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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 1 month

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03/15/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Samba; Guz; Lube As A Crew; GLAAD Awards; Fan Spotlight; Ari Azure's Renew As A Crew (Act Of Grace); Big Gay Energy Podcast; Cast Cards; SchadenFreude; Watch Parties; In Soup Now; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

== Samba Schutte BTS ==

Samba was kind enough to grace us with more BTS today. Some pictures and a lot of videos!

CW: Fake Blood and Gore

Video 1: Vico Freaking out over the outfittings

Video 2: Cursed Ship On Deck

Video 3: Revenge Crew Jumping On Deck from Back

Video 4: Bloody

Video 5: Geo-met-ery

Video 6: More On Deck

== Guz Khan ==

Guz Khan's got some upcoming shows! If you're in NYC or LA, feel free to check him out this April! Tickets

== Final Lube As A Crew ==

It was a fun and sad day with our crewmates over at @astroglideofficial. The Social Media conductor was having a lovely time, but obviously was bittersweet with it ending. Here's some highlights from the watch party. To see more visit their twitter. If I get some time this weekend i'll try to put all the lube as a crew stuff together on the repo so you can see it all, just not gonna get to it tonight. I tried to get the timeline in order.. if not, apologies!

== GLAADforOFMD==

So in case it comes up.. there was some drama with some other fandoms regarding GLAAD today on Twitter. The TLDR; version is, some tweets went out regarding how disappointed we were about Ted Lasso winning out over Our Flag Means Death for Outstanding Comedy Series. Somehow, Yellowjackets fandom, who won a different category Outstanding Drama Series somehow got the idea that OFMD fans were complaining about Yellowjackets winning. It was corrected multiple times by multiple people but they kept coming. So yeah, twitter being twitter, not a great time. Sending love to @koneko_army and any other crewmates who had to deal with it.

If you wanna see the GlaadWinners visit The Hollywood Reporter

If you really wanna see the whole thread, you can visit Koneko's Twitter but honestly I don't recommend it, I wasn't even part of it and it stresses me out reading it.

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Ari Azure's Renew As A Crew =

Ari Azure's Renew As A Crew (Act of Grace) song came out today!

Tumblr Post

= Big Gay Energy Podcast =

New Big Gay Energy Podcast dropped!

youtube

= Cast Cards =

Our crewmate @melvisik has spotlighted one of our dearest friends Dominic Burgess this time! Starting to round out the collection! Thanks hon!

== Schaden Freude ==

Still trending downward! Great job fam!

== Watch Parties ==

Mar 17th: The Boat That Rocked AKA Pirate Radio Watch Party

7:30 pm GMT / 3:30 pm EST / 1:30 pm CST

Watch Party Hashtags:

PirateRadio

AdoptOurCrew

SaveOFMD

OurFlagMeansWatchAlong

Mar 18 - Mar 22: Wrecked Season 3

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd.

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags:

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== In Soup Now ==

In Soup Now is back! Post your soups/stews/recipes with!

#InSoupNow

#SaveOFMD

#LongLiveOFMD

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Another week has passed. I really hope it wasn't too hard on you-- and if you're off to work tomorrow too, that you get some semblance of rest soon. Sometimes it feels like we're too small to make a difference, or we don't know enough, or we're not pretty enough, or we're not strong enough. Or we're not enough of something, whatever it happens to be. But you know what? You do plenty. You are plenty. You are plenty beautiful, and plenty strong, and plenty full of life, and plenty knowledgeable, and you make plenty of a difference. You make a difference every day, in our lives, and the lives around you. I hope you get some rest and tomorrow you get to see even a glimpse of awesome you truly are. Take care lovelies <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is DRINKIES!

Darby Gif Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Taika Gif Courtesy of @caribbean1989

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #samba schutte #guz khan #big gay energy podcast #Ari Azure #Youtube

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marsdreamworld · 8 months

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Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

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Stay With Me | Hope pt.1

exhusband!jungkook, singledad!jungkook, E2L, angst, fluff, smut

Word Count - 3.5k

Your would’ve been wedding anniversary has always been a difficult day. Warnings: swearing, oc is v bad with technology, alcohol consumption, one mention of vibrators, heavy angst

MINISERIES COLLECTION

Today is a particularly hard day for you, giving that it would’ve been yours and your ex-husband’s wedding anniversary. Thankfully your son Seol is sleeping at a friend’s house this weekend so you have the space you need to mope, though truthfully some company wouldn’t exactly go a miss. It’s nearing five pm when you decide to give Hoseok a call and see if he’s free, but maybe that decision has been influenced by the three glasses of wine you’ve downed.

“Hey, you okay?” Hoseok’s voice makes you smile, you’ve been on all of three dates with him at this point and if you’re being honest he has real potential.

He’s a single father too, he has a nine year old daughter and he’s been divorced for almost one year now. It’s not been mentioned why he and his ex-wife got divorced, but having said that your exes rarely come into conversation when the two of you go out.

“Hey Hobi…” An affectionate nickname people at work, including you, call him. “Everything’s good, are you free tonight?” You chew your lower lip with anticipation, you’re yet to sleep with Hoseok but if he fucks anything like he kisses… You know that you’re in for a treat.

His chuckle is deep on the other end of the phone, “Not tonight I’m afraid, I’m on dad duty this weekend. You sure you’re okay? You never call me.”

“Ahh…” Your disappointment is evident, but you understand entirely. Children come first one hundred percent, you can’t be mad at him for being a good father. “No I’m fine honestly, my son is sleeping out tonight so I just wanted some company I guess, but I completely understand that you’ve got your daughter.”

At this Hoseok makes a tsk sound between his teeth, followed by a dangerous panty-dropping frustrated sigh, “Trust me I would love to come over and keep you company Y/N, but I can’t tonight. I’ll make it up to you another time.”

“Looking forward to it.” You hum flirtatiously, smiling like a school girl.

