#but it did strike me as a bit alienating

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Entomologist really was the perfect talent to give Gonta. What better field of study could you pick to parallel the guy whose entire character is drenched in misunderstanding and loneliness than that on the animals which are looked at by most people with complete disgust just for existing the way they do?

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Do not give them Toys

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

When the human government wished to initiate trade with the Filthrax Conglomerate the Filthrax were understandably cautious. They had always been sensitive when it came to sharing technology with other species. To that end they had an extensive amount of restrictions on what could and couldn’t be traded; excluding much of their more advanced technology from ever reaching the market.

The humans in comparison were technologically inferior to the Filthrax in nearly every aspect so they pictured the humans to heavily lobby for advanced technology to be made available. So it was with some surprise that when negotiations began the humans did not lobby for advanced technology, they instead seemed deeply invested in obtaining the Filthrax toys.

This was not something the negotiators had expected. Research into human culture had showed a deep rooted sense of aggression, towards outsiders and themselves when promoted, which made them believe that the first opening bid would be towards military grade technology.

Sensing the discord, the human diplomats explained that while they would like more advanced technology to be an option, they understood the hesitance and reluctance to trade such dangerous items. They said they would be fine earning the Filthrax’s trust over an extended period of time through trade. It seemed that several human enterprises had their eyes on Filthrax toys and they seemed like a safe enough items to begin trade. The Filthrax agreed and so trade lines were opened between the great powers.

What the aliens saw as a harmless deal was in fact the first foot in the door that could never be closed.

Several million orders for toys were placed almost overnight and the economic boon was felt overnight throughout the Filthrax Conglomerate. None of them understood the fascination humans had with their trinkets but if they were willing to pay then they would be more than happy to sell. It wasn’t until the Nexus Wars began that the Filthrax would come to understand their folly.

The “Nexus” was a series of star systems that held the majority of trade lanes between the core worlds and the far flung resource rich outer zones. Trade through these lanes was deemed to be the most stable for long distance transportation so whoever controlled these regions would make considerable wealth from their stewardship.

Current stewardship fell to the Omicron Empire who had held the systems for the last several hundred years and as such used the profits it generated to fund their empires expansion. The humans wished to control these routes to fund their own imperial ambitions but had never leveled the playing field with the Omicron military to make such a transgression possible.

Then, without warning, the human military launched a series of strikes against Omicron bases and fleets in the Nexus systems triggering the “Nexus War”. The Omicrons raised their fleets and armies and dispatched them to the systems with the full intention of repelling the humans and then carrying on their counter offensive into human space. What they met however was a suddenly technologically advanced human military spouting drastic advances in military equipment not seen.

Human soldiers now carried portable shielding units that blocked everything less than a direct hit from a hover tank, while their ships launched fusion bombs carrying a heavy enough payload to shatter Timbar class battleships in half.

With this new technology, the human military had taken control of half of the Nexus systems within five months of the wars start. Other powers dotting the stars took notice of the sudden prowess of the human military, as well as the calculations predicting that within another five months the Omicron Empire would be driven from the Nexus systems. Some cheered at seeing their old rivals in the Omicron’s brought low, others sent delegations to the human government pledging alliances and treaties, many more came to join the war effort now sensing blood amongst the stars; but to the Filthrax, they quickly came to realize the part they had played in this war.

While Filthrax toys were rather unremarkable, they were unique in the way that their power sources could last an entire lifetime. Through controlled energy distribution, the Filthrax had created a rudimentary power source that, while considered basic in their society, was light years ahead of any neighboring species.

The humans were well aware of this feature.

They knew before negotiations even began that the Filthrax would never part with their advanced weaponry or technology, but they would be willing to part with something they considered nothing more than a toy. Toys that were then torn apart to get to the power source, reverse engineered, and then used to power weapons and machines of human design.

Filthrax toys were now forming the basis for a new galactic power, and they had been fooled into giving them away for nothing more than currency.

The sudden realization sent shockwaves through the upper echelons of the Filthrax. If they admitted this they would be not only be publically humiliated on a galactic scale; but also be portrayed as cobelligerents in the war. Not only that, it would invalidate their own standing treaties with other species which specifically stated they would not trade anything that could be repurposed for war. They could see trade agreements torn asunder for a dozen species with even embargos placed upon their territories. Worse yet was if they did cease trading with the humans the human government could release the information and still black list them to the wider galaxy.

So they sat and watched the war from the sidelines, contemplating that their bobbles may have very well just doomed the universe.

[siren-nate]

The AvA crew are masters of body language

It might seem obvious, given how emotional the stories are despite being told with characters that don't have facial expressions or dialogue, but I never realized just how incredible the body language is in these animations until a recent rewatch with a friend (@butchpeabody) who really pointed it out and emphasized it to me.

I want to talk about it a bit using what may be my favorite scene across the entire series, that being the scene of King in the void during the climax of Season 3.

Even after the point in the story where we learned his sympathetic backstory, King is a character that lives up to his crown by being a villain of imposing presence and even an appreciation for finery. But after the moment where he cracks and tries to save Purple in the middle of a full-blown PTSD attack, this is the very next scene we see of him. He's haggard, hunched over, walking listlessly with none of the intimidation or class we've gotten used to seeing from him. For an antagonist defined by his determination and refusal to stop or slow down for even a moment, this is already striking even before he finds the memory of his house.

It's an incredibly subtle thing that lasts less than a second, but I love how he has to duck his head down to fit under the doorway due to his crown. It's symbolic of something important: this place was once his home, but now that he's finally returning to it with his descent into obsessive villainy completed, it feels alien and uncomfortable. He's no longer the man that lived here as long as that crown sits on his head.

The first thing in this entire scene that gets some spark of emotion out of him and breaks his listless walk is the chalk appearing on the wall.

And when that vision continues, reminding him of how this alien world took his child away from him, he doesn't move. His lack of reaction IS a reaction; you can imagine the stony look on his face as he silently agrees with his past actions to destroy an entire universe just to get revenge for Gold.

But then that finally changes when he sees all of the living beings that the drawing of himself is hurting. His head raises in shock, and you can imagine his eyes widening as he has to grapple with his actions for the first time. The moment his empathy cracks through, that crown is completely off-screen, reminding us of the caring man smothered underneath it.

And then, Gold appears. It makes sense that seeing the child he lost enter the vision gets the biggest reaction out of him yet...

...and that reaction gets even bigger when he sees what "King" is doing to his child's memory.

For the first time since he started on his revenge quest, his composure shatters. He starts beating on the wall, desperate to make the vision stop, to undo all of the harm he's caused, to take back all of the mistakes he's made wielding his memory of his child like a cudgel. He only becomes ever more frantic and desperate when Gold turns into Purple, and it fully sinks in for him that he's become the evil force he imagined in his head just to have something to take revenge on. He never wanted to cause anybody the same pain he went through, but not only did he dehumanize all the residents of this universe in his mind, his endless rage has even started hurting people that come from the same dimension as him.

The imagery of King desperately beating on a wall with everything he has is absolutely vital to this episode; it shows up twice in his backstory, and for the third and final time here. The first time, it represents how he couldn't save Gold. The second time, it represents how pointless his mission to avenge them is.

But the third time is different.

Because the third time...

The wall finally breaks.

You can see him standing there in shock. He expected it to be just as indestructible as every other time, expected his struggle to be just as futile as always. Because that's always been King's fatal flaw: short-sightedness. An inability to consider "And then what?", or to look at what he's doing and ask himself if it's worth it, or to think of something better he could do.

But when he raises his head and looks, he finally gets it. Now, the wall is breakable - because he does have something better he can do with himself.

It takes a second for him to get over his shock and put it all together, but once he does, he's not walking anymore. He's running like his life depends on it.

Purple's screentime in this scene is much shorter, but it's no less impactful or brilliant in its execution. They raise their head as they hear footsteps, but just like King seeing a false vision meant to show him the truth, Purple doesn't see him running at them - they see Indigo.

They stand up, but it's just as slow as how King walked earlier. They don't care that Indigo is back, not really - they've moved on from how their parent abandoned them. But they still care enough to stand up to find out what the hell Indigo wants.

At first, Purple almost seems like they expect to be attacked and hurt again. In which case, it's extremely powerful that they don't move to defend themself...

...and even moreso that because of that split-second vulnerability, King is able to practically tackle-hug them unimpeded.

Again, purely through body language, you can see so clearly how Purple has absolutely no idea how to react. Being held so tightly by someone who cares about them so much is something they haven't experienced in years.

But just as King can let go of his painful past to make a better life in the present...

So can Purple.

[fluloa]

SOAKED | jake sully x reader [mini series pt. 4]

only warning for u alien fuckers: it’s a bit filthy. mentally prepare yourself ig. TWO HANDS ON THE PHONE PEOPLE

You're sharpening your knife as you sit in the designated spot for your next lesson. You're dreading it, if you're honest with yourself. You have so many emotions bottled up, just waiting to explode and Jake's probably going to be the victim of it. The weather is a bit on the cold side, giving you gentle shivers and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Your stomach is full with a weird feeling, anticipation almost.

Jake's husked voice startles you, "Looks alright."

You sigh quietly. Speak of the devil. You don't look at him when he walks over to you, sits down beside you with his big body as he bends a leg up, leaning his arm over his knee. "It's tricky because you really gotta flick it at the tip," he ghosts a finger along the edge of your knife. "So that it's real sharp."

You flick it hard as he says, but he shakes his head, moving behind you. "Real tight grip here," he closes his hand over yours on the handle, shaking it a bit for exaggeration. You can feel the warm air of his breath, dipping down your neck and it's taunting you. "And— give me your other hand."

You don't give it to him. There's a second of silence before he takes your hand for himself, enveloping it with his own hand before he's lining it up at the thick girth of the knife's base, and striking it up, a nice shing sound coming out of it. He does it a few more times before he's letting your hands go, watching you do it by yourself.

"That's good. Keep it tight." His words of praise shamefully give you a rise, a cool shrivel slivering down your chest. You swear he's doing it on purpose, you swear.

While you flick at your knife with the silver sharpening tool, you look to the side, not directly looking at him but it's enough to grab his attention to your face. "Remember that hexapede I killed?" He hums in a curious tone, and you take it as a response to speak further. "Well, I tried looking for it, but it wasn't there. Some other animal must've snatched it up."

"Nah, I carried it back to the village," he announces.

"Right. When you left me?" you ask, tugging a sharper strike to your knife than the other strikes. Jake notices it. His jaw tenses, blinking to you with his eyes boring holes into your form.

"When I left you." He swallows, "Listen, I wanna apologise—"

"Oh, you want to apologise, Jake?" you laugh sarcastically, venom dripping from your words.

His jaw tenses, "I didn't want to leave you."

You snap your head back, a glare stung into your eyes. "But you did."

"You're making it out like it's a bad thing that I did."

You laugh dryly, chucking your knife onto the ground as you stand up. He immediately stands up with you, glowering over you. "You know that it is."

"Don't tell me what I know and don't know, girl." Jake warns, nose twitching. "I helped you, and then left. That simple."

"You can't tell me that you weren't just fucking me to help me. That's not how it works and if you say otherwise, you're lying," you snarl.

He's quiet for a second, searching back and forth between your eyes with his chest rising with a long breath in, "I don't—"

You give him a harsh shove to the chest, hissing out a groan of anger. His eyes blow out wide, then they relax into a dangerous squint. Your eyes widen. He reaches for you and grabs firmly at your wrist, his fingers clutched tight around your bone and your arm twitches with the sudden  spring of pain. You attempt to slip your wrist out of his grasp, and when it doesn't work and he doesn't budge, you claw at his jaw recklessly. It's successful and he lets go of your wrist with a grunt.

He grabs your hair, fisting his fingers through your scalp before yanking it back. You swing your leg and kick him in the stomach, sending him back as you zoom past him.

He acts quick and grabs your tail, tugging you back towards him and for the millionth time this week, presses you against him. You stamp on his foot, digging your nails into the skin of his arm and he cries out, a half-hiss and half-groan. He flips you, finds the tree right beside you and pushes you flat against it. He takes both of your wrists into his hands as he shakes them angrily. You scramble and squirm in his grip. "I'll tell you what I know, girl, and you'll fucking listen."

You whine out a hiss, heart beating against your rib cage like it's about to pop out and splatter across the ground. He hisses back, edged fangs spiking out from his mouth and it makes your skin crawl in either a bad or a good way, you're not entirely sure.

"I know that you're the most beautiful person I've ever fuckin’ seen," he pants. "You don't know what you do to me, huh? Just your giggle makes my stomach drop. It annoys the shit out of me how you've got me drawn to you, it's damn stupid. I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

You try to wiggle your wrists out from his grip, but it proves to be helpless, a smug look flickering in his eyes that makes you want to clock him straight in the face. Jake picks your joined wrists up off the tree and slams them back onto the wood for a hard warning. "You— you think you're confused?" you sneer between huffed breaths. "Mr. I'mfuckingyoutohelpyouconcentratenotbecauseIwantto. Like that doesn't fuck with my feelings! By the way— it didn't help me focus, just like the last time, what a surprise."

His lips split into a snarl, an annoyed flick of his tail as he glares you down, his chest grumbling with a deep growl. You return him with the same feverous eyes, chest strong and upheld with no sense of backing down.

Then you catch it. The weakness of only a man; the millisecond of a pair of eyes dropped down to your heaving lips. Your eyelashes flutter, a new tension rushing in like a thick cloud of smoke. Your heads jut forward at the same time, teeth clashing in a rushed, wanted motion morphed into a messy kiss.

But it's different this time. It feels different, different than the first kiss he gave you the first time you were pushed up against a tree. You can't pinpoint it, but it's just different.

He lets your wrists go, grip fading to a none until your arms are flopping around his shoulders. His tongue slips with ease into the cavern of your mouth, as he uses a hand to cup the part of your neck just below your ear, bring your face even closer to his. You let your head tilt, allowing him a wider opening to your mouth that he groans lowly in thanks to.

He skims past your loincloth, palming your hot cunt and grinding the hard edge of his palm directly onto your clit. "This give you déjà vu from last time?"

You groan, back arching towards his head. "Shut up and put your fingers in me," you whine.

"I remember leaving with the biggest fuckin' boner. Seein' you all whiney and shit and like putty in my hands," he claims, seeming like he can just feel the pain from remembrance. "Good thing you can fix it for me this time."

He says this as he leisurely slides two fingers into your cunt, and you suck in a tight breath, the thick girth of them lengthening you out. "And just like that, sucking me allll the way in," he whispers in astonishment, just like the last time.

"Will you just shut up?" you groan, wheezing out a groan when his fingers curl into your walls. He strokes them in and out of you, slowly and steadily. He presses loosely at your clit, gentle circles on the sensitive bud.

Then he suddenly pulls his two fingers out, staring at the thin strings of your juices that stick to his finger pads, "Wet enough."

He kneels to the ground in a rush, taking you with him as he fumbles to untie your top. You drag your hands along his skin, touching every patch of hard bone and toned muscle you can manage. You're both kneeling in front of each other, grabbing at any clothing that gets in the way of each other's fingers. He pushes you back with a hand, laying you out in the grass as he scoops his hand down to your pussy, runs a thumb over your clit. Jake leans down, grabbing at the bone of your hips and jutting you closer to him.

Jake cooly wraps a hand around his cock, sighs as he starts to stroke the length in slow movements. He reaches out from behind him, and your stomach drops. He presents his tsaheylu to you with a sense of shyness, his head tilted down. You look between him and the glowy, spiky end of his platt.

Your silence speaks volumes to him, and just before he's going to say something to rub it off as a joke, you're reaching from behind you as well, body squirming in anticipation as you air your tsaheylu next to his. They twitch and fizzle, swaying so close and it's just that tiny bit of space that needs to be filled.

He looks to you, eyes softening in one last ask and you give him a reassuring, hasty nod. He readjusts his grip on his platt, leaning his tsaheylu just a little closer and they connect. A surge of electricity bolts through your body, biting in a gasp as your skin jitters. You feel it, you feel him, understand him. Understand everything.

Jake's blinking rapidly, as he leans over you just to nuzzle his face into your neck, his hot pants of breath pressing into your skin. He slurs over his words, "Oh my... fffuck, s' good, you're so good."

"Jake," you warn, voice wavering as you tremble underneath his warm body. "Need you ins— inside me. Right now, Jake, please."

He teases his cock at your entrance, letting out a shaky breath at your warm wetness trickling down his tip. You gasp when he slips it in with one thrust, bottoming out perfectly as he sits in snug. He breathes out a quiet laugh, "You're so... fuck, girl. So warm and— and ni—hice."

You dig your nails into his back, tail curling around his thigh. You feel everything he feels, connecting with him at such a level that all you can do is hold onto him, just needing to feel him, to hold him and kiss him and fuck him and do everything as long as it's him. You can only rasp one word out. "Jake."

He snaps his hips into you, starts at a pace that's brutal and uncalculated. His cock pushes into your tightness with ease, like it was made for him. You pull him in with each thrust he gives you, welcoming him in to the warmth of your femininity, your body that he's claimed as his.

Your pussy flutters around his girth with every single groan he lets slip from his throat, voice cracked and husky from the euphoria he's coated with. He lands a kiss to your neck, suckling at the skin before biting down, a sting that zips through your body all the way down to your cunt. You squeal, back snapping into an arch and he scoops an arm around it, giving him a better grip on your body to deepen his thrusts, to strive further up into your pussy.

He desperately grabs at your thighs, swings them up and over his shoulders as your feet dangle in the air. It opens up a whole new angle, and you scream out, his dick hitting steeper and stronger inside of you. Your hair is tangled from the ground, the skin of your back grinding against the dirt of it.

At the new found angle, he groans, head leaning up a little as his eyelids close halfway, his eyes bruised in a haze. He's completely lost in the way you squeeze around him, the way his cock feels sliding into your tight body. It's like a drug. A new found addiction.

"Shut up, hah— jus' fuck me," you babble, a moan ripping out of your chest when his hips thrust a sudden jolt into your pussy, brushing over your cervix.

"How funny," he pants out, smirking like a goddamn idiot and you frown.

"What?" you question, a quick moan breaking from you when a random wave of heat splashes through your stomach.

"Bet Selkath wishes he was wearing this necklace." He rasps, letting a harsh laugh fall from his mouth as he reaches up a hand and tugs on your ankles wrapped right around neck.

You make a weak hiss, turning into a groan when he lifts his body higher, angles his cock deeper up into your cunt. "If you don't shut up, maybe I'll let him."

Jake growls, eyes flicking wild, turning a dark and dangerous hue that you can tell is whipped with a color of jealousy, even betrayal. "You won't even be able to feel him graze your pussy once I'm done with you."

You feel a purr erupt from your chest, your inner woman squealing in delight because yes, she screams, he must breed you until all you can feel his body and only his and nothing else.

He brushes a hand over your cheek, face distorted in complete bliss and he stares deep into your face, tail swishing at the way your mouth agapes. His hands slip to your waist, thumbs digging into your stomach and he uses it as a leverage to bring you back harder onto his dick, lifting you up until you're practically leaning on his body to stay off the ground. He bends you to his will like you're a rubber band, like a toy.

