#encryption-advancements

[tofueatingwokerati]

The UK no longer has end to end encryption thanks to Keir Starmer’s Labour government reanimating the zombie policy that is the Snoopers Charter, first peddled by Theresa May’s Tory government and rejected by the public.

Apple withdrawing end-to-end encrypted backups from the UK "creates a dangerous precedent which authoritarian countries will surely follow".

UK now likened to authoritarian regimes and why Starmer won’t challenge Trump since he is in lock step with US policies, openly goes after sick, disabled, pensioners and poorest, increasing their hardship rather than tax the mega rich. US policy is UK policy.

So what does this mean for Apple users in the UK?

All your data in the cloud is no longer secure in comparison to having ADP enabled and can be accessed by the government upon request. The GDPR is all but dead in the UK, there are now so many government policies that snoop on us by the back door with even news outlets online now charging us for access without *cookies enabled (data farming you whilst you read with no option to opt out unless you pay)

I checked with the ICO myself and it is a fully approved policy despite its contradiction to the rights of consent, removed in the process.

If you want a workaround here are my suggestions

Cancel your iCloud storage, your data will stay on the cloud until the renewal date, use that time to back it up locally or on a flash drive.

Change your iMessage settings to delete audio messages after 2 minutes and permanently delete messages after 30 days.

Alternatively, use a third party messaging app with a delete on read feature and disable Apple iMessage altogether.

If you are tech savvy you can set up a USB drive or flash drive directly into your router hub (you should have at least one USB slot, some have two) and use FTP to back up over wifi, you can do this on any device, you don’t need a desktop.

Use a VPN service or set one up. If you’re really technical you can use a Raspberry Pi to do this, but you will need to hard code it. Think Mr Robot.

This change does not impact sensitive data like medical details which remain end to end encrypted.

If you want to learn more on the sweeping bills being pushed through government and any action your can take visit Big Brother Watch: https://bigbrotherwatch.org.uk

*If you want to read news articles without paying for the privilege of not handing over your cookie data, simply disable javascript within your browsers settings and refresh the browser page. Remember to turn it back on when your done. Alternatively disable all cookies but know this will impact your online experience and access.

[phoenixbyte]

—

intercept: byte_452-k // node alive // trace incomplete

[ubuntu-village]

The Future of the Internet: Quantum Teleportation Explained

In the rapidly evolving world of technology, one development stands out as groundbreaking: quantum teleportation. This intriguing concept, which might sound like science fiction, has recently achieved a significant milestone. Researchers have successfully teleported a quantum state over more than 30 kilometers of existing internet infrastructure. This remarkable achievement marks a monumental…

[crashoffersusa]

5 Reasons Why a VPN with Advanced Encryption is Essential for Online Security

In today’s digital age, online security and privacy are more important than ever. With an increasing number of cyber threats, data breaches, and surveillance systems, safeguarding your personal information is a necessity. One of the most effective ways to ensure online security is by using a VPN with advanced encryption. A Virtual Private Network (VPN) is an essential tool for protecting your data, securing your privacy, and preventing unauthorized access while browsing the web. But not all VPNs are created equal. To truly enhance your security, you need a VPN with robust encryption protocols. A nordvpn voucher provides users with discounts or special offers on NordVPN's premium subscription plans. By using a voucher, you can enjoy top-tier online privacy and security services at a lower cost, making NordVPN more accessible for everyone.

In this blog post, explore 5 reasons why a VPN with advanced encryption is essential for online security and how it helps protect you in a variety of ways, from safe browsing to anonymous online activity. Also look at some of the best advanced VPNs for online privacy and security to help you choose the right solution for your needs.

1. Protects Your Data from Hackers

The most critical reason to use a high-security VPN with military-grade encryption is to protect your data from hackers. Cybercriminals often target users on unsecured networks, such as public Wi-Fi hotspots, where data is more vulnerable. Without encryption, sensitive information like passwords, credit card numbers, and personal messages can easily be intercepted.

A VPN with advanced encryption protocols for secure data transmission ensures that your internet traffic is encrypted, making it impossible for hackers to access your private information. When you use a secure VPN for privacy and data protection in 2025, all your online activities are shielded from malicious attacks. This is particularly important if you often use public Wi-Fi or connect to networks you don’t trust. With military-grade encryption, even the most advanced hackers will be unable to break through your protection.

Key benefit: Prevents hackers from intercepting and stealing your sensitive data.

2. Keeps Your Online Activities Private

Another significant advantage of using a VPN with advanced encryption protocols is that it shields your online activities from being tracked or monitored by third parties, including internet service providers (ISPs), governments, and advertisers. Without encryption, your internet traffic is visible to anyone with access to the network, and this can lead to unwanted surveillance and data collection.

A VPN with military-grade security for avoiding online surveillance masks your online identity and makes it difficult for third parties to track your activities. By using encryption, your browsing history, search queries, and even your location remain private. This is essential if you value your privacy and don’t want your online movements to be exposed to anyone who might be watching.

Key benefit: Ensures complete privacy by encrypting your online activities.

3. Secures Sensitive Data During Online Transactions

Every time you make an online purchase, conduct a banking transaction, or log into an online account, you are sharing sensitive personal information. Without encryption, this data can be exposed to attackers, leading to identity theft, financial fraud, or other malicious activities. By using the best advanced VPN for online privacy and security, you can be sure that your personal and financial data is always protected.

A VPN with advanced encryption protocols for secure data transmission ensures that any data you send over the internet, including login credentials, payment details, and personal messages, is encrypted and secure. This means that even if hackers attempt to intercept the transmission, they will not be able to decode the data. Whether you’re shopping online or managing your bank account, a high-security VPN offers peace of mind.

Key benefit: Safeguards your sensitive financial and personal information during online transactions.

4. Prevents Online Tracking and Profiling

One of the most pervasive problems online today is the constant tracking of your activities. Websites and advertisers use tracking cookies and other methods to collect data on your browsing habits, interests, and personal preferences. This information is then used to target you with personalized ads or sold to third parties.

By using a secure VPN for privacy and data protection in 2025, you can bypass tracking systems and prevent companies from profiling you based on your online behavior. When you connect to a high-tech VPN for privacy and security on public Wi-Fi networks, your real IP address is hidden, and your internet traffic is encrypted, making it difficult for advertisers and websites to monitor or track your activity.

A VPN with advanced encryption protocols for secure data transmission also ensures that your browsing history is erased, preventing third parties from building a detailed profile of you. This is an essential feature if you want to maintain control over your personal data and avoid invasive online marketing tactics.

Key benefit: Stops websites and advertisers from tracking your online activity.

5. Bypasses Geo-Restrictions and Accesses Restricted Content

Another critical reason why a VPN with advanced encryption is so important is that it allows you to access geo-restricted content and unblock websites that may be restricted in your region. Many services, like streaming platforms (Netflix, Hulu, BBC iPlayer, etc.), apply geo-blocking to restrict content access based on your geographical location.

By using a fast and secure VPN service for accessing geo-restricted content, you can virtually change your location and access content from any part of the world. With next-gen VPN solutions for total anonymity online, you can browse the internet as if you were in a different country, enjoying unrestricted access to websites, services, and media.

Additionally, the fastest VPN service with low latency for gaming and streaming ensures that your streaming and browsing experience remains smooth without any buffering or lag, even when accessing content from other countries.

Key benefit: Unblocks geo-restricted content and ensures smooth streaming and gaming.

FAQs: Best VPN

Q1: What is the best VPN with advanced encryption for online privacy?

A1: Some of the best VPNs with advanced encryption for privacy include NordVPN, ExpressVPN, and CyberGhost. These services use military-grade encryption to protect your data and offer features like secure browsing, geo-unblocking, and anti-tracking.

Q2: How does a VPN with advanced encryption protect my data?

A2: A VPN with advanced encryption encrypts your internet traffic, making it unreadable to anyone trying to intercept it, such as hackers or government surveillance agencies. It ensures that your personal information and browsing activities remain private.

Q3: Can a VPN help me unblock geo-restricted content?

A3: Yes, a VPN can help you bypass geo-restrictions by allowing you to connect to a server in a different location. This makes it appear as if you're browsing from another country, enabling access to content that may be restricted in your region.

Q4: Are there any free VPNs with military-grade encryption?

A4: While there are some free VPNs available, most free services don’t offer military-grade encryption or the same level of security as paid VPNs. To ensure the highest level of protection, it’s recommended to use a premium VPN service.

Conclusion

In an age where cyber threats, data breaches, and online surveillance are commonplace, using a VPN with advanced encryption has become essential for ensuring online security and privacy. Whether you want to protect your personal data from hackers, prevent online tracking, or access geo-restricted content, a VPN can provide the solution.

Here’s a quick recap of why you need a VPN with advanced encryption:

Protects your data from hackers by encrypting internet traffic.

Keeps your online activities private and prevents surveillance.

Secures sensitive data during online transactions, ensuring your information stays safe.

Prevents online tracking and profiling by advertisers and third parties.

Bypasses geo-restrictions and allows access to restricted content and websites.

