#Solar Protocol

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

This episode’s guest is Dr Anne Pasek, Canada Research Chair in Media, Culture, and Environment, and an Assistant Professor in the Department of Cultural Studies and the School of the Environment at Trent University. Dr Pasek is co-founder of the Low Carbon Research Methods Group, and she talks to Ariel all about what Low Carbon Research is (and can look like!), the “carbon footprint” of academic research, new innovative ways for research to respond to the climate crisis, the importance of zines, and even hosting her own solar server in her backyard!

Links:

https://www.annepasek.com/

http://lowcarbonmethods.com/

https://emmlab.info/

http://solarprotocol.net/

[stripe-conlon]

How are we all feeling about today’s dark ritual?

[cosmic-kinglet]

Hey. Hey guys...

You want a double-dose of pain today? = )

[remission-protocol]

On Stasis Embalming

The religious starships of the High Faith of Mars often use a form of mummification—Stasis Embalming—in place of cryosleep. The ritual preservation of passengers so they may be awakened at their destination. Their veins are flushed with preserving fluid, their blood endlessly cycled through life support units until it can be returned to them. A ‘death’ in one place and rebirth in another.

Those left awake to tend the bodies count it an honour to preside over such sacred rites, even as they spend years with no company but their unblinking charges.

A few sects even submit to this process without need, as a way to receive visions, to see death prefigured, to glimpse the Basis beneath all things.

When the Scourge was abroad among the Spheres, Stasis Embalming became a lifeline for the desperate and the despairing, who launched their ships into interstitial void or the orbits of obscure moons and sought to sleep until the danger passed. They found sanctuary from the Parasite’s grasp in obscurity and sheer remoteness.

On occasion such ships are discovered still. Usually, they are left to their ceaseless slow drifting or marked with beacons of warning. Even the most ruthless scavengers hesitate to disturb them lest they bring forth some old malediction.

[distantsolarsystemsandsnails]

books i’m bringing!

my two absolute favorite books:

- this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

- on a sunbeam by tillie walden

the book that i read because it was mentioned in time war and that i enjoyed:

- travel light by naomi mitchison

one of my dad’s favorite books that i also really love:

- cruddy by lynda barry

books i STILL haven’t finished reading but am enjoying:

- braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer

- entangled life by merlin sheldrake

book i haven’t even started reading but have heard is good:

- the jellyfish by boum

not technically a book but still very important to me:

- loss protocol volume one by julien baker

book i read once a while ago and loved and would like to reread:

- the sound of a wild snail eating by elizabeth tova bailey

book i really loved and would like my own copy of but don’t have yet and hopefully i can get my parents to bring it to me later:

- the starless sea by erin morgenstern

[bearcubblues]

helloooo loyal bearcubblues fans sorry ive been mia!!! college is keeping me very busy ....

thought id just come on and say some random stuff bc i can do whatever i want

i recently saw the back to the future musical and watched the movie for the first time .... i have latched onto doc brown . Bad. he's getting added to the list with martin and baloo etc etc. i like him soooooo bad i need to write some hc stuff i think

i still haven't listened to the tmagp epilogue ... im a little scared to. but ill get there soon.

i also got really into solar opposites and there's literally no agere content for it !!! if you like solar opposites and agere pls be my friend!!!!!!!!

that's all for now love you guysss!!!!

[halles-comet]

I know none of you watch solar opposites because you’re normal women but they obviously had to fire Justin Roiland and instead of finding a close approximation of his voice and just kind of ignoring it they shot his character in the throat with a dart and replaced him with esteemed British dramatic actor Dan Stevens which should just like be the industry protocol for me too’d shitbag job stuff

[bodybaggage]

Monthly Phantom Check Up

Frostbite, Danny’s overly enthusiastic yeti doctor, shows up at the Watchtower for a surprise check-up, and things get awkward fast.

———

The Watchtower was in chaos. It wasn’t a typical day of chaos—no alien invasions or time-traveling villains—but something far more uncomfortable. Frostbite, Danny Phantom’s towering Yeti doctor and self-proclaimed “Master of Ghost Medicine,” had arrived unannounced. His massive, fur-covered frame loomed in the main meeting room as he carefully unpacked a series of glowing, intimidating medical instruments.

Superman leaned over to Wonder Woman, voice low. “Is this... normal?”

Wonder Woman’s brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t think this falls under the usual protocol for supernatural beings.”

Across the room, Danny Phantom stood in all his half-dead glory—or rather, slouched in defeat, wearing a hoodie that seemed far too large for his ghostly frame. He was clearly trying to shrink away from the entire situation, one pale hand covering his face in mortification.

“Frostbite,” Danny hissed in a hushed whisper, “you couldn’t have waited until we got back to the Ghost Zone?”

Frostbite beamed, oblivious to Danny’s pleading. “Nonsense, Great One! Your health is of utmost importance, and I detected a slight imbalance in your ectoplasmic core. It must be addressed immediately!”

Batman stood against the wall, eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold. “Ectoplasmic core?”

Frostbite nodded solemnly as he began to prepare an absurdly long, glowing probe. “Indeed, Batman. The Great One is half-ghost, and thus, his core requires regular maintenance. There are many nuances to his biology that need tending to.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, Ancients, kill me now…”

The Justice League—gathered for what they thought was going to be a strategy meeting—could only look on in awkward silence. Aquaman coughed and pretended to adjust his trident. Green Lantern pulled up a holographic projection of the solar system, which he stared at intensely despite not needing to. Flash, of course, was barely containing his laughter, lips twitching every time Frostbite said something ridiculous.

“Now,” Frostbite continued, holding up a glowing vial of something green and gooey, “the first concern is the ectoplasm imbalance. Too much exposure to the Ghost Zone can cause buildup, which leads to... ah, let’s say, irregularities.”

Superman cleared his throat. “Irregularities?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “Yes. In the human digestive system, it might be compared to... indigestion. But in ghosts, it manifests as random phasing, ectoplasmic leakage, and occasional transformation into a much more terrifying version of oneself.”