"So warm," he coos, and you whine, digging your head into the grass laying beneath it. You don't want him saying that, don't want him climbing his stupid fingers into your heart and taking it any more than he already has. The feminine instinct fixed in the depths of you screams mate, mate, mate. Big, protective mate that needs to pound you into oblivion or you'll lose your mind. That along with the anger that burns inside you, like a match that's been lit way too many times and is about to snap underneath the pressure of his hands.

"Jake, just shut up," you snap, sentence ending on a hasty push when he smashes his lips onto yours, exploring your mouth with the thick flat of his tongue. He kisses you with a fever, an aching want with a grunt falling from his lips and straight onto the slick of your tongue. Jake crawls a hand up your body and to your head, fingers threading through your hair and he turns your head forcefully, allowing him to deepen the kiss and wrap his tongue tighter along yours.

"God, you're just fucking beautiful," he grunts, slapping your hips. "With this pretty fucking pussy, s' good for me and your little noises and— ssshhit, my girl. S' made for me, you're made for me."

My girl. It makes your stomach spin, makes you clench around his cock driving in and out of you and he groans, "You liked that, huh? My girl?"

You feel his pace inch a slower, and you're confused. His hand scrapes to one of your hands, slipping through the gaps of your fingers and he conjoins them together, pressing deep against the ground. His mouth breaks from yours, deep, panting breaths shaking out from his chest as he leans down to ravage your neck, licking and sucking at your skin like it's a ripe fruit.

You recognise the speed of his thrusts. Slow but strong, like he's trying to memorise each drag of his cock squeezing into your pussy, each squelch and pull of your walls gushing around his length. The rock of his hips is sweet, an act of something you can only describe as passion. You scratch out a whine. You squirm from underneath him, attempting to buck yourself up into him to speed it up, make him nail so hard into you that you see stars. But it doesn't work. He stays the same warm speed, slow rocks into your pussy as he lowly sighs with every calming push.

"No," you whimper, voice lower than a whisper, so quiet it could count as another breath. You huff out an angered patch of air out through your nose. You use both hands and push him, and he doesn't expect it because he tumbles back, flipping onto his back and hitting the trunk of the tree with a big thump. You ignore the cold air pushing on your wet cunt, the sudden loss of his cock deep inside of you making you shudder.

You crawl onto him, eyes wide with hunger and from what he can see, anger. Your tail flicks as you palm his shoulders, knees on each side of his legs as you air just above his dick. You grip at his tsaheylo and conjoin it to yours again, a flush rushing through you both. You catch the way his eyes flatten against his head for a second at your determined, heated gaze, now realising the rage you held. A woman who's not satisfied with her mate's fucking, there's nothing scarier. Especially after everything he's teased her for, everything he's done to her for the past week.

"Baby, you ain't gonna last two rocks with those little hips." Jake mutters, emphasising the words two rocks as he places his hands comfortable on your hips. You don't reply, instead lowering your body and inch by inch, sinking down onto his cock. He lengthens you up, and you feel so full and nice that you let out a sigh that screams finally, all the while hearing Jake take the biggest breath you've ever heard him take.

You're not wasting time as you start grinding against him, ears twitching, head falling back in utter bliss. Jake slips out a quiet laugh, and it sounds nervous. He watches as your breasts shift with each sway of your hips, and his cock twitches inside of you at the obscure scene. It's perfect, so, so perfect with the way his cock drags through you. But you need more.

You begin lifting yourself up, rocking right back down onto him, the motion of riding coming into play little by little. Jake's breath hitches, his hands twitching at your hips. Your cunt pulses around him, puffy folds tugging his dick so perfectly. He lets his head slump against the tree, the rise of his chest speeding up.

You lean forward, a sudden desperation taking over you, the anger flickering in your abdomen crackling to a fire. You grab at his hair, press your cheek against the top of his head as your hips move in an up and down circular motion. Jake chokes out a grunt, springing forward to kiss at your chest, shoving his face into your breasts as his tongue lolls out along your bare skin.

He pants, messy kisses along your chest as his mouth fans out hot breaths. "My g—"

"Shut. Up." You pull on his hair, forcing his head further back and moaning as you stride your body, moving his cock in so deep, then moving it just about out before you rock it back in. You shift a hand to grip at the tree for better stability, rising up before gravity whips you back down onto his dick. A whine leaves his lips, a literal whine. It's so, so quiet, but you hear it, and he knows it. He can tell by the way your ears flutter at his head. You puff out a laugh that's hilted with breath.

He leaves deep kisses along your chest, kissing at the plush fat of your tits and decorating the map of your torso with dark marks and tiny red hickeys. His tongue finds your nipple, swirling it around the hard bud and you move your hips faster, huffing out a moan as sweat beads neat at your forehead. The blunt of his nails dig deep into the skin of your hips, and starts to move your hips with his grip, sharpening your strokes into his dick and you hum an appreciated sigh.

You've left him stunned for words, mouth hung open as you grind your cunt deep along his cock, riding him like he's a goddamn stallion. You wrap your fingers around his leathered choker, leaning your head back and pulling him rough into an even rougher kiss. You can feel him pant into the kiss, his silent groans pressing on your tongue. His lips are wet and messed with saliva from previous times, all the while making them softer and easier to run your tongue over.

A broken moan escapes his mouth, muffled by your lips engulfed in his but it only whips the fire tangled inside your tummy, makes your body swing harder along his. You give him a sloppy kiss on the corner of his lips, before nibbling at the bottom centre of it, "Who's whining now?"

His hips jerk up into yours, a stutter of a motion and you can feel the vibration, the angry rumble of his chest and it only encourages you further to drive your hips harder. "Still you," he bites, but his pinched expression melts into a blissful one when you raise your waist higher, slamming back down onto him in one quick motion.

Anger fuels through your bones, all the way down your body to your toes that dig into the ground, dirt blotched on them from the constant movement and curl of them. Jake snaps his hips up into your sopping sex, gaining a low groan through his chest as he digs his messy head of hair into the tree against him.

Your body burns and shakes with every stride of your hips, sliding his cock into you with reckless rhythm. You're shivering with hot emotion, a blurred mixture of adore and vexation, and Jake can feel every single drop of it. You feel him shift underneath you, eyes squinting and his tail whacking the tree accidentally with a swift brush. He mumbles your name, the hoarse gruff of his voice sending a shivered bolt down your spine.

You already know he's preparing some rushed apology, some kind of reason as to why he's been throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes lately but you don't want to hear it. All your body and your being screams at you is to ride his cock and make him spill into you. Mark him as yours.

You want the release, can feel it burning up inside you and splintering at your fingertips, ready to explode into flames. Except this time it isn't him giving it to you, you're giving it to yourself, circling your hips around his cock like it's the last thing you're going to do.

And by Eywa, does Jake fucking love it. He's too focused in the way your perfect little cunt drives him, slipping his cock into your body like it's a piece of cake. He's entranced by the way your hips dance, the perky little bone of them sticking out against your skin each time you lean forward into his stomach. He's getting fucked dumb, and he can't even bring himself to give a shit. Never in his life has he ever met a girl that could ride like you. No, never in his life has a ever met a girl like you. And he doesn't think he ever will, not that he wants or needs to now. Your body is just too sickly sweet, and everything in his body screams at him to just keep his cock glued into you, fill you with his cum until all you can feel is it.

You feel it coming, feel the same mountain morphing as it soars above you. You use your hand to lean at his head, using it as your advantage to ride him rougher, dragging his cock firmer into your cunt. He lets you, now fucking up into you with matched energy and you're bouncing from the capacity. Sweat is slick on your skin, mending with his own and you just need to feel him, touch the soft skin he owns as you bounce on his length. Apparently Jake feels the same, as he pinches and grabs at any part of your body he can reach, mouth touching where his hands can't.

He drags out your name, desperation covering the word and filling in the air after with throaty groans. “Let me come in you, sweetheart. Come on, please. Need to, darlin’ please, need—“

“Yes,” you squeal, scratching at his skin while jutting your hips against him violently. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you beg, crave covering your voice in a high-pitched whine.

Then it hits you, like a bomb setting off, the fire in your belly exploding into millions of little red embers. The mountain erupts like a volcano, and you can feel every little piece cracking down into the ground and out your body. Jake yells out, croaking out a loud grunt as he spills into you, coating your walls with his sticky load. Your head’s spinning, eyes seeing a splash of colors and all you can do is rock in his arms, as you attempt to catch your running breath.

You’re trembling, quaking even as you lay still, Jake’s cock sitting limp in your body. The only thing you can focus on is your conjoined breaths, everything else seeming to hard to even look at. You don’t even realise you’re crying until the tears sink to your neck, and the sound of your quiet sniffles.

You don’t know how long it’s been until Jake begins to shift, and you pull enough strength to lean back. He looks to you, his face set into a hue of content, a small smug smile pulling at his lips. He reaches out to your face, wipes the tears on your face with his thumb lazily. “Holy shit,” he chuckles.

You let out a needed, soft laugh, and his smile widens at the noise of it, tail whisking up at your reaction. He pulls in a breath, chest rising up as he takes both his arms and cups your face. You lean into his warm touch, slumping your forehead against his.

“I see you,” he whispers gently, curling a few fingers around your neck.

“I see you.” You whisper back, mouth cracking into a giddy smile. And when you look into his eyes, you recognise the emotion behind them within a second; love.

wow. biggest chapter out of all of them and i can’t decide whether i like it or not

BIG SHOUTOUT TO @slxttedjakesullyenthusiast who helped me make this filthy fucking piece of whatever it is and if u don’t go follow her im kicking you in the pussy don’t test me

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions.

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, so it would not be that far of a stretch in that vein for Ford to also explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening.

Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

I understand there are likely several varying reasons why Ford wouldn't want to tell Fiddleford about Bill, even if Ford DID know he was from a different dimension, however:

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature.

I'm not trying to say he would've actually fully revealed it to Fiddleford if this were the case, but I think the thought process around the concept of doing so would be different.

.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(A later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his prolonged abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

.

.

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

[70sscifiart]

Hello! I don’t know if you have a 60s scifi art equivalent or not, but do you know anything about the cover of D-99 by HB Fyfe? It was published in 1962, my friend and I found a copy of it in a second hand shop and literally have never been able to stop thinking about it ever since. Thank you!

I see why it stuck with you, it's very striking! haha

According to ISFDB, the artist is Ralph Brillhart, which makes sense. I like Brillhart! You can see some of his other covers over here, and they're almost all from the early 1960s, with another handful done in 1981-'82.

Like most 60s artists, his work doesn't have the finer detail or realistic perspectives that you tend to get with 1970s artists. But he has some great concepts, and I think he picks really interesting compositions - in my opinion, the cover here is unsettling entirely because that one wide-eyed alien in the foreground has stuck his face right up against the viewer. Very confrontational!

I bet Brillhart knew that, too, because he pulled the same trick for this 1965 cover:

Here's my favorite Brillhart cover, used for Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick, 1964. I love the odd color choices, like the pink sky.

Here's a later one that Brillhart did in 1981, for The Ends of the Circle, by Paul O. Williams. He's using another bold perspective choice, with the perfectly straight road cutting down the center of the image, and it totally works for me!

Anyway, he's a good artist! You can see a fairly complete list of his covers here. They're not all winners, admittedly, but it's a bit of a shame he wasn't more well-known or prolific.

Edit: Oh, also I have an art book that you should check out if you liked this post! No Brillhart, sadly.

[slowlysoluminary]

Reset AU ... mirror room art piece and a supplemental from ghostloop's pov 🎉

Writing under the cut! (Lots of words... oops!!!!!!!)

(Venturing through the house has been nothing short of a terror.)

(The sadnesses littering the area are NOT helping!)

(Granted, you know how to fight - you have each sadness' type memorized, each name and gimmick on lock - but your craft...)

(You're not sure what Craft type you are. You're corporeal enough for your hits to connect, but not corporeal enough for attacks to land on you. Harder still, considering the craft types are all equally as easy for you to summon.)

(Maybe "easy for you to summon" is poor phrasing. Your attacks feel wrong. Unfamiliar.)

(Your Piercing Craft likes to trail, not unlike the rest of your body. You struggle the least with Scissors-type attacks, but it feels like something fundamental is missing in each of your strikes.)

(Your Creative Craft leaves after-images. You thought you were Paper craft for a good while, but you're clumsy with it - like it wasn't made with your body in mind.)

(Your Protector's Craft sparks like energy through your fist. Something pangs at your chest each time you form the handshape.)

(Your attacks are strange. Craft personalizes itself to its user, but for such attuned craft to be so alien....)

(Thinking about it gives you a weird headache.)

(So you won't!!)

(You watch Siffrin fight. He made you sit out of battle after that time you downed yourself. Impeccable aim, Loop!!)

(... They never win, but you figure you should respect their wishes regardless.)

(You feel Experienced. Like these sadnesses would wither away if you poked them too hard. They probably would, if you could land a hit in the first place!)

(You can't help but compare the way he fights with the way you fight. Or, the way you think you should.)

(Like his name, like the House, like everything else, it's all familiar. You fight the same way as him, but your craft makes it difficult to do so comfortably.)

(You can't help but be envious. Why are you envious?)

(The style isn't even yours! You're pretty sure it's adapted from his, even!!)

(Nothing is your own. Not even your body is safe!!! Your skin prickles when you look down. Stars dance across your form naturally, yet it feels unnatural all the same.)

(Stars, are you going crazy? You think you're going crazy!)

(Siffrin shifts next to you, walking comfortably in your silence. You lead the way to the next door.)

("Why Stardust?" They asked you that, before. At least, you think they did? What did you respond with? Something about what's left...?)

(... You don't know. Just, seeing him, talking to him - he's Stardust! So, you must be Loop.)

(It found you so easily in your sea of muddled memories. It must be what the Universe willed!)

(But you still don't know. But you still can't remember. What's wrong with you?)

"Finally, third floor..."

(Siffrin turns a key. You're climbing the House. Right.)

(You smile. Is it forced? You're not sure. The gesture reminds you of something.)

>"Awh, good job, Stardust! It only took you... ehm...."

>"20 Loops! That's great! A bit worse than me, but who's keeping track, right?"

"'A bit worse than you?' Did you remember something?"

("A bit worse than you?")

>"What? I didn't say anything."

(You didn't. Did you?)

(Siffrin makes a noise. They're looking at you funny.)

"Nevermind."

(O~kay. Weird.)

...

(The King sobs.)

(They talk to you about him. A lot more than you want them to, if you're being honest.)

(Hearing his name, his likeness, to be spoken of so fondly - you feel rage. A deep and primal anger you're sure you've never felt before and will never feel again.)

(So, yes! Hearing the King sob the whole time like he's not actively dooming an entire blinding country has done wonders on your psyche! The reminder of his existence fills you with such joy and whimsy!)

(Your smile is pulled so taut you think it would tear at your skin, if you had any.)

(Siffrin's expression is plagued with sympathy. Something in your core stirs violently at the thought.)

>"Chin up, soldier~! One more floor to climb!"

(The sympathetic look fades, but you don't feel any better. You don't think about the implications.)

"... Right. One more floor."

>"I hope all this effort was worth it!"

"Ditto. Even if I can't snap some sense into him, I just..."

"I want to talk. I've told you about it before, but-"

(stop don't talk about him no no no no)

>"STARdust! Surely there's no need to go over everything again!"

>"You might be forgetful, but helpful Loop here already knows the ins and outs of your fool-proof plan~!!"

>"You've told me about it, you continue to tell me about it, you don't stop telling me about it — I GET IT ALREADY!"

>"Just. We'll. We'll get to it when we get to it, right? Please."

(you're not sure why)

(but the thought of talking to the king fills your entire being with sickness)

(Too bad you can't throw up! Teehee!!)

(Siffrin looks pained.)

"Right, I'll just -- I'm."

"I'm sorry..."

(Oh.)

(His voice is so tender. So quiet.)

(You ruined it.)

(That's fine. You don't -- you don't need the ability anyway. You can make your way through the house on your own. You don't need them to get stronger. It's fine.)

(...)

(What were you thinking about? It doesn't matter.)

>"So~! That out of the way."

(This time you ignore the King wailing above you.)

>"Where do we go?"

(His face is hidden from you, beneath the brim of his hat. You have a fun time thinking about the expression under it!)

(Is it twisted in frustration? Appalled? Mortified? Betrayed?)

(You know those faces like the back of your hand, but the specifics amalgam in your head, a foggy mass of uncertainty.)

(You feel a tingle on your cheek.)

(... Yes, fun! What fun!)

(Siffrin clears their throat.)

"... You've been leading me through most of the House, Loop."

"So I thought you would know where to go?"

(You have?)

>"I have?"

"Yes?????"

(What????)

>"No I haven't."

"Yes? You have??"

(He looks offended???)

"The rock trap? The key I missed in the Head Housemaiden's office?"

>"'Fraid you're not ringing any bells!!"

(Conversations are one of the only things you remember. Everything else blends together.)

(So, you should know this, shouldn't you? They must've brought it up a few times while you were walking. You weren't thinking too hard about where you were going. The paths feel wholly natural to you... But you do remember that the amount of times you had to give Siffrin a Super Sour Tonic was atrocious, really.)

(How does anyone lose to sadnesses THAT often? It's ridiculous! He should just let you fight!!!)

"Loop?"

(Whoops!!! You should pay more attention to your surroundings...)

(...)

(No, okay, wait.)

>"When did we get to the mirror room?"

(The glare Siffrin gives you bears the striking image of absolute incredulocity.)

(That's not a word. Whatever!!! You can make up new words if you so please!!)

"You're kidding."

>"Completely serious question, Stardust!"

"...'Stardust, I am the epitome of good memory...'"

(HE'S MOCKING YOU!!)

>"I am! I swear it on my mother!"

"Stars have mothers?"

(You shrug before remembering to raise a gloved hand to your mouth.)

>"I don't know!"

>"But I'm sure, if I had one, she'd be especially bright."

(An eyeroll.)

(They don't laugh.)

(Why does that bother you?)

(Eh, probably because that one was funny! No fair!)

>"You're no fun, Stardust..."

"Okay."

>"Whatever! I'll find a pun buddy somewhere else!!"

"And where would you go? Vaugarde's frozen in time."

("And you're practically a ghost," is what goes unsaid.)

(...mmm. No, it's fine.)

>"I'll write to them! We'll be pen pals!"

>"Or I guess we'd be pun pals, ehe."

(They snort. Mission success!!!)

"Not funny."

>"Oh, come on! You laughed!! That means I won the bet!"

"The bet was about laughing at your jokes. Puns don't count."

(Bummer! You pout.)

"Real talk. Any particular reason for bringing us here? I trust you, but..."

"... The only thing in here is that mirror."

(They point to the large mirror at the end of the corridor. You nod. There is a mirror, and nothing else.)

>"Indeed so."

"And you called it the mirror room?"

(Did you?)

>"No I didn't."

"I'm not arguing with you again..."

(Aren't they doing that already?)

"Just answer the question."

>"I wasn't aware I was being interrogated! I need a lawyer!!!"

"Loop."

>"Fine! I-... Um."

>"I."

>"I'm not ... quite sure?"

"You're not sure."

>"Nope!"

(They sigh.)

"So you led us here... for no particular reason?"

>"Exactly!"

