#(gods' deadliest weapons)

[danielslaw]

RICHARD SPEIGHT JR AS THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL “gabriel, alright? they call me gabriel.“ “the archangel?“ SUPERNATURAL SEASON 5 EPISODE 8

[a-tale-of-legends]

I love how pepper spray is considered a defensive weapon. Tbh, it is, but in a list of stabby stab weapons and such, pepper spray is super funny to me.

Anyway, tag a Chosen that uses pepper spray as their main weapon/j/hj

[soldatshandler]

Cold Metal.

summary: Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier, Bucky is still in the mindset of Soldat, brief descriptions of medical care such as IVs, needles, malnutrition/refeeding and starvation effects, PTSD, post!HTP only brief mentions of past SA and abuse. Past S/H, scars, and trauma. Roughly translated Russian, might not be accurate.

a/n: Yeah so this turned into a lot, I wrote more than I expected to. This is also my first 'fic' of him wooo. I always had this hc that his arm gets cold and it hurts him. The scars being more sensitive to the cold and cause tension around his arm. So I thought something like this would be nice. He deserves it okay ;; wc: 3.6k

At first, it was hard. Harboring a literal assassin from the government was not an easy task, especially with one as unstable and deadly as the fucking Winter Soldier.

How you ended up doing this, you had no idea. Someone like him wasn't easy to just stumble upon, yet here you were. Maybe your heart was too good, but seeing him curled up in that alley a few days ago, shivering and soaked to the bone, a dislocated arm and bloodied from what you assumed was some kind of assault, you couldn't just leave him to the elements.

He had looked so scared, his eyes so full of confusion and apprehension when you initially approached him. He instinctively reached for a weapon at his side - a gun, a knife, anything - but found none, and the panic of a wild, cornered animal spread on his face. He even attempted to stand to fight you, like you bored any sort of threat to him. You just put your hands up in a manner to try to calm him, something as simple as standing caused him pain. He clearly had more injury than what your eyes could see.

You weren't sure how, but you had convinced him you were a safe person and that he could stay in your home. You were just trying to be a good person. He looked so scared, pressed into the wall of the old building and trying his best to look intimidating despite all the injuries that covered him more than the rain soaking his clothes. Ironically, you didn't know just who he was until you had began to delve into the news...a day after you let him into your house. Everything about him being wanted, his crimes, who he was. A sleeper agent, an assassin, the deadliest in the world. And you brought him into your home. Willingly.

Sure, at first you didn't know what to do, the fist of HYDRA sitting in the corner of your spare room, lashing out like feral dog if you came close, or god forbid even stand in the doorway. With how deadly the news made him seem...to you, he didn't appear that way. He just looked hurt and scared. His defensive behavior easily mistook for aggression.

But, none of it scared you away. You didn't care. You might've just been a regular civilian, but you were far from ignorant. You were sneaky, you knew a lot about both parties, SHIELD and HYDRA. You immersed yourself in research, learning as much as you could about HYDRA to get more information about this sleeper soldier.

Despite your efforts, you only scratched the surface.

Honestly, you didn't want to dig too far. You didn't want him to grow suspicious or think you couldn't be trusted for any reason. He already holed himself up like a hermit, it was literally like placing a feral animal inside a home and watching it search around curiously but anxiously, then hide away in a small, dark place for safety. Besides, what HYDRA had on him was disturbing enough.

He was quite aggressive defensive at first too, he didn't want you near him whatsoever. He had a lot of wounds and you knew he'd need to see a doctor, despite the physical ones you saw, you could also tell he was underweight and malnourished a little bit. You weren't a doctor yourself, and you didn't want to attempt to do anything without some kind of advice. Problem was, he was wanted. You couldn't just take him to see a doctor.

"Must things be so complicated with you?" You sighed as you spoke to him while he practically barricaded himself in your closet. You didn't mean anything serious, you were just a little stressed and frustrated, thinking of what you could possibly do to help.

In the midst of your thinking, you remembered you had a close friend who worked in the medical field. They might have done some...questionable things...but that's honestly what you need right now. Someone who wouldn't blabber, and all above and below, you kept some pretty serious secrets for them in the past. You didn't talk anymore, not very often anyway, but they were always down to help you out if needed. It would be much better than trying to drag him to an office where he'd be discovered and you'd have to wrestle him down, which would be a pathetic attempt to restrain him.

Long story short, a quick home visit pursued with stolen medical equipment and a basic check up, it was confirmed he was malnourished like you suspected. He wasn't terribly thin, but you could tell someone his stature shouldn't be so skinny, his ribs protruded too much for your liking. He was also dehydrated along with having an extensive amount of old and new injuries, an untreated dislocation, and some minor infections.

The soldier surprisingly didn't fight that much when he was getting checked out, his blue eyes glued to you the whole time, only averting to watch the 'doctor' as they moved around him. But nothing could be too easy, when the needles came out, he became a bit adamant and aggressive. He spoke in Russian, which you didn't understand. He shouted and sounded angry, backing himself into a corner as he prepared to fight like his life depended on it. His body trembled with adrenaline and he watched the two of you with an unblinking, cold gaze.

You realized it was bad. His treatment prior to you finding him. He acted like a needle was a raging hot blade about to cut his other arm off. Patience and waiting him out proved to be the best way to approach this. He was stubborn and stood his ground for two full hours before he slowly relinquished and he allowed the needle to go in for the IV. With a quick rundown from your comrade, some supplies, and promised confidentiality, they left you both alone.

You also learned how to place an IV, thanks to the instructions left with you and some YouTube videos, since you had to do it every day for two weeks so you could feed nutrients into his body. Everything he ate he just threw up, his body rejected food otherwise. Broths and mashed potatoes were all he could eat. Sometimes his body would tolerate bread and heavier, more filling foods like chicken. He eventually got to eating some veggies like soft carrots and zucchini if properly cooked too.

You still had to feed him carefully. Sometimes his body would still throw it all up and he'd get sick again. It was a grueling process.

You stuck it out and now he could slowly eat again, which was a relief. No IV necessary. He seemed glad about that too.

Besides refeeding, there was an array of issues that came along with being his unofficial caretaker. The Winter Soldier, or Soldat, as he referred to himself as, it was better than asset, was pretty difficult to care for. He was wary of just about everything, you specifically, he didn't know why you were so nice to him. He wondered if you had an underlying motive, his scrambled brain so torn apart tried to connect the dots.

Rewards came with good behavior, rewards being basic human decency and kindness. Good behavior meant pleasing his handlers.

You never wanted to be pleased. You never asked.

Was he supposed to do it anyway?

He watched you as you cooked something in a big pot on the stove. He saw you chopping carrots. He liked those. He liked the broth you made him too, and the potatoes. Good, this was safe food. Another reward? Was he supposed to do something?

You walked over to where he sat, his icy gaze watching you carefully. He was thinking behind them, you could tell, but he barely ever spoke besides simple Russian words that you learned either meant 'yes' or 'no,' or other things like 'please' and 'thank you.' While you set down a glass of water for him, he reached out and grabbed your waistband, leaning forward suddenly. The touch surprised you and made you bristle, your hand snatching his wrist instantly. "Soldat! No, no." you pulled his hand away, it nearly melted off you. Your sharp words startled him, her flinched back a little, his gaze still dull but now held a hint of confusion.

He tilted his head, frowning. "Позвольте мне служить вам." he grunted, his voice rough and raspy like he had swallowed broken glass, so unused, it was the most he had ever spoken to you at once. And you had no idea what he said.

"Don't do that, Soldat." you reasoned, speaking gently, you weren't angry, just a little shocked. The confusion on his face was clear, and fear that flashed in his eyes made you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Why had he done that? He had never tried to touch you in any way before, in fact he avoided any kind of touch possible. Now he had tried to...you weren't sure. But the cool metal that hooked into your waistband made you shiver.

He leaned back into the couch, looking scolded and anticipating something, he was tense and stiff. You watched him, he said nothing else, his eyes glued to the floor, not daring to tear away from the spot on the carpet to look at you. He seemed scared.

"It's okay," you spoke up after a few silent moments, "You don't need to...do anything." You had a good idea of what he was trying to do, perhaps some sick mindset or conditioning had trained him to serving people before you. You knew HYDRA well enough, it wasn't a long shot to assume. The agents there were barbaric and inhumane.