To experience the full benefits of online privacy and security, consider opting for a high-security VPN with military-grade encryption. Some of the best advanced VPNs for online privacy and security available today include ExpressVPN, NordVPN, and CyberGhost, which offer robust encryption protocols and excellent features for online protection.

A VPN with advanced encryption is a crucial tool for anyone looking to enhance their online security and privacy. Whether you’re browsing the web, making online transactions, or streaming content, a VPN helps keep your data safe and your identity anonymous. Make sure to choose a VPN that offers strong encryption, reliable performance, and excellent security features to protect yourself online.

[diagnozabam]

Apple cedează presiunilor autorităților britanice: Criptarea end-to-end pentru iCloud, dezactivată în Marea Britanie

Apple a confirmat oficial că renunță la criptarea end-to-end oferită prin sistemul Advanced Data Protection (ADP) pentru utilizatorii iCloud cu conturi nou create în Regatul Unit, urmând ca și utilizatorii existenți să fie afectați de această decizie. Acest pas marchează un compromis semnificativ în politica de confidențialitate a companiei americane, realizat în urma presiunilor exercitate de…

[jasminesanders8807]

Exploring the Benefits of Psync's Two-Way Audio Camera

In today's world, home security is more important than ever, and Psync is leading the charge with its innovative Two-Way Audio Camera. This cutting-edge device not only allows you to monitor your home in real-time, but it also enables seamless communication with family members or pets from anywhere.

The Two-Way Audio feature is a game changer. It provides peace of mind by allowing you to check in on your loved ones and speak to them directly through the camera. Whether you're at work, on vacation, or just in another room, you can always stay connected.

Psync's cameras are designed with user-friendly technology that makes installation a breeze. With high-definition video quality and night vision capabilities, you can have clear visibility around the clock. The sleek design ensures that the camera fits perfectly into any home decor.

Moreover, Psync prioritizes security and privacy. The camera's encrypted data transmission ensures that your footage is safe from unauthorized access. You can enjoy the benefits of advanced home security without worrying about potential breaches.

In summary, Psync's Two-Way Audio Camera is an excellent investment for anyone looking to enhance their home security system. With its interactive features and superior design, it's a fantastic choice for keeping your home and loved ones safe.

[mustafabukulmez-blog]

PHP OpenSSL Encrypt & Decrypt

Merhabalar, bu yazımda PHP OpenSSL Encrypt & Decrypt konusuna değineceğim. Daha önceleri Encrypt & Decrypt konusunda bir yazı daha yazmıştım. Her ne kadar konu olarak aynı olsa da yöntem olarak farklı oldukları için yeni bir yazı olarak yazıyorum. Üstelik şifreleme üzerinde farklı programlama dillerine dair bir çok yazım var. Hepsini hemen aşağıya ekliyorum.   PHP MD5 Şifreleme Kullanımı C#…

[kickmobilesuk]

The Best Silent Phone License Privacy Protection in the UK

These days, with Silent Phone License Privacy Protection digital privacy becoming compromised more and more, it is critical to identify trustworthy ways to safeguard your private correspondence. The best option for encrypted communication and safe texting is the Silent Phone License. Let's explore how this cutting-edge platform protects your personal information in a world where cybersecurity threats are constantly changing.

[dipnots]

How to Choose the Right Antivirus Software: A Comprehensive Guide

In today’s digital age, where our lives are intricately intertwined with technology, safeguarding our digital assets has become paramount. With the proliferation of cyber threats, antivirus software stands as a crucial line of defense against malware, viruses, ransomware, and other malicious entities lurking online. However, the abundance of antivirus options can be overwhelming, making it…

[penny-anna]

if voyager was like 25% racier they could have had a plot where someone stumbles on a buried holodeck program about having sex with Tom Paris and now everyone is trying to figure out who wants to fuck Tom so badly they made a whole holodeck program about it.

no-one wants to bring it up with Tom himself for obvious reasons. naturally all eyes turn to B'Elanna but she strenuously denies it. initially no-one believes her but on investigation they break the encryption and discover that it looks like Harry made the program.

Harry gets very flustered and insists that someone must have fraudulently used his credentials to make the program. but if that's the case then it was either one of the ship's other senior officers (bcos they're the only people who'd be able to fake Harry's credentials) or someone with very advanced holodeck skills

Seven is briefly considered (she has the technical skills) but is fully exonerated when they realise the program predates her time on the crew.

Seven points out that it could have been the Doctor who also has the relevant skills but the Doctor argues that he wouldn't bcos he has better taste and also if he wanted to make a secret holodeck program he'd cover his tracks better and he's right on all counts. Neelix protests his innocence and everyone's like yeah honestly we never thought it was you Neelix.

the Doctor suggests that maybe they should let the matter rest on the grounds that masturbation is perfectly natural and healthy and whoever's responsible it's their own private business but B'Elanna and Harry are like nooo this is a threat to the harmony of the crew we have to know. also we're nosy. don't you want to help us on this. and the Doctor's like yeah. alright.

B'Elanna and Harry and the Doctor can't find any evidence of fakery which makes it more and more likely that it was a senior officer. they're all eying Janeway and Chakotay and Tuvok trying to guess which one of them secretly wants to fuck Tom Paris.

Janeway seems the most likely prospect as she has technically fucked him before when they were salamanders and also like as far as anyone knows she's been functionally celibate since they got stranded so she's gotta be pretty pent up by now.

but then Tom and Chakotay have some history from their time in the Maquis so there could be something going on there??

Tuvok is the least likely by a mile bcos like he's Tuvok but then it's always the people you least suspect isn't it and last time they found a weird holodeck program it turned out to be Tuvok's so maybe?? maybe??

obviously they aren't about to bring this up with Janeway & co so they're just sitting in command meetings with their 3 most plausible suspects and Tom himself. collectively fucking sweating. unable to concentrate.

after several repetitions of this Janeway's like OK something's distracting you all. fess up so we sort out whatever it is and move on with business. and after a lot of squirming one of them breaks.

& then Tom is like ohh yeah that's my program. and they're like. say what?? and he's like that's my holodeck program I made it. for personal use.

so B'Elanna is like 'why would you make a holosex program about yourself' and he's like because I wanted to know what it was like to fuck me?? is that so wrong. get off my case.

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[coinbasetradingguide]

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Navigate the dashboard to track your portfolio, view live prices, and access the "Earn" section.

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[lunaiz4-misc]

By the time the humans invented wireless Internet, the aliens had already been monitoring the RF bands on and in the vicinity of Earth for decades. Well, they didn't have decades - that was a human concept - but many full orbits of the little blue planet around its yellow star.

The packet encryption broke easily when subjected to advanced computing techniques, and soon they were able to pick up, decode, and even send information on the "world wide web." Wary of being detected, they were careful to limit their queries, but even a severely restricted ability to actually *ask questions* made the xenoscience division go starry-eyed.

Their excitement was short-lived, however, as the screen displayed a message that chilled them to their cores: "to continue, please prove you are a human."

[steelbluehome]

From Fear and Loathing: Closer to the Edge on Facebook

Heading to a “Hands Off!” protest this Saturday? Here’s everything you need to know — your rights, safety tips, and what to do if arrested.

On Saturday, April 5, people across the United States will gather for a coordinated day of resistance. From major cities to small towns, the “Hands Off!” protests are about drawing a hard line — against political overreach, creeping authoritarianism, and policies that strip away our rights and dignity.

Whether you’re marching in New York City, Dallas, Chicago, or a rural square in Nebraska, your presence matters. So does your preparation.

Here’s your nationwide guide to showing up — and staying safe while doing it.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS (AND WRITE THEM ON YOUR ARM)

Before you arrive: Write the local legal support hotline number on your arm in permanent marker. In many cities, National Lawyers Guild (NLG) chapters will operate hotlines and send legal observers.

Say: “I am exercising my right to remain silent. I want a lawyer.”

Ask: “Am I being detained or am I free to go?”

If detained, remain silent.

If not, walk away calmly.

Legal observers (often in green hats/vests) are there to document police behavior — not to represent you legally. You can notify them if you witness abuse or misconduct.

WHAT TO BRING

Pack like you’re staying awhile and planning for anything:

Water and snacks

Face mask, hand sanitizer, and sunscreen

Phone with passcode lock (NOT Face ID/fingerprint)

External battery pack

Cash (for food, transit, emergencies)

Printed emergency contacts

Comfortable shoes, weather-appropriate clothing

Goggles or saline drops (in case of tear gas, depending on region)

Don’t bring:

Weapons (or anything that could be construed as one)

Illegal substances

Anything you wouldn’t want seized or photographed by law enforcement

STAY SAFE, STAY CALM, STAY NON-VIOLENT

Stick together. Stay with your group. Have a plan if separated.

Avoid confrontation. Ignore counter-protesters and agitators.

Film what matters. You have the legal right to record public events, including police activity — but don’t interfere.

De-escalate when possible. Your goal is to be heard, not baited.

Watch your surroundings. Know where you are and how to exit if needed.

