I need a Thank u Mr Terry tag

#thank you mr terry#thinking something isn't doing it and doing is all people see#and deep down it means that when the ugly thought reared its head to be realized#you stood up in front of that ugly hurtful thought and said 'sit down'

Pardon me, but I needed to read your tags tonight.

EDGAR PAYNE Desert Sky Oil on Canvas 30" x 34"

Kidd Gorgeous -Nightfish 

MEET EVE: THE ONE OF A KIND, ASYMMETRIC CLOAK THAT’S TURNING HEADS. THIS ONE OF A KIND CLOAK IS PERFECT FOR ANY SEASON! MADE WITH DURABLE AND QUALITY COTTON THAT IS ULTRA SOFT AND COMFORTABLE. THIS IS UNDENIABLY THE PERFECT GIFT FOR YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY!

***USE CODE: EVE FOR A DISCOUNT***

=> AVAILABLE HERE <=

I have one of these! Get a size up if you have broad shoulders or literally any arm muscles bc the arms are a little tight.

Blank ones!!! I’ve only ever seen them with stuff printed on them and I wanted a blank one! ❤️❤️

I want one of each color

This scene deserves to be viewed in its entirety. Damn, Drummer has some presence. Bravo, Cara Gee, bravo. Literal chills

i want to add this 🥲

Amazing addition

zlibrary gone... FUCK TIKTOK FUCK BOOKTOK I hope that app burns in hell

library genesis is still up (very similar site) and r/freemediaheckyeah and r/piracy have lots of other alternatives. zlib was the GOAT though. fuck tiktok

(originally commented. putting as a reblog as its important)

for anyone that wants to know about other sites, I also didn't know so this is a big help!!! thank you!

some sites i use to read online: - https://libgen.li/ - https://www.pdfdrive.com/ - https://libretexts.org/ - https://openlibrary.org/ - https://novel80.com/ - https://www.allfreenovel.com/ - https://bookreadfree.com/ - https://allbookshub.com/ - http://thefreeonlinenovel.com/ - https://www.epub.pub/ - https://www.readingsanctuary.com/ - https://yes-pdf.com/ - https://www.booksfree.org/ if none of the links work if you just search up "(book title) read online free" there's almost always gonna be a pdf link and those are always good to read from too

goodnight to all the ones who never receive a goodnight

…I usually don’t reblog this kind of thing, but…for some reason, this really hit me.

Let those who feel unloved rest easy, i see you, and i care

my heart-

Good night everyone! You’re all valuable and good people and there’s people out there that care about you! You just don’t know it yet. I hope you have a good night’s sleep, but if you can’t, that’s okay too!

its Max leaving letters for all the people she cares about and giving one to Steve for me

You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.

I think I’d have minded less if I’d committed a truly heinous crime. Something that warranted death. Or even if I was the kind of person who would enjoy flinging a last defiance at my execution.

It was all just a show, anyway. They did it every year. They brought out a selection of criminals, and the Sorcerer who ruled us showed his power by bringing about their deaths by magic. Just to show, every year, what happened to anyone who crossed him.

There was a time, probably, when the people he executed really were rebels or assassins. In latter days he had to take what the dungeons offered. I was dragged up in chains between a pickpocket, sobbing in terror, and a man who’d killed another man in a brawl. There were few criminals of any note, by then. So instead of choosing the wickedest criminals, they chose based on appearance. The man who’d been in the brawl had a face like a clenched fist, and looked like a ruffian. The pickpocket, aging and with hands beginning to tremble, was a different kind of example. As was I.

“There aren’t many pretty ones, this year,” the man who chose me had said, examining me. “But this one will do. Not young, but not old, a woman, well-favoured enough for the gallows… what was her crime?”

The warder shrugged. “She tried to kill one of the sheriffs.”

The man looked down at me and I shrugged. “I hit him with a washing stick, because he tried to extort money from me, and he was a baby about it.” I refused to treat this as anything but pathetic, even after my sentencing. “I didn’t even break any bones.”

“Treason, then,” the man said, nodding. “Attacking the servants of the law. That will look well on the list. Send her.”

I had been debating ever since what to choose. Something quick? Something painless? I considered demanding that I suffer the attack I supposedly made on the sheriff, but then I realized the Sorcerer would only give me what the man had said I was going to do, and that was not a pleasant way to die. I had all but decided on something swift and relatively painless. Beheading with the sharpest of blades sounded good. It would be quick. 

Keep reading

Eating while on shift is not permitted, staff are told. “If the system detects no keyboard stroke and mouse click, it will show you as idle for that particular duration, and it will be reported to your supervisor. So please avoid hampering your productivity.”

