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crescent-quill-writings · 4 years

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When Raindrops Fall on Moonlit Roses: Thunder (1/3)

Part 2

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2399

Relationship: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson

Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Strangers to Lovers, Thunderstorms, Vampire!Thomas Jefferson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: It's a cold and stormy night and poor Alexander Hamilton is caught out in the rain trying to make his way home from the next town over. Better yet, he's gotten himself lost in the woods by trying to take a short cut home and now the sun is sinking below the horizon. It feels like all hope is lost until Alexander comes across an old manor with candlelight in its window. With nowhere else to turn, he knocks on the door.

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Alexander clenched his jaw as he fought against the biting winds and the sharp drops of rain pelting his back. His dark green cloak had soaked through by this point, and the chill of rainwater was beginning to seep deep into his bones. He shivered, cold and afraid as he trudged along the muddy forest path.

The traveller looked up, blinking against the rain that fell on his face. He knew the sun had set many hours prior, but the canopy of the forest was so thick that what little light the waning crescent moon produced couldn't reach the forest floor, leaving him in near-total darkness.

Cursing quietly under his breath he pulled the cloak closer to his body trying to find some semblance of protection against the elements despite its drenched state. It didn't help, and he just shivered again. Alexander knew the best he could do was follow the path, hoping that he'd find his way out of the woods before sunrise and that the storm wouldn't worsen.

SHA-BOOM!!

The sound crackled with deafening volume coming mere moments after a blinding flash of light filled the sky. Alexander couldn't help but cry out at the sound as he stumbled and fell into the mud. The scent of ozone was thick in the air and Alexander's body trembled as he tried to escape the memories that wanted to swallow him up like the waves of a raging sea. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to physically shake off the memories as he forced himself to stand despite the trembling of his legs.

He needed to get out of the rain, and fast.

Whether by some sort of divine mercy or sheer dumb luck, the traveller's path soon came a fork in the road. The sign staked into the ground was weathered beyond recognition, yet it didn't take much thought before Alexander knew where he wanted to go.

One way was rough and muddy and led deeper into the dark depths of the woods, and the other was paved with smooth cobblestones steeped in a sheen of rainwater. He took a tentative step onto the stone and peered down the path, just being able to make out the silhouette of a house upon a hill in the distance.

Now with a glimmer of hope in his heart the traveller continued down the cobblestone path with a quiet prayer the scene wasn't a trick of the light through sheets of rain.

The trees began to thin out as Alexander approached the house- Though now that he was closer the word house hardly seemed appropriate. The building was large, practically looming over him in its old, gothic elegance. Manor felt like a much more appropriate word. He would've thought the place was abandoned if it weren't for the flicker of firelight in one of the windows and the shape of a man passing through the halls with a light in his hands.

The traveller took in a deep breath and then a hesitant step back, hesitating in his approach and almost considering turning back and continuing through the woods before the sky lit up once more and the clouds rumbled in their anger.

This time Alexander let out a choking shriek and bolted for the manor's door, tripping over his cloak in his rush up the stairs before clambering to press his body against the dark wood of one of the double doors in search of support and shelter from the storm.

"Well, you've certainly gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven't you?"

Alexander jumped back at the voice, eyes wide and wild as he searches for the source before his gaze landed on a man standing in the doorway. He held a golden candelabra in one hand, lighting up the space between them and revealing the subtly intrigued glint in his eye.

"I--! Yes, it seems I have, sir. I apologize if I am interrupting your evening, but I have nowhere else to turn..." Even in his panicked state, the traveller tried to remember his manners, lowering his hood and standing up to face the stranger.

He was tall, making Alexander crane his neck to see handsome features that held an unreadable expression as flames of the candelabra he was carrying flickered in the wind and glinted in his eyes. His clothes looked warm yet expensive, his rich purple coat made of some kind of velvet or satin and the black cravat around his neck shining like silk in the low light.

"Well then, why don't we get you out of the rain and cleaned up a little? Come inside, I'll make us something warm to drink." The man replies with a closed-lip smile, looking down at his guest's small form as he stepped aside and held the door open for him.

Alexander could only nod in response, stunned into silence at the stranger's charming hospitality. The thought of someone being so kind simply out of the goodness of their heart was new to him, and even though he knew he should be suspicious he couldn't help but quietly follow the welcoming stranger into his home.

He paused for a moment in the doorway so he could slip off his boots, not wanting to track mud into a hospitable stranger's home before rushing to catch up with his host.

"Must you walk so fast?" Alexander mutters under his breath with a huff, finding more of his voice now that he was away from the rain and rushed to keep pace with his host.

"It's not my fault that you're so puny... I would've mistaken you for a child were it not for the peach fuzz around your chin." His host replies with a smirk that makes him start to fume.

"Puny? A child!? Good sir, I'll have you know that--!" Despite writing an essay in his mind defending how he was, in fact, not short, and the charming stranger instead abnormally tall his tirade was silenced as the candelabra was pushed into his hands.

"Wait here a moment, will you? I'll be right back with those drinks, and in the meantime, you're welcome to warm yourself by the fire."

And with that Alexander was left alone, blinking in his surprise as he watched the shadow of his host disappear down the hall. The man seemed to move so quickly through his home yet he hardly made a sound... It was strange, but he was a stranger, after all. Perhaps he was just a little too tired and hadn't picked up on the sound properly.

Taking a moment to look around the room as he shrugged off his cloak and hung it up by the fire, Alexander found that the room looked as if it were trapped in time. The gothic style of the exterior architecture carried into the furnishings of the room, with dark hardwood floors and deep red wallpaper patterned with elegant repeating designs seen between a series of oil paintings and tall windows with thick, black-out curtains covering the glass.

"Why have so many windows if you're just going to cover them up like that?" He asks himself quietly as he sat on one of the plush armchairs and turned his gaze to the fire only to be met with the sight of a steaming mug being held out to him instead.

Since when had his host entered the room again?

"I see you were admiring my home. I'll admit, it is a great pride of mine, so don't feel ashamed if you wish to gawk." The charming stranger comments with another one of those smirks as he takes a seat in another armchair across the room.

Alexander could only huff in response, grumbling under his breath as he sniffed at the contents of the mug. It was hot cocoa made with rich chocolate and some handful of other spices like nutmeg or cinnamon to add to the flavour. He took a tentative sip of the drink and found himself relaxing as the liquid began to warm his core.

"This is very nice sir, thank you... You're quite the host." He admits almost begrudgingly, earning a small laugh in response from his host.

"I see you're enjoying yourself, then. I'm glad to see that I still know how to take good care of my guests," The charming stranger replies, stirring his own mug of hot cocoa for a moment and going to take a sip before a kind of realization flashed across his eyes and he sits up with a clear of his throat, "You must forgive my manners, it seems I've forgotten to properly introduce myself. My name is Count Thomas Jefferson, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr...?"

"Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton." Alexander supplies with a curt nod. So his host was a Count named Thomas... It certainly explained his expensive taste of decor, "Do I always need to call you by your proper title or may I just call you Jefferson?"

This response pulled another laugh from the Count, this one ringing with genuine amusement and echoing through the large, empty manor.

"As long as I get to call you Alexander, then yes."

"It's a deal then, Jefferson."

Jefferson laughed again, and Alexander couldn't help but smile as he went back to sipping on his drink. The room fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, the two acquaintances not having much else to share between them other than the crackling fire and the hot cocoa they both held. In the serenity of the moment, Alexander had nearly forgotten about the storm until the rolling of thunder sounded overhead.

He tried not to flinch too visibly and clutched his now empty cup to keep his hands from shaking, but his host still seemed to notice as he watched the Count stand and cross the room towards him.

"Storms like this always tend to last a dreadfully long time out here, and even if it passes in a few days the roads will still be a muddy wreck," Jefferson began to explain, hands brushing against Alexander's as he took a cup and sending an icy chill down his spine, "It'd be best if you stayed until the conditions became more suitable for travel. I do not mind housing you here, for the time being, it's been a while since I've had good company after all."

The Count left no room for protest or refusal of his offer because before Alexander could even open his mouth Jefferson had disappeared down the hall once more. He just sighed and tossed another log onto the fire, trying to ignore the rain drumming against the windows and the continued rumbles of thunder as the storm carried on.

Hearing the sound of running water from somewhere within the house Alexander could only assume that Jefferson was quickly washing up after the late-night treat before he returned to the living room with a bundle of clothes under his arm.

"Alexander? I've drawn you a bath if you'd follow me. I can't imagine you being able to rest well being caked in mud like that." The Count says, holding out his arm for Alexander to take so he could lead him through the house.

"Well aren't you quite the gentleman..." He muttered in response with a roll of his eyes even as he stood and tentatively linked their arms together.

