#Marvel Alien Races

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

EARTH-BOUND MASSACRE IMMINENT -- THE SPACE DEMONS HAVE LANDED.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on the Dire Wraiths, space-faring demons from Wraithworld on a mission of catastrophic conquest of planet Earth, opening splash page, subsequent double splash page, and the following two pages, from "ROM" Vol. 1 #49. December, 1983. Marvel Comics.

"The wind howls in the high hollows this night, almost drowning out the hissing of the horrors that prepare to descend from the West Virginia hills. They are Dire Wraiths -- aliens -- demons from distant space driven in defeat to our shimmering planet. Their goal: conquest. Hunted here by ROM -- greatest of the spaceknights -- these sorcerous shape-shifters have determined to make their stand. And tonight, Clairton, West Virginia, ROM's adopted home -- shall share Wraithkind's revenge against the silver spaceknight!"

-- "ROM" Vol. 1 #49 (December 1983)

Story/script by Bill Mantlo

Artwork by Sal Buscema

Inks by Akin & Garvey

Colors by Ben Sean

Letters by Janice Chiang

Source: https://viewcomiconline.com/rom-49.

[ohfugecannada]

I said this earlier in the tags of another post, but given how Drax, Peter, Gamora and Rocket all acted as Groot ii’s parents, and the fact that in a galaxy full of alien cultures there’s bound to be tons of societies where non-monogamous dynamics are the norm or at least fairly common, it’s highly likely the four of them were mistaken for a polycute raising a kid at least a few times by some of their clients.

[indigosabyss]

Taking all my self control to not end the Young Justice x Assorted Young Marvel Heroes crossover like:

Reech Ambassador: I have an army. Kamala: We have a Hulk. Billy, calling his emperor husband: AND A BIGGER ARMY.

[shironezuninja]

The hidden place where humans and Beastials coexisted in harmony in Issue 4 had their own Gwen Stacy.

[necrophcge]

// something i will say... no matter the verse, you'll never see meddles make an excuse or justification for his nature. grappling with the ability to think and feel is one thing, but there are no doubts as to his design; he was ushered into the world as a killer, and a killer he'll remain

and if somone or something would take umbrage with that... well. they're welcome to try and stop him.

[syrinq]

me being obsessed with bg3 causing me to read forgotten realms lore even though i think 99.9% of it is pretty stupid because they ain't telling me why something exists outside the "oh events just happened" or "it's cool" reasonings (like the majority of rather popular fictive settings)

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Jazzprowl mecha! >:D

Previous chapter

Under the cut⤵️

Jazz thinks Prowl is fucking weird.

With space around him and aliens and fucking teleportation and all that crazy shit...Prowl's weirdness isn't too obvious at first. But once Jazz stops marveling at the view outside the window, his attention shifts completely to his new companion.

And. Well.

"'Your plates are so squarish.'"

Prowl takes a break from reading something on his tablet and raises his eyebrows in surprise

"They are."

Jazz moves closer curiously

"No offense okay but isn't it... Hmm. Stupid?"

He raises one hand and lightly slaps the edge of his palm against the center of Prowl's chest.

"What's the point of making armor this shape? And with so many wide gaps? All the strikes will go straight through. It's kinda dangerous. "

Prowl purses his lips in confusion.

"Excuse me? As if your armor makes more sense."

"It does."

"You...wha...you know what. Humor me, explain what you mean."

Jazz shrugs.

"It's round. And the gaps are...uh. What's the right word. They're thin? It's very hard to grab with your teeth or get under with your tentacles. See? You are. Dude, no offense, but you're like, really grabbable."

Prowl just silently opens and closes his mouth for a couple seconds, trying to think of what to say in response. Finally he decides to focus, but not on the part Jazz might have been expecting

" You... were built to fight the Quintessons?"

Jazz nods

"Course I was. Why else?"

Prowl looks....Very worried and somehow sorry for Jazz.

That's weird.

Jazz lets this detail just linger in his mind. He's not sure what conclusion to draw from it yet. And it's very likely that his poor knowledge of the unfamiliar language is setting him up. He's not sure.

------

Prowl has wheels. Jazz gives himself a mental smack for not paying attention to them in the first three seconds, but it doesn't matter now.

Because Prowl has freaking wheels in his shoulders and Jazz has a bunch of questions in his head.

Why the fuck does he have wheels??? In a place like this??

Prowl looks up at him.

"Something wrong?"

Jazz reaches out his hand mesmerized and spins one of the wheels.

The wheel spins.

What an amazing world.

Prowl looks confused again

"Jazz?"

"What are they for?"

Prowl faintly twitches one of his weird little wings.

"To drive."

Jazz spins the wheel again

"But you can't drive them! I mean, they're...uh."

He tries to find the right words in his head to say "inside your shoulders" but. Shit. He doesn't know how to say it so he accepts his linguistic defeat and helplessly twitches his horns.

"...They're on top."

Prowl tilts his head, clearly missing the point, and turns one of his legs around

"I've got another ones here...?"

Jazz instantly squats down and. Yep. There are wheels in the legs too.

Prowl moves his foot away before Jazz can spin that wheel too.

"I can just show you if you want."

That's a great idea. A fantastic one. Jazz is hellbent on seeing how it would actually work, because all his brain offers him is "fall on your back and awkwardly drag yourself along the ground?"

Prowl doesn't fall anywhere.

Instead, he suddenly ALL starts moving and freaking folds into himself? Jazz isn't sure what exactly he was expecting to see, but watching another mech fall apart like lego sure as hell wasn't that????

Not falling apart, he realizes a moment later.

Is it reassembling? Into something else???

A second ago, Prowl was standing next to him, and now there is a

Is that a fucking car???

Jazz can't say anything more clever than a loud "HAH???"

It is indeed a car. The design is very odd and Jazz can't recognize the model, but it looks like something vaguely race-y?

He pats the roof of it.

"That's so cool!!!"

The car somehow manages to look awkward and moves away from him sideways like some weird metal crab.

What the- what the hell-

------————————-

Prowl's mech has an amazing face.

Not that Jazz is staring, but he can appreciate the amazing attention to details. The eyes, the nose, even the lips. Who and why would make a mech with such lifelike face? That ..would make sense if Prowl had to appear in front of a camera, wouldn't it? Maybe he's some kind of celebrity like Blurr?

Jazz doubts it. Prowl doesn't strike him as someone who's used to attention.

But it's a good face, yeah.

Prowl valiantly ignores his staring, but after ten minutes gives up

“What?”

Jazz shrugs. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"You have a really cool face."

Prowl chokes on air and looks confused again. If you look closer. What is this face even made of? It looks metallic but it bends??? Literally...how?? How does it work?

Jazz is taller than Prowl, so he has to bend down to get a closer look. He wants to ask if the mech's face was modeled after the pilot's, but. Shit. How do you put it into simple words ?

Man. Okay. Uh. Appearance. How do you say "real?" True-positive? Wait, no, true and false are from English, this new language must contain one state word for true and false at the same time.

Prowl watches Jazz's struggle with the patience of a true buddhist monk.

What word even summarizes the state of being true or false? Hot and cold is "temperature", heavy and light is "weight" and then..

Jazz fumbles his fingers helplessly.

"What's the word for. You know how."

He claps his hands hard, and then again, barely audible.

Loud and quiet.

"Sound-positive, sound-negative, right?"

Prowl nods.

"But if I speak. I-mouth-positive."

He claps once more, quietly, barely audible

"I-mouth-positive. Sound-positive. Word-question?

If I do “quiet” but say “loud”. If I do one thing and say another, that's called-?

Prowl twitches his little wings.

"Ah. That would be veracity-negative."

Jazz makes happy finger guns.

"Yes! This..."

He points to Prowl's face

"Appearance-veracity-positive?"

He could probably phrase it more...accurately. Jazz chews his lips in concentration and tries to elaborate

"Appearance-veracity-positive-you?"

Prowl tilts his head

" Uh. Yeah? That's what I look like. I didn't change anything. It's..."

He pauses uncertainly

"Why are you asking me that?"

