#when I saw this painting I thought of aliens and extraterrestrial

[rosicheeks]

“Alien”

This painting // My shop

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Astronaut’s Wife (1999)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Rosemary’s Baby is given a fresh coat of paint in The Astronaut’s Wife. Well, theoretically anyway. Neither sexy nor scary, it’s the kind of movie that might’ve had potential but didn’t even try. Talk about a letdown.

After a communications blackout while orbiting the earth, NASA astronaut Spencer Armacost (Johnny Depp) returns home to his wife, Jillian (Charlize Theron), and vows never to fly again. When his co-pilot Streck (Nick Cassavetes) suddenly dies and Spencer begins exhibiting strange behavior, Jillian wonders if he's still human, and what sort of baby is growing inside her.

If you’ve seen Rosemary’s Baby there’s no reason to see this film. If you haven’t you may not be able to foresee the story’s beats… but I doubt it. Everything it does you’ve seen better elsewhere. We’re supposed to wonder whether Jillian is imagining the strange noises she hears coming from the radio, if Spencer’s radical personality shift is nothing to be alarmed about and if Dr. Sherman Reese (Joe Morton)/his theories are pure hogwash. You never do. There is simply too much evidence siding towards the theory of Spencer having been replaced or somehow possessed by some kind of extraterrestrial being. You would only believe him human if a) we received concrete proof that Marzoids don’t exist b) someone proved they do exist but have better things to do than spawn human-alien babies or c) Jillian was just a straight jacket away from the loony bin or otherwise untrustworthy. You might’ve been able to get away with it if the character of Sherman Reese wasn’t there. As a matter of fact, why is he in this movie?

The Astronaut’s Wife would’ve been better if it were worse. You’ve got Johnny Depp. You’ve got Charlize Theron. It’s about a woman who thinks she’s been impregnated by a little green man but there’s no nudity and no tantalizing sex scenes. Talk about lame. I was bored waiting for the film to catch up to what I already knew. I know you’d be bored too. The only thing that could have saved this movie was a brilliant conclusion.

The ending is a double whammy of lame horror-wannabe twists which will have you rolling your eyes. No satisfying answers are given, and nothing cool is shown. It really is a generic “is my baby the devil?” movie where someone did a find-replace to switch “Satan” with “Spaceman”.

I guarantee after it’s done, no one who saw The Astronaut’s Wife will give it a second thought, even if they do manage to stay awake during the whole thing. When you leave the audience fondly looking back at Species 3, you’ve got problems. (On VHS, March 15, 2019)

[strawberryclothing]

mixed emotions t shirt

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Official Blondie Ball Of Confusion 2024 Tour Concert T Shirt Only three of the 2957 Plymouth dealers in 1999 were not also Chrysler dealers, so very few dealers were impacted by the decision to streamline the Official Blondie Ball Of Confusion 2024 Tour Concert T Shirt. And many of these 2957 also sold Dodge, so they could easily show the Dodge versions to interested buyers who did not want the Chrysler trim levels. When Mercedes evaluated Chrysler after the acquisition in 1998, the Plymouth brand was a logical sacrifice to save money and give the remaining brands unique attraction. Unit sales had been low for over a decade, less than half the equivalent Dodge model volumes, and the corporate executives calculated some level of network efficiencies to be had from canceling the Plymouth brand and streamlining the portfolios. After a year of internal discussions, the decision to end Plymouth was announced in November 1999. The last Plymouth brand Neon vehicles were produced in June 2001. The remaining brands had distinctive positions: Dodge (standard, performance), Jeep (SUV, fun), Chrysler (American luxury), and Mercedes (specialized European luxury), plus the super-luxury Maybach brand.

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[certifiedskywalker]

Safety Net - Peter Parker

It was over. Thanos was gone and the dusted half of the universe returned to it’s tangible existence. Enhanced individuals and civilians, all fighters, had celebrated. Some had mourned; one in particular had, seemingly, not stopped.

WARNING: Grief.

“Want some company?”

Peter turned his head at your question but did not meet your eyes. His face was downcast, focused on how his fingers picked at the peeling paint of his window sill. In the silence that followed, you wondered if you misspoke. Maybe your voice cracked and you missed how it obscured your words? You were about to ask again when Peter lifted his gaze to yours.

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

Slowly, carefully, you stepped towards Peter and perched yourself in the window. The bottom edge of the frame dug into your trousers and pressed into the flesh of the back of your thighs. Though, the feeling was nothing compared to the bite of the night’s chill against your skin as you leaned out to catch a glimpse of the street beyond Peter’s window. Assured that there was little chance of falling, thanks to the metal rail safety net that made up the fire escape, you turned your attention back to the boy sat at your side.

“Heard you weren’t in a good mood,” you said softly, dipping your head to try to look up into Peter’s eyes. He didn’t turn his head to you as he began to reply. “Who told you that?” 

Peter’s voice was distant, as if he was only asking because he had to; because he wanted to keep you around. Whatever the reason, the sound made your chest ache.

“May.”

“Of course,” Peter sighed, still far off in his thoughts. 

You swallowed hard and reached out a timid hand. With the space between you and Peter cramped and small, your fingers almost immediately brushed against his arm. The touch was enough to coax his gaze to yours. Your breath caught at the sight of his brown eyes rimmed pink from past tears.

“She’s worried about you,” you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m worried.” “I, I’m fi-fine,” Peter’s words tripped over each other in a rush to get out. He never had been good at lying. It had made making mischief as children difficult. 

You frowned at him and, when all you saw was sadness, forced yourself to look away. Fingers slipped from his arm and you held yourself to brace for the cold that grew as the night grew darker. Peter would tell you the truth when he was ready. Granted, it was already clear he wasn’t fine. The glassy look in his eyes and inability to smile for the past few weeks had told you that much. What made you wary was how upset May had looked when she opened the door for you. How her voice was low, caught in a whisper: “Peter isn’t doing well”.

There wasn’t much you could do until he spoke up. So, silently, the two of you stared out into the street, waiting for the other cave first. 

Under the fluorescent glow of storefront lights, passersby were painted in all shades of neon. They looked, from the distance you sat at, alien. At the thought, you realized that Peter was too familiar with extraterrestrial beings to fall into the same comparison. From the corner of your eye, you saw him looking out in the same direction; though, he was focused on a couple that was loudly giddy about their night out. Their barely hushed giggling tore you both from the quiet. Behind them, a man walked hurriedly through the night, chattering into his cellphone that he pressed against his ear. 

The man quickly raced past the couple and left you and Peter to watch as the pair, arm-in-arm, strode down the street. Eventually, the sound of their sweet nothings and muffled laughs faded into the dark beyond the view of Peter’s bedroom window. Silence fell between you again. Like a tense and dense blanket, it laid heavy on your shoulders. 

“It’s not that I,” Peter began, bringing your attention to him again, at last. He seemed nervous with your wide eyes on him. You leaned back and nodded, quietly encouraging him to continue. “I-I miss him. I mean, I do. Mr. Stark was….but then I think about his wife...his daughter. Y/N, I...she’s only got a few years of memories with him and...”

Tears slipped down his cheeks then. A steady stream cascaded down his cheeks and your mouth fell open in search of what to say to ease the hurt Peter felt. But there was nothing. Peter knew this already and turned his eyes back towards the city street. He tried to sniffle quietly but there was no hiding it with how close you were.

“...and he’s gone.”

There was nothing to say. So, slowly enough to give Peter’s senses a second to detect it, you reached a hand out. When he tilted towards your extended fingers, you let your open palm rest on his upper back. Gently and, you hoped, comfortingly, you rubbed small circles into the fabric of his shirt. Beneath your hand, and through the cotton fabric, Peter’s skin was warm; a welcomed contrast to the chill breeze that blew through the window you both sat in. 

He melted under your touch, ever-so-slowly leaning towards you until his head rested on your shoulder. A shuddering breath rattled in his frame as you looked out to the lighted street in search of something, anything, to say. For a moment you considerate talking about the planned trip to Europe, how those future weeks away might brighten the dark he felt. You thought better of it, but found your mouth moved anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

At the sound of your voice, Peter’s lifted his head from your shoulder. You turned and, in the dim light, the soft brown of his eyes were murky, blurry with tears maybe. It was difficult to tell and it didn’t really matter because you trailed your hand from his back to the side of his face. When your path stopped to cup his cheek, Peter pressed his face into your touch. His dark eyes closed and you felt a wetness in your palm.

Peter was crying.

Wordlessly, you pulled him into your arms. A sob tore through him and it felt, in that moment, that you were the only thing holding Peter Parker together. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and it was there you felt the steamy, salty tears soak into your skin. You bit back a cry of your own, forced a trembling breath in and out to calm the itch in your chest.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

You rested your head against his, felt his chestnut colored curls tickle your chilled skin. You couldn’t remember the last time you had held each other this close. Or the last time you had seen Peter so distraught, so ruined. No, you could remember; but it was so terribly long ago. Since then, you had seen Peter do amazing things. You had seen him save so many lives, yours among them. He had fastened his webs to so many broken pieces and struggled to hold together his corner of the world for so long.

So, you held onto to him, to keep him whole. Sometimes, superheroes need saving too. Though, Peter wasn’t just a superhero to you. But that could wait; until Europe, until the next world-ending threat. In that moment, you were content being Peter’s safety net. 

[hysteriium]

Hello! I love that pennywise/reader nest fic you did, it was so soft and sweet ☺️would you consider doing the same reader/penny but with the reader finding out shes pregnant and pennywise doubling down on the nesting cuteness?

Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m really happy to hear you enjoyed it :,)) I tried my best with this one, though I’m not entirely sure it’s that good fsiduhfiusdhf regardless, I hope you enjoy! 

////

Trembling hands gripped the stick in front of you. The two pink lines glared at you in a malicious taunt. The cool porcelain your backside was firmly planted against was warm compared to the cold sweat which encapsulated your being. Horror couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

How, exactly, were you going to explain to your lover you were pregnant? A lover who also happened to be an eons old, extraterrestrial who feasted on the fears of mortals?

It was a good question, one you wished you had the answer to.   How was this even possible?

To put it simply, your thoughts were racing, juggling the non-stop stream of questions that threatened to flood and short circuit the entirety of your brain.

You needed air.

Slowly, you peeled yourself off the seat and tended to yourself, eventually exiting the enclosed space. Perhaps your eldritch mate had sensed your distress, because when you opened the bathroom door to exit, his looming form appeared, face partially cut off by the door frame.

While you would have found his sudden manifestation and his ongoing struggle with entrances comedic, today you were not in the mood.

“Fear doesn’t smell pleasant on you” were the first words he said to you.

You stepped closer to him, passing the door frame so you could look at him properly and you felt your mouth grow dry. With your jaw clenched and ticking wildly, you searched for something to say. Thinking was something that had suddenly become difficult.

His face morphed into a frown when it clicked just how uneasy you were.

“Pen, I, uh. I have something I need to tell you,” you felt yourself grow pale, the unpleasant feeling of dizziness took over. How would he react?

He tilted his head lightly and waited for you to continue.

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence, which had only lasted a couple of seconds, was powerfully deafening.  

“I am aware,” he said.

He planted his painted nose into the crevice of your neck, and you could feel the air from his nostrils against the flesh as he sniffed. He pulled back moments later, his head shaking and his bells ringing as he released a hiccuped laugh.

What?

“Curious.”

“C-curious?”

“You are scared,” he stated plainly like pregnancy was the most casual thing in the world.

“Do not be afraid, young one,” an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into an embrace. His pointer finger, which trailed up your neck, stopped at your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“For I will keep you safe.”

---

It had been days since you told Pennywise and even though he essentially knew before you had, he had smothered you. It was incredibly sweet, but then there was also a point where things went overboard, and perhaps today had taken the cake.

It was quite a shock when you returned home from work to find a large portion of your things gone. It was mainly from your room, the once cluttered, dare you say lively, area of space was reduced to a void of nothingness - cleared completely. To make matters worse, the dust that had silently accumulated over the past few days, due to your impressive collection of excuses to avoid dusting, had not vanished along with the missing items - the floating pests ever so present.

It didn’t take much to conclude Pennywise had something to do with it.

He was always implicated in something.

Said name spilled from your pursed lips, the call cutting into the silence.

As you blinked, he appeared right in front of you. His floating form defied all laws of gravity, and his face, which was plastered with a mischievous grin, became your salient view. It was as if he was lying on an invisible bed; the image of his tall legs kicking back and forth while his hands lifted his chin, cupping it sweetly, was a sight that made your serious demeanour difficult to maintain.

Playing the innocent act, huh?

You shot him a look, causing his smirk to grow impossibly larger.

“You called?” He giggled.  

He was in a suspiciously good mood…

“Penny...what have you done?”

When you blinked again, he was gone, only to find him next to you, your heights contrasted - comically so.

“What do you mean, little one?” He cheerfully stated, sustaining his clueless sham. He petted the top of your head as the word ‘little’ passed his plump lips, thinking that the oblivious air was enough to suppress bloating curiosity.

The gust of air that travelled from your nose conveyed your frustration with the orange-haired clown, “my things Penny, where’d you put everything?”

It was true that his beating around the bush had started to get on your nerves, but that quickly dissipated when his next words registered. A small, simple sentence that made your heart swell. The fluttering of your stomach was nowhere near a new feeling with him though, without fail, it always reduced you to mush.  

“A place safe enough for the three of us.”

More than touched by his gesture, you moved to speak. He saw you were about to, and thinking you were about to object (which you weren’t, for the record), he interrupted you, speaking up before you could.

“My dear, you carry my offspring. I won’t allow filthy humans to endanger that.”

You laughed.

“But Pen,” you whined, feigning hurt, “I’m a filthy human.”

You tried to lay it on thick, though it hardly worked. 

“My filthy human,” he hissed.

The sound of your joy, which penetrated the room, led to the upturn of his lips.

Then, he lowered himself into a crouch, his long slender fingers placing themselves upon your clothed stomach. They lightly traced the bump, a sweet caress as he moved his ear to your belly, listening for something. You weren’t far into the pregnancy at all, and while there was somewhat of a prominence, and morning sickness which had prompted you to take a pregnancy test days prior, you didn’t expect any movement from the part-alien, part-human hybrid inside you.

So when there was one, you panicked.

Pennywise had begun speaking in an entirely different language, whispering against you. It wasn’t anything you recognised, though it was beautiful, complex and entrancing. It was a language that was antediluvian, a forbidden wonder.

Moments passed as you found yourself lulled by his otherworldly expressions, that was until you felt the distinct, sudden jerk from within; a kick.

A surge of alarm nagged at you from the sensation, something the eldritch being before you picked up on.

“Calm, sweet thing,” he said, outlining comforting shapes against your stomach, “you are progressing well.”  

That fast!?

While everything was new to you, scary, upon exciting, you trusted Pennywise’s judgement. He would never willingly expose you to danger. So, you tried to shove your worry aside.

“Hey Pen?”

A hum, deep and distracted was your only response.

“Did you want to show me what you did with my things?”

