Despite the best efforts of everyone involved, something truly nasty escaped Earth. They call it giardia, a microscopic organism that their Planetary Protection Officer called “pretty dumb” and “not too bad, really, a week of digestive upset and then it’s over.”
Yes, Earth has a Planetary Protection Officer. They have a Planetary Protection Office, and have had one since they were sending probes around their own solar system. Doctor Ma-et had found it a bit silly, like a child concerned about the cleanliness of their toys, until she learned that the job of the Planetary Protection Office had always been protecting other worlds from Earth.
I was a young man, I fled my home country. I will refrain from naming
it here, because if you knew where it was, you would be able to locate
the forest and I want it to remain as it is: obscure, mythical, and
In this world where humans are Space Orcs™, Capable of Anything, Afraid-of-Nothing…
Imagine the alien actually having a relationship with a human. First, their friends are so curious and awed and thinks their friend is brave for getting involved with a human.
Second, they are too, at first, until they realize humans are not one particular species that all do the same, but that the specific human they are building a relationship with is pretty cool. Their mind boggles when they realize this, as this would mean that no human can be the same, that they all have different upbringing, likes and dislikes, everything infinitely complex. They finally figure that they, while understanding all of humanity might be impossible, they at least can try understand the one in front of them.
“Hey, C’Lom” the human says as it snaps its fingers in front of their eye-stalks. “Are you still with me?”
“Yes,” they say, “apologies, I was, as you might call it, lost in thought.”
The human stretches its neck muscles to one side, keeping its weird, big eyes on them. It’s very observant, but in a concerned way, like it wants to find out what it can do to make things better.
“Penny for your thoughts?” It says, eating another fried something from the container in front of it.
C’Lom bows their head a bit. Humans and their weird expressions. They ponder a while on how to best use the English language to express such abstract things. The dark room around them is only lit by a few night lights, the mess hall silent for another half hour before everyone starts their shifts. C’Lom had just woken up early and found their crew mate, and learned that it couldn’t sleep. They had started talking in hushed voices and now it was almost morning. Not that the time mattered on a spaceship anyway.
“The vastness of you amazes me,” they finally settled on, watching the humans expression as it took another bite.
The human swallowed, nodding.
“Likewise,” it said, and smiled a smile that made the whole room seem brighter.
I also can’t help but imagine the sex. Like, the alien might not know that humans procreate in any special way because they have never heard of it. They don’t really know anything about different sexes either because not all aliens has those, or they might have moved past it so that it isn’t part of their culture anymore, or something. TLDR, sex isn’t a thing this alien knows about, and even less human sex.
And after a while they are in a relationship and they want to make their human feel good, for their birthday or something. So they ask another human, and this human, after the shock dies down, start asking what kind of relationship they are having. Are they just friends? Are they lovers? Do they meet other people or are they exclusive? Have they kissed? Are they going to have a family?
The alien is so confused and preoccupied they don’t get a present for the human at all, they just sits around and stares vacantly until the human flat out ask them what’s wrong. The alien tells it and the human is making a facial expression where it’s both concerned and amused at the same time.
“Yeah, Dana has very strict ideas on what a relationship should be like. I don’t think that such definitions are as important as long as we are happy together.”
“Do I make you happy?”
The human smiled and traced C’Loms face with its eyes.
“Yes, you make me very happy.”
Maybe their relationship turns physical after this conversation, and C’Lom learns that the Strong, Capable Human™ can turn into putty if you know where to touch them.
Aaand maybe the alien does have tentacles or something similar and maybe they aren’t compatible enough to make babies but they might not want that anyway, and maybe they can adopt?
Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.
And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.
Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.
They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.
And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.
And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”
So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.
“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”
And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”
Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”
“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.
But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.
And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.
When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.
“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”
“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.
“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”
Now that’s just nonsense.
“Sod off ye’ prick.”
It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.
She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.
It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.
“Go t'sleep, pet.”
And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.
The cuddles haven’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs haven’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.
If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.
The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.
“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.
“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.
She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??
The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.
“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.
When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”
His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.
Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.
“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.
The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.
“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”
And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.
She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??
“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”
But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.
And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.
“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”
As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.
And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.
So I got bored and checked the weather for both Almaty and St. Petersburg and they're hilariously different so here's an otayuri drabble
Why the hell Yakov was making him practice in this heat, Yuri had no idea. But he hated him for it.
