#at least in those first couple years. then he starts the colonialism and the planet murder and it’s a little more obscure to me

[meat-loving-meat]

To be completely fair to John Gaius. The intense, searing hatred I personally hold for the richest on this planet is kind of unparalleled. They are the ones who hold my head under the water of poverty. They are the ones pouring gasoline on the fire of climate change (climate change that will affect only the least fortunate on this planet, not them). They are the ones who wake up every day and choose to make these problems worse. They could so easily save us and they never, ever will.

If the world-saving project I had devoted my entire being to had its funding pulled in favor of something else, something that will not work and transparently exists as an escape hatch for the mega rich, I don’t think there is a word for the kind of rage I would feel.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Looking for feedback: Sneak Peak into "Supernova Initiative"s Prologue Chapters

Hey, guys! Officially started the first draft and am looking for some feedback for the Prologue of this WIP!!! So I'm sharing a snippet from that part of the story here and I hope you guys can provide me some insight/feedback on what you think of it!

Also, consider this as an invite/tag for you guys to make Sneak Peaks of your WIPs if you want! I'll try my best to provide feedback too.

Please share feedback on replies/reblogs!

Important Context: The Prologue chapters take place around ten years before the main story of the WIP takes place. Those chapters serve to establish character backstory and showcase how the MCs became the characters they are in the main story - which takes place almost ten years later, where all the MCs have become famous outlaws. Each backstory chapter follows important events of the MCs past, and establishes who they used to be before. (However, only the Jack & Cassie backstory chapter is a part of the prologue, all the other backstory chapters are peppered throughout the book). In this backstory chapter Jack is 15-years-old, Cassie is 8-years-old and Deimos 16-years-old. (In the Main Story, ten years later, Jack is 25, Cassie 18, and Deimos 26)

Prologue - Jack Tithus's Backstory

Ch 1 - We’ll Make It to the Other Side

CETHEA III - TEN YEARS AGO

One could say Jack Tithus was having a bad day - in fact, he had been having ‘a bad day’ for the past couple of years. Thanks to the Junction, Jack and his sister hadn’t had the concept of a ‘home’ or ‘money in a long, long while. That was the reality for most of the mismatched families that managed to make it in Cethea III - the third and most forsaken moon of a frozen planet, Ivion. A Junction mining colony, where poverty and crime run amok, while the government strips their supplies dry day by day.

Good salaries were a far-gone illusion that Jack, and pretty much everyone else who called this broken moon a home, had long since forgotten. Right now, Jack took what he could get - and as things grew dire, started accepting gigs and odd jobs from lowlifes and mobsters of all kinds, having long since been familiar with their moon’s bustling and cutthroat underworld. Yes, he was an errand boy for criminals, but at least it put food on his sister’s plate - and on especially lucky days, on his too.

Today was not gonna be either of those days, apparently. 

 “Hey, what the fuck?!” Jack counted and recounted the pitiful amount of units Zeke, the thug sitting leisurely on the swivel chair beyond the grimy desk, had tossed to him. He could not believe his eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not lunge across the desk and strangle the smugness right out of the guy’s face here and now. He didn’t even get a quarter of the price they’d settled on the day before.

Jack hit the desk with his hand, rattling the cheap metal in his anger. “I did the job. It was so fucking dangerous, but I did it. Got the merchandise past those stupid guards at the Station. You said you’d pay me in full.”

The man across the desk burst into laughter. “And you were stupid enough to believe me?” Zeke mocked, lighting a neon-blue cigarette and leaning back on the chair “I just needed someone desperate and gullible enough to smuggle those parts to my clients. You fit the bill like a glove.”

Jack fumed, staring daggers at the man. “Oh yeah, Zeke? Well, I think maybe a broken nose would fit your face quite nicely.” His words came out with a bite to them and he closed his hands into fists “You sure talk a lot of game for someone who needs a teen to do your dirty work.”

At that, Zeke’s eyes turned dangerous. He took one slow, long drag from his glowing cigarette, letting the cyan smoke billow from his mouth lazily. At a motion from his head, two figures stepped out from the shadows behind Jack, seemingly out of nowhere. “If I were you,” Zeke began, coldly “I’d be grateful for the scraps and call it a day before you find some real trouble. You’re treadin’ on thin ice here, being this mouthy on Onyx Striker territory.”

The young man didn’t move, but he could see - from the corner of his eye - the guns glimmering on the duo’s holsters, ready to be drawn. The unspoken threat caused his bravado to falter - he swallowed nervously. Jack couldn’t afford the risk, he couldn’t leave Cassie all alone in the slums. Kids didn’t last long on their own around here, and when they did, it was at a cost. He couldn’t get himself killed for something stupid, as much as his pride told him to fight. 

Swallowing his anger and all the instincts that told him to stand his ground. One last time, he tried to bargain, but this time more controlled. His attention didn’t leave the two thugs lurking behind him. “This isn’t enough, you know I have a sister -”

Zeke cut him off. “Eh, cry me a river.” The man took another drag of glowing smoke, and Jack instinctively held his breath - out of anxiety and rage combined “Fuck if I care, that ain’t a problem of mine. The brat’s yours. Ain’t none of my business and I ain’t wasting even more money on you.” The man dismissed him with a scowl, waving to the door vaguely. “Now scram, kiddo, before I  change my mind and take back those units we already gave ya. I’m growing bored.”

Jack took in a sharp breath, instinctively clutching the small pouch of coins tighter, knowing they could be taken away at any moment. He glared at the thug for a moment longer, before relenting. “... Fine.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning around and pushing past the two men stationed behind him, storming out of the greasy and now smoke-filled office. “Stingy fucker.” Jack mumbled, mind racing faster than a hoverbike, a million thoughts a second. He didn’t look over his shoulder nor slow down his pace until the mob-owned building was far behind him. 

As he trudged through the dusty, bustling streets and alleyways, he scrambled to figure out what he was going to do next. 5 units wouldn’t even be enough to pay for half a meal in the greasiest, cheapest diners of this settlement. It wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Jack wanted to curl up and die at the thought of telling Cassie they were gonna have to skip dinner tonight. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair with a drawn-out groan, trying to come up with good enough excuses that wouldn’t sound like blatant lies to a genius 8-year-old. The best he could come up with were excuses he’d already used a million times before. Which didn’t help at all. 

Turning a corner around a quieter part of the slums, he made his way to the local junkyard. He knew the path with his eyes closed by now. Cassie loved the place - to her, it was like a playground where she could build as many bots as she wanted, and to him, it was a safe enough hiding spot for when he had to leave her unattended. He hoped to all the stars he knew that she had stayed put for the past seven hours like he told her to. She usually did.

Climbing over the broken chain fence wasn’t much of an effort, nor was finding a way to maneuver through the assortment of scrap metal and broken spaceship parts. After a minute or so of walking, he spotted a familiar head of blue-dyed hair barrelling toward him, as small arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

He let the resentment and anger he’d been feeling before wash away for a brief moment, thankful that his sister was here, and that she was okay. With an arm still wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close, they began to make their way out of the junkyard. 

Jack avoided the pressing subject of dinner, pushing it to the back of his head after giving up looking for solutions where there were none. Meanwhile, he asked something else, “Did you have a good day, Cass?”

The girl, who was skipping along beside him, holding onto his arm, nodded. “I did, I think. Got bored after a while because you were so late, so I went for a walk in the city. Was pretty fun.”

Jack bit back the knee-jerk instinct to berate her for wandering into that settlement alone, “Yeah?” He hummed instead, in a kind tone, injecting optimism into his answer despite his every thought  “That’s good. A bit risky though, but sounds fun indeed! Did any of the other kids give you any trouble?” They stopped by the broken fence once more, and Jack gave her a boost to get over it, before following suit with ease. 

Once on the other side of the fence, standing once more at an alley, Cassie answered, holding his hand “Not really. Some older kids were being loud and causing trouble at a pub. Didn’t go near them though.”

Jack sighed in relief, “Good,” He nodded at her “You did the right thing, never get involved with those sorts, ever. They could hurt you.”

He wasn’t sure if Cassiopeia was listening, as she seemed pretty focused on following the cracks on the concrete, walking over them like someone tracing a line on the floor. Jack found it cute and didn’t bother repeating himself at the moment. 

They wandered aimlessly for a while, taking the ‘scenic route’ - if one could call anything on this heap of space rubble scenic - around the settlement. Jack was in no hurry to find somewhere to stop, as it would mean facing that subject, so he simply let Cassie ‘guide’ him around town. 

Eventually, after crossing a tight street, weaving their way through passersby, vehicles, and robots alike, the siblings reached one of the city’s few ‘plazas’. Calling the place ugly and unsightly would be an understatement, but at least it allowed for freer movement than the cramped alleyways behind him. 

However, a commotion drew their attention, and Jack skidded them to a halt. An armored Junction airship was landed in the middle of the square, surrounded by officers in their tight, grey uniforms. A man, who seemed in his mid-thirties, could be seen struggling against the soldiers, clutching some kind of bag in hand. He must’ve stolen something - and by the looks of it, that something was food. A quick punch from one of the Sentries ended the struggle, and as the man doubled over in pain, his arms were quickly restrained in cuffs, the bag swiftly removed from his grasp as the officers pushed him towards the vehicle.

Jack felt his heart tighten in sympathy but began walking in the opposite direction, gesturing for Cassiopeia to follow quietly. The last thing he wanted was for the Sentries to turn their attention towards them, once they were capturing that poor man. Jack knew how Junction Sentries functioned - and he knew you didn’t have to do anything wrong to be put under their aim. You just had to be born here - that was enough to earn their disdain.

Once the commotion was out of sight and the sounds of sirens gave way to the familiar buzz of the city’s center, with voices overlapping, cars flying past and a myriad of other familiar sounds filling their senses, Jack muttered bitterly, under his breath, to no one in particular “I can’t wait for us to get outta here. I hate this fucking place.”

Still holding onto his hand, Cassie seemed to have caught onto his words, despite all the background noise. “Mhm.” She hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to his arm. Before he could reply, she skipped a few stones on the ground as if she were playing hopscotch, each jump punctuating her words, “Got us some snacks though!”

Jack couldn’t believe his ears, blinking rapidly at the concept “You… you did?”

Cassie didn’t look over her shoulder, still skipping stones “Yep.” She answered simply, apparently blissfully unaware of the importance of what she just said “Saw some folks at this fancy eatery-place throwing out a box of tarts because they didn’t sell the week before. It’s a bit stale but tastes good enough.”

Jack could sob in relief right now - in fact, he almost did, barely holding onto his composure by a thread as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stopped walking for a moment, simply basking in this moment, watching her absentmindedly skipping around ahead of him after basically saving their night. After a second, he caught up to her once more, playfully ruffling her hair. 

She giggled, batting at his hand and combing down her now-tousled hair. Jack smiled down at her. “You’re the best, Cassie. Did you know that?”

Cassiopeia looked up at him with bright, mischievous eyes. “Mhm. I’m pretty amazing.” She beamed, proud of herself. 

Jack laughed, nodding “That’s the Cassie I know.”

As they continued walking down the empty, Cassiopeia always skipping and running ahead, Jack enjoyed the feeling of a weight lifted from his shoulders, for a split second, before the feeling returned tenfold once they walked into another alley. There were droplets of what looked like blood splattered on the concrete - and before he could tell Cassie to slow down and get away, she’d already turned the corner. That same corner. The one with the blood. 

His heart skipped a beat, “Cassie, wait-!” He yelled as he ran after his sister, ready to yank her away from whatever was waiting for them in that alley, but stopped in his tracks once he turned the corner. There, hidden behind a metal trashcan and broken containers, was someone. Someone around his age, who looked a little more than worse for wear. 

“...Is he dead?” Came his sister’s blunt question, shaking him from his shocked ‘trance’. Jack watched the strange kid intently for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he tried to gauge whether or not the other was dead or alive. The boy didn’t seem quite completely conscious, but they didn’t look dead either. 

“I…” Jack stammered. “I, um, I’m not quite sure myself.” His answer was as unsure as he himself was right now. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to grab his sister and get them both away from this place and this random person right now. But another portion of him seemed to claim that it wouldn’t be right. His conscience, apparently. 

“Maybe we should just go away…” Jack said, tentatively trying to ignore his better judgment, tugging on Cassie to come back near him. The eight-year-old looked outraged and heartbreakingly sad at the same time. 

“But he’s hurt!” She protested, pointing at the limp figure near the wall “He needs our help. We can’t just leave.” Then she added, with big, sad eyes, like a puppy “You always say we should be kind to others. That we should help those we can help,” By the looks of it, and the sound of her voice, she knew exactly what she was doing. And Jack hated that it was working.

“Ugh, don’t you turn my words against me,” He complained, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. She continued staring up at him, and there was a long moment of silence - Jack didn’t want to budge, and neither did Cassie. Eventually, her puppy-eyes won. Jack groaned. “Fine, fine. But if I get stabbed, I say it’s your fault” He says, half-heartedly poking at her, to which Cassie answered by sticking out her tongue at him and making a face. 

Moving toward the other teenager, Jack could see a bit more of their appearance - they weren’t human, that much was clear. Bright blue skin, long ears, dark blue hair. As the stranger's mouth was slightly agape, Jack could see a row of small fang-like teeth peeking from it. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, he closed the distance and knelt down beside the stranger. From what he could tell, this kid was a Zatrian - a humanoid species native to the tundra deserts of the planet below - who had somehow ended up battered and bruised on a grimy alleyway in Cethea III. Someone else was also having a very bad day, it seems. That level of irony wasn’t lost in him.

Jack, hesitantly, reached forward, giving the figure’s shoulder a gentle nudge. The other boy whined softly in discomfort but didn’t seem to rouse. He tried again, with slightly more strength “Hey, can you hear me? Hello?” Jack asked as he shook the other’s shoulder a few times. It seemed that the figure would remain unresponsive, but when Jack was about to give up, the boy finally stirred, eyes blinking open with a groan of pain. 

Grey eyes, first glazed over with pain and confusion, then filled with a look of sheer dread and panicked rage that Jack knew all too well, met his. The boy stumbled backward with a sudden jerk, which caused him to hit his head on the wall behind him. He didn’t seem to mind, curling into himself as tightly as he could, pressed against the wall. The figures’ eyes flitted between Jack, who was still kneeling near him, and Cassie, who was standing a few feet away. 

Unsure of what to do, Jack withdrew his hand, instead raising it in a placating gesture. “Take it easy” He murmured, in a clear voice “We’re not here to hurt you.” Jack hoped his words were reassuring, but the figure’s face remained frozen in the same shock and fear as before - so he had no way of knowing if the boy even understood him. 

Finally, after a drawn-out while that felt like an eternity, the alien boy spoke. “...Who are you?” His voice was weak and fearful, carrying a sharp accent “What do you want with me?” His face scrunched up into what was supposed to be a menacing look, but he only looked more anxious. 

Jack answered, using the same calming voice as he used when Cassie had nightmares. It usually worked. “I’m Jack, and this is Cassiopeia.” He gestured to himself and then to his sister, with a friendly smile. Cassie waved at the other boy, who seemed even more confused, “We stumbled into you - not literally, but y’know what I mean - and you looked like you needed help. You seem pretty hurt.”

The boy seemed torn between giving into relief or succumbing to fight-or-flight instincts and trying to dart away. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, looking at Jack suspiciously. He looked like he was trying so hard to force himself to trust his words, but seemed too scared to do it. “...Why?” The boy asked. 

Jack stammered awkwardly. “Well, um… I dunno. It’s the right thing to do, I guess, and my sister would be pretty sad if I didn’t help someone who needs help out. Anyways, who are you? By that I mean, what’s your name?”

There was silence, and for a moment, Jack thought the boy simply wouldn’t answer, but then, finally, he did. “D-Deimos,” The boy said, in a small, anxious tone “Deimos Soll. That’s my full name.”

Jack smiled. “Nice to meet you.” He said, out of force of habit more than anything else, “You’re from Ivion, right? The planet this moon orbits? If so. Um. How did you end up…?” Jack gestured to their surroundings and then to Deimos, vaguely. 

Deimos, slowly, ever so slowly, uncurled himself from where he was pressing up against the wall, but still seemed tense like a string ready to snap. His eyes seemed distant for a moment, confused and terrified at the same time, and Jack instantly knew that, whatever the answer was, it wasn’t going to be anything good. He briefly wondered if he should have even asked this question, but the boy finally answered. “Bad people. Raiders.” There was a quiver to his chin, “There was so much blood. So much. Raiders said they would sell me.” Deimos started to hyperventilate, trying to catch his breath “... I don’t remember… I don’t remember how I escaped. I- I don’t know anymore -”

Jack didn’t need a full explanation to get the picture, to understand what the boy meant. Without saying a word, Jack pulled Deimos into a hug, for reasons he could not comprehend - an action that surprised both of them, mostly himself. Jack never trusted people like this. Usually, he would have suspected any story was a lie. But somehow, he felt a sense of understanding. He thought for a second that the alien boy would push him away, but then, he felt two skinny, long arms wrap around him, hesitantly but surely.

