#make them weird. make them unearthly. make them alien.

[nellasbookplanet]

Sorry but my thoughts are still on the nature of death in dnd (and other fiction where resurrection is possible), specifically on the implications it has on worldbuilding.

Resurrection magic existing kind of makes for cultural issues that have no parallel in our world. Some of it compares - such as the inherent class divide and tensions when the rich and powerful can literally buy their way out of death (a class divide is a class divide, this just digs the chasm deeper, which I'd love to see explored more in media btw) - but the implications on grief and acceptance are on another level. In our world, there is no bargaining with death. So much of our lives is spent coming to terms with the fact that we will all die one day, and mourning and moving on whenever death strikes near us. We experience stages of grief like denial and rage and bargaining but in the end there is no escaping it, no matter how hard you work or beg or rage. Clinging on can only hurt you. It's pointless. All you can do is move on, and it is so hard.

But if death is conditional. Impermanent. Something that can be defeated with money or power or faith. How do you ever move on. On a societal and cultural level, there should be entire rebellions based around who has access to resurrection. Powerful people offering resurrections as incentive would be all over the place, with desperate people selling their souls and freedom and entire lives to save a loved one. Would soldiers fear dying, seen as disposable, or would they fear being brought back again and again to die eternally on the battlefield?

But on an individual level. Is acceptance of the inevitability of death even possible when it’s no longer inevitable? If you decide that no, you can not give up everything to go pursue resurrection of your child, will you hate yourself? You could save them. Why aren’t you? Why aren’t you doing everything in your power? How much do you hate the people who have this power but won’t offer it freely? If you yourself are brought back from the dead and find out most of your loved ones just, let you go, would you hate them? Would you feel abandoned and betrayed? If you’re watching from the afterlife and see your loved one, who’s been working to get you back, decides to accept your death and move on because they have found new love, would you find a way to fucking haunt them? Oh, you think I only lived for you? That I don’t want life just because I can’t have you, too? How selfish is that. But how selfish would it be to bring someone back only to salve your own feelings of guilt, whether they want to or not? Would there be an entire industry of mediums based on people needing to ask their loved ones if they wish to remain dead or not? How much more powerful would hate and love and hubris be in this world, lacking the absolute limit of death?

#nella talks #long post #i have similar feelings of how worlds with scientifically provable gods would be impacted on a cultural level #bc in our world you can believe however much you want but you can never prove a thing. that's the whole point of faith #but if you could literally ring up a god and ask what happens after death? #how would that impact the nature of faith and religion? #would there still be religious wars if you could just ask gods opinion? #would knowing where you go post death be worse than the freedom of finding whatever internal truth comforts you personally? #can you tell how frustrated i am that so many fantasy stories are entirely disinterested in digging into this stuff #stop writing fantasy worlds that are just historical fiction with magic sprinkled on top #make them weird. make them unearthly. make them alien. #show me just how much society changes when the laws of nature shifts slightly to the left

[ishipgenfics]

You and Your Human: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

You do not know where you are.

To be fair, you have not known where you are for a very long time, but this is a different kind of uncertainty. This room looks different from your old one. Last you remember, there were alarms ringing through the air and you were curled up into a ball trying to ignore the rumbling in your stomach because no one had come in so long--

You shove the memories down. You have always been good at that, even before your abduction, although never to this degree.

You get up, shakily. You have been left water, and down it eagerly. You are glad to have it, but its presence is a bad sign. If they want you to get your strength back, it means more tests are coming up. It may mean they want you to fight, which you really aren't in the mood for.

You push yourself up to your feet, ignoring your shaking limbs. You can let yourself be weak if you ever get out. For now, you need to put on a show of force. If they ever think they don't need to fear you anymore...

You pace the perimeter of your new room, tapping on the walls as you go. No cracks, no weaknesses. You didn't really think there would be, but you had to check.

... you can't hear anything. Or well, that isn't true, you can hear the shaky sound of your own breathing, your footsteps on the stainless steel floor, but you can't actually hear anything outside of your cell. And that's weird.

There's always noise. The sound of screams, the clash of metal against metal, crying, sobbing. There has never been anything like this, this cold unearthly silence. You shiver.

As you sit in your cell, with nothing else to do, you begin to wonder what happened. The ship crashed. You are fairly certain of that, unless it was some sort of trick-- but no. You have agreed to take the world at face value, lest you go mad.

So. The ship crashed. No one came for a long time. You assumed they were all dead. You assumed you too would die.

... is that why its so quiet? Are they all dead? Did the alarms finally run out of power?

Except no, that doesn't make sense either, because if they're all dead, how on... wherever you are would you be in another room?!

You bury your head in your hands.

You are bored. It has been days and each time you fall asleep, food and water appear in your cell. None of it has been drugged, and most of it has been edible, which is good, but you have seen no one.

You know you sound like an entitled prick-- complaining about being bored while on an alien shapeship-- but at least the experiments made sense. You knew what to expect. Those days where you were sure you were going to die forgotten in your cell were worse that any test the aliens could come up with, and you really don't want to go back to them. Even if you do have food now.

You start talking. Just to the air. Back when you were capable of acting like a normal human being, you would have been worried that this made you seem crazy, but you really could not give a damn anymore.

You recite snippets of books and movies, and then, when you run out of those, you just talk. About anything and everything.

Sometimes you could almost swear someones listening.

Some time later, out of the corner of your eye, you see a small fuzzy head poke into the doorway. You heart stops.

"Hello?" you say.

"Hello?" the alien calls back. You warn your frantic heart not to get its hopes up. It's probably just mimicking you, like a parrot. There's no reason to be excited.

But then it keeps talking.

"Okay?" it says. "I speak some. Not past, so couldn't speak you-me. Can now. So, okay?"

You just stared, stunned. The alien pronounces words strange-- buzzing its ses and clicking its ces, and it hesitates over each word, but it is speaking to you. Speaking English.

It has been so, so long.

The alien's ears twitch. They are tall and bristly. Like a rabbit. You had a friend who had a pet rabbit, a long time ago. "Go?"

"No!" You are shocked by the levels of desperation in your voice. Only a week ago, you would have given anything for the aliens to leave you alone. But now...

"Alone... bad for humans? Or you? Or three?"

You think through how to phrase this in a way the rabbit alien will understand. "Yes. Much alone bad. Much alone makes little alone worse."

The rabbit alien swishes its tail once, firmly. "I will stay."

You talk to the rabbit alien often. It is different from the gem aliens. It talks to you like you are a sentient being, rather than an experiment. It never runs tests. Sometimes it lets you out of your cell.

You are certain you are on a different ship. No one on the other ship would ever be this kind.

You like this alien. It is your alien now. You decided this, and so it is true. You have not told your alien this because you don't want to scare it away, but you think it feels the same. You have caught it referring to you as its human when it mumbles under its breath.

Your alien shows you how to unlock the door to your cell. You are no longer a prisoner here, it seems. Strange, to be trusted after only a few short weeks. You can't say it's something you're used to.

Your alien also might be a criminal, because the ship you are on was clearly not made for it. It is small, and it has trouble reaching things. The ship the gem aliens on was definitely built for them so... your alien might have stolen a ship?

Eh. You don't care. From how the gem aliens acted, your existence is probably illegal.

You get out of the ship for the first time into a grassy area surrounded by mountains. It is beautiful, but your alien seems to be... upset. You don't like that. Your alien should not be upset. But it is making whimpering noises and its breaths are halted and shuddering as it tries to explain things to you.

You kneel down to the ground, heedless of the way the dew on the grass seeps into your pant legs and wrap your arms around your alien. It leans its head into your shoulder.

As you feel your aliens pitter-patter heartbeat against your neck, you think to yourself that it is a damn good thing your alien's crew will never meet you.

Hell hath no fury like a human scorned.

#this story has a tag now! #you and your human #also the you in this portion is the human not the alien #in case it was unclear #also also its a prequel #humans are space orcs #writblr #story snippet #story #Part 4: Engineers and Scientists and Bookshops #Oh My! #second person #original character #click on the you and your human tag to find parts 1 and 2! #if it doesn't work for whatever reason let me know and i'll link them in the main post

[spiritshaydra]

WOE CYBERTRONIAN VOYN BE UPON YE

I’m just going to go ahead and share the concept sketches I have for her “Cybertronian” guise that I mentioned in the tags of my last post. Her robot form has been quite the challenge to design because I really want her to read as unearthly, and that there ain’t something right with this being, like this is something primordial pretending to be something it’s not. Plus there’s the challenge of trying to make a design where the beast mode collapses into a smaller robot mode; as she’s mostly based on the Predacons from Prime who’s “base” form is the beast mode while the robot form is more like the vehicle mode for other Cybertronians. I also want her to look the part of a TFP Predacon because they weren’t just,,, metal dragons, they looked distinctly alien in beast mode (Predaking’s mandibles for example) and had a sort of fear factor to their designs (Predaking’s dragon form having visible teeth like a skull also as an example) She gotta look like a freak!!

I guess she’d technically be a triple changer since she got this weird “angelic” mode that is used for space travel and reentry, but I’m not sure if it counts as a separate alt? So far the details I have solidified for the robot form design is that part of her spine forms the “halo” behind her neck and shoulders, her chestplate splits and folds up for the smaller robot mode, the retractable claws of the beast mode become her fingers, and that her wings split into six along the different layers of “feathers”, four on her back, two used as hip skirts. The head of the beast mode is actually tucked away into one of her arms and can be used like a cannon, and has a bunch of freaky pseudo organic details like teeth <3

She’s horrible and her presence sets off Geiger counters and other energy reading devices.