Superman blinked. “That sounds... worse than indigestion.”

“Oh, much worse!” Frostbite said brightly, not catching the sarcasm. “Especially during ghost puberty. It’s when the ghost’s core is developing at its most volatile stage.”

Danny’s entire face turned bright red. “Frostbite! Seriously?!”

“Ghost... puberty?” Batman echoed, voice laced with what could only be described as grim fascination.

“Indeed!” Frostbite said, now fully in doctor mode. “The Great One is well past that stage, but it’s important to note that ghost puberty can last several decades for some. Phantom’s transformations would have been wildly unpredictable for years, often triggered by emotional stress or large quantities of fast food.”

Flash actually lost it at that, letting out a snort and quickly covering his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! Just—did you say fast food?”

Danny rubbed his temples. “Yes. I went through my ‘ghost puberty’ eating burgers and stressing about math tests. Can we move on?”

Frostbite chuckled warmly. “Ah, yes. The human world does have its unique challenges for the Great One. Now, the next matter—”

“There’s more?” Danny wailed, half considering flying straight through the floor and never coming back.

“Oh, yes!” Frostbite said with far too much enthusiasm. He turned to the League. “His dual nature also means his ghost half sometimes conflicts with his human immune system. It’s a fascinating process! For example, Danny can phase through objects, but if he catches a human cold, it throws his phasing abilities off and he might accidentally phase into a wall and get stuck.”

The room went silent.

Batman stared at Danny. “You’ve... phased into a wall?”

Danny gritted his teeth, wishing for the sweet release of invisibility. “I was twelve, okay? And yes, I got stuck. It was fine.”

“Mostly fine,” Frostbite corrected, waving around a spectral thermometer. “There was that one time we had to extract you from a particularly thick brick wall in Amity Park. Took several hours.”

Wonder Woman, who had remained silent up until this point, exchanged a concerned glance with Superman. “Is this something we should... prepare for?”

Danny shot them both an exasperated look. “No. I’m not going to phase into the Watchtower’s walls. Probably.”

“Unless his ectoplasmic levels are low,” Frostbite added cheerfully. “Which is why this check-up is vital!”

As Frostbite pulled out what looked suspiciously like a ghost-themed blood pressure cuff, Danny gave up. “I’m going to die—again.”

Flash wiped away a tear of laughter, his shoulders still shaking. “This is the best day of my life. I didn’t know ghost puberty was a thing.”

“I’ll send you my research papers,” Frostbite said kindly. “There’s a great deal of fascinating biology involved!”

Danny, ignoring everyone, shot a glare at Batman, who was watching all this with far too much interest. “Don’t even think about adding this to my file.”

Batman didn’t respond, though his fingers twitched ever so slightly toward his utility belt.

Frostbite, oblivious to the ongoing awkwardness, finished prepping his tools. “Now, Great One, if you could just sit still. This next part involves extracting ectoplasmic residue from your pores—”

“I’m phasing through the floor,” Danny muttered, promptly sinking halfway through the Watchtower’s pristine floor, only his head remaining visible. “See you guys never.”

The Justice League stood in stunned silence as Frostbite packed away his tools with a serene smile.

“Very well,” Frostbite said. “I’ll schedule the next check-up for next month. Goodbye, Justice League!”

And with that, the massive Yeti doctor vanished through a portal, leaving the League standing there, trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

Superman finally turned to Danny, whose head was still poking out of the floor.

“Danny... you okay?”

Danny didn’t respond, choosing instead to fully disappear beneath the floor.

Flash wheezed. “I love that kid.”

[raintemper]

Moon and Pebbles!! Yippee

oh the woes of being a flesh creature surrounded by supercomputer gods,, I got sad drawing him hhh

more about them under the line :>

Moon! She, like Suns, was one of the first successful projects and were both more of test models/therapeutic companions than anything else. They were both restructured to fit their new functions but Suns has obviously undergone more significant changes... Moon is kept inside to assist with research and computational stuff. She's a lab cat. She's generally looks more like a normal creature, and has a friendly appearance because her creators (i guess it would be the ancients) would be seeing her frequently and would rather a friendly face, something that is easily perceived as nonthreatening, as opposed to Suns weaponry and NSH's extra limbs and spikes. She doesn't have the screen face like NSH, so expressing emotions comes mostly from body language. Moon is not outside at all so there is no need for solar panel components like Suns or NSH. She has internal stored power that can last for quite a while but still needs to be recharged? I imagine the neuron fly drones would also assist in that department. The drones still function somewhat like her portable processing servers/braincells. She has also programed a defensive protocol into them, they can create small bits of electricity to use in dire moments. Initially programmed to keep track of NSH's samples that sometimes escapes him.

Pebbles is a purposed organism. He is a whole entire organic cat. He was born in the lab, in a chaotic time when resources were low. He has a mark of communication. He also has a brain chip where he can access (basically) the cloud where the others upload information. He is also a lab cat so this is crucial to his role. He did try and remove it once when he was younger and it backfired horribly and now he has a mechanical ear and eye. He still feels out of place for obvious reasons, being the only creature of organic origin amongst his peers.

He is closest to Moon who had a role in caring for and raising him. She did not know a thing about caring for a living being but did her best. Pebbles does not like being confined to the facility. The suggestion and influence the brain chip has on him sometimes clashes with his thoughts. He is very aware of the limitations it puts on him to not leave. He envies NSH and Suns a lot for being able to do what he can't. He often downloads the maps they create and read NSH's sample studies in his spare time. He also likes seeing the lizards NSH brings back, from a distance.

I think in the time that Pebbles exists, NSH is not very active. Due to the low resources and chaotic season, NSH is often in low power mode. Which means less expeditions outside and more time just, half asleep. And when the weather becomes more sustainable, NSH would be sent on long outings to gather as much as possible before being powered down again. So instead of hearing stories from NSH, he sought out Suns and UI instead. (Actually I think everyone is kind of low power mode here, Suns does not wander as far).

erhm i think he tries to leave the place and then gets sick or something,,,im still thinking..

