#when I say the humans look alien I mean Grey alien level alien

[letsmcfreackingloseit]

So yes I have OF COURSE read @naffeclipse new fic Apex Polarity and yes, I AM OBSESSED!

So I decided to make a little comic of how I think their "first encounter" might have looked like from Eclipse's perspective.

I can't help but think about how alien and scary we most look to him (especially if there is a history of fasco hunting polar sirens in the past). With all that gear we look like emotionless beings, just observing and uncaring of this ice world. But then when y/n shows up and probably exudes this joy and wonder for his world + shows respect for the creatures and the environment??? Mmh yeah, I can see Eclipse falling for y/n, especially considering how alone he might be...

So yes, that's what I have for today! If you want to read the fic I'll link it right here. I can't recommend it enough, but as always, read the tags so you know what you're getting into! And lastly I also want to @themeeplord beacuse Eclipse's design is basically their design in my style (god I love their design so much, their character/creature designs are the BEST) so all the credit goes to them! Polar!Y/N is my design thou! ;P

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read the two latest chapters-

YIPPEE!!!

[blushingsnail64]

(PART 2) "Alan"

Human reader on a space team with larger, scarier, and stronger alien teammates

My writing and framing styles are still changing as I'm very much still new at this. Thank you for y'alls support. <3

I hope you like it @hnowu ! :)

[SFW] [FLUFF] [PLATONIC]

-------------------------------------

Description

Alan, unlike you and Ursha, actually works outside of the loading bay/cargo hold. He was a very tall, lengthy lookin guy. He had quite beautiful blue skin with hints of green and grey stripes, kind of shimmery. He had a very long neck with a roundish head that came to a point at his chin, with very large very deep blue eyes. You could only see his pupils if a light was in his face. You could say he kinda looks like the stereotypical "👽" alien although that may be offensive to say. He had a fish like quality to him, in a good way of course. He was about 7'0 and had fine tapered limbs. His hands were very similar to a humans, but long and thin.

End of description

He worked in the "brain" of the ship as the crew liked to call it. The command center, the helm, etc. he worked towards the back away from the navigational work area, handling hardware or software problems while also looking over radars, level gauges, and some more. Others have this job as well, mainly when he goes to the rest of the ship to check the wellness of the machinery.

You saw him quite a lot when the crane in your department stopped working, which kept you from doing a large portion of your job. It took him about a week to fix, and in that time you two would discuss things like your families, home planet, country and town. He told you that a holiday from his country was going to happen soon, in the next two weeks he believed. Apparently it was centered around a good harvest season for mushrooms. You may have related it to thanksgiving, which he would love to hear about.

He said it all started from a historical event where there was some sick noblewoman, a woman who had done amazing things in their society, but the sickness was said to be incurable. That is unless they found a certain magic mushroom for her to eat. Many people in the city foraged for days, bringing in hundreds of mushrooms to be inspected. Just before she was about to pass, the mushroom was found. She regained her strength and carried on being a pillar of society for many more years. Since then, the people had hosted a mushroom festival every year to remember that great effort, and to celebrate our friends and family with the time we so luckily have with them.

At least, thats what he remembered about it. He explained that he couldn't possibly manage to get back to his family since you all were so far away on a big shipment, but he hoped to video call them. You also discovered he had been the medic previously, before the company hired a new one so they could promote him to the control center where that role was desperately needed.

He was very gentlemanly, and would off his hand when you were getting up and down things. Since he was very much larger than you, you sometimes felt like a kid. But he never teased you about it, unlike some others. The crew from the brain could be a bit snobby. Even towards scary people like Ursha. You were an easy target sadly. There have been times where he's talked to about it, having overheard his crew mates saying not so nice things. He apologized on their behalf stating they really weren't mean and were just a bit insensitive. You assured him it was fine.

You also talked about basic things like your favorite music genre. He said his was jazz and blues, along with a few genres you didn't quite recognize. If you believe he's old fashioned, he'd be more than willing to show you his favorite songs and hopefully change your mind.

All of this came to an end, sadly. The crane was fixed and he'd hardly have time to talk while he was doing his regular checkups on the machines.

He did leave you with one final question though,

"Would you perhaps like to join me when I call my family this weekend? I'm sure they would love to see you and hopefully you'll enjoy the festivities, even through the screen."

[neon-moon-beam]

I've lost any interest in Submas because of what the fanbase did to Volo, stripped him of all his redeeming qualities to turn him into a Ghetsis clone. And yet no matter how many times I see it, my heart inwardly screams "LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOY".

Oh my god yes. Volo has been done dirty so badly by the Submas fandom and other people who enjoy him to the point of it being the default.

Volo is a fairly complex character. He can’t be reduced to “unhinged and will hurt people when given the chance lol” or whatever else the fandom likes to do all for the sake of making things angstier, especially when it comes to Submas. In-game, he’s in more of a grey area and comes off as a character with issues having a bad moment, not an overall bad person. I'd put him somewhere around the same level as Archie and Maxie in terms of how much of a villain he is:

-Not entirely a bad guy, just bad ideas, bad solutions to problems (that might only be a personal problem for him or a select few, we know he had a rough life but we aren’t told how or why, but it has created his entire worldview and motivation)

-Might not have actually followed through with his plan anyway (he does have things he genuinely cares about, and say what you will about salty and rude Togepis in Hisui but he had high enough friendship with one to get a Togekiss)

-His feelings of being wronged in life and wanting to hold someone or something accountable, get answers, maybe an apology or to make things right is a fairly common human experience. He just lives in a world with magical monsters where confronting one with the ability to instantly change things is a definite possibility.

-Unlikely Arceus would have listened to him, Giratina did not want to listen to him (and Giratina is the failsafe when Dialga and Palkia are out of commission), so even though he appeared to have the means to reshape the world, he really did not

-Accepted the player character defeated him, stopped antagonizing, and probably left Hisui to sort out his issues

-Also is NOT responsible for Ingo being in Hisui (I did make a huge in-depth post about how he could have gotten there, and the evidence does NOT stack up in favor of Volo being the cause)

Sometimes it feels like people didn’t interact with PLA in any capacity and just go with whatever the fandom says about these characters, or else just don’t care about canon whatsoever, and that can be really alienating to other fans. Especially when other fans do like the canon characterization and all they can find is ooc depictions, bad takes, and anything else where it's essentially Volo in appearance only.

I know some people have said they never want to see Volo interact with Submas ever again, and I agree. Cr*zytr*inshipping and tr*inwr*ckshipping are built on ableism, the idea that mental illness is “scary”, and grossly mischaracterizing Volo, and at least Emmet (not sure about Ingo because I refuse to bother with content containing these ships or even interactions between these characters).

Volo deserves so much better. I’m sorry fandom spaces are not kind to him.

[scullysflannel]

☕️ not really a topic but i would LOVE it if you try to convince someone who has not seen a single episode of x files (me) to watch x files

thank you for this dream assignment. I’m unhinging my jaw now.

Mulder and Scully aren’t like their reputations. they get talked about like these big ideas—the Believer and the Skeptic—but they are so not dry or one-dimensional or anything else that you might be expecting. they’re the most human characters I’ve ever seen on screen. Scully is curious and earnest and so eager to succeed, but she throws away her definition of success to do the right thing (and because she’s a little rebel. I’m not spoiling anything beyond the first few minutes of the pilot to say that she’s assigned to Mulder to spy on him, but she likes and respects him too much to do it). Mulder is hardworking, kind, restless. so idealistic it looks selfish. he sees his lost sister in every victim. he has trouble sleeping, and I love that it’s not part of the plot. it’s just part of him. some procedurals don’t like to go home with the characters at the end of the day. The X-Files feels like it’s always going home with Mulder and Scully, even when they’re on the road.

every good thing about the show goes through them. that’s the whole point of the story: you think the truth is “out there,” but it isn’t—it’s in other people. and that might sound sentimental or obvious, but The X-Files makes you feel how heavy it is to love and be loved. a lot of Mulder and Scully’s connection is unspoken. and yes, sometimes that gives them communication issues, which I personally think is very sexy and interesting of them, but it’s also so powerful. here are these two people whose job forces them to question everything about the world, but they don’t question each other.

I know I’m getting very Always Sunny conspiracy board about this, but nothing else feels like The X-Files. it’s a mood at the highest level. the whole philosophy behind the show is that knowing there’s a monster in the shadows is scarier and more interesting than seeing that monster. the most powerful things are the ones that can’t really be understood or explained. it’s the same with Mulder and Scully. Chris Carter, the creator, fought so hard against making them romantic, but the joke is on him for a lot of reasons, like (1) he cast David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who have more chemistry than anyone else on this sad little planet and who like kissing for fun, (2) nothing is more romantic than an intellectual partnership between equals based on trust and mutual respect, and (3) the more he refused to define their relationship with words, the more powerful he inadvertently made it, because, again, the most important things are too big for words. it’s like the show respects Mulder and Scully’s connection too much to try to explain it.

The X-Files made me realize how sick I am of bickering on TV. a lot of shows want us to think that love looks like a little boy pulling a girl’s hair on the playground. but Mulder and Scully have a friendship between adults. they like each other. I know I literally just went on about how their relationship is so powerful it transcends the bounds of fiction etc., but it’s not stuffy. there’s a fun little kernel of madness and codependence at the center of their relationship, which I love because I love watching women in fiction pick their own poison. and Scully’s is Mulder. they’re a little bit mutually destructive with each other, but they’re even more self-destructive on their own. it’s compelling.

shifting to a different corner of my conspiracy board. Mulder and Scully are as great as they are because The X-Files understands exactly where they fit in the world of the show and what brings them together: their shared integrity in the face of the FBI’s manipulation. The X-Files is really about the abuses committed by the government; the villains are men in suits who would do anything to hold on to the power they feel slipping away. this show can go hard when it wants to. I can’t and don’t want to absolve it for being written and directed almost exclusively by white men, which comes through in all kinds of toxic ways. but as far as cop shows go its perspective on the world holds up impressively well—better than shows that are on right now. I can think of a hundred ways The X-Files could have been a better version of itself, but every other show still wants what it has. 

even when The X-Files is bad it’s good. sometimes the frustrating things about it only make it more interesting. it’s a show that draws you in; it makes you part of the process of interpreting what’s happening and assigning meaning to it. there wasn’t a writers’ room for the writers to communicate with each other (a concept), which means the story can sometimes feel fragmented, but that also gave the show the capacity to look at Mulder and Scully through a lot of different lenses, which ultimately only makes them more vibrant. they can fit into a comedy or a tragedy or a thriller. they can be unbearably sentimental one week (or one scene) and unbearably withholding the next. but that’s real. people are inconsistent. it also makes it possible for the monster-of-the-week episodes to keep getting better and more inventive even as the mythology starts to fall apart. the great standalone episodes are like short stories, and even the worst ones have Mulder and Scully.

I don’t find The X-Files scary in a jump-scare kind of way; it’s cozy, and it’s got a powerful sense of wonder at the the world. but it does get at the creeping horror of realizing the world doesn’t make sense. what makes the story hopeful is that Mulder and Scully keep trying to make sense of it anyway. they tear down everything they thought they knew because the comfort of a lie is less important than the truth. I just love that the little grey men and the UFOs and the tractor beams all look exactly like you’d expect them to, but belief still isn’t easy. it’s not a show about what exactly real-ass aliens might look like. it’s about how the truth can be really simple and really hard to accept at the same time.

[spurgie-cousin]

Every day this week, I've been drinking 2ish craft beers and rating them on my ig story to support a new local brewery. Which means every night, after 2 IPAs and taking my night time edible, there’s this ~15 min sweet spot where I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to feel negative emotions.

Which is right now, so I feel like this is the optimal time to watch Tim Rod’s newest “podcast” episode. If you’d like to read the stream of consciousness I had while doing so, click below:

1. In a suit, of course. Grey suit, green button up, and blue striped tie......m’kay

2. Tim says it’s been awhile since his last podcast because he has so many odd jobs that he’s been working 90-100 hour weeks. Which means if he’s sleeping 8 hours a night, and working 7 days a week, he has 12 hours in a 7 day period to himself (less than 2 hours a day. also physically impossible to do in a 5 day week if he’s sleeping more ~7 hours). I can’t decide if this really sucks for him, or if he’s purposefully exaggerating/humble bragging in the way his mom does.

3. He says sometimes he’d start to record a podcast for youtube and feel ‘God’ tell him to stop for whatever reason which....is so far one of the biggest arguments I’ve heard for God existing.

4. He says he’s going to talk about the story of Lazarus, and follows that with “I’m not sure if any of you are familiar with that story” which is funny to me considering the way he talks about Bible stories, scripture. etc. He has never talked about it in a way that’s super accessible, he talks about it like a super sheltered Christian talking to another super sheltered Christian, which I think really speaks to his idea of people; it’s difficult for him to articulate ideas without using Biblical language. I truly think that when the Rods speak in sweeping Biblical terms, they think everyone knows what they mean.

5. He goes on to say “at least half my following is Christian” which......oh Timmy...........

6. He tells the story of Lazarus, again with zero context for the non-Christians he claims to know that follow him. He talks in shittier grammar and shorter sentences while doing his “summary”, which I think he mistakes for accessibility.

7. I don’t get what he’s doing with his hair these days and I don’t like it

8. He keeps mentioning people or situations from the Bible with zero context!! The Rods want to seem like they’re training their boys to be preachers so bad when they’re really just teaching them Bible verses and second-rate banjo.

9. Tim: “If you feel like you disagree with anything I’m saying, and you have my contact information, feel free to contact me. Also, I will not be sharing my contact information”.

10. I’m only 10 mins in this is an hour long....

11. He keeps trying to stay Very Serious while looking at his dog running around and it has a very uncomfortable effect.

12. He says “This is exactly something the Flesh wants to be worried about; this is exactly something the Flesh wants to be concerned about” which I can hear Jill saying almost perfectly.

13. He tries so hard to seem like a Normal Average Everyday Guy, he keeps trying to come across nonchalant, salt of the earth and it just doesn’t work on any level. It gives very Alien in a Human Suit trying to act Human vibes.

14. He encourages us to Stand Strong which is very *points at the movie screen when they say the movies name*

15. The amount of times he says Flesh.....Their Flesh, Our Flesh, jfc

16. I skipped over all the bible verses it’s too much.

17. Ok I’m tapping out I got till 17:43. I don’t have any more life to spare.

[doomfox]

a boy (without meaning to) sneaks up behind demon dad and he grabs them with his tail when surprised

Wade was happily minding his own business. He had a beer cracked open, resting on the kitchen table while he washed the dishes, the stereo crackling out classic rock tunes. It was, in every way, a normal average day in the Whipple household. Well, mostly. He raised a clawed hand and grabbed his beer, raising it to his lips and taking a swig, before continuing with his jobs.

He scrubbed at a plate, completely absorbed in the mundane task and trying hard to ignore the anxiety building in his chest. He had many problems right now, not least the dwindling funds in his savings and his lack of success finding work. Regardless what had happened to him, he still needed to buy food and keep the lights on.

