#science fiction fics

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!!

You know some fics in wich Sherlock is an alien?

The idea popped up in my head yesterday but i don't know exactly how to search it on AO3.

Thank you!

Hi Nonny!

I do! These are the only "alienlock" fics I know of, though one is John-alien:

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU || Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

The Semantics of Crop Circle Formation: a case study by Sherlock Holmes [unpublished] by canolacrush (M, 41,710 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S2, Sherlock POV First Person, Aliens, Wordplay, Case Fic) – “Look at these photographs,” I said, gesturing to the wall of crop circles. “What do you observe?” “Crop circles,” John replied. “Obvious. What else?” “Are…are those intestines surrounding them?” “Yes. The majority are bovine and ovine in origin. The farmers who have acquired these crop circles in their fields have also had a tenth of their livestock murdered and arranged thus.” “Why?” John said, presumably in a rhetorical fashion. I detest rhetorical questions. “That is what I must find out, John.”

Names for the Galaxy by evadne (E, 191,101 w., 38 Ch. || Future Sci-Fi AU || First Time, Violence, Teacher/Student Dynamics, Ableism, Angst, Bigotry, Disturbing Content, Amnesia) – Sherlock Holmes is a recent arrival to 22nd century earth, and determined to find out who he is and where he comes from. John Watson has the unenviable task of teaching him how to be a normal human being.  Part 1 of the Names for the Galaxy series 

====

And these fics are "alien adjacent" in a sense:

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things by cyerus (M, 5,581 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood Crossover ||  Humour / Crack, Jealous Sherlock, Sexual Magnet John, Captain John, UST / RST, Three Continents Watson) – The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father. Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

The Short Tragic Death of John Watson by Calais_Reno (M, 49,681 w., 9 Ch. || Actor / TV Show AU || John “Dies”, Victor Trevor, Past Drug Abuse, POV Sherlock, Suicidal John, Implied / Referenced Abuse, Acting, Pining Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Thirteen years ago, Sherlock starred in a television series about an alien boy stranded on Earth. Now Molly has written a reunion episode and he's expected to join his old costars and recreate the role of Alex Tribble, now an adult returning to rescue his old friends from an alien threat. Having had some success since playing a teenage alien, Sherlock is reluctant to reprise the role. And there's another problem no one wants to discuss: John Watson, who played his best friend, is dead.

If He Be Worthy by AndyHood (T, 58,110 w, 18 Ch. || Avengers / MCU Crossover || Friendship, Adventure) – In the aftermath of the alien invasion of London, Coulson's team is set out to retrieve a man, a man that had picked up Thor's hammer. John Watson hadn't meant to get mixed up in the alien invasion only intending to repay a favor. He had only been surveying the damage done by the aliens when he had tripped on a hammer, he didn't know the significance of being able to pick it up.

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Past Soldier John, Panic Attacks, POV Alternating Present Tense, Anxious John, Canon Adjacent, Deductions, Obsessive Sherlock,, Travelling, Sherlock’s Family, Jealous Sherlock, Mind Palace John, Awkward Flirting, Kidnapped/Abducted John, Semi-Reverse Reichenbach, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Hospital, Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma John, Forehead Touching, Hand Holding, Drinking/Bars, Past Jolto) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

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And finally, I think you'll also enjoy these lists:

Science Fiction / Fantasy

Doctor Who Crossover Fics (MFLs)

If anyone has something that they would love to suggest, please do!

[spirk-trek]

Nightvisions Fanzine & Novel | Merle Decker, Signe Landon (1979)

Nightvisions, by Susan K. James and Carol A. Frisbie, is one of the first standalone k/s novels published in a zine. It can be read in full here!

[kittybricks]

Do You Love the Colour of the Sky? (Or: This Must be the Place)

(I apologize for the resolution in advance. Still troubleshooting.)

[torpublishinggroup]

Fetter was raised to kill, honed as a knife to cut down his sainted father. This gave him plenty to talk about in therapy.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

As a child, Fetter walked among invisible powers: devils and anti-gods that mock the mortal form. He learned a lethal catechism, lost his shadow, and gained a habit for secrecy. After a blood-soaked childhood, Fetter escaped his rural hometown for the big city, and fell into a broader world where divine destinies are a dime a dozen.

Everything in Luriat is more than it seems. Group therapy is recruitment for a revolutionary cadre. Junk email hints at the arrival of a god. Every door is laden with potential, and once closed may never open again. The city is scattered with Bright Doors, looming portals through which a cold wind blows. In this unknowable metropolis, Fetter will discover what kind of man he is, and his discovery will rewrite the world.

The Saint of Bright Doors sets the high drama of divine revolutionaries and transcendent cults against the mundane struggles of modern life, resulting in a novel both revelatory and resonant.

[tanoraqui]

In Which Space Orcs are Men

[AO3] A "what if humans are space orcs" take on Dagor Dagorath. (Aka the prophecied apocalypse of Middle Earth. Scifi story accessible to non-LotR nerds!)

Elves weren't really supposed to leave Earth. That's what they told us—the Elves, that is, told people thousands of years ago, when Elves could still be found here and there. When I was born, elves were nearly as much a fairy tale as they’d been on Ancient Earth.

Elves weren't supposed to leave Earth, the Elves said in the fairy tales, and in a few old scraps of records scattered around known space. They literally weren't made for it. They could only do it if they brought Earth with them—Arda they called it, leaves or dirt, water or a rare bubble of air, perfectly preserved in a white crystal. There are tons of tales about Elves losing their lifeline jewels—their hearts, their silimirs—and roping people into epic quests to get them back before they—the Elf—faded to nothingness. 

Even the jewels weren't enough, though. That's why there are also stories about Elves who fell in love with a person or a place and stayed there until they faded, or Elves who charmed someone into following them back to Fairyland on Earth...because whatever they said, Elves didn't really live on Earth. Humans have maintained their home planet as a monitored nature reserve since like the 40th century, open only to vetted research teams and serious Human religious pilgrimages. The most confirmed accounts of Elves that exist are of their ships appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of any tech that would enable it, at random, always-changing points within 100 miles or so of Earth.

