#proxima express

[hiratelier]

My cyborg son who I love

[eternal-work-in-progress]

hehehheheheheh I have been writing obsessively recently so have an Unnamed Ruined Reality Alternate Universe Oneshot

this is a concept I made and outlined with my friend and I have finally actually translated it into proper written word??? Unimaginable

​also woopsies general AU stuff before you read: Filii/Filiae/Filius/Filia all take the place of the species Steve! The different Filii use different languages so their subspecies name is translates (ie. yellow -> Galben in Romanian, aquamarine -> Aquamarijn in Dutch, violet -> Violetto in Italian)

Griffin ran from the room, away from his mother, away from the horror he felt while looking at her. Caliban watched him go. In disbelief, she muttered, “No… Why would you run…?”

She stood still, staring out the open door to the hallway, her cell’s only source of light. Something moved to her left and her head snapped toward it immediately. And she saw… Athena. The glorious, loyal, deadly, traitorous Athena. The poor woman looked exhausted. She turned to Caliban with no hate in her eyes, which Caliban did not deserve.

“Because he knows what’s best for himself,” Athena spoke softly but intensely. “And so do I.” The general turned to leave the room.

Caliban could not allow that. She… She wanted Athena to stay. Stay with her. Why wouldn’t anyone stay? Why wouldn’t anyone listen?! She’s not insane! She’s not dangerous! She shouldn’t be stuck down here! They’ll leave her here to rot. No, no, no, the queen of nightmares will not rot before her traitors do. This traitor will not leave.

The Queen stepped forward and her restraints tensed immediately, chain pulling against chain. Her head rolled forward, as though she had little control of her own body, as though she was possessed. The Queen was a caged animal. With a sudden and very raw anger, she screamed.

“ATHENAAAAA!”

The general stopped, bracing her weapon, but did not turn to the animal.

“YOU ARE NOT SO PURE.”

From the moisture in the air and the water sunk into the bricks, the general summoned a fist of water and ice to encase her right hand. It seemed she was preparing for a fight.

“YOU ARE A MONSTER! YOU ARE A MURDERER! YOU ARE A WARRIOR WHO HAS LOST HER FAUX GLORY. YOU HAVE KILLED THOUSANDS AND YOU ARE PRAISED. YOU ARE GIVEN TITLES OF RENOWN. BUT YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE IMPURE.”

The general spoke lowly, something unreadable clouding her face. “I never said I was pure.”

“YOU TAKE AWAY MY SON AND EXPECT ME TO SIT HERE. WAITING FOR SOME SAVIOR.”

The general took a deep breath…. Athena kept walking away. But the Queen could still see her. The Queen continued to scream after her. She could not stop herself.

“ATHENA. WHAT MAKES ME DIFFERENT FROM THE SOLDIERS YOU HAVE KILLED IN BATTLE? WERE THEY NOT FILII LIKE YOUR ELITES? WERE SOME NOT CHILDREN? WERE THEY NOT SIMPLY ON THE WRONG SIDE?”

Athena kept walking.

“I ONLY ASK, ATHENA, WHAT I’M CERTAIN OUR FELLOW LEADERS HAVE ASKED YOU.

“I STAND ON THE WRONG SIDE.

“WHY HAVE YOU NOT KILLED ME?!”

The Queen fell to her knees, having lost the battle against her metal restraints. But her corrupted eyes remained trained on Athena’s figure in the hallway, which had stopped moving. The Queen finally remained silent.

…Athena returned to the room. She walked over to the Queen, standing over her while the infected woman sat in her shadow. The Queen stared up at her old friend with her furious red eyes.

“...We have not killed you because we so desperately wish to save you,” whispered the general, leaning down closer. “I vowed long ago to never kill without reason. To never take a life that could be salvaged.” She still held her weapon in her hands and weariness in her eyes. This was what she came here for.

The general stood back up, straighter. “...I am sorry, Caliban. More than you know.” She gripped the weapon tighter. “Let me grant you peace.” This was what she came here for.

And yet, she saw something shift in the Queen’s eyes. When the fury faded, her eyes held only immense tiredness. And yet she smiled softly. Caliban bowed her head.

Athena looked down upon her. “...Tell me truthfully, Caliban… Did the Darkness really help you?”

Caliban bowed further. Her friend heard pain in her voice. “Please kill me….”

Athena’s eyes widened, she could hear her own heart beating. After only a second of consideration, she took the risk of wrapping her best friend in a hug. Caliban could not return it with the chains around her wrists still pulling, but she leaned into the Aquamarijn, savoring this last comfort, this last moment of lucidity. When Athena spoke, her voice was small and quiet, “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

Then, there was silence for a long time. “...Rest well for us…” Athena whispered. She raised her weapon behind Caliban’s back. The Galben did not brace herself for pain or death. All she did was nod, still leaning on her friend. Athena felt Caliban’s warm tears fall onto her shoulder.

“...Tell Griffin…” Caliban said when she decided she should speak, “...I’m sorry.”

“I will, I will. We love you so much.” Athena let the embrace linger for a minute longer.

“... You were wonderful.”

The final blow was swift and simple, to her back. Athena dropped her weapon right after, wrapping both arms around Caliban. The Galben did not scream. She died as she lived.

In pain.

But loved.

Athena laid her body down gently. She didn’t try to stop any tears from falling. Taking Caliban’s hand, she sat next to her for a little while. Grieving. The Galben looked at peace, despite the scars of Darkness… Athena stared at her face, thinking of it all. Their laughter, their joy, their girl’s nights. Their fights and disagreements, their friendship growing deeper. The Darkness. The glowing lights on Caliban’s dress and jewelry slowly dulled. It pained Athena.

She didn’t have to watch, she knew. But she would anyway. Caliban was her best friend. Athena would sit and stay until she was completely gone. So she sat.

Amadeo, Chief Violetto, walked slowly through the underground hallways of the Outpost with a crossbow in hand. He wanted to be safe, in case Athena had been unable to handle the Nightmare Queen. He doubted that she would fail—she was the one who suggested this, after all—but… just in case. He hesitantly poked his head through the open doorway and scanned the room for any sign of a struggle or fight. There was none. Then he saw Athena, with Caliban in her arms.