>"Well. No, I'm sure there's some reason we're here."

>"I feel like there's something else in this room, you know?"

>"But! As far as I'm aware!! There is nothing in here!!! Save for that dazzling old mirror!!!!"

"Right."

(He doesn't believe you.)

"... Let's look around, then?"

>"Sounds good to me."

(You look around.)

(Okay, you don't actually do anything. Siffrin's going at it, though!)

(He checks the pillars. And the corners. And the bricks. And the pillars again.)

(It's... really boring.)

(It's better than the Other Thing you could be doing. The Elephant In The Room. The Big Mirror In The Corridor-Room. That.)

(Hm. Hmmmmmmm.)

(You weigh your options.)

(Boredom. Or headache. Boriiing borreeedooom...... or excruciating headache.)

(Or answers? You don't know the mirror's deal! You could get something meaningful out of this!)

(Or you could get a headache.)

(Or you could lean against a pillar, bored, for the rest of eternity, waiting to be Done and Over With This.)

(...)

(You've been pointedly ignoring the existence of the mirror for quite the while now.)

(Something goads you. A whisper.)

(You follow. Siffrin watches you, curious.)

(You don't... You don't really want to look.)

(Just looking down spikes something uncomfortable under your skin.)

(So you're not sure what to expect, if you were to look in your reflection.)

(Whispers turn to spoken tongue turn to yelling turn to screaming as you approach the glass. Yet, no matter how loud they get, how heartfelt they screech, you can't make out the words.)

(Something in you hurts as you stand in front of the glass.)

(You take a breath)

(in, and out.)

(And you look up.)

(and all at once)

(everything goes quiet)

(...)

(You gaze at your reflection)

(You gaze at a star.)

(is this you?)

(you wave your hand)

(it waves back.)

(You frown. It frowns too.)

(Stars. All up its body.)

(More than you could dream of, could you still dream in the first place.)

(Flame-like spikes flicker freely from its head, immitating hair.)

(Imitating life.)

(You're looking at a ghost.)

(you're a ghost?)

(The screaming returns. You flinch back in surprise. The ghost does not flinch with you.)

(LOOP, it screams. LOOP, LOOP, LOOP, LOOP !!!)

(Its head morphs. It's something spikier, now. It's something right.)

(your head hurts)

(The ghost snickers at you. You look at it.)

(You look at it)

(it's)

(it's)

(loop)

(you look at loop)

(LOOP, the screaming chants, in agreement. LOOP!)

(someone is shaking you?)

(this is loop)

(but you're loop?)

(are you loop?)

(The screaming rises. You didn't think it could get any louder. You cover your ears and cower. It doesn't do anything)

(loop laughs at you.)

(you forgot)

(of course you forgot! you always forget! forgetful little siffrin! sieve brain siffrin)

(you stole their role. in the play)

(you stole them)

(you)

"LOOP!"

(You blink)

(You is in front of you. Your back is leaning against cool glass.)

(if your back is to the mirror)

(how are you looking in your reflection?)

(The you in front of you sighs.)

"You were out cold there... What happened, Loop?"

(you wait for them to respond)

("Nothing, Stardust!! You should go help out your little entourage! Or, you know, you could do something more productive? Like talk to the Head Housemaiden?")

(that's what you think they would say)

(you feel a shiver)

"... I'm not... part of a party...? Oh, no, nevermind. I get it."

(your reflection releases you. you slump to the ground.

(you pull your hands up to your head)

(and stop)

(your arms)

(your arms..)

"Loop."

>"... Loop?"

(Oh!)

>"Yes! I am Loop."

(Siffrin gives you That Look again.)

"What was all that?"

(All that?)

>"I'm not sure what you're talking about!"

"It was like you... um..."

"Forgot your name. Or something."

(Forgot your name? Scandalous!! You'd never forget such a thing!)

>"Nope, all good!"

>"I just... hm. Thought you were talking to someone else there, for a second?"

>"But I'm fine now!"

"If you say so."

(He doesn't take your word for this, either.)

(Oh well!)

(You bend down and flip the switch, extra careful not to look at the mirror. Or the photo that materializes in front of it.)

"How did you-?"

(They try to ask, but you're already moving for the key.)

(Loop.)

(That's you!)

(So why does that name remind you of someone else?)

[hedgehogoftime]

My problem with "The Vengeance Saga"

I don't know if this is an unpopular opinion but I'm a bit... disappointed by the Vengeance Saga.

Don't get me wrong, mechanically it's my favorite one yet. Every performance is incredible. The songs are bangers. But I can't help but feel it misses the point of "The Odyssey".

And this is a running problem I've had with Epic as a whole so bear with me while I air my thoughts.

"The Odyssey" is the story of pride. Of hubris. It always has been. Odysseus's pride, specifically. The reason the Gods come down so hard on Odysseus is because he's too proud. He believes himself above the Gods or at least above crediting them for his achievements. Anyone who's familiar with Greek Mythology knows that this is a common theme, a mortal becoming too full of themselves because of a gift the Gods gave them is a recurring thing.

Odysseus doesn't spare Polyphemus out of pity like in Epic, he does it so everyone can know who outwitted him and who overcame the monster.

I feel like earlier parts of Epic understand this as the theme. "Luck Runs Out" especially hits on it, and it feels like it comes to a head in "Ruthlessness" when Odysseus doesn't do the one thing that could get them out of this situation, humble himself before Poseidon and apologize. Instead, he makes excuses and Poseidon follows through with his threat.

I just feel like Odysseus beating Poseidon, humiliating him like he does in "Six-Hundred Strike" is antithetical to the theme of the story. Odysseus proves his pride right, and overcomes a God.

The whole point Poseidon pushes in "The Odyssey" is that no one is mightier than the sea. No matter how good or powerful you are, you have to respect the sea and nature.

I just feel like Ody's arc would be more complete if he did the one thing he didn't bring himself to do in "Ruthlessness" and apologizes to Poseidon, at last breaking the pride that got his men killed.

While watching Odysseus triumph like that might be more immediately rewarding, it feels narratively cheaper. It doesn't even complete his arc as a monster, since we already saw the culmination of that in the Thunder Saga where alienated the rest of his crew and got them killed because of that.

Being a monster didn't work, but here it does?

I dunno, just how I feel.

[blueiight]

“what can the damned really say to the damned?” is what this episode asks. and well… “nothing.” is what the show answers us with.

we are introduced to louis and claudia as ultimate outcasts to the mortals around them and vampiredom: louis attempts to maintain the illusions of humanity in similar structures once more, casting grace as his lost wife and claudia as his daughter, as claudia seeks to find other vampires. armand, clearly pissed about the interview as is, decides to draw upon 150 years of prior work experience as a playwright toward the end of this episode, which is quite frankly, a bit much considering how daniel’s already scared shitless. and theres a terrible romantic specter in europe following louis thats named lestat. its a lot going on here, and im bound to not cover everything. i do want to cover dreamstat, and me and you(5x) but i will wait for the season to progress to do that^_^

‘He asked me if we could go home. Home? Can there be a more offensive question? Run back to New Orleans. Pry up his bones, why don’t you? Louis de Pointe du Lac, dead weight.’

louis and claudia’s tension in this particular episode revolve around the killing — or the betrayal that prevented the killing — of lestat. et tu, louis? stowaways on ships, trains, and wagons and a totally alien environment where even the blood is hostile to them, is it any wonder louis dreams of lestat? is it any wonder, having access to louis’s mind, in pursuit of some understanding of vampires beyond the facismile of the nuclear structure, that claudia continues to feel betrayed? i always think to myself, if claudia had qualities that made the average fan more sympathetic to her, would they understand how she was betrayed by louis specifically that night? would they be able to sympathize with claudia’s incredible perserverance despite, and because of, everything thats happened to her? and how that betrayal is the underlying tragedy and romance alike of the narrative that made 1940 mardi gras’s aftermath so haunting that louis in dubai did not remember it or was made not to until the other night?

following that in the flashbacks is when dreamstat first appears, clearly an extension of louis’s own mind at this own point, and he asks louis:

Four years of grim wayfaring, and still no sight of the benevolent vampire. So how does denial manifest itself tonight? … Was she worth it?

its so telling that lestat is the image louis calls upon to embody his most bitter feelings toward claudia in this sequence. dreamstat deserves his own breakdown, especially in relation to louis& claudia’s conversation when she first finds the revenant, as well as the wider events in dubai…

speaking of revenants, morgan in the show is a proto-daniel of sorts an abandoned journalist whos interest in photography exposes the illusion of grace the wife and claudia the impossible daughter, and tries to understand louis through the perspective of the mortal hes been given — did he go AWOL, or is he a black bolshevik? louis when questioned absconds, and closes up what little of himself he’s sold to morgan. its a smart way to include him in the narrative, as morgan is witness to emilia’s beheading after she was attacked by said revenant… and louis turns his head, truly embodying the detachment of the vampire in this moment. human affairs, their problem. this is a really good example of whats meant by ‘human affairs’ in the show, by the way. this episode features claudia & louis facing racism from military to children, and thats not framed as a ‘human affair’, but as one of many haunting aspects of their immortal existences.

claudia, in the pursuit for vampires, continues the metaphor of adoption in how she tries to find some sort of companionship and her current understanding of romania as this ancestral home to the vampire. whats also noticeable here is how claudia trying to make sense of centuries of legends is a striking parallel to how louis in the present day attempts to make sense of whats ‘true’ and ‘untrue’ from her diaries. claudia’s private accounts in the present that she never intended to be so deeply analyzed as anything other than her internal narrative in the moments she wrote them has become, to louis, a similar sort of legend thats necessary to decode for his own sense of self.

She writes here, ‘I do not dream.’ I can confirm that. At least, that’s what she said to me once when I was talking about one of my dreams which were erratic and often in those years. Of course, she might’ve just said that to shut me up, but yet… she writes it here so… let’s believe it. She continues. ‘We traveled light in our ancestral home. We slept in the earth, took circuitous routes around the mad army goose-stepping its way toward mother Russia…’

I woke that night to the sound of chaos erupting nearby. Claudia was, uh.. . she was dreaming. Her head twitching like you would. […] No, I can feel her. I can feel her next to me. She’s having a nightmare. What’s worse than a nightmare? If your soul’s projecting out its fears, at least it’s up and running. But the absence of anything? The void, the nothing, pieces… coming back. Hours, nights, objects surfacing in water… It was just something she’d wrote. But it wasn’t true. She could dream.

dubai louis’s recollection of claudia and the existential dread of eternally being damned, the terror of lacking a soul, a rather catholic fear but still having a sequence of memories that cycle back into an immortal brain, replay in this inversed sleep cycle, can be malleable, forgotten, poke a hole in louis’s attempt to utilize claudia’s diaries as but an extension of his own narrative, and offers a glimpse at what is truly at stake in this second interview.

[dcdreamblog]

Since time travel has been mentioned a time or two, a story and then a question.

I grew up in a rural area with a small government installation nearby these many years ago. There was just enough population to support one combination elementary and high school, and barely enough money for teachers, so the teachers they did have tended to have a lot of job security.

The high school history teacher was generally a good teacher and a reasonable person, but apparently had a bug up his ass about one particular topic. At the beginning of each quarter, he'd explain to the classes he was teaching that time travel was not real, we were not to mention time travel in response to any question, and referring to time travel in any way in homework or a test would be an automatic "F."

In 10th grade, a new kid, I'll call him Steve, transferred into the school because his dad was working at the government installation, in the middle of the quarter. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks, new kids were excitement in our tiny school.

Then one day our history class was learning about an event in Ancient Greek history. And Steve raises his hand. Turned out that when he was a kid, his family had lived down the road from Rip Hunter and his crew, and Steve had gotten to hang out with Mr. Hunter's teenage assistant Corky a few times with other small boys, and Corky had told them about going to that particular event, and what really happened was--

The history teacher, of course, was rapidly building up fury. I could see his cheeks turning red and almost could see steam comiing out of his ears. Just as Steve was getting to the good part of the story, something about disguised aliens, the teacher erupted. He told Steve in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as time travel, never had been and never would be, and that Rip Hunter in particular was a fraud and con artist who bilked investors by making up wacky stories and forging artifacts.

Steve, as any sixteen year old with a bit of worldly assurance might, pushed back, trying to defend Rip Hunter's honor. This became a shouting match and Steve got sent to the principle's office.

From what I heard later, Steve's father was called, and he allowed that while, yes, his family had lived down the road from Rip Hunter's land, he himself had never met the man and certainly never saw any proof of time travel, and Corky might have been telling tall tales to impress the younger boys. Still, he disagreed with the history teacher's getting angry about it.

Steve was silent and fuming in history class from then on, and his family got reassigned during the summer.

So, question, how does your field of history handle claims of time travel?

This sort of gets onto a larger question as to how my field is seen by more "established" historical fields. In short: Not well.

To fully lay out my credentials. I have a Bachelor's in Superhero Studies with a Minor in Political Geography. My focus in both is respectively the Golden Age from 1938-1950 and Ethnic Demographics within Modern Nation States.

I am a Historian. My job is to examine historical facts through primary and secondary sources and provide the best possible window from the present to the past through the lens of truth. Whether more "academic" historians feel that my specialization is valid or not is neither my problem nor my concern.

The idea that the champions and defenders who have utterly altered our view of the world aren't "relevant" enough to be taken into the curve of history as a force in and of themselves strikes me as a DEEPLY reactionary and incurious one. So let us get one thing deeply, UNMISTAKABLY clear. Time Travel is real. Anyone who insists it isn't would have to explain a LOT of otherwise totally inexplicable things.

(Rip Hunter and his Time Masters, showing off their Time Sphere at the Cave Carson Scientific Expo. Corky is the young redhead in the middle)

Rip Hunter and his crew are time travelers. They travel through time, into the past and the future with the help of a miraculous machine. Like something out of a Jules Verne novel.

How does my field "handle" these claims? The first tool on any good scientist's rack. Occam's Razor.

Which is more likely. That these four are able to, on dozens of different occasions, all over the world, perfectly replicate lost artifacts to the point that even lifelong archeologists are unable to falsify them. Provide directions to seemingly lost ruins that no one could have possibly known about ahead of time, those ruins themselves HOLDING evidence of their presence sometimes millennia in the past, and consult on paleontological and historical discoveries that were unknown or even untheorized but just so happen to line up EXACTLY to their observations once studied? Or that they can time travel.

Once is suspicious. Perhaps they stumbled upon the ruin and are defacing it to cash in before unveiling it to the world. Maybe they DID find the artifact but not where they said they did. Maybe they happened upon a fossil that explains dinosaur anatomy to them in a totally new way. Once. Twice. Three times. Do you know how many papers have their names on them? Go ahead, if you still have access to your college library, go check. Only count the ones that are unique discoveries, I had to for a paper.

4527. As of when I graduated in 2018. Nearly 5000 historical, archeological or evolutionary discoveries that began because they showed up, submitted a report about what they saw and then led experts directly to the evidence.

There is not enough luck in the WORLD, to luck upon discipline redefining dinosaur skeletons 5000 times.

And they're the easiest example but there are more. How did the Seven Soldiers show up, out of the blue, 40+ years after their disappearance without any of these very hard living men having physically aged more than 5.

The Vigilante has no secret ID anymore. We know its the same guy, so I would like your history teacher to tell me, to my face, how world famous country western artist Greg Saunders vanished in 1947 and showed up decades later looking identical to the cover of his last album. The pictures are not hard to compare, he was selling out Madison Square Garden. Any other skeptics in the crowd are free to answer either of these questions, I am always in the running to be proven wrong.

We live in a new world, and those who cannot accept the reality of it will be doomed to ignorance. The fantastical is here. So let's start taking notes.

[kinglivv]

Nicknames

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x g!n Reader

Summary: The minute you meet Kate Stewart, you christen her “Katie” with a smirk and a shake of her hand. She thinks she hates you for it, until she doesn’t.

Warnings: Implied sex, implied risk of violence

You call her Katie. No one is allowed to call her Katie.

At first, it pisses her off. Every once in a while, you flounce off the TARDIS, trailing after the Doctor, and smile at her a “hi Katie!” because you know it winds her up. You cause whatever necessary destruction to the UNIT office, narrowly avoid an alien invasion and disappear with a “bye Katie!”, leaving her with a migraine and stacks of incident reports.

Her staff think it’s funny, in a sort of distant way because anyone seen mimicking that behaviour would get their head bitten off. Mel finds it bemusing. Kate didn’t even know where you’d gotten it from. The Doctor had introduced you two with a grandiose “this is Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, Commander of UNIT and daughter of one of the greatest men I ever knew.” Instead of looking in-awed, you’d smirked, shook her hand and winked “nice to meet you, Katie.”

She tries to ignore it. She won’t be swayed by the Doctor’s companion mocking her, someone half her age and probably half her experience and intellect. She gets on with the job, runs the most clandestine government office excellently and puts up with your visits every once in a while.

It doesn’t strike her just how interesting you might be until she bumps into you at Donna’s birthday doo.

It really wasn’t her scene, parties and late nights. She’d prefer a glass of wine, a book and a bubblebath. But she finds herself at Donna’s house one Saturday evening, celebrating the former companion’s 40th and sat on the sofa chatting with the great and good of the Doctor’s friends. You muscle in through the crowd of bodies, gift bag in hand.

“Hi love!” You cry over the the music and chatter to Mel who’s curled up on the other end of the sofa from Kate, “Where’s the main woman?”

“Oh, out in the garden I think,” Mel waves vaguely, bringing you in for a hug, “chatting with Rose.”

“Ah,” you hold up the bag, “present from the Doctor.”

“The Doctor does presents now?” Kate raises an eyebrow.

“When I remind him to, Katie,” you smile, “you know what he’s like.”

“That’s very caring of you,” her tone is guarded. She doesn’t exactly like you, and she’s prodding.

“He leaves people behind,” you shrug, “they deserve to know they’re remembered.”

Kate watches in confusion as you melt away back into the party.

It doesn’t strike her as flirting until… well.

UNIT picks you up in the middle of the night, sometime late in the autumn. There was an alien incursion imminent and Kate was panicking. They couldn’t find the Doctor anywhere and whilst she resented running to him for help, the dozens of red dots on the radar were blinking closer and closer to Earth. Colonel Ibrahim suggests the next best thing - you of all people would know where the Doctor was.

They track your location, Kate sends out a team and not fifteen minutes later, you stumble into the control room.

When she says stumble, she means it. You’re in a little dress, heels and… tipsy.

“Seriously,” she says to Ibrahim, “Kraxon invasion on the horizon and this is the solution you’ve brought me?”

He merely shrugs. “You asked for them,”

“Katie!” You swagger over to her where she’s sat at her desk with a pout. “You interrupted my night out.”

“Yes, well, sorry about that,”

You lean on her desk grinning down at her. She notices that your eyes are a much lighter E/C than she thought.

“You asked for me?” you stage-whisper. You cross your legs, skirt riding up to show more thigh.

“There’s a bit of a situation-“

“You know if you wanted to see me you could just call,”

“Do you need a coffee or something to sober you up, because -“

“Did you say Kraxon?” You interrupt. She sees something click in you and you look up at the screen looming over the room.