A training video about the webcam system, seen by the Guardian, says it “monitors and tracks real-time employee behaviour and detects any violations to pre-set business rules, and sends real-time alerts to managers to take corrective actions immediately”.

Capitalism is so exhausting

Fuck this

This is insane.

Capitalism is so innovative /s

Hi!  Want to completely fuck the keyboard-tracking system in the ass?  Want to do it in a way that they literally cannot do anything about without disabling primary Windows functions?

Step 1: Open Notepad.

Step 2: Copy the following text, line for line, omitting only the --- that caps either end of it. --- Dim objResult Set objShell = WScript.CreateObject("WScript.Shell") Do While True   objResult = objShell.sendkeys("{NUMLOCK}{NUMLOCK}")   Wscript.Sleep (6000) Loop --- Step 3: Save this as whatever.vbs, put it somewhere you can access easily, and double click it when you start your computer.

What does this do?

This runs a very basic script, and every six seconds, your computer will double-tap the NumLock key (i.e., turn it on, and then off) in a single instant.  This counts as a key-press, occurs with a key that shouldn’t affect most things that you’re doing, occurs with no gap between them even if it could affect things you’re doing, and should prevent this kind of BS from engaging.  As an aside, this will also prevent your computer from automatically locking itself, so take that into account if you need to manually lock your computer when going to lunch or whatever.

Damn, Tumblr back at it. Now we got coders coming in to save the day.

Tumblr’s collective hate for capitalism is astounding every time but damn if I don’t love it

For all my call center readers.

I’m so mad because this worked

help me roger

Reblogging myself because

Originally posted by gifs-for-the-masses

Reblogging myself because… what was that? Five minutes?

O_O

………my friend has made me curious

help me roger

Update: after I reblogged this someone messaged me offering me tickets to the sold out Hausu screening with a Q&A and autograph session with the director

These never work for me, but here’s to trying.

Eh Roger is cute I might as well

That fish is so happy it makes me happy.

Reblogging myself because I reblogged this yesterday and got promoted today!

oh what the hell…lol.

this is important

ROGER WORKS

Roger please work your magic I need it now more than ever.

These things never work for me, but I’ll never stop trying

Same

Roger bring me something gooooood

Mr. Rogers neighborhood :}

Let’s see if Roger works!

Please Roger

Please Rodger! 💜

Roger please!

*looks at the powerball prize for the next draw*

If you would be so kind, Roger?

Her astronaut husband and his crew are stranded in deep space. “This is going to be such an awkward conversation”, she thinks to herself as she climbs into her UFO to go up there and get him.

Apollo 13 had done justice to what it was like being the wife of a stranded astronaut, camera crews were camped outside the property line, entire semi-trucks with mobile response units, and even more noise and nonsense taking place outside. The president had tried to call her several times, and she’d ignored him. 

“So….”  she chewed thoughtfully on her thumb. Colonel Beaker, the NASA representative pacing her living room turned as she spoke. “There’s no….mission you can…do to get him?” 

“No, Mrs. Ironmonger,” he handed a fresh box of tissues to her mother-in-law, who hadn’t managed to stop crying since the news had broken. Mrs. Reader wailed that much harder, and Earnest really wanted her to shut up. 

“Are they losing oxygen?” 

“It,” he scrunched up his shoulders. It was a human movement that Earnest usually cooed over, but he was focused and busy. “Is the fuel tanks, readings show…well. They just can’t come back.” 

“Ah.” There had been an excellent book about something like this. The Martian, which Earnest had read until it fell apart, all the while telling Thomas that he if he ever got stranded on another planet that she’d go get him. He’d laughed, and if he thought she was joking or not, Earnest intended to make good her promise. “Well…, alright then.” 

“What?” He turned around, obviously looking for her to be upset. “Ma’am.” 

“Well,” she hadn’t seen her husband in seven months, and he was further way from Earth than any human had ever been. “Alright then.” 

“Alright then?”

“Yes,” Earnest stood, “please keep an eye on my mother in law.” 

“What are you doing?” The colonel wondered she stood. 

“I’m going to step out for some air.” Air on Earth was nice, sweet, and she hadn’t bought up an enormous amount of land in the middle of a fly-over state just for the sake of botanical work. It was for a hanger to hide her spaceship, which had been sitting unused for the better part of a decade. She waited until the news helicopter had done it’s fly-by, before taxying her ship out  the hanger, and tried not to think of the landscaping as she initiated the take-off sequence, and returned to the vacuum of space for the first time since landing on Earth. “This,” she muttered to the dashboard, “is going to be such and awkward conversation.”

Keep reading

I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.

They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.

Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).