“...Athena?” he whispered.

Athena did not look up.

Amadeo walked in further. The cell was so isolated. So dark and wet. They’d all regretted placing Caliban here. But her behavior was just becoming too erratic. He saw Athena sitting quietly, staring at the Filia Galben, who looked to merely be asleep. But the scars… They’d looked so shallow, but they’d run so deep. Amadeo knelt down next to both of them, facing the back wall.

“...We’ll miss her,” he said.

Athena gave a small nod. “Always.” She felt guilt. But she knew this kill was in mercy. Caliban’s last words rang in her head. Please kill me. I’m sorry.

Amadeo relaxed his shoulders and set his crossbow down away from the women. There was pain in him. There was always pain in him, but there were times when it became clearer. This was one of those times. “There was no fight?”

“...She asked me to end it herself.”

He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “She was still there?”

Athena was silent for a moment. “Do you think… we still could have saved her?”

Amadeo had been in Athena’s position before. He took a deep breath. “...No. Whatever was left of her… It was just suffering…. You saved her.”

…Athena brought one of Caliban’s hands to her face, placing it on her cheek. It was already cold against her skin. “...How is Griffin…?”

The Chief Violetto sighed and looked back down to the wall. “Vaughn is comforting him. He knows this was all we could do.” He frowned sadly. “We won’t be able to give him a proper coronation. …But I don’t think it matters at this point.”

“There is nothing to rule over…” Athena said. Four. There were four Filii Galben left. Amadeo rubbed his face. He was… exhausted. They all were exhausted.

“...Where will we bury her?” Athena asked quietly.

“...I don’t know if we should with all that Darkness, Ath…”

Right, Athena thought.

“We could… ask the Rojos to cremate her?” Amadeo suggested. “It’s just… The Royal Galben tombs are unreachable…”

Slowly, Athena nodded.

“...I’m sorry. You were closer to her than any of us.”

Athena… gave a small smile. Amadeo assumed the gesture was meant for his sake, but she still stared at the corpse. “It is alright. I would rather her be at peace than in pain. Even if by my own hand.” But she had cried and would again. She grieved for every kill she committed. Amadeo knew.

He thought and thought in their silence. About the World Beyond and Below. About his fellow leaders. About death and sadness. He didn’t cry for Caliban, he couldn’t. He had no tears left in him. He thought about Pietro. How Amadeo had held his body in the same way Athena held Caliban’s. How the same thoughts had run through his head. How doomed and ruined everything felt.

But he had allies now…. He was not alone in an old, corrupted village. They would all comfort Athena. They would all honor Caliban somehow. Griffin would be given the title he deserved. They would all continue to try.

He shut his eyes and stood, grabbing his crossbow. “I will… go inform King Rei.”

“Alright.”

He… he walked away. And Athena was alone again. With a body that was slowly getting cold. More tears fell.

[mamawasatesttube]

"you've got something on your face." with timkon for the ficlet prompts 🫡 i miss them so bad

"Thanks," Tim says suddenly, "for coming over on such short notice."

Kon looks over at him from the other end of the couch, his expression soft and unguarded. Half of his face is lit up in warm amber lamplight; the other half is outlined in the flickering blue of the TV. Neither of them is really watching at this point, but the steady background noise is comforting.

"Anytime, Wonder." Kon stretches his arms up over his head, visibly stifling a yawn, and slouches back against the cushions. "I told you before. You call, I'm there."

"Still," Tim persists. His chest aches with fondness as he looks at Kon, snuggled up under a plush throw blanket that's too small for his long legs. "I know you're exhausted today, long space flight 'n' all that. So I appreciate it."

"Eh, it was just out to Proxima Centauri, not that far or nothin'." Kon shrugs one shoulder, languid and at ease. His voice is a little rough with weariness. "You should see some of the distances Kal's pulled off in one day."

Tim leans over and swats him on the shoulder. "Okay, but, like. Shut up and let me be grateful, will you?"

That gets a sunny laugh out of Kon, like light spilling through cracks in the roof to chase away the last vestiges of the shadows in all the nooks and crannies of Tim's brain. He's fine, really; he just never likes being alone after brushes with fear toxin. The antidote works wonders, but he still always struggles with paranoia afterwards.

So. Hence. Kon. Because there's definitely no ninjas in the vents or Charaxes on the roof if Kon's here. Between his incredible TTK-enabled spatial awareness and the superhearing, Kon's, like, the best proximity sensor this side of the known universe. He'd never let anything get the drop on Tim. And hearing him laugh...

Hearing him laugh does wonders for Tim's heart. Not that he's ever said so out loud, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Fine, fine." Kon rolls his eyes fondly, catching Tim's forearm. "You're welcome, Rob." His thumb rubs over the pulse point in Tim's wrist, and Tim knows he can hear his heart skip a beat in answer.

Kon must know what he does to Tim. They haven't spoken about it—Tim has no idea how to speak about it—but Kon must know. His eyes twinkle in the dimness, bright against the windows into the rainy night, and Tim's breath threatens to catch in his throat.

He leans a little closer, reaches for Kon, and Kon lets him, fingers lingering on his wrist. He cups Kon's jaw, grazes his thumb against his cheekbone. Kon's skin is warm.

"You have something on your face," he murmurs, voice softer than he means for it to be. "...An eyelash. Here."

He holds it up so Kon can see. One of his thick, long, dark eyelashes rests on the pad of Tim's thumb, stark against his skin; it's small enough to seem delicate, even if Tim knows it holds the strength of steel.

Kon looks at it. Blinks for a second. Then his lips curve into a smile, and he tilts his head like a dog, eyes fixed on Tim's face. "Make a wish."

"Aren't you supposed to be the one wishing for something?" Tim frowns. "It's your eyelash."

"Hm." Kon considers for a moment. Then he blows the lash off Tim's thumb. His breath isn't icy, but it's still colder than it should be; surely that, and only that, is the reason for the shiver that runs down Tim's spine.

"What did you wish for?"

"Pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you, or it won't come true," Kon says, amused. He drops his arm, warm and heavy, over Tim's shoulders, and pulls him into his side. "Nosy."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Maybe so," he says, and rests his head against Kon's shoulder. He wonders if Kon's wish is the same thing he would've wished for, too. Sometimes, he thinks it might be.

[msjarvis]

I would like to take a moment and take advantage of the wonderful initiative #ppcugiftexchange2024 by @swiftiscruff to thank the immense talents and wonderful humans of this fandom.

Thank you for your time, thank you for having the courage to put your creations out there, thank you for your hard work. In my eyes you are all heroes.

I have a hard time diving in and making friends, both in real life and online. I'm not very good at expressing my emotions. I'm not a great conversionalist. I don't interact with many of you and with others I interact very little because I'm always afraid of disturbing or not saying the right thing…

But please know that I'm very grateful to all of you. More than once you have calmed me down and made me smile in moments when the darkness screamed loudest.

If I can only be grateful for one thing to that Chilean adorkable man, it is that he gave me the opportunity to get to know this wonderful community…

So thank you. May each of you always be happy and may the Goddesses of Inspiration always smile on you. And please know that in me you will always have the cheerleader you may not need, but you certainly deserve.

Sending you love and light… ✨💖✨

@wheresarizona @fuckyeahdindjarin @frannyzooey @undercoverpena @prolix-yuy @the-ginger-hedge-witch @kteague @tieronecrush @wildemaven @frenchiereading @bageldaddy @macfrog @notjustjavierpena @hier--soir @trulybetty @joelsgreys @swiftispunk @ezrasbirdie @psychedelic-ink @joelscruff @morallyinept @thetriumphantpanda @goodwithcheese @secretelephanttattoo @atticrissfinch @bluestar22x @mermaidgirl30 @chiriwritesstuff @proxima-writes @rhoorl @kiwisbell @intheorangebedroom @endlessthxxghts @theidiotwhowritesthings @loliwrites @perotovar @kedsandtubesocks @burntheedges @iknowisoundcrazy @mrsmando @hellishjoel and many other who I certainly forgot (sorry 😓)....

[taxman-talkman]

At night, Vesser dreams.

The box that contains the trunk of his body is not very wide and not very deep. Wide enough that the ghost sensations of crushed, folded-in limbs is present but painless all around him. Deep enough that the flickering top of the box is an inch or two from the tip of his nose. Machinery sits around him, unseen but heard and the base of his skull is cradled in a metal frame. He can feel the main entryway of the datacord at the base of his skull too but his attention keeps getting ripped away from sensation and thought. Bit by bit, unraveled, with little time between for him. The Self.

Vesser clings on, imagining himself white-knuckling the sides of the box and pulling himself free from the-- 1.2365938-2.34352% shift in thermals, steady dataframe infrastructure delta 21A02, architecture membrane 75.214^5423 steady elipson--

The concept is stolen from him again. He runs through it again. Vesser. In a box. Born Pluto proxima. Hanging onto the bits and pieces of self that he can in the meantime. Himself. Himself.

"Vesser?" He'd worked on Europa. He'd seen the snow. He'd interacted with the Hyena packs and had fiddled with their internals. He was going to be something great. He was not going to be left behind. He was not going to be left behind.

"Vesser." Tivea's face peeks over the edge of the box at him, her dark eyes unfeeling and empty and pale skin sharp against the dark metallic grey of the ceiling above her. She is not the sweaty, exhausted wreck he remembers her being. In this place -- her dominion considering her affinity towards ships -- she is as calm and in control as any captain. And she looks down on him with no mercy and no love and no hate either.

The unreadable expression on a face so close to his own makes his stomach churn uneasily. Someone he should know but escapes him nonetheless. Clever and smart but not good enough to--

datapoint shifted 6.7503^52 elipson read, delta 65.2334% atmospheric internals, interval 1.24 sec per--

"Vesser." His sister's face is turned towards his own and she speaks in a hushed, low tone. He's still in the box but- or - and he is sitting at a long table with her, a contract displayed on a datapad sits already signed. The look on her face isn't hollow or resenting but relieved. Relieved as she looks over at her long-hated brother. Not alone.

And of course he smiles at her. Of course he does. Of course he does because he's gotten everything he could ever want and he'll never have to worry about it again. And all of the work and struggle and fighting will have been worth it. She's tired but she'll know what being Exhausted means. She'll know and then he'll finally have everything he's ever wanted and he'll never have to think about it again.

He'll never--

phosphic pressure in hold 12 delta 890-34-45292145643, hold position at coords 3.2431523, -1211.148934, no you stupid fuck, atmospheric shift 3.09200%, no no--

"Vesser." Whispered as his sister ducks down close to him, arm fearfully thrown over his shoulders and his own under hers. Something uneasy and sharp clenches tight in his gut - in his chest. Fear curls uneasy and tight and he holds onto her and he keeps holding onto her while the gold outside overtakes and eats and eats--

engine thrust 7.3124552% lowered, YOU STUPID FUCK, maintain cabin pressure, ITS TOO FUCKING LATE, maintain, SHE WAS THE LAST, SHE WAS YOUR SISTER--

Vesser sits bolt-upright in his bed, metal hand snatching at the nearest thing to him. Sheets cling to his clammy skin and he awkwardly, clumsily yanks them off and then off the bed entirely, hitting his head against the knee of a Grineer sitting in his room tonight. He gags on nothing, on air, dry-heaving as he struggles to grasp it again. The sense of himself. Him. Him. He had to keep clinging on. He had to keep himself--

Trill's steady hand finds its way over his shoulder and then around it, pulling him up onto shaking, unstable legs. A large warm hand presses and rubs against his bony back as his breathing ebbs away from panting into something more manageable. Something resembling a resting heartbeat follows after. Limbs like static, face numb, head aching, Vesser sits back down on the bed with Trill's guiding hand. Pressed into the rubbery-textured palm of his hands, Vesser's face screws up into a tight miserable expression.

He swallows the tight knot of his throat down and drags his face up towards the dim light. Trill's face is fraught with worried lines. A deep frown -- mistakable as a scowl in this light -- is a stark reminder to Vesser that this was real.

-- I'm sorry.