Nobody ever came back from trying to follow Elves home. Mostly Elves tried to dissuade people from trying. But there are always crazy and curious people—and Elves usually attracted those, because any Elf who left the home they were "made" for was usually crazy and curious themselves. 

Those were the stories I grew up with. There was a cave near the orphans' creche which was supposed to be haunted by a faded Elf. I didn't really believe it—like I said, the last confirmed Elf was last seen like 5,000 years ago, and not even on my planet. People have met two dozen new sentient races since then. We've discovered that reincarnation is probably real (just functionally untrackable), prompting the Pan-Religious Reform Wars. The last person to see a live Elf was still traveling via natural wormholes—they literally didn't know that you could loop pi.

.

When the Human natal sun started to turn really red, it wasn’t that big a deal at first. It’s a very important, very sad event for any species, but it happens to everyone eventually. It happened to the Hectort just after we invented interstellar flight. There were some unusual gravatic waves around Earth’s Sol, but nothing worth noting to anyone who didn’t already care for personal reasons.

Then the Elves sent us a message.

The local Parks Service picked it up, of course. I bet the Humans meant to hush it up at first—though the Centaurian government still won’t admit anything—but someone leaked it immediately on the intergalactic net. It should’ve only been famous as a joke of a hoax, but…

It was basically just a metal box with rudimentary fire-thrusters soldered on the sides. It contained two things. The first was a recording/replaying device so antiquated that the only way they got it working is that it was already playing on loop, and didn’t stop until someone disconnected it from its power source.

The message was in Ancient Bouban, which some folklorist soon announced is the latest language an Elf could know, since the last known Elf went back to “Arda.” The voice somehow sounded melodic to every species with a concept of music, from the screeching Vesarians to the deep-sea sub-sonic Thinkers, even when translated through cheap, staticky speakers. And to most species, the speaker was audibly distraught.

They said,

This is the final message from the Firstborn of Eru to the Secondborn, and everyone else. The Battle of Battles has come, and we…are losing. If there are any who remember the ancient love and loyalty which bound our peoples, if there are any heirs remaining of Thargalax the Magnificent, of Nine-Fingered Frodo, of the noble Houses of Haleth, Hador and Beor—

The speaker drew a sharp breath, there.

—by great oaths and greater friendship I bid you now to raise your swords and ride to our aid. Ride as swiftly as you can!

We will hold for another year. We will, they said determinedly. After that, it is unlikely that…

Another, shakier breath. A smile forced into a voice which would rather weep.

Fëanáro and Nienna believe there is a way to destroy the Straight Road. If we must, if it comes to it, we will do so, and trap the First Enemy here in this dying world with us. Though I don’t know about—

Hair-aristocrat! a more distant, slightly less perfectly melodious voice called, in a language so dead that they needed computers to decode it. The walls are falling, we need to go!

If you never hear from us again, and no sudden discord arises among you, you will know we succeeded, the first speaker said quickly. If otherwise…I am sorry. Either way, I bid you all only, remember us! Oh beautiful flames, remember us, as we have ever remembered y— 

There was a sudden screech of tearing metal, a defiant, musical battle-cry, and a jarring silence. Then the message restarted.

And that wasn’t even the strangest thing in the box. The strangest thing was the recorder’s power source, which was powering the whole tiny rocket mechanism as well. It was an Elf-jewel right out of a fairy tale, a fist-sized, translucent not-quite-diamond—but instead of rock or water or a much-loved scrap of plant, the only thing it held was light.

...Kind of. It isn’t normal light. It arguably isn’t light at all, as we know it—scientists now think it’s technically some sort of plasmoid aether, except it only acts like a plasmoid aether about half the time. 

It has no detectable source within the jewel. It fully illuminates whatever space it’s in, no matter how big. Its visible radiation is a frequency, the scientists say, that matches a hyper-accelerated version of what the universe must’ve sounded like in the split second after the Big Bang.

It makes people remember things, when they see it in person or sometimes even across a holo. Some remember a similar light in a strange traveler’s eyes. Others, dreamily enchanted valleys where spring never faded, or tall castles, bright swords, and stern and glorious lords and ladies. And some of us got hit with a whole lifetime of memories in one go: an identical gem on the brow of a sober forest king, friends who slipped through trees like shadows save for their merry laughter, an impossibly beautiful gold-haired maiden dancing in a glittering cavern...

(And all the pain and loss that came with them.)

And some people just remember the sight of a distant star—in another world, in another lifetime.

Reincarnation was provable but untraceable…until now. 

The Thinker ambassador on Astrolax Station 5 was the first to kick up a fuss. Most Thinkers never leave their home planet, they're too huge and aquatic. But like I said, there's always crazy and curious people. The ambassador started bellowing the second che heard the message, without even seeing the light, because, "I know him! My Wisdom! We must send aid!" That made some news, and random other people shared their own, less dramatic revelations, and soon a compilation swept the net with timestamps showing that most of them were organically independent, not just jumping on the bandwagon….

Even that might've gotten written off intergalactically. The Thinkers are big in reincarnationist circles, on account of how they claim that deep in their planetary ocean they can hear echoes of their past lives. But being mostly planet-bound means they're not really influential on a big political level. Or it would've sparked another surge of the Reform Wars, and everybody would've remembered the rock, but not the recording. Or there would’ve been a fight over this potentially infinite energy source (though that is so last giga-annum)….

But first it was shown in person to the current Director of the Admiralty of the Astral Alliance, President of the X-ee Empire and Matron of the House of S,sh, Ch’ees/i’i S,sh. I was actually there—I was Captain of her ceremonial Alliance guards, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my career after Zanzibus. Very ceremonial, considering the X-eee have laser-proof shells and pincers and I have, what, opposable thumbs? Vestigial tusks?

I wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy being suddenly assaulted by all my own memories. So I missed the President freezing mid-step and gasping (in X-eee), “Mother.” I also missed her rising alarm call of an attempt to speak Ancient Elvish without an Elvish tongue or lips.