“Yes,” she stands up, suddenly feeling a little too hot and a desperate need to put some space between you two. “They’re coming from the east - we think Mars. We’ve been tracking them for days and so far all defences have failed. We’re reaching the eleventh hour with this and we were hoping you might know where to find the Doctor.”

You don’t look like you’re listening. You’re staring at the screen intently.

“Y/N, we really don’t have -“

“Radiation,” you say.

“Radiation?” She repeats.

“They’re extremely susceptible to it. Can you defences field them towards… say Chernobyl? That will finish them right off.” You swing your legs a little.

Kate looks at you. At the screen. At Colonel Ibrahim. She swears under her breath - of course.

“Get to it,” she nods to him, and the command deck springs into action. In the middle of it all, you sit smiling at her. The colour of the dress really does brings out your eyes. She wants to hate you, tottering into her office, wearing something incredibly distracting and solving the headache that’s been keeping her awake for days.

“Thank you,” she offers, squeezing your arm.

You smirk at her, and she’s fairly certain you’re too intoxicated to fully comprehend what you’ve just done.

“Anything for you Katie,”

After that, you play on her mind constantly.

Kate tries not to think about it, but you’re everywhere. In her dreams, her case reports. She can’t stop thinking about you in that dress, that cheeky smile. “Katie,” echoes in her head and suddenly she doesn’t hate it as much as she once thought she did. It’s a teenage infatuation - she’s never felt it before. Not for her son’s father, not for her ex-wife. It’s borderline embarrassing, and she does her best to ignore it, giving you cold stares when you flirt and deflecting Mel’s pointed questions. She was the Commander in Chief of the Unified Intelligence Task Force. She was not lusting after one of the Doctor’s companions just because they had some brains and showed a bit of skin.

It doesn’t strike her as anything serious until the Toymaker incident.

It was only meant to be a demonstration so you and the Doctor could fully comprehend the severity of the situation. However, she hadn’t quite considered in that moment what she might say once under the influence of the Toymaker’s waveform.

She takes off the Zeedex.

“Hi,” says the Doctor.

“Hi…” she frowns.

“How was your day?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” you pipe up.

“You’re nosy,” she snaps. “All you do is talk.”

“What if I like talking to you, Katie?”

“Don’t call me that!” Kate snaps. She begins to move towards you and thats when the guards grab her and snap it back on.

She comes back to herself. She looks at you and sees the tears in your eyes, and you see the moment she registers how she’s made you feel. She opens her mouth to say something, but someone else gets there first and she’s left listening to them like white noise, still staring at you.

Once it’s all over, she catches you in the corridor between the control room and the her office. She can’t bear the thought of you upset, and she grabs your arm before you can disappear and before she can think to hard.

“Sorry,” she stammers, “about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you reply.

“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright,”

“I could see you were upset.”

“You didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not sure you know that,” her hand is still on your arm, rubbing circles.

You look away, up the corridor, shifting slightly beneath her grip.

“Do you really hate the nickname Katie?” You whisper.

She frowns. “That’s it? That’s what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing,” your guard slams shut and you move to pull away, but her hand tightens.

“I don’t mind it,” she confesses. “I mean, I hated it. Initially. But now… now not so much,”

She’s close. She’s close and she shouldn’t be, because she’s meant to be the serious, in-control boss. She has a reputation, priorities…

You lean up and kiss her. It’s light and cautious, a mere few seconds as your hand cradles her face and all thoughts leave her brain. When you pull back, she doesn’t move, breath ghosting your lips.

And then she surges back in and effectively pins you to the wall. She kisses you like she’s dreamed about, like she’s wanted to for months, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself. Your arms wrap around her and you kiss her like she’s oxygen, like you’d die in this moment without her to anchor you. You probably really would have died that day if it weren’t for her and you whimper against her lips, feeling her warm and alive beneath your hands. You want her clothes gone, you want to drag her into her office, you want -

There’s a cough. You break apart and the Doctor smirks from the end of the corridor. “You wanting dropped home or what?”

After that, the nickname “Katie” strikes her as a prayer.

It’s a whisper in the dark, it’s a moan against her neck as she does whatever sinful things she wants to you. It’s a murmur in crisp sheets, it’s a laugh at the dinner table. It’s her name in your phone and it’s written at the top of Christmas cards. Katie is synonymous with you. She can go out there, be Commander Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, and come home to you and be your Katie. Without you, Katie doesn’t exist and she isn’t anyone.

You spend a lot of time around her lately. The Doctor’s moving on - some girl called Ruby, Kate thinks - but you don’t seem to mind or notice. You’ve got a job at UNIT now, and Kate’s rather glad you’re posted a few floors below her because she’s not sure she could manage with the distraction at work as well as at home. You wake her up with cups of tea and kisses in the morning, and greet her in evenings with dinner and - if she’s lucky - matching underwear beneath your clothes. Her obsession with you shifts from lust to something more serious without Kate quite realising. More and more of your stuff has gravitated into her flat. Her grown-up kids have started asking questions.

She comes home one evening and finds you stood at the stove, stirring a pan and humming along to something on the radio. She dumps her handbag on the table, wraps an arm around your waist and presses her chin into the crook of your neck.

“Hello darling,”

“How was work?” You twist your head and press a kiss into blonde hair.

“The usual. What’s cooking?”

“Spaghetti bolognese,”

“Delicious,”

You snort. “It’s the third time I’ve made it this week, babe,”

“I’ve not had time to food shop,” she groans, “a task for Saturday.”

“We’ve gone all domestic,” you tease. It was true. What had started as a rather physical infatuation with Kate Stewart had at some point melted into easy co-habitation. She was a different women these days to the one you’d met on that control deck. Warmer. Free.

“Yeah well,” Kate’s thumb rubs circles in it’s all too familiar habit, “for that to be true you’d have to move in with me.”

“Oh?”

“What do you think?” She squeezes your side.

“A million times yes, Katie.”

[confused-gender]

Monsters

Summary: You survived for so long. The yautja came to clear out the xenomorphs and to find you.

Word count: 5.37K words

I sat there in silence. The silence comforted me as if it were like an old friend. Tears silently streamed down my face as I hid away from the monster that was chasing me. It's always been a cat-and-mouse game with it. It likes to catch me and then release me to play around just a little bit longer before it gets bored with me. It's been like that ever since I was a little girl. It chased down my mother for years until finally it killed her and locked its eyes on me. The sound of heavy footsteps captures my attention, and I hold my breath in hopes it doesn't find me. I pray to anything that would listen to my prayer and patiently wait for it to pass. Soon, the footsteps fade away, and I let out a quite shaky breath. I turn slowly around and look out through the keyhole to see where it was. Only to see another eye looking at me. I let out a yelp and backed myself away from the door. It was never that smart before. The door handle jiggled as the monster tried to open the door. As the handle continued to jiggle, I closed my eyes and prayed to anything that would listen that this wouldn't be my last chase. The room fell silent for a moment. I opened my eyes to see the door wide open but no monster in sight. Where did it go? Soon, I feel its presence somewhere in the room. Fuck! I get up from my sitting position on the floor and scramble to run out the door. I couldn't even get to the end of the hall before something heavy lands on me. "Fuck." I groaned out. I didn't even have to look at what was on me to know that this could be my last game of cat and mouse. "Alright fucker, get it over with. Either release me to start a new chase or you...?" The sudden removal of weight made me extremely confused. I turned around looking for the monster only to see its tail whipping around frantically and its feet dangling above the ground. What the fuck? My body froze up on the ground I couldn't move even with my brain screaming at me to get up and run. I stayed glued to the floor in fear of whatever is holding the monster that's been chasing me. I watched in horror as the tail of the monster gets ripped off cleanly by some invisible force making the monster let out what I could only assume was a scream of pain. I quickly stood up and moved back as I watch the blood splatter onto the floor and walls. Watching little holes appear from where the blood once was. My eyes trailed back to the monster that is trying hard to fight for its life but is failing miserably to defend itself. I watched in shock as the invisible force started to show its true self. My eyes widened with fear. My mother had told me stories of these aliens. She said they were called yautja. She always said they hunted in groups of two but sometimes in groups of three depending on how big the hunt is going to be. I took a few steps back. Fuck, what am I going to do? Turning my back fully to the yautja and I booked it down the hall. Almost slipping when I took the corner to fast. "Fuck." I mumbled to myself. Finally seeing the stairs of the house come into view only to see another one of those monsters coming up the stairs. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I quickly turned my ass around and ran back to where I came from. Only to bump into a wall. Wait that wasn't there just a second ago. Oh god no. I felt it put its hand on me and push me to the side. It's... It's not going to hurt me? I looked at it confused and watched as it rushed towards the other monster and grabbed it by the throat quickly grabbing its tail before it could strike. Fuck not this again. Come on (y/n) think. There has to be another exit out of this place. Quickly coming back to reality when I felt hands wrap around my waist and throw me over their shoulder. What? What the fuck is happening? "Hey, could you put me down you got bigger things to kill then me." I spoke. All I got in response was clicking. "I have no clue what you're saying to me but I'm willing to tell you where the queen of these things is, if you let me go." I told it. It stopped in its tracks and thought about it for a moment. Quickly putting me down and standing in front of me waiting for me to tell it. Oh well that worked better than I thought. "She's in the basement." I told it softly. I looked it over and I could tell it was a male of the species. He put his hands on my shoulders as a way to tell me to stay put and don't move. He started clicking as if communicating to someone else and soon enough I hear two different responses come back from behind me. I jumped and turned around. Only to be met by two others of his species. Oh, so this is a big hunt for them. Great just fucking great. I crossed my arms annoyed as I watched the other two make their way down the stairs and what I'm assuming is the leader of this hunt gives me pat on the shoulder before he makes his way after them. I think I can leave while they're distracted with the queen downstairs. I looked down the stairs and don't see them but that doesn't mean they're not around. Uncrossing my arms, I slowly make my way down the stairs, being as quiet as I can. Once I reached the final step and I looked around, not like I'd know if someone was around or not anyway. I looked at the front door that was wide open and I saw the outside world for once. I mean I've seen it through a window from time to time but never this close. I took a few steps towards the door and soon I began to run. I ran outside barefoot, the feeling of the grass against my feet was such a weird sensation but felt so good to me. I continued to run until I reached the edge of the woods. My eyes widening as I realized I made it out of that hell whole alive. Lifting my head and looking up at the sky, a single tear fell down my cheek. "I did it mom. I did it for the both of us." I whispered towards the sky. I stood there for a few more minutes before focusing on the task at hand. I took one last look back at the house that was my own hell on earth and then back at the woods in front of me. I carefully make my way through the trees. Leaving my sent on random trees just in case those aliens came hunting for me. I continued to walk through the trees and watched as the sun started to set. I stopped walking when I noticed how dark it was getting. Good thing I suck at making fucking fires. Maybe I should have stayed put and waited for him to come back. I sighed annoyed with myself as I got down on my knees and started digging a hole for an attempt at a fire later. Once I was satisfied with the hole I dug, I grabbed some pine needles next to me and put it in the hole. Standing up I dusted my hands off and began my search for sticks. I didn't dare wander to far from where I was setting up my camp because I feared that I wouldn't find it in the dark and then have to start all over again. I picked up a good stack of sticks before going back over to my makeshift fire pit. Dropping to my knees I put a few sticks in then did that stick trick where you rub two sticks together to start a fire. I sat there for a few minutes doing this and realized how fucking dumb I felt. Throwing the sticks as far as I could away from me, I glared in the direction I threw them. "Great just great. Oh wow (y/n) you survived those monsters but now you might die in the woods because you can't even start a fire to keep warm." I said sarcastically to myself. I stand up and look at my surroundings. Maybe I can just keep walking until I can find some shelter. Starting to walk in a random direction I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I continued to walk but would look around every so often to ease my paranoia. The cold seemed to set in quick as goosebumps raised from my skin. I rubbed my arms to try and keep warm, but it wasn't helping. My body shivered as I continued to look. My feet had gone numb a few minutes ago but I kept pushing myself to walk. Letting out a yawn I realized how tired I truly was. "Fuck... I need to find shelter soon." I whispered quietly to myself. Soon I began to feel hopeless when I still hadn't found any shelter. I groaned and just let my body drop. Too tired to keep myself up and walking. I curled up into a ball to try and conserve whatever little heat I had left. It felt like I had laid there for hours but it was only minutes before I felt a warmth near me. I picked my head up and saw a figure standing near me. Am I going to die? Is that death? I thought to myself. Soon I heard the clicking noises and I knew they found me. What a weak prey I am for them. This wouldn't be an honorable kill for them at all. "I thought I told you to stay where you were." He said to me. Did he... did he just talk to me? No clicks or anything. Why didn't he say anything to me back at the house? It doesn't matter I'm going to die anyway. "Now look at you practically frozen. Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He spoke softly to me. I'm sorry did I hear that right? I looked at him confused. "M-my m-m-mother?" I asked. He gives me a look at me in a way that he could show he was confused threw his helmet but nods his head. I shivered in his arms, and he pulled me closer. "Need to get you warm." He spoke. He made some clicking noises to his hunting party. I'm assuming that's him telling them it's time to go. I snuggled closer to his body. Man was he warm. It's almost like my own personal furnace. I looked up at him with curiosity. This seems out of character for these yautja. When my mother told me about them, she always said they are ruthless hunters and honorable warriors. She never once said that they were kind or anything along those lines. I started to fall asleep in his arms after realizing I'm actually safe and not in harm. "Get some rest human. You're going to need it for the long journey." He said quietly to me. Seemed as if I slept for days, I mean it could have been days with how tired my body was. When I had woken up, I was in a bed covered in fur that I've never seen before. Wait a bed?!?! I sat up quickly and started to look around in a panic. The sound of a door sliding open caught my attention. Turning my attention to the door I see the yautja that had saved me, that was holding me before I fell asleep in his arms. He made a few clicking sounds before he spoke. "Ah you're awake finally. We're going to be landing soon." He told me. What landing soon? How long have I been sleeping for? This triggered another panic to fill me. Where the fuck am I right now? I looked away from him when I felt tears fill my eyes. I don't want him to see me crying. I hear him huff and then footsteps approaching the bed. I covered my face as I felt the tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I felt the furs get pulled back from me and then I felt arms wrap around me pulling me close to them. It was strange, not a bad strange but a good strange. It's been so long since I've had physical contact. I mean sure he carried me around yesterday to wherever I am now and touched my shoulders yesterday or what I'm assuming was just yesterday. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't even realize that he had started to purr and pulled me even closer to him to the point I was sitting on his lap. I looked up at him and he looked so at peace with me like this. "I'm sorry." I whispered quietly to him. "I'm so sorry." I felt so weak in front of him. He just held me closer to him and kept purring in hopes that it would calm me down. The sound of the door sliding open caught my attention again but not enough for me to look. He quickly took me off his lap and sat me down next to him. "Hello Du'sa." Wait I know that voice. My head shot up and I looked towards the doorway. My eyes widened. I turned to look at Du'sa then back to the person at the doors. My body filled with shock and then excitement. I got out of the bed quickly almost falling but I caught myself. I ran over to the figure in the door tackling them in a hug. "MOM!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR ALIVE!" I yelled out in excitement. I heard her laughter fill my ears and she hugged me back. Something felt off though. Something wasn't sitting right in my gut. This didn't sound like her usual laughter and her hug didn't feel the same. I was soon pulled off of her by force. "Hey whoa it's fine Vi-Zata." My mom said quickly. I turn my head to see one of Du'sa's species holding me away from her. I felt uncomfortable immediately. This all didn't seem right to me. Something was wrong and I couldn't figure out why. My gut feeling was deepening. Soon I feel myself get yanked into another hard body and purring could be heard. I knew it was Du'sa. I moved closer to him for comfort although I didn't know him very well something about him brought me peace. "This is the human I was telling you about Vi-Zata, my daughter (y/n). You know the one I thought was dead." She sounded slightly annoyed with the last sentence. That's when it hit me. I broke free from Du'sa and just went back into the room from where we were standing in the hall of the ship. She was hoping I was dead. She didn't want me to come here. I jumped back on to the bed from its floating platform. I heard a curious click sound and then the door shut. "Are you okay?" Du'sa asked me. I didn't look at him. I let out a slight sniffle. "She left me behind. She used me as a distraction for them... My own mother used me as bait to escape and for what? Her to get saved by your kind. She could have told them about me and that I was trapped. She left me to die and didn't care. She sent you on a mission in hopes you wouldn't find me. Here I was thinking She had died 20 years ago. Kept surviving because I thought that's what she would have wanted but as it turns out she actually wanted me to die. You should of just left me where you found me Du'sa." I said quietly to him. I hung my head in shame. I felt horrible he had to go on mission that my mom was hoping he'd fail to find me. "I had to bring you back here. She's married to the elder of this pack." I hear him say. I finally take a look at him and notice he didn't have his helmet on. Huh his eyes were a bright yellow almost green they were pretty. He was missing one of the mandibles on his face and his locks were now in full view. He had a few charms wrapped around a couple of his locks. All and all he was strikingly handsome for his kind. I was so caught up with looking at him I didn't realize that he had gotten closer to me. "You're not staying on the ship. You're going to come with me to my home. You'll be my guest." He said to me. Before I could refuse or even protest, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I let out a surprise gasped. "Du'sa put me down!" I yelled at him. He let out a chuckle but kept me on his shoulder as he carried me out of the room that I was in and off the ship. My mother nowhere to be seen. Good I didn't want to see her anyways. I quickly shielded my eyes from the bright light of the day when he finally stepped off the ship and on to what I'm assuming is his home planet. I feel him stop as he's approached by someone. Clicking could be heard as they spoke in their native language. I feel his grip on me tighten and a feeling of unease fell upon me. I feel his body tense up a bit as he continued this conversation with whoever he was speaking with. I tried to twist a little bit to see who he was speaking to, but he adjusted me again on his shoulder, so I was unable to see who he was speaking to. Well, that's rude. I crossed my arms annoyed with him. I felt something touch my leg and instantly pulled my leg away well as much as I could seeing that I'm being held here. Honestly, it's starting to get uncomfortable up here, but the conversation still went on even after a warning sound was made by Du'sa. "Du'sa I'm getting really uncomfortable. Can I please be put down." I asked him quietly. I heard him pause in the middle of his sentence as if to think about what I just asked him. I waited a minute until I felt myself getting put down. When I was finally on my feet and steady, he continued with his conversation. Why is this conversation going on for this long? I finally turned, and I saw the one that was holding me away from my mom. I shouldn't even call her mom anymore. I looked between him and Du'sa. Vi-Zata kept looking at me here and there and kept making gestures towards me. What was he saying about me. Then I hear one word slip out "weak." I looked at the ground and heard another warning come from Du'sa. I could hear his tone of clicking change he was getting mad. Something about Vi-Zata made me uneasy and feel as if I'm in danger. I moved back when Vi-Zata reached for my arm and hid more behind Du'sa. I grabbed on to Du'sa's arm as if I was a scared child. I'm not scared of Vi-Zata but I'm not giving him another chance to touch me. Du'sa looked back at me to make sure I was fine. My body language was giving timid and wanting to leave but I didn't want to stop the conversation he was having. He looked back at Vi-Zata and said something before turning back to me. "You've been summoned by the elder. Vi-Zata is here to take you back to his home." Du'sa said to me. I looked him dead straight in the eyes and made the most serious face I've ever made. "I'm not going with him." I told him. Du'sa gave me a confused look. "I'm sure the elder is a nice man but I'm not going anywhere with him. Our first meeting he was ready to rip me apart if Jeanette didn't stop him. I don't feel particularly safe in his hands. I'd rather you come with me." I said while I looked at him. "I wasn't invited." Du'sa said. I crossed my arms and stood my ground. "Then I'm not going." I looked at Vi-Zata. "Tell your elder that I do appreciate this invite to meet him but I'm kindly turning it down." I told him. Vi-Zata roared at me and took a step closer to me. I looked at Du'sa who stood in front of me in a protective way. "I'm not afraid of you. I lived in a house filled with xenomorphs since I was five. You think that you're going to scare me with that pathetic roar." I said with a small laugh. They both froze at my bold statement. "Oh, did Jeanette does not tell you guys about how old I was when she left me for dead. Yea I survived that and I sure as hell won't let anyone push me around. I'm stronger than you think and I'm not going to take any bullshit you're putting my way. So now tell your elder I will not be going unless Du'sa comes with me. As my protector." I told him sternly. Vi-Zata looked at Du'sa as if to tell me something. I see Du'sa sigh. "(Y/n) Vi-Zata is the elder." He said to me. I looked at him and then looked at Vi-Zata. "My invitation is still being turned down." I spoke. They both looked at me shocked. "First of all, I don't even know where the hell I am, and secondly, I know nothing about your species." I told them truthfully. Du'sa turned his attention back to the elder and started saying something in their native language. Vi-zata looked from Du'sa to me. He shook his head and said something back to Du'sa. I sigh, getting frustrated that I couldn't understand what was being said about me. Du'sa looked back at me really quick and then turned his attention back to Vi-Zata. The sun beating down on me was finally getting to me. I started to fan my shirt out and wiped my forehead. This caught both of their attention. "What's wrong?" I hear Du'sa asked me. "Hot. Extremely hot." I said to him. He nods his head and says one last thing to Vi-Zata before picking me up bridal style and carrying me away. I heard Vi-Zata let a roar out, and it sounded mad. "Du'sa what did you say to him?" I asked curiously. "I told him no, you will not be joining him if I'm not there, and that's final. You told him I was your protector. I have to honor that." He said truthfully. "Why did he invite me to go with him, and why did he keep touching me?" I asked him genuinely confused. "I'll explain that later." He said quickly. We finally reached Du'sa's hut, and as soon as we walked in, he put me down. I went to say some to him, but he walked back outside. Huh, I poked my head out from behind the cloth door and saw Vi-Zata. He followed us... Does he not know what no means? I watched as the two started talking again. You know what? This is none of my business. I walked away from the door and looked around his hut. This is so spacious I mean it makes since their species are fucking huge. Giants compared to me. I laughed to myself about that. As I continued to explore, I came upon what I'm guessing was his trophy room. I see multiple different bones and skulls. All ranging in size. The smallest is a human skull still connected to the spine. I gulped a little bit, feeling uneasy with that, and I quickly moved on to look at the rest. I walked closer to biggest skull he had hung up. I knew this skull I dealt with its kind for 20 years. It still amazed me. I mean I saw him rip the tails off of two of them. I was so deep in thought while looking at the skull I didn't even realize I was no longer alone. "There you are." I heard Jeanette's voice say. I jumped from the sudden sound of someone else being there. I turn around and I see her standing in the doorway of Du'sa's trophy room. She laughs at my jumpiness and smiles at me. I felt uneasy being alone with her. After what had occurred earlier, I don't think I could ever trust her. "Du'sa?!" I yell out a bit. Jeanette rolls her eyes at me. "He's busy right now talking to his elder about you. He was being quite disrespectful when it came to you. I've never seen him act that way. Our mightiest hunter turned disrespectful." She said to me. I rolled my eyes at her and crossed my arms. "You want to know what's more disrespectful?" I ask her with a smirk on my face. She looks at me confused. "You. You're the most disrespectful person I have ever met. You left me for dead and didn't care. I killed two of those things by the age of 7. They're not that bright if I'm going to be honest with you. You didn't even bother to tell them about me when you got saved. Your selfish and don't deserve to hold the title of a mother. You're a piece of shit that somehow got lucky when you should have died like I thought you did all those years ago." I said to her. "Also, you're nothing to me, Jeanette. I should have known it was going to end with me being by myself. I mean, you practically got dad killed when I was 4. I had to teach myself how to survive. I didn't have it like you did. Getting pampered because 'I'm the elder's wife and I deserve the respect' news flash, Jeanette respect is earned, not given, and especially not given to a coward like you." I told her truthfully with tears coming down my face. She came rushing after me when I had finished everything I said. I quickly moved out of the way and screamed, "Du'sa!!!" Soon, I hear two sets of footsteps rushing to where we were. I see Du'sa and Vi-Zata come through the doorway as Jeanette throws something at me. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and ducked in time. Whatever she threw at me got stuck in the wall that was behind me. Du'sa quickly came to me and looked me over while Vi-Zata rushed to his wife. I could hear her screaming something in their language. "What happened?" Du'sa asked me. He looked at me with some concern. Before I could answer he turned to look behind him at the elder and the elder's wife. The elder was angrily clicking at him and then pointing to me. Soon the elder came up to me pushing Du'sa out of the way and clicking angrily at me. I look at Du'sa for some type of help. "He's saying that you disrespected his wife and is now ordering you to apologize." He spoke. The elder got closer to my face and it triggered something in me. I punched him as hard as I could in the face, and he stopped clicking out of shock. "Get. Out. Of. My. Face." I told him through gritted teeth. Vi-zata moved away from me in complete and utter shock that a human out of all creatures just punched him with strength he's only seen younger yautja have. "I don't respect low lives like your wife. I'll respect you because you're the head person, and I do apologize for punching you, but I will not be apologizing to your wife." I told him as I stepped away from him. But he grabs me and lifts me up in the air. I catch a glimpse of Jeanette's face, and she's smiling away in excitement. "Put me down now!" I yelled at him. All he did was ignore me and continued to turn me around while holding me in the air. What the fuck is happening?!? Soon clicking can be heard. "He said that your strong and have a warrior's spirit in you. He wants you to train with me." Du'sa tells me. Thank God for him telling me what's being said. Soon my feet are back on the ground and Vi-Zata is walking back to his wife. He said something to her and then turns his attention to Du'sa. He said one last thing to Du'sa before he left with his wife by his side looking unhappy. I finally turned around to see what she threw at me. What the fuck is that? I stepped closer to it and saw that it was end point to a xenomorphs tail. You got to be kidding me. "This should be fucking proof she wants me dead." I mumbled to myself. I hear Du'sa chuckle behind me. "Oh, she said a lot of things about you to the elder. One of them being that you need to be killed for being disrespectful." Du'sa said to me. Looked at him and smirked a bit. "Yup definitely wanted me dead." I said to him.