Jazz gives a thumbs up

"How do you say 'impressive'? Something like "eyes-positive-emotions-positive." Or it would be "good." Good sounds kind of cheap.

Jazz decides to add a couple more positive modifiers on top just in case. He's always been generous with compliments.

Prowl's wings bounce up funny.

One of the passing lilac aliens whistles.

_______________________________

Prowl thinks Jazz is fragging weird.

Okay, to be fair. Prowl has never had to be anyone's guide to interplanetary interactions.

He'd heard that races making contact with the rest of the galaxy for the first time tended to be weird. It's alright. He can understand that. Which of course doesn't mean it's any easier for him to be at the center of it all...everything.

Jazz is clingy. Friendly. He's definitely never been off his planet before, so everything around him surprises him.

Prowl's obviously “surprising” too, but there's this weird familiarity in Jazz's attitude towards him.

Prowl thinks it's because they're both mechanical life forms. It's the only guess he has that makes sense. But Prowl realizes pretty quickly that Jazz only looks like a Cybertronian at first glance. It's the details. Small and disturbing details.

Jazz was built to fight the Quintessons. His entire body, his entire design was made for it.

Now that Prowl knows that, he's starting to see it. Now that he knows where to look, he can't stop noticing.

All the plates are either round or streamlined and sharp.

He has no face, but his head is shaped in such a way that it would be very hard to grab onto. Or to hit it.

Prowl's processor involuntarily tosses him numbers.

Every bend and edge. Every detail. The visor isn't just curved, it's arched at the most perfectly calculated angle to take hits. His chest plates have the perfect ratio of thickness and curvature so that any direct hit ricochets or slips without going through the plate directly.

And Prowl is scared to even begin to analyze the structure of those legs. He originally saw their design as something similar to Empurata's. But no. The Empurata had always made it their goal to humiliate and diminish their victims. The limbs that the Empurata created were simple and often horribly, impractically awkward.

Jazz's legs are an engineering marvel and Prowl honestly almost wants to take a closer look. They bend at...how many? Five? Six places?

He leans forward quietly, pretending to want to change his posture, trying to get a better angle. There's at least one more joint under the front plates. Seven then?

Huh.

Jazz snorts

"Like what you see?"

Prowl flinches and quickly looks away. Idiot. Just because Jazz’s head is pointed in the other direction doesn't necessarily mean that's where his gaze was pointed as well.

"I apologize."

Jazz chuckles

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're giving me a reason to show off~"

Prowl gives up. Okay. Maybe it's just that Jazz's weird openness is contagious.

"Your legs are pretty..."

"Cool," Jazz offers

Prowl nods diplomatically.

"Unusual. I think cool too."

Would it be too weird to ask exactly how many joints are in them? Perhaps yes, that's personal medical information after all.

Jazz takes a few joyful little leaps

"They let me walk on walls."

"I have to admit that's impressive."

______________

"Can I join you?"

The little furry alien folds their arms across their chest and says something that...sounds disgruntled. Jazz honestly can't understand a word of it. He just saw the aliens playing something remotely resembling cards and he got curious. He doesn't remember having a fight with any of them yet.

The alien stares at him expectantly for a couple seconds and then waves one of their limbs and switches to a language familiar to Jazz

"No. Go back where you came from."

Uhm. Rude.

One of the lilac creatures smiles guiltily

"We don't play with robots."

Jazz stiffens

"But I don't..."

His attempt to explain is interrupted by the furry alien

"I don't care what you say. Whatever's underneath the metal, whatever scientific nonsense you come up with. This..."

He gestures toward the entire Jazz’s mech.

"...it's a machine. We don't play with machines. It's an unspoken rule. So go back to your corner and stay out of our way."

The lilac alien folds his limbs in embarrassment

"Hey, there's no need to be so rude."

"I'm just stating facts!"

"You could have done it politely..."

Prowl raises his eyebrows and moves away, making more room for Jazz on the bench.

"Kicked you out?"

Jazz sits down next to him and confusedly begins to play with his own fingers

"They wouldn't even let me explain."

Prowl taps him on the shoulder.

"It's hard to explain anything to them. They think you're a soulless machine just because you look like one."

Jazz snorts

"Well, that's just stupid."

Prowl shrugs

"They think you don't have a soul, so you shouldn't participate in their social interactions."

Jazz twitches his horns angrily

"That's..fucking idiotic."

"Well yeah" Prowl picks up "how can they judge whether we're sapient or not?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Where's the evidence that they themselves have more 'soul' than mold?"

"Ye..Wait what?"

(..What the hell??)

Prowl frowns.

"I should probably be more...sorry. You're new to this topic and...I'll try to explain in an unbiased manner."

Jazz nods awkwardly

Prowl pinches the bridge of his nose

"In general. We don't really meet their standards of ''alive and sapient being'' and they don't meet ours. Because of that, we...don't get along."

Jazz senses that something doesn't add up. Something dramatically big and obvious. But Prowl already looks annoyed, and Jazz is uncomfortable stressing him out with another game of charades. Probably should hold off on discussing such complicated topics until he's talking better.

____________

Prowl finds himself mentally reevaluating Jazz.

He no longer thinks Jazz is just weird.

Jazz is terrifying.

When their transport is attacked by a bunch of Quintessons, Prowl's processor tells him they're totally screwed.

The monsters have the numerical advantage, the ship is full of tiny, fragile organics, and Prowl only has one random tourist on his side who's in space for the first time.

When Jazz excitedly jumps up and asks to be let "outside to have some fun" Prowl's processor says it's suicide. If you squint and tilt your head, the stats numbers add up into a neat little ship that goes down swiftly and surely.

Then he has no time for statistics. Because one of the organics opens the airlock for Jazz and before Prowl can say anything his space tourist is already out the window.

Frag.

Frag, frag frag frag frag frag frg

"Jazz wait!"

Prowl climbs out onto the roof of the transport just in time to see Jazz tear a limb off one of the Quintesson monsters.

The sight is...creepy.

Jazz obviously doesn't have enough strength to just yank it off, so he sort of grabs the tentacle with his hand and then very quickly rotates his forearm a bunch of times literally twisting it off. The monster screams and wriggles and tries to rip Jazz's arm off, but he just lets it clench its teeth on his plates.

Prowl is in pain from just looking at this.

The monster clenches its jaws.

Its teeth cut furrows in the armor.

Jazz doesn't even twitch.

Things only get more interesting from here on out.

Earlier, all Prowl had was Jazz's word. Jazz said his job was to fight the Quintessons. Prowl automatically assumed that to have a job like that, Jazz had to be at least somewhat good at it.

This? It's not "good". It's a killing machine.

And Prowl is, just a little bit, fascinated.

Jazz tears through monsters with more than skill. No.

Prowl's processor is speeding up, analyzing the data.

These moves aren't just devastatingly efficient. They're habitual.

Jazz rips off limbs and locks jaws. Jazz knows exactly where to strike and for how long that strike will knock the creature down.

At one point, he just takes a moment to jump on top of one of the monsters and Prowl can have the pleasure of watching the sheer panic and confusion on the face of the usually inexpressively furious creature.

Quintesson twists and twitches and struggles to throw Jazz off, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by the constantly moving and shifting surface. He's clinging on tight as a damn insecticon. In a way that Prowl himself, with his angular legs, probably never could.

He also doesn't seem to react to pain whatsoever.

Either so used to it or unable to feel it at all? Prowl's not sure.

Jazz takes dozens of hits. He's been dropped, scratched and bitten. His plates are full of fresh grooves intersecting older ones, but they go completely unrecognized.

It's creepy. It's unnatural.

Three monsters at once try to squeeze Jazz into a circle, and Prowl curses himself for not thinking to ask for Jazz's comm. There's no sound in space, making screaming impossible, so Prowl just pulls out his rifle and shoots one of the Quintessons.

The creature twitches in agony and loses all interest in the battle struggling to shake off the sudden source of pain.

Jazz smacks one of the remaining monsters in the face and quickly bounces back to a more comfortable distance from the huge teeth and looks toward Prowl. Spotting a rifle and happily making finger guns again.

