TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[freezers]

TEST DRIVE #1

The universe is fading into a bitter, cold blackness. Planet by planet, star by star, life is disappearing. For the good ship Koska IV there is no return voyage, there is no home, there is only forward. Behind it is the devastating emptiness of a life devoured, and the threat of an unseen enemy always at its heels. It can be argued perhaps that where the Kostka goes death follows, that it leaves ruin in its wake. If you ask Ripley, though, she'll say that they're only just managing to outrun the inevitable. Waking up aboard the ship feels strangely like waking up in a mausoleum. You emerge from your cryo pod like climbing out from a tomb, born new into a world long gone silent and still. The monolithic vessel now exists as a ghost town, halls dimly lit with emergency power, the only sounds being the mechanical ticking and groaning metal of the Kostka, laboring on like a wounded, burdened beast. Don’t mind the dust, the grime or the occasional blood splatter; cleaning is a nonessential function the droids don’t have energy to waste on. Kostka IV, once a transport designed for leisure cruises to and from new colonies, hobbles along on her last leg, urged on and on by the AI left to command her - R.I.P., affectionately termed ‘Ripley’ by her now absent crew. The sprawling, shadowy halls are only trafficked by Ripley’s minimal team of droids, the least that she can spare in straining her corrupted processes, much of both the ship and her systems in dire disrepair. Preserve organic life: Ripley’s primary, core directive and singular focus, the one goal above all else, which must be met, no matter the cost. And now, your goal too, as on Kostka IV, though crippled, Ripley is God, and the body your consciousness inhabits now is not your own - a semi-organic, synthetic host that morphs to fit the form you left, rather than the skin you were born to. You were saved from what is coming (for her, for you, for everyone), because Ripley needs more hands to keep this last ark of humanity afloat, as the ship struggles to find safe harbor, making stops along the way to pick up resources, to search for life. To find a home, and a future, for us all. ( Kostka is a panfandom, scifi, survival/horror jamjar, with elements of psychological and body horror (in varying, opt-out-able levels) peppered along with your general monster movie fair, driven by character interaction and influence with heavy meta-plot guided by regular mod events. Set on a mobile ship traversing through differing dimensions, characters are transported into semi-organic, synthetic bodies that replicate their canon form, able to be upgraded with powers through bonus AC rewards, and brought onto the crew to assist a debilitated AI in escaping a force destroying the multiverse, while they seek to salvage what remains of life. Events will feature some known canon worlds (like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Bioshock, etc), along with some uniquely built between mods and player world-building. This game is invite-only, and we have a player cap of 30, with two character slots available for each player. The game has been inspired by: Battlestar Galactica, SOMA, Altered Carbon, Mass Effect, Passengers, Black Mirror, and various others. ) GOOD MORNING, STARSHINE ⬡ AKA; waking up naked with tubes/cables in half ur orifices probably, gross A spark of electricity convulses through your body, and you jolt awake - underwater. Or, at least, that's most peoples' first guess. The color is more vibrant than water should be, and heavier, your body feeling sluggish against the weight and drag of it. Or perhaps you're just slower to respond, distant, limbs and mind still drowsy and reeling. The bright fluid doesn't sting when you blink, if anything, it's soothing, healing, calming. Fortunate, that, because you're going to need it. As the pod-like chamber you're held in starts to drain of the liquid, your senses start to flood back in. Awareness filters in like a window curtain holding back the morning sun, gradually easing away with each inch the water line lowers. There's something on your face - a mask, strapped around the back of your head, and other thinner tendrils against your cheeks, your ears, your neck. Narrow tubes are channeled through in your nostrils, and cables have slithered in through your ears, plugging into God knows what on the inside of your skull. There's a click that you feel more than hear, and the tension on them slacks, disconnected from somewhere inside you. Pull - up, back, to the side, whichever way you want - and they start to drag free. Far from the most pleasant feeling (likely leaves you wanting to crawl right out of your skin), but it doesn't quite hurt or burn, yet. That's for the inch wide tube shoved down your throat and held in place by the mask. It's also what's keeping you breathing underneath this blue space-goo though, so maybe don't go yanking it off until the lid of your pod opens. As the fluid drains, a voice crackles in over the sound of water oscillating around your ears. Not something played from a speaker anywhere, nothing projected on a screen, and whether the cables are still in your ears or not, you hear her all the same, as if she's more inside your head than she is broadcasting over a speaker inside the pod or coming muffled from outside. Even still, it's stuttered and interrupted, like the connection is weak, interference like static white noise buzzing through and covering up parts of sentences. ❝ I don’t have a lot of tim— RIP can’t spare the power to run this more t—, so pay