The clown suddenly parted from you and leapt to his feet. Then, he bowed, an arm hiding behind his back while his other extended towards you, daring you to take his hand.

Another smile fought its way to the surface, the teeth you dug into your lip an attempt to suppress it.

You laced your fingers with his.

In an instant, you found yourself in an unfamiliar place. There looked to be a large crater in the middle of the room, large, black spikes protruding from the circular formation. It was darker than his usual den in the sewers but you were still able to see.

“What is this place?”

Pennywise glanced down at you, “it’s where I truly reside.”

“Truly? Like your real form?” you paused, looking up into his glowing eyes for confirmation, “can I see?”

He chuckled lightly, his thumb grazing the skin of your hand, “no sweet thing, for it would drive you mad.”

“Oh.” 

“Well then is there a way you won’t drive me insane?”

His brows scrunched in thought but quickly subsided soon after, “perhaps. There is another form close enough for you to comprehend, though that is for another day. Now, come.”

Thanks to the gentle guiding hands of your lover you were led through the shadows of the cavern. As you walked, you were quickly able to spot the area he was taking you to. A homely tinted light slowly lit up as you approached, displaying an extra special indent in the rocky surface of the wall. It was large and spacious, yet oddly cozy looking as the familiar objects filled your view. Your bed, which you didn’t even want to imagine how it got there, was looking particularly appealing.

With what you could only blame as conditioning, you failed to stifle a yawn. This immediately caught your mate’s attention because he stopped, turning around to lift you effortlessly. Your protests were swiftly put an end to by a curt hush, the silence communicating his win. You didn’t need to look up at him to know there was a playful smirk tugging at his lips - your stubbornness was a fire he loved to extinguish when necessary.  

When he reached the opening in the wall, he held you close to his chest, hunching to accommodate his large figure. He placed you on the bed with such delicacy, like a collector with a porcelain doll.

In all honesty, you hadn’t realised how tired you were until your head hit the softness of the pillow. The smooth touch of cotton sheets kissed your skin, and your body sunk into the embrace of the mattress, encouraging you to surrender to sleep.

When the bed dipped next to you, a sudden breeze hit your heavy body. The unexpected draft sent shivers through you, as the blast of air was followed by a material - warm and furry. It was draped across you, then tucked while the tickle of what you believed to be Pennywise’s hair, brushed against your face softly. He was huddled into your side, his head resting near your stomach.

Ever since he had found out you were pregnant, the cryptid had never strayed far from you, especially from your growing belly. He couldn’t go a few minutes without showering it with affection.

Along that train of thought, he was also extra protective. If someone even thought of bothering you, they were never to be seen again.

Ah, the perks of having an alien mate.  

As a way of thanks, you dove one of your lazy hands into his fluffy locks, and like a cat, he leant into your touch, pushing against it. His eyes became half-lidded at the feeling, eventually shutting completely. He cozied into you, wriggling slightly as a hand rested on your stomach. He soon drifted off into slumber.

You promptly followed.

[tentaclepunk]

Area 51

You assume everyone was joking when they said they were gonna raid Area 51. You thought it was just some dumb joke, but on September 19th your friends wake you up from you middle of nowhere Nevada home to fill the gap between you and Area 51. You heart races as you get closer and closer to the obvious extraterrestrial holding site, you mind going faster than your speeding friend, thinking of all the things you’ll find once inside. You decide to talk strategy, for the time is almost upon you to evade the government and enter Area 51. Time passes slower surrounding the et containment site, allowing for extra prep time before you finally arrive.

Your friend starts slowing down and as you look up, you see it. The long drive way on the other side of only a thin wire fence.

“How could they have such flimsy protection?” You think to yourself.

You notice the dozens of other cars that had been following you to your destination. Now all rolling to stops around you one by one as they arrive. There are cars everywhere, but no one has stepped out. Yet.

You discuss with your friends and agree that you’re willing to be the first ones out. The first ones to step outside, sealing your fate. You slowly open the door, looking around to see that you’re not the only one. You step out, and notice someone in a car next to you is doing the same. Car by car you see people slowly stepping out, looking around to make sure others are too. No one has said anything to anyone. But you all know why you’re here.

Suddenly you hear someone far to your right yell, it seems eerily familiar but you can’t see who’s yelling.

“KYLES TO CENTER,” they yell, and you notice hundreds blonde men in tank tops and pineapple shorts start shifting and walking towards the gate.

You imagine everyone else can feel the power and strength in this persons voice, based solely on the fact that everyone seems to be listening to the unseen and unknown director of the raid.

“FURRIES ON EITHER SIDE,” they yell next.

You see them, the poor anthropamorphic animal dressed individuals, all scattering and splitting to the right and lefts of The Kyles. They don’t speak. They only wait for further instructions once in place.

“HOMESTUCKS HOLD OFF, EVERYONE ELSE ARRANGE YOURSELF HOW YOUD LIKE BEHIND THE KYLES,” they scream.

Everyone starts to move. Everyone except, them. As the crowd gets into place behind The Kyles, we see them. Covered in what we can only hope to be grey face paint. Scatters of red, yellow, and orange peak out through the wave of grey. If no one else makes it, they’ll surely make the aliens feel most at home.

“HOMESTUCKS TIGHTLY BEHIND THE CIVILIANS,” they yell, still unseen.

Once he dust settles, and The Homestucks are in place, you see them. One single person standing amongst the cars. They look like just any normal person. They scream once more.

“READY,”

It seems like the pause if a million years. Like time has stopped. Everyone is ready, everyone somehow knows exactly what to do. No one is scared.

“GO!”

We attack in waves, when one has fallen the next starts. We begin making headway into the facility. The gate was easy enough to get through. It was the militant pigs that really got in our way though. They were easy enough to subdue, there were just so many of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of these wild hogs were storming out of the facility, attacking everyone in site.

The Kyles made a lot of headway, which I suppose is why they were put first. But ultimately everyone knew they wouldn’t be able to make it all the way inside. They were our first chance to get the first couple waves of hog out of the way.

The Furries helped in a more conversational way, attempting to communicate and rationalize with the wild pigs. Some succeeded, some did not. We’re all proud of them all, no matter what category they fit into.

The civilians were mainly strength in numbers. No one skill, no one weakness. They did the most damage solely because of our vast numbers.

You watch in awe as everyone around you sprint towards Area 51. No one is scared. Everyone has a content and determined look in their eyes. People from all over fighting for the same cause. But in your distraction you’re struck by a boar, not more than 20 feet from the entrance. You lay surrounded by others who were struck and downed by these horrid beasts. You begin to lose hope.

The Homestucks begin their stampede into the facility. It wasn’t for nothing, they’re making it inside. Some are still falling, they won’t get to the center on their own, you don’t know what will happen. They were the last attack. But then you see them. The one who was yelling, directing everyone at the beginning.

They begin walking, and you see them more clearly. They seem so familiar. They walk closer, calm, no sign of anxiety or fear whatsoever on their face. Their green shirt somehow like a beacon of hope. As they get closer you can see the kindness in their eyes. The look at you, and with one sentence you realize exactly who they are. It clicks. They’re your salvation, they’re the god you’ve all been praying to you for help. They’ve come to your aid, they’ve decided to help in your fight for good!! With that one sentence you’re full of hope. You’re ready to continue this fight. That one sentence.

“Like zoinks Scoob, you ready for this?”

You hadn’t even noticed they’re dog. They’re massive, beautiful dog.

The person in green helps you up, and asks you to help the others. They say that they’ll handle it from here. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’re right.

You thank them, and then turn to help the others up as they regain consciousness. Slowly growing the number of people helping everyone up. Within minutes you see a bright blue light coming from inside the facility. You decide it isn’t safe to check, but you wonder what it could be. Could it be the person in green? Maybe some form of alien technology? Maybe someone got in. You hope someone got in.

Knowing you’re part of the fight is over, you start heading back to the car to wait for the others from inside. Everyone seems to follow and wait for further instructions from their cars.

Hours pass, and eventually one by one cars start to disappear. The Homestucks have made their way back out of the facility, even you can even say they were officially in it. They had gotten maybe twenty feet inside before being overrun by hogs.

Eventually you’re the only one left, your friends having left in other cars, but you never saw the person in green leave the facility. Not a trace of the beacon of hope or their dog. You decide, against all rational thought, to check if they’re still inside. You get out of the car, and begin walking down the slope towards the front of the facility. It feels like you’re not making headway, but after what you can only assume was an eternity, you make it.

You wander inside, stepping over the bodies of hog after hog, into an empty hallway. There’s nothing but a single door at the end. You’re only thought is that that must be where everyone thing. That must be where the person in green and their dog is. So you begin your trek towards the door.

Silence surrounds you, not even your steps making noise. You slowly approach the door, only to notice it’s open just a crack. You place your hand onto the door, and slowly begin to push. With little effort the door slowly swings open, revealing a dark room. Allowing the light from behind you in, and waiting for your eyes to adjust, you finally see it. The person in green and their dog are no where to be found, but you know this has to be what everyone was looking for. You still can’t see clearly as the light from behind you doesn’t seem to be quite enough. You take out your phone from your pocket and open the camera. You turn on the flash and click just one photo. But you never get to see it. Some wild hog tramples you and runs you out, dropping your phone on your way to the car. You drive off, left only to wonder what could have been inside.

The next day you wake up, the weird feeling after having a particularly vivid dream surrounds you. You assume that’s what it was, just a very vivid dream. But then you can’t find your phone. You shrug it off, and go on with your morning routine. As you make your way into the living room of your ground floor apartment, you hear a knock ont he door. You walk to open it, and as you do you notice a hint of a green shirt, and the tail of what looks like a great dane. You sprint to catch them before they completely disappear around the corner, but when you turn the corner yourself, they’re gone. Defeated you walk back to your apartment, only to find a cell phone on your door mat. You open it to find it’s yours! You frantically check the photos to solidify wether or not it was all just a dream or if it actually happened. That’s when you see it. The photo. It has to be the photo. The only one that you know of to exist. You look in awe at the photo, pondering if you should post it or not. But you decide not to, it’s for just you. No one would believe you if you posted it, so why try to convince anyone it’s real.

You take one more look at the photo, and go back inside.

[split-n-splice]

Sometimes those who are bad do good while those who are good do bad with good intentions. A kidnapping and a brief encounter between villain wannabe and a hero-to-be.

Pre-Team Go. Just thinking about origins and adjusting to new powers. I fancy the idea that Drakken and Shego go “way back.”

Chapters: 3 Words: 12k Warnings: violence, language (Updated with revised version Feb, 2020!)

[Chapter Guide]

Chapter 1

Save for the rhythm of her own breath and the hum of a fluorescent she’d grown deaf to, her chambers had been dead silent for hours on end until the lull was broken by the long-awaited click of the lock and the quiet swish of the door opening.

“Subject B?” came the wavering call of an uncertain man.

The teenager’s lip almost quirked into a smirk. Almost. Fresh meat, she thought wryly.

Her arms were bent uncomfortably over her head, shielding her eyes from the infinite light above as she lay on her cot. For quite some time now, she’d had nothing better to do other than sleep until she ached and then some. If only sleep was easy to come by.

The footsteps neared. “I’m your, uhm. Psychiatrist.” He waited. She’d leave him hanging, she decided. “Hello? Are you awake?” Another moment passed. The footsteps began to retreat, and she heard him mutter impatiently to himself, “I must be in the wrong sector.”

The girl sat upright then with great exertion, lifting a heavy cast over her head. She slumped forward and glowered down to her hands secured and bound together in the slipshod plaster cocoon before squinting up against the searing white light as a man in a crisp blue suit came into focus.

“M’name’s not Subject B,” she rasped, voice hoarse from thirst and lack of use. A far more interesting glass of water on the homey little nightstand beside her cot drew her attention away from the stranger, reminding her how parched she was. She’d been encouraged to break her strike for a while now – she’d lost count of the days she’d been on it, honestly – and though she was presently hooked to an IV to treat dehydration, she was still holding fast to her conditions: let her go or she’d find a way to self-destruct. So far the tactic wasn’t working.

Her visitor said something she didn’t catch – the damn water had her fixated. She could have – should have – knocked it over hours ago, or maybe days ago, but what if another glass never came—?

The girl shook her head and tore her eyes away from the tempting glass. She scrunched her nose as if smelling something foul as she studied the spectacled man again. “You look too young to be a psychiatrist,” she deadpanned. “Mommy still do your laundry? Looks like she dresses you too.”

Something she said must have struck a nerve. “Listen, you snot-nosed little brat—” the man began, but she lurched to her feet. The wobble of her knees couldn’t have been threatening but her glare must have done something. She liked to think so anyway.

“This snot-nosed little brat left yesterday’s psychiatrist’s face looking like a Picasso,” she hissed venomously, and raised her trapped hands a little as evidence before dropping them. “So watch your mouth.” She couldn’t do much to him in her present state, but he seemed on edge just enough for threats alone to be sufficient.

When she took a step forward, IV stand scooting along with her, the man took a step back. Her eyes darted to the floor. She almost smiled, but he was talking again. “Is that what that is about?” He gestured with his clipboard to her bound hands. “Why?”

The girl arched her brow at the perplexed inquiry. There wasn’t an inkling of sarcasm. She looked down to the plaster keeping her primary means of defense at bay. She was sure she could burn the cast off, but not without burning herself again in the process. Her skin was already raw and blistered from earlier attempts to burn her way to freedom. Having a go at her last doctor had been the last straw. They’d said the improvised cast was only a temporary quick fix. They’d said it was to keep her from hurting herself, like a cone on a dog – but that had been a load. The burns lacing her palms and knuckles might have gotten the attention they needed if she weren’t so obstinate, but she’d hardly let anyone near enough to check on her in days.

She’d been a lab rat under observation for months – ever since the organization holding her in custody had caught wind of something extraterrestrial practically leveling her neighborhood. She hadn’t been compliant with their studies.

The snapping of fingers made her blink. An almost concerned look crossed the man’s face. He was stupid enough to take a step closer. He opened his mouth to repeat the question but she cut him off.

“If you’d read my file, you would know what it’s for.” She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion as he scrambled to flip through the scant pages on his clipboard. “There was even a hazard sign posted outside the door, last I saw.”

“I – uh – I’m just making small talk. Of course, I’ve read your file,” he said, a tentative smile quivering.

The girl glanced to the floor again, to the painted red caution line marking the boundary behind him, and a second marking a boundary through the center of the barren room between them, her own personal invisible fence. If he was a stuttering idiot because he was scared, he would have taken the proper precautions when confronting her. She did the math. Something didn’t add up right. “Then you wouldn’t have crossed the line,” she stated in a quiet mutter, eyes fixating on the particular warning line three steps behind him. Personnel without guards were unauthorized to cross it, and as of yet, no doctor had even risked seeing her alone.

Dragging the IV stand behind her, she approached the center of the room, the invisible barrier clear only to her. The tingle of a thick mechanical collar around her throat became noticeable, heating up in warning.

“Line?” uttered the young man, face scrunching as he looked down and all around. By the time he’d noticed them, the warning lines, the sound of her hacking something made his spectacled eyes snap back to her.