If arrested:

Don’t resist.

Don’t talk beyond name and birthdate.

Wait for a lawyer.

Don’t sign anything without legal counsel.

PROTECT YOUR DATA

Phones are tools — and vulnerabilities.

Turn off Face ID and fingerprint unlock. Use a passcode.

Consider airplane mode during risky moments.

Back up photos/videos or use live stream apps like Instagram or Twitch to preserve footage.

Use encrypted messaging apps like Signal.

RESOURCES BY REGION

While every city differs, these national orgs often have local chapters or partners at major protests:

National Lawyers Guild: nlg.org

ACLU: aclu.org/know-your-rights

Mutual Aid Networks: Search “[Your City] Mutual Aid”

Bail Funds Directory: bailfunds.github.io

Legal Hotlines: Often listed on local protest pages or announced by organizers day-of

TRANSPORT + ACCESSIBILITY

Plan ahead: Some roads and transit lines may close or reroute.

Carpool or take transit when possible.

If you need ADA accommodations, contact local organizers in advance or ask staff at arrival points.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN A MARCH

This isn’t just a protest. It’s a warning flare — and a promise. That we won’t stand by while our rights are stripped. That we won’t let apathy win. That we see what’s happening — and we’re not afraid to raise hell, peacefully and powerfully.

So come prepared.

Come together.

And don’t let them scare you into silence.

Stay safe. Stay loud.

[hanibalistic]

ALIEN OUTREACH PROGRAM | KIM JONGSEOB. HAKU SHOTA.

genre | fluff / found family au, slice of life au 

synopsis | when a planet exploded, the government sent two of its surviving residents to live with you .  

word count | 11.5k+

warning | mention of violence / unwanted sexual advances (brief; side character)

note | wrote most of this early 2024 and stopped. decided to rush finish it.

The government sent you two aliens from the alien outreach program you were referred to join by a close friend. 

The program was recently created when a nameless planet that was initially suspected to be on its way to collide with the Earth ended up exploding instead. The news of the explosion was broadcast worldwide, but the fact that the surviving residents of the planet landed on Earth as a result of the explosion was kept secret to avoid social panic, hence why the outreach program operated on a 'referral only’ basis. 

Each applicant underwent a relatively easy screening process and three rounds of interviews before they were notified through an encrypted text message that they’d been cleared to foster.

You underwent the same process, and in retrospect, you figured the interviews were held for the faculty to access all aspects of your life, beginning from your social circle to the depths of your mental state.

At the end of your onboarding process, you were told that you would be fostering a pair of aliens—a pair of brothers, they suspected. Either way, you were told they were bonded. 

You hadn’t minded the responsibility. If anything, you figured the monthly financial compensation could significantly help your appalling rent situation. The cog in the wheel was that they were initially tested to be high-risk-level aliens.

The only reason you could think was behind that outrageous decision was not their trust in your ability to monitor them but rather their disinterest in your livelihood as a struggling new graduate.

You could always leave it to the government to treat poor people like guinea pigs. But, the more you looked at it, Soul and Jongseob didn't seem as dangerous as their profiles stated. 

Soul and Jongseob—they didn't come with those names, which hadn’t been a problem during the first few weeks of their stay when the three of you spent most of your time getting acquainted with each other. 

You weren’t sure how shaken up they were about their home being destroyed, so besides being cautious of their undisclosed alien abilities, you walked on eggshells around them in consideration for their emotional state. 

The two were docile, for the most part, and quiet. When they weren’t whispering among themselves, they were communicating telepathically. Figuratively or literally, you were uncertain. You only knew they were difficult to read without human features. You never knew what they wanted or how they felt about anything outside of observable behaviors, such as their obsession with the television, their likeness for sweets, and their unwillingness to shower. 

The program coordinator hasn't given them the green light to go out and explore Earth on their own yet, so before you could figure out how to ideally talk them up in the mandatory monthly progress reports, they've got no choice but to stay home and discover entertainment through unconventional means. 

It was the furniture at first. Charred spots on the couch left behind by the apartment’s last tenant, the hinges of the balcony curtain rod torn off, and the worst of it all: shattered pieces of a set of utensils that your deceased mom gave you as a congratulatory gift for moving out, thus taking a big step into adulthood.

That was the first time they’d seen you sob, your body curled up on the floor and your palm stained with blood slit out by the broken glass. They had been unfamiliar with human emotions at that point in their stay. Still, taking a frame out of television shows, they could understand, at the very least, that what you showed was sorrow and heartbreak.

They didn't understand the concept of a mother. After all, they were born through natural phenomena, such as the trickling of water or the imploding of ancient rocks. Your response to their playful mistake was illogical. However, still, it made them fidget and waver wildly to watch tears roll callously into your mouth.

People call it empathy, they thought. Empathy, or love—the inability to see another in pain, the desire to never hurt another. Most humans have it for everyone, but more strongly for those they prioritize. 

A few days later, a plate clumsily glued together by gray-colored blobs that looked suspiciously like alien skin greeted you on your nightstand. You never said anything about it, but you put it in your mother’s shrine in the apartment.

Little did you know that sometimes, in an attempt to model your actions, Jongseob and Soul would put pieces of candy next to the plate for her.

After the furniture, they tuned down their drive for curiosity. They played with less significant things, such as your freshly cleaned laundry.

At last, it came down to electronics—the television, the radio, and sometimes your laptop and gaming console. Jongseob geared more toward the console and television, and Soul liked anything that made funny noises. 

As they got comfortable around the apartment and started clashing with your lifestyle, it gradually became more annoying to address them with words like 'hey!' and ‘you!' when you needed to scold them about something they've done, so you decided individual names were necessary. 

Mercifully abandoning a random name generator online, you told the two aliens to choose how they wanted to be addressed. 

Soul had been very excited about picking a name for himself. His outrageous choices reflected his enthusiasm, ranging from food ingredients to fictional character names to literal home appliances.

You've had to—patiently and gently—explain to him for a month the reason why you wouldn't call him Megamind or the literal stove was because they weren't real names (and you didn't want to). 

Eventually, you two made a compromise. The initial choice was to have everyone call him by the famous RPG he never played—Dark Souls. He settled on being called Soul.

Jongseob was more direct but still indecisive. He mixed a few celebrity names he heard on TV into different pairs. He handed you a written list—surprisingly!—of names for you to choose.

You didn’t want the responsibility of selecting something as important as a name, so you told him you could put out a pointer finger, and whichever name you ended up pointing at after he moved the paper around would be his name. 

After hearing how mundane Jongseob's name sounded, Soul came to you one night and asked that you help him think of a name of a similar caliber. He had requested that you keep this between you both, as he didn't go to Jongseob about it out of embarrassment that his other half would accuse him of being a copycat. 

You attempted to deter Soul from such outrageous thoughts. Jongseob was the last person to make unnecessary accusations, after all. But Soul was determined to keep this a secret between you two, so you agreed.

It was proven difficult for him to make up something normal, as he tossed and turned for several nights only to end up knocking on your bedroom door, asking for a second opinion.

You had stayed up with him for a few nights, often laying half-asleep on the couch while he remained silent on the opposite end with pursed lips and intense eyes.

One particular night, though, you decided to turn on the television to keep yourself awake, and the channel was airing a rerun of an old, beloved cartoon.

“Oh gosh, I haven’t watched this in so long,” you exclaimed under your breath as you leaned back, the controller rolling off your thigh. “This was my childhood afterschool show.”

“Woah,” he scooted closer to you, “that’s cool.”

"It is," you muttered, wholly focused on the screen. When a particular ice-powered character appeared, you let out a soft swoon. "Ah, look at him! He's still as cool as ever."

“Who's that?” he whispered. 

“His name is Shota. He was my favorite character in the show,” you said, heaving a sigh as rather embarrassing memories flooded before your eyes. “I loved him so much.”

Soul turned to you. The lights flickered in your eyes, not telling him much of what was happening in the episode but enough to let him know that you were paying a lot of attention whenever the character was present.

He noticed now that you've leaned your head on his shoulder, and your eyelids were lowering by the second. The previous attention you spent on the TV screen was replaced quickly by sleepiness under the comfort of Soul's presence. 

“You did?”

"Yeah?" you hummed, his sudden question confusing your own emotions for a second. "I mean, yeah. He is really cool and–okay, technically, everyone in animation is good-looking, but he was my type."

"Oh." His voice trailed off into deep thought, but it didn't take him too long to perk up again and say, "I want to be called Shota."

You raised your brows and sat up, leaning back to watch him with amusement. “You like the name, huh?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You like Shota.”

There it was, then. Soul gained a new name that night—Shota. 

Being able to call them by name gave them a sense of identity, and you had a drastic development in your connection with them. You thought you’d always received them without judgment, and you did.

Still, once it registered in your normalcy that they’ve got a name, it was as if their existence became more tangible. However, as important as that, the first milestone of your relationship was when they finally took a human form.

Before realizing they could shapeshift, they’ve been stuck in their alien form, which you thought was similar to how movies and video games have always portrayed outer-space species.

