#RESCUE MISSION

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Grasping for Answers

Throughout their early adventures the party come into conflict with the agents of the mysterious mage known only as "The Ravelling Hand", a villain of uncertain identity who seems to have lots of schemes and no qualms using violence, trickery, and unexpected magic to get what they want.

Adventure Hooks:

The party first become entangled with the hand's minions when they're asked by an innocuous travelling merchant to deliver a small wrapped parcel to the wizard living one town over. The wizard isn't open to receiving guests, and after sneaking or charming their way in, the party will find out why: her apprentice has been kidnapped, the parcel contains both of the boy's index fingers as well as a note explaining that she can have the rest of him back in exchange for several dangerous texts in her collection, delivered by the party to the same intermediary who hired them. A brawl is likely to ensue as the wizard suspects the party is in on the blackmail, but if they can talk her down maybe they can figure out a way to work together to get the boy back before any more harm comes to him.

Most thieves know better than to try and rob a magic item shop, but most thieves aren't armed with dispel magic infused salt grenades to neutralize the shop's ubiquitous defences. A rash of these attacks across the duchy has shopkeepers worried, and one hires the party to stake out their store for the night when they suspect someone is casing it. Do the party trail the robbers back to their hideout, or interrupt them mid heist only for combat to delay them long enough for those indiscriminate defences to start turning back on?

Spoiler Alert: The mage is in fact an arcanely gifted lesser kraken by the name of Dlexx who seeks to avail itself of all the magical knowledge amassed on land. Sure the deep has its own mysteries but there's a thriving trade in spellscrolls and arcane tomes that don't make it below the waves. Using an old lighthouse as a disguise for its massive form while on land, it uses telepathy and sendings to direct its minions without ever revealing its true nature. Imagine the party's surprise when they roll up to the villain's lair expecting to bully some crusty nerd with a ratty beard and instead the lair sprouts tentacles that drag them into the crashing surf.

Challenges & Consequences

Finding Dlexx is an adventure in and of itself. When questioned, most of the mage's minions admit to never having met their employer, and those high ranking enough to have been summoned to a place called "saltbite tower" in dreams only to later have their memories muddled. Careful interrogation and study of local maps will have the party realize that the tower is infact an abandoned lighthouse, which will narrow their search as they comb the costline for their enemy's lair.

Actually defeating the Ravelling Hand might prove too much for early level adventurers, as in addition to being a powerful mage the kraken is literally in its element, able to breathe and move while the heroes flounder. Dlexx will toy with them, throwing unconscious foes out of the water the way a fisherman throws back a catch that is too small. When the battle is over and it's proved it's point the kraken will collapse the tower and leave into the wide ocean, telepathically taunting them with their inability to follow.

Though the Ravelling Hand will not resurface for some time, the destruction of the tower and Dlexx's retreat into the deep is partially a bluff. The kraken chose that particular lighthouse because it was a short distance away from the coral reef into which it scribed its arcane learning the way a wizard records spells in a book, coiling arms etching formulae into hundreds of yards of living stone. Dlexx must periodically return to the reef to add spells to it, and sightings by locals (or the occasional fish manifesting with magical talent) might clue the party into the reef's existence.

A pair of merfolk siblings named Crashing-Tide and Arcing-Mirror serve the Ravelling Hand as apprentices and scribes, having promised seven years of utmost loyalty in exchange for the chance to bring the arcane knowledge of the surface back to their community. They tend to the reef, and allow the Kraken to borrow their eyes from afar so that it might study the spells scribed there. Several years into their pledge, Crash (the sister) has come to idolize Dlexx and the power it wields above and below the waves, wishing that the whole of their shoal to come into its service. Mirror (the brother) is skeptical, well aware of the kraken's manipulations and distantly suspicious of the conflict that it invokes. Perhaps if the party can intercede with these two they can learn more about their enemy's plans, though doing so will take some careful diplomacy.

Artist

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets with the Shadowsinger

Summary:

Y/N, a representative from the Spring Court, and Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster, have been hiding their love due to the dangerous political climate and Tamlin's hatred for the Night Court. When their secret is discovered, Tamlin forbids Y/N from leaving the Spring Court. Azriel must risk everything to rescue her, leading to a dramatic confrontation and a daring escape. Their love, though hidden in the shadows, proves to be a powerful force as they navigate the perilous challenges that lie ahead.

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: None

The tension in the grand hall of the House of Wind was palpable. Representatives from the various courts gathered to discuss the increasing threats from Hybern. Y/N, the emissary from the Spring Court, stood tall and composed, her eyes scanning the room. She was known for her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, particularly when it came to dealing with the Night Court's spymaster, Azriel.

Azriel stood across the room, his shadows curling around him like a protective shroud. He was watching Y/N with an unreadable expression, their last argument still fresh in his mind. The animosity between them was well-known, their bickering a source of amusement and frustration for those around them.

"Y/N, perhaps you can enlighten us with the Spring Court's perspective on this matter," Rhysand said, his tone diplomatic.

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze flicking briefly to Azriel before she spoke. "The Spring Court believes that we must take a more aggressive stance against Hybern. Waiting for them to strike first will only lead to more devastation."

Azriel couldn't help but interject. "And rushing into a conflict without proper intelligence will lead to unnecessary casualties."

Y/N shot him a glare. "We need to be proactive, not reactive, Azriel. Your cautious approach will cost us valuable time."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. "And your reckless approach will cost us lives."

The room fell silent, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Rhysand stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find a balance between caution and action. Let's continue this discussion without the personal attacks."

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Fine. Let's focus on finding a solution."

As the meeting continued, Y/N and Azriel exchanged sharp looks and cutting remarks, their apparent dislike for each other on full display. But beneath the surface, a different story was unfolding.

Later that evening, Y/N slipped away from the House of Wind, making her way to a secluded spot by the Sidra River. She glanced around to ensure no one had followed her, then leaned against a tree, waiting.

A few moments later, Azriel appeared, his shadows swirling around him. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone he had used earlier.

She looked up, her expression softening. "Azriel."

He moved closer, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I hate fighting with you."

Y/N sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I know. It's necessary, though. We can't let them suspect anything."

Azriel's grip tightened around her. "I wish we didn't have to hide. I hate pretending to dislike you."

She smiled sadly. "It's the only way to keep us both safe. If anyone found out..."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken danger. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier."

They stood there in silence for a while, the sound of the river flowing peacefully beside them. Azriel's shadows enveloped them, creating a cocoon of privacy in which they could share these stolen moments.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it," Y/N whispered. "All the secrecy and the danger."

Azriel cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "You are worth it, Y/N. Every moment we have together is worth the risk."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "I love you, Azriel."

He kissed her gently, pouring all his love and longing into that one kiss. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything."

As the night grew darker, they reluctantly pulled away from each other, knowing they had to return to their respective roles. Azriel took a step back, his expression torn. "Stay safe, Y/N. We'll find a way to be together openly someday."

