#Technical support module

[intellinetsystems]

The Functionality of Technical Support Ticketing Systems

[threepandas]

Bad End: Winter's Victory

Cigarettes in this world were different. Odd, I guess. I had never really paid attention to the smell of cigarette smoke, before I ended up here, but I knew it hadn't been? Exactly... well, pleasant? I guess? Not to say that all the ones that existed here WERE, mind you. It was still smokey. The cheap ones an overwhelming incense. They called it "stepping out to pray" for a reason. You ended up smelling like you spent hours in a temple during prayer.

But the smell that lingered here? Clung delicately to cloth and the walls? It was more of a... warm spice. I could never place which ones. There was, yes, a smokey undertone, but? It more or less added to the complex almost taste scent of spices and tea. Dark and rich. Lingering. The sort of thing that takes time to develop.

The entire house was like that. Well, compound really. Austere and ageless, time did not seem to touch the inside of these walls. Did not seem to dare try. It was a blessed relief. A place of respite. All soft, dream-like edges and beautiful gardens. Meandering halls and tasteful, understated art. Peaceful company. Good food and tea.

A lingering smell of smokey spices.

My sister was up to her Protagonist shit again. It was... exhausting. I knew, intellectually, I should be back home. Playing my part. The ever supportive Big Sister archetype. Endlessly kind. Endlessly patient. Supportive to a fault. Smiling and smiling no matter WHAT bullshit nonsense that child pulls. No matter HOW she shames our house or causes trouble I must undo.

But honestly? I can't. I just... can't.

The idiotic little shit SLAPPED A PRINCE. Thank the heavens it wasn't one of the Emperors favorite sons or we'd all be dead, but still! Who the fresh hell taught her that was acceptable?! No. Just.... No.

Let Father deal with this for once. If he insists on spoiling and infantilizing that child? HE can reap the rewards. Her MOTHER can parent for once, instead of sitting around being generically "perfect". I am not there. This is beyond my pay grade. Frankly? I don't even HAVE the power to smooth this over. I could, technically. But not at any cost I'm willing to PAY.

Not for my sister's "she not like other girls", "oh? How interesting", fucking MOMENT.

No WONDER the Elder Sister character disappears in the later half of the royal route, only to turn back up in the palace. She's a freaking Consort! To a letch! Powerful one, yes. But STILL! And all just to protect a sister who not only doesn't notice? But doesn't even attend her wedding?

No.

ABSOLUTELY Not.

I lift the (frankly beautiful) cup of tea I was served to drink while I wait. Breathe in it's rich, soothing scent. Let the steam curl against my face as I stare out the open sliding doors at the fall garden. It borders on too cold for this... but not quite.

The tea is warm. The snacks are warm. I was brought a beautifully embroidered blanket to rest across my lap. Have a robe draped over my shoulders. It is... meditative, almost. Just me and the quiet sigh of vibrant leaves on the breeze. The world muffled. Warm dispite the cold. Ah... the garden really is... so beautiful....

I let it soothe me. Drain away my anger and frustration at the world. Running water, birds in the trees, insects. The silence is so wonderfully full. Alive. I have to keep my mind from bitterly comparing it to constant dramatics filled mess of the gardens at home. Focus on the here and now. This is NICE. Focus on this.

Quiet, near silent footsteps approach. Gait even and steady. Most men his age meander or shuffle, but like the home he keeps? Kaito seems almost untouchable by time. As though not even the Gods dare. I honestly don't blame them. He can be quite commanding when he wishes. Good thing he's rather laid back.

"Come to escape the treasonous?" A modulated voice teases. Wry and dry as salt mines. "Your fool sister is aware that actions have consequences, yes? Or has that idiot father finally succeeded in spoiling her back into infancy? Traditionally, we do not let such young children wander."

Kaito's voice isn't terribly high or husky and low. It is... smooth. Controlled. Like running your fingers across fine fabric. I could honestly listen to him read a phone book and be pleased. He would have made a killing as a voice actor, in my first life. Or reading audio books. Something.

"No retort? Witty defense? Oh dear. You are exhausted, aren't you, my friend?" He noted, dropping the teasing edge. Stepping inside the viewing room and calmly sliding the door shut behind him, I could almost feel him observing me. "When was the last time you slept? Properly. You're a mess, my friend, look utterly exhausted. Has it become that bad?"

Worse actually. They keep doubling down. Doing stupid "girl power!!!1!", poorly thought out, works in a 21th century DEMOCRACY but sure as shit NOT HERE, so called "power moves". I was? So, so fucking tired. Legitimately scared for the servants at this point. Because, honestly? Let stupid reap it's own reward. I TRIED. I was dismissed and ignored. Taken for granted.

Accused of JEALOUSY!

Like? Oh, HELL NO. I know exactly where THAT train of thought ends. I've read enough of the Genre to cut THAT shit off at the pass. Not Today, Satan!

So? Fuck um. I Tried. But I REFUSE to set myself ablaze to keep the ungrateful warm. Especially when they have both coats and just want to roast marshmallows. But... the SERVANTS? They are innocent. Wrong house, shit masters. Half are basically indentured! Much to my outrage.

We HAVE the funds to pay them better. But do I control those funds? Dispite doing ALL THE WORK? Managing the House? No. Of course not. THAT would be Protagonist's mother. And we really need that money for more jewelry and pretty outfits for her daughter. Fuck the household, I guess.

Things are... likely to get bad.

Because I have made the painful, painful choice? To let GO.

I can't keep holding up the house. I am NOT Atlas. Was not granted a second chance, just to throw it away. But at the same time? The servants. Not the enabling, vindictive, lapdogs that circle my family like vultures. The ACTUAL servants. Gardeners, cooks, maids. The no one's that they will not remember.

Somebody has to protect THEM. It must be me. Or no one else WILL.

I'm hoping Kaito will help.

Please, heavens, let this be enough to help. Then... THEN I can figure out how to protect myself. Hopefully. Maybe. Though I am probably running quickly out of time.

"Dear one, are you with me? You are drifting. I need you to come back. Focus on me. The sound of my voice. Can you hear me? Do you see the leaves? Focus on their color. See the reds and yellows beyond them. Like fire, is it not? Can you smell the tea? Dear one, what kind is it? Come here. Back to your body. That's right..."

Smooth and soothing. Closer then what felt like a blink ago. Huh. Yes. The leaves are quite lovely, aren't they? And... and this is red cliff, first harvest, right? Ah. I'm still so bad at telling certain types of tea apart. How mean. He knows this.

.....my brain feels mushy. But back in my body. I manage to scrounge up the edges of a smile. Gods, I am so tired. Worn so thin. But I... I can't rest. Not yet. Kaito kneels beside me, too dignified and reserved to show the full weight of his concern. But it practically howls from his body language. The sheer closeness he has allowed. I must have truely scared him there.

I would tease him, about using my notoriously bad memory of frankly near identical teas against me... but I just... just can't.

There isn't enough energy left in me. I think the soothing nature of his home, his company, has been my undoing. My brain has finally declared me safe enough to break down. Ha ha... perhaps that is why I've been avoiding coming here for so long. I knew I would break down. Would not want to leave.

Unspeakably rude of me.

"The rumors have not done the situation justice, it seems. You seem at your wits end. My dear, you cannot continue like this. Please, let me help. I realize it is overstepping any number of boundaries... but..." the weight of his concern; the words he was struggling to find, to phrase the unkind more palatably, hung between us. "Please, my friend. You are struggling. I can not bear it."

I felt exhausted tears well up. Days of being overwhelmed. Threatened on all sides. Wondering if today would be the day, that the royal gaurds kicked down our gates and executed us all. Struggling against the blindly arrogant and willful actions of my family. The very SAME family that treated me as more of a secretary then as any kind of kin.

Where would I be? If I had not met Kaito, all those years ago? Visiting his cousin, who was marrying a friend of my cousin. Even then, I was desperately trying to keep the name of our family from being filth. My father could not tear himself away from the whims of my sister or his pretty new wife. My grandmother somehow uncaring, tyrannical and doting, indulgent and yet strict.

I was the ONLY ONE who could and WOULD bother to represent us.

Was called frivolous and silly for it. For "seeking parties" to go "play at". As though it was not stressful. As though it was not far beyond my training and skills. Only the concerned eyes of cousins from other houses and guidance of matriarchs from BETTER houses, let me survive at ALL.

Grandmother still does not understand why she no longer gets invitations. Why her name is mud in the eyes of other elders. They did not take kindly, to her abandoning her granddaughter to do HER and HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAW'S job for them. But... there I was. Doing my best. Decorated like a little doll, uncomfortable and quite.

Kaito didn't even need to speak to me. Would never have approached such a nervous, unchaperoned child. Forget being simply a young unmarried girl. I was quite LITERALLY a girl. A child. He never would have so much a acknowledged my existence normally. It simply wasn't done. He was after all, an unmarried man of considerable power.

Still is.

But he needed to speak with his cousin. Who, quite rudely, would NOT take a hint. Too wrapped up in his new bride. Thus forcing Kaito to come over. Bless him, he still tried to politely ignore me. So as not to put pressure on a nervous child. But, once again, Cousin Dense As A Brick struck. Introduced us before merrily swanning off to go talk with friends, taking his wife, my cousin, and ONLY CHAPERONE with him.

We were both baffled and aghast. Horrified. It was the sort of gods awful that somehow found its way back around to being funny. Granted, only because we were in a highly visible location surround by other part goers. But still. Why don't you just? Pick me up and dump me in his LAP next? Good gods man.

Needless to say? The roasting was merciless and immediate. He escorted me to a friend of his. Terrifying woman. We had a grand time roasting terrible behavior and I learned SO MUCH. They were Hilarious. Clearly appreciated having an audience who could actually grasp their sense of humor. I left with letter buddies.

Acquaintances that became friends.

Kaito became my single BEST friend. A refuge, a mentor, a confidant. I trusted... TRUST, the man more then any single soul I've ever met. It helps, I guess, that he meets me where I AM not where he assumes I SHOULD be. Doesn't baby me. Infantalize me. Nor does he treat me in any way that would set off a "creep" alarm in my head. He's just... Kaito.

All cunning eyes and slight smiles, dry humor and cutting wit. Ever the rougish yet refined strategist. Bad boy of the highly polite. All the high court ladies still sigh over him.

Grey eyes that bordered on black filled my vision. That whisp of soft silver hair that never wanted to stay put, forever falling across his brow. My view of the garden cut off. When had he moved? Had I drifted back into my head again? It seemed so.

This close, I could not help but notice his eyelashes were still the rich dark of his youth. Few strands of silver yet touching his eyebrows. He'd had a beautiful shade of black hair it seems. It was rather striking....

A pinch on the back of my hand. Bright pain lancing through the fog. Kaito's hands cupped mine, kept me from jostling my cup. Stopping me from dropping now cold tea into my lap. Taking it from me gently, he set it aside. Thumb rubbing the skin he had abused. His face was apologetic.

"And that marks the second time you've drifted away on me, dear. I'm afraid I'm no longer asking. I'm will be helping. This is entirely unacceptable. What in the gods name have those idiots done to you?" His voice was soft. Attention focused on me. I felt... felt so very fragile.

Not weak. Fragile. Like glass under strain. Bones near their breaking point. That final support beam struggling with weight beyond its abilities to bear. He was treating me like I was wounded. Was I? Perhaps I was. I certainly felt that way.

I just... just wanted someone ELSE to take care of it all.

Just for a bit.

Was that so wrong?

I was TIRED. Felt the tears coming back. Here I was, coming to a dear friend, about to ask him to take on a burden for me. Risk enraged royalty just to protect the innocent. Being unspeakably emotional and RUDE. And I... and I... I just....

"Shhhhh. None of this. You've done so much. Have been so, so brave, my girl. No more. It's alright. I'm here. I'll take care of everything." He soothed. Soft and unbearably kind. All I could do was nod. Agree. "There we are, good girl. You'll stay here for now, all right? No more stressful journeys to that house. I'll send someone to gather your things. We can have everything dealt with after a rest."

His hands, boldly, came up to cup my cheeks. I found I didn't care. It felt nice. His palms warm and dry, gently cradling.

I wouldn't be able to stay. He knew that. I knew that. It simply WAS. We weren't related, weren't married. I had brought no chaperone. I... gods, I wanted too. Badly. But I couldn't. I just needed help with the servants. Told him as much. Words rambled disjointedly between us as I struggled to get them all out.

"Ah, but the solution then is simple, isn't it?" He said, looking almost amused. "You just need to marry me."

Blinking, the thought didn't quite process. My confusion clear enough on my face for him to continue.

"Every time I see you, you are suffering some fresh new indignity from that house. Some brand new insult. Isn't it better here? I know you enjoy it. The servants adore you. I adore you." The hands on my cheeks shifted, just slightly, barely daring to let their thumbs stroke just slightly."

"I would give you everything, dearest."

This... did not feel political. Nor some ploy to just protect the servants, offered by a dear friend. When... when had things changed? I knew for a fact, he held no such interests in me as a child. I'd seen him kill a man over the mere suspicion of such things. Yet... it's also not like I'd grown UP in front of him. We talked mostly over letters.

It was harder to remember my physical age through those. Since I didn't exactly talk or write like the child I had appeared. And talking to each other, being friends with each other, for going on a decade... certainly WAS a good foundation for a relationship, wasn't it? I didn't know any more. How old... how old even was I?

His hands were so warm.

Felt strong and reliable, cupping my face. A reserved and refined (if a bit mischievous), pillar of strength that I could finally lean on. Offering up a tempting dream world where I wouldn't have to think anymore. Wouldn't have to deal with troubles or reality. Just... just endless, beautiful, painting-like peace and serenity.

No more drama... ever again.

Wouldn't that be nice?

Didn't I deserve to rest?

Who else, really, could I even see myself marrying? Realistically? Some untested lout? Character suspect and temperament unknown? What prospects, what LOYALTY, could they even offer? Would they even respect my boundaries? Could they ever hope to match his knowledge of my likes and dislikes? Could... could I ever hope to TRUST them? Like I did, Kaito?

I felt my expression soften. Decided to be a little bold too. Leaning forward, I let my hands come up to lightly grip his arms. Still so corded with muscles. The man never did skip out on his training, be it archery or swordsmenship. My forhead rest lightly against his, that wayward strand tickling my skin just a bit. His breath smelled of those smokey spiced cigarettes while his skin, which I had never dared take note of, smelled of daily things.

He held so perfectly still, as though afraid to spook me. Seemed startled by my boldness. How cute~

I couldn't stop the grin if I tried.

"Yes, yes, mock the old man. Impertinent minx. So scandalous!" He teased, finally unfreezing after gathering his thoughts. That plotting spark back in his eyes. "Whatever shall I do? My guest takes advantage of me! Oh dear, oh no~ I fear for my honor! You will have to make an honest man of me, I'm afraid."

The laugh burst out of me, feeling a lot like relief. Gods, I'd missed this. Just... just sass and light hearted teasing. Droll humor and wit. No nightmare politics or angry royals. No trying to manage the unmanageable. Not responsible for any but myself. Yes... yes this was exactly what I needed, wasn't it?

Honestly? FUCK the Plot. FUCK the Protagonist and her nightmare social blunders! I was gonna get OUT of that house. Live for ME. Marry a nice, reliable man. Have a beautiful home. Maybe get some pets. Eat snacks! Laze about and enjoy the gardens! Have some gods damned PEACE for once! It sounded perfect.