Prowl looks at the fresh teeth marks on Jazz's hands and thinks...wow...that's some wild dangerous alien slag.

Then he looks at the angular visor and the little moving horns and bouncy movements and corrects himself. Not slag. And not that weird. Probably.

The weirdest thing he's seen was organic life and he highly doubts that anyone or anything can overtake it.

[wonderjanga]

Billy and Bars

Now, as you probably know, most of the time Billy is ages 8 to maybe 15 (that’s what I’ve seen anyways) and of course, his Captain Marvel form looks like an adult. So, it wouldn’t be strange for an adult to ask another adult to go to a bar with them. Which is why Billy is caught in a dilemma. On one hand, he could just say no, but after a long mission where they’d all spent like two days on an alien planet under constant heavy fire from a cute and cuddly, yet surprisingly bloodthirsty race? It’d be weird not to accept. They might suspect him for being a kid! And boy, Billy does not want that. But on the other hand, he’s not of legal drinking age.

He ends up going with them anyways. Now, all the heroes are sat at a dingy bar in Central City, out of costume, of course. Though, some of them cough Bruce cough Diana cough Arthur cough and you can’t forget Billy, still in Marvel form. (He took a page out of Supe’s book and wore glasses. He’s also for some reason wearing Hawaiian print. (He didn’t have actual adult clothes and needed to borrow from a bargain bin))

Billy thankfully found a loophole for this whole mess. That’s right, this guys gonna be sipping virgin margaritas for the rest of the night. And, he try as many flavors as he wants because you wanna know the best part? Bruce is paying for everything! If Billy could jump in joy, he would. It didn’t matter that Hal was a little obnoxious when drunk off his mind. He’s dealt with worse and it’s not like it’s all that bad. He’s kinda funnier than usual this way. He gets the spend the rest of the day with people he considers friends, that’s all that really matters.

GL: “Dude, why do you keep ordering virgins?”

Crap. What does Billy say to that? Right off the bat, Billy ignores Solomon’s first, and quite frankly, wild lie to tell.

Marvel: “Hmm? Oh uh… I… like the way they taste…?”

He’s a bad liar.

Aquaman: *drinking beer* “Try again, bud.”

Okay… It looks like he might have to listen to Solomon after all. Gosh dang it.

Marvel: “Uhm… I kinda used to maybe sort of might’ve had an addiction and had to go to AA a long time ago.” *Sips drink*

He was always better at lying when the lie was already prepared.

*Whole table goes silent*

Marvel: “Uh… I’ve been sober for a while. Like…” ‘Twelve years, Billy,’ Solomon supplied in his head. “…Twelve years.”

*Table is still silent.*

Flash: *Interrupts silence by slamming hands on table* “Dude! You cannot keep dropping Marvel Lore Bombs™️ on us like this!” (Btw this is the same universe as the Marvel Compilations post. I didn’t mean to write it like it was the same universe but I might as well connect them cause why not)

Marvel: “Whaddya mean?”

Superman: “Well, Marvel…” *scratches back of head* “You kinda have this tendency to… Gosh, how do I put this?”

Martian Manhunter: “You drop obscure information about yourself at random times.”

Wonder Woman: “Then you just go about your day like you didn’t say it in the first place. For example Cap, you can’t just tell me that at some point you were an Amazonian, you were there for my birth, and then just walk off.”

GL: “Marvel, how old are you?”

Marvel: “Uuuuuuhhhhhhh….”

Batman: “You date back to having existed before Mesopotamia. I want to know the answer to that question Marvel.” *Bat-glares Billy while sipping from his drink.*

Bruce was definitely going to add the AA thing to his quite small folder on Marvel.

The night continues on with the other members of the JL grilling Billy for more information about himself, which Solomon helps with by either supplying him with lies, or with things previous champions did. By the time the night was over, Billy never wanted to go to a bar again. He unshazamed in an alley and went home to his little place. He bee-lined to his sleeping bag and just when he was about to fall asleep, something popped into his mind:

‘Why didn’t I just say I didn’t like the way it tastes?’ That thought kept him up for a couple more hours.

[torpublishinggroup]

Devilman Crybaby meets Marvel’s Venom in Exordia, the science fiction debut of Seth Dickinson, author of The Traitor Baru Cormorant. 

Ssrin Character Illustration by Julie Dillon

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Meet Anna Sinjari, a refugee and disaffected office worker eking an existence in New York City. Her life is about to be upended by Ssrin, an alien with eight serpent heads, no qualms with cold-blooded murder, and an appetite for turtles (yum).

The universe is governed by seven passions, seven patterns which appear again and again, across species and across time. Anna and Ssrin are bound by the last and the greatest. The cosmos itself ships their very souls. Specifically for them, that means they’ll have to outmaneuver spies, armies, and government agencies to save humanity from a diabolical alien entity, hellbent on pinioning the souls of every creature on earth.

Exordia is expansive adventure science fiction that reads like a race-against-the-clock thriller in the vein of Michael Crichton, but steeped in the irony, humor, and pain of the Internet age. An alien-human epic for those who've always rooted for the monster.

[megalony]

Is She Okay?

This is my first imagine for Donovan Rocker from Swat, thank you to Anon for sending this idea in I loved writing it and hope to do a follow up soon.

I'd love to know what you all think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Swat Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While (Y/n) is on restricted duties at Swat, she starts to feel unwell, but doesn't want to bother the team, especially her husband. But they have to race back to help her when they realise something is very wrong with her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes for a few moments. She took a few deep breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth to see if it would do anything to ward off the headache building up behind her eyes like a storm.

The deep breaths seemed to work, until she opened her eyes again. Black spots danced before her eyes and a gasp caught in her throat when her sense of balance became distorted. She wobbled to the left, slumping against the doorframe that stopped her from going down to her knees on the floor.

She swiped the back of her hand against her temple and rolled her eyes from side to side until her vision came back into focus. While her other hand latched around the tablet she was holding and pinned it to her chest so she didn't drop it. The last thing she needed was to break any of the equipment here at work.

It took a few moments for her system to level out again and a tremble rattled through her body when she pushed off the wall and held herself up again.

Maybe these infrequent spells were signals that she needed a drink or something to eat, it was almost lunchtime after all.

Being on Swat meant that for the most part, (Y/n) was used to eating a balanced diet and the work outs meant she at least drank enough fluids throughout each day. But it also meant that sometimes meal times were skewed and forgotten if they had a big mission or if they had too many call outs during the day and not enough time to come back to headquarters and eat.

She was used to it. They all got used to the varied meal times after a while.

The baby was changing things now.

(Y/n) had done well so far not to be too weighed down by morning sickness, she was relatively untouched by that side effect. But for the last two days, dizzy spells had started to become a frequent friend and (Y/n) wondered if it was because she needed a bit of sugar or a drink to perk herself back up.

She dragged her hand down the back of her neck and dared to glance her eyes down, feeling a smile creep onto her face when she noticed her small bump.

"Don't do that again," She murmured quietly to herself, letting her hand wander down to her stomach for a brief moment before she tried to carry on walking.

Her head tilted to one side and she blearily stared down at the tablet in her hand, scrolling through the dreaded pages of information that was starting to blur before her eyes. Each word was jumbling up from the amount of files (Y/n) had been scrolling and reading through today, let alone the last few weeks.

She made a slow walk out of the computer room and advanced towards the gym. She wasn't too sure where she was going, just that she wanted to get away from all the screens that were making her feel worse. (Y/n) was used to being up and running about for over twelve hours a day, she needed to keep moving around headquarters rather than sitting doing nothing.

She scrolled through the pages, not really taking anymore of the information in, but she stopped when a familiar voice caught her attention.

"So it's true then?"

Her gaze darted up from the tablet and she paused near the boxing ring. A grin formed on her lips and she lifted her head when her eyes locked on Deacon walking her way. He had one brow raised and he moved his hand to point to her slightly rounded stomach.

They were on different teams, while Deacon was second in command on Hondo's team, (Y/n) was in Rocker's team. They didn't often get to work together, but that didn't mean they didn't have banter together and they were often found training and sparring in the gym in their spare time.