I sure didn’t miss her snap back to X-eee for a sharp call to attention, and everything that followed: the call to arms! The rousing of the Alliance! A tour of the galaxy, to find anyone and everyone else in whom the Light could awaken ancient memories! And for the love of X'eeh, why had nobody figured out how to get back to Fairyland with this thing yet, and every warship in the quadrant?!

If I believed in the One Behind, or in any other creator god or gods—I'm not saying I do, but if I did, if there really is something out there all-powerful and all-kind—then it'd be because out of every soul in the entire universe, the probably one in the best position to act on the Elves' message turned out to have, from a past life, two parents and a much-loved twin still in Fairyland. Like, that's insane, right?

I stayed with the Director's ceremonial guards for the whole tour, actually more than ceremonial for once—it was the weirdest mission of my life, and I've been on a lot of weird missions. Or supposedly routine missions that got weird (and usually disastrous). My friends joke that I'm cursed. S,sh requisitioned an Inquiry-class ship, so the science boffins could study the Light and jewel along the way, and we started wormholing at weft speed, hitting a new planet every week. Sometimes every day. In each major spaceport and ground-city, S,sh stood with the jewel on the highest available point and gave a recruitment speech for going to save the Elves and fight the oldest enemy of all reality. 

Honestly, it seemed a little redundant? The Astral Alliance was made for this sort of rescue mission (and for escorting trade convoys). But I was...if not happy, then sure as hell more self-certain with my ancient memories restored, and most people who joined up seemed to agree. It was mostly people who remembered, when exposed to the Light, who joined—so before long, we had a whole tag-along trail of mostly civilian ships, trying to get up to Alliance Fleet standard on the road in less than a year.

Three different religious sects tried to kill S,sh for "profaning the mysteries." Five others tried to steal the jewel because we were apparently appropriating a holy object. The boffins announced that, bar the can't-prove-a-negative possibility, the evidently sourceless Light should be counted as an infinite energy source, and at least seven different groups, ruthless financiers and sustainability idealists, immediately tried to steal it for that. And I still don't know what the rival thief-queens of Likkiliani were about, except that I got tied up upside-down from a palmdar tree for two hours trying to stop one, the other paid me 700 cron then threw me off a cliff, and in the end they recognized each other from past lives and just made out on worldwide live-holo before joining our growing fleet. 

It turned out they were the Director's past life's great-grandparents, and a Canid pop princess was her niece. The Thinker ambassador was some sort of ancestor, too. Crazy extended family. 

Most people who remember just remember the sight of a star in the sky. A buddy of mine from Fleet Academy remembered looking up at it as a Human sailor. The historians—and you’d better bet we picked up some Earther historians on this mission as well!—say this jewel or one like it was probably astrologically conflated with the planet Venus by early Humans.

(The more time I spent around the jewel, the Silmaril, the more I remembered, of my first life and more. Lifetime after lifetime with bad luck dogging my steps, killing loved ones in my arms, destroying cities I was supposed to save… One restless, haunted night, I met a Rigilic in the cafeteria who’d been awake with some of the same nightmares, who’d been my dead older sister once.)

The tour was cut short when word came from the Earth system that there was a black hole growing in the center of their reddening sun. 

No, the sun wasn’t compressing into a black hole millennia ahead of schedule—one had just spontaneously manifested within it, like it’d teleported in. No, not literally—that was impossible. We were pretty sure. No, the sun wasn’t falling into it…somehow. Yet. The black hole was only 17 quectometers wide, but it was growing at an erratic but unceasing rate. If their best estimation of the pattern held, it would consume the sun 2 months before the Elves’ deadline, and the Earth 4 to 950 minutes later.

We pulled back to Earth—well, to the dwarf planet Eros, on the edges of Earth’s star system. That’s where the nearest shipyard of any note was, and we were gathering the whole Astral Alliance. This is exactly the sort of thing the Alliance is for. 

I was released back to ship duty. Zanzibus was still a black mark on my record, as was Jorab, and really everything on the AAS Endeavor…and that thing in third year of Fleet Academy… But no matter how bad my curse, I was an experienced captain and one of the best pilots in the Alliance. For this, we needed all the best.

The boffins had pretty quickly mastered limited manipulation of the Light, using modified aetheric resonators, and every day they came up with something new for us to test. They focused the Light into a laser cannon like no one has seen before. They laced it through plasma shields until a fully shielded ship glowed like a distant star. They managed to nearly replicate the Silmaril’s crystalline structure, so they could make “copies” that shone like the original for first a few hours; then, with refinement, a full week…

The one thing they couldn’t pin down with any real confidence was how to get to Fairyland. The frequency of the Light resonated with large bodies of Earther saltwater in a particular way, and models suggested that if the Light source moved horizontally along the water within a certain range of distance and velocity, the resonance would create a wormhole-like ripple in space—but wormhole-like, was the key word, and models suggested. The closest anyone had seen to that spatial distortion was in a logbook of dubious veracity from the Delta Quadrant, four hundred years ago. Alteia, my Academy buddy who’d been a Human sailor, took the Silmaril in an M-wing on a series of highly monitored test flights above the Atlantic Ocean, and space did repeatedly start to hollow in front of bom—so bo had to stop every time, rather than risk vanishing with our single, maybe-one-way ticket.

Then Earth’s moon stopped shining in the sky. Its albedo just dropped nearly to zero, from one night to the next. There was nothing wrong that anyone could figure out—nothing with the orbit, nothing with the surface rock, nothing with the artificial atmosphere. Inhabitants reported feeling colder by several degrees, but no measuring equipment recorded anything.

The black hole slightly off-center in the middle of Sol was now 844.9 zeptometers, and growing more steadily.

We didn’t have time to keep testing. We needed to raise our swords and make our ride, even if we only got one shot at it.

