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clangenrising · 2 months

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Month 13 - Newleaf

“Ghost!” shouting and the clattering sound of someone scrambling up the loose metal roof of the shed woke Ghost up from his sleep with a start. He groaned, the sudden movement tugging at the stiff scar-flesh on his side. “Ghost! Ghost, are you here?!”

“Yes!” he shouted back, sounding like a poked bear. Groaning again, he stood and slipped out from his nap spot tucked in between two warm, silver vents and onto the roof proper. He squinted at the ginger shape hauling itself over the edge of the roof, his left eye still mostly swollen shut from the hot and tender scarring on his cheek. Once she stood, he recognized Lizzie from her alert and dutiful posture, although he noted the way her pupils were blown wide and her tail was half bristled.

“Sorry to wake you, sir!” she said loudly. “I have urgent news!”

“What is it?” he asked, running his tongue over his chest fur tiredly. He really didn’t want to have more problems to deal with right now and her natural volume wasn’t helping his ever present headache.

“There are wild cats in the city!” she reported and he immediately looked up.

“Have they killed anyone?” he asked, heart starting to pound.

“No, sir, rumor has it they’re here to talk to Razor!”

Ghost sighed in disappointment. “This won’t end well…” he grumbled. “How many of them?”

“Two, sir, both elderly she-cats,” said Lizzie.

“What?” His fur bristled.

“Two elderly she-cats, sir,” the girl repeated, her eyes darting up to the places where his ears used to be. Milo had taken extra satisfaction in tearing each of them to shredded stumps.

Ghost shook his head to get a grip. “Right. What did they look like?”

“Um,” Lizzie hesitated thoughtfully. “The bigger one was white and grey, the smaller one all grey.”

“Shit,” Ghost cussed, lurching towards the edge of the roof with a brisk but wobbly walk. “And you said they were going to see Razor?”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzie said. He could hear the confusion in her voice, the question she held back. Jagg would have asked it, he thought, ‘do they mean something to you?’ He thanked the Folk for Lizzie’s obedient nature.

“Thank you, Lizzie,” he said, leaping down onto the roof of the shed. It rattled loudly, making him wince, and he quickly bounded from there to the ground. He didn’t wait for her to respond or follow, he just started moving.

What was she doing here? The description could only be Miss Smoke but he had no idea what business she would have with Razor. Had she come to see him instead and been intercepted? Were the Clans surrendering? Either way, he knew that she was not going to be safe until she left the city. His muscles burned in protest as he darted across roads and under fences, cutting the shortest path he could to Razor’s yard.

He slowed right before he reached the hedges and peered through the leaves. Razor was lounging on the edge of the slightly raised deck, Gingersnap sitting bolt upright behind him. Tiger sat close by on the grass and ahead of them stood Sardine and Smokyrose, another Clan cat Ghost couldn’t name close behind.

Smokyrose was speaking. “-conditions for peace. If you have a list of terms, I can bring it back to Goldenstar and we can start moving towards an equitable solution.” She sounded unsure of herself but trying her best.

“Hmm,” Razor said, regarding her with slit pupils and a tail twitching with interest. “I’d love to speak to Goldenstar myself. Would that be possible?”

Smokyrose nodded, getting a little bolder. “It’s definitely a possibility. If you give me a time and place I can try and arrange a meeting.” She seemed so naively unaware of Razor’s true intentions. Something inside Ghost kicked in to high gear and he found himself striding out towards the gathered cats. All eyes turned to him, Razor’s narrowing darkly.

Smokyrose gasped, eyes going wide. “Ghost! Oh, Stars, what happened to you?” She hurried in his direction, ears pressed back, gaze flickering over every bruised and battered inch of him.

“Uh,” he didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure what his plan had been, only knew that he couldn’t leave her alone with Razor any longer. He watched the tom’s face, paralyzed, as Smokyrose came to hover around him. Razor smiled.

“I didn’t realize you two were acquainted,” he said. Ghost heard the dangerous interest in his voice but Smokyrose, bless her soul, didn’t know any better.

She turned back to him and said, “Oh, yes. Ghost and I are-” she paused, looking back at him, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, “we know each other.” Guilt sank its claws into his throat and pulled down until it was tight and painful to swallow.

“Is that so?” mused Sardine.

“Yes,” Ghost said carefully. He looked at Smokyrose, her pretty face pinched in a worried pout, and whispered, “Miss Smoke, you really shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe.”

“Not safe?” she whispered back, louder than he would have liked. “Ghost, what happened to you?”

“Let me explain,” Razor said, leaping down onto the grass. “Come here, both of you.” He beckoned with a paw as if he were going to tell them a casual secret. Smokyrose hesitated, eyes on Ghost, and Razor insisted with a, “Come onnn, it’s alright.”

The other Clan cat growled softly, tail starting to lash. Gingersnap looked like a deer in headlights, her tail curled tightly against her body, her eyes wide, ears pressed against her skull. Ghost glanced at her briefly and she shook her head so subtly he almost missed it. Unfortunately, Smokyrose was already on her way over. Ghost followed, trying to stick close to her.

As they reached Razor, he put his tail around Smokyrose, making eye contact with Ghost as he did. “You see, Ghost and I had a bit of a disagreement because a little birdie told me he was trying to steal my girl. This was our way of settling things, although, I’ll admit, I’m still a bit angry with him.” His tone was light and playful but it sent fear straight through Ghost’s heart.

Smokyrose recoiled in terror. “Y-you did this to him?” Razor’s paw wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back into him. Ghost’s jaw tensed possessively.

“Me and a few friends of mine,” Razor said nonchalantly. “He just doesn’t listen if you ask him nicely.”

“Razor,” Ghost tried, voice sounding small as it squeezed its way out of his throat. “Again, I’m sorry about all of that. But she has nothing to do with this.”

“I don’t like your tone,” Razor growled. “But it’s alright. I’ve thought of something that will put the whole dispute to bed.”

Ghost hesitated. He didn’t know where this was going but he didn’t like it. “What’s that?”

Razor smirked victoriously. “This,” he said. In a blur of movement, his other paw came up to wrap around Smokyrose’s chest. The force of the movement knocked her backwards, onto the ground, and Razor followed her, teeth flashing. Smokyrose screamed.

“Don’t-!” Ghost tried but it was too late.

