#Golden Gear Syndicate

[dogshit-gambler]

she calls me papi chulo: alejandro vargas x F!Reader

When Lady Gaga said hot like mexico, i took that personally. Seriously, if you read this, listen to Alejandro - Lady Gaga and Lo Que Siento - CuCo.

Word: 3k

AN: I think we can all agree Alejandro is one of the best characters in MW2. <3 This game's been a huge comfort in my life and Alejandro is 10000% a comfort character. PINING!!!! So so much pining. And Rudy being a total gentleman, this almost feels like an x Rudy fic... hmm... interesting. So maybe it's Ale\Rudy\Reader. Who knows.. ANYWAYS! Enjoy <3 Love triangle vibes are going crazy.

SFW - Cursing - Alejandro being a little bit of an asshole, as a treat - Mild suggestive content - alcohol mention -

Breaking into a syndicate party wasn't on my bucket list for this year, but Alejandro couldn't go alone. i watched him change out of his tactical gear, a heavy thud echoing in the bedroom as his vest hit the floor. It felt like he undid dozens of Velcro straps and buttons, his body feeling so much lighter without all that gear. I didn't think I'd ever seen him without it in our time knowing each other. Then again, he hadn't seen me in much else either. All our time spent together was littered with violence, even when we had a moment to truly enjoy each other's company, it was only for the intel. Rudy mapped it out for us, and how I appreciated his brains. This party was invite only, for obvious reasons. Rudy would wait at the door to allow guests in, not uttering a word to another soul. He'd let us in and make his escape to the truck down the southern road and regroup with Ghost and Soap. Of course Alejandro and I would enter looking dazzling to keep suspicions low and carry on through the night going unnoticed. Alejandro got dressed leisurely, treating this like a normal date. As if that was what I had in mind. Then again, I don't think I'd ever confessed a word to him about my feelings. Rudy suspected it, so Ghost thinks. I personally think they're all full of shit.

"You're gonna fucking owe me big time." I warned him, looking at him through his mirror. He was fresh out of the shower and smelled like fresh cut roses. I tried to keep my gaze down, focusing on my own routine. I needed to look my absolute best, and the pressure's getting to me now. "And why's that?" He questioned, buttoning his shirt. i admired the pattern in the mirror, watching the pattern run down his side; a delicate rose pattern growing over his hip and across his chest. His shirt was shimmery under the lights, even just in our hideout. I watched it cascade over him, the roses almost as red as the lipstick I considered wearing. Jesus Christ, are we matching? "Because," I began, slipping on a headband to keep my hair out of my face. "We're going into dangerous territory looking like dancers." I lined my lips with a deep red pencil and filled in the gap. "That's correct." Such a smart-ass. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every movement with a tender curiosity. "And we'll do it looking lavish. How else are we supposed to fit in?" He continued, deciding on a whim to leave 2 buttons undone on his chest. "Point taken." I replied, my gaze on him briefly. "What color?" I asked. I held up the eye shadow pallet in his direction and expected him to pick the first color he happened to see.

Alejandro walked over to me and leaned over my shoulder, right hand planted firmly on the table, his arm brushing my shoulder. "I like this golden color," he said, using his pinky to gesture. "And this one," he pointed to a deep, coffee color. "I think that'd look absolutely ravishing." His voice lowered suddenly, setting my skin on fire. I could feel traces of his warm, minty breath against the top of my ear. I cleared my throat and dipped my brush into the colors. He remained in that exact position and watched as I padded and blending the colors onto my lids. I used the opportunity to glance at his chest, I mean the front pattern on his shirt. "I like your shirt." I said without thinking. "I like your makeup." His eyes gazed into mine, his honeyed eyes almost cutting into me. I turned my head away to catch the clock, the hands frozen in time. I look back at him, his eyes still searing into mine.

"And I like the red. It makes your lips look pretty." For as long as I've known him, his grin was crooked and now was no different. I'd wager to say it was even worse now. I roll my eyes, fearing they'd get stuck in my fucking head. It appears I'm stuck with him all night. He leaves my side yet again, my eye travels up his legs to his back, admiring the pattern. If I'm honest, he didn't look horrible. No, he looks drop-dead gorgeous. That shining, ebony hair, that warm, amber skin, and the way his eye eyelashes kissed his under eyes when he blinked. I could go on. His hair is the blackest black I've ever seen, he keeps it cut, but I can tell it'd be so beautiful grown out. He has a roughness to him, his work hardened him, but I can see slivers of his compassionate heart slip out. He doesn't hide it, but he is selective. "You look beautiful," he spoke. I turned to him, my face half finished. My lips are painted blood-red, gold sparkles donning my eyelids, the only thing missing from them was the mascara. His pants fit perfectly over him, I'll leave the rest to the imagination.

I bite back a smile, but I can tell he's watching my lips curl into a grin. It's uncontrollable, there's something about him, I can't quite put my finger on. "Gracias." I replied. I'd only learned bits of Spanish from Alejandro, which I knew he appreciated. He slicked back his hair with a bit of gel, a few rebellious strands fell over his eyes. "Meet me outside when you're done. I'll hook your mic up then." I nodded. Part of me wanted to look good for him, the other part of me questioning why it needed to be for him specifically. I'd never hear the end from Rudy.

I grabbed the pair of shoes Rudy picked out for me, a black kitten heel. Easy to walk, dance, and potentially run in. The dress was the hardest part, but I chose a burgundy dress, something simple, classic, and something I could make a getaway in. There was a knock at my door, a gentle one at that. "Come in."

"Y\N. Alejandro esta esperando." Rudy spoke. "English, Rudy." He cleared his throat. "Alejandro's waiting for you." His gaze lingered on me, a tender sparkle in his eyes. "You look nice. Very pretty. Trying to impress Alejandro, eh?" I rolled my eyes yet again this evening. "I'm trying to pass as a rich woman, you know, the kind of woman who - I don't know - hangs around Narcos. Or maybe I'm just trying to impress you?" I smiled at him, slipping my shoes on. "Mind zipping my dress?" Perhaps my timing wasn't good, or maybe it was just right.

"Sí, señora." I could feel the warmth of his hands against my shoulder as he zipped me. He was gentle and sweet to be surrounded by violence.

"You've succeeded at impressing me, carino. Alejandro will feel the same way. Come, let's get this over with." He took his hand in mine and walked me to the door, opening it for me. I felt like such a snob, but I knew Rudy would have done this regardless. The base's floor was filled with ridges, my heels wobbling. I threw my arm over Rudy's shoulder as he helped me down the step, I'd never seen this side of him before. "Watch your footing, there's some unevenness in this floor." He walked me down the final step, the door to the outside cracked open. He held my hand as I stepped down, he allowed me in the door first and shut it behind us. I looked back to him, he followed close behind. "Let me hook this," Alejandro suddenly called out. "Turn around."

I turned my back to him, and before he unzipped my dress, he peered around my shoulder and looked into my eyes, before asking a simple question. "May I?" Such a simple question made my heart leap into my throat. "Yes, of course." He slowly unzipped the back and hooked a cold metal piece to my bra clasps. "Feed that through," he snaked a microphone wire through my shoulder strap and allowed me to place it on my chest. He zipped my dress back up and everything appeared normal. "I should have told you before, but you'll need to wear this." He handed me a black ski mask. "Our faces need to be hidden, you'd be surprised who shows up here... police, military, politicians. Hide your identity, carino."

