#predators

[amisunderstoodgoddess]

The Hunt

(final part here)

Rating: Explicit +18

Summary: When the creature you fear so much manages to escape containment, will he show you any mercy or take you without any regret?

Author's note: I intend to make this story with just two chapters. This is the first, the second will soon be available. Hope you like it!

English is not my first language.

'ALERT: Specimen 375-6 is out of containment.

It's not training. All search and capture units were activated.

ALERT: Specimen 375-6 out of containment.'

You swallow hard as you read the warning message on your phone, the words falling over your body like a truck of bricks.

He had escaped.

The creature you knew and didn't know.

It was yet another top-secret government item, another non-human biological material captured and kept for research.

He stands out from the others, of course.

With his height, intimidating physique, and obvious intelligence, but you never actually approached his cell, only catching brief glimpses from afar as you did your job collecting and saving data from the scientists' research in the system.

But you always felt something strange in the rare moments you needed to approach the cell block he was in.

He kept to the back, using the shadows to stay hidden. And yet there was one thing that caught your attention, regardless of how dark the place was.

His eyes.

Two orange spheres, standing out like beacons in the night.

He remained basically the same every time you entered that part of the building. Sitting on the floor with his legs half bent and his wrists firmly restrained by chains resting on his knees, you couldn't make out the color of his scaly skin or his features in general, but the color of those eyes shone like neon lights in the darkness of the cell.

He looked at you, every time.

It was disturbingly intense. There were no blinking eyelids or shifting gazes, he stared at you with unwavering focus from the moment you entered the lab until the moment you left. His eyes…they shone with intelligence and superiority. Like he's just there because he wants to be there, not because he was captured. He owned everything he laid eyes on. The rational part of your brain screamed, 'Look away! Run away!' but those eyes seemed to want to capture your soul with each encounter.

All your co-workers had noticed the strange fixation that the creature seemed to have on you, but you always denied it, diverting the subject while saying it was just their imagination.

Deep down you knew it wasn't.

You saw the way his unsettling gaze settled on your form, felt the shiver run down your spine at his gaze and yet - even now, you could still feel that warm buzz inside at the memory of his burning gaze locked on you.

You could admit that it wasn't healthy to feel any level of curiosity towards a murderous monster who was obsessed with you. It was scary.

Your only consolation was that he was tightly contained with the best technologies the government could dispose of.

But he always seemed very calm to you, as if he were above all that. In a confident and almost arrogant way, in the way that only people who have a coldly calculated plan are.

Now he was free.

And you had a horrible feeling that you knew exactly who he was going after.

You quickly walk down the street towards your house. Your heart beats fast, the gentle breeze brushes your warm skin and your loose hair. The canopy of trees above and the few lights along the main path cast their shadow in the opposite direction as you walk faster and faster.

At the end of the street, your eyes notice movement, something large and slow, moving behind a row of parked cars. It's not completely unusual for pedestrians to be out so late - after all, you're here, right? - but your stomach drops a little, very consciously. Something instinctive warning you that it is smart to be afraid.

By the time your trajectory takes you past the line of dark vehicles, the street is once again empty and you allow the hairs on the back of your neck to rise with relief. It was probably just some insomniac suburbanite, taking out the trash or smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk.

Rows of closed windows stare at you blankly as you pass by, colonial houses with sagging porches and overgrown backyards, the residents of the peaceful neighborhood sleeping soundly within the comfort of their homes.

A noise breaks the silence: a loud, prolonged rumble, followed by an inhuman whine, an undeniably animal sound.

There's a single lamp behind you that puts an enormous silhouette into sharp relief, but you can still easily see his solid, dangerous structure.

Your knees threaten to give way, your throat burns as you try to take a deep breath, fear leaves you numb and clumsy in exactly the least desired way at the moment. You don't think, not really, you just act. Getting to the house across the street is like running a marathon, and raising your fists to knock on the door, swing the doorknob, requires a huge effort against the adrenaline that makes your hands shake uncontrollably. "Please help me!", your voice is hoarse, your throat is tight, it's not loud enough, no matter how much you want to scream - it's like you're trapped in a nightmare where no one can hear your screams for help. "Let me in, please, I-"

The door swings open under the weight of your fists, and you almost fall to your knees at the abrupt movement. You don't have time to think, to weigh whether this would be the smartest choice compared to the others, you don't know if he's clinging to your back or if there's still a safe distance between the two of you -

You just enter.

---

The realization of the terrible mistake you made dawns on you in the space of a few minutes of panting breaths.

The living room is empty, strangely enough, not that you really have time to think about it. A staircase appears in your field of vision, and your panicked animal brain sends you toward it, taking two steps at a time, crossing a long landing and climbing to a second floor, holding on to the railing like a wooden board salvation. "Someone please!" You manage to scream, "Please, someone! I'm being followed, call the police!"

The police couldn't help you, and if you were thinking clearly you would know that. No one, not even the army, could help you against this thing.

Yet there is no voice responding, no shuffling human movement, no clicking light. And then you see the paint cans, the tarp, the door off its hinges and against the opposite wall.

This house is under construction.

Nobody. No lights. Without help.

Spinning on your heel, you stagger back toward the stairs. But there is no more time. The door you left ajar in your moment of despair lets in a pale beam of moonlight through the unfinished wooden floor of the foyer, and you watch in mute horror as a shape fills it - huge, so tall that he has to lower his head past the doorframe, a brick wall of an alien assassin wearing a metallic mask. The soulless black holes of the visor, poor excuses for eyes, stare back at you.

Alone, in an empty and unfamiliar house. Your heart pounds in your chest, bile rising in your throat - you're trapped.

You know it. And he knows it too.

The creature walks with slow and determined steps towards the end of the stairs. You briefly, wildly consider waiting until he reaches the landing and then throwing yourself off the balcony. You can survive.

The thought makes you feel like a panicked rat, chewing on its own leg to get out of the trap.

Of course there's also the possibility that you'll break every bone in your body and die from sheer stupidity - which may be preferable to death by those sharp claws on his massive hands, but at least the latter you'll be able to escape. If you can keep your wits and your legs under you, you might be able to outwit the Predator. Evade the trap.

You almost want to laugh at your own delusions of salvation.

Your unsteady feet drag back without your eyes leaving him, but with every slow step you take back he takes one towards the stairs. The silver rays of the moon bathing his reptilian-looking skin, highlighting his entire body dyed in a singular tone of obsidian, with some lighter variations on the abdomen and in some internal points. Thick, long tendrils of 'hair' flow around the mask and over his broad shoulders, adorned with gold and silver metal beads. One of his hands - oh, huge and with long, sharp black claws - seems to want to reach out towards you, but the creature holds back for some reason, preferring to continue with the strange war of glances.

It seems that in his escape from the laboratory he recovered some of his things: in addition to the mask, he wore the wrist gauntlets, the net that covered his body, the strange piece of cloth wrapped around his hips decorated with bones and skulls, and the metallic protectors on the shins. The metallic chestplate and combi-stick weren't visible, you can't tell if he managed to recover it or not.

Regardless, he was infinitely more frightening now that you can see him outside of containment; big and broad, a solid wall of defined muscles. But it was his posture that unnerved you. The roll of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of his calf muscles, as if he was preparing to jump - just waiting for a movement from you to attack.

He reaches out, this time to his own face, grabbing the metal there. Air pressure is released when the metal mask is removed.

You hold your breath.

His face was lighter than the rest of his body, a slightly grayish tone with some black streaks mixing with the dreadlock-like hair on his head, a few black barbs framing the sides of his face and along his elongated forehead. There were, of course, those flaming eyes you already knew. Instead of lips, he had four folded jaws with long teeth at the tip of each of them. Inside those jaws, you could see more of his teeth, smaller but more numerous and frighteningly sharp.

He moved his jaws as he climbed the stairs with purposeful slowness, his massive size making the stairs creak, strange clicks and rumbles emerging from his mouth.

You gasped in response to his face, shaky and scared, your backward steps continuing until your back hit the wall.

End of the line.

If you ran you would have to turn your back on him, and you couldn't do that. Never turn your back on a predator, everyone knew this rule.

It was as if you were in a horror movie or a nightmare, where you could only watch without any reaction as the monster approached. The predatory way he approached awakened the primitive instinct to flee, but your legs were shaking too much for that.

You pushed yourself further against the wall, even though there was no longer any space. It looked like he wouldn't stop walking, that he would simply knock you into the wall, but at the last second he pinned you against him and ice-cold wood at your back.

The air was knocked from you, hands flat against his chest instinctively as a way to get some distance. Even under the net, his skin was clearly much warmer and firmer than your own, smooth in some places and textured in others, the latter matching the gray patterns that spread across his extremities. He smelled mostly of moss and damp, like a forest after rain. But there was also a muffled current of pheromones, a slightly peppery scent that hit you like a tsunami.

In fact now that you felt it, it felt heavier and heavier by the second, as if he was exhaling on purpose. With each inhale, that smell seemed to make you a little more relaxed, a little more dizzy.

It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was even closer, hovering above you, his breath hot and wet, stirring your strands of hair. A gasp left your throat as his sharp jaws dove down, digging his nose or whatever it was into your hair to press into your neck - though you didn't know if that sound had been out of terror or something else. All you knew was that when he backed away, another low, animalistic growl resonated from deep in his chest, long and continuous and it took you a few awkward seconds to realize he was...purring? Purring like a cat? It was bizarre, but your own body began to uncoil, as if some force tied behind you sternum had pulled your back with him.

Your breathing is now labored for what seems like an entirely different reason. You can increasingly smell that intoxicating scent in the air and that, plus the mesmerizing purr, is making your eyes roll back slightly, a blurry haze taking over your thoughts. You can feel his sharp claws as they dig into your shirt and you, in turn, can't control the shudder in your body in response.

His scent is doing something to you, something that definitely shouldn't be happening. There's an overwhelming pressure blooming in your core, the beginnings of a dull ache that makes you clench your thighs to ease the tension. The saliva in your mouth comes down with difficulty as you swallow and lick your lips, stretching your neck to look into his eyes - god, you could barely reach the line below his chest with your head. What's happening with you? He is not human, he is not human. This is wrong.

"..." His jaws click and move, strange sounds fill the room with deep growls and hisses; he was talking, but you couldn't understand him. His eyes roam your face as he speaks his strange language, and his thumb gently wipes away a tear you hadn't even noticed falling from your eye.

You open your mouth to question, to scream for help, to beg for mercy, for anything...but nothing comes out.

His breath is hot as he bends his body until he's almost face to face with you, all predatory expression and clicking jaws, almost drooling on your skin. And then, as he forcing the words out of his depths, he says, “Mate.” He declares to you, slowly and gravely in a way that no human sound could ever be, but a little more understandable now.