For once Alexander was quiet as he listened to Jefferson ramble on about his manor, his family history, and then some. Alexander did perk up at the mention of a library being in the house, but then Jefferson stopped in front of the washroom and motioned for his guest to step inside.

"These are for you, change into them once you are done so I can wash what you're wearing later. You'll have to forgive me if they're too big for you, though, I rushed myself while putting all this together," The Count begins to explain, handing over the bundle and holding open the door to allow Alexander to step inside, "The guest rooms are just across the hall from here, I'll let you take your pick. My room is the first door in the other hall across from the stairs if you need anything else. Have a nice night, Alexander..."

And with that Jefferson closed the door, leaving Alexander to his own devices.

He took a moment to take in the room, finding it to be just as garish as the rest of the manor before he sighed and stripped himself of his clothes, setting the bundle on the counter by the sink. He knew he didn't have a right to complain, especially as he sank down into the tub and breathed in the sweet aroma of the lavender soaps that had been set out for him.

Thomas Jefferson was an eccentric man, that much was for certain, and perhaps a little old-fashioned, but he had been so kind in his moment of need and had already so much for him. Alexander couldn't bring himself to question the motivation behind his actions, so instead, he let himself soak until his mind and body had relaxed after the all too long day.

He stepped out of the tub and allowed it to drain once the water had turned cold and ruffled a towel through his hair before going to put on his new clothes. For once, Alexander didn't mind the Count's style choices as he slipped on the emerald green pyjamas, running his fingers over the sleeves before he hugged himself to keep the fabric close to his body; they were softer than silk and warmer than anything he had ever known, helping fog-like sleepiness to settle in body and mind.

Yawning as he stepped out of the washroom and picked the second door to the right at random, too tired to care much about which room he stayed in as long as it had a bed, and soon crawled under the covers.

His eyes became heavy as he relaxed into the mattress, though as his eyes began to close and sleep began to overtake him Alexander could've sworn he saw the shape of Jefferson watching him through the partially closed door, eyes gleaming a ruby red despite the darkness of the hallway and smile outlined with a pair of sharp fangs before everything faded to black.

#Jamilton #Alexander Hamilton #Thomas Jefferson #Hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #vampire au #vampire!Thomas Jefferson #my writing #chapter 1

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mageicalwishes · 3 years

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Day 1, Found Family - New Traditions

The Gang start a new Festive tradition filled with love, laughter, music, food & fun.

Day 2, Distance - Say I Love You When You’re Not Listening

Baz reflects on the events of Wayward Son, and the hopelessness he feels. "A trip to try and save him - To save us. A last ditch effort to put some of the sunshine back in to his soul. Rammed together in economy, the press of his knee firm against mine, but his mind miles away. His eyes ever averted. Touching yet so far apart. I just wish I knew where I went wrong."

Day 3, Retellings - Changing History

The Mage's publicized documents reveal a myriad of painful truths about the loss of Natasha Grimm-Pitch and the origins of Simon Snow.

Day 4, Side Characters - Thawing Of A Heart

Malcolm & Daphne. “I’d always known that I would remarry eventually. It was my duty for the good of the family. Basil needed a mother. And I needed … someone. It was a simple, logical decision - To find a woman of good breeding, and give her the Grimm name. To carry on. But, through all my planning and preparation, I had never anticipated that I would fall in love. Never anticipated her."

Day 5, Sleepless - Tonight He Is Mine

"I can’t sleep. I can never sleep these days, not how I want to anyway - It's always either that I’m knocked out for 15 hours, waking up disoriented and heavy, or that I can barely catch a moment's rest. But today is different. My body is tired, and my mind is too. If I let myself, I’d be gone. But I won’t. I can’t. Tonight is my last night with Baz, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it."

Day 6, WLW - To Her, I Taste Of Nothing At All

Fiona & Ebb. "But then, before I even knew what was happening, she was kissing me back. And Crowley, I swear I melted. She tasted of cigarette smoke and spiced rum - Like fire personified."

Day 7, Animal(s) - Family Dog

My interpretation of ‘I was a 15-year-old closet case whose parents pretended they didn’t notice when the family dog disappeared’. “A shallow grave. So much less than she deserves. But … I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I’m running on autopilot and adrenaline alone. Everything is just - I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I got here. I'm losing control. I can't - I can't even look at her. She's still wrapped in my sheets. I can see her bleeding. I still want it. I still want more."

Day 8, Rain - From Across The Courtyard

"When I first met him, it was hammering it down. I was rushing to the main door in a desperate attempt to rescue my suede shoes, umbrella snagging against the wind, when I heard it - An impolite 'Oi! Are you new?'"

Day 9, Kids/Childhood - At The Top Of A Tower

Simon reflects on the few happy memories he made with Baz at Watford.

Day 10, Crossover - I’ll Give You The Stars

A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. “He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Day 11, Fluff - Keeping Warm

Simon & Baz spend a tentative first night together after the events of the forest fire. “He’s sighing against me, and sliding a hand up towards to my neck to hold me closer against him, and - Fuck. He’s freezing. I jolt backwards without meaning to. Staring down at him in awe - His pupils blown wide, and a faint (But definitely present) blush spread across his cheeks."

Day 12, Wings - The Guests Can Wait

"Weddings are even more exhausting than I had imagined. What with the panicked last minute search for Simon’s vows (Which ended up being in the mini-fridge of all places), and having to parade ourselves around all of our well-wishing friends and family. All I want to do was get him alone. To tell him, without the presence of a hundred witnesses, how much he means to me - How much the fact that we’re here, together, after everything, means to me."

Day 13, Below the Surface - Below The Surface

"Las Vegas is a sham of a city. Outside it’s all bright lights and glitzy shows - Normal magicians and celebrity chefs. But, beneath its shiny exterior, it’s nothing more than a grim desert, filled with counterfeit culture, and people burning through money they don’t really have. The Katherine is no exception."

Day 14, Constellation(s) - Mirror, Mirror

Simon struggles with his body image Post-Carry On. “Sometimes I just … get so mad at them (At myself, really). I wish that they’d just grow up and tell me like it is. Tell me how much I’ve disappointed them. Tell me that they no longer want me."

Day 15, Hurt/Comfort - First Aid

Simon cares for Baz's Buckshot wounds. Less angsty re-write of the scene in Wayward Son. “I glare at him - At his blackened under eyes, and matted hair. The slight hunch of his back. It does hurt. I know it does. Liar. I move my face closer to his, and breathe in his air. I want to hug him. To kiss him. To cheer him up, somehow. Make him better. But I can’t. I don’t know how. So, instead I step away. My hands dropping limply, to my sides."

Day 16, Meme/Crack - Baby, You Can Pick Me Up Any Day

Oovoo Javer? Oovoo Javer. AKA: Baz is Simon's slightly dickhead-ish Uber driver. “I kept trying to talk to him - Asking about his night, and whether he always listens to Classical music, or if it was just for show - but he ignored me. Staring unamusedly at me in the mirror, eyebrow raised and lips tilted downwards. He got 2 stars for that trip."

Day 17, Blanket Fort - Torch The Night-Filled Fort

Baz surprises Simon with a living room blanket fort transformation. “I turn to him, beaming. ‘Baz, what? What is this?’ He hums against me. ‘Blanket fort. You’re terribly inobservant, Snow.’ ‘Yeah, but … I mean, why?’ ‘Well, it’s been a year now since we left for America, and we’ve come a long way since then. Thought it was worth celebrating,’ he confesses, smiling shyly down at the floor.”

Day 18, Side Ships - You Got A Boyfriend?

Shepard & Penny. Shepard asks Penny a very important question (Well, in his mind, anyway).

Day 19, Misunderstanding - Wrong Bottle, Moron

Simon makes a VERY stupid mistake while showering. Cue, Baz coming to his rescue.

Day 20, Technology - Screenless

Baz and Simon have been chatting online for a year. It's finally time to meet IRL and take their relationship into HD reality.

Day 21, Warmth - Out In The Cold

Fangirl era. Simon and Baz get stuck in a snowstorm, and have to find a way to stay warm.

Day 22, Unlikely Friends - You’re My Bro

Shepard comes over to hang out with his bro ... Baz?

Day 23, Cooking/Baking - What’s Cookin’ Good Lookin’?

Simon is making dinner. Baz is soft.

Day 24, Song - He Made It Easy, Darlin’

Simon & Baz struggle with trying to take the next step in their relationship. Inspired by Easy by Troye Sivan

Day 25, Parallel Universe - Parallelt Univers

Simon and Baz spend the day recovering in bed, after their first kiss. Inspired by the 'Parallel Universes' talk from Skam.