Razor had his teeth clenched around her neck, one of his canines poking through the soft flesh under her chin, and with a sharp twist of his head there was a nasty snap of bone. Smokyrose choked out a cry of pain, blinking back tears. Razor adjusted his grip and twisted again, her neck giving another disgusting crunch. Her body went limp, the only movement a feeble twitching in her feet.

Razor dropped the body to the grass and licked his lips. “There,” he said, “now we’re even.”

Across the yard, the second Clan cat took off in a sprint for the fence. Sardine yowled and lunged after her but she leaped nimbly out of his claws and disappeared through the shrubs.

“Dammit!” hissed Sardine. He looked back at Razor, a simmering anger slipping through his mask.

“Well, get after her!” Razor bellowed, “she could be useful!”

“Of course,” Sardine smiled, tail lashing bitterly, then he took off after her.

“You too,” Razor snapped at Tiger. The ginger tabby growled but heaved himself to his feet and bounded after them.

“Razor, how is this even!?” Ghost cried, unable to look at the cooling corpse at his feet. He was furious and queasy and tired and distraught. His mind was searching for something he could have done differently, some way she could have survived. If you hadn’t arrived, it said, he would have sent her home just fine.

“You went after my girl, I went after yours,” Razor snorted, prodding the body.

“You killed her!”

“So?” Razor narrowed his eyes. “She was a savage! She deserved it. Besides, I’m sure you have plenty of other girls who are just fine.”

Ghost couldn’t muster a retort.

“Now get rid of this thing,” Razor said curtly. “I don’t want my Folk finding it when they get home.” He turned away and strode back towards the deck, leaving Ghost to stare down at the silent scream etched onto Smokyrose’s features, the unnatural angle of her head.

Distantly, he heard Razor saying, “I’m sorry you had to see that, dear.”

“I feel sick,” Gingersnap said softly. “I think I want to go home.”

“I’ll walk you,” said Razor.

Ghost looked up just in time to catch Gingersnap looking at him, horrified. She quickly ducked her head and slipped out of the garden at Razor’s side, leaving Ghost alone with the body. He stared numbly for a long time.

This is what he got for caring, wasn’t it? If he’d shut Smokyrose out of his heart, if he’d stayed away, she wouldn’t have died and they both could have gone on with their miserable lives. His kits were orphans now. Well… they were practically orphans. They’d be better off orphans. It wasn’t like he would have been a good father anyway.

He scoffed, laughing as he tilted his face to the sky. Who was he kidding? Pretending he was going to step up and be there. He was the same as he ever was, a solitary tom wishing for something he wasn’t brave enough to hold onto. He had been foolish to even think he was capable of changing.

He bent down and took the body by the scruff, moving roughly to pull it from the garden and into some dark alley or abandoned side street. The Folk would find it and take it away and the rest of his decency with it. Good. He was better off this way.

UPDATES: - Smokyrose is murdered by Razor. - Songdust goes missing.

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deadasursleepschedule · 9 months

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Looking for a Camp Camp fic

I don’t remember much, but the basic plot was that the campers get separated on a hike/walk through the woods, and I’m pretty sure there was a storm or something too. I’m pretty sure that max (might be another camper) gets impaled by a tree branch or something, and harrison has to use his magic to cauterize the wound. I don’t remember if it was finished or not, but it had some scenes of max and others in the hospital in the aftermath so it might be.

#camp camp #summer camp #max camp camp #max cc #harrison camp camp #harrison cc #tw graphic injury #ig #tw injury #camp camp fanfic #looking for a fic #lost fic #looking for lost fic #fic finder

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raventroll80 · 2 months

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A Beast on Mars

Chapter 3 (Rewrite)

The Last Human on Mars

(I wasn't too happy with the original ending to this chapter so I rewrote it. Big thanks to @horseyneigh2002 for giving the new ending a read through before I posted it!)

Edit: I forgot the warnings! This chapter contains description of graphic injury, a lot of blood, and death.

Mim Digsby was a rather unremarkable person, they were just below average height with a somewhat stocky build, but they never thought it’d come in handy until they had to hide from the risen corpse of a security guard. They usually kept their hair short as they felt it was more hassle than it was worth, though they never thought they’d be grateful for it until they watched a co-worker get dragged into the vents by her hair. Mim mostly worked maintenance now, and knew the vents like the back of their hands, but they never knew that it’d ever save them from the demons that now prowled the halls of the UAC.

It had started like any other day, Mim had been scheduled to do some basic maintenance on some machinery in the morning before switching to excavation in the afternoon… that was until the screaming had started. One of the security guards had gone to investigate but seconds later he came running back firing at something howling behind him, then the something pounced on him and began to disembowel the man.

Mim and their co-workers had immediately fled the room only for another one of these… things to jump them. The only warning they had gotten was the stench of sulfur and a flash of red light before that thing, that demon just appeared. It stood maybe six, maybe seven feet tall, its body was covered in thick yellow chitin with jagged spikes jutting out of its body. Its eyes, god its eyes… they burned into them like argent. Mim watched as the imp gutted Samson in one swift motion, his body had dropped like a sack of hammers, his blood spilling out onto the floor. Mim could still hear his screams as the demon didn’t even wait for him to bleed out, thank god they hadn’t looked. The lockdown alarms were blaring but the doors refused to shut, something was wrong with the protocols… if the lockdown wouldn’t engage properly then there’d be nowhere for people to hide. Emerson, a technician, suggested that they go and manually engage the lockdown at the southside control room, given their lack of options everyone agreed to go. But things only got worse from there.

Mim had to lead the small group of survivors through the maintenance tunnels, during this they had passed through an observation deck where a large almost ape like monster shattered the glass. Georges and Amsbury got dragged out by the air pressure while Harris had been grabbed the massive monster. Within seconds their group of five became a band of two, Mim and Emerson had barely made it to the cargo elevator when they were jumped by yet another imp. It had managed to slash Emerson across the chest before Mim was able to blast its head apart with the shotgun she had taken from a dead guard. The demon slumped over, it’s bright red blood pooling on the floor. Mim had tried their best to stop the bleeding but it just kept pouring out. They tried convincing Emerson to come and look for a medical station, but he refused, claimed that he was fine, that it only looked worse than it actually was…

God why did they believe him…

As the elevator came to a stop the two heard the chime that accompanied an announcement over the intercom, but instead of VEGA or some other automated message it was Dr. Pierce and pit formed in their stomachs as she spoke.