I slipped the mask over my face, Alejandro following shortly after. His eyes were enhanced with the black cotton against his skin. Deep and full of luster, he made eyes for Rudy. "Okay. Let's go. The defector guards will let us in, we act natural, leave. Easy enough." Rudy nodded. "Be careful, Alejandro." I could tell Alejandro smiled back at Rudy, watching his eyes light up. He patted Rudy's arm before taking my hand under his arm. I never realized his stature from this angle, he walked beside me, long legs sauntering forward, his shoulders straight as the day is long. He's tall. He's strong. He's... Alejandro. And for the night, he's my Alejandro. Mine. "You need to order me a drink." I chuckled. "What makes you think I won't?" He looked at me, his smoldering eyes burning a hole in my skin. His gaze was lingering, like the taste of sweet wine, or a tangy after-taste of a cold beer. He perked a brow before driving us to the Event.

"Rudy, this is Victor 1-1, how copy?"

"Copy, Victor 1-1. I see you down at the entrance. Rodriguez and Roza are at the door, get in, get out."

"Solid copy. Out here." Rudy chimed into my earphone. "How copy?" "Solid." I replied. I made eyes with the defectors as we entered, our faces shielded with the dark shadows of anonymity. Alejandro took my hand in his and spun me around with ease, the ends of my dress twirling around me. He caught me in his arms, his right arm looped around my lower half. I could see his eyes smiling under his mask, his eyelashes kissing his skin. He spun me around in the opposite direction and I melted into his movements. I was at a full arm's length from him before twirling back in. I felt my heart race, not from the dancing, but rather who my partner was. "Atta girl," he spoke quietly. "You're a natural." His hands were rough against my soft ones, how we contrasted. Music played and all I could focus on was Alejandro.

We didn't speak often, his body speaking with mine in our own secret language. He pulled me close to him and gazed into my eyes, his eyes lazily opened. It was hard to look at him, at his deep brown eyes. They were soul crushing. The kind of eyes that hurt to look at they were so mesmerizing. I hope, deep down, he felt that way about mine. I turned my face from his to look at the pair of guards watching the room. "No," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. His hand snaked under my chin, holding it in place. "Look at me, look into my eyes."

He was at an advantage. All I could see were his eyes. His hand trailed to my arm, and to my hand. His fingers interlocked with mine and it felt so natural. Like he was supposed to be there. "You look beautiful," he said. I don't know if this was his way of keeping suspicious low, or he was being honest with me. I'd upset myself if I thought about it too long. "I mean that. I don't think I've ever seen a woman so beautiful."

I chuckled. "You can only see my eyes, Alejandro." He spun me under his arm before pulling me close again. This time, I was flush against him, one hand in his, the other around his shoulder. "Even before this, when I saw you getting ready. Even now, I feel myself getting sucked into your eyes." Jesus, the feeling was mutual. "Even if I can only see your eyes, they're beautiful." I could feel him leaning closer as he spoke. He could sweet talk well enough, enough to make me forget the surrounding danger. Was that his goal? "I know you're nervous," he said quietly. "This is new territory. Do you trust me?"

I knitted my brows together as we slow danced. "Do you?" He asked again. I felt his energy darken. He raised his eyebrows at me, his gaze sharper than a razor. "I do. I trust you, Alejandro." He took a quick glance at the other dancers around us, they were spaced out and mostly stuck with their own. Another glance at the guards, who now took no interest in the crowd. As his eyes looked away from me, I noticed the lines under his eyes and how deep-set his eyes were. "Tell me again." I paused, my hand resting on his back. "I trust you. I do. I trust you, Ale.

I watched as his eyes gloss over the target walking beside us. He shifted us closer to the man, he wore an ivory suit and a crimson red tie. I could tell Alejandro smiled under his mask. He twirled me under his arm and as I stepped away, I secretly recorded the conversation at the table. They spoke in Spanish, I could make out some of it, but I'd leave that to Alejandro. He looked at me like he was looking at a meal, a juicy steak and mashed potatoes. Even still, his touch was not that of a hungry beast. I danced slowly, I needed to be next to him, mission be damned. I tried not to look at him with desperation in my eye, or the raised eyebrows that always gave me away. I wasn't listening to the conversation, I was too busy focusing on my dancing. Alejandro's eyes narrowed when the man in question began speaking about elections. He pulled me in, his muscular arm looping around my hip. "We have what we need," he whispered. He pulled my arm carefully, leading me away from the table.

"Rudy. We're leaving soon." He whispered into his microphone. Rudy gave the affirmative. I don't know what I expected from Alejandro at this point. He was confusing, or maybe I just didn't... I don't know.

"Come," he said. I followed him through a small crowd, the scent of tequila and citrus filling my nostrils. "I said I'd get you a drink." He stepped up to the bar, and I watched him order two tequila sunrise. He handed me one, our skin touching briefly. We talked out to the empty balcony, overlooking what seemed to be all of Mexico. He shut the doors behind us, blocking any noise coming from inside the building. He leaned on the balcony, his fingers holding the rim of the drink. "Dios mio," he said. "Mayors working with criminals to win elections. As if things couldn't get any worse." He took a small sip of his drink as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Alejandro."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I know this wasn't easy, but you did well. Better than you know." I stood beside him, our biceps brushing against each other. "I mean that." He said again. I overlooked the skyline, a watercolor sunset dripping down the sky. "Thanks, Ale. I... I didn't... Never mind." Alejandro turned to face me. "Que? What's the matter? You didn't...?" He trailed off, his eyes searing into me again. I lowered my gaze, bringing my left hand behind my back. "I'm listening." I hated when he said that, not because I didn't want him to listen, but because it was overwhelming to know he was listening, that he cared about the things I said. "I didn't think I could manage this." Alejandro grabbed my chin, softly tilting my head up to look at him. "I never doubted you. Not even for a second." He stared into my eyes, his gaze steady. I wanted to look away so badly.

When I did look away, he spoke to me. "Mirame. Why don't you ever want to look at me when I'm talking to you?" He knew the answer to that question. His voice lowered, his body closing in. "Why? Tell me. I'm listening to you." I was about to kill him, the way he spoke so softly and tenderly, made me want to back-hand him. He knew why I never looked at him, he knew! "You know." I broke out. "Do I?"

Yes, you did! He was painfully close to my face now, his hand still gently wrapped around my chin, his other fingers resting on my neck. I couldn't tell if he was going to kiss me or not, but if he wasn't, he wasn't doing a good job at convincing me otherwise. "I hate looking at you because you're stunning. You look at me like nobody else, you look at me like I'm someone. Like I'm important. I hate looking at you because your eyes burn holes in my soul, you know what you do. You look at me like I'm a sunset." I felt myself rambling, but I didn't care. He let me rant and rave a romantic tirade. "You...! You drive me crazy with your kindness, your bravery, I hate that about you, you know? You're the best person I know. You're... you're... you're just...!" For some reason, I found myself getting angry.

Before I could finish, I tasted the tequila sunrise on his lips. He kissed me. He really kissed me. I didn't pull away, and neither did he. I placed my hand on his clothed jaw, wishing I was feeling the roughness of his stubble, or the texture of his scarred skin. Still, he didn't pull away. He kissed me deeper than an ocean, and softer than a summer breeze. His hand inched up my back, halting at my shoulder blades. He slipped his hand under my ski mask to feel my hair. I knew I needed to stop myself now, Rudy and Co. were waiting for us. I started to pull away, but he pulled me back in to devour me like the beast I saw only moments ago. "Alejandro," I managed to say between kisses. "Alejandro...! Stop... I... We can't leave the others waiting."