I told Kaito there were no take backs. Congratulations on the terrible idea! I was HIS problem now. Have fun with your new, future in-laws!

Laughter was the best thing I'd felt in weeks. One of the maids I liked was already on standby and ready to lead me to a guest room. We bickered light heartedly, him groaning in exaggerated ways about his TERRIBLE fate of having to deal with IDIOTS! Oh, Darling, how COULD you?! Ha! Suffer.

It... gods, it was beautiful. Dreamlike. A perfect, story book solution to my woes.

Really, if I did not TRUST Kaito so much? I would have been suspicious.

But I did.

So I left with the maid, a smile on my face. Relieved. Happy. Engaged to a "good man". The most TRUSTWORTHY man I knew.

Thus, did not see, like a mask, his expression slide away. His open body language close off, like then slamming of a crypt door, locking the dead back inside. The warmth draining from the room as I left it, as though I had taken every trace with me. Leaving only the cold, cold THING behind. One that wore the face of a man.

A handsome man, yes, but an empty one.

One that was Not Pleased.

"I distinctly recall," his voice cutting the silence like an assassin slitting a throat, sudden and violent yet just as impersonal. "That I ordered her not to be bothered. For you to get rid of that... thing, in a timely manner."

Shadows dropped from the roof. Then too their knees. Kneeling, loyal unto death, before the one that commands them. Many are injured. They do not shake, for all that they have failed. Will likely die for it.

"Give me one good reason to let you live. A single one." The empire's spy master, the Winter Ghost, asks the room at large. Picking up his beloved's tea cup, considering it as he talks. He almost wants to destroy it. So no one else can ever use it. Touch it with their filthy hands. "Well?"

His assassins continue to kneel. Silent. There is no defense for their failure.

Three die instantly, the rest are not so lucky.

He decides to keep the cup.

Running his thumb along the rim where her mouth touched it, he steps out, closer to the garden and slides the door shut. It truely is a lovely view. Behind him, his servants behind the familiar work of cleaning up. Kneeling in the dirt before him, the next set of assassins.

"Let me make my self clear this time. I don't care how you do it, how painful or how slow, but they are to be gone by the time I am wed, understood? If that useless chit or her idiot father darken my door, you will long for the mercy that is death. Get out. And do not DARE fail me."

A quite chorus of confirmation, then like leaves... scattered on the wind.

He was named winter victory. For his mother's success in seizing control of her poor, late, husband's house. Born into the cold, it has always remained. Is it any suprise he covets warmth? In any form he can have it. Every form.

A pity though... that he won't be needing his plans.

She would have made a beautiful widow.

[myadagoat22]

Poly ghostface part 3

INT. STU’S BASEMENT – THE NEXT DAY – EARLY EVENING

The air is cooler down here, and the lights are dim. Horror posters cover the walls—Freddy, Jason, Michael. A couple pizza boxes sit on the couch, half-eaten. Billy lounges in Stu’s beat-up recliner, calm as ever, flipping a butterfly knife open and shut. Stu’s pacing, a little too hyped, drinking a Capri Sun like it’s a beer.

STU (casual, curious) “So? Spill it, man. You gonna tell me or do I have to torture it out of you?”

BILLY (quietly) “I kissed her.”

STU (freezes mid-sip) “Wait—what?! Like—kissed, kissed? Tongue?”

BILLY (smirking) “It wasn’t long. She pulled away.”

STU (still processing) “Dude… how was it?”

BILLY (pauses, honest) “I liked it.”

Stu plops down next to him, letting out a long whistle.

STU “Damn… and here I thought she was just a fun distraction. But you caught feelings. That’s rare, bro. Real rare.”

BILLY (smirking) “I didn’t say that.”

STU “Oh, please. You get that psycho sparkle in your eye every time she walks in the room. And don’t act like you didn’t almost beat Randy to death with your mind last night.”

Billy doesn’t deny it. Just spins the knife again.

BILLY “She’s different. Smart. Not like Sid. She doesn’t flinch.”

STU “So the question is... (grinning, eyes gleaming) Do we keep her off the list? Or bring her in?”

They lock eyes.

A beat passes. And just like that—it begins.

BILLY “We stick to the plan. Sidney first. It’s poetic.”

STU “Yeah. She is the final girl. All virginal and moral. Booooring.”

BILLY “But Y/N? I don’t want her running. I want her... standing next to us.

STU (intrigued) “Like matching black robes and voice changers, orrrr just a seat at the afterparty?”

BILLY “Let’s find out what she’s capable of first.”

STU (grinning) “Hell yeah. Trial by fire.”

He tosses Billy one of the pre-ordered Father Death masks—crisp white, straight outta the box. Billy catches it.

BILLY “How’s the voice changer?”

STU (shrugs) “Got two in the mail. Modulator’s a little scratchy but it sounds creepy as hell. Plus, I rigged it to the cordless phone. Hands-free murder, baby.”

BILLY “And the costumes?”

STU “In the trunk. Got a buddy who owed me. One size fits all... murderers.”

They both crack up, the sound manic and echoing. This is what they live for—the game, the plan, the slow build to carnage.

Billy leans back, eyes focused, already calculating every step.

BILLY “We make it a movie. Casey, Steve, the warm-up. Then Sidney. Then whoever gets in the way.”

STU (tilting his head) “And if Y/N doesn’t just get in the way?”

BILLY “Then we make her part of the script.”

Next Day EXT. WOODSBORO MALL – LATE AFTERNOON

The sun’s getting low, casting long shadows over the half-filled parking lot. Inside, it’s peak mall hour—kids skipping summer jobs, couples pretending they’re in a teen movie, and Stu Macher in a neon button-down, loudly sipping a cherry ICEE like he owns the place.

He’s mid-scroll through a magazine rack when—

STU (grinning) “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Miss Horror-Hot-Take herself.”

Y/N (looking up from a Hot Topic bag) “Let me guess. You came here to get another horror shirt you’ll “ironically” wear to piss off Randy?”

STU “Nope, I’m here to emotionally support capitalism... and maybe stalk the food court samples.”

She laughs, and just like that, they fall into step, drifting from store to store—talking horror, music, their dumb classmates.

Y/N “I’m just saying, ‘The Thing’ is peak practical effects. That spider-head? Come on.”

STU “Okay, facts. But also? That movie gave me trust issues. Like... you could be The Thing right now.”

Y/N “Maybe I am. Ever think about that?”

STU “Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

They end up talking all the way to y/n car. Golden hour hits just right—warm light, soft breeze, a vibe neither of them was expecting. She unlocks her car, but doesn’t get in. He leans against the door casually.

STU “So uh... random question.

Y/N “Uh-oh.”

STU “What happens if you kiss a guy who technically has a girlfriend but also technically can’t stop thinking about you?”

Y/N (stares at him) “That sounds like a him problem.”

STU “Okay... so if that guy leaned in right now?”

He doesn’t even wait. It’s smooth, but not aggressive—just Stu. His hand’s light on her waist, his mouth warm, and for a second, she lets it happen.

The kiss lasts longer than either expected. And when it breaks...

Y/N (blinking, quietly) “I kissed you.”

STU (smiling like a damn idiot) “I know.”

Y/N “I also kissed Billy.”

STU (still smiling) “I know.”

Y/N “And both of you have girlfriends.”

STU (soft, shrugging) “Yeah... we kinda suck.”

She steps back, fumbling with her keys.

Y/N “I gotta go.”

STU “Y/N—

Y/N “No. I gotta think. This is insane.”

She gets in the car and drives off—heart racing, head spinning. Meanwhile, Stu just stands there in the middle of the parking lot, watching her taillights fade like he just won the damn lottery.

STU (low, grinning) “Dude... she kissed me.”

He throws a fist in the air like he just hit a buzzer-beater. A random mall walker looks at him weird.

STU (shouting) “IT’S BEEN A GOOD DAMN DAY.”

INT. Y/N’S BEDROOM – EVENING

She’s home. The mall is a blur. The kisses are replaying like a broken VHS stuck on “emotional crisis mode.” Y/N shuts the door behind her, back pressed to it. She’s breathing like she just ran a marathon through her own thoughts.

She flops onto her bed dramatically, limbs everywhere, and lets out the kind of groan that can only be translated as:

Y/N “What the actual hell was that?”

Her fingers tap anxiously against her comforter. Her face is still warm. She brings a pillow over her face and yells into it.

Y/N Muffled: “I kissed them. I KISSED BOTH OF THEM.”

She sits up, hair messy, eyes wide.

Y/N (to herself) “Okay. Okay. It was just kissing. That’s a thing. People do that. Teenagers do that. On accident. Maybe?”

A beat.

Y/N “...but I liked it.”

She flops backward again, staring at the ceiling. Her bedroom's full of posters—horror movie icons watching her spiral. Freddy’s judging her. Michael’s just chilling. Ghostface would probably tell her to go for it.

She reaches for her landline, then hesitates. Who could she call about this? Her best friend would probably freak out. Her mom?

Cut to: Y/N’s mom in the kitchen, humming gospel music and seasoning something aggressively.

Y/N “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Her mom—Old-School Christian, capital “C”—would’ve hit her with the Bible before she got to the word “love triangle.” And two boys? At the same time? That would send her into a spiritual coma.

Y/N gets up and paces.

Y/N “Okay. Stu is… he’s funny. Like, really funny. And sweet, when he’s not being a loud jackass. And he kissed me like I mattered.”

She pauses.

Y/N “And Billy… he’s intense. Like he’s hiding fifty secrets and only letting me see three. But he listens. And when he kissed me? It was like... like he meant it.”

She clutches her pillow again and flops to the bed dramatically. Again.

Y/N (quietly) “I think I really like them.”

She sits there, still and stunned.

Y/N “Both of them.”

She looks around, waiting for lightning to strike or a priest to bust through her window. Nothing happens. Just the soft hum of summer outside her window.

Y/N “Is that even normal?”

She walks to her mirror, staring at herself like she’ll find the answer in her own reflection.

Y/N “People don’t just fall for two boys. That’s not... that’s not how love works, right? It’s supposed to be simple. Clean. You pick one. That’s what the movies say. That’s what my mom says. That’s what everyone says.”

A long pause. Her voice drops to almost a whisper.

Y/N “But what if they both feel like mine?”

She sinks to the floor, back against her dresser. For once, she’s quiet. Really quiet. Because the truth is? Deep down, she wants them both. And no rulebook, no sermon, no dumb high school rumor can make that feeling disappear.

And the scariest part?

She has no idea what they want from her.

[remidiy]

We Don't Gatekeep Art Resources | A Comprehensive List

Here's a list of some of the tools/sites I currently use or have used previously for works/studies. I'll separate it into Software/Utility, Reference, and 'Other' which will be just general things that could help you map out things for your experience with art. **[Free highlighted in pink, paid highlighted in green. Blue is variable/both. Prices Listed in USD]**

Software/Utility:

2D

Krita Painting app (PC) (my main digital art software on PC for 5+ yrs)

Clip Studio Paint [PC] [CSP 2.0+ allows for 3d modelling within the painting app and a lot of other cool features] [apparently allows up to 6 months free trial]

Procreate (12.99) [iPad/iPad Pro] (the GOAT)

Artstudio Pro [iPad/iPad Pro] (An alternative to Procreate if you enjoy the more traditional art app layout) -- I find this app handy when Procreate is lacking a feature I need, or vice versa. (you can easily transfer files between the two, but keep in mind Procreate's layer limit)

2D "Collaborative Painting/Drawing apps"

Magma Studio

Drawpile

Discord Whiteboard

Gartic Phone (Pretty decent for 2d animation practice, but has a hard limit on frames)

3D

Blender [3D Modelling, Sculpting + Layout] (PC)

Sculptris [PC] (it's an old unsupported version of Zbrush, but can help to get ideas out, and functions better than browser sculpting apps

Nomad Sculpt [iPad/iPad Pro] ($20) Works pretty well if you prefer a mobile setup, but it is a bit intense on the battery life and takes some getting used to

References + Study

Magic Poser [ PC and Mobile ] Has both free and paid versions, I've made do with just the lite version before

Artpose ($9.99) [Iphone + Steam]

Head Model Studio [IPhone] A 3D head, with both a basic blockout version for angles, and a paid version with more detail

Cubebrush [simply search "[keyword] pose reference pack"], they usually have good results + they frequently have sales!

Line of Action [Good for Gesture practice + daily sketching], also has other resources built in.

Quickposes Similar to Line of action, more geared toward anatomy

Drawabox | Perspective Fundamentals Improvement modules (Suggested by @taffingspy )

Sketchfab, this skull in particular is useful, but there is other models that can help you study anatomy as well.

Pinterest can be good, you just have to be careful, usually you're better off just finding reference pack if you have the money, sometimes certain creators have freebies as well

Artstation Marketplace can be decent [make sure to turn on the Aye-Eye filter so it doesn't feed you trash], a colleague of mine recommended this head model for practicing facial blocking, there is also this free version without lighting.

Local Art Museums [Unironically good for studying old "master work" if you're into that, or even just getting some inspiration]

Brushes + Other Useful software:

I personally have used both of these brush packs before making my own

(I actually don't know how to share my daily brush set because I frequently switch between Krita, Procreate, and ASP, but once I figure that out I'll be sure to do that lol)

Marc Brunet's Starter brush pack [Technically free but supporting him for this if you like it is ideal, there's some good brushes]

Dave Greco Brush Pack [$3]

Gumroad in general is a good place to find brushes and art resources. *Note; for Krita specifically, brush packs are a bit weird, so it may require you to find different packs, or import them in a particular way

PureRef [PC] - Reference Compiler/Moodboarding

VizRef ($3.99) [iPad] - Moodboarding/Reference Compiler

Artist Youtubers/Creators that helped me improve/guide me along as a self-taught artist from when I first started digital art to where I am today:

Proko

Marco Bucci

Sinix Design

Sycra

Hardy Fowler

Lighting Mentor

Winged Canvas

Moderndayjames

Swatches

Chommang_drawing

Marc Brunet (YTartschool)

+ Observing a lot of speedpaint art by people whose work I enjoy on social media/youtube, trying to dissect their processes

If you've gotten this far, first of all, congrats, you can read a lot, and second of all, thank you for reading and I hope this helps! I'll continue to come back and update this if I find any new resources in the future, or if my processes change :)

Much Love,

-Remidiy

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Tactical Sovereignty” pt.1

Delta Squad x Reader

The shuttle ride to Coruscant was smooth, but your stomach churned all the same.

Neutral or not, your planet had always walked a razor-thin line between the Republic and the Separatists. You'd kept your distance from the Senate's chaos, balancing diplomacy and independence with every word your advisors crafted. But that balancing act had finally cracked—threats were no longer whispers. Intelligence confirmed the Separatists planned to make an example of your world, dragging it into the war one way or another.

And so, here you were. Dressed in ceremonial finery, face calm and regal, though you could feel the edge of tension behind your eyes.

The doors of the Senate hangar hissed open with practiced ease. Sunlight filtered in through the tall skylights, glinting off the white armor of clones stationed around the platform. But it was not the standard guard detail that caught your attention.

Four soldiers stood in perfect formation near your platform—distinct from the white-armored ranks. Their matte, battle-scarred Katarn-class armor was painted in bold, individualized designs. There was no mistaking who they were.

Delta Squad.

You'd been briefed: elite commandos, the Republic's surgical scalpel for missions too grim for standard troopers. Your planet had refused Jedi intervention to avoid implying alignment with either side. Delta Squad, however, was a compromise the Senate could stomach—and you could accept.