“I believe in honesty, especially now, in what will be your final moments in this world. All the rumors, the human sacrifices, the Hell portal, the demons… it’s all true…”

The two gave each other a grave look before climbing the blood-soaked stairs as Dr. Pierce continued her speech.

“My brothers and sisters be thankful, you will be the first, you will have a seat along side them just as I will in what will become the new world, they create for us… starting now…” Instead of another chime indicating the broadcast was over a demonic scream blared over the intercoms.

Emerson was able to stop the broadcast from repeating before forcing the lockdown protocols to engage. The technician looked out over the Martian landscape, the blue sunrise slowly creeping over the horizon.

“If Pierce is already on their side, then how many of the others are too… if we just leave it on then some, some cultist could just swing by and turn the lockdown back off. Hel- fuck, we don’t even know if VEGA is still on our side!” Emerson said in frustration, staring down at the consol with a contemplative look.

“Then what do you think we should do…”

“You think you can shut the power off?”

“Yea, there’s a main generator not too far from here. I can use the access vents to get to it. What are you going to do?” Mim asked, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

“I’m gonna lock VEGA out from accessing the terminal digitally. If he’s really on our side then he can come turn the power back on himself.”

Emerson initiated some sort of malware or firewall before giving Mim the go ahead and Mim jumped down into the maintenance vent. Through the dark tunnels of wires and metal Mim crawled, until they found the main generator. They logged into the access terminal and shut off the power to the Res Ops facility. Mim hoped they’d given people enough time, or that there were any people left. It was deathly quiet as the facility shifted to emergency power. Normally it wouldn’t, but with the emergency lockdown protocol in effect prior to main power shutdown the facility forces the use of the backup generators. The quiet of the facility felt crushing as Mim crawled back to the control room. Something felt off as the mechanic drew near. It was too quiet, something was missing…

“Emerson!” Mim called out as they realized that they could no longer hear the technicians ragged breathing.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” they muttered as they scrambled out of the vent but it was too late. Emerson was dead.

The man was slumped over, his back against the console, clothes drenched in blood. Mim took a few shaky breaths as they processed the situation. Chances where the casualties were in the thousands, and if they were being realistic… then Mim Digsby was possibly the last human left on Mars.

“God damn it Emerson… why didn’t you listen to me,” Mim pressed their forehead against Emersons before stumbling out of the control room, their body was still shaking from the shock and reality of the situation. They needed to find somewhere safe, somewhere to hide and hope there was anyone left to rescue them.

Mim didn’t know if it had been hours or days that had passed, somewhere in that time they had managed to find a chainsaw. Why was there a chainsaw on Mars? Who cares, it’s a chainsaw! Like they were just going to pass the offer of a free chainsaw in a time like this. Besides, chainsaws are great communicators when it came to the undead. Just as Mim had finished airing their grievances with a zombie they’d found in a locker room an explosion boomed from outside, causing the lockers to rattle and Mim to jolt and accidentally wedge the chainsaw deeper into the corpse. Before they could try to remove the weapon, another explosion rocked the room and demons began howling as what sounded like heavy artillery went off.

“Was it the marines? The Elite Guard?” Mim abandoned the chainsaw and climbed through an access vent to the offices above to investigate the sounds, though what they saw was far from what they had been hoping for. There, just outside the building was a behemoth of a monster clinging to the very structure they were standing in. The creature appeared to be fighting the demons outside of the locker room, though fighting was a strong word for what was happening, it was more of a bloodbath if anything. The room shook violently as another explosion rocked the cargo bay outside. The glass rattled menacingly but thankfully didn’t shatter, thank god. Mim scurried back from the window as the behemoth slaughtered the last of the demons. In their haste, Mim had knocked over a chair and alerted the massive demon. They had barely made it into the vent before the behemoth was tearing its way into the room.

Mim quietly watched as the massive creature began searching the room. Was it looking for them? God they hoped not, that thing just tore through the building like it was cardboard! Granted this wasn’t the strongest of building in the Mars facility, but the point still stood that this thing, whatever it was, would catch Mim within seconds. The mechanic watched as the creature inspected the health station in an almost curious manner. Tilting its head inquisitively, before turning it slightly as though it were listening to someone or something. Its curiosity apparently satisfied, the great beast turned around and proceeded to smash in the glass to one of the storage rooms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, I need to fucking leave” Mim hissed to themselves and they started to shimmy further into the vent. That glass was at least an inch and a half thick and that thing just shattered it like it was nothing.

Mim heard the creature walk back out to the cargo bay, catching a glimpse of it beginning to scale the wall, it’s clawed gauntlets digging into the stone. Part of them was slightly in awe of the massive beast, but overall Mim was terrified. The massive thing, looked to be nearly 16 feet tall, it could probably eat them in one bite if it wanted to. Mim shuddered at the thought, “Nope, nu-uh, nah…” The monster’s armour was complex, not too unlike that of Hayden’s Elite Guards though it was a deep green colour instead of the guards imposing red and black armour. Though Mim couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d seen it before…

A raspy hiss rattled from behind the mechanic, filling them with dread before sharp claws dug into their legs and dragged them off into the darkness of the facility. Mim was barely able to let out a scream before their head was slammed into the vent and everything went black.

As the Slayer climbed up the walls of the cargo bay, he heard a faint sound echo from below. As quick as it came it was gone, but the sound was unmistakable. It was a scream, and not just any scream; a human scream. The Slayer looked back down to the platform below, should he go look? What if they were already dead? He watched as several field drones entered the room below and fanned out. One of the drones separated from the group and hovered up to him. That familiar chime sounded in his helmet garnering an annoyed growl from the behemoth.

“I apologize for the repeated interruptions but one of the nearby cameras picked up what I believe to be a human scream. The sound originated from this sector and I wanted to know if you heard anything. The cameras have been malfunctioning, replaying audio and visuals from the start of the incident. I do not know what is causing this malfunction but it is impairing my ability to search for survivors so I will need your help in locating any potential survivors.” The Slayer huffed, clearly getting impatient with the AI.