Day 26, Break - I Think We Should Break Up

Simon is trying to do what's right for Baz. Baz disagrees.

Day 27, Snowstorm - Searching In The Snow

Simon has lost his cat. So the only obvious choice is to hammer on his neighbour's door at 2AM ... And Baz is not impressed.

Day 28, Party - Festivities, Food, and Family. Chapter 1

"I’m over the bloody moon. After everything that happened after we left Watford, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever get to see this Snow - a truly joyful Snow - again. And it broke my heart. Yet, here we are, spending our fifth anniversary together, surrounded by friends and family in our own little London flat."

Day 29, Secret Santa/Gift Giving - Festivities, Food, and Family. Chapter 2

Day 30, Any Way the Wind Blows - Worst Road Trip ... Ever!

Shepard is NOT enjoying his trip back to England with the Gang. "I feel like a kid again, sat in the back of my mothers pick-up, hyped up on sugar, but belted down to the seat. Unable to run. Constantly being shushed."

Also huge thanks and praise goes to everyone involved in running the @carryon-countdown Countdown this year!!! I really enjoyed taking part :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #my writing #wayward son #my fic #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #baz pitch #co/ws

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ladyeglantine · 4 years

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-39- Scene from a Rainy Night

Part of Ma Emma Lath, collection of Blackwall/Ellana ficlets on AO3.

Link to all chapters on Tumblr here.

@commandermorgan‘s commission piece for me has inspired me to write some more Blackwall and Ellana fluff, so here’s a thing :D

-39-

The incessant pitter-patter of rain drops striking the windows and doors greeted Ellana as she came out of the water closet, feeling more refreshed now that she’d scrubbed the day’s grime from her face.

“It’s really coming down now,” she remarked, wiping away the water stubbornly clinging to her skin.

“Not looking forward to traveling in this if it doesn’t stop,” Blackwall replied from the couch.

“Me neither. Let’s hope there’s a reprieve.” She’d had her fill of traveling and fighting in rain in the Fallow Mire and Storm Coast.

Ellana grabbed the hair brush at her desk, another part of her nightly routine. She’d learned long ago that skipping it would lead to even more tangles to deal with come morning. “Do you have all of your things packed?”

“Everything’s ready in the barn. I’ll load it up in the morning.”

“I should be too,” she said, wincing as the brush caught on a knot. As she gradually worked it out, her eyes darted to the sack of herbs, bag of potion vials, and personal satchel beside her desk. She also noted Bri’s token beside some papers, and her staff leaning against the nearby bookcase. “I’ll check mine over before we head out.”

It’d be a few weeks before they were back at Skyhold again; planner in her aside, Ellana wanted to be certain she wasn’t overlooking anything.

Once done with her hair, she grabbed the mug of herbal tea, infused with elfroot and mint, and joined Blackwall on the couch. It’d been a good decision to move it from its original position by the stairs. It made for a comfortable place to relax until they were ready for bed. Which Blackwall was clearly embracing. He sat legs outstretched towards the roaring fire, in brown pants and white shirt he wore under his gambeson, a glass of spiced mead in hand while his head rested against the back of the couch.

Hard to believe it’d been less than two weeks since he’d come up to her quarters, full of doubts. The sight of him looking so at ease was one she could get used to seeing.

Her lips hovered over the tea, inhaling the scented steam rising from the mug, and taking a tentative sip. Warm, but not scolding hot. She sunk against the couch with a contented sigh. “This is nice.”

It felt like she’d been preparing for this trip non-stop. Though if she were honest, it had felt like this ever since being declared Inquisitor, overseeing repairs and Inquisition operations and holding council meetings. There were long and tough days as First, but nothing to the scale of this Inquisition and fighting against a darkspawn magister.

Blackwall tipped back his glass, partaking of his own drink before replying. “It is.” He ran his tongue over the lingering drops on his lips. “It’ll take adjusting being on the road again.”

She understood that. It’d been a surreal feeling for the first few days in these quarters, taking in the size of the room and the bed. Ellana had never slept on anything like it before, her life with the clan mostly consisting of hard dirt or grass barely cushioned by a narrow bedroll. Even in Haven, her bed was basic and hardly wide, with no overly stuffed mattress or fluffed pillows. But she’d become accustomed to it; she seemed to be sleeping better at any rate. Of course that may have had more to do with the presence of the man beside her, and the warmth and safety he offered.

She directed her attention back to Blackwall, feeling his eyes on her.

“Are you still ok with us sharing a tent, my lady?” he asked.

“More than ok,” she assured him, glad he hadn’t changed his mind. She recalled his initial reluctance to even stay in her quarters at all after that first night. “If you’re still worried about gossip…”

“Not for me.”

Setting her mug aside, Ellana scooted over, their thighs touching, draping her hand over his forearm. “Let them talk, vhenan. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Perhaps as a leader it should have. But now that they were together, she truly couldn’t find it in her to care, not when she had something this important to her.

He chuckled, a small smile slowly spreading on his face, another sight she treasured. “As you wish, then, Ana.”

Ellana couldn’t help her own smile at his petname, something she hoped she’d never tire of. Or of curling up together as they later did, her head nestled against his shoulder and a hand resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist to hold her closer.

All thoughts of the morning’s preparations and of what they might find in Crestwood drifted away to the pounding of the rain and crackling of the fire, and their steady breaths as they relaxed into each other’s embrace.

#Ellana Lavellan #Blackwall/Thom Rainier #Blackwall x Inquisitor #Blackwall x Lavellan #Lady Eglantine Fanfiction

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shinjekinootp · 6 years

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The Angry Coffee Shop

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Tags: Platonic Hange Zoë & Levi, Based on a Tumblr Post, Drunk Sleepy cute Levi, Domestic Fluff, Mainly focused on Drunk Brootp Levihan, With some cute Ereri in the background Summary: Eren comes back late from work to an unusual scene. Levi passed out on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles, spilled chips, and a notebook reading: Flat white: Fuck you

*based on the Angry Coffe Shop meme from Tumblr*

You can read it here or on AO3

“Ugh, I’m so thirsty.”

Levi rolls his eyes “You’re literally in a coffee shop, just get yourself something to drink.”

“Not that kind of thirst dummy. I’m thirsty for booze. Customers have been complete assholes today. I need to get shitface. For my mental health.”

“That does sounds pretty good,” he says, giving a final sweep to the counter. “Your place or my place?” Hanji doesn’t get the chance to reply before Levi is speaking again. “Let’s go to mine. The shithole you dare to call an apartment is dirty enough when you expect me to come over.”

Forty-five minutes later, they are sitting on Levi’s couch, a glass of red wine in their hands, the coffee table crawling under various snacks.

“Sometimes I wonder how we make it through the day without murdering anyone,” Hanji begins. “How hard can it be to order a drink without being a pain in the ass? You wait in line for your turn, order something from the board, pay, and wait patiently for it to be ready.”

“Erwin doesn’t pay us nearly enough to deal with those shit head all days,” Levi agrees. He empties his glass and pours himself a new one. He makes the red liquid swirl and takes a sip of it. He savors the bitter taste, as Hanji digs into a bag of chips.

I swear to god, if I found any crumble on my floor-”

“Yea I know, you’ll make me lick it until it’s clean again,” they dismiss him, taking a handful of doritos.

“And clean it with bleach right after. Spit is gross.”

Hanji laughter fills the room. “Where’s pretty boy uh? I thought he’d be here.”

“I don’t know. Probably still at work” He looks at his phone, and sure enough there is a text from Eren informing him he’s staying overtime and not to wait for him.

“Let’s play a game!” Hanji suddenly screams.

Levi frowns “No strip poker this time. I don’t think I can take the sight of you wearing nothing but your glasses one more time. Plus I had to get rid of my rug after you dirty butt sat on it.”

“I will let you know my butt is very clean. Petra can vouch.”

A giggle escapes Levi’s lips. Under normal circumstances he would be concerned by that. But with the alcohol running through his veins, his clouded mind doesn't care.

“So the game is simple. We both tell a story about a bitchy customer we had, and the one who has encountered the biggest prick wins.”

Levi tilts his head to the side.“Isn’t that basically complaining, though? We’re already doing it all the time. That’s hardly a game.”

Hanji is thoughtful for a moment before they clap their hand victoriously “I know! Each time one of us wins a round; they have to take a shot. That should spice things up.”

“Alright” Levi says, slumping to the ground and reaching for the bottle, a smirk on his lips “Game on then.”

Hanji laughter echoes through the room as they struggle to form words. “This- This is priceless, how come you’ve never told me about it before?”

“Didn’t want to risk Erwin hearing about it,” he downs his shot in one swift motion, barely grimacing as the liquid burn his throat.“It’s not like I’m actually the manager.”