Deacon was someone who (Y/n) got along with and someone who never teased or chastised her for her relationship with Rocker. He never said a thing about her being on her husband's team. No one really made a big thing about it, but some people like to jest and it did get tiring, especially when people tried to say that Rocker might just give (Y/n) special treatment.

"Yep, you've lost your sparring partner." Her free hand moved to her hip as Deacon stood in front of her with a calming smile.

(Y/n) and Rocker didn't want to broadcast the news, but things spread quickly at Swat and it couldn't be kept under wraps. Not when (Y/n) had to tell the Commander immediately so she wouldn't be put in harm's way. Everyone on the team had to know why (Y/n) suddenly wasn't going out on missions with them and was reduced to staying back at headquarters.

And once their team knew, it was only a matter of time before the news spread around the rest of the teams and the officers here. Word seemed to have gone full circle and got to Hondo's team now.

"You getting used to life behind the desk?"

Restricted duties had never felt so boring.

(Y/n) had the baby to thank for that. No more missions. No more walking- or sometimes running- into dangerous situations. She could accompany officers on house calls and work with the police on any cases they were helping with, but even then she couldn't go to big scenes in case anything happened. (Y/n) was a helping pair of hands and that meant she was almost always staying here in the computer room.

She handled sensitive information, found criminal files, floor plans and maps, building plans. She contacted the judges for warrants and made all the boring phone calls so the rest of her team could go straight out on their missions.

"Not really, it's so boring."

A jolt ran through her system and she almost dropped the tablet in her hand when a strong arm suddenly bound around her waist.

She let her head flop back against Rocker's shoulder when she felt his hard chest press up into her back and a soft kiss pressed into the top of her hair. She couldn't help the way her lips curved up into a grin when she realised Rocker had his hand splayed out on her stomach and his thumb began to trace up and down over her shirt.

"I think the word you're looking for is safe." He corrected, speaking into her hair as he kissed her head again and his eyes creased into a smile when he looked over at Deacon.

They were always professional when they were on shift, they had to be. Rocker was in charge of the team and he couldn't be seen to be going easy or paying favourable attention to his wife. If that happened (Y/n) would be moved off his team and no one would trust him to be in charge if he couldn't remain neutral and fair.

But now that (Y/n) was behind a desk rather than out in the field, they could afford to be a bit more open with affection. A hug here and a peck there wasn't going to be seen as Rocker favouritising (Y/n). He could hardly do that when she wasn't allowed on any mission, she couldn't take the lead in a raid and she wasn't out there with the rest of them.

They didn't have to be strictly professional when they were here at base, no one batted an eyelid if Rocker wrapped himself around his wife and gave her a kiss.

(Y/n) hummed and nodded. Safe was the right word, but boring fit just as adequately.

"So, you're a person down."

"I had to draft in Jones to make up the numbers." Rocker glanced behind him but he couldn't see where Jones had wandered off to.

Rocker couldn't go into situations a person down, he had to have enough people so everyone had back up when they went into unknown, risky situations. He had been given freedom to pick anyone he wanted to join the team for a short while.

It had been made perfectly clear to Jones that this wasn't permanent, he wasn't going to be on Rocker's team for more than a year at most. The moment (Y/n) was ready to come back off maternity leave, Jones would be reduced back to one of the lesser teams they had for bank staff and in case of emergencies. (Y/n)'s spot was always going to be there for her.

Before her and Chris, they didn't have women in Swat so there was never a part in the contract about maternity leave. But they drafted in the same terms and conditions for a regular police officer. And (Y/n)'s spot would have to remain open for her after her leave because if not, then they would be discriminating against her.

"He's got nothing on sweetheart though, and her pretty face."

(Y/n) snapped her head to the right and looked over at Adam who was stood near the punching bag.

He was a joker, but he was only jesting, he meant no harm. Everyone on their team had started to call (Y/n) sweetheart after they heard Rocker let it slip one day at work. They were all so used to seeing Rocker be distant and controlled and a bit stern at times, so to see him be soft around (Y/n), especially at work, was a rarity.

"Glad to know you miss me." (Y/n) murmured back while she let her upper chest lean back into Rocker a bit more. And it caused his arm to tighten around her waist

"Least we still get to hear your melodic voice through the comms, right?" It wasn't as if (Y/n) was on leave yet, for the next few months they would just have to wait to see her here at base and hear her giving them directions and information through the radio.

"Careful." Rocker didn't look very impressed. They were still at work and this was (Y/n) Adam was joking to and about.

The smile on Adam's face dampened and he huffed, giving (Y/n) a brief look of contempt before he went back to beating the punch bag. He had been told, and he wasn't about to push the boundaries and get on Rocker's bad side.

When Deacon murmured "I'll catch you in a bit," and patted (Y/n)'s shoulder, she nodded and watched him head past them towards the kitchen.

(Y/n) found her mind drifting off again but static started to build up in her ears when her head started to fog up and she felt like all the blood was draining down to her toes. Maybe she needed to go and get a drink to see if that would make her feel any better. She had felt better when she was on eighteen hour shifts without a chance to sit down, than how she felt right now.

"Okay sweetheart, I-" Rocker started when he finally found the will to move his hand from her stomach that was always capturing his attention just lately.

But he paused when he tried to take a step back and when his arm retracted from (Y/n)'s waist, she stumbled back towards him. Both his hands reached out and he grabbed her hips, stepping forward again to steady her before she lost her balance and fell flat on the floor.

His brows furrowed and he leaned his head down to look at her in confusion. She hadn't been leaning that heavily on him, he thought she would have found her balance if he moved.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…" She took a second to find her footing and make sure she was properly on her feet again before she twisted her head to look up at him. "Just wasn't expecting my leaning post to move."

It seemed a safer bet than admitting to Rocker that she had gone a bit dizzy and lost her balance when he moved. If she told him then he would worry and there was no sense in that. Not when (Y/n) wasn't going out on any missions, she wouldn't be putting the team at risk. She was staying here, doing the boring tasks no one else wanted to do.

Her breath got caught in her lungs when Rocker cupped her chin and tilted her head back so their gazes interlocked. The way he arched a brow and his lips set into a straight line had her stomach fluttering with adrenaline and made her feel even more lightheaded than before.

He seemed to study her for a moment, making sure she was actually alright and there was nothing wrong that he should be worrying about.

"Hm. Well I've got a meeting with the Commander, then I'll see you for the briefing after lunch, okay?"

"Off you go, boss."

She stayed put as he pressed a quick but searing kiss to her lips and her eyes followed him as he headed off towards the corridor. Shoulders broad and confident and towering over everyone he passed.

A briefing, then more and more paperwork until all (Y/n) would be able to see were letters and numbers dancing before her eyes.

She would be fine, she would just be bored.

***

(Y/n) could feel another headache forming and she dragged her hand across her face, wiping off the beads of sweat starting to glisten on her skin.

She wanted to go home. She hadn't been on shift for that long and already she was feeling like she would be more use sitting at home than hanging around here. She could barely read the files she was so dizzy, it was taking twice as long when (Y/n) had to reread each line to make sure she was reading it correctly.

It didn't help matters that Rocker and the team were already out on a call, so it wasn't as if (Y/n) could go and take a break.

When the team was out, (Y/n) was their eyes and ears. She read the maps, she scoured through the files and she checked the building plans and gave them directions. She had to be here in the control room and she had to be ready at the computer in case the team needed any specifics.

Hearing Rocker's voice come through the radio was calming and it made (Y/n) feel a bit better. She felt useful when Rocker was asking her questions and involving her, and all (Y/n) wanted was to still be part of the team and do her job the best she could.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) pressed her right hand down on the table that had three different computers open with different files and building layouts displayed before her blurring eyes. She leaned her weight on her hand and bowed her head forward as she closed her eyes.

Her other hand moved from wiping her brow to cradling her stomach that was churning with adrenaline and the need to be sick.

She tried to brush her thumb up and down across her small bump in the way that Rocker had become accustomed to doing, hoping it might do something to calm her down and make her feel better.