The other teenager melted into his hug, and Jack realized that was probably the first kind physical contact Deimos had had in a long while. The boy’s tears wet his shirt, and Jack was unsure of what to do, but he let Deimos hold onto him for as long as he needed. After a few minutes, Jack let go and put his hand on the other’s shoulder “I’m sorry for what happened to you. If what you say is the truth, no one deserves to go through something like that. Seriously.” He turned to look at Cassie, who was looking at them with a mix of confusion and awe. She gave him a thumbs up, and Jack chuckled. He considered his next words very carefully but ultimately decided to give it a shot. “So, this is gonna sound really weird, but what do you say we stick together? Like friends.” He stretched out a hand, waiting for Deimos’ answer. 

The alien boy’s eyes glowed with joy, and he seemed more aware than before. “...Really?!” He asked, seemingly overjoyed at the concept “You would help me? I would be so thankful. But at the same time … why?” Deimos tilted his head to the side, confusedly. 

Jack shrugged. “Well, we don’t really have anybody else. You’re all beaten up, we’re hungry, and there’s no one to look out for kids like us. Maybe we could look out for each other. It would be nice to have a friend, someone who gets it. Just a random idea, what do you say?”

Without a second thought, Deimos grasped his stretched-out hand, latching onto it like a lifeline. Somehow, despite this being a random kid he just met, Jack felt as if a silent pact, a bond, was being made right here and now. Jack helped Deimos up, supporting him until he was sure the other had gained his footing. With his free hand, he motioned for Cassie to follow. 

Once she saw that Jack trusted the other boy, for some reason, Cassie came running towards them, tugging on Deimos’ shirt and almost making him lose his balance. She had a bright, kid-like smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Cassie. Jack told you already, I saw, it’s nice to meet another kid who is nice to us! Why do you look blue? Are you made of ice? I heard that Ivion is made of ice, are you too? I like the winter, winter’s nice…” Her endless string of questions continued into almost unintelligible rambles. Deimos looked at Jack as if asking for emergency help in handling whatever that was, Jack chuckled, starting to walk slowly so that the other could keep up with him. “Get used to it, haha,” He said playfully “There is oh, so much more where that came from.”

Deimos keened slightly “Why am I already reconsidering our partnership?” He said, this time with a mischievous smirk. Jack knew they were on the same page, and chuckling, continued walking them both out of the alley, as Cassie rambled on ahead of them about her knowledge of planets, stars, and constellations.

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[peoplecallmelucifer]

“Are you sure you want keep going” a man said with a stern face “Try me“ replied the alien with a smile The room was quiet as the stern look on the man’s face relaxed into a smile “Straight flush“ “wh-HOW!“ the alien howled “I was sure you’re bluffing“ “Oh I was“ “You... you sneaky ass. you wanted me to go all in!“ “Used your perceptivity against you, didn’t I. Good thing we didn’t play with real money“ “Haha, I must concede, you are good with your words, and body language. Much better than most humans“ “Well, I gotta be. You can’t have  diplomat lose their head on an alien planet“ “You are not gonna let me forget the cat incident will you Lawrence“ Rana sighed “Never“ Lawrence smiled mischievously as he got up It has been five years since first contact and due to her Xenoculturologyst expertise and involvement in the first contact Rana was offered the status of Galactic assembly Ambassador on Earth. I has been Stressful and exciting five years but as her final act as Ambassador she was tasked with presenting a human envoy to the General assembly. 

This was not an easy task since one of Ranas first mission is to establish how a species that should be on the level of hunter-gatherers, or  early farmers at best has managed to reach the stage of early spaceflight at the time of first contact and managed to start colonies across their star system within her 5 year tenure. Rana did not have an explanation but she did have Lawrence. Her consultant, friend and a cause for around countless practical jokes in her embassy, some of which almost costed him his job.

“Want anything to drink R“ “Just a glass of water“ “Mind if i ask you a question?“ “Not at all my friend“ “Why did you want me to come with you? “Lawrence asked ” I mean I don’t rally have a stellar record. I’m just a childish archaeology“ Rana nodded “Yes, you are insufferable at times. But there is a dash of brilliance in your stupidity“ “I don’t know if that was an insult or a compliment“ Lawrence laughed “Both“ Rana replied “And Don’t interrupt me. What you don’t know is that the assembly thought your species wouldn’t  invent the wheel, let alone spaceflight for at least a couple more Centuries, if not a few millennia. I was supposed to find what made you develop so quickly“

“And what did you find?” “From what I see it’s dumb luck and stupid ingenuity“ Lawrence paused “...Yeah that does sound like Humanity. But still why does that involve me going to the assembly“ “Because you are the example of both... And because I’m fairly sure you are the least dangerous “mad scientists” I know“ “Oh you’re flattering me“ Lawrence laughed

The trip to the Assembly HQ lasted about a week, and this was just day 3. In the following day more members of the crew joined the poker games, Rana and Lawrence were bombarded with questions about the earth and Lawrence acquired a small collection of alien music “because it sounds interesting“. At the day of the arrival to the Sentinel system, the seat of the Galactyc assembly Lawrence offered a single comment on the  planet “So this is space Switzerland... Looks more like Argentina“ Rana laughed “What did you expect? Inverted pyramids?“ Rana appreciated this dash of humor, it distracted her from the address she’ll have to give in a few hours “Nervous?“ Lawrence asked “You remember the cat incident?“ Rana asked “Yes?“ “It feel worse than that“ “Pfff.. Seriously you thinking I have a Tiger, a 200 Kilo murdermachine in my house is not as bad as talking to your boss.“ After hearing Lawrences comment and his laugh Rana herself started laughing “So much about being a calm and collected diplomat“ Rana said with a giggle.

The two awaited to be summoned to the Hall of assembly, their cheerful demeanour and Lawrence himself attracting many gazes until an alien three times their size, deep voice but a pleasant demeanour  invited them to enter. “Ho ly hell“ Lawrence whispered overwhelmed with the amount of seats and different looking aliens in the hall “Esteemed collogues...” AN alien at the main podium said ”... the next issue of the day. The matter of our five year observatory mission to planet Terra. As you know our ambassador has just returned and has brought one of the planet inhabitants to speak for their planet. Ambassador, if you’d please“

“I thank you esteemed delegates“ Rana said “AS you know my role on the planet was to observe and determine how this planet defied the established patterns of development...And I’m sad to say I don’t have a firm answer“ Murmurs swept the room but Rana was not bothered “As a Xenoculturologyst this planet is a treasure trove, They don’t have a unified culture, and I’m not talking about regional distinctions, I’m talking cultures that one would not expect from one single species, and they have dozens of those. Honestly It’s a marvel they haven’t eradicated themselves.

They are a species of so many contradictions I can not explain it. Gentle yet brutal, thoughtful yet irrational, peaceful yet warlike... but I think my friend here will explain it much better“ Rana gestured for Lawrence to take the podium

“Hi“ Lawrence said still a little startled “I... I am still a bit overwhelmed for being here, but anyway, Rana told me you were wondering how we managed to get so far so fast... and me and Rana both agree the best answer we can offer is Dumb luck and our stupid ingenuity“ 

This comment prompted a few chuckles and murmurs “Yes I know it sounds silly but hear me out“ Lawrence said “Let’s take microwave oven as an example. It was discovered microwaves can be used for cooking after  a technician noticed his candy bar melted in his pocket next to a radar. it’s not the only time random chance helped our scientific endeavour. Perhaps the most notable example is Sir Isaac Newton figuring out Gravity after being inspired by an apple falling of the tree. What if that day he decided he was to lazy to take a stroll? what if he just looked the other way when the apple fell. Who know where we’d be.

And as to stupid ingenuity... well let me tell you a personal story. I am an archaeology, so my job includes digging out ruins of old civilisations, and one day on a dig my tools broke... so instead of borrowing from someone who wasn’t currently working I took a pickaxe and a small hammer ... and had to delicately brake off sediment by precise work with a VERY heavy pickaxe.. it was stupid, it was reckless, it could have damaged possible artefacts, but in the end it worked... so yeah, multiply that kind of thinking with the entire human population and you are bound to something actually useful. Now i know that this still might not explain exactly how we got so far but it’s the best we’ve got.“

murmuring started and the chairmen stepped in to silence the crowd “ Dear collogues, I know this debate leaves more questions than it answers  but for now we must continue. Ambassador, esteemed guest I thank you for your presentation.“ Rana and Lawrence left the room and Lawrence sighed with relief. “aaaaaaaaah that was nerve wrecking“ he said “Agreed“ Rana replied “What now?“ “Dinner?“ “Dinner“ The two laughed and returned to the hotel.

In the aftermath of the address the conclusion on Terra was:

1. Insignificant data to understand human pace of development 2. Humans appeared to Influence the Ambassador when it comes to Speech patterns and mannerism. Some considered it unprofessional, although she argued she broke no protocol (possible result of human influence) 3. Further study on Humans needed. Ambassador Rana will be removed from the position but kept as a consulter. New ambassador Shall be appointed

[accursedkaleeshi]

Fyerri’s Last Stand

TL:DR: Here is how the rest of Fyerri’s life turned out. Stormtroopers learn the fear of god when the trees start talking. Bentilias san Sk’ar guest stars as blazing hubris.

·     11 years old when dad exploded

·     14 years old when Clone Wars ended

·     18 when Weyla disappeared

·     19 when Bryaru left planet to form her intel group (Thrummer network)

o  Worked with mom for a couple years. Got homesick

o  There was more imperial activity on Kalee than when he’d left

·     22 years old formed his own rebel cell. The name translated to Storm Sirens.

o  Initially they monitored stormtrooper activity & warned communities, hence like sirens for the storm(troopers)

o  Eventually, inconveniencing them was not working well enough & the Imperial leadership was getting cocky about it.

o  The Storm Sirens switched to straight bodying troopers at any opportunity.

o  Fyerri had come to embody the nickname his father had given him, being the main hub of many communication networks on-world. He picked this up with his mother’s dealings then, upon returning home, got Ìgira & Ayaan to teach him about comms.

o  Fyerri also had a reputation as a trooper killer. He used mainly at least one blurrg-1120 won from an imperial officer, but was pretty handy with improvised weapons. He wore decorated pieces of their armor & scavenged tech. His ingdoré was the skull of the ground commander that was part of a platoon deployed to establish a presence in Mertenzi’s home ports to the Jenuwaa Sea. He also wears Commander Stibbens’ high-viz shoulder pauldron & usually has his helmet on his person. They only know his name was Stibbens because it was written in his helmet.

·     By the time Fyerri was 28 the Imperial activity waned & had almost no presence on the planet thanks in large part to the Storm Sirens & their influence. Not that it took much sway to convince kaleesh to protect what was theirs.

o  Fyerri had been watching a straggling imperial holdout in the west’s rocky southern tip. He grew suspicious of the Empire leaving their secret-whatever-the-fuck operation without local intervention.

o  Not long after they received word that the kaleeshi colony on nearby planet Oben had been snuffed from orbit by an Imperial Star Destroyer. That was the colony settled by Bentilias san Sk’ar’s brigade shortly after he had miraculously returned from the dead. Not unlike Grievous had. From the same wreckage.

o  For months the Sheelal family had to believe all kaleesh on Oben had died. This included hunt mother Twarxii, sister & bataar to Sk’ar. Until Bryaru received reports that Sk’ar was alive & a newly minted imperial general.

·     Bryaru would come to regret telling Fyerri what had become of Sk’ar. She was just so mad. She had always shared her outrage to those around her & her first born son had always hung on every word.

o  But Fyerri had his father’s anger. He made himself sick with indignation. He obsessed over Sk’ar. He put the family in danger by feverishly searching imperial chatter without proper comm blocks. They had a bit of an intervention for him after there was a firefight at the stables & Kevanru had to crunch a man to death with his own speeder.

·     Fyerri agreed he was out of line. His solution was to strike out on his own with the most dedicated of the Storm Sirens. While Bryaru was usually the first to start a riot, she had learned a lot about what leading people meant. This time, instead of the burning glory of justice, she was met with a cold pit in her stomach. It was too dangerous. Sk’ar was a new toy, too close to the Empire’s watch. Fyerri’s small band would just be a footnote in the guard logs.

o  He could not be swayed. He wanted to make sure Sk’ar knew what he was forsaking & he was willing to tell him with his dying breath.

o  He & Jerenru were close, having been born in the same year. He gave her his helmet & told her to look after Stibbens.

o  He told Ìgira & Ayaan to watch out for everyone.

o  He told his mother it was his highest honor not to be the son of Grievous, but the son of Bryaru. Then he left.

·     Fyerri & his men spent over a year maneuvering through the outer territories where the Empire was unleashing General Sk’ar upon unsuspecting populations. It was 3 BBY & he was 30 years old when the Storm Sirens finally got the jump on Sk’ar’s fleet.

o  They sped to the next planet on his list. It took too long to convince the planet’s ambassador to believe the news of impending invasion. The people would remember their warning as altruistic but Fyerri knew that Sk’ar would make contact with the leadership first, whether to negotiate a change of guard or to make a bloody example of them.

o  So there the Storm Sirens were, on a completely foreign planet fighting alongside its foreign people against an unreasonable amount of firepower. Fyerri was good enough to scramble their ground frequencies, having held out until he was sure Sk’ar was on the surface. It was not hard to tell. Even from a klick away Bentilias san Sk’ar was an imposing tower of sheer muscle, standing nearly 10 feet tall like an obelisk of rage among his new, shiny white brigade of little men.

·     Fyerri sent one last call out to the enemy comms, demanding Sk’ar. General Sk’ar was a bit confused as to why there were kaleesh here. For him? There was barely a kamen of them with the mewling locals. What did they think they were going to achieve?

·     “General Bentilias san Sk’ar-“ Fyerri began in native kaleesh, calling out Sk’ar’s entire formal title as it had been before giving his own, “I am Fyerri Spine-of-Fire, Commander of Storm Sirens, Soldier Scorcher, & Son of Grievous. I come here to make sure you know: Though you are the Empire’s biggest dog, this path will still see you die on a leash. Just like my father before you.”

o  That was all he said before killing imperial ground comms. Sk’ar did not like that. Sheelal’s spoiled little boy wanted to play with the warriors he will die like a warrior.

o  The Storm Sirens fought ferociously even as the outcome became clear. Sk’ar’s stormtroopers had no idea what was going on. The one’s that put a couple pieces together were definitely intimidated to be fighting other kaleesh. But as with the Separatist army before them, the Empire had numbers.

·     Fyerri had taken several bolts by the time Sk’ar had steamrolled his way to the front line. Fyerri took one charged shot with his blurgg-1120 that knocked Sk’ar’s helmet askew atop his fearsome ingdoré. Sk’ar bellowed a roar & snatched the younger man up by the neck, dashing Fyerri’s mask to the ground & stepping on it.

o  “Your empty-souled family sent the crooked-tusked runt to put me in my place?” Sk’ar had rumbled in Basic, with a painfully fake sympathetic tone. Fyerri gazed unblinking into the behemoth’s blazing red eyes. Eyes he had shared with Twarxii’ma.

o  “My ancestors will accept me without shame, Uncle Benny, can you say the same?”

·     Those were Fyerri’s last words. Sk’ar snapped his neck with no effort & threw his body into the only two remaining Storm Sirens.

o  “Deliver that child home dishonored. Tell his family he failed,” Sk’ar shouted.

·     Sk’ar went on to fatally punch the ambassador & takeover his assigned planet with no further problems. He never spoke of the incident, even with prodding from higher up officers. It may well have never happened as far as the Empire was concerned.

·     The Sheelal family put their boy in their temple. His friends told them everything. They assured him he did not fail.

·     Bryaru was pissed.

[refuge-au]

>Open the Doctor’s File

Doc: Receive an Invitation

The conference room was small and sparsely decorated, little more than a round table and a handful of chairs in an empty room. The walls were bare, the table empty, and the window that looked out into the hallways covered by blinds.

The window that looked out onto the street, to the east, may as well have been covered too. The only thing visible when you looked out was the greyish hue of smog.

Doc sat in the chair closest to the door on the east side of the table. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his feet were up on the table. He knew his attempt at nonchalance wasn’t fooling anybody, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Etho sat to his right, leaned over the table and absently spinning a rubix cube in his hands. Every so often he’d scramble it and then solve it quickly afterward, seeming slightly disappointed. His left eye was covered in a plain black eyepatch that wasn’t quite big enough to cover the extent of the scarring.

Bdubs sat on Etho’s other side, the drumming of his fingers on the table and the way his eyes flickered from one side of the room to the other every couple of seconds the only things betraying the amount of nervous energy contained inside him.

Beef sat in the last chair on their side of the table, staring at the covered interior window as if he could see through the blinds and into the hallways behind it. His face was expressionless, apparently lost in thought.

No one spoke.

It was the kind of silence they had sat in many times before- part comfort, of being around people who know you better than almost anyone else in the world, and part anxious anticipation. None of them knew exactly what was going to come next.