They stepped forward in perfect sync.

The one in front spoke first. His voice was crisp and measured, modulated slightly by his helmet's filter.

"Princess. We're your assigned protection detail. RC-1138, designation: Boss. The rest of my squad is RC-1140, Fixer—technical support and slicing. RC-1207, Sev—sniper and demolitions. And RC-1262, Scorch—explosives and comic relief, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Scorch piped in, helmet tilted as if offended. "I'm charming."

"Delusional," Sev muttered, voice gravelly, a hint darker than the rest.

You blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. They weren't what you expected. Not at all.

"I expected...something more formal," you said, arching an eyebrow.

"We can be formal," Fixer said blandly. "It just slows us down."

Boss took a step forward. "With your permission, we'll assume control of your schedule while on Coruscant. We'll be with you at all public appearances. Close protection protocol."

"And when I'm in private?" you asked carefully, testing the waters.

"Two-man rotating shifts outside your quarters. No listening devices. We're not spies," Boss replied.

That earned your approval. You gave a nod, regal and crisp. "Accepted."

Boss gestured to a waiting speeder. "Senator Organa has requested a diplomatic briefing in an hour. We move now."

⸻

The speeder weaved through Coruscant traffic like a silver bullet, flanked by a second vehicle carrying additional Coruscant Guard escorts. You sat in the primary seat with Fixer beside you, focused on scanning the skies through his HUD, silent and still. Boss rode in the front with the pilot. Scorch and Sev were in the tail speeder, handling long-range overwatch.

"What's your planet like?" Fixer asked suddenly, not looking at you.

You glanced sideways. "Peaceful. Or it was. Mountains, rivers, a lot of ancient forest. We prize education, diplomacy, culture."

"Never been there," he said simply. "Sounds better than Kamino."

"Kamino?"

"Rain, endless ocean, cold. We trained there."

"I suppose that makes you all excellent swimmers."

Fixer almost smirked. "Not by choice."

⸻

You reached the diplomatic annex of the Senate without incident. Senator Organa met with you in a secured chamber. The meeting lasted forty minutes. You discussed trade routes, neutral standing, defensive aid. Boss stood behind you, arms crossed. Fixer guarded the door. It felt safe.

It didn't last.

As you exited the annex through a marble-floored hallway—Delta Squad surrounding you—something shifted. Boss stopped mid-step. His helmet tilted.

"Hold. Sev, you see this?"

"Infrared ping, upper alcove—movement," Sev's voice crackled in.

Fixer drew his weapon. "Thermals picking up a secondary heat source—side corridor, left. Someone's here."

The world went silent. Your heart leapt into your throat.

"DOWN!" Boss barked—and shoved you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.

A blaster bolt screamed past your head—dead on target. It would have killed you.

Fixer returned fire instantly, sending bolts at the darkened alcove above. Scorch's voice blared over the comms: "Explosive signatures detected—get her out of there!"

Boss was already grabbing you by the arm, dragging you behind a marble column. His body shielded yours as the hallway erupted in smoke and fire—micro-charges along the wall, precisely placed.

Sev's sniper bolt rang like thunder. Someone screamed.

"Status!" Boss barked.

"One shooter down," Sev reported. "Second's fleeing. I've got eyes."

"Fixer—route!"

"Emergency exit tunnel, three meters left of the statue. Let's go!"

You were already running—your fine dress torn and scorched, one slipper gone, heartbeat in your ears. Scorch was waiting at the exit point, rifle raised, expression grim.

"They really want you dead," he muttered as he covered your retreat.

⸻

Once safe inside a secured speeder again—this one driven manually by Fixer—you were shaking. Not visibly. You didn't dare shake in front of them. You were a princess. Trained since childhood not to flinch.

But Boss sat across from you, watching silently. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"They knew your route. Your schedule. Someone inside the Senate leaked your movements."

You met his gaze, breathing steady. "Then find them."

Boss nodded slowly.

"We will."

⸻

The durasteel doors to your temporary apartment slid open with a gentle hiss, revealing a space clearly meant for Senators: high ceilings, soft light panels, and a panoramic view of Coruscant's skyline. If not for the adrenaline still hammering in your veins, you might have appreciated it more.

Delta Squad fanned out instantly.

Boss took point, scanning the room. Fixer moved straight to the control panel to run a full security sweep. Sev was already at the windows, eyes behind his visor tracking the distant rooftops. Scorch stood near you, helmet tilted with what you imagined was either concern or curiosity.

"Clear," Boss confirmed after a full sweep. "Perimeter is locked down. No entry without authorization."

"You're safe," Fixer added. "For now."

You exhaled deeply for the first time in what felt like hours.

Your gown was a wreck—torn at the hem, soot smudged across the bodice, and the fine embroidery near your collar scorched where the blaster bolt had almost found your throat. You were a vision of royal dishevelment, but you held your chin high.

"I'm going to need something far stronger than Senate flattery to calm my nerves."

You turned and made your way to the apartment's bar—a tasteful, recessed alcove behind polished panels. Crystal decanters glimmered invitingly under soft ambient lights.

"I assume none of you drink on duty?" you said, already pouring something amber and sharp into a glass.

Scorch laughed. "Well—technically, no. But—"

"Correct. We don't," Boss said sharply, cutting him off. His tone was clipped. Commanding. "We're here to protect, not relax."

Sev, standing by the window, shrugged with a hint of insolence. "Bit late for formality, sir. We already got shot at today."

Scorch grinned under his helmet and stepped forward. "Princess, if you're offering, I'd be rude not to accept."

You offered them both a smug, satisfied smile as you handed over two glasses. "A wise decision. Besides, I insist. It's the least I can do for the men who threw themselves in front of a blaster bolt for me."

Boss crossed his arms. "Scorch. Sev. Stand down. That's an order."

Scorch raised the glass to eye level. "Technically, I am standing down, sir."

Boss didn't laugh. Fixer gave a barely audible sigh from the control panel.

"You realize this is not a vacation," Boss muttered, voice edged with quiet irritation.

"No, but I'm not dead yet, so I'll celebrate that," Sev replied darkly, sipping from his glass.

You perched elegantly on one of the barstools, legs crossed, swirling your drink. The warm burn in your throat did little to shake the cool superiority you wore like a cloak. You were still standing, still regal—even in tatters.

"So tell me," you said, eyes on Boss now, tone arch and just slightly mocking. "Do you ever take that helmet off, or is 'intimidating silhouette' your full personality?"

Fixer snorted. Sev muttered something about "finally, someone says it." Scorch laughed aloud.

Boss didn't respond. He only turned away to resume his patrol of the suite, clearly not taking the bait.

You sipped again, then glanced toward the door when the comm chimed.

"You expecting visitors?" Fixer asked sharply.

"I am," you said smoothly. "I sent word ahead."

Boss looked like he was about to object, but before he could, the door slid open to reveal two finely dressed Senators: Senator Meelari of Aleron and Senator T'vaen of Cerea. Both were close allies—well-meaning and reliable political shields who never challenged your rhetoric too hard.

"Princess!" Meelari swept forward dramatically. "We heard what happened! We were horrified. The very idea that someone would attack you—on Coruscant of all places!"

"I'm flattered by your concern," you said, standing with the poise of a queen rather than someone who'd nearly died hours ago. "But as you can see, I'm quite difficult to kill."

T'vaen bowed respectfully. "I trust the Republic will be investigating thoroughly?"

"They're already on it," Boss said without turning around.

Your smile sharpened. "I have the best the Republic can offer," you said, glancing toward Delta Squad. "Elite commandos, bred for precision, loyalty, and efficiency. Though they're not particularly chatty."

"Ah," Meelari said, giving them a brief nod. "Clones."

You stiffened slightly. You heard the subtle condescension in his tone. It wasn't overt, but it was there.

"Not just clones," you said coolly. "They are the blade that keeps the Republic alive. The only reason any of us can still sit in the Senate and pretend our ideals matter."

Boss said nothing—but you could sense he heard it. All of them did.

Senator T'vaen smiled tightly. "Ever the moral voice of the chamber, Princess. Your conviction is admirable."

"It's not conviction," you said, turning your glass lazily in your hand. "It's truth. The Republic doesn't win because of speeches or trade deals. It wins because these soldiers bleed on nameless planets while Senators bicker about budget cuts. I simply acknowledge the obvious."

Sev muttered under his breath: "She's not wrong."

Meelari tried to laugh off the moment, clearly uneasy. "Of course, of course. But we came to check on you, not start another debate. Is there anything you need, anything your world requires for additional security?"

You smiled—brilliant and disarming. "Only continued support in the Senate. And perhaps a little more admiration."

Your guests chuckled, flattered and distracted. You basked in it. You always did. Praise was your oxygen—and you'd never learned how to breathe without it.

Boss approached you quietly when the Senators drifted toward the window to admire the view.

"You shouldn't be entertaining guests yet," he said, voice low.

You tilted your chin up at him. "Do I look like I require rest, Commander?"

"You look like a high-value target who's still very much in danger."

You leaned in slightly, voice just above a whisper. "Then you'll just have to keep me alive, won't you?"

Boss didn't flinch. "That's the job."

You smiled slowly. "Good."

⸻

Next Part

[alcrego]

waitwaitwait since I'm confused about the past few anons, all (or some, most, whichever) of your gifs are AI-Assisted? As in, AI doesn't do ALL of the work, rather you guide the AI in an controlled environment to create something?

Up to date (since time ago) there are a lot of tools to have total control on the images we generate (that I insist, I NEVER use them directly as pieces...) Once I obtain the image, I use it to modify, distort, and animate them.

For example, ControlNet for Stable Diffusion (Automatic1111) used LOCALLY on my computer (no need to use servers), is a tool we can use to decide the composition of the image. Here (gif below) I used a photography I did of a restored prison (⬅️in threshold) and also the original plans of the place (➡️also in threshold) to compose the image.⬇️

Later, after deciding for ONE between 232 options, I STARTED to work on the image, creating 8 different layers with frequency modulation, stitch all them together➡️, add lights, shapes, etc... to later get the perfect loop, to later obtain a good quality/size gif (final work).

I hope this helps to understand what I do when I use AIs...

This is only one example of many other things I did past years, and the good symptom is that nobody even doubt or asked me if I was using AIs until I explained it.

The best artists using AI are those you can't realize they (we) are using it.

And NO, I DO NOT SUPPORT NOR AGREE people using AIs to generate (not create) directly images based on other artists works.

*I'll post this final work next. It's also based on another previous of my works "Icon", part of 'Amniotic Culture' series from 2021-2022, that I designed and used it for another work/exhibition I did in 2015 'Humonos' (last image, in the background, the Wifi-Eye icon).

Peace!🙏

Now, I must keep working, because, no... AIs don't work for me like magic, I have to study/work and understand a LOT of things to create my work, beside all the skills and technical things I had learned past 15 years about photo, video and gif format.🥹👍

[menderreplika]

I worked on my OC finally :) I like how she turned out. ------------

Loretime!

MDNR units primarily support Gestalt engineers or ARARs on the software side of technical operations. Otherwise they work in teams of 3-9 members, known as Scrums, developing programs or debugging systems – hence the nickname Madenhacker. Assigning a scrum master or team lead is strongly recommended, or else members may compete for leadership, which often results in internal tension.

They tend to name each other based on their specialization or focus during work. Common examples include: Modul, Speicher, Rekurs, Ziffer, Null, and Kern.

While not strictly introverted, MDNRs prefer environments where they perceive personal gain – be it intellectual stimulation, social reward or productivity. Other units sometimes interpret this as parasitic behavior. However, when paired with the right companions, MDNRs are dependable and efficient.

They are quick to point out errors if they perceive one, which often leads to conflict. There have been reports of bullying, particularly from STCRs and Starlings, who abbreviate Madenhacker to Maden ("maggot") or MDNR to Moder ("rot/decay"), mocking them. This can lead to frustration or social withdrawal. Regular monitoring of inter-unit interactions is recommended, with particular attention to protektors.

To help prevent persona degradation, avoid prolonged periods of boredom. Provide mentally engaging objects – such as a Rubik’s Cube – or allow them to pursue self-directed projects. ------------

The black sclera helps them stare at the CRT monitors all day! My source for science is that I made it the f up :D And funfact, I drew the woodpecker logo longer than I did the render ._.

[tainbocuailnge]

rose salt has 360 atk at max level with trust, this should already include the -5% from her talent since she has that talent at e0 and it's about 5% less than ptilopsis and breeze have. with pots (remember she's welfare so these are guaranteed) the increased healing effectiveness is 17% before module meaning rose salt has 421 heal per attack or 147 healing per second offskill, which is coincidentally the exact same values as nightingale at max level and trust without module. max level no mod ptilopsis, breeze, and perfumer have 136/130/140 hps respectively (including perfumer's talent).

rose salt's module gives her +47 atk and increases the healing received buff to 22% with pots, so she goes up to 496 hpa / 174 hps. mod x nightingale gets +65 atk and a 5% healing amplification at lv3, which brings her up to 509 hpa / 178 hps, just barely ahead of rose salt. max mod perfumer has an offskill hps of 174, but she doesn't have any other form of team support.

rose salt's s2 at m3 reduces her attack interval to 1.5 seconds (from 2.85) and while it's active 50% of every instance of physical or arts damage taken by allies in range is instead spread out over a 5 second dot. during this skill she goes up to 280/331 hps without/with module respectively while increasing the amount of time you have to heal off each instance of damage, and it also allows operators to survive hits that would otherwise kill them instantly. mod x s3m3 nightingale has 321 hps, just slightly behind rose salt. maxed out ptilopsis with s2 has 610 hps and breeze s2 has 540 hps but I think nightingale is the most apt comparison because of the damage reduction, and ptilopsis/breeze have lower hps than rose salt and nightingale during skill downtime.

rose salt's talent gives her the effective stats of a 6*, and for the materials it takes to put nightingale's base numbers just barely ahead of her you could also just invest in rose salt with stuff to spare for someone else. rose salt's healing amplification is also larger, so if you're in a situation where you might need multiple healers (which is any situation where bringing damage reduction is also a consideration) you see more returns pairing them with rose salt than with nightingale. it's hard to compare their effectiveness at reducing incoming damage since it depends on the damage type and rose salt technically doesn't reduce total damage taken, she just gives you more time to heal it off, but in many situations rose salt will perform just as well if not better.

taking our good friend patriot as an example, in first phase he has 2400 atk and his attacks hit four times, instantly killing basically every operator save for the bulkiest on-skill defenders. if we take a lv 90 pot 1 mod x lv3 s2m3 hoshiguma (about the highest passive defense possible without external buffs), she's got 1357 def and 4050 hp, meaning patriot hits her for 4 x 1064 = 4256 damage and kills her instantly. with rose salt s2m3, hoshiguma instead receives 2128 damage and 425 damage per second over 5 seconds, leaving you with an alive hoshiguma who is getting healed with 17-22% increased efficiency and a blocked patriot.

healing amplification affects any heal that shows a green number, so rose salt's talent also increases the healing from musha and reaper traits, and the s2 damage reduction will apply to them. ulpianus' self heal talent also gets amplified, and with rose salt s2 he not only has effectively 50% sanctuary, he possibly will also trigger his talent off every tick of the dot, meaning he gets to heal 6 times off each instance of damage instead of once.

rose salt is strong!

[m00nymonster]

Let's Talk

Prompt: mistake

Trauma treatments, I decided, were a massive mistake. Mostly because they involved talking. Talking with someone I didn't know, because Bharawadj technically wasn't a trauma specialist and ART...well, I lived on ART, and Mensah said my therapist shouldn't be my home, or my friend.