You look at him in shock, not expecting a deep, English word to come out of his alien mouth. His inhuman eyes are bright enough that you clearly see the orange flames in the dim light of the night, slashed down the center with black, almost feline pupils that threaten to drag you inside.

Mate.

What the hell?

You blink slowly, the low rumble persisting as he purrs under your attention and you can tell he's trying very hard to appear less threatening to you. You bite your lip against a hysterical and completely untimely laugh that wants to escape, the tension of fear finally channeling into something different (something manic and traumatized) when he presses his broad forehead to yours in a frighteningly intimate gesture, tilting his head even further to rub your cheeks with those sharp jaws, snorting into your hair and sniffing at your neck.

The drag of the deadly fangs against your skin is exhilarating, in the worst way and you fear what is to come, a very animal and very instinctive part rooted in the most unconscious corner of your being, knows exactly what this creature is wanting from you. And the worst part, the most disturbing and embarrassing part of this realization, is that you don't know if you want to resist. Not with the way his scent and purrs are making your legs shaky and your mind fuzzy.

You're shaking, but it's not just from fear and perhaps the creature knows this, because he pulls back a little until he looks into your eyes - something very carnal and very primal vibrating almost visibly beneath that reptilian skin.

He slowly looks away from yours to fiddle with something on his wrist, and you feel like you can breathe once again without the oppressive weight of the orange orbs on you. He clicks the object on his arm for a few moments and then pulls a small metal disk out of it. It's no bigger than a small cell phone chip, and he balanced it on his fingertips.

Curious, you lean in a little. You just want to take a look at what he's doing; but before you even know what's happening, the giant puts his hand around your throat and pulls you towards him. You scream at the hostile action and try to fight him, but of course it's no use. With his strong hand, he can easily subdue you and move your head to the side, pressing the metal thing against the skin just behind your ear in a quick, burning blow.

You don't have time to react, much less to understand how he did that at that speed.

You just feel the effect.

It burns, like you're being branded, and you scream. Your whole head hurts, and for a second you wonder if he hit you against the wall in the process. It's a wrong and distorted feeling, like someone is tuning a radio inside your head, you hear screams and white noise echoing inside; so loud that you have to cover your ears with your hands, but that does little to decrease to the cacophony inside your mind.

When the alien releases you, you kneel on the ground, still writhing in discomfort and pain from the chaos in your head – and then, suddenly, everything stops. You're panting, your fingers covering your ears and your head between your knees, but when the noise quiets, you slowly look up. And although you are dizzy and a little disoriented, the presence of the creature hovering ominously above you is clear.

“W-what was that?” you mumble between quick breaths. "What the hell did you do to me!?"

The alien blinks slowly and tilts his head, jaws clicking before he responds. "Now we can talk."

Your eyes widen at the strange sound (but fluid and articulate, very different from just a few minutes ago), your stomach tightens and you pull your knees closer to your chest. “W-what?”

“It’s a translator,” he says. His voice is still very dark and booming, but his growls and clicks have somehow turned into words you can understand. “This allows your little ooman brain to understand my language.”

You swallow hard and feel the blood drain from your body. He was scary when you couldn't understand him, but he was even scarier when he could talk.

“Get up, little ooman,” he murmurs. “We should get to my ship. I don’t want to spend any more time on this miserable planet.”

You can't believe what you're hearing, everything is happening so fast. With shaky legs, you gape at him. “I…I don’t understand.”

The moment is interrupted by something when the alien turns his head towards the window of the house, the various dreads tubes rattling with the movement and his jaws opening in a low trill while a long, forked tongue at the tip comes out of his deadly-looking mouth. You gasp at the sight, but he doesn't look at you, using his own body in front of yours, as if he was instinctively hiding and protecting you from something you cannot see, feel or hear. The burgundy appendage is long and glistens with the moisture of his alien saliva, along its length there are some quivers and small barbs. He slowly waves the thing in the air, almost as if he's proving something. And then you understand.

He's smelling it.

Maybe he's even more snake-like than you thought, after all, catching scent particles in the air with his tongue.

The air is positively thick with eager anticipation, he's alert and ready and you feel it.

You don't have time to think about it too much, though. Because soon he is looking at you again, although there is no longer any sign of malice and hunger in his posture now. The way he lifts his colossal body until he's completely erect, swelling the already prominent muscles to appear more menacing, only speaks of a creature with a purpose.

"Oomans here. They must have some kind of tracker." He growls once more and clicks that gauntlet again, making you jerk back with a new wave of fear.

"Y-yes, all the containment units are after you now. It's only a matter of time before they find you and try to arrest you again. Y-you should go." You respond quietly and slowly, trying to make him understand every word.

"My ship is nearby." He grumbles sullenly. You try to control the wave of curiosity that the word 'ship' evokes in you. Seriously, how many humans have had the opportunity to see one up close? But of course you don't say anything, if you got out of this situation with your life it would be good enough. You would forget about this bizarre encounter and go on with your peaceful and boring life as if you had received the greatest gift of all.

But then he continues.

“You…” He covers your body with his once again, cornering you against the wall. Your eyes widen as he wraps a thick arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "You belong to me now, ooman. You'll come along."

You feel like you didn't get it right. “T-to space?”

He doesn't seem to want to entertain this conversation anymore and just grunts again.

It's like all the red flags go up in your mind at once.

"N-no! No, I can't, that's...I can't!"

But he doesn't listen to you, and you can't predict the sharp sting on your neck. It doesn't hurt like it used to, but he cradles your head with huge fingers almost tenderly as a sickening sensation wracks your body and makes you stagger. You feel weak, your body giving out as you babble out things that even you don't understand. Everything is getting dark and your little fingers are scratching his arms looking for support, your breathing is coming with difficulty and your eyes are unfocused.

"It's okay, mate, just give in...I'll take care of you..." He purrs, but you can barely hear him, your senses are fuzzy and lethargic and you know you're going to pass out.

The last thing you see before the darkness swallows you and the unknown can wrap its tentacles around you, are orange flames above you. Hot, consuming and scary.

And then there is nothing but emptiness.

#prey #predator #yautja #yautja x human #yautja x reader #predator x reader #predator x human #yautja x you #yautja smut #predator x you #predator x reader smut #predator series #predator smut #predators #yautja lovers #monster smut #monster fucker #monster #tw monsterfucking #halloween #kinktober #monster lover #monster x human #monster x reader #exophelia #predator/prey

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

I am Sage's mother, better known as Nana. I adopted Sage after my son died when she was still a baby. She's been through six foster homes by then, but we loved her and she blossomed into a joyful, lively girl who made music and art.

Puberty began and COVID hit, and she was treated for depression and anxiety, at times very severe. Her teachers shared any concerns with me so her treatment could be adapted.

The transparency ended in August of 2021 when Sage started high school. She started a public high school and she told me that all the girls there were bi, trans, lesbian, emo and she wanted to wear boy's clothes and be emo. Because I saw it as just a phase, it was fine with me.

But at school, she told them something different: she was now a boy named Draco with male pronouns. Sage asked the school not to tell me, and they did not tell me even though I informed them of her mental health history and medication. If I had known, this would be a much different story.

She was terribly bullied. No one told me. But boys followed her, touched her, threatened violence and rape. Something happened in the boy's bathroom but for two days, the school told me nothing. They kept meeting with Sage alone and she became so distraught they called me to pick her up.

That evening, I found a hallpass labeled 'Draco' and Sage told me she was identifying as a boy, and that her counselor said she could use the boy's bathroom. She'd been jacked up against the wall by a group of boys. She was crying, terrified. I said just stay home, we'll figure it out. That was my last conversation with Sage for five months.

The night she ran, she thought, to a young friend she'd met online, she left a note saying she was scared of what would happen if she stayed. The sheriff, FBI, search dogs were called in. I dropped to my knees in prayer. Nine days later the FBI found her in Baltimore. My baby had been lured online, sex trafficked by DC then Maryland. She was locked in a room, drugged, gang raped and brutalized by countless men. It was night. The FBI told us to pick her up in Maryland the next morning.

We packed our cars with blankets and stuffed animals and arrived by 8 am, but we were told we couldn't see her, and were summoned before Judge Robert Kershaw late that afternoon. They didn't even tell Sage that we came for her. We finally entered the courtroom and Sage appears on a huge Zoom screen from a prison cell. She looks tiny and broken, and I cry out 'I love you Sage.' Sage responds 'I love you too, Nana.' But attorney Anisa Khan rebukes us. She is a 'he' and his name is 'Draco' not Sage. We were floored.

Khan accuses us of emotional and physical abuse, that we are misgendering her, even though we just learned she claims to be trans and we're willing to use any name and pronouns to bring her home. My husband was so tearful he kept forgetting the new pronouns, so the judge had the bailiff remove him from the courtroom. I was pleading for my child to be returned and treated for her unspeakable trauma. Judge Kershaw told me, if I use the word 'trauma' again, he would throw me out too.

For over two months, he withheld custody. He housed Sage in the male quarters of a children's home. Sage told me she was the only girl and repeatedly assaulted. She was given street drugs by the other kids and Khan told her she didn't care. She just wanted to win the case and all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. Khan tried to prove abuse, but we were eventually cleared by both states of all charges.

Sage later told me Khan had told her to lie that we hit her. Khan even had Sage's school counselors testify against us, though they barely knew Sage and they didn't know us at all. Khan told my precious child I didn't want her anymore. I found out Sage never received any of the letters I sent her.

Sage ran from the Children's Home and disappeared for months. They told me she might already be gone forever, but I couldn't give up and I finally found a tip on her social media that led the marshals to her in Texas. She had been drugged, raped, beaten and exploited. This time I was able to be with her for the traumatic rape exam, and to bring her home.

Back in Virginia, she entered the mental health facility that Judge Kershaw had ordered, as it would affirm her as a male. The therapist began pressuring her to have her healthy breasts removed. Sage was too scared to protest, but she asked me to secretly buy her girl's clothes because she wanted to be a girl, but keep them in the car. It took a kind lawyer, Josh Hetzler to secure her discharge.

After almost a year. Sage was finally home. Safe. Alive. Sage is receiving professional trauma care. The first trafficker has already been convicted. Sage has nightmares, panic attacks, rape-related medical issues, but there's hope. I tell her she's not broken she's just scarred. And part of that hope is that in courageously sharing her story, others will be saved.

Sage said she doesn't know who she was back then. She wasn't a boy, she just wanted to have friends. But her school, the judge, the attorney and the doctor were all blinded by their ideology. The consequences for Sage were unspeakable.