She really didn’t want to encourage being muzzled too, but she was in a bad mood. Without pausing to think twice, she spat what could only be described as a plasma loogie his way. The man leapt back with a startled yelp, both disgusted and frightened as the green flame bubbled and burned itself out in a tiny pit in the linoleum. Her throat burned like she’d swallowed a hot coal and she choked on the aftertaste, but it had been worth it for the look on the stranger’s face.

Her eyes watered. The glass of water had never been more tempting. “How’s that for snot-nosed, huh?” she coughed, caught between laughter and choking. She smiled wider than she had in days, or maybe weeks. How long had she been here? Long enough for her hair to grow back long enough to tickle her ears again. She didn’t want to think about it.

She focused her heated glare back on the livid man, who now stood a safe distance out of her spitting range marked clearly in the floor by a dozen other divots and of course the red paint. “Why, you little!” he seethed, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

“You’re not the shrink they sent to get inside my head,” she decided, making her way back to her cot. “So who are you?” Talking was getting to be too exhausting, but she could use some relief from the monotony of this hell of solitary confinement. They’d tried to give her a television and other enrichment, but that had been one of the things she’d fired at that had gotten her hands bound up. They kept telling her to behave and cooperate like Subjects A and C and they’d let her go in no time – but she had her doubts and had become increasingly volatile since this had all started a month or two or three or more ago. She didn’t even know if her brothers had really been released or if something worse had befallen them. She hadn’t seen them since they were put into custody for observation.

The man said something else she didn’t catch as she flopped down in her cot and instantly regretted doing so a little bit, the jolt making her body ache ever more and the IV tug in her arm. She leaned awkwardly on her elbows to study the glass at eye level, resting her chin on the nightstand. She had the worst case of heartburn right now. Her eyes stung.

She expected the man to be done with this session and leave to tattle on her for spitting acid at him. To at least take some notes if he was, in fact, her new psychiatrist. Something.

But after a moment and a thoughtful hum, his footsteps neared instead, crossing the warning line again.

The girl twisted around to glare back incredulously at him. He held the clipboard under his arm and was fidgeting with something with an antenna in his palm. “Why don’t we take a little walk, Subject B?” he suggested.

She thought she recognized what he held but she wasn’t sure, maybe it was just a radio or—

“No thanks, I’m good,” she said quickly, scrambling to her knees and pressing herself into the farthest corner, folding her legs up to her chest. Her heart started to pound.

What was this sketchy doctor playing at? He must realize he was playing with fire. Was he brave or just stupid?

She tried to swallow as he approached but she was too parched. She couldn’t even draw upon the green alien fire to spit in defense this time.

In the back of her mind, the state of her dress became a concern and she squeezed her legs tighter to her chest. A dress – that was all they gave her – a dress and nothing else, no shoes, no underwear, just the bare necessity to keep her decent. Suddenly the dress didn’t concern her anymore. Pants never warded off grubby hands much anyway, she supposed.

Flight wasn’t an option. Fight kicked in.

The man had a lot of gall to reach down for her, but she kicked out at him, targeting his groin but her heel making contact with his stomach instead. It knocked the wind out of him at least, and for a split second she fancied the thought of cracking the cast open like a coconut on his stupid head – but he was recovering too soon, and frankly she was too exhausted from malnutrition to fight a grown man, even a sort of scrawny one like him.

He glared hard down at her and held up the device to wiggle mockingly. She blanched. It was exactly what she’d thought it was – it went to the damned obedience collar locked around her neck to keep her under control for those special occasions she went batshit. It even kept her behind the invisible barrier. He must have seen the fear flicker in her eyes because he grinned maliciously.

Her stomach turned.

“You know, it’s funny,” he ground out, not particularly amused as he stood back and held the device out of reach when she lunged for it, forgetting for a second that she couldn’t grab at things in this state. His hand on her head was enough to hold her at bay. She could have bitten him. She wanted to. She scowled instead and threw herself back against the wall, legs tucked tight again. “When I stole it, I thought this was the remote to the inexhaustible nuclear weapon I heard rumor of Global Justice obtaining. It goes to something alright, but I’m not sure about the weapon being inexhaustible. Or nuclear. Hm.”

He studied the remote as if it determining the ripeness of a piece of fruit in a produce aisle, and then looked back down at her. “Oh well,” he sang, idly spinning a knob of settings like some sort of wheel of misfortune that made her heart thunder. “I suppose it still functions for the intended purpose, but I wasn’t expecting the weapon to be some kid.”

The sick bastard was just plain taunting her now. “I’m a freshman,” she snapped. Or at least she was supposed to be.

She didn’t have time to argue about it, bracing herself again to thrash when the questionable doctor stooped over her a second time.

The man was wrestling her for her arms now. “Don’t be a pill! I’m as displeased about this as you are,” the man assured her unsympathetically.

She tried screaming, even though she knew her chances of getting any help were slim to none. She’d already cried wolf countless hours before – so any guards in the area were desensitized to her screams and whoever was on monitor duty must be napping on the clock or there would have been an intervention by now.

“What are you doing?” she squawked, writhing and kicking, but her weak legs were useless in prying off her assailant.

“You don’t need this where we’re going. Just – ow! Stop that!”

A headbutt only dealt her more harm than him. She was dazed just long enough for him to get a grip on her, and she nearly resumed her thrashing again until she realized his target was the IV in her arm. She went rigid then. She wasn’t keen on having it simply ripped out. She hadn’t eaten in days but she felt like puking when she finally surrendered, if only for the moment. Pressing her face to the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut against the sight. It didn’t help knowing he was holding the remote carelessly between his teeth now as he worked to remove the catheter – she didn’t want to think about the voltage burns that could be inflicted by the accidental press of a button.

The vinegar breath and entire weight of his presence backed off suddenly, the foreign object dislodged from her flesh as well. She stared at the little piece of gauze taped over the site, a dot of blood blooming already.

“Now,” said the man with an exhausted huff of frustration as he stood back from her. He tried to smooth his hair back into place and pointed the remote at the door. “How about that walk?” His eyes narrowed at her bare feet as the cautious girl put them on the floor. “I don’t suppose you have any shoes—?”

“No.”

“Huh. You know, you’d really think they’d be more hospitable than that,” he uttered, stupefied for a second. She didn’t have a chance to ask him to clarify who they were. The man shook his head then and shuffled away, fidgeting with the controller and then aiming it back at her.

The girl tensed when she saw his thumb hover over the control pad and heard the tiny beep.

She waited.

There was no electric shock, no heat, no choking – nothing they’d used against her to get her under control when typical civilized methods failed.

There was, however, the sudden absence of a barely-perceivable vibration she’d grown numb to.

She started to reach for her throat, blinking in surprise, but remembered about her plaster-bound hands and dropped them. She stretched her jaw instead and tried to swallow, readjusting to the missing sensation. “Would feel better if it was off,” she rasped.

The sketchy doctor was leaned out the door, peeking into the hall. He scoffed as he looked back at her incredulously. “I don’t think so.”

“Can’t blame me for trying,” she sighed.

“Let’s go, Subject B.”

“I have a name.”

He sighed impatiently and rolled his wrist at her in encouragement. “Then what is it?” he demanded in a hiss.

No question about it. Her eyes narrowed at the phony doctor’s back as she followed two steps behind him down the blinding white halls. “Are you kidding me?” she balked. “It’s on my paperwork.” She knew that much, even if she hadn’t been called by name in months. And in any case, phony or not, he should have at least known what he was targeting.

“Yes, well, I didn’t read them, so—”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn’t. You’re not a real doctor.”

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“You little sh— shush!” he snipped under his breath, whirling on her. He might have poked her in the chest with a sharp finger if she was standing any closer, but instead he jabbed at the air. “I demand you behave yourself and act natural. Don’t make me use the, the uh—” He waved the device menacingly. “This.”

“Obedience collar,” she supplied. The young man glowered, nostrils flaring, holding his tongue. She sighed, shoulders sagging. “Whatever. I’ll play along.” It should be pretty fun when he got busted and it sure beat sitting around doing nothing for another day, she decided.

“Thank you,” he said, spinning back around.

A couple minutes passed as she followed the man through twisting corridors and security doors that took a mere sweep of a card to open. It was soon clear he’d lost his sense of direction by his frown. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” she whispered behind him, making him jump. “You didn’t think this through at all.”

“I – I did too,” he hissed back. His hands flailed in the air, gesturing at her in frustration. “I just wasn’t expecting – augh!” He bit back a curse and skulked ahead, hands still flapping. “You were supposed to be a thing. Like a gun or something.”

“Sorry I’m inconvenient.” She rolled her eyes. “What do you plan to do with me?”

The man glared over his shoulder and swiped his pass card again. “Keep moving.”

She wasn’t one to be rushed, and certainly not by a bumbling idiot. He looked about ready to throw her over his shoulder to speed things up, but she doubted he had the muscle to do so. Then again, she’d lost quite a bit of weight recently. She was probably as light as an armful of kindling by now. She certainly felt like a walking stick anyway.

Following the stupid black mop ahead of her became the only thing keeping her legs moving, like following the white rabbit down the rabbit hole. She was zoning out again, the man’s complaints never quite reaching her ears. Every once in a while, the sketchy young doctor looked back to frown at her or wave the remote in threat, and his grip wrapped around her arm at one point to all but drag her along when she paused to rest.

They passed legitimate personnel, typical doctors and science geeks in white lab coats, in the hall at one point, and she was vaguely aware of the intruder beside her straightening up and fixing his pokerface. Act natural. Whatever that meant. She walked along, feet dragging on the cold linoleum, like the prisoner she was, on her way to whatever destination her phony doctor had prescribed for her.

And then they were outside. The hot air hit her like a wall, every fiber of her being soaking up the evening sunlight. She had to stop to enjoy the moment, even if the blacktop was searing hot underfoot. It was nothing compared to the fire she’d been burdened with.

She was being manhandled again, shoved into a car and pushed down to the floorboard. “Hide there until I give the all-clear,” the phony doctor instructed, throwing his jacket down at her face. She got the hint. She was being smuggled out. She had her doubts how well it would work, and almost voiced her criticism from beneath the cover when she heard a spoken exchange above.

She held her breath. Crouching beneath a glovebox like some sort of lumpy painfully-obvious frog had to be one of the stupidest things she’d done, but it was too late to suggest the trunk as a better hiding place.

Moments after the brief chat with the gatekeeper, there was a light rap against her head and she climbed out of the cranny, collapsing back into the passenger seat and heaving a sigh from all the exertion.

“So what flavor of hell does my new captor have for me?” she wondered idly, head lolling to study the man. “Rape, murder, desecration – the standard procedure? Wow me already. Say something. Cripes you’re boring. You’re not very good at kidnapping.”

He pushed his glasses back up his button nose, grimaced, and shook his head. He was chewing on something he didn’t want to say.

As they hit the highway, he almost commanded she put on her seatbelt, but she held up her bound hands before he could finish the word, and he groaned, reaching over to fumble for it himself to stretch over her awkwardly.

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

He only grunted in reply.

She slumped uncomfortably against the window, the vibration of the wheels covering ground soon lulling her effortlessly to dreamland.

[theprocrastinatingwriter34]

We Found You - Part 1

Okay, so I’ve been seeing super sweet and amazing fan art of MCU Venom and Spider-man/ Eddie and Peter getting along and having a brotherly relationship and I really wanted to write about it.

Note: I wrote this just for fun and this will probably have some inconsistencies but oh well lol. (sorry if it’s OOC)

Master post

always, here’s part 1:

Today was way more than Peter bargained for. Taking down thieves? Not a problem. Taking down supervillain plans? With the right plan, it can be super easy; but a large, human-eating alien? How was he supposed to handle that?

“Karen, please tell me I’m dreaming.” Peter asked with an appalled gaze as he watched the alien thing leap from building to building.

“Sorry Peter, you’re not.” the A.I. replied. “I tried scanning the creature to identify it, but nothing is showing up.”

“How am I going to fight that thing?” Peter sighed as he began chasing the creature. “It looks like it walked right out of a scary movie.”

“Should I call Mr. Stark?” Karen suggested. “He has dealt with extraterrestrial beings before, along with Doctor Strange.”

“No! No! Don’t call either one of them.” Peter stammered frantically.

“Why not?”

“Because I...I got this. Yeah, totally.” Peter replied, half trying to convince himself. He was doing fine on his own and he didn’t want to call in the big guns unless he absolutely needed to. He’s handled a money-obsessed thief with huge mechanical wings, this thing couldn’t be as bad, right?

As Peter  silently followed behind, he watched the alien fall into an alleyway. He tried to peak over, but the glowing pink and orange from the horizon didn’t give much light since blue and black had already painted the sky. Not long after, a sharp, quick scream came from the corner of the street, and the dark creature moved quickly towards the sound. However, Peter was faster and took no time to get to the person screaming. When he got there, he saw a masked man holding a young lady back while covering her mouth. As he reached for his gun in his jacket, Peter shot a web at the man’s hand. The man screamed in surprise and let go of the woman. Just as she was running away, the tall dark creature stood at the entrance of the alleyway.

“Finally,” The creature purred while walking towards the masked man. “I’ve been waiting for a snack.”

“Woah woah woah! Hang on!” Peter shouted as he stepped in front of the wide-eyed robber. The robber’s body trembled as he stood completely still. The creature narrowed their opaque white eyes.

“Get out of the way.” They hissed, their voice deep and gravely.

“Excuse me Mr. Alien, but I don’t think eating people is a good idea.” Peter replied as he nudged the robber to move. The man snapped out of his trance and began to stumble away. Suddenly, Peter felt the hairs of his arm stand straight up, and he ducked as quick as he could. As he ducked, he felt something brush against the top of the mask and the robber let out a scream. When Peter looked back up, the creature’s extended arm had caught the man and began to pull him back towards them.

“Wait! Stop!” Peter shouted as climbed up the building wall and shot webs at the man in an attempt to pull the robber away from the alien. Once he secured five strong webs, he flipped off the wall and shot a web net around the creature. As Peter landed on a tall trash bin, he began to shoot more webs around the creature’s arms and legs. While the creature strained, their grip on the man tightened and began to strangle the robber. Peter noticed and leaped to him.

“Please don’t eat me!” the man shouted, his voice cracking.

“You’re not gonna get eaten, I’ll get you out of here.” Peter assured him as he began to pry open the dark alien claws.

“If you’re quick enough, little spider.” He heard the creature chuckle. Despite his heightened senses, Peter wasn’t quick enough to realize the creature had freed their other hand. Terror pulsed through his body as he felt a clawed hand grab him by the throat. He tried to pull off the hand as well as help the robber, but the hand pulled him back to the tall creature.

“Looks like I’m getting two meals.” The creature snickered as they smiled, displaying their numerous razor sharp teeth.

“I’d really prefer it if I wasn’t an evening snack.” Peter replied as he tried to escape the creature’s death grip. He tried to keep his voice leveled, but it cracked. He tried to shoot webs at the creature’s face, but they only tightened their grip as they dogged the hits by forming a small, dark shield around them.

“Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me.” Peter quietly begged as he was pulled closer to the alien.

Just as the creature’s mouth began to open, he heard another man’s voice yell, but it sounded muffled.

“We are NOT eating a kid!” The muffled voice hollered. The creature paused and closed its mouth.

“This is not a child.” The creature hissed. “Human children are smaller.”

“There is such a thing as a teenager.” Peter added, hoping it would continue stalling the creature.

“Teenager?” The alien questioned, but it seemed their question was answered by the confusion fading from their face. Suddenly, their face twisted up.

“No! We’re hungry, and unless our liver is dinner, we won’t put either one of them down.” The creature snapped, as if they were talking to someone. There was a pause as the creature thought, and Peter took the chance to sling a web behind him to pull him out of the death grip. Before Peter tried his escape plan, the grip around his neck loosened and placed him back down on the ground. Peter watched in awe as the large creature in front of him slowly morph into a man a little bit taller than him.

“Eat my damn liver. We are not eating in front of him.” The man hissed as he watched the robber race down the alleyway. Peter couldn’t see the man very well due to the city lights glowing behind him, but he could tell he was older and probably in his early thirties.

“Get out of here kid. I can only hold the big guy back for so long.” He commented as he zipped up his brown leather jacket.

“You’re- you’re that? You turn into that??” Peter stammered out. The man scoffed, but it didn’t seem directed towards Peter.

“The name’s Venom,” the man replied. Peter paused for a moment. He recognized that voice.

“Wait, wait a sec. I know you.” Peter added as he approached the man.

“No you don’t.” The man quickly replied.

“You’re that cool LA reporter! Eddie Brock, right?” Peter chimed. The man paused.

“Since when did New Yorkers watch my content?”

“I had to watch you for a journaling class-” Peter began before mentally hitting himself. Eddie’s eyebrows rose.

“So you are a kid?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sounds like you’ve still some growing to do.”

Peter’s jaw nearly dropped.

“So what? At least I’ll be taller than you.” He jabbed, and the reporter laughed. He paused before he scoffed.

“No, he doesn’t need our protection. He’s fine on his own.”

Peter gave a confused glance at Eddie, but it probably didn’t show very well with his mask.

“Who do you keep talking to?” He questioned.

“None of your business.” Eddie replied as he turned around. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going. Keep this between us will ya?”

“Wait!” Peter called out. “You’re looking for some bad guys to eat, right?”

Eddie paused as he turned his head towards him. Peter knew Tony was going to kill him for this, but he’d prefer it if he knew where the human-eating creature was. He also hoped he could help avoid any other person from being eaten.

“I might know someone who can help.”

[paranormaloverload]

First UFOs.

UFOs (Unidentified Flying Objects) are aircraft that many believe are Aliens way of visiting the Earth. Why they would want to do that is a bigger mystery than aliens themselves.

Over the years there have been probably thousands of sightings of UFOs. If you look throughout history, depictions of UFOs go as far back as ancient paintings. Take a look.

Behind the woman, you can see what looks like a person looking up at the strange craft in the sky. And obviously this painting was long before the invention of technology, let alone aircraft. So what is it?

Of course there's conspiracies about aliens as well. Area 51 and the Government coverup being the biggest ones. Personally I do believe that the Government are in contact with aliens and try to keep that from the public.

I guess we'll have to see what comes of the Area 51 raid.

Now onto my own story.

It was a few years ago, I'm not sure how old I was, but it was at the first house I remember living in, so it I would've been very young.

Aliens is one thing that WAS actually spoke about thought-out my childhood, as my dad is a big believer in them. He'd always tell us stories of things that have happened throughout time and the times he thought he saw them. There was plenty of times when I saw something that just turned out to be an airplane or something like that.

But one, me, my dad and brother were in the backyard (I can't remember what doing), and we all said we could here this high pitched sound coming from somewhere. It was just like one continuous note, coming from seemingly nowhere.

We looked out into the alleyway, thinking it was probably just a neighbor. But it didn't sound close enough to be a neighbor. I looked up at that sky, and saw a triangle of red lights, and I knew instantly that that's where the sound was coming from.

I told my brother and dad to look up. My brother got scared, and honestly I was a little unsettled too. My dad looked at it for a while and agreed that it could've been a UFO. We took a picture of it, and kept it all these years later. I didn't ever want to get rid of it. I wanted to keep it as proof of my own experience.

Here's my picture:

Believe it or don't, that's fine, but I had to put this in here. I even put it online a few years ago.

I'm not sure if I've seen another or not, but I've have seen lights in the sky and strange formations, but I don't know if they're anything extraterrestrial or not.

Hope you enjoyed.

[willowhaired]

Help from the most unlikely places - Chapter 1: Will or will not? (part 1)

Fox Mulder × OC

Summary: Mulder and Scully are investigating a case, but the related files mysteriously vanish overnight. As they try to gather information about the case, it leads them to a UFO fanatic that Mulder has never met before - or so he thought.

Word count: 1,431

Warnings: none

A/N: I hope you guys don't minde me posting my stories from other fandoms here, too. It is one of the X Files fanfictions I'm currently working on - not my best writing, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyways. :)

'She's an underground extraterrestrial specialist. The best in the States,' Mulder went on as they climbed the stairs in the New York apartment building. The walls were tainted grey with smoke and dust, and previous graffitis showed through fresher paint layers. There were cracks in the mosaic tiles, and some steps were covered with a different set if the damage was repaired at all. The whole hallway felt greenish, even though there was no green, and the wire-woven glass windows did not allow much light in. 'Ah, so she's spooky like you,' Dana nodded as she avoided a suspicious pool of liquid on the floor. 'Yeah, she's spooky like me,' her partner repeated with a mocking tone. He stopped at a burgundy door and checked his notepad. 'This should be it.' After Scully's apprehensive look, the man knocked. When no answer came, he tried the doorbell. 'I'm coming, I'm coming!' A grating voice replied, then the door swung open, and behind it was a surprised old woman. 'Who are you?' The agents exchanged a brief, questioning look, then Mulder turned back to the lady. 'I'm Agent Mulder from the FBI, and this is Agent Scully,' he gestured towards Dana with his badge. 'Are you Miss Matthews?' 'No,' the woman spat out. 'And is there a Miss Matthews living with you?' Scully pressed on kindly. 'No,' she croaked again, but this time, she forcefully knocked her walking stick to the wall on the right. Without waiting for any more questions, or saying goodbye, she slammed the door shut. 'Well, that was unpleasant,' Scully huffed, brushing the imaginary dust off herself. 'You're driving back to DC. Mulder?' The man was fixated on the neighbouring door and took no note of the other agent's comments. Slowly, the door on the right crept open, and a young woman peeked out from behind. Her eyes were bright, greenish-brown, and inquisitive - her left eyebrow was always raised in a questioning way. Her face was framed with almost black, unruly hair strands that escaped her long braids. Her body disappeared in the many fabrics: loose, red hoodie, baggy, marble grey pants; her unmatching socks were barely visible under them.

'You!' Mulder exclaimed accusingly as he saw the girl. 'You know each other?' Scully asked her partner. 'She pretended to be a high school girl to interview me about aliens,' the man pursed his lips and Scully snorted to keep down a chuckle. 'You wanted to get some information about the X-files, didn't you?' 'It's not my fault you don't do a background check before letting anyone stroll into your office!' The young woman darted back as she leant against the doorframe. Scully stepped ahead. 'Are you Miss Matthews?' She nodded, turning her gaze to the woman. 'How can I help you?' 'I'm Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder. We're from the FBI. There's a case you might be able to help us with,' the agent explained. After a long pause, Willow opened the door wide and allowed them in.

'Sorry for the mess,' she walked ahead. 'I wasn't expecting anyone.' Both agents scanned the place: the apartment showed an eery resemblance to Mulder's basement office. There were newspaper cutouts taped on the walls with the odd bit of pictures and posters. A computer buzzed in the living room corner, and the coffee table was covered with papers and half-empty mugs. The burgundy couch was, too, littered with papers and notepads. Since the man was still sore about the prior incident, Dana took over.

'So, Miss Matthews, I heard you specialise in the investigation of extraterrestrial life.' 'Specialise is a strong word. I do spend my free time going through UFO sightings and anything related. Coffee?' She offered, walking to the kitchen that was only separated from the living room with an open wall. 'Yes, please,' the man exhaled loudly. 'But you are well-informed about such phenomena?' 'I gather as much information as readily available. And some more,' she stopped pouring the coffee. 'I'd expect that the FBI is much more notified of such occurrences.' 'We were investigating a case and all the files related mysteriously vanished,' Scully explained. 'What case?' 'Have you heard of the undecaying bodies of saints?' Agent Mulder chipped in and the young woman nodded. 'Well, another nun passed away at St Andrew's church just outside DC. During the 2 weeks it was at the coroner's office it had shown no sign of decay, and it vanished into thin air this Monday night. Just as the documents of any related cases as we began our investigation.' Will nodded knowingly. 'I'm not surprised.' 'You're not?' Dana raised an eyebrow. 'If the church is involved… Well, they've been dancing this tango for a while now. They have their ways.' 'So you're suggesting this is a religious coverup?' She asked unbelievingly. 'I wouldn't say that the whole church has a big dirty secret they try to cover… But there might be a select few that have a… Special book club.'

When they stared at her intently, Will grabbed the coffee mugs to lend them to the agents, then made her way back to the living room, and to a bookcase. She searched through the titles, pulling a heavy book from a lower shelf along with a newspaper she shuffled out of a pile. 'Was that her?' She handed the newspaper to them. It featured a case of a young nun passing, with the headline: Miracle of God - Untouched by Death. 'The very same,' Mulder confirmed. Willow skipped back to her coffee table to hastily make some room on it then shuffled through the book. 'Usually, the catholic church has a strict and extensive evaluation to determine if a corpse is incorrupt, but rarely do they do this under the nose of government agencies. If they need the body, they take the official route and get it without much struggle.' 'So whoever took this body had something else to hide than the purity of God,' the man concluded. 'But what does that mean, incorruption?' 'Incorruptibility,' Will and Mulder answered in unison, but the girl took over without missing a beat. 'When the church reconsiders someone as a saint, they have to exhume the body. Rarely, but some bodies appear to be untouched by time and decomposition. The first instance was Saint Zita, who was exhumed 300 years after she was laid to rest. Her body was intact and since been mummified; she's still on display in Italy.' 'Most of the time, these bodies even smell fresh, like flowers,' the man added. 'Surely these can be explained by completely scientific reasons,' Scully crossed her arms in front of her chest. 'Of course,' Willow chimed surprisingly. 'Nowadays the Vatican has the help of scientists to determine if there was any embalmment or other signs of human preservation. But there are cases when there are no earthly explanations.' 'So, what? The aliens preserved their bodies by a method that is still unknown and undetectable for us?' The redhead scoffed and Mulder nudged her from the side. 'See? You're coming around.' 'I think it is definitely a possibility to consider,' Will nodded. 'What I believe is that these bodies aren't even bodies… But maybe transmitters.' She went ahead and browsed through some files she had stored in paper boxes, and in the meantime, Scully leaned to her partner. 'She reminds me of someone,' she whispered and the man made a silly face. 'Actually,' her voice brought them back. 'There was a similar incident a couple years ago nearby.' 'Where?' Mulder urged her. 'In a small town near Fall River, Massachusetts. They exhumed a nun's body who died 26 years before to find it completely intact. The church keeps her in a glass casket since.' The man took the documents to scan through them then knocked on them and beamed at his partner. 'See, Scully? I told you she was the best.'

'Mulder, if I wouldn't know you I'd say you're falling in love,' Scully teased him as they walked down the stairs. 'Somebody is in a funny mood,' the man opened the door for her. He stepped out to the bustling New York street with a pack of papers and notes and a book in hand. A sense of relief came over him that he tried to spread in his body by taking a deep inhale, but that was quickly smothered by the heavy air of the city. Mulder could see the orange ticket on the car and he sighed.

That's New York for you.

He'll never park in this city again.

[funnyihope]

Shooting Stars and Jade Eyes Preveiw

Rose lay back on the hillside, arms behind her head. The dry grass tickled her arms and legs, and fireflies began to emerge as the last traces of sunset pink left the sky. Next to her, Jade lasily petted her German shepherd, Bec.

“Make a wish.”

“What?”

Jade pointed at the night sky. Out in the middle of nowhere, it was lit up with billions of stars. A comet streaked across the darkness. “There’s a shooting star. You should wish on it!”

Rose stared up at the bluish light. She vaguely contemplated saying something serious, then decided against it.

“I wish for an alien space babe to come tell me I’m the only one who can repopulate her species,” Rose said, then burst out laughing.

“Rose!” Jade protested. “Well I wish for world peace.”

Rose did her best to stifle her laughter as she looked up at the sky. A slight breeze cooled the humid summer air. The comet was still there, but it looked… bigger. As Rose narrowed her eyes, the comet split into a large and a small piece.

“Jade, look! I swear, that comet just split in two!” Rose pointed at the smaller bit, which was getting closer and closer. In fact, Rose was starting to doubt that it was a comet at all. As the white light fell past the horizon, it grew brighter, shining through minute gaps in the woods.

Rose and Jade stared at the light, then jumped as the flash was followed by a tremendous boom. Bec stood, growling at the direction of the sound. The larger part of the comet continued to arc across the sky until it disappeared as well, though without any loud noise.

“Holy shit.” Jade stood, walking backwards towards their van. “Rose, we are going to check this out.”

“You kidding me?” Rose asked, although she too stood and walked towards the car. “What if there’s a forest fire, or police officers, or-”

“C’mon, Rose, aren’t you curious? Plus, meteorites can be worth a lot of money, and they might name the rest of the comet after us!” Jade coaxed Bec into the back seat of the van, and before Rose knew it, Jade had pushed her into shotgun and was revving up the engine.

“Okay, but we’re not getting too close to it,” Rose insisted, buckling her seatbelt. The van trundled out of the parking lot of the crappy restaurant they had eaten dinner at and down the dusty path towards the forest. As they approached the source of the light, the smell of hot metal and smoke hit Rose’s nose. When the road ended, Jade turned off the engine, and the sound of crackling fire became apparent.

“You sure you want to do this?” Rose asked. Jade gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah, just let me get some stuff.” She hopped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the trailer they had rented. She returned with two flashlights, a fire extinguisher, her phone, and her shotgun. “Okay, lets go.”

“I thought you didn’t bring your gun,” Rose said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Jade shrugged.

“You know what they say, better safe than sorry,” she said, double checking the safety on her gun. “C’mon, lets check this out.”

Rose stepped out of the car and followed Jade into the forest. Apart from the gentle crackle of distant flames and the soft crunch of twigs underfoot, the woods were eerily silent- all the creatures had no doubt been scared away by whatever had landed.

As they approached the source of the light, something in Rose’s mind convinced her that the meteoroid had been crawling with aliens, here to conquer their feeble planet. Or maybe some extraterrestrial disease that would make her and Jade stumble back into civilization with a taste for human flesh! Rose shivered despite the warmth of the night and the nearby flames, and gripped her flashlight tighter.