Alejandro instantly stopped when I asked. He still held his lips near mine, a few inches of space between us. "Is that the only reason you asked me to stop?" I paused, slowly looking up into his eyes. "What if I said yes?"

"Then we'd leave right now, regroup, and I'd pick up where we left off."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. This time, I leaned in to kiss him. He kissed back softly, a sigh of disappointment escaping him when I pulled back. "Then let's go. Rudy's waiting for us."

#this was in my head OKAY-- #alejandro vargas #alejandro x reader #alejandro cod #cod #call of duty #alejandro vargas x reader #i am so down bad for him its PAINFULLLLL #CODMW2 #if this flops im gonna scream

[certifiednobody]

I just found out about the Syndicate Ranboo skin and had to draw him.

I also wrote a little mini-fic for it. (Post-finale spoilers) ------------------------------------------- REGENESIS: A Dream SMP Epilogue ------------------------------------------- Alive? No, he shouldn’t be. Ranboo remembered his death, the years of numbness spent in limbo. his punishment for dying with unfinished business. And yet here he was, laying on his bed back home, being watched by a small army of crows that had gathered at his bedside, Phil’s worrying eyes and ears. He was in pain, but very much alive.

In the coming days Ranboo would come to learn of what had happened. At first they thought it best to let him be at ease before letting him know the gut-wrenching news, but he could tell something was off by the bitterness in Techno’s voice, the way Phil seemed to hold back the pain in his heart during their chats.

The news that the server had been nuked was almost comically tragic. All these years of love and loss, and yet none of it mattered in the end. Nearly everyone was gone. For a moment Ranboo wondered if he’d even left Hell.

Nobody knew how he was alive in the first place, even if Dream had revived him, he should’ve been incinerated in the blast that would’ve come moments after. And yet they’d discovered him completely fine, laying unconscious at ground zero of the devastation. The same place they assume Dream died. They couldn’t imagine why he was able to return, but Techno preferred not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they just accepted that maybe the universe was trying to repay them for all they’d lost. It was easier than trying to understand Dream’s dark magic.

Apparently he owed his life to Nikki. If she hadn’t spotted him while scouting the ruins with Techno, his body would have been eaten away by the intense radiation.

Ranboo soon recovered, They had hoped he would, but Enderman biology was a mystery to them, so they weren’t confident a diet of healing potions and golden apples was enough to combat the radiation poisoning.

Eventually Ranboo was about to suit up in protective gear and join their scouting missions. It was clear most were long gone, but they did find a few survivors. Among them were Foolish, who had taken the full force of the blast, Eret and Wilbur, who had apparently been away from the SMP in some land called “Utah”, and everyone that lived in Las Nevadas, which had been just out of range of the explosions and fallout. Surprisingly, they also found Fundy, who had been travelling through the Nether at the time of the explosion and camped out there until he stumbled out of their portal a few nights ago. 

And the last, but most important, survivor they found while exploring the remains of Snowchester. Ranboo was devastated that he had nothing to remember Michael by, as everything he owned was nothing but ash now. Then they went to explore the bunker where the nuke had been launched, the only untouched part of Snowchester, where they all heard a familiar oinking in a nearby closet.

Whether Tubbo had the foresight to hide him or he’d wandered in there himself, Michael was alive and well, locked inside a closet with years of rations he’d been gobbling away at for the last two weeks.

The next decade had been an era of bittersweet peace and reconstruction for everyone. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the devastation had shaken Techno and Quackity’s boldness. Maybe they had finally realized just how mortal they were, or maybe they just saw what endless war would do to the world. Either way, the Syndicate and Las Nevadas joined forces to repair their broken world, the original members of both factions being gifted special clothing.

It would take a long time for the people of this new land to get past their trauma. Almost everyone still clutched tightly to their Life Totems. Even after al this time, it was still surreal seeing Phil, Wilbur, and Fundy acting like a family again. Michael had grown a lot in these last ten years, and Ranboo was quick to ask Techno to tutor him in the art of self defense.

As he watched his son skillfully parry Techno’s blows and counterattack, he knew he was no longer scared of the void, of what came after death. He’d gotten his happy ending, and maybe in the next life he’d be able to reunite with Tubbo.

#ranboo fanart #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp syndicate #c!ranboo #ranboo #dream smp #Fanart #ranboo fanfic #c!techno #c!philza #c!quackity #mcyt #c!michael #epilogue

[the-whatcherof-89]

Technoblade

CR 22 LN Humanoid (Orc, Human)

XP 614,400 (if used as npc for encounter) Advanced Half orc Bloodrager 20 (Destined bloodline) LN (with chaotic tendencies) Medium humaniod (half orc) Init +11; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +38(passive) AC 45, touch 22, flat-footed 38 (+7 Dex, +5 deflection, +6 natural, +13 armor, +4 shield spell) hp 220 (20d10+120) Fort +25, Ref +21, Will +19

Speed 40 ft. Melee Orphan obliterator+36/31/26/21 1d8+16+2d6 anarchic +1d6 fire, Axe of peace+37/32/27/22 1d12+17 Ranged Pig launcher+29 1d10+3 (plus explosive bolts), Spells. Racial Shaman’s apprentice, Darkvision 60ft, Orc blood, Human raised.

Class features Mighty blood rage (+6 Str Con +3 Will saves) 47 rounds, Blood sanctuary, Bloodcasting, Eschew materials, Improved uncanny dodge, Tireless bloodrage, Indomitable will, Damage reduction 5/-, Fast movement, +20 extra blood rage rounds, Destined strike (+10 5/day), Fated bloodrage+5, Certain strike, Defy death, Unstoppable, Victory or death.

Bloodline powers Bonus feats (Leadership, Diehard, Improved initiative, Intimidating prowess, Lighting reflexes) Bonus spells: Shield, Blur, Protection from energy, Freedom of Movement. 

Spellcasting CL 20th, concentration +27 DC17

4th (4/day)-fire shield, stone skin, wreath of blades, monstrous physique II, earth glide.

3rd (5/day)-haste, water breathing, fly, greater magic weapon, versatile weapons, wind wall, protection from energy.

2nd (6/day)-see invisibility, glitterdust, blindness/deafness, protection from arrows, spider climb, blood armor.

1st (6/day)-mage armor, mount, blurred movement, feather fall, true strike, Shield.

Str 34, Dex 24, Con 24, Int 22, Wis 20, Cha 24 Base Atk +20; CMB +29; CMD 44 Feats Ragecasting, Arcane strike, Blooded arcane strike, Raging vitality, Extend spell, Brew potions, Power attack, Improved sunder, Strong personality, Craft magic armor and weapons.

Skills Acrobatics +30, Climb +35, Craft(weapons) +29, Escape artist +27, Handle animal +20, Intimidate +30, Knowledge (arcana, the planes) +29, Perception +28, Spellcraft +29, Survival +28, Swim +35, Use magic device +20

Languages Common, Orc, Draconic, Giant.

Combat gear Orphan obliterator (+4 adamantine flaming anarchic longsword ), Pig launcher (+2 heavy crossbow of speed), 20+1 Arrows of flaming explosion, Axe of peace (+5 adamantine defensive greataxe combined with shatterspike powers), 4 Mithral daggers (for wreath of blades), Mithral full plate+5 of speed, Ring of protection+5, Amulet of natural armor+4, Ring of mind shielding, Cloak of resistance+4, Luckstone, Belt of physical perfection+6, Headband of mental superiority+4 (knowledge the planes), Daredevil boots, 2 Doses of granite and diamond dust (for stoneskin), Tome of leadership and influence+5 (used), Manual of gainful exercise+3 (used), 2 Potions of cure critical wounds, Finely decorated leather pig mask worth 300gp, Royal outfit, Bloodrager kit, Commemoratory hoe with golden decorations and the inscription”Potato king” (functions as a MWK earth breaker), 69gp.