My first session was already going spectacularly wrong.

I wanted Bharawadj, not this small, wrinkly human with dyed black hair and bright brown eyes.

"I'm Dr. Lam Nguyen," the human said. "I should tell you a little about myself. I've been a therapist for fifty-three years. I started in the Corporation Rim, and twenty years ago moved to Preservation." She paused. "I am familiar with SecUnits, and how they are controlled by their governor module. And I'm familiar with their treatment in the Corporation Rim, and image."

I didn't say anything. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I didn't want to.

This was such a stupid idea.

"SecUnit, tell me, why are you here to see me?"

"Trauma treatments."

"Yes," she said dryly, in a tone that reminded me of Mensah. "That is my specialty. I've read your intake file."

I shrugged.

"I understand you have trouble trusting new people," she said bluntly. "I don't ask for your trust, but I want you to know I will not betray it."

I stared. "I guess," I said finally. "I usually talk to Bharawadj. For her documentary."

"Yes, I heard about that. How do you feel about it?"

I guess I made a face, because she smiled a little.

"Ah. Do you not like that word?"

"I don't talk about...feelings."

"Yet here you are. Feelings are what therapy is about."

"Mine isn't. I just want to stop all...this...so I can do my job."

She cocked her head. "Yours aren't? Are you saying your feelings aren't important?"

"No! My job is. They're...interfering with it."

I stood up. "This is a waste of time."

"SecUnit, I won't stop you from walking out, but what will be achieved by you doing so? You will still feel the way you do, without support."

"SecUnits don't get--that. We get--" I shook my head. "This was a mistake."

"You don't get support. You get abused, by those you protect. That's a SecUnit's purpose, according to those in the Corporation Rim." She paused. "That's not your purpose."

After a minute, I began to pace. She watched me.

"That's something we're going to talk about, if you let me," she said. I looked at her.

"I'd rather talk about Sanctuary Moon," I said. She laughed.

"I'm familiar. And this is your session. We can talk about whatever you want."

I stopped pacing and stared at her.

"Why do you want to help me?"

"You said your job is important to you, right? Your ability to protect humans, to help people?"

"Yes."

"My job is to help people, too. People like you. If you'll let me. you have to be willing to be helped."

She nodded to the chair. "Helping you is my job, and I want to do it."

I glanced at her face, with my actual eyes. Then I sat down.

"Fine. But I want to talk about Sanctuary Moon."

She smiled. "Go ahead."

[yourgoodfriendjh]

Modern figure skating au where Shenkov is an ice dancer is so in character imo. why? here you go:

In ice dance, unlike in freestyle, being tall/broad isn't a deficit and is actually a physical advantage (height especially) because it makes it easier to lead the female partner, as well as gives you more leverage for elements like lifts. Shenkov is described as being "tall and powerful... but with the grace of somebody who considered failure to keep fit a betrayal of the Soviet duty of labour." He's tall without being overly muscular/bulky, and (at least in Valery's immediate opinion) quite naturally graceful. I don't think it's a stretch to assume he has long limbs, so in other words he's the exact 'perfect' physique for a male ice dancer to create those strong, elegant, elongated, (romantic!) lines.

Male ice dance partners are also supposed to be sort of in the background. They're not supposed to be cardboard cutouts, but functionally (traditionally) their job is to support the female partner and let her be the 'star.' Usually when people imagine a 'male figure skater,' I think they conjure a pretty flamboyant image, but that's a lot less of a requirement in ice dance so I feel it fits Shenkov's very reserved personality (don't get me wrong-- ice dancers have lots of flamboyance and flair, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being really showy! It's just more typical for the male partner to be much less so than the female so they don't clash, and it all depends on the tone of the program).

If you're unfamiliar with figure skating, ice dance may appear to be boring/simple because it's extremely technical in the fine details, which can just be hard to notice if you don't really know what you're looking at. Frustratingly, I can't find the quote right now, but somewhere Valery remarks about how Shenkov is constantly modulating the way his emotions are showing on his face so that he can appear more blank and intimidating. From Shenkov's POV chapters and Valery's narration, we see how aware Shenkov is of his physicality-- he uses it purposely to intimidate people with his size and strength, but he is also extremely self-conscious that that's the impression people are constantly getting from him. Something about how Shenkov is detail-oriented, very tightly in control of his movements and his emotions and his face reminds me of the intense precision required in ice dance, as well as the acting that skater's often do tell a story along with the music.

And lastly, ice dance is the 'girliest' of all the disciplines a man can participate in, IF you decide that all the jumps and dramatic throws that are present in freestyle and pairs are the more 'masculine' elements (I personally believe this assignment is bullshit, but it's present in the perception of figure skating as far as I'm aware). I think it's really ironic that someone as physically dominating as Shenkov would excel the most at the more 'delicate' of the disciplines, but he would!

[camisoledadparis]

STORY: The Final Frontier

In 1972, NASA launched a secet mission. It would affect those involved for decades afterward.

Prologue 

Back in 1962, President Kennedy gave a speech at Rice University on the space race and how the United States would not only be a part of it, but they would lead it.

Less than seven years later, Apollo 11 was orbiting the moon as its lunar module Eagle set down on its surface. Ahead of schedule, six and a half hours later, Neil Armstrong became the first human to walk on the moon.

Less than three years later, there was another space mission, one not in any history books. The President gave no enduring speech about its mission. There were no television cameras at the launch because it would take place in the middle of the night. The official statements released after the launch, one that would rival the Saturn V lift offs, was it being a military mission to put another satellite into orbit around the earth.

It was a lie.

________________________________________________

January 1972

Raymond saw Jerry Taylor coming his way down the corridor. The usual entourage was around him, holding out calculations and technical data sheets about some launch coming up in the near future. It was one that was being kept secret, only a core group in the know. He only knew because of Bill Rose, one of the scientists involved. Why Bill was in the team on the mission, Raymond didn’t know. Bill was a theoretical physicist and his direct involvement in a launch was a mystery. He understood why Gordon Scott was one of the astronauts. Gordon had flown test flights, been in training since 1965, and Raymond thought he should have been the lead on whatever mission was coming up. But that honor was given to Jerry Taylor, another scientist in theoretical physics, and someone who only entered the astronaut program in 1969. It didn’t make sense, but Raymond knew to keep his mouth shut, for he wasn’t supposed to even know anything about it.

Raymond ducked into the nearest office, the one belonging to Jonathan Keith. The youngest scientist in the program, and he knew Jonathan must be brilliant, which made his friendly easy-going manner surprising. Jonathan never displayed any of the attitude some of the others would do, such as Jerry Taylor, who made it known he was in charge and never let anyone forget it.

“Hey Raymond, what’s up?” Jonathan asked, turning from his computer, the massive monitor and supporting components taking up most of his desk.

“Just ducking out of sight of Jerry.”

Jonathan laughed, then turned back to his monitor.

“What are you working on?” asked Raymond.

“I..huh...can’t discuss it.”

“A secret mission? Must be military. I just don’t get why Jerry seems involved in it.”

“I guess he has certain skills it needs. How’s the training going?”

“Good.”

“Being the youngest has its advantages.”

“You would know,” Raymond replied. Jonathan looked around and laughed, causing Raymond to do the same.

"Have they told you what mission you could get?”

“No, just that I’m backup for a couple coming up.”

The day progressed for Raymond like any other. Hours of training, medical checkups, cognitive skill tests, and review of launch protocols and what to expect when the big rockets ignited. By the day’s end, he was exhausted. A quick shower and dressed back into his civilian clothes, he headed out to the parking lot.

He passed the two Corvettes and Mustang belonging to some of the guys until he came to his Chevelle. It wasn’t as nice as the sport cars, but the Chevelle had been within his budget and truth be known, with the modifications his brother-in-law had made, a hell of a lot faster. It was a 68 SS 396, a solid platform for the modifications performed on it. It sat lower, with wider tires, and once running, idled with the rumble only an American V-8 could produce.

He idled through the parking lot, then gunned it once on the road, heading toward NASA Parkway. Across the bridge, he turned south toward Port St. John. Less than ten minutes and four turns later, he pulled into the drive of the home he shared with Bill Rose. Bill was already home, for his green Camaro Z/28 sat in its usual spot. He eased in next to it and killed the engine.

Bill had transferred nineteen months prior from California to be closer to the launch site. A chance encounter in a bar two weeks after Bill arrived, and Raymond found himself inviting Bill home for the night. It went from a few dates to Bill moving in.

Bill was in the kitchen pulling broiled fish from the oven.

“Wash up. It’s ready,” said Bill.

They sat in the small dining room, the curtains pulled on the large bay window allowing them to see the neighbors walk past on evening strolls or taking dogs for their walk.

“Is your secret mission about to go to launch?”

“Yep, and don’t ask anything else. You need plausible deniability. I need them to trust me.”

“Okay, Dr. Frankenstein,” Raymond joked, as he did whenever Bill clammed up about that mission.

They got the kitchen cleaned up and found themselves on the sofa watching Hawaii Five-O. They began to mess with each other, rubbing a foot along a leg or tickling the bottom of a foot.

“You better stop,” said Bill.

“Or what?” Raymond replied as he ran his index finger up the bottom of Bill’s foot.

Suddenly Bill was on him, pinning him down. There were kisses and nips on the skin along his neck, around one ear, even a tug on the earlobe, then they were kissing.

Clothes lay strewn from the living room to the bedroom, and on the bed, Bill was on his knees taking Raymond’s legs behind the knees. He pushed them forward then down, pressing each knee into the bed either side of the torso.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Raymond uttered as he guided Bill to his tight opening. Then he moaned as cock stretched him open. He felt the fullness of the penetration, how the cock bore into his depths until Bill finally began to fuck. The tug outward, then the push, each time feeling the fullness of it. He dug his fingers into the flexing thighs and lay back savoring the pleasure of their fuck.

Bill shifted positions, came to his knees, and held both legs against his chest, and fucked. Harder, faster, slamming cock into Raymond’s depths. The bed rocked until banging into the wall, the rhythm of each hit aligning with the smack of hips against ass.

“FUCK!” Bill cried out, slamming cock all the way into Raymond and he kept pushing against the upturned ass as he came.

Finally spent, Bill pulled free, guided Raymond to flip over and get on his knees. He wasn’t finished. Still hard, cock slick with his first load, Bill shoved into Raymond again. He held the narrow waist, and began to fuck with a steady pace.

Bill loved the feel of a second fuck, how it took longer to cum, how he could fuck and fuck and fuck until he didn’t think his cock could take it.

Raymond loved Bill’s second fuck for it stroked his arousal, pushed him to the point of release. His cock swung heavily between his thigh as it drooled its slick. He took it in hand and stroked as roughly and as fast as Bill was hammering his ass. He came first, spraying cum across the bed beneath him. Each spurt intense from the cock pumping away inside him. He kept stroking until it was almost painful and the hands on his waist tightened.

Bill slammed into Raymond depths, pushed tight against the ass, and shuddered with his second release.

Raymond was in the kitchen making coffee, scooping the ground beans from the can into the filter basket, when Bill walked in adjusting his tie. He turned on the small television that sat on the counter, switching it to the morning news that was in progress giving the day’s weather. The channel cut away from the weatherman, going back to the main morning newscaster, Thomas Harris.

“This just in. There was an accident earlier this morning on Bama Avenue. One of the astronauts from NASA, Gordon Scott, was seriously injured when a car backed out into the street in front of him. Police say Scott was speeding, and after hitting the rear of the car spun across the road into the path of a truck. He was transported to Jess Parrish Memorial Hospital. There are no further details at this time.”

“Fuck!” Bill exclaimed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Gordon; he was on the mission with Jerry.”

“They’ll just delay the launch and get someone else to take his place.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“The delay would be almost two years and…Jerry is not going to want to delay that long.”

“Almost wo years? Why such a long delay.”

“Just get the coffee made. I’m going to need it.”

The phone rang, and Raymond and Bill both stared at the wall mounted phone, then looked at each other to see who would pick it up.

“Get the coffee made,” Bill repeated as he reached for the phone. “This is Bill…yes…I understand. I’m leaving now.” Bill hung up the phone, holding the receiver in the cradle as if it could jump out. “Forget the coffee. I have to go.”

“They’re calling you in as soon as possible?”

“You got it. I suggest you get in early and be prepared for a long fucking day.”

“What will it have to do with me?”

“Shit flows downhill, and I bet Jerry Taylor puts everyone through their paces today. This is going to set him off,” said Bill grabbing up his keys and wallet. “Don’t be late,” he exclaimed as he went out the side door. The Camaro rumbled to life, then Raymond heard the bark of tires as Bill backed out of the drive, then took off down the street heading to the Cape.

He dumped the coffee in the filter basket, rinsed it out, then headed to the bedroom to finish getting ready. Five minutes later, he raced through the kitchen and out the side door. It was a repeat of earlier. The bark of tires as he backed into the street, then another bark of the rear tires as he accelerated away.

Raymond checked in and headed to the training office. As he passed other offices, he looked in to see how others were responding to the news. It seemed every other office was empty with the alternating office having two or three people huddled up talking in low voices. A few of the doors were closed and as he passed one, he heard Steven Matthews yell no.

He turned the corner and passed one of the conference rooms and saw Jerry Taylor, Gabriel Garcia, Shirley James, Jonathan Keith, and Bill sitting around the table. Jerry looked pissed and the others were heads down not saying anything. When he got past the door, he wondered how long it would take for everything to settle down. He was about to enter the training room when he heard Bill’s voice.

“Raymond.” It was spoken so softly and casually, he turned to see Bill standing outside the door to the conference room. He had the look of someone defeated or beaten. He looked pale and flush in the face.

“Raymond, Jerry needs to talk to you.”

“Oh shit,” Raymond whispered, then headed back to the conference room afraid to make Jerry wait.

When he entered the room, he saw files on astronauts on the table, and right in front of Jerry, his file, open to his academic credentials with a photo from his college days.

“Take a seat,” said Jerry in a blunt tone.

Raymond went to the nearest seat, one by Jonathan who gave him a worried look.

“What’s going on?” asked Raymond.

“You have a dual degree,” said Jerry, stated as fact, ignoring Raymond’s question.

“Yes, sir.”

“Physics, with some course work in theoretical physics, and a degree in aeronautical engineering.”

“That is correct.”

“You ranked eleventh in your class, all the while taking more flying lessons, and…” Jerry looks at the file and shakes his head, ��a bit of illegal rocketry.”

“How do you know…I can explain-“

“You are smart, take initiative, and can be daring when the need arises.”

“Sir?”

“From this moment on until we launch on the twenty-fifth, you are on a crash course of training for the mission. Gabriel will bring you up to speed and Shirley will be escorting you to each meeting or training session. You will not drive that hot rod out in the parking lot. I’m having it impounded until you get back from the mission. You will not do anything to jeopardize this mission,” Jerry stated in a harsh tone that indicated he was furious with Gordon and wasn’t letting anything else get in his way.

“But sir, I-“

“You’re here to be an astronaut, is that right?”

“Yes, sir, but-“

“Well, now you’re an astronaut.”

Raymond stood dumbfounded. One minute he was just a trainee, one he assumed was too young and others would come before him. He looked at Bill and saw the shocked expression and knew it was real. He was on the mission shrouded in secrecy. By the day’s end, he would know everything.