He chuckles again and you can practically see his big grin through the phone, “Me too, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

It would appear that the stars are not aligned with you tonight, everybody you know is busy, absolutely everybody. Your friends either have parental commitments or have other plans already. It’s okay though, you figure it’s probably best to spend tonight alone in a hot bubble bath having some self-care time rather than getting wild with one of your besties. Though after you’re forth glass of wine you’re halfway there already.

After a soak in the tub you’re feeling pretty buzzed from the alcohol, it’s almost seven pm and you decide to get changed into a pair of red silky pyjamas that always find a way to boost your confidence. Eye mask on, more wine poured… Music, you need music.

“Alexa… play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars.”

Playing marry you by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No, no! Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!”

Playing when I was your man by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No! For fucks sake…” You groan, flicking the cap on the wine bottle into the unknown, even technology wants to remind you of what today should’ve been. Fuck Alexa. Fuck everything. Fuck…you? Maybe a few rounds with your vibrator would take your mind away from today’s date, and since you’re home alone… Why the fuck not?

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now, Our song on the radio but it don’t sound the same.

The sound of Bruno singing his about his sorrows drowns your house through every speaker, flooding your senses and causing your heart to ache just a little bit more than it already did. Who are you kidding? You’re not in the mood to fuck yourself right now.

Fifteen years ago today you married the love of your life, the father of your child, your best friend, truthfully the only man you’ve ever wholly loved. Ever since your trip to the beach with Jungkook you’ve been confused about where you stand with him, now more than ever. Do you miss him? Yes. Do you regret divorcing him? Yes, wait. No. Do you accept his apology? Yes. Would you ever take him back?

I should have bought you flowers, and held your hand, Should’ve gave you all my hours, when I had the chance.

…Maybe.

“Alexa! Stop! That song just makes me think about Jungkook…” You admit with a pained sigh, downing wine straight from the bottle. It’s ridiculous, you divorced him. You’ve no right to miss him, you’ve no right to wonder what your life could be like with him if you ever gave your relationship another chance… No. Exes are exes for a reason, it’s just because it’s your anniversary. Would’ve been your anniversary. That’s why you’re wallowing in self-pity right now.

Calling Jungkook

“What?! No! No no no no no, nooooo!” You sprint to the nearest home speaker, almost slipping on the tiled floor of your kitchen, “Alexa! Stop—”

“Hello?”

“Alexa! Stop!”

The sound of breathy laughter leaving your ex-husbands lips echoes through what was once your shared home, “Trouble with technology Y/N?”

You groan in return, snorting mostly to yourself, “Is it that obvious?”

“So… is this a completely random call or were you talking about me and Alexa decided to let me know?” He’s giggling, he always found it so funny that you’re more than just a little useless when it comes to technology. Even after your divorce there’s been times where you’ve had to contact him for your account passwords and login details for various apps and devices.

“I’m home alone so rest assured I wasn’t talking about you.” You half-lie, technically he was mentioned but nobody save for Alexa heard it. That bitch betrayed you good, as soon as this call is over you’re putting her straight in the trash.

“That’s good to know. Where’s Seol?”

“He’s at a friend’s house for the weekend, hence why I’m here alone.” You sigh, taking another gulp of wine when your throw yourself up onto the marble countertop.

There’s a brief silence as though he’s contemplating what to do with that information, but finally after what feels like way too long he speaks, “Well… I hope you have a good night whatever you decide to do. It’s been nice talking to you, but I guess I have Alexa to thank for that.” He laughs again, you just know he’s shaking his head in disbelief right now.

“Sorry if I disturbed you—”

“Not at all, I’m just in the store buying some wine actually… Rough day.”

A pained smile tugs your lips, a bittersweet feeling coursing your veins. At least you know it’s not just you who is affected by the date. Should you invite him over? Would that be a complete disaster? Because right now it doesn’t sound like a terrible decision. It does beat drinking alone, and things aren’t awkward between you it would be fine. But there is the incident of your almost kiss in the hotel room—

“You still there? Or has Alexa fucked you over again?”

You grin, playfully rolling your eyes, “I’m still here.”

“Alright…”

Fuck it. Why drink alone when you can drink with someone else who happens to know exactly what you’re going through?

“Hey Kook…?”

He sniffs, you can hear glass bottles clinking in the background, “Mmm?”

“Would it be weird if I invited you over for a drink tonight?”

The silence is deafening, your heart is pounding and you’re about to tell him to forget you ever said anything when he clears his throat down the line.

“I mean it does beat drinking alone… Which is all I had planned for tonight anyway.”

You’re smiling again, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

After a quick outfit change you’re back in your kitchen wearing an emerald green smock dress, it was the first thing you could find in your wardrobe and you figure it’s much better than answering the door in sexy red silk pyjamas. You’re nervous, and dare you admit it a little excited to see your ex-husband. Why? You’ve no idea. What you do know is that when you open the front door and you’re greeted with Jungkook wearing a simple oversized white t shirt, ripped black jeans and boots of the same colour, you’re happy he’s here.

“Hey… I see you’ve started without me?” Jungkook’s heavily tattooed arm gestures to the almost empty bottle of wine sitting atop your kitchen unit. His smile is playful, gorgeous even when you sigh in defeat and nod.

“Shit, you caught me… So did you bring more wine?”

“Mhm, the good stuff too.” His hum is chipper, he’s looking down at you with a fond gaze that makes your chest swell with something vaguely familiar. “I brought soju as well, good job really cause I’ll need some shots to get on your level since you’re already drunk dialling people.” He winks, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

You point at the home speaker in protest, “Hey she’s the one who drunk dialled you! I had nothing to do with it!” Except you kind of did, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook makes quick work of getting a glass for himself along with two double-sized shot glasses from the cupboard. Muscle memory takes over, he remembers exactly where you keep everything because heaven forbid he ever put something back in the wrong place when he lived here. Your organisation skills could win awards. It’s not long before he’s topped up your wine and poured himself a glass too, as well as two shots of peach soju – which just so happens to be your favourite.