You wouldn’t have minded if they stayed in that form until it was time for them to be recalled to the facility they came from, but it seemed they were the ones who got curious about the human body.

You’ve noticed for a while how they would shift parts of their figure according to what they see, sometimes after people on the TV and other times after you.

What you thought would be a slow process turned out to be done and over between you leaving the apartment in the early morning and returning from work in the late afternoon.

Surprisingly, seeing two poorly shaped human boys loitering around in your apartment instead of the usual irregularly shaped creatures was less bewildering than seeing your old sketchbooks scattered everywhere on the floor.

Those were your fallen dreams, a career not pursued in exchange for securing a stable future, which wasn’t all that stable now that you're going through it. 

You knew they were bored at home. Still, it was a surprise to see that they'd found the boxes of old things dusted away at the back of your closet—what were they doing rummaging through your clothes, anyway? You’ve got to have a strict talk about boundaries after this.

At least their attention was away from the fabrics in your closet as they pulled out your sketchbooks and decided to change themselves according to the most appealing visual. However, since your old character sketches were amateur and poorly drawn, their shifted bodies looked sloppy and humorously eerie. 

Soul wasn't entirely sure what was wrong about it, especially since you couldn’t stop laughing when you saw them, and Jongseob taught him that laughing meant joy.

When you picked up one of the books to flip through them, your smile dimmed, and your eyes focused in a way he had never seen before. Jongseob later told him it may be bitterness, but not the angered kind because your eyes were soft. 

Soul didn’t quite understand the distinction; your eyes were almost always soft.

That night was the first time in a long time you picked up a pen and drew something again so you could help them polish their appearances. Through that experience, you learned two things: your drawing skills have massively deteriorated, and aliens were indistinguishable from humans once they took a hyperspecific form, to a point where they bleed the same color. 

Both settled on having blond hair, one frizzier than the other. Looking from far away would force you to mistake them as twins, but this was leagues better than communicating with two gooey creatures without solid features or forms.

You stared at the pencil sketches on the pages and back up at them, finding it uncanny how accurate their shapeshifting abilities were. Then you turned to them with furrowed brows.

“Both your hair is a little long,” you muttered.

Tapping the pencil at your chin, you thought about making modifications to what you’ve drawn for them, but when you told yourself to flip the pencil around for the eraser, your hand was unwilling to move.

You have sat on the floor for hours, drawing and erasing, making changes and corrections that suit their liking and help them look natural. You weren’t sure if they got tired from using their powers, but you certainly became exhausted from gripping a pen for so long. You’ve been too used to typing on a keyboard.

“Wait here,” you said, putting the papers and pen on the side.

You returned with a few trinkets in your hand, which you dropped on the floor after you knelt down across from them. 

Scooting in front of Jongseob first, you hummed with disregard to his skeptical gaze as you played with the hair clips in your hand by smushing them together. 

When you reached a hand out to push his bangs back, he caught a glimpse of the darkened slit still healing on your palm. He ignored it. You pushed at the tips of his locks ghostly with your nails before pressing a palm to his forehead and swiping his bangs up, exposing his forehead.

The boy closed his eyes at the sudden impact, and when the chilly afternoon air hit his skin, he widened his eyes and pursed his lips into a grimace. 

Before they took a solid shape, your touch would go through their gooey form and feel indistinguishable from any objects that would poke through them.

This was the first time he’d felt the touch of your hand, and he thought it was as gentle as Soul must have thought your eyes were. Unlike Soul, though, he would never admit that he inwardly shivered in contentment when your palm subconsciously dragged over his head into a stroke. 

“This should keep the hair out of your eyes,” you said after clipping his bangs to each side of his face. You leaned back to take a better look at him and nodded in approval despite him looking as if he just snapped out of a trance. “You look great.”

“You drew me well,” he said. “Thank you.”

"You're so formal, Jongseob," you mused, placing your hand against his cheek before pinching it playfully. "But being polite is good. You are most welcome."

Your injured palm touched his skin, the calloused surface dragging a regrettable line over his conscience. He hoped it would heal faster; it was a marker of his mistake, a symbol of your pain.

But, still, you used the same hand to tread over him with kind steps, so most importantly, it was all a sign of your forgiveness. He turned his head away from your pinch, but he didn't let himself swat you away for embarrassing him.

You laughed at his reaction. The sound took root inside him and made a permanent space. 

“Now, Soul!” you exclaimed once you pulled away.

The boy remained still when you stood up and got behind him. After bouncing the hair tie against your wrist, you sat on the couch, and then you laid your hands over his head and carefully brushed his hair with your fingers.

You gathered just enough to fill your curled fist, your nails gingerly dragged over the side of his head to separate parts of his bangs, and then you tied it into a short ponytail. 

Once you were done, you attempted to stand up to move across him for a review of your handiwork, but Soul suddenly leaned back against your legs, the back of his head hitting your knees when he faced up to look at you.

His hair brushed against your skin like a choppy broom, and then you forgot about the sensation as you met his eyes with a raised brow. 

The corner of his lips quivered, and his eyes were round and wide with expectancy. When he realized you let him lay on your knees, his lips pursed into a grin, his knees pulling themselves closer to his chest as his shoulders shrunk with a barely audible laugh.

“What did you do to my hair?” he asked curiously. 

“I tied it into a ponytail,” you replied as you angled your torso to look at his face straight, “so they’re not in your face all the time.” 

He closed his eyes when you fixed his bangs with your fingertips. Once they were perfectly angled to each side of his temple, you ran your palm flatly down the side of his face, soothing his new hairstyle with a taste of approval.

Soul pressed his lips into a grin; his eyes opened but were barely visible, hidden behind crescent shapes. You bit back a smile; you just now noticed how his features turned out so dainty like a flower learning how to bloom in Spring. 

"Hey, look at you," you said in an airy whisper. "How pretty you are.”

He laughed, his voice a weirdly pitched wave released into the air, almost like he was yodeling. Jongseob huffed in disbelief at the unexpected sound; questions, and brotherly mockery trailing out of his mouth, one worse than the last. You turned to bicker with him about saying nicer things, and Soul couldn't sense anything other than your warm hands left sitting by his jaw. 

He watched you from your knees. Your chin moved with every word you said, your nails gently scratched his skin between sentences, your legs frozen on the spot to avoid discomforting him.

It was human nature. Everything.

The way your skin flopped, the way you subconsciously reached to touch, the way you put him first. Those traits were possessed by most human beings, but Soul reckoned he admired them more when they were yours. 

What was that called? Jongseob taught him so many things; he was always smarter. But Soul couldn't properly receive too much information at once, not at the pace Jongseob could retain them. Was this joy? No. His fingers were itching for you, which was not a criterion for joy. 

You looked down at him when you felt his hands grab your shoulders. "What's up, Soul?" 

He made unclear noises as he flipped his body over, his chest pressing against your knees. He got on his feet into a crouch and leaned up, his arms circling around your neck into a hug.

You fell back against the couch and froze to register what he did. Before you could figure out he tackled you in a hug, your arms had already gone around his shoulders to press him against you. 

“Hey,” you whispered. “What’s going on?”

Soul bit the inside of his cheek when he realized you allowed it. He could feel you so much more properly now, and he responded to the revelation by holding you tighter and burying his chin in his overlapped forearms.

His eyes squeezed to relish in—what was this feeling, again? Joy? He wasn't exactly smiling, though. The way his brows were pulled into a swirly furrow, and his lips were downturned would show that he was sad. But he wasn't. He was happy and tackled you because he wanted to hug you. 

"I really like you."

You blinked, your lips gradually pulling into a downward smile. "Where did you learn that from?"

"Hmm." His voice was muffled. He didn't want you to know he learned it from you. 

The two got the authorization to leave the apartment after you wrote in the monthly report that they've changed shapes and, more frequently than before, began to express their feelings.

However, they rarely took advantage of the newfound freedom, and you understood why. 

They have yet to learn how to get around the area using public transportation. If the metro lines were less complicated than what was currently set in place, they may have an easier time navigating it.

Alas, the metro system remained both a local and a tourist's nightmare. However, even if they knew how to take the bus or the train, they've yet to learn where to go because they've never been outside. 

And, last but not least, they didn't have the money to make going out enjoyable.

You have taken them out to different places after determining all the necessary expenses, such as the increased bills and grocery items. You would use whatever was left over from the program funds to take them to weekend hangouts. 

There was the outlet where you bought them new clothes and their designated utensil set because they apparently needed their own.

There was the arcade, where you had sworn they used alien means to get all the prizes they did, but you also wouldn't put it past Jongseob to be weirdly good at gauging the space of a claw machine.

Oh, and a science museum, which you didn't think Jongseob was too interested in, but he hadn't complained because Soul was having the time of his life at the exhibitions. 

You let them try alcohol by the river at night once. Turned out their bodies automatically eliminated all the intoxicating substances, so they were only tasting the bitterness without getting drunk.

That could be a blessing or a curse; without intoxication, you weren't sure what alcohol is good for.