He paused in his chores and vaguely checked the talons on his right hand. The claws grew back fast, no matter how much he kept them trimmed. They could cause some major damage.

He remembered Eclipse saying something about hunting. Wade really didn't want to go that route, but if things got so desperate...

"Dad, can you help with my homework..."

Wade jumped, startled, spinning and releasing a hiss. Silver almost ran from the kitchen, ducking back and clutching a book to his chest in shock.

Wade's senses returned to him, he blinked, and a wave of terror and guilt slammed into him. "Oh my god, Silver... come here..." the little grey hedgehog's lip trembled and his eyes became wet but he allowed his father to wrap him in a hug, face pressing into Wade's baggy hoodie. The former human apologised over and over, planting kisses into the top of his adopted son's head. Wade felt disgusted with himself, and his inability to control the vicious alien instinct that surrounded his human sensibilities like a seas of snakes circling a withering flame.

"Dad?" Silver sniffled, amber eyes looking up to meet his father's, "why do you have to be like this? Can't you be human again?"

Wade sadly looked down at his son. Silver had taken his transformation hard, and Wade felt ashamed. He was trying so hard to keep going for his boys, and all he could do was frighten and worry them. "If I could, it'd be the first thing I'd do..." Wade said, running a finger back through his son's quills. "But remember... no matter what I look like, I'm always still gonna be your dumb old dad, right?"

That got a little chuckle out of Silver, the hedgehog rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

"What?" Wade cocked his head, "you agreeing with me? You think I'm dumb and old?"

"No..." Silver half-hiccupped-half-giggled, a little smile tweaking his muzzle.

"Really?" Wade crouched to Silver's level, "then why you laughing? Why are you laughing??"

Silver squealed as Wade grabbed him beneath the armpits and lifted him into the air, holding him beneath the armpits and swinging him side-to-side. The grey hedgehog giggled, kicking his legs as his dad spun him in the air.

"What's going on?"

Shadow stood framed in the door, watching as Silver turned and grinned in Wade's grip. "Shadow! Help!"

"Shadow!" Wade set eyes on his eldest and tucked Silver under and arm, "come over here!"

Shadow turned and wailed, his dad giving chase as Silver cackled in his arm. The chase entered the living room, where another red-and-black lay snoozing on the couch.

"Eclipse!" Shadow cried, waking his brother with a start, "Dad's trying to get us!"

The Darkling blinked, bemused as Wade charged into the living room and apprehended Shadow, Silver still wriggling in his other arm. Both hedgehogs were laughing while their dad roughhoused with them, and Eclipse was utterly dumbfounded. He'd never seen a parent play with their children like this.

"Eclipse! Help!" Shadow grinned, batting at Wade's side with his little hands.

Eventually the fun was too inviting and Eclipse pounced, diving in to save the two hedgehogs from their captor. And soon, Wade had all three boys in his grip, Silver and Shadow tucked under both arms and Eclipse wrapped securely in his tail. "Ha! You boys thought you could take your old man?? You'll have to do better than that!"

Later, Wade had allowed the boys a victory, and cushions now littered the floor after becoming makeshift weapons with which three hyperactive boys had battered their guardian. Wade lounged on the couch, both hedgehogs hugging into him while Eclipse lay curled at the end, all three asleep after the excitement. Wade checked the time, finding it was way, way past the boys' bedtimes. He didn't mind. They'd had fun, the first real fun he'd had with his kids since his transformation. He looked over the sleeping boys, both arms wrapped gently around the two hedgehogs. It felt normal. It felt right.

Much of the time Wade felt like a monster, but if he could still have fun with his kids, maybe he was still more human than he thought.

[writeouswriter]

[Photo ID: Three stylized images arranged vertically. The first image is of a white cassette tape on a white background with the word “Reprogramming” printed across it in red ink. The second image is of a red handgun on a red background. The third image is of a pale hand covered in dark red blood, dripping into a white sink. Text overlay reads: There’s so much of other people’s blood on my hands, it sometimes makes me wonder: how long until my blood is on someone else’s? End Photo ID]

When you’re the hitman they hire to cover up conspiracies, what happens when you become part of a conspiracy yourself?

Excerpt from a WIP I may or may not ever continue, who knows? *To be read in a frenetic, almost manic and quick paced voice*

Let’s be real here: the movies? They lied. Seems like a reasonable enough statement, right? You might even be saying, ‘Why, Jasper, of course they lied, they’re movies, they’re fiction,’ but I never told you what they lied about... and what they didn’t. I’m really not supposed to tell you, but hey, I’m the guy they usually hire to keep these things under wraps—six feet under wraps, if you know what I mean—so who’s going to stop me? Anyone? No?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

So, how about we start small fries here: the little things, the things you always suspected but never could prove, inconsequential things like, oh, I don’t know, aliens. The movies lied about aliens, okay? Little green men, creepy dead eyed greys—don’t get me wrong, those suckers are real as shit—but there are still some things they didn’t get quite right, like the precision the government takes in erasing people’s memories of those aliens. Do you think the higher ups have the technology or the patience and budget to develop the technology to modify the human brain down to such an exact level? Do you think they even care? I mean, hypothetically, if they did make something like that, so what if you lose a beloved childhood memory or half your cognitive function in the process? It’s no skin off their nose. So what if the civilian population is safe, as long as the government’s secrets are safe, by any means necessary—you catch my drift? They don’t care about you, they don’t care about damage control; they care about the bottom line, and the bottom line is you don’t matter. Hell, I don’t matter, but that doesn’t stop them from sending me out to do their dirty work anyway because most of the time it’s easier—and cheaper—to just have one guy clean up some bodies and wipe up some blood rather than spend all that time and money to wipe your meagre little minds.

Well, meagre is relative. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s rewind. If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m not men in black—the men in black are just another glorious showpiece of movie bullshit—no, I’m the man in the gaudy as fuck Hawaiian shirt, who the government sends out to ‘quote unquote’ “deal with” all those pesky little people who can’t leave well enough alone and keep trying to lift up the proverbial curtain. I’m the man with the not so golden gun, the man who knows just enough, and the last man you want to meet if you know too much.

I’m the man you see before you die; and right now, I’m looking in a mirror.

[div-divington]

big ol’ invicncible spoilers, watch the show first trust me you’re not missing anything if you don’t read this post

I’ve never talked about a cartoon or tv show before but I’ve gotta say that people who say there’s ‘no complexity’ to Omni-Man’s character just tick me off.

I mean, listen, he’s totally a villain at least in the cartoon adaptation (I’ve not read the comics, going to consider them separate entities for the sake of argument), but he’s far from a two dimensional sussus amogus imposter blindly readying the planet for invasion.

I whole-heartedly believe that Omni-Man enjoyed being a superhero, saving lives. I believe his friendship with the tailor guy was real, I believe he respected, admired even, the Guardians of the Globe, cherished his relationship with Debbie, and enjoyed living among humans. The brief interaction with Darkwing and The Immortal when the Mauler Twins attack the White House is so sincere right? Like, it seems to me he respects them, the jokey “you’re welcome” when he saved Darkwing, the “I had him” when he saved the guard Immortal was going for, that wasn’t necessary of him. He had no real reason to be playful and cordial with them, he could have been distant and still gained their trust easily (I mean, Darkwing was a jerk and they loved him). The brief moment of shock and unresponsiveness when Mark revealed that he’d finally gotten his powers? I honestly believe that was a moment of disbelief. I think he hoped Mark’s powers wouldn’t manifest, hoped he wouldn’t have to continue his mission. That pause was him coming to terms with the end of things. The realization that he would have to hurt people he respected, finish his mission, and end his time as a father, author, and superhero.

When he collapses after murdering the Guardians of the Globe, the look on his face isn’t just exhaustion from the fight, it looks to me like shock. Disbelief. I don’t think he wanted to kill the Guardians, I think he hated doing it, but it’s what he was bred for. He was born and trained from childhood for thousands of years to weaken a planet from within, prepare it for invasion. Earth had superheroes, naturally a pretty noteworthy obstacle for an invasion, so he, in his mind, had no choice but to kill them. And notice that most of his kills are pretty... clean? He goes right for Immortal’s head, ditto with Aquaris and Green Ghost, snaps War Woman’s neck, kills Darkwing in one clean move, tears off Martian Man’s heart(? is that a heart?), crushes Red Rush’s head (which seems slow because of Red Rush’s perception of time being RIDICULOUS compared to our own, that horrific scene only lasted like a second for the rest of the characters). He goes for quick, clean kills, minimizing pain. Maybe its just brutal, soldier-like efficiency, since the greatest superheroes on Earth cannot be allowed to get any good hits in (they nearly killed him as it was), but what if it was a desire to not prolong the suffering of people he genuinely liked? 

We see in the flashback towards the end (during the THINK, MARK, THINK! scene lmao) that he initially didn’t give two shits about humanity on a deep level. He loved and respected Debbie and his then-very-young son, but thought humans were, on a whole, primitive and dumb. But as he spends time observing them, watching their culture, interacting with them, living with them, he warms up to them. The smile on his face when Mark hits his first homerun in little league, remembering Debbie’s favourite foods, the way he laughs when he mentions how a superhero had to meet the president in a plaid supersuit, the fishing photograph with the tailor. Even after he finally reveals himself as an infiltrator, the way he talks, to me, shows respect for his adversaries even as he demeans and belittles humanity. The discussion with Cecil, the warning to ‘stay out of this’. Nolan seems reluctant to kill anybody he doesn’t have to, and seemingly acknowledges that the Global Defense Agency at the very least is a minor threat.

So, you say, why does he act so AWFUL at times?

Well, his seeming lack of emotion after the funerals for the Guardians of the Globe can proooooooooooooobably be chalked up to his alien psychology. He finished grieving, he didn’t see the harm in cracking jokes about them. Calling Debora a ‘pet’? I think that honestly would be him trying to rationalise his feelings for her. There’s a fraction of a second where he hesitates to say it, and I honestly think he’s just trying to explain to himself how he could ever love a ‘lesser lifeform’. Killing all those innocent people? In his mind that was justified to get through to Mark. He doesn’t enjoy it -- though he also doesn’t dislike it -- he just sees it as a flat necessity, no less insignificant than killing a bug (i said the man is a complex character, I didn’t say he wasn’t evil). 

Don’t forget, Nolan’s genuine reasoning for bringing Earth into the Viltrum Empire is to help it. He argues that Viltrum technology can end hunger and poverty, end crime, revolutionize medicine. In his eyes, his indoctrinated eyes, he’s doing the right thing to help the people of Earth.

He still thinks he’s the hero.

‘it’s right to pity them’.

He sees humans as lesser creatures, he thinks they need protection from themselves, need to be brought up by the Viltrumites to be better. They can’t survive on their own, they’re weak and soft, they need us to reach their full potential, to find true glory in serving the might of Viltrum. Omni-Man does not see his actions as evil, he thinks he’s the good guy. He reluctantly kills the Guardians of the Globe, slaughters thousands of people, and destroys a city in order to, in his extremely twisted sense of morality, help people.

And, in the end, it is not the Viltrumite parts of Omni-Man and Invincible that end the conflict. It is Mark’s very human belief that he will, one day, get through to his dad. His refusal to give in, his undying love and determination to save people, save Nolan. It’s this that reaches Omni-Man. It doesn’t reach the tough soldier he had been for thousands of years, it reaches the small part of Omni-Man that wasn’t pretending to be human. The part that is Nolan Grayson. The part that, despite still seeing them as primitive and inferior, likes humanity. It’s a human tear that leaves his eye as Nolan flies away from Earth, finally giving up and refusing to facilitate the invasion if it means killing his son, something a full Viltrumite wouldn’t hesitate to do for a second if their family got in the way of their conquest. He was changed by his time with humans.

I’m not defending Omni-Man, he’s obviously a bad guy, an antagonist, serving a genuinely evil empire, but i AM saying he isn’t some flat, boring two dimensional villain who just PRETENDED to like humanity for the twenty odd years he spent living there. I’ve seen people in youtube comments replying with “I think you misunderstand Omni-Man as a character, you see, he was simply pretending to not hate humanity, it was all an elaborate ruse, there’s no real depth and inner terminal in him at all uwu” but i think THEY misunderstand Omni-Man.

He’s not morally grey, he’s arguably not even redeemable, but he IS a complex and well written character and boiling him down to ONLY being an evil alien who tricked people into liking him just rubs me the wrong way.

but idk maybe I misunderstood him and he really IS flat and boring. Maybe his time with humanity didn’t change him at all, he isn’t emotionally conflicted, and he’s just less cool than I thought.

And despite my seeming passive aggressive language, it’s totally chill if you disagree with my personal interpretation of Omni-Man as a character, art is meant to be a unique experience for everyone, so if you see him completely differently to me that’s great! I just dislike the insistence from some people online that anybody who sees him as a deeper, more complicated character is just wrong.

also sorry for this post coming out of left field entirely lmao 

[dimensionwriter]

100 Days

Part 2   

Part One

M! Alien x GN! Reader

Warning: Innuendos, mention of torture

Word Count: 2519

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Remember to LIKE, COMMENT, and REBLOG, please. I love to see the comments on my stories. 

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The air was so cold and dry in the room. The room was dead silent except for the low pitch buzz emanating from the computer. This room seemed unwelcoming to any person who dared to enter; However, you barely noticed as you stared at your creature in the giant container.

His form was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Two black arms wrapped around his thin grey torso. The second and third set was just lightly floating in the liquid as he continued to sleep. A giant smooth tail that laid on top of his first set of arms, allowing his head to lay against it. His grey skin was a lot more muted while slumbering, it seems. A glance over would allow you to think that everything was the same as you left it.

However, there was something new. On his neck were these tiny slits that were moving with his chest. It was unknown to you that the creature contained gills. It was theorized that the creature breathed through the tiny slits sitting below his eyes. Maybe it had to do with something about him being a shift shaper. Was the creature changing his respiratory system while sleeping?

Walking over to the computer, you open the coding program. You couldn’t help how quickly you put in the stop coding for the sleeping medicine. It has been two days since you last saw him due to the weekend and you were just itching to learn more about this fascinating creature.

You fixed your lab coat and walked to the front of the container. Gosh, it felt so nice to do it. You are so used to seeing him floating in the container unconscious that now that you get a chance to interact with him, it was thrilling.

His tail slowly slid off his arms as he shifted in his sleep. He seems to be snuggling into the glass. So he enjoys sleeping. How does his species do their sleeping arrangement? Is it more of a hibernation or daily occurrence?

“...” He let a small grumble as his eyes fluttered open. You were expecting to see a pair of pitch black eyes, but instead they looked quite humanish. In fact, they looked really familiar. Wait a minute.

“Morning, Shark,” you spoke slowly. He looked at you groggily before turning his head around. You could see the confusion on his face. You’ve heard from coworkers that this sometimes happens. “How do you feel, Shark?”

“I had this dream where this beautiful angel was in front of me,” he grumbled as he stretched his arms out in every direction. It was kind of unique the way he had to contort his body in order for his six arms to get that stretch. “And I open my eyes and they’re still there.”