Shirley sat in front with the driver, and Raymond was in back with Bill. Gabriel had met with him after the meeting in the conference room giving him a synopsis of the mission that was so secret. They were going to Mars and back, but not in the conventional way they were going to the Moon. There was a new method of travel, one where they passed from the visible realm through one unseen, another dimension of space, then back into the visible realm where they wished to go. Gabriel told of the tests done, the last with one of the Apollo missions where they sent a small unit from an orbit around Earth to the Moon’s surface and back. It had taken less than ten minutes, most of the time spent letting the astronauts on the Moon’s surface check the device and record its data before letting it cycle into a return mode.

Raymond had vaguely understood Gabriel’s explanation of how the science worked but he missed part of what Gabriel was saying for he kept replaying the conversation in the conference room, how he was now going to be part of some experimental space flight, one that would pass through another dimension of space, one the scientists thought was the fourth, but when pressed, none were sure. It could be another dimension, one within the fourth.

He looked out ahead at the multi-story scaffolding covered in canvas fabric. He had been told it was to keep debris from demolition efforts from blowing across the Cape or out over the water. Publicly, the launch pad LC-34 was deactivated a few years ago. Now he knew the lie of it. How that covered scaffolding concealed a rocket. One to lift off in less than a month…with him on board. He wondered how in the hell they got it to the launch pad undetected.

“Some people are not going to believe this is just some satellite launch,” Raymond uttered, more to himself than to the others.

“That is why we’re launching at night. Everyone in the region can see it, but not in any detail, and with the official announcements keeping to the story of it being a military satellite will give those who will know the rockets are far larger than necessary the opportunity to speculate what kind of military satellite is so large that it took a larger rocket,” said Shirley.

“Is it a Saturn V?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“You’ll see,” Bill whispered.

The driver maneuvered the Ford van up to the LC-34 and parked. Shirley climbed out first, then Raymond and Bill. They went through an opening in the fabric and under the construction structure to a lift.

“You knew all about this?” Raymond whispered to Bill.

“Yeah, I knew.”

“It sounds unbelievable…crazy.”

“I know, but the science, the calculations bore it out and the tests have been perfect. Not one failure once the calculations were worked out.”

“Part of me is so excited to be a part of it, but another…Jesus,” Raymond utters, his voice trailing off as he follows Bill to the lift. He looked up expecting to see five massive nozzles of the rocket engines of a Saturn V, and the cluster of five were right over his head, but there were two more nozzles, one on each side of the first stage section. Two pods for fuel and engines were added to the main first stage.

“Jesus, it needs more thrust?” asked Raymond, coming to stop while staring up at the seven nozzles.

Bill comes back and stands next to him. “The device in the craft is fucking heavy as hell. It has some lead lined chambers and a magnet running down the middle of it. To get it off the ground and into space, we needed extra thrust. The second stage is more powerful too, with three F-1 engines instead of five J-2s. There is also the speed needed in orbit.”

Raymond was shocked at the thrust the rocket would be doing in the first two stages. He wondered how he would endure it. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not. It will be a hell of a ride off the launch pad. Come on, we’ll give you the grand secret tour.”

As the lift climbed, Raymond could see how the rocket was a Saturn V, just heavily modified. He saw the look on Bill’s face. The amazement of what they had accomplished. It was almost reverent, how Bill stared up at the rocket.

“It’s obvious we started with the V. To the first stage we added two F-1 engines for additional thrust to get this heavy bitch off the ground and moving. The pods are fourteen feet in diameter and one hundred twenty feet tall and its all fuel and engine. They’ll break away first, then when you’ve broken out of the stratosphere, the first stage drops away and the second fires to get you to upper reaches of the Thermosphere.

“It'll be these first stages that will be the worst on you. We’ve developed special chairs, more like lounge chairs with padded sides, that will expand and shrink around you. They are supposed to help with the effects of the g-forces.”

“That’s why I have to do more acceleration endurance testing.”

The lift continued upward, passed the one hundred thirty-eight feet of the first stage, then passed the eighty-one feet of the second stage.

“After the second stage gets you into the Thermosphere and up to 25,800 miles per hour, it’ll drop away, and the third stage will fire. It’ll swing you up to the correct altitude and the orbit needed to aim at Mars, then it’ll drop away.”

“The third stage drops away in Earth orbit? Don’t we need it for the return?”

“The command and service module has its own J-2 engine to get you up to speed in orbit over Mars for your return.”

Raymond looked up as they passed the third stage. He knew it was a bit over fifty-eight feet in height and over twenty-one in diameter, and above it, he could see how the command and service module seemed to bulge outward, a few feet wider and from his advantage point, it looked taller too.

“The rocket is three hundred and forty-two feet tall.”

“That’s taller than the V.”

“Yep.”

Raymond looked at the command and service module as they came up to the access platform, then down, seeing just how far down it was to the ground. He knew the Saturn V was a beast, three hundred and sixty-three feet in height, and yet this modified rocket was taller. He felt dizzy.

“Gabriel calls this the Kepler 1.”

“Yes, internally, of course, for out there,” said Bill pointing toward Titusville, “it doesn’t exist.”

That evening, Raymond got home late, after nine o’clock. One of the drivers had brought him home since Jerry did as promised and impounded his car somewhere on the Cape. He found Bill in the kitchen preparing dinner, knowing he had not been home very long himself.

“Go shower and it’ll be ready when you come back,” said Bill.

“Thanks. I’m beat.”

“Gabriel and Jerry are going to put you through your paces. The next two weeks will be the worst, then they’ll back off to keep you fresh for the launch.”

“Two weeks…I wonder if I’ll survive two weeks of this,” Raymond replied as he headed to the bathroom already undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Raymond lay on his stomach. Bill on his back with their fingers laced together. Bill moved slowly, gently, working into Raymond’s depths.

“Yes…keep going,” Raymond uttered as he closed his eyes and focused on the feel of their fuck.

As exhausted as they were, he more so, he had initiated their sex. He wanted the intimacy, to feel Bill against him. Warm flesh against warm flesh. One body undulating over the other. The fullness of the penetration, and how it reflected the connection between them.

Bill began to move faster, working hips against ass, pumping cock into Raymond’s depths. Bill tightened his hold of Raymond’s hands and pushed them down tight to the bed as he pushed up. He hooked Raymond’s legs with his own legs and moved with a greater need. Sweat beaded up on heated skin and breathing became labored.

Raymond’s cock was rock hard and pinned beneath him, rubbing against the bed with Bill’s movements, pushing into his depths over and over. He wanted to cum, but not before Bill.

“Bill,” Raymond whispered.

Bill pushed into his depths, lay heavily on his back, and ground hips against his ass. Then Bill shuddered with release.

Raymond rolled to his back with Bill’s guidance, then felt the warmth of a mouth on his cock. It didn’t take much stimulation, for he was so hard his cock ached for release. The mouth moved up and down only a few times and he was pushing up filling it with cum.

For the next two weeks, Raymond trained, did simulations with Jerry going through various possible scenarios, and he worked out. Every night he ached and was so fatigued, he fell into the bed, asleep almost before he hit the pillow.

The week before the launch, his routine slowed. There was more rest, and simple training and work out sessions. The only thing that didn’t diminish in intensity was the simulation runs with Jerry.

Then the twenty-fifth arrived. He tried to sleep in as directed but found himself at the table for breakfast with Bill. After Bill left for the Cape, he lounged around home alone. Just before noon, he wandered into the kitchen to prepare something for lunch. He heard a car pull up, the door slam, and a couple of seconds later, Bill rushed in through the back door.

“I’ve only got about an hour,” said Bill in a rush as he crossed the room. “You’re not going up without us having more time.”

Bill led Raymond to their bedroom.

Their sex was frantic, Bill only unbuttoning his shirt and shoving slacks and boxers to his ankles. He moved over Raymond, pushed into the depths of his ass, and fucked. Raymond hugged Bill, clung to him desperately as cock piston inside him.

Then it was over. Far too soon. Bill kissed Raymond, long and hard, then pulled away with a forlorn look.

“I’ve got to get back,” said Bill as he got dressed.

Raymond and Terry sat in the heavily cushion chairs facing straight up. The chairs vibrated and moved against their bodies, all meant to help with circulation and the g-forces they would have to endure as Kepler 1 pushed upward breaking earth’s gravity.  They could hear the countdown coming from the base of operations on the Cape. There would be no Houston for this flight, everything kept within the inner circle.

“1 minute and forty seconds…”

“You ready?” asked Jerry, sounding the most relaxed Raymond had ever heard him. All the tension and bluntness were gone.

Raymond chuckled. “Yes. More than ready after the last few weeks.”

“I’m sorry about the way we put you through the ringer, but this mission is so important to me and the guys that to delay it was just unthinkable.”

“I know it being secret made everything more difficult.”

“Boy, you don’t know the half of it.”

“59, 58, 57,56…”

“We’re about to make the largest jump in man’s technology and understanding of the universe, so let’s not fuck it up,” said Jerry.

Raymond knew he was serious, but the humorous tone also meant he wasn’t worried about him on the flight. There really wasn’t much to do other than monitor the systems and engage the drive at the appropriate time. Drive. It was such an odd term compared to what was going to really happen, but it was what all the scientists called it.

“Will people know about it…when we come back?”

“Not for some time, but soon enough.”

“10, 9, 8, 7…”

The rockets fire and the rocket shudders on the launch pad. Raymond is holding his breath and must remind himself to just breathe. He checks the monitors and a quick glance over to Jerry and he sees him doing the same.

“Commit.”

The rocket begins to move, slowly at first, but suddenly the acceleration is staggering.

“Liftoff.”

“We’re clear of LC-34,” Jerry utters as the g-forces build.

“Everything looks good,” said Raymond as he scans the gauges.

The rocket rumbles and shakes as it accelerates. They feel it rotate and turn as the color of the sky changes.

“First stage will separate soon,” Jerry utters.

“Two minutes and twenty seconds…first stage separating.”

The second stage fires, and the rocket accelerates again.

“Kepler 1; all systems good,” said Jerry to the base.

Suddenly they are flying smoothly, the second stage separated. The third stage fires, pushing them into their orbit pattern, increasing their speed. They circle the earth twice using the time to check all the systems.

“Ready?” asked Jerry.

“Ready,” Raymond replies.

“This is Kepler 1. We are ready in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1; system engaged.”

The ship seems to slow for a second, then everything blurs. The moon seems to wobble. Raymond wonders if they are breaking apart, but no warning lights are flashing. Then he feels like he is floating, unmoored from even the chair. He sees multiple cockpits from multiple angles. Through the window he sees multiple moons. Then everything turns to a bright flash of light.

Everyone in the control room watches the monitors. The feedback from Kepler 1, the radar systems following it as it orbits the earth for the second time.

“All systems are a go,” someone calls over their headphones and the speaker broadcasting in the room.

They had watched the launch of the Kepler 1, how it lit up the sky like the sun. The two pod engines dropped away after five miles of altitude, then right on schedule the first stage separated. Phone calls were already coming into NASA about the launch for it had been visible from south Georgia all the way down to Miami. The official statement about it being a military satellite was being repeated for each call.

Kepler came around to the point where the drive was to be activated. They were to space jump through another dimension to Mars, orbit it a couple of times to check their systems, then space jump back to earth’s orbit.

“…in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1; system engaged.”

The radar image blinked, then disappeared.

“Lick…do you have eyes on Kepler 1?”

The team waited to hear back from the Lick Observatory where they were looking through the C. Donald Shane telescope toward Mars. It would only be a tiny reflection as the craft passed in front of Mars. A minute passed, then another, then an hour passed.

“Hey guys, we don’t see them. They are not there.”

Part Two

Allen Leonard drove up to the gate, lowering his window as he approached. He recognized the guard coming out; Robert or Ryan or something like it. He could never remember. He met so many on the Cape he easily lost track.

“Mr. Leonard, you’re early,” said the guard as he looked at the identification card Allen held up.

“Just trying to get caught up before I take my vacation.”

“Going somewhere fun?”

“Hawaii. It’s our twenty-fifth anniversary and I always promised Irene we would go there some day.”

“Well, you can’t disappoint her. Congratulations on the anniversary.”

“Thanks…Ryan,” looking the name tag.

He eased over the speed bump, careful with his new baby, a Corvette Z06. It just came out and the dealer told him he got the first one to come into the state. Despite not wanting to be smug about it, it did make him smile to know he had something none of the astronauts had, at least for now.

He drove to the parking lot, locked up, and headed inside. He looked at his watch seeing it was a quarter to seven, then made note of the date. In four days, it would be the fourteenth of December 2021, exactly twenty-five years since Irene and he got married. Come tomorrow, they will be flying out of Orlando to Hawaii.

The corridor was quiet, only a few as early as he. He cut through the double doors to his wing of the building, seeing Nathan, one of the young engineers, enter one of the offices. Nathan did trajectory calculations for smaller launches. He moved down the hall, seeing the conference room straight ahead. The blinds were closed, and the lights were on, which was unusual for so early in the morning. He turned right and passed the door heading toward his office when it swung open behind him.

“Allen!”

Allen turned to see Sharon Mills standing in the door.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jack wants you to sit in on this.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not out here.”

Allen entered the room behind Sharon who took a seat on the far side of the table. At one end sat Jack Anderson, the head of their group, and at the other end, Brian Neiman, Associate Administrator, only third down from the top. He knew the meeting was serious and worried it was going to be about budgets. It was always about budgets.

“What’s going on?” Allen asked as he sat across from Sharon.

“What we discuss in this room stays in this room,” said Neiman.

“Yes, sir,” Allen replied, looking from Neiman to Anderson who nodded with a grim expression.

“Jack, fill him in,” said Neiman.

“Allen…at three fifty-two A.M. EST, we picked up a radio transmission. It was from the crew of Kepler 1-“

“Kepler 1? Never heard of it,” Allen interrupted.

Anderson shook his head and leaned back like he was exhausted. “Until this morning, neither have I. I’ll explain after filling you in on the current situation. The Kepler 1 was radioing about their reentry and having trouble with some instrumentation. It seemed they were picking up signals that didn’t make sense, so they settled into orbit until they knew what was going on.

“We here on the ground knew nothing of any Kepler 1 mission for there was no mission by that name. Or so we thought. A few phone calls and pushing past some security protocols, we finally got someone on the phone who knew something about this Kepler 1.”

Anderson leaned forward putting his elbows on the table with his hands together, one hand a fist with the other rubbing it. It was a habit of Anderson’s whenever he was nervous or anxious.

“We have a splash down site picked that was close to a Navy location that can do the retrieval. Right now, we have a carrier fleet heading to a location 150 miles east of Guam and should be in position at 5:00 P.M. EST. Then we will direct the Kepler 1 in a reentry. They are adjusting their flight path for this splash down point.”

“But what is this Kepler 1?”

Anderson inhaled and exhaled so hard everyone could hear it, then he sat back, as if he could not find a comfortable position.

“During the early morning of January 25, 1972, there was a launch from LC-34 that was so bright it lit up the night sky.”

“A Saturn V? From a deactivated launch complex.”

“It had been secretly refurbished for one more launch,” said Anderson.

“And it was not a Saturn V rocket, well, it was but heavily modified,” added Mills.

“Modified?” asked Allen.

“The payload was enormous for a space flight. I don’t know the details, not yet. The files are being retrieved and flown down. But what we got from the crew of the Kepler 1 is the rocket had two extra F-1 engines-“

“Jesus,” Allen uttered.