They had been contacted individually a week or two ago, letters that had no return address slipped under doors or through mail slots. What usually would have been some sort of threat or insult turned out to be a job interview opportunity.

Come to a certain building two weeks from now, the letters read. Tell the receptionist that you’re looking for refuge. Someone will be in to see you shortly.

The most paranoid of the group (Beef) had found out that it was sent by some sort of government official or organization before he contacted the rest of the group to see if they had received the same summons. After a brief discussion, a decision was reached. They would hear out whoever wanted to talk to them.

If things went down badly… as long as they were together they would be able to fight their way out.

Most of the invitation had been true. They found the correct address, and were taken to a room when they asked for refuge… but the person that they were waiting for had not come shortly. It felt like they had been waiting for an eternity- even though his internal clock told him it had only been about twenty minutes.

Ten more minutes, he decided, and then he would leave. If whoever the hell wanted to talk to them was going to be late, they should have told the receptionist to tell them or something. It was basic human decency- although admittedly that did seem to be in short supply these days.

The door handle turned with a click, and four pairs of eyes locked onto it immediately. There was a moment of nothing, and then the door swung open, letting a relatively tall brunette man into the room.

His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, all brown except for a single streak of white from a large x-shaped scar that stretched across most of his face. It was an old scar, very faded, the chunks of white in his hair and his beard some of the only things left to prove that it was there.

He looked slightly winded as he smiled, shutting the door behind him. “Hello, gentlemen. Sorry about the wait. There was a bit of a… conflict. Downstairs, and I ended up having to sort it out.”

He walked over to the table pulling off his gloves and unwrapping his respirator from around his neck before sitting down across from Etho and folding his hands together. “So. You all actually came.”

“Did you expect us not to?” Beef asked, eyeing him warily, apparently not recognizing him.

“Of course not! A government official contacting you out of nowhere, asking you to come and meet them? The fact that you have enough faith in humanity to come here, despite everything, without knowing anything about why you’re being asked here… it’s amazing.” He grinned.

“Amazing is one word for it, sure.” Bdubs said, leaning forward in his chair. “But uh, who are you, and why exactly are we here?”

“If you’re going to try to kill us, we’ll give you a thirty second head start.” Doc added dryly. “But no more than that.”

The man chuckled. “We’re not trying to kill you, we’re trying to offer you a job.”

A job?

Before Doc could express his hesitation, the man continued, putting a hand to his chest:

“My name is Xisuma Void, Captain Void to most people, but you can call me X. I’m putting together a crew.”

“Like a boat crew?” Bdubs asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“A spaceship crew. I’ve been given a mission- go to uncharted territory, chart it, and start a colony on a planet outside the solar system.” He extended his hands in front of him, gesturing to the team. “I’d like you to come with me.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“…What’s the catch?” Etho asked slowly.

“Catch?” Xisuma asked.

“We’re not from here.” Etho said, and Beef chuckled. “There’s always a catch.”

Xisuma shook his head slowly. “I don’t think… well… how about I just tell you what the job would entail before we decide if there’s a catch or not?”

Doc looked across the table to the others. Bdubs nodded, Beef shrugged, and Etho set down the rubix cube for the first time since he had gotten into the room. X took that as permission to continue.

“Do you remember all those stories in the news about the government funneling money into a secret project?” X asked.

“And everybody was worried that it was gonna be another war.” Bdubs said. “We remember.”

“They were building a ship for this mission. It’s been in progress for years now, but they’ve ramped up construction in the past several months. The ship will be fully built in three months, and the mission will begin no sooner than six months from now.” Xisuma stood, either ignoring or not noticing the way that the rest of the group tensed when he moved, and began to pace up and down the length of the table. “The ship- the Refuge- will exit the solar system in about one and a half years, and then it’ll be four and a half to eight and a half years til we reach Haven.”

“Haven?” Doc interjected. “That’s the planet?”

X nodded.

“Bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Bdubs asked.

X shrugged, not pausing in his pacing. “I wasn’t the one that named it.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Beef asked. “None of us have ever been to space before. Sure, Etho may have been… built for it, but…”

“You don’t have to worry about the space stuff.” X said, stopping and leaning on the back of the chair he had been sitting in. “Just the landing part of the mission. The way that this is set up, there are two smaller groups within the crew as a whole- the ship crew and the colony crew. While the ship crew will transition into being a part of the colony crew once we land, the colony crew doesn’t have to be a part ship crew. It’s unnecessary, and most of the crew mates don’t have essential skills for the trip.”

“So what does the colony crew do during the flight?” Beef asked, his brow furrowed.

“Sleep.” X responded. “We have two cryogeneticists on the crew that will be maintaining and caring for frozen personnel and assets.”

“Which one would we be?” Doc asked.

X looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know whether the question was a joke or not. “Personnel… in total, if you decide to take me up on the offer, we’ll have nine people frozen out of a crew of thirty six. Most of the ship can be run mechanically, but we still need the ship crew to oversee everything.”

“And what would we be doing when we get planet-side? What’s our actual job going to be?” Bdubs asked.

“Building, scouting surrounding areas, neutralizing any potential threats, whatever needs to be done, really.” X sighed. “Unfortunately, since a mission like this has never been attempted before, I can’t tell you exactly what we’re going to need you to do. If you accept, I can give you the paperwork that runs through several potential scenarios, but… there’s a lot that we just don’t know.”

“I’m not going to ask you to sign on immediately, but I’d like your responses as soon as possible.” X concluded. “There’s a packet with the receptionist downstairs that has more information-“

“I’ll do it.” Bdubs said, cutting him off.

X blinked. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” He repeated, leaning back in his chair. “It sounds exciting, it’s a chance to travel somewhere without risking being carsick, it’s getting away from everything that’s going on here… and we’re probably not gonna get another chance at this for at least six years, right?”

X nodded.

“I can’t speak for the guys, obviously, but you’ve got one.”

“I’m in too.” Doc decided, taking his feet off the table and sitting up straight. “There’s not a whole hell of a lot for me to do here, not many people that want me here, and somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He said, pointing a vaguel accusatory finger at Bdubs, who rolled his eyes. “I still want the packet, but I’m in.”

X grinned. “Wonderful! And… I suppose, do you want to make your decision now too?” He turned his attention to Beef and Etho.

“I’ll agree… but I reserve the right to change my mind if we start getting ready and things seem off.” Etho said, picking his rubix cube back up and spinning it on its corner. “I may have been made for space travel, but they kept me grounded for a reason.”

“I agree with Etho, minus the spaceman bit.” Beef said. “Also, can we have your phone number, or some way to contact you?”

Xisuma’s grin turned into a softer, warmer smile. “Everything that you’ll need is going to be in the packets. Welcome to the team, gentlemen.”

Computer: Input Command: Show Available Files:

> Open the Pilot’s File

> Open the Doctor’s File (New)

> Continue

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[vicarfelix]

Incompetence

__

Felix Millstone x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: Not many Felix fics on here...

Word Count: 3,308

“Baby, you’re one of the damn finest captains to ever run a ship.”

__

“Welcome back, Captain.” ADA’s computer generated voice rang out in the entrance of The Unreliable.

The captain groaned under her breath as she closed the airlock of the ship behind her. She said a silent thank you to whoever was listening that she made it back in one piece and in relatively good health. She was a little banged up, but nothing a shot of adreno wouldn’t fix. It was her duty to save Halcyon...or at least get it going in the right direction. She knew this very well. Dr. Welles wouldn’t have woken her up from a 70 year hibernation if he didn’t think she had what it took. But this last mission had been a rough one.  

Initially, she wasn’t sure if she could afford to spend time on this mission. It was out of the way and where they would have to go was deep into the Monarch wilderness. However, Nyoka had been so hesitant to ask for the captain’s help which showed her how desperate she actually was. This was even more obvious considering that Nyoka hadn’t known the captain very long to be asking for personal favors. It was important to her to visit Hayes’ grave and try to find the rest of her old hunting squad. So, the captain figured it was worth the trip. She knew how important closure could be.

The captain, Nyoka, and Ellie had hiked a ways into Monarch and into the old cave that Nyoka and her previous team had made into a base camp. Sadly, they only found the dead bodies of her beloved friends and ended up putting them to rest once the rogue mantiqueen was taken care of. It was hard on Nyoka especially, but it even got the captain thinking about the current situation. Here she was, a Hope colonist who was thrown into a space pod by some crazed scientist for all she knew with the task of saving an entire colony. She had been asleep for the last 70 years and now she was supposed to hop between planets to save them from turmoil? It was insanity. She was only human and could only handle so much. She was thankful that she had been able to assemble a team along the way.

She met Parvati first. It was just the two of them for a while. She was the first friendly face the captain had met on her journey. She saved Parvati from the destruction of Edgewater and their crooked mayor. The captain desperately needed her engineering skills as well as a sharp mind to keep the ship in order. She was nice company and always willing to lend a hand. She never let her forget how grateful she was.

Vicar Max was a challenge in the beginning. She didn’t like the fact that this esteemed priest had asked her for a favor the moment she met him. She wasn’t sure if his spiritual counseling skills would be beneficial to the team. After all, she needed a gang of intelligence and physical combat skills. Max proved himself through his computer hacking skills which wasn’t something she would’ve expected from a vicar. He grew on her quickly and she was happy to have him around.

SAM was actually the last person she recruited into your party. Honestly if she hadn’t taken the time to deeply search through the late Alex Hawthorne’s spaceship, she never would’ve noticed him. He was stashed away in one of the closets upstairs, so at first she thought he was just used for parts. Once she took the time to get him fixed, he was up and off to work. She didn’t really ask him to be a part of the crew. He sort of just got started on his own. He didn’t say much, but he was a good fighter and kept things spiffy and clean.

At the time she met Ellie, she was in desperate need of a medic. She could only do so much, so having a doctor around was helpful. Ellie had the most secretive background of everybody. She came from one of the wealthiest families in Byzantium and really could’ve had it made. The captain commended her for living the life she wanted to live, even if it meant risking having her own flesh and blood disowning her. She was often the one the captain turned to when she needed to talk, because Ellie would tell it to her straight. She never left a conversation with Ellie still wondering how to handle something.

The captain tended to think that she saved Nyoka’s life. She was a drunk living in Monarch. She had been burned one too many times by the evil things of the world. Captain never judged her for how she chose to cope with her hurt and losses. She had a fiery passion for helping others and bettering the colony. The captain admired her worth ethic. It was her family and friends above all else. She was very loyal to those she cared about. She rarely questioned her captain’s decision making and always backed her up through it all.

Then there was Felix. Oh, wow. When she first met him on Groundbreaker, it was the first time she had stopped in weeks. He had been standing near the landing pad, arguing away with one of the mardets about something sketchy he had done. She had taken the time to stop to speak to him. She immediately noted that he wasn’t shy when it came to a fight. He wasn’t shy when it came to violence. Truthfully, Felix had kind of brushed her off at first. He didn’t seem very interested in joining The Unreliable. So, she moved on.

She completed a few favors for Groundbreaker’s main engineer Junlei Tennyson. Once the business was settled there, the captain decided it was time to set flight. As she was leaving, she saw Felix standing by the entrance of The Unreliable. She was surprised to see him, considering he hadn’t seemed too impressed by her before. He complimented the ship, claiming that she needed him to join her team.

She already knew she was going to say yes. However, she wasn’t going to be seen as a pushover. Because she wasn’t. He was delighted that she had given him a chance. He read his list (literally) of reasons as to why she should hire him. She was amused by him. He interested her. So of course she hired him on the spot.

He was like a kid on Christmas when he set foot on The Unreliable. She later learned that he had never been on a real spaceship. As a matter of fact, Felix had never even left Groundbreaker before. He was born and somewhat raised on Groundbreaker, living in the Back Bays all his life. It was all he knew. He was going to see space for the first time and get to explore new planets. She was his golden ticket to a more exciting life.

It wasn’t long after Felix joined that she grew closer to him. She felt wrong for a while for being so drawn to him. She was his “boss” as he always called her as well as his captain. But at the same time, she was really just his friend that happened to be in command of the ship he now lived on. They were the only real night owls, so they spent a lot of time into the late night hours just chatting. Getting to know each other over a bottle of spectrum vodka and strengthening a personal connection. Soon enough, they were sort of the equivalent of a modern day couple.

The rest of the crew sensed that something was up, but they had yet to officially say anything. The crew didn’t mind. They all agreed that she deserved someone loyal like Felix. They knew she would never favor him over anybody else, because she was always fair.

So, here she was now. She was just plain exhausted and needed some time to wind down. She had originally planned on leaving Monarch and docking at Groundbreaker to get some drinks before turning in. However, the mission had taken longer than expected, so she decided to stay in Stellar Bay and hit up Groundbreaker in the morning to give everybody a day off. They needed it. She entered the control room to deactivate ADA:

“ADA, we’ll head for Groundbreaker in the morning. You can shut down for the night.” She ordered the PC system.

“Docked in Stellar Bay and shutting down, Captain.” She replied before her screen went black.

It was ironic that you always had to tell ADA when to turn off. She couldn’t really turn off, because then the whole ship would go dark.

The captain felt relieved to have made it back safely. For there were a few moments where she had her doubts. She left the control room and climbed the stairs. Everybody was sitting around the table, Nyoka and Ellie looking especially tired. The captain’s eyes flicked over to Felix who was fiddling with the tossball that he always kept in his pocket. He flashed his girlfriend a grin, however it faded into a sympathetic frown when he noted how drained she looked. Everybody else looked at her upon noticing her standing in front of them;

“Hey, guys. Change of plans. We’ll leave in the morning for Groundbreaker. It’s late and quite honestly, I don’t feel like traveling,” She admitted; “Take it easy tonight. Tomorrow will be our off day to piddle around Groundbreaker. Get some rest.”

Everybody agreed happily to a day off and dispersed into their respective sleeping quarters. She rubbed her eyes to keep herself from getting too tired. She still had a few things she needed to do, so she wouldn’t be turning in just yet. She made sure to turn SAM off for the evening. SAM could power down on his own, but he often had the tendency to roam the ship freely during the night. Parvati had been spooked one too many times by SAM walking into her room unannounced.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as she went to approach the stairs to go back down. She looked up to meet Nyoka’s gaze. She had a certain gleam in her eyes past the fog of sleeplessness;

“Thanks for today. I really appreciate it, Captain,” She gratefully said; “I can rest easy now knowing they’re at peace.”

“Of course, Nyoka. Anything for you,” The captain returned with a smile; “Get some sleep. ADA will wake us in the morning.”

Nyoka returned to her room and the captain went back downstairs to her room. Truthfully, she wouldn’t be able to sleep even if she didn’t have work to do. She had too much on her mind. She sat at the long desk across from the bed, thumbing through files and papers that Alex had left behind. He had left piles and piles of reports about all the planets in the colony. She could just ask ADA, but these were personal notes and maps. They were useful, but detailed. It took serious time to go through them. Soon after she had sat down, she heard a voice from behind her;

“Hey, Boss,” Felix said gently tapping on the doorway; “You got time for a nightcap?”

She turned to see him standing there with two cups wrapped in one of his hands. She felt a warmth creep over her at the sight of him. She needed someone to talk to.

“Always,” She said, accepting his request to enter. A goofy smile appeared on his face as he entered and he handed her one of the cups. She thanked him before scolding him; “I told you that you don’t have to call me Boss.”

He shrugged as he took the chair adjacent to her for himself;

“It’s got a nice ring to it. I save Captain for special occasions.” He said sipping whatever was in the cups.

Speaking of, she peered down into the ceramic mug to see a familiar purplish liquid bouncing back your reflection. She smiled softly as she raised the rim to her lips, letting the sweet liquid grace over her taste buds.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the portion. I know we usually get our own but we’re low on purpleberry juice so I split a bottle between us.” He said sliding down into his chair slightly and entwining one of his legs with hers.

“Oh, that’s totally fine. I’ll be sure to pick some up tomorrow,” She stated, taking another sip; “How were things here today?”

Felix rolled his head from side to side in an attempt to work out any kinks. He laughed shortly;

“Ah, the usual. SAM cleaned every square inch of the ship. Parvati spent all day writing a message to Junlei. Max had his nose in a book all day,” He explained; “I, on the other hand, was actually productive.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes that he picked up on Scylla. They weren’t his favorite Spacer’s Choice brand of smokes, but they would do. He offered her one first, lighting it for her, and then picking one for himself. She raised a brow at his previous statement, hiding her unconvinced smirk behind the cup;

“Is that so?” She asked for elaboration.

“Yeah! I organized all my tossball cards from my favorite to least favorite. It took me almost all day!” He clamored.

She laughed heartily. Only Felix Millstone would consider that to be productive. However, considering he didn’t get into any actual trouble, she would take that any day. She watched as he brought the cigarette to his lips that were upturned into an amused smile.

“Well, I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” She said sarcastically.

His eyes brightened;

“Hey! At least I didn’t get in a fight with ADA this time. I minded my business,” He defended; “But enough about me. How did it go with Nyoka and Ellie? You ladies seemed extra worn out.”

