#the outer worlds fanfic

[vanteguccir]

　　　　choose your seat, grap your coffee, and dive in !

✦﹒﹒𝐿𝐸𝐿𝐸´𝑆 𝐵𝑂𝑂𝐾𝑆𝐻𝐸𝐿𝐹﹒◌﹒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ one doesn't need magic if one knows enough stories ❞

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　mathew sturniolo | m.s.⠀)

── ୨୧ !⠀𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　christopher sturniolo | c.s.⠀)

── ୨୧ !⠀𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦 & 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　chratt sturniolo | c.s. + m.s.⠀)

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　nicolas sturniolo | n.s.⠀)

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗗𝗢𝗘

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　nate doe | n.d.⠀)

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗦𝗧𝗬𝗟𝗘𝗦

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　harry edward styles | h.s.⠀)

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　twilight | movie⠀)

── ୨୧ !ㅤ𝗦𝗨𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗟

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　supernatural | spn⠀)

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗗

⠀⠀⠀⠀(　spencer reid | criminal minds⠀)

All rights reserved © 2024 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐑. Please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on any other platform.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

Okay hear me out: Time Buddies but it's an AU were they got out of the timeloop

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[elen-aranel]

Helloo~ May I make a Christopher Pike x reader request? It's a month old scuttlebutt, that the captain is involved with you, based solely on misconstrued events (leaving the direction of his quarters early morn in a rumpled uniform, stopping by medbay for a 'shot') Everyone knows that everyone knows, from cadet to captain. Except you don't. And noone has bothered checking. And the captain finds it funny (and you 'apparently' don't mind either as you've not bothered to shoot it down) so any moments you two have in view of others, he gives you a conspirational wink with some flirty banter. You think (hope) he's really flirting and not just being friendly.

Is it a bit much for a request? If so lemme know. Or i can commission? Idk. The idea hit me and it made me giggle with all the ways it could go.

Thank you so much for the request, and for your patience... this took a while! I hope you like the direction I've gone with it <333

Common Knowledge

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings/Notes: Reader wears the dress version of the standard SNW uniform. Food mentions, alcohol mention. WC: 5.8k

It all starts the morning after you spent gamma shift in a Jeffries tube. Well. Several Jeffries tubes, in fact, chasing down an issue with a relay that had blown and taken a bunch of circuitry out with it, including some life support systems.

You’re feeling good, though, as you step out into the corridor on a deck full of crew quarters. Yes, your red uniform dress is creased and you’re in dire need of a shower, but the relay and the burned-out circuitry are replaced, and all systems are back online.

You deserve a water shower, not a sonic one, you tell yourself as you head toward the turbolift, nodding to the occasional officer as you walk by them. You just need to make sure the ops console on the bridge is reading everything correctly, then your duty shift will be done.

“Commander, Lieutenant,” you greet Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley and Lieutenant Ortegas as you enter the turbolift. Unlike you, they both look fresh and ready to face the day. Number One nods in greeting, but Ortegas looks you up and down quite blatantly, and you find you’re trying to smooth your skirt despite yourself.

“Long night?”

“I—” you start, but before you can reply—

“Computer, hold. Open the doors,” Commander Chin-Riley says, and as you turn, Captain Pike is walking into the lift. And somehow, even though you’ve been on the Enterprise for a while, you’re never not struck by his presence. His broad shoulders. How handsome he is.

“Good morning, Number One, Ortegas. Lieutenant.” He puts an odd weight on your title, even though of course he knows your name, and then your mind goes blank as he winks one of those blue eyes.

“C-captain,” you stutter, well aware of Ortegas trying to stifle a laugh next to you.

“Sleep well?” Una asks, something knowing in her voice, after the captain directs the turbolift to the bridge.

“I’ve had… more restful nights,” he says, and looks at you sideways, doubtless taking in your rumpled dress and less-than-fresh appearance. “Like the lieutenant here, I’d wager,” he adds, and you must have missed a memo somewhere because this ‘lift ride has gotten very weird, very fast.

You decide keeping quiet is your best bet — it’s a short ride, thank goodness.

But you can’t shake the feeling that there are eyes on you as you finish your work on the bridge.

It may have started in a Jeffries tube, but it continues in sickbay.

You appreciate knowing sickbay is there. Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel are skilled at their jobs, and you’ve had cause to be grateful for them when accidents happen, from a pulled muscle during a workout to a painful plasma burn from faulty equipment.

That doesn’t mean you love getting your quarterly check-up and shots. But you decided early on in your career that you weren’t going to be one of those people doctors had to chase for their physicals. Every three months you turn up. You’re due for routine vaccinations against some common alien viruses that human immune systems need reminders about, and your contraceptive shot.

Not that you really need it, of course. You aren’t getting any. The closest you’ve been since you joined the Enterprise was Lieutenant Paulson, a senior engineer who sometimes commands gamma shift when you’re on that rotation. He asked you out to dinner on Starbase 1, and while you like him as a person, you had to decline. You’d known him for a while, and never felt any kind of spark. And there’s been no-one— there’s been almost no-one else on the ship that you’re interested in. But still, you get your shot.

Today your appointment is during your shift. You didn’t want to be interrupted; you’re working on a new scanning device to be used on a planet with an unusual combination of atmosphere and magnetic field, which affects the resolution of normal scanners. So when your reminder went off you kept hold of your PADD, and you carried on entering the design parameters as you walked.

“Woah there,” a voice cuts through the equations you’re focussing on, and you feel hands on your arms, steadying you as you stumble.

As it turns out, walking with a PADD is a mistake.

Especially when you walk straight into the captain in the corridor outside sickbay.

“Captain! I’m so sorry! I—I was— I’ll pay more attention.” You look up, flustered, into his blue eyes, suddenly keenly aware of the bulk of him, of the controlled strength in his hands.  Happily, he seems amused rather than annoyed, that half smile playing about his lips.

“I do admire your... dedication, Lieutenant, but you’re right. Paying attention is a good idea.”

And as the doors to sickbay swish open, letting Chief Kyle and one of your fellow engineers out onto the corridor, you realise the captain hasn’t moved. You’re still in his space, and he’s still holding you.

“Captain, Lieutenant... are you joining us?” Nurse Chapel looks as though she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re, uh... both here for your quarterly shots, right?” she adds, as Pike finally steps back, and you walk with him into sickbay. You nod, mutely.

“Yes. Timed it perfectly this time, didn’t we Lieutenant?” he says, and he grins at you, knowing.

“Sure,” you find yourself saying, sitting down a little abruptly on the biobed Doctor M'Benga indicates. Is Pike… flirting with you? Or just being his usual warm self?

“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure you want to get back to your... duties.” M'Benga looks meaningfully at Pike, who shrugs, a picture of innocence.

“Can you blame us?”

You can’t help your smile.

But actually, now you really think about it, maybe you’re wrong.  Maybe it started with the onions.

You have a shift free, moving from nights to days as you do on a semi-regular basis, since some edict came down from Starfleet that people shouldn’t just work nights for health reasons. It doesn’t entirely make sense to you; you’re on a ship, so it’s not like anyone has a real day or night, but being able to socialise with people who are always on alpha is a plus, and you suppose the same rules apply to planetary bases which do have day and night.

The captain has invited you to dinner. That isn’t special, even though you wish it were – he likes to get to know the whole crew in an informal setting, and it’s just your turn. And maybe you over-think it just a little, during the day, planning what to wear to make yourself look pretty but not like you’d tried too hard.

Either way, you are early. You only realise as you press the chime for the door, when it’s too late to back out.

But the captain’s smile is warm and welcoming. “Hi, come in, come in. You any good with a vegetable knife?”

You grin in return, relaxing. “Yes sir. It’s been a little while, but I can chop.”

“Chris. We’re not on the clock right now.”

“Yes, Chris.” You follow him into the kitchen area of his quarters, taking in the fire, the view of a green forest through the windows, all the details that mark the space as his.

“Excellent. That spatial anomaly today— well. I’m playing catch-up here.”

“Oh wow, you really are...” the vegetables are all laid out ready, and there are a lot. But then, you don’t know how many people will be here. “Set me to work. How do you want the carrots?”

Pike’s knives are sharp and well balanced, and it’s easy to chop carrots into even circles, and to dice potatoes into neat cubes. You chat, too, about the food he’s making, and the special unit he had the ship’s botanists set up to let him grow fresh herbs in space.

You’re pretty much on autopilot by the time you get to the onions. You know the technique: you slice them in half through the root, then make sure you don’t cut the root again as you cut from close to the root to the tip, then across into chunks.

“So, there’s something I’m curious about,” you say as you grab the next onion.

“Oh?” Pike pauses for a moment, hand poised over the control for the oven.

“The forest overlay you have for the windows. Is it somewhere special to you? It’s really lovely.” You blink a little as you chop. Perhaps you got a lash or something in your eye.

Pike presses the control on the oven, then turns to look at you. “No, actually it’s—” he frowns. “Wait, are you all right?”

You blink again. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Your brow draws together, and you put your knife down, turning to him a little more.

“Because you’re crying.” He starts towards you.

“Oh, damn.” You can feel it now — that tell-tale sting in your eyes. You look down at your chopping. “The onions. But I was being careful.” You sigh, blink again, and feel a tear roll down your cheek.

“If there are a lot it doesn’t matter how careful you are. I’m sorry, I should have done them.” He reaches past you, and you’re terribly aware of him in your space. He pulls off a piece of kitchen towel.

 “It’s not your fault—” the words die on your lips as he turns to face you, blue eyes filled with concern.

“I’ll just—I don’t want you to use your hands—” and he takes the towel and dabs your face, and you suck a little breath in at his closeness, wondering why it has to be in a circumstance like this, when the door chime goes. “Enter,” he says, distractedly, blotting away one more tear before stepping back. “There. No harm done. But you should wash up. Ah, Spock, perhaps you can take over the chopping.”

You look round to see that Spock, Sam Kirk, Ortegas and Uhura have all walked in, just in time to see you with red eyes from the onions. At least, you think as you wash the onion off your hands, your makeup is waterproof.

Regardless of how things did or did not start, you’re pretty sure the captain only thinks of you as a friend. That this flirting is just a joke between the two of you... even if you wish it were real. Either way, you decide you might as well enjoy it.

You get back to the transport point from your solo hike on Chi Orianis Prime – it’s beautiful, with fluffy peachy-pink grass that’s soft underfoot and smells very slightly citrus-y when you tread on it, interspersed with lavender coloured bushes, with views of blue lakes and red mountains in the distance – right as Pike gets back from his fishing trip. Given how he’s carrying his cooler, it must have been a successful one.

You’re just about to ask him about it when Chapel and Ortegas arrive, with Uhura and La’an in tow, laughing together. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts and sandals, carrying towels — clearly back from the beach, La’an actually looking like she might have caught the sun a little.

You take a step closer to him.

“Enjoy your trip?” The smile on Erica’s face is just a little too innocent.

“Yes, thank you. Wouldn’t have been the same without the lieutenant here, though.” Pike catches your eye, and you smile back at him, sappy, playing along.

“The captain’s right. We had a good time.”

None of your close friends wanted to go to movie night with you tonight. They’re showing a classic 20th century Earth film, Casablanca, and none of them were interested in seeing something that old. But it seems pretty popular with the rest of the crew when you get there. You pick up some popcorn first, wondering once again whose idea it was to put a Starfleet delta on the containers, and you head to find a seat.

Maybe it was a good thing your friends didn’t come. There aren’t too many spaces left when you go to sit down, but there are a few seats a couple of rows in front of where Spock and Nurse Chapel are sitting together. You settle in, allowing yourself three pieces of popcorn before the lights go down.

And right before they do, Pike slides into the free seat next to you.

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” you tell him, tilting your popcorn container over.

“A gentleman would never,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a piece.

The back of the shuttle is open to the bay, and Cadets Novakova and Manuel, on engineering rotation, are standing inside it with you, PADDs in hand. You’ve popped a panel off the inside of the shuttle, and you indicate a junction point.

“So, okay. You want to interplex the circuitry here. What will be the result of that? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“Well, the increased signal strength will improve thruster response time and efficiency.” Manuel says, shrugging his broad shoulders like it’s obvious.

“Yes, and we need better responsiveness for the planet. The atmospheric differentials are almost out of spec.” Novakova nods. “This is the easiest way to achieve that.”

“All right. And looking at the systems in front of you, will there be any other consequences?”

“No, there shouldn’t, it should just—” there’s a pause, then Novakova steps back, playing with a twist of her blonde hair as she considers. “Wait. That pathway, it connects to the impulse engine as well, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does, and the boosted signal would go through there too…” Manuel’s fingers fly over his PADD.

They look at each other as the penny drops, and you notice Pike in the bay, listening in. You tilt your head and raise a brow in a silent invitation, but he shakes his head a little, content to observe.