[lemonhemlock]

what are your thoughts on the madonna-whore complex allegations constantly lobbed at criston from rhaenicent and rhaenyra stans alike. because i dont see it at all. also a lot of them don't even seem to be using the madonna-whore complex correctly. it's supposed to be in regard to men in relationships with woman that lose sexual arousal for these women when they see them in more domestic, motherly, etc. light. the fandom is so collectively off base about this lmao.

yeah, i feel like criston's stuff is a bit more complicated, even just based on the information given in S1. in a way, you can say he grows to be attracted to the mother figure and repulsed by the whore figure, but he wasn't always like that. he himself said he had dalliances with girls before joining the kingsguard and he is very much attracted to the outgoing, spunky maiden rhaenyra, but there is also this tension with the quiet, introverted young alicent in his confession scene!

i'm not sure exactly how to word this, but criston strikes me as the type of man who is malleable, who doesn't have much in the way of plans or objectives. he lived a pretty aimless life before he is introduced on screen and joined the kingsguard as it was a prestigious institution which offered him structure and something to strive for. so, in a way, he replaced his haphazard youth with knightly ideals and gallantry. but, even this purposelessness - i wouldn't hold it above his head as a fault either. westerosi society just doesn't have the space for someone like him - the son of minor nobility, who probably doesn't have much in the way of inheritance. he can't exactly go out and "get a job" (the sources of wealth creation aren't very diversified) without it being considered a huge stepdown and humiliation and bringing shame on his family (the social stratification really might seem very alien to someone living in 2024). so, of course that in a society that values martial prowess (something he happens to be good at), he would be attracted to activities in the militaristic sphere.

and i don't mean to say that he is just amoral and doesn't have any principles either, i'm sure he would LIKE to be this perfect knight that embodies self-sacrifice and courage and selflessness, but, like many other westerosi institutions, the kingsguard is an oppressive one. it's NOT normal to impose abstinence on someone, it's NOT normal to not allow them to retire and make them live this frugal, unattached life, just trailing after royalty all day, standing for hours on end in rooms and hallways. so, of course, criston finds it difficult (i'm guessing a lot of the kingsguard members had similar feelings) and of course he "strays" (that's one way of putting it, bc we all remember the discussions on the non-consensual nature of that scene).

criston's existential crisis is very real and raw and a by-product of the westerosi feudal system - what IS a man like him supposed to do with his life? he thought he had found purpose in the kingsguard, but he found himself in a situation where he broke his vows, so he tries to reason that maybe his new purpose can be rhaenyra - his love for her, running away with her, marrying her, taking care of her etc. so it very much doesn't matter for him that she herself gave away her chastity before marriage (and could be thus labelled a "whore" by their society's standards). but when rhaenyra refuses him - it's like that quote from dostoevsky - “your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”

so, where i'm going with this is that criston has personal beef with rhaenyra. she behaved towards him in a careless way and discarded him without a second thought, whereas for him their affair was a huge, all-consuming thing. now, had rhaenyra went on and lived an exemplary life as a married woman, with no bastard children, he still probably would have hated her for what she did, but, i'm not sure, just based off S1 information, that he would still call her names

to go back to the madonna-whore axis, like you said, men who have that complex tend to view the "whore" as someone sexually appealing - whereas i think criston's disillusionment with rhaenyra has surpassed any attraction he had for her in the past. meanwhile, despite being a "mother" figure, alicent's life of quiet servitude has made her very attractive in his eyes. but! who is to say that rhaenyra couldn't have been more diplomatic and empathetic with him in handling their affair? had she put a bit more effort in, manipulated him into being her secret lover instead of harwin strong? sure, he could have refused, but had she played the woe-is-me card, the i-have-to-sacrifice-my-happiness-for-the-good-of-the-realm and convinced him that she wasn't going along with his oranges plan because she, too, had higher ideals she had to serve, i don't think he would have seen her in this unfavourable light (what if rhaenyra were a different person entirely LOL)

so, basically, what i mean to say is that, ultimately, rhaenyra treated criston in a nasty way and now he hates her, whereas alicent treated him with kindness and now he worships the ground she walks on. but what if the roles were reversed? what if alicent had been unpleasant to him and rhaenyra the compassionate one? would criston still be crowning king aegon? is this truly about a madonna-whore complex or about personal relationships, how you behave towards people and how those past grievances interact when it comes to securing someone's loyalty? everyone is more inclined to be indulgent towards their friends and to keep their side, even if they might not always be in the right. it's easier to go to bat for someone you like than for someone you don't! people can always rationalise their principles away in such situations and develop double-standards

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁  ! ⺌ . ⸺  NPE! 

PART ONE! | Volume I

Synopsis; "So, you’re an alien, huh?" Yeah, sure, maybe you’re a little... different. But honestly, who isn’t? The earthlings think you’re weird? Nope. It’s just that they’re a bunch of clueless humans, totally missing the point. You, on the other hand, have a higher calling. A mission to discover the meaning of life—you know, the whole ‘why am I here, and what am I supposed to be doing’ thing. Simple, right?

Except, uh... there’s a small hiccup. You don’t even know what species you are, because someone forgot to leave the alien instruction manual. Oops. So, while you’re out there doing some random side gig (you know, the one that might help you find out more about your roots and, oh yeah, pay the rent), you accidentally get tangled up in the lives of two earthlings.

Of course, you swear to protect them because, well, you kind of owe them. Maybe. Or maybe not. Who’s to say? Either way, your purpose might get a little... distracted. But hey, priorities, right?

Pairing ── Dan Da Dan x Alien! Fem/Neutral? Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Manga Spoilers, Violence/Death, Blood, Invasion of Privacy, Invasion of Mind, Abduction, Kidnapping, Angst, Murder, Disturbing Content, Corruption, Isolation,Paranoia, Manipulation, Unintended Time Travel Mishaps, Alien Romance Tropes, Sudden Existential Crises, Unexplained Tentacle Appearances, Turbo Granny's Sass, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gravity-Defying Physics, Psychic Overload, Ambiguous Yōkai Allegiances, Excessive Hair-Related Powers, Sudden Dance Battles in Crisis, Outdated Alien Fashion Choices, Malfunctioning Spacecraft Humor, Intense Staring Contests, Time-Dilated Cliffhangers, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Polyamory, LGBTQ+ Content, ¿Gender-fluid or Non-binary Character? (Not with respect to pronouns, but to their genitals xd), Unconventional Relationship Dynamics, Consent Issues in Alien Interactions, Mind-altering Love Spells, Extreme Jealousy, Existential Dilemmas on Love and Identity, Mind-Controlling Aliens.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Oh my god, how did this happen 😱 sorry to everyone (@flwes & @redberrysstuff) who saw the incomplete story, I feel SO embarrassed. Ugh, I swear, autocorrect and my clumsiness are going to kill me one of these days. :"(( But seriously, I promise the full version is coming, just give me a second to fix it.

"Idiot! Moron! Squid! Tuna!" Momo Ayase shouted from the ground, her face flushed with rage as she watched her now ex-boyfriend walk away with that annoying mix of guilt and annoyance in his eyes. "Never call me again!"

"Momo? Are you okay? Or should I sign up for the next round of sea insults?" asked a familiar voice behind her.

Momo turned around, still frowning, but the sight disarmed her a bit. There was Y/n Seigai, with that carefree energy that always seemed straight out of a movie. She wore a short plaid skirt and a white blouse that highlighted her figure, complemented by long socks and platform shoes with a puma print that screamed confidence. Her makeup was simple yet striking, enough to make anyone turn to look at her. And, as always, she had something in her hand: this time, a frozen yogurt popsicle that she licked absently as if nothing in the world could disturb her calm.

"Late again, huh?" Momo huffed, crossing her arms and standing up, her gaze as severe as a frustrated mother.

"What? Was that a 'thank you for coming to the rescue, Y/n'? Because if so, your tone needs a little work," Y/n replied with a cheeky smile, making an exaggerated gesture to offer her a lick of her popsicle. "Want some? Frozen yogurt cures broken hearts. It's science."

"I don't want your stupid popsicle, idiot! And stop changing the subject! You're late to school again! Do you know how many times I've been asked why you can't arrive on time? I feel like your babysitter!"

Y/n theatrically sighed, placing a hand on her chest as if Momo had wounded her pride. "Oh, Momo. Always so responsible, so punctual... except when you decide to sleep in on Mondays. Remember last Monday? Because I do; you were running out with a toast in your mouth."

Momo opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it, blushing a little. "That was different! And don’t change the subject!"

"Okay, okay, sorry, mom," Y/n said with a mischievous smile, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. "But in my defense, it's not my fault that the coffee at that corner is so good it makes me lose track of time."

"You have a watch on your wrist, Y/n! And a phone with alarms! ALARMS!"

"Well, my alarms and I have a complicated relationship..." Y/n murmured as she took another lick of the popsicle.

Momo couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, although her lips curled slightly into a smile. That was the dynamic with Y/n: serious and responsible when necessary but with enough chaotic moments to drive her crazy. And even though sometimes she wanted to give her a good lecture, she couldn't deny that Y/n always knew how to lift her spirits, even on days like today.

"Come on, Momo. Let's get to class. I promise we'll make it before the bell rings... probably," Y/n said, offering her the popsicle as a peace gesture.

"Probably isn’t good enough! And I don’t want your silly popsicle," Momo shot back, but she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as they started walking together.

As they crossed the school gates, Momo and Y/n couldn’t help but draw attention. They were, without a doubt, a striking pair: Momo, with her natural charisma and perfectly polished gyaru style, walked with purpose while continuing to rant about her now ex-boyfriend; Y/n, on the other hand, exuded a magnetic nonchalance, her skirt swaying with each step and a yogurt popsicle still in her hand, as if school were just another runway in her day.

"And then he has the nerve to say I’m playing hard to get! Can you believe it?" Momo gestured dramatically, as if still arguing with her ex.

"Mm-hmm," Y/n murmured, not stopping her slow lick of the popsicle. "Sounds like someone needs a 'How Not to Be an Idiot' manual. Should I mail him one?"

"Not even that! He’d probably lose it, like he loses all common sense," Momo shot back, rolling her eyes.

As they made their way down the hallway, students stepped aside to let them pass—some admiring their style, others whispering comments among themselves. Momo was so engrossed in her complaints she barely noticed the stares. Y/n, however, threw the occasional wink or offered a carefree smile, as if she were used to being the center of attention.

"Can you stop flirting with the entire hallway? I’m having a crisis here!" Momo snapped, giving her a light nudge.

"Flirting? I’m just being friendly. But if you want all my attention, Momo, you only have to ask," Y/n replied with a mischievous grin.

"God, you’re unbearable!"

Finally, they reached their classroom, where their other two friends, Miko and Muko, were waiting.

Miko was seated by the window, her small bow perfectly in place and her uniform impeccable, though always with her personal touch. Her beige sweater and loosely tied ribbon gave her a relaxed vibe, but her bright smile showed she was ready for a day full of energy.

Muko, in contrast, was impossible to ignore. Her tan skin stood out against her blonde hair styled into pigtails, and the manba makeup she wore proudly added a bold edge to her look. Her uniform followed the same pattern as the other girls', but on her, everything seemed a bit more daring—from the slightly oversized sweater to the way her loose socks fell perfectly over her sandals.

"Wow! Took you long enough," Miko said with a smile as she saw them walk in. "I thought you’d actually be on time today."

"Tell that to Miss 'Coffee is More Important Than Punctuality,'" Momo replied, giving Y/n an accusatory look.

"Me? I arrived just in time to make this spectacular entrance," Y/n said, spinning dramatically before flopping into her seat.

"Jealous, Miko?" Muko chimed in as she adjusted one of her pigtails. "They walk in, and the whole hallway stares. People only look at us when Miko shouts something ridiculous."

"Hey! That was one time," Miko retorted, crossing her arms with feigned indignation.

Momo let out a sigh, but a smile began to form on her lips. Being with them was always like this: chaotic, fun, and somehow reassuring.

"Alright, girls, now that we’re all here, I need advice. How do you get over an idiot who just wants you to pay for everything and only cares about sleeping with you?"

"Easy," Y/n said, raising her popsicle as if it were a trophy. "You get over him by being yourself: brighter, more fabulous, and completely out of his league. Like always, Momo."

"Amen," added Muko, lifting her phone for a quick selfie with Miko, who automatically struck a pose.