Challenge rating modifiers +3 (advanced template, 32 Point buy, PC equipment).

Background: Technoblade, the myth, the legend. The blood god, the lord of battle, destroyer of governments, the potato king, hottest elbow holder, drop-kicker of orphans, de facto leader of the syndicate, the nightmare of L’Manberg, master of the trade... the blade. Techno is a man with many faces and holds cunning, power, riches and a charismatic personality; a combination of gifts and skills that makes him the strongest of allies and the most terrifying of opponents. He has fought many, won a lot and lost other things. He grieves the loss of his friend Ranboo and it is certain that if left unchecked he might perform drastic actions to bring him back. The mighty one had his fair share of weird situations, nonetheless, Techno took the road to find a way to resurrect his companion. While in the snowy lands meditating on the future a voice echoed in the distance with a simple promise: “Complete my challenge and i will bestow you a wish. A wish bound only by your imagination.” His thoughts running toward his deceased friend, Techno walked in the snowy winds and reached a strange unknown land completely different from the one he knew and found himself transfigured along with his equipment. “Come find me, i will be waiting for your arrival, strong one.” Echoed the voice. Techno uttered but a single sentence: “Did.. did i just got scammed? EH?”

NOTE: the image does NOT belong to me it was downloaded from this artist profile i own nothing and it is used ONLY for entertaining purposes.

https://mobile.twitter.com/fininiley/status/1360548240131829763

So i did it. It was an interesting process of creation. I dedicate this character sheet in honor of the one i admire and had the hottest elbows I have ever heard on youtube(also the weirdest flex). I will produce his version in other formats (D&D surely). But first i would like to express my intention: I would like to do the same for all the other members of the Dream SMP. Feel free to comment and suggest the next character, and if you liked it... share this to your friends. And of course, feel free to use this “attempt to recreate greatness” for a campaign if you like. Also, if you see some mistakes or something missing, let me know. Also also and  ALSO: i am still repeating myself but the image used above is not mine. It was made by an amazing artist on Twitter(check the link). I am not that good at drawing but if i had left this “memorial” empty it would have left a sour taste in my mouth. I hope i do not get in trouble for this and that you appreciate my desire to honor a magnificent character.

Godspeed to you all.

#technoblade #minecraft #dream smp #pathifinder #roleplay #twitter #hypixel bedwars #hypixel #hypixel skyblock #potato war #youtuber

[fearofahumanplanet]

Jane's Special Interest/Hyperfixation List

I'm mostly making this bc friends keep asking me about gifts

Will also likely be edited over time as I'm sure I've forgotten some things or will get more (there is a Lot going on in my brain on any given day)

Broad Things (aesthetics, genres, etc)

Anything gothic (like, classical gothic)

Victorian aesthetics

Pagan vibes

Anything punk (music, fashion, aesthetic, etc)

Skulls & bones

Masks (specifically face-covering masks) (favorites include plague doctor masks, kabuki masks, porcelain masks, Venetian carnival masks, gas masks, etc for reference)

Horror (as a whole genre, but particularly gothic horror, psychological horror, body horror, folk horror, sci-fi horror and slashers)

Mythology (any, but particularly Norse, Egyptian, Aztec, Celtic, Japanese)

History (most anything, but particular obsessions include Victorian London, 1700s-1800s America, Golden Age of Piracy, the Wild West, Edo period Japan, Mongols, WW2)

Culture (particularly anything that isn't Saxon - favorites include things like Mexican culture, Celtic, Chinese/Japanese, Brazilian, etc sets off all my brainworms)

Music (particularly metal, punk, and hip-hop)

Medieval weapons (particularly fixated on polearms)

LEGOs (stuff without theme usually, i like buildings)

Cyberpunk, steampunk, biopunk, cowpunk, all the punks...

Dark, urban & mythological fantasy

Noir & any crime fiction that focuses on the actual criminals (fuck police procedurals, I'm obsessed with gangs & serial killers) (this does not include true crime, i'm not into fetishizing my mental illnesses)

Soulslikes

Roguelikes / roguelites

First-person shooters (especially the older style, Doom, Gothic, Hexen, Shadow Warrior, Unreal, Quake, Halo, Dusk, mmmm)

RPGs (tabletop or video games)

Weird west

Dungeon crawlers

Vampires

Kaiju

Specific Things (franchises, games, etc)

Aliens / Predator / Aliens vs Predator

Arcane (the show, fuck everything else Riot has done) (mostly Jinx and Vi actually, fuck the rest of the show lmao)

Arkane Games (Dishonored, Prey 2017, Dark Messiah, Deathloop, etc)

Assassin's Creed

Binding of Isaac

Borderlands

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Civilization

Cthulhu Mythos (anything Lovecraft is in a hate way, but I love what happens when people who aren't racist expand on it)

Cyberpunk 2077

Dante's Inferno & Paradise Lost

Dark Horse Comics (Hellboy my beloved)

Darkest Dungeon

DC & Marvel (but like, in a hate way. I cannot stand them. Cannot stop thinking about them either. AAAA) (Jason Todd & Moon Knight are as obsessed as I get)

Destiny (hate way)

Deus Ex

Devil May Cry

Diablo and its rip-offs (Grim Dawn, Path of Exile, etc)

Disco Elysium

Discworld

Divinity

Dune

Dungeons & Dragons

Elder Scrolls

Fables

Fallout & Wasteland

Far Cry

Final Fantasy

Frictional Games (Amnesia, SOMA, Penumbra, etc)

Friday the 13th

The Forest

FromSoftware (Dark Souls, Bloodborne, Sekiro, Elden Ring, etc)

Godzilla

Grand Theft Auto (in remission)

Halo

Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice

Hotline Miami

iD Software (Doom, Quake, Wolfenstein, etc)

Insert-Shock (BioShock, System Shock, Prey 2017, etc)

Life is Strange (Chloe.....)

Mad Max

Metal Gear

Metro

Middle-Earth (Lord of the Rings, Hobbit, etc)

Monster Hunter

Mount & Blade

Niel Gaiman works (especially Sandman and Good Omens)

NieR

Paradox Games (unfortunately... Hearts of Iron, Crusader Kings, Stellaris, etc)

Resident Evil

Saints Row

SCP

Shadowrun

Silent Hill

Skulduggery Pleasant

Star Wars (Disney is working very hard to kill this one)

Stardew Valley

Stephen King works

Telltale Games (what an odd thing they were)

Those truck sim games (yeah i dont know)

Undertale

Valve (Half-Life, Portal, Left 4 Dead, etc)

Walking Dead (fuck the TV shows, i mean everything else)

Warhammer 40k/Fantasy and its derivatives

Watchmen (Rorschach....)

Witcher

Yakuza (like, the games, not the organized crime syndicate)

#no one will read this #i have reached a new high in self-indulgence #with my identity issues though i really need to have this written down #so you're welcome

[muskokafarm]

Muskoka Farm Pre Training For Thoroughbreds

The thoroughbred breeding industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy, and stallion fees and sales profits support thousands of jobs. Located near national parks and surrounded by natural bushland, Muskoka Farm offers breaking, pre training, spelling and agistment.