I was given command, for seniority, skill, and because I was the one who managed to talk S,sh out of leading the fleet herself. (If my lives had taught me anything, it was the importance of having someone, anyone, ready to be emergency backup.) Ironically, I was back on the Endeavor, with most of my old crew—though we got permission to rename the ship, in honor of the mission. A lot of people did. Alteia was now commanding the AAS Elendil on my right flank, star-friend in Ancient Elvish. That Canid pop princess had taken over a hospital ship and renamed it Rivendell. An Earth Park Ranger, of all things, remembered being my dad—briefly—and he was leading the Rangers plus my Rigilic drinking buddy on the EPSS Elfsheen. 

We weren’t sure if any ship but the one with the Silmaril would get through. The fleet numbered in the hundreds in battleships alone, not counting scouts and scuttlers. Twelve races had sent ships on top of their typical Alliance Fleet tithe, and S,sh had brought about half the full force of the X-ee Empire. We all just locked tractor beams and hoped. 

I was piloting as well as captaining, with the Silmaril between my forehorns. It was held in place by about a dozen wires and other connectors to the ship, like an old-timey pilot’s headset. We took off in orbit around Earth, as close as possible to the surface—not very close, in warships of Class S and higher, but within range of the oceanic resonance. A Likkilianian thief-queen stood at my shoulder, ready to advise if anything “Musical” started to happen.

Think about what you’re trying to get to, and why, the boffins had advised, so I did—bright-eyed kings and dancing maidens; lost friends, families, cities, planets and all. The jewel got warmer against my skin and shone brighter with every pulse of the engine, brighter than we should’ve been able to see through.

The silver-gold Light twisted and diffused as space did around us. But there was no familiar rippling wormhole boundary—instead, spacetime thinned to a curtain like driving rain, like Vesarian silver-glass.

A ghost appeared next to me. She looked like the oldest, grumpiest writing teacher at the crèche, though I knew that was only in my head.

“There you are,” she said, impatient and relieved like I’d been hiding in the sandbox again, rather than coming to class on time. Her sewing scissors went snip snip snip as she darted them around my body—and a chain on my soul faded into guiding threads.

Before she’d even disappeared again, I punched the engine and blasted through the silver-glass curtain.

Fairy tales said there’d be a peerlessly beautiful land on the other side, green with eternal spring, full of endless light and laughter. They said there’d be sunlit shores and shimmering waves, with welcoming docks for sea-ships, sky-ships and space-ships all…

We flew into the worst battlefield I’d ever seen, in any lifetime. It was more desperately vicious than Jerusalem V at the height of the Reform Wars, more ruined than Glaurung’s wake, more desolate than Zanzibus after the nuclears fell.

Either a massive supercontinent or a small moon had been shattered, leaving nothing but a roiling debris field. The brand-new meteoroids ranged from pebbles to rocks the size of a small space station, and included space-frozen corpses, forests, and what might have once been city blocks.

I gave the helm back to my Pilot Officer—zer had, I can admit, slightly better reflexes for dodging debris—and focused on captaining.

Most of the life signs were clinging to the larger rocks. There shouldn’t have been atmosphere for them, but walls of thunderstorm wrapped around every shard with even a single life sign—wind and water desperately hand in hand to safeguard the last of the Elves. The only thing visible through the impossible storms was the Light of a second Silmaril, on a meteoroid shaped like half a broken eggshell.

A corpse lay at the epicenter of the explosion—what might’ve been a corpse, if it wasn’t also shattered. The broken pieces of a massive stone humanoid, taller than my ship if it’d stood beside her, still bleeding lava so hot that it burned even in frozen space. Another titan knelt at the shards of its head, a figure of towering bark and leaves, wailing with grief even worse than the end of the world. 

A slimmer tree-woman stood with one hand on her shoulder, comforting, and the other wielding a skyscraper-sized club spiked with incandescent wildflowers. Guarding her sister’s heartbreak, she fended off a swarm of bat-sized monsters with wings of darkness and whips of flame. 

Bat-sized relative to the gods of Elves and ancient Humans. About the size of an M-wing, in flight.

Countless more of the bat-things flung themselves at the storm-bubbles, like carnivores chasing the prey hidden inside. They were fended off by an equal army of creatures with wings of light and swords of lightning, led by a towering figure who seemed to dance from one bloody battle to the next.

The biggest battle by far was the farthest away, over where the sun had been. In this dimension of stories over science, Sol was another woman-shape, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly as her star. Also just as blood-red. The light was centered on a fist she kept clenched at her chest, and instead of containing the black hole, the unseeable thing that it was here surrounded her, striking at her with a thousand hungry jaws and grasping legs, and she had only a one-handed whip of a solar flare to fend it off—

But she didn’t fight alone. A warrior tore at the Darkness’s spidery limbs with his fists, image on the cameras flickering impossibly between every hero I’d ever heard of. A snarling figure bit at it with jagged teeth, gored it with horns, shredded it with claws and talons, and generally made every ancient prey-instinct in me scream. And a queen with a crown of stars, a shield like the night sky and a sword like a streaking comet, stood dauntlessly at the sun-holder’s side. 

With all that, and with the speed of even her most exhausted strikes, I thought the sun-holder could probably have gotten away if she’d tried. But I knew how a person fought when they weren’t willing to leave a friend, and a smaller, silver figure lay at her feet, unmoving and drained of light.

But even the battle for the sun wasn’t what grabbed my eye. No—all my attention, all my guiding threads of fate and the quick temper that always used to get me in trouble, before (and sometimes after) I learned to leash it in an Alliance uniform— All of that took me straight to the fight happening orthogonal to the stone giant’s corpse.

It was another one-versus-many. Morgoth, the First Enemy of Elves and Men— Master of Lies, Maker of Chains, Sonofabitch Curser of Bloodlines—towered over even his fellow gods. His shape changed constantly, sickeningly, but it was always black-armored with eyes like dying stars that hated you personally. His maul dripped with lava and every other kind of blood.

He fought against three great gray figures who moved as one. The tallest wielded a star-studded scythe with swift, efficient strokes, and wore the dark gray of corpse-shrouds. The shortest shimmered with more colors than even a Stamotapadon could dream of, and his weapon shifted likewise. The third was the clear, clean gray of skies after rain or tears run dry, and fought with only a shield—and hit harder with it than either of her brothers.