attention. No one knows where it came fr— out of radio contact when it happened, whatever it w— Everything in its path. There is no fighting it. Only surviv— Droids handle most of the maintenance, but she’s getting wor— Take the load off. Whatever happe— just keep Ripley running. If the ship stops, we’re all dea— —’re bodies are new, still adjusting. You’ll be on unsteady legs for a while, so take it slo— might end up face-planting, and there’s only so many replacemen— Mess hall’s lock— so make do. The cryo pod fluid’s the most nutritious thing around, just don’t think about wh— —’s all I can tell you. Good luck. ❞ » » » READ MORE HERE « « « At the end of the long lines of cryo pods, the halls meet at a small medbay. It seems some merciful someone has left a stack of thin, cloth sheets on one of the medbay tables, so it's best you pick one up, towel off a bit, and then toga it, until you find something more durable. Hopefully, at some point, someone will discover a door leading to a storage room is unlocked. There, you'll find some very stylish, bright orange jumpsuits. With luck, you'll make it there before you freeze. NETWORK ⬡ AKA; welcome to Kostka IV, Have Some K-Pop While Projection is not yet available, all HOST bodies share free access to a neural network through which they can communicate via text, audio, or video. One of the first things the HOST platform will prompt the new mind housed inside it will be to set up a sequence of finger taps to open up the network HUD. The system is fairly intuitive, and all one need do is reach up a hand to touch the option they wish to select. For text, a keyboard overlay will appear in the HOST's visual perception, and, dy default, all messages will show: a name, a username, and an ID code. Feel free to make these up as you like. These can be adjusted, and a HOST can post anonymously to the network as well (no guarantees Ripley can't trace it back to the origin, but she's not going to tell). There are no real rules on the usage of this network, aside from don't try to hack your friends, or your not-friends (just don't hack anyone, okay, it's rude). Ripley does understand the human need to socialize, especially in trying and stressful circumstances, so have at it kids. Ripley, however, will be making one quick announcement that she will not be capable of replying to just yet - waking you jerks up took a lot out of her, so give her some time. The voice that you hear doesn't come through any speaker or intercom around you, nor is it originating from any of the bodies or droids nearby. You hear what sounds like a young girl speaking as if inside your head, and she sounds exhausted: ❝ ATTENTION ALL CREW: This is Ripley. While I realize abduction and consciousness displacement is frowned upon in many human societies, please understand this was an emergency protocol enacted at the last possible moment. You have questions. I will answer as best as I'm able, as much as I'm able, but much of the data you're looking for has suffered massive corruption, held in a type of quarantine. The most important thing you need to know is that you, and all organic life within the multiverse, are being hunted. The mission of this vessel is to protect and preserve what remains of that life. Take time to acclimate to your new platforms. We'll talk more later. Ripley out. ❞ MAINTENANCE ⬡ AKA; get that human skull out of the filtration tank pls, or u stepped on a droid and now it's mad. We're hoping you had time to get over the Bambi legs and get your space legs under you (as well as some space pants onto your body), because Ripley expended a lot of processing power to waking you up. That means it's up to you to make up the difference and get to work cleaning this place up to make it habitable for you and your new crewmates. It's been nothing but RIP and her droids for the last who knows how long, so those things that need to be functioning for the continued survival of organic bodies need to get working. Here's the chores on the docket: ⬡ Water Filtration; Hydration - always a must for you squishy, fleshy things, isn't it? The canal that runs through the Ring atrium is a large part of the reserves, and at one dark innocuous end an uncomfortable grinding noise can be heard. Beneath the surface of the water where there should be wall, there is instead an enormous fan about ten feet in diameter. It's grinding so loud the sound escapes the water barrier, and the cause is pretty clear. There's something wedged between one of the fan blades and the circular housing it's contained in. Someone will need to dive down ten or twelve feet and unstick the human skull stopping the filtration system from running. Beware, though — the second it's free the fan blades will begin spinning, sucking gallons upon gallons of water down into the depths. Hope you can swim! ⬡ O2 Garden; Oxygen - another must. The up-side here is that the facility has been virtually untouched, yielding unchecked growth for the time no one's been tending to it. The bad part is more about the chaos that's left behind. The garden is nearly a jungle at this point, and if crew is to make their way around easily, manage the hydroponics, and set up the vegetable gardens again to provide food outside of the cryo soup, there's some major work to be done. It likely doesn't help that some of the more volatile samples have broken free from containment and mixed in with the rest of the garden. One hostile species will spit acidic venom at things wandering close to its roots while others just chomp down on anything that ventures within reach. Riply advises boots and protective gear when taking on this