Hanji rolls on their back, as a new fit of laughter shakes their body. “I would give anything, to see the lady’s face when you’ve spun around.”

“It was quite the sight to behold,” he refills his glass, while Hanji straightens up their glasses threatening to fall of their nose.

“Once I had this lady coming in, she kept stressing out how important it was that her drink was dairy free -and I get it, lactose intolerance is a pain in the ass- she was watching my every move like a hawk. When I handed her her drink, she freaking asked me why I didn’t put whipped cream on top of it. I had to explain her that yes, whipped cream contains dairy, but she would not believe me. I ended up putting a shit ton on top of her damn frappuccino and I hope she got diarrhea from it.”

“What a bitch” Levi snorts.

“Alright your turn, what do you have in stock?”

He hums thoughtfully, distractingly playing with a the edge of a pillow.

“They were this one time, when a girl went batchit crazy on me for drawing a heart in her latte. She screamed at me that she had a boyfriend, and that she was so fed up with men hitting on her.”

“Did you? Drew a heart in her latte I mean.”

“No, I did draw something, but it was not a heart. Not from my perspective that is.”Levi smirks amusement glinting into his eyes.

Hanji seems confused for a split second before they exclaim.“Oh my god Levi! Did you draw an ass in that girl drink?”

“I most certainly did,” he replies with a toothy grin. “It was the day when Eren came back from his family trip. All I could think about was that glorious ass of his.”

“You’re the worst.”

Levi shrugs and slides a shot towards them before pouring one for himself. “That’s a draw,” he solemnly declares.

They empty their glasses and sigh contentedly almost in perfect synchronization.

“You know what really is the worst kind of customer ?” Hanji hiccups.

He raises a thin eyebrow at them.

“Those who are unable to remember the name of the drinks. If they got their orders wrong, it’s not my problem. Learn to fucking read you moron!”

“I couldn’t remember the name of the drink when I began,” Levi giggles.“Eren had to help me study the menu. He even made cards and all that shit.”

They shake their head “You’re a lucky idiot you know that?”

Levi nods. He does know how lucky he is to have a boyfriend like him.

“In my defense,” he begins“the name of the drinks makes zero sense. Why did Erwin have to go for the fancy hipster shit name? ‘large black’ that’s easy to remember. But Americano? Frappuccino? Freaking Macchiato? It gives zero clue about what the drink actually is.”

“That’s how they’re called,” Hanji looks at him skeptically “That’s pretty standard actually.”

“Well, the standard sucks.” Levi says, slamming his fist on the table.

“What would you call them then?” They ask, eyes glinting in amusement.

“I dunno,” Levi frowns.“Something meaningful.”

They tilt their head to the side.“Like what? It’s not like you could describe the recipe of the drink. That would be way too long.”

He reaches for the bag of chips, and munches slowly. Hanji observes him pulling his eyebrows together, creating small line between them. He’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t notice them snatching a picture of what they consider to be an ‘Accidentally cute Levi.’

“Hangover,” he blurts out.

“We certainly will be tomorrow, but don’t worry we still have time.”

“No,” he throws the bag of chips out of his lap, spilling it on the ground.“The name of the drink, it should be Hungover.”

“Lemme guess, a strong black coffee?”

“Triple espresso of the less bitter coffee we have,” He grins.

They smile cheerfully.“What else do you have?”

“I’m Studying For My Finals. Double espresso with a dash of vanilla. Because you both need energy and comfort.”

“Why not make it a triple, though?”

Levi shakes his head.“Because when studying for their final, student drink coffee all day. With a double they can still get that energy shot multiples time a day without intoxicating themselves. Also, it’s refillable.”

“This is good!” Hanji shouts excitedly. They scramble up to their feet and run to their bag, pulling out a notebook. “Alright keeps going, we gotta keep track of this.”

“Babe?” Eren calls upon entering the apartment. Despite the late hour, he knows Levi isn’t asleep. He goes in the living room, expecting him to be sitting on the couch, tucked into a blanket, enjoying a his tea. But instead he’s met with what looks like a warzone. Two empty bottles of wine, one who has rolled up to the ground, another bottle of what looks like tequila, empty for the most part, chips, chips everywhere, on the table, on the carpet, on the couch, and finally Levi, sleeping peacefully on the ground, crumbs all over his hair.

“What the fuck,” Eren whispers to himself. He walks up to Levi and picks the notebook next to him. It reads:

Large Americano: Not A Morning Person

Tea: The Only Valid Drink

Flat White: Fuck You

Vanilla soy latte no foam extra shot: I’d Like To Speak To The Manager

Double espresso with vanilla sirup: Studying For My Final

Iced coffee: Hoe Never Gets Cold

Pumpkin spice latte: Spooky Season

Latte, extra shot: Stayed Up Too Late Looking At Memes

Peppermint latte: Basic Bitch

“Hey Eren!”

The cheery voice of Hanji interrupts his reading.

“Hey,” he tentatively greets them.“What’s going on ? And what is this?” He asks shaking the notebook in his hand.

“Just a thing for a work,” they say, wiggling their eyebrows mysteriously.

“So, you’re telling me, this was a work meeting?”

“Guess you could put it like that,” They chuckle.“I was just about to clean up. Would you take care of sleepy-head over here?” They point at Levi with their chin.

It’s Eren’s turn to laugh. “You cleaning, and Levi passing out. That’s a first.”

He bends down and gently dusts the crumbs off Levi’s hair, before carrying him to their bedroom.

“They don’t know what's awaiting them,” Levi mumbles, as he undresses him.

“Hum what was that? What’s awaiting who?”

“Karen, Margaret, Susan and all the other.”

“Alright babe,” he chuckles.“Go get them.”

He makes sure Levi is well tuck in, and not at risk at falling off bed. He makes a move to leave, but a hand on his forearm stops him.

Levi cracks a lid open “Stay.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave Hanji alone in the living room?”

“Hmph, what are they gonna do? It’s already a mess anyway,” he tucks on his arm, nearly yanking him off his feets.

“Alright, alright,” Eren surrenders. He quickly takes off his shoes and clothes, throwing them in a corner of the room. As soon as he lies down, Levi rolls to his sides, resting his head on his chest. He’s already drifting back to sleep, soothed by the hand gently stroking his hair.

“Good morning! What can I get you?”

“Flat white. Large. Quickly, I’m in a hurry.”

“Fuck you,” Hanji says, a shit eating grin on their face.

“Excuse you?” The woman says, outrage evident in her voice. “What did you just say to me?”

“Fuck You,” They repeat, their smile growing impossibly wide. “That’s the name of the drink you’ve order.”

A displease frown appears on the woman face. “I’d like to speak to the manager.”

“Sure thing, Coming right up!” They grab a cup. “May I have a name?” The woman stares at her, confusion written all over her face. “I bet it’s Sharon,” they say writing it down. “You look like a Sharon.”

Hanji turns around, and quickly prepares the drink. The woman said she was in a rush after all.

“Here you go! That’ll be $5 please.”

“What is this?”

“What you’ve order Ma’am. A Vanilla soy latte with no foam and extra shot.” They answer with a mischievous smile.

“I didn’t order this,” she nearly shouts. “Are you deaf? I said that I’d like to speak to the manager!”

“Yea… that’s the name of the drink Ma’am.” They point at the board above their head.

Her face reddens as she opens her mouth, but Hanji cuts her off before she has the chance to speak.

“You better go now, Sharon. You’re holding the line.”

The woman furiously slaps a $5 bill on the counter, and stalks away.

Levi blinks, mouth hanging agape.“That was amazing,” he fights the urge to claps.

“Thank you, thank you. But you nearly deserve all the credit. You’re the one that came up with this idea.”

“How did you get Erwin’s approval?” he asks incredulity in his voice.

“Eh, well, I didn’t,” they answer, rubbing the back of their neck. “I just came in early and re-write the boards.”

Levi shakes his head, chuckling. Of course Hanji would do that without their boss permission. “Guess I’ll have a new co-worker by the end of the week then.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that short-stuff.” A devilish smile on their face Hanji takes out their phone. “See one of the ‘soccer moms’ I’ve served this morning wasn’t too happy with our new menu. So she took the whole story to twitter and even made a petition to close up the place.” They slide their phone on the counter.“And it blew up! But not in the way she expected. Everyone is loving the idea. The so-called ‘angry coffee shop’ is the new place to be! We’ve been packed with customers all day.”

“Speaking of which, some help would be much appreciated Hanji!” A panicked voice calls from behind them.

“Don’t worry Moblit. You got this!” They say waving their hand dismissively at him. They focus back on Levi and frown. “What’s wrong Levi? I thought you would be happy.”