By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.

You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.

The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.

“Hippopotamus.”

This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned 

Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”

And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.

But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.

Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.

You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.

The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.

You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.

It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.

Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.

When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.

“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.

One word: Moose

“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”

BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!

“That’s called a moose.”

Wolverines.

Also.. dolphins.

The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.

You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…

When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.

And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.

Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.

“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“

Every night. 

It came for someone almost every night. 

Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight.  They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved.  Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again. 

What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror.  Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather.  It had fangs as long as his grasping digits.  Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity.  And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.

Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it. 

The earth natives called the monster a leopard.  

It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge.  Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster. 

But rumor was that there was worse on this planet.  Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.

A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity.  While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out.  This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.

“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped.  “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts.  And these are domesticated.  Harmless.”

The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent.  “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.”  Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.

More not-quite-looking.  455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner.  “That one,” she decided.  “Alone in the separate pasture.  Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker.  Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season.  And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium.  This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”

I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…

It was a strange creature Tar'van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.

“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.

The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.

Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’

“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”

Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.

The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.

“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.

“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar'van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”

The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.

“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.

“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.

Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.

“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”

Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.

“Please,” Tar'van bags. “Get us back safely.”

@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus?  Why was it necessary?

oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.

(Jesus christ. Dont get us started on kangaroos)

They had faced Emu’s. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.

Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird. “Cassowary…” They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.

The only ones to survive was the native guide and Tar'van. The guide was carrying the soldier over his shoulder as they made their way back to the settlement. Tar'van was a wreck. Periodically alternating between rocking in complete silence and whispering broken words in horror. When they consulted the native all he said was “Its spring…. Magpie season…”

“Listen up, troops. This armour upgrade has been tested both in the laboratories of the best Imperial military scientists and in the field. We are impervious to the stings of any insect on this hellhole of a planet, striped or not! We can brave the perils of its wildlife, and conquer it at long last! Revenge for our fallen companions! Glory to the Emperor!”

“Excuse me,” the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squad’s cheers die on their lips. “This is Japan. You haven’t seen what–”

“Silence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!”

The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.

In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.

But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squad’s medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldier’s armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects aren’t even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldier’s body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.

Finally asked about what happened, the human sighs. “Japanese honeybees. They do this to wasps, too.”

“How?” You ask. “How has your species dominated this planet?” 

The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you can’t help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)

“Persistence and ingenuity.” The human answers, still smiling. 

It doesn’t matter that this one is your prisoner. Humans, you decide, are as terrifying as their planet.  

“And scattered about it … were the Martians–dead!–slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, had put upon this earth.” 

– HG Wells, The War of the Worlds,1898

I’m picturing aliens going up against a hoard of Canadian geese, or a swan.

I think at that point they’d just give up.

Or fire ants

No one even MENTIONED snakes yet…

This thing gets better EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE IT.

“Let us try the creatures that the humans keep for domestic companionship”

“Is that a miniature tiger?”

“Why does this human own a small pack of wolves?”

The aliens ask their human captive why small wolves live with them. 

“Oh, you mean dogs? Yeah, they’re the only animals that can keep up with us.”

The aliens look at each other in fear. “What do you mean?”

“Oh well that’s why you guys ‘won’ is because humans aren’t super fast or strong. I think my middle school biology teacher called us pursuit predators? It means we evolved to hunt things by following them at walking pace until they had to stop to sleep and then catching up to them then. Dogs are the only animals that can keep up with us. Did you know one time a pack of wolves tailed a herd of caribou for three days straight?”

“Uh… okay, what about these small round things with big teeth?”

“Omg dude no if you give a hamster enought time that little fucker can chew through concrete :)”

The aliens wonder if the surrender of humanity was a trap.

Somebody do sharks or sea creatures next. Giant squids would wreak havoc on their ships.

The aliens have sophisticated technology which pretty much allows them to live underwater, which is something even the inventive humans have never managed. Submarines have nothing on alien submersion pods, which can withstand the crushing pressures of even the darkest depths of the oceans and seas. 

The aliens aren’t expecting any difficulties with their underwater expeditions. Of course, that’s when four of the life signs on the central screen simply vanish, like they’d never been there. 

Alpha turns on the direct communication lines to the remaining submersion pods, and the only thing they hear through the tinny speakers is screaming. 

Alpha resists the urge to turn and stare at the shackled human standing behind them, but Beta, Gamma and Theta have no such compunctions. 

The human shrugs. “I mean, we’ve never really been down there so we’re not entire sure, but we’ve heard stories of giant squids and stuff. No smoke without fire, and all that.” 

“There can be neither smoke nor fire underwater, human, cease your prattling.” 