task, but getting rid of those weeds is up to you. ⬡ Assist the Droids; The won't talk, but they do beep and boop and shove things at your person to hold. If you're unwilling to help with anything else going on, you'll be assigned as a glorified pack-mule. Hold whatever the droids give you, hold it right there, hold it steady, and if you get shocked because you moved too much to the left, well, you really only have yourself to blame. Keep a mind to where your feet are falling as well - stepping on a droid zooming past will not only be likely to get you knocked on your ass, but probably earn you an short, sharp, electric shock from them as well. Good luck, have fun, try not to die because Ripley's exhausted from waking you up, and the droids suck at first aid— not to mention, very stiff bedside manner. VR / SAFETY TRAINING ⬡ AKA; ur gonna die a lot because space sucks. Let's face it, we weren't all born ready to space labor, or even space living. Loath as Ripley is to expend the power reserves on VR, the lot of you need to be trained up and the droids lack that personal touch that inspires excellence. RIP will be taking point on this assignment. It's a One Time Offer (well, we're calling it that now): the crew working away has freed up some CPU for Ripley, and because positive reinforcement is proven to work well on new puppies, she is rewarding you with Brain Stimulating Activities (aka safety training (or not)). This ship, especially dilapidated and running on emergency power as it is, is a dangerous place to be, even without the endless vacuum of space waiting outside to murder the absolute shit out of you. Characters will be given a VR visor, droids tapping a few buttons on a nearby console, and zipping away. Which, regretfully, means you won't be getting a warning or a say in what you're walking into, but walking into it you are, none-the-less. Sort of. Virtual walking. ⬡ Space walk; The Kostka IV has seen her fair share of daring battles and random asteroid clusters, leaving the frame of the beast of a ship pock-marked with damage. There's weakened structure, thermal panels missing, guns that don't want to get un-stuck and retract back into their housing. All kinds of nonsense. It's your job to tend to all that. Instructional videos will crop up on your HUD, walking you through your repairs, but that's assuming you can get to your spot at all, rather drift off into the sparkling black nether of the universe. Keep a good grip on the handrails outside. Now and again, something might give a quick, sharp shove, like hands against your side or your arm, attempting to dislodge you. Hold on tight, don't be tricked, and don't get lost. ⬡ Planet-Side; Suit up, it's time for a (practice) deployment, onto a little planet that doesn't exist in reality. The objective in this mission is resource retrieval, with taking samples of life forms as secondary. Some of the life forms, however, are not feeling that friendly. Depending on how the VR roulette spins you, it could be a dry planet, with deserts bordered by harsh mountain ranges, low on vegetation but populated by carnivorous dinosaur looking, that burrow deep, deep underground for water, and sometimes reach up to grab onto an ankle, pulling prey down into the sands to finish them off. It might be a thickly forested planet, humid and crowded with exotic flora. Ripley will tell you to collect water and samples of plants, perhaps bring a couple of fauna with. The smaller ones look cute and harmless, until they open their maws and you see rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth. Once you've been in there for a while, though, you start to feel a little paranoid, a little like you're being watched. Remain too oblivious, or just happen on bad luck, and your new stalker will be leaping out to make a meal of you. Or, maybe you end up somewhere completely different. Players are free to get creative with the setting as much as they like! Remember, this is VR, so they can (and likely will) die as much as you wish. Ripley will just spin the VR program back up for them to start again. ⬡ Crew Bonding: It's time to learn CPR! These kinds of first aid basics are necessary when having little fleshy people running amok, and Ripley would rather the crew be responsible for resuscitating their peers than having to grab a droid every time someone needs a shock back to life. An explanation will be given, and crew will asked to pair up and practice either on each other or a few spare HOST bodies not yet filled with a mind save. But, when it comes time for a test, one of the new crew will have to play the victim. Ripley's always been one with a vested interest in authenticity, so she takes control of victim's HOST platform - they stop breathing, their heart stops beating. It’s been a while since she’s People’d, okay? Anyway, the pressure is on, and your crewmates are counting on you to keep them alive. If you fail, she'll... probably turn their hearts back on before they're well and truly dead. We hope. » NAVIGATION « General questions about the game can be directed to the FAQ, while TDM questions can be answered on the comment header below! Awakening threads for GOOD MORNING, STARSHINE, MAINTENANCE and NETWORK can be used as game canon so long as all parties agree. Arrivals are on Day 1, while the other two prompts can take place any time during the first 5 IC days of the game timeline. The VR PROMPTS diverge a bit from what we have planned for the opening and cannot be used to game canon, so please feel free to get creative with those! Reserves will open on: March 1st @ 8PM EST Applications will open on: March 5th @ 8PM EST