“So if we interplex the circuitry there, we will get an increase in thruster efficiency, but at the expense of introducing instability into the impulse control matrix.” Manuel sighs.

“You’re flying along, minding your business and then boom. Impulse reactor overload.” Novakova winces. “I didn’t see that.”

You nod. “You didn’t. Because neither of you really looked. For what it’s worth, it would probably have worked on the shuttles at the academy. But these are a different model. You have to work with what’s actually in front of you. That’s half the battle.”

“Wise words, Lieutenant.” Pike leans into the back of the shuttle, and you can’t help your smile at the praise as the cadets turn to acknowledge him. “The two of you should take them to heart.”

You're sitting on a bench in the bar, sipping a favourite drink, listening to Ensign Thyra play an Earth guitar but sing a wistful sounding song in her native Andorian, when Lieutenant Ortegas sits down next to you. And then Nurse Chapel sits on your other side.

“So, you and the captain. How’s that going?” Christine’s opening is straight to the point.

You give her a sceptical look. “It... isn’t? Hi to you too, by the way.” You turn to Erica. “To both of you.”

“Oh, come on. You guys are not subtle.” Erica rolls her eyes. “It’s been scuttlebutt for weeks. Me, Number One,” she starts counting off on her fingers, “Christine, Mbenga, Uhura...”

“Sam Kirk,” Christine adds.

“Yes, Sam Kirk, Spock, La’an...”

 “We’ve all seen it. I even heard the cadets talking about it. Everyone knows.”

You shake your head, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “We’re not... I don’t—” you look from one to the other. “There’s nothing between the captain and me.” You take a breath. “He flirts, sometimes I flirt back, but it’s just a joke.”

“Doesn’t look like a joke to me.” Christine says, her voice soft, almost sympathetic.

Erica shrugs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it, if you guys are keeping things to yourselves... We just wanted you to know that we’re happy for you. Pike should have someone on the ship. And you. You should have someone too.” Her smile as she stands to leave is genuine.

“I—I’m not hiding anything. But thanks, I guess? I appreciate the sentiment.”

Arriving early when the captain invites you to a crew dinner is your habit now. You enjoy helping with prep when you can, and having a quiet moment to chat with Chris.

But this time you use the computer to check that others have arrived before you get there. You try to relax; these are your friends, Chris is your friend, but with what Erica and Christine said… you feel self-conscious. Second guessing everything you do and say.

 You leave as soon as you can without being rude.

You feel a bit self-conscious with work, too, although you try to bury it. Especially with Pike piloting the shuttle for this mission. You’re sitting in your tactical uniform in the back of shuttle Kepler with Spock, Sam Kirk, La’an, and a couple more science officers. You would expect Kirk especially to pass some comment, but even he is quiet, because Zeta Lyrae VI’s wind shear is every bit as bad as science predicted.

A long-range scanning probe identified it as a possible source of dilithium as well as some other useful minerals — visual scan only, though, because the strange magnetic field prevented scanning of the interior. But that’s where the scanner you developed comes in. The visual scan also tagged some potential ruins which Kirk will investigate, and there’s general surveying to do too.

You grit your teeth against the turbulence. You trust that the captain’s piloting skills and the modifications you and the cadets made to the shuttle will see you safely to the ground, but you still feel motion sick. You know, though, there are pattern enhancers in the cargo. Perhaps you’ll be able to beam back up.

The turbulence lessens as you get deeper into the atmosphere, but you’re still very glad when the shuttle touches down. There’s a metallic tang to the air as the shuttle door opens, but it’s cool and refreshing despite that, and you take a deep breath, settling your rolling stomach, before you get to work.

The dawn sky of Zeta Lyrae IV is muted shades of pale blue and grey, warming a little to mauve-pink at the horizon, where the two suns have just risen. Barren-looking plains stretch out in front of you, with a river lazily meandering across, and there are hills leading to mountains not far away to your right. It’s hard to make out, but the lines of dark stones partially embedded in the ground to your left could well be the remains of a wall, and there are other, more defined structures further away in that direction.

“Lieutenant, you have everything you need?”

“Yes sir.” You lift your last case again, the heavy one, and try to keep your face blank at the weight of it. You know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but its contents were too large for your backpack. “I’ve identified a site two kilometres away that’s suitable for the scanner base. Enhanced scanning should be online within an hour.”

Pike nods. “Kirk, La’an, you have the ruins. Spock, the science survey is yours.” He turns to you. “Let me help with that.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you protest as Pike takes the case from you, fingers brushing yours for one tiny electric moment.

“We’ll make quicker time if we share the load. Which I’m sure Spock will appreciate.”

“Aye, sir.”

You notice that there’s no flirtatious comment today.

This planet feels a bit like a dream, with its dead quiet, muted colours, pearly grey sky and the two suns gently highlighting the landscape. The only evidence you can see of the turbulent atmosphere are the occasional blue-green clouds scudding quickly across the sky.

You pick your way through the pathless terrain, looking for any signs of life. While there are scraps of ragged looking vegetation here and there, a lot of it seems dead, and the planet as a whole seems mostly barren.

You don’t make conversation; there’s something about the planet’s quiet and your confused emotions that steals your ability to make small talk, and Pike is quiet too. There’s just the sound of two pairs of boots crunching on the ground.

Until you almost step on a flower: a seven petaled bloom in the shape of a star, pale blue in the middle deepening to grey-purple just at the tips. You pause to get a better look, to see if there are any others like it nearby, but it seems solitary.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

You look up to see Pike has stopped too, mild concern on his face.

“Yes sir, I’m fine.” You straighten up. “I just... this flower is the only one I’ve seen, and I wonder... is it the last gasp of the life that used to live on this planet, or is it a glimpse of hope for the future?”

Pike glances at the flower, but his focus is on you when he speaks. “We’ll likely never know, but I... I choose hope.”

The site you chose from the visual scan is obvious when you get there. You’re at the edge of the hills, and there’s a grey cliff curving round one edge of a flat open area. Geophysics had identified it as a potential location for dilithium, and as you get close you can see veins of the pink crystal running through the rock.

Now you just need to find out how much there is.

With Pike helping it doesn’t take too long to set the scanner up. You start with the base in the case he was carrying, and together you fold it out into a large circle, locking struts and its three legs in place.

You attach the probe that will drill into the soil, the antennas to communicate with the smaller unit near the shuttle and with the Enterprise, and to facilitate scanning in the atmosphere. Finally, you attach the computer from your backpack which is the brains of the system — you can’t help your private smile of satisfaction as it comes online. The shuttle is far enough away that its systems don’t affect the sensitive scans, and when the probe deploys and calibration data flows straight through immediately.

You talk to Commander Pelia and Lieutenant Spock on comms, making adjustments on the fly to the different parameters, optimising the uplink from the scanner and away team’s tricorders to the Enterprise.

Pike checks in with La’an at some point, but next time you look up you see he’s a little way away, tricorder out, following a standard scanning pattern working outward from where you are. You’re a little surprised he didn’t tell you that’s what he was going to do. Then the scanner beeps as the drill returns a result outside expected tolerances, pulling your focus.

It’s easier to get lost in your work than think about him, and for a long while, you do.

“Lieutenant, do you see that?” There’s a note of concern in Pike’s voice, and you follow his gaze to the horizon to your right.

It almost looks like a distant rain shower would on Earth, but there are green lights sparking all through it. Like lightning but less directional. You take a breath, and realise the metallic smell has intensified, to the point you can almost taste it.

“Yes, sir, I do.” You turn and meet Pike’s eyes.

“Plasma storm?”

“Plasma storm.” You redirect your scanner’s gain to maximum in that direction, sacrificing resolution elsewhere.

Pike’s tone is rueful. “Should’ve known when I scanned a burned patch of vegetation. It must have developed quickly.”

“Looks like it’s moving fast, too.”

“I’ll contact the rest of the away team, have them meet us at the shuttle. You start packing.”

“Sir,” you reply, distracted, already deep in the scanner readouts. You vaguely hear Pike calling Spock, then La’an, but you’re focused on one last scan.

“Lieutenant? I gave you an order.”

“Yes sir, you did, but look.” You point to the readout of the storm’s speed on the screen. “Scans show that even if we leave right now, we can’t make it back to the shuttle before the storm hits. We don’t even have time for them to pick us up.”

Pike frowns. “Options?”

“The cliff. There’s a cave system behind it. I don’t think there’s an entrance close enough, but...”

“Phasers? All this dilithium makes it risky.”

“Plasma burns are no fun, sir. I would know.”

He raises a brow. “Sounds like a story for later. All right. Let’s do this.”

You grab your phaser from your holster and dial the power up.

“Fire.”

You focus your beam on the weakest spot, and Pike fires at it too. And... nothing happens, for long enough for a shade of doubt to creep in. Then there’s a sound, a pile of rubble, and a gap. Just large enough for a person.

The cave is dark. It’s big, too, enough that the torches on your vests can’t illuminate the other side from where you are.

The storm is still raging outside, but the sound of it is quiet in here; the narrow space you opened the gap into curved round for a few metres before opening out into the space you’re in.

Now all you can do is sit and wait.

And you’re so aware of Pike, sitting with you.

He’s quiet, and now you come to think of it he has been all day. Definitely no flirting. You try to steal a glance at him, see what he’s thinking, but it’s too dark, and you don’t want to turn to face him.

You cast around for a distraction, and find a piece of dilithium embedded in the rock floor of the cavern next to you. The surface is flat and glassy-smooth, but with a few imperfections, and you like the feel of it under your fingers. In your head you go over the dilithium crystal eigenstates you memorised at the academy in one of your classes in warp field mechanics, and calculate the power output you would need for your phaser to trigger different levels.

“Sir, I’d like to try something, to give us some more light. It’s safe.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

You adjust your phaser to its second lowest setting, scoot across a little and fire on the dilithium, counting seconds in your head. It starts glowing red immediately, but as you shut the beam off the glow spreads, along one vein, then another, then another, until the whole cavern is lit up like its own galaxy, surrounding you on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

“Wow, that’s—that’s good work. Thank you.”

There’s something in his expression as he looks at you, the wonder in his eyes melting into a smile, that makes you brave.

“So… I had an—an interesting chat with Chapel and Ortegas the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently the scuttlebutt is that we’re dating... we’ve been dating for a while. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t true.” You stare out across the cavern at all the glimmering lights.

“Oh.” He exhales. “Hah, yeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that? Things… got away from me.” You hear him stir, move into a different position.

You frown. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve always been interested in you. And you’re not the sort of person that’s cowed by rank – Paulson is your superior, in your chain of command, but I was in the bar when he asked you to dinner, and you were so sure of yourself when you rejected him. So that day in the turbolift, Una and Erica jumping to conclusions... Your face was a picture, and I had to take Una’s bait. But by the time she told me there was already a rumour, you were joining in, and I—”

His voice goes quiet, like a confession.

“I couldn’t stop. And that wasn’t fair to you… making you an object of gossip like that.”

“Chris, I—” but now it comes to it, you can’t find the words. How do you tell him that you wouldn’t mind, not at all, if only the gossip were real? “But you did stop. We’ve barely spoken today. Until now.”

“I can read the room. You weren’t up for it the other night. Or today. And… I would never force my attentions where they clearly aren’t wanted.”

“But... they are, Chris. They are wanted.”

The cavern is dead quiet, and you almost wonder if you actually spoke aloud. But the look in Pike’s eyes when you finally turn to meet them—

“Lieutenant Spock to Captain Pike. Come in, please.”

Pike shrugs a little, face apologetic, as he flips open his communicator.

The ride back to the Enterprise is as quiet, and bumpy, as the ride to the planet. Spock and the rest of the away team had sheltered in the shuttle with shields up while the storm passed over them, and when the Enterprise’s scanners had shown that another one was forming, they came to pick you up.

All the equipment you left outside was destroyed.

But you think, as you climb in the shuttle, you catch a glimpse of one of those star-shaped flowers, still intact. Still blooming.

And Pike makes a point to catch your eye as you leave the shuttle bay. It’s subtle, but you recognise the invitation.

You think you can smell food as you press Pike’s door chime, and the scent only gets more appetising as you walk in. The lights are low, apart from the fire burning brightly, and Pike pauses, apron on over his gold uniform, to smile at you as you walk over to the kitchen area.

“You came.”

“Of course.”

He picks a small bottle up, and pours from it into a salad bowl in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry… I may have gone a little overboard on the mac and cheese. I thought we could use a little comfort food after that planet.”

“It smells amazing. Anything I can do to help?”

“It’s almost ready. You could pour the wine?” He indicates to the bottle and two glasses on one end of his L shape table. You uncork the chilled bottle and take care of the drinks while he brings plates, salad, and the macaroni cheese, piping hot and smelling delicious.