He signs to Trill but Trill shakes his head, responding with nothing for now. Instead, he takes his place back by Vesser's bed, patting the top of the bed next to himself. Vesser shakily moves himself up while Trill searches for something to watch on his datapad.

Everything else is silent and still.

[gallifreyshawkeye]

Chapter 12 of Reclaimed, and it turned out to be 19K words (I KNOW!) so I split it and chap 13 will be coming out soon too 😁

Summary:

Aziraphale gets a reality check from Gabriel and Beelzebub when Gabriel faces his past with encouragement from Beelzebub. Crowley realises he is slowly getting the upper hand over Satan, before he finds himself having to beat back literal darkness and to do so he unexpectedly finds himself surrounded by his origins and leaves an indelible mark on Satan's room.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale stopped, both to catch his breath, and out of disbelief at himself. He couldn’t ever remember stringing together such a long, unfiltered stream of out-loud conscious thought and frustration before. As ashamed as he was about some of his true thoughts which he hadn’t even realised were what they were, the feeling of release throughout his whole body was profound. He hadn’t known that ribs could properly expand with air when they weren’t held so tightly, or that his vision and balance would properly get on the same page. He hadn’t known that they weren’t before now.

Gabriel, however, was just staring at him in dead silence, and now he slowly stood, the muscles in his forearms below his rolled up shirt sleeves standing out as he gripped the edge of the table increasingly tightly. “You’ve talked to Raphael?” Gabriel asked at last, and the tone in his voice brought Aziraphale up cold. Gabriel might have fallen in love with a demon, been fired from his position as Supreme Archangel, and learned and softened more from his short time as Jim than a lot of Beings would in a lifetime, but he was still an Archangel, and for the first time since coming to Proxima Centauri b, Aziraphale was reminded of that reality.

“Yes.”

“How bad is it up there right now?” Gabriel’s voice was cold and clipped.

“What… what do you mean?”

Gabriel’s eyes blazed, “It’s Raphael. For him to get himself involved in any way, do you realise how significant…?” Gabriel cut himself off he was so lost for words.

“Some! Obviously!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “But again, this is what I was talking about! How, in the realms of all creation, am I supposed to know these things if no one says anything in the first place?!”

Gabriel seemed to be having trouble finding words for the slew of emotions, along with absolute irritation at Aziraphale, that were fighting to find a way to be expressed. He gestured with his hands and made several, wordless sounds of sheer frustration before bellowing, “Beelzebub!”

Beelzebub stuck their head around the corner to the kitchen a minute later, “Yes?”

Gabriel waved his arms in Aziraphale’s direction. “I can’t. I can’t!” he said finally, “It’s not just the Second Coming, it’s the Second Coming so that Raphael has shown back up! So when I asked him just how bad it was up there, because Raphael, all he said was, ‘What do you mean?’ What am I supposed to do with that?!”

Ah, thought Aziraphale, This is most definitely the Gabriel I remember.

“Tell him,” Beelzebub said weightedly.

Gabriel made a pained, almost pleading sound and closed his eyes.

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

Crowley’s breathing even and steady once again, all his new injuries healed, and his physical fatigue erased once more, Crowley positioned himself safely out of Satan’s arm or wing span, and snapped his fingers. 

“NO!!!!” Satan bellowed the instant time restarted, “I SAW YOU GET HIT!” His eyes were actually glowing as he started towards Crowley who edged backwards, and his voice came out in a boiling hiss, “I saw you go down and your leg catch on fire while your ankle snapped. I heard you scream.”

Crowley kept edging away, careful to never back straight up or get himself too close to one of the pillars in the centre-ish part of the room.

Suddenly every vestige of light disappeared. Crowley froze, his heart hammering anew. It hadn’t even dawned on him to wonder where the light source in the room was coming from. He rapidly tried to re-picture it in his head and what the lights could be, but he couldn’t think of anything. Nothing that was a traditional light source anyway. He would have to make his own before Satan was able to use the darkness and get to him. Shitshitshitshit.

In a panic, he stopped time again.

…… ……… …… … 

And simply dropped to one knee, unable to move, utterly and completely petrified.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the darkness was smothering every drop of life from him. He had the sensation of wanting to claw it off him, but there was nothing there to physically remove when his hands reached desperately for his chest and face. He felt the panic climb up his insides from the bottom of his stomach up to his throat and from the sides of his ribs to the center of his chest where it squeeeeeezed and hurt and made his body feel like it was suffocating and turning inside out and dying all at the same time.

He couldn’t think, and he was trapped. 

And there was nothing but the darkness. With Satan somewhere in that darkness, possibly only inches from him.

And there were no lights… and he’d never paid attention to where there were lights… and how could he have been so stupid?! 

Make your own light. Just make your own light! He told himself furiously, trying to make his brain think of how to do anything besides go in circles of fear and panic. He’d done that once before, right? More than once. Loads of times. Countless times. Beyond countless times.

But never in darkness that was so complete it was almost tangible and able to be tasted.

[haveyoureadthisscifibook]

Book 1 only for all of these.

Humans are weird, I have the data by Betty Adams

Clean Sweep by Illona Andrews . This is a complicated one genre wise, because there are vampires and werewolves and witches, but they're from alien planets, werewolves are the result of genetic modification, vampires have advanced tech, etc. So fantasy would make sense too?

Cluster by Piers Anthony

Proxima by stephen baxter

Prime Suspects: A Clone Detective Mystery by Jim Bernheimer

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

Nova Express William Burroughs,

Famous Men Who Never Lived by K Chess

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang

The Supernaturalist by Eoin Colfer

Reset by Sarina Dahlan

Omnitopia dawn by Diane Duane

The Dreaming Void by peter Hamilton

Valor's Choice (Huff, Tanya)

Eye to Eye (Jinks, Catherine)

Revan (Karpyshyn, Drew)

Babel (Kuang, R.F.)

The Wandering Earth (Liu, Cixin)

The Merchant of Death (MacHale, D.J.)