“…that gave it additional thrust on lift off. And the second stage used the same engines; dear god that thing must have accelerated to the point of human endurance. Its mission was to get into orbit, accelerating to 25,800 miles per hour, then…then…

“Slip into another dimension, the fourth, and come out at Mars where they were to set into an orbit around the planet, do a quick survey, then slip back to Earth,” said Anderson.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Allen uttered in a low disbelieving voice.

“We’re not fucking kidding you,” Neiman replied in a gruff tone.

Allen didn’t know if the tone was directed at him or just Neiman’s frustration with the situation.

“The Kepler 1 was going to pass through a wormhole of its own creation to the planet Mars, then come back? We’re trying to get to Mars now and nothing like this has been put on the table,” said Allen, looking around the table.

“I don’t know if we should call it a wormhole, but the Kepler 1 was to appear in Mars orbit in less than minute, spend two hours or so in orbit, then come back,” Mills replied.

“Less than a minute? To get to Mars? Why have I not heard of this before?”

“The ship disappeared. Just completely vanished. From what we can gather from our contact in Washington, they thought it disintegrated during the transition between dimensions, so the secret program got killed, the files sent to a warehouse outside Arlington, and forgotten,” said Mills.

“Until this morning when they radioed of their return to earth’s orbit,” said Neiman.

“Damn,” Allen uttered sitting back and rotating toward Anderson. “Are we going to get them back here or will some spook group I’ve never heard of disappear them?”

“We’re not going to do that,” said Neiman, visibly irritated.

“Bring them here or disappear them?”

“They will not be…disappeared.”

“We’re working with NSA on getting the two astronauts to one of our facilities. It may be Ames or Edwards,” said Anderson.

“Once we get them settled someplace, we’re sending Sharon and you out to talk to them. Find out what happened,” said Neiman.

 “Do we have a story about their reentry?” asked Mills.

“Why? It’ll be in the middle of the ocean?” asked Allen.

“It seems the command module will split during reentry, jettisoning the main section behind the crew module allowing it burn up in the atmosphere. A way of disposing of it.”

“Crude as fuck, but effective,” said Neiman.

“And it’ll be a bright meteor in the sky as it comes down over the ocean. Someone is bound to see it,” added Mills.

“It can just be that; a meteor,” said Neiman.

Raymond suddenly realized what he was facing. He looked over to Neiman. “I’m supposed to be flying to Hawaii tomorrow for my anniversary.”

“It’s canceled.”

“But what if the crew were taken to Hawaii instead of the mainland. It’ll take a few days for physicals and to let them get their feet underneath them. I mean, they’ll be in their eighties and a reentry can be rough. This will let me-“

“Not get into trouble with Irene?” Neiman interrupted, smiling for the first time. “But it is a good plan. Hawaii will make it easier to control this until we know what we’re dealing with. Jack, get Sharon set up for a flight to Hawaii today. I want someone on the ground when that crew is flown in. Allen and his wife can arrive tomorrow.”

“I’ll have it taken care of when we break,” Anderson replied.

“Sharon, how soon can you be ready to go?” asked Neiman.

“If I can leave to go pack, I can be ready within the hour.”

“Jack, get her on the next available flight. I’ll call my contact in Washington and have the crew flown to Hawaii.”

At 6:15 P.M. EST, the crew module for Kepler 1 flew over southeast Asia, the South China Sea, then over the Philippines. The service section of the module was jettisoned over the Philippine Sea as the crew module made a low arc toward their splash down target to the east of Guam. It was early morning at the splash down site.

The service section hit the atmosphere and immediately began to heat up until a flaming mass. The people on the small island of Colonia and the crews of several container ships saw the bright tail of smoke and fire as it lost stability and altitude. At approximately 70,000 feet, it broke up and rained burning pieces to the ocean below.

The crew module passed over Guam close enough anyone looking would have seen it. Then out over the ocean, parachutes were deployed, bright red and white, to make them visible. They slowed the module and allowed for its descent to the ocean.

Just to the south the Naval ships watched its descent, already on course to intercept.

A helicopter hoisted the module to the deck of the USS Nimitz before opening the hatch. The captain had not been told much about his unusual assignment but had been told to be cautious and to survey the exterior, running tests for radioactivity before touching it.

The module was within all the normal tolerances and the captain directed two of his crew to release the hatch. Once open, the two men stepped back and a man came out, followed by another. One looked late thirties, the other early thirties.

“I’m Captain Morales of the USS Nimitz.”

“I’m Jerry Taylor and this…is…Raymond Nelson and…”

Jerry and Raymond looked across the deck of the aircraft carrier, not recognizing any of the jets or helicopters. They looked at the captain with dumbfounded expressions. Raymond sensed things were very different from when they launched that morning or was it the morning before. He wasn’t sure about the time changes and his location east of Guam.

“Excuse me, what is today’s date?”

The captain looked at him as if he were an alien. “It’s the eleventh.”

“The month?”

“December.”

“December? Oh shit,” Raymond replied, and he turned to Jerry. “We lost most of the year.”

“I think we lost more than a year,” Jerry replied looking at the row of jets on the flight deck. He turned to the captain. “What year?

A helicopter flight to Guam for initial health checkup and rest. Then an unmarked jet to Hawaii where they landed at the airport, taxiing to Hickam Air Force Base. Escorted into a nearby building to a nondescript room. Raymond and Jerry hadn’t talked much on the flight and once inside sat opposite each other. After spending a day on the aircraft carrier, they were flown to Guam where they spent three more days before being put on the jet to Hawaii. Four days of checkups and waiting. Waiting like they were now doing.

It had been over forty-nine years since they launched. Forty-nine years before they reappeared, when for the two of them it had only been a few days. It was the stuff of science fiction, something one would expect in some Twilight Zone episode.  

“I heard Jonathan once joke that we were traveling through a time free zone, and we might come out in the future,” said Jerry leaning forward resting his arms on the table. He needed to bend over and control his breathing. It felt like he could hyperventilate at any moment.

“Bill worried we didn’t know enough to be doing the test.”

“Bill Rose?”

“Yeah.”

“The two of you were an item, weren’t you?”

“What?”

Jerry smiled for the first time since their arrival. “I’m a scientist at heart, I accept the facts as they are presented to me, and I know we studied it, homosexuality, back in the fifties. Hell, some German doctor was talking about it in the thirties. It is part of our humanity, so…” Jerry shrugged his shoulders.

“And you knew?”’

“As did Jonathan and Shirley. Shirley James…I wonder what happened to her. You know she knew more about what was going on than Gabriel Garcia.”

“She was nice.”

“And damn good at her job.”

“Jerry…it’s 2021.”

Jerry looked across the room at Raymond seeing a fear, he felt himself. “I know.”

Food was brought in, then they were led to sleeping quarters, probably for visiting officers where they were allowed to clean up and change clothes.

The next morning, after breakfast had been served, two men came into the room. Both in dark blue suits with white shirts. One wore a red tie, the other blue.

“I’m Gregory Harris with NSA and this is Wayne Lee with the State Department. We need to know what happened out there.”

“During the forty-nine years life went on here on earth?” asked Jerry.

“Yes. Where were you?”

“We don’t know,” Raymond replied.

“Give us a rundown,” said Lee, taking a chair across from Raymond, focusing on him more than Jerry.

Raymond looked over at Jerry who nodded. He took a breath gathering his thoughts on how to tell what they experienced. Would they believe it? He doubted it but then again, they had shown up forty-nine years after the launch.

“We got into orbit with a speed of 25,800 miles per hour and when he came around into position, the jump drive-“

“Jump drive?” asked Lee.

“It was the nickname everyone gave it.”

“Oh, okay. Go on.”

“For a second there seemed to be nothing happening. Then everything around us seemed to be stretched out. Lights looked like lines instead of points.”

“The ship was moving that fast?”

“No. The effect was…was more like space was moving around us.”

“You didn’t feel any acceleration?” asked Harris.

“The theory behind the system is we are not moving through space but stepping through another dimension of space,” said Jerry.

“Is there still research on this?” Lee asked Harris.

“Probably, but we won’t know about it. So, Raymond, go on.”

Then everything got weird. I mean, for a second, we saw the moon and earth out every window. It was like being in a house of mirrors. Then we were in orbit around another planet.”

“Mars?” asked Lee.

“No, it wasn’t Mars. We think it was Neptune.”

“Neptune?”

“It was a large planet and was blue and looked to be gaseous.”

“Our initial readings indicated we were in orbit around Neptune,” added Jerry.

“How long were you in orbit?” asked Lee.

“We did two orbits, then engaged the ship to bring us back, so just under seventeen hours.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Harris. “You mean from launch to getting in orbit around Neptune then engaging to come back was less than twenty-four hours?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you lose forty-nine years?”

“When we engaged the system, something happened. The ship phased into the other dimension then everything went dark for like five minutes, or so it seemed. Then we were back in orbit around Earth.”

“Five minutes, but actually nearly fifty years pass.”

“I guess,” Raymond replied, looking exhausted and scared. Jerry nodded letting Harris and Lee know what Raymond had said was true.

“Fuck,” Harris uttered, sitting back, looking from Raymond to Jerry.

“Can we go home?” Raymond asked, getting Harris’ attention.

Harris looked at him grimacing. “I don’t know, but you can’t go to the home you had. We got your records and…Raymond you died in a car crash west of Titusville and Jerry, you drowned at sea during a fishing trip.”

“They covered up our disappearance,” Jerry uttered, then laughed. He settled down and looked at Raymond. “I doubt anyone from back then is still alive, and if they are…Jesus, they’d be in their eighties, I think.”

Raymond knew what Jerry was suggesting and he turned to Harris.

“Is Bill Rose still alive? He was one of the scientists involved with the mission.”

“I’ll check, for I would like to know more about what was going on with this mission. You said his name is Bill Rose.”

“Actually, it is William…William Scott Rose.”

“The others on the core team were Gabriel Garcia, Jonathan Keith, Steven Matthews, and Shirley James,” said Jerry.

A knock on the door, and Lee climbed to his feet to check it. From the corridor everyone could hear the person.

“Allen Leonard and Sharon Mills from NASA have arrived.”

“Bring them in,” Lee replied, then stepped out of the door frame and closed the door.

“Maybe they can shed some light on this,” said Harris toward Lee.

Allen and Sharon entered the room a few minutes later. Jerry, then Raymond raised their heads, watching them come into the room and take a seat with Lee. Harris stood at the small side table pouring a cup of coffee.

“Anyone else want a cup of coffee or water?” Harris asked with his back still to the room.

Everyone stated they were fine, and it was obvious they were all ready to begin.

“I’m Allen Leonard, and his is Sharon Mills and we are here to offer what assistance we can and to hear firsthand what happened.”

“You tell us,” said Jerry.

“Excuse me?” Allen replied, more from the gruff tone than the statement.

“We knew it was a risky mission, hell all of them are to one degree or another. But we were supposed to go to Mars and back and be home in time for dinner.”

“I haven’t had a chance to see all the files on the mission yet, but we’re getting them from DC and…”

“You don’t have files on the mission?” asked Jerry, getting angrier.

“It was classified and after you disappeared, well, they shut the program down and the files were taken to a secure location and locked away.”

“Jesus; you just swept it away and pretended nothing happened?”

“Sir, I don’t know the mindset of the staff back then, but from what I gather, they were terrified they may have sent you into a realm that was…permanently out of reach.”

“So, now what?” asked Raymond, sounding defeated.

“We access your condition, get your story of what happened and after that, I’m not sure,” said Sharon.

“You don’t know what will happen to us?”

“We’re not going to make you disappear or anything, but you have to understand some protocols have to be set in place,” said Lee.

“So, tell us, what happened?” asked Sharon.

Jerry leaned forward, resolved to have to tell the story again, of the events they had experienced. He started with the launch, how everything went smoothly, putting them in the correct orbit. Then he told them what happened when they disappeared.

“…and you came into orbit around earth thinking you were in 1972?” asked Allen.

“Yeah,” Raymond replied, while Jerry leaned back in his chair with arms crossed indicating he was done talking.

“We contacted Jonathan Keith, and he is flying to California to meet with you.”

“Jonathan? He’ll be California?”

“Yes. He was living in Huntsville, Alabama where he had been working after leaving the Cape.”

“He must be…”

“Seventy-seven.”

Raymond had dared not consider it, and he knew Jonathan was one of the youngest on the mission team, but he had to know.

“What about Bill Rose? William Rose?”

“We’re tracking him down. It seems he left NASA about two years after you disappeared. We had him in California for a few years, then in Boulder where he worked until retiring. We tracked him to the Tennessee mountains, somewhere near a little place called Archville. But he is not answering any calls.”

“Bill is still alive?”

“Yes.”

Raymond tried to process it, how long it had been, the fact Bill was still living and would now be eighty-one. Then he wondered how soon he could get away to go find him.

Raymond had said he wouldn’t do it. Even signed a document stating as much. He slowed, taking the exit ramp for 74 East near Cleveland, Tennessee. He was following the GPS lying on the console, but he could picture the map in his mind. He had studied it so much he could picture how 74 would circle around Cleveland then head east toward Murphy, North Carolina and onward all the way to Wrightsville Beach on the coast. His destination was nowhere near that far away. It was now nearby, before the state line into North Carolina.

He was anxious, but not nearly as much as he had been over the last four months. Four months of debriefings on the mission, of meeting with NASA scientists trying to figure out what happened, pouring over the old mission files and their flight recordings. When Jonathan had shown up in California, it had been a shock. Nearly bald, slightly hunched over, and showing his age. But the old curiosity was there, probably revived by their return. It had been one of the more bearable times while going through everything. Then there were the new identities, or new backgrounds for their names, Jerry and he were able to keep their names. It was assumed no one alive today would know them and if they steered clear of family and any friends that were still alive, they could have a peaceful life. NASA and a defense contractor had made it more enticing by paying them 2.25 million dollars in backpay and setting them up in a house near the Cape.

The next interchange came into view, and he pulled to the right lane to exit. The old Chevelle rumbled as he let it coast, losing enough speed he didn’t need to brake. It wasn’t the car he had when he left. That one got sold off when he was presumed dead. But it was so similar it was like driving the original car. The gas mileage was horrible, made more obvious by the shockingly high cost of fuel, and he knew it didn’t drive nearly as well as the newer cars. He had looked at a Corvette like the one Jerry bought, then he had shopped for other makes, but nothing captured his eye. It was a fluke he had the Chevelle, but he had found a car show going on in Port St John and stopped to check it out. He marveled at how cars of his day were now classics, even models no one back then would have looked twice. A few of the cars were for sale, the owners either at an age they could no longer take care of them, or they had other rebuilds ready to tackle. There had been a 56 Chevy, a 66 Corvette, a 68 Mustang, a 74 Firebird, and along the back row sitting beneath an oak tree, a 68 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396, red over black with a white interior and black carpeting. The price had been just one more shock, but as he looked the car over, sat behind the wheel, then looked under the hood, he knew the man selling it had made himself a deal.

A few miles down the road, Raymond came to a lake at the dam that created it, and the road curved hard left to follow the lake shore. The lake was narrow, one set within the valley and he drove along the side of it until he came to State Road 30 right in a sweeping curve right. He slowed, swung the car onto the state road and accelerated. The road snaked through the mountains, passing homes, a campground, and a church.

Raymond kept trying to think of what to say to Bill as he slowed and accelerated from curve to curve. He had considered trusting someone in NASA to make contact, explain to Bill what had happened and prepare him for his arrival. But he didn’t trust anyone to keep his secret. He was defying protocol and going to meet someone from his past. Someone only Jerry knew was more than one of the guys that was part of the mission.

