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Summary: You wake up from a coma in outer space with a limited knowledge as to who you are. You discover a tattoo and you can't help but feel as though that the tattoo and your oddly charming companion are both tied to your forgotten life.
Warnings: Mentions of a tattoo, extensional loneliness, somewhat angsty, Ryland being a space blob, and maybe swear words idk.
Word Count 1.2K
You didn’t expect to find a tattoo while washing up in the Hail Mary’s claustrophobic bathroom. To call it a bathroom would be a gracious statement. Since the ship required so much power the engineers who designed it must have realized a western styled bathroom was out of the question. Instead, they’d opted to create an eastern styled bathroom for the Hail Mary crew members. It somewhat confused you at first since you hadn’t expected it. Nevertheless, the bathroom had triggered happy memories of when you were traveling through Japan in your 20s. Soon you knew what to do and how to properly clean yourself without feeling gross afterwards.
But back to the tattoo… the small inking on your skin had completely thrown you off. You didn’t expect to be the type to have a tattoo. From what you remembered about your life, you didn’t scream to be the type of person to get a tattoo. You had even recalled having a strong fear of needles. So much so that getting your yearly flu shot felt like the end of the world. Regardless, under your lower breast lies a tattoo. The tattoo was only four simple words. Yet you instinctively knew that the words held a lot of weight to them.
“Because you are everything.”
You didn’t think that whoever you were on earth was someone who was cocky. From what you can recall you were rather polite, and humble. Which is why you came to the conclusion that you had possibly gotten the tattoo as a reminder. What the reminder was intended for… well you weren’t exactly sure. Instead you brush it off. You had more important things to worry about. Such as the odd, yet charming man you had woken up with in depths of outer space.
Once you are dressed you head into the lab only to be greeted by the raggedy blonde hair man. He stood slumped over in front of the whiteboard, scribbling things down. When you left him to take a shower the whiteboard was practically empty. Now it was full of words and ramblings. As you approached him you soon realized what he’d been writing. He’d been writing down memories and characteristics the two of you had. You let out a faux cough making yourself known only for him to turn around and smile at you. It seemed that while you were showering he shaved his overgrown beard. He looked better but his long hair still seemed somewhat offputting.
“I figured out my name! And I think I figured out your name!”
You nodded your head and stepped forward. You were greatly intrigued by this. Before your shower you’d established that whoever the two of you were back on earth the two of you were close. Like close close. So close, that you’d even share vague memories of the two of you having sex. Which made the blonde man’s cheeks turn a bright tomato red. He’d then shyly nodded his head upon finding out this knowledge. Clearing indicating that he’d also remembered your love affair.
As a result on the whiteboard he’d simply written: “friends with benefits,” “Get along well,” and “friends.” It satisfied you to a degree. However it also annoyed you since that felt like an oversimplification of who you were to each other. But you left that alone as you were worried that may have been a private thought, rather than an open statement.
You nodded your head and replied. “Okay. What’s your name?”
It made him pause for a moment. He looked at you bewildered and he cleared his throat before asking this, “You don’t wanna know your name first?”
“I can wait.”
He nodded his head. Then turned back to the whiteboard and in blue ink which was established to be things about you. He wrote “patient.”
He then turned back toward you and said, “My name is Doctor Ryland Grace.” He said your full name and you simply smiled. At least now you have an identity. You liked the sound of your name so much that more memories fluid your system. Such as your early childhood memories, who your parents were, and even memories about your extended family. Who could have guessed that with a name you’d remember so much in such a brief period of time? It made you wonder what else could trigger your memories. You decided to test it. Maybe Dr. Grace had once seen your tattoo?
“I just discovered I have a tattoo.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think it’s new. Not something I had long.” You didn’t know why you added that. It was a spur of the moment sort of remark. You didn’t even know that you’d say that until the words left your mouth. In an instant you began to feel almost protective of the tattoo. Maybe it held greater meaning that you intentionally thought. And then all at once it hits you once he asks to see it. This tattoo wasn’t something that was meant for just anyone to see. It was a promise. A promise you’d made to someone deeply important to you. Your lover… a man who was likely left on earth. As he repeats his question you feel as though the walls are collapsing in on you. In a haste you blurt this out.