Momo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. Yes, her group was a mess in its own way, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

"Okay, seriously, what happened? Why are you so upset? We know it’s not because of Y/n, because when you’re mad at her, you yell louder than a megaphone," Miko said, raising an eyebrow with that teasing attitude she always had when she wanted to get under Momo’s skin.

Momo let out a heavy sigh and flopped onto the desk. "Nothing... that idiot dumped me, and then I started insulting him... using fish names."

Y/n, who was lounging back in her chair with her feet on the desk as if she were at home, couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Fish names. Like ‘Tuna’ and ‘Squid’. Because I’m sure that hurt his feelings a lot. Wow, Momo, terrifying. Do you really think that’s going to change his mind?"

"Ha, I’m dying," Muko said, testing a bit of her makeup while laughing. "Fish names aren’t insults, Momo. What were you expecting, ‘Shark’ or ‘Piranha’? Now those might be scary!"

Momo frowned, looking at her friends as if they were aliens. "You’re supposed to comfort me! He was my first boyfriend! My first, girls!" Momo waved her hands dramatically, as if she had lost something truly valuable.

Muko looked at her with a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "We told you to forget about him, Momo. It was obvious he wasn’t worth it."

Y/n nodded with mock seriousness, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Yeah, can you remind me what was supposed to be so great about him? Was it the guy who always wore shirts two sizes too small? Or was it his talent for making you feel bad every time you talked about your dreams?"

"It’s just... he looked like Ken Takakura," Momo replied, as if it were an irrefutable justification, throwing her hands up as if there were nothing more to say.

The three friends sighed in unison, a sound so synchronized it could have been rehearsed.

"There she goes again..." Muko muttered, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Ugh, here we go," Miko said, glancing at Y/n and raising an eyebrow. "The story of the guy who ‘looked like’ Ken Takakura. Momo, are you sure you don’t have a poster of him at home?"

"She doesn’t just have a poster, let me tell you," Y/n said, remembering the time she stayed over at Momo’s house while her grandmother was away for a few days.

Y/n, who had just finished her popsicle and was now grinning mockingly at the others, tossed the stick out the window with perfect precision. "Here we go with your nonsense again, Momo. First it was ‘Ken Takakura,’ then it’ll be ‘Tom Cruise,’ and next you’ll tell me you fell for some guy who looks like an anime character. Stop idealizing guys, seriously."

Momo shot her a glare. "It’s not the same, Y/n! Ken Takakura is an icon, a real man!"

"Yeah, a movie man probably under contract with boredom, because guys like him don’t exist in real life," Y/n said, striking a dramatic pose as she crossed her arms.

Momo shrugged. "I don’t know what it is about him… but there’s something, I swear."

"What he has is that he’s in movies, not real life," Miko replied with a somewhat philosophical tone, as if she’d just imparted a profound truth about reality.

"So what, huh!? I like tough guys, like Ken Takakura!" Momo shouted, raising her hand as if she’d just made a worldwide announcement about her love for cinematic men.

Miko and Muko exchanged glances and, with almost perfect synchronization, replied, "Momo, we’ve got a surprise for you… those men are extinct."

Momo immediately dropped her head, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. Her shoulders slumped, and her smile vanished in an instant. "What? Extinct? That can’t be true!" she muttered, as if she’d just taken a direct hit to the heart.

"Sorry, Momo," Miko said with a mischievous smile. "Men like that don’t exist anymore. All we’ve got now are guys in sweatpants with cat wallpapers on their phones."

Momo let out a deep sigh, an exaggerated expression of sorrow crossing her face. "So what?! What am I supposed to do with my life? Settle for guys who don’t even know what a good hairstyle is?!"

With the theatrics worthy of a telenovela star, Momo stood from her seat, leaving the others watching as she exited the classroom as if she’d just lost the most important battle of her life.

"Did what we said hurt her feelings?" Miko asked, a faint smile on her face, though she already knew the answer.

"No," Y/n replied, standing up without looking back, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and concern. "It hurt because it’s true."

Momo, on the verge of stepping into the hallway, didn’t notice Y/n following her. As Y/n caught up, she saw Momo walking with slumped shoulders, as if she were on a farewell mission for her love life.

Y/n walked up to her side and, with a playful smile, nudged her shoulder lightly. "Come on, Momo, don’t be like that. There are still guys out there who aren’t complete disasters."

Momo gave her a sad look. "I don’t know, Y/n. Maybe tough guys are just a fantasy. Like Ken Takakura. A legend of the past!"

"Well, if you ask me, the real tough guy is standing right here!" Y/n said, pointing a thumb at herself with a cheeky grin. "Forgot about us? We’re the tough ones now."

Momo glanced at her sideways, a flicker of humor returning to her eyes. "The problem is I don’t have time for girls who make bad jokes."

Y/n followed her, chuckling softly. "I’m the best company you could ask for, and I’ll prove it!"

The two walked down the hallway, leaving the classroom behind, Momo still a little down but starting to relax, with Y/n beside her as always—joking, stylish, and promising that there was always something better than a movie fantasy.

"Let’s go, Momo," Y/n said with a sly smile. "Tough guys may not exist anymore, but we’re unstoppable!"

Momo couldn’t help but smile, even if just a little. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad after all.

As Momo and Y/n passed by the nearest classroom, they couldn’t help but notice a group of boys throwing paper balls at a smaller, scrawnier boy with a hairstyle clearly modeled after Nobita from Doraemon.

Momo frowned immediately, spotting the bullying behavior. Y/n tensed beside her. Both of them hated bullies, and they weren’t about to stand by and do nothing.

One of the boys, grinning stupidly, picked up a paper ball and said loudly, "Stick a magnet in it! That’s gotta hurt!"

As he prepared to throw it, now with a magnet inside, a shadow loomed over him. Turning around, he found Momo sitting in front of him, her expression unimpressed. Behind him, Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her gaze so intense it could’ve melted anything in its path.

"Hey," Momo asked, looking at the boy with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "What are you reading?"

"Uh… this…" the boy stammered, glancing nervously between the bullies and the girls.

The boys throwing the paper balls didn’t seem to realize what was happening. They turned back to their antics, ignoring the two girls who weren’t about to stay quiet.

Momo quickly stood up, shooting the bullies one last look. "What a bunch of idiots," she said, rolling her eyes. "It’s like this world is full of losers."

Y/n sighed, observing the chaos with a smile that hid something deeper. She was about to leave with Momo until her eyes caught the title of the magazine the boy was reading.

"The Occult," she read aloud, raising an intrigued eyebrow and smiling faintly. "Interesting…" she murmured before stepping toward Momo, leaving the minor chaos of the classroom behind.

"Come on, Momo," Y/n teased as she walked alongside her. "You look like you just had to pay taxes or something. Relax."

"You’d feel the same way if you were surrounded by idiots!" Momo snapped, crossing her arms indignantly.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice thundered behind them:

"MOMO AYASE! Y/N SEIGAI!"

"Huh? Now what?" Momo said, turning around with a frown.

It was the nerd from earlier. He was running toward them with all his might, gasping for breath as if he’d just escaped a marathon. When he reached them, he stopped so abruptly he almost fell over.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he shouted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What?" Y/n asked, visibly confused, glancing at Momo with a raised eyebrow.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he repeated, louder this time, with an oddly intense conviction. "That’s the only reason someone like you would talk to someone like me!"

Momo blinked slowly and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "You’ve already said that. Can you switch up your dialogue? You sound like a broken record."

Y/n put a hand to her face, muttering, "Have you lost your mind? Where did you even get that crazy idea?"

The boy looked at them with desperate eyes, as if he was about to reveal some cosmic secret. "I’m talking about this!" he exclaimed, pulling something out as if presenting irrefutable proof.

Both girls tilted their heads simultaneously, trying to figure out what he was holding.

"Is that... a magazine?" Momo asked, squinting.

"Yes! A limited edition of The Occult! I know you’re into this because I saw how you looked at it earlier! President Obama has already been to Mars! This is the full story of the Pegasus Project! You’re into the paranormal!"

Momo closed her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead, clearly trying to summon some patience. "Look, genius, we’re not planning to be your best friends or start a paranormal book club with you. We don’t believe in UFOs or aliens."

"They’re not UFOs, they’re UAPs! Unidentified Aerial Phenomena!" the boy yelled enthusiastically, holding up the magazine like it was some sacred manifesto.

He began talking again, with a passion that seemed endless. Y/n listened with a half-smile, entertained by the chaos he brought with him. But soon, she felt Momo’s hand squeeze hers—a clear sign: Momo was about to lose her temper.

And then, she exploded.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?! MY HEART’S BEEN BROKEN, AND I’M NOT IN THE MOOD! AND YOU’RE SO ANNOYING WITH YOUR NERD STORIES THAT NOBODY CARES ABOUT, OKAY?! THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS!"

The boy froze, his mouth open and his eyes wide like saucers. Even Y/n, who was used to Momo’s outbursts, raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Low blow," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Still fuming like a volcano, Momo pointed at the boy. "Don’t even think about talking to us again! Let’s go, Y/n!"

But Y/n didn’t move. She looked at the boy with some pity, her eyes softening. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... she didn’t mean it, okay? She’s upset because she had a bad day. Don’t take it to heart," she said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Momo stopped and turned around, clearly picking up on Y/n’s accusatory tone even though she hadn’t said anything else. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine! I’m sorry, dude! I went too far. Happy now?"

She picked up the magazine that had fallen to the floor and handed it back to the boy, though her lips were still pursed. "But don’t get excited. I don’t believe in aliens. I’m more into ghosts and spirits, got it?"

Out of nowhere, the boy started laughing—not a polite chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh that echoed down the hallway.

"Don’t tell me you actually believe in spirits," he said, still laughing as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Momo froze, her frown deeper than ever. "Are you making fun of me?!" she shouted, stepping toward him with clenched fists.

Before anyone could react, the two launched into a heated argument. Momo insisted that spirits were real, while the boy passionately defended his UAPs. Y/n, stuck between them like a referee in a wrestling match, glanced toward the hallway. There stood Miko and Muko, watching the scene with amused smiles as they whispered to each other.

"These two are hopeless," Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling her patience wear thin.

Finally, she snapped.

"ENOUGH! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!" she yelled, pushing them apart with a hand on each shoulder. Her voice was so loud that even Miko and Muko stopped laughing to peek in with curiosity.

"Here’s the deal," Y/n said, crossing her arms authoritatively. "If Momo proves that spirits exist, you’ll become her personal errand boy. But if you prove that UFOs—sorry, UAPs—are real, then she’ll be your errand girl."

Both of them stared at her in disbelief.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" they shouted in unison, their faces a mix of shock and panic.

Y/n smirked, her tone daring as if she’d just announced the rules of a reality show. "It’s a bet. Take it or leave it."

Momo opened her mouth to protest but then glanced at the boy with a competitive glint in her eyes. "Errand boy, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad."

The boy blinked, clearly trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he raised his chin, determined. "Fine! But get ready to carry my stuff when I win."

Momo narrowed her eyes. "Me? Carry your stuff? Dream on, loser!"

From the hallway, Miko and Muko started laughing again.

"This is gonna be good," Miko said.

"I’m definitely not missing this," Muko added.

Y/n sighed, looking at the two challengers with exhaustion. "Great, now you’re both committed. But if you waste my time, I swear both of you will end up being my errand boys!"

They both nodded, though they still exchanged defiant glares. Y/n couldn’t help but smile. This was either going to be very interesting… or completely chaotic.

⊹ ・・───・・・・───・・ ⊹

"What is this place?! I’M GONNA DIE OF FEAR!" screamed Momo, clinging to you like a lifeline in the middle of the ocean. Her grip was so tight that you seriously considered whether you’d pass out from lack of air or from the creepy atmosphere of the hospital.

"Relax, Momo," you sighed, trying to wiggle free while scanning the surroundings. Nagi University Hospital didn’t disappoint: graffiti-covered walls, broken windows, dark hallways, and that classic feeling that something was watching you from the shadows. "Though… yeah, this place is pretty unsettling."

"UNSETTLING?! THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF A HORROR MOVIE!" Momo shrieked, practically climbing on top of you.

On the other end of the phone, the guy sounded thrilled. "Stop whining! Nagi Hospital is one of the prime spots for UFO sightings! They say if you’re on the rooftop, you get abducted!"

"What’s abduction?" Momo whispered in your ear.

"It’s when aliens kidnap you and experiment on your body," you whispered back.

"Hey, genius, why the rooftop?" you asked, frowning as you tried to keep Momo at a reasonable distance. "What does the rooftop have to do with UFOs?"

"Because UFOs can’t land in the basement, OBVIOUSLY!" he replied triumphantly, as if he’d just solved a universal mystery.

"Are you kidding me…? WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND BUILDS A HOSPITAL WHERE YOU GET ABDUCTED?!" shouted Momo, clearly on the verge of throwing the phone out the window.

"And who in their right mind goes willingly to an abandoned hospital for fun? Oh, wait... you two."

"THAT’S IT!" Momo yelled, red with indignation, and if you hadn’t stopped her, she probably would’ve smashed the phone against the nearest wall.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you!" you interrupted, rubbing your temples. "Listen, Nobita of the UFO fandom, you focus on your tunnel and tell us if you see anything weird. We’ll try not to die or get abducted, deal?"

"Perfect! And record everything! This could change history!" he said excitedly, as if already drafting his speech for NASA.

"Sure, sure. If aliens take me, I’ll make sure to Facetime you," you muttered as Momo tugged at your arm.

"YOU GO FIRST! I’M NOT GOING ALONE!" Momo demanded, pointing at the dark hallway leading to the rusty elevator.

"Me first? I’d rather we just go home and call it a day. We’ve done enough for one evening."

Momo huffed but then crossed her arms and stared at the floor, thoughtful. "If we leave now, that idiot’s gonna laugh at us all week."

"What do you prefer? Him laughing at us, or us getting abducted? Because I know where my priorities lie, and aliens don’t make the top 10."

There was a brief silence as you both weighed your options. Finally, Momo sighed dramatically, like she’d just decided to climb a mountain. "Fine, but if anything weird happens, you handle it. I’m just gonna scream and run, deal?"

"I wouldn’t expect anything less from you," you replied with a tired smile as the two of you ventured into the dark hallway. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the empty walls, while the guy on the other end of the phone kept rambling about "electromagnetic phenomena and alien microwaves."

"By the way!" said the guy, as if he had just remembered something. "If you see strange lights, don’t get close. They’re a sign of imminent abduction."

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Anything else we should know before we get abducted?"

"Yeah, if you get abducted, ask them how they travel faster than light. I’m really interested in that!"

"WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH THINKS ABOUT THAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" Momo screamed, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh. At least the strange humor was helping to calm the terror a little.

"Hey, kid, let’s be honest... you’ve never seen a UFO in your life, have you?" Momo asked, crossing her arms and looking at him with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

The guy adjusted his glasses, clearly offended. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT REGRESSIVE HYPNOSIS IS?"

"DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" Momo snapped, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "I asked you something very simple."

He raised a finger, completely ignoring her while striking a dramatic pose. "THE QUESTION ISN’T WHETHER I’VE SEEN A UFO..."

"Uh-huh, sure," murmured Y/n, rolling their eyes.

"WHAT MATTERS ARE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE THEORY!" he continued, in such a serious tone that it sounded like he was giving a lecture on astrophysics.

Momo sighed, clearly losing patience. "Again with your nonsense, oh my god. Don’t you ever get tired? Or do you recharge with solar batteries?"

"THIS ISN’T NONSENSE! IT'S SCIENCE! IT’S TRUE!" he protested, with an almost comical intensity.

"Yeah, sure. And how’s it going there, huh? Anything interesting besides your ‘theories’?" Momo said, looking around with feigned indifference as she tried to change the subject.

"I’VE ARRIVED... TOO SHY... SHY... TO THIS MYSTERIOUS PLACE..." the guy shouted on the phone, his voice echoing in the dark, damp tunnel. "WELL... NOW IT'S TIME TO PROVE IT!"

Momo frowned, not as convinced by his enthusiasm. "Please, do you really think this place is special? It’s all dark and super creepy!"

"YOU’RE SCARED! YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE INTERNET, HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A GHOST?!" the guy yelled, his voice strangely echoing in the tunnel.

"Not at all," Momo replied with a nervous laugh, though her gaze darkened a little.

"WHAT WAS THAT RANT ABOUT EARLIER?!" she shouted, pointing at the phone. "TAKE BACK EVERYTHING YOU SAID! How can you believe in spirits if you've never even seen one?"

"What's so strange about that?" Momo shot back, crossing her arms. She lowered her voice a bit before continuing: "I told you... my grandmother is a medium. She raised me because... well, because I don’t have parents."

There was a brief silence. Even the guy on the phone seemed to be lost for words. Y/n looked at Momo, noticing an expression they rarely saw on their friend: nostalgia mixed with sadness.

"I didn’t know..." murmured the guy on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Momo continued, trying to appear indifferent. "My parents died when I was little. So my grandmother took care of me. But of course, my grandmother wasn’t a normal person. She always talked about spirits, spells, energies. Before going to school, she’d make me do a ritual to protect me from ‘bad vibes’ or something like that. And if I didn’t do it, she’d get mad at me."

"And did you do it?" Y/n asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Momo sighed. "At first, I had no choice. But... it was horrible. The other kids would laugh at me. Even the guy I liked... one day he saw me doing one of those rituals and, well, he thought I was an idiot. From that moment on, he started avoiding me. It was the worst."

"That sounds tough," Y/n commented, with a more serious tone.

"Yeah, it was," Momo admitted, shrugging. "I got really angry with my grandmother for that. I think I even said things I shouldn’t have. I felt really alone. But... now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the ritual that bothered me. It was seeing how they laughed at my family, how they didn’t understand what it meant to us."

"It must have been hard," Y/n said.

"It was," Momo repeated, looking down. "I didn’t regain trust in my grandmother until recently. I realized that, even though her ideas were strange, she did it because she wanted to protect me. And... well, it's all I have left of my family. So, even though it’s frustrating sometimes... I guess I understand her."

The guy on the other end of the phone cleared his throat, breaking the mood. "Well... I don’t know much about spirits, but your grandmother sounds... interesting."

Momo laughed a little. "That’s a polite way to put it. But yeah, she is."

"My grandmother..." Momo began, her gaze fixed on the darkness of the hospital, as if she were speaking more to herself than to anyone else. "Her work as a medium... I don’t know if it’s real. I’ve never seen a spirit. Never. I don’t even know if my grandmother can really perceive them. But you know something? I don’t care. Because, at the end of the day, she raised me alone. She accepted me as her family, even when I didn’t understand anything she did or said. And, in some way, I believe in her."

There was a silence in the group. Even the guy on the phone seemed to have fallen silent for a moment, as if Momo’s words had struck him.

"That’s why I believe in spirits," she continued. "Not because I’ve seen them, but because I believe in my grandmother. And that’s enough for me."

Y/n looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. It was rare to hear Momo speak so sentimentally, but somehow, the sincerity of her words hit like a punch to the chest.

"And you?" Momo asked, turning back to the phone. "Why do you believe in aliens, huh?"

"That... that’s different," the guy replied, somewhat uncomfortable. "You don’t have to see something to know it exists. There’s evidence, theories, data..."