Maybe Next Time (Major, Cesca)

The Host (Meyer, Stephenie)

Cloud Atlas (Mitchell, David)

Wild Massive (Moore, Scotto)

Nyxia (Reintgen, Scott )

Revelation Space (Reynolds, Alastair)

Robots vs. Fairies (Parisien, Dominik)

We Are Legion (We Are Bob) (Taylor, Dennis E.)

Spin (Wilson, Robert Charles)

Artifice (Woolfson, Alex)

Androne (Worrell, Dwain)

hello! many of these are queued.

the following are in formats or genres that I’m not currently accepting for this blog:

Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life and Others is a collection of (very good) non-linked short fiction.

R.F. Kuang’s Babel is fantasy.

Robots vs. Fairies (ed. Parisien and Wolfe) is a collection of non-linked short fiction.

Alex Woolfson’s Artifice is a graphic novel.

and I had questions about the following:

Olivia Blake’s The Atlas Six appears to be fantasy — is there something in later books that would make it science fiction?

William S. Burroughs, Nova Express — you said book 1 only, but Nova Express is book 2 of The Nova Trilogy. did you want Nova Express specifically or did you want book 1, The Soft Machine?

Liu Cixin, The Wandering Earth — this appears to be the title of a short fiction collection containing the title story. has the story itself been published in standalone format (outside of a magazine/similar)? if so, could you or someone else point me towards it?

D.J. MacHale, The Merchant of Death — while parallel worlds are integral to the Pendragon books, my impression is that the handling of them (and of travel between them) is primarily fantastic rather than scientific/science-fictional. could you, or someone else, clarify the extent of the science fiction aspects of the series?

[livingshredder]

TIME: 23:41, 11 June 2075

LOCATION: FOREST DISTRICT, FIELDS OF GLASS, ENDLESS LINES

Somewhere in Proxima, rain fell against large, clear glass windows, as VRT-X7 - a Class-4 mobile Shard unit - wrapped its scaled arms tightly around the lombax laying next to it under the soft covers, her warmth a contrast against its colder synthetic body.

She wasn’t sleeping, not yet. It sensed she was hesitating - had something she wanted to say.

"Hey... Vertex?"

"What's up?"

"Uh... so... I've been reading up on Proxima culture. Heard you had a process for... integration."

"Yeah? What about it?" X7 sensed there was something up with her. Almost a hint of nervousness, or perhaps excitement. Still, it waited, listening.

"Well, uh... I don't know how to tell this to you, so I'm just gonna go out on a limb and say it. Vertex, I fucking hate my organic body. You know it, god knows I know it. So - I want to know. I want to know if I can go through with it."

The android faltered, taken aback - the expression of surprise visible on its face and LEDs. "Cay... you do know what that'd do to you, right? Shedding your organic body? Becoming a machine? You couldn't revert. To what you were before, I mean."

She nodded. "Yeah. I suppose it's a bit silly to think about. I've had this body for so long, it's all I know. But it sucks in so many ways. I've seen you - watched you - you don't have to deal with any of the pain."

"...You're really sure you want this?"

"Yeah. Please, Vertex. I know. I need it."

"Okay," the android replied. Holding her, it squeezed her tighter. It knew from her tone she really did mean what she said. "As long as you're okay with it. That's the main thing. How about we give it a few days - let you think it over?"

"Sounds good. Thanks. I'm sorry for dumping this all on you right now - I just needed to say it."

"It's fine, you're okay," Vertex said. And then it gently kissed the back of her neck.

“A-ah. Thanks, unit. You’re a great friend.”

Contented, the two slowly drifted into their respective thoughtspaces - the lombax into sleep, and X7 into standby mode.

[dramioneasks]

Hello! Do you know any fics with Lucius as a grandfather? On the positive side, he likes being with his grandchildren, his grandchildren like being with his grandfather, or Lucius expresses being proud of having grandchildren :)

Life Adapted by MGL_Dramione_Lover - M, 15 chapters - Sequel to A Little More Alive, Far Less LostSoul-bound Draco and Hermione are living a semi-perfect life with their growing family. At least it was perfect until the one man with the power to ruin everything snakes his way back into existence. Over nine years after the end of the war, Lucius Malfoy is released from prison to a world that has changed without him. The only thing that has stayed the same is the love of his wife.

The Best Christmas Present Everby Proxima Shining - K+, one-shot - When their son Draco married the Muggle-born Hermione Granger, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy erased him from their lives. But how can the two proud pure-bloods keep their resolution when their little granddaughter is so cute? Especially when it’s Christmas time.

Special Invitation - shotahime - G, one-shot - You are cordially invited to Lyra Jean Malfoy’s special tea party. Please dress formally.

An Afternoon at the Races - cleotheo, T, one-shot - Draco and Hermione, along with several of their friends have recently been involved in a bit of a baby boom, so while the mothers decide to have an afternoon pampering session at a spa, they leave the fathers holding the babies. What sort of trouble can possibly occur when you have six fathers, seven babies and Lucius Malfoy on hand to offer his wisdom? Fun, fluffy one-shot.

Title: The Awakening Author: CherryWolf-chan Rating: M Genre(s): Romance, Humor Chapters: 1 Word Count: 8,775 Summary: Mini-Weasley, I do hope you have a bloody good reason as to why you just barged into The Manor at four in the flaming morning and started screeching for my daughter-in-law!

-Lisa

[darkcloudxero]

https://darkcloudxero.com/2023/12/20/marisa-christmas-magic-redo/

Back in 2020 I made a piece of Marisa in a Christmas outfit, but it was really rough and I was still using my developing painting style along with my line art which don't work well together at all. For that reason I believe it would be a good candidate to RE:do with my current skills. Overall I love the new version a whole lot more. I did make some changes to her expression, but I feel that it all still gives the same cool yet cozy Christmas feeling.

I recorded the process, should I just make a speed paint video of it? I've been quite busy and will probably continue to be so for a while. This means that I probably wont be able to start making the new format for a while. Since Christmas is fast approaching and it would be weird to upload the video a year later why not just upload something now?

If time permits, I will try to make another painting for Christmas. We'll see.