“So…” He hands you a shot, when his inked fingertips graze yours you struggle to bite back a coy smile, “To us I guess?”

Your brow quirks, “To us?”

“You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” His eyes squeeze shut in feigned embarrassment for a second but he carries on, looking you dead in the eye for a moment you will never forget, “Happy kinda anniversary Y/N.”

Oh shit. That.

You swallow thickly, clinking the tiny glass against his with an apologetic smile, “Happy kinda anniversary Jungkook.”

It’s ten pm when you realise you’re beyond wasted, as is Jungkook. You’re both dancing together in the dining room, there’s distance between your bodies but you can still feel his warmth even from here. His cheeks still have the cutest tinge of pink to them when he’s drunk, and he’s far from coordinated when he sways his hips from left to right in sync with the beat of the music.

“Alexa!” You slur with a lazy grin, near empty glass of wine loosely in your grip, “Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!” Whether the home appliance likes it or not, you are listening to that song one way or another.

Kook claps excitedly, mirroring your haphazard smile, “That’s such a good song! Nine out of ten, well done!”

Nine out of ten, your smile drops for a moment. Ever since your first date you and Jungkook got into the strange habit of rating things that didn’t need to be rated. Song choices, food, tv shows, outfits, cars, even children’s names when you were pregnant… You name it you guys rated it. It was the first of many inside jokes and quirks you shared throughout your relationship, and it suddenly dawns on you that he never stopped doing it.

Playing when I was your man by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No, no no no!” You yell, “Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!” But it’s too late, the song has started and the lyrics hit you harder than ever.

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now, Our song on the radio but it don’t sound the same, When our friends talk about you all it does it just tear me down, Cause my breaks a little when I hear your name

Jungkook takes a beat to listen to the lyrics of the song before scoffing humourlessly with a small head shake, finishing his wine in one swift gulp that looks borderline painful. His stare is fixed to your face, you’re looking back uncertain of what to do next when your ex coughs, shouting loud enough to be heard above the music.

“Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!”

Playing that’s what I like by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

As soon as the preferred song choice kicks in you’re both screaming along to the words, god help your neighbours. Jungkook even going as far to make up impromptu dance moves that have you folded over in fits of hysterics, drunkenly pointing to and grinding on nothing. Sometimes you forget how hilarious he is, he can make you belly laugh at the drop of a hat.

“Kook stop!” You wheeze, “I’m gonna pee!”

But he doesn’t care, his animated facial expressions have you howling with laughter when he gets up on the dining table in one swift jump. He’s snapping his fingers to the beat, bobbing his head along to the song. It’s when he drops his weight in a messy slut drop that you cave, running to the downstairs bathroom before you actually piss yourself laughing.

The realisation of how drunk you are hits you when you’re sitting on the porcelain throne, as it usually does. It’s so nice that you and Kook can have a good time together without it being awkward, in a way it makes you nostalgic of how things used to be between you before it got bad.

You let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing your temples. Why did things have to get bad? God Jungkook is the perfect man in almost every single way… You miss him so much. You miss your drunken escapades together. You miss waking up to him in a morning. You miss going to bed with him at night, and you definitely miss the way he made you feel in bed.

When you return to the dining area Kook has already poured more drinks, thankfully he’s back on the ground and he’s wearing his signature bunny-like grin that causes your heart to flutter. He’s so fucking handsome. And that’s not the alcohol talking either, he really is breath taking.

“Another shot?” He winks, albeit very exaggeratedly.

You jog over to him with a bright beaming smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“This is fun right? We haven’t been drunk together in a while…” Kook playfully cocks his head to one side, watching your reaction closely.

“Yknow I was just thinking the same thing…” You admit rather sheepishly, “This is fun. I’m glad we can do this.”

The atmosphere shifts to something less messy and more familiar, perhaps even fringing on romantic when he closes the distance between your bodies, loosely gripping your waist, “Me too. Alexa! Shuffle music. Come on let’s have a proper dance...”

Playing your song by Elton John from Spotify.

Your heart stops beating. Jungkook’s heart stops beating. Fifteen years ago to the day this was your first dance song that was played at your wedding. It’s like technology itself is screaming at you, constantly reminding you both what today is. Jungkook is the first to move, he tugs your body closer to his, swaying his hips from side to side when you drape your arms over his strong shoulders. It’s familiar, it’s romantic, it’s nostalgic… And in an ironic twist of fate, It's perfect.

It's not long before your head rests against his collarbone, he still wears the same spicy cologne you notice. His fingers dance along the base of your spine when you move with him, a content hum rattling his broad chest quiet enough to almost go a miss.

“Now this song has always been a ten out of ten.”

“Kook…?” You whisper, mindlessly toying with the dark hairs gathered at the nape of his neck.

“Mmm?”

You know what you want to say, but you also know that there is absolutely no way you should say it. You want to tell him you miss him, you want to apologise for everything, hell you want to get onto your tiptoes and plant a soft kiss to those lips that made you fall in love with him. But you can’t, you’re drunk, he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be right… Even if this moment is the most content you’ve felt in years.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to watch your profile curiously, his tongue darts out and wets his lips, drawing more attention to the area you’re already thinking too much about.

“Are you okay?” His voice is quiet, he’s still languidly swaying left to right with you between his arms but his full attention is fixed on your eyes. If you had the power to freeze time you would, because this is it, this is the moment you finally admit to yourself that you still love him.

You’re nodding slowly, gaze never straying from his big brown doe-eyes that are hooded and slightly reddened from wine and swimming with something that can only be described as hope.

“I-, I’m fine.”

He stills his movements, in turn stopping you from swaying while your wedding song continues to play in the background, “Are you sure? Do you want me to leave?”