Please don't let ideology harm another child. Let parents do our jobs. We know our children best and we love them a million times more.

Thank you.

==

Jesus Christ. This girl was exploited by everybody, except for her parents, who were villainized for literally nothing. It's opposite world.

And the fact that everybody with authority prioritized stupid shit like pronouns and trying to coax her further down into a fake identity, even against her will, and other ideological bullshit over her actual wellbeing is disgraceful.

The judge and attorney need to be disbarred, the therapist stripped of their license, and everyone who conspired to separate Sage from her parents fired.

#Sage's Law #HB 2432 #gender ideology #queer theory #ideological corruption #genderwang #safeguarding #child safeguarding #predators #groomers #predatory #gender cult #religion is a mental illness

[amnhnyc]

What a croc! This Fossil Friday, let’s take a bite out of the weekend with Deinosuchus—a giant crocodilian that lived alongside the dinosaurs some 75 million years ago. Reaching lengths of more than 35 ft (10.7 m) and weighing more than 8,000 lbs (3628.7 kg), Deinosuchus was as long as a school bus and as heavy as an elephant, making it one of the most powerful predators in its ecosystem. In fact, partially healed bite marks found on the bones of a tyrannosaur in North America match this giant croc’s teeth, suggesting Deinosuchus could go toe to toe with even the most formidable of dinosaurs.

This image is a historical reconstruction from 1942 and is not representative of current size estimates.

Photo: Image no. 318651/ © AMNH Library

#science #amnh #museum #fossil #nature #natural history #animals #paleontology #did you know #fact of the day #fossil friday #crocodile #deinosuchus #ancient animals #predators

[mostlysignssomeportents]

'We buy ugly houses' is code for 'we steal vulnerable peoples' homes'

Tonight (May 11) at 7PM, I’m in CALGARY for Wordfest, with my novel Red Team Blues; I’ll be hosted by Peter Hemminger at the Memorial Park Library, 2nd Floor.

Home ownership is the American dream: not only do you get a place to live, free from the high-handed dictates of a landlord, but you also get an asset that appreciates, building intergenerational wealth while you sleep — literally.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

Of course, you can’t have it both ways. If your house is an asset you use to cover falling wages, rising health care costs, spiraling college tuition and paper-thin support for eldercare, then it can’t be a place you live. It’s gonna be an asset you sell — or at the very least, borrow so heavily against that you are in constant risk of losing it.

This is the contradiction at the heart of the American dream: when America turned its back on organized labor as an engine for creating prosperity and embraced property speculation, it set itself on the road to serfdom — a world where the roof over your head is also your piggy bank, destined to be smashed open to cover the rising costs that an organized labor movement would have fought:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Today, we’re hit the end of the road for the post-war (unevenly, racially segregated) shared prosperity that made it seem, briefly, that everyone could get rich by owning a house, living in it, then selling it to everybody else. Now that the game is ending, the winners are cashing in their chips:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

The big con of home ownership is proceeding smartly on schedulee. First, you let the mark win a little, so they go all in on the scam. Then you take it all back. Obama’s tolerance of bank sleze after the Great Financial Crisis kicked off the modern era of corporations and grifters stealing Americans’ out from under them, forging deeds in robosigning mills:

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/us-breaks-down-93-bln-robo-signing-settlement-2013-02-28

The thefts never stopped. Today on Propublica, by Anjeanette Damon, Byard Duncan and Mollie Simon bring a horrifying, brilliantly reported account of the rampant, bottomless scams of Homevestors, AKA We Buy Ugly Houses, AKA “the #1 homebuyer in the USA”:

https://www.propublica.org/article/ugly-truth-behind-we-buy-ugly-houses

Homevestors — an army of the hedge fund Bayview Asset Management — claims a public mission: to bail out homeowners sitting on unsellable houses with all-cash deals. The company’s franchisees — 1,150 of them in 48 states — then sprinkle pixie dust and secret sauce on these “ugly houses” and sell them at a profit.

But Propublica’s investigation — which relied on whistleblowers, company veterans, court records and interviews with victims — tells a very different story. The Homevestor they discovered is a predator that steals houses out from under elderly people, disabled people, people struggling with mental illness and other vulnerable people. It’s a company whose agents have a powerful, well-polished playbook that stops family members from halting the transfers the company’s high-pressure salespeople set in motion.

Propublica reveals homeowners with advanced dementia who signed their shaky signatures to transfers that same their homes sold out from under them for a fraction of their market value. They show how Homevestor targets neighborhoods struck by hurricanes, or whose owners are recently divorced, or sick. One whistleblower tells of how the company uses the surveillance advertising industry to locate elderly people who’ve broken a hip: “a 60-day countdown to death — and, possibly, a deal.” The company’s mobile ads are geofenced to target people near hospitals and rehab hospitals, in hopes of finding desperate sellers who need to liquidate homes so that Medicaid will cover their medical expenses.

The sales pitches are relentless. One of Homevestor’s targets was a Texas woman whose father had recently been murdered. As she grieved, they blanketed her in pitches to sell her father’s house until “checking her mail became a traumatic experience.”

Real-estate brokers are bound by strict regulations, but not house flippers like Homevestors. Likewise, salespeople who pitch other high-ticket items, from securities to plane tickets — are required to offer buyers a cooling-off period during which they can reconsider their purchases. By contrast, Homevestors’ franchisees are well-versed in “muddying the title” to houses after the contract is signed, filing paperwork that makes it all but impossible for sellers to withdraw from the sale.

This produces a litany of ghastly horror-stories: homeowners who end up living in their trucks after they were pressured into a lowball sales; sellers who end up dying in hospital beds haunted by the trick that cost them their homes. One woman who struggled with hoarding was tricked into selling her house by false claims that the city would evict her because of her hoarding. A widow was tricked into signing away the deed to her late husband’s house by the lie that she could do so despite not being on the deed. One seller was tricked into signing a document he believed to be a home equity loan application, only to discover he had sold his house at a huge discount on its market value. An Arizona woman was tricked into selling her dead mother’s house through the lie that the house would have to be torn down and the lot redeveloped; the Homevestor franchisee then flipped the house for 5,500% of the sale-price.

The company vigorously denies these claims. They say that most people who do business with Homevestors are happy with the outcome; in support of this claim, they cite internal surveys of their own customers that produce a 96% approval rating.

When confronted with the specifics, the company blamed rogue franchisees. But Propublica obtained training materials and other internal documents that show that the problem is widespread and endemic to Homevestors’ business. Propublica discovered that at least eight franchisees who engaged in conduct the company said it “didn’t tolerate” had been awarded prizes by the company for their business acumen.

Franchisees are on the hook for massive recurring fees and face constant pressure from corporate auditors to close sales. To make those sales, franchisees turn to Homevana’s training materials, which are rife with predatory tactics. One document counsels franchisees that “pain is always a form of motivation.” What kind of pain? Lost jobs, looming foreclosure or a child in need of surgery.

A former franchisee explained how this is put into practice in the field: he encountered a seller who needed to sell quickly so he could join his dying mother who had just entered a hospice 1,400 miles away. The seller didn’t want to sell the house; they wanted to “get to Colorado to see their dying mother.”

These same training materials warn franchisees that they must not deal with sellers who are “subject to a guardianship or has a mental capacity that is diminished to the point that the person does not understand the value of the property,” but Propublica’s investigation discovered “a pattern of disregard” for this rule. For example, there was the 2020 incident in which a 78-year-old Atlanta man sold his house to a Homevestors franchisee for half its sale price. The seller was later shown to be “unable to write a sentence or name the year, season, date or month.”

The company tried to pin the blame for all this on bad eggs among its franchisees. But Propublica found that some of the company’s most egregious offenders were celebrated and tolerated before and after they were convicted of felonies related to their conduct on behalf of the company. For example, Hi-Land Properties is a five-time winner of Homevestors’ National Franchise of the Year prize. The owner was praised by the CEO as “loyal, hardworking franchisee who has well represented our national brand, best practices and values.”

This same franchisee had “filed two dozen breach of contract lawsuits since 2016 and clouded titles on more than 300 properties by recording notices of a sales contract.” Hi-Land “sued an elderly man so incapacitated by illness he couldn’t leave his house.”

Another franchisee, Patriot Holdings, uses the courts aggressively to stop families of vulnerable people from canceling deals their relatives signed. Patriot Holdings’ co-owner, Cory Evans, eventually pleaded guilty to to two felonies, attempted grand theft of real property. He had to drop his lawsuits against buyers, and make restitution.

According to Homevestors’ internal policies, Patriot’s franchise should have been canceled. But Homevestors allowed Patriot to stay in business after Cory Evans took his name off the business, leaving his brothers and other partners to run it. Nominally, Cory Evans was out of the picture, but well after that date, internal Homevestors included Evans in an award it gave to Patriot, commemorating its sales (Homevestors claims this was an error).

Propublica’s reporters sought comment from Homevestors and its franchisees about this story. The company hired “a former FBI spokesperson who specializes in ‘crisis and special situations’ and ‘reputation management’ and funnelled future questions through him.”

Internally, company leadership scrambled to control the news. The company convened a webinar in April with all 1,150 franchisees to lay out its strategy. Company CEO David Hicks explained the company’s plan to “bury” the Propublica article with “‘strategic ad buys on social and web pages’ and ‘SEO content to minimize visibility.’”

https://www.propublica.org/article/homevestors-aims-to-bury-propublica-reporting

Franchisees were warned not to click links to the story because they “might improve its internet search ranking.”

Even as the company sought to “bury” the story and stonewalled Propublica, they cleaned house, instituting new procedures and taking action against franchisees identified in Propublica’s article. “Clouding titles” is now prohibited. Suing sellers for breach of contract is “discouraged.” Deals with seniors “should always involve family, attorneys or other guardians.”

During the webinar, franchisees “pushed back on the changes, claiming they could hurt business.”

If you’ve had experience with hard-sell house-flippers, Propublica wants to know: “If you’ve had experience with a company or buyer promising fast cash for homes, our reporting team wants to hear about it.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A Depression-era photo of a dour widow standing in front of a dilapidated cabin. Next to her is Ug, the caveman mascot for Homevestors, smiling and pointing at her. Behind her is a 'We buy ugly houses' sign.