Her alias would be Singularity!

(I’d also be more than happy to answer any questions regarding this moron! I’ll try to provide doodles to accompany them :})

#maccadam #just voyna things #spirit’s oc vault #tfp #tfp oc #transformers #transformer oc #transformers prime #oc #original character #character design #character design study #character study #concept art #robot oc #robot design #alien #alien design #alien oc #scifi #science fiction #sketch dump

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 2) Chapter Six

Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Six: Body-Switching Aliens

Summary: Spock, Kirk, and Mulhall allow the aliens to possess them to build android bodies. Unfortunately, Henoch is up to something.

            “The extreme power of the alien mind will drive the action dangerously high, and the body functions will race many times their normal metabolism,” explained Bones to Chapel. “So we’re going to have to monitor this very carefully.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Chapel.

            Spock, Kirk, and Mulhall lay on infirmary beds beside the receptacles of Henoch, Sargon, and Thalassa beside them. (Y/N) sat beside Spock, anxiously waiting for the transference of minds to take place.

            “Well, I guess we’re about as ready as we’ll ever be,” said Bones. “(L/N), if there any changes in their emotions, let me know.”

            “Jim,” said Sargon’s voice.

            “Ready, Sargon,” said Kirk.

            Kirk, Spock, and Mulhall prepared themselves. The three receptacles glowed brightly and whirred to life as the transference took place. Each of their bodies twitched slightly as their minds switched places with those of Henoch, Sargon, and Thalassa. Finally, their bodies relaxed, and their eyes opened.

            “The transference…is complete,” said Sargon, his voice Kirk’s but unearthly and larger than life. He sat up, and Chapel quickly checked on the state of Kirk’s body since this was his second switch.

            “Hmm. Hmm.” Henoch’s voice came out like Spock’s, but there was more distinguishable emotion within it.

            He gazed down at Spock’s body as he considered his temporary vessel. Henoch propped himself up his elbows and looked around himself. His eyes landed on (Y/N), who was gazing at him curiously. They had met Sargon already and gauged Thalassa’s temperament from her emotions. Henoch was the only one they couldn’t figure anything about other than Sargon saying he was part of the “other side.”

            On his part, Henoch looked (Y/N) up and down before a smirk played on his lips. He chuckled and met their gaze. “What a beautiful sight to make up to after a half a million years.”

            (Y/N) blinked and turned pink. They knew it was Henoch, but seeing so much emotion and such words from Spock’s body in something like Spock’s voice was a shock. “Uh, thank you.”

            Henoch chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He stood and turned to (Y/N). “Hm. Not human like these others, are you?”

            (Y/N) shook their head. “I am Celian.”

            “Ah. The empath,” said Henoch. He smirked. “I’ve always liked psychics. Especially attractive ones. What’s your name?”

            (Y/N) wasn’t sure what they had been expecting from Henoch, but it hadn’t been flirting with them. “I’m Lieutenant (Y/N) (L/N).” They were trying to remain polite, but they weren’t sure how to deal with the situation.

            “(Y/N)…” murmured Henoch. “How lovely it is to meet you.”

            (Y/N) took a step back. Seeing Spock’s face look at them like that was so weird that even if Henoch was just flirting innocently (not an unusual occurrence for (Y/N)), they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

            Luckily, everyone’s attention was stolen as Thalassa and Sargon stood up and gazed at each other. The romantic tension was nearly palpable.

            “Sargon…” breathed Thalassa. She walked towards him, and Sargon met her in the middle. She examined Sargon in Kirk’s body. “I am not displeased, my husband. Your body is not unlike that which was your own.”

            “And I, too…am pleased, beloved,” said Sargon. He gently took Thalassa’s hand, his thumb circling the back of her hand affectionately. He leaned in and kissed his wife, and Thalassa kissed back.

            Henoch smirked and looked at (Y/N). “I, too, and pleased with this body. In fact, I believe I received the best of them. Am I correct?”

            “Spock takes care of himself. It’s part of what makes him an admirable Science Officer,” replied (Y/N).

            “Yes, well, the strength, hearing, and eyesight are far superior to those of humans,” said Henoch. He chuckled. “I’m surprised the Vulcan never conquered other civilizations.”

            (Y/N) frowned. “The Vulcans are a peaceful, logical people, Henoch,” they said.

            “Of course, of course. As are we,” said Henoch with a pleasant smile. “We love having peaceful relations with other cultures.”

            Without the ability to sense his emotions since he hid them as well as Spock, (Y/N) couldn’t decide if Henoch’s use of “relations” was innocent or was a euphemism. They really hoped it wasn’t the latter.

            Thalassa slumped forward, and Sargon caught her. The commotion caught their attention.

            “Nurse!” called Bones. He and Chapel guided Thalassa back to the infirmary bed.

            “Doctor, I…” Sargon groaned as a similar faintness crept in.

            Bones quickly escorted him back to bed as well and turned to Henoch. “You’d better get back to bed, too, Henoch.”

            “Unnecessary, Doctor. This Vulcan body is accustomed to higher metabolism,” said Henoch.

            Bones frowned but focused back on the ill Sargon. “It won’t work, Sargon. You’ve got to get out before you kill them.”

            “We will vacate at once…until you can administer a metabolic reduction injection,” said Sargon.

            “A what?” asked Bones.

            “I will prepare the injection, Sargon,” said Henoch.

            “Henoch…your condition?” asked Sargon, struggling to stay awake.

            “I can continue in this body for several hours,” said Henoch with a pleased smile.

            “Fortunate…” murmured Sargon. “We will…vacate at once.” He and Thalassa’s minds transferred back into their receptacles as the exhaustion took over.

            Henoch turned to (Y/N). “Would you show me to your pharmacology laboratory?”

            (Y/N) nodded. They were happy to help since it meant Spock’s body wouldn’t be hurt by Henoch’s presence. Even if it withstood the metabolic changes now, there was no telling what time would do. They couldn’t let Spock be hurt.

l

            “Now this formula will reduce the heart action and the bodily functions to normal,” explained Henoch. “While the bodies are occupied, your Nurse Chapel will administer one injection of ten cc’s each hour.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “I’ll let Nurse Chapel know.”

            “This hypo is for myself, and these two are marked for Thalassa and Sargon,” he said.

            (Y/N) frowned as they examined them. They had spent enough time around Spock to have a little bit of his scientific knowledge had rubbed off on them. “Why is the one for you different?”

            Henoch paused and glanced at them. He clearly hadn’t anticipated them catching the differences. “This body is Vulcan. Its composition calls for a slightly different mixture.” He smiled, but (Y/N) was struck by the performative nature of it, like a politician trying to seem caring.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. They needed to see Henoch’s emotions to figure out if he was trying to hide something. “I think we should check with Bones—”

            “If we don’t administer it soon, there will be repercussions for Jim Kirk and Ann Mulhall’s bodies,” said Henoch, walking out of the room before (Y/N) could stop him. What’s more, he had Chapel inject them all before (Y/N) could arrive and intervene.

l

            Luckily, Sargon and Thalassa reacted well to the injections and began their work on their future mechanical bodies. Henoch worked alongside them, but he was more likely to wander the ship, learning about it and the world they’d be entering.

            However, (Y/N) worried. Yes, Sargon and Thalassa seemed fine, but it was suspicious that Henoch was more focused on the Enterprise than building his new body. He seemed to be growing too attached to Spock’s body, and (Y/N) was worried what that would mean.

            “Shouldn’t you be working on your android body?” asked (Y/N) as they entered a spare briefing room where Henoch was reading the manuscripts loaded onto the Enterprise’s mainframes.

            “I believe learning of the world I am joining is just as important,” said Henoch with a politician-smile.

            “You’ll have all the time in the world after you enter your new body,” said (Y/N) stubbornly.

            Henoch smirked and stood. “Are you so eager to get rid of me?”

            (Y/N) refused to react to his approach. “That is Spock’s body, and Spock is my friend. I want him back.”

            Henoch lifted a hand to (Y/N)’s cheek, but they stepped back. The idea of Spock’s body touching them without his approval weirded them out, like it was a betrayal of his trust in them not to cross his boundaries, one of which was touch. Henoch’s eyes narrowed at the movement.

            “I assure you, I can offer far more than this Vulcan can,” said Henoch, smiling.

            “I don’t know you,” said (Y/N) curtly. “So I don’t care. Please, go and finish your android body.”

            Henoch smirked. “Oh, but I don’t want to. You see, like this, I can truly feel.” He reached out and gripped (Y/N)’s arm as if proving his words. “I can experience life.” Henoch pulled them closer. “I can experience everything again.”

            (Y/N) attempted to pull away, but Henoch’s Vulcan-body-aided strength kept them in place. “Listen, I don’t know why you seem so attracted to me, but it doesn’t matter because you have to leave—”

            “I told you, I like pretty psychics. Far superior to common minds,” said Henoch. “And I long to experience physical pleasure again, and you are by far the only—”

            (Y/N) cut him off before he could say further lascivious things. “I don’t care. You’ve proven you’re a threat now. Now let go, and perhaps we can have a peaceful end to this with Sargon and Thalassa.”

