bicycles are meant to be ridden

[sop]

helios/everybody
r
2,951w
everyone gets a turn!
for the starfighterkinkmeme : “What if Helios realized that he was in a dating sim the whole time?”
warnings: dub-con. just to be safe. the nature of the prompt sort of demands it. also spoilers for the game.

This is it!

The Alliance ship Kepler.

Helios steps off the shuttle and stares at the giant spacecraft in front of him, gawking at the sheer size of it. He’s never seen anything so massive in his entire life. Twin engines in the back, a loading bay wide enough to house ten standard-size transport vessels, and the words Federated Alliance slapped in red across the hull. In mere minutes he’ll be on it, an actual member of its crew. Finally, after years of hard work and perseverance, Helios is one step closer to finding his sister. He grips the handle of his bag a bit tighter, sucks in a deep breath, and takes his first step toward the future.

He’s halfway through the crowd when a friendly face stops him dead in his tracks.

“Hi, hello!” says the blonde. “You’re the new recruit, right?”

Helios nods enthusiastically, smiling from ear to ear. Oh man, this is his first time meeting a real, live navigator. Okay, okay. He’s calm. He’s cool. Collected. Smooth. He can do this. Helios clears his throat, stands up straight, and says, “mind your own business.”

Wait.

What?

No, no, no. That’s not right. That’s not what he was going to say. That’s wrong! He’d never—

The friendly face becomes decidedly less friendly. “Just thought I’d welcome you…” he sighs pathetically. Helios’ gut twists.

“Hey Abel!” barks some guy with black hair. He looks tough. Tougher than a peanut butter and nails sandwich. Helios gulps. “Let’s get going and uh…” uh oh—the sandwich has figured it out “Abel, are you okay?!”

Abel frowns. “I’m fine.” Oh no. He’s using that tone. The tone that says, “Everything is horrible. Nothing is fine. I’m being passive aggressive. Fuck off and die.”

The peanut butter and nails sandwich death glares at Helios. Helios quivers. He’ll never look at bread the same way. “What the fuck did you do to Abel?!”

An amazing question, one Helios would love the answer to. What did he do?! Why did he do?! Who is making him do?! Helios stares up at the clouds for an answer, praying for divine assistance. The God of Shitty Questions remains silent. The network must be down. Please restart your router, wait ten seconds, and try again. Or perhaps try phrasing your query into understandable fucking English! Thank you, and have a nice day!

“He didn’t do anything,” Abel explains, still using that tone. “I was just trying to help and he—”

“I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Wow. That was mean. Helios wonders who said that. He looks around at the crowd, but can’t find a single suspect. Huh. That’s weird. And then it hits him, like a slimy fish-slap to the face. (These metaphors are making him hungry). He said that?! But why?! Helios usually isn’t like this! Why is he saying all of these horrible, mean things?! Is he possessed by the Ghost of Verbal Diarrhea Past?! Helios stammers like a fucking idiot when he realizes that he’s just kicked up a sandstorm of Darudic proportions.

Congratulations! Mr. PB&N has evolved! Your sandwich has turned into…a Savage Angry Moose! Would you like to give him a nickname? “Okay, new guy. Listen up,” says the Savage Angry Moose, trotting closer until he’s uncomfortably close and disgustingly moosey. “You’re a fighter, right? I get that. But from now on, if you wanna pick a fight, pick it with me. Leave the navigators out of it.”

Yes. Good. That’s perfectly fine. Fantastic. Helios whiplashes his head up and down in agreement. Of course he— “No one talks to me like that.” He slaps two hands over his mouth, but can’t shove the words back down fast enough. His colon spasms. Oh Christ, he’s going to die. No, really. It’s on fire. Someone, please, call a doctor!

The Moose snarls with big, moosey teeth. His angry, moosey nostrils flare wider than the bed of his inbred cousin’s truck. He huffs savage, moosey breaths in Helios’ face. They smell dangerous and maple syrup-y. What the hell does a moose look like, anyway?! “I talk to whoever I want, however I want! This is your only warning. You keep up this attitude, I’ll give you a swift kick out an airlock.” S.A.M threatens with an annoyed, moosey tone. “Come on, Abel.”

They storm away, jimmies rustled.

Helios drops his bags and consults the clouds once more. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

“I don’t know man, but stop screaming. You’re rustlin’ my jimmies,” says the cumulonimbus dong in the sky. Is it trying to tell him something?! Is this his future?!

Oh God. He’s gone insane. There’s no other explanation.

He squints harder and sees glass. And then a face. Wait—

Who?!

You


*


So he’s not crazy.

That’s a relief.

