#yes I will do a xenomorph fic too...

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Young Carlisle Cullen thought he was starring in the 1897 book "Dracula", for all that Van Helsinki and his crew hadn't been imagined until 250 years after Carlisle was turned.

What if Twilight-Era Carlisle woke up in the 1897 world of that esteemed book, where presumably the only vampires descend from the man himself. Would the good doctor recognize where he was? Would he again play vampire hunter?

... I should just write the fic, right? But writing is haaaard! Please, muffin, spare me some crumbs?

You know, I say write the fic really for your own benefit, because I can answer this question but you're not going to like it.

Twilight and Vampirism

First off, we have to remember that Twilight vampires work very differently than most vampires. They not only have none of the traditional aesthetics but they have none of the weaknesses and are ten times as murder-oriented while being twenty times less inherently evil.

Twilight vampires are much closer to Xenomorphs than they are vampires.

So you have to remember that while Carlisle calls himself a vampire, if he ended up in this universe, what he'd see is something entirely different than what he is.

They just use the same word.

But alright, enough of that

Carlisle and ISEKAIIIIIIIII

Obviously, it depends where he is.

Is he in London? In that case, he notices Lucy's eating of everyone and everything. He likely, however, does not conclude it's a vampire as the killings are too tame for lack of a better word. Twilight vampires have impossible strength and I imagine most victims end up blood splatters. You don't get these neat little puncture holes only at the neck.

Then you also have that these victims are getting repeat visits. The death toll isn't high enough (one every two weeks), not violent enough, and you have people becoming increasingly anemic until they die (where Twilight vampires it's one bite then your done).

Carlisle's likely not sure what's going on but he doesn't conclude vampire and he's certainly not being brought into the Harker and Van Helsing Scooby Doo gang even if he is working at the mental hospital where Renfield is located.

But this is skirting around the issue.

Carlisle and Vampire Hunting in General

The thing is that Carlisle didn't in the books.

There were vampires in his world, he was turned into one himself, however rather than continuing his vampire hunting quest he stops cold turkey. We're given no indication of Carlisle having a period where he ran around murdering vampires (he'd probably have died a quick death had he chosen to do so).

Given that, and the decisions we see him make in canon, he's not inclined to pick it up again especially with a species he knows nothing about.

Yes, these vampires are clearly plaguing London/Transylvania, but that does not necessarily make them inherently evil creatures (they are in the Dracula universe, but Carlisle doesn't know that).

I imagine he'd tried to persuade the vampires to go elsewhere or get them on the animal diet. Everyone should do the animal diet!

I doubt he takes up vampire hunting though.

TL;DR

If you have something you want, and you already know exactly what it is, then you should write the fic.

The world is your oyster and isekai Twilight Carlisle can be a vampire hunter in the Dracula universe if you want him to.

[eldritch-spouse]

Hmm I think neomorphs would understand bonds and maybe could bond w humans?? I also think they *could* be smart enuf to understand human culture

Like imagine ur horny and u start shedding ur clothes and the neomorph immediately knows exactly what u want

I think I heard u say this abt breg in one of ur fics, but they would def also make low noises to comfort a mate bc I imagine them as very territorial

I also feel like they could have have a crush on a human if said human took care of them(or they just find them mate worthy) so they try to pursue u.. I remember one scene in a movie where rhe neomorph just stood quietly infront of a human (b4 getting killed oop) literally towering over them.. if I was there and had it staring at me like that I’d feel some romantic tension

Yes, that's what I was hinting at with this ask.

To me, I believe their ability to form bonds outside the species would stem more from the fact that they're the "blank slate" before David 8 starts fucking with them to make the xenomorphs we know. But take what I say with a grain of salt, I'm rusty on Alien lore. Anyhow, I don't think David could have made xenmorphs into such a social/colony-based species if the neomorphs themselves didn't already have some level of surprising social adaptability.

The scene you're mentioning is a tad dubious because the person standing in front of the neomorph was David, who is a synth. Xenomorphs can tell a human apart from a synth, so I'm keen to believe neos can do the same, and they might have hesitated purely out of morbid curiosity. It could also just be the fact that the neomorph had recently eaten, and therefore might not have had as much of a violent drive at the moment. Though the way they reacted inquisitively to David's exhale, as opposed to violently, is a good start.

My idea with that comic was to explore that hypothetical bond a little bit more, this time in a setting where you meet one in a premature stage and experiment with the possible outcomes of raising one of these beings (which makes absolutely no sense from a realistic point of view, but all my brain cells were effectively shut off when I sketched it). You're under the impression his obsession with you is typical of pack behavior, and to a degree it is, but you mean more to him. And that only sinks in when it's already too late to do anything about it. Now, I'm a yandere blog primarily, so of course the neomorph was implied yandere in that comic.

The bond implies that he'll get to know your body through scents and gestures. Just as he'll be able to decipher your intent from the tone of your voice and you'll pick up on the different meanings of his vocalizations. It's a learning curve, but they're very fast learners and extremely adaptive, so you might "synchronize" much faster than expected. Naturally, this would definitely lead to him understanding what abrupt stripping means, or if nothing else, gouge your arousal through some sort of scent stimulus. Mimicry is likely to happen at some point, wherein the neomorph will attempt to reproduce your own sexual gestures in an attempt to behave more like you and further erase any sort of communication barrier.

When it comes to noises, I haven't really thought about it too much, but I like to imagine they might be capable of differently pitched rumbles, judging from that same scene where they interact with David. Not all of their high-pitched vocalizations might be born of hostility/fear/alarm, but if they're quiet around you it's probably a good sign.

I'm on the fence about them being territorial. I can see neos being protective, but I just haven't seen enough to determine if they'd stick to one place and become attached to it.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I’m meant to be packing because I’m moving out of my apartment in a month, but I want to write soft alien content between Androidzira and Crowlien. 

This takes place a bit further into their time together on the ship after everything that happened and after Crowley returned as a hybrid human/xenomorph. At this point, Aziraphale has given up and just decided to call them Crowley (which makes them happy). 

Warning: mentioned body horror (again, keeping hybrid Crowley vague cause I still don’t know how I want them to look), mentioned injuries

On with the fic!

--

Aziraphale frowned as he looked at the wires under the panel. “I... don’t know where the problem is in this mess.”

Some of the lights on the USS Mayfield were acting up, and Aziraphale decided to see if he could just fix them all in one go rather than individually. However, from what Crowley, gosh, that was still weird to refer to the creature as, had pointed out, this was the only location to be able to do so for this part of the ship. Too bad Crowley couldn’t talk, they’d be able to tell Aziraphale what to do. He really should just have Crowley do this instead.

Then again, the alien couldn’t exactly do the job himself anyway, considering their new, longer, clawed hands made it rather difficult for them to do delicate tasks anyway. 

He looked up at Crowley, who was tilting their head, as if trying to figure out where the problem was. Aziraphale had to wonder if their mind still knew how to do this. Yes, they had originally been the chief science officer, but Crowley had, when human, spent a lot of time as a mechanic and engineer so they could learn how ships worked, just in case. And because that was the sort of thing Crowley had been interested in.

“See anything?” Aziraphale asked and watched as Crowley put a finger into the mess and gently, carefully tapped at something. It was clearly a very burnt out fuse, just as they suspected. 

“Guess you were right.” Aziraphale joked, even though he had been the one to suggest it, but Crowley had insisted on it being the problem. He dug through the bag of supplies he had brought, finding the fuse that Crowley had shown him to take. 

Crowley made a questioning gurgle as they watched Aziraphale remove the fuse without the use of gloves for protection. “I’m fine.” Aziraphale replied. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

This didn’t exactly make things better, the questioning sounds more worried. “Ah, right. You... you didn’t- you weren’t here when I found out the truth.”

Of course not, Aziraphale had been left alone at that point, with just Bentley the cat. Crowley had been gone for five days before Aziraphale had gotten hurt and found out that he himself wasn’t quite as human as he had always thought. Really, it seemed so hypocritical of himself to have doubted Crowley’s humanity after their return.

He still remembered the deep gash to his leg, where instead of blood, he had found a white liquid instead. A clear sign of the truth. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to look into his history, finding out that he was actually an android, having been sent on this mission to investigate the damn xenomorph nest, but clearly something must have happened to make him go against the mission.

Well, aside from the fact that he had no clue he was meant to do this, who the hell hides that from an android when making them forget they were an android? 

“You see,” Aziraphale said as he set aside the burnt out fuse then activated a clip-on torch to continue working in the now-dark hallway, “after... after what happened, I was wandering around, trying to fix the systems so I could call for help. But I got hurt, the ship rocked or something, and I sliced open my leg on some broken debris.”

He grabbed the new fuse and set it in, the lights blinked on over their heads, and seemed to be working just fine once more. He turned off the torch and pulled up the pant leg of his flight suit. There was a smelted line along his leg, showing the repair that Aziraphale had done for himself. Crowley got down onto their hands and knees to get a better look.

Aziraphale shivered at the cold touch of a claw, part of him was happy that in his repairs he hadn’t shut off his ability to sense touch and sensations. “I’m not human, Crowley.”

Crowley looked up at him, acid yellow eyes looking at him with what had to be surprise. “I know, I didn’t know this fact myself, not until I dug into my files, finding things hidden away. I was sent by HQ for this mission because I was... gullible enough, I guess. The only one who knew was Gabriel, which might explain why he was so weird about things before his... well... you know.”

Crowley shifted and moved to sit down, it was always so odd to see them trying to do such human-like actions, even with their gangly new form, and the tail. Aziraphale sat down in front of them and held out his hands, showing more repairs he had done to the synthetic skin. “I’ve been doing a lot of work to fix the ship since everything, to finally leave this place. It’s a lot of work, and it causes some injuries, but I guess my longevity as a non-organic being might allow for me to have this thing moving back home in a few years. I just... hope that I’m still in one piece by then.”

He tried to sound amused by this, but it was a worry. His whole world had been turned upside down again when he saw that white fluid, it was just another terror on his mind, even after everything.

He blinked, watching as Crowley took his hands in their own, there was such a stark contrast between them, and yet there was a comfort in the familiar action of holding them. He looked up at the other’s face, it was hard for Crowley to show emotions, but he could see it, there, a soft need to comfort Aziraphale. A silent ‘You’ve got me, I’ll help you’.

It was things like this that really had Aziraphale believing that this hybrid had to be his Crowley, his dear, dear flash bastard. He felt his throat tighten, and he nodded. “Thank you, dear. For, uh, for showing me where the problem was and... and for this.” He gently squeezed his fingers around Crowley’s longer ones, bringing one hand up to kiss as the back of it.

Crowley made a strange trill, and he wondered if that was a positive noise, it certainly seemed so. 

--

I wonder how much of Crowley’s mind is still intact. Probably a lot. At least anything centered around the positives in their life (Aziraphale, Bentley, the tiny herb garden human Crowley had hidden in their quarters on the ship...) 

[bapydemonprincess]

Hi hii, big fan of you and grelleswife's fics and stuff. My favorite is The Butler, Big Brother, with Amy. I love Amy so much.❤️ So I want to know some things. Like would Amy count as an Aunt to any of Sebastian's kids you have made? Does she want to have a mate eventually too? Maybe get married? Can she make a contract and have a master or is that not possible being a President? Does she count in Hell as a child demon despite being a President? Like does she need looking after?? Does she know other demons seen like Claude and Hannah or do they not count because different universes? XD I remember she got really sick too going without eating a soul, so does she need to constantly eat souls? Also, I think, one more thing. I remember early chapters in the manga Sebastian said Hell has Xenomorph looking creatures not cats. Does Amy have those at all or any pets? And does she have a favorite animal like Sebastian?? ^^ Okay. I think that is all!! Thank you and I can't wait to see more stories from you! 😘😘 Hope Amy comes back especially!!! 😁❤️

Hello, Anon, and thank you so much for sending me this message and these interesting questions, and loving my and @grelleswife's writing!! It feels sooo good to get feedback, especially on my end when I'm only here on tumblr and not AO3 at the moment. So thank you overall so much for reaching out!! 💖

I'll try my best to answer all your questions!!

would Amy count as an Aunt to any of Sebastian's kids you have made?

I have definitely imagined some crossovers in some situations, like an older Amy in modern 21st century appearing to hunt down her sibling and popping up right at Seb's and Agni's place- wherever that may be -and meeting Aarushi and/or Ambrose. OR maybe at one point the meeting happened on purpose where Seb really WANTED their new, first heir Aarushi to be introduced to their family.. and then YEARS LATER.. Amy arrives to meet the SECOND one Seb popped out >:3 (*insert image of no-nonsense business wear pencil skirt Amy with heels and sunglasses and nails done looking all the world like a Wine Aunt, minus the wine*) Or of course her getting introduced to Wolfram and Seb and Wolf's babey Ulva, or Amy appearing in the sebagrellerin universe to meet the sweet babey Aidan.. OR... well... there are many verses, it seems, where Amy's big dumb sibling just can't resist a human mate and despite their differences.. 😏

2. Does she want to have a mate eventually too? Maybe get married?

Well, as I've established, in the uhh MAIN AMY UNIVERSE (*snort*) she's stumbled upon a teen reaper boi Adam Borders, under the mentorship of Grelle Sutcliff, and well... let's say she didn't stand a chance in the Tsundere Game >:3, though her veteran older sibling of said game is not too happy with this development! The Protect Family Urges growing STRONGER than EVER in Sebastian 🤭 Even against all common sense! And I've basically established that they are pretty much like mates at this point.. minus the mental bond connection.. Who knows, maybe they'll get there eventually! 😉 As for marriage, well... it's much more complicated to imagine overall because Amy is a demon. And yes, we've written SEBASTIAN getting married, but I'd say the difference is Seb is more... a "domesticated" demon. Because, in this fanon at least, Seb is way more into human concepts like marriage. Not to say maybe Amy ISN'T but.. she's also a young, teenage-like demon too, so.. gehstdjfuy that's the best way to put it, I think. 😅

3. Can she make a contract and have a master or is that not possible being a President?

I personally believe she COULD make a contract, and any demon has the ability in most cases. In this universe. In That Butler, Big Brother, in fact, she tried to make a contract- if VERY poorly -with Prince Soma. Basically if she'd had more experience and know-how, she likely could have done it. Although in that case, it also depends on the human being targeted, and despite if Amy WAS experienced, I doubt even then it would have worked, because well.. Soma. But there's a time and place for everything, so, if the scenario was different, like Amy was facing a human in perhaps a much more desperate situation, and the human needed to chose either a contract or.. y'know.. DEATH likely.. Then that definitely would be a more likely way for Amy to make a contract! And pull it off despite being a President! I think, personally, with her job at home much more better handled and stuff, she could definitely go off and make a contract or two somehow. 😌

4. Does she count in Hell as a child demon despite being a President? Like does she need looking after??

Well I do not see her as a "child" by demon standards anymore, but much more in the pre-teen/teen area of her immortal demonic like. Though there is most definitely a hierarchy in hell, a ranking system, where the higher in the ranks you are, the less you have to do for yourself, really, because you have servants yourself at that point. Though somehow, the rank of "President" counts as still a hard working sort of rank and not a "sit on your ass all day" rank. Somehow. 😜 And I definitely wanted to keep a lot of the "official lore" of Amy the demon from the actual real life Lesser Key of Solomon that includes the fact that they do influence humans in some way.. specifically teaching them things like astrology and liberal arts like the page says! Though my version of Amy is definitely a demon who has been coddled and stays put and, well, despite what they've described Amy as, She or He is much ... smaller and youthful.. (Though there is art of Amy the Demon in HUGE firey forms, and I think despite age, she CAN become like that ��� because as we've seen with Seb in the manga, size and shape certainly don't matter~)

5. Does she know other demons seen like Claude and Hannah or do they not count because different universes?

I do believe I've answered these questions before actually! Here about Hannah, and here about Claude!