Momo let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, sure. Evidence and theories. But tell me something, genius: have you ever seen an alien with your own eyes?"

"Well... no," he admitted, somewhat hesitantly.

"Then what makes you different from me? Why do you assume that yours is more real than mine?"

"Because it’s science," he quickly responded, defensively.

"Science?" Momo raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You call science looking at forums on the internet and reading conspiracy theories from people who’ve probably never left their basement?"

"It’s not the same!" he exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

Y/n decided to intervene before the conversation turned into an argument. "Okay, okay, both of you, calm down. Look, I think Momo has a point. But you do too, mysterious guy. At the end of the day, if you like something, you don’t need reasons to believe in it, right?"

They both fell silent, though their expressions showed they still had a lot to say.

"By the way," Momo added, slightly changing the subject, "you talk about aliens like you know everything about them, but... you have the voice of someone who doesn’t leave the house much, am I wrong?"

"What are you implying?" he asked, clearly offended.

"That you probably haven’t talked to another person in months, other than us on the phone," she replied with a teasing smile.

"That’s not true!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

Y/n chuckled softly while observing their dynamic. Even though they argued constantly, there was something strangely entertaining about their interactions.

"Anyway," Momo said, returning to the previous topic, "I don’t know if aliens exist, but one thing I’m sure of: we don’t need evidence to believe in what matters to us. That includes my grandmother... and I guess your aliens too."

"I guess you’re right," the guy admitted, in a somewhat resigned tone.

"Of course I am," she responded confidently.

"Well," Y/n interrupted, looking around, "before we continue to philosophize, can we just focus on not dying here? Because this place still gives me the creeps."

"I'll second that motion," Momo added, adjusting her hair. "Come on, Y/n. And you, kiddo, keep looking for your evidence. We'll do our thing."

"Don't forget to record something if you see a spirit!" he replied.

"Sure, and if we see an alien, we'll introduce you to it in person," Momo replied sarcastically as she walked with Y/n into the darkness of the hospital.

The boy moved slowly through the tunnel, his flashlight wobbling with each step. The place was dark, damp, and had a strange smell, as if time had stopped there. The echoes of his footsteps made him think he wasn't alone, although he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Suddenly, something stopped him.  A few feet in front of him, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

It was an old woman, hunched over, dressed in worn clothes and a hat that looked like it was from another era. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, but what stood out the most was her twisted, almost grotesque smile.

“What the…?” he muttered, trying to back away.

The old woman looked up, and her eyes shone with an unnatural intensity.

The old woman took a step forward. “I’ll let you suck my… tits,” she said with a twisted grimace, “if you let me suck your dick.”

“WHAT?!” the boy shouted, jumping back. His flashlight shook in his hand, and, in his panic, his phone almost slipped from his grasp.

“Momo! Y/n! It’s a ghost!” he shouted into the phone, although he didn’t know if they were still on the line.

From the other side of the tunnel, Momo looked up, irritated.  “What is this idiot saying now?”

The boy ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. Each step echoed like a drum in the tunnel, and his panting was deafening.

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted, stumbling slightly but staying on his feet. “It’s just an old exit! YES, THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO BE!”

He reached his bike, parked at the entrance to the tunnel, and began to wobble as he tried to mount it. His hands shook so badly that he could barely grip the handlebars. “Come on, come on, come on!” he muttered frantically as he tried to pedal.

At that moment, the cell phone in his pocket rang again. It was Momo. With clumsy hands, he pulled out the phone and answered, still panting.

“AYASE! THAT THING IS FOLLOWING ME!”

“Don’t stop, you idiot!” Momo shouted from the other end of the line. “If it catches up with you, you’re done for!”  “It’s the curse of the Old Turbo! If you lose the race against her, she curses you!”

“WHAT!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone would be idiotic enough to provoke her!”

The boy looked back as he pedaled, and his blood ran cold. The old woman wasn’t running… she was floating towards him, with terrifying speed.

“NOOOO!” he shouted, pedaling even harder.

“Don’t look back!” Momo exclaimed, almost hysterical. “Just keep pedaling!”

Suddenly, the tunnel was filled with a strange echo.

Momo, who was still shouting into the phone, noticed something strange. “Hey, wait a minute! Y/n?”

The silence on the other side made her stop. She turned her head and realized that Y/n was no longer there.

“Y/n!? Where are you?!”  he screamed, looking around in panic.

The boy’s cell phone began to crackle with static, and the call was abruptly cut off. He was now alone, the echo of the Turbo Old Lady’s laughter filling the tunnel as he pedaled madly towards the exit.

Momo, still holding his own cell phone, felt a chill run down his spine. “This isn’t right… Y/n? Answer!”

Momo made his way down the hallway, the light from his flashlight shaking with each step he took. The air seemed colder with each meter, and darkness enveloped everything around him. “Y/n? Are you there? Please answer…” he muttered, gripping his cell phone tightly.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed in the distance. Footsteps.

Momo stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing quickening. “Boy? Is that you? Answer!”

But what emerged from the shadows wasn’t Y/n.  They were three tall figures, oddly proportioned. They wore human clothing: buttoned-up shirts with collars, tucked neatly into their pants. The pockets of their shirts were filled with small items, such as pens and a notebook sticking out of one of them. They wore perfectly fitted belts and shiny shoes, as if they had just left an office meeting.

Their heads, however, were anything but human.

They looked like grotesque humanoid masks: expressionless faces with motionless eyes and thin mouths that curved unnaturally. Their movements were stiff, but their eyes followed her with chilling precision.

Momo took a step back, her body trembling. “Who… what are you guys?” she stammered, trying to maintain her composure.

One of them took a step forward, his head tilting slightly, as if he were studying her. Momo didn’t wait any longer.  She turned on her heel and began running down the tunnel, quickly dialing Y/n’s number on her cell phone.

“Y/n! Please answer! There are some weird guys here and—!”

She couldn’t finish. One of the men appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way. Momo screamed and backed away, but she collided with something hard. She quickly turned around and found another one of them, who had appeared behind her without making the slightest noise.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, throwing the flashlight at one of them in a desperate attempt to escape. The flashlight bounced harmlessly off his chest, and he showed no reaction.

Before she could do anything else, she felt an icy pressure on her arm. One of the men had grabbed her, his grip firm but inexplicably cold. “No, no, no! Let me go!”

The cell phone fell from her hands and hit the ground, illuminating for a moment the expressionless face of one of the men.  “Y/n! Help!” was the last thing she managed to scream before she was dragged into the darkness of the tunnel.

The phone was left there, illuminating an empty, cold hallway. In the distance, the echo of the men’s footsteps carrying her away could be heard, but soon, even that sound disappeared.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Momo opened her eyes in shock and confusion. The room was cold, with metallic walls illuminated by bluish lights, and in front of her were three disturbing-looking figures. With elongated heads, greyish skin and large, dark eyes, they looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie. One of them stepped forward and spoke in a monotonous, metallic voice:

"Greetings, human. We are Serpoians. We are called that because we come from the planet Serpo."

"Aliens?" Momo frowned in disbelief. Her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. However, the evidence was undeniable: she was facing something that surpassed any logical explanation.

"Do not be afraid," another of the Serpoians continued with inhuman calm. "We are a peaceful species."

Momo, far from calming down, gritted her teeth. Her eyes frantically scanned the room as she tugged at the restraints holding her wrists.  “Peaceful? Nice guys don’t kidnap girls! Where are my clothes?”

One of the aliens pointed to a nearby table where his clothes lay, in tatters. “Your belongings were handled with care. The damage was… accidental.”

“Accidental?! This isn’t cheap! You’re going to pay for this! And I demand that you return me to my home right now!” he shouted, his voice filling the room.

Despite his protests, the Serpoians seemed immune to his fury. “Our species is entirely male,” one explained in a mechanical tone, as if he were reciting a lesson. “For millennia, we have reproduced through cloning, but this has led to the loss of our emotions and genetic diversity. We seek to regain our biological capabilities… using your genetic code.”

“My what?” Momo looked at them with a mix of confusion and disgust. “You’re completely insane! I will not be a part of your Frankenstein experiments!”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of a sliding door interrupted the tension. A tall, sleek figure strode into the room. His futuristic suit gleamed in the light, form-fitting and full of metallic detailing. His face was hidden behind a sleek helmet that reflected his surroundings like a liquid mirror. His presence was imposing.

“Where is my payment?” he demanded in a firm, authoritative voice.

The Serpoians turned to her. One of them held up a black suitcase. “Here you go. However, it is less than agreed. You delivered late.”

The woman crossed her arms, her posture conveying palpable disdain. “My mentor accepts no excuses. Neither do I. This deal was for a larger sum.”

“The delay justifies the reduction,” one of the aliens replied coldly.

The woman clicked her tongue, visibly upset. Meanwhile, Momo, though still terrified, could not take her eyes off the newcomer.  There was something in her voice, in the way she moved… Something that felt strangely familiar.

Her eyes widened as she connected the pieces. “Y/n?” she muttered, almost breathless.

The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head towards Momo. Although the helmet still obscured her face, the slight shift in her posture made her discomfort clear.

The room fell into a tense silence following Y/n’s words. Momo stared at her in disbelief, her lips trembling as tears threatened to fall.

“What are you doing here, Y/n? What is this? Why are you with them?” she asked with a mix of rage and desperation.

Y/n let out an audible sigh, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s not personal, Momo. It’s just work. You… were the target. I was paid to bring them what they needed. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Momo raised her voice, her tears finally overflowing. “Is that what I am to you? A job? We were supposed to be friends! I was supposed to be able to trust you!”

Y/n’s helmet reflected the cold lights of the room, hiding any emotion that might have been on her face. But the stiffness of her shoulders gave her away. She tried to stand her ground, looking at Momo from a distance. “This isn’t about you or us, Momo. It’s about… surviving. You don’t understand how my world works. No one survives without making sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?! Is that what I am to you? One more sacrifice to keep you going?” Momo screamed, struggling against the restraints that kept her immobilized. “You were my friend, Y/n! I trusted you like no one else! I always thought you would understand me!”  But here you are, giving me away like I'm... like I'm a thing!”

Momo's words hit like a hammer. For a moment, Y/n stood still, unable to respond. Something in Momo's voice, in the broken sincerity of her words, touched her heart.

“Do you remember what you told me when you picked me up that night?” Momo continued between sobs. “You said that no matter what, you'd be there for me. That friends never betray each other. And look at you now... giving me away like I'm worthless.”

The tension in the room was almost palpable. Even the Serpoians fell silent, watching the confrontation.

Y/n lowered her head slightly, her voice sounding lower, almost unsure. “It's not that simple, Momo... I—”

“Don't give me excuses!” Momo interrupted her, her voice cracking. “Look at me! Tell me that all of this is worth it!  “Tell me you’re okay with what you’re doing!”

Y/n stood still for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Then, she took a step back, clenching her fists at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, barely audible. Without another word, she turned to the Serpoians. “The deal is done. I’m leaving.”

“Y/n!” Momo screamed, her voice filled with desperation. “Please! Don’t leave me here! Please don’t do this to me!”

But Y/n didn’t stop. She headed for the door without looking back, her bright figure disappearing into the dimness of the hallway. Just before the door closed, Momo, her voice cracking, let out one last scream that echoed in the silence:

“I would never have done this to you, Y/n! Never!”

The echo of her words hung in the air, and for an instant, Y/n stood on the other side of the door.  Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn’t turn around. With a quick movement, she disappeared, leaving Momo alone, her sobs filling the room as the Serpoians turned their attention back to her.

“Why…?” Momo whispered through her tears. “Why did you do this to me?”

The Serpoians had run out of patience. One of them approached with cold, calculated movements, a strange humming sound emanating from his device.

“Let us prepare to extract the necessary organs. Your resistance is irrelevant,” one declared in a metallic voice.

Momo struggled uselessly against the restraints, her face drenched in tears. “Get away from me! You cannot do this!”

The alien lifted the probe, slowly bringing it closer to Momo. “We will begin the procedure now.”

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone broke through the air, Momo’s mobile phone began to vibrate on the nearby table. The Serpoians paused, staring at it curiously.

“External interruptions are not acceptable,” one of them said, reaching out a hand to take the device.

Before she could touch it, the phone’s screen lit up in a deep red.  A deep vibration filled the room, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the screen: Y/n, holding a strangely designed pistol.

“Did I interrupt something again?” she asked in an icy tone, pointing directly at the Serpoians.

Beside her, staggering, appeared the boy possessed by Turbo Granny. His body was bent at impossible angles, and his eyes shone with a mix of fear and rage.

“Ayase!” Ken shouted, struggling to stay on his feet as Turbo Granny seemed to control his movements.

The aliens took a step back, observing the scene with a mix of shock and wariness.

“How did you get in here again, Agent Jean Jacket?” one of the Serpoians demanded, raising his hands in a defensive stance.

Y/n let out a dry laugh, though her gaze remained fixed on them. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

Momo, still trapped in the chair, stared at Y/n in disbelief and rage. “Now you decide to show up?! After everything you did?!”

“This doesn’t change anything, Momo,” Y/n said without looking at her, her voice strained. “This is still not personal.”

“Please don’t give me that again!” Momo screamed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

For an instant, Y/n hesitated, but didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled the trigger on her gun, firing a beam that struck one of the Serpoians, knocking it to the ground.

Turbo Granny, controlling Ken, let out a terrifying shriek and launched herself at another alien, biting it ferociously on the torso.

“Momo, take cover!” Y/n screamed as the remaining aliens began to respond to the attack, their suits glowing as they prepared to fight back.

“I can’t! I’m tied up!” Momo screamed in desperation, pulling at the straps with all her might.

Ken screamed in desperation, his body still fighting against Turbo Granny’s possession. Tears fell from his eyes as the words filled the room, his voice cracked from years of repressed pain.

“No matter how many times I called you, you never came!” He exclaimed, fists clenched, body tense under Granny’s control.  “There I was bullied by children, ignored by aliens… children paid me to beat them up!”

Ken’s words were desperate, but the fury and pain seemed to give him the strength to keep fighting. “My life sucked! And no one cared if I was alive or dead… but (Y/n) and Miss Ayase were the only ones who stood up for me! So get your filthy hands off her!”

At that moment, a spark of control seemed to surge within him. His body trembled, but his mind struggled to take back the reins, preparing to attack. Anger fueled him, his will finally regaining some strength.

Momo, from her position, screamed in desperation, unable to do anything but watch as the fight raged. “Hidden-kun! Do it! We need you!”

But amidst the chaos, the aliens began to move, aware of the growing threat Ken posed. One of them, still reeling from Turbo Granny’s impact, gave an order. “Get those humans! They won’t let this end well!”

The tension rose, but the worst seemed yet to come. A Serpoian, with cold, calculated movements, approached Momo, holding her by the shoulders tightly. “If you don’t give us what we ask for, you’ll regret it,” he said in a monotone voice, while his companion watched Ken, who was still trying to break free from Granny’s influence.

“Gross!” one of the other aliens commented, watching the scene become more and more chaotic.

Momo looked at Ken, fighting against his own body, knowing that control was fragile. “Ken! Don’t give up! You can do it!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

“Enough of all this!”  The voice, firm and full of power, boomed through the room.

It was Y/n. Her presence was imposing, the helmet reflecting the light from the screens, but behind it, her expression was determined.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Momo!” she said, as she raised her gun towards the Serpoians.

One of them tried to react, but a direct shot to his torso stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hmm?”

Momo briefly looked away at Ken, but soon returned her focus to Turbo Granny, whose teeth were still piercing her calf.

“I’ll eat your cock!”

“What?” Y/n stepped back, horrified, but still trying to understand the situation.

“I… it’s not me! It’s Turbo Granny!”

“Are you really the only ones who can save me?” Momo thought, as her eyes focused on Ken. The situation was becoming more and more chaotic.

The alien and Momo watched the conflict in silence. Finally, the alien turned his gaze to Momo, noticing the chaos between the humans. “Now I will begin with the excitement.”

He extended his hand over Momo, who closed her eyes, feeling a growing pressure. Her face twisted in disgust as, for a moment, she thought she could no longer get out of this situation. It was then that, in her mind, an image from her childhood began to emerge: an important memory of her grandmother.

“Release your chi.”

“I don’t want to...”

Momo, as a little girl, found herself at the entrance of her grandmother’s house, long before she met you or Ken.

“The other kids always make fun of me for that. I look stupid.” Momo explained to the older woman, as her grandmother knelt in front of her with a calm smile.

“No, it’s not like that… When you release your chi, you will never get hurt or sick.  It will also help you keep evil away.” Grandma placed her hands gently on Momo’s shoulders, before taking her small hands firmly.

“Now, tense your abdominal muscles and imagine your chi rising from the top of your head.”

Momo, with effort, tried to follow the directions. Immediately, a painful memory flashed through her: the children laughing at her when she tried to do that pose.

“I hate it! I won’t do it again!” Momo screamed, shaking her head as her eyes widened in fury.

Her grandmother, still patient, held out her hand, asking for calm. “Momo! Wait!”

“I hate you, Grandma! You’re an imposter!”

That moment of anger made the memory flash through her mind in a distorted way. However, deep down, Momo knew she didn’t hate her grandmother. She only felt ashamed, something she was now beginning to understand.

Then, he began to imagine his grandmother’s words, remembering the technique she had taught him. As he visualized the flow of her chi, something inside him triggered, and, in that instant, the chair containing her broke under her energy.

The fight between Ken and Momo stopped at the same time, both of them staring in amazement as Momo began to levitate.

“What?! She never said she had psychic powers!” Ken exclaimed, his eyes wide as Momo floated.

With a slight bend in her legs, Momo raised her hands, looking at the two men around her in surprise. “I… I didn’t know I had them either.”

The alien who had tried to attack extended his hands towards Momo, but she, now fully focused, stared at him. “My psychokinesis is being repelled by a higher force. What’s going on? Maybe the human’s brain waves were overloaded, allowing her to access her chakra.”

Momo, fascinated by the piece of metal floating above her hand, turned her gaze towards the alien with a determined smile. “She’s not an impostor! My grandmother is a genuine medium! Thank you, Grandma!”

Meanwhile, the boy tried to bite Y/n and in the process, ripped off her helmet, revealing Y/n’s pastel blue skin and the dark blue glowing antennae emerging from her head.

She tried to defend herself, trying not to shoot him with her gun, but he scratched her skin, making fissures that healed automatically.

Momo stood up and, with her newly acquired powers, launched a powerful kick at the alien. However, he raised his arm and stopped her with force. “Now I have the power to face these monsters! And make them fly!” Momo shouted, full of determination.

With a last effort, she kicked the alien, sending him through the walls. The explosion that followed was deafening, and the lights in the room began to flicker violently.

Momo screamed as she felt her body collapse, as she watched the destruction falling around her. “We are inside a real UFO!” she exclaimed, surprised, looking around for Y/n and Ken, and finding them on the ground fighting, she was horrified. “(Y/n)! Occult-kun!”

Swiftly, Momo approached Granny Turbo. Suddenly, her body began to glow with a clear light, while her hair flowed wildly. At that moment, the curse that weighed on Ken disappeared.

Suddenly, the room darkened, turning red. Before them, Granny Turbo appeared, her gaze fixed and malicious. “Who the hell are you two?” she said, her voice cold and challenging.