He raises his head from his hand and whispers, eyes wide “We’re gonna have to deal with even more customers.”

#Ereri #Ereri fic #levihan #my writing #It's been sooooo long since I've post something I've written #well since I've finshed something I've written #it feels weird #in a good way

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lil-tachyon · 6 years

Photo

“I won’t go back to that damn moon.”

Jon stared out out the window into a cold blue sky, the edges of which were just starting to show the deep violet tinge of the coming night. A few pale, early stars were just beginning to show. Vague points in some larger lattice. The man in black remained seated behind his desk.

“Right Mr. Inouye. You’ve been through a lot. No one is asking you to go back.” The man paused. Jon slowly turned away from the window to face him. He continued: “Regrettably, however, we do request that you revisit the memories for us. As part of the debriefing process. As I know you are well aware, the episode in which you were involved was highly unusual in nature and the fact that it resulted in the loss of life of two crew members and the premature termination of a mission costing several billion dollars means that we cannot take what happened lightly. Every detail must be accounted for, every fact identified examined and re-examined so that we can have as complete as possible a narrative of the regrettable incident.”

Jon said nothing and stared at the man in black for several moments, examining. The man was smartly dressed in a well-fitted suit; fashionable, but not daring. His desk was a deep umber, exceptionally carved and detailed. On it sat an articulated desk lamp, the sole source of illumination in the room. The whole scene was oddly elegant, almost intimate. It was at odds with the man’s formal speech.

After an uncomfortable period of silence, Jon spoke:

“I will tell you what happened. I’ve given the full account several times before, as I’m sure you’re well aware, and I will give it one more time, but this is the last. After this I’m done. I’m leaving the administration and I’m going to do my best to forget that any of this ever happened. Okay?”

The man in block nodded. “Understood, Mr. Inouye.”

Jon turned back toward the window, looked again at the cold, distant points of light piercing the steadily-darkening sky. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

When the day of the launch came, I had been on Mars for over twenty-six thousand hours. Roughly three Earth years or, equivalently, a little more than one and a half Martian years. And that doesn’t even include the six month trip to reach the red planet in the first place. Irrespective of the how you want to measure and quantify it, it had been a long time. When I’d left Earth I had been in my mid-twenties; my 30th birthday would take place some time during the return trip.

For weeks we had done nothing but prepare for the launch. It was that only thing on our minds; it was the grand finale to a historic trip. Our stay on Mars was the longest of any expeditionary team in history. We had done the most to tame those barren, rusty deserts, those cold and arid wastes. We had seeded hydroponics, erected towering sensory arrays, catalogued and itemized minute details of Martian geography and geology. We had wrested a life from that long-lifeless world of stone and ice. Now we were bequeathing that life to the new colony team; but not before one last act. We were going to launch a rocket to Phobos.

Phobos is one of Mars’ two means. While it is the larger of the two, it is still hardly more than an oversized asteroid. With a mean radius of eleven kilometers, it has barely a millionth of the volume of the Earth’s own satellite. It does not have enough mass to smooth itself into a regular sphere; it is an irregular chunk of rock that hangs in perpetual, ponderous freefall above Mars. Glimpsed from the surface, it is an unremarkable pale speck.

Why were we going to Phobos? One might as well ask why we went to Mars in the first place, or ask why Columbus crossed the Atlantic. We were going because that has been humankind’s driving imperative for all of history: to go. To prove that it could be done.

The plan was as follows: The launch would take place from our base in the Terra Meridiani on the evening of the last day of our occupation of Mars. The rocket would carry us into tentative orbit about Phobos and from there we would launch ourselves in an independent lander to the surface. The lander would serve as our base for about seventy-two hours before returning to the rocket which would bring us to an unmanned space station in orbit about Mars. At the station we would meet the relief crew, assist them in launching down to the planetside base, and then begin our own long voyage back to Earth.

It was a simple enough plan in theory. The tedious and complex calculations required to accurately translate ourselves from orbit to orbit about our targets had already been processed and double-checked by our shipboard AI, then triple-checked by each member of the crew. The plan was safe, the uncertainty negligible. The AI would perform virtually all of the piloting work automatically. We, the human crew, would, for all intents and purposes, be tourists, gathering data and samples on Phobos. We were going to pick up rocks and look pretty for publicity photos on what was essentially a brief vacation for us between our planetside tenure on Mars and the long, long haul home.

* * *

All of us woke early on the day of the launch. Final checks were necessary to ensure the proper functioning of all systems, failsafes, and backups. All morning long we shuffled back and forth through the cramped inter-module hallways. LED strip-lights shone brightly on the densely-packed pipes, wires, monitors, and access panels that lined every available surface. When the interior systems were confirmed in working order we proceeded outdoors, checking solar panel arrays and sensory antennae, clearing the omnipresent Martian dust from sensitive areas, and testing the two electric rovers that were our only means of transportation across the endless ochre deserts.

We finished by early afternoon and met in the central habitation module, one of the larger spaces in the complex, that contained our kitchen and dining area. There we had a late lunch, our last on the red planet and unquestionably the best of our entire stay. All the treats we had been saving for years were brought out and shared. The main course consisted of the synth-meat and hydroponically-grown salad we had grown used to, but was vastly enhanced by the genuine spices and dressings Anna had the forethought to pack so long ago. And for dessert we had real chocolate (courtesy of Kate) that we washed down with real coffee (some of Anna’s and some of mine). The food would likely have been scorned by anyone with even the slightest epicurean bent, but to homesick astronauts like us, it was a feast.

I remember that last meal vividly, the four of us hunched over the table in our tiny artificial habitat millions of kilometers from home. I remember Alexei, habitually reticent (partly by nature and partly, I suspect, due to embarrassment at his heavy Russian accent when conversing with us in English) gesticulating wildly to illustrate some joke. I remember Anna’s head thrown back in laughter that made her short brown hair bob. I remember Kate settled contentedly in her chair, sipping coffee and occasionally injecting good-natured sarcasm into the conversation with a wry grin. And I remember myself, Jon Inouye, bright-eyed and excited, sharing the only livable space in a million kilometer radius with the only other humans in a million kilometer radius. These were my friends. This was the last meal we would ever share together.

* * *

We could have sat like that for hours, content in each other’s company, but the local AI network gently reminded us of the impending launch over the colony intercom system. We reluctantly cleaned up our leftovers and gathered our remaining personal belongings. The various human touches that had accrued over the years of our occupation had now all but disappeared, leaving the habitation module like a hotel room just made ready for checkout.

There was no more time, however, to wax sentimental about our stay. Hurriedly, we donned our EVA suits and loaded ourselves and our luggage into one of the rovers. The spindly, gleaming rocket was the tallest structure for several klicks around and driving towards it on the only paved road on Mars was a surreal echo of driving on a highway back on Earth..

Within minutes of our arrival, we were sealed with all our personal effects in the rocket, cramped in the tight space between the innumerable instrument panels and data displays protruding from every centimeter of bulkhead. In the viewports visible from our acceleration seats we could see the rover already returning down the service road and we radioed the base-bound AI to begin the launch sequence.

Spidery support structures pulled away from us, collapsing and retracting, and in spite of the work spent on the ship’s myriad vibrational control systems, we could feel the start-up rumble of the engines as a subsonic humming in the ship and in our bones. Resources and conditions on Mars were limited, obviously, and we were not expecting the smoothest ride from a rocket that had been, in a large part, fabricated by us on the Martian surface. So although all indicators registered conditions well within established safety factors, I could feel twinges of nervousness in my and stomach and lightness in my head. Logically, I knew that all systems were equipped with so many failsafes and redundancies as to make it nearly possible for anything worse to happen than a preemptive shutdown of the launch, but it had been three years since I’d last traveled in anything other than our rovers and my mind wasn’t ready to trust our improbable rocket, standing alone in the oxide desert, impossibly far from home and a proper air/space control network.

Kate must have sensed my anxiety, because she leaned towards me and flashed one of her rare, full smiles. “Chill out, bud. Just a couple minutes of acceleration off of this rock and on to another and then before you know it we’ll be on an all-expenses-paid cruise home. You’re an astronaut for Christ’s sake. You’ve done this a million times before.”

Kate’s flippancy put me at ease and I was about to respond when a klaxon blared and the AI’s synthesized voice came on loud over the PA:

“All systems optimal. Launch initiated. Liftoff in ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one.”

The last count was violently punctuated by the shock and rumble of our rockets powering on, followed immediately by the sudden weight of high acceleration. The ship was screaming upwards, moving faster and faster with each passing second as its thrusters expelled an expanding cloud of incandescent propellant. We were tiny passengers in a metal cylinder launched upward against gravity and reason by the impulses of barely-controlled explosions. I smiled widely in nervous excitement as I remembered what it was like to be an astronaut.