She nodded, wiping away her tears. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he said, his voice filled with determination.

With one last lingering look, Y/N turned and made her way back to the House of Wind, her heart heavy but filled with hope. Azriel watched her go, his shadows whispering words of comfort and resolve.

The next day, the tension in the grand hall was palpable once again. Y/N and Azriel resumed their roles, bickering and arguing as usual. But now, each cutting remark and heated exchange was laced with a secret understanding, a hidden love that only they knew.

As the discussions continued, Rhysand observed the two with a keen eye. He had long suspected there was more to their interactions than met the eye, but he respected their privacy and the roles they played.

The meeting ended with a tentative plan of action, a compromise that balanced caution and aggression. As the representatives began to leave, Y/N and Azriel shared a brief, knowing glance, a silent promise of love and support.

That night, as Y/N lay in her room, she clung to the hope that one day they could be together without hiding. Until then, they would continue to fight for peace and for each other, their love burning brightly in the shadows.

And as Azriel watched over Velaris from his perch on the roof, his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. No matter the challenges they faced, he knew they would find a way to be together. Their love was a force stronger than any enemy, and it would guide them through the darkest of times.

Weeks passed, and their secret meetings continued. But one fateful day, everything changed. Y/N returned to the Spring Court to report back to Tamlin, unaware that her secret had been discovered.

She was in her chambers when Tamlin stormed in, fury etched across his face. "Y/N, what have you done?"

She looked up, startled. "Tamlin, what's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "I've heard the rumors. You're involved with Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster."

Y/N's heart sank. "Tamlin, I can explain—"

"Explain?" he shouted. "You've betrayed us! Consorting with the enemy, my own sister!"

Tears filled her eyes. "I love him, Tamlin. You don't understand."

Tamlin's expression hardened. "I understand perfectly. You will not leave this court. You are forbidden from seeing him again."

Y/N's heart shattered. "You can't keep me here."

"Watch me," he said coldly. "Guards!"

As two guards stepped forward to escort her to a locked room, Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to get word to Azriel. She needed to find a way out.

Back in Velaris, Azriel was pacing in Rhysand's office when one of his shadows brought him the news. He felt a cold dread settle over him. "Tamlin knows," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "Y/N is in danger."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed. "We need to get her out of there."

Without wasting another moment, Azriel spread his wings and took to the skies, his shadows guiding him to the Spring Court. He moved swiftly and silently, his heart pounding with fear for Y/N's safety.

When he arrived, he slipped past the guards with ease, his shadows cloaking him in darkness. He found Y/N in a locked room, her eyes filled with fear and relief when she saw him.

"Azriel," she whispered, running to him.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm getting you out of here."

They moved quickly, Azriel using his shadows to cloak them both as they navigated the halls. But as they reached the courtyard, Tamlin and his guards appeared, blocking their path.

"You won't take her," Tamlin growled, his voice filled with rage.

Azriel's eyes blazed with determination. "I won't let you keep her prisoner."

Y/N clung to Azriel, her heart pounding. "Please, Tamlin. Let me go."

Tamlin's expression twisted with anger and pain. "You chose him over your own family. You betrayed us."

"I love him," Y/N said, her voice breaking. "And I can't stay here. Not like this."

Tamlin hesitated, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. But Azriel didn't wait. He spread his wings, his shadows enveloping them both, and with a powerful leap, they soared into the sky, leaving the Spring Court behind.

When they landed back in Velaris, Y/N was trembling with relief and fear. Azriel held her close, his shadows wrapping around them protectively.

"You're safe now," he whispered, his voice filled with love and determination.

Y/N looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stay there, Azriel. Not without you."

He kissed her gently, his heart swelling with love and pride. "We'll find a way to be together. No matter what."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be difficult. But their love was a force stronger than any obstacle, and together, they would face whatever came their way.

In the safety of the Night Court, surrounded by allies and friends, they knew that their love would guide them through the darkest of times. And as the stars sparkled above Velaris, they made a silent vow to protect each other and their love, no matter the cost.

[chaotic-orphan]

Guardian Angel

Whumpee blinked at Caretaker, owlish eyes wide as Caretaker opened their cell door with a key like it was nothing. They didn’t care about making noise or Whumper hearing them, they just swooped into Whumpee’s cell, that same toothy grin on their face that was both friendly and intimidating at once.

“You— you came.”

Caretaker leaned against the door of the cell, crossing their arms over their chest. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Whumpee just stared. Caretaker nodded at them. “Now that your mistaken lack of faith in me has been rectified, let’s get moving.”

Whumpee nodded their head. Of course! In their stupor they probably looked like an idiot, staring at Caretaker like they were their guardian angel. Probably because they were.

Another voice piped in from across Whumpee’s cell. “Whumpee?” A voice called out and Whumpee’s heart raced in their chest. They ran out of the cell, straight past Caretaker and out the door, going to Other Whumpee’s cell.

They glanced at Caretaker over their shoulder who stepped out of the cell. Eyes pleading. Caretaker’s expression didn’t change. They just said: “no” flatly.

“Caretaker please! Other Whumpee kept me alive in here! We’ve been leaning on each other the whole time.”

Caretaker blinked. “I don’t care.”

Whumpee froze. “What?”

“I don’t care,” Caretaker repeated in the same tone. Whumpee turned to face them fully, mouth agape.

“You don’t understand—”

“I think I understand perfectly, Whumpee. It’s you who’s confused so let me clear it up for you.” Caretaker closed the distance between them, cupping Whumpee’s cheek in their hand so gentle. Oh so lovingly it made Whumpee’s heart stutter and stop, and restart again at Caretaker’s touch. They missed Caretaker, they realised with an ache in their chest.

Caretaker tilted Whumpee’s head up further, ensuring that Whumpee saw the seriousness in Caretaker’s eyes when they told them.

“I came back for you, to rescue you, Whumpee. Your little trauma bonded friend here could be the next Pope, or cure cancer, for all I care and it wouldn’t make a shred of difference, or change my mind, because I came here for you.”

“Whumper will torture them!” Whumpee said, covering Caretaker’s hand with their own. Caretaker’s smile grew softer around the edges.

“I don’t care, little dove,” they almost whispered. The truth of the statement rang home for Whumpee who pulled away in disgust.

“If you came here for me then why don’t you do this for me? Just this one thing, please!”

“Please,” Other Whumpee echoed. Caretaker straightened. There was no way they went through all of this trouble and effort just to come rescue Whumpee, sweep them off their feet, and have to compete for their affection with someone else. Someone they bonded with during the course of their captivity.

“You have the keys,” Whumpee said, voice pleading. Caretaker looked into the cell Whumpee was standing in front of. Assessing the damage. If they brought Other Whumpee and Whumper caught up to them, Caretaker could always throw Other Whumpee under the bus and kill two birds with one stone. “Please.”