Just trapped inside a dating sim. Which, honestly, doesn’t seem that bad, if he ignores the ten-minute existential crisis that had followed soon after. This isn’t too bad at all! Yeah! There are definitely worse things in life to be. His potential romance options are hot (including that moose) and Helios has come to accept that he’s nothing more than a vessel for gay butt sex. Again, could be worse. He could’ve been a character in Dramatical Murder! Or worse, Fate/Stay Night!

Helios drops his bags on the floor and smiles, renewed optimism lifting his spirits. One of his prospective partners rummages through some papers on the nightstand. He’s kind of cute for a drawing. Wait. He’s also a drawing. No no no. He can’t think about it too hard or his brain might explode.

“Oh, hello!” says Long Haired Love Interest with a rockin’ butt. “I’m Selene, nice to meet you!”

Helios nervously scratches the back of his head. This one’s really cute. He doesn’t know how any of this works, but he kind of hopes that the person in charge gets the subtle hints he’s dropping. His boner agrees.

Maybe what happened before was just a joke! I’m sure whoever’s playing the game isn’t going to—

“Well, I was expecting a bit more.”

Selene frowns. “I could say the same for you!” he huffs, turning on his heel to leave. Goodbye rockin’ booty. “Ugh. I’m going to get settled before the ship takes off. You should probably do the same.”

Helios glares at you through the monitor. Why?! he internally monologues like a shonen protagonist. Why would you be so mean to someone so nice?!

You lean back in your chair and laugh into the darkness. It’s only 2pm. You keep the curtains drawn because you hate the sunlight, you fucking edge lord. The cat judges you from his litter box while he takes a massive shit.

Yes, you think. This is going to be fun.


*


(It’s my day off… Should I wear my uniform or civilian clothes?)

Helios stares deep into your soul. Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about picking the second option. Don’t—hey! Stop that! Go back up! Why are you—NO!

The animation fades. He reappears wearing a textbook example of poor judgment and drunken oversight. “Boy Toy” reads his crop top. How appropriate.

(…You know what? I look great, so who cares what anyone thinks!)

He tries ripping off the clothes, but the game properties won’t allow it. Hamletmachine didn’t draw that panel. “I CARE WHAT I THINK!” Helios screams to no one.

You laugh and make him walk to Med Bay anyway.


*


You’re working through Abel’s route now. Deimos was difficult, but well worth the multiple deaths. Sorry, Helios. But not really. There’s only a few CG’s left to complete Abel’s gallery.

So you need to stop ogling the pull-up scene and get a move on! Time for some “plot” progression. You furiously click the left button on your mouse. The spring inside howls in agony. It’s near the verge of death. Won’t you please think of its family before you treat it so carelessly?!

Helios angrily pads through the halls, sweaty and pissed. He looks hot. Super ultra mega hot. You squeal like a sexually repressed piggy in heat. Ohmygoshsohot.

He stumbles upon Abel staring off into space, looking ethereal and super fuckable. Perfect. All according to keikaku (Translator’s note: keikaku means plan).

Helios gives you an are you kidding me?! glare. I’ve been stabbed, brainwashed, and tossed out an airlock by this guy?! And now you want me to bone him?!. Whatever. Love is a battlefield, Helios, and you lack the dedication to win this war! He’s 2D, anyway. Who gives a shit?

“I give so many shits!” Helios hisses through the screen.

Abel gawks awkwardly. “Uhhhhh,” is what he says. Uhhhhh, is what he thinks. Uhhhhh is how he feels. “Um, Helios? Are you…okay?” Oh gosh, he’s so cute. Must. Romance. Now.

Helios sighs and nods his head. It’s not like he can tell Abel about the mysterious, divine entity controlling his every move. Or that it forces him to wear leather jackets and chokers. OR THAT THEY’VE MURDERED HIM A MILLION TIMES JUST TO GET SOME FUCKING PICTURES! Who would believe him?! No one, that’s who. You throw your head back and cackle. Your father walks by and shakes his head disapprovingly. What has he raised?

Click. Click. You skip all the boring dialogue. But then… Oh, yes. Here Excellent. Abel cozies up to Helios, squirming like a slutty earthworm against his chest. Yes, good.

“This… This isn’t right…?” Abel murmurs.

You’re telling me.

“…No. Helios—”

“Woah, Abel!”

And now they’re kissing. Two fictional cartoons are swapping spit and germs on your monitor. You roll around on the bed, then the floor, down the stairs, out the door, and into traffic. Finally! This is the kind of content you signed up for! You shriek wildly in glee while children scream in terror. Run, puny creatures. They’ll never understand.

After you’ve brushed away the dirt on your pants, you click once more. Abel’s hand rubs Helios’ groin. YOU ARE SIGNED THE FUCK UP. MUST GET TO THE SEX. SEX SEX SEX. SEXSEXSEXSEXSEXXXXXXXX.

Helios stiffens. Not in the sexy way you pervert!

(Woah, fuck yes!)

No! Fuck no! I know how this ends!