Sure, it wasn’t drastically hot, but 19°C was hot for St. Petersburg, and Yuri could be enjoying the weather if A: it wasn’t so humid, and B: Yakov wasn’t making him practice.
Yuri tipped his head back, the vertebrae in his neck creaking and tense muscles stretching.
“Give me a perfect triple axel into a spread eagle and you’re free to go.” The old man told him, drinking from the water bottle handed to him by Lilia.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yuri said, exasperated. “In this heat?”
“Vitya’s been making Katsuki practice his quads all day, at least I’m not that cruel.” Yakov shrugged.
“Actually, I’m doing this voluntarily.” Yuuri called, taking off and landing a frustratingly perfect quad flip.
“I’ve been trying to make him come home for hours Yakov, this is none of my doing.” Viktor groaned, leaning against the barrier and wiping his brow.
“You said it yourself Vitya,” Yuuri shrugged, pulling off an effortless triple axel into a spread eagle. “I’m going to need to try my best to beat you.”
“I’ve created a monster. I’m doomed.” Viktor sighed defeatedly, gazing at Yuuri.
“And Yurio-” He started, trailing lazily around the rink.
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m not stopping until I have both records, so I suggest you watch yourself.”
“Getting cocky, now are we, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, cocking a brow.
“Well it’s not the only thing I’m getting.” Yuuri shrugged, taking off into a perfect quad salchow, winking at Viktor as he landed.
“What the fuck have you done to him, Vitkor?” Yuri asked, slightly disgusted at the innuendo.
“I don’t know!” Viktor said exasperatedly.
“Alright, that’s it.” Yakov sighed. “Katsuki, get your ass out of my rink before you kill yourself.”
“I’m not even tired though.” Yuuri sighed, taking off into a quad loop.
“You’re hell bent on destroying my skaters and I can’t have that. Get out before you hurt yourself.” Yakov said firmly.
“Yuuri.” Mila started. “We adore you, you’re sweet and talented and everything but with every jump you land, Yakov pushes us that much harder, so please, for the love of god, get the fuck out of the rink.”
“Okay, okay.” Yuuri sighed, finally skating off of the rink, Mila earning an exhausted ‘thank you’ from Viktor, who followed behind Yuuri.
“Yura. Triple axel. Now.” Yakov said firmly, folding his arms.
“I’d like to see you do it, old man.” Yuri huffed, crossing his arms.
“Just do it, Yuri.” Yuuri called. “Anyway, we’re leaving for today, guys.”
“Finally!” Georgi groaned.
“Please take like, the next week off, you’re making us look bad.” Mila joked.
“No actually do, you’re driving me insane.” Yuri called.
“And Yakov said I couldn’t coach anyone.” Viktor smirked, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.
Yuri unlocked his dorm, dumping his duffle bag at the door and kicking his shoes off. It’d been a week since Yakov and Lilia’s asshole of a son kicked Yuri out of his mother’s house.
He stalked over the mini fridge in the corner of his room, opening it and pulling out a cold can of fanta, wrenching open the tab and flopping down on his bed.
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up whatsapp, ignoring the 689 missed texts from the Barcelona GPF group chat and scrolling to Otabek’s contact, selecting video call.
Otabek picked up after around the 3rd ring, and the imagine Yuri was greeted with wasn’t what he expected.
A flushed, tanned, sweaty, muscular chest and a giggling little girl in the background. The camera shakily carried up to Otabek’s face, where it was obvious that he older boy was fast asleep.
“Bekaaaa!” Giggled the little girl, a bony little hand with garish pink nail polish and ratty bracelets pressing down on Otabek’s chest. “Oyanw! Beka! Käne Beka!”
Otabek made a weird noise between a snort and a squawk, eyes snapping open suddenly as he lurched forwards.
“Sälem aytşı Yura!” The little girl giggled.
“Natya…” Otabek murmured groggily. “Nege telefonım bar?” He asked, reaching for the phone and pulling the little girl to the side. “Bul öte jaramsız.” He scolded, blowing a raspberry into the little girl’s cheek.
“Um… is this a bad time?” Yuri asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his soda can. “I can go…”
“Crap! Yura, I forgot. Sorry, I fell asleep and my little sister took my phone-”
Otabek laughed, ruffling his sister’s messy black hair.
“Sälem Yura!” She grinned, waving at the screen.
“She says hi.” Otabek grinned, translating.
“Hi Natalia.” Yuri smiled, waving back, earning a gap-toothed grin from the little girl.