“I do not know what your stance is on humans as a whole, but I can tell you already have a distain for the UAC. But I must ask that you please keep an eye out for any survivors.” VEGA waited for a response from the Slayer, but all he got was a soft growl from the behemoth.

VEGA left the Slayer to return to his mission, concern starting to build in his processors. Could he trust the Slayer to protect, let alone inform him of any survivors? VEGA hadn’t even been able to recover the field drone that he’d destroyed, he couldn’t even find any evidence of its existence aside from a few scraps from the outer shell… did he eat it? No, he couldn’t have. The Slayer may be a brute, but even he should know that a drone wasn’t even remotely edible. Right?

He could only hope the Slayer would be kinder to a human than he was to a machine.

The Slayer followed the elevator tracks up the chasm and into what appeared to be a mining tunnel or a cut-through point in the facility. The tunnel was long and dark, lit only by the dim string of lights that hung from the walls and ceiling. Checking his map, the Slayer confirmed that this was indeed the way forward. The giant grumbled as he walked down the cold tunnel. He was certain there was a faster route to the gore nest but VEGA was (regrettably) right. As much as he wanted to tear the UAC apart, he needed to be mindful of any potential survivors. Sure, the chances of anyone surviving this long were slim, but he didn’t want to take that risk. As he walked through the tunnel he passed by a group of corpses. Bodies both human and demon were strewn about, it appeared this group chose to make this their final stand, though it was clear the battle had no winners. Further investigation revealed that in an attempt to close off the tunnel or possibly destroy the Gore Nest ahead, the workers had loaded containers of explosives onto trolleys and carts, their lids hastily removed in a last-ditch effort to try and blow up the attacking demons.

Slayer thought about taking the explosive with him, but without the detonator they’d be harder to use. As he contemplated the explosives, the Slayer spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Expecting a demon trying to get the drop on him, he whipped around and was about to fire at the movement, but stopped himself just short of pulling the trigger when he spotted the source of the movement.

There, slumped against the wall was a human barely clinging to life, staring at him with a fearful expression smeared across their bloodied face. Their body was heavily scarred; thick deep gashes across their stomach, their clothes torn and drenched in blood, a large chunk had been taken out of his right shoulder, their left leg had been torn to bloody ribbons while the right leg was nothing more than a bloody stump. The Slayer froze, not sure how to proceed, how the poor man was still alive was beyond him.

Slowly, the Doom Slayer approached the injured human, who quickly held up a small rectangular box, causing the behemoth to freeze. They had a detonator, if he wasn’t careful and scared the human too much then he’d bring the whole tunnel down on both of them. Carefully the Slayer his gun down and raised his hands in the air. The human gave him a suspicious look as he took his finger off the button but still refused to drop the detonator. Once again, the Slayer began to slowly approach the human, his tail slightly raised as to not let it scrape across the ground. Eventually the Slayer managed to walk up to the dying human and sat down next to him, the next few moments were oddly peaceful given the circumstances, the human had even put down the detonator and leaned his back against the wall.

The human huffed and closed his eyes, seemingly trusting the Slayer not to kill them in this moment of respite, their breath ragged and shaky. Carefully, while their eyes were closed, the Slayer wrapped his clawed hands around the injured human’s torso and pulled him close. The human in question, quickly scrambled in an attempt to grab the detonator before but all they managed to was aggravate their injuries, so instead he threw his arms over his head and braced for whatever violent end he was about to meet… but it never came.

Instead, they were placed in the lap of this strange behemoth as it removed its gloves and helmet. The creatures face looked almost human but not quite right, it-he? Stared down at the man before gently lifting their body up once more, but instead of biting his head off, the Slayer instead held him close to his chest. A soft rumbling began to emerge from deep within the behemoth.

The Doom Slayer leaned his back against the well as he felt the human slowly begin to calm down, but something felt… off. Instead of the grooved stone of the tunnel, the Slayer’s back was leaned against the cool metal of a wall, the sharp stinging scent of chemicals assaulted his nostrils. Where was he? Mars? No, that’s not right. He wasn’t stationed on Mars, it was Phobos he got sent to… wait. If he was on Phobos, then why was he holding a miner? Miners weren’t stationed on Phobos. The Behemoth huffed, stale cave air filling his lungs, the rancid chemical smell quickly fading from his memory as he felt the human squirming under his grasp.

The Slayer quickly realized that his grip on the human had gotten tighter, hurting the poor thing. The Slayer loosened his grip and tried to give the poor man a reassuring pat with the pad of his thumb which only garnered frightened whimper. Feeling even worse for the dying human the Hellwalker tried to croak out an apology as he set the human back down in his lap, but all that came out were garbled bellows as blood began to bubble in his throat. The no-longer man quickly stopped his attempt only to realize the miner had gone still, his eyes glazed over and lifeless. The behemoths shoulders sagged and huffed as he came to the realization that the human had died.

Looking back down at his bloody hands and chestplate, down at the dark red blood from the human mixing with the bright crimson of the demons. Gently he set the still warm body down upon the cold stone of the tunnel and made a mournful sound the taste his own blood tingled in the back of his throat. As the Doom Slayer stood up, donning his helmet once more, sorrow quickly turning into anger as he remembered why he was here and that Hell was to blame for this. Checking his map, he confirmed that the Gore Nest was at the end of this godforsaken tomb, and with a vicious snarl he snatched up the crates of explosives and charged down the tunnel with blood on his lips and fury burning in his chest.

Within seconds the Hellwalker found himself at the end of the tunnel looking out into a much larger cargo bay. Across from him, the Gore Nest hung, suspended by thick sinewy cables that attached themselves to gore covered support beams. From his position, the Slayer could see the Gore Nest’s beating heart and a circle of zombies knelt around a sigil. The Unchained Predator threw the crates onto the demonic structure before lobbing a grenade towards it and firing. An explosion shook the room and the Gore Nest screamed in pain and with a running leap the Doom Slayer jumped onto it, shoving the still burning barrel of his shotgun against its putrid heart and fired.

#my writing #g/t #giant tiny #troll! doomguy au #A Beast on Mars #the rewritten chapter is also up on my ao3 too #tw gore #tw graphic injury #tw death

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godkilller · 2 months

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headcanon. Gin can tank a punch (and dish'em out without any problems) ... but he'll still be a little thrown off if someone's able to get into his bubble without him deliberately letting them in range to throw a hit like that. Gin's the type to bring a knife to a fistfight, too, so don't expect him to play fair and let a punch fly without Shinso shooting to lop the hand clean off before it can connect.