            Henoch’s grip tightened to a bruising force. “Too late for that, so I think you should—”

            The intercom buzzed, and Bones’s voice came over the speaker. “Henoch! You need to get down to Deck 6. Thalassa and Sargon…They’ve died.”

            Those hypos! realized (Y/N). Dammit, I knew something was going on!

            “Oh, dear. The game’s really begun now,” said Henoch slyly.

            (Y/N) tried to pull away from Henoch, but he reached up for their head. Alarmed as they realized a fellow psychic was trying to mess with their mind, they leaned away. “Get away from me!” Their mind lashed out in response, and Henoch jerked back at the sudden flare of psychic power. They turned and darted out the door to get help.

            “You can’t hope to beat me,” said Henoch as (Y/N) left. He sneered. “You are insects to me! You’ll grovel for mercy at my feet!”

l

            (Y/N) skidded to a stop outside the Medbay and ran in. “Kirk and Mulhall! Are they still alive?!” Just because Sargon and Thalassa’s minds were gone from the body, there was a chance that they could still survive.

            Bones was surprised to see them but nodded, focused on his job. “Kirk and Mulhall’s bodies are alive, yes, but their consciousnesses are still in the receptacles. Sargon and Thalassa were too far from their receptacles to transfer back in. They’re lost.”

            “Are you sure?” demanded (Y/N).

            “Yeah. (Y/N), what’s wrong?” asked Bones.

            “Henoch did this. He claimed the hypos had to be different because Spock’s body is that of a Vulcan and Kirk and Mulhall are humans, but he must have…poisoned them or something. He wants to keep Spock’s body, and I think he’s planning on controlling the Enterprise!” the words spilled out of (Y/N) in a worried jumble as reality began to set in.

            Bones cursed. “Goddammit. What the hell are we supposed to do against an essentially godlike psychic without Jim or our resident pointy-eared hobgoblin?”

            “We may not be able to battle Henoch ourselves, but we are still here to assist,” said the echoing voice of Sargon directly into Bones and (Y/N)’s minds.

            “Sargon?” they said in confusion.

            “We believed Henoch had learned from the mistakes of the past. We were wrong, and your people have suffered for it. We’re deeply sorry for it,” said Thalassa’s kind voice, clear in their mind.

            “How are you…existing? I thought Henoch destroyed you,” said (Y/N). Bones was quiet, letting the psychics speak.

            “I have power not even Henoch suspects, and so I saved myself and my beloved Thalassa,” said Sargon.

            “We have a plan to defeat Henoch,” said Thalassa.

            (Y/N) blinked as the information was relayed into their mind. “Oh. I understand.” They turned to Bones. “Alright. Things are about to get a little weird.”

            Bones frowned. “What do you mean—!” His eyes widened as Kirk and Mulhall’s eyes widened, and they stood up. “Jim…?” Kirk nodded. “And Dr. Mulhall?” She nodded.

            “Now, Bones, you need to make a hypo to poison Henoch. Something that would affect a Vulcan,” said (Y/N). “We will destroy the receptacles.”

            “What?! Spock’s consciousness is in one of them,” hissed Bones.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “No. Sargon and Thalassa are keeping him safe.” Their eyes were bright with honesty. “I would never hurt him. Please, trust.”

            “Fine, fine. Damn psychics,” muttered Bones, but everyone could tell he was pleased to know everyone would be alright if this went to plan. “What’s after that?”

            “Then, we have a body-snatching alien to beat,” said Kirk determinedly.

            Spock. We’re coming, thought (Y/N).

l

            Henoch grinned in satisfaction as he lounged in the captain’s chair. No one could stop him or the power of his mind would render them helpless with pain.

            “Henoch,” said Kirk as the elevator doors opened. “Leave my crew alone!”

            Henoch smirked, “Pain, Captain.”

            Kirk gasped and collapsed in pain. Henoch smirked and turned back to the Viewscreen. Bones darted down with the hypo to inject him, but Henoch raised a hand. Bones froze from Henoch’s psychic power.

            “Fortunately, Doctor, I know every thought of every mind around me, you see,” said Henoch, smirking. He grabbed the hypo and smashed it on the ground. “There, let’s not play any tiresome games. We all know I’ll win.”

            “Henoch,” said (Y/N), stepping down beside the captain’s chair. They smiled. “Are you still interested in me?”

            Henoch was surprised at their openness but smirked. “Why, of course.”

            (Y/N) reached up and touched his face. Their face became deadly calm. “Well, I’m not.” Their golden eyes nearly glowed as they forced their empathic powers through Henoch. With Sargon and Thalassa’s support, they had the psychic power to defeat him. “So get out of Spock!”

            Henoch’s eyes widened, and he cried out as his mind was forced from Spock’s body by their sheer power. Sargon and Thalassa would finish him now. Spock’s body collapsed, and (Y/N) was at his side in an instant. Their anger abated and left them with just worry for Spock. Thalassa and Sargon had protected his mind and returned him to his body the moment (Y/N) forced Henoch out, but they couldn’t help but worry.

            “Spock?” they said gently. All their instincts and love for him made them want to reach out and hold him, but they didn’t want to cross his boundaries, so all they could do was rest a hand on his arm. “Spock?” Spock’s eyes opened, and with (Y/N)’s help, he stood. They looked at him worriedly. “How are you feeling?”

            “I assume you mean my health, not my emotions,” said Spock. “In which case, I am just fine.”

            (Y/N) let out a soft laugh at his, well, humor (for that was Spock’s brand of it). “I’m glad,” they said, smiling at him.

            “Sargon, how can we thank you for helping us?” asked Kirk to the air around them.

            “You can allow Thalassa and I to share your bodies again, a last moment together,” said Sargon.

            Kirk and Mulhall looked at each other and nodded simultaneously. They stepped out of the group so that Sargon and Thalassa could have a moment. The two tensed as Sargon and Thalassa went into their bodies and turned to each other.

            (Y/N) put a hand to their heart as the warmth of pure love filled the air. “Wow…they really love each other.”

            Spock looked at (Y/N). Yes. They do.

            Thalassa and Sargon drew close, and Thalassa smiled gently.

            “Oblivion together does not frighten me, beloved,” she said softly, perfectly content because she was with the man she loved. “Promise we’ll be together.”

            “I promise…beloved,” said Sargon.

            And with a final kiss, they left the world together; two beings in love.

l

            “So, has Bones cleared you?” asked (Y/N), sitting down on the infirmary bed next to Spock’s.

            Spock nodded. “It seems the physical effects of transference were easily amended as my Vulcan physiology allowed me to withstand the metabolic changes.”

            “I’m glad you’re alright,” said (Y/N) honestly.

            “Dr. McCoy says you’re the one who saved my mind by forcing Henoch to leave my body,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) nodded and smiled sheepishly. “I hope it wasn’t too jarring.”

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “No. No, I have no issues. In fact, I thank you for your help.”

            “Anytime, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling kindly. They shrugged awkwardly. “Anyways, I was happy to help. Henoch was a creep; he deserved to get the boot.”

            Spock furrowed his brow. “A ‘creep?’ ”

            “Yeah, he implied he wanted to sleep with me,” said (Y/N) distastefully.

            Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly. The idea of someone flirting with (Y/N) was displeasing enough in itself. Since it was (Y/N), Spock was unable to avoid the emotion of “jealousy” when someone showed interest in them. Furthermore, this instance involved someone possessing his body. The idea of Henoch putting his hands on (Y/N) in any way made Spock’s Vulcan blood burn in indignation just as his human side felt it.

            “I regret not being in my body. I could have prevented his advances,” said Spock.

            “Don’t worry, Spock.” They waved a hand before he could react. “I know, you don’t ‘worry.’ Still, it wasn’t you, so you don’t have to feel responsible for Henoch’s behavior.” (Y/N) smiled warmly. “Besides, I know you would never make unwanted advances towards me. You’re a better man than that. That’s one of the reasons I like you so much. I can trust you.”

            Spock had gone through many tests of his Vulcan stoicism, but having (Y/N) look at him like that and say something so kind was a challenge above all others.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

#logos and pathos #ambassador spock #star trek spock #s'chn t'gai spock #mister spock #spock #spock x reader #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #star trek the original series #star trek fanfic #star trek tos #star trek #star trek x reader

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Stranger Things Egg Baby AU, Ah, Shell

"So...I hear you guys play DnD. Are you book followers or more of the home brew campaign type?" Eddie asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the middle schoolers now situated on the abandoned bus in the middle of the junkyard. The plan was relatively simple. Hope Dart or whatever the hell the Demogoron's name was followed the meat trail they left so Harrington could beat the shit of it with his nail bat. This left the metalhead carrying Eggy Pop in his jacket pocket while they waited for the monster to show up.

The new boy, Lucas, apparently had a fight with Dustin about bringing the weird alien lizard back with him. Eddie accidentally dropping the fact that not only had Dart eaten the other boy's cat, but he also tried to take a chunk out of the metalhead's leg. The only sound cutting through the tension in the air was Steve playing with the lighter in his hands. The clicking noise had fallen into an uneven rhythm punctuated by the tapping of Eddie's good foot. The redheaded girl who came with Lucas had been staring at Eddie's injury for a while before she spoke up.

"Are you sure it wasn't a bear?"