The trip was over fairly quick and was uneventful after the initial shock of the launch. Phobos is in close orbit about Mars and we had hardly reached maximum velocity before we began to decelerate as we approached the rapidly growing chunk of floating sediment suspended in the void before us. In a few minutes the ship alerted us that we were in docking orbit about the tiny moon and we began preparations for landing. A few minutes more, and the four of us were descending, packed even tighter into the lander than we’d been on the ship. Before long, a gentle thud alerted us that our vehicle had made contact with the surface. All of us exchanged excited glances with each other. We were about to become the first people in human history to set foot on the Martian satellite.

We wasted no time in donning our full regalia of pressure suits, EVA equipment, and “jet packs”- rudimentary flight apparati that allowed us to navigate in Phobos’ almost negligible gravity by propelling ourselves with pressurized gas jets.

We had decided early on in planning the trip that we would go out in three-person shifts with one person left behind to monitor the condition of the lander and the larger rocket orbiting geosynchronously overhead in the event that anything went wrong and immediate action was needed. It was decided that Alexei take the first shift aboard the lander while Kate, Anna, and I performed the first survey of the Phobian surface. Alexei wished us luck as, one by one, we stepped in and then out of the small air lock. I flashed him a nervous grin as I stepped through the tiny door. The airlock cycled and depressurized and then I was stepping out.

I winced as my eyes were assaulted by near-blinding sunlight for a moment before my suit visor automatically polarized. The barren moonscape before was rendered boldly in the harsh chiaroscuro of airless space. Hard, black shadows contrasted sharply with violent reflected sunlight, with no atmosphere to provide a gradient between the two. The overall impression was that of a pen and ink landscape. The effect continued out to the unsettlingly close, noticeably curved horizon, where undulating ridges of meteor-pocked stone marked a jagged demarcation between the bright gray rock and the total blackness of outer space. Absent the behavior of light and perspective to which we were accustomed, our first planetside sight of Phobos left us speechless and dizzy, and our first steps were those of clumsy somnambulists. It took us several moments to fully regain our faculties, and even then, floating through that distorted, rocky landscape felt like drifting through some obscure dream.

Nevertheless, we set to our work in earnest, beginning with the insertion of a small, commemorative bronze plaque into the surface a few meters from our lander. The plaque contained our names, a brief description of our mission, and a message of peace from the people of Earth to anyone that happened upon it. After the plaque was properly installed, we began work on our individual tasks, fanning out to bore into the crust, take samples, snap photos, and record video. There were some specific geographical features we were supposed to cover- several craters and other large formations, but a lot of where we went and what we did was at our own discretion. We were explorers in the old sense of the word.

Our first shift went smoothly enough. We met several of our nominal mission targets and began to develop a feeling for the lay of the land about our base camp. After a few hours we had already accrued several gigabytes of data and kilos of physical samples. We decided to return to the lander to unburden ourselves of our collected specimens and to relieve Alexei of his duties and allow him a chance to explore the moon. Kate took his place.

Thus, after a brief interlude, our second shift begin. Our initial forays had take us mostly north and east of the lander. Now we went south and west, I going slowly with Alexei while he accustomed himself to moving with the jetpack and Anna moved ahead.

We were about half an hour out when Alexei and I sighted the cave entrance. It was a gaping, vaguely circular hole, a little wider than a man, that shot straight down into complete subterranean blackness. It as at the bottom of a small crater, and the surrounding ridge would have completely hidden it from view had we not happened to traverse across that exact impact site. Alexei and I paused, intrigued, at the top of the chute and shined the beams of our flashlights down it. They reflected distantly off of something dull and metallic far below but revealed nothing else. We conferred briefly with each other, then radioed both Kate and Anna to tell them we had decided to drop down the shaft and report back whatever we found at the bottom.

Quickly, we rigged an anchor for our all-purpose, carbon fiber tethers at the lip of the shaft, as a precaution against a failure of our jet packs. Then I helped Alexei clip himself to the tether and watched as he descended, the lights of his helmet bouncing off the stone walls and back again off of his helmet visor. All four of us were tuned into the general comm channel to listen to Alexei’s commentary as he descended.

“It is cramped in here. I just barely fit…

“The sides are becoming more smooth now. Like walls. It is unnatural-looking…

“Christ this is deep. Forty meters now…

“It is opening up now. Getting wider…

“Jesus! It opens up into a cave! It is enormous! Dear God.. what is this?”

At this exclamation the comm channel became frantic with overlapping voices:

“Alexei, are you okay? What do you see? What is it?”

“You had all better come down here for yourselves,” he responded. “It is unbelievable.”

I was the first down. Clipping myself to the tether, I began my descent. The chute walls were rough and irregular at the top, but they soon became smooth and well-defined. Unnaturally so. Before long, I was climbing and sliding down a geometrically-perfect square tunnel with walls as smooth as glass, made, at first, of the same grey stone that composed the rest of the moon, but soon transitioning in regular, rectangular chunks into some unidentifiable violet, glassy material, so dark as to be almost black. I had descended quite far and the entrance had receded to a miniscule white dot overhead when the tunnel walls began suddenly to widen outwards, then disappear completely.

The chamber I dropped into was enormous, a vast cavern that extended so far out that my helmet lights did little to illuminate the distant walls. Far below me I could see the bright glow and the countless multiplied reflections of Alexei’s helmet lights against the oddly regular facets of the cavern. Every visible surface seemed to be made of thousands of perfect cubes and prisms, like some enormous bismuth crystal, but everywhere composed of the same unidentifiable black-violet substance. And in the center of it all, directly below me and clearly illuminated by Alexei’s lights, was a pillar, an enormous dark obelisk that jutted up from the ground like a monument to some elder god.

Letting go of the tether, I floated down to the cavern floor, careful to avoid the obelisk out of an awe-inspired reverence and no small amount of nervous unease. The great, black bulk, whose geometrically-hieroglyphed sides slid slickly before me, should not be. It was an anomaly that had no place on this dead moon. It had no reason or right to exist in this ancient, arid rock that had drifted through space virtually undisturbed for countless millions of years. Yet, in spite of all arguments to the contrary, it continued to impose its presence, looming darkly and heavily, and as I reached the cave floor and stared back up I was even further shaken by the obscene grandeur of the thing.

“Jesus Alexei, what the hell is this?” I asked into the suit’s mic after some moments of dumbfounded silence.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied. “The closest natural analogues I have ever seen to this formation have either been volcanic in origin or else small-scale crystalline structures. This place having been geologically dead for eons rules out the former, and the sheer scale of whatever this is seems to preclude the latter. And have you taken a close look at the formations? The geometry, the angles… they are perfect at the smallest scale. They are like nothing I have ever seen in nature…”

By this time, Kate and Anna were both frantically querying us on the comm band, trying to make sense of our confusing transmissions. Anna was already on her way over but we took photographs of the cave and the great central bulk anyway to send to both of them. We could hear sharp intakes of breath from both women- confirmation that they had received the pictures.

“I’m gonna relay the photos back to mission control; we’ll have a response in about half an hour,” said Kate from aboard the lander. “I have a feeling our mission may be extended.” I grunted assent but remained otherwise silent, still too preoccupied with the impossible obelisk to do anything other than drift about it, silently observing and theorizing. Anna arrived shortly and was soon as dumbstruck as Alexei and I. The four of us continued fruitless speculation until commands from mission control arrived several minutes later. The tests we were to run and the data we were to gather on the anomalous formation were outlined. We were to give frequent updates to mission control at regular intervals until the relief crew arrived. Instead of heading first to the red planet, they would take over our work on Phobos for as long as possible until they needed to descend to Mars for supplies from the larger base. Our team would still be making our return journey as scheduled, but until then we were to abandon all other work except that relating to the new discovery.

We accepted the commands eagerly and set about to cataloguing, itemizing, and attempting to somehow make sense of the dark, unknowable bulk that hung over us in our work. Equipment was hastily lowered into the cave from above and we drifted and bounded frantically up, down, and across the cave, our helmet lamps and weightless movements lending to us the impression of purposeful fireflies flitting about in the crypt-dark subterranean vault.

After several hours we were not much closer to understanding the nature of the “formation” as we referred to it, as to try to call it anything else led to unhealthy speculation. The mystery seemed only to deepen with observation and experimentation. X-ray fluorescence revealed that the dark, semi-transparent material was a silicate and radioactive dating put the age of the formation at about ten million years. A vibration analysis indicated a nonhomogeneous interior that was likely hollow.

Essentially, all that our work served to prove was that we were looking at a mystery predating humanity as a species that had not been disturbed, in all likelihood, for several million years. Beyond that, our knowledge ended.