He ate his food quickly and quietly, refusing to look at you the whole time, then retreated to the guest room like usual. He locked himself away most nights, you were fine with that. He was eating and sleeping, two things he desperately needed.

You sat on the couch watching a show you enjoyed, it was well into the evening by now. The bustling city now quieter and dark, the sun had set hours ago. The door to the guest room slowly opened, your attention drawn there and away from your show. Soldat nearly stumbled over his own two feet, he appeared visibly irritated, in pain somehow. It made you sit up, his expression wearing how he felt as obvious as day. "Hey...what's going on? Are you hurt?" You stood and padded over to him, to your surprise he hadn't backed away.

"Да..." he replied in a groggy, rough voice, the strain dominated the sleep and you felt more worried. For the most part, he looked okay, no obvious injury that you could see. You still tried to look him over just in case there was something he might be hiding, or maybe he hurt himself? He wasn't wearing a shirt, his skin looked fine, all old injuries as far as you could tell. Healing wounds and scars, nothing looked new or irritated.

His metal arm was cradled slightly, so you paid more attention to it. "Your arm hurts?" You asked gently, your eyes scanning it. You weren't entirely sure how his metal arm could hurt, but the tech was advanced so maybe there were some nerves somehow integrated in there. He gave a sharp nod, securing your suspicions.

"Okay...where?" You hoped maybe he'd give you more of an idea, but you doubted it. If he did speak, you didn't know Russian, it would be pointless.

He pointed to his shoulder, where metal met flesh. The nasty scars there were swollen, but that didn't look any different than usual. You observed the area regardless, looking over it for several minutes before you frowned and leaned back. You couldn't see anything that would give away any sort of pain. "How...does it hurt? It looks okay, is it internal?" You questioned slowly, hoping he would tell you, in English...

He shook his head sharply again, jerking side to side. His brows were tightly knit together and a hard breath huffed out of his nose. He reached up with his right hand, his fingers carefully touching the scars. He was so tentative, like the scars were scorching hot, or like he was afraid to touch them at all. "Холодный." His voice came out with underlying discomfort, he had to force himself not to wince.

You frowned. Of course not.

"Uh...-"

"Холодный," he repeated, his tone more firm this time like he thought repeating the word would make you understand. The expression on your face just made him feel frustrated, he grabbed your wrist with his right hand and pulled your hand up to his scarred shoulder. You weren't sure why you flinched or tensed like you expected some sort of pain, but you did.

Under your palm, you felt the stark contrast between the hot, irritated scars and freezing cold titanium.

Cold.

Was that what he was trying to say? That couldn't feel good.

"Is...your arm...hurting because it's cold?" You asked slowly, trying your best to read his face. He nodded once, grunting.

You felt stupid now. Damnit. "I see...okay, let me see what I can do." You pulled your hand off his shoulder, walking over to a small storage closet you had down the hall. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you spotted the heat blanket you had stored in there for the colder months. You grabbed it and walked back over to him, "Here, if you plug this in and drape it over your shoulder, it will keep you warm."

You offered the blanket to him, he stared at it for several seconds before he stepped closer to you, his hand around your wrist and pulling your palm to his shoulder again. You frowned a little and looked at him, "Your shoulder was cold...right? This will help, I promise." You didn't move your hand, you weren't sure what he wanted other than to warm up his arm. "The blanket will be warm."

"Нет." Soldat stared down at you with an empty expression, his eyes had heavy, tired bags under them and showed his clear lack of sleep. You weren't sure what he wanted other than the blanket, since he was refusing to accept it. Instead, he held your hand over his shoulder, sliding it gently down towards the front where his scar was deepest. You could feel his chest rise as he breathed evenly, his eyes almost closing completely.

Did he like how your hand felt?

You remained silent as he gently guided your hand along the length of his scar, where the unforgiving metal pierced his flesh and embedded itself beneath the surface. Your own breath hitched feeling it, the cold, rigid tissue gradually warmed under your delicate touch, responding to the gentle friction of your fingertips. As he continued moving your hand in a soothing motion, you noticed his tense features begin to soften, the lines of worry etched across his face slowly fading away.

The soft intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, you found yourself captivated by the subtle changes in his expression, each twitch and relaxation of his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Maybe he was finding comfort in your presence after so long. He had never been this vulnerable with you, and yet here he was, literally grabbing your hand and making you touch his most delicate wound.

"Do you like my hand there...?" The words escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible. Your eyes, fixed intently on his face, sought to decipher every nuance of his reaction. You watched closely, noting the slight parting of his lips, the flutter of his eyelids, and the almost imperceptible nod that followed your question.

He was so tired, somehow still standing. "Да..."

"Ah...I see. You like my hand there? Does it feel good to rub the scars?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes traced his features, taking in every detail as you gazed up at him. Those dark locks of his hung slightly in his face, creating a disheveled yet alluring frame around his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled, clear evidence of disturbed sleep. The dim light from the tv caught the stray strands, making them stand out against the dark.

He gave a quick nod once more, his body inching closer to you in a subtle yet deliberate shuffle. His eyes, filled with an unmistakable longing, conveyed that he desired something more from you - perhaps your touch, your warmth, or simply your continued presence. "You know," you reasoned gently, your voice soft and caring, "the blanket would help warm up your entire arm, much better than my hand. Plus, it would make you much more comfortable if you decided to rest in bed..."

Even with your logical suggestion, it was clear from his intense gaze and body language that he was far more interested in you than in any blanket or physical comfort you could offer. His focus remained fixed, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment.

You exhaled deeply, slowly withdrawing your hand from his body. A fleeting expression of panic flickered across his features before quickly fading. His gaze then fixed upon you, tracking your movement as you made your way towards the couch. You reached for the electric blanket's cord, plugging it into the nearby wall outlet. The cord snaked across the floor, a thin line connecting comfort to power. Your hand then moved to pat the cushion beside you, a silent invitation.

Maybe his earlier behavior wasn't rooted in discomfort or mistrust, but rather in a more fundamental human need.

Maybe he craved companionship, but it was hard to tell for sure, he was a stoic stature 99% of the time.

He approached with hesitation, his feet dragging across the floor as if each step required immense effort. His eyes darted around, scrutinizing the spot as though it were an elaborate trap waiting to be sprung. After a solid few minutes of tense silence, he finally lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his movements slow and calculated.

You opened your mouth, ready to suggest he cover himself with the blanket for warmth, but before the words could leave your lips, you found yourself gasping sharply as the heavy soldier unexpectedly collapsed against you.

His full weight pressed down, pinning you to the couch as he sprawled across your body. The shock of his ice-cold metal arm against your skin sent a jolt through your system, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Desperate for warmth, he burrowed his shoulder into your side, seeking out your body heat with an almost primal urgency.

The blanket, forgotten in his sudden move, lay crumpled beneath you both as he clung to you, his form trembling slightly as he absorbed your warmth through the layers of clothing between you. He certainly favored you over it.

"Ah, Soldat...-" You began to speak, but your words were abruptly cut off by a sound that was equal parts growl and whine emanating from him. His head found a comfortable resting place on your chest, and you could feel the gradual warming of his arm as it pressed against your body. He made it abundantly clear that he had no intentions of shifting his position anytime soon. Recognizing the futility of any attempt to move, you resigned yourself to your current predicament, secretly relishing the closeness.

Despite your newfound role as a human pillow, you still managed to reach for the heated blanket nearby. With careful movements, so as not to disturb his apparent comfort, you gently draped the warm fabric over his form. This additional gesture didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He sunk even further into the embrace, clearly content as long as he maintained his position pressed firmly against you. The combination of his body heat and the heated blanket created a cocoon of warmth that threatened to lull you both into a peaceful slumber.

You knew he had settled and probably wouldn't move from this spot, he had gotten too comfortable and he was asleep by now. His heavy eyelids having closed almost instantly after maneuvering into you like a demanding cat. His messy hair smelled like your shampoo, since that was all you had to use for him.

Since it was apparent that he wasn't going to get up from his spot anytime soon, you resigned yourself to sleeping on the couch with him for the rest of the night. His cold shoulder and arm were now buried against you, your body heat gradually warming the metal and soothing the sore scars he had accumulated over time. You let your arm rest gently on his back, a bit cautious at first since you weren’t sure if he was going to react, luckily he didn’t. Your head was supported by the arm of the couch, which was quite comfortable. You were happy and relieved that you had settled on the comfier set when you bought the furniture, it made the situation more bearable.