You ended up dousing yourself with all leftover bottles of beer and entirely blanked out that night. You couldn't remember what happened, so the two made sure they told you the following day about how you were sobbing and throwing up. You cried for your mother, and you told them they were the closest people you've got. 

You had woken up with the two on your bed. Jongseob slept with a box of tissue near his hand, always prepared to jolt awake to catch your puke and wipe your mouth of snot. Soul was curled up next to you with puffy and swollen eyes.

Apparently, he wept alongside you because he thought you were in too much pain to even move from the floor, and he didn't know how to help. He had cried so much that he tired himself to sleep, but he kept close to you to make sure your heart was constantly beating.

You haven't drunk much since, knowing how much they hated your drunken state. If you were getting drunk, it was out of obligation, like when you were invited to a business meeting.

You remembered that night well. It was the night you discovered why Jongseob and Soul were considered high-risk. 

It wasn't uncommon for interns or someone of a lower rank in the company to be taken advantage of during business meetings.

When a topic could be adequately discussed and solved by presenting a supervisor with ample knowledge, yet the department chose to bring an extra, much younger employer as a companion, it was almost always a perverted decision.

You were no stranger to the problem. You have seen your colleagues be invited to join business meetings like those before, but this was the first time you were called to be in one. 

The social hierarchy and the risk of unemployment made it impossible for you to turn down shots pushed your way by the department head from the negotiating company, who your supervisor was trying to rope into a grand business deal.

After a few drinks, you have entirely given up on expecting decency from anyone at the table. At least your supervisor was having a great time. Your words slurring through your unstable body jolts made the negotiation easier, and you unknowingly helped your company seal a deal when you clumsily agreed to have the department head drive you home. 

He remarked about your tense knuckles on the drive home, acknowledging your skepticism but not challenging it. You watched the road like a hawk, or as much as you could, with your vision slightly blurred anyway because you wanted to ensure he wouldn't drive you elsewhere. He didn't.

After what felt like years, you arrived at the apartment building and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you for driving me home," you said with a curt bow after you gathered your things from the floor. 

"You're welcome," he mused, watching you clumsily loop your forearm over the straps of your bag. He leaned over the passenger seat then, whiffs of alcohol unmistakable in the air. "Hey, I should walk you upstairs. I wanna make sure you get back safely."

"That's not necessary," you said after a low, thoughtful hum. You didn't look at him when you spoke, partly because you were having difficulty focusing on anything other than the acidic taste at the back of your mouth.

"I… I have someone at home. He's going to–um… he's going meet me by the elevator. He'll walk me up."

"Oh? I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't–" you squeezed your eyes tightly and shook yourself awake–"I mean, yes. I do have a boyfriend. He's coming down to get me.”

The man stared at you silently for an uncomfortable, calculative second. Your head was heavy from his stare, mixed in with the alcohol trying to take over.

You unconsciously licked the corner of your lips when you tried to find something to fill the unease, only to realize that the only way to feel better was to leave his car. You reached for the door handle behind you blindly. Unfortunately, the search for it has given him the time to press the master lock button on his side of the door. 

“I should get going," you said after heaving a defeated sigh.

"You don't actually have a boyfriend, do you?" he muttered.

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't, but it was true that there were people at home waiting for your return, both harboring the potential to be mistaken as your boyfriend if seen by an unassuming person.

You were forbidden from coming clean about Soul and Jongseob's identity, but what other reason could there be for you to have two boys sitting in your apartment? You three were orphans, and they're your brothers! Or were you just letting two friends crash at yours? You weren't thinking fast enough to pull a story out of thin air.

"Look, I don't know what made you so scared. I'm not going to ask to go inside your apartment. Trust me. I'm just going to walk you upstairs and make sure you get inside."

"No." You shook your head. Even in mild drunkenness, you could sense that the man had no good intentions. "I can do that myself. Thank you."

You pressed the lock button and pulled the door handle. You hastily flung the car door open, finding it difficult to push it all the way.

Turning around, fully prepared to dash out the second your feet touched the floor, an impending doom dropped on your head when you heard a haphazard opening of a car door behind you.

You clutched your bag to your chest and slid off the passenger seat, borderline hopping out of the car. Your ankle bent, but you recovered reasonably quickly. The next step in your emergency plan was to run for it; you've got your keycard attached to your worker's badge. All you needed to do was open the door and slam it shut behind you. 

Spinning away from the car door blocking your path, as you hastily pushed it all the way open, you were immediately met with a playful scream and a pair of hands gripping your shoulders. You inhaled sharply and accidentally swallowed the knot of air. 

"You didn't have to make things so difficult,” he said as he shoved you back onto the passenger seat. "Why did you have to go and force me to act so violently? All you had to do was let me walk you home.” 

Gurgle of saliva rushed up your throat to drown out your cries for help. The back of your mouth soured with an acidic taste that smelt of the beer you were forced to drink; if only they could burn human skin, you would have spat them out.

The knot of air you just swallowed squeezed through your chest with difficulty, almost as if it wanted to make a home for itself in the middle of your body. It made you choked up. Breathing with your chest became a stagnant process. 

There was no security at your building, and you figured the other residents would ignore any noise, given this was no high-class estate and the walls were thin.

Screaming would only make the man angrier and possibly more excited. Instead of your voice, you should use your legs instead. There may not be any final blows, but at least there's a chance to delay what felt like the inevitable. 

You kicked your feet blindly, feeling them land on solid ground several times, but not enough to release yourself from his grasp. Eventually, he groaned out loud and dug his nails into your arm, bringing your torso up quickly just to slam you down.

Your back hit the center console, the bottom of your neck scratched past the gear stick, and your head hit a solid surface.

Zaps of painful numbness ran through your body; a consistent ringing traveled to your ears, but you couldn't express it. Tears dripped from your eyes when you started to desperately claw at the hand undoing your belt, but you still couldn't say anything.

You only stared at the lights above you. They were blinding, like the eyes of a God. He was observing your struggle to be free of being violated. 

The sound of a zipper reverberated in your head. You've never noticed how loud they were and wondered if you would always hear it after tonight.

Fingers hooked themselves at the waist of your pants, and the next second they were gone. A pained groan traveled through the air with a gentle swoosh of wind. You needed to find out which one came first.

Jongseob hasn't used his powers for a while and has been diligent about controlling them in emergencies where they were prone to slip through his grasp. It had been challenging to learn to live in a world where his powers were destructive only because of how delicate everything else was, but he have managed well so far.

Still, his body was not used to its sudden usage, evidently shown in the way his fingers twitched uncontrollably after he pulled the man off you. A sneer found its way to his lips; how sickening to think that his undoing could be at the hands of a predator.

Rushing over to the car door, he leaned over your body to carefully pull you up. You instinctively flinched at his touch and then calmed down the next second when you realized he was not aggressive.

He reached a hand behind your head, fingers moving about to look for any apparent injuries. When he concluded that there was none, he turned his attention to you. 

“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Jongseob."

You forced your stomach to stop shivering in more oxygen and turned your eyes to stare at his familiar face. Jongseob, with his blond hair curly as ever, stared back at you with soft concern.

You calmed down; it was an instinct learned from caring for them (or your apartment) when they first arrived to live with you. 

Reaching up to grasp his wrist, you stopped his hand and hoarsely asked, "Why are you down here?"

"I heard your tears fall," he said, his fingers leaning out to wipe the tears from your cheek despite your soft protest. 

"From all the way up?" 

"The air shifts when that happens. I'm sensitive to you–" he looked away sheepishly and quickly shrugged–"these things. I'm sensitive to these things in general."

Jongseob was vigilant. His home planet blew up, and he has a brother much clumsier than himself. His vigilance and maturity were set in place for both of them, especially as they were thrown into an unfamiliar place.

You understood. You’ve never spoken about it in great detail, only ever making small spaces to praise him for his emotional intelligence. 

There had been an irk in his intuition before he rushed downstairs. The television sounded of static, the uncomfortable stick of your couch, his inability to progress in the game he was playing—everything gradually added to the unknown irritation he felt beneath his skin until, finally, a shatter of glass.

It was a hallucination, but when he turned toward the kitchen, he realized the air was painted the same color as the first time you broke down in front of him. 

Something was wrong. He knew he would figure it out because he was sensitive to you. The sound of your emotions has long taken root and bloomed in Jongseob's consciousness, a garden of his own making, and now he could pinpoint you from a mere drop in the air.

You couldn't find flaws in his response. There never was any; the caliber of aliens remained unknown to you the past months. But he's here, and you felt safer than ever, so you let your guard down and breathed out a whimper when speaking his name.

It rolled off your tongue like a snowboarder outrunning an avalanche—suffocating, afraid, and desperate. Incoherent explanations followed after, an attempt to clear your name, to prove to someone that you didn’t cause this.

Jongseob's heart squirmed in discomfort at the sight.

He looked at his hand, fingers that learned dexterity, connected to his hands and arms that could do many things. He could press buttons on a gaming console, use chopsticks for food, and hold multiple recycle bags for groceries.