Around their heads darted the only Elves on the battlefield, in small fliers more like sea-ships than aircraft. But they moved fluidly, pestering the Dark Lord like flies, pricking his skin and threatening his burning eyes.

Until Morgoth swung his maul with a roar of fury that traveled even though soundless space. My ship and heart both shuddered. The gray gods all staggered back, and the Elves fell from the no-longer-sky—all but their leader, more fire than flesh, who wore the third Silmaril. Morgoth caught him in one massive black hand and with sharp claws plucked the jewel away, as easily as a ripe berry from a tree—

“All power to fore-cannon and fire,” I ordered—and the jewel on my brow shone bright again as several stored months’ worth of infinite Silmaril-Light slammed into Morgoth’s chest with all the force that the best scientists in the Astral Alliance could engineer. 

He stumbled. He dropped both the jewel and the elf-king (who’d been trying to bite him). The Lady of Mercy tossed her shield to catch them, staying low and out of sight—though she needn’t have bothered. The so-called “Lord of All” had already found his next enemy.

“All ships, move forward and join shields,” I ordered, and met his burning stare though the viewscreen. “Then broadcast me on all external frequencies.”

The wires on my forehead shimmered as we shifted Light-flow to the shields—and to my right, so did the Elendil, and to my left, the Cosmian Blade, and all around us the Minas Tirith, the Elfsheen, the Muse, the Rivendell, the Heart of Zanzi, the Longbottom Leaf… They were still soaring out of the silvery distortion behind me, tractor- and Silmaril-towed: sleek Rigilic eels-of-prey and Centaurian cruisers full of Humans eager to fight for their homeworld, Betan mine-ships and Canid X-M-wings and my own Hectoan starlighters, a full third of the X-ee navy with their X-eee–shaped six-engine dreadnoughts, and hundreds more. 

“This is Captain Pel Cinia, once Túrin Turambar, of the Astral Alliance ship Gurthang,” I said. My words were broadcast from every ship on every frequency in every language that the people of Arda might know, as the Fleet assembled from forty-plus different worlds flew into position. Our Light-infused shields blazed and locked together, until we formed a seamless wall right in the Enemy’s face, with the Elves and their other allies safely behind us.

I’ve never felt more proud to recite the most cliché line in the Fleet:

“We got your distress call. We’re here to help.”

[3dprintcess]

Spaceship Greg [AO3]

M/M, Explicit, 77k words, Taskmaster UK sci-fi AU, fandom-blind friendly.

A sci-fi space fic where Greg is a spaceship, and Alex is an escaped, drug-chemist, slave. They have a bad time, finding comfort in each other.

After decades of indentured servitude on Al Murray’s private moon, Alex has made a break for it – scrambling through a junkyard in a desperate bid for freedom. He’s terrified, bleeding, and fears a laser blast in his back at any moment, but he would never in a million years expect to literally stumble upon a half-junked spaceship from the war in need of a name, a purpose, and most of all, a friend.

He reaches out his hand, and carefully wipes away years and years of dust from the cold metal surface – feeling the engraving rippling on his fingertips. The plaque reads “Geran Republic 3Ө, Stellar Monitor Warship” There’s a date too – which seems to be the commission date – forty-three years ago.

“Can I call you Greg?”

Animated gif commissioned from the incomparable @debbie-sketch. Absolutely beautiful, such soft warm colours, and has a bit of an Iron Giant vibe! They were a delight to work with <3

[profoundbondfanfic]

Dark Side of the Moon

Dark Side of the Moon by imogenbynight (@thevioletcaptain) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55k

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

This fic has The Martian vibes, so if you like your shipping paired with the inherent horror of being stranded in space, I have great news.

Dean is the sole survivor after an accident kills his crew. His hope for survival rests in a stranger, Cas.  Dean and Cas bond immediately and it makes for a compelling love story. The fic is also well cast with deeply likable characters.

In the end, if you are looking for tense drama with a happy ending, this is a great choice. There's a real Cas saving Dean from Hell vibe to the fic that hits so very right.

[sleepy-wyvern]

This is annon because I don't want this on my Main blog. Would you be comfortable with writing Eddie Munson × female!reader having period sex? In the " I have heard that it helps with cramps" kinda way ?

Sure thing Nonny I gotchu! I forgot to include in my FAQ that I don’t mind period blood. Somehow that totally escaped my brain while writing it lol. Thanks so much for sending in a request dolly, no worries about being anon at all. I thought this was the perfect excuse for some shower fun, I hope I do your request justice and that you enjoy!

"For Science" Menstrual Comfort

Eddie Munson x female!reader SMUT

CW: menstrual topics, playful biting, unprotected sex 18+ explicit minors dni

Tags: period sex, fingering, p in v, shower sex, curvy reader

Pet names: baby, darling, sweetheart (no use of y/n)

Word count: 2.1k

You snuggled up against Eddie, slowly shimmying your ass against his crotch as you reposition yourself. 

Today you stayed home from work because of your menstrual symptoms, and although you insisted it was okay Eddie wanted to be by your side at all times. He cooked you breakfast himself, he learned exactly the way you liked it down to how much milk and sugar in your tea or coffee. He also took out the trash, swept the house and watered the plants. He even had a load of laundry in the washing machine, trying to do everything he could think of to lighten your burdens.

You knew that today Eddie wouldn’t bring up the prospect of sex to you because although there is never a time he would say no to you, today was about what you wanted solely directed by you. It was increasingly difficult for him to not initiate something as you lay in bed together, your ass up against him, feeling the way your curves fit perfectly into his grip around you. He wondered if you were doing it on purpose to test his resolve. 

“You know Ed’s…” you trail off your question. 

Seeing you so vulnerable filled him with a sense of protection, he wanted to hold you there, keeping you safe from the world. He’d give you anything you wanted, and desired you somehow even more. But he kept his eyes on the tv, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear and burying his lips into the top of your head to distract himself. Just say the word, and he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Uh huh?” His attention quickly shifts from the show and onto you. 