Finally, the girls arrived at the place where the comet had fallen. It had created a giant crater, at least 50 feet across. Several trees stood half-burned near the edges, but judging by the smooth surface of the crater all the ones inside had been vaporized on contact. In the very center, a rectangular object glinted.

The first thing Rose noticed was that the object was not a meteoroid- it appeared to be some sort of spaceship. It was made of metal that had once been painted red, based on the scraps still clinging to the body. One engine was still attached to its wing, while the other had snapped off and was burning with a flame so bright it lit the entire crater. The windshield had been completely shattered, raining glass on the cockpit.

“Oh my god,” Rose finally managed. “It- we- it’s a fucking UFO!” Jade merely nodded, gazing out into the ashen crater. And although every scrap of common sense she possessed told her not to, Rose began carefully descend into the smoking pit.

This time it was Jade who protested. “Rose, c’mon, lets just call the fire department or something!” she pleaded. But Rose did not listen. She crept towards the flaming engine and sprayed it with the fire extinguisher, plunging the forest into darkness once again.

She stood still for a moment until Jade switched on her flashlight. The light was pitiful in comparison to the flames, but still enough to see by, and probably less likely to kill one of them. Rose took her friend’s cue and turned her flashlight on as well. She shone the light on the bowl of the crater, guiding Jade as she climbed down beside her. Finally, they both stood side by side, looking at the spaceship.

Something rustled.

Rose yelped, and Jade quickly brandished her gun. They stood for a while, shining their flashlights all around, but they didn’t see a single person. Just as Rose had convinced herself it was nothing, the rustling came again, this time accompanied by the clinking of broken glass. Jade took a step forwards, peering around the ship at the dessicated cockpit. There was more clinking and rustling, and Jade gasped. Rose quickly rushed to her side as Jade took a step back.

“There’s someone- something in there,” she whispered, hazel eyes wide with terror. Rose gulped and switched off her flashlight. The less visible they were, the better. Then, careful not to stir a single pebble on the ground, she tiptoed around until she could see into the cockpit.

There was, indeed, something in there. At first, Rose thought it was just a freakishly tall, freakishly skinny human. Then, she saw the skin and hair so white they were almost glowing, the wicked sharp horns jutting from its skull, the opaque green liquid dripping from its wounds. The creature was also certainly dead, based on the shard of metal stuck in its side.

Rose gulped. “Jade, there’s nothing in here. Well, nothing alive at least.” Rose beckoned, switching on her flashlight again. This turned out to be a mistake. The dead creature was so white, it reflected the beam directly into Rose’s eyes. She stumbled backwards, tripping over an oddly shaped rock, and landed directly on her ass.

“What the hell?” Rose grumbled, picking up the rock. It was perfectly round, and uniform grey, with oddly shaped golden spines poking out. She stood, holding it up. It was surprisingly heavy, but the spikes gave Rose handholds as she carried it over to Jade for inspection.

“Weird,” Jade murmured, taking the sphere with some effort. She turned it over, rubbing her finger on the forked end of a spike. “Do you think it came from the ship?”

“Oh, definitely,” Rose answered. “Though, how it survived the crash, I don’t know.”

Jade pondered, tossing the sphere up and down. Suddenly, a sharp, conical spike jammed into her palm. Jade yelped, dropping the orb with a thunk on the ground. As she shone the flashlight on the wound, light bounced off the alien’s form.

It sat up.

Rose and Jade stood perfectly still, hardly breathing. As Jade slowly turned off the flashlights, the alien calmly pulled the shard of metal from its side and wrapped the wound in a piece of fabric pulled from the cockpit seat. Then, it looked right at them.

The eyes were the only spot of colour on the entire creature- deep, bluish green, and glowing with an unearthly light. They bobbed and raised as the creature stood and stalked towards Rose.

“Don’t- don’t come any closer,” Jade announced, aiming her gun at the alien. “I have a- I have a gun, and I- I will not hesitate-” The creature turned to her, and Jade fumbled with the safety switch. Before she could fire, the alien tugged the gun easily out of her hands, flipped the safety back on, and tossed it to the ground. Rose shook. This thing was smart.

“Rose!” Jade whispered. She hadn’t even realized her friend had moved, but Jade was slowly inching towards her weapon. “Rose, don’t just stand there! Just follow me!” Rose didn’t dare take her eyes off the creature, but she did as Jade instructed, carefully inching out of the creature’s path. Her foot hit something sharp, and she looked over to see one of the orb’s spikes poking through the sole of her sneaker and into her heel.

The alien glanced down, then looked straight at Rose and hissed, revealing a human face full of very not- human fangs. Rose turned, but before she could run, the creature was upon her, its body weighing her down, its blood soaking her dress. Jade fired a shot above their heads, but the alien didn’t seem to notice or care. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain of the creature’s fangs slicing open her throat.

But it never came. After a few moments, the alien left her alone and rushed over to the strange sphere. She turned it over in her arms, clicking anxiously. Finally, she hugged the sphere close to her chest and began to make a strange sound, somewhere between a cat’s purr and a breeze rushing between trees. The panic slowly ebbed from Rose’s body.

“Are you okay?” Jade asked, rushing over and patting Rose’s arms, ribs, and torso. “Did you hit your head? Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” Rose answered, sitting up. The alien was a lot less frightening, and a lot more human out in the open moonlight. Beneath the scraps of sturdy black and red fabric that were probably once her clothes, the creature was thin and frail. She chirped and clicked softly to the orb, stroking some of the blunter spines, even as her own wounds bled.

“...Do you think it’s her baby?” Jade finally asked. Her gun drooped as she inspected the creature.

“I don’t know,” Rose said. “But whatever it is, it must be very important.”

After a moment, the alien seemed to remember that the two girls were there. She stood, and slowly made her way towards them. Jade and Rose stepped back, and the creature stopped. She stooped until she was eye to eye with them, one knee on the ground. Then, careful not to show too many teeth, she spoke.

Although neither girl knew what a single word meant, they knew somehow that she was asking for help. As she knelt, a mix of tears and blood streamed from her eyes, and she made a defeated sort of squeak.

Jade narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just leave,” she told Rose. Rose took one last look at the alien, then followed Jade out of the crater and back to the van.

It was only walking back to the car when Rose realized how chilly the air had become. She welcomed the warmth of the van as they got in. Then she realized that the alien had followed them and was standing outside the car. Bec poked his head out of the window, but didn’t seem too fazed by the creature.

“Go away,” Rose yelled. The alien just stood there, looking up at them with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. “Leave,” Rose said, with much less vigor than the first time. The alien walked over to Bec and patted his head. Bec barked happily, licking the green blood from her hand. Jade stretched over Rose to look at the alien.

“Well, Bec certainly seems to trust her,” Jade said. She smiled a bit as the alien gently headbutted her dog, making the same cooing sound that she had made at the egg.

Rose reached over and unlocked the backdoor of the van. When the alien didn’t notice, she reached out and opened it. The alien nodded at her and climbed in, much to Bec’s delight. She curled up protectively around the egg as Jade hit the gas and drove out of the forest.

The crash must have exhausted her, because the alien was sound asleep by the time they parked. It felt bad leaving her there, but there was no way that the two of them could carry her around to the trailer attached to the back. Rose settled for covering her with a soft felt blanket as Jade, with some effort, coaxed Bec away from her and into the trailer.

When she was asleep, the alien seemed more human. In fact, besides the horns and fangs, she was kind of… cute. Rose quickly resolved to find her some intact clothes in the morning. As she returned to the trailer, Jade hardly said a word as she brushed her teeth and crawled into her sleeping bag. Rose had thought she had fallen asleep, when Jade turned over and spoke.

“Well, Rose,” she said. “Looks like your wish came true.”

[a-crown-of-glass]

Sins of the Father Summary: What is the price of living forever? Spencer learns that his partner of five years lives with a burden only a parent can understand, and the wounds run back centuries. Warning: Murder, death, brief mentions of suicide, war, Notes: I slapped this together on the spur of the moment. The premise loosely focuses on an RP between me and @dontshootmespence and the relationship between Spencer and my OC (well... more like a sci-fi/fantasy adaptation of the historical figure for an upcoming original series) Yeon Namsaeng  Hope you enjoy! It hasn’t been edited or betad again it just came to me in the heat of the moment. @lureofthesiren Namsaeng sat on his leather couch in his large luxurious living-room. His gaze was transfixed on the small wooden box that sat on the glass coffee table before him. It’s old wooden shell weathered with time mirroring the age of the contents within. His long slender fingers ran along its smooth frame as he opened it and looked at the ancient jewelry held within. All he had were these mementos of a dynasty now marked in the pages of history. A soft knock wrapped at the door. Namsaeng’s ears perked as he heard the familiar footsteps against his marble floor. “Hey, I would’ve come sooner when I got your message, but, I was tied up in this case. Everything okay?” Spencer’s calm but nervous voice broke the pensive silence that hung in the air. As much as he tried, he couldn’t fully turn off the profiling part of his mind. When Namsaeng didn’t answer right away, the gears whirred deep within- imprinting every detail to his memory. The way Namsaeng’s short hair caressed his high-set cheekbones and framed his effeminate warm-toned oval face. How his round almond eyes were focused on an old wooden box he held. His thin wiry body was relaxed- even in the tight black leather he was wearing from the band’s photo shoot earlier. Spencer could only guess what his boyfriend of five years was thinking. All the profiling skills he had couldn’t fully unravel the layers of Namsaeng’s psyche. Only when he learned his boyfriend was 1300 years old did it make sense why. His walls were fortified with over a millennium of mental conditioning, and the horrors of immortality and changing history only made him stronger. “You wanted to talk about my past,” Namsaeng’s voice broke the silence. He looked up, his cat-like lips pressing into a calm smile- dimpling his soft angular cheeks. He patted the leather seat next to him, “I thought I’d show you something first.” Spencer’s brows furrowed, and he idly licked his lips. He expected a few reactions from Namsaeng after their talk the previous night; Namsaeng’s usual rock ‘n roll diva attitude, the aggressive – now- ex-politician image he’d take on when he felt threatened or cornered, or even his dismissive closed off demeanor when he couldn’t think of any comeback. This was none of those and for a half a second, Spencer thought San Ho- Namsaeng’s other boyfriend who’s shared centuries-old past still baffled him- bribed him with alcohol and sex in exchange for this talk. “What?” Namsaeng’s warm smile fell, “San Ho was nagging me like an old hag all morning to talk to you today, but, if you don’t want to—” “No no, I do…” Spencer took off his shoes and approached the couch. “I- I just didn’t expect you to want to discuss Goguryeo is all.” Spencer sat beside him and focused on the box. Since he came to Seoul, Spencer’s new job dealt with more than just the criminally insane, he joined an organization known as UMBRA, that had dealt with extraterrestrials and international crime organizations that used or sold alien tech on the black market. He never thought that the former U.N. representative- turned Rockstar after resigning- that he’d been dating for five years was an immortal from the Three Kingdom’s dynasty. Spencer barely grasped the reality that this was all real, but, being in love with a thirteen-hundred-year-old former military leader wasn’t easy to process. He still asked himself how he ended up with a borderline narcissist with psychopathic tendencies and sadistic streak. Maybe it was his charm and charisma, his profound knowledge of East-Asian history- which now he knew why- or his confidence and interest in music. Spencer loved intelligent and passionate people, and Namsaeng was all those things despite his flaws. Namsaeng pulled out an ornate gold and silver hairpin. Its designs were customary to Goguryeo and its detail reflected the social status Namsaeng had back then. “I don’t remember a lot, but, I think my mother gave this to me.” It was worn down now, the gold dull and designs worn. Spencer took it from him and admired it. Some of the gems that were in it had gone missing, despite that, it was still elegant. "what was your mother like?” Spencer asked as he passed the hairpiece back to him. His mind spiraled with questions, what was Yeon Gaesomun really like? Was he truly the military dictator that history made him out to be? What kind of life did he lead all this time? Did he have other families or just his son? How did he become immortal? Spencer knew if he asked all these questions Namsaeng would close up on him and withdraw. He had to be mindful of his words and questions. “She was quiet and gentle. My father didn’t like outspoken women, but, he did admire women who were intelligent- especially in the arts and literature.” He smiled a little, “she used to write a lot. When my father was away, she would read to me and my brothers… and when I had Eun San, she’d read to him too.” Namsaeng’s expression grew nostalgic, his smile wasn’t his usual cocky one, rather, genuine and tender. “Eun San loved reading and music. Mother thought he’d become a scholar.” “Maybe he got the musical talent from you?” Spencer teased, then bit his lip when Namsaeng rolled his eyes. “My father wanted all of us to make our country strong and to focus our attention on stopping Tang’s invasion.” Namsaeng’s warm voice hardened and became withdrawn as he pulled out a gold ring. “I don’t remember where I got this, but, I always liked it.” He said and passed it over to Spencer. “Eun San would constantly beg me to let him wear this thing when he was five.” He mused. “Why didn’t you give it to him?” Spencer said as he took the ring and looked it over. His lips quirked a little, “were you a diva back then too?” His tone came light and playful. He chuckled when Namsaeng glared at him. “No, he had a habit of taking off and losing them or getting ink on them when he’d paint.” Namsaeng took back the gold ring and placed it on his index finger. His eyes lingered on his hand, the weight of the metal was foreign to him now. He used to wear it all the time- and still would if he could- but, having not worn for centuries, it felt strange on his fingers compared to the occasional jewelry he wore now. It was no surprise that he was holding back. Even though they were talking, and he was showing him his jewelry, they weren’t really talking. How much does he remember about that era? It was normal to forget over time, and if he actively tried to forget it because of the emotional impact, it would make sense. His brows knit together upon seeing a small metal vile in the bottom of the box. At this rate, the only way he’d truly get answers about his past is if he pried a bit. “What’s this?” He boldly reached into the box and grabbed it. “Hey!” Namsaeng’s hand shot out and ripped it from his hand. “Don’t touch that!” His demeanor hardened as his mental and emotional barriers shot up. Silence hung in the air and Namsaeng realized this was a mistake. Taking off the ring, he put his belongings back and closed the box, “forget it, this was a bad idea.” He got up and walked to his room to put it away. “What’s wrong?” Spencer rose to his feet and went after him, “Hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.” What was significant about that bottle that warranted such a reaction? Spencer’s mind raced trying to think of the answer. Namsaeng was thirteen-hundred-years old, no doubt in that time he’d seen many loved ones die… what if that bottle was his way out? Spencer’s chest tightened, and his stomach knotted at the thought. “Wait, wait, let's talk about this please.” He pressed on. He didn’t show signs akin to suicidal tendencies, but, then again profiling someone like him was near impossible. He knew him, but, Spencer realized that he didn’t truly know anything about him. Everything he knew about his lover was- in a way- a projection of himself- much akin to the Rockstar persona he wore when he’d put on his leather and makeup and become “Kumiho” for his fans. Namsaeng sighed, taking a moment to calm his thoughts and frustration. This wasn’t what he’d hoped for, all he wanted was to reminisce about the good memories surrounding Goguryeo before its fall and talk about his family. But all it did was agitate old scars and remind him that… “Would you resent your father if you had to protect him?” His hands gripped the sealed box as he stood in the middle of his bedroom. His anger melted into dejection as his downcast gaze focused on it. He couldn’t look at Spencer even though he saw him standing in the doorway from out of the corner of his eye. Spencer tilted his head slightly and licked his lips. “I wouldn’t know. I try not to think of him too much.” What was there to say about a man that abandoned his son and mentally ill mother? Nothing. “I took care of my mother since my father left us, but I don’t resent her for it. Why?” This wasn’t entirely a fair comparison, but, then there wasn’t much in his life that could compare to what Namsaeng had experienced. What did he expect him to say? Of course, he’d have no way of understanding something like this. This was different. Throughout his life, Namsaeng regretted many things, things he did and didn’t do. Perhaps living indefinitely was his punishment for his sins. “Never mind. It’s…” He sucked in a deep breath and tried to dodge this whole conversation. “Forget I said anything.” “Namsaeng, please, talk to me.” He wasn’t about to let it go. If he did, he’d likely never get this chance again with him. “Please, for once talk to me.” “What is there to say? History speaks for itself. My father was a warlord, I was framed for treason and fled to Tang with the help of Eun San. I used my influence to get a high ranking military position among the very nation who plotted to invade us. My brothers tried to assassinate me because they thought my new military position and connections would be their undoing.” He scoffed bitterly. “Eun San was only fifteen...” He began, “when I came back to Pyongyang and found him on the floor suffocating and choking up blood.” Namsaeng pulled the bottle out faced Spencer holding the bottle in his hand. “I keep this, so I never forget the price of a reputation. My son was killed because he warned me and insisted I flee to Tang for safety.” Resentment boiled within him, as much as he tried to bury the past, the guilt still ate at him. “I failed my country and my family.” What bothered him most, wasn’t just the murder and the betrayal- it went deeper than that. Spencer took a couple of steps forward and reached out to Namsaeng only to stop himself when Namsaeng withdrew. “It wasn’t your fault. Eun San loved you and tried to protect you—” “I’m forgetting him! What kind of father forgets their child!” His hand clenched the metal bottle causing his knuckles to pale. “I look at these things and can hardly remember anything from that time. I loved him- I still do- and I can’t remember what his laughter sounds like or his smile… I can barely remember his face. Am I going to forget him completely one day?” The hand that clenched the bottle trembled from how hard he squeezed. “The only vivid memory I have of him was how he died.” The anger in his voice shook with sorrow and guilt. His desperate eyes searched Spencer’s for any sign of understanding or answers. That’s what he was best at, explaining things like this- finding solutions. “It’s normal to forget. The only real memory of my father was when he left.” What was he supposed to say? It wasn’t Namsaeng’s fault that he couldn’t remember, nor was he to blame for his son’s murder. “Your brain can only retain so much information and over time the details fade.” He pressed his lips together as he added,  “Namsaeng, you’re not responsible for what they did to him. I’m sure he knew what he was risking when he told you.” Spencer reached out and rested his hand over the hand that gripped the bottle and gently squeezed it in reassurance. As Namsaeng started to calm down, a thought occurred to Spencer. “I don’t know if this will work but, we have a way to help victims recall certain details and events when they witness something traumatic.” Thought in Namsaeng’s case it might not work given how long ago it was. “We could see if it’ll help you remember Eun San, but, there’s a chance—” “All right.” Namsaeng murmured. Even if it didn’t work, he wanted to try anyway. He had to hold onto his memory for as long as he could. To Namsaeng, the greatest sin was... ... to forget his son.