As if on instinct you tip toe to be closer to him, his breath is warm against your face, “…No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Y/N…” He whispers, bringing a hand up to gently cup the back of your head, “As much as I want to kiss you right now… We can’t.” When your face visibly drops he continues, “Because it would mean something very different to me than it would to you.”

“Kook…” You’re blinking rapidly, trying to find the words you want to say.

“I should go.” He admits with a light sigh, one filled with pain and regret.

You’re cupping his jaw, completely infatuated with the way he’s looking at you, “No… Please don’t leave.”

“I have to.” He swallows, resting his forehead to yours, “Because if I don’t, I’m gonna end up kissing you.”

You wet your lips subconsciously, brushing back a wayward strand of his hair that’s fallen into his eyes, “Then stay...” You breathe, heart hammering inside your chest.

Jungkook walks you backwards until the swell of your ass hits the dining table behind, his arms cage you in either side of your hips. The way he’s staring at you… With so much adoration, so much hope yet so much sadness. It’s enough to make your heart race and break all at once.

“What are you saying Y/N?” His voice is low, his right hand comes up to your chin, tipping it upward and angling your face to his.

“Don’t go... Please don’t go.”

His lips ghost yours, they’re so painfully close to yours that if you move even just a tiny bit you’re certain they’ll touch. “Are you sure...? What do you want me to do?”

Your eyes flutter shut in preparation for what’s about to happen, the next words that leave you are barely audible but Jungkook catches them when he’s gently tracing the front of your chin with his thumb.

“Stay with me.”

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d1sc0-1nfern0 · 15 days

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Brainstorming a funny bit for my fic

I’m just imagining Centross working out to “Every time we touch” by Cascada and it made me giggle so much I like this bit.

Feel free to suggest other options if you think there’s a funnier one.

#fable smp #fsmp #fsmpblr #fanfic writing #centross mistvale #poll

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usafphantom2 · 29 days

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Updated B-52 electronic warfare suite will be tested in flight in 2024

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 03/29/2024 - 10:36 in Military

Flying through the skies since the 1950s, the B-52 Stratofortress is a U.S. Air Force (USAF) workhorse and a lasting symbol of American military power. The eight-engine giant has unique capabilities unparalleled to any other American warplane - which is why, after more than 70 years of service, it continues to play a vital role in the defense and national security strategy of the U.S. And thanks to a collaboration between L3Harris and USAF, this iconic aircraft is prepared to remain ready for the mission against highly sophisticated emerging threats in the coming decades.

Under a 10-year contract worth $947 million granted in 2021, L3Harris is upgrading and improving the AN/ALQ-172 electronic war self-protection system (EW), which protects the B-52 and air crews from a wide range of electronic threats. Our current work is based on decades of experience in providing critical technology as a Manufacturer of Original Equipment of the AN/ALQ-172 systems for the B-52 fleet. And combined with other ongoing modernization efforts, these updates will increase the relevance and reliability of the B-52 by the 2050s.

L3 Harris AN/ALQ-172 systems.

"Our opponents continue to evolve, facing advanced and far-reaching threats that challenge our ability to operate in contested environments," says Robert "Trip" Raymond, USAF's Program Leader for EW Technology Development at L3Harris. "It is essential that we provide our B-52 crew with the necessary tools to keep the B-52 relevant, lethal and survivable as the backbone of the strategic bomber force of the United States."

The effort of modernization and support - ALQ-172 Maintenance and Reliability System (MARS) - intends to do exactly that, increasing the average time between failures due to its modular design, while further improving the performance, maintenance capacity and reliability of the system. Thanks to an integrated and improved radio frequency system, crews will be able to simultaneously combat multiple radar threats that interfere with aircraft operations. And by replacing analog systems with more economical software solutions, USAF will be able to reduce the size of B-52 crews from 5 to 4. This frees up resources for additional mission-critical activities.

Ultimately, the updates will further help USAF in its Global Attack Mission and strengthen the effectiveness of the B-52 in modern warfare, while making future upgrades cheaper and easier.

"We are implementing affordable solutions that not only reduce costs, but also provide crews with more advanced protection against the most sophisticated threats detected by radar," said Jimmy Mercado, Program Director at L3Harris. "All this results in a more modern, efficient and effective aircraft, ready to dominate the future struggle."

USAF plans to conduct a test flight with the new electronic warfare capabilities of the B-52 in 2024.

Tags: Military AviationBoeing B-52H StratofortressEW - ELECTRONIC WARL3HarrisUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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#b 52 stratofortress #usaf #bomber

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cinnamonnangel · 1 year

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ASTRO 101 - THE HOUSES (PART I)

FIRST HOUSE - I AM

(The First House is ruled by Aries and Mars.)

The first moment you open your eyes to the world, first breath, first sight, first intention and first experience

General appearance, form and shape, physical body, general health, vitality and energy, action

Character, identity, self image, personality, mask, self interest, how others perceive you, self expression, independence, behavior, name, attitude, fame

How you see the world, how the world sees you

Spirit, life, ego, soul body

First impressions, beginnings

Head, face, eyes, blood, brain, muscular system

The moment of birth and people around you, place of birth and atmosphere, birth experiences, mother’s health and experiences during childbirth

SECOND HOUSE - I HAVE

(The Second House is ruled by Taurus and Venus.)

Material and non-material resources, attitude toward possessions,

How you make money or meet obligations, self worth

Personal finances, money matters, sense of value, stocks and share, trade, jewelry, documents, cash money, valuables, wealth, possessions, trade, material possessions, luxuries, banking activities, loans, economic situation, wares, rank, guarantee, financial security, artworks

Talents, comfort zone, security, self esteem, valuables, sense of values, resourcefulness, nutrition

Face, neck, throat, vocal cords, thyroid, metabolic system, voice and vocal talents

Economy, sovereign debt, colonies, fees, trade, banks, internal debts, artistic approaches of a country

THIRD HOUSE - I THINK

(The Third House is ruled by Gemini and Mercury.)