#[ headcanon ] fresh snowfall; fading footprints mark his path #thinking abt fight threads (lovingly) again tonight and --#my boy fights dirty.#but yeah he can take a beating without much issue -- he grew up in the slumiest slums.#get prepared for unfair tactics though if one does chose to opt for a fistfight with him.#he'll bite a chunk outta your neck he'll go full feral your honor.#tw graphic injury

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rusted-pipe-of-wisdom · 2 years

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my idiotic danror fic. send help etc

#watchmen #rustypipes-writes #tw graphic injury #rorschach #daniel dreiberg #danror

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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Agent Jennie Perrault

The Snared Sparrow Office of Strategic Services

#poor Jennie i wish you weren't dead bc you were so cool lol #RIP to a legend tbh #tw injuries #tw graphic injury #FOFgallery #Agent Jennie Perrault

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ssatxr-archive · 2 years

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@starofvirtue proposed: "i forgive you." // @starofvirtue to marcus~

From this meme

“No, you don’t.”

Nobody forgave Marcus, nobody did. He knew for a fact he was hated, the Satyrian being of very high rank in Souther’s army. His once proud and stifling yellow eyes dimmed immensely as he gazes to the man on the pyramid. It was such a quiet whisper--something not even the Holy Emperor could hear such a thing. This man, he was blind--he could tell that much. His hair a light blue, almost white-- yet he looked quite young, too young to be an old, feeble man.

He knew him as Shuu--the man who led an entire resistance against his master, the one who stole his sister from him. Bastard, he was; can HE really forgive him?

He blinks, looking to his sister beyond a hill as she screams his name...then a title. Patro. Patro.

Father...

He closes his eyes deeply, feeling the little gusts of winds as the Emperor raises his hefty spear. He pivots his leg ever so slightly to Face Souther. In that moment...if he threw the spear, it was a spear to Souther’s chest as well.

This once...this once...! He will redeem himself!

#rp #starofvirtue #{ Blind Servant | Marcus }#{ Benevolent Angel | Shuu }#{ verse | TBD }#tw injury mention #tw graphic injury

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flowers-that-sing · 11 months

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TW: GRAPHIC INJURY/BODY HORROR//

little song sketch i plan on… fleshing out at some point!

the song is carcass by siouxsie and the banshees. great song.

art below the cut, heed the warning!!!

#bobbi babbling #bobbi's bad art #tw body horror #tw graphic #tw injury #tw graphic injury #gore #this is actually really good anatomy practice tbh #siouxsie and the banshees #music talks

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judgeddemon · 1 year

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14 stitches.

#PRIN❌E #tw blood #tw graphic injury

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4ft10tvlandfangirl · 6 months

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Timestamp on this is about an hour ago. I'm seeing reports that a few are using roaming SIM cards so a few things are getting out.

Please don't turn away from this. A lot of horrible things are happening with the support of western powers. I'm ashamed to say my country didn't even vote today, didn't even have the balls to admit that we are in the USA's pocket so we have to stay silent on genocide.

I can't stay silent and I'm begging you all not to stay silent. Speak, share, just something.

Gaza and the West Bank need a CEASEFIRE NOW!

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

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clangenrising · 3 months

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Month 11 - Leafbare

The snow had been falling all morning. The drifts piled up over the course of the afternoon, higher than Floodpaw had ever seen before, and he and the other apprentices had to clear out the den entrances once or twice to keep the dens from being completely sealed off. They’d also spent a good few hours fishing at Goldenstar’s request but Floodpaw hadn’t been able to focus much.

That morning, she had told the three of them that if they wanted to join the war party she would let them. He had been thrilled, to say the least. The assessments had been tough but the hardest part had been the lack of a reaction from Goldenstar and the silence on the matter she had maintained for the last few days. The anticipation had nearly eaten him alive. Now, all of that energy had been turned into excitement. He had immediately asked to go and Goldenstar had agreed. Even Sparrowpaw was going.

Barleypaw was staying behind, as expected, but she had specifically asked to stay and protect Smokyrose and the kittens.

“You won’t need to,” Floodpaw had said, “We’re going to beat the rogues, easy. The prophecy said so.”

“It never hurts to be safe,” Yarrowshade had said.

Floodpaw wasn’t sure how much he agreed with that but he’d forgotten about it easily enough when the other Clans started gathering in their camp. EarthClan was first. Floodpaw scrambled out of the apprentices’ den when he heard them. Orangestar and Darkmoon were there, along with three warriors he had met before on patrols. He also spotted Fishpaw and Boldpaw among the crowd and he hurried across the clearing to talk with them. Fishpaw wasn’t interested in conversation but Boldpaw sat and humored him which made Floodpaw swell with pride.

Shortly after, FallenClan arrived with Flightstar, his deputy Pigeoncover, and three other warriors. Flightstar immediately ducked into Goldenstar’s den to talk with the other leaders but unlike the EarthClan cats, FallenClan didn’t mingle at all with RisingClan’s warriors. Floodpaw frowned.

“Can you believe they almost didn’t show up?” he asked Boldpaw.

Fishpaw looked over and said, “I can. FallenClan are a bunch of heartless snakes.”

“They are?” he asked, squinting at the cluster of cats, two of which looked very similar to himself.

“Flightstar at least is bad news,” Boldpaw said. “Darkmoon says the patrols have only gotten more standoffish since he took over.”

“Huh,” Floodpaw said. He used to think that Flightstar was a strong and admirable warrior but now he wasn’t sure. What was a warrior without concern for others? Even he knew how important that was!

Soon after, Snowstar, Tangletooth, Coyotechaser, and four other SkyClan warriors arrived along with Fernpaw who bounded over when Floodpaw waved at him.

“Hey!” he grinned, joining them. “You guys ready to tear some rogue pelts?”

“Definitely!” Floodpaw nodded, kneading the ground with his claws.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Boldpaw said. “Everyone’s here.”

“Who all from RisingClan is coming?” asked Fernpaw, looking around.

“Um,” Floodpaw tried to remember. “Me, Sparrowpaw… Goldenstar and Russetfrond, of course, and then Ospreymask, Branchbark, and I think Pantherhaze?”