(Y/n) quickly moved her hand from her stomach to her mouth and held her breath deep in her lungs, willing herself not to be sick. Not here, not when she was at work. When the mission was over, she could rip out the ear piece and go hide in the toilets until her team came back.

She took a few calming breaths when the sickness subsided and tried to stand up straight again, but she realised she was starting to shake. Why did she have to become dizzy now? Why couldn't this have waited until tomorrow when she had a day off? Or tonight when she and Rocker went home? Why when she was in the middle of a call?

"(Y/n)?"

"Hm?" She tried to tune back into the conversation and listen to Rocker and the team rattling through the speaker clipped around her ear.

"The building, when did construction start?" The slight hesitation in Rocker's voice silently told (Y/n) that he had already asked that question and she must have tuned him out while she tried to quench her sickness.

Her trembling hands moved to the counter and she leaned forward, squinting hard to look at the different computer screens to find the right one.

Why were they all so bright? Why were they a mix of hazy blue, brilliant white and tiny black letters that were almost indecisive? Why was it so hard to focus on what she was trying to read when only a few days ago she hadn't been having these problems or headaches of this magnitude?

"Two weeks ago." She knew her voice sounded feeble but she tried to take deep breaths and control each word. She didn't want Rocker worrying because worry caused distractions and they couldn't afford to be distracted, not in their line of work.

Twisting to look at the screen on her left, (Y/n) followed the little red dot that was bleeping every second and steadily moving forwards. It was the tracker on the jeep the team were in. She was keeping track of them, guiding them towards the building because she had a layout of the city and the traffic updates.

If there were any accidents or collisions or road works, (Y/n) would see them before the team and she could divert them a different way.

Her blinking eyes pushed away tears as she used her trembling finger to follow the little blinking dot and try to figure out how close they were to the building they were going to burst into.

"Turn left, Joe."

She arched her back out again and looked to a different screen once she heard him mutter a quiet but confident 'okay'. While Hondo had Luca as their dedicated driver, Rocker's team had Joe and he had a need for speed. He was their go to driver.

"Damn it- Rock, that's a one way street, I can't go that way." Confusion plastered across Joe's face and he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

Why had (Y/n) directed him the wrong way down a one way street?

He turned in his seat to lean out the window, hand clinging to the open windowsill as he revved the engine and put it into reverse. He sped down the street, hearing the tyres screech against the gravel as he spun to the left and got them back on the road they had previously been driving on.

They couldn't be doing that. (Y/n) couldn't be directing them down the wrong roads it would only cause delays and if he went the wrong way down that road he could cause a crash and get them all into trouble that they didn't need.

"Brooke street?" There was hesitation in (Y/n)'s voice which took the whole team by surprise and they shared odd looks with one another.

"What, no that's across town, what map are you reading, Rock?"

"Alright, give it a rest. Carry on ahead and take the next right, we're still on track." Rocker leaned forward and swatted his hand down on Joe's shoulder, a silent warning for him to let this go.

There was no need for him to get snappy with (Y/n), she had made a minor mistake and it wasn't going to derail the plan or cause any backfire. They were still on time and on the right road, they could take a different diversion. Rocker didn't want any of the team snapping and arguing with each other, much less arguing with (Y/n) when she wasn't even here and she was doing her best.

She was doing the job no one else wanted to do back at headquarters, they didn't have to give her a hard time about it.

"Do you have the building layout to send me?" Rocker looked down at the tablet in his hand and waited patiently for (Y/n) to send the document over.

He needed a visual of the inside of the building so they weren't going to get stumped or confused when they barged in. And they needed to know the emergency exits in case anyone inside tried to make a quick escape or in case any of them got delayed and had to find a different way out.

When an email popped up, Rocker opened it and started scanning through, but his head ticked to one side and his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Boss?" Adam leaned over to try and look at the tablet but he pulled back when Rocker sat up straight with a perplexed look.

"No, (Y/n) I need the layout-" He paused mid-sentence when he heard her murmur 'no' and something else that none of them could quite make out in the background.

What was she doing?

"Rock, you good?"

Each of them began to feel anxious when they didn't get a reply. This wasn't like (Y/n). She was usually on form with everything. And while she had been confined to headquarters, she had done them all proud and made it her mission to do the best she could. She was usually on hand with sending over information and she redirected them faster than Joe could comprehend or try to catch up.

She made jokes and she kept them talking and fed them information like she was a record that couldn't stop. She was great at her job, but she seemed off kilter today. Something wasn't right and it was putting them all on edge.

Rocker heard Joe mumble "Is she okay?" and he was glad he detected worry in his voice and not sarcasm.

"(Y/n) what's the matter?" A dark tone flooded Rocker's voice as a gritty edge cut along his words.

He knew his wife and he could tell there was something strange in her voice, it was like she wasn't giving them her full attention. Like something was going on back at the base that none of them knew about.

He rolled his lips together and moved his hand to cover his ear to try and listen better to the distant sounds coming through the comms. He could hear (Y/n) tapping something and after a second or two, he was sure she muttered 'it's broken'.

Had a piece of equipment broke? Had one of the computers crashed and that was what was causing the slight disruption and (Y/n)'s lack of focus?

When a quiet but nevertheless audible "Good," came through the speaker, Rocker let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding in. Maybe she had fixed something.

"How many people are inside?"

"F-five… six…?" Her reply sounded more like a question and the broken fragments of answers made Rocker grit his teeth. What was wrong with his wife today?

"Which is it?"

Rocker's eyes snapped up to look at Josh and his look was one that could have killed. Something wasn't right and he didn't need the team getting impatient and rude with (Y/n).

"(Y/n)?" He couldn't help the edge of worry that slipped into his voice and he knew all the team could sense it. They could sense how he was holding himself with a bit more unease and a lot more tension and it was lowering his patience.

The words 'are you okay' were on the tip of Rocker's tongue and he was about to break and let the concerned side of him show until (Y/n)'s voice came through the speaker again.

"Six."

There was a bit more determination in her voice and six sounded about right for the suspects they had been informed about and were here to arrest. They didn't need anymore information yet and Rocker could see they were almost at the building now.

"Everybody out. Stay sharp, no heroics."

He had to push the worry to the back of his mind, but even as he climbed out the truck and headed to the front of the group, he could see (Y/n)'s image flashing before his eyes.

Was she okay?

***

The call out couldn't have ended a moment sooner. When the team were gathered back around the truck, Rocker took off his helmet and tilted his head back as his eyes fell closed.

He took a moment to catch his breath back and gather his wits and senses before he turned his attention to the ear piece wedged in his ear. He hadn't heard (Y/n) speak for a while, although that would be because the team had infiltrated the building and were giving their locations to each other. (Y/n) would only pipe up if something was wrong or she was going to give them some valuable information.

"(Y/n), let Hicks know we've handed the suspects over, and then I think you need to let someone else take over the comms."

Rocker did his best to control his tone and make sure (Y/n) knew he wasn't trying to reprimand her for anything and he wasn't angry. He was worried. Whatever happened during that mission wasn't normal, (Y/n) didn't sound well and Rocker needed her to go and take a break and let someone else guide them over the comms system for their next call out.

He waved at the team and pointed to the truck, a silent command for them to get inside so they could all head back to base.

"Hurts…"

"What?" A panic-stricken expression fell over Rocker's face as he bristled and stopped in his tracks.

Everyone heard it.

All of them heard (Y/n)'s frail, croaky voice through the comms and each of them frowned at one another and paused, straining their ears to listen for any sound or other words in the background.

"(Y/n)? Sweetheart talk to me."

No one commented about the nickname, they were too panicked to make light and joke of the word. Besides, that would have been normal over the comms anyway, there was no chance of being classed unprofessional over the line with a few nicknames or caring words here and there.

A jolt ran through them all when Rocker slammed his hand down on the side of the truck and clambered inside with Josh following after him.

"Get us back to base now." The words hissed past Rocker's lips while his back straightened and pressed up against the wall and his hands began to tap and clench over his thighs.

(Y/n) wasn't responding. She wasn't answering any of them, she had been acting funny and not seeming herself over the radio for a while now and she had just told them something hurt. She wasn't well and Rocker needed to get back to base as soon as possible and find out what was going on with his wife.