We were baffled. As hard as we tried to reign them in with trained skepticism, our brains speculated endlessly. Intermittent transmissions from Earth indicated that mission control was just as excited and clueless as we were. The nervous tension of standing on the brink of discovery was palpable. Eventually, though, we had to stop. None of us had rested since we’d left Mars, enlivened as we were by the adrenaline of discovery, but it had been well over an Earth-day since we had slept and the fatigue of constant activity was beginning to take a toll. We decided, therefore, to shut down our equipment and return to the lander for some much needed rest.

We were lucky that our chosen sleep period happened to coincide with the onset of Phobian night. All of us slept soundly in the darkness of deep space, and only once did anything disturb my rest. Briefly, I was awakened by a low static hum coming from the comm panel speakers, accompanied by the erratic flickering of several small instrument lights. This lasted for less than a minute before the cabin module returned to perfect stillness. I promptly fell back asleep, too tired to wonder or turn over the occurrence in my head. I do not know if anyone else’s sleep was troubled by the anomalous instrument behavior. I never got the chance to ask them.

* * *

We woke in the morning refreshed and eager as ever to return to work. Thirty minutes after a hasty breakfast of tasteless synth-food Alexei, Kate, and I were suited-up and outside. It was Anna’s turn to stay in the lander. With all of us pretty well-accustomed by now to moving about in Phobos’ negligible gravity and with the site of the cave entrance now familiar, we were able to reach the chamber in twenty minutes. At the entrance, we lowered ourselves down to the chamber floor where we had left our equipment. Nothing had been touched and we were able to pick up our work from precisely where we had left off the previous day.

It was several hours before any of us noticed that something had changed in the night. We spent most of the morning scuttling about the base of the monolith like ants, and it was not until one of my experiments took me to the top of the great black-violet bulk that I saw a change in the structure. At its very top, almost invisible in the deep gloom of the cave, was the smallest opening, hard and rectangular; a square of sharper darkness in the already dark obelisk. Shining my suit lights on it revealed it to be fairly small, no wider than my head. It’s depth was indeterminable. Even under direct light, the shaft fell away into distant, impenetrable darkness. An unaccountable chill rippled through my body as I gaze on it.

I called Alexei and Kate and both of them were standing beside me at the apex of the bulk within a minute. We stared. “This isn’t something we could’ve missed yesterday, is it?” I wondered aloud, feeling at once stupid and nervous.

“Not a chance. We scoured this thing for hours yesterday. There’s no way we would’ve missed a hole like this,” Kate quickly replied.

Alexei was staring intently at his HUD. “She’s right. We have pictures of the top from yesterday. No hole.”

We were silent again for a moment, contemplating. Then Kate spoke first. “I’m going back to the lander. I know there’s equipment back there to rig a probe for us to send down and hopefully shed some light on what’s going on here. Do either of you need anything while I’m out?”

Neither of us did, so Kate floated hastily away and out of sight, blocking for a minute the slim shaft of light that tentatively fell through the chamber ceiling as she made her way to the surface. Alexei and I returned to work. I cannot speak for him, but I felt shaken and unfocused, unable to get much done. My mind incessantly wandered back to the oppressive bulk looming above me, absorbing all light from the room and leaving behind a residue of slick, opaque shadow. It was maddening. The thing dwarfed us with its size, mocked us with its and age and its frank disregard of our limited understanding. I was sweating, I realized. There was no reason to be so on on-edge. I forced myself to take a deep breath and resume my work.

In about half an hour, Kate radioed us that she had picked up the probe materials and was on her way back. Alexei and I both responded a brief acknowledgement before returning to silence. And again the anxiety returned. I consciously forced myself to concentrate, forced myself to look down before me at the glowing LED data readout and not to look behind me at the obscene, ageless mystery.

Alexei, too, must have been intent on his work, because quite some time had passed without either of us noticing when Anna radioed us to ask if Kate had made it back. Both of us looked up suddenly at this, shaken out of our respective preoccupations. The time readout on my HUD showed that just over an hour and a half had passed since Kate radioed that she was on her way back. It shouldn’t have taken even half that long for her to return.

“She’s not here,” I radioed back. “Alexei and I got distracted and didn’t notice. And I’m assuming you haven’t heard anything from her.”

“No. I’ve been attempting to radio her for the past five minutes. Nothing”

“Shit.” I paused to think. Then, “Can you get a location from the beacon in her suit?”

“I tried that that. I can’t get any confirmation when I try to ping it.”

I forced myself to take a deep breath. “What was your last visual of her? Did anything look off?”

“The last I saw of her, she was heading back to the cave. She looked fine. She was gliding with her bundles of supplies with no apparent difficulty.”

I was silent then. Turning, I looked at Alexei and he looked back at me. “I do not know what could have happened to her,” he enunciated gravely, “but I think that we can only assume the worst. Something happened that stopped her from coming back. She is unreachable and we cannot even get a signal from her beacon which means that all of her suit systems, including life support, have failed. In all likelihood she is dead. I don’t know happened or why, but the best we can hope for is to find her body and her suit and try to determine what went wrong.”

We stared at each other in silence a moment more. Kate was our friend, our partner. A valuable member of our team. The four of us had gone years seeing each other and no one else every single day. In spite of Alexei’s logic, which I could not refute, I could not process the idea of Kate being dead, permanently absent from our lives. And I don’t think Alexei really could, either. But there was no denying the sense in what he said.

“Okay,” I assented. “Let’s pack up everything here for now and look for her. We’ll head back along the straightest course from here to the lander and see if we can find any trace of her on the way. If not, we’ll meet back at the lander to rest and recharge before making another sweep. Anna, we’ll check in with you every five minutes so that all of us know where we are and what’s going on. I have no idea what could have happened to Kate, but I think it’s important that we proceed with maximum caution until we know what went wrong. Sound good? Anything I’m not thinking of?”

“No.”

“Sounds good, Jon.”

“Okay then,” I said. “Let’s get ready to move out. Alexei?”

“Affirmative”.

Hurriedly, we shut down and tidied up our sensitive equipment and secured all necessary covers and safeguards. When we were both finished, we propelled ourselves up to the chamber exit together. As we passed into the shaft I took one last downard look at the dark obelisk, barely visible in the meager reflected lights from our suits. In the darkness it looked like an evil finger, reaching out for us from lost subterranean depths. I felt nauseous and quickly turned away.

We emerged momentarily into the crater at the surface, now distorted by the long, jagged evening shadows of the airless world. Alexei led the way out along the path while I followed close behind. We went as slowly and as carefully as we could, a sometimes awkward task in the weak gravity, careful not to miss any of the sporadic footprints left behind at irregular intervals as a consequence of our jumping, gliding method of locomotion on the moon. Any one of them could have been Kate’s.

It soon became apparent, however, that we needn’t have worried about being so methodical. We found Kate shortly, her body sprawled in the middle of the path. Her suit had been damaged and punctured in several places, most noticeably at her face plate. The dust around her had been strewn and kicked about as if, in a frenzy, Kate had set upon crafting some perverted mockery of a snow-angel in the granular planetary sand. Now she was still, her face grotesquely deformed by the boiling of her blood in the harsh vacuum. Her eyes bulged, sightless, outward. She was dead beyond any doubt.

My jaw went slack as I stared with mingled horror, nausea, and the sharp pains of loss. Alexei couldn’t look. Over the comm we could hear Anna crying. Eventually I had to turn away; Kate’s disfigured carcass was too much to look at. I was panting heavily and had broken out in a cold sweat.

“Dear God, what happened to her?”, I asked. “Her suit’s perforated. This couldn’t possibly have been some hardware malfunction. This looks like she was attacked.”

Alexei’s voice cracked before he was able to speak. Then he said, chokingly, “I cannot imagine what happened, but I don’t like waiting here to figure it out. Let’s get her back to the lander. We cannot leave her like this and I don’t feel right out in the open like this anymore. Everything feels wrong.”

I assented, nervously.. Nothing was making sense and all I could think of was that taunting mystery interred beneath us and the desire to get as far away from it as possible. So, steeling ourselves against the revulsion in our stomachs, we picked up Kate’s body and began, awkwardly, to carry it between us. In our near-weightlessness, it almost certainly would have been easier for one of us to carry her under our arm or slung across our shoulders, but neither of us breached the idea. I don’t think we were mentally prepared to casually heave the lifeless body of our friend like some awkward pack of equipment. So instead, we slowly leapt-glided back to the lander, silent, looking straight ahead so as not to look at what had become of Kate.