Conscious mind, memory, mental confusion, communication, intellect, mentation, thinking

Skillfulness, study, ability, writing, speaking, researching, learning, reading, perceiving, adaptability, ability to learn foreign languages

Depthless thoughts and informations, smattering

Elementary and primary education, puberty

Siblings, brothers, sisters, cousins, close relatives and neighbors

Short trips, tour, daily travel, neighborhood, public transports, vehicles, motorbike, cars, train, bus, boats, urban roads

TV, radio, telephone, computer, mails, messages, text, communication network and channels, short correspondence on social media, weather forecast

Shoulders, collar bone, arms, hands, fingers, lungs, nerves, the nervous system

Bookstore, library, school, post office, educational institution, streets, telephone kiosk

FOURTH HOUSE - I FEEL

(The Fourth House is ruled by Cancer and Moon.)

The place where we live with the family, home atmosphere, home life, house, mother, family, lineage, family matters, ancestry, custom, femininity

Subconscious, things we hide about ourselves, emotional problems, early childhood, depression, personal commitment, the deepest and the darkest point of the chart

Old age, the end of the life, diseases, grave

Land, realty, genetic heritage, underground sources

Chest, breaths, stomach, uterus, diaphragm, upper alimentary system

Agricultural enterprise, historical values, mining site, real estate, refuge facilities, farmers, cemeteries

FIFTH HOUSE - I WILL

(The Fifth House is ruled by Leo and Sun.)

Actions and activities we do for ourselves, things we like to do, hobbies, how do we spend our free time, creativity, activities we enjoy, pleasure, self expression, risk taking, leisure time, artistic talents,

Love, romance, dating, courtship, love affairs, the way we flirt

Children, birthing and creation, the character of our children

Acting, drama, dance, music, sports, artists, celebrities, stage

Games, cards, puzzles, fun, amusement, games of chance, gambling, speculative investment

Chest, upper back, heart, spine, cardiac system

Hotels, entertainment centers, casino, beauty shops, coiffeur, resort, amusement park, cinema, theatre, sports center, park, art exhibition

SIXTH HOUSE - I ANALYZE

(The Sixth House is ruled by Virgo and Mercury.)

What we do to survive, daily work, everyday routine, details, skills

Work routines, where we specialize our skills, workers, competition, employment, workmates

House of sickness, exhaustion, disease, allergies, health, physical body, physical condition

Issues that tire us and weaken us, drugs and addictions

Pets and animals

Abdomen, intestines, lower liver, alimentary canal, spleen, digestive nerves

Hospitals, health care providers, employees, service sector, trade unions, state employees, restaurants, food and beverage services, enemies, soldiers, police, military, army, security guard, navy, animal clinic

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radio-free-mars · 8 months

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Sorry not sorry

#radio free mars #cowboy bebop #edited screenshot

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venushasvixens · 1 year

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Your coms are pinging, indicating of a incoming message.

You see this bad boy pop up.

Answer or decline?

Choose carefully, your life depends on it

#fanfiction #cowboy bebop #faye valentine #90s anime #jet black #radio free mars #spike spiegel #see you space cowboy #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel headcanons #spike spiegel requests #faye valentine x reader #ein the dog #radical edward #cowboy bebop x reader #Jet black x reader

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

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Don't Crack Under Pressure

Written for the Phic Phight Prompt: (Not phantom planet compliant) Danny's finally an astronaut! He's somehow got through college, after barely managing to pull through high school. But after he manages to make it into a NASA rocket and travel to the final frontier, his helmet cracks. So how does he explain how he got through the entire day to the rest of the crew with a cracked helmet? (from @shadowpixel)

Chapter 1: Let's Take a Rocketship to Space (I hear it's a real swinging place)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for deep space and assumed character death]

Despite the nightmare that was high school, and just barely getting his diploma, Danny managed to get into college. By some miracle he got his engineering degree, and now he was achieving his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. His first mission was with a crew of mostly veterans to investigate a NASA probe that had been sent to Psyche, an asteroid in the Main Asteroid Belt which traveled between Mars and Jupiter.

The probe had sent signals indicating that it had collected samples and was processing data, but due to unknown circumstances, it had suddenly stopped transmitting information about Psyche's surface, even though it was still responding to the deep space optical communication signals. All efforts to repair or reprogram it remotely had failed. That was why NASA had decided to send the Eros mission.

Captain Simon Lao, copilot Denali North, engineer Danny Fenton, and geo-chemist Dr. Ivy Grace Carson were selected for the approximately 2 year mission. Their ship would use the same advanced communications system as the Psyche probe to communicate with Earth using optical signals transmitted via lasers, which traveled faster than radio waves, so they wouldn't be completely cut off from their friends and family, despite traveling farther than any manned spacecraft had ever gone before.

Just five years ago, it would have been a six year mission there and back, if not longer, but using improved ionic propulsion with a little ectoplasmic boost, partially designed by Danny, the speed at which they could reach the asteroid increased dramatically. Once the mission was green-lit, it still took months of testing and training and preparing before the Eros spacecraft could finally launch, but this was it. Today was the day.

"Communications test," Simon said into their headset. "Mission control, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear Lao," came the voice of Miranda in the mission control room. "Check ignition and prepare for liftoff."

Danny felt like he might vibrate right out of his skin in his excitement. He'd been to space once before, that time Technus took over a satellite, but this was different. This was an actual, real life, NASA mission, on a real NASA spaceship with a real space suit and everything. He'd finally made it big. He'd gotten to the place he'd wanted to be since he was two years old and watched the Endeavor launch on TV.

The time leading up to the final takeoff passed agonizingly slowly but at last the countdown commenced. The engines roared to life.