The ride back was as chaotic as it was uncomfortable. None of them spoke other than to whisper (Y/n)'s name through the comms and wait in vain to see if she responded. They all clung to the hand rails above their heads and felt like sardines being squashed about with the sharp cutting corners Joe was taking and the speed he drove to get them back. All with the lights blazing so other drivers on the road knew to get out his way.

They were in a hurry.

Before the truck was even in park, Rocker was throwing the back doors open and climbing down. His feet barely touched the floor as he bolted to the side door, swiping his keycard across to get himself inside as fast as humanly possible.

He unclipped his bullet proof vest and hooked it over his head, tossing it down on one of the work benches he past. He wasn't sure where he was heading. Would (Y/n) still be in the computer room? Would she have tried to go to the toilets if she felt ill? Maybe she had gone to the kitchen for something or to be out the way of others? Would she be in the locker room?

He had no idea, but his first instinct was to check the computer room because that was where she had to of been when they were on their mission. She had been feeding them information, granted, she had been confused, but she would of been in that room with the monitors and the GPS tracking system and the big screen.

His boots thundered against the floor as he skidded round a corner, almost crashing into Hondo on his way past. He waved a hand at the other team leader, barely sparing a glance his way as he rushed ahead and burst into the computer room.

His rabid eyes roamed around the room but his heart jumped up into his throat when he set his sights on his wife.

He could barely see her. (Y/n) was on her knees in front of the desk in the centre of the room. Her arms were hidden against her chest and her upper body was curled over her knees with her forehead tucked down against the floor. She looked like she was in some kind of safe position as if she were on an aeroplane about to crash land.

Rocker bolted forward and crashed down to his knees beside her. He didn't quite know what to do or where to try and touch her, he wasn't even sure if she was conscious or not.

"Rocker, everything alright in here?"

"Boss, is she okay?"

Hondo and the rest of Rocker's team crowded in the doorway, no one brave enough to step over the threshold and crowd the couple, but everyone desperate to see inside and find out what was going on.

"Someone get me a first aid kit."

When Rocker heard footsteps disappearing which meant someone had heeded his orders, he shuffled a bit closer to (Y/n). He did his best to wiggle an arm between her knees and her chest and with his other hand braced on the back of her neck, he carefully reeled her back up so they were level. He leaned forward to get within (Y/n)'s line of sight and he could of cried when he saw her eyes flutter and squint to try and focus on him.

"Sweetheart, talk to me. What's the matter, hm?" He brushed his thumb across her chin and tilted her head back when she tried to flop her head forward.

He could feel his jaw grinding down hard when he moved his hand to press against her forehead.

She was burning up. Sweat was trickling down her skin and coating her arms and Rocker realised she was subtly trembling. It didn't help that he couldn't be certain whether she had passed out and just come round again or if she had stayed conscious all this time.

"Felt dizzy, a-and drained." (Y/n) couldn't help but whimper when Rocker's hand left her temple and she found herself leaning forward, chasing his touch. She tried to flop forward into him but her breath caught in her lungs when his hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back up to look at him.

"Since when?" The look in his eyes told her not to bother lying to him as he moved his thumb beneath her eye to see if her pupils were constricted or not.

"Two… maybe three days."

(Y/n) didn't like the way he shook his head at her or how his upper lip curled. She didn't have to say anything more for him to understand. She hadn't wanted to tell him or the team because she wanted to do her job, she wanted to be useful. She wanted to do whatever she could for the team and not be thought of as a burden or some kind of ornament. (Y/n) was very limited in what she could do, whatever was left for her to work on she wanted to do it efficiently.

And being a member of Swat meant they pushed through meager headaches and light dizzy spells that came and went. It meant being better than the average person, doing ten times more work and in harder conditions.

(Y/n) could hardly complain that she felt under the weather when she was barely doing anything at all.

"Here." Joe knelt down at Rocker's side and opened the first aid kit for him and he took a moment to take in (Y/n)'s condition and see how bad she was. Now he felt bad for being snappy over the comms earlier. Something was very wrong with her. She wasn't well and none of them had noticed soon enough.

Rocker kept his left arm around (Y/n)'s front and let her lean her left shoulder and cheek against his chest. He didn't mind propping her up, it was better than having her keel over on the floor again.

He grabbed the thermometer from the box and gently pressed it into her ear, but when it beeped, he could barely find the ability to keep breathing properly.

"Thirty-nine point five, she's burning up." That wasn't good. She had a fever and she was barely lucid. This meant a hospital visit.

When a quiet murmur left (Y/n)'s lips, Rocker leaned his head to the left and glanced down at her with an arched brow. "What, sweetheart?"

His nose crinkled and he huffed, both shoulders deflating when (Y/n) suddenly lurched over his arm and threw up. Both her hands reached up to cling to his bicep that was strapped across the front of her chest and she felt his other hand rubbing up and down her back as she coughed and threw up what little dinner she had managed to eat earlier today.

"Okay, we're going to the emergency room now. Let's get you up, sweetheart." Rocker didn't have a choice. If they didn't get her fever under control and find out why she was sick she was only going to get worse and he couldn't take that risk. Not when he knew a fever and an underlining cause could easily cause complications with the baby.

He kept his left arm around her chest and his right arm swooped down her waist to hold her hip. He pushed up from his knees and carefully reeled (Y/n) up with him and he nodded at Joe who leaned forward and took her elbow to try and help get her onto shaking legs.

Each of them could see that (Y/n) didn't hold the strength to keep herself upright and her head flopped onto Rocker's shoulder as she leaned more and more into his chest until her knees were almost caving in.

"I don't think she's walking out of here." Hondo spared a worried glance towards the couple before he flagged down Deacon. They had to go and tell Hicks what had happened and since Adam had the rank of thirty-David, he would be next in command until Rocker got back. Whenever that may be.

Rocker absentmindedly nodded and mumbled a soft "Up we go," as he unravelled his left arm from (Y/n)'s chest and swooped it beneath her legs instead.

He wasn't going to get far unless Joe helped him drag (Y/n) out of here and that wouldn't be fair nor dignified. The only option he had was to carry her out to the car and take her to the hospital.

It proved to Rocker that his wife really was in a bad way because if she were more herself, she would of protested him picking her up and carrying her anywhere in front of the rest of Swat. But she didn't make one grumble or remark. All she did was smother her burning temple against his shoulder and loop her arms sluggishly around his neck.

He had a feeling she would pass out before he got her to hospital.

Rocker ignored the eyes burning into him, the frantic stares being cast their way and the fact that every member of Swat stopped what they were doing to watch him carry his wife out of here. He had to get her to the emergency room and make sure she and the baby were okay.

"You just stay awake with me, sweetheart." He muttered softly against her temple as he twisted to the side and used his shoulder to push open the door leading to the car park. "You're gonna be fine."

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"....CAPTAIN MAR-VELL WAS THE YOUNG CAPTAIN SLATED TO BE THE FIRST TO MAKE CONTACT WITH HUMANITY."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a splash page featuring Silver Age Captain Marvel, a.k.a., "Mar-Vell," Kree Sentries on the rampage, and Carol Danvers upon their first encounter with the Kree warrior, from "UNIVERSE X" Vol. 1 #0. September, 2000. Marvel Comics.

Pencils by Doug Braithwaite

Inks by Bill Reinhold

Colors by Laura Depuy

Letters by Todd Klein

"The Supreme Intelligence launched a Kree mission to Earth. Captain Mar-Vell was the young captain slated to be the first to make contact with humanity. If you measure movement according to the ability to exact change in a given situation, the Earth really did stand still that day. Mar-Vell came as a spy, but found himself soon thrust into the role of hero."

-- KYLE RICHMOND, formerly Nighthawk, Earth-9997 (story/script by Jim Krueger & Alex Ross)

Source: www.zipcomic.com/universe-x-issue-0.