[remission-protocol]

CENSER STAR — CREW LOG

Pilot-Chaplain Astrid. Dictated to auto-scribe. Transcript begins:

All souls are in stasis.

Propulsion has been disengaged, shrouds deployed.

Fuel fully expended.

We are now adrift. Our fate is sealed, to whatever end. We are entrusted unto this venerable ark, the Censer Star, whose bones were old when the Dreamer first dreamt.

I have walked each silent passage. I have inspected each row of the desperate and the despairing, unblinking in their bloodless stillness. My checks are complete thrice over. My duty is done.

Yet I have not entered stasis.

While I wake there are still things to do. Thoughts to think. When I lie still, it may be for the last time.

This vessel may never be found. Or worse, it may be found by the Scourge. Perhaps it is already aboard, wearing a stolen shape.

I must banish such thoughts. I must warm my tepid heart. To regret, to repine—these are immaterial. The course is set, and I cannot alter it.

I am resolved that I should lie upon the catafalque before long, and join the multitude in sleep. Where I shall wake thereafter, only the Glories can tell.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 5 masterlist

-

The day starts poorly and ends worse.

You sit with Gaz’s words all night and decide by morning’s first light that it is worth worrying about them after all. But for a different reason. The worry you settle on is that your deteriorating mind is now giving you warning signals of troubles to come, manifested in the form of an astronaut outside of the ship. A messenger; a harbinger. 

Breakfast is cold coffee over bit fingernails. You pull at a hangnail until it tears and pain zips up your finger, blood welling up under the split skin. Since you take your coffee in the medical unit these days, bandages and disinfectant are always within reach, meaning your fingers are always wrapped in them. Pigs in blankets. 

You make your way across the ship when morning briefing comes, fingers throbbing by your sides. 

Farah watches you from the other side of the cockpit during the briefing, her gaze inscrutable as ever. It takes a conscious effort not to shake under her stare. You’re not sure what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. 

In the background, Graves drones on about something that doesn’t penetrate through the thick miasma of your thoughts. It goes on for entirely too long. When he dismisses you all for the day, you stand up on crooked legs and hope they don’t buckle under you on the walk back to the medical unit. Farah’s eyes follow you until the door shuts behind you.  

You make another coffee instead of getting started on your tasks for the day. Your research can wait. That’s what you tell yourself at least, nails tapping against the metal table while the coffee machine spurts out your drink in a short, violent burst. A thin, reedy hiss. No instant crystals this time. It tastes almost burnt when you bring it to your lips. 

The mundanity of work pales in comparison to the events rapidly unfolding before your eyes. Are you sick or well? Is the man outside the ship real or not? Surely not, you tell yourself, pulse picking up again. You know better than that. Occam’s razor: the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one. 

It’s just that you don’t like where your mind is going with this one. 

The alarm goes off when your head is bent over the microscope, the sound so sudden and jarring that you nearly tumble right off your stool. It blares a piercing shriek through the medical unit and the hall outside, so loud that you cup your hands over your ears to hear yourself think. The stool clatters to the ground when you hurriedly slide off, heading towards the door. 

You stumble into the hallway to find it flooded in red light, pulsating in steady intervals for any deaf crew members. It guides you like a beacon down the hall towards the cockpit. Standard protocol is to head to either extremity of the ship, lifepods stored at both the front and back of the ship in case of an emergency. 

The others are already in the cockpit by the time you arrive. Claustrophobia sets in when the doors slide shut behind you, the room smaller with everyone packed inside at the same time. 

You feel someone’s eyes flick towards you before flitting away in the same second. Accounted for and disregarded. Hardly meriting any attention when the alarm blaring overhead is a far more pressing concern. 

Graves punches a button. “Ship, what’s the situation?” 

Micrometeoroid impact 

Damage sustained to starboard quarter

“Some of the photovoltaic cells are cracked,” Alex says, checking the status of the ship on another computer screen. “We have replacements though—could be worse.”

“Could be a lot fuckin’ better too,” Graves grumbles, forehead already pinched. 

Despite not being an engineer or astrophysicist, you’ve gone on enough interplanetary voyages to understand the implications of damaging the photovoltaic solar panels. Much of the electronics on board rely on the electricity derived from sunlight; this particular ship, designed only to venture as far as Jupiter, isn’t equipped with an alternative power source. 

“Should I engage the Canadarm to fix the damaged panel?” Alex asks from his perch.

Graves shakes his head. “We need to preserve as much power as possible while the cruise control is still out. It’ll have to be fixed manually.” With that said, he flips a switch to shut off the droning alarm, though the lights overhead stay red.

You flinch when the chief engineer slaps his hands down on his thighs, the sound jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “I fix like usual. No problem.”

“Nothing different than what we trained for.”

“Easy peasy,” he confirms, an easy smile on his face. 

“Okay, Nikolai, suit up—I’ll guide you from the cockpit,” Graves instructs, shifting into a mode you’ve never seen before. “Hadir, there’s a replacement panel in section seven in the cargo hold—get it and bring it back now. Nikolai’s going to have to fix it from the outside.”

The terror that lances through you when Graves says that is immediate and sharp. You know nothing’s out there, but the fear response is as real as if something were. 

It’s an unwarranted response, fueled by paranoia and delusion. This is a scenario the crew has prepared for back on Earth a multitude of times. They wouldn’t have been given clearance to leave the planet without having run through every potential complication and calamity. There are strict regulations to follow, protocols and standards to ensure that nothing comes as a surprise. 

But still—

Your chest is tight. Heart pounding against your ribcage so hard that you wince. There’s no one outside the ship but still you can’t help but think that opening the doors might let it in. 

When Nikolai leaves to suit up for the spacewalk, you trail after him, following Farah’s lead. You didn’t notice that Hadir had already departed, but his absence is glaring on the walk towards the airlock. 