Turbo Granny curled her fingers, causing Ken to pull away from Y/n, his body arching as a painful gurgle came from his lips. Momo watched, eyes wide, recoiling slightly as she saw how Ken was still under Granny’s control. “Granny is out of her body!” she exclaimed, alarmed. “But he is still under her curse!”

“This child belongs to me,” Turbo Granny said with a mocking smile. “As long as I have him, the curse will not be lifted.  I can't stay here for long, but if you want me to free him, go to the tunnel. If you want to fight me, come to me. Damn classless bitches!”

“Who are you calling a bitch, you filthy old woman?! Give him his penis back!” Momo shouted at the ghost that was walking away.

Y/n, seeing Momo so worried and determined, quickly approached her and, with unexpected strength, lifted her into her arms. Momo blushed at feeling so close to her, her cheeks turning red as she couldn't help but look down, avoiding Y/n's eyes, which were shining with determination.

“Don't worry! We're going to get out of here,” Y/n said firmly, beginning to quickly climb the walls of the UFO with the agility of an expert. Momo clung to her, the warmth of her body comforting her, but her mind was filled with chaos. In her chest, a strange feeling was born, something she had never felt before.

Ken, still disoriented from the curse and the explosion, was on the ground, slowly recovering. Y/n, still moving, lifted him up with one hand, placing him on her back as she continued to ascend.

“Come on, Ken! You have to get up, we have to go now!” Y/n shouted, and Ken, his eyes still somewhat clouded, nodded weakly.

The room was crumbling around them, and a dark energy filled the air. The walls were beginning to shake violently, and the lights flickered desperately. Momo, her face still flushed from the closeness to Y/n, looked down as they ascended, unable to stop her heart from beating faster than normal. What was this strange feeling that was invading her?

Suddenly, a loud boom shook the UFO, and a gigantic explosion went off behind them. The walls began to give way, and the ship seemed to be on the verge of total destruction. Y/n, not losing her cool, leapt forward, bringing Momo and Ken with her in her leap, escaping just before the UFO exploded into a ball of fire.

With a deafening bang, the UFO disintegrated behind them, and in the air, Y/n, Momo, and Ken flew through space, jumping out of the ship's reach, completely safe but on the verge of despair.

Momo hugged Y/n tightly, no longer caring about the blush, as the wind whipped at them, and Ken's body rested on Y/n's back.  The scene was chaotic, but it had all happened so fast, and the only thought running through Momo's mind was how she felt so strangely calm in Y/n's arms, as the ship crumbled behind them.

"Are we safe?" Ken asked, his voice weak, as he watched the distance between them and the exploding ship.

"Yes," Y/n answered, without hesitation. "We're safe... for now."

But as they floated in the air, Momo couldn't help but wonder how they could have survived all of that. And even more so, how her feelings towards Y/n seemed to have changed in a matter of seconds, and what it all meant to her.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Near Kamigoe Prefecture, a curious pastel-green being walked casually through the crowded streets of the city. It had the appearance of a puppy dog, though its size, its long antennae that glowed faintly in the daylight, and its tail that swung like a whip of jelly made it clear that it was no ordinary dog. In one hand it held a burrito wrapped in silver paper, and in the other, a large soda that made gurgling sounds with each step.

The little alien eagerly bit into the burrito, spilling some of the sauce on the ground. It paused for a moment, sucking its fingers before continuing to walk. Its attitude was that of someone who belonged there, though it didn’t bother to hide the strangeness of its appearance. People watched it in awe, but the alien seemed immune to the curious glances.

“Mom, look! A puppy!” exclaimed a little girl with braids, pointing at it with joy.

The being stopped dead in its tracks, its ears (or what seemed to be ears) perking up at the sound. It slowly turned its head towards the little girl, its eyes shining like a pair of tiny green suns. “Who are you calling a puppy, kid!?” it shrieked in a high-pitched voice with an accent that seemed to be from another planet… literally.

The little girl’s mother froze, tugging on her daughter’s hand as she tried to process what had just happened.

“Speak, Mom! The puppy is speaking!” the excited little girl shouted, tugging on her mother’s arm.

The alien, offended, snorted and raised his donkey towards the little girl, as if it were some sort of weapon. “Hey, on my planet, insulting someone by calling them a puppy is a declaration of war, you know? But I’m too busy today to respond to your taunts.”

The mother, now completely terrified, dragged her daughter away from the little being, muttering something about “moving to the country.”  The alien pup shook his head as he took a long sip of his soda, producing a clattering sound that drew even more stares.

“Humans…” he muttered tiredly, his antennae twitching in slight annoyance. “You can’t just walk around town without someone mistaking you for a pet.”

He continued on his way, dodging the crowd with surprising agility for someone with a burrito and a soda in his hands. Every so often, he would stop in front of a store to admire some product, though he quickly grew bored and kept moving.

A man in a suit saw him pass by and frowned. “Is that… a dog in a costume?”

“I’m not a dog!” the alien shouted without even turning around. “And stop looking at me like that or I’ll throw my burrito in your face!”

The threat seemed to have an effect, and the man walked away muttering something about “needing more coffee.”

The little creature finally reached the entrance to the town, where the lights were beginning to fade and the shops were turning into open fields. It stopped and looked out at the horizon, its antennae leaning forward as if it were sensing something. It took a last sip of its soda, letting out a loud burp that echoed through the air.

“Fine…” it said, wiping its mouth with the back of its hand. “Now I just need to find that damn ship before someone else calls me a puppy.”

He continued walking towards the end of the city, his half-eaten burrito still in his hand. Behind him lay a line of perplexed humans, and ahead of him a fate awaited him that, as always, would be anything but boring.

The little alien continued to walk with a sure step, enjoying his half-finished burrito, when suddenly, his antennae began to vibrate intensely. A slight buzzing sound went through his head, as if he had tuned into a distant frequency. His expression tensed, and his eyes, which used to shine with indifference, now narrowed with seriousness.

“What the…?” he muttered, looking around as if searching for the source of the phenomenon. His antennae continued to vibrate, and the buzzing sound grew higher. Then, looking up, he saw it.

In the distance, a thick column of black smoke rose from the old university hospital, followed by an explosion that lit up the sky as if it were a misplaced fireworks display.  The alien dropped his soda, which slowly rolled to a stop in a sewer.

“No way!” he screamed, bringing his hands to his antennae as if trying to stop the humming. He looked back at the hospital, frowning in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/n did it again?!”

The small being began to walk faster, then trotted, muttering under his breath. “I told you not to go soft on the merchandise! But no, you always have to play the heroine, dammit!”

He paused for a moment, as if he had remembered something, and shook his head in frustration. “And you sure left a mess behind, like always! By all the rings of Saturn, you’re really going to listen to me this time!”

With one last glance at the burning hospital, he let out an annoyed growl.  “I hope you at least saved something valuable, because if not…”

The little alien ran off on his short legs, leaving his donkey forgotten on the ground. His pastel green silhouette was lost in the shadows, while the smoke from the hospital covered the horizon, promising chaos and answers in the distance.

A/N ── Oh, hey, it's me again.

First off, let me tell you something: I'm in love with Dandadan. Seriously, I can't even explain how much I was hooked on this series from the moment I found out how it went. It was like a cosmic crush. Each chapter left me more hooked, more obsessed, and obviously I couldn't resist. I ended up buying the ENTIRE manga set that was available so far. I literally couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen with Momo after those last chapters that left me with my heart in my throat. This series is pure magic and chaos, and I can't get over it.

Now, let's talk about my baby, or Y/n. Let me tell you that her spacesuit is directly inspired by Smart Lady from a Japanese series (if you know which one, you're one of mine). I wanted something that screams alien but with style, and I feel like I nailed it... sort of. But, here comes the kicker: her personality is still not well defined. She's a mess, I admit. But that's the whole idea. Because she's an undercover alien, her personality changes depending on the environment she's in. It's like she's constantly adapting to fit in, but at the same time, that lack of consistency is part of her identity. Existential drama at its finest!

And here comes the tricky but interesting part: the character doesn't have a defined gender. Visually, she could pass for a woman, and she identifies as a woman because that's how she feels, but here's the plot twist: she has no defined genitals. Yes, you read that right. She's neither biologically male nor female. She's something beyond that, something that she may not even fully understand. For now, she treats herself as a woman because that's what feels most comfortable and natural to her earthly experience, but... does it really matter? I want to explore how that ambiguity affects her, how it influences the way she sees herself and her interactions with others. It's a key part of her story that I hope to develop little by little.

Oh, and regarding the technical chaos... I know this first part had its problems. It was published by itself, the dialogues were poorly arranged, it was very long, blah, blah, blah. But now, it's all well and good. I think.

[batsplat]

sampras tops generous agassi is insane LMAO. thank you for that lovely pt. 2 to the sampras/agassi rivalry essay!!!!!! i showed my friend your first post and she said, of agassi's biography quotes (specifically the "pete, always pete" motif): "OK THATS INSANE.... whys he writing like this is the song of Achilles or something. i could recognize him by touch alone core" andlksjfd and i found it very apt

please it's no trouble, I LOVE talking about them. and yes!! yes!! I LOVE how poetic about this stuff agassi is, how he really just like... gets the narrative appeal of sports, how he's so singularly capable of putting words to it. and how he talks about sampras! where he knows they're both alike in some fundamental ways, that there's something they've shared with each other that can never be erased... that sampras will always be part of his story, inescapable, inevitable. as always, pete. but also this fundamental feeling of separation. of alienation. of not being able to breach that divide

which is a PERFECT excuse to bring in perhaps my favourite interview agassi ever did, courtesy of der spiegel around the time of the release of the autobiography. it's quite extensive and the whole thing is very much worth a read. unsurprisingly given that it's a german magazine, a lot of attention is paid to agassi's relationship with steffi graf - and those bits are particularly sweet and sad

SPIEGEL: Both of you were drilled by fathers who wanted to control everything. Agassi: What is right is that both of us were in our fathers' hands. I told a lot of people that I hated tennis -- seriously and strongly hated it -- and they all tried to talk me out of it: "Ah, that is not right, Andre; in fact you love tennis, don't you?" Do you want to know what Stefanie said: "Don't we all?"

god.

there's also a fair bit about agassi's relationship with his father, so fair warning that those parts are all quite heavy. AND it's also very interesting on the actual writing process for the autobiography and how agassi's collaboration with moehringer came about. plus it takes some fun swings at chang and courier, for old time's sake. but to turn back to sampras, there's just something so striking about how agassi describes what it felt like playing tennis -

SPIEGEL: Mr. Agassi, is it possible for a happy person to win Wimbledon? Andre Agassi: For me, it's hard to imagine. SPIEGEL: Roger Federer seems to actually enjoy playing. Agassi: Yes, maybe. But, in my world, this is impossible. The maximum were short moments of peace during a match which we, the players, used to call "the Zone." But you couldn't plan it. It was never constant. And it went by very fast. SPIEGEL: Does a tennis professional have to be obsessed? Must there be some kind of trauma for him or her to be good? Agassi: While I was winning Wimbledon, I felt like I would die. I feared to fail; I feared embarrassment.

- and then later in the interview gives his thoughts on sampras -

SPIEGEL: For years, the rivalry between you and Pete Sampras was magical to a worldwide audience. Is there still a connection between the two of you? Agassi: There is a lot of respect. I believe that, without Pete, I would have won more and learned less. SPIEGEL: He appears to have been as driven as you were. He had to sleep in ice-cold rooms in total darkness. Was he obsessed or traumatized, as well? Agassi: We were all driven. And, of course, there is something strange about tennis: Egocentric and narcissistic behavior can win; torture and the isolation of players may lead you to the top. Pete and I shared our life and our fate; we were together all year long. But we were lonely. If there was not the net separating us, there was a wall.

and... yeah. "if there was not the net separating us, there was a wall". nyhhhhh this idea that to be a good tennis player, you need to embrace the worst aspects of yourself, that you need to make yourself suffer... egocentric, narcissistic - a sport of the tortured and the isolated... pete and I shared our life and our fate; we were together all year long. but we were lonely........ god. GOD. what more is there even to say!!

which is really agassi's gift, isn't it... putting words to the dark underbelly of the sport that everyone who's spent enough time in that world is aware of - but may never be forced to confront. tennis is hell, it can be one of the loneliest experiences imaginable - and so much of agassi's story is about attempting to stave off that fundamental horror. surrounding himself by as many people as possible, trying to live a real and full and loud life... because whenever he stepped on court he had to face The Horror once again. rivals who can share a life and a fate but can never truly understand each other, a net dividing the players that might as well be a wall... as always, pete - and as always, alone

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Summary: Random drabble's about Steven Grant meeting other Oscar Isaac characters. No Marc or Jake co-concious, only referenced. Characters: Basil Stitt, Leto Atreides, Poe Dameron A/N: This randomly hit me and I wanted to write it because it was funny. Used a spinny wheel for it. Also idk if BB-8 can do that but now he can.

London was it's usual muggy, busy self as Steven ran down the street, hoping to catch the bus to work. It had been hard enough to get a job after the Museum Incident, but maintaining a position was proving to be a much harder endeavor between his abnormal sleeping patterns and head mates.

"Oi! Wait, please!" Steven was within touching distance just as the bus sped off, and at the lack of anything to rest his weight on or break his fall, the man found himself tumbling face first into traffic.

☽ 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭 (Lightningface)

+ When Steven first wakes up in the apartment, his first thought is that he's woken up in a bomb site. The apartment is a mess, furniture and clothes strewn everywhere haphazardly. He's momentarily glad Marc isn't replying in his head, knowing the American would have an aneurysm over the state of the place.

+ Basil is the one to find Steven, jumping up from his spot on the couch and staring at him like he's an alien. The first thought in his mind is that Ricky the Monkey did some crazy magic and brought a clone to replace him. Poor Steven barely has a chance to process the situation before he's trying to calm his scarred, other American look alike down and explain his situation. Nothing manages to convince Basil there isn't some magic going on here, but he stops viewing Steven as an evil replacement.

+ After the initial shock and awkward introductions, they manage to sit down and chat for a few minutes. Basil shares the story of the lightning strike, insisting that its imbued him with magical powers. Steven, bless his heart, immediately believes this and boasts about his own moon powers too.

"You know, I've always wanted to try jumping off the roof and flying, have you done that?"

"Oh no, my mate Marc usually handles that, but maybe we can practice together? Have you got a suit as well?"

"Yeah, it's this paper bag and bed sheet I fixed up myself! C'mon, I have a stool on the balcony-"

"Wait, hang about.... Actually, mate, on second thoughts, lets not."

+ Steven ends up convincing Basil to properly fix his apartment, not just brush away the broken shards and dust. So that's what they do for a while, busying themselves as they theorize on how to get Steven back home with only a handful of brain cells between them. Basil listens with surprising intensity when Steven ends up branching off into Egyptology tangents, and likewise Steven nods along when Basil brings up all the documentaries he'd watched recently. In the end, the apartment does end up in much better shape, and the pair become quite chummy.

"Damn. Thanks for the help... Maybe I did overreact a bit."

"Yeah, it's no problem bruvs, it happens. Surprised the doctors didn't give you anymore meds, though I suppose over here its not like the NHS."

"Oh, no I didn't go to the hospital."

"...You wot?!"

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 (Dune)

+ Coming to on hot, sandy slabs is enough of a trigger point to Steven Grant as they come. Coming to on hot, sandy slabs with weird astronauts in suits pointing space guns at him goes beyond frighting and circles back into 'Shit yourself' territory. Thankfully they seem to speak English. Unfortunately, his high pitched screams and babbling British noises don't make sense to them while they peer down their guns at him with confusion. It isn't until a booming voice draws everyone's attention that Steven gets a chance to breath.

+ Said breath is swiftly knocked back out of Stevens lungs when a wiser, nobler and older version of him walks into the room, commanding the attention of every single space soldier in the room. The man stares down at him as he lays huddled on the ground, curled into himself, and quirks a single well groomed eyebrow at him.

"I am Duke Leto of House Atreides. You have penetrated your way into my home. Who are you?"

"I-I-I'm S-Steven Grant. Of the... Giftshop."

The Duke continues his stony stare at Steven for a few seconds longer before holding out a calloused hand.

"Well Steven of the Giftshop, I think we both have many questions for one another, and hopefully some answers."

+ When Steven finally gets over being starstruck at the dignified, royal version of himself, and when Leto makes the accidental mistake of mentioning that they're billions of years in the future on another planet, Steven freaks out, having a 10 minute long panic attack. When that's over he geeks out instead, asking a million questions about technology, using apologies as commas and full stops.

"Do people still know about Khonshu in this era?!"

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name."

"Lucky sod."

+ Leto thinks the strange, weird sounding clone of himself is a schizophrenic long lost cousin, but at lease he isn't trying to kill him over a title. It's not as common in Arrakis, or the general noble courts, to find someone as earnest, honest and willing to learn as Steven seems to be, which earns him a surprising amount of respect from the Duke.

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 (Star Wars)

+ Waking up in a space ship that's doing somersaults mid-battle while dodging and weaving around beams trying to explode it out of the sky was almost as stressful as waking up on a London bus at 8am. Commendably, Steven didn't scream or cry, but simply had a silent panic attack until a rolling white and orange ball started beeping at him, or rather the ridiculously handsome version of him currently flying the plane.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get on my cruiser?!"

"Bloody hell, not another handsome American me!"

"What?! BB-8, check for a concussion!"

+ After being given a water bottle by the polite little droid, Steven finally managed to calm himself down by the time the ship touch down and the pilot in matching droid colours sprang before him, launching question after question. When he clocked Stevens face, he was speechless, brows slowly knitting over his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. Mid stare-down BB-8 nicked the Brits skin, running a quick diagnostic test and beeping the results out to the pilot who's eyebrows swiftly un-knitted at the noises.

+ Taking advantage of the silence, Steven tries to explain himself and his situation, insisting he comes in peace and simply wanted to get home before Donna got another excuse to give him the sack. The pilot finally introduced himself as Poe, the best pilot in the resistance at that, and with a sigh he promised to try and figure out how to get Steven back to whatever galaxy London was from.

+ Poe tries to explain the resistance and the empire to Steven, who in turn compares it to Ammits cult and jointly rants about those who take choice and freedom from the innocent. Poe is happy enough that his weird blood ancestor is with the resistance, even if he does constantly regard him with a quirked eyebrow, wondering how in the universe he managed to evolve from this walking concussion. For a second time Poe is rendered silent as Steven mentions being Moonknight.

"Oh yeah, I've done that too, at least those Jedi blokes doesn't send their jackals after you though!"

"You've... fought? In battle?"

"Course, yeah. Fought off giant gods back to the underworld, stopped the day of reckoning as the souls of the living were flooding the underworld. It was just the other day actually."

"...You killed god?!"

+ Steven absolutely adores BB-8 and Leia, a feeling the bot and all of the resistance seem to happily return, much to the dismay of Poe. Steven's quite flustered from all the attention and questions, leaving Poe to drag him away in a huff, claiming they need to get back to figuring out how to send him home. It feels like a babysitting gig more than anything, but deep down it strokes Poe's ego when Steven ooh's and ahh's at all his resistance tales.