[thewertsearch]

The two last trolls alive, blood of rust and royalty, will make each other pay for the crimes against their race. Their payment will be mutually dealt in the currency of punishment and reward at once. The Condesce will be rewarded with the power and immortality her new service entails, and punished by the grueling slavery for which it is synonymous. And you, young lady, are to be punished by death at the hands of your replacement. And so too will this be your reward.

As a villain speech, this goes pretty damn hard.

There’s also a smug air of detached satisfaction to it. Scratch is the one who really deserves to pay. He’s the one who's been perpetrating crimes against their race since its inception. But he’s completely untouchable, so he’s free to sit back and narrate the fight he goaded them into.

It also illustrates another parallel between Scratch and Hussie. Technically, Hussie is the ultimate cause of all the suffering in this comic – but at the same time, he can’t be ‘held responsible’ for it. That wouldn’t make any sense.

Similarly, if Scratch was called out, he’d say that he’s not causing any suffering, he’s simply 'facilitating the inevitable'. It wouldn’t make any sense to blame him, would it? He's only the narrator of Homestuck's plot, after all.

...speak of the devil.

I've been watching Hussie's progress through the mansion, but he hasn't done anything noteworthy so far. He did refer to the Ancestor backstory as ��fanfiction’ at one point – but for my own sanity, I’m going to assume that was just a tongue-in-cheek meta joke.

Perhaps you wish to know the history of the clock, and how I came to possess it? Yes, I can see the sparkle of curiosity in your eye. It's a marvelous tale, one almost as long as it is verbosely told. Where do I even begin…

Looks like Hussie’s about to attack Scratch before he can explain the clock’s backstory - which isn't quite as bad as if he'd interrupted the Ancestor lore, but I was still hoping to learn about the origin of this artifact. A God Tier resurrection monitor seems like it’d be useful to have around.

If I have to put up with one more smug meandering interlude in my own story I am going to crack your head open and serve you a heaping bowl full of your downy soft puppet ass. How do you like that for hospitality, Doc?

...I’m having a little trouble interpreting what’s happening here.

What does it mean for a story, when the metaphorical author is accosted by the actual author? Is this just Hussie’s way of signaling that the Scratch Narration Arc is over, and we’re going back to regular programming?

Furthermore, is this even a ‘real’ event? Is Scratch’s grand plan seriously being foiled by Hussie, and not the actual characters of Homestuck?

And what the fuck does Kid Handmaid think about all this?

How do you react, when your invincible, immortal abuser is finally brought low by some random alien who appeared out of nowhere, ranted about puppet ass, and proceeded to dance a little jig?

[dragon-chica]

Eddie Brock; Husband Material (X Reader & Facts)

Fandom: Venom/Marvel

I stand by my belief that out of Marvel Men™️, Eddie Brock would be the husband material, and here is some proof.

Though we all, (Eddie and Venom included) understand why you want to fuck the 100+ yr Foxy Grandpa with abs, prior to unlocking his monsterfucker potential, Eddie Brock was mentally and emotionally stable, which is something you can't find in magic, serum, or shiny bank accounts.

Eddie was engaged, very happily, and you know Anne would not have been down if he wasn't husband material so this is already provided evidence.

He's COMPETENT, man had a stable life, job, career, and the works before Venom started their love story, and that's just hot.

Like he thinks he's aiming high to get a shot with you but you see the whole package right there, and that's before the Bonus Offer of an alien that will turn against his whole race to love you.

Also we see him being tugged along his by tie and you know he was tie to the headboard with that, so points there. Good boy and lover (and no doubt he would be.)

He had a cat, "let" Venom have chickens, and he would be a pushover for love on the matter, he wouldn't fight having 20+ cats and you carrying in another sopping wet beast you found dumped in the alley.

If he griped at all, Venom would (not so) kindly reminded him that you still kept him when he looked like he was sitting in a wet cardboard box for days.

I believe he can cook, and he would definitely bring you breakfast in bed on days off.

Is Eddie Brock a dream in the kitchen? No, but he will make sure you both eat something for dinner and least, and on better nights in will cook and try to get you to help him, or at least sit nearby and keep him company and conversation

Would try not to wake you if you've gone to bed or fallen asleep, pro at tip toeing and sock sliding to not cause you to stir when he's still trying to finish up something before joining you.

Have you seen his lovestruck smile? pulls heartstrings, he is a good boy and loves affection.

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Is there an age limit chapter 3 - Christmas edition

Wrapped in a straitjacket, his utility belt and every gadget stripped away, Batman pulled himself up to a sitting position and scanned the room. 

Across the room, Superman was sweating bullets — his face as green as the kryptonite handcuffs that chained him to the wall.

Wonder Woman, in the WayneTech Virtual Reality suit, was in her own world, fighting imaginary battles, unaware of their plight.

Green Lantern was trapped in a yellow cube.

In the agency cage of fire, Martian Manhatter had lost his humanoid form — incapacitated by terror.

Green Arrow without his arrows. Black Canary was gagged and had a metapower inhibiter collar around her neck. Both of them were in straitjackets, unable to escape.

Flash was trapped in a containment field which severed his connection to the Speed Force.

A bald man in a lab coat, calling himself the Master of the World, taunted the Dark Knight with empty boxes that once contained Batman’s contingency plans and resources he had prepared to take down each and every member of the Justice League, should the need arise.

Checking his watch, he announced. “It’s 3pm. Time for Captain Marvel to show up to save his friends.”

He loaded a gun with bullets from the box with Captain Marvel’s lightning on it. These bullets were made of pure lead — deadly to Daxamites. 

“Why put one into his shoulder when I can shoot all of them into his heart?” The villain cackled.

Batman’s contingency plans were never meant to kill. They were to neutralise members of the Justice League when they are under mind control or go rogue, or otherwise become a threat to humanity.

Captain Marvel crashed to the roof, landing in front of the villain.

“Release them,” said the Big Red Cheese.

Click

“Duck,” Batman growled. “Pure lead bullets!”

Bang! 

Bang! 

Bang! 

Bang!

Bang! 

Bang! 

Captain Marvel didn’t flinch as the flurry of bullets struck his chest, bouncing off without leaving a scratch.

“My turn,” he tapped the villain’s shiny head, knocking him unconscious.

He looked at the boxes with their insignias and stared at Batman. His eyes blazed with anger while his smile dropped as he scrutinised Batman. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Disappointment coloured his voice.

“Hm.” Batman glared back.

“Then you’ll know how to free them,” Captain Marvel’s brilliant smile returned as he ripped open the straitjacket, releasing Batman.

So he’s not Kryptonian. He’s not Daxamite.

What was he?

*

Back in the Watchtower, the atmosphere turned chilly. Every hero gave him the cold shoulder. They should. In their line of work, it was unwise to trust so easily. A certain level of paranoia was essential for survival.

Martian Manhunter sat in the break room, still shaken by his exposure to fire. He refused to look at Batman.

“Have some milk and cookies,” Captain Marvel walked in with a tray.  It held a plate piled high with an assortment of chocolate cookies with cream centres, and two glasses of milk. “This really helps after a tough day.” 

The alarm went off. 

There was yet another alien invasion.

Did the various alien races have some kind of time table to invade the earth on a monthly basis?

The screen showed an armada of fiery spaceships that covered all visible space. His sensors showed each ship exuded flames with heat that rivalled the sun’s core.

“Hold this," he handed the tray to Batman.

Captain Marvel beamed, “I call dibs on this invasion.”

A blur of red cleared the sky of the fiery orbs in a blink of an eye.

The Captain was back in the room, with another mug of milk in hand. “Join us for milk and cookies?” He beamed at Batman.

*

It was the night before Christmas. Batman hadn’t a clue who or what Captain Marvel really was. He was only available outside elementary school hours, so he had to be an elementary school teacher, but the bat computer scanned the photos of every elementary school teacher in the country but couldn’t match any of them with the elusive Captain.

As he retired for the night, he noticed milk and cookies laid out near the entrance of each home. Even his own children would set out milk and cookies for Santa Claus before they go to bed on Christmas Eve. 

He looked at the chimneys. Santa was known to enter homes through chimneys. Some fireplaces were still burning, so Santa had to be flame proof.