Caretaker’s eyes slid to Other Whumpee’s and there was a spark there. Something threatening and belligerent. Caretaker stepped back, a shutter sharpening all their soft edges when it came to Whumpee and grabbed Whumpee’s wrist.

“Yeah. No can do.” Caretaker started dragging Whumpee away, kicking, screaming and cursing.

“Caretaker! Caretaker please!” Whumpee screamed, pulling at Caretaker’s fingers, but they might as well have tried to punch a hole in a block of concrete. They fell dead weight but Caretaker continued on like they weighed nothing.

Whumpee threw their head over their shoulder, tears streaming down their face when they saw Other Whumpee at the bars to their cell.

Whumpee was about to scream and tell them that they’d come back for them, that they’d rescue them, but Other Whumpee beat them to it.

“If you’re getting some fool-hardy notion of rescuing me right now, forget it. Live for me instead.”

“Other Whumpee,” Whumpee cried as Caretaker dragged them up the stairs. “I’m so sorry.”

Caretaker marched on, heart breaking at Whumpee’s cries. They had come too far to stop now. They’d free Whumpee, that was what they came here to do.

They could make a new mission to free Other Whumpee once Whumpee was safe. Maybe take down Whumper and get Whumpee to testify… Caretaker didn’t falter as their brain formed a secondary plan.

Whumpee first.

Always.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A.N for WRITERS BLOCK — if you’re trying to escape that dreadful writer’s block, imagine yourself as a Caretaker (Whumper//whumpee) and write the scene!!!

This is how I would act as a Caretaker — selfish, determined and detached🫶 no heroics from me😌 #sorrynotsorry whumpee, RIP your friend ig?

[factorialsotherfandoms]

A birdhouse. What they find is a birdhouse, sealed up in reinforced deepslate. It had not been so much a trail as following Tubbo as he frantically searched various places and their surroundings, and a bit of good luck in that Pac had a spyglass on him. Tubbo leads, Fit guards, and Pac is here because he cannot let anyone suffer the Federation longer than they must.

That it took them this long to notice Philza was missing honestly makes him feel a little sick. A man who claims so many close friends, and still it took 3 days for any of them to notice. Pac wonders - if nobody had seen his own kidnappings, would it taken them as long?

It doesn't really matter. They are here now, and they can only do their best.

It is hard to get inside. Once they do, the place is… beautiful. Full of birds, and vines, and if it were not for something that Pac cannot quite place would look like one of Tallulah's builds.

Tubbo moved first of the three, not nearly as cautious, not scouring for traps as Fir does, or anxiously checking for danger like Pac.

The birdhouse is shaped like an L, part it hidden. As soon as Tubbo sees it, he screams "Phil!" and also vanishes behind the wall.

Pac and Fit do not hesitate. They launch themselves the few steps forwards to see.

Fit yells "shit" and follows Tubbo to the floor.

Pac… Pac takes the moment to look, heart in his throat. There are more birds - hummingbirds - all around, both sat on the floor and caged up above. In the centre is a plinth, and on it a book, an empty shelf on either side.

Philza is curled on the floor before the plinth, surrounded by bloody, torn feathers. Hus wings are even more a mess than before, and it is clear he curls around something.

More worrying - Tubbo is shaking him, yelling and sobbing his name, while Fit taps his cheek and asks for a response. Neither works.

Pac does not know Philza well, but he does know this is bad. It is not a build like any other Federation build, but he knows a torture room when he sees one.

Even one as pretty as this.

"Babygirl," Fit calls him, and Pac flinches. "Can you look at me? You love this shiny head, don't you? Wanna see it?"

Pac shakes himself. He pulls out a sharestone and sets it beside the group, checking over the list of who is online.

No doctors on the island, Philza's other friends offline, nobody like that - just…

Forever's communicator comes online.

Pac does not hesitate to private message him, givinf him the name of the sharestone, and to bring blankets, healing potions, and hot chocolate.

Done, he kneels between Tubbo and Fit, the former sobbing apologies and the other trying again.

"I asked Forever to come with blankets," Pac whispers.

Fit nods, flicking Philza's forehead and finally earning a response.

Philza sluggishly raises his head, empty, dead eyes blinking in Fit's direction. He reaches a hand out, and fails to reach; Pac takes it up, freezing cold.

"There you are," Fit's smile is tense. "Birdbrain got you good, huh?"

They all know it's not birdbrain but shock; the blood all around, the vacant expression… with Philza's arm uncurled, Pac can see what Philza was holding. A ducky floaty, and a red beanie.

He swears.

Fit looks, and swears as well.

Tubbo, seeing them, breaks into sobs.

Pac uses his free arm to pull Tubbo into a hug just as the sharestone whirs.

"Hey Pac, what sort if sleepover needs-" Forever freezes in his words for a moment, before yelling for Philza, and joining the group on the floor.

Forever throws a few splash potions at him, before grabbing the blankets. Pac is somewhat pushed aside but, with the sobbing Tubbo in his arms, maybe that is for the best.

Somehow, Fit and Forever get Philza sitting, while Pac manages to convince Tubbo to breathe. He watches as they convince him to drink a potion, then as he's given the mug of hot chocolate and grasps it in his hands. Philza leans heavily against Fit, but his eyes remain on Forever.

The ducky and the beanie remain firmly in his lap.

"What happened?" Fit speaks for all of them. "Do you remember?"

Philza nods, but it still takes him a while to speak, "I... Here."

Shaking hands draw a book from his inventory, and hand it to Forever.

Forever reads aloud the story of the old crow, and the room is grim.

"But wait," Tubbo finally calms himself enough to pipe up. "The ducky is still in the maze. How's it here too?"

"At least one is a very convincing fake," Fit says. "If not both."

Pac, who has been kidnapped more than anyone else in the room, and has seen another happen, can almost see it play out. His hands shake as he grips Tubbo a little tighter.

"The ducky in the maze," he whispers. "It wasn't about Chayanne; it was about Phil."

"It's so fucking stupid," Philza groans, taking a sip of hot chocolate and earning a little more life. "I should have seen it. Tallulah doesn't write like that, she knows I'm an idiot and has to spell it out. A bit too much sometimes. And Chayanne wouldn't write a book at all, just leave me a scrap with coordinates on, or maybe a trail of potato crates. I just-"

Forever leans over and pulls Philza from Fit's chest to his own, capturing him in a desperate hug, whispering reassurances Pac cannot hear he is sure.

"Fucking Feds." Fit sums up the room.

"It's not your fault," Pac says the words everyone always told him. "The Federation is... too good? at this."

"It's fucked up," Tubbo agrees. "And on Tallulah's birthday? They got you good, man. What if-"

Pac squeezes Tubbo's shoulder, "they are too good at this. It's not Philza's fault."

"Played us like fiddles," Fit agrees. "All of us. Nobody thought the ducky would be about you not Chayanne even after you vanished."