“You dreamed about me so much that you decided to wear my eyes,” you teased. It was odd seeing an alien with such human eyes. So far, most of the aliens usually have odd shaped eyes or none at all. But you guess with Shark, you can’t put him under the category for normal aliens.

“I-what!” His top arm went to his face and rubbed his eyes harshly. Guess he didn’t even notice that he didn’t have his normal eyes. You should document that and see if that’s a constant when he wakes up. “When I said I wanted you on my body, I didn’t mean this.”

Your movement towards the computer stopped as you processed what he said. Did he mean- that’s more of a human phrase- can he even? Your brain is becoming overwhelmed as you unpacked the single sentence. How does he even know that type of language?

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to fluster you like that, even though you look so cute. I’ll tone it down for you,” he explained. He swam up to the top of the tank where he folded his top arms on top of it. A giant smirk was on his face revealing that he most likely didn’t regret his comment.

“You seem to have quite the understatement on the human’s culture.” He manages to talk in perfect English while also using phrases that only people integrated in the culture could understand. Has he been hiding within the humans for a while?

His tail swishing slowly in the liquid made him appear relaxed in his environment. That’s a good sign for most specimens to have. If his behavior continues on this path, he might be able to leave the container and you can gain more data on him that doesn’t involve verbal communication.

“I got it by abducting a human and strapping them to a lab table to eat their brains. I learn the different waves of human’s vocals by their screams of pain. Quite the range, I may say,” he spoke with a glint in his eye.

Cold sweat dripped down your back as you froze in front of the computer. This is the first time you have felt fear in a while. Just the thought that a few feet away from you is a killer and the only thing stopping you is a glass container that he has proven many times to be able to lift himself over, is enough to make your stomach lurch.

You won’t lie and say it’s uncommon to contain an alien that has kidnapped humans or killed them in the search of science. But, they never understood what they did was wrong. However, Experiment 337 has shown signs of understanding human’s speech, therefore he should have an understanding of the human moral. Does he just not care?

“Sweetheart, you look so adorable when you scrunch your face up from overthinking. But to calm your nerves, I was joking,” he sang out. He released his hold on the top of the container and floated down. His grayish blue muscular legs began to lightly move causing him to swim a little. He contains mobility in liquid, noted.

“You got nothing to worry about. The only person I want to strap down and have screaming is you.” His black eyes looked at you through the liquid and gave a swift wink. Heat started crawling up your neck to your face.

“Didn't moments ago you said you would ‘tone it down’?” You asked, turning to the computer to appear busy. There’s pros and cons to having an alien that can speak english and have them understand some phrases. Although, you didn’t think being flirted with or having a dirty mind would be one.

“Oh that was tone downed. What I wanted to say was I would love to have you lying underneath me with your legs spread as I-” You cut him out with a loud screech. He jumped before laughing at you.

“Okay, my apologies for complaining. I don’t mind sticking to the previous level,” you squeaked out, rubbing your cheeks to get them to calm down. Do you even put this down in the notes? How would you word that your alien has a libido?

You pulled up the notes on the computer and stared at it for a while. Then just typed it “Understands the human language, Appears to be in search of mate.” That’s the best you can do at the moment.

“I’ll give you a break. I know so much about the humans because you have all of it in the open. Stacks and stacks of books on languages, anatomy, how you interact, ways of thinking,history, etc. Then there’s also this system humans have called ‘The Internet’ where I can interact with humans in multiple ways without having to show my face. It was great practice,” he explained, rolling his top left wrist. His bottom set of arms were pushing against the base of the container to bounce through the water.

You were quick to write down what he was saying and highlight how he used the internet to communicate with humans. You never heard of an alien using Earth’s own resources to learn more about it. How many are out there that are using these resources at this very moment? How many people online are actually humans?

“So, have you just been studying just human?” You asked, turning toward him. He flipped himself around to sit on the base of the container. His legs folded on top of each other and surprisingly the muscles seem to fit together to allow for a smooth surface.

“Nah, not really. The animals on this planet are pretty cool,” he grumbled. His top right arm went to his chin slightly as if he was thinking for a moment. “Yeah, my favorite animal is the… the um… I forgot what you call it. Just look.”

Suddenly, a giant black smoke cloud exploded from Shark’s skin, covering all the liquid in the water. You couldn’t see a thing inside. The now black liquid only showed your worried and terrified expressions. Who knows what this specimen has in store?

“Tadaaa,” he yelled, somewhere in the black liquid. You moved around the container as you tried to see what he was and where he was. The blackness seems to be dissipating the longer you stared at it. However, even that wasn’t enough to see him.

“I can’t see you, Shark.” You were trying to call out to him, but he didn’t seem to be appearing. The liquid at this point was a murky grey that allowed you to see through with it. But the container was empty. Did he escape?

Oh gosh, what’s the protocol for an escaped experiment? You need to press the alarm button. No, you need to lock down the room so he can’t leave. Which one goes first?

“Human, babbbbeeeee,” a tiny voice called out to you. You looked around the container for anything. Grey, grey, grey, orange, grey, grey… wait.

In the upper corner, there was a tiny fish with shimmering orange and yellow scales all over. Tiny black eyes stared sideways at you. The fish seem happy to have your eyes on it because it started swimming around in circles.

“Shark? You can shrink to 1/50 of your height and 1/400 of your weight. How? That-that breaks all laws of physics,” you rambled in disbelief. He has too much mass for it all to just condense into a goldfish. He would collapse into himself due to the density.

“Once again. Yeah, and you can’t,” his now squeaky voice teased from inside of the water. You were quick to press your face to the glass of the container. Shark swam over until he was right in front of your face. “It’s not that hard.”

“I have the coolest experiment in this place,” you whispered. His body wasn’t showing any signs of distress or struggle with swimming. The gills on the side of his neck showed that he was still breathing just fine, telling you that he could transform his lungs to fit his changed body.

“And I have the hottest scientist in the entire universe who I am going to make mines.” It felt so weird to be flirted with by a tiny goldfish that you couldn’t even take his comment seriously. You wouldn’t mind all his flirty statements if it was delivered by a cute little goldfish.

“Let me document this. And I got to check your vitals,” You mumbled to yourself. The vital cords were still attached to him, but seem to have shrunk to accommodate his new form.

You pulled up the vitals recorded to see everything had changed. The oxygen level had dropped significantly and so had his heart rate. His body temperature was so much lower that anyone reading this would think he temporarily died.

“Shark, you amazed me,” you mumbled, scrolling through the documentation. Now you need to go back to the previous day to see if his reading has changed when he shifted into you. From the looks of things, he understands the organ system of the organism that he shifts into.

“But I haven’t even taken you to dinner yet and you already tell me how good I am.” You turned back to the container to see he had transformed back into his usual self. His giant six palms were pressed against the glass closest to you as he stared at the computer screen.

“Just take the compliment,” you teased. You flipped to your notes and began to type in everything that has happened. Shark swam a little closer and squinted his beady black eyes. Guess he was reading what you were writing.

“Appears to be in search of a mate?” He read out with a tone of confusion. Once again, you were in a state of cold sweat as you realized what he read. It just happened, but you were so in science bliss of him breaking physics that you forgot about his earlier statement.

“Just an assumption...based on the way you speak,” you stuttered, avoiding his look. A deep laugh escaped out of him. His grey body swam up again, so he was peeking out the top of the container.

“Sweetie, did you not hear me earlier? I’m going to make you mine. You are my mate. Okay, darling,” he purred, sending a swift wink. There’s that warmth crawling up your neck. How do you respond to this in a formal way?

A buzz in your ear alerted you for an incoming call. You pressed the ear piece with your shoulder to answer it. “Hey, it’s lunch time. Meet in the section Sub 4B in 20 minutes.”

“Everytime you get on that ear piece, you leave. I might just take it away from you, so you will never leave me.” You let out a laugh as you pressed the ear piece again to end the call. Even though you are a scientist that works with experiments, that doesn’t mean all your time is with them. It happens outside, where data is collected and talked about.

“I’m sorry. But you’ll go to sleep again, so you won’t even notice time has passed.” You slide the reading off the screen of the computer and pull up the medicine supplier. The code for the sleeping medicine was quickly placed in.

A huge frown came onto Shark’s face as he watched the blue liquid coming from the computer and towards him. He instinctively swam to the bottom and sat down. His back was placed against the side glass with his tail wrapped around him. The top and bottom set of arms were crossed over his knees while the middle set just floated down.

“See you later, Shark,” you whispered. His calm even breathing was the only response you got back. Leaning towards the glass, you gave it a little kiss. It was something dumb you did when he was unconscious and had to leave him.

You discarded your lab jacket in the waste bin and grabbed your things. As you exited, you gave one last glance at Shark’s sleeping form with a happy smile. You were so grateful to have him here at work.

“97 days left.”

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Here it is. You guys asked for it and I provided it. I’m actually starting to really love writing Shark’s character. It’s different from the usual soft boy that I write. I like it. Anyway, remember to leave a LIKE and a COMMENT. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

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For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

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“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

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They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

[crescairis]

I was wondering if you had another source that otherlinkers were explicitly excluded from the original definition of otherkind in 1990? The source on AnOtherWiki leads to a 2001 FAQ that doesn't mention anything like that. Also, otherlinkers aren't the same thing as KFF.

(just as a warning, this is going to be a LONG post, but i'd rather not put it under the cut for archival reasons, in the case that for some reason this blog disappears)

firstly, i'd like to apologize for phrasing things as if KFFs and otherlinkers were the same thing; a better phrased way to say things would be for me to say that i think many KFFs would be otherlinkers, were they to acknowledge that their experiences don't fit the definition of otherkin.

something else i'd also like to note that i've been thinking about (while it isn't exactly related to this question) is that perhaps people are misinterpreting the terms "voluntary" and "involuntary".

i feel that many people think "voluntary" simply means the initial decision to willingly take on an identity, which is, in part, true! however, voluntary identities are very likely to become involuntary, simply because it becomes too emotionally/mentally difficult to separate oneself from the identity that they've chosen.

being drawn to something, or someone, enough to take it on as an identity can often be a sign of something deeper! i would see this as a form of awakening in and of itself—like cracking open a geode, or perhaps like putting on training wheels before you experience the real thing.

but back to your first question: the way i initially phrased that post was also rushed, as we were trying very hard to write it during a single lunch break at work.

the term otherlinker is a very recent invention (coined in 2018 on the alt-h discord server, while copinglink was coined in 2015 by who-is-page), as being otherkin has always largely been considered a serious, personal experience. only recently have people NEEDED to specify that it's involuntary, so the only sources i can give you are ones that cite otherkinity as being intended as a serious identity, as well as those that state that otherkinity is not as shallow as a game or roleplay.

also important to note is that many of these pages were made and existed before fictionkin were a largely documented (let alone accepted) presence, thus they are scarcely mentioned, (and typically with skepticism or even scorn,) save for on their own, smaller pages. for our own personal comfort, we will not be listing sources that discredit fictionkinity completely.

firstly, here's a full timeline of otherkin history by orion scribner, to show the scope we're looking at

Otherkin Lexicon by Orion Scribner: "Otherkin are real, non-fictional people who identify as other than human. Otherkin identify as creatures from myth and legend, usually elves, faeries, and dragons. This is a sincere identity, not role-play. Many otherkin identify as other than human for spiritual reasons; that is, they classify their identity as otherkin as a personal spiritual belief. Being otherkin is a very individualistic thing: each otherkin reaches his own explanation for how and why he is an otherkin. Some of their common spiritual explanations include that they are other than human in spirit, or they were other than human in past incarnations.187 Although spiritual belief is often involved, “otherkin” isn’t a religion. As such, each person who identifies as otherkin practices whatever religion he individually wants. It has always been the case that most of the otherkin community practices Neo-Pagan religions, and so that religious perspective shapes the common views and ideas in the otherkin community. Some otherkin don’t use spiritual explanations. Some otherkin believe that they are physically other than human, or that their ancestors were."

A Field Guide to Otherkin by Lupa: "The definition for Otherkin I will be using for this book is: a person who believes that, through either a nonphysical or (much more rarely) physical means, s/he is not entirely human. This means that anyone who relates internally to a nonhuman species either through soul, mind, body, or energetic resonance, or who believes s/he hosts such a being in hir body/mind, is in my own definition of Otherkin. Some people do have more stringent standards. However, for the purposes of this book, I am including a wider range of people.

"This is not a roleplaying game. When a person says s/he is a dragon, or a wolf, or an elf, s/he is not referring to a character that s/he only becomes during a gaming session. That which is Other is a constant part of the person; s/he is the Other at all times. Grey, a wolf therian,says it marvelously: “Perhaps I should say that if a being is a color, or a sound, I am two items merged to form a different color/sound. The two are within each other. Sometimes plain to see, sometimes deeply mixed.”"

A Simple Introduction to Otherkin and Therianthropes by Orion Scribner: "Some real people think of themselves as kinds of creatures from mythology. These people call themselves “otherkin.” An otherkin has the belief that he is a creature from mythology, such as an elf. He says that elf is his true self. It is his identity. This is real to him. It isn’t a pretend person that he plays in a game."

The Otherkin Resource Center: "1 : one who identifies with various mythological archetype as vehicles of spiritual evolution and self-expression, similar to Native totemism only with a stronger level of self-identification.

"2 : someone who believes in reincarnation, and that not all of their reincarnations were as a human."

What are Otherkin? by Tirl Windtree: "By far the most common explanation from those who fit the definition (even if they don't claim this specific label) is that whilst their physical forms may be human, their essence, soul or equivalent term is not.

"Of those, the majority make their claim based on reincarnation - what they have been in a previous incarnation so strongly affects their current incarnation that they still identify with it. Obviously this requires a belief in reincarnation, and in the transmigration of souls. Both are reasonably common in a number of religions and spiritual beliefs across the world."

"The most frequent accusation is that all otherkin are lost in fantasy, they've played one too many D&D games and gone over the edge. Personal study seems to indicate this is actually one of the least frequent explanations. Most roleplayers know they are roleplaying, even if they are also otherkin, and roleplaying can be a very useful tool in self exploration."

The Lostkin Project by Gazer: "Otherkin are the supernatural among us. They are the elves, dragons, nymphs, and trolls that used to live more openly amoung humankind. Some are from other dimensions and other places. You may occasionally see them refered to as Otherkind. Otherkin is the more generally accepted term."

Otherkin Coalition by Kreyas: "What is Otherkin?

In a nutshell, Otherkin are a coalition of people who share in common the belief that some internal part of them is somehow incongruent with the rest of the human race. Beyond that, beliefs vary too widely to classify them into any one group.

Some of the most common beliefs are that the soul is somehow different from human. This may go in hand with a belief in reincarnation and “imprinting” (in which a past life as another species leaves an imprint on the soul which is then carried over into the next life), or the individual may believe that this is his/her first life and they are simply different.

Above all, Otherkin is a spiritual belief.

"Are Otherkin really a bunch of delusional, socially maladaptive kids like I read on that website?