He remembered the day they changed into human beings, how the first thing Soul did after growing himself a pair of arms and a body that could feel was to hug you both.

You offered to hug him that night after Soul pulled away. He had refused it, and you joked about how he was too cool for a little hug. Perhaps he thought so subconsciously, but he always knew he wasn't big on physical affection. Its notion gave him goosebumps. The unapologetic, unconcealed display of affection freaked him out. 

He liked to be subtle and unnoticed, like tending to the garden in his mind where the most delicate and beautiful things bloomed in your stead, like keeping you constant in his mind, like remembering that there's love there. 

"Come here," he whispered, extending his arms to your back and bringing you to him. "It's okay. I believe you.”

You thought he smelled like jasmine or whatever petal scent there was. Jongseob shivered ticklishly when you buried your nose in his shoulder to sniff it. He didn't put together that no matter how much he hid it, the garden seeps out because the truth cannot be concealed nor omitted.

He wished he could hug you for the first time under better circumstances, but you and he knew he wouldn't have agreed to it if it wasn't an emergency. It was brief but much needed.

When you voluntarily removed yourself, he glanced down at your pants to find that your belt was undone, your button was gone from its spot, and your underwear peeked from the zipper forced open. His jaw locked, and his eyes hallowed out.

It checked out with your rambles. Everything you said makes sense. 

A sudden feeling penetrated his insides after the conclusion was made. He found it hard to breathe at the terrifying presence of a particular, bloodthirsty desperation. He suppressed an exhausted exhale and ignored the thirst for harm. 

“Let’s go home,” he muttered as he slowly helped you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You listened to him, pushing yourself off the passenger's seat while he reached to the floor for your thrown bag. He wore it on one shoulder, fixing the strap before reaching for your hand.

After slamming the car door shut, he brought you with him over the front of the car. His footsteps were quiet, borderline silent, leaving only your shoes' clumsy scratches on the floor. You only felt faint traces of heat from the car's headlights as he covered most of it by standing on your side. 

You arched your neck up to look at his downturned lips, his hair covering his eyes even though you've repeatedly told him to keep them out. You would scold him again when you had time, knowing he'd wear the same indifference on his face.

It felt like nagging a child sometimes; you've heard adult men generally tend to behave the same way. 

“I was using the hair clips you got me. I took them off to come down here,” Jongseob said, not sparing you a glance. “You could have gotten me normal ones.” 

“The Powerpuff Girls are cute,” you said. “You’re exactly like Blossom.”

“Please don’t speak nonsense.” 

He squeezed your hand, making you chuckle. When you bumped your head to your side, you hit his shoulder. He didn't used to be so tall, and he didn't used to be so big. You suddenly felt small beside him, in a way that rained disaster, in an unexpectedly romantic way, and you were thinking about him as if he were human again.

"Shit, no way. You do have a boyfriend, then?”

Jongseob turned around, stepping forward to keep you behind him on the way. You peeked over his arm, a distasteful sneer twitching on your face.

You both faced the man just now getting on his feet. Jongseob inwardly hummed, acknowledging that his throw had likely done a number on the man's body. He hadn't meant to react so harshly, but he also didn't care that it ended up hurting someone a great deal.

“He looks a bit young, intern.” 

“I’m twenty.”

"Good grief, he can't even drink yet!" The man laughed like he was choking on the air. "Does he know what he's doing?"

Jongseob rolled his eyes.

He knew this type of person: the kind who’s all bark and no bite. At least in front of nonchalance, they have no bite in them. Their only perk was that they knew how to pick their battles.

The man clearly noticed early on that he was not superior in physical strength. Therefore, choosing a fistfight would be a solution out of his league. That left him with one thing: trash talk. A lot of it, from your taste in men to his made-up flaws. 

It was fine, though. Jongseob was a sensible person, and violence is never sensible. 

"Hey, you could have tried me out if he hadn't come here. I would have changed your stubborn mind."

Violence is almost never sensible. 

“Wait here," he muttered monotonously as he turned to you. He brought your hands up to your cheek and pressed his palm over them so you looked at him. “It'll look scary, but I promise nothing will happen to you."

“What?” you breathed out, your eyes trailing after his back. “Jongseob?”

It took a moment, but it was all you could see once you noticed it.

The green from the leaves, the brown from the tree trunks, the orange and white of apartment and street lights, the silver of the man’s car, the gray of concrete walls, the burgundy of the brick floor, the pink and yellow of flowers, the black of tires, the blue of the sky, the light of the stars and moon, the white of the man’s shirt, the milk of his skin—the colors were being drained from everything, making it look like a frame out of a film noir.

Your hands trembled as your eyes pinned themselves at the approaching sky. It couldn’t be the alcohol forcing an illusion before your eyes as you felt yourself remarkably awake and clear-minded from the adrenaline. The sky was approaching! It felt closer. You couldn’t be mistaken. After all, it wasn’t everything you got to see a colorless world, and you’ve barely recovered from panic. 

Lowering your head, you turned to the trees surrounding the apartment buildings and furrowed your brows. The leaves were falling one by one gradually, and scrapes of tree trunks were being peeled off its body. The tires of cars were deflating, the flowers were lowering, and the sound of once-stable structures cracking became more audible. Everything was falling apart; everything was dying. 

Everything but you, your bag, and your clothes. Nothing happened to you, just as Jongseob promised you. 

“Jongseob–“ 

You were abruptly cut off by the sound of a horrible coughing fit that bordered on a choke. Eyes widened, and your feet quickly brought you to stand behind the alien. He stared silently at the man who left nail marks on your shoulders, who was currently doubled over on the floor, heaving for oxygen.

The colors were drained from him entirely, and his skin began to melt from his head. Clumps and clumps of fat liquid dripped down his eyes in a honey-like texture and then down his mouth, filling it up to stop him from gasping for air.

A buzzing noise sounded from his completely enclosed body, like a train screeching to an emergency stop. No air went in or left his body. He was a box sealed shut and thrown in fire to be melted into its original form—a clump of cells. He was going to die.

Jongseob was going to kill him. As much as you felt the action was justified, a bigger picture was already painted that you must carefully analyze before prioritizing your vengeance. 

It would be easier to explain the death of one man rather than the death of a plot of land. The desiccating of your surroundings cannot be explained by anything other than the doing of a supernatural. In this case, it would be Jongseob, and the program coordinator would jump through no hurdles to figure that out. 

Suppose it got out that he killed someone. In that case, separation becomes inevitable, and you’ve gotten so used to having those two around that you couldn’t fathom living in a soundless apartment ever again.

The consequences of killing the man outweigh the disappointment of not. 

“Hey–no. Jongseob, no. Stop it. Stop it now,” you demanded as you rushed to stand before you. You grabbed his hand and pushed it down, squeezing it with all the strength you could muster. “You will not kill anyone tonight.” 

He peered down at you, no light flooding his eyes despite recognizing your face. “He was disrespectful to you.”

“He was, and that’s terrible,” you admitted. “But there are other ways to handle this. If everyone killed each other for being horrible, we’d not have the world we do today.”

He blinked, seemingly thinking through the points you presented. But then he shrugged. “I’m not everyone, am I?” 

“You–“ 

You poked your tongue to the inside of your cheek, not surprised by his defiance but very much annoyed. Between him and Soul, he was always the one who talked back more.

For a time, you chalked it up to him being innocently curious about the human world, but after a while, you realized he was just bratty. If you kept that personality trait in every monthly report, you were sure he would have been called back for a mental evaluation or something along those lines.

But being a tattle-tale was not necessary. You knew how to snap him out of it.

“I said–“ your words flew through gritted teeth, and you shot a hand up to pinch his ear so you could pull him to your face level–“we are not killing anyone tonight!”

He stumbled at the harsh yank, redness flaring up at the spot you were squeezing. His hand let go of the tension building up through using his power, immediately returning the colors back to their original place.

Helpless whines sounded from his mouth as he bent his waist to accommodate your halfhearted corporal punishment. Still, he did not attempt to push you away.

“Okay! Okay! Calm down!” he yelled.

“Calm down?”

“No–I mean, yes! Yes, calm down, but not like that!” he exclaimed. “Stop pulling my ear!” 

You squeezed your eyes in contemplation before letting go. Your short bicker gave the release of Jongseob’s power enough time to gather itself on the fallen man’s face and patch him together. He stood up and tripped on air but caught himself before his face could kiss the ground and bolted for his car.

Jongseob reflectively grabbed your arm and stepped closer to you, staring as the car engine started and the man drove away without another word.

His chest heaved up through a large inhale. He noticed the way his arm had been trembling since you forced him to stop using his power. He wasn’t afraid, only unfamiliar with something he used to hold so dear to himself.

His power has always been offensive, but not to the degree it showed on Earth. It wasn’t used to kill his peers, and it definitely was not used to pull the cosmos to him.  

That discrepancy shook him as much as when he thoughtlessly maxed out his strength after not using it for so long. The muscle strain reminded him of how careless he was and caught him off guard.

He didn't like it. He was supposed to be good at controlling his given ability. He was supposed to be good at controlling his actions. He was supposed to be sensible.