“Smile a little, Farah,” Nikolai says, poking fun at the eternally stern woman keeping pace with him. “It’s good to have some excitement around here.”

“I’m not a fan of excitement,” she responds, voice terse. He laughs at her words, the booming sound echoing through the corridor.

You watch helplessly as Nikolai gears up, Farah helping him lock the helmet into his suit, doing a quick, final inspection of the glass to ensure that there aren’t any cracks or scratches. 

The glass of Nikolai’s visor glints opalescent under the station lights, the glass infused with low-grade aerogel to protect from interplanetary radiation and solar winds. Packets of higher grade aerogel are stuffed into the lining of his suit, protecting the rest of his body as well. 

Hadir returns not long after with all of the requisite parts needed for the repair neatly stored in a rectangular container that attaches securely to the front of Nikolai’s suit, leaving his hands free. The three move in synchrony, a finely-tuned dance practiced repeatedly in the months leading up to the launch. 

You keep to the wall in order to avoid getting in the way. 

The first door leading into the airlock is opened when Nikolai finally gives Farah the word, their checklist run through twice before being met with approval. 

Nikolai deliberately turns away from the door when the airlock door shuts behind him and the chamber begins to depressurize. You wince sympathetically when you notice his shoulders tense. The oxygen in his tanks is specially designed to purge the nitrogen from his blood, but under better conditions, he would’ve spent closer to an hour prebreathing in order to transition from high to low pressure. 

He only gets a few minutes to adjust. When his allotted time expires, the second pair of doors slide open—the last partition between the inner and outer world—and Nikolai takes his first step towards the darkness of space. 

You can’t watch after that. Instead, you hurry back to the cockpit, jaw so tight that it aches. 

Graves looks up when you enter, but otherwise doesn’t say a word to you. Alex flashes you a brief, tense grin. The first couple of minutes of any space walk are always nerve wracking, despite the reassurance of preparation and all times before. There’s an inherent anxiety in seeing the human body go out into the cold vastness of space. 

“Nikolai—you copy?” Graves asks through the transmitter.

The receiver crackles. “Loud and clear, boss,” he rumbles, accent thick even over radio waves. 

A shadow of a smile flits over Graves’ face, the tension in the room briefly relieved. Even your shoulders lower at the sound of his voice. 

“You sound better like this,” Graves teases. “Less nasally.”

“I’ll ask your mum the next time she calls,” Nikolai rebuts, a similar teasing sneer in his voice. 

“Asshole,” Graves laughs, keeping his finger on the button the whole time. 

The camaraderie would usually make your heart ache. Not today though. There’s no space for anything other than worry. 

“Proceeding towards starboard,” Nikolai says, narrating his movements for the benefit of those on board.

There aren’t any cameras on the outside of the ship, meaning the crew can only communicate with the man via audio. On a newer spacecraft that might not be the case, but this ship is old, a relic of times past, her maiden voyage predating the addition of exterior cameras. 

You wait in the cockpit with Alex and Graves while Nikolai repairs the panel outside, nerves shot. A half hour passes by without thought. You dig your nails into the palm of your hands and wait it out, each minute feeling eternal, elongated somehow. Every so often, the receiver crackles and Nikolai gives an update on his work. Each time, the crackle makes you flinch. 

Despite the unease churning in your stomach, the amount of time isn’t suspect; you know he has to disconnect and remove the damaged panel section before installing a replacement panel.

Yet, you can’t quite shake the nausea building in your stomach. The way it cramps and flutters. 

At some point during the wait, Farah slips into the room, and you only notice her when you twist your head from side to side to stretch out the muscles in your neck and find her leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed tight over her chest. 

For someone who has most certainly monitored and participated on spacewalks before, you’re surprised to find her just as anxious as you, albeit better at concealing it. You’d have thought of all people, she’d be the most comfortable. Instead, her eyes stare sightlessly at the flight deck window, finger tapping against her elbow; a nervous twitch. 

The receiver crackles again. “Panel secure. Heading back n—” 

Both Graves and Alex sit up straighter, staring down at the receiver as if anticipating the rest of the sentence. It never comes. You feel a sweat break on the back of your neck. 

Graves presses a button. “Nikolai, we didn’t catch that. Say again.” 

He’s met with a deeper, more prolonged silence. 

“Nikolai?” Graves repeats into the mic, his voice broadcast over the intercom system throughout the ship. “Nikolai, do you copy?”

Silence. Nikolai’s transmitter crackles in response, as if his finger were on the button, but his voice never follows. 

“Kolya?” Graves asks, and you can hear the sliver of desperation, the worry couched in professional concern. You’ve never heard him use that name before. 

Another minute goes by without a response. The tension is thick in the air. 

The sound of the door to the cockpit opening cuts through the air and you turn to watch as Farah leaves without a word. Again, puppyish, you follow after her. You’re not sure why. Her back is ramrod straight as she marches down the hall, tension rippling down her shoulders. She doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you make your way down the corridor together. 

The two of you stare out the first porthole for some time before proceeding to the airlock further down the hall. No sign of Nikolai. Graves’ voice crackles over the intercom, keeping the crew dispersed throughout the ship abreast of any sign of Nikolai. 

“I’m going out,” Farah abruptly announces, punching in the code for the second spacesuit locker. 

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, watching as she rips the zipper down the length of the suit to open it and starts to tug it out of the locker. 

“I’m going to check on him,” she repeats, enunciating each individual word as if you didn’t hear her the first time. 

“Is that—is that a good idea? Shouldn’t you consult the commander before—”

It isn’t your place to question her, but an instinct deep inside of you says don’t go out there, don’t go out. What’s out there should stay out there. 