6. I remember she got really sick too going without eating a soul, so does she need to constantly eat souls?

The main reason she got so weak in that case was from coming to Earth by her own means without all the typical summoning help of a human on this side, and offering up a sacrifice to her like we've seen in the manga done. And, for a younger demon like Amy to just go off and use what power she has to pop up on earth, it was pretty risky on her end! I wouldn't say she has to, normally, constantly eat souls, but compared to a much older demon like Sebastian, it's a very vital thing to keep up her energy if she wants to keep staying on earth and hanging around!

7. I remember early chapters in the manga Sebastian said Hell has Xenomorph looking creatures not cats. Does Amy have those at all or any pets? And does she have a favorite animal like Sebastian?

I definitely can imagine these Totally-Not-an-Aliens-Reference "pets" of hell are the type of animal that are like guard dog-like, and maybe many higher-up demons have them for security or pets.. But I also see Amy as the type to trust other demons for security over creatures that are more animal-like. I'm not sure if she has a favorite at the moment right now, really. I just see Amy as a jumpy little demon, who just can't exactly trust any of the four legged, furry, non-furry, or no legged creatures of earth just yet 😂 (She's still a babey in those types of situations you could say~🖤)

WELL, I hope I've answered all your questions to your liking, I've been busy and tired lately so it was a little bit of a struggle when to find the best time to answer these.. But I really wanted to, so here I am, while at walmart, doing my best fgrhdkyfug 💀

But again, thank you so so much for the questions and your message overall!! I love getting feedback, really I do!! And it was fun to think up answers for this!! So feel free to return and send me more at any time!! 🥰🥰🥰

[encrypted-cryptid]

For reader asks: 5, 28, and 29?

5. Did anything you read make you cry?

oooh there are. for sure a handful (unfortunately i don't remember most other than them being future!rise leo fics so. you can get the gist of those) but very specifically the one i DO remember is memorabilia by xenomorphic. it's real short and not particularly sad or anything but the inherent grief of yuuji as a character destined to die and the final line just really got me at the time -

– his house keys, his gramps house keys, a single white camellia bloom that’s already dried up, he needs to get a new one.

Sometimes, he guesses he should feel more upset at the fact that this is what his life seems to have been reduced to.

28. Did any line/passage stick with you after you read it?

the entirety of agápē by magical space dragon but this part in particular. i love love love when shit that is absolutely not music is likened to or described as music, makes me go fucking insane and this excerpt is just. really good

Where Scion, born Krang, is overwhelmed by your attention, Helmsman, mistaken for mere vermin, only throws himself deeper into your embrace. He stills your dance and silences your hymn and you barely notice for the way he is already leading you in a dance anew. Upward movement with no delay; autocannibalize your weapons systems; grow Helmsman's face in effigy to comfort Brother (doesn't that get confusing?); teach him everything there is to learn. He is a flurry of thought spreading through your systems like gas to fill his container, attending to each directive personally until you gently take it from his hands and nudge him forward to the next one.

there's also this small part from i will tell you about the sun by cloudycats. morgott is a fucking enigma of a character and i wish elden ring had just the tiniest little bit more of coherent lore for literally anything about him and his family

He haunts a world not made for him, not meant for him, furniture constructed too small to seat him and legislation written in script he cannot read and family members who spark as much emotion in him as strangers and history a black box that culminated in the present day through decisions he hasn't the cultural context to understand. Protect the Erdtree, protect Leyndell, protect the people who will call for his slaughter if they learn of him. Lovelorn son, reign ye well in Our shadow. Grace-Given Morgott, veiled in gold, who defends his land against all comers, and so well has he accomplished his duty that no one questions any longer his decision to employ Omen and night riders. Leyndell loves the king it believes it hosts, and the Erdtree will never love him at all. If his name survives beyond his death, he will still only be remembered for the ripples he left in his wake.

29. Do you have any works you think are required reading for (fandom)?

the unconscious reality [and the conscious fantasy] by gummichii for rottmnt for Sure, it's such good casey characterization about his everything

ALSO #theprecursosareoverparty by macremae for pacrim. this one's older but i reread it this year so it still counts

[benevolentcalamity]

Rescue Mission [Yautja (AKA Predator) x Female!Reader]

I have NEVER done this before and I have never seen a movie aside from Aliens vs Predator. So that means, ah, prepare for the biggest lack of knowledge you’ve probably ever seen.

Ahem.

This story's gotten too long, so I'll be splitting it into two parts. Perhaps a third extra if demanded. Hehe...

CURTAINS!

The mission was a simple one: Just find the Queen’s carcass and destroy any eggs you can find. After all, the ultimate goal here is saving Earth from the Xenomorphs — a tragic leftover of the Nostromo — and any other critters lurking about. Being still young even fresh from the academy, you embarked along likeminded soldiers, veteran or no, among this admittedly menacing adventure. With nothing but your wits, guns, and a mountain of luck to be obtained, you along with a newfound friend set out on recon.

Which, exposition aside, brings you here. Pushing through some withering flora, your boots squelch in the earth as the towering black mass comes into view. A smell like rotting insects, charcoal, and dumpster sewage wrapped in a nice little bow assails your nostrils, and you take a moment to not vomit the MRE you had just earlier.

”Urgh, what a stench!” Your partner gags. “She’s been dead for a good while, huh?”

”Smells like it,” You agree, daring to approach first. The collapsed egg sac is foreboding, you expecting a Xenomorph or worse to shoot out. Pulling out your shotgun, you quickly put a few rounds in and aim at some still intact eggs. “Fire in the hole.”

”Wouldn’t a grenade be better for this?” She asks.

”I’d rather use them when I’m sure we’ll need them,” You respond as she walks up, surveying the sac as well but staying back.

Taking a few shots, you scrunch your nose up- “Hm?”

Looking back into the rainforest, you purse your lips, squinting as the plants seem to move, the air being oddly breezy. Cautiously loading a few more rounds you creep towards it, prepared to aim and fire quicker than you had to all this time. More rustles, more movement, but nothing spectacular... Even so you keep your shotgun raised.

”What’s up, [Name]?” Your partner asks, equally wary.

”I hear something.” After a few moments of this you huff, lowering your gun. “Well that’s a waste.” Turning halfway, you tilt your head to ask a question- “OOF!”

Something rushes up behind you, colliding hard into your back and knocking you down. Before you can speedily roll over and stand, her screams erupt into your ears. Despite the wind being knocked straight out of your sails you manage to stand, and the sight awaiting you is one you never thought would be.

A Xenomorph.

It’s squaring off with her, leaping from side to side as you’re forced to duck out of the way of her shots. Her’s are frightened and desperate, but she has the experience to not let it obscure her. Despite your confidence in this fact you hardly grace her with a shot of your own, and with a good hit to the creature’s torso its green blood shoots from it and onto her leg. On impact a sharp hiss tears through the air, and in seconds you smell blood. Her screams growing more intense she collapses, the gun knocked from her hand as it leaps past her, knocking you back down. Colliding hard with a downed tree, cracks resounding through your back, your energy is sapped.

”Get up!” You wheeze, eyes wide in horror as it bounds back over to her, pushing her completely down.

You try to move your arm, but there’s no feeling, and your leg can hardly twitch; blood is dripping from your forehead. Left with nothing but your sight and ears, your stomach twists and freezes as it bares its teeth, looming over her with murderous intent.

”NO!!!” You scream, before once it’s close enough to her face it pauses.

It goes deathly quiet, terror having stolen her voice and the Xenomorph growing increasingly curious. Dropping its head it sniffs either side of her neck, prompting her to stare up in confusion before it snorts. With one large hand it grips her, dragging her up and into the air as it stands properly. Desperately reaching for her weaponry she trembles, quivering fingers hopelessly falling short of reaching her arsenal.

”Put her down!” You demand, scared into silence when it roars at you in irritation.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as its free hand yanks her pants down, snapping her belt and suspenders. Sniffing the exposed grey underwear, it pauses again, raising its head to look at her properly. As if perfectly on cue she goes limp, fainted, head lolling back in the tired expression of primal fear.

Something grazes your cheek, shooting into the Xenomorph’s chest. Roaring in outrage it takes a look at you, then past you, before clutching her tightly to itself and running away. Managing to pull yourself together - the human body’s iPhone level resilience amazes you - you stand up, yelling her name and rushing after them.

Just as you’re past the carcass of the Queen, however, something grabs your arm. Whirling around in preparation to shoot, you pause once you see your assailant.

Remembering briefly those G.I Joe movies or Fallout games your dad drove you crazy with when your brother was in middle school, you could describe a cross between that damn cobra soldier or whatever and a super mutant. Except the helmet reflecting your confused expression is more like something you’d see from Star Trek. (Recalling these things isn’t voluntary.)

It... He? Shakes his head, pointing towards where the Xenomorph carried your friend off, before pointing at the Queen.

”What?” You ask, curious and upset. Clearly he’s trying to tell you something, but... “Wait, wait a second-! It was sniffing her before... Are you trying to tell me this has to do with the Queen?”

He nods once, gesturing to the egg sac after examining it.

... Shit.

”A queenless swarm of insects won’t survive very long...” You pull yourself from your thoughts. “This is nonsense! She could be in danger - I have to save her! Are you here to stop me?” You demand, putting his highly unearthly appearance aside.

For a moment he stares at you, before he startles you with a growl of sorts, turning back towards the carcass. Reaching a gloved hand up he speaks in a series of growls and grunts into his helmet (radio?). After a pause he nods, turning back towards you.

Swallowing, you stand strong as he approaches you, and once you gather your bearings you realize what he is.

He’s a Yautja, a race that had come to the aid of the researchers in the Arctic when a mission went awry and the Xenomorphs overwhelmed them. Only one of that team survived because of them - you’re still in contact with her to this day because you’re essentially facing the same dire peril at least once or twice in your life. She did give you the tip that these guys have a good side you want to stay on, and she also said she hoped to be able to support you on the field since her work was far from over.

Yautja - as you’ll call him for now - offers his hand for... a handshake? Deciding to just hurry this along and seal this alliance, you take it, firmly shaking his hand, his grip not threatening to break your arm but having the capability.

”You’re big, ain’tcha?“ You ask as he turns to lead where the Xenomorph ran off. “We’ll have her back before daybreak tomorrow.”

___

”I found something!”

Rushing over to some downed trees, you examine the area, breathing a soft sigh of relief.

There’s splintered wood from gunshots, and other parts where it’s clear something’s eaten through a particular tree. Aside from that there’s obvious signs of a struggle, from the scratch marks on the ground and some scraps of torn fabric.

“She must’ve came to when they arrived here,” You deduce. “[Redacted] may not be a high ranking soldier right now, but you can’t deny her shots hardly miss.”

Squatting down, you find some bullets - shells, actually. Freshly fired today, so you must have just barely missed them. Realizing this you purse your lips, getting up from your haunches. Clearly your partner isn’t far, but all of you only have so much time. Even now you’re worried she died soon after the scuffle.

Your lower lip wobbles slightly. What a terrible way to go, too...

Ignoring the bright glinting of the bullets you stand straight, grabbing your radio from your hip and holding down the communicator.

”Recon Unit A5, [Name] reporting, come in.” Your voice is louder and sharp - for having the budget you lot do these communicators really fucking suck.

”This is Johnson, what’s the sitrep?” Your leader asks.

”Queen is confirmed dead and eggsac is destroyed. However we confirm one Xenomorph still alive. It’s made off with [Redacted]; requesting permission to pursue and retrieve her.”

”Is there anyone else with you?”

Momentarily you glance at Yautja, who is simply examining the area further, sometimes shooting at things in the bushes.

”One Yautja, sir.”

”... Permission granted.“ The hesitance in his voice is thicker than molasses. “Notify immediately when you need backup.”

”Understood. Ending communication.”

Putting the radio back on your hip, you huff, cracking your back. The anxiety of getting to your partner in time weighs heavily on you, for sure, but you also need to consider your options and course of action very carefully if you want to ensure her survival and yours. Yautja might honestly be your best chance.

”’Ooman.”

You freeze up, body going cold for but a moment. After realizing there’s no one else around and no way that someone would just call you that, you turn very, very slowly toward Yautja.

”Did...” You tremble. “Did you just say ‘human’?”

”Hello,” He replies, shoulders bouncing with a chuckle when you yelp before his mandibles flare slightly. “Ooman. Listen carefully.”

Confusion wrinkling your brows you collect yourself, questions shooting to and fro in your brain.

“[Redacted] would have died immediately after losing her gun.” His accent reminds you briefly of some ancient warrior films and the sort you used to watch; sci-fi warrior races basically. “These creatures don’t show that mercy normally - her body certainly isn’t normal either.”