Sitting next to Chris, rather than opposite like you might at a restaurant or on the other side of the L as you have when you’ve been to crew meals here, feels so intimate. As he reaches over to get some salad, or you go to pick up your glass to sip some chardonnay, you can’t help but touch. You try not to let being this close to him distract you… as intimate as this is, as hopeful as you are, nothing is settled.

You take a bite of your pasta and sigh. “It’s perfect, Chris. Creamy, the cheese— everything. Perfect comfort food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You see him relax a little as you load up another forkful; he cares what you think.

You eat for a while in companionable quiet, then he takes a breath.

“I’m planning on demoting Spock. He has the worst timing.” He quirks one of those half smiles at you, the kind that make you melt a little, but then his expression goes serious.

“My position on this ship… I have to be careful of it. Your training – everyone’s training – tells you to do as I say. So, if I’m… interested… in someone, usually I try to set that aside.” He puts his fork down and shakes his head a little. “Clearly I didn’t do well on that score with you. But… I would have to be sure, before I truly pursue anything, that a person isn’t saying yes because of my rank.”

“I told myself that flirting was just a joke between us. That you don’t get involved with your crew. I want it to be real, but when people assumed that it was… It spooked me for a moment there.” You turn to face him more fully, to look into his eyes.

“I understand what it means for you to be Captain Pike. I understand that the Enterprise comes before me. But I felt that—that pull toward you, long before whatever this was started. It’s not your rank, your position of authority, Chris, it’s you.”

Chris stands from his chair, reaching a hand out to you. You stand and take it, his fingers warm in yours, and let him draw you to him, feeling the press of his body all along yours. You stare into his eyes, and see a wonder there that you’re sure he sees in your eyes too – the knowledge that you can finally have this. But then your eyes drift shut as he kisses you, gently, unhurried, savouring the moment.

You part for just a second, and then it gets passionate as you kiss him back, one hand on his chest, while his other hand finds its way to your lower back, holding you tighter. Your lips part, his tongue finds yours and you taste him, and you can’t get enough.

“So I know your shots are up to date,” Chris says, voice gravelly, when you pause for breath. “Would you like to take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes please.” You don’t care if you sound needy; you just want him. He takes your hand again and leads the way.

You are not quite sure what happened to your dress. You remember Chris helping you take it off last night, but quite how it got this crumpled is a bit of a mystery. You lift it up from the floor, and try to shake it out, not very successfully.

“Breakfast is served,” Chris says, looking fresh and neat in his uniform, not a hair out of place. No evidence to be seen of your activities last night, or how little sleep he may have had. “Oh, did you want a new uniform? I can synthesise one.”

“No need. I’ll have time to change in my quarters before shift.” You pull it on and try to smooth your skirt. “Breakfast?”

“Waffles. And real maple syrup. I know this little farm—”

It isn’t far from Pike’s quarters to the turbolift, and the officers in the corridor nod and smile to you as usual. Until you meet Lieutenant Ortegas.

She looks you up and down, taking in your creased dress with a raised brow and a sly smile. “I saw the duty rosters; I know you’re on alpha today. So… you get lucky last night?”

You try to hide your smile, but you feel too good – you don’t really want to.

“Yes, Erica, I did.”

Everyone will know, but you don’t mind. You and Chris are at the start of something special.

[angelofchaos001]

Stranded in the Rain - Chapter 1

Link to Ao3 (Chapter also under cut)

Link to Masterpost

Next (Adapting)

Chapter 1 - Beginning

GASP!

Hatchling shot upright, desperate for air. It felt like they had been choked out, maybe even to the point of death. Perhaps that's not the best train of thought, they realized. Death was just a grim reminder of the fact that they had been stuck in a loop. Space and time had gotten so warped and tangled with each other that no matter what they did, every time they met the end of their life, they would just come back.

Except . . .

Hadn't they ended the loops?

Hadn't they ended the universe?

I . . . I remember the big flash . . . But . . . Why can't I remember anything else?!

Panic seized the young hearthian as they fought to remember even the most basic information. What were they doing? What was their goal? Who were they??

Memories flooded back to them like a cyclone slamming them down. They remembered seeing it with their own four eyes. Finding the Eye of the Universe, being taken to a strange quantum realm where nothing made sense, gathering all their close allies they'd met on the journey to bring them together for one last song, before the big bang that they could have sworn killed them happened. Feldspar . . . Solanum . . . Everyone . . . It wiped everyone out.

Evidently, it did not wipe everyone out, because they were very much here and very much alive. Alive. Am I really?

They could cling to the memories of who they were now. They were Moissan, a Hearthian in the Outer Wilds Ventures space program. They had been exploring the solar system like everyone else. And they caught in a time loop because of a statue they'd linked to.

Oddly enough, they were even still wearing their space suit. That's new, they thought, checking themselves over. No injuries. No missing pieces. Just a full tank of oxygen and a jetpack ready to launch. They didn't have their scout, which was a little upsetting, but it seemed rather odd that they were in such a pristine condition now, waking up alone.

Alone.

Whenever they'd woken up before, they'd seen Slate sitting by the campfire, roasting a marshmallow. Even if they didn't know about the loops and tried to ground Moissan several times for apparent medical reasons, not seeing the familiar hearthian's face stung. There was no campfire, not even a smoldering pile of logs. No launch pad waiting for them on the rocky cliff, their trusty ship that had carried them so far on their journey absent.

Considering everything that ship had lived through, they were surprised it wasn't here with them when they had lived it.

Arrrrgh, the ship doesn't matter right now, they thought, slowly getting to their feet. What matters is finding out where I am. Clearly, it wasn't Timber Hearth. Everything looked too . . . damp, despite the abundant plant life. They reached out for what seemed like a fern, only for the plant to shrivel away from them with a rustling noise. They gasped, intrigued and in awe of the specimen.

All the plant truly did was raise more questions, though. If everything was wet, then it couldn't be the Hourglass Twins. There was plenty of solid ground to stand on and a lack of fog, so it wasn't Dark Bramble (thankfully). It seemed too stable to be like the collapsing Brittle Hollow, and Giant's Deep would have been far wetter considering the whole planet was an ocean. None of the moons - Not even the Quantum Moon - matched this unique location either. It almost reminded them of the Stranger.

Almost.

Around Hatchling seemed to just be walls and a very tight, cramped room. Small plants, almost like some kind of moss, stretched across the floor like a natural carpet. They almost felt tempted to touch it, but one of the most basic safety lessons was 'Don't interact with things you don't know about'.

Ignoring that rule is sorta what got me into all of this in the first place, isn't it.

Moissan really just didn't feel like taking off their suit for moss-touching purposes. Instead, they focused on the room. The walls, other than having strange flora growing along them as well, seemed fairly sturdy. They took a moment, curled up their hand, and punched at the wall to test it's integrity. OWWWW . . . Pain exploded in their digits as they uncurled them. Solid metal wall, got it. Owww, ow ow, why did I do that?

They'd been expecting dirt . . . maybe packed dirt, if they were lucky. Not full-on metal. They looked straight ahead of themselves, and saw the one wall that was different than the others. Embedded into the wall was a small tunnel, maybe about the size of Hatchling's head if they really squeezed themselves in there. Attached to it seemed some kind of contraption, something made of a smooth metal that looked . . . in a decently well-kept state.

Maybe this place has intelligent life on it. Naively, they found themselves hoping it was some kind of familiarity, such as another hearthian, a Nomai, or even an Owlk would be nice to see. No, stupid thought, they told themselves, facepalming. The Owlks didn't (couldn't) leave their dream world, and all the Nomai in the system had died from the Interloper and it's densely packed load of ghost matter.

Well, all but one. Moissan thought of Solanum again. They'd met her in such a strange place, such a strange time, and most certainly the last thing they ever expected to see. Guess it's really back to being 'all of them', though.

The big bang played out in their mind again. Had it been some kind of crazy dream? The heat and fire felt too real for them to believe that. They could recall every second in the blast, as few as there were, and the moment pain seared through every fiber of their being before becoming a pleasant nothingness. My universe was already doomed. It was a strange thought to come to terms with, being born at the end of a universe. If every path would lead to my doom, then I'm glad I could at least build something new for those after me.

If Hatchling survived, there wasn't really telling if the others had. The feeling of that one end felt so real. Was it because of the intensity? The emotions they felt in that moment of terror and awe? Perhaps because they knew that this time, they wouldn't come back? Removing the warp core from Ash Twin ended the loops, after all, and if nothing else, they had absolutely taken that core out. It just wasn't possible that this was another loop.

What else could explain this, though?

Too many questions buzzed in their head like angry flies, numbing their brain to anything else. They tried to ground themselves by looking at the tunnel again, studying the metal. It appeared to be some kind of mechanism of moving parts to close off the tunnel. Gears sat underneath large metal slabs, though they were currently quiet and still, not pulling anything along. On either side of the passage, there was small bits of interlocking metal that they guessed fit together to fill the small tunnel. But why?

They'd figure it out at some point, probably. They'd been spending their life figuring out mysteries, after all, hadn't they? A small mechanical contraption was nothing compared to creating another universe.

. . . How did every thought loop back around to the end of their world and the beginning of a new one?

Being alone with their thoughts wasn't entirely pleasant. For one, Hatchling was confused about a lot of things their mind had already entertained before. They thought that the release of death would be a nice closure to their action-filled life of solving the Nomai's greatest mystery. After all the trials, they could rest easy knowing that at least there would be something for future planets to exist in. Instead, they were both relieved and terrified that they were still alive.

Brushing past all the confused thoughts, though, being alone was what made things even more awful. In their travels, they had never been truly alone before. There was always the network of other explorers to chat with, Nomai scrolls to read, the Ship's Log to update and check over, and if they got lost too badly, the signalscope could at least bring them back to something.

Pulling out the device now did almost nothing. No matter what frequency Hatchling tuned into or where they pointed it, no readings popped up. It was almost like the horrible silence and loneliness they'd felt in the Eye, awestruck by the new setting but oh-so-scared of what lie in wait for them.

Most of all, though, Hatchling felt . . . sad. Nothing but true sadness lined every thought, thinking of the world they knew. Coming to terms with the inevitable end didn't mean they had to like it. But now, this meant that it was really just them on their own. Everyone else was still most likely gone, gone forever. For the first time since becoming a space explorer . . . Moissan felt like crying.

It wasn't like the frightened tears that threatened them when the anglerfish let out their awful, shrieking roars, certain doom following the noise.

Nor was it the happy ones they'd nearly wept when they saw everyone gathered together, playing their music one last time around a campfire.

It was just . . . sad. And lonely.

Did everyone else get to die with that last happy memory? If so, then . . . why not me?

Am I stuck because I'm the one who did it?

Because I knew about the looping?

Or am I being called out for a greater purpose, just like last time?

Moissan really hoped they weren't about to become the universe's favorite specimen to call on when in need. One lifetime of adventure was enough for them. They didn't want (or need) more stress to be the great unseen hero all over again. They sniffled once, then twice, before they felt the unfamiliar sting as their eyes watered. Can I do this alone? Whatever it is I need to do?

It felt as if every thought was too painful to read, too much for such a fragile heart to bear. Tears dripped onto their suit, rolling off the waterproof fabric as the reality of everything truly caught up to them. If everyone else had to die and yet I survived, me, of everyone . . . great trees, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It wasn't what I wanted. It was what had to be done. There wasn't any other option.

The song that almost brought them to joyous tears now haunted Hatchling like a ghost, sailing in the air around them and involuntarily forcing the air in their throat to form a faint humming along with it. Each part added a new distinct layer, the full song being beautiful enough in both sound and meaning.

The plucky, strong banjo that carried the melody. Riebeck may have been scared of space, but they were still bold enough to face that fear in some way or another.

A high-pitched whistle, giving the banjo a lighter partner. Age didn't take a toll on Esker, even if his place in life had come to the end of it's usefulness.

Droning and yet still warbling, the harmonica sang back to them. Despite their isolation and situation, Feldspar had been invaluable in their quest for the Eye.

Carrying the steady beat were those drums. Even if they had given Chert some existential dread, they had skill at their instrument, that was for sure.

Delicate and faint, the flute gave everything a new meaning. Gabbro really had tried their best, hadn't they? The only other one to remember the endless looping.

Cutting the noise clear, the key strokes of the Nomai instrument shone through. Solanum had been the last Nomai in the system, and without her, they weren't sure they would have made it this far to begin with.

Lastly, the haunting, ethereal strings of the Owlks made everything feel that much less real. The Prisoner, as Hatchling called them, was the one they had to thank for them being where they were now. If they had never let the Eye call out again . . . (That was not a reality Hatchling wanted to think about)

All seven of them.

Gathered at the fire.

Playing together.

Happily.

Moissan felt like curling up and waiting for death to take them all over again as more tears flowed, a long-dried well inside of them being opened and the water inside rushing out. Between the sobbing, they gasped for air like they would lose it, their vision a blurred mess as they tried to stop thinking about everything they'd lost. About the lives that had been so intertwined with theirs, only to be ripped away like nothing had changed.