“I don’t think I should show it to you… It’s under my breast.”
Dr. Grace nodded his head and looked elsewhere. Clearing his throat. It was extremely apparent that you had made things awkward. With a polite smile he simply said.
“Oh… you don’t have to show it then.”
You nodded your head but said nothing in return. Instead, you decided to distract yourself by reading over what Dr. Grace had written while you had bathed. The thing that stood out to you the most was the fact that he’d written that he was a teacher/microbiologist. While you were a doctor. It made sense, since neither of you had recalled ever being a pilot. Which meant Yao and Ilyukhina were the captain and engineer. You decided it was best to give him some disclosure about why you couldn’t show him the tattoo. Rather than to leave him wondering. He’d been truthful to you what was the point in not having a truthful relationship? It’d only lead to chaos.
“It’s a phrase by the way. I think it’s a matching tattoo. I must have gotten it with someone I loved.”
“What’s it say?”
“I—it’s personal. I know that we knew each other on earth but I don’t want to share it with you. You still feel like an acquaintance.”
He nodded his head. You were somewhat surprised that he didn’t press. For a scientist he could be considerate. Not demanding answers especially after waking up from a coma. You took the red marker from his hand and simply wrote “considerate.”
It seemed that Doctor Grace thought highly of you. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be so bad to work with him after all? At the end of the day that didn’t change anything. The two of you were on a one way ticket to Tau Ceti. Which meant that it didn’t matter how kindhearted he was. It wouldn’t change the fact that you were loved back on earth and you’d never kiss your lover's lips again.
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Took me years to understand that boredom is not the enemy of writing. It is the raw material. Every good idea i have ever had arrived during a walk with no podcast, a train with no phone, a shower where i just stood there. The moment i fill every silence with content i stop generating anything of my own. I am just processing other people's thoughts instead of having mine. The empty space is where the work comes from. Protecting the empty space is the actual job.
writers really will spend twenty minutes pacing around the kitchen thinking “this scene is genius” and then sit down to type and suddenly remember approximately three words and one emotional vibe
June 12, 2016. Putting a date on this for when it gets reblogged months from now by people who think the post is about something from 30, 40 years ago.
I am a survivor of the Pulse nightclub shooting, having grown up in Orlando and just turned 20 a month prior. If you didn’t know, there were several families who refused to claim the bodies of their relatives due to their sexuality. One family even had their relative’s name removed from the memorial. Murdered by the same hate with which their families reject them in both life and death.
Many, many people celebrated Pulse. We were told we deserved it. That it was God’s punishment for our sin of loving the same sex. We are sent messages like these I received in 2018:
We in the community often call the victim count 49+ to include the survivors who couldn’t live with the pain.
The event was never officially declared a hate crime or targeted homophobic attack and is rarely listed as one in databases.
At our vigils for those slaughtered, Extremist Christian groups showed up to protest, holding signs like this:
ID: Me kissing a woman I was casually seeing in front of an angry looking man with a “Sodomy is Sin” sign.
Please understand how much more than just a mass shooting this was. We are still to this day harassed and told we deserved it by some.
This year was the sixth anniversary. The first couple years I received dozens of messages checking in on me on 6/12. Year 5 got enough news coverage for people to think to reach out to me. This year it was my therapist, the woman I kissed in that photo, and a couple of other gun violence survivor friends. People are forgetting already.
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sometimes I think about how far we still have to go with consent
my worst relatives try to sneak meat or meat products into my food despite the fact that I'm a vegetarian
my ex's brother gave his mother an edible without her knowledge and when she got freaked out and paranoid they laughed, and people I've told that go "yeah that's shitty but it's just weed"
when I go to the doctor and ask them to describe what they are going to do before touching me they get frustrated
when I ask a friends of a friend who is a small influencer to keep me out of frame in videos they film for social media in public they look at me like I've pissed in their cereal
idk man, we've got a long way to go.
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