The scene of that Xenomorph sniffing her underwear flashes back into your memory, and your face blanches.

“Is it possible for other races to be Queens?” It’s a stupid, ridiculous, illogical question-

“It is.” He kneels down and examines some tracks. “... There’s a nest of them nearby. We’re to look for where they keep the Queen.”

With hands cold and trembling you adjust your suspenders, the dread of your partner surrounded by eggs and Xenomorphs creeping deeper and deeper into your stomach.

“We find eggs, we eventually find the Queen’s chamber, and where we find that, we find her.” Yautja briefly examines his weaponry. “We have a few days time before she’s fully assimilated. There will be too many of them if we take any longer. That one that took her was a scout, and it’ll take her back while the drones are waiting. Do you recall the laws of bees?”

“The job of the drones is-“ You cover your mouth as harsh vomit threatens to shoot out, swallowing- “mating with the Queen.”

“Precisely. And if she’s bred to that extent even your division will be overwhelmed. So unless you want to see your fellow ‘oomans turned to mincemeat, I suggest we make a beeline to the nest before that happens.” He reaches into his arsenal, switching out his guns. “Any questions?”

One immediately comes to mind. “... If you could speak the entire time why didn’t you tell me this when we met?”

He throws his head back, mandibles flaring in a laugh as his dreadlocks flourish. “You have the comprehensive skills to do what you have to even without directives. I’ve had my fill of testing those-“ Your eye twitching isn’t unnoticed- “and now we can focus on the task at hand.”

A brief moment of silence, before he crosses his arms.

“You also amuse me. Now, neither of us like being idle, so be ready to kill. You’re praised for being a good shot and a good recon soldier - don’t disappoint me.”

"... Well since we established that, I'm assuming you have a name to speak of." You purse your lips.

"You know about us, hm?" He takes a moment to crack his neck. "Wakate."

"I've met Yautja before." You actually have. "Not for very long, mind you. That was strictly over communications at the base; I've never met one in person."

"I see." He dons his helmet once more. "You'd best be ready now. The closer we are to the nest the more prone you'll be to infection."

"Yea, I know." Your tone isn't sarcastic. "... I just wish I knew why they'd take her when they subdued me that easy." Then a lightbulb goes off in your head, and as the pair of you begin following a trail of acid-eaten dirt and debris as well as human blood, you press the button on the communicator. "Recon Unit A5, [Name] reporting. Come in."

"What's the sitrep?" Johnson again.

"Do you happen to have [Redacted]'s files, Johnson?" You ask.

"Affirmative."

"Requesting permission to access her files upon successful completion of the mission."

"... Denied."

You jolt. "Excuse me?"

"[Redacted]'s information is strictly classified. Only the C.O and other higher-ups can view those files." Johnson takes a moment, before sighing through his nose. "Will that be all?"

"Affirmative. Ending communication." You release the button, close to throwing the communicator on the ground. "Damn!"

It's completely unlike them to hide things from you - even other soldiers in similar rank can view such files. [Redacted] doesn't have anything spectacular that'd set her apart from you... right? But if they feel the need to hide her from you, then there's something about her they're not telling you.

Or perhaps they just don't think they can trust you with the information.

"Whoa!!!" Reaching out, you grab Wakate's arm, pulling him back just as a black figure dashes by, the forewarning being the rustling of the nearby shrubbery. "... Sorry."

"I knew it was there." He sounds a bit irritated. "But I suppose you're wise; it didn't seem to notice us."

"We don't have time to get in random fights, especially with them." You keep your gun at ready regardless. "After we rescue [Redacted] we're going to give this place a clean sweep; a swarm without a queen won't survive. However, that doesn't mean they can be left alone still - any one of them can morph into a queen. Our only option is to rip them out root and stem."

"And you truly believe it's a viable course of action?" Wakate asks.

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears." This isn't sarcasm either. "Nuking this entire fucking island isn't a guarantee. If they can survive the vacuum of space, they will not be destroyed easily."

You both pause, and you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

"And just so you know, I'm not dying to those things." You free one hand and hold it out, looking more like you're challenging him to an arm wrestle. "So let me ask you, Wakate - are you in, or are you out?"

You're wholly aware he does have the option of ditching you or standing in your way. Yautja do see themselves as the superior race, even with their respect towards humans' resourcefulness and craftiness. In terms of brute strength, speed, and technique, you'd gladly give them the overall win.

So you're pleasantly surprised when he snorts, his mandibles audibly touching under his helm, and takes your hand in a firm, respectful grip.

"Very well. Your resolve is clear - now you'd better hope you live up to it."

"Don't worry - I plan to."

[callmearcturus]

a scholarly discussion of Trolls vis a vis monsterfucking

CONTEXT: I posted a bingo meme of "how much do you have in common with Arcturus" and

tree: yEA HEY ARC WHERE WAS UR MONSTER FUCKER SQUARE outrageous, this bingo card is incomplete

arc: its not all kinks! i am more than my kinks, u fuck

tree: how many of ur fics are monster fucker territory or monster adjacent u cant say trolls dont count they dont have human anatomy

arc: oh WHAT trolls are not monster absolutely not what's this vanilla kink shit

paya: LOL drag him arc

tree: are u tellin me u dont think fucking the condescension wouldnt absolutely be some monster fucker shit on MULTIPLE levels????

arc: i love trolls to death not monster okay but i have never written her

tree: same applies to karkat tho, he has the same setup

arc: erroneous comparison, yellow card

tree: not the mad empress shit ofc but definitely the claws and teeth and alien dick and chitinous skin

arc: CLAWS, like HUMANS can have claws if they try hard enough

tree: theyre bug ppl

arc: someone weigh in OKAY BUT THAT'S NOT MONSTER you sir conflate monster and nonhuman different things

paya: i

tree: wheres that damn jack harkness post

arc: ALSO IRRELEVANT

paya: i never thought of the trolls as monsters

arc: THANK you they are nonhumans!!

tree: hOW AM I ALONE IN THIS

paya: they're alien

arc: bc your monster barometer needs tuning

tree: is not an alien yet another subgenre of monster

paya: nope

tree: divorce

arc: frogboy: monster hypnomers: monster mothfae: monster troll: nonhuman alien and monster are both subgenres of nonhuman

tree: hypnomers are aliens too then since theyre on another planet at that point

arc: monster is based on merit of humanoid divergence a monster can be an alien, not all aliens are monsters Thor from the MCU is not a monster

tree: would you say that about your favorite bug alien man in the space game mass effect man the mandibular one

arc: oh, monster very divergent from humans on multiple levels asari are debatable due to a lot of their monstrous shit being invisible/hidden

tree: this feels like im having a conversation w jonny sims about things that are ppl rn

arc: come at the queen you best not miss

tree: SKDKDHAKS IM HERE TO SAY TROLLS ARE ON THE MONSTER FUCKER SPECTRUM SO DAVE CAN PUNCH HIS CARD DAMNIT same w rose

paya: i'm losing my mind please just keep going

arc: I love dave but he gotta work for it

paya: this is excellent

tree: WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT

arc: rose woulda fucked a horrorterror, totally different also you don't need to fuck the monster to be a monsterfucker

tree: karkat can split his jaw open would that do it??? but dave loves his husbands tentacle dick

arc: and i'm happy for him

tree: and his grub scars and his weird bug joints

arc: still not at the level of divergence needed i'll admit its close but its xeno

paya: i mean trolls are nonhuman xeno XENOMORPHS are monster aliens

arc: yes but also my take on trolls come closer to catboy kink than monster humanoid plus fun bonuses

paya: i feel like intent and disposition also count

[pepperminthepatty]

Entrapdak Positivity Prompt 25: Watching Movies

Note: I have so much trouble writing now so I thought I’d try writing them in a scenario of watching one of my favorite movies/genre. I thought it would also fit them. This is suppose to be part of a multi chapter fic but creating and finishing chapter long fics has never been my forte. I hope some of you like it! Posting always makes me nervous. Oh and they are watching Alien.

CW: mention of dissection and parasitic aliens (xenomorphs). Also blushy Hordak and cuddling.

“Oh he’s basically a robot?! How fascinating!” Entrapta proclaimed.

She proved rather chatty while movie watching. Why anyone would mind that trait Hordak could not conceive of it.

“Yes, he speaks very organically, thus I would have never known myself.” Hordak replied stoically.

“Yup! Except for the fact that he gets torn in half and is still chatting away. Totally gave it away!” Entrapta was laying on her belly resting on a platform of hair risen to a level compatible to the screen.

“I suppose robot would be the wrong designation as he’s very organic in his physical nature as well. He seems to have a synthetic form of blood and organs. That is a very different structure when compared to Emily. Oh, if only he were real and we could dissect him!” Entrapta whined.

Hordak looked at her from the sofa and lifted his arm to stroke her hair. He stopped himself before making contact. He decided to cross his arms instead. “Uh, do not worry Entrapta I can find you first ones technology that far exceeds the minuscule data you would collect from that artificial being. Not only that but it was created by what seems to be technologically primitive peoples.”

Entrapta replied with a content sigh but not because of what he said. What he said kind of didn’t make sense to her. How could he call that fictional race primitive when they clearly weren’t. Either way she was happy to be there with him watching this movie. She lowered herself from her platform and joined Hordak on the sofa.

“I think they are called humans.” She said as she leaned into him resting the side of her head on his shoulder.

Hordak was startled for a moment that he had barely been able to prevent himself from flinching. As her warmth began to cozy him up he couldn’t help but be glad she initiated some contact. He lowered his arms from their crossed position to give her more surface area to rest on. She looked up at him and he felt her eyes so he returned her gaze sheepishly.

“Do you mind putting your arm around me?” She asked softly.

Hordak’s cheeks itched as he felt the blood rushing to his face. “Not at all.” he said as he turned to look at the screen so Entrapta couldn’t see his face. For a fleeting moment he wished one of those strange parasitic spider like creatures with the whip like tail were covering his face now. He’d rather be a host to a weaponized alien creature than become pudding in front of Entrapta. But at the same time he could not deny her. “If it pleases you?”

“Oh it’ll please me Hordak.” Entrapta said confidently with a giggle that really made Hordak aware of the varying shades of pink he could achieve.

Entrapta pulled off his arm slightly to allow him to move it around over her shoulders to hold her as she requested. He hovered his arm just above her shoulders for a moment unsure. He proceeded to gingerly place his armored arm around her small shoulders. Hopefully the metal wouldn’t bother her he thought to himself. For Entrapta that was no where near any of her concerns. On the contrary as soon as he gently rested his arm on her she followed by nuzzling into him and resting her head on his chest (his boobs). She then grabbed his hand and pulled his arm in, treating it as if it were a blanket, to drape it around her waist. Hordak didn’t protest. He was a little startled at first by her swift movements as he thought perhaps he had done the arm thing wrong. But she seemed...content. He was still mystified by all of this new behavior Entrapta was exhibiting.

What were they to do now? Stay like this and continue on with the space horror adventure unraveling on the screen? He was describing the movie right? He felt odd. A new sensation that had been unfathomable to him up until this moment had entered his small emotional arena. Anxiety and apprehension quickly loomed over him as these strange feelings encapsulated him. Just before he broke into a cold sweat Entrapta interrupted his thoughts.

“You think these fictional humans are primitive?” “I...uh...by comparison to the grand and superior engineering and technological work you are capable of I would say they are primitive.” Entrapta cackled and Hordak raised a brow perplexed once more.

“Okay now I know you are flirting because I am definitively below their technological threshold. They have starships! Gah! I’m trembling from all the possible wealth of information we could collect if we had spacefaring capabilities too!” He instinctively clutched her close when she shivered from excitement in the midst of her dialogue. He relaxed his grip when he realized what he was doing. Entrapta said nothing as thoughts of starships filled her mind.

“That-Hm. That was not flirting. I was simply stating a fact.” Hordak had very little clue on what flirting was but he was sure he was not doing it.

“Facts....right.”

Entrapta shifted slightly against his chest. He kept his eyes on the screen. A small furry creature was wandering around somewhere it probably shouldn’t be in the movie. The fur and markings reminded him of a certain force captain. What was Catra up to at this moment any- “Hordak.” Entrapta seemed to whisper but despite this Hordak’s attention was caught easily. “Yes.” He continued looking at the screen after answering her.

“You know you are much prettier up close like this.” He was shocked to find that Entrapta was admiring him as she remained nestled on his side instead of watching the movie.

The pink on his cheeks came crawling back and he sputtered. “I am not pretty! I-I am-“ Entrapta proceeded to put a lock of hair to his mouth to shush him.

“You can’t deny facts Hordak.” She added with a grin.

With that Hordak’s ears drooped and his eyes had widened. The pink blanketing his face had turned crimson and it had now washed onto his drooping ears. Where was one of those facehugging creatures when he needed one?

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(What if All Might became a villain/vigilante au I write sometimes when the mood takes me. Can't post too much about it yet because it's full of manga spoilers, but here's a piece. A bit darker than my usual fare, unless your introduction to me was The Xenomorph Fic, in which case this is totally normal)

"Bishop to G3," the hissing, mechanized voice said coolly. He waited for his opponent to obligingly move the piece that was out of reach for him, then commented, "We have an...inconvenient matter to discuss."

"Do we?" the younger man sounded bored. It was an affectation, as much a mask as his smile. "Pawn to B4."

"All for One", the man whose name had been intentionally lost to history, leaned back in his chair with a rattling of tubes.

"Your career, my boy."

He wouldn't deny a hint of spiteful satisfaction at the way Toshinori winced at the words.

"You've become quite the Symbol of Fear -- and in just two years! It's impressive, actually, the amount of followers you've picked up so far. And of course, I am tremendously proud to have had a hand in your...shall we say, awakening."

"I sense a "however" coming," Toshinori hummed, and moved another pawn to intercept his opponent's bishop.

[[MORE]]

"Yes." All for One curled his lip. "I'm afraid you're becoming a little too powerful. If I cannot be assured of your loyalty or your cooperation, that also leaves me with fifty-one unaccounted-for soldiers at your disposal. You understand the position that puts me in, don't you, my boy?"

"Check," Toshinori both answered and declared, glancing up from the board.

This time, All for One chuckled. "Not quite, no."

His queen piece made quick work of Toshinori's knight.