Image: Homevestors https://www.homevestors.com/

Fair use: https://www.eff.org/issues/intellectual-property

#pluralistic #the rents too damned high #house flipping #llc brain #scams #elder abuse #ripoffs #weaponized shelter #predators #homevestors #we buy ugly houses #ugly houses #real estate #propublica

[renegade-chaos-druid]

Hunting Party

#predator #predators #yautja

[anthonydoingstuff]

My old ocs, i need to draw them more, they are silly

#art #my art #artwork #drawing #yautja x human #yautja #yautja oc #predators #predator #predator oc #predator franchise #oc artwork #ocs #yautja girlfriend

[fanofspooky]

Carl Weathers behind the scenes of Predator

#horror #horror movies #horror movie #movie #movies #behind the scenes #behind the scene photo #horror behind the scenes #carl weathers #predators #predator 1987 #predator #Predator movie #the 80s #80's movies #80s horror #80s movies #80 horror movies #80s film

[looseratinthegarage]

Slashers S/O getting their period. Maybe?

I haven’t done a request in so long- but I’m on my period rn and felt inspired to write this! Enjoy to anyone who still follows me after my many disappearances.

S/O getting their period

Michael

Michael notices everything. And I mean everything. You’ve been more irritable lately but he hasn’t been able to deduce why… He enters the bathroom to use it when he sees strange wrappers in the trash. His first thought is that you’ve been hiding candy from him and he’s pissed. But when he unwraps it he sees a bloody pad/tampon. He stares through the item for a moment, trying to process what the hell is happening. He then throws it on the ground and stomps down stairs. You’re sitting on the couch playing the new Zelda Tears of the Kingdom game. He then takes the controller out of your hand and throws it to the side. He lifts up your shit and sifts through your hair for an injury or any blood.

“M-Michael!? What are you doing?” You say with surprise. He then grabs your pants and takes them off, leaving you in your undergarments. He is able to see that you are wearing the same thing he found in the trash. I points and looks concerned

“I-I’m just on my period! I’m fine..” You blush heavily and reassure your boyfriend that you’re not dying.

He doesn’t know what to do. His mom taught him about this stuff when he was a boy, but he only knows the basics. He’ll at first not understand why you’re being so ‘dramatic’ about everything. But when he realizes it really does hurt, he’ll try to help you, in his own little Michael way of course.

Thomas

Thomas wakes up for the day and stretches his arms. He feels something wet in the bed next to him. He lifts his hand and sees blood. He instantly panics and looks down at you. He rips the covers off of you and sees a large red stain underneath you. He shakes you awake.

“Huh- what? Baby, is there something wrong…?” You say half asleep. He points to the stain and your stomach drops.

“Oh god I’m so sorry Thomas! I’ve been trying to use cloth for my period because we don’t have pads/tampons- oh and now I’ve stained your sheets..” You look apologetic and absolutely mortified. But as soon as he hears ‘period’ he relaxes. His mama raised him right, so he doesn’t make you feel bad about leaking on the bed.

He picks you up and takes you to the bathroom. He runs you a warm bath and puts bubbles in it. He kisses your forehead then walks back into his room. He takes off the sheets and brings them outside to be washed.

Throughout the day he checks on you, often getting yelled at Hoyt for ‘slacking off’. He brings you teas, chocolate, snacks, meals- anything you need. His hands are incredibly warm, so in the night he holds you close to him, putting his hand over your stomach, soothing the cramps.

Yautja

You and your mate were training. You were running obstacle courses, they’re mad for yautja so they’re different. Think ninja warrior stuff. While running and jumping and climbing your pad shifts in your underwear and the flood gates open. You have blood running down your leg, but you’re too focused to notice.. but your mate does. He looks concerned.

“Bleeding. Why?” He uses the least amount of English possible to convey himself.

“Huh?” You stop at one of the platforms and then feel it running down your leg. You look down and feel mortified as your period blood runs down your leg for all to see.

“O-Oh god… sorry about that..” You also notice you’ve gotten blood on the course. You cover your face in embarrassment as your mate walks up to you.

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly, putting his clawed hand on your shoulder.

“I-It’s just my period. It’s similar to the thing that happens to some yautja after the breeding season, if they haven’t gotten pregnant…” You say embarrassedly and a bit shyly.

“Very well.” He seems unphased by it, happy to know you’re not hurt and that it’s just a natural occurrence.

“Why are you hiding from me? Blood does not scare a warrior such as I.” He purrs and runs his finger down your bloody leg. He then brings it up to his mouth and licks it off with his tongue.

You blush and nod, hugging him. He gives you yautja natural remedies for your period. If you have extreme cramps or excessive bleeding he’ll use some medicine or even quick surgery to fix the problem. Don’t worry, yautja pain meds are a lifesaver. You practically feel nothing, just a little sore is all. He will take care of you the best he knows how, and don’t be afraid to give him pointers. He’ll take notes.

#slashers #horror #slasher community #yautja #predator #yautja x reader #predators #avp #the predator #micheal myers #rz michael myers x s/o #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader

[araghorn07]

It’s been a while since i posted anything 😭

So here y’all go

Bahkt’an ahaha

#yautja #predator #predator franchise #yautja oc #predator oc #predator art #yautja art #predators #depredator #feral predator #bahk’tan

[wthtorke]

Snowstorm

*Looks around* Well hello lmao what a better way to return than posting a THICK ass fic huh

8K words - Warnings for getting trapped, small spaces, and everything that comes with it + general trauma + injury - Gender-neutral reader

Enjoy! <3

-

You often put others' needs before your own. 

Not that you noticed you did it. It took some pointing out from your close friends to get you to realize just how you swept your desires under the rug.

After god knows how much pushing, you agreed to go on a trip by yourself. "No work worries, no guys, no girls, just you and your alone time!" Your friend had said. 

You sat in your living room with your laptop, browsing through destinations and flight tickets. Everyone seemed eager to see you go on the trip. At least, you hoped it was that. While you loved your friends, you worried that if you were not helpful somehow, they would drop you cold. 

Were they happy for you or happy to see you go? You didn't know, but the trip could help that too. You wanted to be more independent, sure, and in tune with yourself. 

Your eyes stop on an ad, and immediately you click it. 

Skiing in the Rocky Mountains.

You smile. The cool crisp air may do you some good.

You book the ticket and the hotel for your stay, and as the week goes by, you pack your bags. You had gone on other trips throughout your life, of course, but this one felt a little different. Maybe because it'd be your first alone adventure in a long time, but whatever it was, you felt good about it.

The day before the trip, you say goodbye to your friends and head back to your house. Only 7 hours of sleep and a couple more of flight separated you from snow and, hopefully, a lot of fun.

The trip is easy enough. You get to your room at the hotel and unpack just enough to start exploring as soon as you could. 

Groups of people gathered at the tourist stops choosing what they would be doing and booking activities for the day. Just as you reach the board, the ski equipment is fully booked for the day already. 

You frown as a lady beside you nods. "Yup, all gone! I'm pissed as fuck too! You either bring your own or get here at the butt of the morning to rent equipment." She sighs. "I'm going on a hike. Make sure to leave your name in the equipment call, though. If somebody gives up, they should give you preference, it seems." She shrugs.

You nod, perking up and signing your name with the clerk's list, looking back at the girl again, "what hike did you choose?" 

"Me? One of the easy ones, that one-," she points at the boards again. The list still had some spots left, "It's the longest of the easy ones, though. Thinking about joining?" 

You nod, "Yeah, it's only my first day here. It sounds good enough for a first day," you say, picking up the pen and putting down your info on the list. The group would depart in 30 minutes, enough time to prepare for it. 

"Nice! I'll see you at the meeting point later then!" She smiles and walks off. You smile at the clerk and head back to your room to pack your bag for the hike. 

You pack your backpack with energy bars, the biggest water bottle you could find, the emergency first aid kit one of your friends gifted you, a hiking map you bought in the reception, a small emergency light, an emergency bivy, and an emergency blanket, just in case. 

On your way down, you buy two sandwiches from a machine, along with a soup-filled thermos, stuffing them in your backpack before heading to the meeting spot. 

You look around, searching for the lady you talked to earlier, wondering if she would make it in time. 

She arrives 2 minutes before your departure, panting a bit but smiling at you, waving as she walks over. "Hey there, ready to freeze up there?" 

"Definitely not." You two laugh as your guide speaks up, stating the hike rules and emergency tips. "And lastly, do not go anywhere alone. The hike is easy, but don't underestimate it! Safety is in numbers, always. Now, with all of that said, let's get hiking!" 

The way up is slow. People chat quietly while they walk, taking pictures and generally marveling about the views, you included. 

The wind is ice cold and makes your lungs feel a bit prickly when you breathe. Your cheeks are cold, a reminder that you were really there, enjoying a hike on a trip you made on your own. It makes you smile. 

You're halfway up when your newfound friend approaches you again.

"So, you came by yourself?" The girl asks. You nod, "yeah, I thought I would do something different…what about you?" 

"I travel alone all the time. First time here, though!" She smiles, "After I started going places alone, I just couldn't stop. It's way easier." She says. The guide announces your first stop to rest is just up ahead. 

As most of the group sits down to eat and drink, you and your friend sit on a fallen log at the edge of the trail. You pull out one of your bars while she takes a few swigs of her water bottle. 

You're laughing at her jokes when a crack calls your attention toward the trees.  You turn around to look, staring intently at the trees. Your friend’s gaze switches from you to the trees multiple times, “Bestie? You good?” 

“Did you hear anything?” You ask her, still searching. The chatter from the rest of the group dies down as you strain to hear anything from the trees again. “It’s probably a squirrel or something.” She shrugs.

“I think that was too heavy to be a squirrel.” You say, hearing it again as you get up from the log, picking up your backpack. She does the same, “Okay….maybe it’s a huge squirrel or a deer?” She says, starting to sound worried as well.

The cracking sounds get louder and more violent before a strong gust of wind hits both of you. A big thundering sound follows it. You realize what’s happening all too late.

“Avalanche! Run!” 

You both scream and make for it. The snow comes crashing down through the trees as you and your friend sprint through the trail, trying to catch up with the rest of the group. You look at the snow for a fraction of a second and slip. 

You fall to the ground. You can barely hear any screaming over the falling snow’s booming noise. You scream and try getting up again, putting your hands up to shield yourself from the snow. 

Another sound hits your ears before a blur launches itself toward you. The sound is blood-curdling, bone-chilling, roaring as loud as the snow coming for you. You feel the impact of said thing against your body, throwing you both off the edge. You hold onto it, whatever it was. Screaming and closing your eyes as you both flew over the edge. 

He had seen it coming, of course. While his brothers and sisters went for the hottest countries on whatever planet they landed in. He loved the snow. He had over two centuries of experience with it. 

He saw it coming. 

You are as light as he thought you would be. He holds you and your backpack against his chest as you fall off the snowy ledge. The cord of his wrist gauntlet catches against the stone. He snaps it off as you both get launched into the cave underneath the ledge.  