In one single night, Santa visits every home in the entire world, delivering presents to those who have been good, and coal to those who have been naughty. Bruce knew. Ever since he started those contingency plans to take down every one of his team mates, he had been getting a coal in his stocking every Christmas.

The clues fell in place.

Captain Marvel loves milk and cookies.

He’s great with the kids.

He’s flame proof, which meant, going down the chimney while the fire is still burning wouldn’t bother him.

He moves so fast, he could visit every home in the world in one night.

The way he looked at Batman after seeing the contingency boxes in use, reminded him of how his dad would look at Bruce when he was naughty.

That bright red suit and white cape - same red as Santa's suit. Same white as the trimmings.

The perpetual smile. 

The Captain’s favourite catchphrase — “Holy Moley” — “Ho Ho Ho.”

Of course.

He knew Captain Marvel’s real identity.

Captain Marvel is Santa Claus!

[mintymarabell]

Platonic yandere elder yautja.

An elder whose strong and powerful in status but not fertile, his seed never taking so he never had children of his own.

He would beat himself up over it all the time, thinking he was not good enough.

He’ll be on earth just wondering around aimlessly when he sees you, a teenager who was crying in the woods.

He would watch curiously, wondering what you were doing alone.

When you get up and leave after composing yourself he’ll follow after you, when you lead him to a house that has two ooman pairs having a yelling match inside he somewhat connects the dots.

He will watch over you over the months, noticing the neglect in the household. He’s so jealous, your parents barely pay you any mind or even care for you and yet he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Maybe one time you’re in your room curled up in bed trying to sleep through your parents continuous arguing when your window slowly slides open, you don’t notice until there’s a big thump and suddenly something is in your room.

You go to scream but a large hand is cupped over your mouth to quiet the sound.

When you wake up again you’re in a different room, one much bigger than your previous one the bed huge and comfortable with alien soft sheets and silk pillows.

A small tray of breakfast sat on the nightstand to your left still warm.

He won’t reveal his scary appearance to you, living as a ghost in his own home as he provided for you better than your parents ever had.

Maybe one day, after a few months of living in the strange very futuristic like house you explore, walking around the grand halls, looking into the various bedrooms, some being children others being for an adult, you simply marveled at the design.

Maybe you walk outside to see the scenery and notice the different colors of the sky, the amber atmosphere.

You wander farther from the house, towards the pristine gates and walk out of them as you look at this ‘new world’ in hopes of feeding your growing curiosity.

Maybe you venture too far, finding you had zoned out and was now in the woods with faint growling and the once twin suns now settling into a dark sky.

Your breathing hitched as you looked around frantically trying to remember where it is you came from, then suddenly something hops from the tree, it is some beast, clearly not from earth.

The beast stalking towards you as it readied itself to attack and then it lunged, you closed your eyes and waited but it never came.

Instead a loud crash could be heard as something ran into the beast, you opened your eyes and seen the beast but nothing else.

It was as if the beast was fighting its imaginary friend, though in this case enemy.

The beast had brawled with the other invisible being, at some point in the fight the beast had landed a hit, the sound of flesh tearing and electric sparks then its invisible cloak was unveiled.

You had been inching back this whole time, slowly but surely won the race right? Though as you inched back, you noticed the humanoid was beginning to slack. Noticing a healing wound on its shoulder blade being the issue of its delay.

You had decided it was clearly on your side so you picked up a size ably sharp stick. Beginning to walk back toward the fight just as the beast had pinned the your possible new friend; you stabbed it right through the throat.

The humanoid pushed off the now dead carcass, standing up slowly. This had given you a moment to look at him truly. He had four mandibles with sharp fangs on the end, along with long dread like hair that was graying. After the awkward pause he had ruffled your hair and pushed you back in the direction of the house you had stayed at.

It had been a few months, your new father now walking around with no invisible cloak. He was in short terms, protective. If you had went out he went along and never let you go far. It appeared he lived alone, in a massive home.

You could get used to it, though you hoped it wasn’t forever it’d be like this.

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 9: Cock Rings w/ Clark Kent

gonna be honest, researching cock ring porn made me question even more than usual if I am a lesbian but I do it for u all so here u go

Kinktober Masterlist

“I don’t want to know how you got this made,” Clark said once he saw it. You shrugged and then, reconsidering, nodded.

“Yeah, you won’t be able to look Bruce in the eye for a while.”

“I just…” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did you even approach him with the idea? No wait, I said I didn’t want to know.”

“Hey Bruce,” you mocked. “Can I borrow some Kryptonian to make a sex toy for my really hot, really submissive alien husband?”

“Please stop talking.” You giggled at his distress and shrugged.

“Who knows? Maybe this will come in handy sooner than you think.”

You and your big mouth.

It was common for enemies to use kryptonite against Clark. Hell, it was their main go-to. But no one had ever used pink kryptonite until today. Bruce struggled to get Clark into the Watchtower medical bay, a place that rarely saw Clark in there unless he was visiting a teammate, and promptly fled before you could ask him anything other than what had knocked Superman out of the battle.

“Okay, baby,” you whispered as you pushed his hands away from your hips. Clark’s heavy, ragged breathing assured you that he was alive but the raspy undertone made your heart race in a way that was entirely different from his. He whined at your denial and you cursed under your breath. If you let him fuck you right now, he’d destroy you. Clark was good at maintaining his strength in his everyday life, including the bed, but with pink kryptonite involved, he had no inhibitions right now.

“Okay. Okay.” Your mind went back to the gag gift that was currently sitting in a lead box in your bag. Fuck. Maybe you were clairvoyant. How did you come up with this shit?

“I’m going to grab something, okay? And when I come back you better be out of that suit and on your knees like the good boy I know you can be. Right?”

Clark whined, his erection straining against his skin tight suit. You brushed your hand over it and grinned as he moaned. He reached for the collar of his suit and you left him to it. Your bag was close by, luckily, and you fished through it until you found the little box.

Turning around, you found Clark kneeling on the ground completely naked with his heavy, long cock hanging between his legs. Big, blue eyes blinked up at you and he had to be painfully hard based on the tears lining his lashes.

“This should help, baby. It’s gonna make you feel better and then I will make you feel so good.”

He whined again, a pathetic sound that made your traitorous cunt throb. Now was not the time to get horny. Not when he needed you to focus.

The kryptonite infused cock ring had been a joke. Clark and you had poked fun at the idea of using sex toys on him, but nothing could faze or restrain the Man of Steel. Until you had gotten drunk with Dinah one night and came up with a brilliant idea that Bruce reluctantly agreed to help make, solely so you could stop saying he owes you for saving his life that one time.

It came in handy now. Despite Clark being hard as hell, you were able to fit the cock ring snugly around the base of his cock. His balls hung heavy over the edge of the metal, but he shuddered in relief at the feeling.

“Does that feel better?” you cooed, stroking your hand through his soft hair. He pushed his head closer to your hand and sighed at your gentle touch. The pink kryptonite effects would wear off in about two to three hours, but the green kryptonite ensured that he wouldn’t hurt you as you helped him out.

You settled yourself onto the ground in front of him, your knees pressed against his, and reached out to grasp his veiny, thick cock in your hand. He was so big that it made your hands look tiny and you always marveled at the fact that you somehow fit him in your mouth, cunt, and ass.

His hips jerked at your touch and then he let his head fall until his forehead pressed against your shoulder. You pressed a delicate kiss to his temple and started a slow, even stroke along his dick as his hips rolled along with the drag of your touch.

“So beautiful, Clark. Once you’re not affected by the kryptonite, I’ll make sure to put this cock ring on you and tease you until you’re begging me. I could probably even spank you and leave a mark for once. Wouldn’t that be nice, right? Seeing you covered in pretty little red marks?”

Clark moaned, wonton and broken and perfect. With one hand cradling his head and the other jerking him off, you kept talking him through it.

“You’re so strong that this ring won’t stop you, but I love knowing I have more power than you right now. I love knowing you trust me to treat you well. You know that I will always take care of you, right?”

He nodded and you kissed his cheek. “That’s my good boy. Let’s see how many times we can get you to come until it wears off.”