He finally came to the sign for the community of Archville, and slowed to turn on Greasy Creek Road, wondering how the name came about, picturing all sorts of scenarios involving large amounts of pig fat or some other grease and a silly accident. A hard curve to the right, then one long sweeping curve left brought him into the community. It was nothing but a tighter cluster of houses and where the road ended into another, a church anchored the corner. The GPS showed him turning right, and he turned on the narrow two-lane road wondering if the gadget was working properly. The road left the small community until there was nothing but woods on each side as it followed a valley. He came to a fork, one road cutting off to the right and down a steep grade and the other staying at the same level and following the grade. The GPS said to go right, and Raymond eased onto the road and followed it as it turned south. It was a short distance, just a little over a tenth of a mile, and the GPS said to turn left. He stopped and stared at the narrow gravel road that looked more like someone’s private driveway. Checking the GPS one more time, he eased onto the rough gravel surface accepting the directions for he finally spotted a street sign leaning into the overgrowth on the side of the road. He was close and his heart was racing. What was he going to say? Was there anything he could say for he knew his mere presence would be a staggering thing to see.

He passed a couple of houses wondering how anyone could live so far from anything. He hadn’t seen a gas station since the roadside station he passed before coming upon the lake. It seemed so far down into the woodland, but suddenly there before him, a house in a small clearing. He parked underneath a tree, eased the door closed, and slowly moved toward the house. His mind was a jumble of things he should say, nothing taking priority leaving him still confused on where to begin when he first lays eyes on Bill. He prepares himself, for he knows Bill has just turned eighty-two and it’ll be a shock for him to see how time has passed for him. As he nears the house, he hears the unmistakable sound of wood being chopped. The impact of ax into wood, a short silence, then another. It is coming from the rear of the house, and he veers left to go around to where the noise is coming from.

There he is, Bill Rose, in a denim shirt and jeans. The ax is raised, then brought down with precision, hitting the cut log, splitting it in two. He watches Bill toss the two pieces onto a trailer behind a garden tractor, place another log on top of the wider log section used as a base. Bill steps back into position preparing to swing the ax.

“Bill.”

Bill looks up and freezes. The ax falls to the ground.

“No,” Bill utters just loud enough for Raymond to hear.

“Bill, its me.”

“You…disappeared…they said the ship came apart in the shift, and…”

“We reappeared a few months ago and…Jerry and I thought we came back and it was still 1972, but it was-“

“2021.”

“Yes.”

“Oh god,” Bill uttered going down to his knees.

Raymond rushed to him, going to his knees in front of him. He saw the tears streaming from the eyes, eyes that had not changed with the passage of time. He took Bill’s hands and waited for him to settle down.

“We knew the risks of that fucking mission. God dammit, we were fools,” Bill whispered.

“But we didn’t know how our sense of time would play out.”

Bill pulled one hand free and wiped his eyes, then gave Raymond a small smile. “No shit.”

It was his Bill. Still the same man in ways he couldn’t describe, despite the years. He leaned forward and kissed him, then let their foreheads press together.

“I don’t know how to say this. It has only been a few months for me, but I’ve missed you so much.”

“But I’m an old man now and you…you’re still the young man who got roped into that fucking mission.”

“They told me you never settled down with anyone.”

Bill grimaced, shaking his head. “After what happened and losing you…I felt so guilty, responsible for my part in it-“

“But we all knew it was a dangerous mission.”

“But I was the one that got left behind. The one to feel guilty and try to make sense of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

They sat on their knees, holding hands, and staring at the other, trying to make sense of it.

“Have you had lunch?” Bill asked.

“No.”

“Well, let’s go in and I can warm up some leftovers.”

Bill moved around the kitchen, taking containers out of the refrigerator, then going to the range putting some items in boilers on top, but the roast, he wrapped up and put in the oven. Raymond sat at the small table that was within the kitchen, telling Raymond what happened.

“Neptune? You sure?”

“Oh, yes. When NASA compared our images to their images, which were astonishingly good, there is no doubt where we reappeared.”

“Jesus, that was some swing and a miss. How long were you in orbit?”

“Long enough to make two trips around the planet.”

“Not long at the speed you were going.”

“Then we reengaged the system and came back.”

“To 2021.”

“Yeah.”

Bill had pushed back at first, but Raymond was not going to allow it, and they soon found themselves in Bill’s bedroom. Bill was hesitant at first, and Raymond knew there was a fear about their age difference. He whispered reassuringly to him as he undid the buttons of the shirt. The skin showed its age but overall, Bill was fit, and Raymond kissed each newly exposed area as he had often done before.

When they were naked, both aroused for the other, Raymond lay back, placing his legs on the shoulders. Bill moved over him, and he felt the cock rubbed over his ass, then press against his tight opening. He threw his arms out and clutched at the bed as the cock penetrated him. Slowly, Bill pushed inward stretching him open. Inch after inch bore into his depths until Bill was halfway inside him.

“Bill,” Raymond uttered.

Bill began to fuck, to move over and within Raymond in a manner not experienced in far too long. He pushed deeper and deeper while increasing his pace. The bed began to squeak, to rock with the rhythm of their fuck. Raymond watched Bill, stared into the eyes until the pleasure of their fuck was too much, and he rolled his head back closing his eyes. Moaning and grunting, Bill fucked until Raymond felt his own need for release. He stroked his cock as Bill’s cock piston in his depths, feeling his arousal increase until he wanted to come.

“Raymond,” Bill uttered in a soft cry.

Raymond knew what it meant. The breathless utterance. How Bill shoved into his depths and kept hammering against his upturned ass. Then the familiar shuddering and jerking as Bill filled him with cum.

Raymond lay back and watched Bill settle between his legs and suck his cock. The head moved up and down, slowly, deliberately, stroking his arousal until he cried out and shoved upward. The suctioning mouth took his load.

Day turned into night, and Raymond and Bill lay in bed. They fucked. They napped against one another. Then they fucked again, until Bill was exhausted and spent and Raymond satisfied.

Raymond lay in bed next to the sleeping Bill. He wondered if he could stay, knowing the chances were slim. He stared into the absolute darkness of the room seeing nothing except what his mind created. The time with Bill since arriving. The drive up, moments back in Florida. Then the headache came again. It made him gasp for breath, as it had for the last month. He had asked Jerry if he had them and Jerry said yes, and the frequency was getting worse. He wanted to ask Jerry if he was missing time, waking up from some trance state to find minutes or hours had slipped by unnoticed, but he feared confiding that to Jerry, believing it would be too much of an admittance.

Raymond would have two days before the black van showed up. Six hours later, he would be landing at Titusville-Cocoa Airport. The men who came for him said very little and treated him like an escaped convict. A black car waited for them at the hanger, and he knew it was not a NASA vehicle. It crossed the causeway bridge, then headed south on the parkway. They drove through Courtenay and Sunset Lakes in silence, and Raymond just watched the familiar scenery passing by. The driver got on A1A and took them across Banana River, around Port Canaveral, and back north into Cape Canaveral. They pulled up to a building Raymond had never been to before and parked in a secure parking lot behind it.

“This way, Mr. Nelson,” said the driver as he opened the back door.

“What’s going on?” Raymond asked, knowing something was wrong.

As they crossed the parking lot, a headache struck him, blinding him with pain. He bent over clutching his head, then passed out.

Raymond woke to the sound of beeping, and saw it was a monitor for his vitals. He looked around the room trying to remember where he was at. The room looked like a hospital room, but through the large window facing a nurse’s station, he knew this was no hospital. There were too many monitors, large screens that covered the wall behind it. Then he remembered coming to the Cape and being led toward a building.

A man entered the room in a white lab coat and black framed glasses propped on top of his head. He was dark skinned with black hair and looked Indian.

“Raymond, I’m Dr. Vihaan. How do you feel?”

“I, huh, feel okay.”

“Raymond, you need to tell us what is going on with you.”

“What do you mean?”

Dr. Vihaan frowned, then looked through the window the nurse’s station at another man behind the counter. A slight nod of his head and the other man gave a nod in return.

“Can you sit up?” Dr. Vihaan asked when he turned back to Raymond.

“Yes. I feel fine now.”

“Good. Follow me.”

Dr. Vihaan led Raymond to the next room where Jerry lay strapped down on the bed.

“Why is he tied down?” Raymond asked as he approached the bed, fearing he knew the answer.

“He’s having seizures, bad ones, and headaches to go with them. Before falling into a coma, he admitted to losing time.”

“He’s having seizures?”

“You’re not surprised by the headaches or losing time; you’re suffering the same, aren’t you Mr. Nelson.”

Raymond looked at the doctor and nodded. “What is happening to Jerry…to us?”

“We don’t know.”

“We think the universe is trying to right itself,” said Allen Leonard, coming into the room wearing a white lab coat and carrying a notepad he was scrolling through.

“Excuse me?” Raymond replied.

“An hour ago, Jerry Taylor phased out of existence, then back again. It was only for a few seconds, but I was standing here when it happened. That bed was empty for a few seconds.”

“And you think it will happen to me too?”

“It has already started, hasn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Raymond uttered as he turned back to Jerry.

“We really fucked up, didn’t we?” said Raymond, looking at Allen.

“We messed with something we didn’t understand, so yes, we fucked up.”

Suddenly the air felt charged and the lights blinked on and off. Jerry began to have a seizure, fighting against the straps. Then he was gone.

“Oh shit,” Raymond uttered, then a headache struck, dropping him to his knees. He fell to his side and began to have a seizure. As drool came out of his mouth, he shuddered and jerked around on the floor. Then he phased out, came back, then phased out again.

He was gone.

“…one minute, twenty-six seconds before launch; all systems look good.”

“Jesus,” Raymond exclaimed, suddenly aware again. He was strapped in the Kepler 1. He looked over and saw Jerry looked just as shocked as he felt. “Jerry…didn’t we-“

“Yes; it had to be real. Fuck.”

“What is that Kepler 1?” asked the command center.

Jerry looked at Raymond with real fear in his eyes. He shook his head and mouthed ‘not again’.

“Abort. Repeat, this is Kepler 1, abort,” Jerry exclaimed.

There were debriefings, system analysis that showed no issues, and during it all Jerry and Raymond tried to explain something was wrong with the mission. It was late in the day before they were allowed to go home.

Raymond pulled into the drive, parking next to Bill’s green Camaro. He entered the back door where he could smell dinner cooking. He came into the kitchen to find Bill moving preparing dinner. He dropped his briefcase and rushed him. Wrapped up in a bearhug, he began to cry.

“Hey, what’s the matter? It’s just a scrubbed mission. They’ll reschedule it and…”

“No, they shouldn’t do it, and… I’m not doing it. Neither is Jerry.”

“What? Ray, what happened on the launch pad?”

“I can’t describe it, but that mission is deeply flawed.”

“The monitors show no issues. Nothing. Everyone is asking why Jerry called for the launch to be aborted. They think he got scared and…”

“Bill, get that mission scrubbed.”

“I can’t do that, even if I wanted to.”

Raymond stepped back, wiping his eyes. He stared at Bill and smiled weakly. “I missed you.”

“They must have run Jerry and you through the ringer today. Come on, sit down and we’ll eat. I’ve got it ready.”

The house was quiet except for the moans and grunts and utterances of Raymond and Bill. They were on the bed, naked, aroused, Bill on top of Raymond. Bill moved in that primitive manner, working his hips, driving cock into Raymond’s depths.

Raymond clung to Bill, reassuring himself Bill was truly there, hovering over him, penetrating him. He worked his hips pushing upward what he could, taking every push inward. His own cock was hard and drooling on his stomach as Bill undulated over him.

It was their third time that night. Raymond didn’t want it to end, and Bill had merely chuckled playfully and entered him again.

Bill pulled out. “Roll over.”

“Raymond got to his stomach, with his cock pinned beneath him as Bill moved over his back. Cock penetrated him again and an arm came around neck bearhugging them together. He felt Bill’s hot exhales on his neck, then the kiss of lips. Bill moved over him slowly, body undulating and pushing cock into his depths.

“Don’t stop…keep going,” Raymond uttered.

Raymond moaned as Bill pushed into his depths. The rhythm of their fuck was slow and gentle. Unhurried and intimate. He felt a hot exhale then lips on his neck as cock pushed all the way into his depths.

They didn’t talk as much during sex, the two of them knew the other so intimately there was no need. Bill knew what Raymond liked, what turned him on, and Raymond knew how to spur Bill into action, to arouse him making him want their sex. When to touch and caress and when to be more physical. Raymond felt Bill increase his pace, fucking faster and faster. Then the push inward all the way, hips jamming against his ass, as Bill came inside him.

Bill moved to his side, and he rolled to his back. He was hard, cock leaking, and he watched Bill lean over and take him in the mouth. He shuddered at the feel of the tongue and lips. How they moved up and down his cock until he couldn’t take it. He pushed upward and came, filling Bill’s mouth.

Then they lay back breathing hard. They looked at each other and laughed, for it amused them how after fifty-one years they still aroused the other. How they could tease each other, still be playful, and how they loved to fuck. No, they were not as physical nor did they have the same stamina, but they didn’t care.

Raymond lay next to Bill realizing he knew this person before, long ago, and now he had him again, only this time they had shared a life together. After the aborted mission, then what happened on the launch two years later. After the coverup of the accident and hauling away of all the files to a secure location, they got transferred to Huntsville where they worked until retirement.

Now they lived in the mountains of North Carolina, outside Blowing Rock. Just two elderly men who loved to go into town for lunch or dinner, or drive to Asheville for a couple of days, taking in some new Sci-Fi flick at a cinema or roaming the streets and spending far too much time in bookstores.

“Remember, we’re taking your car in for new tires in the morning,” said Bill.

“I remember,” Raymond replied, smiling at how Bill still took care of him. The one who cooked and loved to spend an hour ironing shirts or outside weeding the flower beds while he sat under the gazebo reading. He knew it was a such good luck, this long life with the one he loved. He tried to imagine what could have been if things had been different. If he and Jerry hadn’t aborted the mission, then refused to do it two years later.

He could still picture the Kepler 1, how it left the launch pad, thunderous like no other launch. It had been perfect, and the Kepler 1 was soon in orbit. The astronauts signaled they were a go, and the system was engaged. Debris rained down into the atmosphere for an hour after the Kepler 1 blew up.

“Bill, let’s swing by that diner for a late breakfast after we drop the Chevelle off.”

“Good idea, and after we eat, we can take the parkway up to the state line. Air out the Camaro for it hasn’t been driven much lately.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~~

~~

Space Disco

[pooce-not-art]

Catherine with Sleepknights + Other supports you can add that you might not think about.

Hii I'm back with another long post, but this time its about the Sleepknights niche! I always love using status effects in video games, and sleepknights is by far my most favorite since you really need to rely on it to do damage. This post isn't about pure sleepknights (AKA: operators that inflict sleep in their kit) It's more about other operators that can fit into sleepknights well + being a small sleepknights overview.

First things first, what does this have to do with Catherine? She doesn't have sleep in her kit! Yes that is true, she's not a true sleepknights member, but she fits insanely well in there as a support and also as a 2nd laneholder, which is something sleepknighs lacks having basically only Blemishine.

The major reason is her S1 and how her barrier works. How it works is that any operator being supported by her device will get a barrier equal to a % of Catherine's max hp and an atk + def buff if she has s1 + the operator has barrier. The thing of note is that Barrier only regens if the operator hasn't taken damage in 5 seconds. You can regenerate it with Catherrine's S2 but then you won't get the 15% atk/def buff from her s1.