She sighed, her smile disappearing from her face. His heart did a quick pang in his chest when he saw her demeanor change so quickly. He had wanted to go with her on Nyoka’s detour mission. The captain had told him no, considering he had just gone on the previous one. He always felt that he could save her some grief if he went along on difficult missions. 

“It was long. It was hard...mentally and physically. Especially for Nyoka. She was expecting to find at least one of them alive. They were all dead.” She said recalling the overrun cave.

Felix winced at the thought. He had grown up in the Back Bays of Groundbreaker. He had seen his fair share of people get killed, but nobody he really cared about. She took a long drag of her cigarette. Letting the smoke fill her lungs completely.

“Marauders?” Felix asked referring to how they had died.

She shook her head as she released the puff from her chest through her nose.

“We don’t know for sure. We think it was mantipillars. Nyoka seemed sure that there was no way marauders could’ve found that cave.” She explained.

She had agreed with Nyoka’s theory. It had taken some serious navigation to get there and even with Nyoka’s help she still got turned around. She took another sip of her juice, hoping that maybe she’d get sleepy soon. She didn’t want to put her problems onto Felix, because that wasn’t his burden to bear. She knew that he enjoyed listening to her. He cared about her a lot and he was thrilled to hear about her thoughts...even if he didn’t get it. He was more than willing to help where he could.

“How do you feel about it? Now that you’re back and the job is done?” He questioned, leaning forward to be closer to her.

She looked down into her cup, swirling the juice around the sides and letting it splash back into the center. She didn’t want to look at him. That’s when he could really see through her. She felt so vulnerable.

“I feel lost,” She admitted; “I don’t know what I’m doing, Felix.”

He furrowed his brows, cradling his cup in both his hands with his cigarette between his index and middle finger;

“Do any of us really know what we’re doing? I thought you told us to take things step by step?” He asked.

“Well, yeah. I still believe that, but I mean me personally. I’ve been tasked with saving Halcyon from completely falling apart by some man that could be a total fraud for all I know. I feel so incompetent.” She confessed.

A blank stare crossed Felix’s face. Law bless him. He didn’t have the best range of vocabulary.

“I feel like I’m not good at anything I do.” She said defining the word she had just said.

Felix looked shocked at her words. That was crazy. She had been busting it the last several months trying to accomplish her bestowed goal. He had seen her at her best and at her worst. She took everything in stride and gave everything her best shot. She was friendly and kind to those who had good intentions and stone cold to those who took advantage of innocent people. She was a blend of warm and tough. She was the perfect person in his eyes.

“Are you kidding? [Y/N], you’re not at all incontinent.” He said using the wrong word.

She snorted at his horribly wrong use of the word. If only Felix knew what the word he had just said actually meant.

“Incompetent.” She corrected.

He chuckled. She could be such a smart ass.

“Right. Anyways, you’re great at what you do. I’ve seen it myself.” He proclaimed.

Her gaze averted downwards again, not feeling convinced.

“You’re just saying that because you like me.” She said half joking.

“Well, you’re not wrong. I do like you. A lot. But I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He said truthfully; “Baby, you’re one of the damn finest captains to ever run a ship.”

She finally looked at him, taking the cigarette from her lips;

“This isn’t even my ship, Felix. It was a total accident that I ended up on this thing.” She argued.

“It is your ship,” He retorted; “You were assigned to it. You made this ship your own. You gathered your own crew and your own life here. So, you’re wrong. This is your ship.”

He had a point. She did take over the ship without a second thought. She improvised. She was quick thinking on her feet. She overcame. Isn’t that what captains are supposed to do? She finished off her cigarette and the last of her juice. He had gotten through to her enough to make her feel more comfortable. The whole 70 year hibernation had done a number on her emotions.

“It’s my ship,” she repeated; “I am the captain.”

He smiled proudly;

“Damn right you are. I’m proud of you. I’m glad to be your right-hand man.” He beamed.

He kissed the back of her hand, guiding her out of her chair. He disposed of his own cigarette and he tore her away from the desk. Soon enough, she was in bed, curled up next to him. His arm was wrapped around her, keeping her warm and comfortable. He kissed her temple, rubbing her back gently. He wanted her to get a good night of sleep so she could enjoy their day off tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Felix.” She whispered just before falling asleep.

He rested his chin on her head, watching the stars outside the observatory window and into the endless space.

“Night, Captain.”

[itsclydebitches]

ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D 

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that. 

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek. 

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things? 

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But  characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response. 

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion: 

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home. 

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who? 

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door... 

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home. 

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.” 

What’s more Star Trek than that? 

[ckret2]

How far into modern music do you think Alastor would go? I can't imagine him listening to mondern pop, but maybe he would at least give a shot to things in the 50/60?? I just can't imagine him not having so many music opinions, all of them a bit out of date. Do you think that he thinks "queen" were promising upstarts? He loves music and, though not his type, wouldn't he at least listen to a bit¿?

I do think Alastor actually kept up with music for a while after his death—and with tech too, at least the tech that interested him. In life, he was on the cutting edge—he didn't just use the newest, hottest technology, he worked with it, he was a pioneer in a completely new field of media and so deeply enmeshed in the industry that it formed the basis of his soul's identity in death. Going from "I'm so cutting edge you'll bleed if you touch me" to "if it wasn't invented before the 26th of December in 1933 at 3:12 p.m. I will hiss like a vampire exposed to sunlight if you try to make me use it" is a harsh change, and I don’t buy it. It makes more sense if we assume there must have been a transition period during which he lost his enthusiasm for keeping up with the latest and greatest and slowly withdrew into the past.

Same goes for music. When he first arrived, he probably soaked up new music like a sponge. What about beloved musicians who had died too young—how many of them had ended up in Hell, and had they produced new music since they died? What strange mutations of jazz were cropping up down here where people who were familiar with the earliest iterations of the genre were trickling in and it had evolved and progressed in near isolation from the latest developments in the living world? Are there medieval bards playing covers of "Royal Garden Blues" on the hurdy-gurdy? Who else has played new versions of songs he knows? Who does he get in contact with in the next few years to ensure he gets a steady supply of new songs by his favorite artists still in the living world, either in the form of smuggled-in phonograph records or new arrivals who learned the songs and can now share them in Hell? What songs that have been forgotten for centuries can he learn? What musical genres are unique to Hellish culture? Where are all the artists and styles and genres he's interested in going next?! He's got to find out!

I've got two different headcanons for when that changed.

In the fic verse I'm writing, due to Circumstances, Alastor spent roughly all of the 70s being a depressed lump and the 80s in the Cannibal Colony. Those years where he withdrew from the world are when he stops keeping up with both technology and music. By the time he starts trying to engage with broader Hellish culture again, it’s been a couple of decades, everything on the radio sounds different and weird, and rather than trying to catch up he just kinda defaults back to what he’s used to, which peters out in the mid-60s.

In less-fic-verse more-canon headcanons, I think it was a gradual tapering off over the same time period. I’m restraining myself from going all The Psychology Of How Humans Develop Their Tastes In Music, but the short version is that, VERY BROADLY, people’s tastes tend to develop & solidify in adolescence/young adulthood—anything that came before then is old-fashioned and boring and anything that comes after that is weird and sounds like noise. Alastor, who’s All About Music, can keep up with new trends longer, but slowly the newest hottest sound will evolve out of what he’s able to hear as Good Music. Just, over the years, there will be fewer and fewer new musicians that are playing in a way that he likes. I figure it’ll be about the 70s before all the popular music makes him go “eh, they don’t make it like they used to,” and from there he sticks with what sounds good to him.

Now, in either one of these scenarios, I think there’s still some modern music that he’ll enjoy, but for the most part it’s going to be music that sounds closer to what he’s familiar with. So like, swing revival as a genre. Generic lounge jazz would bore him, and so would jazz of the “pushing so hard on the boundaries of music that you have to be neck-deep in the last 60 years of jazz history just to understand what they’re doing” variety, but modern big band-style jazz would appeal. He might listen to some modern ska when it swings more toward the “big brass sections” side of things rather than the “punk rock” side of things. He’d dislike electro swing that’s like “chops up songs he heard in the 30s and sets them over a drum machine” but he’d like electro swing that’s like “composes original modern swing that’s good enough to make up for the fact that there’s a synthesizer in the background.” Vintage style covers of modern songs would appeal to him, and no I’m not talking about “Postmodern Jukebox” as if they’re the only folks on the planet who’ve ever done that, I’m talking about “Alastor goes to a jazz club twice a month to join jam sessions and sometimes the musicians there go ‘hey we heard this great new song on the radio, listen to this’ *two demons play Uptown Funk on a sax and a piano.*”

And I think he’d put in an effort for musical theater no matter WHAT genre it’s in. We see him hear Charlie’s song once and immediately perform a cover of it, and Charlie’s song is definitely way outside of the kinds of genres he’d be inclined to listen to, except that it’s musical theater style. So—would Alastor listen to industrial rock? No. Would he watch and enjoy Repo! The Genetic Opera? Hell yeah. Would Alastor listen to hip hop? No. Would he watch and enjoy Hamilton? Hell yeah.

Musical theater might be the best way to ease him into modern music tbh. Get him into a few musicals he likes in spite of the modern sound and use them as a stepping stone to branch out to similar-sounding modern music.

As for Queen—honestly I don’t think he’d think about Queen. Almost half a dozen folks now have asked me specifically about that—but what about Queen tho, do you think he’d at least think Queen is good?—and like I just don’t think he’d care lmfao. Why is Queen always the first and only band people wanna know his opinion of? He’d like that the music video for “Radio Gaga” uses clips from a movie he saw while he was alive, and the lyrics would secretly make him a little emotional, but he’d dislike the song itself because they couldn’t even be assed to have a real human play the drums; and for their other songs he’d be like “yeah, that’s music.”

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Beginnings and regrets

The single least Seifa thing Seifa has ever done, is probably also the most actual Seifa thing she's ever done, and that's extremely Seifa of her.

It was going against every lesson survival had beaten into her so far in her life, and helping Tyreen instead of walking away all those years ago.

(Pre CoV)

Pandora is a terrible place.

The whole Galaxy is, Pandora just has a reputation that's honest about it.

The Edens, Athenas, Promethea, Tantalus, every city on every settled planet is built on a foundation of bones, nowhere's really safe or actually wants the humans that settled uninvited and ruined the neighborhood. Can't really expect an ecosystem to welcome you with open arms when you immediately start destroying it for profit, and life ain't easy anywhere. Nowhere is good. Nowhere is nice.

You can't live for long without finding out how dangerous "caring" is.

Small family units survive, yeah, clans scrabble out a living on rock plains and migrant space-rigs, but if you hold out a hand to a stranger in need you need to know the risks, need to really understand how likely it is that there's a knife behind their back and a couple of crosshairs already trained on you.

You have to be harsh, you have to be cruel. Everyone who makes it on the border planets knows the unwritten rules.

Unless you've the backing of a town militia or a hell of a lot of weaponry, you can't afford to risk your own safety for others - and Sei has walked past more people who gasped out a desperate plea for help with one of the few breaths they had left then she could ever, ever let herself acknowledge. Fuck man, everyone has. It's one of the sad truths of living at the knifepoint everyone balances on out here at the fringe.

...It's no different really on the corporate ones, the blades waiting to land in your back are just better dressed there.

So, when Seifa went to walk away from that filthy kid in the junkyard with the busted SMG and found herself stopping as the girl pleaded for medicine, that was beyond out of character.

That was weird. That was impossible to justify, and she lost plenty of nights to trying to do so after - long ones, with tears and far too much whiskey.

It's hard to think back on, how unsettling and stomach turning that first month had been. The whole thing feels like a blur, some grease smeared memory that's mostly lost to the desperately anxious conflict that was going on in her head the entire time. She can remember specific points, but they're half images half feeling, nerves and worry all tangled together into something she hates dwelling on.

She remembers the heat mirages swirling above the desert sands as Elpis set on the horizon, driving the girl out across the salt flats as Ty panicked and urged Sei to go faster, all while she was trying to explain to herself WHY she hadn't slapped this stranger out of her buggy and throttled in the opposite direction. What had gotten into her?

She doesn't remember anything that the kid had said as she was lead by her into that dark shack, still battling with why she wasn't turning around, why she was gingerly picking through debris to reach what looked like a hastily set up camp surrounded by rusting sheet metal and pieces that used to be the hovel - but she remembers the stink of fever sweat that wrinkled her nose and that sad mound of sharp angles heaped at the center by a burnt out fire pit, and the shock of realising it was a man when Tyreen had dropped to her knees and begged through sobs for him to keep breathing.

That she had "Found someone to help."

Recalls fighting back the equal disgust she felt with herself for helping carry the nothing he weighed out of that shithole, and for the fact he was still alive in this state. Covered in filth, blood, chunks of.. something, and reeking of puke and god knows what else. How she chewed at her lip till she tasted copper as the buggy engine rattled in complaint under them, flooring it when she knew the shoddy weld job on the left axle wasn't going to take this strain and would need another couple of hundred dollars she didn't have in repairs by the time she got these pathetic kids back to her ship - and she remembers wincing hours later at her empty medical cabinet after gutting it to keep the boy alive.

Saline stock sucked dry, bactum wasted, and she was saving those health kits for when she might need them...

It was a bad decision. It was a stupid decision, and she'd spent that first night when the girl had cried herself to sleep and he'd finally stabilised, sitting on the cold floor of her quarters with her back pressed against the repurposed mag-lock door, cradling her pistol in her lap as she gnawed at her nails.

They were Sirens.

Sirens.

Moron. Stupid fucking twat, If Boss found out, he'd kill her before these two could get the chance.

Helping them had been idiot move enough, had gone against every fiber of who she'd built herself into, but she couldn't have known. Tyreen had been covered in rags, and Troy's markings too dim and caked in muck to even see before they'd gotten him cleaned up and stable.

She hadn't known. She didn't know, nothing about Sirens anyway, just that you didn't fuck with 'em in the first place. Sirens were bad news, Sirens were the bane of Pandora in the last few years and everyone knew the stories. They were monsters who could turn you inside out or roast you alive without needing to point a gun first, and now she had two in her home with no defenses bar a shitty Jacobs she knew damn well she could barely aim, and hopefully enough faux confidence to seem in control of the situation.

That first night had been the worst.

The twins slept fine, Troy out cold and Ty having cried herself unconscious shortly after his heart beat had become something possible to confuse with normal if you squinted at the scan display from the right angle, but Sei didn't close her eyes once.

Sat awake all night in the clunking, humming, rattling silence of her home as she thumbed the revolver's cylinder slowly, considering how each click marked another second she'd left them both alive instead of doing the right thing and emptying a round into each of their skulls. Pandora would take care of the bodies and she'd fix a serious mistake she was walking straight into... but the suns rose in the end, and the twins were none the wiser about how close the decision had actually been.

It didn't really get better. The fear did, that passed over the next couple of days, but not the worry, not the regret. Two more mouths to feed when she only had the funds for herself? The girl was going to have to learn how to work. The cash she'd put aside was for her junker colony, not strangers, and the boy still couldn't even stand... and how were things going to pan out even if they so far didn't seem to be quite as monstrous as she'd been told so many times in no name dive bars in settler towns?

What if she took Tyreen out on a barter run and her markings got noticed? That mad corporate fuckwad Sexy George or fuckin whatever had just been running some reward scheme for Sirens, right? Would the lowbrows she dealt with on a daily basis here comprehend that wasn't a thing anymore, or would Sei be shanked and Ty abducted within hours of setting foot in a trade dock?

And him...

What the fuck was she going to do with him.

He wouldn't talk, wouldn’t even look at her, just some massive, gangly, awkward, nervous child that ghosted around the edge of her vision and scurried out of the room like a panicked Skag pup if she made the mistake of looking directly at him.

Sick still, even if he was trying to stay in his crew cubby for less every day, the one she'd told him was his and still had not a word of thanks for yet. Shaky, delicate, and in no physical condition to be able to help around the ship yet alone have a chance of bringing in some extra dollars, even if he hadn't been missing such a huge chunk of himself. Pity wasn't going to keep him fed, and she was pissed with herself for feeling it for him in the first place.

She figured that's what had done it really... them being siblings.

That raw desperation in Tyreen's voice as she'd begged Seifa to help when she'd turned to walk away. That her brother was so sick and she didn't know what to do. Siblings gut punched her in ways she knew were a weakness out here. The twin thing? That had just cemented it really. Helping wasn't in Seifa's nature, but leaving kids to die wasn't in her bones.

Still, she'd make it work, she always did. They'd survive, and she'd come out of this in profit one way or another, that was as sure as an Athenian monk lowballing an offer.

She'd train the girl up and run some deals with her, cover the costs of helping them out with a tidy margin for herself - then she'd leave 'em with the tools to survive, a couple of hundred bucks to get started and never have to see them again.

She'd be fine. She was always fine.

That's very Seifa of her.

Asks are Open!

[argyle-s]

Hello,

My name is Molly Bragg. I’m a bi trans gender author who has writing for almost three decades. I’m passionate about creating the kind of content I enjoy, which means stories that center around queer women, I’ve recently completed a original queer genre romance novel and I’m looking for help covering the cost of having it professionally edited.