The world class facility is renowned for its violence-free horse breaking methods and has worked with top racehorses, including Golden Slipper winners. The 280-acre property includes five stable barns, a 2.4-kilometer crusher dust track and 10 large, fully fenced paddocks. It also has a four-bedroom main homestead, guest house and two-story facility manager’s cottage. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call [phone].

Thoroughbreds are famous for their ability to run fast over long distances, and their endurance is unparalleled in the animal kingdom. However, there are many other uses for these horses. Larger ones are often used as family riding horses, while smaller ones become dressage or youth show horses. Many retired race horses also find new careers as polo ponies or steeplechase competitors.

The 280-acre Muskoka Farm, located in Gunderman, NSW, is one of the country’s best horse spelling facilities. It offers breaking, pre-training, and agistment, as well as a state-of-the-art export quarantine facility. Its impressive facilities include a 2.4-kilometer crusher dust track, a two-kilometre grass track for pace work, and a high-speed treadmill.

The prestigious property is located on the Hawkesbury River and has five stable barns, 27 day yards, 10 large fully fenced paddocks, and a private jetty/pontoon. In addition, the farm has a facility manager’s cottage and two-bedroom guest house. It is a registered AQIS quarantine facility for export.

The journey of racehorses begins at a young age, as they begin their long path towards competitive racing. This journey requires exceptional balance and strength, as well as the ability to respond to rider cues. These equine athletes are subject to rigorous training regimens that prioritize gradual development and enhance cardiovascular fitness. The right approach can help maximize their chances of success on the racetrack.

Located in Gunderman, Muskoka Farm is a world class spelling and pre-training facility with a plethora of working tracks. Its 58 stables, 2000m crusher dust track and high-speed treadmill make it a favorite among Australia’s top trainers.

Upon arrival at the farm, horses are checked and may be bled for a urine sample. They are then fed a small, high fibre meal and water. They are then rested until the next day. At that time they are trotted up and re-checked before being turned out in small paddocks or put on the horse walker for exercise.

Stable hands are the backbone of a racehorse operation and work in all weather conditions. They are responsible for grooming and cleaning stalls, feeding and watering horses, administering supplements and medications, and preparing horses for exercise. They also perform facility maintenance and operate equipment to maintain the farm’s grounds and barns.

A stable hand must be able to follow directions and work independently. They must be comfortable working around large animals that can kick and bite. It is important to find out if the stable you are applying for provides safety gear. You may also want to ask about horse and human first aid supplies.

Located in Gunderman, NSW the 280 acre Muskoka Farm is one of Australia’s best Thoroughbred pre training facilities. Its impressive facilities include a 2000m crusher dust track, 58 stables, private pontoon and high speed treadmill. It is a popular training destination for many of the country’s top trainers. It has a number of programs that help future racehorses get in shape.

Buying a racehorse can be a great investment. It can be done in an individual capacity or in a partnership or syndicate. However, it is important to seek expert advice before purchasing a horse. This will help you get the best value for your money and avoid common mistakes.

The first step is to attend a racing sale, usually in November. These sales feature a variety of horses that are ready to race and have been timed in breeze ups. The breeze ups will give you an idea of the horse’s potential under saddle. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call [phone].

One of Australia’s leading Thoroughbred pre training facilities is located at Muskoka Farm in Wisemans Ferry, an hour from Sydney. The facility offers breaking, pre training, spelling and agistment services, as well as being a registered AQIS quarantine facility for exporting. Its impressive facilities include a 2.4-kilometre crusher dust track, 16-horse walker, lap pool and high speed treadmill. The property also has a private jetty/pontoon and two-bedroom guest house.

#horse spelling #horse spelling and training #horse breakers nsw #horse breakers victoria #race horse training australia #pre training #horse training nsw #horse training lismore

[project1939]

(Lucy and Ethel with the Westinghouse fridge and oven behind them, Jason and The Golden Fleece's Macdonald Carey on left, Adlai Stevenson, right, gives one last radio message before the election.)

Day 70- TV and Radio: 

TV: 

Tales of Tomorrow, season 2 episode 10, “Many Happy Returns,” October 24th, 1952. 

I Love Lucy, season 2, episode 6, “Vacation from Marriage,” October 27th, 1952. 

Radio: 

You Bet Your Life, October 29th, 1952. 

Jason and the Golden Fleece, “Phil Pomeray, Jr. Wants His Father’s Respect,” October 29th, 1952. 

Bright Star, “Susan Runs for Mayor,” October 30th, 1952. 

Adlai Stevenson voting reminder. Late October through to the election on November 4th. 

Jason and the Golden Fleece is an example of what a shame it is that so many shows are now lost to us. For this show, there are only 3 existing episodes, and only one of those is from 1952. It was a really enjoyable show, and I loved the premise. It’s about a modern guy who lives in New Orleans and owns a boat called the Golden Fleece that he charters. The people that request to use it are usually the people at the center of each week’s plot. In this episode a 21 year old son is struggling to prove to both of his parents that he is a man now. Jason ascertains which parent is the larger one to blame for their son’s problems, and he goes about helping them all. Jason was played very effectively by Macdonald Carey. I knew the name sounded familiar- he was the husband in My Wife’s Best Friend! 

I Love Lucy today proved to me how much of a ridiculous dork I am. As I was watching a longer scene in the kitchen with Lucy and Ethel, I saw the refrigerator in the background and thought, “Hey, that looks like a Westinghouse Frost Free Refrigerator! The kind Betty Furness sells on Westinghouse Studio One!” The door handle was the biggest giveaway. Then I noticed the stove, and I recognized the “color glance” knobs that I love on the Westinghouse electric ranges! So now I know Lucy’s kitchen is decked out in Westinghouse gear! And I also know I am officially one of Betty Furness’ biggest fangirls! 

Tales of Tomorrow was about Moon creatures communicating telepathically with children on earth. It was fun, but it did make me laugh out loud at its overly dramatic moments, which hasn’t really happened to me before while watching the series. 

I also heard a quick radio announcement by Adlai Stevenson encouraging everyone to vote. “I sincerely hope you will vote for me, but most of all, I hope you will vote.” The election happens on November 4th, 1952.

...And now a word from today’s best sponsor: I don’t really have one today, so how about a nod to syndicated and “sustaining” shows! They give you the same entertainment without the odd interruptions in shows as they try to sell you deodorant, evaporated milk, cigarettes, kitchen appliances, cereals, frozen fruit juices, carpets, watchbands, laxatives, makeup, home permanents, aluminum products, cheese food, mayonnaise, shampoos... 

#project1952 #1952 #project1952 day 70

[butterscotchbeluga]

Another design for my Golden Gear Syndicate, introducing the “Swamp Beacon”, an old mech designed for ocean salvage missions, mostly retired by the syndicate, but every once in awhile you’ll see a veteran still piloting one of these junkers. While battered and weathered, this colossus is still ready for a fight with their trusty anchor in hand. Swamp Beacon was chosen in reference to the fungi’s damp choice of habitat and the lights covering the construct.