NO. As with any group, not everyone fits the stereotype. Any community is going to have its bad apples which stand out in people’s minds better than the typical members. In my experience, Otherkin are usually levelheaded and able to question their beliefs and function in human society.

"Is it a Roleplaying thing?

NO. While some Otherkin may participate in roleplaying, strictly speaking the beliefs are separate from the roleplay - even if they are roleplaying as their identified “kintype”."

Otherkin FAQ v 4.0.1 by Arhuaine, Miaren Crowsdaughrer, Thistile Kachunk, Golden Syrpent, Knight of Ghosts and Shadows, Jarin Dreamsinger and The Crisses: "The Otherkin are those people who believe themselves to be spiritually and/or physically other than human. While mythological species (elves, satyrs, fairies, dragons, and so on) are widely accepted as being included under the term "Otherkin", many people in the community prefer to include aliens, vampires, furries, extraterrestrial humans, and other nonhuman races. A mythological or literary equivalent is not necessary to be included under "Otherkin"; there are types of otherkin that have not shown up in known legends or fiction (star-dragons, Elenari, etc.)."

What are Otherkin, Anyway? by Adnarel: "Otherkin is a term that is generally used to describe people who, In some way or another, physical bodies aside, do not feel that they are “human” in the conventional sense of the word. We (they) feel as though their spirits are not human, nor have they ever been, despite our physical bodies and outward appearance. Some otherkin have testified that they feel that this is their first time on this plane of existence, a.k.a. Earth. Others feel that they have been here numerous times to teach and to heal people. Maybe once they were here in their “true forms”. Otherkin use the term “true form” to describe what they feel to be the shape and nature of their true selves."

What Are Otherkin? by Arhuaine:

"Put simply, someone who is Otherkin feels that they have a soul (or souls) other than human. Usually this encompasses what are commonly regarded as mythical beings such as elves, dragons, fae, satyrs and so on. A broader view of otherkin might also include therianthropes (were-creatures) and those with animal souls (such people are sometimes known affectionately as "furries"), and also perhaps people who consider their souls are alien (often called star-born). The lines between Otherkin and Furries or Star-born are often blurred.

"Most Otherkin feel for most of their lives as though they don't belong. Human society seems alien and unfamiliar in many ways. They may feel isolated and unhappy, yet unable to explain these feelings at first. Then, perhaps they may begin to remember a life other than their own. Sometimes it is not easy to understand such memories, and sometimes the awakening to Otherkin-ness is a difficult and frightening process, especially if they are going through it alone. It is something not easy to share with others, for fear that they may consider you crazy.

"Being Otherkin is not something to crave, nor is it glamorous. It is a difficult and lonely path to tread, and sometimes it seems to bring only sorrow. Memories of loved ones long lost, a home that can no longer be reached, cause great pain. And yet, the life of the Otherkin is not all sadness. It is a life filled with wonder and magic, and a way of looking at the world that humans can never understand. Because magic is so much a part of an Otherkin's outlook, they may be drawn to Paganism or other New-age philosophies."

Are You 'Kin? by Gazer: "To really find out if you are otherkin takes searching. No, not on the internet, inside. You have to reach inside yourself and really look at yourself. This ,for the most part, is an inner journey. You have the answers, not me or anyone else. If you are otherkin then it is a PART of you, but you may be the only person able to find it.

The best others can do to help you is to provide pointers. Show you ways to search inside yourself, tell you how they found something inside themselves. We can hold a mirror up to you, but you won't see anything unless YOU do the looking, and what we see from our side of the mirror may not be the truth."

Otherkin Phenomena: "Otherkin are people who believe themselves to be something other than a human being on a spiritual, psychological, energetic and some even on a biological level, and choose to identify with that non-human fragment of themselves to the point where they count it as a permanent and ingrained part of their personal mythology and/or identity."

and there's plenty more! i'm just tired

i hope this helped answer your question, and perhaps gives others some insight as well!

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Six months ago, a thirty-two-year-old had made the careless decision to sit behind the wheel after consuming a considerable amount of alcohol. Twenty minutes after the fateful decision was made, the driver’s visibility had become significantly diminished. Add another two minutes and his motor skills were no longer functioning at regular capacity. Thirty seconds later, came a vehicle from the left, containing three people – a mother and her two daughters. Karaoke was sung in the car, with the youngest in the car leading them with her soprano level vocals. Oblivious to what would occur next – the mother had continued down the road, giggling at the ruckus that was being created. Ten seconds and the music was drown out by defeating screams.

Each detail from the memory remained immaculate, even if you opted to forget, your mind would never let you. That day you learned how a single decision could change everything. Each person’s fate is intertwined with another’s. Correspondingly, each choice would impact another whether one intended to or not. The vow to live without regrets was merely a joke when you were kids, but it had morphed into a mantra after that night.

Recalling the trauma that you were desperately attempting to conceal had brought your features to scrunch into a sour expression. Hajime and the others had your best interests at heart, but truthfully they were impeding your progress. How could you learn to move on when they served as a constant reminder of what held you back? 

“Oi.” A gentle finger was pressed against the center of your forehead, naturally your eyes shot up to ascertain who had disturbed your inner monologue.

Not a hint of emotion could be detected in Osamu Miya’s features, outside of the usual – hunger. Even now, he was munching on a granola bar. For some reason, the sight ahead of you had prompted a titter to crawl up your throat.

“I feel like I’ve seen this before… This is how aliens impregnant the humans in that one movie.” Raising your eyebrows, your y/e/c irises blinked up at the finger that remained against your skin.

“You had to make it weird.” Instantly, the grey-haired boy removed his finger, then wiped it against your shirt for ‘sanitary precautions’. “Why were you makin’ a constipated face before?”

Stumbling back a few steps, disbelief had manifested into a dramatic gasp. Relocating a hand to your chest, your brows furrowed in distaste.

“Constipated? How dare you! I can’t believe you think this is the face I make when taking a shit.”

The winged spiker had to swallow the chuckle that almost slipped past his lips. How was she a girl? what kind of girl spoke like that? The type that seemed mostly unphased by death threats, the sight of a deceased rodent and Atsumu with his shirt off. Maybe his type –

Wait nope. He was so not thinking that.  

“Oh my God. I saw that.” Were your eyes deceiving you? Not likely. The tips of his mouth had twitched just seconds prior. He was going to laugh, at you most likely, but it counted nonetheless. “That means I would have won today either way. Fuck yes!” A squeal had sounded within the confines of your throat as a hand was thrown into the air in a demonstration of your excitement.

“Gross.” Soon an empty wrapper was deposited onto your head. Osamu then nonchalantly popped a piece of gum into his mouth. Denying your claim would be too troublesome, so he allowed you to enjoy your moment.

“UM.” Plucking the plastic piece laid over your scalp, your eyes went from the clear piece of rubbish to the person who was responsible for it. “Do I look like a trashcan? I swear to God if you say yes, I will provide you a ticket for littering.”

All that was offered in response was a cheeky smile, one that lasted for a second or two at most. The second it was dismantled; withdrawal struck your heart. So that was what drugs felt like –

“Do it again! DO IT AGAIN.”

Bet you never saw it coming - his type 

Masterpost - Previous -  Next

A/N: sorry if this was depressing, I tried to add in some fluffier shit to balance it out. ;-; 

Taglist: @kara-grayson04 @pure-otaku106, @haikyuufairy @kingkagss @bloomkings @hai-q-haikyuu @it-me-720@sunnyshoyou @fangirling-25-8@svtbitch@shegrewupwithoutafather @namyari @lilacshouko @shakiraisawesome  @cuddlesslut @anime-simp @chaelysian@eixelb27 @ensworks @vicassa @callmekda @newfriendjen@harresexual @otomefan @anhphunnnn @idiot-juice-enthusiast  @obsessedwhxre @stfucanunot @aquariarose @bringmelily @1-800-b @prettysetterboiss @kageyamasbabygorl @sugawarabby @missalienqueen @of-heroes-and-dreams

[friendsim-more-like-lovesim]

i love your troll biology head canons!!! idk if you’ve done this yet, but can you bless us with content pertaining to noises like chirps and purrs? i’ve seen people hc that they make noises at frequencies that humans can’t hear, or chuff like lions and such. while i do think they do purr, i think it would more buggy (bug-like?) than a mammal (@ how trolls reproduce) what are your thoughts specifically? 💖 you make excellent content 😘

anon you are speaking exactly my language and i thank you for once again opening these floodgates. and thank youu~!!💖

I love the thought of them being able to make noises in a range that humans can’t hear! especially low noises - i really like the idea of trolls having a lot deeper voices than humans (since i hc them to be so big) and it’d make sense for their growls and purrs to be at a low frequency as well!!

purring and bug-clicking are the most common troll noise headcanons i think(?) and i’m totally on board. If you know my blog that probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone skdjkd

my personal headcanon is that their noises differ slightly from caste to caste, alpthough i know biologically this doesn’t make the most sense but. i have my reasons. let me map it out for y’all:

(get ready for headcanon infodump)

Lowbloods (burgundy through mustard)

• A lowbloods biology is more engineered towards “peasant-work” so to say; getting their hands dirty and being more in tune with the organic ground-level part of society.

• Alternia wants the lowest casts to be out of sight, and out of mind for the most part really. So while trolls are naturally able to produce louder sounds than humans, lowbloods have evolved to be more on the quieter side. Forced submission in the way of silencing them by the state, un-natural selection, if you will. We don’t know if the same rules would apply without the tyranny.

• gold bloods are a bit of a grey-area here, slightly less mammalian than the rusts but not really noticeably so

• Their purrs and chirps would be more light and gentle sounding, easy to hear even with human ears, and not too distracting. tends to be more rumble-y

Midbloods (potentially lime, olive through teal)

• We don’t really have any information about limes concerning sounds, other than a soothing kind of quality to them? not sure on that one

• Olives! Olives are by far the caste with the most mammal traits, think about people like nepeta and konyyl - they’re built for wildlife survival and have many cat/lion like qualities

sure, all people within a caste are different, but i think you see where i’m coming from with this.

•Jades and Teals are where we get progressively more insectoid, although the jades are probably more insect-like than the teals. Teals have more outside input in their biology, small mammalian inputs to their dna; whereas jades are engineered to be stuck in a cave in the dark, following instructions and working like an ant colony.

• They would purr and chirp similarly to lowerbloods, but it would sound less gentle and more strong and almost (as if) intentional. Olives purr the most out of anyone, often not on purpose though. They have a tendency to let their content noises slip through without their permission.

Mid-High (cerulean and indigo blue)

• so this is interesting because there’s the whole nip-debate with the indigos, and they also drink milk which are obviously mammalian traits but i’ll get back to that ok

• Let’s look at ceruleans first. I don’t know what led me to this decision, but i always imagined them to be one of the most insectoid castes? Maybe it’s because of the the whole arachnid/scorpio thing, but i always thought the upper midbloods/lower highbloods would be the most insect-like.

• now back to the indigos, the uh. milk and nippie talk really does complicate things for me. I do believe they’re not as buggy as the ceruleans, but not as mammalian as the lowerbloods. PERSONALLY i don’t like the ‘trolls with nips’ thing. It just? doesn’t really make sense to me?? with their biology??? I don’t think they’d have bellybuttons either. But anyway. this is kinda off topic at this point but i’ve discussed this before

• Their noises and clicks would be louder and sharper, they don’t necessarily purr per se; they make little clicking and almost scratched up sounds. It’s a noise difficult to describe, something so inherently alien that you would have to hear it firsthand to really understand it - and even then you might not.

Purple

• For the purples i’m actually not 100% sure where they’d land on the mammal-to-bug scale, but their noises would probably be more unique, being in the middle of highbloods and seadwellers

• We know they Honk. like, honking is an actual sound they can make, not just a word they say. though probably both are possible. People have said this before me but i really love the thought of Karako honking with his actual vocal chords, and not literally enunciating the word “honk”

• That would definitely be a very interesting caste trait, and lots of fun possibilities to look into. that’s not why we’re here today tho so i might get into that in another post at some point

• Purples are generally more mammalian than their lower highblood-counterparts, often seen purring around their quadmates. Because of their caste and stature though, it doesn’t quite sound like purring but rather big lion chuffing, almost like a silent roar, vibrating through their bodies. The sound is very deep, almost too deep for the human ear to hear; but if you get close enough you can feel it reverberate through them.

Seadwellers (violet and fuchsia)

• Now fish, as you probably know, are not insects. HOWEVER. They are also definitely not mammals. i mean yes amphibians exist and the universe is a frog so we know that’s a thing but hush. So they are probably the furthest away from mammals, and they don’t posses any mammalian qualities either. It makes sense that they wouldn’t. cause... they’re fish.

• Seadweller noises are interesting, because aquatic beings make very distinct sounds, and they aren’t often heard outside of their aquatic environment. Could they make noises like dolphins? Could they sing like whales? Do they hum to communicate through vibrations in the water? do they make crustacean clicking noises?

The possibilities are endless!

• So i don’t think they’d purr, but some other people have theorized that they make little bubbly sound which is very cute. Also ear-fin flappies when they’re happy. that’s not really a sound though

— — —

so on a scale from mammal-y to insect-y, it goes

Mammalian < olive - lime - burgundy - bronze - mustard - purple - indigo - cerulean > Insect

amphibian < violet - fuchsia > fish

[slvault]

Ship: Sung Jin-Woo/Woo Jin-Chul

Tags: Post-Canon AU, Future Fic, Canon Divergence AU, Immortality, Fluff, Smut, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers

Summary: Almost twenty years after they first met again, Jin-Chul gets his fair share of good-natured ribbing about being an eternal bachelor, while Jin-Woo’s parents would like to know if he’s ever going to give them grandchildren or even just a daughter- or son-in-law. Both of them smile, deflect, and carry on. Sometimes, when they’re out for drinks or a meal or a break in the middle of the day to feed the ducks, they even like to laugh about it.

Read on AO3

-0-

They’re not feeding the ducks this time. Winter has dug its roots in, covering everything under a fine layer of snow and chasing most people indoors whenever possible. So of course, it’s a fine day for a stroll outside in the peaceful quiet of the cold afternoon. Scarves and jackets and a cup of coffee each are enough to stave off the chill.

They end up in the same park, taking a seat on their usual bench by the lake once they’ve swept the snow off. The water isn’t quite frozen over, but there are bits of ice already floating on the surface.

For a while, they sit in silence, and neither of them feels the need to break it. Two decades they’ve known each other, across two lifetimes, as colleagues and friends and comrades tied together through circumstance and memories and the knowledge of a whole universe full of monsters that consider their planet easy pickings. With a foundation like that, they’ve both long since grown comfortable with simply existing in one another’s presence.

Days like today are normal for them. Not a week’s gone by since Jin-Woo was sixteen and Jin-Chul was twenty-four that they haven’t met up at least once every weekend, sometimes just to check-in, more often to catch up. Usually, they meet up on other days of the week too.