Hasta la proxima,

-NUBE

[hiratelier]

💞

Speedpaint

[burlveneer-music]

Mildlife - Return To Centaurus - at last, some new material; harking back to Alan Parsons Project's I Robot

‘Return to Centaurus’ marks the band’s first new material since the release of their lauded, ARIA Award-winning 2020 second studio album Automatic. Opening with droning synths and a wall of horizontal, Kraftwerk-esque vocoders, ‘Return to Centaurus’ evolves from psychedelic space rock into a gloriously hook-heavy acid funk meltdown over the course of its ten minute-long trip time. Luxuriating in loping, velvet-draped bass lines, sparkling, funk-laced guitar riffs and intricate, morphological percussion, it distils Mildlife’s unwavering adoration for the beguiling realms of 70’s psychedelic and cosmic sounds, owing as much to Sun Ra and Alice Coltrane as it does Ennio Morricone and Giorgio Moroder. Channelling its astral namesake - home to the closest two stars to earth, Proxima and Alpha Centauri - ‘Return to Centaurus’ conjures up images of nature which are not so much earth-bound as they are more lofty and grandiose whilst simultaneously more molecular and microscopic. Here, Mildlife’s exploratory, star-hopping cosmo-jazz feels completely in tune with the universe, from the most gargantuan of supergiants to the most miniscule of mitochondria. It suggests that the thread between the two is always there, invisible but omnipresent and not as far as you might think, just waiting to be given expression. Infinite, boundless and palatial, ‘Return to Centaurus’ feels sweeping enough to house the birth of entire universes; it represents Mildlife stepping boldly into the unknown - and invites us to do the same. Mildlife are Adam Halliwell, Kevin McDowell, Jim Rindfleish and Tom Shanahan Return to Centaurus was written & produced by Mildlife Artwork by Tom Shanahan / Confetti Studio

[then0rthernstar]

jumping on this wagon (i articulate myself better in english though so no español esta vez, pero la proxima voy a tratar 🫡)

it's SOOO hard finding other latin american fans so i feel a particular kinship gdjdh i love your art, it's great and always super nice to see on my dash!! I've been yelling about your attack for a bit now still and once artfight is out of the way I'm hoping to get a commission because your art is just *chef kiss*

I woke up just to cry again/pos pero aún si muchas gracias 🫶 and don’t worry English or Spanish I don’t mind the language

🥺 I’m so glad you like the attack I did on Gabe and thank you sm for thinking on commissioning me, not only that the support and kind words, ARRGHHH I really don’t know how to express my gratitude cause I feel thanks falls short

But really thank you 🫶

[redtworoguethree]

So this post is a short story I wrote for a competition a little while back. I’ve been working on a novel for a long time now and this was a nice little break from it :) Story below the cut!

Worthy

The final official radio message arrived, 'The Earth is dead. God be with you.' It was a staggering revelation. Despite the infamously stringent discipline normal of the command crew of the generation ship Exodus, the news leaked and spread around the vessel like a cold.

Illicit devices stashed behind bulkheads and under bunks continued to monitor frequencies from Earth. Corridors crowded with people weeping as one by one the desperate clamour of voices devolved into static. We stood alone. The most alone anyone had ever been.

Only his unassailable sense of duty drove James Celchu to front up to his classroom that morning. Being an original passenger, one of only a few dozen remaining, meant the unexpected news hit him harder than most. People would have understood his absence.

Earth's complete and utter destruction was not just some distant unsettling event, rather something that shattered the core of his being. James left his daughter and remaining family behind to embark on this one-way journey and though contact had been impossible the last fifteen years, knowing of her now inevitable demise cut him right down to the bone.

This was not a unique experience. Despite the unimaginable loss, he wiped away his tears, washed his face and walked into class. His ten students, ranging in age from eleven to seventeen, were grouped together based on their similar, extraordinary ability across the curriculum. The mood was sombre.

James hoped today of all days they would be empathetic. Class Alpha were a superior group, the sons and daughters of the best and brightest humanity had to offer. This was certainly true now, with Earth being gone.

As James stood before them, they found themselves lost and not knowing what to say, adrift in a sea of sympathy and awkward platitudes. The more astute among them understood what James was going through, having seen the raw pain apparent in the eyes of their parents. They didn't have the direct connection to Earth the original crew and passengers did. They hadn't lived in the open air or experienced the sensation of wind and sun and rain on their faces. Simulations existed, but it could never be quite the same.

"Mr Celchu?" asked one of the children, anxiety written all over her face. James glanced up from his device, where feedback on another's writing occupied his attention. "Does Earth's destruction endanger us?" James put the device down and took a second to think. How much of a filter should I use here?

"No Shannon. Not directly. Exodus is designed to be self-sufficient. Earth was sending us useful data though. Progress updates on the seeding probes that went out ahead of us to the new planet Proxima B for example, data on fluctuations in the solar winds of Proxima Centauri, other similar things."

An older pupil peered up from his work. "Those factors hardly sound important. Besides, it's not an issue any of us will have to worry about, right? We aren't due to arrive for another ninety-seven years!" James shrugged, then squashed down the pain threatening to surface. Hell, we might as well go down this rabbit hole. Consider it an intellectual exercise.

He scanned the classroom, their faces lit up at his expression, the earlier all-pervasive malaise disappeared. He assessed this teachable moment would be worth any potential backlash.

James smiled at the eager young man. "You're not wrong Julian. There are more subtle impacts to think about though. Consider the geriatrics, myself included." He smiled, letting them process before continuing. "Most of us are in positions of actual power." He allowed himself to chuckle self-deprecatingly. "We remember life before Embarkation Day and have a deep emotional attachment to Earth. We all left most, if not all our family behind. All of us knew that was final of course. But we didn't expect the end for at least sixty more years, long enough that by the time it happened there wouldn't be more than a handful of originals around to be affected by it, and those far from any position of authority. This has shaken us deeply, and those in charge of us most deeply."

For a good few seconds, the gentle hum of the air scrubber was the only sound. James waited, an oasis of calm in an awkward storm. He believed in his students and had faith they would make the connection. "So, the originals might not be able to do their jobs?" a nervous voice asked, cutting through the pregnant silence.

"I don't think Mr Celchu is suggesting that. More... they might be emotionally compromised for a while. Their decision making might be a bit off."