"Nervous, Fenton?" Ivy Grace asked with a smirk. Everyone else in the cockpit had gone on missions for NASA before, making Danny the only newbie, but he was the furthest thing from nervous.

"Not on your life, Doc," Danny responded with a grin. "I've been waiting for this moment as long as I can remember."

The thing about space was that it really wasn't all that far away. Hard to get to, yes, because straight up, and up, and up was not an easy direction to go, but it wasn't necessarily far. The ship took off, and less than ten minutes later it had escaped Earth's atmosphere. Danny stared out the window in awe at the planet Earth growing farther and farther away.

"Go ahead and unbuckle your seat-belts, and you are now free to move about the cabin," Simon said once the autopilot confirmed course and they were on their way.

Danny immediately got out of his seat, almost phasing though his seat-belt by accident in his frenzy, instead of unbuckling it. Long since used to zero gravity from his time in the Ghost Zone, Danny easily flew to the rearmost window to watch his home planet shrink into a speck in the distance while his crew-mates shook their heads fondly. And thus began the ten month journey to the asteroid Psyche.

The beauty of space was something Danny could never get tired of, even if this mission were to last a million years. Even after months in space, his crew-mates often found him floating by the window, just watching the stars outside for hours on end. Of course, Danny had plenty of other things to do, and he did them, but there were also stars. And they were breathtaking. The rest of the crew preferred to pass their time in different ways.

Ivy Grace spent most of her time isolating herself in her bunk to work on her manuscript with headphones blaring the playlists she'd downloaded for the journey. She was the type who never seemed to get lonely. No matter how many times they asked her, she completely refused to tell any of them what her manuscript was about, which led the rest of them to the obvious conclusion that she was writing hardcore erotica, probably involving tentacles.

Their captain Simon, on the other hand, took great joy in dragging the rest of them into social past-times together. Somehow, they knew a ludicrous number of party games and had packed a two terabyte hard-drive full of movies for the crew to watch during the trip. Simon couldn't seem to stand being alone for ten minutes if they were awake. At least they didn't mind quiet though, and sometimes they would sit in silence with Danny, just watching out the windows.

Lastly there was Denali. She'd been an air force pilot before applying at NASA, but only to pay for college. Originally, she had wanted to go to art school, but after discovering a genuine love for flying, she'd decided to go to NASA instead. For the Eros mission, she'd brought along six, cheap, empty sketchbooks, and requested as many pressurized ink capsules for her pen as she could get away with, since regular pens couldn't write without gravity. She was determined to improve her art skills while she was in space for months at a time, and often asked the rest of them to pose for her drawings.

Once a day, they'd receive communication from Earth. Mission control would call to confirm that they were still on course, and there were no problems on the Eros craft, and they'd get messages from their loved ones back home. Denali got to read her mother's updates on what was happening in the tight-knit community she'd grown up in. Ivy-Grace messaged back and forth with her girlfriend. Simon threw a full on party on the Eros when they got the news that their sister was pregnant and they were going to be an auncle.

Danny got to spend an hour and a half once a week decoding his sister's overly long ghost activity reports from Amity Park. Sam and Tucker kept him updated on how life was back on Earth and added vague statements at the end of their messages that told him things were fine in the Ghost Zone too, even though "all quiet under the green sky" looked like utter nonsense to mission control and the rest of the crew. Danny's parents managed to work in how proud they were of him in every single message they sent.

Ten months passed by slowly but surely. The four of them were already used to each other after their time spent in training, and they knew the importance of getting along with people you were stuck with for two years without escape, so no arguments or bad blood ever developed among them.

After a lengthy travel period, the Psyche asteroid finally came within sight, and the crew assumed landing positions.

"Alright, Denali, prep for landing," Simon ordered, slipping seamlessly into their serious captain mode. Denali flipped the appropriate switches to activate the automatic landing system, and prepared to take over manual control if something went wrong.

"Ready to go," she confirmed.

"Then take us down." It was a pretty smooth landing, with only slight jostling and no malfunctions or unexpected obstacles. Once they touched down on Psyche's surface, Simon sent a communication to Earth. "Mission control, this is Eros, we have safely landed on the asteroid's surface and are preparing to track down the Psyche probe for diagnostic, over."

Even at light speed, communication between Earth and the Main Asteroid Belt took several minutes. Eventually, the response came back. "Confirmed, Eros, keep us posted and let us know if anything happens. Good luck, and stay safe, over and out."

"You heard her, finish suiting up and lets go," Danny urged enthusiastically. He was already in his suit, fully ready to step out onto the asteroid, and just waiting on the other three. The plan was to get the Psyche probe and take it back to the ship to repair or reprogram it as needed, and to download the data it had collected on the asteroid so far.

The Psyche probe was a ways away from the ship, but that wasn't too much of a problem. Denali dropped their buggy onto the surface, and she and Danny headed out to pick up the probe while Ivy Grace collected her samples and Simon made sure that anything that might be needed to deal with the probe was ready to go by the time it got back. As the engineer, Danny would be the one doing most of the repairs, although Ivy Grace was on standby with some chemical tests to run, in case something like that was the problem.

As they drove toward the probe, Danny's feet tapped on the floor of the buggy with excited energy.

"Careful there, Fenton," Denali teased. "Looks like you're about to shake right out of your suit."

"Sorry, it's just... I'm happy," Danny told her. "If I were to call up five-year-old Danny and tell him I was driving on an actual asteroid right now, I think he'd be so thrilled his brain would explode and he would drop dead on the spot."

"I dunno, it kinda seems like I'm looking at a five-year-old Danny right now," she ribbed, and he laughed. "I guess it's a good thing you can't make calls to the past then, or else you'd never get here."

Danny laughed harder. "If you think a little thing like death would stop me from getting here, you're dead wrong." It wouldn't, and in fact, it hadn't.