Comments

arrival;

[freightcars]

[ They haven't found the supply closet yet, or at least Bucky hasn't. He did, however, find the stack of sheets nearby and has affixed one to his waist. The bottom of it drags the ground a little, it's soaked with cryofluid people have been dragging out with their limp bodies, splashed down the front and otherwise tainted with signs of use.

His hair is mostly dry too, though it's clumped in strands. Hairbrushes are another thing he hasn't gotten around to finding yet.

All these signs point to Bucky having been out of the pod for a fair shake longer than Jack by now, a couple hours maybe, enough to get over the initial panic and start helping out the others trying to get their bearings. It's by sheer luck he spots Jack trying to levitate a droid, and he's at the guy's side a beat later reaching a hand out to wrap around his wrist.

He does not, however, try and haul him to his feet.

For... Reasons Jack will soon discover, if he hasn't already. No, instead he goes down, hitting one knee maybe a little too quick and a little too hard. It zings, but it's hardly important right now.

His voice is raw and raspy from the tube, from the rough job he gave himself ripping the thing out and the subsequent elbow to the throat he took right after. ]

Hey- hey- you okay?

[cicatrize]

[ bucky. bucky. he knows that voice, knows the hand on his wrist, knows the floppy, messy hair looking ridiculous and blue tinted, and jack's hand curls his hand to touch his wrist as well, gripping at him. ]

No. Yes. [ yes, physically, he is uninjured, but no, he is not a happy camper, and his telekinesis is broken, and his legs don't work, and he's naked and covered in possibly blueberry jello. what kind of horrific food kink nightmare is this, barnes? ] "Yes, but."

[ jack amends, frowning grimly, but squirms his way to get in closer to his friend (more than friend (that other F word we don't talk about unless jack is really drunk)), flipping onto his stomach and crawling up to put another hand on bucky's thigh.

he murmurs softly, almost sweetly: ]

I feel like I gargled acid and let an angry toddler kneecap me with a baseball bat.

[freightcars]

[ He'd been afraid for a second that Jack wouldn't know him. Remember him. Steve didn't— well, obviously he remembered Bucky, but he didn't remember their time in the city. The things they did together, the... anything. Natasha either, completely blank about the whole experience. The swooping dread he'd been feeling levels out and starts to fall when Jack starts gripping him.

His shoulders go a little softer, some of the tension visibly rolls out.

Thank Christ.

It might be a testament to just how grim their situation is that he doesn't laugh at the colorful turn of phrase. Doesn't even scoff, there's no smile, there's nothing but tightly pursed lips and an even tighter grip on Jack's arm. Not bruising, not like it might've been, because he's missing a significant piece of himself right now.

He pulls, leveraging the guy as best he can with weak muscles, trying his best not to think about how it takes the both of them to get him upright so Bucky can pull him chest-first into a hug. It's a little awkward with Jack sitting and Bucky kneeling, but it's still good. Still a relief.

After a long beat he pulls back, murmuring: ]

You're gonna wanna see this.

[cicatrize]

[ oblivious to all people forgetting nonsense, jack frowns slightly as he's tugged into a hug - not because he dislikes being hugged by bucky, more because it seems concerning. granted, this place is a degree more creepy than the other places. jack moves to hell bucky in dragging him up and into the hug despite the concern, a weak arm wrapping around his back to sweep over a shoulder blade. it's okay, buddy, he's here.

when he pulls back, the statement he gets isn't that much more assuring, and jack's brows knit, wariness building in him. he nods - yeah, sure, he'll go see the thing - and tries to grip at the side of his vacated pod to pull himself up. bucky doesn't seem any more sturdy than he is, right now, so he won't try to reach for him.

it's a process, and rather than have bucky watch his pale, naked ass scramble around trying to get his feet under him, he asks what's on his mind. ]

Are others less okay?