"Still too hasty. Ah well, I suppose your overconfidence keeps you from stepping places you shouldn't, as odd as that sounds. Now, about those subordinates of yours."

Toshinori frowned. "They're not my subordinates, Grandfather. They're my allies. And I'm not going to make them swear an oath of, of cooperation or neutrality just so you can sleep better at night." He squinted and sarcasm leaked into his voice. "Not that I'm sure how you sleep at night at all."

"Hmph." All for One shifted another bishop on the board. "I'm really less concerned about them than I am about you. I wouldn't like to think that you might grow too sure of yourself with all those allies of yours. Especially as I've received word that you've been after some of my allies again."

Eyeless, he looked up and still managed to seem as though he were staring into Toshinori's soul. "Now, Toshinori. I'm sure neither of us wants a repeat of our little falling-out in Rishi Hospital. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you that Gran Torino won't fare so well if you ever move openly against me. Check."

Toshinori gritted his teeth, but knew better than to reply. It was always a delicate balance, speaking to his grandfather. He was ancient, ruthless and malicious, and Toshinori knew full well that he would kill everyone close to him if provoked. But at the same time, the old mastermind did genuinely wish to encourage his career as a known villain. No doubt to further shatter the legacy of One for All.

Ah, but the legacy of One for All was in better hands than his grandfather thought. The endurance and minor regeneration quirks the old man had gifted him with when he was in the "chrysalis" would serve to keep the look and legend of All Might going. It had been a "starting-out present" when All for One realized that Toshinori really did mean to fight against the heroes. But Toshinori had his own agendas. He had his eye on a candidate to take One for All, to make it something better than he had.

There would be heroes again. Real ones, not the pitiful, corrupted pawns of the Commission he had to deal with now. Toshinori just had to be patient, and navigate All for One's moods. While also doing what he could to mitigate the damage the old man was inflicting on the mind of that "nephew" of his, the Shigaraki boy.

"I have no intention of being your rival, Grandfather," Toshinori said calmly, moving his king out of check. "I'd rather not be king of the underworld, thank you. Sounds exhausting."

"Oh, you've no idea," All for One scoffed. "Though I must say that it has made my life much easier now that you aren't actively destroying my warehouses. But still-"

Toshinori's voice was tight as he answered. "You know the lines I won't cross. Anything that puts children at risk will be exterminated. That is neither a threat nor a warning. It simply is."

If All for One knew he included Tomura in that statement, he didn't let on.

"You know, I really ought to have brought you home when your mother abandoned you," All for One said lightly, knowing it would strike at an unhealed wound in his opponent's heart. "You would be a proper member of this family, as you were meant to be, and we wouldn't be having this unpleasant little discussion. But then, you wouldn't have brought One for All back under my wing if I had. I suppose things really must happen for a reason. How amusing."

He smirked. "I believe that's checkmate."

Toshinori grunted. "So it is."

He stood and pushed the table and game board to the far wall. Gathering his jacket from the back of his chair and slinging it over one shoulder, he shifted his weight nonchalantly. "Until next time, then?"

All for One made a dismissive gesture. "Kurogiri will escort you out. Do keep our little talk in mind, won't you, Toshinori? So long as you remember the order of things, I won't be forced to...take steps."

"Yes," Toshinori answered dryly, "I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid that."

"No more failed murder attempts out of you, then," All for One grinned spitefully at his grandson.

Toshinori's exasperated eye roll was almost audible. "I've told you, Grandfather," he said flatly, "I don't want you dead. I merely reject and despise everything you stand for. There is a difference, you know."

When he stepped through the black portal, he didn't even twitch. He'd grown accustomed to it. Thankfully, his grandfather's most loyal puppet couldn't make a portal to a place he didn't know existed. He dropped Toshinori in front of an old family-run diner he was known to frequent, never knowing how close the Forty's main compound was. One of the Forty had grown up with the proprietor of the diner, and the woman was only too glad to let the Forty make use of a series of tunnels under the building that dated back to the turmoil of the Dawn of Quirks. 

It was a five minute walk through the tunnel under the freezer to the compound, but Toshinori didn't mind. That was just added security, as far as he was concerned. Toshinori stepped out of a sliding wall panel and into the warmly-lit office of the compound most of his people gathered in. Gran Torino glanced up from his newspaper, lips pressed into a thin line.

"How's the old monster?" he asked tightly.

"Hateful as ever. He's upset that we have so many allies," Toshinori huffed, "Wanted to remind me what he'll do if I make an attempt to overthrow him."

Gran Torino narrowed his eyes. "Did he hurt you?" he asked in a low voice.

Toshinori shook his head. "Not this time, no. He's...he seems tired. I gather that our little Shigaraki has been particularly exhausting lately."

"Good for him." With a muttered curse, his mentor turned back to the articles he'd been studying. "Something about that kid is off, Toshinori," he remarked, "Really off. I just can't put my finger on it."

Toshinori nodded, and collapsed onto the couch in the office. He held up a hand in front of his face, lazily activating and deactivating a faint pink glow around his fingertips. His control over the quirk was getting stronger every week. It did him no good now, not when he was absorbing it in tiny increments -- not unlike he had with One for All, years ago -- but he guessed that in no more than ten years it would fully bond with his DNA. A completely stable copy of All for One. And his grandfather had no idea.

[fanfictionlive]

I have discovered the joys of FanFic writing!

So it all started a few years ago when I was browsing the web looking for explicit gay xenomorph-human smut to jerk off to. Yeah, I know, it isn't a great start. Just hear me out.

I eventually found a few very well written stories by this one dude, and I came for the smut, but ended up staying for the story itself. I read them, liked them, then read them over and over again. The plot was compelling and the cast of all original characters was fun and quirky. Their relationships were realistic and their characters developed. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. I actually grew so attached that my heart broke when the stories ended.

I don't know why, but those fics in particular, and a few other similar ones, really inspired me to become a writer, something which over the next few years I cultivated and practiced. Now I'm writing short stories that I intend to publish and a full-length novel, with more in the planning stages.

I'm currently writing my first short story which I intend to submit to a magazine. How is this related to fanfic you ask? Well, as I was writing it, I was reminded of the gay xeno-human fanfics I read, and how much of an impact they had on me, so I decided to put an homage to those fanfics in my story. But I'm a painfully nice and formal guy, so I went and DMed the original writer on the Fanfiction website to get his permission to use two of his characters in a cameo appearance for a single scene.

Now, to DM the author, I needed an account. So I made one. A real one, not just a throw-away, with all the bells and whistles.

Now, it is important to note here that I had vaguely considered writing fanfiction for a long time, and I had been writing fanfic-smut for my own personal... "use" for a pretty long while at this point, but I had never put any serious thought into actually writing real fanfic. It's also worth mentioning that, no, I am not a furry. I like the fandom and I get along well with its members, but I am not one myself. I prefer the term "Transhumanist", since it better sums up my views. Do I like furry stuff? Yes. Do I like "normal" stuff? Also yes. Transhumanist.

I honestly wasn't expecting a response from him, at least not immediately. This dude hadn't posted anything for two years at this point, so I figured that he might have quit and moved on (He hasn't, just stopped writing fanfics and moved on to furry stories, which he posts on a different site, for obvious reasons). So you can imagine my jubilation when I received an answer that very same day, and I was even more overjoyed that his response was a very gracious "Yes", and that he even said it seemed fitting.

This was, by the way, an extremely important event for me. This was a person who's work I had admired from the shadows for years, so actually going out and talking to them is like... *WOW*. It was AMAZING! He and I still chat, and I can safely call him a friend now, so that rocks too.

Anyway, I had my answer, so I kept working on my story. But then it occurred to me that now I had this Fanfiction account just lying around, and that I had always kinda been interested in writing a fanfic of my own, especially one with gay xenomorphs in it (old habits die hard :P ). This stewed in my head until a cohesive story started to develop.

As usual, I wanted to put overt political themes into my story (I almost always do), and to have compelling and believable characters. Those are my go to stand-bys. But I realized that, with the anonymity provided to me by Fanfiction, I could add stuff that I could never put into the stories I put out for my friends and family. Things like explicit sex, fetishes, realistic profanity, overt violence, and "edgy" philosophy.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm not saying that all or even a majority of fanfics do or should have these things. I'm not dissing on the art form. What I am saying is that the anonymity provided by the website allowed me to craft a story that is in some way even more true to my personal feelings and beliefs than my "normal" writing is.

So I wrote up a tentative first chapter, and my new friend was nice enough to read it and leave a kind comment. Other than that, I had no idea what to expect. There wasn't any sex in the first chapter, nor a whole lot of action. It was just a set-up thing, priming for the story ahead. I was thinking that maybe two or three people would read it a day, nothing more. Maybe a nice comment or review every few weeks.

I was dead wrong. By even original content standards, IT. BLEW. UP. I've gotten over 1,500 views in about two months, and well over a dozen really nice and supportive comments, plus almost two dozen favorites.

I just had to write more, and I still am. I'm having a blast, and I honestly have to stop myself from writing the fanfic all the time now. It's a story I really love, because unlike my actual publishable stories, I don't have to censor things that moral guardians or even people who just aren't as avant-garde as me would object to. I can be so true to my ideas and thoughts. Plus, since it's published-for-free fanfic, I don't have to stress about getting every little detail perfect. People aren't paying for this, and if I screw up, then I can go back and fix it. And I can publish it chapter by chapter, so that I don't lose motivation as the project moves along.

I started out skeptical, but I really like this medium now, and I can see the value in it. It's a great way to hone skills, and to write casually for an radiance that is likely to be supportive and kind, at least in my experience. I'm so happy to be experiencing this now, and to have a whole new world of writing to explore.

​

Sincerely,

An Anonymous Writer

submitted by /u/AStupidNumberName [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans http://bit.ly/2I1v1kg

[braincoins]

Do you know what's needed? A Ripley/Hicks fic where Alien3 never happened. Hicks wakes up in a medical bay or something, sees Ripley and realized that she managed to survive, save Newt, and learned that she even fought a huge Xenomorph Queen. A happy fluffy fic, if you feel like to do it ❤️

((YES PLZ. I’m surprised that there aren’t a ton of these fics out there though? I should go hunting some time… Anyway, this is one of those ones that’s going to be hard for me to keep short, but I’ma try for you and for our shared love of Aliens))

He sat up with a shout. It was bright, too bright, and he was disoriented. Bright and white and odorless and for a moment he thought he was dead and he’d gone on to…

Ripley - Ellen - came into his view. “Hicks! Calm down. Come on, ease down.” Her hand was on his back and she smiled despite worry flickering in her eyes.

He gulped down a few breaths so he could say, “Wait, this might still be Heaven.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but he caught the blush in her cheeks. “You’re not dead. None of us are. Well…” Her hand slid away as she moved. He followed her - the only familiar thing here - and saw her sit in a chair. “…you, me, Newt, and Bishop, anyway.”

He looked around and recognized what the place was, at least. “Med-bay? Which station?”

“Gateway,” she replied.

“Gateway…” He threw the covers off and tried to stand up, to go look out the window. This close, he could see Earth…

“Stop that, or the nurse’ll come back in here and strap you to the bed!” Ripley tugged him back down. She was strong, but she wasn’t stronger than he was, physically, anyway. She shouldn’t have been able to, but either he was weakened from his wounds or he just… let her. He wasn’t sure which. “Stay in bed. You need to rest. You already ripped your IVs out twice.”

He glanced at the bag hanging near his bed and frowned. “I hate needles.”

“Says the man with… how many tattoos?”

“Hey, I get to be drunk when I get those.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a bad idea?”

He grinned a little. “You have any tats?”

She smirked. “Maybe you’ll find out someday. But for right now, yes, we’re at Gateway. Home, or very nearly. We’re being kept in standard quarantine, and… well, you needed the medical care. Fortunately we’re in quarantine together.”

“Together?”

“Just like one big, traumatized family.” She sighed and stretched in her chair. He watched her body move in her hospital-issued jumpsuit. “I’m so sick of therapy, but I think it’s good for Newt. The real issue is Bishop.”

“What’s wrong with Bishop? He’s an artificial person; he can’t get infected or…”

Her eyes caught his. Most of her face hadn’t changed, but her eyes… they begged him not to say it. Not to make it real. He noticed her rub her chest and shift uneasily. He caught himself repeating the motion and then hissing in pain.

“Don’t do that. The artificial skin is still healing. Your wound was pretty bad.”

He nodded. “So… Bishop?”

Ripley explained to him the extent and cause of Bishop’s injuries. “Holy fucking shit, the QUEEN? There really was a Queen and you took her out?” He was surprised but at the same time not; if anyone could, it’d be Ripley.

“Well, I… blasted her out into space, anyway.” Her smile was like a battle-shredded flag: worn, tattered, but triumphant. “Same old trick.”

“Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But they can fix Bishop up, right?”

Ripley rubbed the back of her head. “That’s the thing. The Company isn’t real happy with us. They didn’t like me to start with, since I blew up one of their cargo ships; finding out we blew up an entire colony…”

“Yeah, oops.” He wasn’t feeling terribly guilty about that. The faces of his lost friends flashed across his mind. The thought of how many colonists there’d been there, and… We lost more than just a colony; we lost friends, loved ones, PEOPLE. But that was the Company for you.

“Officially, they’re ‘waiting until end of quarantine’ to come in and fix Bishop. He’s a ‘hero’ now, just like we are. The whole thing’s in the Sulaco’s data logs, and it was leaked to the press, so they can’t sit on it and pretend it didn’t happen. But unofficially?”

“We’re up shit creek without a paddle,” he summed up. “Yeah, that’s no surprise. I’ll see what I can do. I know some damn good mechanics, but I don’t think any of ‘em ever worked on an A.P. before. I’ll ask around though. If the Company ‘fixes’ him, who knows what they’ll do while they’ve got him?”

She nodded. “It’s… not going to be easy from here on out. You know they’re going to take some of this out on you.”

He shrugged. “Eh, same ol’, same ol’. Bein’ shit on is a grunt’s lot in life.” He leaned back in his bed to consider it. “I’ll probably get promoted and then ‘encouraged’ to retire early. I’ll see if I can wring the pension out of ‘em as hush money, so I can more easily ‘disappear’.”