“Okay, not bad,” Fernpaw said, looking around.

“So everyone is bringing more warriors than FallenClan, then,” Fishpaw scoffed.

“I heard they’re the smallest Clan there is,” Fernpaw said. “They don’t even have any apprentices or anything.”

Floodpaw flicked an ear dismissively. “Who cares,” he said, “We’re all going to battle together! I can’t wait.” They didn’t have to wait long, which was a good thing, given the snow. After a few more minutes, the leaders emerged and Goldenstar jumped onto the Stoneperch to call a meeting.

“Warriors!” she cried, and everyone fell silent. “We’re finally ready to drive these city rogues from our territory once and for all!” The cats cheered and Floodpaw joined in as loudly as he could. The energy was intoxicating, all of their bodies gathered in the little camp, hearts beating in time, their purpose aligned. He felt like a part of something bigger than himself and it was amazing.

Goldenstar continued, “StarClan is with us today and our victory has been foreseen! All we need to do is follow through. Thank you all for joining us in this endeavor. It would not be possible without you and for that Orangestar and I are grateful.” Flightstar and Snowstar puffed up a little, looking proud of themselves, although Flightstar was the only one wearing a smirk.

“Here’s the plan:” said Goldenstar. “We attack in two waves. The first wave will be led by Snowstar and made up of cats with pale coats. We’ll call them the Stoat Group. They’ll blend into the snow and advance stealthily, making way for the rest of us to follow. The second group, who we’ll call Eagle Group, will follow in their pawsteps about four fox-lengths behind.”

Snowstar lifted her voice and said, “Stoat Group will make the first approach, assess the rogue camp, and then attack. Once Eagle Group hears signs of combat, they’ll move in as well.”

Goldenstar nodded, looking a little perturbed. “Stoat Group will be Snowstar, Charredbranch, Pebblefall, Fernpaw, Bogmist, Fishpaw, Pigeoncover, Tumblefang, and Floodpaw.” Floodpaw gasped. He was going to be a part of the first attack? And without anyone else from RisingClan with him? He couldn’t believe it. “Everyone else, you’re with Eagle Group. Are there any questions?”

No one spoke up, instead looking around to identify the cats they would be fighting side by side with. Floodpaw bumped shoulders with Fernpaw excitedly and Fernpaw grinned back.

“Alright then,�� said Flightstar, standing up. “Let’s form up and move out. Good hunting!” A few of the cats cheered but Floodpaw noticed Goldenstar frown.

“I’m gonna check in with my mentor,” he said, “and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay!” Fernpaw nodded. Floodpaw jumped up and bounded over to the food of the Stoneperch just as Goldenstar jumped down.

“Hey,” he said, “Thanks for letting me go with Stoat Group!”

Goldenstar looked down at him and a smile spread over her worried expression. “They need all the cats they can get and you’ve got the right coloring,” she said. “Just be careful. Stay close to the other warriors and don’t let the rogues overwhelm you. We’ll be right behind you but there’s probably going to be a good few seconds where you’re outnumbered.”

“Got it,” he said, nodding. “I’ll see you there then.”

“Good luck, kid,” Goldenstar purred, butting her head against his. He pressed up into her touch and then turned to go find Stoat Group. Before he got too far, he ran into Sparrowpaw.

“Hey,” Sparrowpaw said, stepping in front of him, “Be safe out there, okay?”

“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, “you too.”

Sparrowpaw smiled. “Will do.” Floodpaw rubbed up against his brother fondly, then hurried towards Stoat Group. Luckily, nothing else got in his way and soon enough he was standing in a circle of mostly white cats, belly deep in the snow. It was almost surreal. He didn’t think he’d seen this many cats like him in one place all his life.

“Alright,” said Snowstar, as he and Bogmist joined the huddle, “that’s everyone. Let’s move out. Stay within sight of at least two other cats at all times. Once we get there, watch me for the signal to attack, understood?”

“Affirmative,” said Pigeoncover with an obedient nod. Most of the others nodded or voiced agreement. Floodpaw puffed his chest up and nodded. What an honor to be among such a capable group of warriors!

“Good,” said Snowstar. “May StarClan guide our claws!” She looked across the camp to Goldenstar and the others and made eye contact before nodding and heading up the slope and into the thicker snow.

“Good luck!” Floodpaw heard Oddstripe calling after them. He looked back at the healers’ den to shoot a grin at his papa who seemed worried. Don’t worry, Papa, he tried to say with his smile, I’ll come back a hero! Just watch!

Stoat Group fell into a small arrow shape with the apprentices in the middle, directly behind Snowstar and Pigeoncover. Floodpaw made sure to check regularly that he could still see Fernpaw and Fishpaw on either side of him as they made the long and silent journey to the border, or rather, to where the rogues had pushed the border. Despite the biting cold, he felt like he was burning with anticipation. It felt like at any moment they would suddenly be in the thick of battle.

Eventually, Snowstar lifted her tail to stop them, and Floodpaw craned his neck to see the tracks ahead of them, covered heavily with freshly fallen snow. He wanted to ask if they were close but managed to keep a hold on his tongue. Snowstar looked at Pigeoncover and seemed to convey a message without a word. The FallenClan deputy nodded, glanced at Tumblefang, and then the two cats peeled off to the East, making a wide circle. Snowstar glanced at Charredbranch and he grinned, then flicked his tail at Fernpaw and the two of them split off to the West.

Floodpaw started to vibrate in excitement. This must be it, he thought, we’re about to attack! He opened his mouth to try and catch any scent but the snow had muffled all of it. If the city cats were here, he had no idea where.

A tense moment passed. Then another. Floodpaw strained his ears for any sound. He couldn’t hear anything above the blood pounding in his own ears. He spotted Charredbranch’s ears poking out of a snow bank to their right. He couldn’t see Pigeoncover anywhere.

Snowstar chirped, like a chattering bird, and all of the cats surged forward in an instant. Floodpaw moved as soon as he realized what was happening, flowing through Snowstar’s pawprints like rain water finding the fastest way down a hill. She bounded down a small slope then turned sharply right. Floodpaw blinked and suddenly there were dens in the snow in front of them. Snowstar crashed through into one and one of the cats inside screamed.