To give you a preview of what you would be supporting, here’s Chapter 1:

***

Beth watched the buildings pass as the air cab carried her over Los Angeles taking in the changes the last ten years had wrought on the city.  Most of the low-income areas had been bulldozed, and those areas were now filled with alien arcologies.  Massive buildings that stretched kilometers into the sky, each one a city unto itself, and in their shadows, the skyscrapers that had once been incredible achievements of human architecture and engineering.  The buildings which had been hubs of human industry and centers of financial empires were now reduced to little more than playhouses for the backwards primitives who had the misfortune to be born natives of the Galactic Hegemony’s latest colony world. If they’d had another century or two things might have been different.  Humanity had been advancing quickly.  They wouldn’t have been on par with the technology of the Hegemony by any stretch, but they might have been able to dictate better terms.  The Gatekeepers hadn’t cared.  The gate had drifted into a stable orbit in the outer system, and the Gatekeepers had announced that, like it or not, the Sol system was being added to their vast network of space fold gates.  The first ships from the Hegemony had arrived just a month later, and ever since, Earth had been on the road to becoming the galactic equivalent of a banana republic. So far, her job and her savings had let her avoid the worst of what was happening, but unemployment was at a record high as alien automation systems replaced human labor in almost every sector.  The company she worked for had shifted gears from research and development to reverse engineering alien tech and had seen a short windfall in profits, but that was starting to vanish as the inevitable inflation drove prices up and the people they had been selling reverse engineered tech could no longer afford it. Beth wasn’t really that worried for herself.  She’d been poor before, and however much she might hate the idea she could survive being poor again.  What brought her to LA today was Sam.  Sam was getting close to graduation, and she had acceptance letters from every college that could afford postage.  A 4.0 unweighted GPA, high SAT scores, and a couple of impressive summer internships meant that schools were falling all over themselves to offer her full rides.  Ten years ago, that would have all but ensured her a bright future.  These days a PhD from Harvard, Yale, or MIT wasn’t worth the cost of paper to print the degree. People still made noise about human exceptionalism and about taking humanity’s place in the larger galactic community, but Beth had spent a lot of time over the last decade studying the history of colonization on Earth, and it never once ended well for the people being colonized.Regardless of what  happened to the colonized peoples as a whole, there were always individual exceptions...  people who avoided the fate of their brethren.  It was her determination to ensure her daughter’s future that brought her to LA today.   While billionaires had started buying their kids spots in alien schools the moment they were  allowed out of the Sol System, Beth didn’t have that option.  She was well off enough that she and Sam weren’t feeling the effects of the colonization yet, but nowhere near rich enough to buy a ticket off-world for Sam, much less pay for an off-world education.  Instead, she’d spent years looking into other options.  So far, none of her work had paid off, but she hadn’t given up hope.   She was headed to a meeting with a broker who helped place kids into programs that offered grants, scholarships and all expenses paid exchange programs.  She was going to find a way to offer her daughter a better future than most of Earth’s children could look forward to.  No matter what it took. *** “Ms. Murray, it’s so nice to meet you,” the man said as he held out his hand.  Beth took it and gave it a quick shake while trying her best not to let on that he reminded her of a used car salesman.  She needed his help, and it wouldn’t do to offend him. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cooper.” “Please, call me Owen,” he said.  “Right this way.” He led her out of the small, brightly decorated waiting room and into a small, neat office.  He gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he walked around behind it and took his seat. “So, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here Ms. Murray.  You are looking for an opportunity for your daughter to continue her education off-world, is that correct?” “Yes,” Beth said. “Okay.  I just wanted to make sure that we’re both looking for the same outcome.  Now, I’ve gone through Samantha’s records.  Academically, she’s in great shape, and the extra-curriculars are good too.  I’ve been able to find at least twenty different programs that will accept her.” “That’s great,” Beth said, though she didn’t believe it.  She’d heard the exact same thing from more than a dozen other brokers, and she suspected she wasn’t going to hear anything new.  “What are the terms?” “It varies from program to program.  All of them require a period of indenture, but some are as low as eight years.” Beth tried to hide her disappointment.  She wanted to give her daughter a better future, not sell her into virtual slavery for almost a decade. “Owen, I’m looking for a program without any period of indenture.  I know they exist, but you’re the fifteenth broker I’ve talked to and none of them have offered even an application to an indenture free program.” “They do exist, but Ms. Murray, you must understand.  There are a lot of people who want their children to receive an off-world education, and slots which don’t require a period of indentured service are in especially high demand.” “I understand that, but I haven’t gotten high demand, I’ve gotten completely unavailable.  I’d like to know why no one will even consider letting her apply.” Owen looked at her for almost a minute, not saying anything, before he finally leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. “Honestly, Ms. Murray?” “Please.” “Those slots go to the kids of billionaires, presidents, CEO’s, ambassadors, kings and other high level government types.  Each year, a handful will go to some poor kids from the ghetto so that they can parade them around as part of a puff piece about how generous the aliens are, but that’s just window dressing.  The truth is, your daughter is neither rich enough, nor poor enough to ever get one of those slots.” Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from swearing.  She wasn’t surprised at all, but she was angry and frustrated.  She’d half suspected something like that was going on, but hearing it spelled out so clearly was still enough to make her blood boil. “Isn’t there anything, any way that I can get her off-world without selling her into slavery?” “Ms. Murray, Indentured Service is hardly slavery.” “It’s close enough.” Owen stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. “What?” “It’s nothing.” “It’s something,” she said.  “Please.” He sighed.  “It’s not something I would normally offer to someone of your background.” “What does that mean?” “It means that some aliens have cultural practices that people of Western European descent find unpalatable, while those from other cultures would find those practices perfectly normal.” “I’m not sure I follow.” “Ms. Murray, you are aware that, much to the surprise of every biologist on the planet, there are a number of species with whom humanity shares a degree of reproductive compatibility?” “I am,” she said. “Well, there is a species called the Sionnach.  They’re native to a planet called Talamh in the Grian system, and they bear a rather striking resemblance to humans.  There are differences of course, but the basic morphology is the same.  The reason I bring this up is that about eighty years ago, Talamh suffered an environmental catastrophe that wiped out nearly ninety-five percent of their population in the span of a few weeks.  Because of their reproductive practices prior to the incident, the Sionnach found themselves facing a sort of genetic bottleneck, and they decided that the best way to alleviate this was to seek an outside infusion of genetic material.” “They’re looking for breeding stock,” Beth said. “Yes.” “You can’t be serious.” “And this is why I don’t offer this option to white people,” Owen said.  “Ms. Murray, I’m not suggesting you sell your daughter off as some kind of brood mare.  The Sionnach take selection of their mates very, very seriously.  They gather applications from a number of candidates, and the Sionnach in question reviews them, and selects the ones they like.  Then, their family reviews their choices, and select a candidate.  The candidate is then brought to the house of their prospective spouse, and they spend a period of time together.  Roughly five hours.  During that time they talk, get to know each other, and decide if they want to proceed.  If both parties agree, they enter a five year engagement.  During those five years, the candidate is treated as a member of the house.  They are given a stipend, they’re educated, they’re housed, fed, provided with medical care, and they undergo medical procedures which allow them to survive on Talamh without special equipment.” “What sort of medical procedures?” “Talamh is a high gravity world with a higher-than-normal concentration of heavy metals in the environment.  Your daughter would need procedures to be able to stand up to the local gravity, and to be able to filter out metals she would not normally be able to purge from her system.  She would also undergo a type of gene therapy which would make her more resistant to radiation and give her the ability to see parts of the infrared spectrum and hear sounds normally outside of the range of human hearing.” “That sounds dangerous.” “The Sionnach are one of the founding species of the Hegemony.  Their technology is thousands of years more advanced than ours, and they’ve been doing these procedures since before humans built their first cities.” Beth shook her head.  “An arranged marriage…  I don’t know.” “If I’m honest, it’s a long shot.  You would have to take your daughter for a screening.  She’d have to pass the screening for any sort of genetic issues that would eliminate her, then she would have to be selected by one of the Sionnach.  If that happens, you and your family would have to travel to Talamh at the expense of the Sionnach house that selected her, and your daughter would have to get through the initial interview.  But if she does, she would get the education you want for her.” “And what happens at the end of the five years if she decides she doesn’t want to marry the person who selected her.” “Then she’s free to walk away.  She’d be given a small amount of money, and passage to anywhere within the Hegemony, but she’d be free to do what she wants.” “No indenture?  No repayment of expenses?” Beth asked. “No,” Owen said.  “But again, it’s a long shot, and I take my normal fee just to put you through the application process, whether she gets selected or not.” “How many humans get selected?” Beth asked. “She’d be the first,” Owen said. “What’s your fee?” Beth asked. “Five hundred Hegemony credits.” Beth winced.  Given current exchange rates, that was almost ten thousand dollars. “How quickly would we know?” Beth asked. Owen turned and woke up his computer.  She watched as he pulled up a page and scrolled through before clicking on a link. “There’s only one family looking right now.  Applications are due by the end of next week.  You’d know in a month, tops.” Beth thought about it for a moment.  It was a longshot, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, but it was better than an indenture, so she reached for her credit card. *** Sam looked up from her homework at the sound of a light knock on her bedroom door.  The door was wide open, and her mother was standing there looking at her.  Sam couldn’t quite place the expression on her face but given the appointment she had earlier, Sam didn’t have any doubt about what it meant. “No luck, huh?” she asked, trying not to let the relief she felt creep into her voice.  She knew an off-world education would open a lot of doors for her and give her opportunities that she wouldn’t have otherwise, and she really did want to go off-world, travel in space and see other planets someday, but the idea of living on another planet for four or more years was both frightening and overwhelming. “Not much,” her mom said.  “He did have one program you could apply for that doesn’t include an indenture period.  I emailed you the link to the application.  I need you to fill it out today, because I made an appointment for tomorrow for you to go for the physical and psych scan that’s required.” “Tomorrow?  Mom, tomorrow’s Jenny’s birthday party.” “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry.  I know you were looking forward to the party, but you might have to miss it.  I’ve already got us portal tokens, and tomorrow is the only day we can go before the deadline without you missing school.  I made the appointment for as early as I could, so you should get home in time to go.” Sam wanted to argue, but she already knew it was useless.  She hadn’t missed a day of school since halfway through the eighth grade, and she knew her mom wasn’t going to let her start less than a month before graduation.  She also knew her mom wasn’t going to let her pass up a chance at an off-world scholarship just to go to a birthday party.  Even if the birthday girl was her best friend who she’d been crushing on since Kindergarten.  Of course, her mom didn’t exactly know that last part because she hadn’t told her she liked girls.  She’d considered telling her a few times, but she’d always changed her mind at the last minute, because if her mom knew she liked girls, she might decide that Jenny was a distraction that Sam didn’t need in her life and that wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. “Fine,” she said, reaching for her laptop.  “I’ll do the application now.” “Thank you.  And Sam, I love you.” “I love you too, mom,” she said. Her mom left and Sam opened up the email link, which took her to a form that asked her for an invite code.  She checked the email and sure enough, there was a code for her.  She copied it and pasted it into the form, and when she did, it took her to the next page, and a lot of the information was prepopulated, including her latest ID card photo, name and age, along with her school transcripts and medical records.  The stuff that was left for her to fill out read more like a dating profile than a college application. The first section was hobbies and interests and activities.  She thought about it for a minute and decided to just be honest instead of going through all the BS she usually did for the college apps.  She put down soccer, swimming, surfing, electronics, robotics, reading, martial arts, camping and motocross.  She attached pictures of herself in her soccer uniform, along with a couple of video clips from some of the team’s games, then she added a few videos of her swim meets, and a couple of pictures and some videos of her surfing.  She pulled up her YouTube folder and attached a few build videos for some of her robotics projects, along with the parts lists, schematics, models for the 3D printed parts, and the source code for the micro-controllers she’d written.  She added a picture of her holding two trophies from a local Karate tournament where she’d placed second in sparring, and third in bo staff, and added a few videos of her matches.  She also added a few pictures from her camping trips and a picture of her sitting on a dirt bike, along with a video Jenny had taken of her running one of the beginner courses, then pulled up her ebook library and dumped the list of all her books, listed her favorite movies and attached all her playlists from her music library. The next section was a little weird.  It asked about what sort of foods she liked, so she gave a list.  Then is asked whether she enjoyed various activities.  Most of them were fairly common things.  Theater, music, art.  A couple she had to check the cultural database link.  She was surprised and excited when she found out that whoever was sponsoring this program apparently considered dragon racing important enough to put on the questionnaire. All in all, she spent about two hours filling out the application, and once she was done, she hit submit, and then pulled out her cell phone and opened up her text messages with Jenny. Sam:  ‘Bad news.  I might miss your party.’ Jenny:  ‘What?!!!’ Sam:  ‘Mom’s dragging me to New York in the morning for a physical and a psych scan for a scholarship.’ Jenny:  ‘She’s still on that off-world college kick?’ Sam:  ‘Yeah.’ Jenny:  ‘Girl, you don’t want to go to college with ET’s’ Sam:  ‘I’ve got to get accepted before I have to worry about it.’ Jenny:  ‘Come by my place when you’re done.  Even if you miss the party, I want to see you.’ Sam:  ‘Will do.  See you tomorrow.’ Jenny;  ‘Night.’ Sam sat down her phone and looked at her homework.  She’d wanted to finish before dinner, but there was no way that was happening now.  She grabbed it anyway and went back to work, trying to get as much done as possible before her mom called her downstairs. 

***

End Chapter 1

***

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[calliecat93]

ST: The Next Generation Watchthrough Season 3 Episodes 1-3

Evolution: We’re at Season 3 folks, yippee~! We also have Dr. Crusher back! I’m kind of annoyed that they don’t os much as mention what happened with Pulaski, but considering everything,t hat may have been best. I’m just gonna assume that she took Crusher’s job at Starfeet Medical and Crusher decided to go back to the Enterprise to be with her son. Which I’m glad that the episode touches on the fact that Crusher doesn’t really connect with Wesley anymore and how she’s concerned that he’s more wrapped up in his studies and Ensign duties than… you know, being an actual kid. Whatever one feels about them axing Crusher last season, they at least acknowledged and worked with it now that she’s back. The issues with Wesley in the first two seasons is how he was an intelligent kid who felt like he got things handed to him and bolstered up despite having done nothing to earn it. S2 was a bit better, but the issue still lingered, just less in our face. But here? Wesley accidentally causes the problem with a nanite project he was working on getting loose and he tries to fix it without anyone finding out while also dealing with his mom being back and hovering over him after being without her for a year. I would like to point out that he made the choice to be without his mom so him going ‘how wold you know? You haven’t even been here.” is kind of his own fault, but I DO understand that he’s frustrated and it’s an understandable reaction from a tired, guilt-ridden teenager. That’s probably what I liked best, Wesley feels more like an actual kid who screws up and makes bad decisions but is good-intentioned and trying to both be responsible and make it right, which I think the other two seasons didn’t fully have. He doesn’t get punished or even scolded for almost causing the destruction of the ship and everyone on it, but he doesn’t get praised for admitting the mistake that he caused or directly save the day either like in The Naked Now and he did ultimately admit responsibility after talking to his mom so fair enough. The episode is overall a good one. There’s good tension and pacing with the nanite threat, Crusher comes back and gets right back to where she left off, Wesley has probably his best focus episode thus far, there’s the gap between mother and son showing them not ignoring the ramifications, the crew maintain their competence and managed to resolve the issue peacefully, and overall it’s a decent way to start off the season. A standard episode, but still promising for what’s to come. 3.5/5

The Ensigns of Command: We have Data on a planet to evacuate an upcoming invasion who do have the right to the planet due to a treaty… but the citizens won’t budge. We have a tense situation here. We have a bunch of stubbornness on both sides. The Sheliak’s DO have right tot he planet, but that doesn’t make it right to slaughter a bunch of innocent lives for no reason. But the colony leader won’t listen and refuses to go without a fight despite the land not being their’s and having the Federation ready to get them to safety. We have Data having t try and convince the colony… but he’s not really trained as a negotiator so… yeah. It’s nice to have Data in a role that he isn’t used to and him having to figure out how to navigate the issue especially with how he still struggles to understand human nature in a case where he very much needs it. The method he uses to finally convince them was not one I expected from Data, but damn it was an effective one and I loved how he got to get creative! I love it! Even his reverse psychology gambit was a good one even if it didn’t fully work cause the idiot leader is too good of a speaker, but the final attempt sure as Hell did the job. Picard’s attempts to negotiate with the Sheliak to buy time for evacuation were also freakin’ great especially at the end and I’m already liking him so much more than the first two seasons. The girl though who’’s really into androids? Yeah, while I give her kudos for trying to help Data and re-activating him after the leader took him out, I didn’t like her. She may like androids but it really seems that’s all she sees him as. And that just rubs me the wrong way. Also Dat saying he has no feelings of any kind… I really don’t get why the show is insisting on that cause that’s not true jut because it’s not the ‘normal’ way, thought he ending has Picard more or less point out that Data’s statement isn’t really accurate who who knows? Ultimately it’s an episode about how, as Data puts it, things can be replaced but lives cannot. Some fights aren’t worth the loss of life, and this was one of those cases. Also diplomatic negotiations and treaties aren’t a fun process haha. 3.5/5.