The kiss lasts for hours. You refuse to click next. Abel’s hand remains suctioned like an octopus’ tentacle to Helios’ dick.

You are happy. Your cat is happy. Your dog napping by the bed is happy. The man outside watering his plants is happy. A distant, alien race living in another dimension is happy. Your mother who doesn’t even know what Starfighter Eclipse™ is, is happy. Everyone is happy.

Except Helios.

Fuck him.

Yes.

Fuck him.

“WHAT THE FRESH FUCK?!”

That was one fuck too many.


*


Dicks.

So many dicks.

So many goddamn fucking dicks.

Dicks in his hand. Dicks in his mouth. Dicks up his butt.

Dicks dicks dickity dicks.

Cock.

Cain slumps against Helios and leans in for a kiss. He’s stressed and on the verge of a panic attack. He needs something to ground him. Something hard he can hold, something he won’t let go of. Like a dick. A big, veiny, grayscale dick. Helios’ to be precise. Dick can heal you mentally and physically. Its powers transcend all logic and reason. Dick is love, dick is life. All hail the almighty dick.

Helios stares at Cain’s all-too-familiar penis. He’s seen it before in Abel’s route. And Deimos’. And, somehow, in his dreams because the person running this show is a sinful horndog who can’t keep it in their pants! Or his pants! Fuck!

“Why does everyone on this fucking ship think cock is the answer to all of their problems?!” Helios shouts in the hallway just as he comes. Apparently handjobs cure anxiety.

Cain huffs, red in the cheeks, and makes a face at Helios when his turkey baster explodes. “That’s a fucked up thing to say when you jizz, man.”

Yes, yes it is.

You open the menu and click on File #3. The scene just before Abel opens the air lock with Cain and Helios inside.

“W-wait!” Helios stammers. “I didn’t mean it! Please, don’t open that one!” he begs.

“The fuck are you on?”

“DON’T!”

LOADING SAVE FILE

Get rekt.


*


(Praxis is leaning in really close to Selene while they look at the engine’s status display…)

You open a new tab immediately and begin rabidly searching for a walkthrough. “Helios Praxis Route” yields zero results. Okay, so, what if you tried “Helios Selene Praxis Threesome”... There’s got to be a way. But Google refuses to divulge its secrets. Maybe the answer remains hidden behind a paywall. Curse you capitalism! Foiled again!

Helios throws his hands in the air. “Oh, you want me to bone Praxis now too?! Is that it?!” He points accusingly in your direction.

Selene whips his head around so hard his super stylish ombre smacks him between the eyes. “Helios?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

Praxis turns so red the game breaks its color scheme. “I’m so lonely…” he mutters into his balled fist. You drag the cursor over and frantically double-click Praxis’ salty, gross tears. There, there, One-Eyed Prince. Let the power of—

“You can’t romance him!” Helios screams.

Oh.

Damnit.


*


You’ve played through this game at least 400 times. The website is threatening to ban your account. You’ve completed all of the CG’s, endings, and routes.

But you’ve never done his.

“Yes, hello! I’m Selene. You must be my fighter—I’m looking forward to working with you!”

Helios sighs in defeat. He’s used to you clicking the last two options, but never the first. He’s dejected, beaten down, and has consigned himself to a life of unprotected butt sex. Well…maybe just this once. “I didn’t expect to get such a cute Navigator! I’m Helios, by the way.” Helios blushes at his own words. It’s genuine and pure. Something feels different this time around. Does he…

“Hey,” Helios whispers so only you can hear. “Maybe we could try this route for once? Not that what I say matters all that much to you, but…” He looks down at his feet. O-oh. He’s being serious. “The others were okay, I guess, but don’t you want to try something different?”

“Oh! Ha ha!” Selene hides his smile behind the back of his hand. “U-um, thank you! We should get settled in before the ship takes off! Do you want top or bottom?”

Oh no.

What’s happening?

A sudden pang rips through your chest.

No…

You can’t be—

Helios coughs nervously. “I…u-uh….”

Selene’s sweating bullets. “Of the bunks! The bunks!” he corrects.

The final nail in the coffin.

That’s it.

You ship it.

With five cans of Red Bull in your system and a thirst for gay cartoon porn, you begin clicking through the dialogue to complete your personal, canon ending.

This is what you’ve been missing your whole, sinful life.

Helios gives you a huge thumb’s up.

You salute him back.

It takes you less than an hour to complete the route. And when it’s all over you shed a big, fat tear, wiping the pain away with crusty Dorito fingers. Would you like to start a new game? No. No you would not. Helios is finally happy. Selene’s dick is, too. You close the tab and open iTunes. The Real Folk Blues blares through the speakers. Your mother yells at you to turn the music down. But you can’t. This is goodbye. An end of an era. You’re gonna carry that gay weight.

See you, space cowboy.