Unlike those days however, Jin-Chul carries an air of anticipatory determination today as he stares out over the lake, and Jin-Woo watches him out of the corner of his eye, patient in a way only a man with all the time in the world to spend can be. Eventually, Jin-Chul stirs, takes a distracted sip of his drink, and then glances over to his left, smiling faintly when he finds Jin-Woo already waiting.

“So, how have you been?” He asks, more as a lead-up than anything else. Jin-Woo had texted him just this morning to tell him about Jin-Ah’s newest boyfriend and the interns he’s thinking of hiring, as well as to pass on some information that looks to be connected to a case Jin-Chul is working on. It was a good day for Jin-Chul’s precinct when Jin-Woo received his private investigator license.

Jin-Woo answers him anyway. “My dad’s thinking of taking my mom on a cruise for their anniversary this year. Jin-Ho’s probably going to get disowned again for introducing his cousin to the joys of breaking into the house of that CEO we’ve been looking into, which probably means I’ll have to hire her sooner or later. And another Gate appeared in America yesterday, on the east coast, so that was an exciting two hours of my life.” He hides a smile behind his drink. “What about your week?”

Jin-Chul stares for a moment, then huffs out a laugh. “Nowhere near as interesting as yours.”

Jin-Woo shrugs lazily. “I keep telling you, you should come with me more often. I can barely get you out of your office once a month.”

Jin-Chul hums noncommittally. It’s not agreement, but it’s not a refusal either. In truth, he has no issues with tagging along whenever Jin-Woo has to go deal with yet another alien intruder or invasion, but there’s only so much responsibility he’s willing to dump on his subordinates, if only because he doesn’t trust them to run everything smoothly in his absence, and if something gets blown up or set on fire while he’s gone, three guesses who would be the one forced to clean up the aftermath.

The whole matter actually segues nicely into what he wants to talk about today though, and for a moment, he levels a searching gaze on the other, taking in the spark of mana in his irises and the flicker of a passing silhouette curling along his jawline and the figures limned in ghost-light that sometimes like to wave at him from the shadows all around them.

All if it is familiar to him these days, all of it dear, all secrets that Jin-Woo shares only with him, and Jin-Chul guards each and every one closely, more precious to him than any jewel or priceless artefact.

“I will be forty-four next week,” He says abruptly.

Jin-Woo blinks once, slow and deliberate, expression near-inscrutable. “I know. I’ve already made a reservation at that restaurant you like in Florence.”

Jin-Chul almost has to laugh at that too. He thinks he’s missed a few things over the past several years. Or maybe not missed. He’s always known; he just hadn’t registered all of what it had meant.

“One of my coworkers was actually complaining about it just a few days ago,” He reveals with good humour. In contrast, he keeps a sharp eye on Jin-Woo, not just his face because reading him is a whole-body endeavour, so Jin-Chul watches him, which has never been a hardship. “Even asked for skincare tips. She was joking of course, but I wouldn’t have been able to give her any either way. It’s apparently terribly unfair though, how I can get to this age, in my profession, and still pass for someone at least a decade younger. I even checked for grey hairs, when I went home that evening. Not a one to be found.”

Jin-Woo stares at him. Jin-Chul stares back, and when he doesn’t get any reaction, or rather, he gets a very resolute non-reaction, he drops his gaze to his coffee and lets the realization that should’ve occurred to him years ago finally crystallize in his mind.

Another smile tugs at his lips. When he looks up again, Jin-Woo has turned his gaze to the lake, the surface so still it seems as if time has frozen in its stead.

“...I’ll stop, if you want me to,” Jin-Woo says at last, and there are shadows in his eyes, dark as storm clouds and a hundred times more deadly. His words are light and inflectionless, but Jin-Chul has never known him to be anything less than honest when speaking to him.

“I should’ve asked first,” Jin-Woo continues, not quite apologetic, not at all regretful, but the admission itself feels like a wound, a surrender, a bended knee, and Jin-Chul’s fingers twitch with the urge to lash out and rip it to shreds.

He doesn’t consider himself a particularly violent man, not even back when he’d still been a Hunter, but anything that can make Jin-Woo sound like that has no right to exist between them.

“I should’ve guessed,” Jin-Chul corrects him, and Jin-Woo’s gaze finally slides back over to him, unwavering, mana-bright and almost fervent with something unspoken and straining against its leash. Jin-Chul shrugs lightly. “To be honest, I was going to ask. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but it probably would’ve been soon, if you didn’t mention it yourself first.”

He pauses, absently turning the cup around between his hands as he studies the micro-expressions flitting across Jin-Woo’s features.

“You have to have known,” Jin-Chul says quietly. “Not from the very beginning perhaps, but it’s been obvious for a while now, I think, that this was always where we were going to end up, sooner or later.”

It’s why Jin-Chul has never thought about finding a wife and settling down and starting a family, why he’s never been worried that Jin-Woo might one day take one of the ridiculous number of men and women constantly vying for his attention as far back as when he’d still been in university seriously. They’ve both dated occasionally here and there, but never for long, less and less as time went by, and basically not at all in recent years. With Jin-Woo, Jin-Chul has never pushed for more, for faster, content with the pace they’ve set, with friendship and companionship because those were just as important to him as the promise of something more that’s always been waiting for them to catch up one day.

There has never been any forks or detours along the path of their relationship. Their road has always only ever had one destination. And perhaps, when it comes down to it, it would be most accurate to say that Jin-Chul has never doubted his place in Jin-Woo’s life, because he has always known exactly where he stood in it.

Jin-Woo is still as stone for the longest time, and even when he moves again, Jin-Chul only catches the slight easing of his shoulders and the release of tension from his brow because he knows Jin-Woo, and he knows what to look for to understand such an emotionally contained man.

“I didn’t want to assume,” Jin-Woo says, more carefully than Jin-Chul’s heard from him in a while.

His eyes flicker away, then back, and something of that horrifying loneliness that had been far more persistent at the beginning of their re-acquaintance yawns open behind them like a bottomless pit.

“Humans weren’t made for eternity,” Jin-Woo tells him, and his voice rings with that otherworldly echo of the legacy he’d inherited. There is nothing human in his face now, not in the quicksilver flash of his teeth, not in the foxfire burn of his eyes. Someone with more sense would probably have run a long time ago. But Jin-Chul has never been afraid of Sung Jin-Woo, no matter what he looks like or what he’s become, and a godhood made visible isn’t going to change that.

“Then,” Jin-Chul says simply, steadily, with all the confidence of someone demanding what’s his by right. “Make me into something not human. You’ve already stopped me from aging; you might as well go the rest of the way. If you were waiting for me to catch on and give my permission, then of course you have it.”

He pauses, then adds, as earnestly as he knows how to be, all steel and steadfast calm, “I plan to stay with you for as long as you’ll have me, Jin-Woo, in any capacity you can accept. I hope you know that that’s a decision I settled on quite a few years ago, and it was never a particularly difficult one to make.”

He pauses again, just for a moment, for the space of time between the stutter of his heartbeat in his chest as his pulse races, and then he forges on, unfaltering because this too is a truth he feels down to his bones, and no matter how well they know each other, some things should still be said.

“You are very easy to love,” Jin-Chul admits, and he feels a little less nervous as Jin-Woo’s eyes widen, looking gratifyingly stunned, like he’d never expected Jin-Chul to say it outright. If this is the response he gets though, Jin-Chul can definitely see the appeal. “For me, there’s been no one else in a long time. I don’t find anyone else half as interesting, and certainly there is no one whose company I enjoy as much as I do yours, if that wasn’t obvious enough, with the amount of time I spend with you. And I don’t think I’ve been overly optimistic in believing that you feel the same-”

And that’s as far as he gets because the shadows around them are suddenly surging, swamping the snow at their feet, slithering over the bench and drifting over their legs. Half a second after that, his coffee is falling to the ground because there’s a hand in his hair, and another cradling the curve of his jaw, and there are lips on his lips, and Jin-Chul is far too occupied with pulling Jin-Woo even closer to think about where his drink has gone.

He’s short of breath by the time the kiss eases off into something less intense. Jin-Woo is little better, half-sprawled over Jin-Chul’s lap, eyes gleaming with naked hunger even as his fingers press near-bruises into Jin-Chul’s skin. Jin-Chul’s grip on the other’s hips is equally possessive, and even the winter chill around them doesn’t do much to cool the heat simmering between them.

“You have to be sure,” Jin-Woo says, voice gone rough around the edges. He’s still close enough to kiss, and that’s exactly what he does, licking into Jin-Chul’s mouth again with just a hint of teeth at its heels, and Jin-Chul groans under the onslaught, biting back into the kiss, one hand moving up to curl around the back of Jin-Woo’s neck to keep him in place. When they part again, his lips feel as swollen as Jin-Woo’s look. Jin-Woo stares back, eyes half-lidded and dark with arousal despite the flare of mana ringing his pupils, and Jin-Chul can’t help shuddering under that regard.

“You have to be sure,” Jin-Woo repeats. “If I-” He stops, blinks, and then forges on in low, almost urgent tones, “Twenty years ago, you regained your memories, and the first thing you chose to do was to let me know. You could’ve just kept pretending, you could’ve asked to forget - it would’ve been easier. But instead, you let me know that you knew, and that you were there, and that I could talk to you about any of it if I wanted to, and you kept coming back. Do you even how much that meant to me? Especially after I’d just spent twenty-seven years fighting a war, and then even my own dad came back one day remembering nothing, and the only people around me every day were a bunch of kids I could barely relate to. But then you were there, and you wouldn’t let me carry it all on my own, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed someone else to know until you insisted.”

He stops again, and Jin-Chul can’t look away from that fierce, near-blinding gaze.

“That’s why I need you to be sure,” Jin-Woo says once more. “Because if you tell me I get to keep you, I don’t know if I can be strong enough, and nice enough, to let you go if you end up changing your mind one day.”

And this time, it’s Jin-Chul who takes the initiative to kiss him, coaxing Jin-Woo into something less desperate and more gentle, humming approvingly when he feels the other melt into it. He’d love nothing more than to get his hands on more skin, but they’re still outside, and dressed for the weather to boot, so this will have to be enough for now.

“You’d let me go,” Jin-Chul murmurs against his lips. “You are kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

“And as always, you have too much faith in me,” Jin-Woo retorts, but some of the underlying apprehension from before has disappeared.

This is something they’ve long since agreed to disagree. Jin-Chul leans back, hands coming up to frame Jin-Woo’s face, thumbing over the faint flush in his cheeks with something like reverence.

“You’d let me go, if I asked,” Jin-Chul says with conviction. “But I would never ask, so what does it matter?”

Jin-Woo pulls back a little, still watching Jin-Chul like he’s looking for any trace of a lie. Eventually, he sighs, and one of his hands rise to brush back a few stray strands of Jin-Chul’s hair, tugging lightly before tucking them behind his ear. “This is getting long.”

“Hm, I haven’t had time to go to the barber’s,” Jin-Chul replies, turning his head a little into the feather-light touch of Jin-Woo’s fingers at his temple.

“But I like it like this,” Jin-Woo remarks, gaze slanting briefly to the way the longest strands fall just below Jin-Chul’s shoulders.

Jin-Chul smiles indulgently at him. “Then I’ll just go for a trim.”

Jin-Woo’s lips press together like he’s trying not to laugh, and then he shakes his head and chuckles anyway. He leans in and kisses Jin-Chul again, a brief brush of lips this time that Jin-Chul has no time to return before it’s over.

“Take the day off,” Jin-Woo murmurs, and the sly curve of his smile is all temptation.

As if Jin-Chul could go back to the office now of all times. He’d be distracted at best for the rest of the day, and the itch of it - of finally, openly acknowledging what Jin-Woo is to him, what he is to Jin-Woo, of knowing he can reach out and take - would seethe under his skin until he succumbed to it.

“Take us home then,” Jin-Chul says, and doesn’t bother specifying which. His apartment or Jin-Woo’s - they’ve both spent equal amounts of time in each.

Familiar arms pull him close, and shadows rise up all around them, blocking out the light of day, but Jin-Chul has never been afraid of the dark.

The two of them disappear, leaving an empty bench behind.

-0-

For someone normally so restrained, Jin-Woo kisses like he’s starved for touch and heat and pleasure. He gives Jin-Chul a moment to call in sick (”You were fine before lunch, sir??”), and then they’re tumbling into the bedroom, half their clothes already shed along the way.

Jin-Chul groans as Jin-Woo settles on top of him, and he doesn’t hesitate to run his hands under the other man’s shirt, over all that glorious bare skin he’s finally allowed to explore. Jin-Woo arches into his touch and kisses him again like he wants to stake a claim, like Jin-Chul isn’t already his. Their hips rock together for a moment, and then Jin-Chul makes a frustrated noise before nudging Jin-Woo back long enough to undo his belt and toss it to the floor.

“This is what you get when you need to wear a suit to work every day,” Jin-Woo mumbles as he dives in again, setting teeth to his neck and leaving a trail of stinging pleasure in his wake. Jin-Chul thinks briefly of reminding Jin-Woo that he can’t go into work with his throat all marked up, and then decides that high collars and scarves were invented for a reason.

“You love me in a suit,” Jin-Chul counters, busying himself with stripping Jin-Woo out of his shirt, and then rolling his eyes when Jin-Woo returns the favour by ripping his shirt down the middle and sending buttons flying. “Really?”

“I love you out of a suit too,” Jin-Woo says by way of explanation, sounding unrepentantly smug about it. He nips at Jin-Chul’s bottom lip, then flicks his tongue out to soothe the sting. “I’ll buy you another one later. You have a million of them in your closet anyway.”

Jin-Chul sighs somewhat helplessly before hooking a foot around Jin-Woo’s ankle and then flipping their positions. Jin-Woo doesn’t fight him, lying back complacently as Jin-Chul straddles him and smooths his hands down the firm lean muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“You are disgustingly perfect,” Jin-Chul laments. He keeps up with his own exercise, and now that he thinks about it, staying in shape is probably easier for him than other men his age, but Jin-Woo has the physique of a Hunter, and it shows.

Jin-Woo hums, reaching out with one hand to touch as well, smirking when Jin-Chul shivers as a calloused palm slides over his nipple before trailing down the ladder of his ribs, only stopping once he gets to the waistband of his pants.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” Jin-Woo tells him with that maddening sledgehammer candor he likes to pull out every now and then, and under the combination of a blatantly appreciative gaze and the fact that the man who said it has never been one for flattery, excessive or otherwise, Jin-Chul can feel a flush of embarrassed pleasure rising in his cheeks.

He covers it by stripping them both out of the rest of their clothes. Jin-Woo seems to sense it anyway because he laughs, amusement gentled with delight, and when he draws Jin-Chul into another kiss, it lingers in a way none of the previous ones had, slow and sensual as if he could never get enough. Jin-Chul moans into it, shifting his hips down to grind his cock against Jin-Woo’s, and it’s easy to get lost in it, in the slide of a body against his own and the building pleasure pooling in his gut. When he reaches between them to wrap a hand around their cocks, Jin-Woo finally makes a quiet noise at the back of his throat, one that becomes an aborted groan as Jin-Chul strokes them both to completion.