The Survivors: Well… that went nothing like I expected. Things start out kind of same old, same old. We have a couple being too stubborn to leave their home despite hostilities and the crew can’t convince them otherwise… then Troi gets some strange repeating melody stuck in her head. You know how addictive Earworms can be? Well imagine it never being able to stop and going over and over and over… and Dear Lord poor Troi didn’t deserve any of this. Marina Sirtis conveyed Troi’s growing desperation and pain because it just won’t stop extremely well. This and a hostile vessel raise a lot of questions. Why is all of this happening? It’s all connected to the elderly couple… and the reveal is utterly shocking and horrifying. I’m reluctant to even go into detail because I don’t want to ruin the surprise for anyone who may have not seen it. But lets just say that it’s not simple pride keeping that couple from leaving even when the danger returns. Oh not even close. This episode was freakin’ great. It’s pretty good but when we get the big plot twist? It flips everything on it’s head and the actor delivering the big revelation… the performance is utterly gut-wrenching. Their actions are sympathetic and the guilt and grief is so evident and heartbreaking, a being driven to despair that caused them to commit probably one of, if not the, most unforgivable act that one can commit. It’s an utter tragedy, plain and simple. IDT an episode of TNG has hit me this hard, I legit teared up. Just… damn. 5/5.

While I didn’t really watch the show as a kid, I did see scattered episodes her and there because my mom watched it 24/7. Seasons 1 and 2 of TNG just… din’t feel right. They weren’t bad, they just didn’t have that feel that I remembered from what I had seen. Now though? I’m starting to get that feeling again. The episodes, while not ground-breaking or anything, maintain quality and it doesn’t feel like it’s trying to replicate TNG or struggling to escape it’s shadow anymore. If this is indeed the season where the show truly found it’s groove, then I am excited for the other 23 episodes~!

[ianworthy]

Israel vs Palestine

What is really happening? And the bloody solution…

First off, I'm from a small town on the other side of the planet so I don't have any kind of agenda.  If you want that B.S. there's lots of options.  I realized more than ever over the last year that we are being lied to and manipulated on the daily, which led me down many rabbit holes. I've been "re-educating" myself and started writing in an effort to make some sense of the craziness.

History made shorter…

We should start around when the Ottoman Empire ended for some context, which was in the early 1920s in case you slept through History.  If you rely on the ‘news’ you'd think this started a couple of weeks ago.  Reality, if you go back far enough no one "owned" anyone, nor the land they occupied or any of the land you’re on right now. Humanity and its entire existence has involved one tribe/country trying to annihilate the other.   It never works out, but here we are 200000 years later, give or take 194000 years, depending on whether your belief in Science transcends beyond vaccines and masks.  In case you didn't catch that I’m referring to the 6000 year timeline outlined in the Bible.  Breaking this down to the core revolves around religion used to create unnecessary animosity, so a relatively small proportion of a population can benefit.  Isn't that every war ever?

After the Ottoman collapse, the land that's in dispute aka Israel and Palestine was given to the British.  Interesting fact, if you look at all the atrocities and wars currently going on in the world, they are all countries that were "occupied" some way or another by the British or to a lesser extent, the French.  Aren't we all curious for Harry's hot take on how he's the product of ruthless colonization of his great grandparents that its impact on global society is ever present? These former colonies are humanitarian disasters enslaved by whichever military coup at the time provides corporations with the most resources.  But hey, as long as the Old B of England got the right biscuits to accompany her afternoon Tea that's all that matters, right?        

When the British, or most powerful Army at the time called the shots, there was a movement referred to as Zionism that began to gain support from the Jewish people throughout Europe.  Zionism basically means the nationalist movement to create a state for the Jews, not the jam by Damien Marley, which is my first exposure to the word Zion.  I'm sure this rise was foreshadowing of what was to come.  Not to get all conspiracy theory on you but none other than the Rothschilds (wealthiest family in history that created the global money supply that are apparently no longer wealthy) created a proposal that involved divvying up the land for a state in the future, which was after the war.  Google the ‘Balfour Declaration’ if you don't believe me.  From that point the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians has steadily decreased, according to the last map I checked it was looking pretty bleak.  The land was divided not because they are physiologically different but because one group of parents parents parents were raised to believe in Abraham and the other a linkage to Abraham.

Up to the current point… 

I'm sure that Jared Kusher's involvement in recognizing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and the Trump peace plan of supplying the middle east with more missiles played a supporting role, but more current, Ramadan.  The Israelis like all of the World Leaders during the last year have been flexing too much during the lockdowns of COVID, which carried over to yet another Ramadan and evicted some families for further settlements.  In addition to the evictions the Israelis broke up a Mosque gathering on Eid, Antifa style.  Eid for Muslims is like Christmas for Christians, but instead of getting toys and gifts from Jesus swap, Santa Claus, you get to eat during daylight after a month of starving yourself.  This Mosque is Islam's third holiest site, conveniently Jerusalem is Judaism and Christianity holiest site as well, coincidence?  To relate, for Christians, if Jerusalem is the holiest, and the Vatican is the Second then probably a Church like Notre Dame would be third, or up there at least.  I feel that the MSM coverage of the Notre Dame burning was little different than the burning of the Al-Aqsa Mosque. 

In retaliation to the Israeli raids, Hamas, the awful military leadership of Palestine launched missiles that had no real threat of reaching their target, being shot down half way by the Rafael Advanced Defense System (Iron Dome) that the US taxpayer supplied batteries for under Obama.  In response to a “potential” desert storm attack from Palestine a bunch of USA made Lockheed Martin F-16s equipped with M61 Vulcans and Raytheon AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles launched an Airstrike killing a bunch of innocent civilians, including kids.  According to the death toll I just looked at, it was 241 dead Palestinians, including 5 top Hamas commanders, the media and a bunch of kids to 12 Israelis, no executives, consultants, shareholders or politicians were killed.               

The Solution Is…

Two solid states, and no longer decreasing the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians and increasing of Jewish settlements.  Palestinians and Jews both have the right to a home.  With the help of the greedy boomers (worst leadership class in history) and the media making the next couple of generations hate each other, the rift is super deep.  Every war is sustained by the industrial military complex.  Lockheed Martin Raptors or Raytheon Heat Seeking Missiles do not magically appear in the Israeli Air Force.  The corporations that run the United States are in the business of making money at all costs, in this case innocent lives mostly Palestinians.  Humans need to stop providing the means to commit such acts of horror.     

It also seems pretty convenient that Benjamin Netanyahu was recently unable to form a new government and is facing criminal corruption charges.  Party leaders are always guilty of something, it’s just a matter of if they follow the most profitable line or not.  He's obviously not the right person to run Israel, taking it in the extreme right position that’s trendy right now in politics.  Extreme either way is no solution to anything, and the sooner Netanyahu goes the better.  His father was an Ivy League Professor active in the Zionist movement, who's father was also a Zionists.  Point here is people that grow up entitled with an unwavering ideology and no life experience make for horrible leaders.  That applies to a lot of world "leaders", even the countries that don't have nonsensical inbred Royals in charge.  Any peaceful long-term resolution involves leadership that recognizes that Jews and Palestinians have a right to a home.  There also needs to be more fair coverage.  I guess it doesn't help that the people running Sony Pictures, Twentieth Century Fox, Lionsgate, Universal, NBC, The New York Times, The Tribune, Discovery, CNN, Google and Facebook are all Jewish.  In Palestine, the Israeli Air Force blew up one of the main media buildings that housed Al Jazeera News and the Associated Press.  No press or opinion vs all the colluding press and opinions. 

As for Hamas, or any of these military coups that emerge are the result of instability and no leadership for its people, present more of a challenge.  Israel can and hopefully soon, will function just fine with new leadership.  My entire adult life, the Industrial Military Complex has been at war with the Middle East.  The defense contractors that have been defending America from an “evasion” always seem to find some action. It's purely about Oil(Money) and strategic power, but we can leave that for another time. From the West perspective Hamas is a terrorist organization, which they are, but if you're living in Palestine having dinner with your family and a Raytheon heat seeker comes through the window and blows up your family into pieces. Wouldn’t that be a terrorist act? In order to have any kind of sustainable solutions the counties and corporations that pillage these places killing innocent people need to find a way to structure these de facto coups into a legit military that can serve as a National Army. At the end of the day these kids are just fighting for what they think or are forced to think is right. Given the option, and right identity, kids can redirect their frustration and hatred towards a national unity that respects and values its citizens. Not that I have much faith in non-secular rule, but I think as a starting point a country that can be run more or less by its people is better than this apartheid situation that’s going on now.

The ceasefire has been called, which is the necessary short-term solution, however not going to change much going forward.  This game is being played with a zero-sum, and I think that they were premeditated targets that were going to be fired at some point in the future regardless of what the spark was. My position at the end of the day is that a handful of countries produce all the weapons used to blow everyone up, so it should start at the source and those who benefit the most.  Which obviously isn't the everyday people of Palestine or Israel. The upside, with the media fighting for relevance the corporate narrative is being challenged.  We just haven't figured out the right way. I have some thoughts, subscribe or follow please.

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Mementos

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 2080

Summary: post Doomsday, of places and things lost

For the prompt ‘family’ of @timepetalsweek

***

Jackie took the ripped envelope with reverent hands.

It didn’t make sense, not really. How time passed in this world. Sometimes, of course, she wouldn’t even notice, because calendars here still had twelve months and clocks an hour hand and a minute hand; others, however, she woke up thinking about the ludicrous hole a killer Christmas tree had left in her bedroom and just how expensive fixing it was going to be, only to find herself in a four-poster bed with silk sheets in a room like the bedchamber of Henry VIII, and everything around her crumbled. Those days were the hardest. Those days, she could feel the past like it was around the corner, just at the end of her fingertips—Rose, you came back! Oh, and you, big fella! You’re all mine!—and at the same time distant, remote and non-existent, fading in the way dreams fade the moment you blink awake.

Those days, Jackie thought, she was one step closer to understand her daughter. Because, despite the weeks and the months, she still catches the haunted looks, never misses the blank stares. Because it was just yesterday that she was holding her trembling body in a beach in Norway, and yet it wasn’t. It had been one year and a half. In those moments, Jackie was sure that there was something terribly wrong about the way the cogs turned in this world.

She’d thought she’d like it.

What a silly idea that seemed now.  

She shakes the envelope and the paper falls soundless as a feather.

There is only one picture. She had been dismayed when she found out, but Mickey told her that the rest of the files were corrupted and that there was nothing else he could do. Bless him. Those old mobiles had never been too reliable, anyway.

They were smiling.

Why, of course they were smiling, it was the only thing they seemed to be able to do around each other. Her with the dimples on her cheeks, and him with that barmy face and those barmy eyebrows. She didn’t know when it had become their trademark, only that it had.

They were pointing at something outside of the frame, their raised arms cut by the elbow. It must have been something incredible, no doubt, for their eyes were wide and shining. Inexplicably, they both wore two pairs of sunglasses, maintaining an precarious balance at the top of their heads, but they were too lost in whatever it was that had caught their attention to care. The quality of the image is fuzzy and the background is a blur of grey and blue. They could’ve been in Spain or in a moon colony lightyears away from Earth, and she wouldn’t be able to tell. Their expression is one of sheer wonder, and she thinks that’s how they should’ve looked, forever.

Forever wondering, forever marvelling.  

And she had once been so worried—worried that she’d lose herself, that on every ship and planet and asteroid she visited, she’d leave a piece of herself behind until there was nothing left. It couldn’t have been further from the truth: her daughter, she realized, had found herself among the stars, and she had soared. And for some reason, this realization brings a pain to her chest greater than any other. And she regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets so deeply she can feel her guts turn inside out.

And it only gets worse, because every day she sees her, and she’s trying so hard to build, she’s trying so hard to create and not destroy. To leave a mark, to carve a niche of her own, fit in the spaces between offices and parties and rooms twice the size of their flat. But it’s like Rose always tells her: “I was never born here. There isn’t a hole with my outline. If I want a place for myself, I have to start from scratch.”

Jackie can feel her hands shaking.

She doesn’t know when her daughter became so wise.

Indeed, it is those gaps. It’s those gaps she feels when she wakes up in a bed that’s not hers, with a husband that might look like hers, but he’s alive and well and no longer a ghost. It’s terrifying.

They had left a hole with their outline when they left, and Jackie wonders what it might look like. An empty council flat. With her cheap furniture, a desolate fridge and a broken washing machine. With a tiny bathroom with bad lighting and a crooked mirror. With two bedrooms cluttered with years and years of trinkets and keepsakes that would no longer hold any meaning whatsoever: Christmas postcards and old blankets and earrings and dirty clothes and a bronze medal and magnets of places they never visited.

Of all that, would remain nothing.

But in her mind, as she envisions it, to her surprise she realizes that the house isn’t empty. Not completely. She imagines a shadow, a lonely figure in a long coat, standing in the middle of it all like a salt statue.

She wonders if he will mourn them for long.

And hopes that he will.

Because, as she holds the picture in her hands, she thinks of paper crowns and garlands and laughter and ash instead of snow, and she too, mourns.

***

Someone stands still on Walworth Road and the Earth keeps turning.

The burden had been his to bear.

And that was okay.

It’s always been like this.

Every person he meets leaves a load when they part ways—a bundle of memories, of good times and bad times and a little bit of this, and oh, also a little bit of that—and he carries it gladly. Sometimes with sorrow, and pain, but always gladly. It’s the least he can do. It’s his duty. Or something like it, anyway. The word is too formal and too pompous and he doesn’t like how it sounds in any case.

But it wasn’t a sense of obligation that drove him here. Not because he felt that he had to, or that he owed them (even though he owes them, so much), but because he feels if he doesn’t honour what’s left of them, he doubts that anyone else will. And he can let the world forget—because humanity always forgets, humanity always moves on—their names and their faces and the footprints they left along their path, but he won’t.

So he steps into the flat.

For some reason, he didn’t think there’d be silence. This was never a place for silence; for chatter and laughter, always; for quiet, sometimes; but never for this sheer blankness, this void of sound. Now, however, there is so much of it he’s afraid the flat will burst. He could quantify it, estimate it, calibrate its exact weight and mass, because this silence is something tangible, something that looms and lurks and creeps onto your back. There’s something about it that unnerves this body. This silence makes his nerves itch and tingle and he wants to flee like a scared animal.

But he can’t bring himself to break it.

The TARDIS waits in the children’s playground, because parking it on the front room felt irreverent, and because Jackie always complained about the marks the old ship left on the carpet. Now he’s three floors up, foldaway cardboard boxes under his arm, and he’s crossed the threshold and it’s silent. It takes eight tentative steps, twenty-seven feet and 6.3 inches, and he’s in the living room. He can see the kitchen from his vantage point: the tap dripping every 0.9 seconds and the dirty dishes still in the sink and a mug on the table and everything is so there and it looks so very much the same that it aches. And suddenly it seems like the air turns liquid and dense and the Doctor freezes.

It’s like a snow globe.

It dawns on him that he doesn’t want to touch anything, that he’d rather die before moving a frame or a chair an inch from their current resting place. He wants to keep it this way, forever; preserve an ordinary, utterly unimportant empty council flat against the ravages of time, uncorrupted and uncorruptible. Nothing more and nothing less than a home, lived-in and worn-out, with specks of dust dancing against the sunlight and a half-finished cuppa still waiting for its owner to return. To come back.

He thinks he might wait, too.

He drops the cardboard boxes, and it isn’t until then that he notices.

Beside a too-familiar rucksack, there is a square plastic box. A disposable camera. The classic FujiFilm.

Attached to it, a pink sticky note.

Develop.

Once, it might have been a trivial reminder, just one among the many things in a to-do list, but now it feels more like a dying wish. Unfulfilled.  

He doesn’t think it twice.

He’s sprinting down the stairs before he can register that his body is moving at a disproportionate speed, the odds of missing a step and breaking his spine increasing exponentially.

There’s never been a dark room in the TARDIS, and it occurs to him that he should build one, one day. Why didn’t the TARDIS have a dark room? The TARDIS most definitely should have a dark room. That way, at least, he’d save the sidelong glances and the startled faces. Oh. Barging in again, aren’t we, Doctor?

It’s one of those little street shops, wedged and squeezed, fighting for space between a Tesco and an ATM, where you can have your photos printed in an hour and a puzzle or a keychain made with your face on it. Genius. At the counter were two employees with name tags attached to their breast pockets, and they both looked like they were about to ask him to leave. But he’s quick to slam the camera on the counter and rummage his pockets until he finds the right currency, and suddenly their faces turn bright and trustworthy.

So he waits—one hour, as the advert says—and the soles of his chucks punctuate the passing of each second.

When they give him the envelope, he stumbles back onto the street and rips it open.