Alone.

Alone and lost, with nothing but the feeling of a mistake clinging to my gills.

No matter how badly they wanted to find out where this place was, find shelter, and explore, look for any kind of familiar sight . . . they couldn't bring themselves to move. They just sank back down to the ground, the moss squishing beneath them as it stretched for the delicious tears that continued to fall. They couldn't bear the idea of getting out of this small, cramped box. They didn't want to stay, either, but this was at least safe.

Unless another supernova is going to happen in twenty-two minutes, in which case nowhere will be safe without my ship.

Why couldn't they think just one happy thought? One thing to help claw their mind out of the mental pit it was sinking deeper and deeper into was all they needed. The boost to get up, put their helmet back on, and try to find a way out to explore. But if felt like all they could do was sit there, lying on the floor, crying and mourning for the loss of friends, home, and sanctuary. Not even the knowledge that in the grand scheme of things, they had been astronomical in saving this place of existence, was enough to make them move. Every limb felt heavy, every bit of energy dedicated to sobbing and choking on air.

Did anything they do truly matter in the end?

What is my purpose here?

Hatchling found themselves almost wishing they were dead, happy with their friends in whatever kind of afterlife awaited them all (if there was one), rather than stuck here, confused and scared on what to do. The damp moss around them became a poor comfort for their weeping heart and soul, but it was comfort enough. As they continued crying, they began to tire. Lying on the ground, with somewhat spongy plants as a bed, sleep and it's numbing, peaceful bliss found a way to them.

-----

@mellow-mooon

@0silverbluedragon1

@corn-worshipper

@doodlebug091

@isnt-that-grape

@fishbone5

@dragonpurplecristal

@obsidianmage3

[captain-hawthorne-thesecond]

Hey so like uh. This fic by @the-laridian is so wonderful. Everyone is so perfectly characterized, especially ADA. Please go read it, I'm begging

[ughohyoumadeafunny]

Quick question for everyone, what would happen if these two meet? And don't hesitate to get creative with your response

[ispeakbudgie]

Guys, I've been on the brain rot again...

But this time it's The Outer Worlds brain rot.

As is the custom in December, I started a new save in Outer Worlds and have been playing a little different from the first 2 times I played. Once again I caught the brain rot and have been thinking nonstop about dystopian queer space blorbos.

And this time I'm actually writing the fanfic.

However, like many an AuDHDer, whose hyperfixation lead them to consuming an ungodly amount of content made by folks like myself and subsequently start to jot down note after note of headcanons on their phones for their most beloved media, I started in the middle of the story. No rough draft. I just started typing. I spent most of the 25th refining the ideas that I had thrown at the text doc all willy-nilly like.

If you would like me to post the "first" chapter please vote Yes in the poll below.

*EDIT*

Go read the first chapter! Everyone go meet Captain Daniel Mercer-Benoit!

[captastra]

The collection of 19 fics I've written for Writer's Month 2023!

AO3 Series or full break down under the cut! Biggest shoutouts to @kourumi @poetikat and @kyber-infinitygems for all your support and assistance throughout this whole experience <3!

Day 1; Day 11

Suicide Squad: Recovery and Redemption (The Suicide Squad, Words: 5,492, Chapters: 2/?, Rating: T) (Chapter 2)

Living in a world with meta-humans hasn't stopped Renée Watts from doing what she does best, helping others as a nurse. But when she befriends one particular patient, she finds herself learning what it truly means help others. Rick Flag wasn't meant to live. Peacemaker had made sure of that back in Corto Maltese. But when he wakes up in a hospital months later, he finds himself left wondering: what will he do now? His sense of emptiness gets challenged when he befriends a nurse that shows him that there can still be purpose and recovery for him.

Day 2; Day 9; Day 15

Statesman: Four Roses (The Outer Worlds, Words: 10,214, Chapters: 3/?, Rating: T) (Chapter 2; Chapter 3)

Felix Millstone, aka Agent Whiskey of the Statesman agency, has devoted his life to taking down the underground criminal mastermind, Charles Rockwell. So when he is assigned a simple protection duty of a UDL scientist, Rhea Hawthorne, he feels all his hard work has been for naught. But as he comes to know Rhea, his secret plans to bring down Rockwell may come to harm his new companion.

Day 3; Day 10; Day 12; Day 27

A Beach Vacation (Bullet Train, Words: 3,776, Chapters: 4/4, Rating: T) (Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4)

Lily, Tangerine, and Lemon enjoy a beach vacation together.

Day 4; Day 19

I Don't Need Your Love (The Suicide Squad, Words: 2,707, Chapters 2/2, Rating: G) (Chapter 2)

Renée and Rick are faced with the reality of their world when Rick is called to lead another suicide mission by Amanda Waller.

Day 5

To New Beginnings (Mass Effect: Andromeda, Words: 2,543 Chapters: 1/1; Rating: G)

Kiara Ryder struggles to process what happened at the Eos Vault, despite the restart being a great success. A chance to chat with Kandros helps her realize she doesn't have to face her problems alone.

Day 6; Day 26; Day 29

Along the Right Path (Resident Evil; Words: 6,576; Chapters: 3/3; Rating: G) (Chapter 2; Chapter 3)

A recreational hike through Arklay Mountains takes a turn when Jill and her friends get lost, but a certain handsome park ranger comes to their rescue.

Day 7; Day 21

A Promise for Another Day (Haven; Words: 2,133, Chapters 2/2, Rating: G) (Chapter 2)

Duke attempts to surprise Paige with a promise to get away, but fate has other plans.

Day 8

Watermelon Candy (Z Nation; Words: 753; Chapters: 1/1; Rating: G)

Enjoying a rare moment together, Annie shares a sweet treat with 10k.

Day 13

Fanning Their Feelings (The Outer Worlds, Words: 2,164, Chapters 1/1, Rating G)

Mayor Odie supports Deputy Felix with his crush on the new schoolmarm, Miss Rhea. Only problem is he won't court her, so Odie decides a little meddling in their affairs will help matters along.

Day 14

By the Fireside (Baldur's Gate 3, Words: 716, Chapters 1/1, Rating: G)

Everlith and Gale's friendship starts to blossom on their first night at camp.

Day 16; Day 20

In You I Can Trust (Baldur's Gate 3, Words: 2,600, Chapters 2/2, Rating: G) (Chapter 2)

After revealing the truth of his magic absorption, Gale still worries about whether Everlith truly wants him to stay by her side. But a nighttime conversation shows just how much he is truly wanted.

Day 17

When Dreams Become Nightmares (The Suicide Squad, Words: 1,006, Chapters: 1/1, Rating: T)

What started out as a peaceful getaway for Rick with Renée turns into a nightmare when reality comes crashing down.

Day 18

A Nurturing Hand (Elden Ring, Words: 1,307, Chapters: 1/1, Rating: T)

The animal shelter Aisling works for rescues an extremely angry feral cat. With Malenia's help, and a lot of patience, their family gains a new member.

Day 22

An Enchanting Encounter (The Outer Worlds, Words: 2,008, Chapters: 1/1, Rating: G)

Becoming a wallflower at her own celebration, Rhea's evening takes a turn for the better when she encounters a mysterious winged figure.

Day 23; Day 30

Waiting Out the Storm (The Outer Worlds, Words: 3,352, Chapters 2/2, Rating: G) (Chapter 2)

A surprise thunderstorm offers Rhea and Felix a chance to learn more about each other.

Day 24

Stolen Kiss (Baldur's Gate 3, Words: 1,001, Chapters 1/1, Rating T)

Gale and Everlith steal a moment alone on their journey to Baldur's Gate.

Day 25

Just You and Me, Alone (The Suicide Squad, Words: 536, Chapters 1/1, Rating: T)

Rick and Renée get to go on the vacation they deserve.

Day 28

What Promise Awaits (Baldur's Gate 3, Words: 1,248, Chapters 1/1, Rating: G)

Gale Devrakis had accepted that his life was one of solitude and reflection. Being summoned to Elminister's tower promised a possible solution to his magical condition, and companionship from his new assistant, Everlith S'aer.

Day 31

The Light In The Darkness (Baldur's Gate 3, Words: 1,793, Chapters: 1/1, Rating: G)

Gale and the others attempt to enjoy an evening around the campfire while traversing towards Moonrise Towers. But even as darkness and evil surrounds them, Everlith reveals her feelings to Gale as Wyll supports their budding romance.

Taglist: @olliesaurus-rex @roofgeese @kyber-infinitygems @poetikat @confidentandgood @spaceratprodigy @darkfire1177 @jillvalentinesday @theelderhazelnut @shegetsburned @awhellstothejoe @oh-nostalgiaa @seliviawanders @thisisrigged4 @poisonedtruth @bitchesofostwick @transcaster @incognito-insomniac @kirjanikv6ilill @madparadoxum @gayafsatan @euryalex @mxanigel @eclecticwildflowers

[catoperated]

People can lament about Andromeda killing Mass Effect all they want, but they were spared the pain of experiencing Fallout’s downward spiral that just… keeps… going. It started as a harsh critique on war and capitalism, only for the mascot to end up pushing virtual funbucks while nukes are something you casually and repeatedly drop to make epic monsters spawn.

They “fixed” Fallout 76 by adding human NPCs, but without trying to account for new players. If you start the game now you get the discordant mess of the Overseer being missing, possibly dead with only her audio logs to follow in the main plot line… but she’s also right around the corner to personally give you quests.

The greatest insult of all? Mothman now only appears as part of a rotating series of seasonal quests. Bastards.

[chromiumhater]

Say You'll Miss Me, One Last Time

“Like what you see?” Alex asked him with raised eyebrows. Udom turned to him with an excited smile.

“I think I might.” He responded, pausing by the side of a building to run his hand along a mural made up of more colors than Udom had ever seen in one place. It depicted a buried body from which a network of roots stretched to the surface into a tree full of many types of flowers and fruit.

I spent too much time on this chapterrrrrrrrr but at last I have added lots and lots of plot. Any criticism is greatly appreciated, as I have reread my old works and sobbed in cringe

[rainydaydally]

Fanfiction requests are open!

I have almost no fanfiction ideas, so my requests are open!

I do NOT write “character x reader” fanfics!

Here are fandoms I am willing to write for…

•South Park

•Friday night Funkin’ /Pico’s School/etc.

•Total Drama Island / Ridonculous race

•Scott Pilgrim (all media types)

•Stranger things

•Omori

•The Outsiders

•I am not okay with this

•Never have I ever

•Outer Banks

•Danny Phantom

•Daria

I write for basically any character from any of these but I mostly write focusing on guys because I am one

also i usually write lgbtq stuff and my specialty is writing about trans guys! (but ofc i can try writing about other people’s perspectives too!)

you can include all of your headcanons in the request, the more specific the better! (and easier to write for me!!)

I’m NOT COMFORTABLE writing:

____ x reader ESPECIALLY if the character is a minor

Too extreme SH

ED

R*pe

P*dophilia

Basically too much s*xual stuff, making out is fine.

[yns-world]

6:07 pm.

the tide has been low for a few days, bringing with it a peace over the beach. it lazily laps at the sand, the seagulls flying close to shore.

the backdoor of the house was open, the breeze gave tender kisses on the girls’ cheeks as it blew past, brushing their noses with the smell of salt.

the boys sat outside on the patio, sharing a few beers, a few jokes, and a few laughs. the seagulls, who were perched above them in the trees, cracked a few of their own jokes. 

the love around y/n spilled into her soul, refreshing her spirit. friends, family, boyfriends— those were all labels that held no meaning to the soul, for the soul only spoke one language— love.

with a gentle wave of the breeze, y/n closed her eyes. her breath deepening, and her face relaxing. 

there's nothing to do, nowhere to be, but here in the present.

it's been a while but i'm back in my obx era and i'm working on the euphoria/outerbanks au epilogue :) it's going to be a long fic so i'm releasing this in the meantime

i'm taking obx requests again, particularly jj/rafe requests, so if y'all have any ideas for short fics, reactions, hcs, etc, feel free to send them :)

as always, let me know your thoughts!!! i love reading your guys' reaction and opinions :)

also, lmk what y'all think about these short drabbles like this. they're easy to write and bring me real happiness fr

[writings-by-fairy]

Requests

I wanted to make a post about what I write and requests. I will write anything and everything though. I have wrote M/M, single, x-reader, and F/F, seriously anything. I just love writing so. I have a request counter in my bio.

If you do request, I will @ you in the post unless you would like to remain anonymous. Please let me know.