#Lancer RPG #lancer #mech #machine #scrap #syndicate #golden gear #Golden Gear Syndicate #fungus #swamp beacon #swamp beacon fungus #gun #anchor #chain #ocean #amphibious #anti-air #anti-aircraft #beacon #water #robot #zero blue orion #rpg #youtube #my art #Fanart

[griffintail]

I literally just had a thought-and I'm not sure which I like more. Techno brining either Phil's kid or his kid to the nether with him (probably when they're a little older) and a piglin gives them a courting gift. And they don't understand but techno goes protective. I just-the lost ones series has been so much angst lately man. You don't have to write this but at least it's a cute thought 🥰

Courting Gifts

Pairings: Parental! Technoblade x F! Reader

Warnings: None :)

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

Techno had taken (Y/N) into the Nether a few times before but it was simply to cross from one portal to another. He never had a reason to interact with the life there, other than striders when he taught her how to ride one and ghasts when they were attacked by the vicious things. They never had a reason to interact with the piglins.

So, when Techno was running out of a few things and he had a few bits of gold hoarded away, he decided to trade with the piglins.

“Hey, I need to go trading but the village is too far out. So, I’m going to the Nether to trade with piglins, want to come along?” Techno asked (Y/N) as he came outside to see the young adult laying in the snow but her head on Steve.

“Sure! I’ve never seen you trade with piglins.” She got up and pet Steve before she left the bear’s side.

“I never have much of a reason to, I usually plan a village trip ahead.” He said as he went in with her behind him. “But, with the you know what Athena, I used a few more supplies than I should have.”

“Ah, right.” She nodded.

She was truly a girl of wisdom and Techno had thought the name proper for her when he formed the Syndicate with her and Phil. They both went to grab their gear for a Nether trip and Techno quizzed her before they left.

“What do we need for a Nether trip?”

“Crossbow for ghasts,” she patted the crossbow on her back, “gold as a sign of peace,” she held up her arms to show her gold bracers, “and a couple of fire resistance potions just in case. And of course, the normal armor and sword.”

“Correct.” He nodded. “I’ll deal with all the trading today, come on.”

Both father and daughter walked to and into the portal, capes flowing behind them and crowns glinting. (Y/N) walked beside Techno as he led the way to a bastion hold.

“Piglins like the good things in life,” Techno told her as he showed her the gold he had taken. “They’ll give you almost anything for a bit of gold.”

“So would you.” She joked with him and he snorted.

“You’ve been hanging out with Tommy too much.”

She grinned as she looked around as Techno went up to one of the piglin traders. Around, she took in the black stoned building with a couple of gold inlays in its stone foundations. They must like their gold even more than her father did. She supposed that’s why gold armor was a sign of peace.

Following her father around to a few traders, she quickly found out that Techno could communicate through their snorts and such while she didn’t understand it at all. She didn’t understand the bartering either though. Techno seemed to get some decent items with just one bit of gold but what seemed like nothing at all for more gold.

“How does their trading work?” She asked him as he moved onto a new trader.

“It’s mostly how greedy they are. Sometimes I can talk down their prices, sometimes I can’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t trade with the greedier ones unless I really need something.”

“How greedy were they?”

“They weren’t bad, you should see the ones that want to trade with ender pearls.”

“Would they trade with me?”

“Eh, some of them might try to trade with you to get a steal. Some of them might be kind and actually, barter with you.”

“Huh, do you mind if I sit and write some of this down?”

Techno chuckled lightly. (Y/N) loved to take notes of things she learned and documented findings she had never seen in the many books they both read.

“Ok, just stay in my sight.” He nodded.

She nodded before leaving his side to go sit on a black stone bench. Carefully putting her crown next to her, she pulled out her journal and ink before writing down what Techno had told her. As she was documenting, she saw a small hand going for her crown in the corner of her eye.

“Hey!” She grabbed the crown and pulled it to her to see a small piglin. “That’s not yours.”

The child shrunk, giving small snorts. Shit, they were adorable.

“You shouldn’t take something that isn’t yours.” She told them, putting the crown on her head before digging through her bag and finding one bit of gold. “But here.”

They perked up at the offering of gold before happily taking it. She smiled as they climbed onto the bench next to her, playing with the gold in their hands before trying to look at her journal, making snorts.

“This is my journal; I was writing down what my dad told me.” She explained even though she doubted the child could understand her. “I’m documenting things no one has ever written down.”

The piglin gave little snorts as he pressed close to her to just stare at her journal and she chuckled, tickling the feather of her quill on the child’s nose making them give a little snort of what she assumed was laughter.

“You should go find your mom or dad kiddo. I don’t want to be responsible for you.”

She supposed he understood some of her words at least because the little piglin got up and wandered over to an older piglin, tugging on their pant leg. Chuckling softly, she turned back to her journal, writing down a few notes that the piglins probably understood a bit of common language as she now kept her crown on her head, despite it being annoying that it would fall forward. As she was scribbling away, even doodling a piglin, she looked up as a shadow came into a view.

It was the older piglin that the small one had gone to and she smiled up at them.

“Hello. Can I help you?” She asked.

The piglin gave a few snorts before holding a golden bracelet to her. She tilted her head, confused.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I don’t have any more gold for that.” She said carefully, hoping the piglin would understand.

They gave a few more snorts, still holding out the bracelet.

“Um…ok?” She said confused as she stood, putting her journal away then reaching for the bracelet only for an ender pearl to shatter in between the pair.

Technoblade then stood there, towering over the piglin and giving a mix of a growl and a snort as he had a hand on his sword. The piglin shrunk before scurrying off.

“What was that?!” (Y/N) exclaimed in shock.

“We’re leaving,” Techno said as he kept his tall posture while walking back towards the entrance.

“What? What just happened?” (Y/N) asked hurriedly as she followed after her father.

“Not now, back at home.” He said stiffly.

(Y/N) was very confused but she followed after him regardless. He’d tell her once they got where they needed to be. It took till they got to their portal before he stopped, relaxing his tall stance. (Y/N) realized now was he had been making himself appear tall and intimidating as he gave an angry huff.

“The nerve…”

“What was that?” She questioned.

“A piglin custom.”

“What custom? Dad, I don’t understand. All I know is you terrified that piglin.”

Techno groaned as he took off his mask so he could run a hand down his face. He stood there for a few moments before looking at her.

“It was a courting gift.”

“A what?” She said shocked.

“Piglins give gold jewelry to women they want to court. He wanted to court you.”

All (Y/N) could think was that piglin was lucky he wasn’t dead.

“Oh. Uh. What would have happened if…you didn’t come in?”

“They would have tried to court you! I was not letting that happen.” Techno shook his head as he went towards home now, (Y/N) following behind. “I was watching you as I traded though and was trading for ender pearls when I saw him trying to give you the courting gift.”

Techno had practically shoved all of his gold at the ender pearl trader before taking the ender pearls, immediately using one to separate his daughter from the piglin. He remembered the voices screaming simultaneously, but he was acting on his own instinct as a father.

“Oh, well, thank you?” She questioned.

“Yes, you are welcome. No boys, no nothing.” Techno told her as they stepped into the house. “You’re still too young.”

“Dad, I’m almost twenty.” She joked.

“No. Boys. No, nothing.” Techno pointed at her, looking deadly serious.

“Uhh.”

“What boys?” Phil asked as he came in having seen the pair come home.

She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

#Technoblade x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt oneshots #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #dreamsmp x reader

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 12

Maul x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

WARNINGS: mentions to sex, FLUFF, the fluffiest chapter by far. Enjoy it cause I’m gonna hurt your feelings in the next one NGL

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       True to both parts of his word, Maul demanded that your suggestions be carried out; with little resistance from the government that Almec put together it didn’t take long for your plan to come to fruition. While the gears were turning Maul continued your training, an expansive space in the court yard was repurposed for sparring. To your delight, several members of the Death Watch accepted your invitation after promising to keep it purely physical, no ‘force magic’ as they put it. Their addition meant that Maul could continue to work with the syndicates and members of Mandalorian government to further his desires for power and you didn’t have to wait for him to be free to train. Of course, he made time for you every morning; discussing Sith philosophies and history while every evening you meditated together.