[bionic-bat-archive]

Sins of the Father

Summary:

What is the price of living forever?

Spencer learns that his partner of five years lives with a burden only a parent can understand, and the wounds run back centuries.

Warning: Murder, death, brief mentions of suicide, war,

Notes: I slapped this together on the spur of the moment. The premise loosely focuses on an RP between me and @dontshootmespence and the relationship between Spencer and my OC (well... more like a sci-fi/fantasy adaptation of the historical figure for an upcoming original series) Yeon Namsaeng

 Hope you enjoy! It hasn’t been edited or betad again it just came to me in the heat of the moment.

@g-liveblogs

Namsaeng sat on his leather couch in his large luxurious living-room. His gaze was transfixed on the small wooden box that sat on the glass coffee table before him. It’s old wooden shell weathered with time mirroring the age of the contents within.

His long slender fingers ran along its smooth frame as he opened it and looked at the ancient jewelry held within. All he had were these mementos of a dynasty now marked in the pages of history.

A soft knock wrapped at the door. Namsaeng’s ears perked as he heard the familiar footsteps against his marble floor.

“Hey, I would’ve come sooner when I got your message, but, I was tied up in this case. Everything okay?” Spencer’s calm but nervous voice broke the pensive silence that hung in the air. As much as he tried, he couldn’t fully turn off the profiling part of his mind. When Namsaeng didn’t answer right away, the gears whirred deep within- imprinting every detail to his memory. The way Namsaeng’s short hair caressed his high-set cheekbones and framed his effeminate warm-toned oval face. How his round almond eyes were focused on an old wooden box he held. His thin wiry body was relaxed- even in the tight black leather he was wearing from the band’s photo shoot earlier.

Spencer could only guess what his boyfriend of five years was thinking. All the profiling skills he had couldn’t fully unravel the layers of Namsaeng’s psyche. Only when he learned his boyfriend was 1300 years old did it make sense why. His walls were fortified with over a millennium of mental conditioning, and the horrors of immortality and changing history only made him stronger.

“You wanted to talk about my past,” Namsaeng’s voice broke the silence. He looked up, his cat-like lips pressing into a calm smile- dimpling his soft angular cheeks. He patted the leather seat next to him, “I thought I’d show you something first.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, and he idly licked his lips. He expected a few reactions from Namsaeng after their talk the previous night; Namsaeng’s usual rock ‘n roll diva attitude, the aggressive – now- ex-politician image he’d take on when he felt threatened or cornered, or even his dismissive closed off demeanor when he couldn’t think of any comeback. This was none of those and for a half a second, Spencer thought San Ho- Namsaeng’s other boyfriend who’s shared centuries-old past still baffled him- bribed him with alcohol and sex in exchange for this talk.

“What?” Namsaeng’s warm smile fell, “San Ho was nagging me like an old hag all morning to talk to you today, but, if you don’t want to—”

“No no, I do…” Spencer took off his shoes and approached the couch. “I- I just didn’t expect you to want to discuss Goguryeo is all.” Spencer sat beside him and focused on the box. Since he came to Seoul, Spencer’s new job dealt with more than just the criminally insane, he joined an organization known as UMBRA, that had dealt with extraterrestrials and international crime organizations that used or sold alien tech on the black market.

He never thought that the former U.N. representative- turned Rockstar after resigning- that he’d been dating for five years was an immortal from the Three Kingdom’s dynasty. Spencer barely grasped the reality that this was all real, but, being in love with a thirteen-hundred-year-old former military leader wasn’t easy to process. He still asked himself how he ended up with a borderline narcissist with psychopathic tendencies and sadistic streak. Maybe it was his charm and charisma, his profound knowledge of East-Asian history- which now he knew why- or his confidence and interest in music. Spencer loved intelligent and passionate people, and Namsaeng was all those things despite his flaws.

Namsaeng pulled out an ornate gold and silver hairpin. Its designs were customary to Goguryeo and its detail reflected the social status Namsaeng had back then. “I don’t remember a lot, but, I think my mother gave this to me.” It was worn down now, the gold dull and designs worn.

Spencer took it from him and admired it. Some of the gems that were in it had gone missing, despite that, it was still elegant. “what was your mother like?” Spencer asked as he passed the hairpiece back to him. His mind spiraled with questions, what was Yeon Gaesomun really like? Was he truly the military dictator that history made him out to be? What kind of life did he lead all this time? Did he have other families or just his son? How did he become immortal? Spencer knew if he asked all these questions Namsaeng would close up on him and withdraw. He had to be mindful of his words and questions.

“She was quiet and gentle. My father didn’t like outspoken women, but, he did admire women who were intelligent- especially in the arts and literature.” He smiled a little, “she used to write a lot. When my father was away, she would read to me and my brothers… and when I had Eun San, she’d read to him too.”

Namsaeng’s expression grew nostalgic, his smile wasn’t his usual cocky one, rather, genuine and tender. “Eun San loved reading and music. Mother thought he’d become a scholar.”

“Maybe he got the musical talent from you?” Spencer teased, then bit his lip when Namsaeng rolled his eyes.

“My father wanted all of us to make our country strong and to focus our attention on stopping Tang’s invasion.” Namsaeng’s warm voice hardened and became withdrawn as he pulled out a gold ring. “I don’t remember where I got this, but, I always liked it.” He said and passed it over to Spencer. “Eun San would constantly beg me to let him wear this thing when he was five.” He mused.

“Why didn’t you give it to him?” Spencer said as he took the ring and looked it over. His lips quirked a little, “were you a diva back then too?” His tone came light and playful. He chuckled when Namsaeng glared at him.

“No, he had a habit of taking off and losing them or getting ink on them when he’d paint.” Namsaeng took back the gold ring and placed it on his index finger. His eyes lingered on his hand, the weight of the metal was foreign to him now. He used to wear it all the time- and still would if he could- but, having not worn for centuries, it felt strange on his fingers compared to the occasional jewelry he wore now.

It was no surprise that he was holding back. Even though they were talking, and he was showing him his jewelry, they weren’t really talking. How much does he remember about that era? It was normal to forget over time, and if he actively tried to forget it because of the emotional impact, it would make sense. His brows knit together upon seeing a small metal vile in the bottom of the box. At this rate, the only way he’d truly get answers about his past is if he pried a bit. “What’s this?” He boldly reached into the box and grabbed it.

“Hey!” Namsaeng’s hand shot out and ripped it from his hand. “Don’t touch that!” His demeanor hardened as his mental and emotional barriers shot up. Silence hung in the air and Namsaeng realized this was a mistake. Taking off the ring, he put his belongings back and closed the box, “forget it, this was a bad idea.” He got up and walked to his room to put it away.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer rose to his feet and went after him, “Hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.” What was significant about that bottle that warranted such a reaction? Spencer’s mind raced trying to think of the answer.

Namsaeng was thirteen-hundred-years old, no doubt in that time he’d seen many loved ones die… what if that bottle was his way out? Spencer’s chest tightened, and his stomach knotted at the thought. “Wait, wait, let's talk about this please.” He pressed on. He didn’t show signs akin to suicidal tendencies, but, then again profiling someone like him was near impossible. He knew him, but, Spencer realized that he didn’t truly know anything about him. Everything he knew about his lover was- in a way- a projection of himself- much akin to the Rockstar persona he wore when he’d put on his leather and makeup and become “Kumiho” for his fans.

Namsaeng sighed, taking a moment to calm his thoughts and frustration. This wasn’t what he’d hoped for, all he wanted was to reminisce about the good memories surrounding Goguryeo before its fall and talk about his family. But all it did was agitate old scars and remind him that…

“Would you resent your father if you had to protect him?” His hands gripped the sealed box as he stood in the middle of his bedroom. His anger melted into dejection as his downcast gaze focused on it. He couldn’t look at Spencer even though he saw him standing in the doorway from out of the corner of his eye.

Spencer tilted his head slightly and licked his lips. “I wouldn’t know. I try not to think of him too much.” What was there to say about a man that abandoned his son and mentally ill mother? Nothing.

“I took care of my mother since my father left us, but I don’t resent her for it. Why?” This wasn’t entirely a fair comparison, but, then there wasn’t much in his life that could compare to what Namsaeng had experienced.

What did he expect him to say? Of course, he’d have no way of understanding something like this. This was different. Throughout his life, Namsaeng regretted many things, things he did and didn’t do. Perhaps living indefinitely was his punishment for his sins. “Never mind. It’s…” He sucked in a deep breath and tried to dodge this whole conversation. “Forget I said anything.”

“Namsaeng, please, talk to me.” He wasn’t about to let it go. If he did, he’d likely never get this chance again with him. “Please, for once talk to me.”

“What is there to say? History speaks for itself. My father was a warlord, I was framed for treason and fled to Tang with the help of Eun San. I used my influence to get a high ranking military position among the very nation who plotted to invade us. My brothers tried to assassinate me because they thought my new military position and connections would be their undoing.” He scoffed bitterly.

“Eun San was only fifteen...” He began, “when I came back to Pyongyang and found him on the floor suffocating and choking up blood.” Namsaeng pulled the bottle out faced Spencer holding the bottle in his hand. “I keep this, so I never forget the price of a reputation. My son was killed because he warned me and insisted I flee to Tang for safety.” Resentment boiled within him, as much as he tried to bury the past, the guilt still ate at him. “I failed my country and my family.” What bothered him most, wasn’t just the murder and the betrayal- it went deeper than that.

Spencer took a couple of steps forward and reached out to Namsaeng only to stop himself when Namsaeng withdrew. “It wasn’t your fault. Eun San loved you and tried to protect you—”

“I’m forgetting him! What kind of father forgets their child!” His hand clenched the metal bottle causing his knuckles to pale. “I look at these things and can hardly remember anything from that time. I loved him- I still do- and I can’t remember what his laughter sounds like or his smile… I can barely remember his face. Am I going to forget him completely one day?” 

The hand that clenched the bottle trembled from how hard he squeezed. “The only vivid memory I have of him was how he died.” The anger in his voice shook with sorrow and guilt. His desperate eyes searched Spencer’s for any sign of understanding or answers. That’s what he was best at, explaining things like this- finding solutions.

“It’s normal to forget. The only real memory of my father was when he left.” What was he supposed to say? It wasn’t Namsaeng’s fault that he couldn’t remember, nor was he to blame for his son’s murder. “Your brain can only retain so much information and over time the details fade.” He pressed his lips together as he added, “Namsaeng, you’re not responsible for what they did to him. I’m sure he knew what he was risking when he told you.” Spencer reached out and rested his hand over the hand that gripped the bottle and gently squeezed it in reassurance. As Namsaeng started to calm down, a thought occurred to Spencer.

“I don’t know if this will work but, we have a way to help victims recall certain details and events when they witness something traumatic.” Thought in Namsaeng’s case it might not work given how long ago it was. “We could see if it’ll help you remember Eun San, but, there’s a chance—”

“All right.” Namsaeng murmured. Even if it didn’t work, he wanted to try anyway. He had to hold onto his memory for as long as he could.

To Namsaeng, the greatest sin was...

... to forget his son.

[18-sweet-poisoned-heart]

Not from this world

Chapter 1 - The things are going to change

I’m sorry that this chapter is short and I’m sorry if it seems like it doesn’t make sense at all, but this is like a kind of introduction to the actual story line. I hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts about it. <3

Jonathan Raeken remembers that day as if it happened yesterday. So vivid in his mind that he could tell every detail precicely because that was the day his life changed completely.

