch Falcon 9 three times appeared first on NASASpaceFlight.com.