"Do you want to go home?" Forever ignores their conversation. "There's a sharestone; we can get easily back."

Philza shakes his head, his voice breaking as he says "I want my children."

They really should make a bunk room in the Order, Pac thinks, both for situations like this and for when Cellbit is up until the small hours struggling over puzzles.

He does not think of his own son, still missing, and the empty house he, too, must go back to.

With Missa so infrequently there... Does Philza feel the same?

He must do.

An empty house made for a family, haunted by their absence, the eternal knowing you were not enough... Pac built a whole new home on the island, and still cannot escape his family's ghosts. How they can Philza, when he sleeps in his children's bedroom?

"There are still houses in the Favela," Pac says, it the most central place he can think of. "You could go there? We used to stay there all the time; there's space for Tubbo and Fit too."

"You come as well," Fit butts in.

Pac would object, but Philza examines him, then gives an exhausted nod.

"Okay," he merely says.

"We could call Wilbur?" Fit suggests. "Once we're at the Favela. I know its not the eggs, but..."

But, if what he has been told is correct, the fabled Wilbur is one of Philza's children just the same.

Philza nods, and Forever scoops him up. Tubbo scuttles from Pac's grasp to grab the floaty, while Fit passes Pac Tallulah's beanie.

He clings to it, her hat.

Fit gives him a knowing smile and takes his hand. "Favela, then."

"We can invite people to come chill as they get online," Tubbo suggests.

It sounds like a solid enough plan; Philza is already half asleep, and surely someone has enough medical knowledge to check on him? Even if not, the expression of how many people care... It meant a lot to Pac, embarassing as it was. It surely would to Philza too.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 26

Jaskier has been recognized as the runaway viscount of lettenhove by a band of bandits. Embarrassingly, they seemed to have found him in the midst of buying a personalized gift addressed "To My Beloved." Perhaps a hairclip shaped like a dandelion, or perhaps an embroidered handkerchief, or something else dainty and delightful. The bandits drag Jaskier away for ransom, even as he tries futilely to explain that his lover will NOT be polite to them if they continue down this road. I mean, whatever fancy shmancy noblewoman whose skirt he's chasing can't be that threatening to their operation, right? They write up a ransom note, intending on sending it along with a lock of Jaskier's hair, and a few drops of his blood to show they're serious. They slice across Jaskier's wrist, but there's much much much more blood than they expected, because the man slicing his wrist is suddenly missing his head. Huh. Perhaps they've underestimated Jaskier's beloved. He did try to warn them.

[adnauseum11]

Defence Logistics (John Price x Reader)

2.6 k words

CW: swearing, canon-typical violence, minor character death

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog

I don't know why, but I've struggled with this chapter more than any others lately. The format I chose, the tenses, all of it was a puzzle I've been wrestling with. I don't know if it's my insomnia making a come back or what, but I have been agonizing on this one. Almost scrapped it altogether but have decided to be brave and let 'er rip. I found writing John without the warmth he has for his love a bit jarring, having the ability to turn off that part of yourself and focus on wrecking damage on others was hard to capture. If it's subpar I can only apologize lol - the next chapter is already coming easier.

Feedback welcome, if folks have any tips or suggestions - this is all for fun and improvement! (that's what I keep telling myself anyways lol)

Masterlist

John’s transfixed, watching rusty blood swirl around the shower drain, his mind still back in the field. He’s showering off before he drives home from the black site, situated deep in the English country side. He’s bruised in several places, with a fresh cut across his lower forearm where the Commander’s knife had connected during a wild swing. The dull throb pulls his brain back to the present moment, making him realize he’s slowly dripping blood all over his own feet. He lifts the cut above his heart and tries to refocus his thoughts. Kate’s dealing with the paperwork, folding their use of equipment into existing work orders. Gaz and Simon are also showering, medical and debrief waiting for them all on the other side of the steam. John’s mind keeps running over the events of the last few days, looking for anything he’s missed.

Thankfully, he and Ghost had arrived in Lithuania a whole day ahead of Gaz’s taskforce. They had driven across Vilnius in an SUV that had been held together with good intentions and baler twine, as far as John could make out. It had rattled something awful, to the point they had ditched it on a side road and hiked the last few rough miles, working their way across farmer’s fields dodging cattle and sheep in the early morning light. The Industrial section was set outside of city limits, in between old farms, where the smells and sounds would be less likely to disrupt the rhythms of life. The physical exercise helped re-center John’s mind on the task at hand. The way things had been left between himself and his love had unsettled him, giving his mind a stone to turn over instead of focusing on his immediate surroundings. He’d said more than he’d wanted to in explaining his departure, opening a can of worms he hadn’t intended and couldn’t put right before he left. If Ghost noticed John’s initial lack of focus, he said nothing.

The intercept point was more or less on top of the taskforce’s rendezvous point, in the back end of a massive sheep field with a small hut built out of field stones. By the time they arrived to do their recon, he had pulled himself together mentally and was feeling more present. John’s body remembered the training that had been drilled in to it, the rust of retirement flaking away as time stretched on. Soon it was nearly like he had never left.  He and Ghost discussed how to proceed in various probable scenarios as they checked the surrounding area.

How many people were involved in the revenge plot would depend on how the commander split his forces, to John’s mind. If he kept Gaz under his direct command there was likely no one else involved and Gaz was unlikely to survive the mission. If he sent Gaz with one of the other men, it was more likely they all were involved and it was more probable they would detain Gaz for information. Ghost agreed with John’s assessment, and they scouted the area before making a small camp a quarter of a mile from the rendezvous point to wait.

The downbeat of helicopter blades alerted them to the taskforce arriving a few hours after dark. John had signaled to Ghost, stubbing his cigar out and flipping the night vision goggles on. Then he and Ghost set out, snaking through the underbrush, using trees as cover as they moved in on the clearing and the stone hut. Once they got within a few hundred yards of the edge of the clearing they fanned out, Ghost swinging wide behind the unloading area.

They watched silently as five men disembarked using ropes, the wash of the helicopter blades obscuring any noise for several long minutes. Finally, it lifted, slowly claiming altitude again in the darkness, a handful of blinking lights the only outward signal of its location. The men had immediately moved on the stone hut as they landed one by one, quickly sweeping and entering it. John and Ghost had stayed in position, watching the hut for signs of life. Eventually the men exited, filtering into two separate groups. One group of two and another group with the remaining three. John located the Commander, pointing out the line of travel and giving a shove to one of his men. He squinted through his goggles, quickly identifying Gaz as the other man in the Commander’s trio.

As the groups split off into the darkness, the former Captain let the warmth of his anger wash over him again, keeping his movements purposeful and his mind on task. Staying a healthy distance behind, he stalked the trio as they hiked along the edge of the pasture, using trees and the waist high rock fence as cover. John tracked them easily with his night vision, quietly moving deeper in the woods. Ghost had shadowed the other group who were working their way further into the woods, opposite to where John and Ghost had camped and back towards the plant. When the Commander paused a few miles later near the badly rutted dirt road, their intent became clear to John.