With the soft sound from the show playing, you let your eyes close and you both slept on the couch. Before sleep overtook your mind, you wondered if this was a one time thing, if he'd return to his usual behavior tomorrow, or if this would become a regular gesture he'd want from you. Had he been silently suffering from this the whole time? He's a little heavy...but he's sleeping and that's good. You're helping him sleep. You're helping his pain. If he began seeing you as a source of comfort, then so be it.

Better that than anything else.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

[blooming-water-roses]

Lines from my Nart ships that made me go “damn, y’all gay asf”

“I considered Madara a gift from the divine” - Hashirama (like damn okay when am I gonna be someone’s gift from the divine? I see u, u poetic Shakespeare ass mf)

“Come on Itachi, this is you and me that we’re talking about. So don’t worry, it’ll be fine” - Shisui (the sweet smile he gives Itachi, good god)

Shisui: *plays with Itachi’s hair*, Itachi, at a later date: *thinks of Shisui and subconsciously plays with hair* (this is so soft oh my god they were in love)

“You were my hero,” Kakashi to Obito (fell to my knees. Obito was his hero?? The person he looked up to, who saved him? On god just like that??)

“It’s okay now, Kakashi. You don’t need to suffer anymore,” - Obito (they were literal enemies here and all Obito wanted to do was offer him comfort, end me now)

“And what of Izuna?” - Tobirama (hear me out: why did he care?? He felt something. Izuna was his perfect match, he knew he crossed a line by actually hurting him fatally, he felt guilt, he was worried)

“So only my wind…can strengthen his fire” - Naruto, about Sasuke (holy fuck this is one of the gayest lines in this entire fucking show be so honest)

“Touch one hair on his body, I dare you,” Hashirama, to his literal brother, protecting Madara (was he gonna hurt Tobirama for Madara? The drama? The suspense??)

Obito: *awakens Sharingan by protecting Kakashi*

Madara: *awakens Sharingan by having to desert Hashirama*

Sasuke: *evolves Sharingan by thinking Naruto literally died*

Itachi: *awakens Mangekyō after witnessing Shisui’s death* (also, there’s something so absolutely personal about the way that Shisui knew his death would give Itachi the Mangekyō? He just knew Itachi deeply loved him? Ow???)

Perfect scores, model shinobi Itachi, having just deserted an ANBU mission to save Shisui from Danzo only because “something didn’t feel right” (oh so you have a sixth sense for Shisui. He’s your soulmate, is what you’re saying)

Itachi recognizing Shisui’s “soul” in Naruto, giving him Shisui’s deadliest weapon and his final piece of him, and smiling(!), happy that Sasuke has him to watch over him (translation: I recognize that you love Sasuke the way Shisui loved me and he made me feel safe so I know you’ll protect Sasuke)

(Addition) this shit:

(Like hello??? Smirking and calling him a fox?? Hashi rly said “damn he’s so deadly it makes me hard”)

There’s probably more but it’s 1am and I feel like this dude writing this so I’ll just post to retain a shred of sanity

[theemporium]

hey bestie, smut prompt 22 for stiles? 🙂

22. “can you feel what your doing to me”

.

It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn’t it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?

You couldn’t exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end. 

And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you. 

“Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling.” 

“I can’t!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough. 

“I’m serious, stop wiggling,” Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Stiles, I can’t,” you hissed back at him. “If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I’ll fucking stop.” 

There was a pause before the boy spoke. 

“That’s not a hanger.” 

Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy’s words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up. 

“Stiles—” 

“I can’t control it,” he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. “Fuck, don’t do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?” 

“I’m trying to help!” you whisper-yelled under your breath.

“That’s the opposite of helping,” Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. “Just…stop.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles’ dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger. 

And yet, it was your only focus. 

Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.

Or maybe, you wouldn’t really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Shit,” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help,” you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. “Just keep quiet, Stiles.” 

“Fuck,” he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire. 

Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy’s lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn’t take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. “I-I can’t, it’s too much.” 

“Such a good boy, Stiles,” you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. “Such a good boy for me.” 

“Just for you,” he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.

.

[tylermileslockett]

Monsters of Greek mythology

The Furies, or Erinyes, were relentless avengers of wrongdoing in Greek mythology.

Typhon, the deadliest monster in Greek mythology, challenged the gods of Olympus with his serpent-headed fury and storm-creating powers.

Hekate, the enigmatic goddess of magic and crossroads, held sway over the night and the spirit world.

Echidna, the mother of monsters, was a creature that gave birth to numerous legendary beasts.

Cerberus, the three-headed dog, guarded the gates of the Underworld, preventing both entry and escape.

The Greae, three ancient sisters who shared one eye and one tooth, were known for their wisdom and appeared in the myth of Perseus.

Cetus, a sea monster sent to ravage Ethiopia, was defeated by the hero Perseus.

The Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull creature, dwelled in the labyrinth on Crete and was vanquished by Theseus.

The Hydra, a multi-headed serpent-like monster, grew more heads when one was severed and was slain by Hercules.

Medusa, a Gorgon with snakes for hair, could turn onlookers to stone and met her demise at the hands of Perseus, who used her head as a weapon.

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024. 

My self-published book on KICKSTARTER

Linktree:https://tr.ee/DcjSQDSEv3

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

After an eternity of being held against your will, and just as long having been forced to watch your alpha suffer at the hands of the wicked, an opportunity arose. An opportunity so rare, so unique, that it would never be offered again. It was time to escape, and it was time to bathe the halls in their blood — never again would you be held by the bars of a cell, not if he could stop it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Alpha!Winter Soldier x Pet!Omega!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Angst, whump, gore, background character death (graphic), DARK THEMES, fluff, omegaverse, Protective!Winter Soldier is an understatement

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I am on a new kick, sue me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 — Where Is Your God Now by Rok Nardin — Ambush by Trevor Morris — Darkness of Light by Secession Studios

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 — @allcapsbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Hydra Base — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Ragged clothes rubbed against your sensitive, raw skin, and you whimpered in your throat – the sound barely making it past your lips as they hauled you to the cells deep within the base.

For years you had been kept as a pet, as a thing for the Soldat to expend his anger and fury, for him to toy and play with, some meek prey. Merely an omega for an alpha to claim; one of the deadliest. 

That’s what they imagined you to be, at least.

When that bank vault of a cell door slammed behind you and the guards disappeared, gleeful at the idea of you being beaten or attacked to within an inch of your life, you blinked rapidly in the darkness to find the occupant, who, ordinally, would have made your blood run cold. 

Not now. 

Not when he was still in his black tactical suit, beaten and bloodied, head lolling on the wall as he looked up at you. There was a ghost of an expression in his eyes – blank with malice and a predatory glint. The mask that covered the lower half of his face was splattered with a manner of fluids that made your stomach turn. 

He didn’t recognise you, and your blood ran cold at the implication. You slowly showed your hands; steel grey eyes watched every inch of movement. “Soldat,” you whispered, and he blinked twice. 

The stench of exhaustion was bitter on your senses, burning your sinuses, and an overwhelming urge to calm, to comfort, overcame you. You ventured closer, feet silent over the damp cement of his cell. 

“Soldat,” you repeated. “Alpha, come home.” 

He looked closer at you, expression drawn and tight, until a glimpse of recognition softened his features and he launched to his feet. “Malyutka–you are hurt,” he rasped, and his hands – one metal, one bloodied flesh – immediately brushed against your sides and over your sore ribs. “Oh, my little one, where else? Tell me.”

You pointed at your knee and your head. “H-Hit me, there. And I dun’ wan’ do as they said-” A loud hiccuped sob interrupted your explanation. Soldat’s cold thumb brushed your cheek and a growl made his chest rumble, a sound that soothed you. “They–” His hands guided yours to his chest holster. 

“Breathe,” he reminded gently, encouraging you wordlessly to take from him – take what you needed. You gripped the straps and leant into his warmth, leeching the comfort. 

“They- They hurt me,” you whimpered. 

“Come,” he murmured, and he slowly guided you towards his cot. It was a glorified stretch of canvas between affixed metal poles, and the singular blanket was threadbare, but you went willingly. 

The metal groaned in protest as he sat down, back against the wall, and he pulled you close, gesturing at his lap. “Come here. Sit.” 

Without protest, you straddled his lap, your bare thighs rubbing against the rough canvas of his pants and leather straps of his weapon holsters. “Alpha,” you murmured, tucking your nose into his neck. 