“Good, good. You do that. I’m glad you’ve got a good option.” Her smile was tight. 

He sat up and reached over to lay his hand on one of hers. “You know I’ll help you. And Newt.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied immediately.

“Yeah, I do. And I want to.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll get through this together.” When she raised her eyes to his, he smiled and hoped it was reassuring. “One big, traumatized family.”

Her smile hit her eyes for the first time. It lit up her whole face. “Thank you, Dwayne.”

“My pleasure, Ellen.”

[ziggory]

Riverdale Liveblog 2x08 - House of the Devil

Sooooooo, I heard there’s no Kevin in this episode. No silent!Kevin. No background!Kevin. No abruptly-cut-off-after-his-only-line!Kevin. So yeah, that’s hard for me. I hope he lead a successful campaign against the Kingdom of Theodore or whatever he did off-screen

Anyways, onward!

I hope Debbie Pelt and her horrible crimped fringe comes back in this episode

The sight of Jughead writing in the Whyte Wyrm is perfect, and I love it. I see you Christmas lights!

Sex montage. Great. That xenomorphs line was much appreciated

Death Makes Life Possible bdum-tsh (this is a dumb in-joke of mine. This is horrible documentary. Please don’t watch it if a loved one has recently died unless you want to laugh so as to ease the pain)

It’d be funny if Veronica’s next sexual partner is a lousy lay

Dun DUN DUNNNNN!! Of course it’s the same house and the story from creepy Farmer Candyman McGinty checks out

Maybe Betty can’t go to Sheriff Daddy Keller, but someone else could! Don’t cross out your resources!

Overcrowding saves the day, eh

I think it’s hilarious that Varchie also finds it weird that they’re being asked to look into the case

Oh, Cheryl. I don’t think it’s going to work out for you

GO AWAY JANITOR SVENSON!! Go grow a mustache and a thicker Swedish accent

Ofc Cheryl’s towel is red

NOOOOOO, COME BACK SHERIFF KELLER!! This is so unfair, and I’m being punished. But lol, did he call her “Ronnie”? How cute! And you know she’s still shook because she’s imagining what’s underneath that uniform... Lmao, I really am going to download this episode for that one fucking scene

They want Archie as additional protection after the disaster of the Red Circle?? Then again, I guess Hiram instigated that. He knows how much of a malleable tool Archie is

I’m really glad the Whyte Wyrm doesn’t have to worry about losing their liquor license because of the presence of underage minors. It helps with the five thousand fic ideas I have! And yay for that Sweet Pea solidarity

“I LOVE YOU” drama is the most boring drama!! I hate it every time it pops up in a show I watch!!

Hey, Fred! It’s been awhile. How’s that opioid addiction going?

Lmao at Hiram preferring that Archie keep the “l” word out his mouth

FAlice rhymes with phallus, right?

YAAAAAS AT THIS RETURN OF SHERIFF KELLER

Lol, so I guess this is finally the explanation for why he takes case files home with him. Though he probably still takes too much home.

Sheriff Howard, eh? ARE WE SURE HE’S REALLY DEAD!?!? Well as many murderboards as Keller makes, I don’t think we have to worry about him losing his mind since he won’t ever get to solve any of these season mysteries. But if he wants to take up shirtless night jogging to clear his mind, I’m all eyes

The Jones men took this drive just so they could have a pretty place to talk, eh. JUGHEAD YOU FUCKING DOPE. Oh, the joys of being 16, I guess. And heck yeah, he’s been writing every day!

Oh hey there, subtle return of Josie/Reggie. And oh, Cheryl. I don’t think it’s going to work for you

The dorky Pop’s uniform has not killed the hotness.

“A LEADER OF MEN” Oh, you precious doof. Those rose tinted glasses are just welded on, aren’t they

Toni is a bartender??? I LOVE IT. Give me more of this weird ass worldbuilding. None of my fics can even COME CLOSE to touching the actual canon weirdness

BETTY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!? ABORT! ABORT!

Poor, Toni for having to do that dance especially after trying to get rid of it as an initiation thing. Ew. She really would watch Mindhunter in fits and spurts! Because I know I can only take so much of Fincher jerking off to having serial killers refer to women as “cunts” every other word. But I‘m sad that ofc female recruits don’t get to the beat the shit out of each other and instead do a ~sexy dance

Lol, fuck you, Debbie! You’re amazing, and I love it

Jughead, you sitting down with Mayor McCoy ain’t going anywhere. Maybe if you knew about her little affair but nahhhh, that drama is being saved for some other rainy day

“Fetching”, eh. LMAO at the idea of Betty being the “soft underbelly”. Jughead is his own soft underbelly

THIS IS SOME IN COLD BLOOD SHIT!!

Yes, Veronica! Put those pieces together! Apparently, the cloak is a clear signal of getting prime Veronica awesomeness

Why can’t Kevin be in this scene. He helped last season! Let him help this season! I just...want him to be involved

Yessss, I’m loving Veroncia being so absorbed in the case! No time for your stupid love drama, Archie!

Why would you come for the poor janitor like that. God, this poor dude wins for most traumatic backstory. And a fucking random was the Riverdale reaper? Oooo, mob justice. No wonder Sheriff Howard went crazy, lol. Maybe that’s why Sheriff Keller tried to nip the Red Circle in the bud since he doesn’t want his retirement being forced the same way, ha

Veronica’s parents are fine with her going to a biker bar?? And ouch, that sucks to realize your parents are in a loveless marriage.

FRED IS OKAY WITH THIS TOO!?!? Do you remember the last time your son was at this particular location!?!?

I want that neon Serpent sign

This is like some True Blood shit. Please lean more into this trashiness.

I guess Betty will be Alice’s DD

This is like a flashback to “A kid is DEAD, Archie!”

Lmao at all the Serpents booing them for leaving the stage. They understand the first rule of karaoke!

BETTY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!!?!?!? I almost choked on my phlegm

LMAO, is this when the nameless deputies of Riverdale burst in!?!?

A long day in hell before a snake lets a pig tell ‘em what to do? Well that’s some fuel for my FP/Sheriff Keller hatesex ideas. I also still yearn for Jughead&Kevin friendship. Just..anything that utilizes Kevin more in regards to this understandable animosity

Ohhhhhh, FP. I know why you did what you did, but it still hurt

I’ve been wanting Veronica to be free so I’m good with this. I guess Andre’s skill in “the martial arts” allowed him to defend the idling town car in the parking lot

Oh no, not the tears. They make her eyes even bigger. Just ouch in general

And oooooh boyyyyy, that Barchie setup, lmao

Well this is what happens when Kevin is just randomly missing from the action. Whatever, just give me Christmas Kevin!!

[insecwrites]

Alien: Isolation musings

Guess who just lost three days of their life playing Alien Isolation? It me.

So of course, in usual Insecuriosity fashion, I used all my time hiding in vents to think of fun ideas for a Xenomorph-based fanfiction!

There is a lot of love for the idea of a human interacting with a Xenomorph without immediate death and murdering occurring. Who wouldn’t want to read a story about Xenomorphs that avoided the commonly tread tropes of the franchise? There has been a lot of fic made about this, but almost all of the fics I’ve found featured an extreme humanisation of the Xenomorph. Xenomorph babies bonding to a mommy or daddy, or Xenomorphs refusing to kill a human because it had been challenging prey/nice to them/different from other humans. 

With all this in mind I began thinking of a concept that would allow for some nice/not-murdery interaction between a Xenomorph and a human. See below for the resulting drabble; ( warning, not very happy, but there’s options should I wish to continue this) Training. On top of their physical strengths, agility, and natural weapons, Xenomorphs are smart. Not just predator-animal smart, oh no. As majestic as a Hawk or Tiger are, without their natural environment they flounder. Can a Hawk swoop if there is a ceiling? Can a Tiger ambush amongst grey metal and white walls ? Xenomorphs have enough intelligence to recognise the change in their environment and natural prey. They can adapt faster than any animal on earth, and can be comfortable no matter where they end up.

It is this intelligence that eventually lead to the first non-violent interaction between a human and a Xenomorph.

It is a great victory for mankind, won through hundreds of lives and billions of dollars. The first couple of specimens escaped and built a nest, destroying all human presence around them. The following specimens allowed for human escapees. Communication messages with vital information finally made their way through space, and landed with the people who could do something about it. The specimens after that were no longer capable of escaping their cages. From behind acid-proof materials and endless failsafes, human scientists and expendables watched the creatures. Synthetics gathered specimens from its, brought in prey to eat or impregnate, and administered substances to the Xenomorph. First through bullets and lacerations, later through injections before their carapache hardened.

With proper failsafes and education, the Xenomorph became less of an outer-space horror, and far more like a deep-sea shark. People learned to recognise potential signs of a Xenomorph hive, and the proper differences between a Hive Queen, a Warrior, and a Scout. Through understanding, fear for the Xenomorph was slowly boiled down into concrete actions. Space stations were outfitted with specialised detection and protection, and orderlies were given proper anti-Xenomorph ammunition. As experiments to its hardiness, weaknesses, and fertility came to a close, new experiments started. Experiments to see exactly HOW smart the species was. Xenomorph-proofed toys and puzzles. Audio recordings of humans, animals, and Xenomorphs of a different hive... It did not take long before someone thought to train a Xenomorph.

It might have proven to be impossible, had the creatures not been intelligent enough to understand cause and effect. The species was too wild to be tamed by treats or interaction. Any heat signature that registered on its carapace resulted in violence and aggression, leading to early specimens being tied down until immobile and gagged with specially shaped glass. Slowly, the group of dedicated scientists worked on training the creature to cease its aggression towards humans. Obedience was yet too far fetched, but hope and promises kept the project alive and sponsored with millions of dollars. Flame, especially tuned and aimed at the places where the carapache was thin, was used as a punishment. Every sign of aggression towards a human was punished swiftly and terribly. There were some times where the restraints failed, or a human error took place, and in that case, the specimens were destroyed and replaced.

It took years, and it was only the beginning of what humans would end up doing to the Xenomorph species, but on August 21st, year 2109, the first ‘tame’ Xenomorph was videotaped and shown to humanity.

“She is a beauty, isn’t she?” The lead Scientist smiled. He stood fearlessly next to a docile warrior Xenomorph, his un-armoured hand caressing the smooth carapace of its head. “And she wouldn’t dream of hurting me, or any other human, isn’t that right?”

A clack of the tongue, and the massive black head began bobbing in the vague approximation of a nod.

“Good girl.”

Perhaps it’d be too much to say that the Xenomorph was afraid. As unique of a being as it is, it is doubtful it experiences human emotion in any regard. But it was smart. Smart enough to understand that hurting humans means pain and damage, and lack of sustenance.

Yes, Xenomorphs are smarter than any animal humans know. But they are not smart enough to avoid being tricked.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

If you're still doing the request thing, I'd like to request a pallura fic where someone gets sick and the other attempts to take care of them. But culture clash makes it hard. Thx!

Down With The Sickness

“Oh, helloPidge!” Allura said—or rather, Pidge assumed she said, asshe couldn’t understand whatever language her vocal chords weretrying to produce, let alone what species they normally belonged to.

“Allura’svery happy to see you, Pidge!” Coran translated, his voicedistorted somewhat by his hazmat suit’s speakers. “Well, that orshe’s hoping that you’ve brought food, Rohgador culture equatedhappiness and sustenance as one and the same.”

“Good to seeyou too, Allura,” Pidge said as she hauled in a hermetically-sealedbox. “Ready to try the latest batch of cures?” she said as shefumbled with the locks, ill-fitting gloves trying to get a grip.

Allura frownedfor a moment—it was hard to tell, with her mouth being a ring linedwith teeth for the moment—before she seemed to smile, and nodded.

Pidge nodded asshe activated her suit’s bio-scanners. “Alright, let’s start,”she said as she pulled out the first syringe of the day.

Allura held outher arm—or in this case, one of the larger ones—Coran held itdown, and located wherever her veins were. Pidge held her hand—orwhat she assumed to be what you could call a “hand” for thespecies she was mimicing—gave her a reassuring squeeze and a smile,before in the needle went.

They all knewthat Allura had felt pain before, much worse than the prick ofa hypodermic needle designed to painlessly and seamlessly bypass allknown epidermis or exoskeletons in most species of the galaxy, butthere seemed to be something universal about getting an injectionthat was forever indescribably awful.

The contents ofsyringes, flasks, and misters were emptied; needles and otherinjection-mechanisms self-destructed after use; and Pidge got a live,if unwilling demonstration of the limits and the possibilities of theAltean species’ ability to shape-shift and modify their verybiological structure at will and in seconds.

There weren’tany drastic negative reactions like their initial, panicked attemptsat stopping the Galra’s bio-weapon, but it seemed like they weren’tmaking any progress, either.

Pidge said alittle prayer as she pulled out the very last cure for this batch;she and humanity at large had long lost the need for religion, butdamned if impossible odds and dire constraints couldn’t put themback on their knees and pleading to higher powers.

“You ready?”Pidge asked.

Allura made anoise, the mandibles her mouth had turned into clacking in a risingtone.

“She says‘Yes!’” Coran said as he located another vein, hiddenunderneath a layer of emulated exoskeleton plates.

Pidge grabbed herwrist this time—she didn’t like the sharp blades with gleamingpoints Allura’s fingers had turned into, and neither didAllura—before she put the last needle in.

She emptied thecontents and extracted it, and all of them waited.

Allura shuddered,Pidge’s scanner started getting flooded with new data. For amoment, the pseudo exoskeleton morphed back into smooth skin, hermandibles shifted back into a humanoid mouth. They all started tosmile, up until Allura’s teeth suddenly morphed into sharp,needle-point teeth, and her skin took a smooth, slippery quality likean aquatic mammal.

She groaned, andmade a displeased gurgle.

“Looks likenone of the cures worked… again…” Pidge muttered sadly as shedisposed of the injector with the rest.

“Unfortunately…”Coran said, before he smiled. “Cheer up, though, Pidge—I’m surethe Blades will come back to us with the details on that bioweaponsoon enough. Maybe you can take a break from this venture intoxenobiological pharmacology?”

Allura made abubbling noise that Pidge supposed was “reassuring.”

Pidge shook herhead. “I’m still going to try and search for a cure,” she saidas she sealed the box again. “It would be best for all of us if wecan get Allura back on her feet and functional ASAP.”