Eddie snorted.

"Yeah no, pretty sure bears don't have as many teeth as that thing did."

"Maybe you were high. I can smell the weed coming off you. " This time it was Steve's turn to snort. To be fair, most of the time Eddie stunk of pot barely covered by the incense his uncle burned.

"You wound me, Red." He let out a mock offended gasp. "I would never even think about touching the devil's lettuce. What do you take me for? Some common drug addicted hooligan?" The kid rolled her eyes at the metalhead's antics. "Nah, the stuff I smoke doesn't make you see something that fucked up."

Glancing over at the other side of the fortified bus, Eddie saw Lucas had climbed the latter they'd set up to the roof of the vehicle.

"See anything up there?" Dustin called out.

"Negative." The shorter kid replied. Sparing a glance out into the foggy night field, Eddie also didn't see anything of interest.

"Maybe it doesn't like medium rare." Eddie spoke, shooting a glance over to Steve.

"If it took a bite out of you, clearly it doesn't have any taste." Steve retorted.

"Excuse you Harrington but I am a bona-fide snack and a half." For emphasis Eddie rested his hand on his ass and shook it in Steve's face.

"Oh come on Munson, there's kids here-" Steve shielded his face while simultaneously trying to push Eddie away. Eddie was about to tease the other teen further when an unearthly shriek pierced the air. Everyone turning to gather around the bus' boarded up window.

"You see him?" Dustin asked as he tried to look over Steve's shoulder.

"No." Steve shook his head.

"Lucas! Got anything?" The curly haired kid called.

"Just a minute!" There was the sound of shuffling above them. "I've got eyes! Ten o'clock!" The group's eyes darted to the creature near the edge of the junkyard. Eddie didn't want to admit to the tingle of fear that ran down his back upon hearing the creature's growls again.

"He's not taking the bait." Steve muttered as they watched the creature idle.

"Why's he not taking the bait?" Dustin asked as he and Max tried to crane their necks to see the monster.

"Maybe he doesn't want cow." Steve frowned. Pulling away from the window and grabbing the nail bat he brought with him.

"Hey, where the fuck are you going Harrington?" Eddie asked as Steve began to toss the stuff blockading the door to the side. His response was Steve tossing the lighter he'd been playing with at Eddie's face. The metalhead stumbling to catch the thing as it fell.

"Just be ready." Steve said before exiting the bus. Eddie glared after him.

"Here," Eddie handed Eggy Pop to Dustin, the middle schooler making a confused face. "His name's Eggy Pop. You break him, I'll break you." The teen ignored Dustin's bewildered utterances and grabbed a discarded bottle off the floor. Breaking it against the vehicle frame so he at least had something pointy to defend himself with as he followed Steve close behind.

"Munson-what are you doing?" Steve asked as the goth left the vehicle.

"Making sure you don't get yourself killed, duh."

"Where's Eggbert?"

"I left him with the kids, I'm not an idiot. "

"Go back to the bus. I doubt you're going to be able to do anything with that leg of yours."

"I'm sticking with you Harrington, whether you want it or not. "

"Whatever, just...don't die. Think you can manage that?"

"It's gonna take a lot more than some weird supernatural bullshit to kill me." With the reassurance, the two began to stalk over to the mini demogorgon still heeled on the edge of the junkyard. Looking back Eddie saw Lucas and Red sat atop the bus and staring out at the creature's. Steve let out a low whistle as they approached.

"Come on buddy," Steve lifted the bat and gave it an experimental swing, "dinner time. Even brought your favorite chew toy." If they didn't need Steve's swinging arms, Eddie would've punched him in the shoulder. The jock leaned over towards Dart when Eddie heard it. Another low growl somewhere in the mist. Turning towards the noise, his eyes searched for a moment before settling on abandoned car next to Harrington. All color leaving his face when he saw it. Another one of those fucking things. As if on cue one of the kids started to scream.

"Abort! Abort!"

Steve had just started to turn around when the one on top of the car leaped and instinctively Eddie got between Steve and the creature. Raising the jagged glass and swinging it in the air. To his surprise he actually landed a hit and the thing's blood splattered over his face. Eddie blinked. Unsure what he'd just done for a moment before he looked up to see the creature stuck on his broken bottle. The metalhead tossed the bottle and creature aside with his mouth agape.

"Holy shit. I killed one." He told himself, barely aware of Steve grabbing his wrist.

"Yeah, congrats, we'll add it to your kill count." Steve sprinted back to the bus with Eddie in tow as other howls joined Dart's. Okay not only were there more, but like, a lot more.

"Steve!"

"Eddie!"

The chorus of the kids voices greeted them as Eddie scrambled into the bus. Steve just barely closing the door in time for one of the creatures smashing into the glass panes. Turning back to see the kids eyes wide with shock and horror.

"Still think it was just a bear Red?"

#eggy #stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #egg baby au #eggbert pop #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson

[shoppncarticles]

The Staryu Family

Thankfully after the underwhelming Goldeen family and the ultimately disappointing Horsea family, we have something really special with Staryu! This star-shaped creature (who is coincidentally #120 in the Pokedex, the same number as the total amount of Stars in Super Mario 64, released the same year as the original Red and Blue games in Japan) is a pure Water type and is found in aquatic environments, so it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it to be a sea star. However, between Staryu’s rather smooth, edged shape and the gold-plated gem in its center, Staryu looks pretty otherworldly compared to the other naturalistic ‘mons of the generation, almost appearing artificial at second glance.

Like real sea star, Staryu possesses impressive regenerative abilities, being able to regrow lost limbs extremely quickly. The Pokedex mentions that Staryu is almost completely unconcerned by sudden sneak attacks which end up costing it one of its arms, since it’ll just grow a new one in a few minutes anyways.

Something more unearthly about Staryu is that on clear nights, it will often float to the surface of the ocean and blink an odd glow from its gem, as if communicating with the stars in the night sky. Staryu can even congregate on beaches, forming what is likely an incredibly ominous field of pulsating red glows across whole shorelines. One Pokedex entry even mentions it flashing at the same rate as a human heartbeat, adding some positively spooky tinge to this more unusual Pokemon.

Once Staryu evolves into Starmie, it gains a second starfish shape on its back, and its central jewel grows into an impressive diamond shape. It also gains a secondary Psychic typing, further enhancing the odd mysticism of this jeweled starfish creature. Hell, Starmie is even titled the Mysterious Pokemon in the Pokedex.

Starmie even upgrades its weird space factor by apparently sending radio signals into space, using its gem to glow all colors of the rainbow rather than just red. This fits rather well, after all starfish have already been used quite a bit in media as stand-ins for alien species, the most prevalent being Starro the Conqueror, who shares Starmie’s purple color and central red ‘eye.’ The two even have psychic powers as well, though Starro’s are more hive mind based, I think. This is even mentioned in-universe, where several people spread rumors about Starmie being a space invader.

Pokemon would introduce a bevy of explicitly Alien creatures in future generations, but Starmie gets to enjoy a more mysterious existence as one of the series’ few questionably out-of-this-world designs, and isn’t that just a little bit better? The uncertainty of Starmie makes it a lot more interesting to think about. Did it really come to the Pokemon Earth as a shooting star, or did it evolve naturally and develop methods for communicating with outer space, for whatever reason? 

Just the fact that Staryu and Starmie lack any sort of conventional facial features is already so enticing and really sets them apart for everyday Pokemon, having the additional mystery factor is a cherry on top.

Score: 5/5 - PERFECT!

One of the real standout designs of the extended Water-type family.

[Gen 1 Archive]

#pokemon #pokemon review #staryu #starmie

[boredgamecieranshippy]

PROCESS OF NEW MONSTERS / REFINING CARDS

I began to expand my design sheets and make more creatures before I began to refine and semi finish the cards

CARDS I FINISHED PAINTING

There is one thing I learned with trying to do the whole card design and gluing the copied designs onto it. Cause it wasn't he fact that it was a copied version of the design but more a less trying to make it look like it wasn't a cut out and actually painted onto the card itself. So I fixed it by painting over the cut outs to make it almost as if it was "painted on there" however still having that element that something isn't quite right about like you know it is not painted just covered in paint and yet it somehow works.

Here is the process of making more creatures and finishing the cards.

I took inspiration for one of my characters by this, as it fit the vibe of weird, strange and sort of unearthly, even creepy that if there is aliens out there even though this isn't an alien, it still has that idea that there must be if there is very creepy and disturbing looking creatures around watching (Waiting)

I then after i finished the overal designs, I went upstairs to photocopy it two times to have trials for me to refine them on it.

EXAMPLES (Before I photocopy them in)

EXAMPLES OF COMPLEMENTARY COLOUR CARDS

(Before Scan)

(Scanned ^)

The reason Why I chose the colours for my cards shown on this example, is because I wanted to represent what I did with my first project during this year of simple shapes and colours, while using complementary colours to make the designs in the middle pop out a little, keeping it bright and vibrant.