The Commander’s group was set to create a diversion at the front gate of the chemical plant while the secondary team got in and collected the intel they were after. John waited until they were moving again to softly relay his plan to Ghost who responded with a subdued “rog that” in his ear. John moved incrementally closer on silent feet, waiting to see how they would go about creating their diversion. He watched as the Commander motioned Gaz to push forward, yanking a grenade from Gaz’s tac vest and pressing it into his hand. John had to force himself to wait, the instinct to get to Gaz pressing in on him tightly.

 The front gate was framed with two concrete pillars, into which were sunk the posts for retractable chain link fencing. Beyond that, a bar gate, manned by middling security guards wearing flak vests and holstered pistols. John had guessed they were there to keep the local gangs out more than they were prepared to deal with para-military operations. He was proven correct shortly after when Gaz lobbed the grenade in his hand at the chain link fence. It landed close enough to blow the gate off its track, making what was left of the twisted metal hang at an awkward angle. The explosion rocked the gate house, making the men inside shout and duck for cover. Gaz lobbed another grenade, this one blasting the gate off completely, the smoking metal smashing into the ground with a loud screech.

The men inside the gate house finally got themselves organized and started cautiously coming out, using the door as cover as they opened return fire into the darkness. John watched as the Commander gave Gaz’s shoulder a shove, jerking his head towards the gate house. John understood in a flash the Commander was trying to position Gaz where a stray bullet wouldn’t be blinked at if it connected. John was instantly moving, his feet creeping him closer to their position when Gaz did the unexpected. Instead of scurrying forward as they all assumed, he threw himself backwards, kicking his legs up to get leverage as he swung his body around to lock legs with the other soldier, standing beside the Commander. He went down in a heap, Gaz wrestling for top position for all he was worth.

John sprinted the last few yards, yanking the unsuspecting and now screaming Commander by the back of the tac vest before he could interfere. Chaos reigned as shots continued to pepper out from the gate house and the men shouted each other down. John hadn’t been fast enough getting his hands clear, the Commander yanking a Bowie knife free from his vest and swinging wildly over his head, trying to fend off the attack from behind. John grunted when the tip of the knife skittered across his arm but he didn’t stop in his action, drawing his rifle butt up and bringing it down on the Commander’s cheek as he stumbled backwards. The blow knocked him unconscious, his body falling the rest of the way into a heap.

Gaz was still scrambling on the ground with the bigger soldier, trading blows before John stepped in, levelling his pistol at the man’s head and pulling the trigger without hesitation. Gaz was instantly covered in a spray of brain matter and blood, and his hands came up instinctively, warding off another shot from the same direction. John had spoken up then.

“On your feet soldier.”

John had offered him a hand and it took Gaz’s brain a split second to recognize the ex-Captain.

“Cap - Laswell said you uncovered this shitshow. Wasn’t sure you were going to leave your new girl for this though.”

Gaz had extended his hand, letting John haul him upright. John had hummed non-committedly, not wanting to get into the specifics of his presence in the field. He reached into his vest and pulled out zip-ties, handing them to Gaz.

“Smart man to not let him get you in a bad position. Get him restrained for now.”

He muttered before tapping his coms.

“Ghost, how copy?”

There was a brief pause and then Ghost’s deep voice was in John’s ear.

“They’re almost at the target. The explosions and gunfire pulled all attention from the rest of the building. Moving fast.”

“Regroup with us at the vehicle once they’re successful. Anything goes off the rails, I want to know ASAP. Out here.”

“Rog that, Captain.”

John let go of the comm and lifted his rifle again, firing a few bullets into the air. This riled up the security guards again, setting off another round of wild shots into the now eerily quiet night.

“Strip him. No insignia.”

John gestured to the remains of the solider, blood and thick brain matter pooling on the ground. Gaz started ripping the patches off the dead man’s vest, stuffing them into a spare pocket of his own. John reached over, using the muzzle of his rifle to push what was left of the man’s head to the side, reaching in to the neck and yanking the dog tags off, handing them to Gaz as well.

“Help me get this one further into the woods.”

John kicked the foot of the Commander, and Gaz stood, taking an elbow on one side. They carried him backwards, his dragging feet going silent as they entered deeper into the woods. Gaz counted out a hundred steps and then they propped him up against a tree. John rummaged around, pulling his field first aid kit out and locating the smelling salts.

“We’re going to wake him up. I want to know how many people he’s involved in this revenge scheme.”

“Think he’ll tell us the truth?”

“Won’t know unless we ask, soldier.”

John broke the salts and waved them under the unconscious man’s nose. Gaz refastened his gloves, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the man wake.

“Oi, OI.”

John’s tone was abrupt, not giving the waking man time to adjust to his surroundings.

“Wha- “

“You wanted the 141, Commander, you’ve got ‘em.”

When it took the man a beat too long to respond, John reached out and slapped his cheek with his open palm, jerking his head back against the trunk of the tree.

“Wake up Sunshine. What do you want with the 141?”

The Commander’s words are slurred, likely concussed from the blow to his head.

“Killed my brother – “

“You want revenge.”

John’s tone was flat, emotionless. The words unamused and to the point.

“Justice.” The Commander coughed, his head lolling to the side as he squinted up at them. “But we make our own, don’t we Captain?”

“If we’re lucky. Any more of your men involved? You already got one man killed.”

“No.”

The word was spat out, the hatred tangible in his tone.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“Get fucked.”

John looked over at Gaz who nodded silently to John’s unasked question. John had raised his pistol and pointed it at the man’s foot.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“I said get fu – “

John unloaded the bullet into the man’s foot, the bones and flesh splintering inside his boot. A bloodcurdling scream rang out, bouncing off the trees, making it seem like it was all around them. John lifted the pistol to aim at the man’s knee, his face impassive as the scream died down, replaced with frantic wounded whimpering.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“Holy fuck, oh shit, wait, wait, wait please – “

John leaned in, speaking lowly for the man’s ears only, not sure how much Gaz had been told.

“You send a sexual predator to my woman’s place and expect this to go well for you?”

John didn’t wait for an answer and shot the man’s knee out, the spray of blood missing Gaz this time but catching the side of John’s chest. The howl the Commander let out was unearthly, birds startling from their nighttime roosts. Some deeply tucked away part of John that demanded the collection of a pound of flesh was perversely satisfied with the sound. John stepped away again, training his pistol on the heavily bleeding man’s uninjured foot. Gaz stood, emotionless as the ex-Captain moved around the prone man, the dark forest obscuring their movements from the road.

“Last chance before I even you up. Norris feeding you information?”

“He’s the one who told me about my brother being at Las Almas!! He’s the one.”