“This is my job, doctor,” she cuts you off, finally wrenching the second suit out of the locker and jamming her leg into the lower torso component. “I don’t tell you how to do your job and you certainly don’t tell me how to do mine—”

Then, somehow, you both see it at the same time. A hand pressed flat to the airlock window, the fingers spread wide. The body attached to it must still be hanging off the side of the ship because you don’t see the rest of him, just a palm open wide on the far edge of the window. And though Farah breathes thank fuck, Kolya under her breath—the most relieved you’ve ever heard her—your stomach cramps and your palms grow clammy. 

The spacesuit she’d been about to step into falls to the floor in a heap. From the corner of your eye, you see Farah reach for the airlock lever to open the door, and your hand instinctively goes up as well, your fingers closing around her wrist to hold her in place. 

“Wait.” It’s your voice but not your voice. It’s your fingers around her wrist though, staying her hand. It’s your stomach cramped up in a Gordian knot, bile at the back of your throat because this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. 

She wrenches her wrist out of your grasp with more strength than you anticipated, pulling down the lever in the next breath. The look she sends you as the exterior door slides open is scathing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her repressed fury coming to life. You can feel it now coming off her in waves—the days of doubt and mistrust, so unsettled by your actions to the point that now she snarls at you without a second thought. 

Your lips part but nothing comes out. No way to explain yourself, just the gut feeling of something terribly wrong. 

All you can do is watch as the first set of doors open to the blackness of space, your body frozen where you stand, heart in your throat. The hand briefly disappears from the window just to reappear a second later, gripping the side of the door to haul himself inside. His movements are slow and deliberate, hampered by the lack of gravity. 

You notice the glaring issue almost immediately, but your throat is far too dry for you to speak. You wonder if Farah has noticed it as well. The man in the spacesuit taking his first step into the airlock is leaner than the man who left. Shorter too. Not the bear of a man that stepped out just an hour ago, but someone new. Someone that now flips the switch on the interior wall to shut the door behind him, which it does noiselessly. 

“Farah,” you whisper uncertainly. She doesn’t respond. You wish you could turn your head to look at her, but you can’t rip your eyes off the man in the airlock. 

You wait with baited breath for the airlock to repressurize the first chamber. It takes as long as it did to depressurize in the first place, an agonizing handful of minutes that you can only spend staring at the man standing in the middle of the chamber, his visor still tilted too low for you to make out his face. 

But you know, don’t you? 

With a door separating the two of you, the sound never actually reaches your ears, but you swear you can almost hear the hiss of his helmet unlocking. You’re sweating hard now, heart racing in your chest and still you blink twice, hoping that the man behind the glass will suddenly disappear or suddenly grow in size. 

The man reaches two gloves hands up to twist the helmet out of its locked position and then slowly pulls it off, revealing a face that you’ve become familiar with these past few days. Dark skin and a high fade. A scar high on his cheekbone, the wound long healed. 

“Farah,” you say again, and your voice cracks this time. Beside you, you hear her let out a shuddering breath. 

Through the glass, he smiles at you, full lips pulling apart to expose a row of gleaming white teeth. He waves a thick-fingered, gloved hand and mouths your name.

[thefirstknife]

Alright, so some parts of the community puzzle were solved and a website was revealed. Aion-archive. The puzzle isn't over but there's stuff to do on the website with some cool info and teasers. The rest of the puzzle is so far in the process of people inputting a million codes and figuring things out which I don't really understand and I'm only interested in the end lore results so I'll talk about what we can read so far.

First of all, Aion was mentioned in Vesper's Host as "The Aion Initiative" during the secret quest with the collectibles:

Vesper Station: I’ve got the archive of Dr. Bray’s published staff memos. Petabytes of data in the raw files. Rasputin. The Stoneworm protocols. The Aion Initiative. Soteria. I had siblings this whole time. And you never let me know.

Unclear how this connects to anything, but it was definitely some sort of project back in the Golden Age.

Playing around on the site can let you access a home button and then it lists some options to go through:

I'll put the rest under read more so people can play around by themselves without spoilers if they want and for length:

First of all, the missing numbers that are listed as alerts? You can still input them. So even though it says that 002, 004, 005, and 006 are missing, you can still select them and they give information. I'll drop all of them here and do some commentary because this is enrichment.

Input 001:

Very interesting! So "Aion" stands for "Apollo Intertemporal Observation Network," investigating time dilation and temporal anomalies that go beyond simple light-speed issues. I'm absolutely losing it immediately because this is incredibly cool in so many ways. The possibility that The Edge of Fate will involve some time travel shenanigans is exciting. Hoping for more Vex stuff for sure!

Input 002:

Obsessed. This is definitely why the whole thing was codenamed "Apollo" originally and some of our speculation about it was actually correct. Apollo, god of prophecy! Fascinated by the fact that this one aspect of Apollo was chosen as first description of him. Like, yeah, that part was incredibly important but Apollo was a god of many things. Either way, hello, I am going to be on the news.

Input 003:

Stuff about chess, which is interesting because this is how we got to the website in the first place. I feel like we're playing chess with some entity beyond our comprehension that deals with time travel. What even is going on in Destiny.

Input 004:

Not sure why this is mentioned, but it may have something to do with a later input. The Oort Cloud is a real thing (or at least a real theorised thing).

Input 005:

Unclear what this connects to at the moment.

Input 006:

Also unclear. "There is a place" is the same starter as the sentence in input 001: "There is a place where the numbers don't match." Referring to the temporal anomalies. I assume that's the same sentence?

Input 007:

Unclear. Some of this stuff might get fully cleared up once the puzzle is completed and these gaps are filled. If they are going to be filled at all. We're not sure what the end of the puzzle will do actually.

Input 008:

Interesting! This might explain the mention of the Oort Cloud? Trans-Neptunian objects are, also, a real thing and they exist in the space beyond Neptune from the Kuiper's Belt to the Oort Cloud. This text makes me also think of Nessus which is a similar object called a centaur that originally should've existed also around and beyond Neptune, but something messed with its orbit (presumably the Vex) and it was on collision course with the Exodus Black.