He lands hard on his feet, setting you down unceremoniously on the ground before rushing back to the cave entrance. The snow rages violently over as it falls from the edge, washing over anything in its way. He had been using this cave for a few days now. He knew this could happen. Would happen.

Still, he needed to close the entrance. 

The snow piles and pushes inside the cave. He aims his blaster toward the entrance’s ceiling and shoots, jumping over to your side as the stones crash down, stopping the snow from burying you both alive as he shields your body from the falling rocks. 

It’s too much. You cry and scream while keeping your face on the floor, hands shielding your head as the booming noises of cracking trees, snow, and falling rocks make your heart pound in every which way inside your ribcage. You get dragged closer by the man who saved you, and you hug the thigh he was crouching on the ground with, sobbing into it as you wait for the nightmare to be over. 

It feels like hours. It probably is hours long until the wreckage comes to a stop. You still hear the avalanche layers settling on top of the cave and its would-be entrance. The cave is pitch black. You can’t see a palm in front of your face. All you hear is your ragged breathing and the man’s -somehow- calm one. His is heavier, although slower than yours. he was big, you were sure he was from the blur you saw standing there before the rocks fell. His breathing had a dragging sound to it, a soft ‘ch ch ch’ that made your hairs stand on end. Oh God, what if he was asthmatic? 

“I- I think we’re okay now-” You say. He doesn’t reply. “Sir, are you hurt? Oh God-” You panic, patting around the floor for your bag, scooting away from him until you find it. “I’ve got a light in here. God, I hope it’s not broken!” You take a deep breath and try to remember where you placed it, counting the small bags on the front before reaching the fourth one. You pull its zip and reach for the light. The thick, now wet, gloves you wear make the metal almost slip from your grasp. 

“Please turn on, please turn on,” You pray as you push the button, successfully illuminating the wall in front of you. “Yes! Okay, now we can-” You turn around, looking for the man,

Finding something else entirely. 

It’s bigger than any man you’ve ever known in your life. Its skin is of a blueish hue with black mottling. It has protrusions that remind you of a hedgehog’s quills up its forearms, chest, and the sides of its face. It wore a mask along with dense-looking armor that looked battle-worn. Its chest heaved the same slow and steady breathing, making the quills drag against the black netting it wore. 

Your pupils dilate in dread as you perceive it whole. Your body freezes. Your breath hitches.

And you faint. 

The light falls from your hand as your body hits the floor. Your backpack acts as a hard pillow as the world darkens and comes to a stop. 

He watches as you turn into stone and pass out on your equipment, and only then does he move toward you. He grabs the small light you produced from your pack and turns it off with the click of a button, careful not to break it. He did not need light, not as long as he had his mask (even if he didn’t, if he was honest), and not as long as you were unconscious. 

‘Might as well save its power.’ He thinks. 

He takes a quick check over your form. Bruising was sure to occur. Your ankle was sprained, also expected. All in all, everything is fine. He’s glad about that. 

Now, for air.

He stands up and walks to the entrance again. While it wasn’t safe to leave the cave while the layers were still loose, and with the temperatures dropping outside, your chances of survival were low, even if his weren’t. But being wholly shut in wouldn’t do either, especially with your panicked breath. Screaming requires air. Lots of it. 

He stretches his palm over the cold stone, feeling around. A few well-placed holes would do well enough. Stepping back, his aim shines over the stone once more. 

Adjusting the width of each blast, he lasers perfect circles scattered on the wall. The snow outside melts, and fresh, cold air drifts in through the holes before more snow covers them once more. He reaches for his back pocket, retrieving several silver rings, and places them into the holes in the stone. Adjusting the desired length of each ring before pressing a button, he watches the holograms expand on his gauntlet until they surpass the snow outside. He checks each tube, satisfied when air flows steadily through all of them.

He turns back to you and walks over.

He couldn’t say what made him save you. He had been hunting in the mountains. He did see you and your group going up. But why did he risk himself to save you? He didn’t know. He found himself clutching the tree he was perched on when the snow went down, even though he would have been safe. He leaped before you fell to your knees in the snow. 

Crouching down, he takes a second to look at your face.

You groan, and he sits down, moving back to give you some space. You look around, seeing the thin light streaks coming from the wall. You look a bit to the side and squint, spotting the one figure you hoped was a dream. 

A scream rips from your throat as you panic once more, almost crushing your light in the process. You back up into the nearest wall and point your light at him, turning it on again. “What are you?! What-!”

It’s a strange creature, half man and half… something else. You had no idea what.

He lifts his hands up, and you grasp your light firmly as if it were a gun. “Don’t move-! Stay there! Who are you? What do you want?!” You ask. Demand. 

You hear audio shuffling before a distorted, “Easy…- Easy…” reaches your ears. You recognize the voice. Your instructor, the line spoken to the whole group while going through a particularly slippery part of the trail that morning. “What-...What are you? You’re not a man-, who are you?” You ask desperately. 

He shakes his head, and you want to cry harder, though he didn’t answer your second question. “Am I dead?” You sob. He shakes his head again and slowly points to the door. 

“-..-Thick S̴̨̛̛̞͉̗̜̦̘̤̤̱͉͖͒̍̑̆̑͌͆̃̕n̴̡̳̖͕̹̞͎̝̞͂̿̀̾̏̈̈́́͝ơ̸̝̣̓̔̾͊̈́̇̇̋̎̓͜͝w-.”

You sniffle, not peeling your eyes from him. “Are you going to hurt me? Please don’t-” He doesn’t reply, slowly lowering his hands again. You start to get nervous again before he points to the corner of the cave. Hesitantly, you cast the light to it, seeing the glint of the metal-like cord he had used to save you both. Your eyes widen as you try to remember the quick flashes of the occurred. You fell. The snow was coming. Something caught you, held you, and you fell over the edge. The light moves back to his form. “It was you-, so you saved me, okay-, but why?”

Again, no reply. 

The tears form cold, stiff streaks on your cheeks as you try to wipe them with the back of your gloves. You look around the cave. It wasn’t that big. You doubted you could stand up fully inside it, let alone someone as big as your…new friend. He had taken care of the air supply, but you weren’t properly trained for this. You feared you wouldn’t last until the morning. Not like this.

“You-, you made the holes in the walls, right? Can’t you get us out?” You ask him. He shakes his head. “Safer-...Here.” 

“How is it safer here? We’re buried to our necks in-...Snow.” He nods. 

“Snow is a good insulator, right?” He nods again. “Right…So you’ll get us out in the morning?” He doesn’t reply. “I’ll take that as a hopeful yes.” You say, setting your light down in the middle of the cave, pointing at the ceiling, illuminating the space the best it could. 

You open your backpack and set to planning your night here. You see your phone and gasp, trying to get it. No signal. 

You sigh as you look at the rest of your pack. You had your blanket, emergency bivy, and food and water were also fine. Nothing got broken during your rescue, thankfully. 

You take a look at your companion to find him also going through his own pack, though his equipment looked far different than yours. They almost seemed like…weapons. 

Oh, God.

“Do you come here often?” You ask. His head snaps at you. You freeze. 

He shakes his head, and you sigh in relief. “You don’t…hunt people, right?” 

He keeps staring. You wish you hadn’t asked. “Innocent people? You hunt innocent people?” Perhaps it was the trauma, the ice, the pain, or the sheer chaos of the situation you found yourself in. But judging an alien creature wasn’t as impossible as you thought it’d be. “Hunters- -Like me.” His mask croaks.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You hunt…other hunters? Human ones or, like, -really- like you? People like you?” 

“-Like me.” He repeats. 

“Your own species? Like a cop?”

A few seconds pass before you hear your own voice. “Like a cop.” Your eyes widen more. “So you’re a space cop, got it…Then what are you doing here on Earth? And in the -snow- of all places?”

A strange sound comes from him. A scoff. 

“Vaca̶̤͔͚͌̃͝ͅtion timee̷̛͖̬͙̞̞̯͙͉͓̓́̈́̀̚e̴̛̞͎͆̀͂̉̎̂͘̕͠͝e-” A young girl’s voice followed by laughter. 

You find yourself laughing nervously at the audio. A soft laugh that makes him tilt his head slightly. “Me too.” You say, “Ironically enough.”

You set out your equipment in silence before you unwrap your first sandwich. You look at your watch. 3 PM. Nice time to have a heavier snack, then you could eat the bars until the night and then eat your soup. And you’d still have your second sandwich! 

Your…second sandwich. 

“Hey.” You look at him again. He looks up from organizing his gear. “Do you have any food in that pack of yours? I have an extra one here.” You lift the wrapped sandwich to show him. 

He seems to consider before giving you a dismissive hand gesture, going back to his fiddling.

“I have plenty here,” You say. “I don’t think…someone as big as you shouldn’t go too long without eating something.” He looks at you again. His mask moves slightly. You weren’t sure if he was really looking at your hand or not.

“It’s just a turkey sandwich, are you vegetarian?” You ask, worried, for some reason. He makes a strange sound. Clicking and huffing came from his mask. Was he laughing? 

“Look, to me, you’re a carnivore -at least- but I can’t be too sure, right? You’re the first…alien I know.”

He shakes his head. “Not-, Vegetarian.” 

You nod, digging around your backpack for the other sandwich before tossing it to him. The speed with which he catches it is impressive enough. You blink, and his hand moves from the ground to beside his mask, catching the sandwich. 

He eyes it as you eat your own. For a second, you wonder if he’s allergic to anything in it. You’re about to ask when he moves again, sitting with his back turned to you. 

You frown in confusion as he sets the sandwich down on his thigh before starting to take the mask off. 

Each pop it makes has your eyes widening impossibly more. With everything that happened, you forgot the mask wasn't his -face-.

He sets the mask down, its impassive expression staring at you from the floor while he picks up the sandwich again, unwrapping it. 

You wondered what he looked like without it. It felt too rude to ask. Maybe he wanted to remain anonymous from you. 

Maybe the light hurt his eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.

Maybe he was just -shy-. 

The clicking sound- now much louder and clear, calls your attention back to reality. You watch as he apparently throws the whole sandwich into his mouth, if he really had one, and swallows it whole. 

If he chewed it, you didn’t hear it. But you do hear the biggest ‘gulp’ of your life coming from him. 

You jump a little bit when he picks up the mask again, snapping the tubes back on and turning around again.

You finish eating your own food and put the trash in your bag. "I need something I can…call you- you know, other than alien? That feels rude.” 

He shakes his head, and you lick your cold lips in thought. “How does Storm sound? I don’t think ‘Avalanche’ is any good.” You shrug, taking a swig from your water bottle. “I don’t think I should mention this to anyone, right?” 