“Would you liketo stay here and observe a little longer, Pidge?” Coran asked.“Maybe one of your cures is just delayed; some Altean cures alwaysneeded some time to adapt to whatever biology they were mimicking atthe moment before they really kick in.”

Pidge shook herhead as she put the box back under her shoulder. “No thanks; eitherway, that time is better spent doing more research. And who knows?This might pave the way for vaccines for any future variants ordisease we might contract.”

Pidge leaned inhugged Allura, awkward for the bulky and ill-fitting hazmat suit, andthe fact that Allura now had feathered, reverse-jointed wings forarms, with claws like a thumb and finger at the ends.

“I’m sorry Icouldn’t cure you, Allura,” Pidge said.

Allura made asoft cooing noise.

Pidge smiled. “Ipromise, I’ll work even harder for this next batch.”

Allura’sfeathers rose as she made a distressed noise, but Pidge had alreadyscampered off to the decontamination pod by her door, and theair-tight and sound-proof doors were already shutting behind her. Heravian-eyes narrowed as the ring of feathers around her neck bristled.

“My apologies,your highness, I suppose I was being a little too subtle…”Coran said.

Allura sighed,and gave him an apologetic look. She sang a short bird song, hervoice croaking at the end as the feathers receded and a bulbous sacstarted to form at the base of her throat.

Coranstraightened himself up and saluted. “With haste, your majesty!”he said, before he went off to the comm-unit in Allura’s room, andstarted calling up the other Paladins, their faces popping in frontof the screen one by one.

Whatever theywere doing before—napping, cooking, or training—their expressionswere serious and alert in moments.

“Paladins!”Coran began. “I have a very important mission for all ofyou! The stakes may not be as dire as they usually are, but I expectyou all to treat it with the same drive and determination that youusually do!”

“We’relistening,” Shiro said, the others nodding in agreement.

“I need you allto convince Pidge to stay here and keep Allura company!” Coransaid. “Allura’s been missing her dearly ever since thiswhole business with bioweapons started, and she’s so caught up inher trying to make a cure that she doesn’t seem to notice anythingelse than if her efforts worked or not.”

Lance blinked,before he laughed. “Wait, that’s it?”

Coran scowled.“Yes, that’s it! And if I may ask, what is so funny?”

“That you madethis sound like it was a such a huge deal! Did Pidge shut off hermessenger, and now you need one of us to go to her room and tell herto move into Allura’s for a while?”

“Absolutelynot!” Coran snapped. He took a calming breath. “Forgive me,sometimes I forget that you’re not nearly as steeped in andknowledgeable about Altean culture as the previous Paladins have…”

“What aren’twe getting here, anyway?” Keith asked.

“Well, you areall aware of how Allura took to courting Pidge, yes?”

“Well, duh?It’s pretty hard to forget considering we had to see it formonths!” Lance said. “Geeze, it was like watching theuniverse’s cruelest, saddest, most rage-inducing series aboutunrequited love! I can’t emphasize how happy I was whenPidge finally came around.”

The otherPaladins nodded in sympathy.

“Yes, stressfuland drawn out as it was, it was simply Allura following our species’tradition for the proper manner of courting a non-Altean lover.”

“So what, theentire Altean species were a bunch of masochists in case they had thehots for an alien?” Lance asked.

“Not quite,though I can see why you might assume that!” Coran said. “Back inthe glory days of the Altean empire, it was not unusual forxenomorphs to fall in love with our people, oftentimes for the wrongreasons, be they superficial, political, or for our famed ‘exotic’qualities.

“I myself hadattracted quite the number of interested parties in my younger years,but that’s a story for another time.

“Anyway,whenever one of our kind was truly, legitimately interested insomeone, the direct approach was frowned upon; we were such mastersof manipulation, persuasion, and adaptation, we wouldn’t evenrealize when we had outright stolen someone’s heart, rather thangotten them to reciprocate our feelings genuinely and on their ownvolition.

“So withinter-species romance, we follow the same philosophy as ourdiplomacy: with grace, finesse, and a gentle hand.

“To use ametaphor, it’s kind of like the difference between taming an AlteanHoowoo by luring it with song and food, waiting for it to come down,and persuading it to your side with the promises of more food,shelter, and petting, VS firing yourself out of a cannon, snatchingit out of mid-air, and wrestling it into submission before you latcha collar ‘round its neck and force it into a cage.

“Yes, it may bea lot of effort and time, and it might not work, but we find it thepreferable alternative to questioning if your lover truly is in lovewith you, or you just happened to bewitch them.”

The Paladins allnodded. “So what do we have to do?” Hunk asked.

Coran smiled.“Fortunately for all of you, I already have a plan all drawn up inmy mind…!”

Pidge satcross-legged on her bed, her computer in her lap and her eyes gluedto the screen as she constructed models; researched medicaltechniques, bio-weapons, and counter-measures to outbreaks anddeployments; and hypothesized on possible cures, at best, things thatwould slow down the bio-weapon, realistically, and something thatwould make Allura more comfortable until the Blade of Marmora couldget back to them, at the very worst.

She was sofocused she didn’t even notice the door opening or Shiro coming in,up until he gently tapped her on the shoulder.

Pidge reflexivelylooked up, her eyes squinting and her features contorting inconfusion as she saw little phantoms of molecular structures,experiment read-outs, and model-construction user interfaces overShiro’s smiling face.

“Still workingon a cure, Pidge?” Shiro asked.

Pidge nodded.“Yeah… it’s tough going, seeing as we can’t use the cryopods,and don’t have any proper medical supplies, or manufacturingequipment here,” she said as she took off her glasses and rubbedher eyes. “Seems the Alteans always thought they could just getsome more from their allies or a colony somewhere…”

She sighed as sheput her glasses back on. “This’d be so much easier if all theGalra didn’t control basically all the sources for proper medicalsupplies.”

“That didn’treally stop me and the other prisoners from making our own, though,”Shiro said.

Pidge paused.“How did you handle medical care in the arena, if you don’tmind?” she asked, scooting over and making room for Shiro.

“If you were a‘Champion’ like I was, the Galra did everything in their power tomake sure that you could fight another round, and if you died, itwouldn’t be in bed from food poisoning, sickness, or aging,”Shiro said as he sat down. “That included constant vaccination,top-notch surgery and cutting-edge drugs, plus your own dedicatedmedical staff and drones.”

“And if thingsgot really bad…” he raised his prosthetic arm.

Pidge nodded.“And if you weren’t?”

Shiro got afar-off look in his eyes. “You made do. ‘Necessity is the motherof invention,’ and when you want to live another day, or keepsomeone else alive, you did everything you could…”

He went on totell Pidge about how the prisoners manufactured their own drugs andmedical supplies from the scraps of the Galra’s equipment, daringthefts, and the occasional care package from the Blades of Marmora.How the doctors and the healers among them worked tirelessly, sharingtheir knowledge with others, and oftentimes being forced to learn howto cure alien biology on the spot. The creative ways that they tookadvantage of the unique properties of some species, like producingand extracting coagulants and anti-bacterial agents from the mostunexpected, and oftentimes disgusting of places, like the sanitizedenvironment of the latrines.

Pidge listenedintently and made notes, adding more and more to list of researchtopics and avenues to explore with notes, and asking questions abouthow effective a cure was, or the other applications they could findfor certain compounds and concoctions that couldn’t heal but wereuseful still.

“… It was farfrom the care they needed, but in dire constraints like ours, wecouldn’t really afford to complain,” Shiro said. “Sometimes,however, we found that the best aid could give someone was to staywith them, talk and keep them company while they healed, till someonecould follow through with help, or hoped that their natural immunesystem would be up to the task.

“And if theydidn’t… at least they wouldn’t die alone.”

Pidge nodded.“Thanks for answering my question, Shiro, this was reallyinsightful,” she said as she looked over the reams and reams ofnotes she had taken, before she started typing and clicking in afrenzy.

Shiro noticed,and frowned. “You know, me and the others were thinking ofswitching out for Coran some time, give him a break… want to takethe first shift?”

“Nah,” Pidgesaid, “aside from the fact that it’s his job, he has a betterunderstanding of Altean biology, and all of the species Allura canmimic; we’ll probably end up doing more harm than good if we havesomeone else taking care of her, in case Allura morphs into somethingparticularly alien to us.”

“You sure aboutthis?” Shiro asked. “Maybe it can give you two some time to hangout together, you’re always looking for that!”

“We can do thatwhen she’s better—I doubt she’d enjoy it much when she’sforced to constantly shift forms, and we can’t do much with thoseclunky hazmat suits in the way,” Pidge said.

Shiro tried tomake another argument, but it was clear that her eyes and herattention were firmly back on her research. He sighed, quietly gotup, and made a note to go call Hunk…

Pidge staggeredout of her room, her gait uneven and pained for the pins and needlesin her legs. As she grabbed a wall and made her way to the kitchen,her mother’s voice echoed in her head: “You should really be morecareful about how long you sit in front of that laptop of yours,Katie; one of these days, you might not be able to stand back up!”

She had longdiscovered that was just exaggeration on her mother’s part, butyou’d think that the pain would have made her stop anyway.

If her sufferingand hunger had a bright side, however, it that she happened upon Hunkwhipping up something hot that smelled amazing, too. She wasplanning on having a bowl of food goo while she waited for thecirculation in her legs to normalize, but she was fast changing hermind.

“Hey Pidge!”Hunk said, waving with one hand as he stirred the contents of a potwith the other. “You hungry?”

“Heck yes Iam!” Pidge said as she found a seat. “What are you making?”

“Chicken soup!” Hunk said. “Well, not actually ‘chicken,’chicken soup like we’re used to back in the Sol system, but it’sprotein based, has got all sorts of healthy herbs and vegetables forboosting immune systems and fighting sickness, and is positivelydelicious, if I do say so myself!”

“Can I havesome?” Pidge asked.

“Sure, it’llbe done in five minutes or so, but you mind waiting till I can getAllura’s bowl ready? I made this for her, to help with thebioweapon thing.”

Pidge paused.“Huh… boosting her immune system rather than directly attackingthe pathogen?”

“Yep, though mypriority is boosting her mood first and foremost! Allura’s beenstuck in her room for so long, and that she can’t hang out withanyone else except Coran must really suck.” Hunk paused.“Hey, you want to go have your soup in Allura’s room with her?I’m sure she’d appreciate having her girlfriend around!”

“I’d love to,but I can’t exactly open my hazmat suit while I’m in thequarantine zone, Hunk, and I don’t want to try and balance a bowlof scalding hot soup inside that thing,” Pidge said. “Theconstruction isn’t nearly as flexible or advanced as the ones inour Paladin armour.”

Hunk smiled as heput the ladle down, and pulled out something from underneath thecounter. “Lucky you I made this food bottle for Coran! It’s got ahermetic seal and insulation, is probably small enough to fit insideyour suit, and a straw so you can drink your soup without riskingspilling it all over yourself!”

“Huh… that’spretty convenient.” Pidge said.

“Mhmm!” Hunksaid. “So, you want your soup in this?”

“Depends, isthere anything I might not want to suck through a straw and possiblychoke on?”

“Nope! I madesure that all the ingredients were completely soluble, or ran itthrough the blender several times, in case Allura ends up with amouth that doesn’t have teeth, or an esophagus that only takesliquids.”

He went on todescribe the ingredients he had put in, harvested from the planetsthey had visited during down-time, or grown in the ship ever sincethey acquired a hydroponics system. Pidge didn’t pay the list muchmind, until one name in particular jumped out to her.

“Wait!” Pidgecried. “What was that last one?”

“Uh,Bloodroot?” Hunk replied. “Don’t worry, it sounds gnarly, butit’s actually this really awesome superfood that the nativesused for treating vitamin deficiencies and some really serioussicknesses—still do, actually!”

“I know, Shiromentioned it earlier!” Pidge said as she pulled out her digital“notepad.” “Where’d you get this? Do you have any more of it?Any chance I can use them for experiments?”

“Uh, it waswhen we were fighting that giant swamp Robeast that looked like agiant alligator; no, I used up all of it for the soup; and I supposeyou can just go back there and harvest some more before we get out ofrange…?” Hunk replied.

Pidge wrote itall down, and jumped off her chair. “Thanks Hunk, tell the othersI’m taking Green out for a grocery run!” she said as she ran off.

“Wait, Pidge!”Hunk cried. “What about your soup?!”

“I’ll comeback for it before I leave!” Pidge called back. “Just put it inthe bottle for me, please!”

Hunk watched herdisappear, frowned, and quickly called up Lance and Keith.

Pidge was inGreen’s hangar, suiting up and reviewing the specifics of her trip;it’d take a couple of hours of flying, and several more searchingfor and harvesting the Bloodroot, but it’d all be worth it, if theplant was nearly as effective and versatile as Shiro and most of herresearch had claimed it to be.

She shut off hersuit’s wrist-computer, put on her helmet, and turned to her lion.“Get ready to go, Green! Just waiting on that soup from Hunk,”she said.

There wassomething that felt different about Green for a moment, but shedecided it could wait until after she’d gotten some food for thetrip. She headed back to the doors, and was surprised when theyopened up before she even got close.

Keith held up thefood bottle, now filled with soup. “Hey, Pidge,” he said as hetossed it over to her.

Pidge caught it,looked at the bottle, then at Keith. “Thanks. Is something up,Keith?” she asked.

“Yep, you’restaying here in the ship, while me and Lance go grocery shoppinginstead,” Keith said. “Shiro and Allura’s orders, by theway.”

“Why, whathappened?” Pidge asked.

“We need youhere for something much more important,” Keith said as he steppedup to Pidge and put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Pidge,everyone’s got their own way of dealing with being sick. You? It’strying to find something that’ll kill the ever loving shit out ofwhatever’s making your body send out all the white blood cellpatrols.”

“But Allura’snot you. What she really wants the most right now isn’t acure that’ll help her body stop outsmarting the Galra’sbio-weapon by constantly changing the playing field—what she reallywants is to have you around while she does.

“She’s beenalone these past 10,000 years, Pidge, nothing but her mice and Coranfor company, then she had us, the ragtag bunch of assholes that arecoincidentally the Defenders of the Universe. Do you really thinkshe wants to go through all this by herself, without her girlfriendto make it suck just a little bit less?”