Will write: anything!!! Smut, fluff, angst, whatever

Limits: None as now (below I put a list of everything I am definitely okay with, will add more as I write more, explicit lowkey)

Also just a little about myself so you can get to know me: 21 years old, she/her pronouns, conspiracy theorist, college student, gardener, love dogs

Fandoms I have interest in: Stranger Things, American Housewife, Outer Banks, Boy Meets World, Marvel, Newsies, and so much more! I am open to any and all!!! Just message me and I will get back to you ASAP! You can be as vague as you want or detailed as you want!

[elen-aranel]

Hold My Hand

For: @youvebeenlivingfictional Winter Writing Prompt 14, Mistletoe / Hands / Fake Dating Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! Reader has mild anxiety a couple of times WC: 6k Rating: Teen Notes: I haven't felt like I've had time for anything I want to do recently, least of all writing, but today's prompt really spoke to me, so here we are! <3 Summary: “We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The first time, you aren’t expecting it.

An alien sun is shining down on you as you sit cross legged on the ground in the Syndarch medicine garden. You breathe in a mix of something herbal and something sweet; there are insects buzzing around, trilling birdsong in the distance, and the voices of your fellow officers and your Syndarch hosts.  But all of those are background details; you’re hunched over your tricorder, scanning a tiny green cactus-like plant poking up between two paving stones which is producing a range of interesting-looking alkaloids. You are wondering whether the plant is just a weed, or if it had been cultivated in the past and has somehow managed to survive where it is, when a warm hand grasps yours and hauls you up.

“—is the lieutenant here.” Captain Pike is gazing at you with some kind of sappy, affectionate expression on his face, clearly put on, and you replay the last few seconds of conversation you overheard in your head.

You smile back. Ultra sappy.

“We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The Syndarch Chancellor studies you as Pike raises your hand, gently kissing the back of it. And… you don’t have to fake your pleased little shiver. Which is something you’ll have to worry about later. For now, you try to project that sense of togetherness that established couples you’ve known have had. Like Admiral April and his wife, Sarah.

The Chancellor shrugs, blue slitted eyes suddenly brightening up. “Perhaps, after all, a captain isn’t quite… right for my daughter. You must have to travel a lot. But others may be… more settled? If Starfleet establishes a permanent presence here?”

You glance around as the captain makes some vague reply. You see a question in Spock’s raised eyebrow, and Una is studiously ignoring you; you’d bet she’s working hard to stifle a laugh. You dread to think what they’ll say when you get back to the ship.

“Thanks for the save there, Lieutenant,” Pike says as you step off the transporter platform, falling into step with you as you go through the doors. “I would not want that chancellor as a father-in-law. I owe you— What’s your favourite meal? You’re invited to dinner tonight. You too,” he adds, turning, nodding to Spock and Una. “Good work down there.”

“You don’t owe me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I’m not going to say no to your cooking, but I don’t think I’d have gotten to talk to that botanist so quickly if our host didn’t think we were engaged.”

“I found the ease with which you dissembled noteworthy, Lieutenant,” Spock says. “I know that humans are adept at lying, but you did not hesitate when the captain said you were to be married, even though you didn’t appear to have been paying any attention to him and the chancellor.”

“I was in my high school drama club, sir. I know how to put on a performance.”

You don’t tell him that wishing it were true makes it easier.

The next time is planned.

“Jentiri culture is complex, and the Transit Ceremony has a lot of rules, one of which is that each leader that takes part must be accompanied by their consort.” Pike stares up at you from his desk, and you know you could get lost in those blue eyes, but no. Whatever happens, this isn’t real.

“Why not just use Commander Chin-Riley, Sir?”

“Number one... she said no.” He quirks a rueful smile. “Her exact words were, ’I could better serve you if I didn’t have to act as some sort of decoration.’ But don’t worry,” he adds, reading your dubious expression. “You don’t have to do anything difficult. You just have to hand over our offering, and then enjoy the spectacle. I’m told it’s quite beautiful, and few outsiders get to see it. I’ll owe you a meal?”

“In that case, it’s a yes. Not for the Transit, though.” You grin. “For the food.”

Astrophysics is not your forte, but even so you know how incredibly rare this is: an M class planet with a stable orbit that takes it between two stars.

You are on the flat top of a hill that has been cut into wide terraces, and to the left and right, on the horizon, are the suns, like sunset and sunrise. The sky fades from orange to pink to deep purple and back, but it is lit with hundreds of shooting stars and the occasional bright flare of an aurora.

There are thousands of Jentiri, mostly on the lower levels of the hill, from all six inhabited planets in their system. This planet was traditionally neutral ground between all of them, and although now they have one common hierarchy, their old traditions remain.

You have done your part, giving Starfleet’s offering – an ornate carved wooden box – to the Third King, so now you get to relax and enjoy the spectacle for a while, while the captain and first officer negotiate on Starfleet’s behalf.

“So, tell me more about Captain Pike. How did you meet? How long have you been together? What’s he like?”

Emyn, the consort of the First Queen, leader of Jentiri Prime, relaxes back on her cushion. You never thought you’d be a diplomat, but it’s impressive to see a good one at work. All the consorts, but Emyn especially have made an effort to make you feel included in the group; making sure the silky cushions were comfortable for you, offering you sweet delicacies from each of their planets, and talking, about their partners, about Jentiri, and about your experiences in Starfleet.

You can’t help but feel relaxed around them, which you know is the point. If you think of yourself as one of them, you’ll be candid.

“Captain Pike – Chris – and I met when I transferred to the Enterprise, on stardate… um… well. It was a while ago now. We got together on—on shore leave, a year or so later? It was very romantic, he cooked dinner for me in a cabin by a lake…” You smile at your made-up story; it would be lovely if it had been real. “And Chris is…” you smile, relaxed. You can be completely honest here. “He’s genuine. He’s principled. He isn’t naive – you don’t get to be a captain if you are – but he’s kind, generous. Willing to see the best in people. To do whatever it takes for his crew. That’s why I… why we…”

“Of course,” Emyn returns your smile. “My Adrimyn is the same way. She puts all of Jentiri first. You’re lucky to be consort of such a man.”

You nod. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad that it went so well for you, with the consorts. But you two need a legend,” Una says, gesturing with a forkful of Pike’s macaroni cheese as you debrief that evening.

“A legend? Sir this is amazing. Truly,” you add as you take a bite yourself. It’s a delicious balance of creaminess with just the right amount of sharp cheese flavour, and it’s complemented perfectly by the white wine Pike poured you.

“We’re off the clock. Call me Chris. And a legend is a back story. How we met, milestones, things like that. We got away with it today because no one was asking me about our ’relationship’, but if we ever did this again, we may need to get our stories straight.”

“We’re not going to do this again though, right?”

“What, you didn’t enjoy the Transit?”

“I did, it was—it was beautiful. But I’m a biologist. I still have a crate of samples to catalogue from my last mission. And you know the what the chief science officer is like…”

But of course, it does happen again. And this time you can’t even complain.

You’re in the ready room by the big screen, senior officers around the conference table, looks of concern on their faces.

“Starfleet has suspected that Eryran III is a hub for the illegal animal trade for a while now; there have even been reports of a gormagander being held in orbit. We have jurisdiction, in theory, but we’ve never been able to get any evidence; as soon as a starship is scheduled to go through the system, they move everything deep undercover. But a pair of critically endangered Lysisian golden bears have been stolen from the sanctuary at Lysis Alpha.”

You tap a control, and an image of two small bears appear on the screen. They have zebra-like stripes of gold on dark brown fur, and big brown eyes edged in gold.

 “They’re difficult to distinguish from other, non-endangered species unless you’re an expert. The pattern of the stripes, the morphology—” you adjust the display, showing the golden bears alongside the more common Lysisian brown bear, although you know the others won’t see the details you see, in the way the stripes branch, in the shape of the ears relative to the eyes relative to the jaw.

“The Enterprise is close – only a few hours away normally, or a couple at high warp. I could take a shuttle to Eryran IV,” you change the screen to show a schematic of the Eryran system, “which is currently on the far side of their stars. Sensors from Eryran III wouldn’t be able to detect the low-powered Starfleet signature, and I can take a civilian transport from there. If I find the bears, I can signal the Enterprise to secure them. But it has to be me; I’m the only one here who can identify them.”

Pike frowns. “It’s risky. The Eryran system... Eryran III is a pleasure planet, isn’t it? Like Risa?”

“Yes, Sir, but probably more like Casperia Prime. Not as hedonistic as Risa— it’s the kind of place to see and be seen.”

“Hmm. You may stick out alone. And with respect, if it gets to be a fight and you’re by yourself, we wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough to give you backup.” He shakes his head.

“Sir, I don’t enjoy the risks, but an ecosystem is at stake. I—”

“Hold your horses. It’s not ’no’. It’s ‘I’m coming with you.’”

“Damn. There really is a space whale. Look, darling— over there.”

You look past him out the viewport of the transport, trying to control your reaction to the term of endearment. You didn’t realise hearing him call you darling would make you feel all melty inside, even if only for a moment. Even if you know it isn’t real.

The gormagander is there, buoys floating round it which must be forcefield emitters to keep it contained. But at least it looks healthy.

“Wow. I’ve only ever seen holos of them before. They’re so rare.” You raise your brows, just a touch, and Pike nods fractionally. Whatever happens, the Enterprise will have to come for this creature.

Pike leaves you in the lobby of the hotel you booked to make you seem like real tourists, but it’s too nice out to stay indoors. You love space, but you always relish sunlight on your face. Or sunslight, in this case. There are something like palm trees outside, but with blue leaves, and the botanist part of you is wishing you could scan them and find out what specific chlorophyll molecule is in them, when the door opens.

If you weren’t ready to be called darling, you definitely weren’t ready for the sight of Pike stepping out into the street. He’s ditched the sweatshirt he was wearing on the transport and his navy-blue Henley is tight. You knew he must work out to fill his uniform in the way he does, but it’s one thing to know it, and another to see it.

His smile as he catches sight of you is just a little knowing, like he’s seen you looking, and you focus on adjusting your shoulder bag – it looks innocent, but it was shielded by engineering to hide your all your equipment – while you get control of yourself.

“I’ve taken our things up to the room. You ready to go?” He holds out his hand, and you smile up at him as you take it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but perhaps you see a little admiration in his eyes, too.

It’s a short walk from the hotel along a wide boulevard, lined with trees and teeming with other tourists, to the transport hub. You’re at the zoo in no time.

You try not to hold your breath as your bag goes through the beefy looking security scanner – larger than you would expect for a place like this, and another sign that something illegal may be happening. But the bored looking security guard hands it back to you, and you’re in.

The zoo is large and spacious, and not crowded, which you’re glad about. It has animals from all over the quadrant, and you and Pike— you and Chris wander around, occasionally stopping to take photos of the animals, and even a selfie or two. For appearances’ sake.

There are some species you recognise from Earth, like snow leopards, and a kangaroo carrying a joey in her pouch. You spend too long admiring the horses: a palomino stallion, and a chestnut mare Chris says reminds him of his horse Mary Lou. You manage to drag him away before he has a chance to ask about riding them.

There are a lot of rare creatures, most of which you’ve never seen in person before, like an Aldebran serpent which is a little difficult to see in the sunlight, and even a Drayjin from Dakala. Rare, but legal.

But even though all the animals seem to be reasonably well cared for, like the gormagander in orbit, the more you see – sometimes an empty pen, sometimes animals in an enclosure that looks too new, too pristine, a couple more security guards wandering around than should really be needed – the more you think there really is something going on under the surface.

 “I think that’s a Vulcan sehlat. Don’t you have a friend who had one of those as a pet?” You point at the brown bear-like animal, and Chris quirks an amused half-smile at you.

“Yeah, he had it as a kid. Says they’re very loyal. Though I think I’ll stick with horses,” he adds as the sehlat yawns, exposing those six-inch-long fangs.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’ll be adopting one soon. But maybe one of these bears? They’re super cute.” You work to try to keep the anxiety out of your voice as you approach the Lysisian bears. Now you’re here, the tension is getting to you. Your heart rate speeds up as you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Your stomach is churning.

But Chris picks up on it, of course. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, just for you. “Breathe through it.”

You take a breath, slow, and focus. You are Starfleet. You can get this done.

You look into the enclosure. You can’t see the forcefield but you’re close enough to feel the electric prickle from the generators, which along with a ditch protect you from the animals, and, in theory, the animals from you.

The first bear is slowly climbing a tree trunk, and you get a good view of its markings. A brown bear, not a golden bear. The second one is sitting on the ground, rummaging in the ground cover. You look at the head, and no. Also not a golden bear.

But further along, there is one bear alone, and another on the ground with two cubs. And—

“Look at these cubs, Chris, they’re adorable. I have to get a holo.” You turn to face him, rummaging in your bag. There’s no one else within a few metres of you, but there is an Andorian family nearby looking at some Terran giant pandas. Chris has his back to the nearest security camera, and you pass him the EMP generator, while you get the holo cam out. Hopefully the zoo’s sensors will just read an error in the power grid, but you know you’ll only have a minute or so after he activates it.