He nods. You purse your lips again, “Look- I know the less contact between us the better, and I definitely shouldn't be asking these questions- but if I don't talk I think I'll go insane." 

Storm crosses his arms, seemingly in thought before he says a simple, firm, "Yes."

"...Are there more alien species? Do you know them? Seen any?"

"Yes. -Yes….Yes." 

"Wow." You whisper to yourself. "You're the most amazing and intense thing that ever happened to me…besides the avalanche, of course."

He relaxes, shifting a bit to sit against the stone wall. You do the same, resting against your pack. "Our government must know of you- are we friends? Our people?" 

He shakes his head. You sag. "Oh…that sucks" Storm tilts his head, and a series of cut audios gather your attention again. "Government- sucks." 

You laugh. His shoulders shake slightly. Maybe he was laughing as well? 

"This wasn't what I had in mind when I came here, but I'm glad you're here. Thank you for saving me," you say. He stares at you before nodding slowly.

You smile and look at his pack on the floor, "Hey, do you have water? I have some if you want." He shakes his head and pulls out a metal bottle from one of the pouches on his back. A canteen? 

“Do you want to lay out our things? We could see what we have and how we’re going to split it until tomorrow. I know the first rule is overpacking is good but…I don’t reeeally have that much,” you let out a nervous laugh.

He takes a second and stands on his knees. He is almost as tall as you'd be standing like that. He gathers his pack and throws it closer to you while he moves over.

You stare at him for a couple of seconds before the mask slowly turns to you. “Oh-, right, sorry- you’re just- okay never mind- So, I got my light, of course-, I got some energy bars, water, a map, a bivy, a blanket, a knife, a little emergency kit, and soup! Well-, more food if you can’t translate that.” You hold up the thermos like it was a prized trophy, "what do you got?"

He starts laying his own things out.

A dagger, cuffs of some kind, knives, a -whip-, the canteen he had shown you earlier, mini orbs that suspiciously looked like smoke bombs from movies, plus other things- probably weapons too, you had no idea the use of. And last, but not least, he offers you a jar. 

You put yours down and hold his. The lid is not nearly as simple as yours, it has a mechanism on top of it. You frown in confusion before he snorts and presses two buttons on top of it. 

The lid fizzes, and you gasp, looking up at him. He nods, and you slowly take it off, placing it on top of your blanket. The smell hits your nose, and you look at him again. "Jerky? Oh my God-, can I?" He nods. 

You carefully take a strip of meat from the jar. "What kind of meat is this? This isn't…human, right?" You gulp. He shakes his head and lifts his wrist. His gauntlet shows a hologram of a deer. 

"Ohhhh, wow, you're really a hunter, aren't you?" You marvel, putting the strip back in the jar before closing it again. Storm taps the same buttons, and it seals tight again. 

You place the jar on the floor along with everything else. The contrast between your equipment and his is stark. You laugh a bit. "Well, aren't we made for each other?" He snorts as you check your watch.

You look up and find his mask very close to you, also looking at your watch. "It's not as fancy as yours," you laugh, holding your wrist up for him to see. 

Being this close, you feel your face heat up. You look down at his torso when he gently grabs your wrist, inspecting it closer. "You- are you not um- cold? You're not exactly ah…layered up." 

He did wear some fur around his shoulders and waist, but other than that, only the netting and some armor. He does the clicking sound again- chuckling? 

The hand on your wrist firms it while the other pops your glove open, pulling it up and off your hand. You jerk a bit when he pulls the naked hand to his chest. "Oh- what-...Oh." 

Hot. He is hot. Literally. 

You can't tell if the netting is heated or if he's just a furnace. But he's incredibly warm. Your fingers twitch as you concentrate on the feel of his skin. It wasn't like yours, that was for sure. It was almost rubbery, and hot but texturized as well. It was…well, alien. The prickly quills he had also were interesting to stare at. 

What a Tarzan moment.

You take your hand back, putting your glove on again, "I'm jealous of that temperature. Even with all these layers, I'm still cold," you frown, "your planet must be scorching hot," you say. 

He takes a while but nods. 

He didn't exactly like sharing information, you learned. It was fair, he saved you- and he was an alien. Things were complicated. "I think you look great here though, in the snow," The glove feels cold compared to what you just experienced. 

He scoffs, crossing his arms as you think about the events of today over and over again before looking at him once more. "Do you have any family?" The question hits you like a train and blurts out of your mouth before you could filter it. "I mean- if you can tell me." 

He nods, and your eyebrows go up in surprise. Not that you thought he wouldn't have one. He had a belly button, so he couldn't have just…spawned from somewhere. You smile at the mental image of him just popping into existence.

You look back at your equipment, especially at the food. "Look, I know we're on 'not too much involvement' thing, but you don't have to turn away every time to eat. I won't tell anyone- though I'm sure the government must have blurry pictures of others like you in their archives somewhere already."

He's closer to you than before, having not moved away since your little touching moment. His presence is as grounding as it is exciting. It makes you alert and awake, even though you're so tired. 

Storm's mask turns to you slightly, considering. 

"Scary." 

You frown. "Scary? Your face is scary? But your mask is so…familiar? Is it too different from it?" 

He nods again. 

"Oh- well, I won't be afraid of you, you saved my life, and now we're here chatting and having an icy picnic covered in snow. I'd say this makes us best friends." You smile. He huffed.

What he does instead is lift his wrist gauntlet again. Another hologram pops up. 

"Ohhhhh my-" You look back up at his mask. Its cold expression almost mocks you. "Okay, you weren't lying when you said it was different- why do you guys make it like that? You know what- that's none of my business, sorry." You look back at the hologram. 

While you didn't know if it was really him- the hologram was all red-, the way their faces were just…made sense. The tusks, the teeth, the mandibles. You marvel at the quills on the eyebrows, just like they were on the rest of him. 

Something must have been wrong with you, but you didn't think he was ugly.

"I get the scary part. I'd freak out if I saw you in the dark, no offense." He chuckles deeply, the most you've seen him laugh so far. You smile again. "Thanks for showing me, now I won't pass out on you again if you take it off." He shuts it off. You almost made a sad noise at it.

Suddenly, all the excitement takes a toll on you. With your last burning curiosity sated, your eyes begin to get heavier. "Okay, I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off." You say. "I think I'm going to sleep a bit." 

He gets up, checking the air supply tubes in the stone. You worm your way into your bivy, leaving the blanket for him if he needs it. He probably wouldn't, but the thought eased you. "Wake me up if anything changes okay?" You say. He doesn't react. You take a painkiller and lay down again.

"...and please don't leave me here alone." You say, with a little more emotion than you anticipated. 

He turns his head and nods before going back to his inspection. 

You close your eyes for a second.

Just a second. 

You jolt awake when a hand closes around your shoulder. You blink several times, breathing in deeply as you focus on the mask before you again. "Hey- anything changed?" 

Storm shakes his head, pointing at your watch instead as you sit up. You check the time. 7:15 PM. Your ice cave definitely feels colder now.

You get up, taking your soup thermos out of the bag. Its lid made for a little bowl. You prayed it was still warm. 

You sigh in relief as you pour the soup on the lid. It was lukewarm, but the warmth spreading through your torso was priceless. You're on your second sip when you hear the same fizzy noise as before. Your eyes darted to your side where Storm was taking his mask off. 

You gulp as the second tube is snapped off. He's facing forward as he's sitting beside you. But still, you would see it.

You tip the cup back as you swallow your third sip, hoping the thick plastic would disguise your blatant staring. 

Storm's fingers slip under the metal, snapping it briefly before lifting it from his face. Your breath quickens quietly as your eyes follow the metal until it's placed on the floor. You stare at it before slowly looking back up. 

Storm is looking at you. 

Your eyes dilate as you take in every aspect of his face. The mandibles, the tusks, the sharp teeth peeking from behind tightly closed tusks. The blue hue from his body painted his face, fading into a cool white tone in the middle of his face. The edges of his head are shaped like a crown. A black crown that closed into the middle of his head, where the blues and whites were. 

And then the eyes. His eyes.

Unlike the rest of him, Storm’s eyes were yellow. Deep, electric yellow. The primal instinct in your brain told you this was wrong. His face was wrong. Well, he wasn’t human. You were coded to think anything with different features walking on two legs was weird. 

Your brain told you to run, scream or get help, to do something -against- him while the rest of you knew well that he was an ally. It was hard to go against every fiber of your being and stay still. 

‘He’s still your friend.’ You think. ‘He just looks a little different.’ 

Storm’s expression changes, and while you can’t grasp what the tusk movements must mean yet, you surely know what a skeptical eyebrow raise looks like. “I’m not freaking out, I swear.” You manage to say. You have no idea if he still understands you without the mask. 

He seems to, as his top tusks twitch and his eyebrows relax. He looks away and grips his own jerky jar. You’re suddenly reminded of your soup. You pour more soup onto the lid, gulping it down while trying your best not to openly stare at him.

It’s evident he’s also trying to ignore you while he eats. His tusks part and he inserts the chunks of jerky in. You can’t see any molars in your ogling. Maybe he was made for tearing out chunks of food and swallowing them like a crocodile? 

You gulp down more of your soup until it’s down to half of it. You shake the thermos a bit, doing your best to stir the soup before leaning it toward him. “Would you like some?” To your surprise, he’s also offering you his jar. You smile, nodding, “Let’s swap.” 

You trade bottles, picking out a piece of jerky while he brings the thermos closer to his mouth. He didn’t have an apparent nose, but maybe he just smelled things differently. He must have deemed it good enough for his mandible part, and he tips his head back, drinking the soup. You half expected it to spill over and make a mess, but having done this for however long he had lived, he knew what he was doing. 

You, on the other side, had no idea what you’d do without your lips.

After eating your fill and re-packing, you huddle close to him. Storm messed with his wrist gauntlet as you lost yourself in your thoughts once more. For once in your life, the silence was comfortable. Sure, you couldn’t exactly communicate, but that didn’t feel like a problem. 

You could communicate with your friends and family, but it still made you anxious at times. Next time you check your watch, it's about 9 PM. “I think we should sleep,” you say, getting his attention once more. “I’ve slept a bit and…fainted, but you haven’t slept yet.” 

Seeing him without the mask was as otherworldly as it was interesting. Seeing his expressions as he listened to you, then changing while he thought before finally setting as he nodded. 

You smile and crawl back to your bivy while he checks the air supply once more. You had no idea how you would get out of the cave tomorrow, but you trusted Storm and his high-tech equipment. And his muscles. The muscles were a big plus, too.