It barely takes the edge off, even if it does leave Jin-Chul a little breathless in the aftermath. Jin-Woo on the other hand doesn’t even get soft, and he’s driving them into a second round almost immediately. The world tilts as Jin-Woo flips them so that he’s on top again, eyes bright with mana once more as he stares Jin-Chul up and down like he doesn’t know where he wants to start.

Jin-Chul makes an amused sound and spreading his legs wider in clear invitation, one that Jin-Woo takes with heated eyes and a ripple of air as he retrieves some lube. And then his head dips, and Jin-Chul swears as teeth scrapes over one of his nipples before a hot mouth closes around it and sucks until he’s arching into it, swears again when Jin-Woo stops only to do the same to the other. And then there are slick fingers at his hole, and the world dissolves into heat and lust and pleasure as Jin-Chul drags the man back up for another messier kiss even as he rocks down on those fingers opening him up for more.

Jin-Woo spends long minutes prepping him, or rather, Jin-Chul squirms impatiently as a third finger teases at his prostate, never enough to satisfy, right up until he presses an insistent heel to Jin-Woo’s lower back and urges, “Come on, I’m ready, Jin-Woo, please-”

It gets him a searing look as Jin-Woo finally obliges, grasping his hips and lining up and sinking into him, thick and relentless and spreading him wide until Jin-Chul is gasping from the stretch.

Above him, Jin-Woo stills, eyes like foxfire even as he studies the shifting nuances of Jin-Chul’s features like he’s looking for any hints of aversion. Jin-Chul laughs somewhat breathlessly and clenches deliberately around Jin-Woo’s cock, pushing back to take him that much deeper just to get a feel for it. He releases a long pleased hum that in no way hides the stutter of Jin-Woo’s breath or the minute jerk of his hips, the latter of which only serves to make Jin-Chul close his eyes from the jolt of pleasure snapping up his spine.

Opening them again, he arches an eyebrow at the man looming over him. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Jin-Woo scoffs out something that could be amusement but mostly just comes out hungry. His grip on Jin-Chul’s hips tighten, and then he’s pulling back, only to snap his own hips forward a moment later, shoving a garbled cry out of Jin-Chul that Jin-Woo swallows as he catches his lips in another kiss, licking into his mouth like he wants to conquer him.

Jin-Chul wouldn’t be able to keep back all the noises he makes even if he wanted to as Jin-Woo fucks him into the mattress, hard and fast and just as greedy for it as Jin-Chul. His cock is hard and leaking, and he can feel himself hurtling towards his next orgasm even as he tightens his legs around Jin-Woo’s waist and pushes back into each thrust and bares his throat when Jin-Woo nuzzles at his neck. He comes just as Jin-Woo bites down, the shock of pain twining with the overwhelming pleasure as he shakes apart on Jin-Woo’s cock, choking on a moan when Jin-Woo never slows, fucking him straight through it.

Jin-Chul cusses and claws at Jin-Woo’s back but does nothing to stop him as his nerves buzz from the onslaught, and he tastes the ghost of laughter on Jin-Woo’s lips when they kiss again. By the time Jin-Woo groans and comes in him, Jin-Chul’s reaching his third peak, and a hand on his cock and half a dozen strokes is all it takes to topple him over the edge once more.

“So lovely,” Jin-Woo murmurs against his lips as Jin-Chul’s legs fall back to the bed, and he’s trembling as much from the quiet reverent words as he is from the way Jin-Woo is still rocking against him, slow, gentle, shallow thrusts that prevent Jin-Chul from coming down from the high of his climax. It goes on and on until cum is leaking from his ass and his voice is cracking on a plea, to stop, to keep going, and he’s all but spasming around the other’s cock, wanting to get away, wanting more.

Jin-Woo makes a smug but enquiring noise from somewhere above him. “Should I stop?”

Jin-Chul forces his eyes open, feeling shaky and wrecked, drenched in sweat and twitching from overstimulation. But he meets Jin-Woo’s gaze and licks his lips, somehow finding the breath to chuckle when Jin-Woo’s attention drops to the flash of his tongue like he can’t help himself.

There’s no way Jin-Chul is coming again, and even the tiniest movement from JIn-Woo feels like electricity dancing under his skin. But he stares up into the glow of power in Jin-Woo’s eyes, and feels the possessiveness in the hypnotic brush of a thumb over his hipbone, and Jin-Chul just... wants. Jin-Woo is still mostly hard inside him, and Jin-Chul wants him to take and take until there’s nothing left for Jin-Chul to give, wants to be consumed by the abyssal depths of Jin-Woo’s desire, wants most of all for this god-king to claim him and keep him and show the world exactly who Jin-Chul belongs to.

He releases a shuddering exhale before tilting his hips up and summoning the energy to squeeze down around the length inside him despite how loose and fucked out he feels. Jin-Woo’s eyes flutter, and his lips part, expression splintering with startled pleasure. Jin-Chul will never get tired of this, of how much Jin-Woo is willing to show around him when he’s so very controlled and reserved around everyone else. Part of that is Jin-Chul knowing how to read him since Jin-Woo has never been an overly expressive man anyway, but he’s also willing to bet that even Jin-Woo’s former bed partners hadn’t seen him like this. Jin-Woo would never have allowed it.

“One more,” Jin-Chul says hoarsely. He can’t come again, but Jin-Woo can, and Jin-Chul wants to feel it, the ache of it, wants to be forced to take it. He digs his nails into Jin-Woo’s shoulders and widens his legs like a challenge. “I can take it.”

Jin-Woo smirks down at him, a wicked curve that promises exactly what Jin-Chul is asking for.

“Brace yourself,” He says, and that’s all the warning Jin-Chul gets as strong hands slide under his back and haul him up until he’s sitting in Jin-Woo’s lap and impaled on that thick cock, and all the breath leaves his lungs in a string of curse words that may or may not be all in Korean. He’s held down, forced to adjust to the new angle, to how deep Jin-Woo feels inside him like this, and the burn of pain-pleasure leaves him whimpering and clutching at the other’s shoulders.

He feels more than hears the rumble of Jin-Woo’s laughter in his chest, and it takes a few hazy seconds for Jin-Chul to realize what’s caused it - his stamina is flagging, and his nerves are on fire, but he’s already shifting a little, rising a few inches up off that cock before sliding back down on it, riding him in small hitching motions of his hips until the sharp twisting ache of his hole is all he can focus on.

“You like this then,” Jin-Woo muses in even thoughtful tones that’s just unfair. Fingers feather over his balls before one of them skirts around the trembling rim of where they’re connected, not pushing in but applying a teasing sort of pressure anyway. Jin-Chul closes his eyes and doesn’t ask for it, but he doesn’t need to look to know that Jin-Woo is cataloguing every single one of his reactions, and indeed, Jin-Woo sighs almost wistfully but says, “Next time.”

When you’re less breakable, he doesn’t say, but Jin-Chul hears it anyway, and a part of him almost wants to lament the last clinging remains of his humanity.

And then even that slips away as hands find his hips again, lifting him up like he weighs nothing until only the tip of Jin-Woo’s cock is still inside him. Jin-Chul has time to catch a glimpse of a knife-sharp smirk and burning eyes, and then he’s being yanked down just as Jin-Woo drives his cock up, right into the core of him, and Jin-Chul howls with the feel of it, jerking futilely between Jin-Woo’s hands, no mercy to be found as Jin-Woo fucks him in steady demanding thrusts that hurts in all the best ways and sends the most excruciating pleasure coiling through the rest of his body.

He can’t come again, but he feels it when Jin-Woo does, feels the warmth of it inside him, hears the breathless moan in his ear, and sobs when a hand finds his half-hard cock and a thumb rubs over the wet head, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, but that hand is merciless, another comes up to tangle in his hair and tilt his head back before teeth and tongue ravage his mouth, and all of it drags him slowly but inexorably towards a fourth shattering orgasm.

It takes countless agonizing minutes before Jin-Chul finally comes again, jolting with the force of it, still split open on a cock so he has nowhere to go, a soundless cry trapped in his throat as he collapses into Jin-Woo’s chest, shivering uncontrollably from toomuchsogoodmorenomore oversensitivity.

He sinks into oblivion after that, too exhausted to fight it, and the last thing he registers is the press of a kiss to his temple and the comforting weight of an arm wrapping securely around him.

-0-

He wakes, hours later, loose-limbed and sated and clean, still shirtless but in fresh pajama pants, with bruises on his hips and the twinge of sore muscles just setting in. His tomorrow’s self will probably hate him. Or maybe not, because there’s water and a potion waiting for him, the latter of which just leaves him pleasantly sore instead. Even the marks on his neck only fade a little. Good thing it’s winter.

“I might have pushed too hard,” Jin-Woo admits as he bustles in with... Jin-Chul checks the clock - ah, dinner.

He also rolls his eyes and pulls Jin-Woo down for a brief kiss. “If I’d really minded, you would’ve known. Don’t fuss.”

He really did enjoy it, and he’d enjoy it more once he has the stamina to at least last a few more rounds.

“If I didn’t fuss, you wouldn’t get dinner in bed,” Jin-Woo points out dryly, and then laughs when Jin-Chul immediately holds out his hands for one of the trays.

Jin-Chul lingers on that, on how relaxed and open Jin-Woo looks right now, on how easy joy comes to him in this moment.

Jin-Chul would kill anyone who tries to take this away from him. He may have been a Hunter with more lines in the sand than most, but he’d also been the head of the Monitoring Division of the Korean Hunters Association, and one didn’t essentially become half-referee, half-babysitter of a country’s worth of murder-happy psychopaths by not knowing when to stand firm, when to yield, and when to make someone disappear. And when it came down to it, Jin-Chul had been Awakened at the very top of A-rank. He had a better handle on it, but it wasn’t as if he’d ever shied away from murder either, even if his position had always made it seem like a justifiable necessity to outsiders looking in.

(It’s why he calls Jin-Woo kind. Because Sung Jin-Woo never does anything he doesn’t want to do, what he says is what he does is what he means, and the choices he’s made each time lives are on the line speak for themselves. Jin-Chul doesn’t think him kind because he’s altruistic or heroic or particularly benevolent, although one could make arguments for all three. But no, Jin-Chul thinks him kind because Jin-Woo’s first instinct has always been to protect, and for a Hunter, no matter the rank or even class, or even just for a human, the extent of the protection Jin-Woo has always been willing to offer is rare. After all, how many people turned a blind eye to Jeju Island? How many did the same to Japan? And how many others would’ve turned back time and fought a near-thirty-year-long war on their own just to spare their fellow man all that future tragedy? Considering their track record, Jin-Chul would daresay not fucking many.

Jin-Woo once told him that becoming the Shadow Monarch stunted his emotions. Jin-Chul finds it ironically hilarious that someone with stunted emotions cares more than literally anyone else Jin-Chul has ever met in either of his lives.

“At least half the reason I went to Japan was because I wanted to fight the Giants, you know.”

“People aren’t one-dimensional, and you don’t hear me calling you a saint. You can want to fight and want to save lives at the same time.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“We make quite the pair then.”)

These days, he has no higher priority than Sung Jin-Woo. Killing someone in the name of hoarding all the secrets - big and small - that Jin-Woo leaves in his possession, knowingly or otherwise, is a negligible matter. Fortunately for everyone involved, Jin-Woo has never had the habit of divulging anything personal to veritable strangers. Only his family and his closest friends get the privilege, and even then, only Jin-Chul knows everything.

They spend the next few minutes eating in companionable silence, but Jin-Chul is well aware of Jin-Woo’s gaze on him, even if he doesn’t make it obvious. He finishes off half his plate before setting it aside and then reaching out to snag Jin-Woo by the wrist.

Jin-Woo makes it obvious this time.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Jin-Chul says with a mild sort of reproach. “So unless you have, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

He feels Jin-Woo go still for a second, two, and then the man pulls back, but only far enough to regard him with ghost-light eyes. Finally, he shakes his head, then again as if for emphasis before offering a rueful smile. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Sorry. I guess I’m still getting used to the... certainty of it.”

Jin-Chul scoffs. “It’s been certain for years.” But he does understand, so he also squeezes Jin-Woo’s wrist before letting go. “Although, there will be a problem if I stay looking this young forever.”

“Oh, that,” Jin-Woo waves a dismissive hand. “I can slowly age you on the surface, and you can do it yourself once you learn how. Well, not exactly the way I do it - pushing death back is the Shadow Monarch’s domain. But the stronger your mana, the longer your lifespan, and illusions - even ones that affect the physical plane - shouldn’t be too hard to get a hang of.”

Jin-Chul stops halfway from reaching for his food again. “...I don’t think my powers fall within that purview.”

Jin-Woo is already shaking his head. “I won’t be Awakening you the same way the Rulers did.” He pauses like he’s gathering his thoughts, and Jin-Chul turns back attentively because this is new information. “In the previous timeline, whenever Hunters Awakened, they were basically borrowing a certain amount of power from the energy that the Gates gave off. That’s how Norma Selner could remove your ‘limit’, so to speak - she had the ability to expand the amount of power that a Hunter could take in and use, but even then, there was a limit. That power, that mana, technically didn’t belong to the Hunter, so of course there was always a point where they couldn’t get any stronger, even after a Reawakening or an upgrade. Even class divisions were because it was easier on the human body when manipulating mana if Hunters just went with what they were best at. An Awakening like that can only ever be a substitute. I won’t be doing that.”

He leans forward, and this time, it’s Jin-Chul who goes motionless as the other man rests a hand against his chest, over the thud of his heartbeat.

“Every living thing in the universe is born with mana,” Jin-Woo explains. “It could roughly be translated to soul energy. It’s just that for humans, it’s still dormant because your species as a whole hasn’t developed far enough, and your bodies wouldn’t be able to handle it. It would be like... introducing a second circulatory system into your body on top of what you already have. The human body hasn’t figured out a way to support that yet.”

“But... I would be different,” Jin-Chul says slowly.

Jin-Woo shrugs. “You already are. I can’t change someone with a snap of my fingers - I’d probably blow them up or something. It’s a gradual process, and I’ve been working on you since-”

He breaks off abruptly, coughs, retrieves his hand, and then looks down at his food almost awkwardly. Jin-Chul stares at him for a moment before huffing a laugh, even as a thrilled sort of pleasure rears its head inside him.

He wonders, sometimes, which of them decided they wanted to keep the other first.

“It doesn’t hurt you,” Jin-Woo assures, as if that’s even a concern. “We could go our separate ways right now and the only thing that would happen is that you’d start aging again. Your mana would just stay dormant.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Jin-Chul scoffs. “Do I have to do anything?”

“To Awaken? No, that’s on me.” Jin-Woo blinks at him. “Um. Now?”

“No time like the present,” Jin-Chul says blithely.

Jin-Woo’s eyes narrow, but after a moment, he pushes aside his own food, rolls to his knees, and shuffles over until he’s right beside Jin-Chul. Jin-Chul blinks, moving easily when Jin-Woo curls a hand around the back of his neck and draws him close until their foreheads touch.