[rawwkfingers]

The War Machines

What a monumental serial! The first serial to be completely set in "modern" times, the last full serial we have of the First Doctor, and the introduction of Ben and Polly (the first companions to witness regeneration)

And, tbh, it was pretty good. Unlike the Unearthly Child, Toymaker, or Time Meddler stories, I feel like this serial is actually worth watching on its own merits irregardless of its importance to the history of the show. I absolutely adore Ben and Polly, easily my favorite companions since Susan and Barbara. It's a shame this is their only complete serial. I always find it fun when fiction tries to bring in a younger character to be "hip and cool" and Polly does a great job in the role. They remind me a bit of Amy and Rory tbh

I also enjoyed the show's first foray into portraying science fiction in the "real world." It definitely makes sense an evil AI would be their starting point, you don't have to justify an alien invasion or anything.

That being said, it was more than a little clunky at times. Having WOTAN both talk and type out its orders was weird, the writing often ignored some pretty blatant plotholes (like why the Doctor was listened to by top government agents when, to our knowledge, this is his first extended time working with the British government) and the war machines themselves were not threatening looking in the slightest. Still, I definitely consider it in the upper echelon of the First Doctor's serials

My ranking for season 3 is pretty easy to do since we only have three complete serials

The War Machines. I love Ben and Polly, and as our first modern story its a huge success

The Ark. I liked its time travel shenanigans even if the Monoids were pretty lame villains

The Gunfighters. I'm not a fan of pure historicals and I'm glad we won't have to deal with them for much longer

#rawwk on #classic who watch #the war machines

[kindtobechurlish]

How do you like proof and facts that divide the White Race? If it’s fuck Native Americans, as I am, then it’s fuck the Tawny Asians except North Korea. Some person would think I can’t make a region by allyance, but I can make a region as forest are forest and incompetence is incompetence. I can make things about TV and phones, just to take a page out of Republican’s Book to talk about the lack of “climate control” in China and Asia (coal) as I would add lead poisoning, “made in China.” You don’t like conspiracy theory that would call for war and manufacturing? Who would denounce, China? How did you like the unemployment check? When I do so, the act, I can make a front of “clean energy” just to let the fact be concealed (thug). Some woman thinks this is unreal. I did the necessary to where she and I can watch TV for some hours, and there are people waiting for my “update”, my “report”, as they have work to do before and after the fact. My work is the amount of my struggles, and giving “foot soldiers” means to be an honorable vet who is able to make sacrifice and worship. Who just wants someone spitting facts at you, things that can be googled? What is a translator and ancient text? I would make my money personified by profession, just to know the “freeze” that makes everyone look stupid. What are you doing? some bastards would not see that a lazy bastard who just “sleeps” and say “facts” can come to get you condemned if you are not doing anything with “the facts”, I am not lazy, so now you understand why someone gives facts.. to condemn, least he himself be condemned. FACTS. I’m on to your game, you negro. Someone would work, and now you are just giving “facts”, not able to make money right now. What is my oppression, and you being nobody? I can make you money right now, and if I told you personally how to do it (as I am in) and you do not listen.. i can call you a bitch. What is your prominence? “They can just find a different job.” YOU AIN’T NOTHING (the joke, I hope you get it). Many can’t understand that Hathor is “house of Horus”, and the Greeks would trust in their land, their government, just to exclude (weird) by their gods. “Bizarre and primitive.” The Greeks were in Egypt, not Egyptians in Greece, and now that “WHYTE family”, is leaving NYC so I’m personifying cleopatra needle. War on all fronts! Hathor is House of Horus, and by this I can personify udjat eye. Wedjat eye is of Horus, and when you can understand the virus that evil eye lets off you can come to get men who hold their loins like a pregnant woman does!

“Those blue eyes weirded him out, Ivan’s we’re even more creepy.” Weird is weird, and weird is induce a sense of disbelief or alienation in someone. I have seen people become a sex object, and the objection wasn’t them but their father. The father just exposed a weird person as he had shades. Now, you can come to see hate, “you aren’t having sex on my watch, for then I may have to take care of another baby - perhaps a daughter.” Hey, are you a mongoloid? When you see the fact, you can come to see that weird is unearthly. Unearthly is unreasonably early, inconvenient. So, is being “out of this world” a compliment? You hit it out of the park, is not you are out of this world. You would rather “you rock my world..?”

How do you like knowing that you are weird if you are weird? There is a difference between being weird, and doing something weird, as something that is weird (that you do) is your destiny. People would put on Melpomene Mask, Thalia Mask, and I would say, “when you were in elementary school, did your teacher play classical during assignments?” And, that’s the talk or lack thereof.. How does someone get to talking? Do you just want to hear about my earlier youth? Well, I know you are a racialist with the foot of pride, because I know the word pickaninny.. and I’m not fond of it. Who wants to see if I would put my parents on the guillotine on the day of judgement? You could be Donald Trump not able to ever be local, a local somebody, or you could be fair-skinned in NEW YORK CITY wanting to live In suburbs as there is really nothing to do in New York City - as there is a big number of they with skin that looks as if it was put to the flame. There is an open door and from that door you see a room that amounts to personality. I don’t want to just be a “room”, but a great house that blesses the LORD, God.

The Thalia Mask, Melpomene Mask, would open doors and now you see personalities that amount to the voice and Adam’s Apple. In the fact, you can fathom the singing girl as soldiers are soldiers. How weak? Ragtime was an attack, as it was nothing but ole slave music that left plantations just to be put on sheet music (the genre), the attack brought another attack that opened doors of interracial and lust. The lust is not according to the law of Moses, as one of the needs of life are just that (wine), but rather the lust is means to engage sin and have it rule over victims. There are people out there that engage sin, and because they spark the flame that makes a fire they feel they will be “last to stand.” You see a mongoloid who doesn’t have what it takes, and in her lack of action she became a sex object - only for a dad to then want to be “dad.” It isn’t going to take my daughter becoming a “sex object” to make me a father. You would see a boom from muse and fire, and now the muzzle is the middle as work is work. Everyone can’t just talk at you, many men are as beast, and if a man has a position of honor and he has no understanding he is as a beast of a field. “I don’t want people to know this information”, and the information is of wisdom as you are rival to a bitch that winks the eye - showing she hates an individual for no reason.

Don Lemon? You can’t be better than him? What about that Negro on with the Blonde at 2:00 on CNN? Where is the prime time Negro other than Don Lemon? Did you know he is a homosexual? So now, you can see Anderson Cooper and the Kike Race. What’s going on? Oh, LORD, do I not hate they who hate you, with a passionate hate? They despise your law, they consider wisdom as folly as they praise/bless themselves. Lead them into disarray, O God, let them see a slippery slope as my nature personifies a culture approved by you. O, lo, do people realize before I started talking and writing I studied? This is not me watching news and preparing for a one hour podcast once a week…………………….. do you know cable news is mostly 24 hours and it’s the same thing with different people giving facts and opinions according to it? All these Negro’s and their rivals with their fact, acting like God wrote the constitution as you can’t upkeep the document in full, why don’t you get in news? That’s a thought. “YouTube.” What?

[nevertheless-moving]

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa. 

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats. 

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs. 

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know. 

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys. 

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered. 

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses. 

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country. 

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan. 

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable. 

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

[being-of-rain]

Random thoughts from my Classic Who watch, the second half of season 1.

I never thought I’d say this, but this Terry Nation story needs another sequel. It’s inevitable that The Keys of Marinus has a lot of underdeveloped ideas, since it has a different setting each episode. It works well as what it is, and it’s nice to see a planet that very much isn’t the stereotype of being only one biome. But it amazes me that none of the Dr Who EU has revisited the planet and all its potential, nostalgic authors usually eat references like that up, and in this case there’s lots of ideas to expand upon. There’s been a few stories with Voord, but they’re always taken completely out of the story’s context. If I was Big Finish or BBC Books, I’d order a sequel story called The Conscience of Marinus.

The Aztecs is fun. I don’t have much new to say with some of these stories because I’ve seen them before. The conflict between Barbara and the Doctor is great. The Doctor’s line about knowing (believe him, he knows) about how history can’t be changed is interesting, and like the line I mentioned in Edge of Destruction it sounds like a good prompt for a pre-Unearthly Child story that the Who EU hasn’t picked up on yet. As always, the quiet moments in the story can be really delightful, like the Doctor and Cameca bonding.

In The Sensorites it’s really nice to see a species that’s obviously alien like the Daleks and the Voord, but isn’t pure evil, or even extraordinarily antagonistic. The cliffhanger of the first episode where a Sensorite appears at the space window is great, as is the last episode’s twist where some greedy patriotic Humans are revealed to be the instigators of all the story’s problems (although it’s weird how quickly the episode forgets about the Sensorite villain in that episode after he’s caused so much trouble himself).

Watching The Reign of Terror sent me back to high school, when studying the French Revolution made me realise my love for studying history (and gave me high marks on all my assignments jkjslkdjf). Good old kooky Robespierre. It also made me think of playing Assassin’s Creed Unity, even if it is the worst AC game ksdjf. And it made me think of the Dr Who audio Fields of Terror, also set in the French Revolution but with a much more terrifying atmosphere. I was tempted to relisten to that story, as well as some others that tie in to the first season, but I decided I wouldn’t listen to any First Doctor audios while I’m watching his TV episodes. The cliffhanger at the end of The Sensorites when the Doctor decides to get Ian and Barbara off his ship feels a little random, as there doesn’t seem to be anything he hasn’t heard before in Ian’s innocuous comment. But I’m happy to chalk it up to him being an eccentric old man, because it leads to some lovely character moments in Reign of Terror: when Ian and Barbara show that they’ve learnt exactly how to sweet talk the Doctor into joining them outside, and when they take a private moment to realise that they’re not actually upset that they haven’t arrived home. There’s more great character moments in the rest of the story too: the Doctor never wavering from Susan’s safety being his highest priority, his saluting the young boy that helped him after in episode 2, him and Barbara briefly continuing their discussion about changing history from The Aztecs, Barbara’s understandably emotional outburst about history when she finds out that Léon has betrayed them and been killed.