It all started with a spark of light painting the pitch black sky of the nigh, so beautiful and yet so dangerous. And then it was the loud “boom” in the desert and the power dropped, leaving in the dark the whole Las Vegas that was spreading a miles away from the collision place. The irony is the fact that whtever that thing was, dopped near the 51 area, making the work easier for them to inspect everything.

Jonathat was amongst the people that went inspecting the fenomen. At first he didn’t know how to react when he found a ten feet depth crater, but then he saw what caused it and the shock turned into amazement. He watched with wide eyes the whole picture, wondering how something so little could have done something so big, so much distruction behind him.

It seemd to sense the presence of the soldiers gathered silently around the hole. Slowly it raised it’s head looking around him curious, eyeing every person with its purple eyes. It was something so beautiful, too beautiful to be human obviously. But as beautiful as it looks it’s also deadly, giving by the mess around it. Jonathan couldn’t not observe the emptiness behind those purple orbs that gave you chills whenever you were looking into them, the intensity that pierced your soul, making you want to do something else but be in that place. The soldiers started to back down, but Raeken didn’t even flinch.

But why would they be scared by a little boy?, Jonathan asked himself as he took in the features of the creature that laied on the ground, curled up in a small ball. But he knew that calling him a “creature” it was wrong because whatever it was there it looked more human than anything else.

He took in his features. His skin is pale, so pale that for a brief moment    Raeken thought the boy was sick. A tuff of brown hair was covering his head, falling over his inhuman eyes. It looked at the same time human and inhuman, it looked alien, like nothing from this world, but yet as something that belonged here.

Jonathan started walking over the edge of the pit, careful at the abrupt land. He stripped off his jacket and placed it over the little shacking figure. He lifted him into his arms and started recreating his previous path. The little shacking bundle in his arms clung on him for dear life, little skinny hands curled in his shirt. He looked at the little thing that hid his face in the jacket, trying to get more wormth. He felt his heart warming at the sight and for a moment he thought about his own son, about the little Theo that makes the same thing when he gets home late and finds him asleep on the couch, exhaustion knocking him out while waiting for his father, forcing Jonathan to carry him to his room.

And that was the moment he knew that once with this kid, a lot of things are going to change.

And he was right, things really changed because after the kid landed on their planet, a lot other beings did the same. Every day for the past 3 weeks there was the same cycle of events, but there weren’t just children found, there were also men, women, teenegers, all looking like normal human beings, but they all had this characteristic that made you change your thoughts about them.

Violet eyes, very pale skin and the kind of cold beauty that attracts you, but also makes you to want to put a considerable distance between you and them. Probably it was the intense stare, or the fact that they never talked, not even a single word or sound. They never tried to fight the soldiers as they pulled them in the special capsules that isolated them from the possible danger that they may represent, as other forms of life from other planets tried before.

The scientist from the base are trying to figure out from which planet are this wonderful creatures are coming from. They have the theory that there might be a planet similar with this if this kind of aliens have the same physic basics as the human body has. So they want to find it and colonize it, as something preventive for the bad future of this Earth. But all was in vain because they still didn’t speak, just standing in a corner, watching with a curious gaze what’s happening around them.

But Jonathan didn’t care. He grew some interest in the little boy he rescued, he tried every day to make him speak, at least to communicate with someone, not jut in scientistic ways, but he just fixed his blank, bright purple stare at him before turning his attention elsewhere. And this was the first day of the supposedly 4th week since he’s there. Jonathan started to feel tired of all of these, of wanting to make the kid speak and then take care of others too.

“Can you at least tell me what’s your name? I mean, I wanna be friends with you and friends know each other’s names”, he talked in a gentle maneer, as he squatted in front of the brown haired boy that  was sitting on the bed. He still didn’t say a word, following his actions warily. “I’m Jonathan Raeken”, he added, stretching an arm, waiting to be shaked.

The boy shifted his look on the hand. He frowned his brows and raised a hesitant finger, pocking in curiosity at the stratched hand. Jonathan smiled at that.

“You grip my hand, like this…”, he started, guiding the little palm to wrap around the big one of his “and then you shake it, like this”, he added, starting to shake his arm in a slow motion.

The little boy’s face crept into an amazed smile, his head tilted like a curious puppy’s. And that was the first reaction he managed to get from him. Baby steps, that’s all he needed.

Unfortunetly, they were interrupted by someone that brought the child’s meal, forcing Raeken to follow the path back outside the cell. But before he got out of the door he swore he heard a little voice whispering ‘Liam’.

 Liam couldn’t resist anymore in this cell. It made him go crazy.

When he landed on Earth, all he wanted to do is find a safe place and hide from the ones that destroyed his world. At least that’s what his parents told him to do when they placed him in the light capsule and sending him here, where this nice man found him. Only to take him in this sort of weird prison for extraterrestrial beings.

Once he got there, he was dressed up, fed with something that had a horrible taste and interrogated with questions like “Where are you from?”, “Are you alone here?”, “What are your intentions on this planet?”. He was scared, he had to admit, but all he did was to keep his face blank and stay silent.

Then he was escorted through a lane between some cells, all inhabitated by creatures of different size, color, form, behavior or number of members. He gulped, looking restless from side to side at the other forms of lives. All eyes were on him, making him to feel more uncomfortable than he feels already.

And then other inhabitants of his former planet started to show up too, and all the agitation around him started to fade, the only attention he got was from the people that brought him food and clean clothes, that were too big for him and the man that saved him. He started feeling annoyed by this, always being asked questions, basics or related to the ones that he was asked by those scary people dressed in white clothes. Don’t get him wrong, he really was greatful that he wasn’t left freezing to death , but for once, he would really appreciate if he were left alone, especially since this world confused the hell out of him, with all these habits and objects.

Days passed and he decided that all he has to do is to give in and adapt to the medium he is locked in. He really started to tolerate the presence of Captain Raeken, things evolving from blank stares to short phrases like “yes”, “no”, “it’s okay” and “thank you”. The man really seemed to enjoy the progress and Liam felt bad that he didn’t feel anything regarding this, but it’s hard to do it in this awful environment.

And then there was this one day when he started speaking about his son and how alike they are and Liam really started listening to the way he described fascinated the boy, a glimpse of interest clinging inside of him. This person must be really important for him, telling by the way his eyes sparkled as his lips formed a name. Theo.

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A w/ Mark Rogers (PDX)

Known for his oil paintings of extraterrestrial beings in Western backdrops, artist Mark Rogers creates quite literally some out-of-this-world artwork. Rogers’s pioneer and alien narratives started out as writings that would later evolve into his body of work, focusing on this idea that “aliens are [the] modern folklore creatures of our current time.” We’re excited to chat with this self taught artist and talk about various topics including his paintings, his sketchbook, and his sighting of a U.F.O in 2009! 

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Tell us about yourself Hi, I am Mark Rogers. I am a painter from Portland, Oregon. I have an irrational fear of bees, I am a vegan, and I love metal. Thanks so much for interviewing me.

What is your art background and when did you first get into drawing? I have been drawing for as long as I can remember. A lot of my elementary school memories were of me drawing on back side of whatever assignment the teachers had handed out to us, and possibly getting into trouble for it.

Being self taught, what are your thoughts on the advantages and disadvantages of maybe not attending art school?  Well, I don’t have to deal with the crippling student loan debt. Perhaps this is the most advantageous aspect of being self-taught. I received my degree in Political Science of all things, perhaps out of a sense of naive idealism before the grim apathy of adulthood sunk it’s fangs into my heart. I started making art seriously at an older age, (around 27) and felt that the school-thing wasn’t for me any more. Because I have never been to art school, I can’t completely attest to the advantages, but I do know quite a few other artists who have gone to art school, who also work a few shifts a week in restaurants and bars like myself. The same holds true of political science majors. It seems like I’m on the right path.    

Tell us about your current work which feature some prominent protagonist in the form of extraterrestrial beings interacting with American pioneers in the 1800’s. How did they evolve into your subject matter? Before I started painting, I dabbled in writing, but I wasn’t really that good at it.  My pioneer/alien narrative coalesced over the course of many paintings and sketchbook doodles and I am learning more about the story all the time. I feel that Aliens are the modern folklore creatures of the our current time as maybe fairies and elves were their predecessors from earlier generations. I have always loved westerns, but felt that they were sort of boring due to the lack of magic or mystery. A lot of people might say that my work is science fiction, but I am actually trying to create/explore a newer fantasy paradigm that is both magical and American. …..also I saw a UFO in 2009.

Wait, whoaaaa … Please share with us your U.F.O story. It was the early summer of 2009 and I was married at the time, living in Springfield Oregon. My ex-wife and I were walking down Centennial Blvd around dusk, headed to the corner store, when we both saw a glowing ball of orange light silently make its way really low across the sky to our right to vanish over the horizon line. We both looked at each other with huge eyes and say at the same time “UFO”. It was super weird and eerie. 

Later that summer we bought a telescope and spent a bit of time each night in the back yard hoping to see something like what we had witnessed, but sadly I have never seen anything like that ever again. That was around the time that I first began painting, although I didn’t paint aliens and such until much later. The painting that I made called, “Prayer to the Magi” depicts the actual UFO that we both witnessed. It might not be an actual ship from outer space, but it was certainly unusual, and unidentifiable.

What’s the weirdest comment or compliment you’ve gotten on a piece? I had a guy the other day tell me that if I painted an Alien virgin Mary, he would have that tattooed on his belly. Some people just message me wanting to talk about their experiences or their extraterrestrial DNA.

What were you painting or drawing prior to extraterrestrials?  Can you look back and see a direct evolution to what you’re painting now?  What was your first painting, painting? I have always done narrative paintings with characters but they didn’t have the same theme as my current work. They focused usually on something personal in my life that bothered me and I would use symbolism to create an image usually with ghosts and skulls and creepy spooky stuff. My first painting sucked and it was of a woman with branches growing out of her head and perched on the branches were crows. I recently learned from Game of Thrones that was she was doing would be considered “warging”.  

Do you keep a sketchbook or work your ideas as you go along?  What type of sketchbook do you keep – disorganized chaos or neat and clean? Hell Yeah!! My sketch book is my most important art weapon as well as a wonderfully antisocial lifestyle choice. I have used a lot of sketchbooks over the years, but my total favorite is the Stillman and Birn Gamma Series 9X12. My sketchbooks are filled with thumbnails, doodles and watercolor paintings. Some pages are organized and some are bonkers depending on my sobriety during my bi-weekly drink and draw sessions. I usually go out to coffee and draw once or twice a week too. I bring my sketchbook along with a box of art supplies with me everywhere.    

What are the current mediums you work with? What about them are forgiving and what about them is challenging if at all? I love oil painting!! It is my main medium and mega-forgiving. I have tried comic-style inking but getting all the lines perfect on the first shot really stressed me out. I love the slower drying time of oils, the rich colors you can get with glazing, and the texture of the paint. The poisons are fun too! I live in a small studio apartment and my easel is about 8 feet from my bed.  The only thing that is really challenging about oil painting is that packing in tiny details can be a little tricky, but it works for me, and I don’t ever foresee changing mediums.

What’s your specific artistic process like? Does a schedule help you? Are you a morning person or night owl? I am extremely process oriented. My typical flow goes: Sketchbook thumbnail, gather reference, better sketchbook thumbnail, draw on the panel, spray fix and cover it with matte medium, then do an underpainting and then the final layers. After that I varnish the painting and photograph it, frame it, and then usually mail it somewhere. I have a suggested art schedule, but I never stick to it. Instead, I am always kind of working or squeezing in chunks of painting time in here or there.  I am a total night owl, in fact I rarely leave my apartment unless it is dark out.

What artists are you really into at the moment? What is it about his or her work that stand out to you? I like so many artists both classical and contemporary that it is hard to really answer this question. I am very inspired by a lot of my friends and the community of people that I have met online. I feel like the person that most fascinates me currently is James Gurney because he is really into sharing his process. I have learned so much by just reading his blog. I love how he is a plein air painter as well as an amazing illustrator. I have almost all of his books.

Do you have a favorite pair of Vans (classics, sk8-hi etc)? I am currently wearing the AUTHENTIC black on black, but I also have had a ton of the OLD SKOOL and SK8 HI in the past.

What are some words you like to live by? I don’t have an exact quote, but I am very big on the idea of “Grit” as a personality trait. According to wikipedia: “Grit in psychology is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective.” I feel that Grit is the most important personality trait of any serious artist.  

What are you looking forward to the rest of this year artwise? I have been working a ton with Red Truck Gallery in New Orleans, and I will continue to over the course of the year, with maybe a trip down to Los Angeles for the LA Art show and another trip to NOLA for fun. Also, I would really like to complete a very large painting with lots of characters before the year is over. Finally, it would be nice to have the Alien implant in my frontal cortex removed if possible. Thanks so much for interviewing me, Mike!

Follow Mark Rogers Website | http://www.markrogersart.com Instagram | @Markrogersart

[duallygirl178]

Dearest O'Malley Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Natalie and Nathan had their first date  of romance shared with me. I liked Natalie because she was careful and had this angel's touch. I squeezed the seatbelt tight on her because I didn't want her to leave my side. We drove to a car show that was happening at the MaGee park at Sunray park and Casino. I got to hear the tale where Natalie once worked at a horse station and almost thought about applying for a stable hand job at Sunray once. When we parked, there was a lot of people there with tons of cars. They walked together while they looked at each car. But they'll never find something spectacular like me. No matter how much each classic car sparkled with paint, I was still as original as the song "Green Onions" in 1962. Hours later after the car show, we drove into town a little bit.

Later in May, I began to enjoy getting belly rubs and gentle tootle rubs in the house. That was when it became a habit. Natalie would  rub for 30 to 45 minutes while I lay flat on the carpet. What followed later on that night, was shower time. I started feeling cleaner when I joined the two love birds and I began to get in the habit of begging Natalie to give me a belly rub. She would rub for 30 to 45 minutes while I lay flat-relaxed. What also followed along was shower time. I started feeling cleaner when I joined them because I'd get a washing well done and getting a thorough scrub. I felt like I was at a car wash and then afterwards Natalie, Nathan, and I went into Nathan's bedroom to watch TV and dry off. We watched a few episodes on Velocity so I could enjoy watching the last bit of Garage Squad, just before Chasing Claasic Cars came next. I didn't pay much much else attention to what Natalie and Nathan were doing behind me and didn't  care. The last of Garage Squad intriged me because it was a 1967 Chevelle SS dedicated  to a person who owned it with a V8 motor in it and the loved ones wanted it restored in original blue and white. I once was going to have a V8 motor installed inside me years ago because Randy had an idea to make me stronger when I  liked being a mellow straight 6 engine, I was old and retired from "showing off my powerful engine" although it wasn't bad to dream that I had a V8 motor like the rest of the Chevelle muscle cars; by watching one on TV. In the episode, that car reminded me of my cousin that lives down the treet. He was just as lazy as Ol' Reliable when there's no clouds in the sky. No matter how many times I've tried to scedule a visit, my cousin sits in the yard and tells me that he forgot and he'll make it up to me, but it never really happens. So I gave up on trying to socialize with him since he's my only family member I had in Farmington New Mexico. I still go through the same thing with Ol' Reliable when he it's his turn to be driven. If he won't get up, I'd simply threaten him that if he wasn't up and out of my nerve in 10 seconds, I was going to drag his prat out and whip him with the thinnest branch outside. Ol' Reliable and I both knew we didn't like each other sometimes. If I want a break from town, I'll get my way even when I have to get mean and tough. This way, I can take time to relax and take a nap or watch Velocity. Whatever I chose, I was determined to keep my well-being in order.