When you went into this you had been expecting two bears. But you can deal with four.

You turn back with the camera out, and snap a couple of quick holos. You switch it off, and Chris activates the EMP.

You immediately feel that prickle disappear, and you get out your blow pipe and a handful of tiny trackers so the Enterprise’s sensors can find the bears. You dart the lone bear, glad that unlike when you did this with anaesthetic at the academy it doesn’t matter where you hit. You go for cubs next; you can hear an alarm as you hit the first one you hit cleanly, but the other you only graze. You hit it with your second go but not before it squeaks in pain. The closer parent is on the move immediately, and you can hear running in the distance, but you narrow your eyes and hit perfectly.

“We’re good,” you mutter to Chris, and he gets an arm around you, hustling you along while you re-pack your bag. You feel the electricity in the air as the power is restored.

“Remember when we saw the giant pandas in that bamboo forest? In China?”

A little Andorian girl gazes up at you as you approach, which was Chris’s plan – you couldn’t run, because that would be suspicious, but if you could look like you were associated with another group for long enough…

“That was such an amazing hike. I still can’t believe that they were just there. Eating bamboo in that little clearing.” You feel your heart rate rise again as security runs past, but not as badly this time.

“Yeah, a special memory.” Chris tightens his arm around you a little as you look at the pandas. “I think it’s the Maravel dragon’s feeding time soon. You want to go take a look?”

The two hours you spend waiting for the Enterprise are two of the longest of your life. But you’re lucky – a better security operation would have been on to you, but the operatives at the zoo seem to have grown complacent, and you suspect that you just missed some even more valuable animals. Either way, you’re glad that you’re able to use an EMP again to disrupt their shields long enough for the Enterprise to beam the golden bears aboard.

“Thank you for today,” you say, as you hand your report in to Pike when you’re back on the ship.  “I find it easier to be brave when the people around me are more… nervous… than I am, I guess. Those bears and that gormagander needed you. I needed you. I couldn’t have saved them alone.”

“Given their lax security, you would have found a way. But we couldn’t have anticipated that.” He looks up, catching your eye.

“I’m glad I was there for you.”

The moment holds, but then he smiles, wide and open. “Now we can add pandas to our legend for real.”

After that... it isn’t something that happens frequently. But when a delegate is paying Chris too much attention at a reception aboard the Enterprise, stopping him doing his work, he catches your eye from across the mess hall, and you find your way there to his side, and you stay too close to just be a colleague. When you’re at a party a colony is throwing after your team decontaminated their water supply, and one of the colonists is drunk and won’t leave you alone… You can stand up for yourself, but you don’t want to turn things into an incident, and it’s just… easier if Chris takes your arm and leads you round the dance floor for a few minutes.

Chris invites you to crew dinners, sometimes as a thanks, but more often not. You enjoy spending time with him off the clock. Getting to know him as a friend.

But you try not to think about the sly looks Una gives you sometimes. You try not to lie awake at night, after one of you has bailed the other out, wishing it were real.

The holiday season is supposed to be a time for family. In Starfleet, your crew is your family. But this year, for the first time in a long time, the Enterprise happens to have a stopover on Earth for nearly two weeks around Earth’s Christmas and new year.

The buzz on the ship is palpable – most of the human crew are excited to spend a holiday season at home, and a lot of non-human crew are able to take some leave on their respective planets too.

But your family is on a far-flung colony, and it would take more than a week to get there from Earth. You don’t mind; Earth holiday traditions aren’t very important to you, and you saw your family a few months ago when the Enterprise was mapping a nebula in a nearby sector. A lot of the crew haven’t seen family in years.

You volunteer to stay on board, but you are assigned leave anyway; you don’t have bridge or engineering officer certification, and everything in your lab is safe to leave.

You don’t argue the point. Instead, you make plans. Visit Australia, learn to surf, try a Christmas Day barbecue on the beach, and maybe head into the bush one day to see some marsupials in the wild. The weather net means conditions will be perfect.

You’re looking through a catalogue of swimwear on the synthesiser, trying to decide whether you want a one piece, bikini, or both, when the door chimes.

“Enter,” you say, puzzled about who it could be. There aren’t many people left on the ship; certainly no one you would expect to pop by. You turn away from the synthesiser to see Captain Pike standing in your doorway, that half smile on his face. And you almost feel a little vulnerable, a little exposed – this is the first time he’s been in your space. You try not to let the feeling show.

“Chris, hey, come in. Can I—Did you need something?”

“I wanted to ask a favour. I know you’re getting ready for your leave,” he glances across to the synthesiser screen, still showing swimsuits, “but I wondered if you could delay for a day? My folks are hosting a party, and—” he grimaces. “My mom is going to try to set me up with every un-attached woman there, and I—”

“And you want a ‘date’ to take the heat off?”

“Yeah. It’ll be busy; I can make sure you don’t have to make small talk with my parents. But I…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your plans. Australia, wasn’t it? You should have your break— you’ve earned it.”

You glance at the chronometer. “Sydney time is nineteen hours ahead, so really that’s like five hours behind us? I was planning to beam over mid-afternoon local time – my room won’t be ready until then. If I join you, I’ll just be getting there in the evening instead.” You nod. “I’ll come.”

It’s worth it for his relieved grin.

After you’ve packed and taken your holiday luggage to the cargo transporter, you swing by the arboretum for one of the cuttings you’ve taken from a flowing plant that you picked up on an away mission. It will only grow in the medium you prepared for it, based on the soil of the planet it comes from, so there’s no biosecurity risk, and it’s pretty, with glossy green leaves and clusters of red and gold bell-like flowers. Perfect for the holiday.

Then you synthesise a dress. It’s understated, nice but not too formal, and you feel pretty in it. You synthesise a wrap, too, in case you need to spend time outside.

Chris is waiting in the transporter room when you get there, looking handsome and festive in a Fair Isle sweater over a button-down shirt. It’s in shades of dark green, red, and cream, with a couple of bands of small snowflakes among more abstract patterns.

“I told you; you didn’t need to bring a present,” Chris says as you step onto the transporter pad at his side.

“I know, but I would have felt wrong without one. We’re doing this properly, right?”

“Right. Kyle, two to beam down.”

The sun has just set when you arrive, and the light is fading from orange to pink to purple to deep blue, reminding you a little of the Jentiri Transit. Here, though, the stars in the sky are mirrored on the ground by a galaxy of fairy lights, picking out what must be Chris’s family home, some out buildings, and a large Christmas tree. You hear music and voices, and there’s a scent of pine in the air.

There are a couple of groups of partygoers approaching the house, and you’re glad that you transported down a little way away – you can orient yourself before you start meeting them.

“Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.” Chris takes your hand, lacing warm fingers through yours.

Chris greets people as you cross the yard, some going into the house, others a big barn where the music is coming from, as he leads you to the front door. He’s relaxed – you’ve seen him in enough tense situations to know when it’s real, and when he’s putting on a show – and you relax, too, smiling at his friends.

The front door is open ahead of you, warm light spilling out, and you step across the threshold into a large open hallway, open to the second floor with stairs leading up on one side. There are garlands of greenery with golden pinecones and fairy lights hanging round the upper floor, and soft instrumental music is playing, different to what you could hear from outside.

“Welcome! So glad you were able to join us.” The woman who comes to greet you must be Chris’s mom; she’s older, with silver hair, and Chris’s blue eyes.

She favours you with a warm smile like her son’s as he makes the introductions.

“Thank you for having me, ma’am. I brought you this,” you say, handing over the plant.

“Oh, call me Willa, please. And how beautiful! Thank you – I’ve never seen anything like it. The mix of the colours of the flowers… It’s not from Earth, I take it?”

“No, I collected it on an uninhabited planet in the Iota Lyrae system. I wanted a sample because the soil there was unique, but I chose this plant because it was the prettiest.”

“So you’re a botanist?”

“Exobiologist, but my specialisms are botany and zoology.”

“I look forward to hearing your stories,” she says with an unmistakeable twinkle in her eye, “but for now, Christopher, I think your dad is cooking up some mulled cider. I’m sure you’d both like a drink?”

She smiles again and gives your arm a little squeeze as she steps past you. “Ahmed, Sara, good to see you...”

There’s a touch of relief in Chris’s eyes as you move through into the large open plan living, kitchen and dining room. It must be full of light during the day with large floor to ceiling windows, and it’s still quite bright now, with holiday lights and decorations all around the place, including a traditional looking tree in the corner, mainly decorated in white and gold, with presents underneath. The room is busy with people, a lot Chris’s parents’ age, but a wide range of younger people too, standing in groups and sitting on sofas and armchairs, chatting, drinking, and eating nibbles.

You feel Chris tense a little, though, as you both catch sight of the man who must be his dad, turning from a steaming pan on the kitchen stove to make a space on the counter. You remember Chris mentioning that their relationship could be a bit strained, and you try to resist tensing up yourself as Chris’s dad catches sight of you too.

“Son, perfect timing. Taste this and see if you think I have the spices right – your mom said the last batch was too heavy on the clove. Then your lovely lady can have a drink. I’m sorry, Chris did mention your name when he stopped by this afternoon, but my memory is not what it was.”

You introduce yourself, as Chris dips a spoon in the pan, and sips, thoughtfully.

“I think that’s good, dad. What do you think?” He offers the spoon to you, and you step in closer and lean in to take a sip, all too aware of his proximity, his eyes. Then the flavours register, fruit and spice and sweetness, and you find yourself smiling. You turn.

“I think it’s delicious, sir. I see where Chris gets his talent in the kitchen from.”

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because Mr Pike smiles. He dips a ladle into the pan and pours the cider into a glass mug, then hands it to you. “There. Now you can enjoy it properly.” He hands the ladle to Chris. “Would you—?”

“Of course.” Chris takes the pan off the stove, still holding the ladle, and brushes past you as he goes to put it on the table.

Mr Pike turns his attention back to you, a shrewd look in his eye.

“So do you celebrate Christmas? Will you be spending it with your family? Or do you celebrate another winter festival?”

 The questions come thick and fast, about your beliefs and those of your colony, and about its traditions and celebrations. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking again about some of them that you had always taken for granted.

“Sorry about that,” Chris says in an undertone a few minutes later, his gentle hand at your back guiding you into the main part of the room. “I know how he gets, but… the mulled cider is popular.”

“It’s fine. He was asking about my home, not— he seemed genuinely interested.” You stop yourself saying not about us. And then you wonder why.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because you’re being drawn into conversation. Ahmed, it turns out, went to school with Chris, and they spend some time regaling you and Sara with tales of their high school escapades, and the time in a Parrises Squares tournament all four members of their team somehow managed to get knocked out cold on one play. Then you talk to Esther, a friend of Chris’s mom, about her art, and the inspiration she draws from the desert landscape, flora, and fauna.

You continue making the rounds of the room, Chris catching up with old friends and neighbours. The party feels alive around you; people coming in and out, music playing, food and drink being shared, conversation flowing. And through it all Chris keeps you close, and includes you. You find you’re enjoying yourself, much more than you expected.

“You ready for a change of pace?” Chris asks eventually.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“You dance, right? There’s a dance floor set up in the barn, live band too. Would you like to go see?  I don’t usually have a partner,” he adds, soft, mindful of his mother on a sofa nearby.

“That sounds like fun. Lead the way.” You reach for his hand this time, and give it a little squeeze. There is something in his voice... you know Chris belongs in Starfleet, and you know he knows that too, but an occasion like this must make him think of other paths his life could have taken.

Outside there’s a slight chill in the air, and you’re glad you retrieved your wrap from where you put it on a coat stand in the hallway. But it isn’t far to the barn, and soon you’re enveloped in warmth.

There are warm white fairy lights strung along the beams, and another Christmas tree, this one very large, with lots of different baubles and decorations. Of course there is food and drink in here; you smell gingerbread from a table near the door.

There are a lot of people, some who you’ve seen pass through the house, and others you haven’t. There are people standing around the edge of the room, including Chris’s dad, deep in conversation with a group of four Andorians. And there are people on the dance floor, dancing to a jaunty number being played by the band. You don’t know if it’s traditional for the season or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter; everyone is having a good time. As you listen it comes to a stop, and everyone claps.

“May I have this dance?” Chris asks with one of those small lopsided smiles.

You’ve danced with Chris a couple of times before, and it’s always a pleasure. You can relax, safe in the ballroom hold, in sync with him, easily able to follow his lead around the dance floor. And if you pretend to yourself, while you’re in his arms, that this is real… well. You haven’t noticed any Vulcans or members or other telepathic species in attendance.

You dance several dances, until the band takes a break, although the music continues – a singer with a guitar takes over, singing something about a sleigh ride. You’re passing by the Christmas tree on the way to a drinks table when you see it.

“Hey Chris, is that the Enterprise? On the tree?” You step closer to get a better look. “It is! It even has the lettering on the saucer. NCC-1701.”