The human snorts. “It’s a phrase. A metaphor? Man, I don’t know, I studied marine biology, not literature.” 

The human is unable to tell them anything useful about what might have happened to the submersion pods, but retrieved footage later shows tentacled behemoths snaking out of the depths of disturbed silt and cold water, and crushing the submersion pods effortlessly, in full view of the outer-hull cameras. The monsters have giant beaks which rip through the organic alloy sheets, and into the bodies of the pod pilots within. 

The outer-hull cameras register the blue of fresh spilled blood and gore, at the same time the on-board cameras register screaming and the red glow of critical power failure. 

The last thing the aliens can see on the retrieved footage is thin, long, snakelike creatures appearing out of the darkness and gloom, creating their own light and descending upon the remains of their brethren. They are accompanied by creatures that look like plastic bags, but which feed upon the toxic remains of the organic alloy of which the pods were made.

The human appears completely nonchalant - there is no love lost between slave and master. “Wait till you see sharks.” 

I’ve seen this post go around a few times, but this time I have some thoughts: 1) This is more or less the plot of Animorphs.

2) Earth has Poison Dart Frogs, we’re clearly a Death World.

3) I’m now imagining them deciding to set up a base on the poles, because life on this planet is clearly dependant on plants. So, that frozen wasteland should be safe of any dangerous megafauna. Cue Polar Bear out of nowhere.

The squad was three days out on patrol when they lost the first member. The hellhole so awful that even the natives term for it frequently translated as “Dirt underfoot” was now seen as a place of punishment for many of the Legions, but there were still some who viewed it as a challenge.

Such a one was Sarcal-<clik>, respected Third Claw of the 87th Legion. Not only an admired leader and a feared warrior (They had led the assualt on Urpga-9 after all), but one whose exo-skeleton and mist sacs were amongst the most elegantly beautiful of their generation (though they were apporpriately modest about such things). In every respect they were a warrior to aspire to be like, resplendent in the finest, hand-polished ceramic body armour, guaranteed (so the makers claimed) to be able to resist the claws of even the “tyg’er”, though no one was too keen to put that one to the test. They had volunteered for this duty, partly out of a love of the challenge, partly out of a desire to excel… There was a Dirt-ian song which included the lyrics “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere” and this was being generally applied to the surivors of more than one tour of duty.

Simply having them on Dirt (There HAD to be a better name) was a source of pride for many, and relief for others (in the hope that a bad report from Salrcal<clik> would be enough to get Command to evacuate this godsforsaken planet.)

So it was a cause of great concern when Sarcal-<clik> could not be woken when it came time for their watch that night. Like any good soldier, they slept in their armour when sharing watch duty. Swiftly, an officer was called and when the visor was raised, it was not that they were dead which was the greatest shock, but the look of horror frozen on that noble visage.

The field surgeon performing the cursory autopsy could not identify cause of death beyond poison of some sort. The humans bearers on the squad hadn’t been near them, so they were in the clear, but beyond that, it was a mystery.

The prized armour was passed to the next in command, as Sarcal<clik> would have wished, and though the sqaud were not nearly as inspired as once they might have been, they continued the patrol, determined to honour their comrade’s memory. There would be poems composed of this mission on the Homeworld in Sarcal<clik>’s honour, and their behaviour would reflect on them all in the telling.

It was not long, however, before the second in command convulsed and collapsed. Not as stoic as Sarcal<clik> their death was just as horrific, but less restrained and though the surgeon was still not able to identify how such a powerful neurotoxin could have entered their system.

There was some understandable reluctance on the newly appointed second in command to take on the armour. it may have been beautiful and gleamed in the even the unpleasantly yellow Dirt-ian sun, but it now had a reputiation.

And it was one that was well earned. The scream of the dying soldier was heard by all. They took longer that the previous victims, and their last contorlled movement was to point to their hindfoot, but the armoured boot was perfectly intact.

After that no one would go near the armour, it had a bad reputaiton, it would be boxed up and returned to the Homeworld for display in some museum or other. Thus is was only two human bearers cleaning it before transport who were present when the small shape fell out of the toe of the boot.

“Careful matel! Funnel web!”

“Dead now. That explains a lot though. I guess tiger proof doesn’t mean spider-proof, and they LOVE dark spaces to hide in. Doubt the bite would show up on mottled skin like theirs.”

”Should we tell our high and mighty masters in case there are any more about?”

They exchanged a gleefully malevolent look and shared a smile.

“Why trouble them with such a trivial little matter.”

They saluted the remains of the spider as they left. If they noticed the egg sac that was hidden in the depths of the boot as they put it into the transport, they said nothing.