This is where Sleep comes in. You can technically also use stun or freeze, however stuns tend not to last long enough and freeze is the hardest to get consistently mostly requiring Gnosis. Be warned that sleep is the most resisted status. So this might not work at all depending on the elite and boss. You can always check in the enemy viewer.

Almost every source of sleep that the player can inflict has a minimum of 5 seconds at lvl 7. This means that no matter what, as long as all the attacking enemies are asleep, Catherine's device will be able to recharge a little. One of the two exceptions to this is the Terra Research Commission who can roll one second sleep on their talent. The other is Grainbuds S2 which requires at least a level of mastery for it to last 5 seconds. Other than these 2 exceptions, all sources of sleep including Blemishine's ModX Talent upgrade last at least 5 seconds. Most of these sources last for longer which just mean more time for the barrier to recharge.

But as you can see you can pretty reliably get barrier and that +15%atk/def buff onto Blemishine by just spamming their skills(which is what you do in sleepknights anyways) The barrier does not apply to summons or pseudo-summons so no super slumberfoot.

The other Operator I would like to mention is using Spuria with Erato.

Before you ask, Aak still requires the standard Aak setup for her to survive. Catherine's barrier is nowhere near enough even with Mod3 S2M3 Spuria just requires less people.

Erato does want ASPD for her s1 and even at lvl 7, Spuria's s2 gives Erato enough time to get 2 shots off before the sleep runs out even if you got unlucky with a stun.

This lets 3 of her shots ignore 60% of defense (50% without module) instead of the standard 2. (I think Erato's foreswing of 16 frames is short enough for this to not actually matter in the first place, due to besiegers having a 2.4(1.8-1.7 with aspd buff) second attack interval and Spuria's stun only lasting 2-1.8 seconds max). In addition, Erato's S1 has pretty poor scaling on masteries going from 215%@lvl7 to 240%@m3 so getting an Atk buff helps a lot.

S2 is her main sleepknights skill as it has her prioritize sleeping targets to take advantage of her monstrous 60% def ignore on them.

Its basically just a better Swift strike gamma giving 50% atk and 50 aspd at m3 while having a really good 20s uptime 25s downtime. She benefits less from spuria here than just like Warfarin since she has aspd and atk basked into her kit. With spuria s2M3 she gets a really nice +80%Atk +90 aspd though, so idk just get lucky and not hit the 20% chance of 1.8s stun

I did some calculations using this equation which calculates the DPS: (BaseAtk *[1.0 + AttackBuffs])/(2.4/(1.0 + ASPDBuffs))

With this, plugging my Erato's 1065 atk stat, I calculated her using s2 by itself as : 998.43 Warfarin's S2M3 90% atk buff: 1597.5 A 60% increase Spuria's S2M3 You "miss" 1/5 shots : 1398.73 A 40% increase. Btw if you hit all of spuria's shots its only a 52% increase Missing all but 1 shot is a 13% atk increase but thats unlikely

However Spuria's buff lasts the entire skill duration of 20 seconds, and has a smaller sp charge duration of 40 so you can buff every other s2 with her module which reduces the time to 32 seconds. You can also do this for warfarin if you manage to find a spot where the enemies are dying, but you're somehow not getting anyone else in her range. Also the standard "Spuria is an actual unit that can attack and do things argument". I would say that she's easier to use and has more dps in the long run, esp since erato tends to not kill everything on s2. Its still a single target attack that gets most of its benefits from hitting sleeping targets. It applies, just a lot less since she won't be attacking the enemies as much. Sleepknighs also doesn't tend to have healing issues with Blemishine s2 and Sora s1 so Spuria should be above 80% hp for her module trait. But ofc Warf is prolly better since she can buff more than 1 class.

In all, I think Catherine adds a nice buffer to sleepknights that doesn't take away from what makes it special (Blemishine sweeps), same with Spuria they just let the existing operators perform a little better.

[oftwigandbone]

I have had an exhausting week. I am glad I found a way to download the conference videos, because there's just no way I would have been able to watch them all in the allotted timeframe. Work wasn't too bad besides Tuesday, but my step-dad has been having some major pain in his hip and after two emergency room visits they still don't know what it is, that and the news has been taking up space in my brain.

My main goal for the week was to get some studying done despite the conferences going on, and I did manage that much at least. The module we're on now is hepatic herbs and bitters, and it's been so interesting so far. I'm still behind on meeting all the herbs we've talked about, but I prefer to go slowly and take my time with each one than to rush through them. I have six more plants to learn in this module, a test, and then I can do my final exam for this first part of the course!!

It's probably too ambitious to try and get that done over the weekend, but if I can that would be a relief because I'm still technically behind and the nutrition course starts soon so I'd like to be fully caught up before then but I don't know if it's possible.

Other news, I've been working for the last two weeks on trying to get an Etsy shop going. I wanted to sell some of the tea blends that I work with and resources for herbalism students like an herbal journal that I've been designing, but I keep hitting roadblocks with them.

I send my ID for verification three weeks ago, then contacted their support two weeks ago when I still hadn't received word back about it (I'm in Canada, we only have email support here no chat or phone). Finally two days ago they started replying back to me, but now they're saying they can't accept my identification because it's a health card.

Well, I live in Quebec. That is our government ID, because we have universal healthcare and it is mandatory, so there is no point in having another government ID. I don't drive or travel so I don't have a driver's ID or passport, and they're saying that they won't accept anything else. I offered to send them SSN and birth certificate, but they haven't responded yet. I'm sure it doesn't help that I'm trans, so my face "doesn't match" my gender/name.

It sucks because I've been putting a lot of work into the things I wanted to sell. I wasn't plan on making a ton of money or anything, just a few dollars here and there to help offset the cost of my classes. I know you can sell things on Ko-Fi and I think that includes physical products, not sure about tea, but I could at least put up the journal there. It will still be a couple more weeks before it's ready anyway, but ugh... discouraging haha. Maybe things will resolve themselves before then.

[toskarin]

genuine question, is calling mods modules instead of modifications something unique to the warband modding scene or unique to you

they're modules because Mount&Blade handles things by loading a single bundle of files that represent the actual content of the game each time you launch. every module is, in theory, its own game (this is how most older games with mod support worked for what that's worth)

there are some mods that aren't modules, meant to be patched over modules, but you can't have multiple modules running at the same time because each module is its own complete package

so every unofficial module is a mod, but not every mod is a module

the basegame is also technically a module, which is why the default selection is "Native"

[jadelemonadee]

give me a complex rundown of samuels personality in your mind when i say complex i mean complex like 3 paragraphs

shiiiit okay here we go fasten your seatbelts (guys idk if i’ll be able to stretch this shit out into three paragraphs but I DID get the best score on my essay about bottled water for a standardized test soo…,) also im going to be stealing a lot of stuff from genius annotations and other things beware

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO so how i see him personally is just this annoying, stuck up guy who is the #1 george III glazer (/j) + he views himself as above the revolutionists and sees them as these vulgar barbarians who are trying to lead people to “the dark side” (don’t let them lead you astray) BUUUT although he acts all righteous, hamilton pushes him off of that high horse of his (and almost his box…,literally) with his AWESOME EPIC WITTY writing and argumentative skills showing that seabury wasn’t even all that in the first place (and NOT ELOQUENT!!!! cmon man you can’t be acting all high and mighty and then epically lose a debate to someone young enough to be your son HUMBLE YOURSELF BEFORE THAT 19 YEAR OLD DOES IT FOR YOU😭😭) another thing ive noticed is that whenever hamilton speaks there’s little to no instruments in the background maybe showing that he doesn’t even need music for support of his arguments and to completely obliterate samuel (just listen to the instrumental trust…….idk where im going with this alright it’s 12:10 as im typing this part)

okay some other things i want to add are little details about this whole shabang like how seabury’s accent seems almost forced, as if he’s trying to create similarities between him and the beloved figure of his majesty (/sar 😛) and the fact that seabury went by the name A.W. farmer in his papers about the revolution which IN THE MUSICAL could maybe be another example of my previous point since one of the king’s nicknames was “farmer george” (although as far as i know it was used some with political satirists….SAMUEL FCS DO SOME RESEARCH BEFORE MAKING YOUR KING GEORGESONA OR SMTH😭😭😭) secondly i really like the detail that lin had both seabury and the king’s songs both include instruments like the harpsichord + they both use formal vocabulary meanwhile The Revolution People (TM) use more modern slang + instruments in their songs, showing the growing contrasts and conflicts between the loyalists and patriots!!!! so cool we love you LMM anywho also the fact that seabury soon realizes after hamilton starts interrupting him that he won’t be able to beat hamilton with words so he might as well try to physically get ahead of him (pushing the box in front of him ect ect) and then doing his big “FOR SHAME” near the end as a last resort, “modulating the key” as they call it /j (this one was said by thayne himself) lastly just the fact that you can hear the guys making barking and whining noises after hamilton makes his epic mange joke….,,like that’s so silly i love that for them

i did it i technically did three paragraphs ARE YOU HAPPY ANON /j

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I waffled a bit about making this but I don't have much else to be doing and it is only 10:30 in the morning and I already feel like I've been up for 22 hours so let's talk about Shu S3 versus Saria S3.

An important note I'm going to bring up here is that while Shu S3 is very good, it does technically lose out on heal coverage to Blemishine S3 under ideal circumstances. A Blemishine who is constantly attacking and taking pressure will cycle through her skill way faster than Shu ever will, even with her talent in play. It is a bit difficult to compare Blemishine's Offensive + Defensive recovery skills to an Automatic Recovery skill on principle though, and IMO the skills are meant to do different things. Blemishine's S3 is meant to turn her into an offensive threat while giving her the stats she needs to tank enemies. Shu is a healer and support unit. They aren't working on the same axis.

In looking at Shu's S3 compared to Saria's S3, I'm going to compare them directly. They are built in a lot of ways to do exactly the same things, with Shu being a much newer version of Saria's skill. I'll be comparing them on:

Range of their skills

SP Cost

Healing efficacy

Buffing capabilities

Support capabilities

Crowd Control

Range

If we compare the ranges of Shu's S3 to Saria's S3, Saria's range is bigger, having four more tiles of access than Shu. Shu does get the ability to cover a ton of tiles with her Sowing, however, so the range advantage is pretty marginal for Saria.

SP Costs

The biggest advantage for Shu is the SP costs of their skills. Saria's skill will be faster on deployment, taking only 10 seconds to charge compare to Shu's 15, but Shu's 45 SP cost on her S3 means it will be active a little less than twice as often as Saria's S3. This is huge for Shu, as one of Saria's problem is that she doesn't have great coverage with her S3, and so this skill often takes a back seat to S1 or S2 if you're using Saria for healing reasons.

Healing Efficacy

Shu blows Saria pretty much completely out of the water. She has a HPS of roughly 1,289 with her talent going at max power, and it's even higher if she's healing a target with under 50% HP. Saria's skill will usually only heal roughly 275 HP a second, bumping to 316 with her GUA-X module trait, and 286 HP a second with her GUA-Y module, and this is assuming she's been on the battlefield for the full 90 seconds she needs to reach that juicy passive +40% ATK buff. Shu's passive 85 HP/s regen and 17% Sanctuary really makes the comparison worse. Mitigation is damage you didn't need to heal after all.

Buffing Capabilities

Shu's advantage here is that she will buff operators no matter what damage type they are using: Physical, Arts, True, Elemental, they all benefit from Shu's buffs. Saria, however, provides better numbers for Arts damage, and this might initially seem like it shouldn't be true. For an Arts operator, Shu's buffs would give them an additional 56.25% DPS, which is better than Saria...by a very slight amount. But, this is assuming an operator has no ATK or ASPD buffs active at that time.

Let's take Haze for a minute as a clear example of this. Haze's normal DPS with her S2 active is 1,092.8 damage per second. Haze over the course of her skill deals about 25k damage, which is not too shabby for a 4-star! With Shu's buffs, her DPS will improve to 1,461.0, which is an impressive jump! However, it is only a 33.69% improvement on her damage, because the ATK and ASPD buffs get diluted by diminishing returns. Saria meanwhile always gives a 55% improvement on DPS, because her buff is a damage multiplier, which is applied after the other parts of the damage calculation.

So is Saria better for buffing Arts damage? The answer, genuinely, is that it depends. Saria will often give you the biggest numbers possible, but Shu has better cycle times with her buffs that Saria does. If you need your buffs to align better or you need them more often, Shu is definitely going to be the pick. If you need a big burst damage moment or your DPS points are far enough apart, Saria will be better.

Support Capabilities

Strictly speaking, neither S3 really supports outside of buffs, but the benefit from talents is important here. You need to compare Shu's Sowing with Saria's SP generation talent. Shu's tiles will give an 85 HP regen and 17% Sanctuary buff, while Saria will provide 1-2 SP every time she heals. This is another point where Saria really isn't strictly better or worse than Shu is. Shu's talent remains actively constantly, and provides an ok regen along with some damage mitigation. Saria's talent only applies if the target is healed (if they are at full SP, they do not gain SP) and can be tricky to set-up, but potentially triples the speed in which they will be able to access their skill. A common skill pairing is Saria and Shalem, which have great synergy with each other. Shalem's skill is Defensive Recovery, and burns most of his HP away. Shalem's HP is just high enough that he will recover most if not all of the SP he needs off of Saria's 10 heals, at which point he can activate his skill during the last 20 seconds and take full advantage of Saria's buff. Stages with DoT are great for Saria, who can pump an entire squad full of yummy SP.

Crowd Control Capabilites

Saria and Shu both have access to potent crowd control abilities, with Saria having access to a chunk movement speed reduction while Shu has access to her teleportation gimmick. Shu's teleportation is a bit difficult to understand from her description, but essentially, if an enemy steps onto a sowed tile while Shu has skill active, and then moves 2 tiles away from the original tile, they will be teleported directly back to where they started.

Two tiles seems like a lot, but remember that enemies typically enter a tile from its edge, and suddenly Shu's crowd control aspects become very powerful. If Shu has a sowed tile 2 tiles in front of the objective box, enemies will not be able to enter the objective box for the entire 30 seconds her skill is active. They'll just reach the edge of the box but not enter it before being teleported back. This makes Shu a much better crowd control option than Saria, although Saria is not bad by any means. This skill has a TON of unintended interactions with various boss and enemy gimmicks, on top of clustering enemies very tightly together and making them vulnerable to AoE and splash damage.

It's really good. I initially wrote this off as a funny gimmick ability but it's a great piece of crowd control and makes Shu a much more well rounded operator for having it.

Conclusion

It's often the case in gacha games, and typically in any long running game content, that after four and a half years, game pieces released by this point thoroughly outclass game pieces released at launch. Is Shu better than Saria? Yes, for the most part. But it is worth saying that Shu does not necessarily completely replace Saria. Saria has good niches to fit in as a support operator in her very powerful Arts damage buff and SP charging capabilities, but even more than that there is an entire conversation to be had about Saria's better ability to tank physical damage. Saria can have almost 1000 DEF with her talent at full power and has a 15% damage reduction on top of that.

In addition, Saria is definitely better at using her S1 than Shu is, thanks to her higher ATK and SP charging capabilities. It's not a huge niche but Saria's S1 packs a pretty potent punch that Shu's doesn't.

Shu's S3 is definitely mostly better, but Saria has moments where she shines and Shu does not.