Pidge frowned. “…No, no she probably doesn’t.”

“Good. Gladthat’s finally registered to your big brain. You know, Pidge, itwon’t hurt to brush up on your people skills sometime, and you canstart by staying with Allura while she needs you.” He smiled. “Andon that note, you need any help?”

Pidge smiledback. “I could use some extra hands hauling my stuff to Allura’sroom…”

Thedecontamination chamber in Allura’s room opened with a hiss, Pidgeand Hunk ambling through the mists with their arms loaded with soup,the game console they bought from the Space Mall plus jury-riggedadapters, and her laptop.

“Hey Allura!”Pidge said as Coran came over to help them unload and set up theirthings. “I’m back, and I’m staying until you get better! Keithand Lance told me everything.”

Her mouth and herthroat currently crystal-like structures, Allura made a series ofdistressed humming, sections of her “skin” lighting up in yellowand orange. Coran’s lips curled into a frown, but helping Hunk wirethe game system to an outlet kept him from commenting.

Pidge climbed uponto Allura’s bed, and sat beside her. “I’m sorry it took Keithhaving to spell it out for me to figure it out, and I know you’retrying to follow proper Altean tradition which I’m sure iswell-meaning and rooted in sense and experience, but I’d appreciateit if you don’t use these subtle hints, roundabout asking, andindirect tactics anymore.”

Pidge tookAllura’s “hand” and held it up. “I had months to think itover, and spent a lot of hours laying awake at night doing just that;I know that my feelings for you are 100% true, of my ownvolition, and not just because you’re a sexy, smart, and charmingalien princess.”

Pidge smiled andgently butted her hazmat suit’s helmet against Allura’s head, hereyes locked with one pair of hers. “I love you, Allura.”

Allura seemed toswoon as she made all manner of delighted noises as her crystal-skinlit up in pinks and whites. She wrapped her limbs around Pidge andpulled her in close, humming in pleasure before she made a series ofmuch more deliberate, structured sounds.

“She said ‘Ilove you too, Pidge.’” Coran said, smiling.

They fired up thegame console, and Pidge and Allura settled in for a co-op adventure.And when Allura’s constantly shifting grasping appendages and theever changing number and shape of digits she had, and the clunkygloves of the hazmat suit made it impossible for either of them toplay properly, they settled down for a movie instead.

“Sorry we hadto break tradition, Coran,” Hunk said as Coran escorted him back tothe decontamination chamber.

“Oh, I’ll getover it,” Coran said, smiling. “Some traditions are meant to bebroken, after all…”

[benevolentcalamity]

Rescue Mission [Yautja (Wakate) x Fem!Reader] Pt.3 [Final]

Ngl! I feel like without having seen a single movie of the Yautja I’m doing one pretty well! Even for just skimming their wiki and shit, haha. Hopefully you guys like Wakate too.

Also I do understand there’s like... different kinds of Yautja? Like their head shapes and color schemes are different? I’ll need to reread that bit.

For now, enjoy! This is the last installment of this trilogy - let me know if you dig it! (Thinking about writing an epilogue.)

I did wind up changing my mind about this being a smut fic. This situation doesn’t have the buildup I require, so just let me get comfortable with these big guys before any of that, ok?

Also! Let me know if you want all this to become an actual full fic, because the storylines are interesting me, finally! (But that feel when that requires you facing your thing about body horror and watching the movies for deeper understanding...)

“I’m still not entirely sure why you feel this necessary.” Wakate’s voice is more confused than his normal irritation. “Normally any sort of contact with a Xenomorph spells death, especially for you humans.”

You pause from washing off [Redacted], keeping her clothes on or nearby to preserve her dignity.

“I’d have seen those hand scorpion looking things dead nearby if she was infested, and from examining her she seems to be okay, at least for now,” You mention. “They have a special medical facility at the base, something that gives us some chance of survival.”

This isn’t a lie. After the realization of a past and shamefully repeated threat, the Ripley Project, named for the first person to survive an encounter with Xenomorphs, was created. Consistent study of these creatures all the way down to the composition of their brains - samples brought back from an expedition for this purpose - is ever-evolving and expanding. What’s tragic, however, is you and the next generation won’t get to see the project be completed. You and future soldiers will use upgrading technology, yes, but it will be possibly decades, centuries even, before a human can stand a chance one-on-one.

You barely made it by the skin of your teeth, and you’re considered one of the best.

“Hence our recent communications with the Yautja as well,” You add, combing your fingers through her hair. “We’ve been attempting to come to some middle ground with the different tribes, but we end up fighting more than shaking hands instead.”

“And what about you? Where do you stand?” It’s an honest question, especially from him.

Momentarily you look off in thought. “I’ve been recommended for promotion. As I stand now I don’t have the biggest inside looks on the actual project itself.”

“As for [Redated]?”

Swallowing, you check her pulse. She’s stable. “... I actually don’t know. They say a good few years after the project formally started, she was brought back to us. A leftover from the Ergoproxy Station, I think is the story.” You pause, pouring more water over her. “There was some Xenomorphs...” You trail off, noticing something off.

Lifting her shirt up above her tearing grey sports bra, you recoil with an uneven shriek.

Smack dab beneath her ribs is an ugly patch of scar tissue, suggesting an injury repeatedly opened back up and inflicted. At first glance it looks more like she was impaled on a pole, but when you take a closer look at how it’s formed, it almost looks like...

Your face blanches. “... Hey, Wakate... Take a look at this, if you’d be so kind.”

Almost immediately after you request it he’s right beside you, kneeling down and lifting [Redacted] slightly to get a better look at the scar. His enormous finger prods and pokes it, him looking from slightly different angles. Eventually he lifts his head, looking toward you.

“Do you know how Xenomorphs reproduce, Ooman?” He questions, and you nod. “This is not a wound from the outside in.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” It really doesn’t. “The chestburster method is supposed to be fatal.”

“Either the actual parasite can travel, or she’s tremendously unlucky.” He’s audibly rolling his eyes. “This particular Ooman’s an odd one.”

Wetting your lips, you raise your hand to your communicator. “Johnson, come in.”

“[Name], evac’s going to be there in thirty, the hell you want?” His uncharacteristic testiness has you momentarily recoiling. “... Apologies. The commander’s been up my ass about the operation.”

“Cry me a river,” You sigh. “Listen, do you or I have access to the files of the Ergoproxy Station incident?”

“... Negative.”

Furrowing your brow, you try not to snap at him. “Well, who does?”

“The scientists, bioengineers, the whole nine yards, all involved with this damn project. The commander, too.”

“Why would they keep those files from us?”

“Beats me... Will that be all?”

You huff. “Yes. Ending communication.”

The moment your finger releases the communicator button, you slump, almost tempted to hit yourself in the forehead. Letting out a sharp, aggravated breath through puffed cheeks, you try to relax, scooping [Redacted]’s hand up in yours. Squeezing it slightly, you lift your head back up, straightening your back to look towards Wakate, now looking a bit more relaxed.

“What’ll you do now, Wakate?” You’re wholly aware you two are a good team, maybe even starting to bond. Whatever the case may be, you just want to know if he’ll be okay.

“My hunt is over, and you retrieved your friend. So, our alliance has served its purpose,” He responds. “My ship will be back soon. In the meanwhile I’ll be combing this island for anything that might’ve escaped the nest.”

You swallow. “Well then I’m staying.”

His mandibles flare. “You said yourself you’re out of bullets, and you’re inadept with what you have still. You’ll be fodder before you even take a breath.” His voice is stern, almost harsh, but even you can pick up the undertone of care. Once you do, his large hand is on your arm. “You fought well, and proven yourself a worthy Ooman. Do not throw that away.”

“But...” You tilt your head slightly. “How will I know you’re okay?”

He snorts. “You don’t need to be concerned about me. You’re quick and resourceful, and equally I am strong and agile. If you can make it that long in the nest, I can survive the island.”

Only mildly assured, you nod. “Okay...”

For a moment, you’re both in silence. There’s no reason for him to stay beside you, other than whatever’s going on in his head. You like thinking maybe he’s just looking after you and [Redacted] until your chopper arrives, but there’s probably something else. Perhaps what he’ll do when he gets back home, wherever home may be for him.

“... Wakate,” You say after a moment.

“What?”

“When [Redacted] and I get back to the base, I’m going to see if I can access the files to Ergoproxy station. If I can get those, I can probably find out about her too.” You put your hand over the scar under her shirt. “If what you said is true, then she’s been through a whole lot more than we know.”

“And what’ll happen when you do find all that?” He sounds... doubtful? You’re not sure.

“I’ll prevent it from happening again.” A newfound resolution creeps onto your tongue. “And if there’s more I’ll put a stop to it. To hell with retirement - if this is more than just her, someone’s gonna have to answer for it.”

A moment, and he erupts in laughter. Confused, you turn back towards him, tilting your head, before he puts a hand on it.

“I was right to believe in you!” He guffaws. “Alright then. Hopefully we’ll see each other again when your next hunt begins.”

“Hopefully...” Your voice trails off at the telltale buffering of an engine.

Raising your head you look aside, seeing the helicopter closing in from just over the horizon. As it approaches the trio of you, you stand up, raising your arm high and waving. Before you know it a ladder drops down as the chopper door opens. Colonel Weiss, initially confusing to see, leans out and waves back at you.

“[Last Name]!” He shouts.

“Sir!” You respond, giving him a quick salute.

“You’re both in one piece, thank god! Now just get her and let’s get the hell out of here!” His voice is normally crusty but he sounds like he’s been smoking so many cigarettes on the way. Even the actual smoke radiates off him and he doesn’t even have one in his mouth.

Turning, you lift [Redacted] into your arms, approaching the ladder as Weiss descends. Softly passing her over to him, you fail to notice the displeasure on his face as you turn back towards Wakate. Feeling the colonel going back up the ladder to secure her, you clear your throat, approaching him yet again.

“You are not staying,” He reiterates, helmet on his hip.

“Not planning to.” You know it’s what’s best. So, you manage a smile, holding your hand out. “Well... so long, Wakate.”

He looks down at your hand, his mandibles rubbing together. Before long he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.”

Blinking, you watch him set his helmet aside, swinging his arms before turning back to you. Momentarily you fear him trying to strangle you now that he has no further business with you, but then you’re surprised when he closes the distance. Before you know it your cheek’s pressed to his chest plate, and his arms effortlessly hold you.

... Oh. OH.

Holy fucking shit.

Ignoring your back popping slightly, you do reciprocate his attempt at a hug. Sadly he is so huge that you have your arms almost stretched out completely to your sides, your forearms only barely touching his back. As though aware of your frailty he’s clearly just hanging his arms; you shudder at the possibility of his true strength.

... Yep. He’ll be just fine.

“Be safe, Wakate.” The helicopter is loud, so you are hopeful he doesn’t hear.

“Stay alive long enough for us to meet again.” It’s practically an order. “If my ship returns again and you’ve expired, I’ll drag you back from whatever afterlife you end up in and hunt you down.”

You chortle, raising your voice so you’re audible. “You too, don’t you dare die to anything!”

“[LAST NAME]! STOP HUGGING THE YAUTJA AND LET’S GO!” Weiss about screams through the helicoper.

You scoff. Asshole... “... See you around, Wakate.”

Reluctantly, you break from him, patting his arm as his almost serpentine eyes blink along with him nodding.

“Good hunting, Ooman.”

___

“So from what I understand, [Redacted] was snatched and dragged into this island’s nest, right?”

“Correct, sir.” You finish patching your injuries, having prioritized [Redacted] and risked infection; you must’ve had more injuries from your fight with that Xenomorph than you thought. “We confirmed the death of the queen, and suddenly we were ambushed by a Xenomorph.”

“I see.” His shift to being calm is... odd. “And that’s when you met the Yautja?”

“His name is Wakate, sir.” You wipe some sweat from your forehead. “He helped me find the nest and retrieve [Redacted]. If not for him I’d be long dead.”

“Never expected you to make friends with one of them, but what matters is all three of you made it.” He reaches over and pats your leg. “You’re sure to get that promo, hopefully. By the looks of it you’ve been through hell.”

“And dragged myself out of it, too. I killed a Xenomorph - might’ve been the one that snatched her, too.” There’s an odd pride in your chest, only swelling when his eyes brighten slightly.

“That’s great news. You were always one of the best - maybe you’ll be the best, with some more time with this line of work.” He contemplates his cigars and lighter, before his better judgment puts them back in his pocket. “There’s a good fat paycheck waiting for you. Maybe some vacation time, if you’re up for it.”

“I’d like to be able to stay in contact if I do, keep in the know about [Redacted],” You affirm. “I do want a vacation, but her health is just as important as mine.”

“Granted. I can tell, after all, that this is very important to you.” Then his chest bounces with a laugh as he leans back. “This takes me back. When you were raised to this rank and put on this work, we had just recently recruited [Redacted]. Girl couldn’t even say her own name or talk to anyone, but then you came along and she actually acted human.” His eyes crinkle with a smile. “... It was meant to be, [Last Name].”

“I’m honored you regard both of us so highly, sir,” You nod, giving an appreciative smile. “I hope we keep pleasing you.”

“I know you will.”

“And sir?” You lean on your thighs.

“Yes?”

“Do you... happen to know something about Ergoproxy Station?”

[benevolentcalamity]

Rescue Mission [Yautja (Wakate) x Human!Reader] PT2

The second part y'all have (hopefully) been waiting for. Now with the Xenomorph fic coming next we will play the part of [Redacted] and expand on her backstory since I do like acting smart. XD

... Ngl I've become pretty fond of these beefy bois so let me know if you want more of them. (Also yell at me to watch the movies if you would, Arnold Schwarzenegger makes everything better.) 

I wonder if the existence of the term "monsterfuckers" means there's "humanfuckers" in the monster world... Probably!

The third part will be the smut and last installment in this mini-series, so look forward to other monsters... maybe.

Also, there is a semi-graphic... scene with a Xenomorph, so proceed here with caution.

CURTAINS!

"We're almost there."

Alongside the observation you clutch your gun tighter, ready to raise and shoot the moment something isn't right.

Glancing about you sigh in relief as the pair of you destroy the eggs scattered about. "This was an ambush. They know we're closing in so they put these here to take care of us preemptively."