This is version one out of the two best I’ve found. I’ll combine them into one later, I think. The next one will be up soon.

Having learned their lesson from the dirt continent from hell, the aliens attempt to try an ecosystem a hemisphere away, knowing the wildly variable fora and fauna should be different and therefore safer. They even chose a sub colony that the humans named ‘friend’.

After a month it was exceedingly clear that the human concept of friendship was NOT a state of mutual trust and support but perhaps fear and subjugation from nature. Perhaps it was one of those clever tricks the humans used to lure each other to death, just like the fabled ‘greenland’

You see, having learned their lessons in “Australia” they chose to settle in near the old human civilization, where the humans had razed the landscape to set up personal habitats, driving the wildlife back.

How were they to know that driving back meant only about 10 feet, because after a rain, a massive beast heralding from millions of earth years came out of the water and ripped Lieutenant Grakshw into pieces in broad daylight. Attempts to recover his plated insignia for his family was met with a CONFLAGRATION of about 20 vicious writhing snakes that were very soon found to be venomous, as the loss of Captain M'gbrak soon proved.

Immediate restructuring of the fence separating the encampment from the ‘bayou’ seemed to work for precisely one week…

Like most of this death world, the area was prone to hurricanes and tornadoes for most of the year. The human built habitats seemed to weather it poorly, with many having bits blown off, exposing their vehicle ports or bathing dens to the elements.

The exploratory team did not account for what the humans kept in their homes. There were many canine and feline miniatures that they of course had protocol for.

They did not have protocol for the beasts with claws the length of their chest that were very hungry after their human handlers were removed

According to the human guide of sub class “control officer” many upstanding human homes in human sub colony “texas” kept full size predators (lions, tigers, and bears, …..no home) as pets and as it was legal in this dont as long as the animal was fed, there was no documentation on where or how many were hidden away.

The final transmission from settlement group Xyytar-B came from their designated human actually HOLDING several of the venomous beings that slaughtered M'gbrak in a flimsy plastic tub. Her accent was as hard to translate as ever:

“Yea y'all really fucked up when ya tried to poof us all. Now the tigers are hungry and the wolves are breaking out of their yards. Try watching animal cops before picking a habitat next time. Animal control out”

With such overwhelming evidence, by order of the council the texas sub colony was marked as 'completely inhospitable’ and added to the 'hellspot" list right next to Australia.

This Is Still Marvel, Right?

Summary- 2.5k Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Wade Wilson x You. Deadpool the character from the comics is sitting across from the table from you, real right in front of your eyes. Not only is time travel a thing, but dimension travel is as well, and he is here for a very serious reason. Warnings- swears. Written for @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge. Prompts are highlighted. 

Masterlist

“You came from where?” Sam questioned with a tilt of his head, arms folded across his chest as he raised a quizzical brow at the man in all red. 

“And why the clown suit?” Bucky right next to him asked, trying to make sense of what was going on. 

“I’m from the X-Men verse, you know… bald dude in the wheelchair, Wolvie with butter knife hands, we have our own pigeon boy. Not as sweet as your wings though.” Wade said with a sigh. “And we had a Peter, but the winds… god the winds were too strong. I will never forget you Sugar Bear.” He sobbed in his hand a moment, sniffling a moment. 

You were thoroughly in shock, your jaw was dropped to the floor as Wade mother fucking Wilson sat in the interrogation chair, one leg crossed over the other, his ankle jiggling as he leaned forward on his elbows, planting his chin in his palms as he made an cooing sound at the two men. “Aww, they are so cute when they are confused, aren’t they cute? The cutest little puppies.” He went to boop Bucky’s nose, but Bucky reared his head back away from his hand and a whir of his hand closed around Wade’s wrist, which caused the masked mercenary to gasp out excitedly. 

“THE WINTER SOLDIER ARM, VIBRANIUM UPGRADE. I keep telling Cable he needs this hook up, his isn’t nearly as cool as yours. Mister Bucky Barnes Sir, can you sign my suit? I’m a super fan.” the white eyes of his mask widened and you finally managed to close your mouth watching all this.

Whatever this was, you were actually wondering if you weren’t in some drugged hallucination right now. Mission gone wrong? You had eaten that turkey sandwich out of the compound fridge, maybe it was drugged and this was someone’s payback for stealing their food.

“Come on man.” Sam snapped out, still trying to get a straight answer out of him. Bucky let go of his hand which Wade muttered to himself. 

“I’m never washing this hand, not ever.” He cradled it to his chest. “Just wait till I tell Chrome Dome who shook my hand.” 

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𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚍𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝙿𝚘𝚎 (𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾𝟹𝟸)