    It didn’t take long for the tabloids to gather information about the Manda’lor’s generous gesture to restore farm lands to their original clan and to seed them; not with tax money but straight from the purse of the woman who had seized them to begin with. He practically gushed to himself in the privacy of his office at the praise from the people. He wasn’t even finished with your original plan and already he was coming up with more to gain the citizen’s loyalty. Maul was nothing if he wasn’t thorough in his scheming and when he discovered that the Mandalorians as a people had a long and strenuous relationship with the Jedi, to put it lightly, he resolved himself to arm every man and woman once again. By the end of his precise forty step plan, he would have not just an army but an entire planet up in arms should the Jedi come for him, his brother or his love. The last article he read ended with a question, a call to the Mand’alor to be present for the relighting of the oldest forge on the planet. Knowing good publicity when he saw it; he made the call to Almec to schedule it for as soon as possible and he made his way to go find you.

    He smiled at the sight when he walked out onto the courtyard. You and Savage were back-to-back with your sabers twirling wildly and your stances shuffling. Several Death Watch surrounded you on foot while more flew around you with their jet packs, firing blaster bolts that, he hoped, were set to stun. He took a moment to watch you, admiring how far you’ve come with your saber skills while recalling how truly terrible you had been just a few months ago. Just a few months ago. That’s all it took to steal his heart and change his life. What a fickle thing time was. He spent a decade alone and distending into madness, accomplishing nothing, but in a matter of months. Months, his brother had rescued him, he had fallen in love and he was now a ruler on his way to being genuinely liked by his people. He shook his head at the realization as you and his brother redirected the bolts away skillfully, being sure not to strike one of your guard. Some of them were laughing wildly in excitement and he saw that you had lived up to your own word. You’d make them like you, it seemed like you were making good progress on that. It is quite cathartic to be able to shoot at the people or person who makes you uneasy, even if it isn’t lethal. Perhaps next time he would join you in this particular kind of training, you did make it look enjoyable as a smile was apparent on both Savage’s and your face.

    One of the guards noticed Maul standing in their peripheral and called for a cease fire. Bodies clad in red and black Beskar fell into a rigid formation and a salute, he very quickly put them at ease stating he just needed to have a word with you and Savage. One of the women who you must have grown closer to elbowed you playfully before following her comrades back into the palace. Savage approached with you at his side, both grinning and sweaty from your training.

“I still think you should ask her out,” you teased Savage before turning your attention to Maul, eliciting only a huff from the golden Zabrak. “What is it you’d like to discuss my love?” you asked while he took your hand in his.

“Well firstly I’d like to applaud the both of you for performing so well in this unorthodox style of practice. It seems to be paying off quite well.” Both you and Savage exchanged a wide grin at his praises. “Secondly, my presence has been requested for the lighting of an ancient forge and I think it would be more than appropriate to have both my brother and my darling at my side.”

    Savage was especially gleeful at the invitation; he had started to grow an affection on one of the Death Watch members and had taken it upon himself to learn as much about the culture as he possibly could. You were also quite excited at the opportunity to leave the palace grounds. Since that stunt you pulled during Maul’s coup, he had been more open about your relationship with the people within his proximity. He still wasn’t much for PDA but everyone knew you shared a room and a bed. He had also referred to you with your pet names in front of others rather than simply ‘apprentice.’ In fact, the more you thought about it, he hadn’t referred to you as his apprentice for a short time now; you still called him either Master or Lord Maul when you weren’t alone or with Savage. He seemed to understand that you demanded respect for him as much, if not more so, than he did for himself.

    It was the following day that you had awoken alone in your bed but something caught your eye. He had sent up a silver tray with fresh hot tea for you with little biscuits and fruits. He had draped a long dress bag over the end of the obscenely large bed with a note filled with sweet nothings. For a Sith Lord and a murderer he really was quite the romantic. You gasped when you unzipped the bag to find a beautifully simple long black silken gown accompanied by cascading tear drop shaped ruby earrings and lovely crimson shoes with only a slight heel on them. You loved wearing his colors and he loved seeing them on you. After you had arranged your hair and painted a simple make up look on your face you found both Savage and Maul waiting you in the throne room, ready to depart.

    They had presented themselves as the Lords they were as well. Savage adorned new robes in his dark navy color with charcoal grey accents while Maul stole your breath straight from your chest. He was still dripped in black but his robes were crafted of a similarly silken material to your dress. His trademark deep V allowed for the delightful view of his strong chest and tattoos that painted his skin. A delicate gold chain looped from his temporal horn to attach to a gold ring he wore in the top of his ear with another draped around his neck, following the lines of his exposed skin. You loved that earring and had told him every chance you could. He truly did look like a king and Savage, his right hand beside him. You greeted one another with bright smiles as you took the arm Maul had extended for you. Heat flushed your cheeks when he told you how you looked absolutely ravishing and whispered his more sinful desires to you through the force of what he would do to you the moment they returned.

    Accompanied by three Beskar clad guards, you made your way to the ship that had been prepared for you. One of the guards you recognized as the particularly petite young woman that Savage had started to develop an interest in. Kiara, you liked her and had started to develop a friendly rapport with the young woman. When you noticed her continuously glancing at him you jabbed your free elbow into his ribs lightly and waggled your eyebrows at him. He simply bit back a chuckle but you didn’t miss how his cheeks tinged a deeper gold.

    The ceremony was simple and utterly beautiful on the other side of the planet. Several clan heads had attended, wearing their beskar proudly as the appointed armorer for this particular forge, clad in gold coloring lit the forge with a torch after reciting the Resol’nare. She had given Maul a respectful nod when the sixth action, referring to the leader had been spoken to which he returned with a slight bow of his own head. You felt a surge of pride when the forge had been lit, knowing you played even a small part in giving these people a piece of themselves back to them. A few reporters had recorded the entirety of the ceremony and after it was completed, they turned to Maul asking for an interview which he politely declined.

“Today is an important occasion for every Mandalorian and I do not wish to draw away from it but I would be happy to partake in an interview in the near future so I may express my plans and course of action to see them through to every citizen,” and with that, warm handshakes were exchanged until your small guard had directed you back to the ship. He played politician as well as he played the syndicates. Dual tunes of light and dark and you thought for a moment how grey your lover truly was. You recalled the first time your minds truly, purposefully melded, that first night you were conscious on Zanbar, the first time you lay with one another. He was that last burst of sunlight during the dusk, just before it set.

    When you had returned to the palace you could see several Mandalorians etching something into the stone above the main entrance to the Sundari Palace, upon closer examination you could read ‘Through Passion I gain Strength. Through Strength I gain Power. Through Power I gain Victory. Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader all help us survive.’ Your eyes welled up with how beautifully the Sith code and the Mandalorian’s Resol’nare flowed so beautifully together; etched in stone for all to see and gain strength from. You could feel the pride of every Mandalorian who gazed upon the lettering through the force. Maul’s silent promise not to damn or forget about the ideals of his new people or his own.

      Plans to throw a gala, inviting the heads and spouses of every major clan on the planet were drawn up immediately following the forge lighting. The intention to hear the needs and wants from the people directly. Once again, he didn’t draw from the well of the peoples’ taxes to throw an extravagant party, but used a small percentage of the wealth that was starting to accumulate from heading the various syndicates. A small detail that you admired and praised him for extensively.