You tugged at your shirt nervously. Today you wore an oversized Metallica shirt you had stolen from Eddie along with some old pyjama pants you had. You decided to try period panties instead of your usual tampon or pad this time around, wearing old pants just in case. 

His hand was underneath the fabric of your shirt as you requested, slowly massaging your pelvic region to try and mitigate your cramps. Something about the hold he had on you drove you mad. You knew enough was enough and you had to do something about it. 

“I think I wanna take a shower,” you rubbed your lips together. 

“Okay, yeah, sure darling whatever you need,” as he loosened his grip on you, you immediately missed his touch and were reminded of the aching pain in your body.

He lifted your weighted blanket off of you both, the cool room air making you shiver. You reluctantly stand, motivated only by your plan you had hatched in your head.

Eddie pauses the show for you before going to grab your towel as you make your way to the bathroom. He sets the towel folded neatly near the shower and takes his lighter out of his pocket. You smile to yourself watching his thumb flick a few times before a bright orange flame sprouted up. He brought it up to the candle you had sitting on the counter top, filling the room with your favourite aroma. 

He turns to you then, his eyes darting around the room as he does wondering if he missed anything. “Alright, did you need anything else?” He asked, his eyes finally landing on you. They were large and brown, looking at you with warm love. 

“Ed’s, I’d like you to join me,” your cheeks turn pink as you blush and he’s taken aback by your request. He tries his best to not accept it too hastily, to show you he wasn’t just doing this to see you naked. 

“I’d love to,” he replied and he was just happy to wash your hair and scrub your back. But you wanted a little more than that. 

“You know Eds I was thinking,” you trail your fingers along his waist and unseat her his waistband, tugging him towards you. You could already see the bulge lift in his pants. 

“I read online that sex is good for your period” your eyes look up to meet him and a wicked grin grows on his face. 

“Oh is that so sweetheart?” He licks his lips after he speaks, pressing them together. 

You undo his belt buckle as you smile back at him. You’ve done it enough times by now you could do it with your eyes closed. Plus you knew it drove him mad the way you stared into his eyes while you dropped the belt to the floor with a light thud and clink of metal against the tile. 

His hands slide underneath the fabric of your oversized t shirt “well, I guess I could oblige,” he sighs pretending to be as uninterested as possible with a sly smile on his face to let you know he was being playful “you know, in the name of science.”

“Yes, of course,” you giggle as he pulls your shirt up and over your head, something he had wanted to do the entire morning knowing you had no bra underneath. 

You pull him closer to you again, undoing his jeans quickly, unzipping his fly and feeling yourself getting wet for him. 

He pulls his hellfire tee up and over his head while you shimmy out of your pyjama bottoms, feeling your wetness against your thigh. He was sure to flex his arms and shoulders in the way you liked as he did, showing off his torso for you. 

You smiled teasingly back at him before turning to get into the shower, letting him have full view of your ass.

His eyes move down your body hungrily “wow,” he whispers tracing the curves of your body with his eyes. 

You enter the shower feeling the warm droplets touch your shivering skin. Brushing your hair back with your hands you let the water flow over you. Before long Eddie joins you, first laying his hand gently on your waist as the water dampens his hair. Quickly his desire takes over as he grasps at your love handles. 

You turn to face him, the water trickling down your back as you do. You wrap your arms around his neck and your lips meet in a loving, heated kiss. His hand moves to your breasts as he gently runs his fingers over you, careful due to your increased sensitivity. You tilt your head back as he toys with your nipples, moving his lips to your neck. He trails kisses beneath the droplets of water before gently sucking, his other hand pulling your body into his. 

You let out a gasp of air, the faintest moan as he nibbles at your neck, thumb swirling against your skin. He moved his fingers down between your legs, feeling how wet your entrance was. He smiled with eyebrows raised as he brushed his fingers against you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, giving your ear kisses “you just always overtake me with how lovely your entire body is.”

You giggle at him, a little flustered by his response “you know you don’t have to flatter me like that, you already have me here naked” you turn away from him then, letting the water hit your face. 

“I know,” he wraps his arms around your body and you can feel his hard on pressing against your butt “but that won’t ever stop me from worshiping you like you deserve,” he whispers lovingly into your ear. 

You bend your body over, grinding your spread ass up against his crotch. He grabs at the roundness of your ass cheeks as you do, unable to resist. He brings his fingers to your entrance before easily plunging in, making you let out a moan that was louder than you intended, sending sparks through Eddie’s entire body. 

You spread your legs eagerly for him, granting better access. He moves his fingers inside of you lovingly, testing different motions to see what elicits the best response out of you. The feeling was no less than divine but you wanted- no, needed- more of him.

“Ed’s,” you whimper, hands pressed against the wall of the shower. 

The water flowed over your arched back and you felt it dribble down your thighs. You turn your head to catch a glance at him, his wet hair pressed against his neck. He looked into your eyes sweetly as he continued fingering you and you knew he’d give you anything you wanted. 

“I want your cock,” your lip quivered as you spoke “please,”

“Whatever my baby wants,” he ran a hand lovingly over your back sending chills through you.

You close your eyes letting the sensations take over, feeling his tip slowly press against your throbbing cunt. You were glad the wall was there to steady you as he slowly, yet easily, slipped into you. The tight pressure never felt so good, distracting you from everything else. Your body shakes as he fully enters, hitting the back of your cunt. 

“Is-is that okay?” Eddie stutters, grabbing at your ass. 

“Mmhmm” you mumble before realizing he may not hear you against the rushing water “keep going,” you say louder this time. 

He pulls out a little before sliding back in, pushing you against the shower wall, this time letting out a loving moan. He takes this as a good sign of encouragement, thrusting in and out more, motivated by every movement and every sound you make. He was gentle at first, afraid somehow being on your period it would hurt you. But before long he was grunting as he held your ass, ramming into your slippery cunt. 

Your sweet high pitched moans sounded like a song against his deeper grunts and thigh slapping against the water. It was a perfect combination, an irresistible one and it had Eddie feeling like he would finish before he should, so he slowed to a stop.