[ why do you have serious face on, what is happening, stop this. ]

[freightcars]

Not everybody's here. The ones that are...

[ Don't seem to remember. Most of them, anyway, so far. The people he's seen, the familiar faces, tehy're not all on the same page. Natasha doesn't have a line down her neck anymore. Steve...

He doesn't wanna worry about Steve right now, or how he's gonna tell him the truth about it all. Christ almighty.

Fortunately he can put that aside and focus on someone else. Focus on Jack, and getting him taken care of. Even though Jack tries to mostly rely on himself, Buck can't help but put a hand on the small of his back in the process. Like that somehow helps. Whether the kid likes it or not he slings an arm around his waist for the next leg of their journey, helping to hobble them both toward the clump of sheets people have been using as clothes.

Can't help the quiet partial admission that slips out, raspy and low: ]

Thought for a second there you wouldn't...

https://i.imgur.com/iznNhPz.jpg

[cicatrize]

[ not everybody's here. the statement freezes something in him, and stirs a fear that's been there since the first person in duplicity disappeared without warning. steve's already gone - who else have they lost this time?

with that in mind, it isn't difficult to piece the last sentence together. ]

I remember. All of it.

[ jack tells him with a rare softness and sincerity, rough voice quiet as he locks his knees and wraps an arm over bucky's shoulders, accepting the support. come on, buddy, let's go. he's here, and he's not going anywhere, not yet, not unless they drag him away kicking and screaming. ]

If I ever wake up missing something - tell me. Every second of it.

[ even if they're never they same thing they were, his life has been so much improved with bucky barnes in it, caring about him, calling him family. a version of him straight from shiloh wouldn't know how much he'd need it, but god, he has.

and bucky needs someone looking out for him. maybe someone that doesn't mind being a dick to him to get him to have some rest. ]

caws @ the sun

[freightcars]

[ They've lost Will this time, it seems. Bucky hasn't seen him since he woke up, and he's gone from pod to pod, from medbay to every open room he can find. He's tried locked doors and broom closets.

It hurts.

He's got an entire mental list of the missing, and that's not even touching on the ones who are here but don't remember. Steve, Natasha. Others.

He's been trying to remind himself, though, that there are bigger concerns than interpersonal dynamics right now. Bigger concerns than the missing, the grief. They woke up in fucking pods, first of all, with a cool voice talking about new bodies and dead crew on a ship. The immediate situation takes precedent.

With an arm around Jack's waist, they limp on. He stops them at the at table long enough to snatch up and shake out a sheet, which he offers up to Jack across the span of his own body with a flesh arm. ]

Put this on.

[ They can talk contingency plans about faulty memories once Jack's completely up to speed. ]

caws @ ur butt

[cicatrize]

[ right. his own memories aren't the issue at hand, right now. bucky needed to show him something, and while apprehension swells up in him for it, not certain why he doesn't simply tell him, jack's trust in bucky's a remarkable thing. he can go without being told. this once.

leaning his weight against bucky's arm holding to his waist, jack takes to wrapping the bedsheet around his body, over his hips and tossed over the side of a shoulder. should it be surprising he knows how to do a bedsheet toga? probably not. ]

Are we better or worse off than we were?

[ at least tell him that much to sooth the anxiety. with no one immediately standing over him, telling him to bend over for some stranger, it seems like the former, but jack's learned not to count your blessings too soon.

instead, he hobbles along with bucky, eyeing the environment and people around them as they go. ]

[freightcars]

[ Remind him to ask about how to toga the sheet sometime instead of just knotting it at his hip like a towel. That takes a backseat for right now too, the second Jack's done he's back in that solid grip getting half-carried into the hallway toward one of the AIRLOCKS WHICH A DROID OPENS UP THE OUTER DOOR TOWARD CONVENIENTLY ]

Hard to say just yet. But...

[ They hobble, bit by bit. The closer they get the sooner Jack may realize that he isn't just staring out into black glass or into night time. Soon he'll be able to pick out dots of stars and cosmic junk. Asteroids. The slowly turning rotational ring around a ship that stretches out for what looks like a mile in either direction.

Actual.

Fucking.