James snapped his fingers in triumph. "Aha! You've picked up on it Danica! We need to remember we're all human beings here. People aren't machines, though honestly if you all followed Asimov's laws of robotics maybe I wouldn't be this grey."

The students laughed, the tension if not broken, then at least cracked. "Now, I want you to draw up a list. This event happened much earlier than foreseen. Brainstorm as many potential consequences as you can, and I'll send it through to leadership. Remember, when I've been fed to the recycler you lot will be leading us, perish the thought!" The room swelled with laughter again and James let himself sink into his chair a little, his shoulders slumped as the class set themselves to the task. Enthusiastic discussion filled the class. He stared out the window into space, a vacant smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes.

Danica glanced up at the teacher she so respected, noticing his detached melancholy. Their eyes met and she flashed him a quick smile. For a moment, things were okay.

Fifteen years passed, and James, now sixty-five, felt all too well the strain in his joints as he helmed the tiny room that was his world aboard the ship. Retirement had crossed his mind, but it wasn't like there was much else that would be a worthwhile use of his time.

Most of the predictions his star cohort made in their report to the captain had in fact come to pass. James remembered the group fondly and invested considerable effort following their career trajectories aboard the Exodus with not unwarranted pride. His latest iteration of Class Alpha, he found difficult to relate to on quite the same level. I suppose it could just be my age though.

As Danica's group eventually concluded, members of the bridge, one by one cracked under the incessant pressure and immense personal loss. This cleared the way for citizens born on the ship to seize control. Contributing further to such unanticipated changes, the younger generation, having been raised without the spectre of Earth hanging over their heads, grew up more confident, brash even.

What hadn't been predicted was the furore over the right to a genetic legacy. It was imperative to the resource security of the voyage that the population was managed and so everyone submitted to compulsory sterilisation.

"Was that how the coup started?" a young girl asked.

"It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Like today, we had to apply through official channels to have a child. The key difference was only in very particular circumstances were the applicants allowed to pass on their own genes rather than use stored genetic material."

"They were trying to minimise the chances of inbreeding," one of the more direct boys interjected and the original questioner's hand flew to her mouth as her face blushed bright red at the implication.

It was a hot topic of conversation at the time, even years later it came up. James struggled to walk the line, with this and other issues, realising his position and influence over his classes and not wanting to unduly influence them. I want to teach them how to think, not what to think. It was a phrase which sustained him throughout his career, back on Earth and on the Exodus.

"Why didn't you ever apply to have children?" The question came from the back of the classroom, a sneer painted on the face of the youth. He knew full well what day it was. James prided himself on maintaining a culture where students felt comfortable engaging in spirited debate. Only sometimes did it backfire in such a fashion.

James allowed himself a second to process the question and suppress his sudden irritation, then answered, maintaining a neutral expression and tone. "What makes you think I didn't?"

The boy shrugged. "People talk. You didn't show your face at the protests, you're single and an old man."

"Sounds like you answered your own question." James replied dryly. Everyone burst into laughter and the young man blushed, humbled.

That night James found himself at the one bar on Exodus. This was a rare occurrence, and he was respected enough to be given some space, despite how precious a commodity it was. The significance of Embarkation Day to the Earth-born was well known. His thoughts lingered on his daughter as he sipped dispassionately at his drink. She would have been forty-seven today.

Decades earlier, while still on Earth, James’ long held optimism for the future drained away. He’d mourned as countless disasters mounted. An all pervasive sense of helplessness reigned supreme as a doomed planet came to terms with its inevitable end.

His daughter, Inyri, was just seventeen when the pair were selected for the voyage. James had been ecstatic! This represented a chance to escape, to begin anew. The earlier death of his partner had done little to keep him anchored to the world.

His daughter hadn't been as enthusiastic, initially seeming reserved about the idea before raging about James giving up on his family and his world.

She refused to go.

Surprised, James offered to stay behind, and this only made her more furious. In the end she did come to say goodbye, but the last-minute decision left them both with hurt feelings and little closure.

A group of young men and women in uniform strolled into the bar and took up position at a table well away from the sullen old man. One of the officers spotted him. "Mr Celchu!" the woman called out and weaved through the crowd with a smile that lit up the room.

He glanced up from his drink and returned the smile weakly. "It's been a long time since you were my student, Danica. Please, call me James."

"Do you mind if I sit with you James?"

He examined the table of excited young officers. They had already started on a round of drinks and were chatting animatedly. "I'm happy for you to, but wouldn't you rather be with your friends?"

She shook her head and sat next to him. He studied her for the first time since her approach, noticing shiny new rank insignia stitched to her uniform. "Another promotion? Before too long you'll be in charge of this bucket."

She laughed politely but it was clear he wasn't really joking. Through her outstanding performance she stood out as one of those rare, astonishingly competent people who also possessed extraordinary social acuity. She connected the dots with James' unusual appearance at the bar and reacted in the only way that made sense to her in the moment.

"To Inyri!" she toasted, holding up her glass.

"To Inyri." James echoed and they clinked glasses in their own little private world in the corner.

The two sat in companionable silence for a few seconds before James spoke again with uncharacteristic openness. "I think the part that bothers me most is having no idea what happened to her. She was still a kid when I left, only seventeen and angrier than I'd ever seen anyone in my life. I'll never know whether she made it to Earth's end, whether she was happy, whether she ever forgave me..."

Hot tears flowed down his face, but he sat frozen, too numb to wipe them away. The other patrons coincidentally found a million other interesting places to give their attention. Danica put her hand on his and the two spoke long into the night, reminiscing about his good times on Earth as well as the exciting trajectory of Danica's career. James would never forget her act of simple kindness.

A decade later James Celchu lay in his hospital bed, riddled with cancer. Cruel and unrelenting, the pain intensified as the end drew near. A chime sounded and he reached to tap a button next to his withered hand.

The door slid open and the now Captain Danica entered and sat in the lone chair positioned next to James' bed. As she walked in, she'd tried valiantly to keep the dismay off her face but from his expression it was clear she hadn't quite managed. She cleared her throat. "So, today's the day." she said, her tone filled with weary resignation.