The two of them talked a little more until the probe was in sight, then got out to give it a look. A preliminary once-over didn't reveal any obvious problems, like exposed wiring from a panel that had shaken loose, or significant exterior damage. They hitched it to the buggy, ready to tow it back to the ship.

So far, the mission had gone off without a single snag, and the crew had high hopes that it would stay smooth sailing the rest of the way. However, everyone knows the moment you start to think everything's going your way is the moment everything starts to go horribly wrong. It was at this moment, that things went horribly, horribly wrong.

The latch on the tow cable broke as Denali and Danny were headed back to the buggy. That alone wouldn't be a problem, because there were spare latches, and it was easily replaced. The problem arose when the cable retracted, and the broken latch slammed into Danny's helmet with a horrible crack that resonated through the headset in Danny's helmet and broadcasted directly into Denali's ears.

She gasped in horror and skipped to Danny's side as fast as the asteroid's low gravity allowed. "Oh my God!" she shouted. "Mayday! Simon, Doc, something happened, the tow-latch broke and hit Danny. His visor is cracked. Oh my God, oh my God."

"Denali, breathe," Simon ordered, their voice level but stern. "Assess the damage. If it's not too bad, he could still make it."

"Right!" Denali turned Danny over to get a cleared look at his visor. "Oh no..." she breathed out, eyes stinging with tears. "It's... it's broken, all the way through. There's a hole the size of my fist, oh my God, Simon there's no... there's no way he could've survived. He's... he's gone." Emotion made her words catch on her tongue, and she blinked rapidly to keep from crying. If she was going to drive back to the ship, she had to see clearly.

There was nothing to be heard in their headsets for a long time.

"Well, bring him back and we'll—" Ivy Grace started to say, but Simon cut her off.

"No," they said. "There's nothing we can do for him if his helmet is fully breached. We can't have his corpse decaying on the Eros during the return trip, and we can't bury him on a metal asteroid." No one had anything to say to that. Simon was right, of course, but they didn't have to like it. "Just... leave him where he is and bring back the Psyche probe. We should get to work if we're gonna have to figure out how to fix her without our engineer.

"At least... you know Danny," Ivy Grace said brokenly, "he'd probably be over the moon to die out in space and not on boring, old planet Earth."

"Y-yeah," Denali agreed, and they all politely ignored the way her voice cracked. "I'm pretty... I'm pretty sure I've heard him say something like that before."

"Yeah, me too," Simon said. "I thought it was morbid then, and I still think so. I'll make the report to mission control. They'll probably bring in an engineer to walk us through a diagnostic and repair."

"Right." Denali tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she changed the latch on the tow line and hooked the probe up again. Then she returned to the buggy to drive back all by herself. "I'm on my way back with the Psyche probe... alone."

Next Chapter

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #danny phantom #astronaut danny #danny fenton #dp #fic #things i wrote #space #nasa #not phantom planet compliant #original characters

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bullet-prooflove · 4 months

Note

So sorry that people don't properly read your rules! It must be kinda annoying when they come in waves

Anyways i had a prompt thjngies

Awkwardly saying you like or love a person in a situation. This isn't really one from your list so i hope you don't mind that and it can be any character you choose, I just thought it would be cute.

And then prompt thingy 2

https://www.tumblr.com/bullet-prooflove/737313967685386240/donnas-thursday-radio-show-prompt-list-dance

^17 from that list for either a Chicago Med (cause you have quite a few in your list and I like most of them but maybe Connor? I miss him) or Tim from The Rookie.

I hope this is not to much, you can choose either one of the two prompts or none at all! Whatever makes you feel beter! Happy holidays! 🥂 🎊

So I went with Connor because I miss writing him so much. I'm trying to get back in to writing Med. Also feel free to submit a bunch of prompts I honestly don't mind so long as it doesn't get into double figures.

You always sleep on the left side of the bed, that’s the first thing Connor learns when the two of you start spending the night together. The other thing is how much he loves waking up next to you. You fit against him perfectly, his arms wrapping around your sleeping form as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. Your fingers thread through his, guiding his hand to the place where your heart resides in your chest. He can feel it beating underneath the tips of his fingers as he graces your skin with light, teasing kisses.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night.” He murmurs into your ear.

“You were dead to the world.” You mumble as you snuggle in a little closer.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, it rides up your bare thighs as he shifts against you, his hardening cock pressing against your ass. He moans as the sensitive head brushes over the fabric, his grip on you tightening just a little.

“Fuck you feel good.” He whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he grinds against you slowly. “Missed you these past few nights.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You breathe as he guides you onto your back.

His lips brush over yours, it’s soft and tender as his body presses against yours with an urgency you feel in your core. It’s only been a couple of days but already you need him so badly. Your fingertips trace over the muscles in his back, nails scratching just lightly, and he makes that sound, the one that you just love to hear.

“Let me give you a proper wake up call.” He whispers against your skin, his fingers hooking on the hem of the t-shirt and dragging it up. “I want to remind you why you should be in my bed every night.”

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hardly-an-escape · 10 months

Text

Among the Stars We are Reborn

Square: A4 - Creature: Phoenix Rating: T Word Count: 5399 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, Creature: Phoenix, canon divergent, future fic, established relationship, science fiction, speculative fiction, space travel, Hob Gadling throughout history, Hob Gadling in space Summary: Some centuries in the future, Hob has taken to the stars, working as a freelance researcher and courier. He is on his way to one of Jupiter’s moons on a research mission when Dream joins him, and together they search for the elusive Ionian phoenix. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space. Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship... At some point he’d had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too. Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise. He’d been wrong.

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space.

Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship.

Commercial spaceflights were loud, of course, and always had been – as bad as planes were, back in the day, and maybe even worse, during the longer flights to the Mars colonies – industrial-sized rockets generating industrial-sized noise ferrying care packages and flour and crying children across the solar system instead of cross-country. But at some point he had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too.

Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise.