Finally, at the end of The Reign of Terror there’s a short scene in the TARDIS when its crew are unwinding and joking together, and then wondering about what they’ll do next. Like I said in my last post, the way the characters learn to like each other and become a team works so well- it’s really the highlight of the series that makes each story click.

I’m looking forward to season 2, where I haven’t seen all of the episodes before!

#my thoughts #I wrote up this whole post and tumblr deleted it #luckily I think I made some bits a little less convoluted in my rewrite #but I cant be bothered proofreading right now jskldjf #I've already started season 2 and will be ready for another post soon! #one #ian #susan #barbara

[consumeconstantly]

gods au

Jason comes home to a crying, pigtailed girl glowing on his favorite seat.

“Off,” he barks, raising a gun to the girls head. “Hands where I can see them. Why are you here?”

A breeze shifts through his apartment, and holy shit, bits of ash shift and catch the remnants of his once peacefully pristine white curtains that Dick insisted on installing for “privacy.” The window? Not broken, but melted. Same thing for the guard rails outside the patio.

The girl sniffs, looking up through wet lashes. “Sorry about that. I just— it’s been a really awful week.”

“And an awful week means you need to crash into some randoms apartment, obliterating the window? Yeah, right. Who sent you? Up. I’ll shoot.”

“Shoot?” The girl tilts her head, arms wrapped around herself. He has to give it to the girl; it’s hard to look pretty while crying, but she pulls it off easy. Her blue eyes have an unearthly silver sheen that contrasts the red that she’s rubbed onto her face. “With what?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe the gun that’s pointed at your head?”

“Gun?” She loses the shudder in her voice.  “Is that what you’re holding in your hand? What does it do?”

Jason pauses, looks the girl in the eyes for any traces of deceit. After finding none, he moves the focus slightly to the right and shoots into the remaining glass which shatters the mangled remains. Hopefully this will scare her enough to get out of his goddamn apartment and off of his favorite chair. Her mouth forms a little ‘o’ and her eyes widen.

Then the girl smiles. Smiles. She must be insane. Insane and has some sort of freaky power to melt the things she touches. Great. Should he be calling for backup?  

“That’s so cool!” She squeaks. “How does it work? Not spring action, too strong for that. Not any sort of pneumatic either, though maybe something similar... oh, I know! Does it use black powder? You humans are so innovative. When Tikki mentioned that humans were using it to make pretty sky flowers a couple centuries ago, most people thought it was just a decorative thing.”

She gets to her feet, and she’s extraordinarily short, coming to his armpit at best. She’s also wearing this stupidly flowy dress that looks straight out of some Greek or Roman movie— not quite like either style, but rather a mix between the two. He appreciates her draping abilities. Most of the time the movies do an awful job. “Let me take a look at it!”

Jason cocks the gun again, preparing to shoot. “Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?”

“Oh,” she murmurs, frowning. “This must be one of those weird human customs that Plagg told me about. Um, a name. Uh, I don’t have one yet, but I’m a big fan of reading some of those weird texts you guys have generated over the years. What was that character’s name? The one who gave birth without having sex? Mary, right? Having a kid without having sex sounds like the best way to get a child. You can call me Mary.”

Was-- was this girl referring to the bible as a weird text? Well, it’s not necessarily like she’s entirely wrong on that, but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard of someone refer to the bible so bluntly. He’s not even going to try to unpack the whole sex thing right now. And human customs. Is she an alien? Like M’gann? But for her to not even have a name is odd. Even aliens have names. She also looks perfectly human, though he’s well aware that martians, at least, can shapeshift into nearly any form they want. Martians don’t typically have freaky fire powers, though, so maybe an alien from another planet? Kryptonian, maybe, she has the blue eyes and black hair Clark has, and his eye lasers can melt glass easy. Then again, the glass isn’t just melted that cleanly. Another kind of alien, maybe.

“As for why I’m here…” her voice trails off and her bottom lip quivers. “They-- they smote me.”

Jason shakes his head in disbelief. Smote. That’s a word he hasn’t heard spoken aloud in any sort of conversational manner. He’s read it before in some mythological books, heard it once or twice in those awful Hollywood films that portray Greek and Roman culture in some of the most bizarre and incorrect ways, but having this tiny, 5’2” girl use the word smote like he uses beat up makes him feel like he’s had too much to drink. “What?”

“You know, it’s when a group of people come together, gather their cumulative powers, and use them against another. Do you not have that here?”

He slumps into his second favorite chair. It’s going to be a long night. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

#jasonette july #jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #dcu #maribat #gods au

[iheartgracie]

sophie winters soft quotes part 2

“It’s horrible,” Mina says.

“Why does it matter? I’m not an expert.”

“It matters,” she says.

“What, are you worried that I won’t end up there if there is a heaven?” I ask.

“Yes!”

I can’t stop the smile that stretches across my face.”

“you were always watching her. I knew I could count on you, that you’d help her. ”

“Loving her was never scary. It was never wrong. It was where I fit.”

“You still not gonna tell me what this is all about?” I find the play­list marked Sophie and page through the songs.

“Not yet,” Mina trills.

“You and your weird superstitions,” I say, rolling my eyes and grinning.”

“Not really happy,” Rachel says. “But you’re not Ms. ­Sunshine, so A-plus for effort.”

“Her hair is illuminated by the headlights. She looks unearthly, almost glowing, and I’m struck by it for a moment, half forgetting that I’ve asked a question.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says solemnly. “But you have to promise not to breathe a word.” She looks to her left, then her right, before leaning forward and hissing: “Alien takeover is imminent.”

“Oh no! The little green men are coming!” I fake a gasp, and she beams at me for playing along.”

“This almost-dying thing is getting to be a habit with you. Not good.”

“I guess I just take after you,” I say.

Macy laughs shakily. “Hell, I hope not.”

“I’m scared,” I say, breaking my silence.

“I know you are,” she says, her voice ringing out over the traffic noise. “But you’re brave, babe. You’re strong.”

“Watch out!” Mina stomps into the puddle. Muddy water splashes against my back, drenching me.

“Oh my God!” I shriek, spinning around. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Come on. Play with me.”

“You are such a brat sometimes,”

“Neither of them is really happy about it,” I say. I’ve been shredding my napkin into little pieces, and they flutter across the table when Rachel turns the page. “I may have played the ‘I was attacked by psychos’ card to get them to agree.”

“For months, the urge to use has been buried beneath my need to find Mina’s killer. Now I need to be strong for myself.”

“I told her that she shouldn’t worry. That you were the type of girl who didn’t let anything stand in the way of loving someone.”

“It’s a good thing, Sophie,” she says softly. “Being able to love someone that much. It makes you brave.”

“Know what you’re gonna do yet?”

“I don’t,” I say, and it’s wonderful, not to know anything without dreading the feeling. To not have a suspect list in my head. To not think about what’s next except for an open road and a little house with a yoga studio and a vegetable garden in the backyard.”

“But my heart isn’t simple or straightforward. It’s a complicated mess of wants and needs, boys and girls: soft, rough, and everything in between, an ever-­shifting precipice from which to fall.”

“I giggle. “They have big teeth. But I give them carrots. You have to make your hand flat.” I hold my hand out, palm up, to show her. “Then they won’t bite.”

#sophie winters #sophiewinters #sophie winters quotes #sophiemina #tesssharpe #tess sharpe #far from you quotes #farfromyou #far from you

[cobwebcorner]

Day Four: Flesh

Whenever Claire had imagined sewers before, she saw them like the ones in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon that she watched in high school. Cheerful yellow-brown brickwork with barely more than an inch of standing water anywhere, always dripping but never flooded, and crawling with sassy mutants and weird alien megadomes.

The reality was a lot grosser, muggier, and inexplicably warmer than she’d ever imagined. It was like the world’s worst sauna down here. And to make matters worse, the floor wasn’t flat under her boots. Her feet rolled over low hills of something squishy, which she knew had to be shit and didn’t want to think about. She didn’t want to think about how much it reminded her of wading through muddy creeks as a kid, either, but there was the thought in her brain, whether she wanted it or not.

As she went deeper into the tunnels, and the piles of something that she walked over felt weirdly firm, she reevaluated her first assessment. Shit would squish more. Maybe she was walking over some kind of trash. Junk was piled up everywhere in floating soggy heaps that added a spice of rubber-rot-mold to the horrible perfume of the sewage. She didn’t know a whole lot about how sewers worked, but that seemed odd to her. The trash and the human waste shouldn’t be in the same place. Who in this city was going around flushing whole grenades down the toilet, anyhow?

Trash bags didn’t groan, though. They didn’t make unearthly sucking sounds and they sure as hell didn’t pulsate.

The moment she made that horrified observation, she got distracted by the big ugly mutant that ambushed her from the water. The mutant was neither sassy, turtle-shaped, nor teen-aged, and she rained grenades on it with great prejudice until she had an opening to run past it. After that she got out of the water, and there were too many zombies in her face for her to worry about little things like the very floor of the sewers writhing like a living thing.