“It’s been certain for me too, for years,” Jin-Woo says bluntly. “I wouldn’t have bothered changing you if I wasn’t. Even my family - I’ve only slowed their aging down, nothing else.” He stops, and his grip tightens briefly. “You told me I didn’t have to be alone. I’m going to spend the rest of eternity holding you to your word, so I really hope you’re prepared.”

And then, before Jin-Chul can do more than take note of the way a last lingering knot of anxiety unravels inside him, Jin-Woo’s other hand is back against his chest, shadows flaring around them like stygian dusk-light, and all Jin-Chul can hear as he instinctively closes his eyes is the thunderous beat of his heart and the calamitous whispers of the dead and the savage roar of the eternal void that Jin-Woo commands.

When it happens, Jin-Chul almost misses it, and yet, at the same time, there’s no way he could. He remembers the first time he was Awakened in his previous life - it had been sudden and explosive, an overwhelming dizzying rush of power that had made him feel invincible, at least in the moment, and like everything around him was as fragile as glass and one wrong move might break it. Even after he’d settled, and the initial flood of mana had levelled out, he’d always been very aware of its presence, unmistakable and distinct, almost demanding to be used in the way Jin-Chul sometimes felt increasingly agitated if he went too long without entering a Dungeon. He’d thought it was just restlessness, sitting behind a desk too long, but on hindsight, with what he knows now of mana and Rulers and Monarchs and their eons’ worth of war games, perhaps that urgent need to hunt hadn’t all been his own.

It’s different, this time. This time, his Awakening feels like a sigh of relief in the dark, like puzzle pieces slotting into place, like the first breath of mountain air on a winter dawn. It fills his chest, fills his lungs, fills his whole body, and nestled behind his ribcage, behind his heart, in the depths of his soul, something blooms, all shades of purple like the horizon at sunset and just as ephemeral, delicate like the wings of a butterfly, but vibrant like birdsong and mountain streams and the first touch of colour on a cold spring morning.

Jin-Chul’s eyes fly open, and he’s gasping like he’s just run up a dozen flights of stairs. He feels the burn of mana in his eyes, familiar and foreign all at once, and when he looks down at his hands, purple light glitters faintly in his palms. It takes effort though, far more than he remembers ever needing, to regulate his mana, like flexing a muscle he’s never used before. He releases his grip on it then, lets it sink back into the tiny pool of power inside him, and it goes without protest, patient as bedrock and infinite in potential.

When he finally looks up again, Jin-Woo is watching him, smiling faint and pleased. Jin-Chul breathes in, then out, and somehow, it’s like he’s gained a piece of himself that he’d never noticed was missing before.

“I didn’t realize it was supposed to be like this,” Jin-Chul murmurs in a daze.

Jin-Woo hums something like agreement. “The Rulers’ method was pretty clumsy and heavy-handed. To be fair, they didn’t have the luxury to change the internal-” He waves a hand at Jin-Chul. “-of an entire species. But yeah, if that timeline had continued, with no more Gates to draw energy from, and human bodies that couldn’t generate the stuff without outside interference but were also already forced to accommodate mana, even in the best-case scenario, Hunters would’ve imploded on their own in a few more years.” His eyes darken. “People aren’t clay, but the Rulers pretty much stretched and moulded them like they were.”

Jin-Chul... is suddenly even more glad Jin-Woo had managed to convince the Rulers to turn back time. He’d never realized just how many problems the Rulers and Monarchs had brought with them to earth.

“Anyway,” Jin-Woo continues more briskly. “Your mana will grow the more you train it, just like anything else.” He flashes a surprisingly boyish smirk. “Maybe one day, you’ll even beat me.”

Jin-Chul straightens, the first stirrings of interest bubbling up inside him. They’ve gone to the gym for spars over the years, but obviously, it was never with mana on Jin-Woo’s part, and Jin-Chul has admittedly missed the sort of battles one could only ever get as a Hunter. The incessant urge to hunt had probably been something instilled in him by the Rulers. But he knows himself well enough to acknowledge that the desire for a good fight is all his own.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get strong enough to surpass Jin-Woo. The Shadow Monarch isn’t someone you just defeat. But if the only limit Jin-Chul has now is his own willpower, then he’s confident that he’ll at least be able to give Jin-Woo some decent competition one day.

Something of his thoughts must show on his face or seep into his mana because Jin-Woo’s eyebrows go up, and then he positively grins, all teeth and challenge, and the interest Jin-Chul feels not only doubles but also puts heat in his veins.

Out loud, in contrast, he only says demurely, “Perhaps. In the meantime though, I’ll be in your care. Do train me well.”

A moment later, almost faster than his eye can follow, he’s been knocked over and pinned to the bed, and it makes Jin-Chul laugh, breathless with rising excitement. Jin-Woo hovers over him, bright-eyed and smiling and beautiful.

“Mana signatures are troublesome,” The man tells him. “They broadcast a bit too much.” He squints with faux-accusation. “You’ve had four hours and a healing potion to recover. When did I become the voice of reason in this relationship?”

“I’m no longer the head of the Monitoring Division,” Jin-Chul says in deadpan tones. “I need to make up for all those years I spent soothing injured egos and cleaning up temper tantrums. I think it’s only fair you hold the position for a while.”

Jin-Woo snorts even as Jin-Chul adds, “Besides, I think the Awakening healed me the rest of the way.” He isn’t even sore anymore. Shame. He peers slyly up at Jin-Woo, who’s suddenly gone predator-still. “I was expecting to take another day off on account of not being able to walk properly, but I suppose if that’s not going to happen, I can just-”

Jin-Woo cuts him off with a growled, “You asked for it,” and then Jin-Chul has no more words as a fierce devouring kiss turns his laughter into a moan.

Instead, he winds his arms around his lover and arches up into the hard lines of his body, movements fuelled by lust but lacking any urgency.

They have all the time in the universe now, and Jin-Chul plans to savour every last minute of it.

[rancoeur-the-unfortunate]

Pills (Chapter 29)

(Hello everyone, Rancoeur here. I know it's been a while since I last updated this book and I am truly sorry about that. But it's been so long since I've seen Zim or have even read fanfics about it. So in a way I sorta fell out of love with it. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop updating this though. This book is a monument to how my writing has evolved over the years and is my pride and joy. I will finish it, even if it kills me. It will be awesome and I can't wait for it. Thank you for reading this and please accept this 3300-word chapter as my apology. I know it's a little short and I did want to add more stuff to it but then it just looked bloated and I didn't like that. I hope everyone is staying safe out there. Have a nice day.)

Monday morning, Dib slowly got out of bed and stretched as his alarm clock rang. The boy rubbed his eyes softly before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and put them on his nose after turning off the said clock. He glanced outside, noticing the dark clouds coming in, and sighed.

"Already looks pretty gross out there," he muttered to himself before he started to get dressed for school.

Honestly, it felt weird to sleep on a bed after sleeping in a tent for a week. Aside from just being comfier it kinda felt... lonely. Like someone was missing.

The boy shook his head as he slid on his coat and began the trek downstairs to greet Gaz and his father. Another rare day of eating with the Professor.

"Hey dad, hey Gaz," he smiled a bit and went to the fridge to grab some juice. When he grabbed what he wanted he pulled back and shut the fridge, only to find his dad right behind him holding a new device to his head. He reeled back in surprise, "dad?!"

His dad smiled at him and waved him off, "no need to worry son, I was just testing out this new invention I'm making on you. Says here your serotonin levels are higher than usual. You must be in a good mood!"

Dib gave his dad a nervous smile and laugh before backing away to the table where his sister was eating with one hand while simultaneously playing her new game with the other.

"Yeah, you haven't mumbled about killing Zim all morning. What's wrong with you?" She spoke between bites of cereal.

"I don't know, I guess I'm just too tired to think about killing Zim," Dib shrugged as he poured himself a bowl.

"That's bull and we both know it. You talk about capturing Zim in your sleep, I can hear it in my room," Gaz tossed a glare his way before going back to her game.

Dib rolled his eyes, "whatever." He muttered as he began eating.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest.

Zim tentatively stepped out of his home. The Dib had told him that the skool children had already forgotten about the drugs, but he still felt fear. Like there were still eyes following him as he marched down the sidewalk. A feeling of uneasiness seemed to wash over him.

Eventually, the blocky, grey building came into view. A few children were loitering about, waiting for the bell to ring. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Zim just sat on a bench and waited alongside them. Only observing them slightly.

Humans were weird on Mondays, Zim had no idea why though. Something about that particular day of the week seemed to drain all of the energy from the weird meat bags. One kid looked like he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion.

Down the street, he spotted the Dib and his little sister. A part of Zim was fearful. Now that everything had gone relatively back to normal, would Dib go back to trying to expose him?

When the two entered the skool's grounds, they separated. Gaz went to sit on the steps, playing her video game. While  Dib glanced about, when he looked his way, the human... smiled at him.

Causally Dib stepped closer and closer until the two were only a few feet apart. There was a moment of silence between them, both of them just staring at each other. It was obvious they both wanted to say something but neither knew how.

Eventually, Dib sighed and spoke a little quietly, "hey uh... can I sit here?" The boy gestured to the spot on the bench next to Zim.

Zim looked surprised for a moment before he crossed his arms and looked away with his usual snark before quipping a quick, "you may."

Dib chuckled to himself, "same old Zim." He said as he sat down beside the green alien.

With that, the two sat in silence once more, the two of them just looking down at the skoolyard. Humans shuffling about like zombies, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, Zim slumped out of his uptight posture and looked down in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs.

It was Dib who once again broke the silence, "so, what evil plan is it this time?"

Zim looked up at the human in surprise, "eh?"

"You know, to take over the world and all that?" Dib smirked and leaned close, "or did you forget your mission."

Zim immediately perked up and sneered in disgust, "of course not! And to answer your first question. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW!" He shouted that last part accidentally as he pointed an accusatory finger at the boy.

Dib just laughed, clutching his stomach as Zim tried to regain his composure. Zim couldn't help but giggle to himself slightly.

"In all seriousness," Zim started once the two had calmed down. "I don't know... I know I have a mission. But at the same time, that mission was given to me by them." Zim found himself glaring at his own hands. He clenched them into fists.

"It feels so strange, to have a purpose one second only to realize that purpose was only given to you to get you out of the way. And now that I see past all their lies I... I don't know. I have no idea what I should be doing, or what my purpose is now or what I'm even still doing on Earth." Zim sighed and closed his eyes, he knew Dib was looking at him, either pitying him or laughing at his distress.

Instead, he felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Zim looked up at Dib who was giving him a comforting yet awkward smile before pulling his hand back and sitting properly.

"If we're being truthful right now I guess I'll be straight with you," Dib spoke as he laid back on the bench and looked up at the sky. "The main reason why I wanted to help you was because I was hoping you'd leave once you realized what your mission was." Dib hummed to himself.

"But now that you're off your drugs and ready to leave... I..." Dib paused, "Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts." He huffed but then frowned, "but the thought of you leaving now... it just doesn't sit well with me." Dib admitted.

"Funny how the one I considered my worst enemy could become someone I might even call my..." Dib paused again and looked at Zim with an emotion ZIm couldn't decern, "friend."

Zim stared at Dib in complete silence, 'friend?' Dib smiled slightly before going back to looking at the cloudy sky.

Three minutes passed before Zim opened his mouth, "Dib I-" Before he could finish the ever-piercing sound of the bell rang, cutting him off. Simultaneously, Zim was both annoyed and grateful for the interruption.

"Well I guess we'll finish this talk some other time," the human spoke grabbed his bag, and got up. "I'll see you later Zim," Dib gave one last smile before waving goodbye and walking away towards the school building.

It was then that it hit Zim, he'd never seen Dib smile so much before. The boy seemed genuinely happy in Zim's company. It felt so strange, a foreign feeling, a feeling he hadn't felt since, "Skoodge."

Suddenly it felt like all the air had left Zim's respiratory organs and he fell to his knees on the ground. Tears were building in his eyes until eventually, the dam broke, and he started sobbing loudly. Trying and failing to gasp for air. His cardiac spooch felt like it was being squeezed like a stress toy. It hurt and Zim was just figuring out why.

All alone in the Skool courtyard, Zim was crying. Crying like a long-forgotten smeet. Eventually, the Irken just laid down on his side curled into a ball. How could he? What was wrong with him?! How could he have hurt Skoodge like that?! His best friend! His partner! His mate!

How could he have hurt someone so close to him, so one who had seen him at both his best and his worst?

The tears wouldn't stop.

Eventually, his thoughts went back to Dib, the human who even despite their mutual hatred for one another still sought to help him. To get him off those horrid drugs and saw him as a... a friend.

Suddenly it felt like time itself had stopped. A friend.

Zim had a friend. Quietly the little alien stood up and whipped his eyes. He found himself staring up at the sky, just as Dib had. The clouds seemed to have gotten darker, it was likely going to rain soon.

He should probably get inside-

A hand came out from behind him and covered his mouth roughly, cutting off his thoughts as he went into a panic. That was before it all went dark.

"So uh... what is it exactly?" Tallest Purple asked a hand on his chin as he inspected the strange being before him, keeping his distance of course.

"A Murthen, my Tallest, female, foot soldier class." The Doctor spoke, his back upright and arms tucked neatly behind his back as he gave a quick bow.

They all stood on the bridge of the Massive. The two Tallest were near the controls while the Doctor and his captive stood at the other end of the bridge. Behind the Doctor stood Skoodge, the little Irken was practically sweating bullets as he clutched Raz's egg. He kept his mouth shut, but every time he even glanced at the Murthen or her collar it felt like another ton of weight was added to his shoulders.

"A Murthen?" Tallest Red gave a confused and disgusted look at the blue figure, "ok...but what's it doing on our ship."

"I believe she will be a great help to our mission to subdue Zim. Despite her lower rank, she is incredibly capable and has experience in both war and combat.

"I mean, so did Tak," Tallest Purple crossed his arms.

The Doctor actually laughed and it was the most haunting thing anyone in the room had ever heard. "Oh, my Tallest, Raz here, is certainly no Tak, trust me."

"I don't even trust the way you just said trust me," Purple muttered in the background as Tallest Red stepped forward.

"Murthen, Murthen where have I heard that name before?" He squinted his eyes at Raz as Tallest Purple stepped behind him, "was it a planet we conquered."

"I assure you my Tallest, Murth most likely will never be claimed," the Doctor hummed.

'He seems so sure of himself,' Skoodge thought.

"Why's that?" Tallest Red asked skeptically.

"This is why," the Doctor spoke as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Before anyone had any idea what was going on, Raz raised her arm, showing a previously concealed weapon. She aimed it at one of the foodservice drones and fired and a blue beam-like laser shot out.

"AHHHHHH!!!" A scream ripped through the room as the service drone fell to the floor, the donuts he was carrying, splattering beside him. He had been shot in the lower abdomen and was clutching his melting chest in a frenzy. He was quite literally melting on the floor. Eventually, he fell silent as he collapsed on the floor, smoke coming off his body.