“Natya, Siz bizden kete alasız ba?” Otabek asked his sister, slipping back into his native tongue.
She nodded, waving at the screen.
“Bayt Yura!” She giggled, running off.
“She’s adorable.” Yuri smiled, sipping from the can again.
“I know.” Otabek grinned.
“Did you teach her to call me that?”
“Call you what?”
“To call me Yura?”
“She’s called you that since she saw you on TV at the Russian Nationals two years ago.”
“Don’t look at me, she just does.”
Oh, Yuri was look at him.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“You’re half naked. At least I think you are… I can only see your chest.”
“I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking.” Otabek snorted, flashing Yuri a crooked grin.
“Really? No pants?”
“It’s too hot.” Otabek shrugged, reaching for a something offscreen and bringing a glass of water to his lips.
“Seriously? Isn’t it like, 19°C? Kinda pathetic. And that’s coming from a Moscow native.”
“It’s 36°C over here.” Otabek said flatly.
“Damn, your coach makes you practice in that heat?” Yuri asked incredulously.
“Nah. Training’s cancelled. He’s passed out in the porch.”
“Lucky bastard. Yakov’s been forcing me to train.” Yuri huffed.
“Watch your language, Yura. My family is in the vicinity.”
“I’m like 300 miles away they can’t hurt me.”
“My cousin will find you. You know what Aleks is like.”
“And I hope you boys are keeping it PG-13!” Came the call of cousin in the background, causing Otabek to flush slightly.
“I’m just saying! Your mother wouldn’t be too happy if she saw you-”
“Aleks, sabırlılıqtı toqtatıñız Beka!” Came a call.
“Dude I can hear like, your entire family, where are you?”
“In my back yard.” He shrugged, switching the camera so Yuri could get a view of the lush, green garden, and the hammock Otabek was laying in.
“Its huge!” Yuri gasped. “Your family must be loaded!”
“My mother was an Olympic silver medalist. That kind of set us up for quite a while, then I started to send money home whenever I got it.” Otabek shrugged. “Joq, Natya, şlangini tömenge ornatıñız!”
Yuri heard giggling in the background, along with running water. Otabek shifted, the camera shaking a bit as he moved.
“My sister has a hose, I’m going inside.” He explained as a jet of water splashed behind him. “Nope nope nope nope. Not today.”
“Are you afraid of getting wet, Beka?”
“No I just don’t want to get- AH!”
“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, cocking an eyebrow at the maniacal cackling heard in the background.
“Yeah, my sister just got me in the ass while I was running inside.”
“Damn, good aim.”
“Yeah,” He said, camera shaking as he went up the stairs, opening the door to his room and pushing in. “Yura?”
“I’m gonna need to change but I’m too lazy to disconnect the call, can I just put you against a pillow so you don’t see anything?”
“Sure.” Yuri shrugged, tossing his empty soda can into the trash.
The screen went a dark reddish-brown colour as it was pressed against the pillow, the camera suddenly flipping just as the screen went black.
Yuri could see Otabek pull away, turning around and pulling down the damp, dark grey boxers.
What the hell was Yuri supposed to do?!
The rational thing to would be to tell Otabek 'hey the camera accidentally flipped and I can see your ass and probably dick but I’m not sure’, but for some reason Yuri couldn’t speak.
Otabek turned in the direction of the camera, humming to himself as he stopped up the boxers and tossed them into the laundry hamper at the edge of his room, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers.
Otabek quickly pulled the boxers on, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt, putting those on too.
He reached for the camera, which suddenly flipped back to front facing as it was being pulled away from the pillow.
“Sorry I took so long- Yura, are you okay?” Otabek asked, suddenly concerned.
“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why are you asking me?” Yuri stammered awkwardly.
“Your face, it’s all… red. Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Yeah yeah I’m fine! I’m just a bit hot and sweaty from practice, I should probably shower.” Yuri said quickly.
“Okay…” Otabek murmured, unconvinced. “If you don’t feel better after the shower, call Viktor or Yuuri or someone like that. And make sure you drink a lot of water. And eat properly. None of that energy bar nonsense-”
“Okay mom, jeez. I’m fine, really.” Yuri said, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t get smart with me, young man.” Otabek said jokingly.
Yuri rolled his eyes, snorting.
“I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll call you later.”
“I really can’t stop you can I?”
Yuri laughed, ending the call and flinging his phone onto the other end of the bed and pressing his hands into his face.