“What’s going on?!” he heard a stranger cry out.

“We’re under attack!” another voice shouted, “Get up! Everyone up!”

Pebblefall was in front of him and a rogue rose up to meet him, barring the entrance. Floodpaw shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Fishpaw. She growled in frustration and glanced around so he did the same. There was a second den where the two offshoots had converged and were being held at bay by a big ginger tabby with a jingling collar. There didn’t seem to be another den to attack.

“Back up!” he heard Pebblefall hiss and the rest of the group hurried back to allow Pebblefall and Snowstar back out into the snow. Floodpaw gaped in disbelief. Had they been driven out so easily?! Then, he saw the genius in their plan. As they retreated, the city cats inside followed, leading them out where the other warriors could more easily attack them.

A silver speckled tabby dashed out of the den and was tackled by Bogmist before she knew what was happening. A pale ginger she-cat with bengal spots lunged for Pebblefall only to have Fishpaw pounce on her from the other side. Snowstar arched her back in a hiss and a pale silver tabby tom, bleeding from a nasty claw wound above his eye, leapt to meet her. The tom looked just like Fogkit and Floodpaw realized suddenly that he must be Ghost.

Spitting furiously, Floodpaw darted in and grabbed Ghost’s back leg in his teeth. He gave a tug and Ghost stumbled, crying out. Snowstar took the opportunity to lunge for his neck but Ghost managed to roll out of the way.

“What do we do?” a ginger tom cried from inside the den. More cats huddled behind him, reeking of fear scent. Floodpaw frowned. That wasn’t right.

“Get out of here!” Ghost barked, backing away from Floodpaw as he desperately tried to blink the blood from his right eye. Snowstar pursued him with a hiss but something unnerving twisted in Floodpaw’s gut.

“You will stay and fight!” shouted the ginger kittypet from across the way where he had Charredbranch pinned. “That’s an order!” Several kittypets had poured out of the den to join the fight. Pigeoncover and Tumblefang were trading back and forth between a black and white tom and a brown and white tabby she-cat. Fernpaw danced in circles, avoiding the swipes of two more kittypet rogues.

Floodpaw immediately sprinted to his friend’s rescue. Snowstar would handle Ghost. Fernpaw needed him.

He sprang at the bigger of the two, a scarred black smoke tabby tom and landed on his back. He clung for dear life, biting at the tom’s neck, but the kittypet rolled over and he wasn’t quick enough to avoid being crushed under the heavier cat’s weight.

Still, he had drawn one of the cats off of Fernpaw who called out, “Thanks!” as he finally turned to attack his pursuer.

Floodpaw rolled to his paws just in time. Right where he had been, the scarred kittypet slammed his paws down with enough force to crack Floodpaw’s sternum in half, he thought. Floodpaw darted to nip at his hind legs and followed the movement to circle the tom as he tried to round on Floodpaw.

“Big-eared brat!” the rogue hissed, snapping for Floodpaw’s tail. Floodpaw squeaked but managed to leap out of the way just in time.

A roar sounded on the hill, a dozen cats crying out. Eagle Group descended into the circle of trampled snow and crashed into the rogues. Russetfrond barreled into the tom Floodpaw was fighting and took him to the ground. Floodpaw panted heavily, glad that he’d been saved but unsure how to help now.

He backed up to try and get a better look at the battlefield. The noise was suddenly overwhelming, a cacophony of yowling, writhing bodies. Now that the second wave had arrived, the Clans outnumbered the city cats more than two to one. All at once, the smell of blood became overwhelming. It wasn’t a tantalizing smell like prey blood. No, it was all wrong, like a sinister corruption of the taste. Floodpaw instinctively crouched low to the ground, trying to get his bearings against the tide of sensory information.

“We need to go!” shrilled the silver speckled tabby, bleeding heavily from her shoulder.

“Do not break rank!” bellowed the black and white kittypet, dodging blows from Tumblefang and Branchbark.

“Kill the damn pests already!” hissed a voice behind Floodpaw and he twisted suddenly to see the ginger tabby kittypet bearing down on him.

“Floodpaw, look out!” shouted Ospreymask as she heaved herself back onto her feet, a gash on her leg spraying blood over the snow. Floodpaw twisted to try and get out of the way but the kittypet slammed into him, pushing him onto his back in the snow. Floodpaw kicked with his hind legs, felt them connect with the soft flesh of the tom’s belly, and tried to dig his claws deep into it. Meanwhile, teeth snapped at his neck, grazed the skin, then made contact, tearing into the loose skin there. Floodpaw shrieked in pain.

The tom’s head twisted suddenly, pulled off course by Ospreymask’s claws hooked into one of his eyes. The kittypet roared, spun around, and swiped at her. Floodpaw acted on instinct and lunged, grabbing the skin beneath the tom’s arm in his teeth. He pulled hard. Blood gushed over his face, hot and sour.

Ospreymask slammed the tom face first into the snow, pulling him out of Floodpaw’s grip. He backed up and pressed a paw against the wound in his neck.

“Floodpaw!” suddenly Goldenstar was beside him. “Are you alright?” He nodded silently, reeling.

He couldn’t look away from Ospreymask. Fury burning in her eyes, she rolled on top of the rogue, ignored his claws swiping at her face, and sank her teeth into his neck. Floodpaw had never seen such ferocity. The tom twisted his hind legs to strike at her. His claws tore at her belly, blood spattered the ground. She adjusted her grip on his neck and tore.

Blood, more blood than Floodpaw had ever seen, spurted rhythmically from the kittypet’s neck and bathed the snow red. The tom gurgled and fell over, eyes staring blankly as he shuddered in the throes of death.

Ospreymask looked at Floodpaw with an intense stare. “Are you alright?” Her whole chin and a good portion of her chest were drenched in blood.

“Uh, yeah-” he said, trying to meet her eyes, but he couldn’t help looking back at the kittypet - at his body.

“Sycamore!” screamed the kittypet she-cat. Suddenly she was tearing across the clearing towards Ospreymask. “You little bitch! I’ll tear you apart!” Robinswoop was behind the kittypet and hooked his claws into her tail, causing her to tumble into the snow. Then Ryestripe was on her, raining down blows.