"But this implies they're breeding already, or the Queen was here before." Wakate's tone doesn't imply aggression or irritability. "My guess would be the latter."

"Yea. Her corpse was very fresh when we found her, so she was probably gunned down a day or two before [Redacted] and I arrived. That'd explain the eggs." You look around, blood about freezing when you see a trio of Xenomorphs just near a cluster of eggs leading into a cave. "Shit."

Noting Wakate getting ready to attack you tug his arm again, warranting his head snapping to you along the sound of his mandibles flaring.

"Get down!" You urge, whisper-yelling as you get him behind some plants and trees.

Once you're both kneeling you part some leaves, watching as the trio approach the mouth, pausing. At first they look around, snarling, before turning back to each other. They make a variety of sounds and motions, clearly communicating. One looks back into the cave, wiping his face, before going inside. For a moment you notice their anatomy differing slightly, noting how the ones staying outside seem more angular and aggressive.

"They're posting the stronger ones outside to protect the queen," You observe. "My guess is there's more around."

"So we take them out, go in, and save your friend," Wakate nods. "This we can accomplish."

"If it were that simple, yes." You nod, checking your shotgun rounds. "If we make too much noise we'll draw out more of them, and we'll be overwhelmed before we even realize it." You look back towards the pair. "If we can draw the guards away and take them out, we'll have an easier time inside the nest."

"And what do you suggest we do once inside?" He asks, wary.

"We go in, find the Queen's chamber, get [Redacted], and get out," You reply. "If we have to we can fight against the weaker ones, but there'll be too many of them. Definitely don't want to dance against them without backup, we just want to get her."

"Alternatively you could throw bombs in there and clean them out."

"This is also true." You touch the grenades in your backpack. "But we don't know how far in she is, so unless we know that we have no chance of knowing if she'll be affected by the blasts."

"Which brings me to another question." He shifts so he can lean closer to you. "Are you sure you want her back at your base after she's been here?"

Your heart skips a beat. "If we can get her back in time they can decontaminate her and suppress the Queen pheromones."

"You're guessing, though." He leans on an arm.

"I am. I don't know the ins and outs of Xenomorph biology, nor do I know the full details of their newfound compatibility with humans." You bite your lip, before sighing heavily. "But if we get there and she's already far-gone, I'll have to make a difficult decision."

"If we're vying for time, our best bet is drawing them into one spot and using explosives. If this nest has existed a good while that means the queen's chambers are far down. So if you're worried about injuring your friend, the chances are slim to none unless you're clumsy." Wakate points to your grenades. "Now unless you want to waste more time, Ooman, you'd better make your choice quickly."

Inhaling sharply, you at first reach for your grenades, before pausing. Right when your fingers touch them, you look back up at Wakate.

"When we take out the bulk of the outside Xenomorphs, I can slip past them unawares if you're intent on fighting them. Once I've retrieved [Redacted] I can back you up. They hate fire so use that to your advantage. If you feel you're overwhelmed, I want you to retreat immediately, okay?" You assert.

"Fleeing is a disgrace." He snorts. "Asking me to surrender is an even bigger one."

"There's victory in retreat, Wakate," You respond. "At the very least we can consolidate towards the mouth. There we should be able to fend them off even if one of my arms is occupied."

"Are we now?"

"Okay, Wakate."

"You're quite possibly one of the strangest Oomans I've ever met," He comments, but readies his gun. "... If there's anything I hate more than a Xenomorph, it's any sort of disgrace. So don't you dare let yourself die."

You grin. "Game's on, then. You ready?"

Pulling out a cluster, you charge, aiming to throw. "LEEROOOOOYYYYY JEEEENKIIIINS!!!"

___

“Ooman! Ooman, you’d better be alive down there!”

Poking your  head up from some destroyed eggs - confirmed to have no other threats in there, we’ll say - you cup your hands around your mouth.

“I’m fine! Must’ve destroyed this entire sac, so they broke my fall!” You call back. “Are you okay, Wakate?!”

“Yes! But the floor collapsing like that isn’t doing any good - damn things...” He’s more visible after leaning a bit closer to the hole you’re in. “... Or we just got lucky, Ooman. Do you see a tunnel nearby?”

For a moment, you survey your surroundings after standing. Eventually your eyes fall on an extra tunnel, and you light up despite the dread settled in your stomach.

“I do!” You shout.

“If you’re lucky, Ooman, you’ll be able to follow those egg sacs straight to the queen. If you can, just get her and run - I’ll make my way to you!” Wakate’s voice is thick with authority, like a general you used to serve with. Swiftly he turns, the sound of distant growling and hisses growing louder. “More of those Berserkers...” Raising his gun and getting in stance, he looks back down at you. “Get out of there!!!”

Picking up the cue, you swap your shotgun for a rifle - admittedly a gun you’re more adept with - and get to work. Squashing a dead creature you meander carefully down the cave, following the distant sounds of gunfire and roaring. Biting your lip as you pass some eggs, you carefully push through some debris and near-tumble some more. Admittedly feeling a bit vulnerable without Wakate you find yourself looking left, right, above, and over your shoulder every few steps.

This isn’t much different from your regular missions in enemy territory, but the primal fear of death, a reminder of your humanity and mortality, is always fresh.

You sigh through your nose. I really miss my dad. You miss home in general, so you may have to put in a request to return for the fall. Maybe you’ll have to reduce your time in the military at this rate; quite honestly you’ve had enough.

When it comes to Xenomorphs this is definitely not your first rodeo. Matter of fact being inside a nest is just as disgusting as you remember, those who share the memory being either long dead or retired. Many who have to deal with them put in their notice once they’re lucky enough to return alive, but the experience leaves terrible scars. Death would be a release for them, perhaps, but an honorable death is never in a nest, unless it’s with a gun in your hand.

But for those that remain in service and throw themselves back into the wasp’s nest, like yourself, it’s uncertain what exactly awaits.

“Please be okay, [Redacted]...” You shudder. “Both of us come home alive.”

A hiss, some thuds, and a growl wrench you from your thoughts. Hairs standing on end you dive behind some muck. Just then a Xenomorph, more stout and round like a bumblebee, rushes past. It doesn’t slow down or pause to look around, it just makes a beeline (haha) down the cavern.

It looks like a weaker subspecies. So it seems the more attacker types are concentrated wherever Wakate is. Whatever the case I’d better hurry up. You rise when the coast is clear and continue forward, clutching your rifle tightly. Even as strong as he is, he and I are a team. 

You don’t want to protect and fight with Wakate because you think he’s weak or an asshole - alright he is sort of an asshole but you’ve accepted that’s just Yautja - but because you genuinely care about his safety.

Hm? “What is that noise?” You whisper.

It’s like those pumps, where they’d have oil or water pumping into a reservoir or tank or something. A concentrated mass, like a bubble but it’s not, would pass through the tubes, and make a weird sound the whole journey. This particular sound is only broken up by the occasional growl or slap-like noise, throwing you off slightly. Even so the cold dread returns, weighing on your chest just as it does your stomach, solidified as eggs don’t just cluster but rather line up like soldiers in the upcoming cavern.

And there, just at the other end, is a sight you never thought you’d see in your life.

“[Redacted]!” You cry, throwing caution to the wind entirely.

Among clusters of eggs much unlike the others, she’s there, unconscious, naked from the waist down, covered in slimy goo - Xenomorph saliva - among small amounts of her own blood and other fluids you can’t quite name.

Surrounded by Xenomorphs just like the one before, only in stasis, she’s in the lap of one just like the one that had attacked the Nastromo. With large, horrible hands it’s holding her waist and shoulder, and as you get closer you realize its hips thrusting upward - and eventually the pitch black cock the size of your shin inside her.

Pursing your lips and furrowing your brow, you swallow the revolting scene before you and raise your gun. Just then the Xenomorph raises its head, and sees you. Its movement pauses, and it begins to snarl.

“Get away from her, you bitch!”

Enraged, it leans forward, screaming at you at the top of its lungs. Visibly fighting its instincts it takes a moment, looking down at [Redacted]. Pulling its cock out of her with an unceremonious schlop, it picks her up bridal-style in its hands, putting her delicately among the other Xenomorphs, assuming they can protect her even being in the state they are. Once it finishes it swiftly turns back towards you, beginning to approach you like a cougar to a rabbit as its mouth pours with copious amounts of saliva.

So whoever moves first, huh... Okay.

Leaning into the stock, you aim right for the chest, blasting it dead on. As the acid blood flies about you barely register it lunging, rolling out of the way and aiming once more. Roaring it gets right back into stance, charging before you can reload and forcing you to dodge again. It’s terribly fast and especially aggressive - it does see you as a threat to the queen aside from its dominative instinct to kill - so you’ll have to be even sharper.

This is a fight for your life and [Redacted]’s. Living for her, protecting her... Making it back to Wakate, too.

“Don’t you dare let yourself die.”

“Fuck you!” You shout, reloading and managing to put another cap in its leg as you strafe out of the way of a tail stab. “You ugly motherfucker!”

What fuels you in this moment, as you’re reloading and shooting with the occasional toss of a grenade, isn’t just the instinct and need to survive. It’s absolute, unbridled rage, determination to see your duty through to the end, and outright refusal to die to this creature. Everyone else is reason enough to make it, but you have no one but yourself in this moment, even with [Redacted] out of the line of fire and Wakate holding his own whilst making his way to you.

With each bullet, each side swipe, and laceration, the Xenomorph is growing angrier and angrier. It lunges, and with another roll out of the way you hurriedly recover. Every step you take, every breath, your heart pounds up into your throat, and your palms start to get sweaty. Your bullets are becoming fewer, but never wasted, whilst your trigger finger is never faltering.

This is it.

Rolling under a lunge for once - it’s come to expect you to go to the sides - you put one more cap in its back, your body beginning to ache from the strain. Sweat pouring from your brow you momentarily glance at your bullets.

One. Bullet.

One bullet, and this will be made or broken. Either you’ll save your own life and [Redacted]’s, or leave Wakate to face the music.

“Alright...” You raise your gun one more time.

A lunge from the creature, and everything is suddenly in slow motion. Delicately, almost, your rifle’s barrel is perfectly lined with the weak spots you’ve created in the creature. With this last shot you could finish all this - and you will.

Exhaling raggedly but coolly through gritted teeth, you squeeze the trigger, resolute acceptance of death clashing with determination in your chest as the bullet flies free. Closing your eyes, you lower your gun, opening your ears for any more movement, a hiss to tell you your life has ended; a scream of a last moment of flurried rage. Your brain mimics the sensation of enormous, monstrous hands gripping you to rip you a brand new face, or spit flying onto your body to foretell a violent, instantaneous death.

But none of this happens. Rather, you merely hear the sounds of drips, of a sound more like sizzling. Opening your eyes, you step back and onto some elevation to avoid the acid blood, following its trail to the Xenomorph. Still twitching with angry attempts at springing back up with one final scare, it weakly hisses, clawing languidly at the ground. Approaching it, you tug out a grenade, shoving it into the newborn cavity with your foot, your soles only burning slightly with minimal contact with the blood.

“Bye.”

You retreat to the other side of the cavern, and no sooner do you reach that wall that the grenade explodes following its horrified scream. Flesh and blood spray everywhere, some limbs still intact and others looking like paper mush. With the settling reassurance that the fight is over, you allow yourself to collapse onto your knees, hands falling onto your thighs as you catch your breath. Momentarily lamenting leaving your canteen by mistake, you raise a hand to hold the communicator button.

“Johnson, come in. [Name] reporting.”

“What’s the sitrep?”

“[Redacted] is confirmed alive, mostly unharmed but... well...” You raise your head to look over at her as she momentarily stirs. “... Ah, Johnson, do Xenomorphs have genitals?”

“...”

“Johnson, come in.”

“Newer variants were reported with genitalia matching mammals, yes.”

“Oh, good. One’s been using ‘em. I’d suggest preparing the base for decon when we return with [Redacted].”

“Affirmative. As for the Yautja?”

“We got separated in the nest, but I’m sure he’s still alive.” You blink at the distant sound of gunfire and flesh tearing. “... Stand by.”

Standing, you reach for your pistol, preparing to fire at another Xenomorph. To your relieved surprise one comes flying into the cavern- quite literally, actually. It’s very dead, from how it doesn’t immediately jump back up and scream. Before you can question it, though, Wakate’s hulking frame stomps in. Breathing with relief you relax, hand falling from your communicator.

“Wakate, I’m here!” You declare, rushing toward him.

He doesn’t immediately respond aside from nodding to acknowledge you. For a moment he looks around, clearly aware that there was a fight here, before his eyes fall on the gory remains of the Xenomorph you blew up. Approaching it, he kneels down, looking it over. Nodding again, he raises a hand to beckon you over. Tilting your head you comply, scrunching up your nose at the smell as you kneel beside him.

Blinking, you watch as he finds some still oozing blood, dipping his fingers in it. Turning to you, he uses a free hand to smooth back the loose hair over your forehead. Closing your eyes tight you clench your teeth as your skin burns, him using the acid blood to mark your forehead. Once he finishes you inhale sharply, swallowing and clutching your pants to avoid touching it.

“All in a day’s work, huh.” You take a moment to crack your knuckles. “Wakate, I’m out of bullets in my rifle, but I can use my pistol. If I carry her I can still shoot, but my trigger finger won’t be as on the mark. Can I count on you?”

He stares at you in visible contemplation, the telltale sound of his mandibles touching through his helmet before he nods.

“Always.”

Satisfied, you stand up, turning and approaching [Redacted]. Lowering yourself onto your haunches you wipe some (luckily not acidic) fluid off of her face. Just then she stirs, looking at you with tired eyes. Upon recognizing you she lights up slightly, smiling weakly in her exhaustion.

“I knew you were coming...” She whispers. “... Hey, [Name]?”

“Yeah?” You wrap some gauze - tragically it’s all you have - around her nethers and hips, making it look more like zombie apocalypse panties.

“Do you think these stains will come out of my clothes?” She asks, and you can’t help but erupt into laughter as you move her so you can carry her in your arms, your pistol at the ready with your finger off the trigger.

“Yea, they will.” You start walking as Wakate turns to lead the way out. “It’s over now, [Redacted]. We’re goin’ home.”