The crowds pass him by, but he’s glued to the sidewalk from head to toe.

Out of the whole roll of film, there are only three photos. The first one is a table, the tablecloth faded at the edges and with a couple of burst seams, laid out with all sorts of foods—almost too much food—looking like an impromptu banquet, messy and exaggerated and inviting, and he knows exactly when it was taken.

He can’t say the same about the second one.

It’s the cracker they pulled, on a Christmas Eve that was both the first and the last. It was all glitter on the outside until it popped with a short loud bang. The paper crown had been pink and it had matched his, and she had been elated. Halfway through dinner, the telly had blared a season classic and they had tried to dance, tumbling ridiculously as to avoid the chairs and the sofa and oh, careful there, that’s the china figurine cousin Mo brought from Belgium! They had gotten tangled with the tinsel in the process, but her grin had been as wide as her cheeks stretched. Only now, he realizes, that he had been grinning too. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t remember the click of the camera, or Jackie fussing about saying cheese!

He has no clue when this moment happened, only that it came and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

And then the Doctor is left alone, standing still on Walworth Road, and his face is lined with tears.

He only catches a brief glimpse of the third photograph before he shoves the envelope into his coat pocket. It was dark, barely an outline, of two figures pointing at the sky.

I spent Christmas day just over there, at the Powell Estate, with this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well. It was my…

Bringing his hands to his face, he pushes his palms against the globes of his eyes until patterns emerge under the pressure, but no matter how hard he tries the tears keep falling.

The Doctor stands still and the crowds pass him by.

The Earth keeps turning.

An the burden, this time, is too heavy to bear.

***

Read in Ao3

[andorwhore]

Saudade (preview)

a six part Cassian Andor story

story summary: a year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one...

preview summary: of all the days for a slicer to break into the wrong ship, today was by far the worst.

author’s note: this idea started out very different from what it is now -- originally i wanted a quick Cassian x reader, but the plot developed into something so much bigger, and i decided i needed a fully fledged OC to tell the story!

also! it’s worth mentioning the pronunciation of the name Jai that’s featured -- it’s not Jay, but rather Ji (like pi). i’ve heard it both ways, and something about that second pronunciation has always charmed me.

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC

preview word count: 1,052 (but the full chapter is over 10k srrynotsrry)

rating: T, eventual R

warnings: none (yet)

The starport on the Ring of Kafrene was every thief’s dream. Ships of traders, merchants, and everything in between were left relatively unattended, any security could be bought off if one had the right connections, and, if one was smart, they could make off with thousands of credits worth of goods. As ships improved and as droid security began to take over, it became more and more challenging for the average thief to get out of the port without being caught, but that meant less competition for the slicers amongst the Ring’s residents.

Slicers weren’t all that easy to come by on the trading colony. Actually, good ones weren’t easy to come by -- any amateur that somehow managed to get their hands on scramble keys suddenly started calling themselves slicers. And those were the same amateurs that got themselves thrown into a cell within hours of proclaiming, with severe overconfidence, that they had the skill to hack anyone’s computer. No, the thieves drawn to the Ring of Kafrene very rarely had the aptitude for hacking, but then again, the colony wasn’t exactly a prime destination for codebreakers to begin with. Slicers were far better suited for the Outer Rim Territories, on planets like Cantonica or Nevarro, where their skills could be put toward big jobs, where they were less likely to be harrassed by any kind of authority. To be a slicer in the Expansion Territory was practically asking for trouble, asking for stormtroopers and the Empire to toss one behind bars without mercy.

However, there were a rare few slicers that could get by particularly well on the Ring of Kafrene. One of those infamous slicers, who managed to somehow be renowned in the slums of the colony and yet never encounter any trouble from the Empire, was named Tillian.

Tillian was a man known only by that one name, and very few had the pleasure of learning anything about him beyond that. As far as slicers went, he was arguably one of the best throughout the entirety of the Expansion Territory; and despite his criminal activity, Tillian had the consideration to share his skills with a select few that he saw potential in through the years. And one of those few was Jai’ren Tillian.

Jai was a young woman of unknown origin, but of well-known talent among the underbelly residents of the Ring of Kafrene. She may not have been a strong thief in comparison to all the competition that loitered around the colony, but where she lacked in pickpocketing, she excelled in hacking. Of the half dozen or so that Tillian had trained through the years, Jai proved to be the most apt for the talent of slicing, even from an early age.

Currently, Jai was taking the risk of breaking into multiple ships crammed into Kafrene’s overcrowded starport. This wasn’t her first, nor did she intend for it to be her last, visit to the port, slicing her way onto ships of all classes and sizes; Jai found that, for her, it was far easier to focus and get a job done when she wasn’t distracted by the hussle and bussle of the cramped trading streets, and the risk of sneaking into the parking port was well worth the quiet she needed to get her task done.

Jai had just unlocked a third ship, stuffing her scramble key into the inner pocket of her coat while pushing a stray strand of ashy brown hair back up into her cap, careful to avoid shifting the goggles situated atop it. She threw a cautious glance back over her shoulder, bird-like eyes searching and ears listening to ensure no one had taken notice of her. With a satisfied expression she quickly ducked into the U-Wing and closed the door behind her to avoid any unwanted attention.

Jai stood in the hull, realizing that, despite the appearance from the outside that the ship was large, it’s interior was actually a rather cramped space. Nibbling the inside of her lip, she eyed the hull left then right; she realized within a few moments that it didn’t look like there was all that much lying around that would be worth anything to her. There were hardly any compartments or cubbies for storing goods, and it looked like the only serious computer aboard the ship wasn’t used for much more than tracking whereabouts and sending messages. She let out a derided sigh while sliding her hands into the pockets of her worn pants, fingers toying with a small box she’d grabbed from the last ship she broke into just minutes prior.

‘What a waste,’ she thought, her eyes scanning the ship again in slow consideration. It looks as if she put in a lot of effort for a whole lot of nothing. But she might as well search for something, anything, to at least deem said effort reasonable -- maybe, despite appearances, she could get her hands on something good.

“Right,” Jai spoke aloud to herself, extracting her hands and lazily cracking her fingers down in front of her hips. She climbed up the couple of steps into the cockpit, eying the equipment briefly before checking every crack and crevice for some kind of valuables. After a minute, she stepped back down into the main hull of the U-Wing, eyes scanning more astutely to make sure she hadn’t missed anything obvious. This ship’s interior was so small, there was hardly space for much of anything; Jai noted that it would probably have felt cramped if there were any more than four or five people aboard.

As Jai considered the size of the ship, she looked down at her feet, studying the metal floor for a few long moments before her lower lip pushed out appraisingly -- unless her eyes were deceiving her, it looked as if some of the floor panels lifted. Jai dropped to one knee to test her theory, finding that there was, in fact, a handle that she twisted to unlock. But she was all too quickly disappointed, finding that what was hidden under the floor was nothing more than a row of collapsible seats. With another frustrated huff, Jai pushed back down and locked the handle back in its place.

And at that same moment, the door to the U-Wing suddenly slid open.

[minniewoos]

By the Stars ➣ Bang Chan

Genre: dystopian au, angst

Word count: 6,014

Warnings: terminal illness, prescription drug abuse, a moody Minho

Summary: The people of Mars live under constant surveillance and constant control; living in awful polluted conditions. Your brother, Jeongin, is sick. To save him you try to escape to Earth, your friend Chan helps you along the way.

The planet breathes smoke and fire.

Smog drifted up in thick, ashen pillars; hundreds of stacks ascending up towards the duel moons. Pinkish ruby skies were dulled to a cinnabar hue, poisoned from the constant outpour of smoke. Exhaust from the pristine cubes dotting the surface of the planet, between the small humble neighborhoods, large, off-white buildings whose purpose was for the ultimate happiness of humanity. People called those buildings the Cubes. It was considered a pleasure to work in them, for them, and for the human race, and you’re reminded of it every time you walk past. “LIVE TO SERVE” was embossed on every one of them. You served humanity, at least the portion who lived on Earth. The Cubes cranked out mass productions of illustrious, high-end products for the people of Earth to use or consume. It was the highest-ranking job on the planet aside from being a part of the royal court.

What is this planet? Well, its called it Mars. Colonized long ago by earthen prisoners. By people who were on death row because of their horrid crimes. Sent here to perform hard labor until their inevitable deaths. Those were your ancestors. But well…that was centuries ago, there have been many generations since the first colonies. Now, you were technically Martians but not really aliens. You were certainly human, and the only purpose in life was to produce luxury products for the people of Earth. But most people don’t seem to mind, this is all you’ve ever known. What a life.

There was constant smoke in the air due to the uncontrolled pollution, and it was the worst down in the trenches. A couple hundred feet below the surface, you lived in these canyons where the sun was hardly seen. And at night when curfew was enforced and the lanterns were blown out, these trenches were like an abyss. Impossible to see and impossible to escape. This is where the poorer citizens lived, aka, you. 

But you’re probably the only one who thought of it that way. To your neighbors and friends, it was only a place to sleep before they woke up once more and continued their daily schedules. Your face twisted in disgust at the thought, none of them had a single idea or feeling of their own. And you know it’s not their fault; their heads were dulled with meds while their thoughts were constricted by the constant business your schedules demanded. It was near impossible to think, especially when the king tells everybody what to think. People don’t just live by what he says, they revere him and the people of Earth. It made you sick. It was brainwashing and it was effective.

Your eyes wandered towards the planet’s two moons. The rising Phobos and then to Deimos, as they rise and fall the red skies turn blue before shifting to black. It’s beautiful. But a shame the sight was being choked by the ash in the air, grey specks floating in the sky like always. It was still so ugly, like the black clouds spewing from the Cubes. The nasty pollution was suffocating the once beautiful planet.

“CURFEW IN TEN. I REPEAT, CURFEW IN TEN.” Several guardians stationed around this area of the trenches announced at once, cold mechanic voices resounding off the canyon walls. Their eyes started flashing red to signal the urgency of it, while yours just turned away from them. Guardians, ugly, metallic creatures were basically soldiers who controlled every aspect of life; people were under constant surveillance. It was suffocating. A few stragglers like you were finishing up their tasks and rushing into their homes. And at about five minutes before curfew, everyone’s wrist would start flashing, the last warning.

You sighed as you turned back towards your wagon. You unhooked it from your bike and collected your supplies, the things you didn’t sell, and the things you bought. When you walked inside, you were greeted by the dull lantern light and your brother already lying in his sheets, coughing up a lung. He was only a few years younger than you and the only family you had left. And ever since he came down with sickness, life got much harder and you became the main breadwinner. 

“Y/n, you come home later every day.”

A weak smile, “Yea, I know. I’m sorry, Jeongin, but we can’t afford more time.”

“No, I’m sorry. Right now I’m just a burden.” He sat up, coughing as he did so. He shook his head, “I can’t work anymore and I know it’s hard to provide me.”

“Jeongin.” You turned towards him, a serious look settled on your face. “You will never be a burden on me. You are my little brother and I have no problem looking out for you. Come on, lay back down, you know how the guardians get with curfew.”

While putting the supplies away before bed, you tossed the useless meds in the disposal, just as you had been doing for the past several nights. Since you’ve been doing that, your mind cleared up immensely and it was like a blessing. Since then, Jeongin stopped taking the required meds and he’s come to notice more things as well. You’ve both agreed that the meds were given by the king to fog the citizens’ heads to prevent a revolution. But you do try to help his illness, a lung disease caused by the mass pollution on the planet; unfortunately the king provides the medicine for that too, and it doesn’t seem to be helping Jeongin. You’ve known many people to contract the disease, and the survival rate: 5%. Sighing sadly, you finish your nightly routine and make sure to shut the blinds in your tiny, three-room home. You blow the lanterns out, shading the small house in darkness so the Guardians don’t come by. You lay your head on your pillow and your mind went blank, peace.

Exactly 9 hours later, it was morning, you yawned and leaned your head against the wall of your small, wooden stall, stocked with daily portions. If people could afford them, they came and ate, if they couldn’t, then they worked more to afford the food. Another day out working and nothing’s changed with everything relatively the same, except right now, Chan stopped by. A kind boy who worked in the repair shop next door, he visited your food stall often. He gets hungry often, so sometimes you’d slip him an extra ration when you could afford it. You’ve been friends for a while, which you’re glad for. It’s hard to make friends when all you do it eat, sleep, and work. You wake up, leave the trenches, work on the surface, and then go back home to the trenches; so a friend livens up the day. Especially a friend like Chan, who is truly one of a kind. Even when everybody in this society is dulled by the meds, Chan’s light somehow shines through. It’s hard to explain, but he stuck out and was certainly a sight for sore eyes. So you try to make time in the schedules, and it’s easier since he works next door to your rickety food cart.

“You’ve been tired lately, why? Maybe you need a stronger prescription.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he bit into his lunch ration for the day. You frown at the mention of the medication, medication you’ve stopped taking.

You paused for a moment, then shook your head, “No, that’s not it. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Is it Jeongin?”

You nod, a slight irritation bubbling inside of you, “His meds for Soot Lung haven’t helped at all, and then why would the king or the guardians care about him? He’s only a vendor’s sister, barely out of school now. You have no idea how many letters I sent the palace begging for help. Begging Chan. But nothing will change because everything is contaminated on this stupid planet, we can’t even breathe properly!” You slammed a fist down, shifting everything in your little stall. You couldn’t care less, but as for Chan, he gave you a look like you just talked back to the king himself. “What, why do you look so worried?”

“You’re being really emotional,” he stood up and looked down at you, concern written on his face, “are you sure you’re okay. You’ve been acting weird lately anyway.“ 

You stared at him for a moment, then on a whim, in your lowest voice, you uttered to him, “Do you trust me.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Chan’s Adam’s apple dipped and he took a shaky breath before nodding, a sure and absolute nod. You purse your lips, you trusted Chan, of course you did. Without him, you wouldn’t know where you would be. He and Jeongin were the only things that were able to bring a smile to your face. Emotions were something undeniably human, and they were being suppressed by the king; without the meds, people would be able to live freely, to think freely. You wanted Chan to experience the same sense of freedom as you have discovered. Your hesitance came with what Chan would think. Chan, just like everyone else, was a slave to this society. Everyone had to work, everyone had to worship the king, and everyone had to think the same. You were the outlier here, but you clasped his hands in yours and looked at him pleadingly. 

“Then, my good good friend, please stop taking the meds. Just trust me and for one week…throw them in the disposal. And nobody will know.” You squeezed his hands in yours, from across your stall, and looked at him with a fire he’s probably never witnessed in a single person before. “It’s-It’s like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, like a lock was broken and I can finally express myself. These emotions I’m feeling, they were amplified by ten…! It feels freeing in a way. Those meds suppress us, and they’re used to control us. And sometimes, like now, I want the people around me to experience these emotions as well…”

Chan eyed your face for any sign of lies or jests. And when he found none, his eyes turned fearful, “Y/n…you know that we live to serve the people of Earth. Those emotions you’re feeling are not for us. They aren’t for us as they weren’t for our ancestors.”

“Just one week,” you insisted, your voice low once more, “Try it for one week. Our ancestors’ faults should not be our own. Will you do it?”

Chan paused for one half of a moment, a half a moment of deep thought, then nodded. You took his hand in yours and grinned, as did he. The thought of Chan choosing you, made you overwhelmingly happy. Because as of now, he gave you hope.

∎∎∎

It’s been several nights since then, and you’ve come up with a thought. A crazy, impossible, and life-threatening thought. One purely for Jeongin.

You will go to Earth.

Earth, as you’ve heard, was clean. The sky was a beautiful blue hue. You could breathe and your lungs don’t turn black, you could look up and the sky was clear, and you could even drink from the rivers! Everything was clean on Earth. The air on Earth could clean your brother’s lungs; as you’ve heard, the air itself could heal the planet’s infamous Soot Lung. Soot Lung was very common on the planet, and you’re not sure how many die from it, but Jeongin isn’t going to be one of them. You told Jeongin a couple days ago, and he agreed; you presented the idea to Chan the day after, and he also agreed. Seemingly much more determined and motivated lately, the change was nice, but much more sudden then you expected.

And today between work and curfew, you had only an hour, you would visit a dock worker called Minho. A friend of Chan’s, apparently. And Chan said he’s been a smuggler for a while; never explicitly explained to him, but Chans not dumb, he found it obvious. Jeongin’s condition was worsening by the day and you didn’t have much time left. His breathing was short and faint. If only time had a price, you’d be willing to pay anything for that. But for now, you can only race time. And by the stars, you were sprinting for your lives.

“Are you Minho?” you asked a guy hauling a crate to the end of a dock, he was stocking a shipment to Earth. The massive ship settled at the edge of it, doors open, ready to be filled.