He’d been wrong.

It wasn’t just that his little ship, new as she was, made her own small moans and groans on that first test run beyond the edge of Earth’s atmosphere. The crackle of the radio, the hum of the engines, the muted whistle of the air purifier – all these sounds could be turned off, and Hob had done so. He’d shut down everything but the most basic life support and floated in the liminal space between the Earth and the Moon for a full ten minutes, a tiny soap bubble in the darkness. He’d breathed deeply, taken his mind away from the sound of his own heartbeat, and listened.

Turns out, space makes its own music.

As the years went by, he gained a variety of descriptions of the music from other spacefarers who’d heard it too. Some of the more fanciful freelancers called it celestial jazz and discussed at length whether it followed a particular meter, if it was chromatic or pentatonic in scale, and other musical terms Hob barely understood.

A group of missionaries he met on a remote Martian outpost insisted that the music was the means by which God was expressing themself directly to the universe.

Scientists talked about background radiation and planetary resonance and something called vacuum atmospherics on which he read several papers before deciding, ruefully, that there were some mathematic principles which he would simply never understand.

He’d asked Dream about it, once. Had even shut down all systems like he had that first time, just to listen. (He still does, occasionally, because whatever it is, it is beautiful.)

What is it? he’d asked. You must know.

And Dream had smirked that particular Endless smirk that drove Hob mad, and drawn him away from the viewscreen and its twinkling miniature Earth.

Stars dream, too, Hob Gadling.

And that had been all Hob had been able to glean from his lover on the subject.

Hob’s ship was not a thing of beauty. Her design was far too boxy and utilitarian for that. But Hob loved his snug little vessel with an almost obsessive affection. She reminded him of a camper van he’d had in the 1960s, or the massive rolltop desk he’d put in his study in the late 1800s, everything folded away in neat drawers and cubby holes, not an inch wasted. He reveled in it every time he made ready for a trip: packing away his clothes and gear, choosing rations, replacing the air filters, checking the water purifier and the drip lines on his tiny hydroponic garden.

And, crucially, she was all his.

Even the New Inn, way back when, hadn’t really been all his. There’d been investors and mortgage holders and zoning committees and eventually the National Heritage List to contend with, and while Hob had been the one to pick the lighting fixtures and design the wooden inlay on the bar, it had always been fundamentally a group project. Not to mention that its very purpose was to serve as a gathering place, a safe space for anyone who happened to walk through the door.

Not so his spaceship. All right, he hadn’t built her himself – despite his best efforts, he would never be more than a mediocre aerospace engineer – but Hob had spent weeks at the dealership, poring over schematics and blueprints, personally choosing the design of every single cubic centimeter. The sales associate had leered a little when Hob insisted on a double-wide bunk, given that all the other specs were for single occupancy – but he was paying cash, not financing, so it wasn’t like they were going to argue with him.

He’d known it was worth a little leering, the first time he and Dream had wrapped their arms around each other and gazed out the tiny porthole window at the stars, so close you could almost reach out and touch them.

Dream had been with him when his ship was delivered to the public spaceport nearest Hob’s flat. They’d walked around her together, Dream smiling slightly as Hob enthusiastically described the engines and pointed out the retractable heat shields. His long fingers had trailed over the official designation engraved on the side – Hob still thought of it as a license plate, like on his car – and he’d raised an eyebrow.

“I know,” Hob had laughed. “Can you believe it?”

“You did not choose this number on purpose?”

“Believe it or not, no. They’re automatically assigned during manufacture, randomly generated so each one is unique. This is pure human coincidence, my friend. Or maybe fate, who knows – we’ll have to ask your brother. Not that he’ll tell us.”

Dream had traced the numbers again: UKCS-001389, big and bold. Then he’d smiled.

“Come, take me inside,” he’d said. “I would see that my beloved will live well among the stars.”

Hob had locked the hatch behind them.

Later, after Hob had showed off every corner and cubbyhole, and after they had thoroughly evaluated the comfort and structural integrity of the double-wide bunk, they’d sprawled together, fingers finding new patterns on familiar skin.

“Have you given any thought as to what you might name her?” Dream had asked idly.

“Some. My first idea was to call her the Robin.” Hob had sighed. “I liked to think of that name flying off to the moon and other planets – but it was already taken and the UKSA doesn’t allow for duplicates.”

“And your second choice?”

“Well,” Hob had turned and run the backs of his knuckles down Dream’s cheek. “I do have another idea. But I wanted to ask you about it first. I was thinking… well, you’ve told me so much about her… I was thinking, I might name her Jessamy.”

Dream’s head had turned slowly toward Hob, an inscrutable look in his eye.

“I know it was a while ago now, even by our standards. But she was with you for so long. She loved you, protected you –”

“And failed, in the end,” he’d said thickly. “And died.”

“She didn’t fail. And I don’t think her death is the most important thing about her. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad luck or anything, you know? It’s only one bad moment in a long, long string of good ones. And, you know,” he had stumbled gamely on, “I like the idea that part of her – part of you – would be traveling with me. A new adventure. It would make me feel… close to you, if she were with me. When you aren’t here.”

Dream had simply looked at him, for a long moment, and then pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him, kissing him slowly and sweetly and deeply.

“Even after all this time, the depth of your heart never fails to astonish me. I would be honored,” he’d said, “if Jessamy were to fly again with you. And so, I think, would she.”

The next day, Hob had gone to the nearest Space Agency office, waited in an interminable line, and officially registered UK Civilian Ship 001389 as the Jessamy.

A week later, she flew for the first time. Or again, depending on how you measure it. And thus the newest chapter in Hob’s long life had begun.

Read the rest on AO3 >>>

many thanks to @tryan-a-bex for the beta read!

green = complete, orange = WIP

#the sandman #dreamling #dreamling bingo #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #science fiction #speculative fiction #give me Hob in space I beg you

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