Soldat’s hand cupped the back of your neck in a firm hold, a low growl still in his throat. “They will pay,” he snarled, and for the first time, a thrill of fear coiled around your already rapidly beating heart. “Do not worry, little one–I will make them pay.”

You blinked through tears and murmured into his neck, “How–? We are stuck.”

He shook his head and he held your waist. You pulled back from his neck to stare into his eyes, only there was a crinkle in the corner of one; a deadly smirk hidden by the muzzle. “Not any longer, malyutka. They think with how I have completed my missions that I do not need to be wiped as often–I have not seen that chair in three days.” 

Gasping sharply, you gripped the holsters in your filthy hands. “What–?”

“I have been taken all through the base. They think I am nothing but a mere shell–I can get us out.” The words made a torrent of ice cascade into your stomach, and he sensed it. “I need to get you out. I need to take care of you, little one. You are my omega, my dragotsennyy.”

“Where will we go?” you quietly asked, staring into those steely eyes. “Where will we be safe, alpha?”

“I will find you a safe haven,” he promised, and he brought your forehead to his. You could feel his breath through the slits of his mask and you matched his rhythm. “You will be safe–never set foot in a cell again, be hurt again.” His hand pushed your face back into his neck and you nuzzled there, breathing deep and taking in the scent of protective alpha. 

“Trust you, alpha,” you mumbled, and he hummed in response. 

It could have been hours later, or days, when he suddenly moved; hair tickled your cheek with his whip-like focus. “We need to move. Now,” he rushed, placing you on your feet. 

“But–”

He shook his head and pulled you to the wall next to the door, shielding you with his bulk. “You must stay behind me at all times.” Resting a hand on his belt, you nodded just as the cell door opened with a loud creak. 

“Well, I can’t see a body-” Gurgling and sputtering cut the guard’s words short, and you realised, horrorstruck, that your alpha’s metal hand was covered in blood, clutching what was the guard’s windpipe. 

Blood sprayed the walls and the guard slumped to the floor with wide eyes, choking on his own blood with a rattling gargle. The radio on his belt went wild with chatter and screams of containment breach. 

“Move,” Soldat commanded, and you followed behind him, hand still on his lower back. “I will take you to the-” More guards crowded the corridors – all of them carried guns and other weapons, all of them looked ready to kill. 

“Malyutka, hide.” Hands shoved you to the side and into a metal locker before slamming the door. There was a commotion and shouts for weapons to be lowered before chaos broke loose. 

Bullets sprayed the wall next to you and you screamed, instinctively ducking and covering your head as they peppered the cement and metal by your legs – they weren’t shooting to kill, you thought. 

Grunts and yells of pain filled your ears but you didn’t hear a single thing from your alpha, not even a shout, when all of the gunfire ceased. The door suddenly opened and you were bathed in light. “Are you hit?” Soldat asked gruffly, his face covered in blood. “Did they get you?”

You shook your head timidly. “No–I am fine.”

His hand grabbed your arm and he pulled you out of the locker. The floor was a river of blood and the walls were covered with trails of crimson – a stark contrast to the clinical white you were used to. 

“There is a window of time between the next wave,” Soldat explained, leading you down a service corridor by some boilers. “Here.” He shoved you in front of him as he plied the drywall away with his bare hands, revealing a dumbwaiter. “Get in. This leads to the surface, straight to the truck bay. Hide in the closest locker, I will find you.”

“What about you–”

“Do not argue, little one, I need you safe. Go,” he rushed, pushing you into the dumbwaiter. “I will find you, do not worry.”

Before you could argue, the dumbwaiter began to move and the last you saw of your Soldat was the back of his head as he turned and ran back down the corridor. The contraption shuddered and groaned as it moved, and you guessed it was ancient. 

Moments later it came to a shaky stop and revealed the expansive truck bay. Heavy footfalls and more shouts were echoing off the walls and through to the outside world – a pack of guards ran close by the dumbwaiter as you squeaked in fear. 

In the chaos, they did not see you and you breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, you eased your sore body out of the cramped space and looked around, desperately searching for the locker your alpha had commanded you to hide in, when you spotted it – hidden in a nook of the wall and next to some kind of electrical equipment. 

It was a tight fit, but you pushed yourself into the space and you waited, breath shaky and stomach curdling in fear. “Please be safe,” you whispered to the stale air. “I need you.”

You could hear guards yelling and screaming; heavy footsteps of armoured men ran by you and crashed into the many doors that led off the bay. Gunfire echoed even through the thick walls and whenever one of the doors swung open, you caught a whiff of iron laced with pure, unbridled terror, and underneath it all, the gunpowder, leather scent of your alpha. 

He was close.

The seconds, minutes, hours ticked by, but you remained, still as stone in your hiding place, when you heard the thump of boots and squelch of wet leather by the dumbwaiter. Whoever it was reeked of iron and it smothered their natural scent. “Malyutka, ty tam?”

Before you thought better of it, you burst through the door of the locker and came face to face with your alpha, who was covered in blood and ash – the black mask that covered the lower half of his face was gone, too. You gasped and covered your mouth in shock. “I- I didn’t know it was you!”

“Spokoynyy, little one,” he soothed, “I know you are scared, it is alright.” You took a deep breath as he looked around the bay. There was an emergency shower in the corner. “Come, we will get rid of their scent and we will run, we need to get out of here.” He stalked towards the cubicle and glanced over his shoulder at the door he must have come out of. “I did not leave a single one alive, but that does not mean they did not call for more.”

“I don’t want to stay here,” you whispered, looking over your own shoulder at the trail of blood behind you both. 

The water of the shower was freezing and your teeth chattered through the worst of it, but your alpha stayed close, manifesting an outfit from nowhere to dry and clothe you with. 

As you rubbed your arms for warmth, he stood in the shower cubicle and scrubbed at his body until the water circling the drain turned from red, to pink, to clear. Once he dried himself, he dressed in similar clothes to his tactical suit, but more discreet – covering his arm and hiding his bulk with the loose fit. 

You couldn’t help but smile as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a black car, windows as dark as the paint, and he pulled open the passenger door. The interior was clean and sleek, and he slid into the driver’s seat. 

The seat belt was a foreign sensation across your chest as you buckled in at his insistence. “Where are you taking us?”

“I know of a man that owes them,” he gestured to the base. “Well, he owed them something. It is not known of my defection, so, he will be of use.”

Nodding slowly, you glanced around the car, happy to feel the bonds of your captors fade by the moment.  

Soldat paused suddenly, his fingers that were playing with colourful wires freezing as he looked at you, his eyes bright. “You are happy.” With his mask gone, you could see his nostrils flaring as he greedily scented the air for your sweet, content scent; one that truly never saw the light of day in that cell. “Takoy krasivyy aromat, i mne nravitsya videt' tebya schastlivym, malyutka.”

You reached for his forearm and squeezed. “We are free,” you said quietly, careful to watch his eyes to see the fondness there, of what he only held for you. “And I have you, alpha.”

malyutka = little one dragotsennyy = precious ty tam = are you there takoy krasivyy aromat, i mne nravitsya videt' tebya schastlivym = such a beautiful scent, and I love seeing you happy

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Percy:

shes canonically ace :] and shes got a REAL ASS GOD DAMN SWORD!!!!!!

She wields a real ass goddamn sword and kicks ass with it! She can also channel her magic wizard tower powers into said sword which is also badass. She also has some really banger lines in the show.

She carries a real-ass-goddamned-sword ! Which is in genuine reference to when she's first introduced in the series! She also constantly carries said sword around and uses it in combat later in episode 7

For Runaan:

Runaan is a Moonshadow elf, and the deadliest assassin in all of Xadia. His artificer husband Ethari crafted his magical bowblade - a bow that splits into two swords - and at the command of the Dragon Throne, Runaan stealths into the human lands to take out dangerous enemies without risking any extra lives on either side.

Has a weapon that can transition between being used as a bow and blades. Said bowblade was made by his blacksmith husband, who also fights with him. He's also disabled in fanon and is canonically a foster father. Also he's hot.

He's the leader of an elite group of Moonshadow assassins, the deadliest assassin force in their world. He fights with a bowblade (dual wielding swords that, when attached at the hilts, turns into a bow). It is the COOLEST weapon ever! Runaan was the only survivor when he and his team infiltrated Katolis Castle to successfully kill the king. He's canonically gay and has a husband, who is a blacksmith/craftsman and makes the weapons his husband wields. Runaan is a very intense man, but he's such a softie when around his husband.