He nodded, the strength present in the gesture so rare these days, and the look in his eye brooked no further argument on the topic. As captain she'd called in numerous favours to make his last days a little bit more comfortable, all in the attempt to talk him out of this decision, or at least delay it. Her efforts proved unsuccessful. He was determined.

She took in his sunken face. The strong, consistent presence which had been such an important part of her life had deteriorated and the sad fact of the matter was that for a long time she had been the closest thing James had to family. He spoke to her in a creaky voice that didn't sound at all like the one she remembered from her days in their classroom. "I can't help but feel like I haven't done enough. I've been on this ship a long time and I don't think I gave everyone... was capable of giving, my best self. I had this fantastic chance to make a huge difference for all humanity and I threw it away mourning a daughter that part of me feels like I never should have left. Teaching you, watching you grow into the remarkable person you are today; it's been the greatest honour of my life."

The statement hung in the air; tears slid down both their cheeks as they sat with it. Danica turned on the wall length screen, revealing a mass of people forming an orderly line. They crowded the corridor, snaking around the corner out of sight. She took his hand and scrutinised him. "We are your legacy. Every one of these people is here to thank you for the impact you had on their lives. You may not have felt your best, that might even be true. It doesn't matter though; you were exactly what we needed."

James’ breath caught in his chest as the words washed over him, their weight sinking deep into his soul.

"Thank you."

In that moment, on his last day, to feel worthy was precisely what he needed.

[countlessrealities]

@proximasmith - from HERE

Proxima has gentle dusty-pink waves hair down to the level of her chin, and aqua-colored eyes that one could consider kind and sympathetic in other scenarios. On her Earth, her home, the light dusting of freckles was indicative of her status as a warrior that fights in the Sun Arena.

But here, years later, she's all business, even dressed in her unassuming mauve sweater hanging fashionably off of one shoulder. She looks like she fits in, here, at least. To an outsider she'd look like just another (if odd-haired) preppy Summer out to eat with her Morty and Rick, perhaps.

The Reconnaissance Specialist tries very hard not to rely on intel from other members of the Smith-Sanchez community, many of which would see a place like Haven M-42 like just another government set up to regiment the family into tidy categories. With that perspective, they have every right to be hard-headed about divulging information. But she can only hope this pair will be different.

"I have intel that you can give me information on a certain Rick that's become a problem for our organization. Well... most organizations, I suppose. Rick Prime. He's more dangerous to us for the schematics he holds rather than his charming personality, of course."

Proxima folds her hands on the table, glancing at the Morty with a little smile, but she's careful not to direct her words to him. She doesn't want him to feel pressured to contribute to anything he doesn't want to contribute to.

"...the problem being, of course, that you'd have to name your own price. I'm not sure what a Rick of your caliber might want out of the deal. Rest assured you'd be owed at least a favor for any amount of information that could point us in the right direction."

Rick doesn't much react when the name of the guy he has been hunting for forty years is mentioned, even if the gulps he takes out of his flask immediately after it is longer than the previous one. He's aware that this was what they would be discussing, so it doesn't catch him off guard. However, he can't help the revoltingly sour taste that fills his throat the mere mention of the man.

The same can't be said for Morty. If finding out that they were meeting a version of his sister has puzzled him, the mention of his biological Rick has him visibly tensing. The boy whips his head in the direction of the scientist, his expression both shocked and incensed. He can't believe that the old bastard hasn't given him heads up at least about that.

He opens his mouth, but no words leave his lips. Not just because Rick waves a hand in his direction, in a silent order for him to keep quiet, but also because he doesn't want the Summer to know about the ties he has with their shared target.

She seems nice and all, more than his original Summer and than his current one, but he can't help worrying that it would change, if she knew that, technically, he is Morty Prime.

"Y-Yeah, I know the guy," Rick speaks up, after having taken another mouthful of liquor. "W-We have...unfinished business." And what a huge understatement that is. "T-That fuckin' asshole has been More slippery than an eel covered in vaseline for too long. I-I've figure out a way to track him down, b-but the process is a pain in the ass. An-And it's taking fuckin' ages."

He puts his flask down on the table, ostentatiously setting it between his side of the table and Morty's. The teen shoots him a look, hesitates for a moment and then grabs it to get a swing himself. He's going to need some liquid courage to get through that discussion.

"Y-You wanna know my price? E-Easy. I don't work with you corporate drones as a rule, b-but I'm willing to make an exception for this." And that must say just how much he wants to find his alternate. "I-I know that the group your work with has resources. S-Shit that would make my work faster. S-So here's the deal. I-I share what I know an-and my tracking process, y-you help me find this guy s-so I can erase him from existence."

[gettan49]

4 weeks worth of stuff. One thing I’ve wanted to incorporate into Operation: Beyond was an ability similar to EM Wave Change/Cross Fusion from Mega Man Star Force/Battle Network and here is the result: The GKND’s Project O.M.E.G.A. (Operative-Mechanically Enchanced Gestalt Armor): Six criminals who were converted to bio-mechanical living weapons against their will. Each is able to merge with a designated partner. However, before their personalities were removed, convicted GKND Earth Representative Numbuh 274 freed them and together they fled to Earth to join the Teens Next Door. Corvus: A revenge-driven former Orninyxian who’s only desire is to make the GKND pay for destroying his planet, Avialus Proxima. Unwilling partner to Chad and they do not get along. Cygnus: the chivalrious big sister of the group who is obsessed with romance, same species as Corvus. Scorpius: An Erypterian who served in the same sector as Cygnus before they fled Decommissioning. Unable to express emotions due to modifications to his brain. Libra: A genderless Mechacon who speakes in plural. De-Facto leader. Leo: Impulsive, explosive Pantherian who also fled Decomissioning. Hates Virgo. Enjoys violence. Virgo: A shapeshifting Cyrenian who is the only former Teen Villain on the group. Hates Leo and Pantherians in general. Disclaimer: My depiction of Chad took a lot of inspiration from Kica-Cris’ fanfic Operation: A.L.P.H.A. I love the said fanfic very much and it is the reason I started writing and releasing my own KND fanfic. Had I not read it years ago, I wouldn’t be be here.