By the time he turns around, you’re inside your bivy, but you point to the blanket folded neatly on top of your backpack. “I know you’re well warm, but the blanket is over there if you need it.” He looks at it briefly before nodding at you. He hands you your emergency light and lays down on the opposite side of the cave, about two arm's lengths away from you. 

“Good night, partner.” You say before shutting the light off, getting a grunt in return. 

The cave was pitch black as you expected. You shuffle a bit in your bivy before settling down completely on your side. You wondered how people outside were doing. Did the avalanche make the news? Did your friends know? Was anyone else hurt during it? You were thankful to be alive, thankful for Storm, but you felt bad for everyone else. 

Tears prickled in the corners of your vision as you try so hard to fall asleep. It’s cold, you’re trapped in a cave with an alien. Not that Storm was a negative point. You’d be dead without him. But things were far from okay right now. 

You hear shuffling and wonder if Storm also has trouble sleeping. He’d been calm so far, never raising his voice or panicking. ‘Maybe he’s used to these situations.’ You think, given the scars he bears on his body. You didn’t want to think of what could hurt someone like Storm. 

Your chest feels tight. It’s hard to push the anxiety down. You almost want to talk to him again, but what would you say? What -could- you say? You were the one to suggest sleeping in the first place. Your heart beats faster, and you’re awfully aware of your surroundings, even in the dark. 

The walls are cold and wet. The air is a little stale. You can smell yourself as you can also smell Storm behind you. You can smell the thick rubbery scent of your gloves as they grip the bivy’s lining with all they got. Like you had gripped Storm earlier that day when he rescued you.

You swallow dryly, trying to breathe in and out to avoid negative thoughts. Things would be okay. You were alive, fairly warm, and you had a big alien as your personal bodyguard through a disaster. You hear more shuffling. The sound of the emergency blanket being unfolded hits your ears. You wait a couple of seconds, eyes darting around in the dark before you open your mouth to ask him if he was okay. 

You’re in the middle of breathing your first word when you feel the blanket getting laid on top of your bivy. Storm smooths out the blanket on top of you before laying down again, closer to you this time. You’re at loss for words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. 

You feel his breath against the top of your beanie, so his chest must be somewhere in front of you now. You bite your lip, feeling the knot in your chest loosen the tiniest bit. You were not alone. Things were going to be okay.  You focus on his breathing pattern, so even and calm. Constant. The sound his tusks occasionally make is soothing over the deathly silence of the cave. You don’t remember closing your eyes, nor do you remember falling asleep. 

The way your bladder burns wakes you up. Storm’s breathing is heavier now, asleep. It pains you to move, like getting your pet out of your lap after it finally got comfortable. 

As soon as you move, his breathing stops. Then resumes in that light, calculated rhythm. Awake. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, worming out of your bivy, patting around for your light. You go to the far corner of the cave and do your business, covering it with loose dirt with your boot, thanking the universe Storm didn’t move an inch from where he was. 

Taking your pants off in the unbelievable cold of a 3 AM shut-in ice cave was no easy business. Curse bodily functions to the end and back. You do your best to push the burning shame down and head to your backpack, sanitizing your hands. 

You steal a glance to your side while you think, catching Storm looking directly at you. Your spine shivers a bit, a mix from the cold and his gaze. You take another sip of water and crawl back into your bivy, mindful of your ankle.

It makes your face heat up more to see how close he’s been to you for all these hours and how he doesn’t care enough to move away, even now that you disrupted him awake. 

You lick your lips and clutch your light, looking at him again before shutting it off. Your face is still hot from all of it, but you listen intently to his breathing and clicking. You hoped he wouldn’t move away from you just yet, at least until you fell asleep. 

You feel the warmth coming from his chest, moving your head forward so you could be closer to it, trying to chase away the rest of the cold from your suit again. That pee break cost you some precious degrees. 

You’re still sulking internally when he finally moves. Your eyes widen in the dark as he spreads the blanket over you again. You smile and close your eyes, only to open them again as widely as before when you feel his arm drape over you.

He grunts, and suddenly you’re being dragged forward by that same arm. Your forehead hits something, and you instantly know it's his chest. You swallow hard. It’s as hot as it was earlier, rumbling with each breath. 

“Warm.” He croaks. You shiver at how deep his real voice is. You nod fervently against his chest. The arm stays around you. 

It takes you several minutes of internal struggle to calm down again. Your face is hotter, both from your embarrassment and his body temperature. Your ears turn back on when you hear a faint noise.

You squint, leaning in closer, and the sound gets louder. 

His heartbeat. 

Your body relaxes, almost melting against him.

His arm tightens the tiniest bit around you. You press your cheek against his chest, feeling his mandibles graze against the top of your beanie. 

The rest of the night goes by too fast for your liking. 

He wakes you up at 7 AM sharp. You almost want to cry when you realize the arm is no longer holding you, that his heartbeat is not against your ear still. 

He packs his equipment, and so do you, leaving only the map out. “We were here yesterday.” You say, pointing at the map. “The hotel is here, and I think the equipment stall is here?” You felt like you were explaining your destination to a taxi driver. 

You look up at him. He’s masked and ready to leave. So are you.

“How are we going to do this? Or, well, how you’re going to do this?” You ask. Storm makes a punching motion toward the stone. You almost can’t believe your very eyes. “Oh.” 

Storm retracts the tubes and puts them away in one of his bags. This was it. 

You stand at the side as Storm readies himself. He pushes some buttons on his gauntlet. You brace yourself as it makes a firing-up noise. 

Storm steadies himself and times the punch with the gauntlet’s blast. 

You close your eyes at the noise, protecting your head with your hands before you’re snatched from the ground once more. 

You open them again when blinding light covers your eyelids. Everything is white as your eyes adjust. When colors flood your vision, you realize that not only you’re out of the cave but you’re in the air. Everything moves too fast. 

Storm holds you up as he lands harshly in the snow piled below between trees. You shake the snow off your face as he works you both out of the thick snow bank. He squats again, and you hold tightly onto his neck before he jumps once more.

You struggle not to scream this time as well.

Storm lands firmly onto the snowy forest floor. He places you down gently as he surveys the area before relaxing once more. You look around, looking at the mountainside, following the trail of broken rocks until you see the cave's would-be entrance, quickly getting topped with more falling snow. “We were there?” You ask, out of breath. Storm nods. You turn to him. “Good legs.” You compliment. He huffs behind the mask. 

You feel buzzing coming from your backpack, frowning in confusion before you remember your phone. Placing the pack on the floor, you quickly check it, watching as the multiple messages and missed calls finally load into your screen. You smile, choking on your breath before looking at Storm again. 

You avoid your hurting ankle as you surge forward and wrap your arms around him again. He barely moves, not stepping back or stopping you. His hands hesitate at his sides before coming up and resting them on your shoulders, pressing you against him once before letting go. 

You look up at him, seeing him at full height in daylight felt unreal. “Thank you so much. I owe you everything. You saved me. You had no obligation to, but you did. Thank you so much.” You bury your face into his chest again, feeling it rumble. You smile before he tenses up, and you both hear the helicopter sound from far away. 

You let him go, looking up at the sky before looking back at him. Your heart tore into pieces. “You can go now.” The tears sting your eyes. “I’ll be fine from here.” He looks back at you.

“I’ll never forget you.” You sob, “Thank you again, for everything.” 

The helicopter gets closer. You watch as he disappears in front of your very eyes. The blue skin and armor blend with the snow and trees behind him before the reflective figure jumps up one tree to another, and another, until you lose track of it in the distance. 

Cold tears slide down your face as you hobble your way to a clearing, throwing your arms up when the helicopter comes into view. 

The rest of the day goes by too slowly for your liking.

You’re taken back to the hotel, where a makeshift hospital has been set up. You’re asked questions, to which you reply either ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was buried in the snow all night’. You text your friends and relatives back while your ankle is tended to. You see the hiking girl from yesterday when you’re getting cleared from IV hydration hours later. 

She screams in surprise, coming to hug you. ‘How did you make it?! Oh my God, we thought you were dead! I’m so happy to see you!” She cries, and so do you. After talking for a while, she shakes her head. “I’m cutting the damn trip -short-. I’m going the fuck home, and so should you. The flights are crazy, but there’s a company giving preference to the victims and their families.” She informs you. 

One hour later, she hugs you one last time before leaving. 

You do as she says, cutting the trip short as well, needing to process and recover from everything that happened. You’re promised heaven on earth by the hotel and the flight companies for future trips. Your friends scoff at the very thought of it. “Why the hell would you go back there? That’s insane of them to offer you packages like that.” One of them says.

You nod along the next few weeks until things slowly blend into normality again. You don’t tell anyone about what happened that night, and people don’t bother you about it. You look at your bag in your wardrobe every time you open it, thinking back to him, wondering if he also thought about you.  

Six months of this go by. Followed by another six months. 

One day, you open your wardrobe and pull your bag out again, dusting it for your trip. People worry about your decision of going back there. Some worry it might reopen wounds rather than closing them for good like you told them it would. Some others just thought you were crazy.

Crazy or not, you packed your bag and left. The flight took off and landed. You found yourself at the hotel, looking at the same clerk in the eyes again while she checked you in again, welcoming you back to the hotel. 

You look at the hiking lists, finding them slightly different, but still running. You check in for solo hiking.  You pack your bag accordingly this time, filled with all the necessities a survivor could need before you take off. 

The forest is peaceful, and the track is fresh beneath your boots. You’re enjoying soup fondly at the end of the track when you hear that noise. The rumbly, clicking noise that you heard in your dreams for the past year. Always followed by the steady sound of a strong heartbeat. 

You turn around, smiling when blue hues and armor flood your vision once more. ----------- If you read it till here, you're a champ lmao

Thanks for reading <3 muah muah

more work like this here

#no cause the last few months have been SO hard dude #like depression kicked my ass so bad lmaooooo #hope yall like this one #yautja #predator #alien #the predator #yautja/human #human/yautja #headcanon #alien relationship #predators #yautja boyfriend #yautja x human #alien x human #predador #aliens vs predator #alien vs predator #alien romance #alien boyfriend #gender neutral reader too #reader #reader x predator #predator x reader

[xplore-the-unknwn]

📢 GOOD NEWS for the Predator Franchise! 📢

Ive recently discussed about the problems with developing the Predator Franchise in here . And now theres news that our big boys are finally gonna get a shot at more quality content! and the best part is Dan Trachtenberg (Director of Prey) is involved and at the center of more future projects!!! We, the fans just have to trust in his vision and SHOW SUPPORT!!!