It's not unusual to consider a massive planetary object somewhere far out there that might be affecting the gravity and orbit of smaller objects, but it's interesting that this is a part of this whole text. Is the implication that we'll be discovering an unknown planet in the far reaches of the solar system? Bizarre because the teaser implied we're leaving the system entirely ("Kepler 15"), but also with the implied time travel shenanigans... who the hell knows. What are they cooking.

Input 009:

Unclear. No clue what this may be referring to. Hoping for more information as the puzzle gets closer to solving.

Input 010:

Also unclear. I assume that the red text is saying something along the line of "We made a mistake". Way too many gaps to know currently.

Input 011:

Interesting! The first bit lists actual dates. 29th April 2025 (Signal confirmation) is when the puzzle started this Tuesday reset. 4th May 1991 (listed as "odd") is the date of when Bungie was founded. 9th September 2014 obviously when Destiny released. One more is down there but without the year so if anyone wants to hunt down what happened on the 12th of April in any year in human history... have fun.

The second set lists a few things that can also be input into the computer. So 11101 etc. can be searched. Here's what they give:

And finally:

This bit is where the rest of the puzzle is currently happening, still with the in-game chess board if I understand correctly. People are inputting these codes which are codes you get from the chess board and then there's something going on with QR codes?? Which gives people some sort of string of letters to input into the computer and then they're compiling what works and what doesn't. This bit is unclear to me but it's also stuff that doesn't give any direct lore. I assume this all has to be sorted for the entire database to work properly and show all text.

And this is the last input, 012:

Not much to say here, lots of stuff still missing.

Exciting stuff going on! I love community puzzles and weird shenanigans going on and it's such a cool teaser for the showcase next week and the reveal about The Edge of Fate. Can't wait to see what all of this is about, especially if we're legit going to be having some time travel stuff and weird Golden Age projects and possibly going out of the solar system.

[here-to-read-and-read-fics]

STRAY KIDS FICS I RECOMMEND YOU TO READ

Seungmin x Reader

~K~

Let go of the reins (17/?) (ftom @kokinu09) [NOT COMPLETE]

~S~

Accidentally coincidental (13/?) (from @soaplickerrr) [NOT COMPLETE]

OT8 x Reader

~D~

With you (2/?) (from @Delili on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

~J~

Favored (1/?) (from @jisvnngg on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

~L~

Solar (1/?) (from @Lixiee on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

~P~

Fan (6/?) (from @prettiestboyev) [NOT COMPLETE]

~S~

Replaced (6/?) (from @skzfairyyydreamz) [NOT COMPLETE]

Unspoken Desires (11/?) (from @SugarPrincess on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

Awaiting your call (6/?) (from @stxrl0st on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE

~W~

Fangirl (5/?) (from @wantingsobad) [NOT COMPLETE]

Hyunjin x Reader

~F~

Needy (from @felixitate)

Lee Know x Reader

~C~

Catnip for the soul (from @chancloud8) [COMPLETE]

Bangchan x Reader

~A~

Physiotherapy and coconut oil (from @aboutchriss)

~D~

Breeding (from @dreaming-medium)

~H~

Hickeys (from @hyunniesgirl)

~L~

Art of Love (from @lxvemaze) [COMPLETE]

~M~

Through a screen (from @m4nix1e_ on WATTPAD) [COMPLETE]

Changbin x Reader

~Y~

Secret Secret (18/?) (from @yoongisleftearring) [NOT COMPLETE]

Felix x Reader

~S~

Best Friend Protocol (20/?) (from @staybabblingbaby) [NOT COMPLETE]

ENHYPEN FICS I RECOMMEND YOU TO READ

Lee Heeseung x Reader

~E~

Sleep (from @enhaheeseung)

~H~

Confessions (from @hees-mine)

Road Trip (from @ham-st4r)

~J~

What's your number (from @jalnandanz) [COMPLETE]

Your touch (from @junhanism)

~L~

Backseat Lovin (from @luvyeni)

~S~

Homecoming (from @sainns )

~T~

I don't want to be your roommate I want to kiss your neck (from @taeghi)

Park Seunghoon x Reader

~I~

Drunk-Daze (from @intheemptymirror)

~R~

Cafeteria Confession (from @reinahwanggg)

Jay x Reader

~J~

Affection (from @jayschaconne)

Jake x Reader

~W~

Clingy (from @wonsiwon)

~Y~

Taste of you (from @yeonzzzn)

Poly Enha x Reader

~Y~

All fun and games (from @yeonzzzn)

OT8 x Reader

~G~

Refusing their kissing (from @goldenhypen)

~L~

Touchy (from @luvyeni)

~O~

Night Affection (from @okwonyo)

~T~

Second guessing (from @tsukiflwr)

Kisses (from @tyunni)

DRAMA FICS (CHARACTERS) I RECOMMEND YOU TO READ

Alice in Wonderland

Reaction AIB x Reader

~M~

Heterochromia (from @myraniellejkelly)

~P~

Two psychotic men (6/?) (from @phantomtroupe on WATTPAD) [NOT COMPLETE]

She's different (9/?) (from @Peachy_Capuccino on WATTPAD) [NOT COMPLETE]

~S~

Stronger // Two Peculiar Admirer [COMPLETE] (from @sleeping-on-cracking-ice)

Niragi x Reader

~B~

Careful what you're drinking (15/?) (from @basketkace on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

~G~

Tear you appart // That boy is a problem (from @green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle)

~I~

I only play these games cause you're playing them too (from @itsnamjoonssi) [NOT COMPLETE]

~J~

Psycho (4/?) (from @Jxs_lynn on WATTPAD) [NOT COMPLETE]

~N~

The Pain Before (from @niragisimp) [COMPLETE]

Whispers and firelight (5/?) (from @niragipill on AO3) [NOT COMPLETE]

~S~

Boldness (15/?) (from @stay_alive127 on WATTPAD) [NOT COMPLETE]

~Y~

Warmth (from @yazzwrites6962)