John had shot a look at Gaz before turning back to the now heavily wounded man propped up against the tree. He gestured to the zip ties behind the man’s back with the muzzle of his pistol.

“Cut him loose.”

“You’re going to pay for this – I’ll make sure everyone knows-”

John took aim and unloaded a final bullet into the man’s skull, shards of bone and brain mixing with the wood splinters and smoke in the air. Gaz startled but collected himself, stepping over to cut the ties off the body, pocketing them. The dead man’s arms fell forward once the tension of the plastic tie was released. John helped him strip any identifying insignia silently.

“You need to radio that you were ambushed, both men down. Do you have a secondary exfil?”

“Yeah, if we can get to Belarus, the location is a few clicks over the border.”

“We’ll take the vehicle as far as we can. Ghost is going to rendezvous with us, let’s move out.”

John had waited to loop Ghost in before reaching out to Kate with their new exfil plans - taking turns sleeping in the vehicle for the rest of night while pushing on to the border. This gave Kate time to organize their ride and run interference with the story of the ambush. Which is how John spent Christmas Eve, crammed into a dilapidated SUV in the rural area of Lithuania’s border with Belarus, amongst his mates eating cold MRE’s again, all of them tired but alive.

Simon’s deep rumble knocks him out of his mental reverie, calling him back to his current position under the steaming water of his shower.  So far, outside of the problem of Norris, the only thing John has been able to surmise he’s missed in the last few days is Christmas dinner with his love.

“Laswell said she’s sending the medic in after ye’ if ye’ don’t git yer ass in gear, Cap.”

John shuts the water off with a sigh and presses his lips together.

“That’ll do, Ghost. I'll be there shortly.”

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @chickennn-soupp

[deancaspinefest]

Two Princes

Author: andimeantittosting | Artist: Jay Valq (Jayjayverse)

Posting on Thursday March 28 

When Prince Castiel of Eden discovers his father’s deepest secret, he expects a far worse punishment than an arranged marriage to Dean of Winchester, who is only recently restored to legitimacy and is second to his younger half-brother in the line of succession. Though the courtiers of Winchester are suspicious of Castiel, he and Dean become allies and fast friends, until the unthinkable happens and the young crown prince falls deathly ill.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Prince Castiel has always known he would not marry for love. As the youngest son of King Charles of Eden, it was always understood that his eventual marriage would be one chosen for him, to seal an alliance or strengthen a trading bond, something that would benefit his kingdom—or his king.

He hadn't expected his marriage to be a punishment, but that is undoubtedly what it is intended to be.

While the king has been nothing but affable in his dealings with King John of Winchester, and has made sympathetic noises to the populace at large over bidding farewell to "our" son, Castiel knows his true opinion of Winchester—barely a kingdom, rough, uncouth, and uncultured. A forced sojourn would be torture for King Charles, and he expects the same of his son.

Then, too, there is the prospective bridegroom. If Winchester is barely a kingdom, then Dean of Winchester is barely a prince. Only newly restored to legitimacy due to pressure from his mother's people and preceded in the succession by his younger half-brother, his training is almost entirely militaristic, nothing in diplomacy or the arts.

“King John is making a special exception, you know. Winchester does not normally allow marriage between two men. I imagine Prince Dean is none too pleased about it."

So, it is to be a punishment on both sides, is it? Castiel had wondered. The only question remaining is what Prince Dean could have done to offend his king.

Castiel allows himself to seem suitably daunted by his father’s doom-laden pronouncements about the uncouth hellscape of Winchester. Then, at last, he is dismissed to his chambers to prepare for the journey. In truth, he is unconcerned by most of his father’s words. His years as a knight on Eden’s borders, before the discovery that had brought him back to the capitol, had involved far more rough living than even the most unrefined palace could provide. And given what he had discovered—well, he knew the fate that could befall those who offended the king, and when he had been summoned, he had been prepared to share it. A marriage pales in comparison. The only source of trepidation is the prospect of a reluctant spouse. But Castiel is prepared to turn a blind eye where need be in order to allow the marriage to proceed smoothly.

All in all, there are far worse punishments.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday March 28)

[aussiepineapple1st]

Day 6 - Rescue Mission

🏷️: @sunhatllama @maehemthemisfit @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[dellic]

Please watch the video, trying to spread awareness.

[agent-carvour]

[Schaffer and Axel had both received a phone call from Owen telling them that it was time and he was waiting for them at the WItchwood cabin. While waiting for them to appear, Owen sit's on the cabin's floor, cigarette in one hand, a bunch of hand-written notes in the other, and the black book on the floor in front of him. Instead of his usual jacket, he's wearing a black leather jacket with red stripes on the upper arms and red shoulder pads, and while the bags under his eyes reveal the stress he's been under recently, his eyes look awake, glowing with a confidence that hadn't been there during his last conversation with Schaffer.]

@peip-peeps @agent-black-heart

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Laormoch, Archfey of the Wild Unknown

Embodying the primal awe and terror of those places beyond the edge of the map, this ancient spirit of the land exists to test and torment those who stray too far from the safety of the familiar.

Though the old stories call him the" thane of the faroff" or an "invisible giant as big as the sky", it is hard to put Laormoch's physicality and the fear it evokes into words: How do you describe being lorded over by ancient trees, or the scornful glare of unfamiliar stars? His shape is only ever suggested by how it bends the natural world, but he is always distant, though always so immense that it feels like he may reach out and crush the viewer.

Adventure Hooks

The party stumble into a village to find its inhabitants struggling to recover after a disastrous hunt. Some wretched beast tore through some weeks ago and was only dispatched with great effort. It was a cause for celebration, at least until the thing was seen stalking in the woods, reading for another attack. To prevent it from assailing their walls and destroying their homes the village's best hunter leads the village's strongest on a sortie, downing the beast only after injuring many and losing a few. This has happened three times so far and the village's defenders are wearing thin. Perhaps the party could lend their aid once the beast is spotted again, and perhaps spend the intervening time trying to find its obviously supernatural origins.

Almost inconsolable, a great lord calls for the party's aid in rescuing his son and heir, who he claims was stolen by the sky itself: snatched out of his tower window by a great hand and carried off into the clouds. The servants and courtiers are skeptical, everyone knows the lord was so protective of his son he barely let the boy leave his rooms, let alone the castle, and it's likely the lad finally managed some means of escape. While they're considering exactly how to search for the lad the party will be approached by the Lord's bastard daughter, she was denied her inheritance by her father's traditionalism, and sees the opportunity to have herself recognized if the true born heir is never found. She'll ask that even if the party does find her younger brother, they either help him escape or leave him where he is, as it would be better for the both of him if he doesn't return to the castle.