She almost managed to forget about it completely, until much later, when she went down a set of stairs to a wide open room that was absolutely coated in rolling hills of twisted pink flesh. She stood there up on the catwalk for a while, the beam of her flashlight slowly roving over the yards upon yards of nightmare scenery, struggling to even process what she was looking at. She felt like she’d been shrunk down and injected into someone’s body, like that one Martin Short movie.

What the hell was going on in this town? Was it an alien invasion? It was hard to imagine that anything born naturally on this green Earth could cause all of...that. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn around and run in the other direction, but she couldn’t. She needed to find one more chess plug to open the door and reach Sherry, and the only place left to check was the storage rooms at the other end of this hellscape.

“Please don’t have teeth...” she begged the sewer as she descended the ladder.

#notinktober2021 #resident evil #Claire Redfield #resident evil 2 remake #tw: gross #just really gross #when I got to this part of the game I had to just stare at it for several minutes

[mostlydysfunction]

From The Stars, Part 5

Chapter Summary: Kira talks with her dad and then makes a discovery in her barn. The Xenomorph is almost ready. 

Warnings: Talks of death and grieving as well as some non-con touching at the end. 

Author’s Note: Yeah, I have no control. I just really want to get the next part written cause that’s when things finally happen. But you do get a bit of Kira’s backstory in this one. I’m trying to keep things a little ambiguous because you’ll see later on in the story. But anyways, I hope you enjoy! 

MASTERLIST

***************************************************************************************

Kira chews on her lip as she sits across the living room from her dad. He looks good, tired and older than she remembered, but good. The last time she’d seen him he’d been storming down the driveway towards his car, not even looking back. Guilt and regret ate away at her stomach, twisting it painfully. He wasn’t even looking at her, studying the grain of the wood the coffee table was made of. He had cut that tree down himself and handmade it for her mother. Their initials were carved in the bottom. She had told him to take it with him, but he had said it belonged in that house. The house they’d built specially for them. The house they put so much work into. The house he’d rather forget was real. 

“I um...I was heading out of town for a few days and I thought I’d come by and see how you were on my way out.” Her dad finally says, breaking the awkward silence around them. “I heard about the fire...wanted to see if you were alright.” 

It had been almost a week since the explosion and he was just now checking on her. “Yeah, I’m okay. It didn’t make it this far.” 

He nods. “That’s...that’s good. We could hear it and see it all the way in town. It’s too bad, the wreck.” 

She had read that online. The cover story. An oil truck had been hit after a semi driver fell asleep at the wheel. The fire had caused the oil truck to explode. It was hard to believe as they didn’t get many semi’s in their area, but the people in this town were so desperate for something exciting to happen they’d believe anything. 

Kira nods. “It was loud, the explosion. Woke me from a dead sleep.” 

“I bet. I am glad you’re alright, though.” 

It’s silent between them for a while before her dad finally stands up, going to the wall with the photos. He looks over them all, taking in the old memories. 

“You left them up.” 

Kira nods. “Yeah. Felt weird taking them down. Empty.” 

He picks up the picture on the mantle of the three of them: her, her dad and her mother at the top of a nearby peak. Her mother had convinced them to hike it. Her being only 10, she had gotten tired halfway up and her dad had carried her the rest of the way to the top. She still remembers that day. Her mother had been so happy outside. 

“I’m glad you kept them up.” He places the picture back on the mantle. “Remember all the happy times.” 

Kira nods again, watching him as he makes his way to the kitchen. She gets up, following. He glances at the towels haphazardly thrown on the floor but thankfully doesn’t ask as he moves to the back door, looking out at the yard. 

“The garden looks good.” One of her mother’s other joys. “You’ll have to send pictures in a few weeks when it really starts to bloom.” 

“I will. I planted a lot this year.” 

He nods, looking out past the garden to the barn. “The barn looks different.” 

Kira glances out as well, looking at the barn. It did look different. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but something had changed. She hadn’t touched the barn since her mom died, so she knows it couldn’t have been her doing. 

“Yeah, I was, uh, cleaning it up a bit. Maybe set it up and get a couple of animals again. It gets...quiet out here.” 

The two sheep had been her mother’s favorite out of the animals they’d had growing up. She’d loved them almost as much as she’d loved Kira. 

Her dad nods again. “I think that’s a good idea.” He looks down at his watch. “I uh, should hit the road here. I just...wanted to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I’m okay, dad.” Kira nods. “It’s...” She chews on her lip. “I like it out here.”

“I’m glad.” He moves to the door, Kira following. “I, uh, I’ll see you later, I guess.” 

Kira nods. “Yeah. I’ll be around.” 

Kira watches him walk to his car, remembering the night he left. 

It had been a week after the funeral. Kira knew it was coming, she’d seen the way he looked at the house, seemed to just wander around like a ghost. He’d stare out the window at the half-finished garden, stand in the doorway of the bedroom staring at nothing and everything. He was lost in the constant reminders of her and he couldn’t stand it. 

It had been six years since the day that he told her he was leaving, that he couldn’t stand being around the memories, around her. She was haunting him in that house and he told her she could stay, he’d keep the property, pay for it. But he couldn’t stay. He had left her there, running from the memories of her mother, the woman he’d loved since they were children. It had been the last time he’d stepped foot in that house as he carried the last box to his car, not looking back as he drove into town, leaving her and the ghost of her mother behind. 

At least, until his unexpected visit. Things had been awkward between them since her mother’s death. She had been the glue that held the three of them together and after she died, there was nothing there to hold them anymore. Kira knew he felt guilty for leaving her there, for running. She knew it was pride that had driven him back, pride that had brought him to check on her. He hated seeming like a coward, for leaving his 20-year-old daughter to move into an apartment in town to escape the memory of his dead wife. 

Kira didn’t blame him. She’d seen how he just left himself when she died. It was like a part of his soul died with her. He had left to try to find it again, but six years and he didn’t seem any closer to fixing it. That’s what he did. He fixed things. Kira had long ago accepted that her mother was gone, that she wasn’t coming back. She missed her terribly, but all she could do was keep her memory alive while her father just wanted to forget. Everyone has their coping mechanisms. Everyone grieves differently. Kira just wished she hadn’t been so awful to her father when he left. Hadn’t said the things she’d said to him. 

******

It’s late afternoon by the time Kira can peel herself out of the chair in the living room. She’d sat and stared at the driveway for long enough. The visit from her dad had brought up too many memories, too much to try to process in one day. She had things to do, and a barn to investigate. 

She pulls on her boots and grabs a flashlight before heading out to the barn. It was far enough away from the house that the true damage to it couldn’t be seen. She hadn’t touched the barn in six years, and it certainly looked that way. She was glad for that, especially when she saw why it looked so different. 

She slides the door open, nearly dropping the flashlight. All around the inside of the barn is a hard black substance. Lining the walls, across the floor, up onto the roof. It was like something out of a science fiction movie. She takes a hesitant step forward, having to step up onto the substance. It was slightly sticky and gooey, her boots making suction noises with every step. She shines the flashlight around, the only light coming from the window high in the loft. The goo had covered the others, making it dark and unearthly inside. She sees movement out of the corner of her eye, whirling around and falling backwards as she finds herself face to face with her alien. 

She gasps in surprise, pointing the flashlight on it from her place on the ground. It hisses slightly at her, almost a sound of annoyance than anything. So this is where it disappeared during the day. It seemed it had done this in the week since it had arrived, making its own home in her barn. 

The alien stands over her before dropping down so they’re face to face. Its hands are on either side of her, trapping her between it and the sticky ground. It nudges at her shoulder, making it throb in protest. She turns slightly, holding it away from him as he goes to nudge it again. 

“Why did you bite me?” 

It hisses at her; the sound vibrating the surrounding air. It seemed so still and stagnant in the barn with the goo around her, the very air seeming to vibrate with every movement. The air ripples as the alien moves, picking her up before moving deeper into the barn, towards the back wall. It settles down so her back is against a wall of the goo, holding her. Kira huffs out a sigh, having no choice but to relax in its grip. 

“So it seems you’re not going anywhere.” The alien hisses in response. “You need a name. Something I can call you. Do you have a name?” She doesn’t get a response. “You’re not a very communicative species. Or maybe humans just aren’t smart enough to figure out how to communicate like you.” 

The alien finally hisses, moving Kira rather roughly so her back is pressed against the floor now. It’s hunched over her again, one leg on either side of hers. I guess that was enough talking for now. Kira feels trapped as the alien lifts a hand, four fingers curling around the neck of her jacket before ripping downward. The fabric tears easily, revealing her bra. The air inside the barn is cool, making goosebumps form on her skin. Her heart is pounding despite the fact she knew this was coming. She knew this would happen soon. 

The alien presses its face up against her bite mark again, making it ache and throb in response. Kira groans, attempting to get away from the pain, but the alien hisses dangerously in her face. She swallows thickly, drool starting to drip on her bare skin. The alien sits back slightly, a clawed hand reaching out towards her face. Its skin is rough as it runs its fingers over her face, feeling her. Her eyes close as it moves lower, claws pressing into her skin as it moves down her neck and onto her chest. Her breath hitches as its palm brushes over one of her breasts, causing it to pause before slowly moving lower over her stomach. 