“Shit!” cursed Ghost. When he turned around to look, Snowstar swiped out and deepened the wound above his eye. Sparrowpaw leapt onto his back and sank his claws in, forcing him to refocus on the fight in front of him.

“Sycamore’s dead!” cried the cat who had been fighting Fernpaw. “Retreat!”

“Retreat!” chorused the street cats. There was a pause as everyone took a step back and the rogues started to flee. Some of the warriors cheered or spat insults at their backs. The brown tabby she-cat snarled furiously and lunged for Ospreymask again, but the black and white tom caught her by her scruff and pulled her back.

“We have to go, Bella!” he snapped. Tears in her eyes, the she-cat looked at the horde of warriors hovering at the ready around them. They were the only two city cats left. Floodpaw watched the gravity of the situation sink in on her face.

Backing up against the other kittypet, she glared at Ospreymask and said, “This isn’t over! You’ll pay for what you’ve done! All of you degenerates will pay!”

“Yeah, yeah!” laughed Tumblefang.

“Beat it, flea bag!” jeered Fishpaw.

Seething through gritted teeth, the kittypets turned and fled after their compatriots.

“We are victorious!” shouted Flightstar and the crowd whooped and hollered in response. Cries of triumph went up throughout the group as cats turned to each other with wide smiles and bloody pelts.

“Sparrowpaw!” Russetfrond barked above the noise, “Go fetch your father!”

“Yes, sir!” cried Sparrowpaw and he bounded over the hill the way they had come. Snowstar started moving among the cats, checking for serious injuries. Goldenstar rasped her tongue over Floodpaw’s neck, cleaning away the blood, and he suddenly came back to his body.

“Are you alright, kid?” she asked, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think. Is it bad?” He tried to look down at his wound.

“It’s not that bad,” said Goldenstar, licking over his ears fondly. “We’ll get some cobwebs on it and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Who got the kill?” shouted Tumblefang, moving through the crowd.

“Ospreymask!” said Robinswoop. A few cats called their congratulations and Ospreymask blushed, running her tongue over her dripping red muzzle.

“As prophesied!” declared Snowstar with a dawning wonder. “Behold, the raptor that crushed the snake in its beak!” Floodpaw’s eyes widened. That had been a part of the prophecy? Cheers went up among the group. Branchbark appeared to try and lift Ospreymask onto his shoulders and the two of them laughed and began to wrestle. Floodpaw found himself staring at the body again, at the blood coagulating in the cavity she had made in its throat. That had been a person before but now it was just a stiff thing lying in the snow. Floodpaw couldn’t even remember its name.

“Hey,” Goldenstar said, nudging him. “Maybe we should head back to camp, yeah?”

“Oh,” he said, tearing his gaze away. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked back at the body. “Is it always so… scary?”

Goldenstar laid her tail over his back and mumbled. “The first time is the hardest. It gets easier. But it’s a good reminder. Warriors try not to kill to win their battles.”

“Because it’s scary like that?” he asked, looking back at her.

“And because the dead never get to see their loved ones again. You remember how much it hurt people when Nightfrost died, right?” He nodded. “When possible, you should try not to cause that much hurt. Nothing good ever comes from it.”

“But we won,” he said. “We won because she killed him.”

“We did,” Goldenstar said, lips pursed. “We probably could have won without killing anyone. But what happened happened. Sometimes you try your hardest and it still happens like that. We can’t change the past. We can only try and make a better future.”

“Gotcha…” he said, swallowing as he looked at the bloodstained snow.

“Floodpaw!” Oddstripe cried, rushing down the slope in front of Sparrowpaw. “Oh, StarClan, are you alright?” He reached them and took Floodpaw’s face in his paws to angle him this way and that.

“The wound isn’t serious,” Goldenstar said reassuringly. “He fought well.”

“They both did,” said Russetfrond, coming to join them. Sparrowpaw beamed at his brother but Floodpaw was too busy trying to break free.

“Papa, stop! I’m fine!” he protested, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.

“Oh, I was so worried about you, is-” Oddstripe stopped as he looked up and saw the body. “Oh- Stars above!”

“It’s alright,” Goldenstar said, “He’s one of the rogues.”

“There aren’t any other casualties,” said Coyotechaser, approaching, “but Pebblefall has a lot of wounds and Furrowleap can’t move his leg properly.”

“And I should probably get my belly seen too,” said Ospreymask, stumbling over, leaning on Branchbark.

“Oh,” Oddstripe seemed suddenly overwhelmed. “Right, yes, let me look at your belly. If you could fetch Pebblefall…”

“Will do,” said Coyotechaser, moving away.

Goldenstar reared up on her hind legs and called out, “Everyone who can should start heading back to RisingClan’s camp! Sagetooth and Tangletooth will be waiting to tend to your wounds and there’s a feast of fish waiting for all of you!” The war band cheered uproariously and began to meander back in the direction they had come.

“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, dropping back to all four paws, “take the body over the Thunderpath please. Take whoever you need with you.”

“You got it,” he said, then looked at Branchbark. “Come on, you.”

“Wh- me?!” protested the warrior.

“Yes, you,” grumbled Russetfrond, “now hop to it. The faster we get this done the faster you can go back to doing whatever you wanted.”

“Can I come?” Sparrowpaw asked.

Russetfrond hummed then shrugged. “Alright. You can be our look out.” Sparrowpaw nodded seriously and moved with them as they went over to the body and began to drag it through the snow.

Fernpaw appeared and butted heads with Floodpaw. “Was that awesome or what?!” he cried.

“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, letting the other apprentice’s energy infect him. “You were amazing! When you were fighting those two cats at once-?!”

“Don’t forget when you saved me!” Fernpaw beamed. “I can’t believe you’re younger than I am!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t eat death berries and spend a moon in the healers’ den,” Floodpaw joked, swiping playfully at his ear.

“Hey! I told you that in confidence!” Fernpaw laughed, looking around to see if anyone had heard.

Floodpaw gave him another shove and said, “I’ll race you back to camp!”

“Okay, readysetgo!” Fernpaw blurted quickly and then tore off through the snow.

“Hey! No fair!” Floodpaw laughed and chased after him. Already, the shock of what he had seen was fading away, replaced by the sound of cheerful voices and the promise of a fish dinner with friends. The Clans had won, and he had helped! Thanks to tonight, their home was safe and he was eager to celebrate it.

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