Backstory:

Seeking to prove herself against a boastful rival, a hunter ventured far from her village into the deep wilderness, where she found and slew an elk of ethereal beauty, eating its flesh to sustain herself and taking its antlers as her trophy. Though she returned in glory, the beast had been marked by the Thane of the Faroff, who has raised its butchered body as a reverent and gifted it bloodthirsting branches to replace what was taken. The revenant won't stop until it's killed the hunter and torn her body to shreds, which will likely be sometime after she's gotten a good portion of the other villagers killed because she's too good at hunting and too stuborn to die without a fight. The revenant has more than one trick though, the branches animating its body bear seedpods which it scatters as it dies or gores others to death. These seeds eventually grow into twigblights, which are slowly massing in the forest waiting to overwhelm the village's defenders and open the gate for the revenant's final rampage.

Wishing more than anything to get away from the suffocating confines of his home, the young heir has found himself on the wrong end of a fairy bargin. Whisked off by Laormoch to his castle beyond the horizon, the boy has been forced to serve as the archfey's cupbearer as repayment for his captor's "kindness". The party will need to dig deep into the local folklore to figure out how and why the sky might snatch up a forlorn youth, potentially missing him entirely until they run into him while visiting the feywild for a completely different adventure.

Artsource

[chaotic-orphan]

Cocky Hero to the Rescue

Hero went crashing through the door, a grin splitting their face when they saw their Villain. Although their Villain wasn’t how they usually were.

No.

They were tied to a chair.

A gag in their pretty mouth.

The urgency in Villain’s eyes and the sudden jerking struggle in their restraints was the only warning Hero had before something hit them from the side. Hero saw a flash of white behind their eyes, before another strike sent them to the ground their ears ringing.

Villain crying out the only sound Hero cared about. Hero had barely got their arms under them before a kick to their stomach had them rolling onto their back with a groan.

“I told you villain, didn’t I tell you?” Supervillain’s voice came into focus, as Hero heard the door close and the distinct sound of it locking. “I told you Hero is too arrogant and always forgets check their blind spots.”

“Nice to see you too, Supervillain,” Hero said moving to get up, only for Supervillain to place a boot on Hero’s chest. Not applying any pressure but just showing a clear warning that they could.

Hero grabbed Supervillain’s ankle with their right hand. Just before they could push it off their chest, Supervillain smacked Hero’s hand with their weighted baton. Hero hissed and pulled their hand back protectively, while Supervillain leaned a little weight on Hero’s chest. Just enough for them to feel it.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Supervillain said with a pleasant smile. “Be a dear and stay down, would you?”

“Normally I would, but Villain and I have a date and you seem to have invited yourself. Now I’m not saying you’re ugly Supervillain, but—” before Hero could finish the sentence Supervillain swung the baton down hard. It hit Hero’s jaw so hard it whipped their head to the side so they were facing Villain, tears springing to their eyes.

Supervillain tsked, moving the baton to Hero’s throat and pressing down. Supervillain kept just enough pressure on it so Hero was forced to yield and stay motionless on the floor. Their hand and jaw still stinging with the smack like a warning.

Supervillain liked control. They liked being in control of every situation. It all had to go Supervillain’s way. They enjoyed having Hero below them docile and Villain tied up and gagged in the room witnessing Supervillain’s exertion of control, of their power.

“You and Villain,” Supervillain repeated. Hero still hadn’t turned to face Supervillain after the baton struck their cheek. Instead they kept their eyes on Villain, their Villain still tied up and gagged on a chair. It was their expression that kept Hero’s gaze though, their furrowed brows and wide panicked eyes and their helpless struggles.

A sudden, merciless strike to the face had Hero’s attention back on Supervillain. Their face burning with the power behind the metal strike as they let out a sharp cry. They moved under Supervillain but the baton was back on their throat and they yielded when Supervillain spoke again.

“Oh, i know all about your little scheming. You must forgive Villain,” Supervillain drawled coldly, their gaze going to their subordinate who shrunk back in their chair. “They do like to get a bit too carried away with their food. A lesson I hope you can help me rectify today.”

Before Hero could ask what Supervillain meant Supervillain’s arm swung back and slammed the baton down on Hero’s windpipe. Hero jerked up, gasping and choking and involuntary response. They had barely wheezed out their first breath before the baton swung down again on Hero’s cheek, then nose with a crunch before a foot slammed down on Hero’s chest.

They thought they were going to die. That Supervillain wouldn’t stop. Something hard slammed into the side of Hero’s ribs. They didn’t think they just rolled trying to get away, but a knee slammed onto their spine and hands were grabbing Hero’s wrists and they were choking on blood and breathlessness that they didn’t even realise what Supervillain was doing.

The familiar clack of power dampening cuffs made Hero’s blood run cold and soon they were struggling against the knee, trying to pull their hands forward and twist away from Supervillain. Hero got their free hand under them and pushed up with all their might trying to somehow shake Supervillain off them but it was useless.

Supervillain just twisted Hero’s cuffed hand up their back more and Hero cried out, trying to buck Supervillain off them. Supervillain was patient and just pushed their arm up further unrelenting. All Hero had managed to do was tire themselves out more than help themselves and they eventually went still.

“Supervillain wait—” Hero pleaded, their voice breaking but it was too late. The final click sealed their fate and Hero felt empty with the familiar buzz of power through their veins.

They were too weak to fight Supervillain off and now they were finished.

Weak.

Vulnerable.

Exactly how Supervillain liked their victims.

“Now, now Hero. Don’t worry, it’s just a precaution,” Supervillain said sickly sweet. Supervillain grabbed the chain of the cuffs on Hero’s wrists back until Hero was slumped into a kneeling position on the floor. They patted Hero on the head before walking around to Hero’s front and grinned at the pair of Hero and Villain, tied up and powerless.

Hero struggled futilely against the cuffs, glaring up at Supervillain. All traces of humour gone from their face.

“I do love it when you just accept your fate, so resolute. So heroic,” Supervillain cooed down at the Hero, but Hero didn’t care. They were too focused on Villain at their side, who was looking back at them.

“Oh Villain! How silly of me I forgot you couldn’t talk,” Supervillain said, voice full of mirth now that they had the pairs full attention on them They were by Villain’s side in two short strides, ripping the tape off their mouth.

“Fuck you,” Villain croaked, voice hoarse and it nearly pained Hero to hear them sound so defeated. How long did Supervillain have them locked up like this? Hero should have known, should have got here sooner.

As if reading Hero’s mind the villain shot them a sad smile, “don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Yes, Villain. Well said. Hero of all people deserve your respect and sympathy and sorry’s don’t they?”

Before Villain could respond, Supervillain had gripped their cheeks with one hand pressing them in painfully and with so much force the chair Villain was tied to rocked back only held up by Supervillain’s strong hold.

“Not the person who dragged you in off the street, fed you, raised you, taught you everything they know?”

“Let them go!” Hero yelled, one leg under them lunging up only to be slammed down to the floor by invisible hands, their bound hands pressing awkwardly against their back.