He definitely uses one or two sword type things, and the episode his husband first shows up in is one of my favorites

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Entirely mu AU and self indulgent:

Noldo elf: so how did the silvans and avari stay out of the war with morgoth.

Legolas: hm? Oh, we brokered a truce.

Noldo: so? We did too, that didn’t stop him.

Legolas: yeah, but, unlike you, we actually had ✨power✨ backing us up that forced him to back off untill further notice.

Legolas: also, our diplomats made it very clear that if he didn’t comply, he would not like the outcome. Very agressive, 10/10.

Noldo: ok, well, how did it go, because Maedhros didn’t even get to morgoth, he was ambushed.

Legolas: weeelllll-

*flashback to beginning of the first age*

The silvan ambassadors *shows up at morgoth’s throne room without notice* we’re here make sure you don’t do something stupid like declare war on our people.

Morgoth, amused: oh, and how are you going to do that? For that matter, what’s stopping me from killing you here and now.

Ambassadors: what’s stopping you is the fact that, if we do not come back within the next hour to where we have to check in, the silvans will assume that you killed us and thus has made a declerarion of war. If it is assumed you have declaired war on the silvans, the long standing alliance between all the avari and silvan nations, pertaining to the terrorism and violance commited by a member of the ainur, will go into affect, and all our international grievances will be put on hold untill we’ve dealt with you-

Morgoth:

Ambassadors: to put this into context: not only will you have attracted the attention and wrath of the silvans, elves who are masters of espionage and assassination and magically above average and a people who’s known for their warrior culture which has amassed over a total of 4000 years with a fully stocked and experienced army, but you will also have the might of the Arctic Empire, who’s succesfully taken over the world, the Okrean kingdom, who’s become completely independent from all things magic, the Agtep Nation, ruled by an elleth known as the God of War, the Bali’tsa Empire, home to the largest army of all the avari nations, the Qitian Empire, who produce some of the deadliest weapons known to this realm, and the Fawneli Tribes, who have the strongest elves in existence, bearing down on you like a rabid dog. And unlike the Noldo and the Sinda you so love to bully, each one of these Nations have a full 4000 years of military history that they will not hesitate to unleash on you like a dam that finally broke. Mind you, that’s before we even take into considerarion the many other smaller elven societies who won’t hesitate to join the slaughter, hell, even the Edireths have thrown their hat in the ring, and they’re particularly known for eating ainur for breakfast. Literally.

Ambassadors: so what will it be? Time is ticking, and you’re almost out.

Morgoth: fuckin- fine. But i won’t lay off forever.

Ambassadors: oh we know. And we’ll be preparing our armies for when that time comes. I suggest you do the same.

*back in the present*

Legolas: yeah, let’s just say they really went in there with a “fuck all” attitude.

[words-never-spoken]

sometimes i feel like your words

are your deadliest weapon

i could take every punch

withstand all your hits

but the moment those lips opened

i knew it was it

your sharp words

cut into my skin

twisted and turned as i died for your sins

they tore me apart

ripped me to shreds

your words were my end

god won't you please just punch me instead?

-k.c.

[universallychaoticpan]

OK! OK! ok! It's not a theory that Chuuya WILL be the next Mafia boss ( at least without Dazai in mafia) so for a change of pace it's now Chuuya's beloved Darling Tigress to take up as his right hand man🤭🪄

YES- hope you enjoy this one even if its more of a spillage of thoughts. I love tigress reader ;))

Anyone in the Port Mafia knew who you were by the sound of your heels on the cold floors- a distinctive and sharp series of click click clicks that had those beneath you up against the walls, standing at attention like troops ready for inspection. Your eye was sharp and your standards were high- you took your time everywhere you went, daring anyone to say a single thing to the Mafia's second in command.

You spoke little; your subordinates knew your moods from a simple purse of your lips, or a subtle cock of the head. You had them watching for the slightest flicker of your eyes to the right or left, knowing your satisfaction was all but paramount.

You kept yourself poised and confident while dripping in designer, but on the battlefield, you made sure everyone in the Mafia knew why you were so close to the top. You'd clawed your way there, and those claws were sharp. Wielding ability and weapons alike, you cut down your enemies as though your body was simply another well sharpened blade. When surrounded by gunfire, you seemed more at home than ever; you walked with power, like the smell and sounds of being so close to the edge woke up some dormant part of you aching to be freed.

The Tigress of the Port Mafia was as formidable as ever.

Since establishing your reputation in your late teens as someone to be revered, feared and respected in the city of Yokohama, you'd taken the banner and run with it. Now 22, the dark side of Yokohama buzzed with your name- a faceless and ruthless executive who formulated twenty ways to kill a man while shaking his hand.

Of course, it wasn't only your name in their mouths.

Chuuya Nakahara, the Mafia Boss since Mori Ogai's unfortunate passing. That was the only person who you answered to. And yours were the two names everyone in the city knew; the vessel of a god and a veritable angel of battle. Untouchable; that's what you two were.

And you were ready to enjoy it.

You were ready, hungry even, to have such power; even after years of being one third of the most deadly trio in Mafia history, it wasn't enough.

You wanted more.

You craved power, craved standing and respect since Mori had plucked you from the streets as a child. He had seen it in you then; your fury, your starving eyes. In some ways, you were grateful to him. He had opened up the world to you and you'd only had to prove you were ready to take what was yours. That was how you'd made your name for yourself. That was how you found yourself dripping in more finery than your child self ever could've imagined. Sure, he had opened the door for you, but it was you and you alone who had decided to risk life and limb in your endless pursuit of your goals. It was your wit and cunning that had kept you ahead of your enemies, that had kept you sharp. It was your endless drive that had drawn Chuuya to you; your intensity, always burning, never ceasing, as though you held your fingers above flames to see how long you could stand the pain. He'd admired you then; he was in awe of you now.

And you loved him.

He was the one with whom you wanted to share your power. You wanted to be at his side, fighting, climbing, proving to the world you were more than what everyone else had decided you could be. Like you, he wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. Like him, you admired power in all it's forms.

Everyone had expected the Mafia to fall into the hands of the deadliest trinity in the history of the organization.

But Dazai's departure left the weight of expectation and the delicious prospect of power to the two of you.

When he'd left, you'd been given a choice- you'd been given another opportunity to become even more The Tigress people said you were.

And you weren't one stupid enough to let opportunity pass you by.

[thelastharbinger]

Did not have the U.S. government holding hearings on previously classified information and lying making confirmations under oath that they are in possession of alien bodies and ufos in order to distract from the fact that covid-19 is still the leading cause of death in children, the cost of living is astronomical, cop city is well underway despite Atlanta residents overwhelmingly crying out against it, we are experiencing the hottest & deadliest temperatures on record, the state of Florida trying to rewrite history to say that slavery was just a mutually beneficial unpaid internship, trans lives and rights are under attack, anti drag laws, FLINT MICHIGAN STILL DOES NOT HAVE CLEAN DRINKING WATER, anti-discrimination laws being reversed, Supreme Court ruling against affirmative action, Roe v. Wade undone, universal free school lunches are on the ballot, ongoing mass shootings, climate change, big pharma killing off people by withholding live saving drugs at ungodly market prices, the erasure of separation of church and state, AI surveillance being implemented to detect fare evasion for increasingly costly public transport services, the rise of fascim, proud boys showing up with military grade weapons at libraries and day care centers, the permitted attempted coup of the capital, labor union strikes happening all over the country, people dying of heat in Texas because evil landlords want to cut off cooling over an unpaid $51 utility bill, train derailments causing toxic waste spills, corruption within the highest court in the land, homelessness rates the highest its ever been, migrants and asylum seekers being kicked out of temporary housing, the cost of food, book bans, Miranda Rights no longer being stated, mayors deciding to no longer publicly disclose how many people are dying pre-trial in detention facilities, federal minimum wage still $7.25, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, oil pipeline constructions on native lands, something like 30-50% of the nation's drinking water contaminated with forever chemicals, the rich remaining untaxed, biden going back on his campaign promises to forgive all student debt, still no free universal healthcare, ICE deportations increasing under biden admin, the u.s. yet maintaining colonies, teens and women getting jail time for miscarriages and abortions, 100 companies globally responsible for 70 or 80-something percent of all CO2 emissions, we are living in a police state, diseases resurfacing after years with no cases due to rising temps, death penalty, public services being defunded to increase military and police spending budgets, and abusers suing victims for defamation cases in court so that they legally cannot talk about it, and setting a dangerous precedent in the process in my 2023 bingo card but here we god damn are.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Brainrot

So We know the concept of sagau. Ddlc but your god and stuff but like: i have not one! Not-… I have ONE brainrotbhere. so like there’s this item that practically a few stories have mentioned. The wall. The wall is basically the fourth wall but has anyone ever used it as a weapon? Yeah I think you know where this is going. What if people begin to use the broken wall pieces as weapons to better take control?