Lost love (from @yallmybabes88 on WATTPAD) [COMPLETE]

Chishiya x Reader

~I~

Coconut scented (from @iwritejustforfun) [NOT COMPLETE]

~S~

Funny reader (from @sleeping-on-cracking-ice)

~T~

Kpop reader (from @thinkingofchishiya)

Bloodhounds

Hong Woo Jin

Kim Geon Woo

~G~

Pretty you (from @geonwooz)

~S~

Write a kiss (from @scarletttries)

Poly x Reader

~M~

Something perfect, Something new (from @make-me-imagine)

All Of Us Are Dead

Yoon Gwi Nam

~A~

Gwi Nam (from @allofuswantgwinam) [COMPLETE]

~I~

Crazy bitch (7/?) (from @icedlislate on WATTPAD) [NOT COMPLETE]

[cecilyv]

Fuck It Friday -- Stargate Atlantis AU

When they dial in to Atlantis, actually (finally) step through the worm hole, Tommy can't stop looking up. The windows, the stars -- they're infinite, beautiful, there's never ending space to explore. He gets to explore. They brought him here to fly and oh-

"We need to take stock," says the guy who stepped through behind him. "This place has been abandoned for generations, who knows what's here. We need to--"

He's interrupted by Tommy's least favorite person, definitely in this solar system. Possibly in any other. He wishes he hadn't had to follow General Gerrard anywhere, least of which through a worm hole to an entirely different star system. "Excuse me, Mr.."

"Buckley, Evan Buckley. And it's Dr. I did finally finish that degree in physics."

"Sure. Right. Dr. Buckley. Army protocol states--"

"Well, actually..." Dr. Buckley starts, before the woman behind him interrupts him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Buck," she says, "let's let everyone get through the portal."

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

Taps mic. Does anyone here even know what SGA is? Just @liminalmemories21 and I? Okay.

[naffeclipse]

Inspection

Reader x Casino!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

The lovely @skylar-content requested a very fun setting involving the boys trying to stall an inspector Y/N who has to go over the casino and see if anything is wanting. I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy the shengains! <3

———

The casino before you is glittering and bright, like a star nestled against the black buildings flanking it. You scan the face of it, the decorations of celestial bodies in detailed and curving styles, swirling about the front of the establishment like a solar system supported by card games, gambling, and drinking. 

It’s not the first business you’ve come upon that looks gorgeous and glossy on the outside, only to run rusted and ruined internally. That’s why you’re here. To inspect and determine how well the casino is actually doing since opening itself for business. Of course, there were the typical background checks to see if permits are up to date and the numbers of employees, animatronics, and customers, and other factors that bore you slightly.

No, you’re here to see for yourself. If there is one misdirection, if there is one protocol not being followed to the letter, you will uncover it and put it on full display, like unearthing a rock to reveal the insects below.

The owners of the establishment would do well to see that there are no bugs scurrying underneath your feet. Ahead of schedule, you push in the door and enter the lobby in the brightness of day. The interior is low and smoky, already dimming into a shadowy, dark refuge for those who creep through the night. 

A little surprise is well to-do for your line of work. It’s not unlike flipping on a light in the kitchen to find how many cockroaches scatter. For the sake of those who have stakes in this venue, there will be no cockroaches.

A greeter, a human woman, dressed in a sleek and dark dress, gapes for a moment before recovering herself. Your reputation precedes you. She quickly invites you inside, hiding the shock of your untimely arrival as best as she can behind a charming, bright white smile.

“I can escort you directly to the executives—”

You silence her with a look. She visibly swallows. 

“I will look over the floor,” you decide, trailing your gaze from the entrance to the empty room full of card tables and a private bar to one end. Two animatronics both straighten when your eyes graze past them, noting the lighting is acceptable but there are a few less emergency exit signs than you would prefer—not against code, but a factor that suggests the establishment may try to scrap by doing the bare minimum. At least upon face value.

“Then I will send for them to meet you right away,” she says, much less confident this time.

You dismiss her with a wave of your hand, and she scurries off, rushing to an elevator. The poor thing is shaking. Perhaps she’ll find her bosses before you make a determination on the place.

Sweeping forward, you observe the cleanliness of the carpets and the polished tabletops. The animatronic you noted earlier are quickly striding towards you. A brush of urgency paints their stylized face plates, one taking after the moon in its crescent phase, and the other with the full roundness of the sun. 

Your eyes eat up their attire. They are dressed in sleek, seamless slacks and button ups. Their legs are long and quickly meet you in the center of the casino. The lunar inspired one wears a crisp deep blue vest and the other is dressed with sleek sleeve garters on his impeccable yellow shirt. Their optics glow, a flash of unease before one clasp his hands behind his back and the other clasp them in front of him in a show of eagerness.

“Welcome, inspector! We weren’t expecting you so soon,” the sunny one exudes cheerfully, careful to keep a steady fluctuation of his voice. Mentally, you note the general warmth of the animatronic, a seemingly advanced one of that, employed at the casino. You hope they are up to standard. 

“I’m aware.” You look towards the card tables then back to the bar. 

The animatronic quickly steps into your view, regaining your attention with a very deliberate obstruction of your view. You level a steely look at him. His fingers clench slightly tighter in his clasped hands. 

“Allow me to introduce myself and my coworker. I am Sun and this is Moon.” He holds out a hand to himself, then gestures to the lunar animatronic. Fitting. You hold the other’s gaze, Moon’s, and he returns it with unabashed focus. 

“May I take your coat?” Sun offers his hand. “One such as yourself wouldn’t want to grow too hot, even if the temperature of the venue is regularly constant and with appropriate changes depending on the season and the weather.”

“No, thank you,” you fix your suit jacket slightly and continue to glance around Sun. Though the animatronics are striking and attentive, you’re certain they are here to serve as a distraction from your real business, perhaps buying time until their higher ups can descend and offer slick smiles and greasy reassurances that all is well and up to code. “I will continue surveying the floor. Where are you stationed?”