It lets out a soft hiss as it moves over her stomach, Kira holding her breath as it moves lower. The alien shifts over her, its hand brushing over the top of her pelvis. Kira moves as well, her hips shifting in response to its touch. Her eyes fly open as the alien presses its palm against her, clawed fingers curling around the hem of her jeans. Her brain catches up to her, beginning to process what was happening, and the panic begins. 

“No!” She kicks out at the alien, landing one against its chest. It hisses at her, but she doesn’t cower in fear, wiggling and fighting her way out from under it. 

As soon as she can she’s on her feet, racing from the barn and back towards her house. The fear that the alien could easily catch her, pounce on her before she even reaches her door drives her on faster. But she makes it inside, slamming and locking the sliding back door before she collapses to her knees, dry heaving as she sobs. 

It wasn’t the fact that the alien was touching her. She knew that would happen. She had been expecting it. 

No, she was upset about the wetness between her own legs. She had been enjoying it.

Part 6

#exophilia #aliens #xenomorph #xenomorph x human #xenomorph x oc #non con #grieving #death

[mintypineapple]

dw ask game 1-36 and 38-100 DON'T ANSWER NUMBER 37 I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT CRYING

DaThanks, anon who is probably @truestoriesaboutme!

CHILDHOOD

1. Did you like DW as a child?

Depends. What do you consider a child? I saw Doctor Who for the first time when I was 16 or 17. Does that count? Let’s say that it does. I did enjoy it.

2. Your age at the time of the revival?

16.

3. First DW episode you ever saw?

An Unearthly Child. I wanted to watch it all in order! Still do! My first New Who episode was “Blink,” as forced upon me by @raisegrate. I did enjoy it.

4. Did you have any of the toys?

I didn’t at the time, but I do now. I have a couple of screwdrivers, a Fourth Doctor, an Ice Warrior, and not-quite-Legos of Doctors 1-11. (-WD)

5. Which DW character did you play on the playground?

N/A.

6. Monster(s) that scared you most as a child?

N/A. Nothing scares me.

7. Joke/story you didn’t get as a kid?

N/A. I get all jokes/stories.

8. DW opinion that has changed since you were a kid?

That the only way to watch it was from the very beginning. I eventually gave in and watched New Who before finishing Classic Who.

9. Who introduced you to DW?

Pretty sure I heard about it initially on a forum I went to called The Douglas Adams Continuum. That’s when I started watching the First Doctor. Again, @raisegrate showed me my first New Who. Eventually, I started watching New Who in its entirety with @catastrofries and they started watching Classic Who with me for @rassilonwatchathon.

10. Did you like Sarah Jane Adventures as a child?

Didn’t even know it existed as a child. But I liked it as an adult.

Read more under the cut. There’s a lot!

DOCTOR

11. Who is your Doctor?

One. He’s the first I saw and I’ve went through some of his more than once, due to the podcast, so he has a special place in my heart.

12. Your favourite Doctor?

It varies depending on the day. I quite like Two, Eleven, and Twelve, though.

13. Least favourite Doctor?

Possibly 5 or 13? More because they don’t get a whole lot to do, than them being bad.

14. Best regeneration?

Technically speaking, there’s something about that first one that is still so good. Emotionally speaking, Two’s regeneration is terrifying and I quite like Twelve’s speech before regenerating.

15. Do you like “Doctor-Lite” episodes?

Yeah! They’re all pretty good! Even “Love and Monsters!” Yeah, I said it! (The end is bad, but the rest is good.)

16. Who is the most human Doctor?

One calls himself human a handful of times. Does that count? If not, definitely Five. He seems the most like a regular guy in a weird situation out of all of them.

17. Best multi-Doctor story?

The Day of the Doctor, for sure.

18. Best Doctor monologue?

Eleven’s speech to young Amy in “The Big Bang.” That episode is just solid all around.

19. What do you think TenToo/MetaCrisis Doctor is doing now?

He’s definitely fucked off somewhere and abandoned Rose. He runs a cat cafe that is definitely a front for something, but no one can quite figure out what.

20. Best Doctor/companion pairing?

One/Barbara, Two/Jamie, Three/Jo, Four/Leela, Five/Tegan, (haven’t seen enough of Six, any of Seven, and I honestly don’t remember the companion for Eight), Nine/Rose (that’s the only option!), Ten/Donna, Eleven/Amy-Rory, Twelve/Clara, Ruth/Thirteen.

COMPANIONS

21. Favourite companion?

Classic Who: This is hard. Jamie? Sarah Jane? Leela? New Who: Donna Noble.

22. Favourite secondary companion?

Not sure what this means exactly... My second favorite? If so, I gave three for favorite Classic Who, so one of them. New Who: Rory.

23. Least favourite companion?

Classic: Ben Jackson or Peri. New: Ryan.

24. Best TARDIS Team?

Classic: Two, Jamie, and Zoe. New: Eleven, Amy, and Rory.

25. Most underrated companion?

I love Steven Taylor. I feel like he doesn’t get mentioned enough.

26. Most overrated companion?

Probably gonna get some hate for this, but Romana II. She’s good and I like her, but I was expecting a lot more. I honestly prefer Romana I.

27. Favourite companion’s family?

I love Rory’s dad.

28. Who should have been a companion but wasn’t?

Kamelion. AM I RIGHT? But seriously, Amelia Rumford from “The Stones of Blood.”

29. Favourite (canon or non-canon) DW universe relationship?

Amy/Rory.

30. Who did you not used to like, but really like now?

I hated Tegan when she first came on, but now I love her.

EPISODES

31. Favourite episode ever?

“Heaven Sent.”

32. Least favourite episode?

“Time-Flight” gave me a literal headache.

33. Which episodes do you skip?

NONE. Of course, I’ve not done any rewatches. YET.

34. Best two-parter?

“The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances” are the first New Who episodes that fully sold me on the show.

35. Historical, present day or futuristic episodes?

Give me the future and make it weird!

36. Episode that will always make you smile?

“The Myth Makers.”

37 HAS BEEN REDACTED.

38. Best run of episodes?

“Vincent and the Doctor” through “Day of the Moon” is pretty solid.

39. Best cliffhanger?

“Vengeance on Varos.” Hands fucking down.

40. Favourite Christmas special?

The answer to question 37. “A Christmas Carol.”

SERIES

41. Classic Who or New Who?

Yes please! (Though New Who will take this a little just because the pace is generally a lot better.)

42. Favourite series?

I’m not sure about Classic (I have a harder time thinking of them as different series), but New is definitely 5.

43. Least favourite series?

11.

44. Which series do you skip?

See 33.

45. Favourite series opening?

“The Eleventh Hour.” It’s just a lot of fun.

46. Favourite series finale?

“The Big Bang.” IT’S A GOOD SERIES.

47. Best series arc?

So I don’t sound repetitive and say Series 5 again, Clara’s arc in her last season is great.

48. Thoughts on series 11/12?

I find it largely boring and not well-written. Though there are some things I like! I love Ruth a bunch.

49. How much of Classic Who have you seen?

I’ve seen from “An Unearthly Child” to “The Two Doctors.” And the movie.

50. Who should have had another series?

Doctor: Nine. Or Eight. Or Ruth. Companion: Kamelion, but done better.

MONSTERS

51. Favourite monster/villain?

I love them Fuzzy Chicken Nuggets. (The Yeti.)

52. Most creative monster?

The Silence are an interesting concept.

53. Monster(s) that scares you most?

OAK AND QUILL from “Fury From the Deep.” Fuck those guys.

54. Monster you think is too easy to defeat?

I hate power level questions. Next.

55. Least favourite monster/villain?

I get really tired of the Daleks sometimes, y’all.

56. Monster you want to return?

Chumblies or quarks.

57. In your opinion, what makes a monster good?

The writing. You can do great things with most of them. Even the ones you dislike. Like, I hate the farting aliens, but they are occasionally used well.

58. Daleks, Cybermen or Weeping Angels?

If I had to pick, I’d say... Cybermen. Daleks are very samey and loud. Weeping Angels get less interesting every time they are used. But there’s a human element to the Cybermen that, when utilized, can be very effective and unsettling.

59. Best Dalek story?

The one where Two rides around on ones he made nice.

60. Best one time villain/monster?

I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is in “Midnight.”

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

61. Torchwood or Sarah Jane Adventures?

SJA is more consistent, but the highs of Torchwood are higher.

62. Favourite Torchwood Team member?

Owen. But like... not season one Owen.

63. Which Torchwood death made you saddest?

See 62.

64. Do you rewatch COE or MD?

I haven’t rewatched anything yet. But I would rewatch COE before MD.

65. Favourite SJA Team member?

Clyde.

66. Mr Smith or K-9?

Mr. Smith is way more interesting. He had a villain arc!

67. Maria or Rani?

Rani.

68. Do you read the comics/novels or listen to Big Finish?

Some. I’m doing them as Patreon bonus episodes for @rassilonwatchathon​. I haven’t done much though.

69. If you do, your favourite additional stories?

“The Chimes of Midnight.” I’ve listened to it twice.

70. Do you like DW analysis (video essays, fan theories, etc)?

I do DW analysis for @rassilonwatchathon AND The Dipp. So yes. My fave is TARDIS Eruditorum, though.

I’LL ANSWER THE REST AT A LATER TIME. I MUST BE WITH MY PEOPLE NOW.