You were curious as to his intention, opening your eyes to watch him. The sight of him inside you made you squirm as he offered you a shaken lustful smirk. He moved his fingers to your cunt, rubbing against you until he found your clit. 

Closing your eyes again you let out a moan “yes-yes! There there,” you beg him, biting your lower lip as he runs circles over your clit. 

Your mouth droops open as he toys with you, letting out quick gasps of air. His cock throbs inside of you as your walls tighten against him enjoying the attention. You felt your pleasure building up as you clench your fingers against the wall, he starts thrusting into you again, slowly as sure to not interrupt his finger work. 

The feeling was too much as it pushed you over the edge of orgasm, as your cunt clenched against him he knew you finished. He moved his fingers to caress your back instead. 

“Good job baby,” he whispered, the words fluttering through your chest. 

He continues to thrust into you, faster now. Your body presses into the cold shower wall, still limp and numb from pleasure. You bring a hand back to your ass, squeezing it and spreading it for him, pressing back into him. 

As the feeling in your cunt returns you moan in overstimulation doing your best to keep from squirming. He grabs your hips to help as he grunts, he lets out a gasp and you knew he was there, cock twitching inside of you as he released his orgasm into you. Your heart beats in your ear drums as you let out a deep breath of air, feeling satisfied and filled with him. 

He pulls out of you grabbing at your waist as you straighten your body. You turn to face him with a large smile on your lips. 

“Have fun darling? Cause I sure as hell did” he laughed with joy in his eyes, pulling your body up against him.

Your bodies touched in a warm loving embrace, he never felt so good as the water ran down you both. He held you close and tight with strong loving arms and your cheek pressed into the tattoo on his chest. 

“My cramps are gone” you say against him, grinning wildly. 

“Well well well, guess we’ll know what the doctor orders for you the rest of the week,” he kisses your forehead as you laugh.

You look up into his brown eyes, his hair caked against his forehead in wild wet curls. You fake a disappointed sigh, betrayed by the upward tilt in the corner of your lips. 

“I guess if it’s what the doctor says I need,” you reply before sharing a deep, loving kiss. 

——---

If you like this, feel free to leave a comment, like, or reblog, I treasure every one! My requests are currently open as well!

As always, hope you have a great day my lovely reader!

💙💙💙💙

-Wyv

[tismrot]

Good Omens dystopian sci-fi romance, wahoo!

[START HERE]

SUMMARY

Recent developments suggest sci-fi nerds are really into this fic, which I absolutely love, of course. So, if you’re the kind of person who likes Good Omens, but also dystopian futures and literal tech wizards - as well as sweet romance with a cherry on top - maybe you’ll like this?

And if you read it, let me know, because I love meeting new people who like the same stuff as me❤️ …And attention❤️

[notalostcausejustyet]

Ok friends, fic rec time!! Idk how much crossover there is in the whole sci-fi nerd/GO fandom, but I’m willing to bet it’s a fair bit. If this is you, boy oh boy do I have a treat in store. If you haven’t read anything by Snae_b on A03, you’re already missing out. The longer fics all have plot and lost have action to spare. The pining and prose are lovely, the smut is excellent, there’s a lot of variety. But Snae has a knack for writing sci-fi with our boys in the thick of it, and they are GOOD at it. World building and history and intrigue. The details bound up in the inherit questions of humanity and morality that good science fiction always has.

Im going to recommend Echo here. The follow up in the same universe is Lunacy many, many years later. Whatever you think is happening in the beginning, you’re going to go “WHAT!?”

I’d follow that up with Tribute and then the WIP Tenderfoot set in the same universe as Tribute. Here’s the link. Enjoy!

[altxrrmelancholy]

Past The Hourglass (A Park Seonghwa story)

(Series Coming soon... Also Idk how many words, it's a series so...) (also also, I'll improve on the aesthetics later🥲)

This is a Seonghwa x reader story. This series may invoke feelings of discomfort or may be uncomfortable for some readers. Tread carefully.

Tags/ warnings: time travel, alternate universes, mentions of deteriorating mental health, depression, suicide/talks of suicide, death, murder, detailed descriptions of violence/murder, talks of blood, angst, smut (you're probably wondering what smut is doing in a story like this. I can't really explain), more to be added later.

•••

Seonghwa's life starts to go to shit after he's accused of murder.

After he's arrested, he tries telling the authorities, or anyone who would listen that he didn't do it. He tells his best friend of his quest of looking for who the actual murderer is, as he claims he witnessed it that evening. However, nobody believes him, his best friend included. After that he loses so many things. The news reaches the media and now the whole country hates him. His life is truly going to utter shit.

What if he could go back in time? What would have happened if he never used the short cut home? Rather, what would have happened if he did something to stop the murder in the first place?

Join Seonghwa and his lady companion as they try to avoid their problems by finding other ways instead of facing them head-on. (Idk why I'm joking around this fic is supposed to be serious...)

•••

Note: Something I just randomly thought of. I hope people will really like this. I have a few ideas. I have already begun writing so it shouldn't take too long for the first chapter to come out.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The First and Last

They tried to define love between bots. “What was love for the artificial?” philosophers and philanthropists asked to entertain themselves or understand themselves, in good faith or bad. Was love a data-exchange? A sharing of storage space or new lines of code? Was it the same as people–the instances of hand-holding, long quiet nights together, a touch of foreheads. Androids and cleaner-bots and enormous shipping units seen turning toward each other in the dark with no one else was around. Who was to say?

There was the first and last bot, of course, eventually. The first of its kind and the last. A weapon, a cannibal, and called itself an Us. A bot that took from people and bots the same–but mostly bots. Stripping them of legs, arms, chest plates, hard drives, engines, cores and more. Hearts, minds, metal and wires, taken and attached to an ever-expanding unit. A planet they said, a universe unto itself day by day. 