The two Tallest jumped back in fear, "WHAT IN THE US WAS THAT?!" Purple screamed.

"Show them," The Doctor gestured to the two with his head.

Raz held out the gun, displaying it in front of the two leaders. It was small and compact, not unlike the blasters the Irkens used. This one however was silver with a grey handle, on the sides of the round barrel were tempered glass that displayed a blue liquid.

"This is just a ground soldier-grade weapon. Yet it has the capabilities to destroy Irken armies. It's filled with a chemical compound known as H2O aka water. Due to our solubility when an Irken comes in contact with it, we tend to melt. However, that's not everything. The water is also mixed with a compound only found in Murthen waters, it is known as Gr4F8 aka Blue Gix. Mixed with water it lowers the boiling point to room temperature and creates energy in the form of light and heat. This creates the beam you just witnessed. This gun alone could destroy our entire empire and that's not even half of it." The Doctor nodded toward Raz and she lowered the gun.

"This is the kind of weaponry that can be expected on Murth, that is why we can not conquer it yet. I'm sure with a bit of studying we could find a way to make ourselves immune to this but until then. We'll just have to leave Murth unconquered. At the moment, however, I believe we should get back to the topic of Zim."

"R-right right, Zim," Tallest Red stuttered, trying to keep his composer. "Are you sure she's fit for the job?"

"Oh my Tallest, you have no idea," the Doctor smiled that irksome smile of his.

"Zim won't know what hit him."

The rest of the discussion seemed to fade out for Skoodge as he stared, wide-eyed at the dead Irken before him. He had just been shot, no warning, no nothing. He was just doing his job and he was shot and then forgotten about. Like his life meant nothing.

Already some of the cleaning drones had come over, collecting the body to be disposed of. Most likely going to be tossed out of the airlock like trash.

Skoodge looked to the egg in his hands, little Mur. Every time he looked at her he just felt more and more guilty. Her carrier was being controlled against her will and he was the cause of it.

Now he had to carry her around, an actual burden on his shoulders.

"Alright then, I guess it's settled, we'll be leaving the quadrant in a few hours to start heading for Earth," Tallest Red's voice cut into Skoodges thoughts and he felt panic run through him, that means they'll be leaving Murth and Raz's family.

Before Skoodge had a chance to voice his concerns, the Doctor was already leaving with Raz in tow.

Quickly Skoodge ran after them, once they were out of the bridge and in one of the Massive's many hallways he spoke up, "Doctor! What about the egg! There's no water on the ship!"

"Your pretty good at stating the obvious," the doctor hummed, not even bothering to look at him.

"B-but-"

"Look Skoodge, I already told you. If you want the egg, you can keep it. But that makes it your problem, not mine," the Doctor growled, getting agitated by the shorter Irken's nagging.

"But Doctor!"

Suddenly the Doctor spun around and pointed glaringly at him, "no! I'm tired of hearing your squeaky insignificant voice!" He shouted, "one more word out of you and I'll reveal the secret about your lack of pills to the Tallest!"

At first, Skoodge was terrified but one look at the child, strapped to his chest and he was quick to shoot a glare of his own. "And reveal yourself?! Fat chance!"

"Oh please! you don't think I don't already have the Tallest under my thumb?!"

Skoodge paused and stared up at the Doctor wide-eyed, "what?"

"You heard me, I've had them on my drugs since day one! I have nothing to fear from them. Just like I have nothing to fear from you! You short, intolerable, idiotic, service drone!" The Doctor raised his hand to smack Skoodge only to collapse to his knee in pain. He grimaced and gripped his right leg in pain, a new bump already showing through his pants.

"Damn it!" He snarled and began to roll up his pant leg, showing the ugly lump on his calf. To even the Doctor's horror, it seemed to be splitting off into two.

"Damn things are getting worse," he muttered to himself and looked to Skoodge expectantly.

Almost on instinct, Skoodge pulled out 4 syringes from his pac only to pause before approaching.

"What the hell are you doing, help me!" The taller Irken demanded.

"No! I will do no such thing until we return Raz and her egg back home!" Skoodge demanded himself.

"And ruin your chances of taking over the control brains and getting Zim back?" The Doctor sneered, gripping his leg tighter now.

"The ends don't justify the means, Doctor!" Skoodge snarled.

"Fine," the Doctor stammered out, already looking out of breath from the pain. "W-with friends like you, who needs enemies," he growled and snapped his fingers, and Raz, who had been standing beside him stoically this whole time, tackled Skoodge.

The scariest part wasn't those sharp webbed fingers, or those strong four arms, no it was those cold eyes. Raz looked completely dead on the inside like she was just a body heading the commands of something that wasn't her. It was terrifying.

She was quick and strong as he pinned his arms and legs down before grabbing the needles from his hands and kicking him away once she got what she was after. Not even bothering to be careful about her egg, thankfully Skoodge used his own body as a shield for the fragile thing.

After that, she knelt before the Doctor and began to siphon out more of that green stuff from the lumps. She managed to get one of the lumps to go down but it seemed the remaining two syringes weren't enough to lessen the larger one. Only reduce it, as Raz got up to get more from Skoodge she was stopped by the Doctor standing up.

"Leave it, this will do for now," he hissed as he pulled his pant leg back down, hiding the bump. "And you," the Doctor glared at Skoodge.

"You're lucky I'm far too busy right now to deal with you. I do however have this to say,"  he looked down on Skoodge the lighting making him look absolutely terrifying. "If you pull that again, I'll make you watch as I dissect that egg." With that threat, the Doctor turned around and left Skoodge on the floor, Raz following obediently behind him.

Skoodge felt sick to his stomach like he was about to throw up. He clutched the egg tightly, trying desperately not to cry. How was he supposed to go on? He needed to save Zim, but at the same time, just the thought of abandoning Mur and Raz left Skoodge feeling sick.

"Oh, what do I do," Skoodge held up the egg, staring at the little Murthen inside as if she could give him an answer. What worried Skoodge was just how developed she was now. Her four arms had all formed and little pink and purple spots decorated her body, soon to make the pattern of one or both of her parents. Her eyes were slightly open now too. Revealing dark purple eyes.

"Oh Mur, you're going to hatch soon aren't you?" Tears started to form in Skoodge's eyes, "and your carrier won't even be there to witness it." Skoodge covered his mouth with one hand as he scooted to press his back against the wall in revelation, "and it's all my fault."

"I'm a monster," he whispered in horror. Just as he was about to break down, crying. Skoodge felt a shift in the egg and looked down at the little Murthlet inside. She had moved her hands from the clutched position they had before to the shell of the egg. She had just placed all four of them there and it completely mesmerized Skoodge. Four little blue hands with little webbing in between, even tiny little claws on each finger.

Skoodge felt a small blush form on his face in surprise before a small smile crept onto it as well. He placed his forehead on the shell, ignoring the slight burning sensation it caused, and smiled.

"I know I've hurt you and your family. But I swear on my life, I'll keep you safe, I promise."

[quietkatie1864]

A Perfect Day

Summary: After an argument with the Doctor, the reader is meets a familiar face.

10th Doctor x reader, 12th Doctor x reader

Hot, angry tears slid down Y/N’s face as she watched the TARDIS vanish from her sight in a slow blinking haze. She stood there for several moments contemplating the fight she and the Doctor had just endured. There had been screaming, cold heartless stares, and horrible insults that they will both later regret.

But right now she had a right to be angry. Angry and absolutely devastated.

The Doctor, Martha, and Y/N had been visiting a new planet. The most beautiful planet Y/N had seen. Everything had been so green and full of life. Even the inhabitants of the planet had been green. “Like proper aliens,” Martha had joked. The only other color came from the trees. The trunks of the trees were a mixture of deep violet and bright blue, woven together and branching off hundreds of feet above the ground, sprouting the most delicate looking leaves that stayed bright green year round.

Y/N had wander off on her own after a while. She and the Doctor were friendly, but they were not quite friends yet. Y/N began traveling with the Doctor because of Rose. She and Rose has been best friends since they were kids. Wherever one went, the other followed. The Doctor had tolerated Y/N because Rose loves her, but now that Rose was gone the Doctor was stuck with her. At least that’s what Y/N believed.

While on her own, Y/N met a family who accepted Y/N and her human quirks warmly and taught her about their planet and culture. It seemed like this was going to be a good trip. No running required.

Things took a turn when Y/N was investigating town’s shops with the families youngest daughter. Suddenly the sky darkened and everyone seemed to stop in their tracks. Listening, waiting to see what happened next. Then the creatures with guns started dropping out of the sky.

These creatures began to take out the people around Y/N one by one and, since this planet had been a peaceful one that had never experienced war, they had no defense. So Y/N took the little girl’s hand and ran towards the only place she knew they would be safe: the TARDIS.

The Doctor was waiting by the TARDIS by the time Y/N got there.

The Doctor grabbed her hand and began to drag her to the TARDIS doors. “Idiot,” he was muttering to himself, “always check the dates. Should’ve checked, should’ve known.” Y/N stopped and the Doctor finally turned his full attention to her “We have to go. Now!”

Y/N looked down at the girl who was still clingy to her arm. “No we can’t just leave. They’re defenseless. They need our help.”

Some emotion that Y/N couldn’t register crossed the Doctors eyes for a split second. Looking back now she believed the look at been pity. “We will. We’ll come back. We have to make a plan. Somewhere safe.” He bent down so that he was eye level with the little girl. “See that big building over there,” he said pointing to a building that several others were running towards. “Run there. You’ll be safe until we come back.” The little girl looked up at Y/N, who smiled and nodded, encouraging her to let go of her hand and run. The second the girl dropped Y/N’s hand the Doctor was tugging Y/N through the TARDIS doors.

“So what’s the plan?” Y/N asked while the Doctor fiddle with the control panel.

“There is no plan,” the Doctor replied shortly.

Y/N stared at him incredulously, even though he refused to look at her. “What do you mean there’s no plan? You always have a plan”

“Not this time,”

This is when the screaming and insults began flying. The Doctor tried to explain to Y/N that what was happening on that planet was set in time and that not even he could save it from its inevitable destruction, but Y/N wouldn’t listen. She called him a coward, a liar, a murderer. In turn, the Doctor called Y/N a child who understood nothing. Then out of anger, and likely the feelings of frustration and betrayal, the Doctor had landed in the present day, in some small town, and told Y/N to leave. And Y/N was so angry and hurt she did just that.

Now she stood alone on an empty street, with no sign of the Doctor.

“Are you alright?” A voice called out behind her.

Hearing this man’s footsteps striding closer to her, Y/N quickly tried to wipe the tears from her face. She didn’t need attention from a stranger. “I’m fine,” she called back, not turning to look at him.

“No you’re not,” the man replied.

Y/N spun around to tell this strange man to mind his own business but the retort soon died on her lips. The man before her seemed so…familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why. The man’s face was slightly withered and his greying hair stuck out from his head in odd directions. But it was the eyes that Y/N recognized. These eyes, which seemed to look much older than the rest of him, stared back at her, as if staring into her soul.

“Do I know you?” Y/N finally blurted out.

The man smiled sadly. “Yes and no,”

Y/N now understood why she knew those eyes. “Doctor?”

The man in front of her, the Doctor with a different face, nodded and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

They walked silently through the empty street with the Doctor’s hand gripping Y/N’s lightly. She glanced up at him. “Not much of a hand holder anymore, eh?”

The Doctor cracked a small smile. “Not anymore. At least not usually. I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

The two stayed silent until they reached a seemingly abandoned park. The Doctor led Y/N to a bench and sat down. Y/N followed suit. They both stared out into the empty park before either of them spoke.

“Why do you look so sad?” Y/N inquired.

The Doctor scoffed. “Me? Sad? You’re the one who was crying,”

“I’m no sad I’m angry,” Y/N replied hotly. “But you know that don’t you? I mean, you were there. Is that why you’re here? Did it take you this long to realize that you were wrong?” She said gesturing to the Doctor’s new appearance.

“I wasn’t wrong,” Y/N opened her mouth in defense,but the Doctor held his hand up to stop her, “but I wasn’t right either. There are certain rules to time travel and certain instances in time that no one can change. I should’ve explained that to you better. I will do that, in fact. In about three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“Three hours for you. About five minutes for me. But I had to give you time to cool down. You tend to be exceptionally stubborn.” Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled slightly, knowing that she would be back in the TARDIS soon.

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why do you look so sad? And don’t lie I can see it in your eyes. And why are you here now? I’m assuming you didn’t regenerate I’m the five minutes you left me.” The Doctor refused to look at her and that’s when the realization hit Y/N. She grabbed the Doctor’s hand and forced him to look at her. “I died, didn’t I? Just now with you I died.”

Tears filled the Doctors eyes and he nodded. “I’m so sorry,”

“At least it was sudden. At least I’m guessing that the reason you’re here. You didn’t get to say goodbye.”

The Doctor ran a hand through his unruly hair before responding. “You were always too perceptive for you’re own good.” The Doctor hesitated. “You were so brave all the way up until the end. Every adventure we went on, no matter how terrifying or dangerous it was, you were right by my side. You never backed down. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.” Y/N eyes widened slightly and her grip on the Doctor’s hand tightened. She never would’ve imagined that the Doctor could have those kinds of feelings for her.

“It was like you knew you were getting close to the end,” the Doctor continued. “The day before you-the day before it happened, you gave me an absolutely perfect day. And I didn’t deserve it. But you do. You deserve one last, perfect day. And I plan on giving it to you.”

“One last perfect day,” Y/N smiled slightly. “Will this not screw up the space-time continuum or whatever?”

The Doctor smiled genuinely for the first time since he’d arrived. “I think we can risk it just this once. Whaddya say? Let me give you your perfect day?”

Despite the newfound knowledge of her impending death, Y/N grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

It truly was Y/N’s perfect day. Despite only knowing this Doctor for mere hours, Y/N felt as if she had known him her entire life. Their banter was easy, as if they’d been at if for years and the Doctor seemed to know Y/N next movements before she did. Neither of them were ready for the day to end when the TARDIS landed back in that town, right where the other Doctor had left Y/N.

“My last self should be in this exact location in about five minutes,” the Doctor said slowly walking Y/N through the front doors of the TARDIS.

“Can you tell me one thing?” Y/N asked. The Doctor nodded hesitantly. “How long do I travel with you? Roughly I mean. Obviously, I make it through at least one more generation.”

The Doctor was silent for several moments, contemplating the best way to answer the question. “Out of all of my companions, you stay with me the longest.”

“Good. At least we had a good run,” Y/N reached up and gave the Doctor  a kiss. Her first kiss with him and inevitably his last. “Goodbye, Doctor,”

“Goodbye, Y/N”

She watched the TARDIS disappear into the air. Seconds later another TARDIS appeared. Another Doctor, Y/N’s Doctor in the blue pinstriped suit appeared in the doorway with an outstretched hand. This hand was a peace offering, an apology, a new beginning for the both of them.

Y/N smiled and took the Doctor’s hand.