“Are you okay?

He slowly turned to you. Your face came into view under the flicking street light like the moon inched closer to Earth when he pulled it down to protect you. He couldn't tell if his eyes or heart saw you more because they both jolted in your presence.

Curling his fingers around the strap of your bag, he stepped forward to close the unnecessary gap between you both. He tried to peek over his frizzy bangs to no avail, so he ducked and lightly swayed his head to move them out of the way. He tilted his head lower to your level and looked through his lashes, his brows raised.

“Are you?” he asked.

You closed your parted lips and averted your eyes. The invisible outline of the man’s car remained vivid when you glanced at the empty spot. Once you turned back to Jongseob, knowing what he could do to people and how willing he was to do it, the illusion released its tight grasp on you.

You didn’t forget—you couldn’t forget, that even in such an ordinary world, even if all you’d ever do in life was work and play, even when it came to the least threatening harm, Jongseob would never have you anywhere near it.

“You saved me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“But are you okay?” 

You smiled as you reached up to rub his ear softly between your fingers. “I’m sorry for pinching your ear.”

“[Name],” he started, but when you began to frantically squeeze his earlobe, he groaned and pulled your hand away. “Okay! Okay! I won’t ask anymore!” 

He brushed his hands on his shirt when you finally let him go, a permanent scoff hanging on his cutely puckered lips. Rolling his eyes when he saw your smile, he huffed a sigh before adding, "When we go back, and Soul asks you about the marks on your shoulders, tell him something happened at work. I don't want him to freak out." 

Soul and his power were interlinked. They come hand in hand, particularly his own greatly conveniences Soul's. While he absorbs colors, Soul absorbs monochrome.

Once Jongseob finishes sucking up all the colors around him, he leaves behind a grayscale perfect for Soul to use. That's how they're linked with each other, like two halves of a whole. 

The one difference was that Soul had a problem being in control when his power was utilized, while Jongseob knew what he was doing. When Jongseob hurts someone, it is always because he wants to, and he could be easily stopped with persuasion. Soul was different.

Given that nature is that he turns into something that isn't himself, he would also not think and act like himself. Jongseob didn't want anything more to happen tonight.

“Oh,” you nodded, “I was going to lie anyway.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, then a beat later, almost inaudibly, “for everything, actually.”

He wanted to say everything he did was for you, to let you know that he will continue to do everything for you. But, despite all his talent in thought articulation, he was too timid and shy to express sentiment, so he kept his mouth shut.

Crossing his arms, he recalled the moment he noticed you in the passenger seat, with trembling limbs and an unopened mouth. He fixed his jaw and hid his hands from the colorful world, as he felt rather afraid of the truth—the existence of his devotion to you and the responsibility it spawns.

That kind of devotion causes a strain on both parties and cannot be undone. That kind of devotion, in his willingness to drag a carcass to your feet, is a self-inflicted curse. That kind of devotion, a synonym for love, an antonym of honor, is a burden. Jongseob trapped it behind his lips and prayed to God that he relearned how to restrain it in his hands by a mere cross of his arms.

Pray to God—he licked his lower lip as the lines of your face redraw themselves in his replaying memory—look at them and pray. 

You taught them to get groceries when you were away at work. 

They always did well with helping out around the house; you never knew or asked whether any alien abilities were included.

Jongseob was excellent at ensuring every surface was wiped clean. Soul always knew where everything was after he put them somewhere.

Grocery shopping was included among household responsibilities. Besides the constant sneaking of junk food, they ensured they got everything you requested. 

They have frequented the market so much that the elders who ran most stores could recognize their faces and orders. After giving it a few more weeks, Jongseob and Soul were, unfortunately and hilariously, roped into the pile of gossip that never ceases to circulate the shops. 

Apparently, they both live with you! But which one of them is your boyfriend? 

"What's a boyfriend?" Soul asked in response to the question. 

The shopping bag in his hand crinkled when he squeezed the handle. His round eyes followed the fruit stand owner as she moved around to get him what he needed: apples, oranges, bananas, and whatnot.

As she brushed past Soul to get to the box of apples, she spared him a glance and rolled her eyes, mistaking his genuine ignorance as him dodging the question. She picked up a few apples, examining each one with ease before reaching an empty hand out to Soul, beckoning for his shopping bag. 

"You know what a boyfriend is,” she said. “Why are you acting coy? Are you the boyfriend?” 

Soul pursed his lips together into a helpless frown. He didn't know what 'coy' meant either.

The grandma dumped the apples she chose in the bag and briefly looked up as she prepared to march toward the oranges. When she noticed the clueless expression on Soul's face, she paused with squinted eyes, and then an enthusiastic gasp jumped out of her mouth. 

"Oh my! The other blond boy is the boyfriend, then? But you're in love with them?" she assumed, her fingers waving and pointing accusingly at Soul. "Or is it Jongseob you're in love with? I always thought you two were brothers, but I guess I was wrong!"

"We're very close, so we're basically brothers," he clarified. "But we don't have–um. Our mom and dad don't exist."

She looked away from the box of orange, one of them still ripe in her hand. “For how long?” 

“Since we’re born.”

"Oh, poor dear." She walked away from the box of oranges to give Soul a pat on the shoulder. She stopped at the front of the display and began sifting through the boxes and randomly grabbing more than he had asked for. "Dead parents and a failed romance. Living with the couple, no less!"

Soul has not a lick of an idea what she was talking about. He would repeat his question about what a boyfriend was, but the old lady's eager rambles made it impossible for him to fit his voice in the air, so he focused on listening.

Beginning with her stories about her old romance and her detailed recollection of her past loves, he realized she, surprisingly, has a lot of wisdom to offer. 

Here was what Soul gathered from the nosy grandma about a boyfriend: a boyfriend is and does many things.

A boyfriend waits for you to get off school or work, wants to spend a lot of time with you, never keeps secrets from you, thinks about you all the time, hangs out with you when he has free time, takes care of you when you are sick, loves to hug and touch you, never yells at you, and puts you above himself.

Usually, he lets Jongseob do the listening and summarizing, so he was very proud of himself when he independently came to this grand conclusion: "[Name], I am your boyfriend."

"Oh my god–" Jongseob looked away from the TV at Soul, who randomly announced the statement by the kitchen door as you cut up some apples. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Soul, I already told you we're not their boyfriend!"

After pushing all the apple slices onto a plate, you dropped the knife in the sink. Swiftly opening a drawer to pick out a small plastic tube, you slammed it shut with a swing of your hips and turned around to lean against the cabinet.

You shook the tube, the toothpicks inside making a sandy noise with each shake, and you looked out the kitchen door behind Soul's shoulder at Jongseob, who still had his head in his hands. But the peek of his snaggletooth told you he was failing to suppress a smile. 

"Who told you that, Soul?” you asked. 

"The grandma at the fruit stall told me about her old boyfriends," Soul answered. 

“Really? All of a sudden?” you mused. “What started that conversation?”

Soul followed you out of the kitchen after you stuck three toothpicks on three random apple slices and slammed the tube on the countertop. He blindly turned the lights off and closed the door on the way, hurrying up to sit on the floor by your feet as you placed the plate of apples on the coffee table.

Jongseob scooted closer to the edge of the couch and reached over for a slice, popping it in his mouth and starting to answer before he finished chewing.

"They were asking which of us is your boyfriend at the market today," Jongseob said. 

“Which one? Not even if one of you were?” you snorted. 

“They’re very determined that one of us is dating you.”

“Oh, I know what dating means!” Soul perked up. “I learned it in a drama.”

You looked down in disbelief and nudged him with your feet. “You learned dating but not what boyfriend means?”

Jongseob let out a giggle. He slid off his seat and brought his knees to his chest to fit in the space between the couch and the table. You brought your legs up when he moved closer to the middle to be next to Soul.

Out of habitual playfulness, you reached down to do a series of aggressive actions, from ruffling his hair to squeezing his cheeks. Jongseob protested, leaning away from your attacking hands as his arms flew up to swat you away like a fly.

“You never do this to Soul!” he exclaimed. 

“Well, yeah,” you responded mindlessly as you let him go. “He’s nice. He just lets me.” 

Soul grinned from ear to ear when you touched his face. Your touch was soft, like it always was, shifting from his jaw to his cheeks to his hair. He never got enough of the sensation of human touch, no matter how trivial.

Looping an arm around an old man at a crosswalk, picking up a kindergartener after they tripped from running around, Jongseob’s hands going through his hair to tie a ponytail for him, your fingers dabbing gently on his face with skincare products—it’s warm, fleetingly so, and human, which lasts.

Jongseob feigned a puking noise after watching you mess around with Soul’s facial features for a few seconds. He got up from the floor and headed to the kitchen to find a drink.

You ignored his distaste, drowning Soul with your immediate attention. He grinned at you, his side bang falling to the back of his ears. What a sight of sore eyes, with his eyes so round and wide, his smile so genuine and willing. He looked at you like you were the only person he wanted to see and spoke like it was his first time using his voice. You cooed to yourself, to the void: look how pretty he is!