Soon the lander was visible in the distance and was coming closer, swelling in size from a small reflective speck on the ponderously curved horizon to the insectoid silhouette that had become familiar to us. We were less than a kilometer away when I heard Alexei yell, a high, piercing sound I had never before heard the man make. He had braked mid-glide and as I turned to look at him Kate’s body was jerked from my grasp while my momentum carried me forward. For a second I careened before regaining control of my movement, and I was accelerating back toward Alexei when I saw what had made him yell and I stopped.

Issuing from every tear, crack, and hole of Kate’s suit and from every orifice of her body was a liquid. It was thick and viscous, and its color was the deep black of interstellar space except for where it caught the harsh light of the airless world and reflected bright speculars. Its movements were those of a possessed ferrofluid, constantly forming and reforming bizarre geometric protuberances like so many metallic pseudopods. In this fashion it was swiftly flowing out of Kate’s body and up Alexei’s arms, covering them in a thick black sheen.

Now Alexei was screaming again, screaming for me, crying for help. Anna was yelling over the comm system, frenzied, trying to piece together what was going on. I was momentarily paralyzed by shock and my body refused to move. I could only watch as the fluid slithered up across Alexei’s face plate. Its surface began to vibrate, shifting and shimmering in bizarre sine waves, and all comm channels devolved into bursts of static, varying in concert with the fluid’s oscillations.

Soon, however, I regained control of my senses and spurred myself to action. Barely thinking, I jetted forward, grabbing Alexei in one powered swoop. The fluid stretched into strands that snapped and burst into suspended spheres like mercury raindrops as we pulled away from Kate’s body. Terrified and confused but determined to bring myself and Alexei safely back to the lander, I heaved him atop my shoulders in a fireman’s carry and launched myself frantically forward.

We were flying now, careening madly over meters and meters of grey dust as I struggled to maintain both my balance and my hold on Alexei. The lander was coming closer now, rapidly swelling in size. I dared one look behind me. The cloud of fluid droplets was drawing closer together, apparently reforming as one spherical mass, hovering ominously above where Kate’s body had fallen back to the surface. Terrified and confused but determined to bring myself and Alexei to safety, I returned my attention forward and decelerated as the lander came to within hopping distance.

The comm static had calmed enough now for understandable, albeit fuzzy, communication. “Anna, get the lander ready! Alexei and I are coming in. Something’s out there, something that was hiding inside Kate’s body. I don’t know what it is but it had a tight hold on Alexei and I only barely wrestled him away. We need to leave now!”

“Start up diagnostics running now,” came her swift reply, “but what the hell is going on? What happened to Alexei? Why isn’t he responding?”

I was at the airlock door now and I put Alexei down. His body was limp and he appeared unconscious. “I don’t know,” I said, “but we need to get him to the ship’s autodoc as soon as possible. If what happened to Kate is any indication, this thing is extremely dangerous.”

“But what is this thing? I wasn’t able to get anything from your suit cams before the interference got bad. What in God’s name are we dealing with?”

The airlock panel slid open noiselessly and I carried Alexei inside. The panel shut behind us and a hissing sound signaled the beginning of chamber pressurization.

“It looked like… I- I don’t know,” I stuttered. “It looked like mercury, almost, but darker. A deep, dark liquid metal that flowed and pulsed and moved in a way that no liquid ever should.”

The final door hissed as it slid aside, revealing the lander interior and Kate, in full EVA gear minus her helmet, waiting anxiously for us to step in. As soon as we were through she helped me pick up Alexei and secure him in one of the lander’s sleeping bags. He was practically weightless in Phobos’ weak gravity, but I appreciated her help nonetheless. When he was settled I turned towards one of the viewports and looked anxiously back where I had come. Everything was still and the achromatic planetary surface looked like a sinister black and white photograph. “How long until launch?” I inquired nervously, my gaze fixated on the horizon.

“About two minutes before diagnostics and trajectory calculations are complete,” she replied. “You better get buckled up.” she was already situated at one of the navigation stations and I was about to follow her lead when we both heard a noise.

Alexei had sat up, bumping his helmet, which we had not bothered to remove, against the bulkhead. Now he was staring at us, his face obscured by his still-tinted faceplate.

“Alexei? Are you alright?” ventured Kate. Alexei said nothing. He continued to stare forward at us, sitting straight up, completely still. I moved to ease him back into a resting posture so that he would be positioned safely for launch. Gently, I put my hand on his shoulder to lay him down. He was motionless, not even turning his head to look at me. I hesitated.

“Alexei?”

He did not react. I decided there wasn’t enough time to worry about his behavior; our primary goal was to get him medical attention as soon as possible. I made to secure him in his bed again. This time, however, my touch provoked a reaction. Immediately as I laid my hands upon him, Alexei jerked about violently to face me, and before I could react he grabbed arms, so tight that through all the layers of my suit I could the pressure of his fingers sharply on my skin. I yelled in shock and pain.

Anna looked up from where she had been making preparations at the navigation terminal and her eyes went wide. “What the hell? Alexei, what are you doing?” she screamed, and vaulted out of her chair toward us.

Alexei wrestled me to the floor now and moved his grasp to my throat. His strength was inhuman- I could do nothing but bat my fists helplessly and struggle to breathe against the encroaching pressure on my windpipe. Anna came up behind and tried to pull Alexei off of me but he batted her aside with a casual, inhuman strength. I was choking now, gasping. I was quickly losing any strength to struggle; there was nothing I could do but look up at the anonymous faceplate that hovered impassively over me. In light-headed confusion I stared upward and noticed the smallest burnt hole in the shoulder of one of Alexei’s suit sleeves. Realization overcame me and I knew then that the thing above me was not Alexei. His mind was long gone, just like Kate’s; replaced by the unfathomable impulses of a crude alien will.

Even as I was beginning to comprehend some small part of what had happened, blackness swam across my vision and my mind began to slip. I was half unconscious when I heard the smash and tinkle of breaking glass and felt the grip on my throat release. I shot up, greedily gulping air. Anna was standing over me holding a large wrench. Alexei was sprawled against the airlock door, bent forward with his face plate cracked and shards of it scattered about him.

“Is that it?” I gasped between desperate breaths.

“I don’t know,” replied Anna, “And I don’t care to find out, either. Let’s get the body out of here. Before it wakes up again.”

I hesitated. This was too much for me. How could I leave two of my best friends out there on that harsh, rocky surface, billions of kilometers from home? How could I leave Alexei when I had just seen him moving, living?

But no. What I had seen animating his body was not life. Cruel puppetry. Nothing good or natural had moved those limbs. I steeled myself and, helping Kate, I moved the body into the airlock. We left it on the ground and the inner door hissed shut. I made for the control pad to open the outer door without first depressurizing the chamber so that the body would be jettisoned out but as I did so I heard a tapping at the airlock door. Anna and I both rushed to the single, small window recessed in the door to see what was happening.

There in the window was Alexei: scared, confused and in pain. He was bleeding from a head wound and the blood streamed down his brow. His mouth moved slowly but there was no sound. His eyes pleaded with us. For one brief moment he was back.

Then the lights in the lander flickered. Static screamed out of the onboard speakers and the black liquid streamed from Alexei’s eyes, mouth, and ears, covering his face and extending tendrils toward the window at us. Crying, I punched the final button on the control pad and with a hiss the chamber was evacuated. The thing was blasted out of the lander.

Anna and I had just enough energy and force of will left within us to navigate back to the ship waiting patiently in orbit. Flickering lights in its control room alerted us to missed calls. Impatient queries from mission control personnel on earth who, separated by light-minutes and having heard only early, confused reports from us, wanted to know what the hell was going on.

We ignored them. Weightless, Anna and I embraced each other, crying and shaking, until sleep overcame us. I dreamt of stellar abysses, incalculably old. Dark presences fluctuated in cosmic depths. I do not know what Anna dreamt.

* * *

“And that’s it. You know the rest. We eventually communicated with mission control who forbid us to speak of what happened to anyone pending a ‘proper investigation.’ We rendezvoused with the relief team and made up a weak cover story about instrument malfunctions. And now, about a year later, I’m here. Back on Earth. Telling you this.”

The man in black regarded Jon in silence. Jon stared through him, into the distance. His body was back on Earth but his mind was elsewhere.

Then the man spoke: “We thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Inouye. I understand from your speech and from the complaints you’ve filed with us that you feel we have not adequately investigated and addressed the situation. I want to reassure you we are doing our very best to determine what really happened to you and your team on Phobos.”

John’s eyes focused again and he responded. “I already told you what really happened. Just now. And I’ve reported it at least a dozen other times. As has Anna. But I’m done now. I can’t do it again. I just want to forget. I won’t go back.”

With that he stood up and left the room. The man in black watched him intently as he went but made no move to stop him. Through the window, the stars twinkled faintly.

#artists on tumblr #writing #phobos #sci fi

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