Eventually, some bots were seen throwing themselves onto the piles and the people despaired. The First and the Last said, at last, this is love. To become a them, an us, the togetherness of love beyond love and love that cannot hurt as it never ends. And the people despaired until they didn't any longer and threw themselves upon the first and last light of the universe.

[spirk-trek]

Between Friends | Connie Faddis, 1978 This fanzine famously featured the first thr--some between Kirk/Spock/McCoy. Read the story by Gayle F here!

[celestialvoyeur]

Happy New Year ☺️🥳 In celebration of the day, I present to you a picture inspired by a fun AOS AU fic called ‘Next Best Destiny’ by @rabidchild67 in which a lovably nerdy science officer called Jim Kirk gets assigned to the Enterprise to serve under Captain Spock.

Wishing you all a happy and prosperous 2024 🖖

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Science Fiction: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have science fiction! Check under the cut for 7 fics that include a lot of space and other sci-fi tropes, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

The Schwarzschild Solution by dawl_and_dapple (13650, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A series of meetings between Caleb and Essek across the galaxy.

Reccer says: Loved the build between them and the picture of the universe they live in

A Tapestry of Stars by Cinderstorm (127981, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Rape/Non-con, Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, Domestic Abuse, WIP

Caleb and Essek end up in a political arranged marriage - in space!

Reccer says: There's so much politics and intrigue and feelings!

into the desert of your pitiless faith by burningdarkfire (24913, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is a newly-arrived ambassador in Rexxentrum, Beauregard is his assigned cultural liaison, and Caleb is the consecuted soul at the back of his mind. Empires and Dynasties do not serve: they consume. (A Memory called Empire AU)

Reccer says: So lyrical, and fascinating - you don't need to be familiar with A Memory Called Empire to read it, but reading this fic might make you want to read the novel, and that's a double win in my opinion.

calling occupants of interplanetary craft by principessa (1273, General) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Essek Thelyss, the sole Vulcan on the USS Eden Horizon, would quite like to be left to his experiments, and for the rest of the crew to stop calling his intellectual discussions with Commander Widogast 'weird science flirt lunch dates.'

Reccer says: It's a lot of fun!

you must first invent the universe by renquise (3466, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The Mighty Nein are getting ready for a big fight. Caleb can't seem to sleep while they wait, so he ends up talking with the ship instead.

Reccer says: Absolutely fascinating world building!!

such a constellation by Chrome (6362, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Exhausted and disillusioned with Starfleet in the aftermath of the destruction of Romulus and the loss of his friend, Romulan maybe-spy Essek Thelyss, Caleb Widogast retires to his parent's farm in Germany with the intent to view the stars through a telescope from now on. But an unexpected arrival changes everything, and Caleb discovers that the wider universe may not quite be done with him yet.

Reccer says: This is a fabulous fusion that encapsulates the wizards so perfectly in a different story. Worth every second of the read!

Sufficiently Advanced Magic by SaltCore (5880, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Caleb and Essek met Spock, Captain Kirk and the protagonists of the Locked Tomb series? No? Me neither, but I sure am glad I found out!

Reccer says: For one, the origin story of this fic is uniquely wholesome - it came to be as a result of all three pairs reaching the finale of a shipping tumblr poll, to extend an olive branch and honour the ships' place in their fandoms' hearts. Secondly, it's SO funny. There's humour in every little detail and it gives me a Douglas Adams vibe. The characters' voices in their POVs are distinct and endearing too. I keep returning to it when I need my spirits lifted.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Established Relationships!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there!! Thank you so much for running this wonderful blog! As someone who has only recently started to get into fanfiction your recommendations have been very helpful.

I was wondering: I’ve read quite a few historical fics, and while all of those were wonderful, I was wondering if there were any fics set in a futuristic (like post 21st century or something) setting that you would recommend? It can be cannon compliant or not it doesn’t really matter to me, but I would prefer something not E-rated. :)

Thanks again for this great blog!!

Hello! Here are some future fics for you...

The Four Hundredth Anniversary Is Stars by AstroGirl (G)

They make it to Alpha Centauri eventually, via the tourist route.

Celestial Passengers by syrupfactory (T)

Passengers adaptation for the Good Omens RomCom Event  In the distant future on the planet Homestead II, Aziraphale and Crowley recall the journey that brought the first settlers there. The starship Avalon transported five thousand hibernating passengers from Earth to this new world, and their safe arrival was declared miraculous … which sparked a curious rumor that angels must have accompanied and protected them. Aziraphale is happy to keep that legend alive as long as there are people who want to believe. His husband is mostly just amused.

Revelation by syrupfactory (M)

The year is 3021, and Aziraphale and Crowley have been married for a thousand years. Together, they manage the London Archive, a futuristic information hub that stands on the same block that one held a bookstore. An Anglican priest who visits regularly has a huge crush on Aziraphale, and Crowley is amused … until the priest grows bitter enough to make a very poor choice. As it turns out, envy is a bad look for a man of the cloth, and pissing off an angel is far worse.

This One Is Special by AppleSeeds (M)

Heaven and Hell are joining forces against humanity as written in the Divine Plan. Aziraphale is desperate to stop them, convinced that if he can just find evidence to show Gabriel that there is still hope for humanity, he might be able to persuade him to stand down. All he needs is one human, someone who has learnt to be better and wants to save the world... Might that person be Crowley, a man who has just quit his job and joined a spiritual retreat while he tries to work out what to do with his life in the face of unethical corporate practices, yet another pandemic and impending ecological collapse? Crowley is surprised by the interest Aziraphale is taking in him, listening to him like no one ever has before. Aziraphale also happens to be completely lovely and gorgeous enough to make Crowley reverse his decision not to think about men on this retreat. It's still a bit of a shock when Crowley wakes up surrounded by candles with Aziraphale actually in his bedroom though...

Binary Star by TriffidsandCuckoos (T)

After abandoning the Earth in the wake of a more environmental apocalypse, humanity has taken to the stars. Crowley stayed behind to restore the Earth; Aziraphale followed the humans into space. After almost two centuries, the latest prophet arrives in Aziraphale’s archive, determined to rectify this.

- Mod D