Well, @lil-car99, the first person that's gonna get their hands on that wall piece is Reader.

You think they gonna let themselves die because they're being isekaied into a game? Hell nah, you know they've read too many sagau fics for this. They are getting a weapon, whether or not it looks pathetic!

Reader be slaying out here with a piece of wall 😎 Fear the might of the Fourth Wall, everyone. The Almighty Creator that has been deemed "the imposter" now hold the most deadliest weapon this world has ever set their eyes upon.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Yeah...I had no ideas for any of this so I took the approach of this idea as a discussion :') Sorry, dude. Motivation died on me again like usual.

✦ Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Eight (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Content: violence, threat, some minor injury to the reader, blood. Wordcount: 4311

Your comments on the last one - tags and reblogs especially - made me cackle with pure delight. Thank you. As an early birthday present from me to you, here’s the next part. I hope you enjoy it! It’s been a while since I’ve written ‘action’ like this, so I hope it works! Can’t wait for you to let me know, as always.

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw)

Don’t scream.

Don’t fucking scream.

Do not be that person. Do not. Fucking. Scream.

With cold sweat prickling down your spine and your heartbeat thudding in your throat, you inched your hand over for the tranquiliser pistol that you had set near your pillow only a few hours earlier, just in case. Thank god it was a specially-engineered military issue one, not the unwieldy kind of rifle that vets use on safari from the safety of the back of a jeep.

God, since when did sleeping bags make so much fucking noise?

Was it still out there? You couldn't hear it any more, but it was hard to hear anything behind the pounding of blood in your ears.

The machete lay in its sheath beside the gun, and you picked that up too. Glinting steel slid easily over leather, and then you froze again. The hilt felt clumsy and awkward in your hand. Your fingers refused to hold the grip of the tranquiliser gun properly out of sheer terror. Nothing was working right; you couldn’t see; you couldn’t think. Your finger refused to close on the trigger.

Fuck. The safety was still on anyway.

“Shitshitshit…” you hissed.

In a vain attempt to get your thoughts out of tail-spin, you sucked in a deep, sudden breath and held your lungs at their fullest capacity for a good three seconds before silently exhaling to a long count.

A single, muffled footfall outside sent pine cones skittering against the thin, insubstantial canvas of the tent, and the growling began again in a low, teasing taunt.

It was playing with you.

You genuinely thought you might piss yourself with terror as you just crouched there in the dark, shaking and clinging to your ineffectual weapons.

The footage that Red had showed you of its black, articulated tail going right up through the tough, thick hide of his companion flashed once again across your mind, and you kept on replaying the way the tail had actually lifted their eight-foot tall body right up off the jungle floor like an offering on a spike, with the curved, obsidian talon at the tip of the tail buried deep in their flesh like a harpoon.

Shit.

Croc had been tough enough to survive having his entire left arm ripped off during the crash, but another warrior of his calibre had died to this enemy from the cold reaches of space in the blink of an eye. What chance did a soft, untrained human like you stand?

They cannot be destroyed by radiation. They cannot be poisoned or trapped. They can only be killed by the most skilled of warriors with the truest of aim and the deadliest weapons. The metals and alloys you currently use are insufficient to cause fatal damage to them. The voice of the High Elder rattled through the empty corridors of your brain and you barely stifled a yelp of terror as you stared at the gun and knife in your shaking hands. It wasn’t even a proper gun. There was no doubt about it; you were alone, and you were going to die.

Something pressed down on the canvas of the tent above you and you shrank away against the back wall with a strangled scream. Three black, glittering claws punctured the material and dragged long, slow slices across the fabric with a horrible rending sound. As the rips in the tent widened, out in the deeper darkness beyond, something glinted.

Teeth.

A drop of foaming, acidic drool melted through the polymer canvas and dripped onto the mat between your legs. It etched a small, frothing divot into the surface before the reaction burned itself out, and you tilted your face up to find a maw full of cylindrical teeth bearing down on you like a shark about to attack. Moonlight glanced off the shiny carapace of its elongated head, and a low, delighted growl filled the air as it regarded its trapped prey.

Without even thinking about it, you raised the tranquiliser gun and unloaded two darts directly into the creature’s open mouth. The darts sank deep into its soft palate and it staggered back with a screech that tore at your eardrums. It flailed wildly and crashed into the underbrush nearby, and you seized the opportunity to get out of your tent, lashing out blindly with the machete and tearing the rest of the fabric open before lurching off into the clearing. Out in the open, you felt like a mouse driven from a hole by a snake.

The creature writhed in a patch of brambles for just a moment before it found its feet and rounded on you.

Six feet tall, lanky, bipedal, and composed of a glossy black carapace, flashing teeth, and a tail measuring half as long again as its body, the thing darted at you through the darkness faster than your eyes could follow. It seemed to disappear completely into the shadows only to reappear on your left with another shriek of rage and an open, attacking maw.

You fired the gun but it missed wildly. You only had six shots and you’d used half of them already. Each dart apparently had enough in it to tranquilise one of Big Red’s kind in five seconds flat, but it didn’t seem to have had any effect on their enemy beyond a moment of fleeting annoyance and discomfort.

In another flash of moonlight on shiny, black chitin, it was onto you. It barrelled you backwards into the wreckage of your tent and you landed hard enough that all the air was knocked from your lungs in a stunning blow that left you wheezing. In a tangle of tent poles and canvas, its claws began tearing into your clothes as well before it spun away to extricate itself from the collapsed and splintered tent and start its attack anew.

As it left, it lashed at your face with its scythe-like tail. Searing pain shot across your cheek and you instinctively brought your palm to your face. It came away slick and hot and your skin burned in the aftermath.

With a cry you never would have thought yourself capable of making, you screamed a defiant challenge at the creature, like some kind of berserker before a last stand. You raised the gun and held the machete level in your other hand. If you were going to die, you were not going to go down without a fight.

The creature seemed slightly amused by your reaction.

As it bounded off the nearest tree trunks like a playful cat hunting a small bird, you squeezed the trigger again and caught it between the plates of its armoured throat with your fourth shot.

You just barely flung yourself to the ground in time as it lunged at you, half hoping to slash at its underbelly with the machete as you did, but the blade just glanced off it like a child playing make-believe knights with sticks and dustbin lids.

The edge did sink deep into its flailing tail as it sailed past though, and the creature hissed and screeched. The momentum of its leap ripped the weapon right out of your hand, but the machete stayed lodged in the tail and the creature roared and landed hard in a spray of dry pine needles on the other side of the clearing.

“Oh good, now I’ve just pissed you off,” you muttered as you staggered to your feet again. Now you had fifty percent less weaponry at your disposal, and, thanks to your efforts, the creature had acquired a new and deadly spike in its tail. Wonderful.

Two shots left.

It flipped itself upright again onto its hind legs just as a cloud scudded across the face of the moon, plunging the forest into darkness. The creature took full advantage of your sudden and complete blindness, and launched itself at you.

With another scream you raised your hands as it collided with you again, knocking you to the ground. You crossed your forearms in front of your face just in time to catch it under its lower jaw and deflect the attack. A heartbeat later and it might have closed its mouth around your throat. You shoved at its neck as hard as you could while snapping teeth filled your face and its claws raked into the dirt on either side of your head.

It was still toying with you; cat and mouse, dragging it out for its own entertainment. If it had wanted you dead, it would have simply ripped you to ribbons the moment you left the tent.

Somehow though, you got the gun up with one hand and fired twice more into its horrible mouth in quick succession before the futile ‘click click click’ of an empty magazine made your heart stop beating. That was it. You were out of options and the thing was showing no sign of slowing down.