Moon shares the briefest glimpse with Sun. 

“My, my, determined, aren’t you?” Sun laughs but there’s a slight strain. You arch an eyebrow before he quickly holds out an arm and directs you forward. “But of course, your survey wouldn’t be complete without seeing the situation at the bar. A pretty thing like you must be in need of refreshment.”

Unable to find a way around the animatronic, you concede to his insistence and allow him to escort you to the counter. His counterpart is silent, quietly observing with his hands still clasped behind his back as he follows like a silent escort—imposing but well within reach such a customer requires assistance or service. Good.

Sun slides behind the bar. “Of course, it is all on the house.”

Of course. You don’t bat an eye at the generous offer.

“What is your poison?” Sun leans slightly down, putting his elbow on the bar while he surveys you, peering deeply into your expression. You will admit, he is charismatic and connects well, a trait that would serve any bartender. “Might I take a guess?”

“No,” you say, and Sun blinks. Off to the side, Moon utters a snicker before silencing himself.

“We do have sodas, club, sprite, coke—and a whole array of non-alcoholic beverages.” he asks, taking a glass and carefully flipping it in his hand. He sets it down, just waiting for your word.

“Are you calibrated to measure and mix alcohol correctly?” You study his hands, his attention never slipping from you, almost as if he’s afraid to look away from a viper striking. “A coke, please.”

Sun effortlessly finds a bottle and opens it, and pours only a shot-worth into the glass. You do not touch it, studying the amount and careful grace of his silver, metallic hands. Effective and swift. 

“Your eyes are sharp,” Sun begins, and you lift your gaze to pierce him with it. He fumbles slightly. “They must serve you well in your line of work.”

“Indeed, they do.” You continue to watch him. Flattering does not charge your batteries but the attempt is endearing, non the less. If an executive were perhaps making such remarks, you would be much more severe, but the animatronic seems almost desperate to have you take a drink.

So you do. Plucking the glass, you sip on the coke, the bubbles tingling over your tongue before you swallow. His eyes seem to linger on your throat before you promptly rise from the stool. You leave the coke.

“Show me your game table,” you speak to Moon, and he inclines his head. He spares a glance to Sun, who seems to flail slightly behind the bar but is helpless to stop you from walking over with Moon. The lunar animatronic takes out your seat and you sink down. This more private section of the floor is lit well and the table is polished and clean. 

Moon stands across from you, and reaches underneath for a deck of cards. He places the fresh stack on the table, the black covers as sleek and yellow-speckled as the night sky. 

In your mental examination of his sleek movements and his cool demeanor, only a slight twitch of his digit gives way to nervousness, or perhaps a glitch that needs addressing? You stare critically before Moon takes the deck and shuffles it. The edges slip against each other sharply and a crisp snap of the cards brings them all back together.

“How long do you deal at a table?” you hold his gaze while he presents a whole fan of the cards before you. The faces of kings and queens stare up, unblinking.

“An hour, then I am given a 20 minute break, broken up into intervals over my shift,” Moon answers smoothly. The mandatory requirement. There is no indication that this is a lie, and you’re inclined to believe his truth.

He taps the fanned out deck. “Pick a card.”

You briefly glance down. To humor him, you tap the first one you see—a two of hearts. 

A test of the dealer’s abilities, an animatronic one at that, you ask him another question while studying how smoothly he takes back the deck and shuffles it, leaving your two of hearts out. You then pick it up, and silently, at his outstretched hand, set it on top of the deck. In rapid fashion, he shuffles the cards with grace and ease, answering your questions without a stammer.

Occasionally, he flickers his optics back to the bar, looking for assistance but the solar co-worker remains out of reach. You tilt your head, almost finding it adorable, before Moon sets the deck down.

“Draw the top card.” 

You do, and it’s a queen of diamonds. Moon, however, draws the second card, and presents to you between two silver digits.

“Is this your card?”

The two of hearts stare back at you.

“Well done,” you give dryly. Moon smoothly takes it back and takes back your queen of diamonds, stuffing them seamlessly back into the deck. 

“What game would you like to play? I can set up anything and everything,” he gestures a sweeping arm over the table. 

You arch an eyebrow. Deadpan, you utter, “Slap jack.”

Moon laughs once, raspy and low, and quite endearing in the face of your joke: most don’t realize that you are joking. He quickly dolls out piles between the two of you. You take your stack, and survey the animatronic. A test of strength and control is needed. 

You two quickly flip cards, the sounds subtle, while you watch for a jack. Moon is calm, at ease, his red optics flashing away minutely to his counterpart before continuing the game. 

You play a jack. You slap your hand down, and the animatronic’s lands on top of yours, cool and non-crushing. 

Moon immediately lifts his hand away, as if he did something inexplicable, his fingers curling while he avoids your gaze for a moment.

“That’s all I need to see,” you declare. Getting up, you leave the game table. Moon watches you go, stunned for a brief moment.

“Wait,” Sun lifts his voice. 

You do not slow as he quickly flanks you. Moon quickly reaches your other side, and they both gently take hold of your elbows. 

“Wait, inspector, just one moment!” Sun laughs anxiously, “Are you sure I can’t give you a proper drink?”

“We can play blackjack,” Moon offers, his voice lower but intense.

You stop, observing their careful placement of their hands and the gentleness of which they stop you. The higher ups do not deserve such dedicated staff members, but you’ll go over that with the higher ups in a moment.

“I am finished here,” you say, but just then, across the floor, you spy the woman from earlier following three men in expensive suits and flapping ties, hustling to reach you for damage control.

Sun’s and Moon’s expressions share equal mounting concern, and for the briefest moment, you grow soft at the sight of their apprehension.

“I’m pleased thus far,” you tell them both, before turning away, slipping out of their hands to meet the executives. 

Sun and Moon share another glance of relief, that softly melts into adoration as they watch you go, but you do not witness it.