Space. ]

[cicatrize]

[ he will take time to redress you later, bucky, once they've gone through this whole wobbling through a spaceship thing. jack hasn't felt this weak in a long time, as if he's fighting a flu without any of the fever, but all of the weakness and nausea. bucky doesn't seem to be much better, and while jack's hardly much of a help, he does try to take his own weight as much as he can.

every now and again, during the walk, he tries to access his power, and still, nothing at all. sure would be nice to be able to move his useless, noodle legs with his mind, at least, while he's like this. the fact bucky's a bit more stable is hope that they won't be like this forever.

all thought of that evaporates when they near the airlock, jack's attention first on the little droid, squinting at it. he isn't from a world with tony stark, that has things like robots regularly placed around, so it's still bizarre to see. it isn't until it starts to sink in what exactly he's looking at, though, that his eyes narrow in more on the window.

half hobbling, half falling forward, jack plasters himself against the airlock door, looking out into the blackness beyond the outer door's opening. space. fucking space. unmistakably space, and oh my fucking god, that can't be real, can it? ]

Holy shit. [ he breathes, disbelieving, ] Holy shit, that's not— We aren't—

[ but it is, and we are, and he looks over to bucky, expression partly in wonder, but mostly in apprehension. ] How do we get home?

[freightcars]

[ There they stand, Jack plastered to the door, Bucky beside him leaning one shoulder against it heavily, exhausted from the effort of getting them both here. He's damn sure not a fan of whatever keeps robbing him of his strength, frankly; getting winded doing something like that's just embarrassing.

Jack's reaction is a decent distraction from it for the moment. As amusing as it is, his expression stays grim. Not exactly a laughing matter, not a joking matter, kind of terrifying actually. He's had more than one notion of something bashing into the hull and sucking them all into a void. About being trapped on this vessel with no sun and no grass for the next hundred years until they're all dead.

Gut-churning concepts that he's doing his very best to suppress. ]

That's the thing.

[ He says hoarsely, clearing his throat right after. ]

I'm not sure we do.

[cicatrize]

[ jack gapes at him a second, head shaking minutely, not wanting to accept that answer. ]

What about... Will? And Peter, and Eggsy, and Erik.

[ there are people there, people he likes, people he's attached to, people that have become so deeply important to him, and jack told himself he was finally done losing people. ]

What if Steve comes back and he can't find us?

[ god, jack's become so fucking fond of the man that it's painful, and what if he never sees him again? that probably should've been the realization in duplicity, but he'd been holding out for steve to magically pop back up, like some of the others had. but now, with them in fucking space, how will he find them? how will he even know to look for them?

christ. maybe he's panicking some, but this seems kind of worse. ]

[freightcars]

[ In this moment, Jack reminds him of a child. He's not, of course he's not, but looking down at the guy feels like looking down at his youngest sister right after Pearl Harbor. She wasn't quite yet even a teenager, with her wide doe eyes and her nightgown hitting her calves a little wet from the rain on their fire escape.

But Bucky, if you go over there who's gonna braid my hair anymore? Ma doesn't do as good of a job as you.

Not quite grasping that this is the absolute least of their problems. He does the same thing to Jack as he did to Mary back then: he curls his hand around Jack's shoulder and tugs him a little into his chest, murmuring softly into the space by his temple. ]

I don't know, kid. We'll figure it out.

[ Knowing full well he's lying, because the reality is he doubts they'll ever see Erik or Peter or any of them again. ]

[cicatrize]

[ if jack were actually a teenage girl, maybe that would have worked for him. sadly, he's a grown ass man, and he's seen people leave his life far too often not to realize placation when he hears it.

these people that came to mean the world to him and more, that changed twisted and ugly parts of him, that found little slots between his ribs and squirmed inside his chest to make a home near his heart - they're gone. bucky's still here, and while that means the world to him, and maybe jack surprised it isn't bucky alone that matters (that some others slipped into that loved category, despite jack thinking he hadn't allowed it for more than one or two), they were there all the same.

and now, they aren't.

jack's muscles tense, and he leans into the solid wall of bucky next to him, arms moving to wrap around his waist and squeeze tight at him. everything in him wants to cry in frustration, like a petulant child proclaiming but it's not fair. keep your shit together, jack.

stead, he nuzzles in against the side of buvky's neck, tilting his head to watch as the airlock gradually shuts, sealing out the endless space outside.

just... give him a second to very quietly and very stiffly mourn. and don't you fucking date leave him too, bucky, or so help him. ]