Desperately you struggled to keep its bear-trap maw out of your face, but you knew you couldn't keep it up forever. Your fingers were slipping, losing purchase on the shiny, chitinous body and the useless gun dropped to the forest floor beside your head. Acid burned at your fingers and slick palms. Spittle sprayed from its array of teeth, hitting the ground around your face and fizzling as its acid drool hit the pine needles. Desperately you tilted your head to the side, closing your eyes instinctively as flecks of it landed in your hair and on your forehead. Adrenaline kept the pain away for the time being, but you supposed a few freckles of acid burn weren’t going to matter much when it was chewing you to pieces in a few minutes’ time anyway.

With one last, long, desperate scream of defiance, you shoved everything you had into one final push against its throat. In response, its injured tail lanced down out of the night and embedded itself in the forest floor beside your ear, just nicking the skin, though you barely felt it.

Oddly enough, the creature seemed enraged to have missed your head with its tail — perhaps the machete had damaged some nerves after all — and it reared upwards in confusion, giving your exhausted arms a moment’s respite. Then you blinked in surprise as it staggered and lurched to one side and brought its clawed fingers to its mouth like it was trying to pull the darts out. So those four tranquiliser shots had done something after all.

It shook its head, perhaps trying to clear its vision, and dropped down to all fours to advance on you again like a hyena, gnashing its jaws and spitting everywhere. While the tranquiliser had clearly done something, it would not be enough to take it down, and you were out of options.

Just as a part of you prepared yourself to die, something whistled through the air and the creature was blown back off its feet to land with a thud two metres away across the clearing, near your ruined tent. You could just make out a long, javelin shaft protruding from its stomach.

A wild, furious, screaming roar sounded from the trees behind you an instant later.

While you just lay there on your back, stunned and shaking, a shadow leapt right over you, briefly silhouetted against the face of the moon. As you watched, as if in slow-motion, you realised they were missing an arm.

“Croc?”

A heartbeat later, as the enemy staggered back to its feet with a now-familiar looking spear still sticking out of its torso, a second missile soared overhead and embedded itself into the chest of the already impaled creature, accompanied by a deeper, more primal roar. Red.

They’d come for you.

Somehow, they’d known.

You started to cry.

Seemingly heedless of the two harpoons that had stabbed massive holes in its chest, the creature tore itself free of them, dragging the spear points out through its own chest and stomach, before hurling itself at the second figure who had come charging out of the underbrush like death incarnate.

Big Red stood over you and bellowed a challenge at the creature. His mandibles flared as wide as they could go, and his arms and chest and shoulders heaved with barely-contained, protective rage. Each step he took towards it and away from you, you felt the ground tremble. He hunched forwards, ready, focused, and Croc circled the enemy on the other side. It was like their sparring match but now they were working together, and the creature had two, fresh warriors to face down while phosphorescent, blue blood spurted and seeped down its shiny carapace.

Even with the tranquiliser in its system, the enemy wasn’t about to give up easily, and even injured, it was still fast and agile, using the trees and the intermittent darkness for cover. It soon sensed that they were protecting you, and it kept trying to circle back to you. It slipped from a branch though when Croc shot it down with a blaster, and it landed with a thud in the leaf litter almost right beside you.

You scrambled back and Red charged forwards with another ear-splitting roar. He caught it around its middle with one arm and slammed his whole bodyweight into it, driving it back with his big shoulder and ramming it into a tree as it reached its wicked claws out for you. To your horror though, you watched as it changed its mind, scrabbled to get a good hold with its claws on Red’s arms, and then sank its festering, foaming jaws deep into his neck.

Big Red screamed in rage and pain and raised both hands, trying to rip the creature’s head right off its neck where it was latched like a leech to his jugular.

While he struggled and staggered backwards, the creature thrashed its tail, but Croc raced forwards, dodged inside the reach of the whip like appendage, and stabbed upwards repeatedly under its elongated skull with a twin-bladed knife until it sagged and loosened its hold, and Red finally tore its head clean off its shoulders. The carcass sprayed some more of its violently-blue, glowing blood around the clearing and then tumbled away to lie twitching in the dirt.

Croc wasted no time and surged forwards for Big Red who had sagged against the tree trunk, grabbing something from his belt and immediately raising his arm to jab Red directly in the throat with what looked like a glowing green syringe. Big Red staggered, slipped sideways, and fell to one knee beside you, heaving and gasping.

Trembling all over, you eased yourself to sit upright, wide eyed with horror. “Red?”

His own luminescent blood was spattering down onto the pine needles too, mingling with the blue of the enemy’s.

Neither one of them responded and you stared, transfixed, as Red keeled over and started to convulse even before he fell to the ground. Croc let out a single scream of horror and distress, his mandibles wide, and he cradled Red’s head in his remaining right hand as Red juddered and shook and bled all over himself. Horrible sucking sounds escaped his foaming, closing throat, his eyes rolled back behind pale membranes, and his limbs went rigid as the creature’s poison hit his system.

“Red!” you screamed and tried to crawl closer but Croc warned you off with a terrifying roar. He didn’t have a free hand to keep you back, but his expression did the job well enough and you froze. “Red…?”

Overhead, a searing white light blasted down out of the dark sky, illuminating everything with a painfully bright glow. The treetops then began to whip and lash about in the downdraft of the approaching vessel, and your ears popped under the sudden boom of engines as it came to a hovering halt above the canopy.

A single figure then descended on a black rope, and for a moment through the adrenaline and delayed shock, you couldn’t figure out whether the new arrivals were Croc and Red’s people or your own until a massive figure crouched down beside you and chittered something at you.

A second later, they were shoved bodily aside with a protective snarl, and Croc’s familiar face filled your vision as he crouched.

“Red?”

“He’ll be fine,” Croc said, though he still sounded panicked. “He’s fine. They’ll take care of him. Are you badly hurt?”

Mutely, you shook your head and tried to see past Croc’s body to where Red was lying eerily still. “Not really. Just… maybe some acid… and a cut…”

“Come here,” Croc said, and he drew you into his one-armed hug while the unfamiliar alien turned from staring at Croc in amazement to dealing with Red with the calm air of a paramedic.

“Croc,” you sobbed, and the events of the last few minutes swept over you.

You were shaking uncontrollably, but he held you close. “We’re here,” he crooned. “You’re safe. You’re safe. It’s dead. You fought with honour. You’re safe. I’ll protect you.”

“Croc, Red…?”

“Shh,” he said, and drew back. “Come on. We need to get you out of here. Take what you need from your tent… and we’ll take care of you.”

You rose on shaky legs and grabbed your rucksack from the wreck of your little tent, stuffing your water bottle and phone into one of the side pockets. There was only the sleeping bag and mattress left, but you didn’t grab either of them before you staggered out into the clearing again. The gun lay empty somewhere among the pine needles, and you had no idea where the machete had gone in the chaos.

In the harsh lights of the ship, you saw Big Red lying completely immobile on the floor, with the newcomer bending over him. “Red?” you whimpered, taking a step towards him. A hand grabbed your wrist and you instinctively twisted out of it. “No! Red!”

Croc growled your name and grabbed for you again, holding firm this time and turning you physically away to face him. “Let them do their job,” he said. “They will heal him. The antivenom won’t take long to work. They got here in time. Let them work.”

“Red…”

“Come,” Croc said, and he led you away to the dangling rope that hung between the trees from the silver ship above. As you cricked your neck up to stare at it, you saw that it was exactly the same as Croc and Big Red’s ship had been, except that it was whole and undamaged, and flying.

Croc clipped you mutely into a harness while you just stood there, and you soon found yourself being drawn up into the open belly of the ship. About halfway up, you realised how much your hands and face were hurting.

Inside, another of their kind stared openly at you before shaking themselves and helping you out of the harness. This one was much shorter than Croc and Red, and was completely white with red eyes and pink ‘dreads’. The third member of this crew, you presumed, was flying the ship.

“Hi,” you said stupidly, and the leucistic alien stepped back a pace before flaring their mandibles at you in something resembling a wary threat display from a cobra. From behind you, another hissing started, and you whipped around to see Croc being winched through the hatch to land in a perfectly-balanced fighting stance. He un-clipped himself and then stepped between you and the other alien, looming over them to growl something at them in their own language. Whatever he said clearly had significance, because they looked at you anew, then bowed their head.