“Heroes should be seen and not heard,” Supervillain sneered bringing a finger to their lips at Hero. Hero opened their mouth for another retort when the invisible hands slammed down on their mouth muffling their cries as the hands hold increased to be bruising. Hero whimpered in pain, trying to shift their weight but settled down quiet after a moment. Settling on glaring at Supervillain.

“Leave them alone, Supervillain! They’ve nothing to do with this it’s between me and you!”

“Oh I disagree, Villain. They are the entire cause of your disobedience, here let me prove it to you. Other Villain!” Supervillain called, stepping away from Villain but not taking their eyes off them.

The sound of the door unlocking caught Hero’s attention, and Villain watched with baited breath as their nemesis walked into the room, grinning ear from ear.

“Hi Villain,” Other Villain with their usual smirk on their face and stupid condescending tone. Just seeing Other Villain made Villain’s blood boil.

“What, you want me to be like them?” Villain demanded, unable to stop the hurt colouring their voice. “I thought you said diversity is what gives us strength.”

“It does,” Supervillain mused, “but your heart seems to be too lenient with this stupid hero. It’s time you learned getting over them. Other Villain.”

“With pleasure,” Other Villain preened and stalked over to hero.

Villain sat forward in their seat instinctively as Other Villain grabbed Hero by the hair and yanked them up, the invisible arms keeping Hero subdued disappearing.

“Ah, Other Villain. You look radiant as—” before Hero could get another word out Other Villain slammed their chin against their knee. Villain tensed in their chair, but didn’t react as best they could. It’s fine. They were fine.

“I felt that one,” Hero said shortly after giving Villain something to be glad about. Hero’s inability to just shut up. “Do it again.”

Other Villain grinned. “With pleasure,” before they took their fist and beat it down on Hero’s face repeatedly. After the fourth or fifth punch Other Villain made a show of picking a slumped Hero off the ground just to punch them down again.

When the bruise started shining on Hero’s cheekbone and they smiled with a split lip, Villain leaned forward and said, “Hero enough.”

Hero didn’t even look at them. They kept their eyes on Other Villain. “Do you worst. It’s only a fair fight cause I got these cuffs on,” and hero spat blood on other villains shoes to add insult to injury.

“I can’t kill ‘em?” Other Villain asked.

Supervillain kept their eyes on Villain. “No killing. Everything up to killing is allowed.”

“In that case, I got a lil gift for you hero. Something to remember me by.”

“A gift?” Hero cooed, “you shouldn’t have. I didn’t even get you anything.”

“Oh trust me, this will do just fine.”

Other Villain pulled a pocket knife from their belt and villain straightened. They knew how much Other Villain sharpened those blades. Within an edge of deadly at the slightest brush.

“Wait, okay. Supervillain you proved your point okay? I got it. I won’t talk to hero anymore I promise okay?”

Villain could feel Hero’s eyes on them, but they were staring into Supervillain’s trying to use any of the humanity they had left.

“You learned your lesson?” Supervillain asked, holding a hand up to stop Other Villain.

“Yes. I did. I swear, okay? I won’t talk to hero again. I’ll cut off all contact, I promise.”

Supervillain stared hard at them for a moment. A long moment of silence stretched between them before the Supervillain dropped their hand with a sigh.

“You need to learn why, Villain. Right now you’re pleading for no lasting damage to be done for your hero because you care about them. But I know one thing that will keep you away from the likes of them,” Supervillain said softly. So softly Villain was nearly stunned by the gentleness their voice took on.

Supervillain placed a large hand on Villain’s cheek as they leaned down to be eye level with them, like how they used to talk to them when they were a child and needed to learn the hard way.

“And that’s through guilt.”

“Wait, no Other Villain— WAIT!”

Hero even looked abashed by the introduction of the blade and when Other Villain made the first cut through hero’s left eyebrow hero screamed. Other Villain heightening the pain with every brush of the blade along Hero’s face.

Villain was struggling so hard against the metal keeping him to the chair because he couldn’t just sit and watch helpless as Other Villain mutilated Hero in front of them. Eventually the chair stopped moving even as they struggled frantically and Villain only had to look at Supervillain’s hands to see the reason.

Hero tried to flash Villain a debonair smile, but Other Villain’s body blocked their small comfort to Villain.

“Supervillain please, you made your point. Let them go,” Villain cried as Hero passed out from the pain. Their limp body didn’t hit the floor however as supervillain held hero up by his invisible little puppet strings and other villain stood back to admire their sadistic work.

“It’s missing something,” they remarked. A cruel smile lit up their face and they said: “a signature.”

“No! Wait! Other Villain WAIT! Please!” Villain screamed, struggles renewed but all they could do was watch.

Other Villain lifted Hero’s hand and on the back of it they carved their initials deep and thick.

Villains voice was raw by the time Supervillain let Hero slump to the ground. Other Villain turned around, and with a nod from Supervillain cut the ropes holding Villain to the chair.

Villain got to their feet immediately and went to help Hero but Supervillain stepped into their path.

Towering.

Dark.

Unforgiving.

“If I hear you talk to or help Hero in anyway again Villain, I won’t keep Other Villain at bay.” Villain glared up at Supervillain, nostrils flaring in anger, and tried to sidestep them but Supervillain matched their stride. “Unless you want a dead Hero on your conscience, Villain, that order starts now.”

Supervillain nodded at Other Villain who grabbed Villain by the upper arm and dragged them to the door. Villain shrugged them off before they walked out the door, looking over their shoulder at the bloody slumped figure of Hero.

I’m sorry Hero, they thought, guilt cracking through their bones like lightning.

[olliveolly]

Fresh art💘💪

Straight to the point, I was finally able to go to the Mario movie, and I had an interesting idea)

So what if the mission to rescue luigi took much longer than expected, and the poor fellow had to stay in the dark lands for a long time?

[i-m-snek]

RESCUE MISSION TIME On my way to come get this poor guy. I’m glad my town knows me as the reptile lady, he’s been running around since yesterday around one of the schools. This is also a PSA because bearded dragons don’t usually just ‘escape’. DO NOT RELEASE YOUR PETS INTO THE WILD. FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. For one: They are not resistant to the parasites around here like the wild reptiles are. For two: They cannot survive the cold winters most of the time. And for three: -If- they survive they can be very damaging to wildlife. Also they have no idea to run from predators, considering they grew up around humans. Beardies especially. I’ll keep y’all updated on this guy.

[whumperofworlds]

Caretaker and the rest of the team are on a rescue mission to save Whumpee, with Team Leader's permission.

Higher Up calls them, demanding why they went out on an impromptu mission.

Caretaker simply said, "Team Leader gave us permission!"

Higher Up growled, their anger obvious. "I'll put your abhorrent behavior on the discipline list. When you get back, you will be punished! Good day!"

The team shuddered, realizing what Higher Up meant by punished. Caretaker shook their head.

"As long as Whumpee is back with us, it doesn't matter."

[queenpinkireellylikethisname]

American woman in Gaza