He laughs, warm. “I think they usually put it on the tree in the house. Bob gave it to my parents as a present, the Christmas after I was made Captain.”

“That sounds like Admiral April. I remember, he—” but you’re interrupted by laughter.

“Chris! Didn’t expect you to get caught!”

You look around to see a group of people all staring at you, expectantly.

“You’ve got to kiss now, guys, it’s the rules.”

“The rules?” You’re confused.

“Look up.” Sara, who you met earlier is there, pointing to some greenery suspended above your head. And you don’t think you’ve seen it before in person, but the way people are talking, it must be—

“Mistletoe.” Chris steps in close. “I’m sorry,” he adds, quiet. “I thought we— never mind. I’ll just—”

He leans over, and brushes a light kiss to your cheek, and it’s chaste but... your breath still catches a little.

“That doesn’t count,” one of the onlookers says, and a murmur of agreement ripples across the group.

Chris looks at you, questioning. And you know he would respect it if you said no, or showed any trace of hesitation. But you give him a tiny nod.

His hand rises up to your face, his fingers warm against your cheek. He leans in slowly, still giving you the chance to change your mind, but your eyelids flutter shut as his lips brush yours. And you’ve been close before. You’ve held hands, walked arm in arm… you’ve been dancing with him all evening. But as his lips brush yours you feel a jolt of energy flow between you, and the party, the audience, the pretence, none of that matters anymore, because Chris is kissing you again. Harder. Sweeter. His hand slips round to the back of your neck and you press against him, kissing back, eager, for a moment suspended together in your own little bubble.

The bubble bursts, though, as you hear cheers and clapping, and you pull away, or Chris pulls away, and suddenly it all feels… too much. The singer is too loud. The people are too close. The barn is too warm. You feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You try to keep it together. You’re here for Chris — you can’t just run out as soon as he kisses you. You nod and smile, make it to the drinks table, and when someone claps Chris’s shoulder, loudly proclaiming that they haven’t seen him in years, you mutter that you’re getting some air, and get out.

You feel like you can breathe again when you get outside. Like you can try to get your whirling thoughts in order. But the door to the house opens and you see Mrs Pike, and your feet are moving before you even think about it, and you’re pushing the door to one of the outbuildings open and slipping inside.

Immediately you feel movement, and smell animals—horses. The stables. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, then you make your way slowly past the stalls until you reach one where what could be a chestnut horse with a white patch on its face has its head out, curious to see you. You hold out your hand for it to sniff.

“Are you Mary Lou? I’m sorry, I wasn’t really planning on coming here. I don’t have any apples or sugar lumps or anything.” She nuzzles your hand anyway, and you rub her nose. “I know your owner. I know Chris. Actually, I’m pretending to date him. But then we kissed, and I... I wished...”

“What did you wish?”

You turn, startled. Chris is standing there, holding your wrap, expression unreadable in the dim light.

“I—you—” you stare at the floor.

“Your wrap. You left pretty suddenly; I didn’t want you to be cold. You weren’t outside, and I saw the open door. Should’ve known you and Mary Lou would be making friends.”

You step closer and take the fabric from him, barely raising your gaze, and wrap it around your shoulders, slowly. You hug it to you.

Then you take a little breath, and look up.

“I wished we weren’t pretending. But I know that we are. So—so if you need to transfer me, or—”

He touches a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“When we kissed... I was right there with you. Wanting this. Wanting you.” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted it for a while, actually, and sometimes I thought... but you—you know how to put on a performance.”

“Not where you’re involved.”

You reach up, still almost disbelieving, almost afraid to make contact. But you can feel Chris’s face stretch into a smile under your touch. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you in closer, and you kiss, lips parting, and it’s gloriously real.

In the end, though, Mary-Lou’s soft whinny reminds you of where you are.

“We should get back. I think Mom saw me head this way, and knowing her, she’ll come looking.” Chris belies his words, kissing your neck, and you gasp as he hits a sensitive spot.

“I—I guess you’re right. We should go.” You miss Chris’s warmth as he finally steps away. He goes over to pat Mary Lou before holding out a hand for you. You lace your fingers together, and he leads you back out of the stables into the night outside, back towards the barn.

“Wait.” A thought occurs to you, and you pull on your joined hands, getting Chris to stop. He turns to you, profile highlighted by the lights shining from the tree. “Is this now our actual first date? And… do you have plans for later this evening? The room I booked in Sydney is a double…”

Chris laughs. “I guess it is. I could join you in Sydney tonight, I know you want to learn to surf… But… have you thought about learning to ride instead?”

[angelofchaos001]

Stranded in the Rain - Chapter 3

Link to Ao3

Link to Masterpost

Previous (Adapting) | Next (Monsters)

Chapter 3 - Survivor

The last thing Hatchling expected to see when they awoke was another creature. And yet, that was exactly what lay before them, breathing deeply, if a bit shakily. It was a little smaller than they were, with an off-white color to their whole body and a general thickness about it. Moissan could clearly make out a tail curled around them, but the creature wasn't at ease.

For starters, it was soaked. There was a puddle of water around it, and there was still more dripping off of it's extremities. Secondly, hatchling could see stones, grass, and other miscellaneous objects tangled with it. Lastly, and most concerning, there were huge gashes ripped across it's tail that still oozed fresh blood, mixing with the water and staining it red.

Hatchling didn't know what to do. The doors to the room were still closed, and this creature was just . . . here. Bleeding in front of them, perhaps asleep, and perhaps not. If it felt threatened and attacked them, things could get ugly. Fast. How had it gotten in here with them? When? More questions Hatchling didn't have the answers to.

It felt odd, being in such a small space with an unidentified species nearby. Curiosity begged Hatchling to write everything they noticed about it down, right now, but self-preservation told them better. They had wounds of their own that needed addressing, after all. Moissan looked at themselves. Why didn't they feel any pain? Realistically, they should have felt something, even if it was uncomfortable. They'd hit the ground hard enough to crack their helmet, which was more than enough force required to likely crack their bones as well. Plus, their left hand didn't seem to be working quite right.

One thing at a time, Moissan, Hatchling told themselves as they took a deep breath. They rolled up their sleeves to get a look at their arms, and sucked in a gasp when they saw their hand. They'd seen a lot of things that weren't normal lately. But they were still pretty sure that it wasn't a good sign for their thumb when they could hardly move it. Hatchling could feel how wrong it was, how there was definitely a bone that didn't line up right. And at the slightest touch, pain shot through their body, catching up to them no matter how far away it seemed.

Moissan gasped and fell to their knees. How much else were they missing? Now that their body seemed to register pain again, everything was aching and sore from being slammed around so much yesterday. Aside from their hand, the other major spots of pain were along their cheek and in their leg. Carefully reaching up, their fingers traced a thin wound just under their eyes. As gentle as the touch was, it still made Hatchling flinch. Their leg was less serious, without any kind of visible wound. Rather, there was a large bruise across their shin that gave a dull throb of pain with their heartbeat.

Any kind of medical supplies they had were limited. They hardly had the things to treat a broken bone, anyway. It was all things for cuts and scrapes, like the one on their face. In their bag, they had things like disinfectant, bandages, gauzes and all sorts of strange herbs that Quartz (the village healer) had been insisting the travelers take with them. Let's see here . . . they thought, digging through supplies. All they needed was something to patch up their cheek and stabilize their finger. Luckily, they did have small coverings that they could bandage their cut with, and enough rolls of tissue to hold their finger in place if they had some kind of straight stick to tie it to.

Sadly, as they kept looking, nothing suitable crossed their eyes for such a purpose. Everything was either too big or not straight enough to help set a finger. Moissan sighed and sat back, leaning on the wall, before jumping up with a gasp as something stabbed their back. Reaching around, they pulled a small stick from the fabric of their suit. It was small, and almost straight, too.

It'll do, I guess, they thought, looking at it, then at their broken thumb. Carefully, they took the stick and some bandages, and began to wrap the two together tightly. It just needed to hold itself together, and then they would need to be gentle with their hand so they didn't agitate the wound. It sounded like a simple enough plan. Granted, exploring space had also sounded simple enough.

Look how that turned out.

As they worked on wrapping their thumb, and eventually got the bandage tied in a way they were content with, Hatchling couldn't help but glance at the creature next to them. Most of the water had already dripped off and pooled around it now, rippling slowly with every staggered breath it took. Blood still tricked through the dirty white fur, the ugly wounds that ran the entire length of it's tail making them hurt for the poor creature.

Hatchling knew they had limited medical supplies. They should save what they had for themselves. They didn't know what they were dealing with. What they would be messing with if they did what they were thinking.

But seeing something so helpless and in pain made Moissan feel for it. It felt like they couldn't just leave them alone - not when they were this close and had the supplies to make the small creature (hopefully) feel better. With a deep breath, they reached into their bag again and pulled out what they thought they might need. If Quartz labeled these correctly, then I just need these leaves, the bandages, and these seeds. They took a moment to study the plants they grabbed, laid the supplies they'd grabbed neatly in front of them, and scooted over to the curled-up creature.

Now closer to it, Hatchling realized that it wasn't really much smaller than they were. It was mostly tail, with the thick appendage seemingly more than half their body. A pair of ears were flattened against a rounded head, trembling ever so slight and twitching randomly. They couldn't see any arms or legs, but at the very least, the creature was alive. Where do I start with it? they thought, looking back at their supplies, then at the creature.

Eventually, after browsing between options, Hatchling took some of the leaves they'd grabbed and carefully laid them across the most severe gash. Angler's Bush was good for helping to clot blood, for a lot of scientific reasons that they did not pay nearly enough attention to in class. All that mattered was that it could help the creature in it's time of need. As Hatchling lightly pressed the leaves into the open wounds, the creature gave a violent twitch and a small whine.

They flinched, leaning back, bracing themselves for it to wake up and run away or try to hurt them. As moments passed and it seemed to settle back down, though, Moissan breathed a sigh of relief, realizing it had never woken up. Carefully, they went back to covering the other tears in leaves, brushing their gloved hands across the creature as they did. Small, coarse fur met them, and as Hatchling pulled their hand away, it had a strange kind of film at the edges.

Hatchling paused, staring. It wasn't sticky, but rather already seemed to be flowing down their hand and stopping after it had traveled about the length of the finger. Was the creature both slimy and furry? Both textures were foreign to them. The Nomai had been depicted as having fur, but that didn't mean they'd ever touched or seen it for themselves. And the fish they sometimes ate had a protective slime to them, but nothing like this. In any case, why would it have both features?

The last of the gashes were covered just as Moissan used the last leaf from the plant. That took much more than I thought, they realized. They only had three plants' worth of leaves on them, along with the powder of . . . stuff that could be mixed into water for a beneficial drink. All they remembered was in it was the roots of the plant, a few of the Redbulb seeds, and cinnamon.

Being distracted in their thoughts, they turned back to the creature and grabbed their bandages. All they needed to do was wrap them neatly, and everything would be okay.

A sudden idea struck Hatchling, and they dropped the roll, grabbing their bag again. They'd almost forgotten. Such large wounds, being left open for presumably quite some time, would surely harbor infection if they wrapped it now. Come on, please say Quartz packed some Rippleleaf in here . . . the plant was known for being vital in warding off such infections. Without it, there were dozens of stories about horrible injuries that came from the disease-ridden wound. Sometimes, it would have to be removed entirely.

Finally, their fingers closed around the leaves they needed, and Hatchling took up the bandages again. This time, though, they carefully laid some bits of the new leaf right beneath the area they were about to wrap. There was no flinching from the creature as they carefully worked, wrapping around the tail and laying leaves as they went. Every now and then, they'd stop and tie off the bandage where they were or reach for another leaf.

Halfway through, Moissan looked at the head of the creature again. It's closed eyes were trembling, shifting uneasily. They could only see two closed slits, but surely it had more somewhere on that face . . .

The roll slipped from their hands and made a soft sound as it hit the mossy ground. Hatchling gasped and picked it up again, gingerly. Gotta focus more. No distractions. Just finish this, and then I can make all the observations I want about this thing.

Loop after loop, they kept winding it around and around the wounds. They were almost to the end now, and with a quick tear into the roll and a tie, the large gashes were now hidden below a layer of leaves and fabric. Hatchling moved back a little, looking at their work. It wasn't perfect, by any means, and in some places the bandages were already wet or bloody. "I hope that helps it sleep easier," they murmured, packing up their supplies again.

The small tunnel they'd left through last time still wasn't open. The only sound in the room was of softly dripping water, and their breathing combining with the unknown creature beside them. With the time they had, Hatchling figured more notes were finally in order. Skipping past the Starbug page, they looked down at the blank paper, and then at the curled-up body.