The docks were not by water or contained the boats used on Earth. Mars has no need for large bodies of waters, or rains, or any precipitation. The only snow you receive is the dusty, black, yet gentle ash floating in the atmosphere. Instead, the docks were filled with large spaceships ready for takeoff into the cosmos. And the dock workers simply loaded the shipments up and sent the valuable goods off to Earth. But, if you were clever, you could take advantage of the low-ranking job and smuggle a thing or two to make some extra cash. Maybe a couple tablets of Ecstasy or a bottle of Pleasure, whatever it takes to live a bit comfier. Some even snuck people onto the ships to go to Earth, those were the people with nothing to lose…or a death wish. Of course, if you get caught, you disappear immediately. The king had a no tolerance policy with this planet.

But as you surveyed this guy in front of you, a man in his early twenties at best, you wouldn’t have had the tiniest suspicion he’d be involved in such illegal activities. He looked virtually harmless with a fair complexion and a small, round face. He was a dock worker and lugged boxes and crates all day, but he was slim and lean, not at all what you expected from a supposed smuggler. But to his credit, his eyes were sharp, steely, and wise; it gave you some comfort in the reliability he exuded.

“What about it?” he snapped at me, and you were taken aback by the harshness. The tone contradicting his soft features.

“Chan told me about you, we want to make it to Earth-”

“Shut it!” He slaps a hand over your mouth before you could continue, “If you want to leave, the dock is the last place to talk about this. There are guardians everywhere.”

You pulled his hand off your mouth, “Fine, when can we talk?”

He scowled, “Depends on the pay and if you’re dumb or not. But guessing from your introduction, you’re not the brightest.”

Your bit back a retaliation and pulled out your bag of coins, “This is all I have, please my brothers really sick.”

Minho only scoffed, “That’s not enough for a tablet of Ecstasy. This whole crate is worth more than your life. Come back when you’re not going to waste my time.” he turned his back to you. He continued to haul the crates onto the ship. You felt the blood rushing to your face; you couldn’t tell if that meant anger or embarrassment, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Then how bout this?” A bag full of coins was thrown at Minho’s feet, probably valued over thrice the amount you offered. And it was Chans. you turned around and almost yelled at him, but you held back to try to keep control. So you simply asked, “Why are you here?”

“I’m the one who recommended him to you, you think I’m not going too?” Chan said, undeniably sure of himself. He worked a higher-paying job than you, and didn’t have to spend as much. It only made sense for him to have more money than you did, but it wasn’t as much as the people who worked in the Cubes made. And even though he was your good friend, you didn’t want him going and risking his life. 

You could feel the blood rising again, there was no way you’d let yourself be the reason for a possible death. And death was very possible. If Chan died, you’d have that guilt on your shoulders forever. You didn’t care about yourself; this was for Jeongin, and this is your last resort. Meanwhile, Minho looked from coins to Chan, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Fine, but the only reason I’m taking you is because of Chan; I can do it.” Minho said, picking up the bag of coins. He side-glanced you, “And he seems to have some common-sense.”

“Thanks, Minho, we won’t be a problem.” Chan said gratefully, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

“I believe you won’t be the problem,” Minho said harshly then nodded at you, “don’t let them ruin this.”

Chan looked at you, then only nodded towards Minho.

“Now get out of here before we all disappear.”

You huffed on the way home to the trenches with Chan, he only snickered at you; he was amused. You sent a displeased look his way and crossed your arms. You and Chan fell into step together over the red terrain and under your setting sun. The normally red skies began fading to a light, beautiful blue hue as your sun was going to sleep. It was a beautiful sight. Still, simultaneously and wordlessly, you quickened your pace, dreading the possibility of being late to curfew. You and Chan were virtually alone on the quaint road; although there were a couple other stragglers and a few guardians stationed at their posts, It felt as though you were the only two people at this moment. It was then where he nudged your hand with his before slipping it into yours, lacing and locking your hands together. Although a simple moment, a walk home at sunset, your chest bloomed and warmed as a certain feeling spread throughout it. It was cozy, and snug, and secure, and- and safe. In that moment, a feeling you can’t recall experiencing before; many feelings you hadn’t experienced before. You glanced at Chan, and so did he; you squeezed his hand fondly, and so did he.

It was quiet the rest of the walk, but peaceful. Then you arrive at the trench entrance, a rickety old lift that carried passengers to the bottom. Before you let go of his hand to board the creaky lift, you had a sudden urge. You began to get nervous and shy, blood rushed to your cheeks and they became red; it was an unusual feeling you had. You never felt it before, but the more you stared at Chan, the more nervous you became. You unconsciously swallowed. And before the uncomfortable feeling became any stronger, you suddenly leaned in closer, placing a kiss against his lips. It was impulsive and spontaenous but spoke things that words couldn’t.

Shock and a stillness, but Chan soon reciprocated and kissed back as that feeling from before exploded in your chest. And it only elevated as Chan wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close. It felt unreal, and kind of magical. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you were feeling, it was love.

You’ve only ever heard of the feeling, and you’ve certainly loved before, but it wasn’t as intense and raw as this moment. And as you looked at Chan, his eyes said the same thing. His cheeks were blushing red and it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Chan…” You whispered, his shirt in your clenched hands, not wanting to let go.

“…yes?” 

“I-” you paused, but only for a second, “I love you.”

The smile that broke across his face could only be described as warm, loving, and very very happy. His arms tightened around you and he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on you. “I love you too, y/n. God, I’ve never felt this happy before.”

“Me too,” You smiled joyously. 

 After another moment together, you said your farewells and waved goodbye as the lift descended. The reluctance to say goodbye was clear, but it was necessary. The Guardians were strict. And Chan didn’t live in the trenches, he lived above ground. Better conditions but less freedom, if any.

“Get home safe.” You called out to him, and he smiled at you.

∎∎∎

It was five days, five days with absolutely no word from Chan. He hasn’t been at work; he hasn’t been seen or heard of from anybody. And your mind could only go to the worse. You made him late for curfew. That had to be the reason. And just thinking about that made your heart sink. If the guardians caught Chan then, who knows what they would do to him; they would find out he wasn’t taking his meds and the punishment for that is… You shook your head, but the thoughts still didn’t disappear. It devastated you, Chan has become a part of your daily routine and not seeing him for days worried you to no end, especially after what happened. 

But you still planned on making it to Earth with Jeongin. He’s been overcome by lassitude for a while now, and you can’t wait any longer. No matter how much it broke you.

“Hey- Y/n.” you heard Jeongin say weakly.

“Oh, yes?”

“When are we going to Earth? Where’s that guy you spoke of.”

“We’re leaving soon, I talked and arranged everything. And…” you tried swallowing a lump in your throat, then a voice crack, “I… I don’t know. Jeongin, I have no idea where he is.”

“Did you treasure him…?” Meekly and innocently, Jeongin looked at you, his wide eyes bright as he already knew the answer. But the simple inquiry was enough to set a switch off; everything inside yourself you tried to compose leaked out.

Your eyes began to burn as tears welled up and brimmed on your eyes. You sniffed, took a great, shaky breath in, then out. You looked at Jeongin, a pained smile etched itself onto your face, he’s the only one you have now. Your beloved little brother, and even he’s about to be taken right from you if you don’t act soon.

“That man’s name was Chan, and-and he was warm and kind and gentle. He was smart, too; he might not have looked like it though. He took care of me when I refused to take care of myself…and I like to think I did the same for him. Chan was my only friend on our planet. Our ugly, vile, corrupt planet filled to the brim with depravity.” Before you knew it, your despair over Chan soon morphed into a wave of anger over the foul system that took him from you.

“With a king who treats us like cogs in a machine; slaves to him and slaves to Earth. And the worst of it, nobody else sees the awful state they are forced to be in. Meds meds meds. They pump fog into your mind and force meaningless smiles onto your faces; a fake contentedness that’s truly quite eerie. A planet full of suppressed emotions; there exists no anger, no love, no hope, no sorrow. No nothing! Nothing! We are thrown into schooling as soon as possible to only learn to be servants. Well, I don’t want to be a servant! I want these emotions, no matter how painful I want to feel. Jeongin, in school, you learned about emotions the people on Earth feel, right? Well, without the goddamned meds, we feel those as well; that’s what they don’t teach you huh.” you laughed bitterly; you frantically tapped your fingers against your table.

The king throws all the children into school at around four years old, and I’ve heard it’s younger if you live in the upper classes. But all they do is teach you how to “live to serve.” They show the history of your planet and the superiority the people of Earth have over us due to your ancestors’ faults. That’s the only story your children will ever hear, it’s drilled into you. Your children never get approbation or praise for any achievements made; they don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the luxury of fables or fairy tales, that’s reserved for the people of Earth. At the age of sixteen, you’re assigned a role to play in society and thrown out into the world. And you were assigned to be a simple vendor. A measly food vendor to sell small rations to those who could afford it. Jeongin, while having a better job than you, still didn’t get paid much as an entertainer for the royal court. He used to sing for them and they loved his unique voice, how ironic he contracted Soot Lung. 

You sighed and helped Jeongin stand up, he leaned against you, “Okay Jeongin, we’re going now.”

“Y/n,” He coughed before leaning against you once more for support, “We will get through this together. You are one of the strongest people I know. You’re my big sister. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Jeongin flashed his bright signature smile, a smile that never failed to brighten your mood. And you smiled back with his words, words that gave you confidence. You made your way to the docks, determined to keep Jeongin safe.

When you arrived at the meeting spot near the docks but away from prying eyes, you were surprised to see two other people there with Minho. They were a couple, a boy and a girl. You looked at Minho inquisitively.

“Don’t give me that look, you’re all going to Earth. Just follow my instructions, and don’t be dumb.” He announced to you, glanced at Jeongin, then added, “I’ll be joining this time.”

“You’re going too?“ 

Minho nodded, “We all have our reasons to escape this hell. I’m going to take these two to a separate ship, it may take a while so just wait here in the meantime.”

You nodded and so did Jeongin, but before he left, he paused and turned to you specifically.

“I’ll send Chan over to you to wait with you. Okay?” Minho whispered, as casual as he could be, as if it were no big deal to you. But your eyes nearly bugged out of your head with how wide they got, the news was sudden and completely unexpected. You went into this believing Chan was unreachable, taken away from you by the Guardians. But here Minho was, Chan’s friend, telling you that Chan was alive?

“Wh-what?” you stammered dumbly.

“I’m sending Chan over.” Minho repeated, starting to get annoyed.

“He’s okay? Really? I haven’t seen him in days, oh god, I was so worried. Minho, are you being serious?” You rambled on, the anxiety from missing Chan was being let go now. 

“Yes.” Minho snapped, “Now be quiet and stay here. Nobody will find you guys. And Chan can explain things to you.”

And with that Minho left with the other two stowaways, and you huffed, slightly annoyed by his snappy attitude. But that was quickly forgotten at the thought of seeing Chan again.

Jeongin smiled as the two of you sat in a small hidden space, “Now I get to see that boyfriend of yours.”

A blush crawled up your neck and your glared at Jeongin, embarrassed, “He’s not my boyfriend, come on, don’t tease me.”

“Ah but you’re blushing y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Ah shut up!”

Jeongin’s devilish smile was back and you were pouting at him, he never let the opportunity to tease you go. You shook your head at him and was thinking of something to say when Jeongins smile dropped a slightly, but then came back brighter than before. You figured he found pleasure in your suffering.

“What do you think of Chan?” He asked, his eyes wandering to look behind you.

“Ah come on, you know the answer to that already Jeongin, stop teasing.” You whined, and then followed his gaze and looked behind you. Your breath seemed to halt. Because there stood Chan, a smile on his face as you locked eyes with him. You mirrored him and stood up immediately. Relief flooded through you to see him for yourself, “You’re okay!”

“Of course I am, you can’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiled, and opened his arms to hug you, which you gladly accepted and practically tackled him in a hug. But he barely budged and just wrapped his arms around you and a big, comforting embrace. You rested your head on him, closing your eyes and smiling in that moment.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Yea, but I still missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Yuck.” Jeongin had enough of the very visible displays of cheesy affection from you two and audibly voiced his distaste. “Not in front of me please.”

You looked at Jeongin and stuck your tongue out at him childishly, mocking him. He just mirrored your actions, mocking you. Meanwhile, Chan laughed softly, humored by the sibling interactions. You suddenly realized, this is Chans first time meeting your brother.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, then put a hand over your mouth, realizing you should be quiet. Then continued in a softer tone, “Chan, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Chan.”

Jeongin stood up, albeit slowly, and held out a hand to greet Chan. Which Chan took confidently, a smile on his face since he was finally able to meet the brother you cared so much for. Jeongin cast a playful glare, “Be careful with her, she’s hard to handle.”

“Hey.” You pouted, offended.

“Yea, I know, I’m used to it.”

“Hey!” You smacked Chan’s arm.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, only teasing you. You leaned into him and looked at him seriously, “Hey…so you have some explaining to do.”

“Ah, yea… I do.” Chan hesitated, then went to sit down next to Jeongin and you followed him. “I’m not hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Well, I was late for curfew, only barely. I was on my street when curfew passed and a Guardian had caught me. I was taken to some holding cell and just kinda sat there for a day, but eventually they came back.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the ground as he continued. “They came back to give me my daily meds, but I only pretended to take them. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me, actually. But they drew some blood from me, and well, they found out I wasn’t taking the meds… They almost killed me-but I’m okay!”

Chan quickly reassured once more, looking to you and knowing how worried you must’ve been, he didn’t want to add more stress. “The cells were old, since they barely hold anybody in them, and there was a broken lock so I was able to escape. But I couldn’t just go back to normal life, I’d be punished by death. So, well, I went to Minho…he wasn’t happy. But he helped me hide out till now.” Chan laughed awkwardly, grateful for his agitated friend. He was still staring at the ground, nodding his head as if to confirm what he experienced was real. 

“How did you and Minho become friends?” Jeongin asked, confused how two completely different people got along.

“We’ve known each other since really little, we talked more than others so we got along naturally. People change over the years, but, we still get along quite well.” Chan explained with a small smile. He then looked up to see Minho walking up to you guy, “Speak of the devil.”

“Talking about me, I see.” Minho said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Let’s go, get up quick, the faster we are the better our chances are.”

You and Chan supported Jeongin as Minho lead all of you through a maze of crates, and eventually into the loading dock. It was quite secluded and you were the only ones there, for now. Minho was ahead of the group by a few paces, leading the way to a couple large crates. He cracked two open, revealing they were only half filled with the luxury goods, and looked back at the group. But your attention was at the ship taking off, already a good three-hundred feet in the sky heading towards Earth. The boys followed your gaze towards the spaceship.

“That’s the ship the other couple were on, I believe that’s going to some place in the Americas. A nice couple actually, their story was similar to yours.” Minho explained, then looked at you and Chan. “I heard the Americas are one of the richer places to be on Earth, but anywhere on Earth is better than anywhere on here. I really do hope the best for-”

Minho’s moment of sentiment was abruptly cut off as a huge explosion shook the atmosphere. You gasped in horror and looked towards the source, it was the ship, the same one the couple from before were on. And it was already in shambles, pieces flying down from the sky in flaming chunks. You were confused on how that happened until you was a rocket fly towards it, and explode when it came into contact with a larger chunk of the ship. It broke into smaller pieces as well, essentially guaranteeing the destruction of anything aboard that ship. Minho hissed in enraged panic, sucking in a large breath before pushing the crates onto the ship you were about the board. 

“Follow me in!” He yelled, urgent and loading the cargo without haste. None of you hesitated to follow directions. Minho wasted no time in loading the rest of the cargo that was needed, it seemed like this was the last load needed for this shipment to Earth. Minho swore and rambled, “Whenever the king finds out about stowaways, he just blows up the entire fucking ship. Jackass doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

He closed the large door for the ship, then did some security measures before leading the three of you towards the two half-empty crates from before. 

“I have buddies on Earth who will help once we land, Earth doesn’t condone what goes on here on Mars, but nearly no media coverage is on it. But they accept refugees, thankfully. Chan and y/n in that crate.” Minho pointed to one, then to the other, “Jeongin and me in this one. You two get in first and I’ll seal the crate.”

“Wait…the king doesn’t know about us??” You asked frantically, “What happens to us?”

“It’s either we take this risk or we die anyway.” Minho frowned, “This is better than continuing to live in this hellhole.”

You looked down for a moment, then to Jeongin and nodded. Agreeing with Minho. Whatever happens, happens.

You smiled at Jeongin, “I’ll see you on the other side buddy.”

“You better greet me with a smile.” He smiled back at you as you climbed into the crate with Chan, a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless. Minho grimly shut and sealed the crate, leaving the closed space in darkness with the exception of a few holes poking light through. 

Chan held you close as you all waited to see what your fates were, but whatever they were at this point, they would be better than before. You and Chan spoke no words as you listened to Minho seal the crate beside you, and then silence. Your heart wouldn’t settle no matter how hard you tried to calm down. But all you could do was sit and wait; wait for what felt like an hour until the ship finally began to rumble. Chan held your hand and held you close, your head resting on his shoulder in that solemn moment. Liftoff. 

a/n: so, hope you enjoyed :)

I wrote this for class sometime last year and it’s just been sitting in my docs since. I liked the idea so I took it, heavily edited it, and here it is now. It’s still a little eh some parts, but I hope y’all like it. Also thought it was a fitting story cause of Astronaut dropping recently