“Come on,” Croc said, guiding you to one side as the alien who had been tending to Big Red lifted him through the hatch on a special stretcher. Their ghostly companion helped to get him to one side and you stared at Big Red’s still, limp, bleeding body lying on the cargo bay floor.

“Croc,” you whispered. He looked so vulnerable.

“He’ll be alright,” Croc said again, though he sounded tense.

You staggered, your knees suddenly going out from underneath you, and before you had even realised you were going to pass out, everything warped and blurred, and you fell backwards in a dead faint.

Waking was a slow process. You clawed your way back to consciousness through a thick, groggy, cotton-wool fog that filled your mind and made everything slow and hard to process.

You finally opened your eyes to find yourself lying on a firm but comfortable surface, with low, warm lighting illuminating smooth, carbon-fibre walls and what looked like a carved amber panel on the opposite wall.

You were surprisingly comfortable, cosy even beneath the blankets, and there was something breathing steadily next to you.

You blinked. A familiar pattern of cream and ochre and iron oxide skin came into focus and you gasped and sat bolt upright, staring. You were lying at Big Red’s right side, and his chest was rising and falling with a regular, healthy rhythm. He had a squashy-looking poultice of some kind over the left side of his throat and bandages around his collarbones, and you gasped softly when you saw that a couple of his ‘dreads’ had been bitten off halfway down their length, but he was alive.

Bowing your head to touch your forehead to his chest as relief washed through you, you stifled a sob and slid your arm around his torso, squeezing. He inhaled more deeply and turned his head with a low, repeated clicking sound in his throat.

“Red…” you whispered and looked up to find him blinking slowly at you. “You ok?”

Carefully, he nodded and turned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. His right arm tightened around you though, and he pulled you down to lie almost on top of his chest. He closed his eyes again, apparently exhausted, and began to purr.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, clinging to him, but some time later, a door opened nearby with a soft hiss, and you startled and snapped your head up. Croc strode in and ‘smiled’ his mandibles at you when he saw you, and you relaxed.

“Hey,” you rasped. You hadn’t noticed how thirsty you were until then.

He bowed his head. “Are you alright?” he asked and you nodded. He spoke to Red in their language and Red clicked something back at him. “Good,” was all he said.

“Croc, what’s going to happen now? Where are we?”

He nodded and adopted an easy kind of ‘parade rest’ stance while he talked to you. “We are back at the clearing where we crashed. Our commander has given us orders to take you to your facility directly.”

“Croc, you can’t! They’ll shoot you down!” you blurted, sitting bolt upright. “They won’t be expecting it.” You paused and said, “I can try to contact them once I get back in range. I think something on your ship disrupted my GPS equipment on the way out here. My maps stopped working, and I didn’t test it but I’m fairly sure my satellite phone wouldn’t work either. If I can get in touch with them, I can tell them not to attack…”

He nodded. “Are you well enough to come to the bridge and speak via link with our commander?”

You blinked. “Croc, I’m not… I’m not a diplomat or anything… I’m just a researcher…”

He clicked reassuringly at you and Red moved his hand to the small of your back.

“We aren’t here to start a war,” Croc said. “We just want to return you so that you can tell your people the High Elder’s message. With communications open, we can find a solution. You have seen first hand now what you’re up against.” He paused and tilted his head a little. “You need our help.”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Yeah, we do.”

“You fought like one of us though,” Croc grinned. “We saw you as we approached.”

Red clicked proudly at you and stroked another circle across your back before his hand fell softly away. He was too tired to keep it there.

With a sigh, you slid carefully off the bed and looked down at your ripped and torn clothes. Only then did you remember the way the creature’s tail had cut your cheek too, but when you brought your hand to your face, you found only the slightest bump across your skin.

“What…?” you asked, looking at Croc. “And the acid too…?” You stared at your palms that were both smooth and only a little marked in places.

He grinned and gestured towards Red’s poultice. “It is not just our weapons and technology that is superior to yours. Turns out our medicine works on humans as well.”

“Tell me you didn’t just find that out?” you said. “I’m not a guinea pig…”

Croc didn’t seem to know what a guinea pig was or the significance, but he shook his head. “We knew already,” he said.

“Right. Ok, well, I guess I’ll come and talk to this commander of yours and see if we can figure out how to contact my boss.” You turned to Big Red and placed your palm in the centre of his ridged, muscular chest. “Get some rest,” you said. “And… thank you for coming for me. I don’t know how you knew, but… thank you.”

Red didn’t seem to have the energy to form human speech, but he clicked something at Croc who nodded and turned to you.

“Come,” he said and you followed him out of the room, casting one last look back at Red, who already seemed to be asleep on the low, comfortable bed.

___

Am I forgiven yet? Did we like seeing the lads in action? Do we like the glimpses of the new friends? Is Red gonna be ok?

Next Chapter -->

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[49-ibr]

14 DAYS REMAINING!

49: VOLUME 01 is out on May 7th 2024!

A caged princess. A too-trusting hero. A blood-drinking pirate.

A secret to uncover.

And, just in case that isn't enough, here is an ask game based on the magic system!

ASK GAME: FANTASY WORLDBUILDING

AIR – What is the first location introduced in the book? 

BEASTS – What is the rarest creature?  

BLOOD – If there are gods, what is the most common sacrifice from their followers? How has this evolved over time? And what do they receive in return? 

CHANGE – What is the most unique location, compared to the real world? 

COSTUME – What does the average peasant wear? 

COURAGE – What is the most worshipped trait in this society, and who do they consider to be the epitome of this trait? Do they deserve this worship? 

CREATION – What is the most popular creation myth? Is it true? 

DARKNESS – Have you created any constellations? Do they have meanings? 

DEATH – What happens after death? 

DESIRE – Do most people marry for love or politics? 

DESTRUCTION – What is the most violent war in this world’s history? 

DISEASE – What is the deadliest disease, and how is it spread? 

DREAMS – Do the people believe in dreams as a magical force? 

EARTH – What is the most common crop? 

ENERGY – Do they have electricity? 

ENVY – What is the most taboo crime? 

EYES – Does the government spy on the people? 

FATE – How do they predict the future, and is it accurate? 

FEAR – What is the people’s greatest fear? 

FIRE – When, historically, did they discover fire? How did they discover it? 

FLESH – What is their view on cannibalism? 

FORCE – What is their scientific knowledge like? 

GLUTTONY – What is the best food? How is it made, and how many people can actually buy/make and eat it? 

GREED – How does the government treat the people? 

GRIEF – How long are periods of mourning? 

HOPE – What is their most known fairytale? 

ICE – What is the weather like? How does it vary region-to-region? 

ILLUSION – What is their main form of entertainment? 

LIGHT – What do they use for light? 

LOVE – What do they think of queer people? 

LUST – How taboo is sex?  

METAL – What weapons do they most commonly use? 

MIND – What is the education system like? 

MUNDANE – Who is the lowest in society? 

PAIN – How do they treat physical injuries? 

PAST – How do they view mental illnesses? 

PLANTS – What is the most dangerous plant in this world? Where can it be found? 

PRIDE – How patriotic are the people? 

ROT – What is the sewage system? How much is daily life impacted? 

SILENCE – What music do they have? 

SLOTH – Who is the richest in this society, and how did they earn their wealth, if at all? 

SOUL – What is the most commonly-believed superstition? 

SPACE – Have they been to space, if that even exists in this world? 

STORMS – Have you invented any fantastical natural disasters? What is most common, and what is the deadliest? 

STRENGTH – Who is the most famous historical figure? 

TIME – How do they tell time, if they do at all? 

TRUTH – What is the most extreme punishment for a crime? 

WATER – If you have a map, share it! 

WRATH – How common is murder? How is it punished? 

[ask-experiment-1006-theprototype]

Catnap, the devoted feline and guardian of Playcare. He devotes his time and energy into serving and attempting to please his god along with taking care of the critters lurking in Playcare. He gathers the lost to help in his cause to appease his god and their savior. Or at least whom he considers lost. Guiding them to a path that often leads to them acting far different from how they once acted.

Despite his thin frame, he is far from fragile and is feared for his gruesome acts. With his sharp claws, prehensile tail, eyes excellent for seeing in the dark, hidden teeth, and the deadliest weapon in his arson, the Red Smoke. He is not one to be trifled with.

Never speak ill of the Prototype in his presence.

(I wanted to do a ref for Catnap in this AU, I don't think I ever actually showed you guys what the purple cat looked like. )