“Hello,” you whispered with your palms on his face, gently pushing his cheeks together to bring him to you, “Shota.”

“Hello,” he returned in a volume that mirrored yours, “I bought the fruit myself today.”

“Yeah, I know,” you beamed.

“[Name],” he reached up for your face to urge you close so nobody else would hear, “am I really not your boyfriend?”

You laughed from your throat, but the noise huffed out through your nose rather than your pursed lips. Shota squinted his eyes at the warm air and frowned. You kept laughing at the topic, both you and Jongseob, but he was hung up about it.

The old lady at the fruit store mentioned a list of criteria for being a boyfriend, and he believed he checked off everything on the list!

He spends his entire day waiting for you to come home from work, and after you do, he’d spend the rest of the day with you. Jongseob does the same, but Shota has never kept any secrets from you, mainly because he’s got none, but that still counts toward a check off the box!

He cared for you when you got drunk, even though Jongseob did most of the cleaning and handled your personal hygiene. However, Shota lets you hug him, so he has the upper hand that round!

“It’s complicated,” you said. “You’ve watched dramas, right? Have you noticed that although two characters love each other, they’re not considered together?” 

“No,” he shook his head, “they’re together to me.”

“Well–“ you rolled your eyes up–“yeah, okay. I suppose that’s fair.”

Looking back down at him, you rubbed his cheeks with your thumb and shook your head in disagreement. “It’s still more complicated than you think.”

Shota’s bottom lip couldn’t help but jut out when he gradually pulled the corner of his lips into an upsetting frown.

The idea plagued his mind since he was first introduced to it at the market, and too much time and effort was put into giddying himself over this. The disappointment of his fantasy—you agreeing that he is your boyfriend—falling off was immeasurable.

“What are you two whispering about?” Jongseob interrupted once he returned. He looked between you and Soul, and then he frowned. “Are you still on the boyfriend thing?”

“Yeah,” Soul dragged out with a brief wave of his hand. “You won’t let me be your boyfriend because we’re supposed to be like brothers, and now [Name] won’t let me be their boyfriend because it’s too complicated!”

“You told him it’s too complicated?” Jongseob questioned, putting his elbow on the edge of the couch when he turned around to raise a brow at you. 

Your eye twitched at his judgemental tone, and you almost lunged to tackle him to the floor. “It is complicated!”

Jongseob pulled a face.

One of the things that inconvenienced his technical way of processing information was relationship problems, particularly the fact that everyone around him loved to create issues that shouldn’t be there.

He understood that certain situations reveal emotions that could be difficult to ignore, but he didn’t see a reason for ignorance when one could face them straightforwardly.

People tip-toe across the winded roads too much for the sake of empathy despite it not being due, and then responses like ‘it’s too complicated’ spawn when it’s fundamentally incorrect to say so.

“How?” he questioned. “Do you like Soul?”

“I like the both of you,” you said.

“I know.” He nodded. “But do you like him?” 

 You smirked awkwardly. “No.”

“Then it’s not complicated,” Jongseob said with a clap. He turned to Soul, whose eyes had been darting between you two during your brief conversation, and he shrugged. “You can’t be [Name]’s boyfriend because they’re not in love with you. That’s it.”

“Woah! Why did you suddenly switch the wording?” 

“Why not? It doesn’t make a difference,” he said. “Are you in love with Soul?”

“No.”

“I’m in love with you, though.”

You shook your head and patted Soul’s shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

“Ahm, we don’t–haha, we don’t know about that,” Jongseob mused between forced chuckles as he nodded at the floor.

His eyes widened briefly as a calculated thought about Soul’s untainted feelings for you flickered through his mind. When he looked up and saw your deadpan, he pulled his lips into a thin line, stretching it into an ugly smile that made his upcoming words sound flat and borderline incoherent.

“Do you remember what happened a few months ago because of the evaluation?”

It was a month after Jongseob saved you at the bottom of the apartment estate. You had decided to omit that detail from the monthly report; you told yourself it wasn’t necessary because it wasn’t an extraordinary development about Jongseob but rather an incident that happened to you.

However, deep down, you knew you kept it a secret because you were afraid the program coordinator would find issues with what happened and separate you two.

A few weeks after you turned in the monthly evaluation, a detailed post about a freak accident where a boy who choked a man through telekinesis was posted on one of the most popular social media forums.

Nobody believed in the post; most comments redirected the author to a sub-forum where people post fantasy stories they’ve written, but it was how your program coordinator found out what happened. Within five days of that post, you received an email about a temporary separation.

They gave you a week to pack their things and prepare them for leaving your care.

Jongseob hadn’t said anything when you sat them down to tell them that they would be relocated to another home indefinitely. You didn’t think Soul really understood what happened until the time of departure. Either that, or he hadn’t felt the effect of separation until the moment it was happening, as it took multiple staff members to successfully release his grip from your arm. 

But what you hadn’t shown them were the scars on your forearm, all of them scratched into a bloody storm by the unassuming Shota, who, in a state of panic, had unknowingly sucked up the monochromes around him and begun the initial phase of transformation. 

His sharp, blade-like nails dug into your forearm through your sweater, forcefully grounding himself by your side when he was asked to get inside the van. But you didn’t say anything other than words of reassurance. With a hand on the side of his head, all you had told him was that you’d see him again soon.

His nails dragged several lines down your skin when he was pulled off of you. You didn’t react to it, only pressing a palm to the wounds and shoving the pain to the back of your head.

If you let it be known that he hurt you, there’s no way they’d be allowed back in your house. You thought he knew, though. You believed Shota knew what he did because he stopped struggling and went to sit next to Jongseob in the van after making eye contact with you.

You three weren’t kept apart for too long, surprisingly. The worst they did was give you a slap on the wrist and a warning to not hide information from them again. 

“It’s a normal reaction to being taken from his home,” you said. “I think he missed the normalcy more than he missed me.”

“You’re wrong.” Jongseob crawled over to Soul and beckoned for his attention with a finger snap. “Do you remember when we left home for a few weeks? Why did you throw a tantrum when they came to get us?”

“Huh?” Soul faintly puckered his lips in thought. Once recognition hit, he opened his mouth in realization and nodded. “Ah! That time! I–“ he tilted his head with soft inhales–“did I throw a tantrum?”

“You did,” Jongseob reached up to grab your arm and gestured to the scars, “there’s literally proof.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Soul argued. “I was distraught, I didn’t want to leave [Name].”

“Case in point. See?” Jongseob dropped your arm on the couch with a triumphant shrug. “I told you.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you said. “Families do that with each other, too.”

“Is that what we are?” Jongseob asked, raising his brows. “We’re a family now?”

“Not legally. I would have to adopt you two,” you said. “But then you would be my son, which is weird.” 

“We could be your brothers.”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Soul chimed in. When you chuckled through a tight-lipped frown, he sighed. “Okay, brother is fine.”

“Good,” Jongseob hummed dismissively before returning his attention to you. “Is there a way for us to legally become siblings, though?” 

It wasn’t something you thought about. The significant details of the outreach program were not known to its participants. They let you know before you signed the contract that it was a program to help assimilate aliens to the human world, and you didn’t doubt that to be the case.

However, calculating the money the government was spending on the participants just for them to foster aliens—it didn’t make sense.

The foster system for human children was severely underfunded, yet the one for space creatures wasn’t. If you had to guess, it was because there’s a catch to alien assimilation, especially when they’re bonded with a person from Earth. 

At the end of the day, you’ve no idea if Jongseob and Soul would be allowed to stay with you for a long time. 

“I don’t think we can,” you replied, leaning forward and rolling your eyes. “But who knows? Maybe they’re secretly writing a new constitution for alien residents on Earth, but we definitely won’t legally become a family anytime soon. It’s okay, though. We can do it in theory!”

“What does that even mean?” Jongseob snickered. “In theory?” 

“I’ll show you at some point,” you said sheepishly. “I just have to give someone a heads-up first.”

The mausoleum was quiet. You didn’t think you’d ever seen it crowded before. 

Carefully putting the flower into the compartment, your eyes brushed past your mother’s picture, and you relaxed. 

“Hey, Mom. It’s been a while.”

You didn’t make a habit of visiting frequently, so whenever you did, you’ve got a lot of say. Your busy work life, social life, and almost nonexistent love life. The good and the bad. The embarrassing and the ugly. The fact that there were few people around made it easier to ramble to a picture, and sometimes, you wondered if the ones in her neighbor compartments were listening too. 

You didn’t speak in detail about the alien outreach program you joined, partly because it was still confidential to the general public, but you told her about the ‘twins.’ 

“I’ll bring them over when I get the chance,” you said. “I’ll see you later then.”

Reaching out for the compartment door, you prepared to close it when you suddenly jumped in realization. 

“I almost forgot,” you laughed. “This is for you.”

Letting go of the door handle, you reached for your bag and pulled something out. You waved it about and gently blew on it before stacking it neatly next to the flower you bought. 

It was a polaroid of you three.