"About the same size as I am. Furry and slimy, I think. Seems to sleep heavily. Proportionally, it's mostly tail, with a small head and ears. I still can't see if it has any other limbs." They paused to look for any other obvious things to write down. "Ah, I know. Treatment of wounds seemed effective. It sleeps much easier now."

But with the notes all written out, as much as they could, there was still the task of drawing the specimen. Hatchling leaned on the wall and got comfortable, picking up their pencil and slowly sketching line after line. Each curve was checked on the actual creature, trying to nail the unique body shape it had. As they started on that large tail, they hesitated. Should they add the bandages? Try to draw it with the gashes from memory? Draw it blank?

They settled for drawing it as it was now: Healed up.

Moissan let themselves become lost in the drawing, trying to perfect every little line, each individual leaf and blotch of mud tangled in the creature's fur, so of course they hardly noticed when it shuffled around.

When it got up.

And looked at them.

They only noticed when suddenly, the creature had walked over to Hatchling and placed a paw on their leg, prompting them to look over. Oh my stars. It's touching me. What do I do? Is it telling me something? Is this a gesture of friendship? What's it doing? Questions blazed through their mind, and they just . . . stared back at it. Into those wide, endless black eyes that seemed so blank to them.

"Wa?" it asked, making a small sound. It was some mix of a chirp and a meow, but it wasn't identifiable by any means. Hatchling blinked.

"Um . . . hi?" they asked, waving their hand slightly. Could it understand them? Maybe. Hopefully.

But the creature shuffled around and blinked back at Hatchling. "Hrrrrrrrp. Wawa?"

They sighed. "I'm sorry, little guy, I . . . can't understand anything you're saying."

It didn't seem to like like, narrowing it's eyes and snorting. "HRRRP." Whatever it was trying to say, it was being awfully firm about it. "Hrrrrple mrrrr."

"Can you understand me at all?"

Those wide black eyes blinked back, full of not understanding a word Hatchling said. They felt crushed, even though they really should have expected this. Of course it wouldn't be able to understand them. That was too much to hope for, anyway. Still. Body language could be almost universal, if Moissan tried hard enough. Slowly, they reached out towards the creature's tail and pointed at it. "Hey. This was me. I helped you. Okay?"

It hissed and pulled it's tail away just as Hatchling showed the roll of bandages it had used. The creature paused, looking between the roll, hatchling, and it's own tail before nodding slowly, hostility seeming to fade. They allowed themselves to smile at the small creature, which purred and pointed to itself eagerly. Then, it seemed to wave it's arms about aimlessly, flailing it's small paws everywhere. Moissan stifled a giggle, before snickering at it's antics.

"Heh . . . I'm sorry," they offered, reaching out their hand to pat the creature. It accepted, leaning into their hand eagerly. "I need a name for you. Something that really fits. Got any ideas, little guy?"

It simply stared back, leaning into the soft chin scratches Hatchling found themselves giving. It felt strangely nice, to be here. Petting this unknown creature and bringing it a moment of peace in whatever life it was living. What could I call it? There's gotta be something . . .

An urge inside of Hatchling tugged at their mind. This creature was so much more than a new specimen to study. They couldn't explain why, or how, but it felt too important to be given a basic name and left at just that. This particular individual needed a name just for them. But what was the perfect name to give them?

The creature suddenly forced it's way into Hatchling's lap with it's fur that was still both cold and wet, dampening their notebook. "Hey!" They cried, a little playfully, continuing to stroke the fur of the being, "C'mon, at least give me some warning before you do that! Clingy little fellow."

I could name it like it's a true friend of mine, maybe. Like it was another Hearthian. The idea of naming it like that made Moissan feel warm inside. Like they could carry a piece of home with them no matter what. But what would be a good, fitting name?

"Guess I can just start listing some aloud and seeing what you think, little guy," they murmured, continuing to pet it. The creature gave a contented purring noise, curling up almost entirely in Hatchling's lap so that they could no longer see the arms and legs they'd noticed earlier. Their entire tail still stuck out, not at all in their lap, but that was fine. This was pleasant.

Right. Naming.

"What about Dolo?" they asked, thinking. Even if the creature didn't know what they were saying, perhaps it found comfort in a particular noise Hatchling's voice made. The same way they were quickly growing fond of the loud humming noise it made. But it made no reaction at all.

Onto the next idea.

"Marble, maybe?"

The creature scrunched up and shook it's ears out. Definitely not that one, then.

"Hm . . . Hecato? I could call you Cat for short, hehe!" Hatchling smiled, but the creature didn't move at all. "Alright, bad joke, I guess. Last one."

They thought long and hard about it. A name was an important thing. It would be how Hatchling would remember this small, friendly creature who they'd helped out in this situation.

"How about Pearl?"

At the mention, the creature's ears perked and it chirped quietly. "I guess that means you like that one?"

"Rrrlp! Rrrrlp!"

It lifted it's head and gave a small, sharp-toothed smile. Hatchling grinned at them and pulled their hand away. "Pearl it is, then. I hope you and I will get along. Maybe you can show me what to do in this place."

Is this creature my fate? Did the universe entwine our stories together? Or is this all chance, a path of my own making?

No matter what, they swore they would never let anything happen to this creature. As the room began to shake and the metal was being pulled aside from the tunnel, Moissan let themselves breathe. Today is a new day. And I'll be ready for it.

"Come on, Pearl," they breathed, taking the small creature's paw as they slid through the tunnel and back into the rain-soaked world.

-----

Bonus art for this chapter!

Made it partially digital bc I didn't wanna fully digitize it but some of the lines were too faint and/or too messy for the camera.

@mellow-mooon

@0silverbluedragon1

@corn-worshipper

@doodlebug091

@isnt-that-grape

@fishbone5

@dragonpurplecristal

@obsidianmage3

[halfurganymede]

The Vicar's Betrayal: Finale

SPOILERS: The following contains spoilers for The Outer Worlds and The Empty Man (Max's companion quest)

Back on the Unreliable, Max gently touched the captain’s elbow causing her to jump. She had been lost in thought since they left the hermit's hut, which would have been more of an issue had they run into any more trouble as they made their way back to the ship over Scylla’s rocky terrain. Even Nyoka had picked up on the captain’s mood, barely even complaining when they saw some primals roaming around off the road. Now that they were back on the ship, Max was concerned about her absent-mindedness. Perhaps the drugs had affected her more deeply than she cared to admit.

‘Captain? I was hoping for a word...’ Felix chose that moment to interrupt.

‘Hey captain? Since we’re on Scylla I was thinking...’

‘Felix can you just wait a minute?’ The captain pinched the bridge of her nose. Felix and the vicar exchanged a look. The captain never cut them off. To a fault sometimes.

‘It’s no bother captain.’ Max soothed. ‘I can wait. I’ll be in my room whenever you’re ready.’ When he turned for the stairs he could hear Felix explain, timidly, about an old friend that had gotten in contact with him and was apparently now based on Scylla. Max could tell from the captain’s tone as she coaxed Mr Millstone through his story, that she already regretted the way she had spoken to the young stowaway.

He climbed the stairs past the captains quarters then up the second flight to the crew’s. He almost immediately bumped in to Dr Fenhill, accidently knocking her shoulder with his own.

‘Fucking watch it vicar,’ Ellie scowled as she went to move past him.

‘My sincerest apologies doctor,’ Max replied, without a hint of sarcasm. Ellie looked at him strangely.

‘Are you feeling OK “Vicky”?’

‘Perfectly well doctor, thank you. And yourself?’

‘Captain!’ Ellie leaned over the railings to shout down the stairs. ‘Max is broken! Did he hit his head while you were out?!’

‘For the love of... he’s not broken Ellie he’s... enlightened.’ The captain yelled back.

‘If you’ll excuse me, Dr Fenhill.’ Max moved past her to go to his room.

‘Sure thing. See you later “Vicky”... are you really going to let me run with this “Vicky” thing?’

‘You may address me however you wish,’ he responded mildly.

‘Captain?! Are you sure he didn’t hit his head?! Do I need to check him for a concussion?!’

‘Leave him alone Ellie!’ Was the captain’s irritated response. Max ambled into his quarters and sat at his desk. He began to shuffle his papers frowning slightly as he realised what nonsense he’d gathered over the years. The accumulation of knowledge was never wasted, of course, but a lot of it had been... misguided. As he patiently waited for the captain, he began to reorder his books and journals, seeking to recontextualise a lifetime’s worth of work. It could take an age to sort it all. He began to hum to himself.

He was interrupted some time later by someone clearing their throat, making him pause as he was putting a book back into a space in his cabinet. It was the captain, hovering in the doorway uncertainly. She had changed out of her armour, wearing a loose fitting a shirt and casual trousers.

‘Please, come in captain.’ He slid the book back into place and closed the cabinet with a click as the captain stepped in and closed the door, but still she stood there, nervously fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. ‘Captain are you sure you’re all right? Perhaps you should sit down.’ He reached to touch her but she withdrew , hugging her arms tight around herself. Max slowly lowered his hand, frowning with renewed concern.

‘Can we just... can you just say what you need to say and get this over with? Then I can drop you off wherever you want and we can be on our way.’ The captain was glaring at the floor, reluctant to look at him.

‘Captain... I... what? I’m sorry I don’t understand.’ Max was utterly baffled.

‘You,’ the captain swallowed hard. The vicar realised she was trying not to cry. ‘You’re leaving right?’ There was a pregnant pause.

‘Captain... why do you think I’m leaving?’ Max asked slowly.

‘Because you... you got wanted right?’ The captain swallowed again. ‘You got your answers. So you don’t... you won’t want to stay. That’s the whole reason you joined us on the ship in the first place, right?’ She risked a quick glance at him before looking back at the floor, shoulders tight. Max opened and closed his mouth silently for a moment.

‘Captain... do you have so little faith in me?’ He was quiet and hurt.

‘It’s not that Max it’s...’

‘Is it not?’ He cut her off sharply. She flinched. Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hardly blame her, he realised. Before this endeavour he might have done exactly what she was accusing him of. He would have gotten what he wanted and left immediately to further his goals. Isn’t that what he’d done in Edgewater what felt like a lifetime ago? He had even considered that vey scenario once he’d realised how badly he’d hurt her in Fallbrook. But now, leaving the captain, and the crew, was unthinkable. Not like this.

‘No, captain,’ he said more steadily. ‘I’m not leaving you.’ The captain looked at him now, searching his eyes for the lie. He held her gaze firmly, his heart an open book to her now.

‘You’re really going to stay?’ The captain blinked and a small amount of tension left her shoulders. ‘Then what were you going to talk to me about? Is it about what happened back at the hermit’s place? I did notice you seemed a bit... at odds... with your family.’ Max shook his head. This was not how he had pictured this conversation. He thought it best to let this talk go whichever direction it was heading. Stop trying to control it, he thought to himself, with no small amount of amusement.

‘I wouldn’t say my parents disowned me, strictly speaking,’ his tone was more sombre now. ‘But before they died, they accused me of thoughtlessly abandoning them. I couldn’t understand it. I was only trying to make them proud.’ He went to sit on his bed, frowning at his hands. They used to be more calloused, softening now after years spent studying. ‘I was so certain my potential was wasted as a labourer. I was willing to risk everything just to prove them wrong.’ He shook his head, feeling the old ache well up in his chest. It was less painful than it had been but it was still there. It was going to be difficult to put that burden down, as that ghostly vision of Isadora had urged him to do. The captain came to sit beside him, resting her shoulder against his.

‘You should have heard my folks when I told them I was signing up to the colony ships,’ she said, softly. ‘ ‘“Disappointed” would have been a step up I think.’ She brushed her cool fingertips against his knuckles. He took her hand without hesitation this time, eliciting a smile from her.

‘I know it was just some weird, drug-trip vision thing,’ she continued. ‘But you could tell she loved you, Max.’ The vicar smiled sadly in response.

‘I know.’ They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the captain absentmindedly entwining their fingers and running her thumb gently along his.

‘If that’s not what you wanted to talk about,’ she eventually spoke up. ‘Then what was it.’ He hesitated, then looked down at his fingers entangled with hers. Max took a deep breath and turned to face her, raising his hand to her face, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb, then moving his hand down, lifting her chin. She started to say his name but he cut her off with a kiss. His lips met hers gently, closing his eyes, knowing that if she rejected him that he would need to savour this. She didn’t. As he pushed his hand into her hair she moved her mouth against his more firmly, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue. He groaned softly, the sound muffled by their kiss.

When they eventually separated, they were both breathless.

‘So...’ Max started, but was immediately interrupted by the captain putting her lips back to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies closer together, only the frustration of clothes between them. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pushed her back onto the bed. When their lips parted, he moved his mouth to her neck, gasping her name as she shifted against him. He slid a hand under her shirt, tracing his thumb against her lowest ribs, desperate to feel her skin against his. As she began to strip him of his vestments, he surrendered completely to this perfect, chaotic moment.

THE END