Later the next day, I was out driving to stores in town with Jan, Nathan and Natalie when I spotted some classic cars on the road. They were out and about too. They were rusty and rough looking, but some were in mint condition and I thought to myself "that's why some people don't see other classic cars out and active much. On Velocity, those kinds of cars undergo a substantial amount of  surgury to get going inside garages.

On some days, I would be taken into town whenever Jan got home. It would be McDonald's, Taco Bell, Family Dollar, and sometimes Wal-Mart or Safeway. Often it would be a stop at Little Cesear's Pizza. Whatever the case, if I didn't feel like going into town, I'd make Ol' Reliable or Tiny; Nathan's 1993 Ford explorer go into town. I knew Ol' Reliable was lazy but it would do him good to go out and be active like he used to in 1980. I was almost 50 years old. I would be a year older than Herbie, the love bug. I needed rest now and then to get off my shocks and body frame. Being the boss had its ups and downs these days of forcing Ol' Reliable off his prat when I don't like to be gruff. Today, was my relax day and this time it took me 8 minutes to get him moving after refusing to get up three times.  I had to sit on him when he refused the fourth time. It was unbearably droll-funny to see him squirm as he tried to get free, but I held my weight down. I held Ol' Reliable for three minutes  and asked him if he was ready to cooperate and do what I told him. He agreed with a weak response and I got up. I told him if he refused to me again, I'd sit  on him for an hour until he couldn't breathe. He couldn't get my body stench off him for a week. I knew he didn't want that. On some days he and I hated each other and other days, we wouldn't even see each other on and off, but wouldn't hate each other because we kept to ourselves. I would go up and see Ozzie when Ol' Reliable was in town for a few hours just to talk and hang out with Joe. After that, I'd head back home, slip into the house and wait for them to pull in the driveway. By the time, they were finished unloading groceries, Natalie would sit down on the couch. I'd sit on Natalie's feet until I had my hind quarters rubbed every four nights a week, she'd massage my undercarriage that'd send tingles all over my body because it felt good to get massages while Ol' Reliable waited his turn, in Randy's chair. Then it would be hs turn to get a massage after I had taken a seat to nap in. I was so relaxed that I let the rest of the nerves absorb the serenity into my body. When the two of us had an equal attention, Nathan was posting photos of Tiny; his new he bought from FaceBook. He bought him a week before Nathan  meet Natalie in March. I wasn't aware that Nathan took a picture of me sleeping. I usually didn't like it when he did that.

When I woke up, Nathan was on his laptop chacking his email. Natalie was wearing a tri colored alien necklace and it brought me back in time to wonder. What breed of alien that was chasing Impa, Gonzo and me? Natalie knew a lot about aliens and I dared to ask her on what she knew about aliens. After Nathan qas done with the laptop, Natalie pulled up a YouTube video about extraterrestrials. I had asked for this and I had demanded too much of the truth and now I recognized the alien that chased the three of us boys in the woods was a disturbing Grey alien from outer space. Among other planets, who knew where it came from nor what it wanted. All that was beyond me. Natalie had mentioned that Greys were aggressive for being 3 meters tall and they liked to torment people with tools and chemicals they invented. That would just shake the Skittles out of me as I got the chills from.  Natalie told me how to identify the differences between the greys and the much bigger aliens in the images. I understood that the much bigger aliens were some kind of strange planetary outer space name that I never heard of; the Zeta Recuili and they were known as non-aggressive. Thinking back to that incident, made my oil churn. I didn't want to see anymore alien pictures nor did I want to find the interest of studying them. It was a mystery on where that alien that I saw many years ago, came from and why it was in the woods. I laid back down after throwing Candy off the chair and taking the seat for enjoyment. I wouldn't let her get back on even though she kept trying, I'd push her off and finally Candy sat somewhere else. This made me remember something that happened. It was when Impa and I were hanging out together. I was napping during our hang out time in the shade one summer and Impa was being annoying. I pushed him away and he flew 5 feet away from the curb. Candy had a retarded look on her face as if she didn't know what just happened. I laughed inside of myself after seeing that.

Later when Jan came home from work that evening, the four of us; Natalie, Jan, Nathan and I went into town to get something to drink as usual. While I was whistling "Jukebox Baby" by Perry Como on the way, I encountered Robin, the red and white 1967 Chevrolet  Impala. a friend I met a few car shows back in 2013. He was in town too and still baring that "horseless Carriage" on his plate. We got caught up talking at the McDonald's drive thru on what's been going on in our lives. There was a long line at McDonald's and what better time to talk while I waited for someone to take my order. When you've bumped into a friend somewhere, it makes a perfect day.

Robin was a son of a whisker goat that informed everyone of events coming up even before they hit fliers mailed out. I first met Robin in the summer of 2012 at the Elk's Lodge just before the month of the 3rd car show, that year. I was singing "Rockin Robin" on my way to my parking spot on the grass, when a Chevrolet Impala said to me that was his name and his favorite song. I had no idea I was calling it nor did I know I was going to be parked next to him. Robin and I started out as strangers too becoming fast friends. Ever since Impa was gone, Robin made me realize that when I start dating, I would end up with an Chevrolet Impala, because I was an Impala guy...preferring Chevrolet Impala cars only. I just knew it. The rascally tin-road rodder had his personality following his perspective. It was almost like seeing a 1960s fun-animated and uptown television show come to life. He and I had almost everything in common beside the fact that he was a player with a few extra groove-and-cruise that looked good on him for being a lady-magnet. He was missing something in which he lacked that I knew best. I told him if he showed ladies what was all good under the hood, he'd be soaring into hearts of every one of them. After I had told him all that, the judges were all interested in Robin when I didn't mean for that advice to go to his head. Robin became the apple to everyone's eye and I was chop liver. I was a tiny bit disappointed in Robin for letting it all go to his head.

But I got over the disappointment, knowing Robin had not a single idea I was in a movie teaser trailer that was taken out for collateral reasons, so it was okay. It wasn't that good and I didn't want to be recognized for it such as being on T-Shirts, toys, and accessories. Robin however was getting prepared for the car show in July and asked if I was going to be in it this year since he was out for a stroll. I announced that I was taking the summer off from car shows. I wanted to go for summer cruises and enjoy the season to re-align myself after the chaos that passed. However, Robin was disappointment but he told me good luck and have a nice summer year. He wished I was in more car shows just like this one in July. I told him it was a blessing to see his mug again. He was delighted to see me again and hoped to encounter me next year.

As the traffic line reduced to a small number as my thoughts returned to the McDonald's drive thru. It was busy for a weekday, but I had a nice chat with Robin. We went to Family Dollar to get paper plates and ciggs that Jan needed. She needed cigarettes almost every day because she was frequently stressed out by never ending kids misbehaving at work. Especially the big kids because they had problems at home. Obviously, it had to be a sign of disprobation results of hating their own selves and taking their misery out on others. When we turned into Taco Bell that afternoon. It was a long line of SUVs, trucks, and sedans. I didn't have to wait again and Nathan didn't either just for a large Mountain Dew. We went to a gas station instead and it had been a priority that whenever there was a long line, there was a gas station that sells fountain drinks for less.

Next, we headed to Family Dollar and Jan got her things and we went home to relax. I rested a little because when night time came and I knew we'd go out again. I had a seat on the couch and let my gears relax before running again at 8 pm. It was a run-on schedule night after night that Nathan, Natalie and Jan all go into town, get drinks, run into WalMart or Safeway or Walgreens, then head to Family Dollar again and be home by 2 hours later around 9 pm or 10 pm.

When Jack visited over, we'd go out, get drinks, go shopping for the kid and get more Mountain Breezes from Safeway. Technically, Erik used to come in and check on Jack and feed him, but now he stopped caring except for coming in to play with him a few hours once in a blue moon. Jan took over and asked Jack if he got fed. As usual, it was always be a "no" and Jan would cook him a fried burrito or Ramen Noodle soups. I wished Natalie could feed Jack just to be thoughtful that way, there could be something to rub in Erik's face if there was a yelling fit, One of these days, Natalie would...one of these days.

In an hour later that night, Jan, Natalie and Nathan all went into town once more as I took them to the stores. Before starting up fast, I'd tease Nathan by cutting off power for a short 3 seconds before Nathan started me up again. It would be my game of start and stop. Once the ignition got turned on, I'd  idle for  5 seconds and shut off and start again. I had been around the age of 49 years old and still enjoyed playing that game with Nathan for 8 years. Inside, I laughed a little as Nathan backed me up and zoomed out of the drive way. The first stop was as always, McDonald's to get drinks. Natalie didn't used to get small water. It would be either Coca Cola or Dr. Pepper which was horrid. Shay used to get those, but I was happy to know that Natalie ordering a water so she could slim down a bit. I'd overhear that she was disgusted in obese people and I don't think she wanted to be one of them. I didn't blame her. After encountering Shay, I didn't want her to look like Shay. Apparently, Natalie worked hard to keep her weight down.She ordered small waters and tried to keep her snacking down. She would chew gum, smoke her vaper, and drink water. I tell her if she does good on getting water for a few weeks, she can have a soda pop. While we're in town, our stop was always Taco Bell for the same old thing...a large Mountain Dew. This time, there wasn't much of a line and it turned out on my agenda, We started to go to Conoco gas station to grt Mountain Dew and drinks because Nathan got one where it was all watered down when it was fresh from the fountain. He's gotten a few that tasted like Diet Mountain Dew before and I had it, I was taking him to the gas station to get a Mountain Dew. It was a few dollars cheaper and then the usual places. Every two weeks, Jan needed something from Walgreens and we would go there. Other days, it'd be O'Rieley's for a part for Ozzy or the blue Chevy Tracker, but tonight it was safeway to get a few packs of Mountain Breezes so I didn't have to fear of traveling far because The safeway we go to was the little one a few miles from where I lived.

When we got home that night, Natalie would again try to carry all of the groceries inside so it didn't turn out to be two trips. She's carry 3 bags of groceries in one arm, 3 soda pop packages in the other. It would worry me that she'd trip and fall with a load in her arms. Nathan told her not to be doing that, but she does it anyway. She'd joke and tease me that she was falling with groceries in her arms when she had them all under control. It would worry Nathan too in the same way, but Natalie was was determined to carry a bunch of groceries in her arms like a professional. At least Nathan would get the door for her. A little later, it was back to relaxing time and as always I'd beg Natalie to give me a rub down on my chassis since I wanted something different than a belly rub or a front bumper massage while she was watching TV. She worked her toes as I laid in front of her. Her big toe worked in a systematic pattern and then, rubbing in one spot, she rubbed counterclockwise for 10 minutes. It was good to let my gears fall in the right place after a day's trip into town. I was old and needed to stay at the top pf my well-being for a classic car my type. It was once a while that my shocks would be sore from going into town. For a human, that would be like having sore knees, if walked on far more than 2 hours. I quickly fell asleep an hour later and it was already 11:30 pm when I woke up. Well son of a whisker goat! I didn't want to fall asleep again but who does when they're enjoying a massage?

I realized how exhausted I was and so I had a seat on the couch to return back to bed. My poor aching body was like old jello and not very steady either. They were weary too and I needed a day off so badly that I could hold myself up. I hoped tomorrow, I could get Ol' Reliable to take the three of them out to town so I could rest. But that next morning, it was Monday and Jan's car still wasn't working. She needed to get to work and I thought this would be the day that I would break my gears off. I was terrified. Nathan told her she could borrow me and he forked over the keys to Jan so she could go to work. Jan took a pillow to sit on and then we were off. I haven't been to Aztec in a long time and the minute the kids saw me again, I was complimented on when Jan got out. I was a cool looking car but Jan told them I belonged to Nathan. Although, I was as happy as Elvis Persley's hair combed back. I was going to perdict that I was going to have a good day. For the morning through the afternoon, I got to relax and watch the kids play and scream like  a bunch of deranged monkeys fighting over a single banana. It was like a zoo but with little kids in the fence. Then 3 o'clock came around, I suddenly had a change of mind, I wanted to come back tomorrow at "Just Us Kids" in Aztec at the same time to be surrounded by the trees. I was still a scary car for Jan to ride in when she drove me, but at least when Nathan drove me, Jan enjoyed the ride with a lit cigarette and relax in the backseat. Again that night, we did our nighttime errands to get drinks and shopping. I got to relax today and I didn't have to travel anywhere. I felt it deep in my gears when I was enjoying the shade of the trees of that summer.

The next day, it was Tuesday and Jan took me again to work again. I realized I was temporarily going to be Jan's car for a few weeks because her car was still out of order. I got a lot of eye-popping looks from people walking by and driving in and out. I was still the original handsome, sexy gentleman in the parking lot. I got respect and got to have the shade all to myself. I did have my spontaneous thoughts all gathered up including being prepared to give Nathan a hard time with starting up, zooming to get drinks and going to the dollar store.

After 5 pm, Jan got off work finally. She had a field trip day to drive the bus with kids to the places they had in mind. Today, they got to go the swimming pool. Jan and I came to a halt on the way home at McDonnie's; as I like to call the McDonald's restaurant. We got a sweet tea to enjoy for the road. About 30 minutes later, we got home at long last. I had a seat next to Natalie on the couch. I had a good day and I felt how it was my day to be treated like a senior citizen for a grandparents' day. There wasn't much of an activity going on for  the summer. All there was for the little ankle-biters to do were swimming, visit the museum, go to the Aztec ruins, visit the park and basically go back to the kids center.

On Wednesday, I parked close up to the center and watched Jan drive the bus away to the Aztec ruins. I picked up some apricots from the trees and decided to have some fun  by throwing them at cars going by. So many people honked in anger on who the cheeseburgers did that. I was well hidden behind the trees where no one saw. I laughed as I threw a good shot at a KIA Soul zooming by. I sling-shit some more apricots at some more cars passing me by and five of them hit two cars that honked and swerved left and right on the highway. No one knew where those flying apricots came from nor who was throwing them. It was like watching TV only better and then I chucked four more apricots  and hit one car on the windshield. Direct hit! Oh, it was just too good! All four apricots rained down hard on the car like falling starfruit splattering from three hundred feet down. I chucked another apricot at a truck and it smashed in a splat right on the driver side door, causing the truck driver to honk a few times. It was fun and I never got caught.

When I got home, I sat next to Natalie proudly. She asked me how did my day go and what did I do. I looked up with a face that read "I threw some apricots at cars and got away with it" with a quirky eyebrow twerk and a big smile. It was indeed a good Wednesday...a total Chevy day afternoon.