To the directors, producers, executives etc. funding these projects- Pleaaasee give us more opportunities to love the Yautja Universe. Show us MORE LORE, EXPAND it!! Make us root for our Yautja boys! To more hope for this franchise! And may Dan Trachtenberg have the best meals in his entire life! 😌

#MAKE THE PROTAG AND THE YAUTJA TEAM UP come on dont be scared let our boys win for once! #More Love to this Franchise #dan trachtenberg #yautja #prey #Badlands #Prey 2 #the predator #jungle hunter #yautja predator #feral predator #Predator #AVP #aliens vs predator #aliens #shinji aramaki #Predators

[monnowo]

Encontré este sketch que hice ahhhhh

No he tenido mucho tiempo para dedicarle mis Ocs de Predstoe UmU, pero juro retomarlo en un futuro! Gracias por todo el apoyo nwn

I just Found an old sketch

Sorry if i dont post anything about them, i dont have too much time to draw something of these two UmU….. but i promise i will do it in a future :3

#character art #oc art #original character #own character #oc artwork #my characters #predator x reader #alien vs predator #predator x human #predator series #predator oc #predator #predators #self insert #self ship #self shipping #human x monster #monster x girl #monster #alien x human #alien x reader #tw monsterfucking #monster fucker

[renegade-chaos-druid]

Shaman

#predator #predators #yautja #shaman #predator 2

[furiousgoldfish]

If you come from a place of abuse, you are likely desperate to get genuine and honest approval. It might be tempting to try and get that approval from people who are generally disapproving of everything, and complain about everything. Because if you can satisfy them, prove yourself to them, then you're sure you've done really well, right? You want to earn approval, and they're showing you how, by telling you who not to be, who annoys them, what behaviour is irritating. That's a guideline that's easier to follow than other's vaguely neutral or positive feedback that can be left open to interpretation.

It can also feel similar to your family situation, but in this case it feels like you have a chance, because no behaviour would get you approval at home, and with this new critical person, at least there's a way and you're willing to follow it, it feels right to need to work for approval and they're offering you exactly that.

Sadly, those severely critical people who complain about everything and everyone, are not people whose approval you can have for any longer amount of time. Everything they're complaining in others, they'll soon be complaining in you, no matter how much they make you feel like you are different. Their generally disapproving behaviour is not there to make things around them better, it's solely to benefit them. They see the world as 'not good enough for them' and 'needing to change in order to accommodate them', and when you play by their rules, that's exactly what you're doing to yourself. Sacrificing everything so you'd be accommodating and pleasing to them.

Sometimes, these people will go further and ask you to do more, to give up your boundaries, your freedom, your time, your interests, your engagements, your feelings, just to please them. They'll find it easy to groom you to give them their perfect fantasy, or perfect friend, or even a target for abuse and exploitation. A lot of them are predators, eager to take advantage and victimize first person who tries to make them happy.

It's not your fault. You could not have known. Just know that if you've ever lost approval from someone like that, you would have never been able to keep it in the first place, because the system was set up for anyone trying to please them, to fail. It was not fair for you to be put in a situation where you could be exploited like this, and it is not fair for all of your work to now be punished with pain and disapproval again. It doesn't mean that everything you do amounts to nothing. It doesn't mean you're unlovable. It means someone older, more experienced, and infinitely more evil than you, has set up a trap to hurt you, and you couldn't have gotten away, not in the situation you were.

And if you're currently trying to win approval from someone like that, ask yourself, will you be able to do it in 10 years? in 20? Will you some day be criticized and bashed like all other people they hate? Are you one mistake away from being discarded and rejected? Do you sometimes, or often feel afraid that you'll be the next person they'll hate?

If so, it's okay to be suspicious about their intentions with you, and to resist everything they want of you. Even if you can't see it now, these people don't have your well being at heart. They're not giving you approval to make you happy, they're doing it to make you dependent on them. Next what they can do is put you in situations where you're isolated from everyone else, and ask things of you, things you would not do for strangers, things you'd be suspicious of, if only they weren't so special you'd be willing to overlook everything and give yourself up to them.

Listen to your gut when it tells you that they're making you uncomfortable. If you feel used, it's because you are. If you feel neglected and like you have to fight to get a bit of attention from them, and like it's terribly unfair, it's because it is. What is happening to you is grooming, and it's so difficult to fight that most people only find out it's happened to them once it's over, and they've had years to think it through. You are not at fault for this, and if you feel like something is off, that's because it is. Nobody has the right to do this to you.

#abused kids #grooming #predators #seeking approval #people who hate everyone but seem to love you #for a while #until they hate you too and it breaks you #aftermath of abuse #aftermath of abusive family #unprotected from predators #unprotected from abuse

[x-candy-guts-x]

Yautja x reader

Part two

Woooo another one baby

Again I suck ass at writing so this is gonna be yet another bucket of paint thrown at a wall and just hope to god it comes out coherent

OK ANYWAY

• you were originally abducted by another alien race. It started out just living your life going to work and coming home rinse, wash and repeat. But you started getting weird little signs that something wasn’t normal. Weird feelings in your head that turned into dizziness that lead to a particularly aggressive fainting spell in your own home.

• you woke up in a metal room. At first you were scared you had been drugged and kidnapped- not far from the truth but you thought it had at worst been traffickers not whatever the hell that thing was staring at you through the glass like door. It was slender small and gray with big eyes.

•you found out that they weren’t actually hostile and just wanted some info on you and some dna. They said they would bring you back home once they were done. But the universe had other plans. The ship was attacked and you among a few of the crew were taken hostage and thrown into cages. You had collars fashioned around your necks and were treated like pets. Or product.

•the ship landed on a strange planet with two suns. It felt arid but off behind the ship was a massive rainforest like place. And in front in a small distance was a city.

•taken into the city you were all being sold off. You tried to fight against the chain and you even bit the giant armored lizard fuck who dared to grab your chin to get a closer look. The kinder aliens who took you to begin with had give you a translator behind your ear. You were able to figure some things out. Like their species; the yautja and the planet.

•you were the last one who had yet to be sold. One yautja in particular came up and asked about you. He was about 7ft, leaner and had darker tones in his scales. Mostly muddied grays and black. The seller went and took off the chain. You still had the collar like mechanism however. As soon as he did you ran. You dodged between people and headed to the forest. They had tried to chase you down and even activated the collars shocking abilities but you kept going. Even after blood ran down your torso from the electric prongs digging into you.

It had been about a day and a half before you made it to an area that looked like a small calm village. There were some homes in the trees and some on the clearing. A cool river that ran maybe a hundred meters or so off to the side. And just up the hill past that river was a small cave. You didn’t know if these people were kind or trust worthy so you didn’t approach. Instead opting to stay in the cave. You fashioned yourself a blade with a very sharp obsidian like black stone, some wood for the handle and a vine to keep it together.

•it did okay. You were able to get small things down on the ground and even found a potato like root you could cook up and eat. The fires you made to cook needed to be small though. You didn’t want to alert anyone that you were there. Although you had a suspicion that they already knew.

•you took up wood carving to pass the time, making animals from your home planet. You went down to the river once and forgot your carving of a deer. When you went to retrieve it, a little yautja had already gotten to it and was inspecting it. It made a rapid little clicky noise and ran back to the village with what looked like excitement. Scared you ran back to your cave.

•unbeknownst to you there was a popular fairytale in the village. They told stories of humans to scare the little ones into behaving at night. And when the little one found the deer carving it certainly made the stories seem more vibrant. The kids made rumors about a big bad scary ooman in the forest. You- would sometimes sit behind rocks/trees and carve away while listening to them.

•they had concluded that the creature was a deer thanks to their parents. Buuut their imaginations went wild. Deer were now giant carnivores who impaled victims on their antlers and wore the corpses like rotting trophies. You giggled at that one. But suddenly everything went silent. Peeking between the two large stones that concealed you the oldest of the young ones was pointing in your direction. You abandoned your carving and very quickly but still quietly headed back to your cave.

•the found your carving. This time it was a fruit bat. Fruit bats can get pretty big on earth. Some with wing spans up to five feet! But they were so cute. They loved fruit and looked like puppies in your eyes. But the kids had once again made wild tales. Tales of giant fire breathing monsters. “Huh..” you sort of muttered under your breath. That one is actually pretty close to home. Not literally but it made you think about the tales of dragons on earth and how maybeeee that’s partially how they got started.

•you started leaving carvings more often. It made you happy to see them play with them and come up with fantastical tales. You would hide and carve and listen as they played. What you didn’t know was high up in the trees above you, was a certain masked individual watching your every move.

•your collar had been outfitted with a tracker. And it was just chance that you went right to the village the one who sought to buy you lived at. When you made it to the tree line they decided to not bother with the chasing. He paid and decided to hunt you. Maybe not kill you but he enjoyed the idea of toying with you. But once he saw you carving he stepped back. He watched. And he watched the children. He watched longer than he intended too.

•a month of this went by. The children now had maybe ten of your little carvings. All of different animals. Deer, bats, dogs, cats, horses, rams, weasels, giraffes, and all sorts. You were currently carving a T-Rex. You were in your cave carving it due to the heavy rain. Wondering where you should leave it for them to find you settled on the same place as the last two, perched on a big roundish but flat stone that was right on shore and in the middle of plain site. You figured you’d just leave it there again. When you placed it on the stone off to your left you heard a little shreek. The Rain was no more than a fine mist but rhe river water was sweeping away the little one. It wasn’t too strong but the rain didn’t help when it made the river just a bit deeper. You ran after the little one and dove in.

•Bringing the small but heavy child back to shore you sat him down. He was fine but startled. Wether it was from the river or you- the mysterious human in the hill everyone jokes about was anyones guess. When he just continued to ogle at you in silence you sighed. Being back and next to the stone you left the dinosaur on you picked it up and handed it to him. Then, hearing a noise in the tree line- you assumed it was his parents and bolted up the hill back to your cave.

•a couple days later you were awoken to some noises outside the cave. Afraid you grabbed your knife and jumped out. The poor little yautja that caused the commotion stumbled back and landed on his butt. Dropping the knife you squatted down to help him. He reached his chubby little hands out. In them was a little basket of fruit :)

•you were tired. So tired. Turns out whatever that fruit was made you extremely sleepy. So, after the little yautja left and the fruit was eaten you decided to take a nap. When you woke up it was dark. You felt around and concluded you were in a pile of furs. Wait- why was it so comfortable? The things you got to make your bed had been crude and hard, soft enough to sleep but not comfort. This was soft and plush. Sitting up quickly you realized you weren’t in your cave anymore.

Looking out the window, you were in the village. Oh boy.

Should I continue this? Is it baD

Please tell me how I could improve this I haven’t written anything since I was like 14 and making fuckin edgy ass creepypasta x reader fanfics on quiz quotev lmAO

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