    The gala went better than anyone could’ve foreseen for a number of reasons. Firstly, to your own amusement, you recognized Kiara out on the dance floor with Savage. She wore a deep navy gown to match his attire and her silver toned Karta Beskar proudly, his large hand holding her small waist tightly. You wondered if either of their smiles would ever fade and you hoped they wouldn’t. Maul happily allowed him a ‘night off’ so to speak and kept you at his side during his conversations with the leaders of the various clans.

    It was impossible to lie to a skilled force user so the second reason that the night had gone so well was the fact that the gifting of the farm lands, the relighting of the forge and even the small detail of the etching of the stone above the palace’s entrance had paid off in regards to the favor Maul was quickly gaining. He took their concerns to heart and responded eloquently, offering slight alterations to the more unreasonable requests and all but promising to see to the much more manageable ones and the invited reporters caught every moment of it.

    Finally, when the formalities had ended Maul was free to take your hand and glide you across the dance floor. Despite his one cybernetic leg he moved as gracefully as ever and smiling endearingly at you. His eyes locked softly on your own. It was during this time you had noticed that his eyes weren’t so bloodshot. The creases in his brow that seemed so permanent had started to fade and his muscles, usually so ridged and stressed, moved with more fluidity and ease. Again, your heart swelled, this is what he deserved. Happiness. Love, adoration, respect from all who came within proximity of him. Long after the guests had left and Savage accompanied Kiara down to walk through the gardens; Maul led you to the terrace to dance slowly under the moonlight to a silent song only the two of you could hear.

    The following day while you and Maul sipped caf in your bedroom during the early morning hours, the scent of sex and sweat still hinting in the air, you read through the articles written about the gala. As to be expected, Maul received high praise simply for inviting advocates of the people to speak with him personally along with slander towards Satine for never doing anything even remotely like what Maul had done. To your surprise as well, you had been mentioned a few times regarding your proximity to the Mand’alor and your kindness and competence had been quoted by a few of the leaders.

    The last article you read had a picture you hadn’t realized was even taken. It showed you and your lover hand in hand, mid twirl out of the balcony in the dim light of the moon and the stars. The headline asking a faceless reader if a royal marriage was imminent. Maul chuckled as he read over the same headline and just as he opened his mouth to speak a loud knock sounded from the door.

    Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance he called out, granting entry. Savage entered with a goofy grin asking if you were ready to spar much to your delight. You were eager to hear how the rest of his evening had gone with Kiara. You quickly dressed from your silken night gown into your typical training garb and kissed your lover goodbye before skipping after the larger Zabrak.

    Maul sighed and smiled to himself, drinking the last of his caf and sending Almec a list of things he wanted to accomplish over the next two weeks for the people of Mandalore. He stood to get dressed but hesitated for a moment before leaving the confines of his luxurious bedroom, hand holding a small box in his pocket tightly.

    When it had happened, he almost couldn’t believe it. Some saber-staffs are able to operate on only a single kyber crystal but his master believed he needed the power of two for his to function at maximum strength. He had sent Gar Saxon to Lotho Minor on a secret mission that even Savage hadn’t been aware of. The commander had managed to find the broken half of his saber-staff with the crystal still intact. It had taken Maul almost two weeks but he had managed to cleanse his corruption from the small crystal, restoring it to its soft blue glow.

    What you hadn’t seen during the lighting of the forge was Maul had requisitioned the armorer to cast a ring from the metal of his broken half and set the stone inside it. She had slipped him the finished product during the gala.

    He took the small box out of his pocket and admired her work again. He knew you favored a simple elegance over extravagant gaudy ones. His purified Kyber crystal shined brightly in the silver band and his heart swelled with hope. Since the night you had accidently shared memories, he wanted to give you his life, his very soul. This was closest thing to being able to do that as possible and he had to plan the perfect moment to do it. What he didn’t realize was that it would be much longer before he could even try.

#maul x reader #Darth Maul x reader #Darth maul #maul #sith apprentice #sith warrior #SWTCW #swtcw au #star wars #starwars au #Maul fluff #Savage opress #platonic savage #night brothers #Mandalore #maul x apprentice reader #dark side of the force

[blairsanne]

In The Cards (6)

Big Wolf on Campus fanfic. Merton x OC. [Tommy also gets some pairings.]

Chapter Summary: Tommy and Merton hang out alone during the full moon while Kalida goes camping, but when Tommy goes to check on her as the wolfman, both cousins' secrets come out.

Also on FF & AO3.

Chapter 6: Secrets

After school Friday afternoon, Kalida packed up the camper with all her gear for a weekend in the woods. When she was confident she hadn't forgotten anything, she headed back inside and leaned into Tommy's room.

"Ready to go to Merton's?" Tommy slung his backpack over his shoulder. It was the full moon that night, and as usual he was spending the night at his friend's to avoid being found out. "Yeah. I even found my Jackie Chan DVD's." Kali snorted. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that." He made fighting gestures and whooshing sounds on their way down the hall.

---

Tommy rode shotgun in Betsy on the way, messing with the radio. "Say, Tommy, um…" Kalida shifted awkwardly. "You know the Pleasantville Werewolf…?" Tommy made a show of rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, it's just a stupid urban legend. Don't let Merton convince you otherwise. He just has an overactive imagination."

"Oh, um." She gripped the steering wheel. "Right. I guess I just let the stories freak me out," she forced a nervous laugh as they pulled up behind the Dingle house. "I'm sure you won't get mauled by any monsters in the woods." Tommy hopped out, but held the door open. "Did you wanna come in for a bit?"

"Nah, that's okay." She smirked. "Unless you boys wanna come camping with me instead." Tommy laughed, shaking his head. "Gotta have our guy time." "Alright," she shrugged. "Go have fun alone with your boyfriend." He sneered, but blew her a kiss on his way to the Lair's entrance.

---

Kalida shuffled her tarot cards. The picnic table at her camp site was covered with a blue altar cloth, a handful of crystals, and an incense holder with a lit stick. She reflected on her weeks in Pleasantville. She had never expected anything like what she'd seen with Merton and the wolf man. She felt uneasy as she pulled the Tower card.

I wish I didn't have to keep all of this from Tommy. She sighed as she shuffled again. No, if I'm honest, I'm wondering if he's keeping it from me.

She pulled the High Priestess next.

If she thought about it, Merton was always with either Tommy or the Wolf Man. She'd never seen Tommy and Wolfy at the same time, and Tommy had a knack of disappearing when things got weird. On top of that, Merton said he'd only been dealing with weird stuff since the new school year, and Tommy never mentioned Merton before now. But was it really possible that her golden-boy cousin was a werewolf? Why wouldn't he tell her at this point? Did Merton know? Was he lying to her?

Her final card was the Lovers, inverted.

"Well that's encouraging," she sighed sarcastically.

---

Tommy mashed the buttons on his controller, wolfed out from the moon. They were playing old games on Merton's Super Nintendo. "Hey I never told you before-" "Don't distract me!" Merton leaned sideways, pressing buttons frantically. Tommy smacked Merton's chest. "This is serious, just listen."

He rolled his eyes and paused the game. "What serious thing do you need to tell me four hours into our hangout?" Tommy put his controller down. "Kali asked me about the Wolf Man." Merton perked up, raising a brow. "Oh? What did she say?" "W-well, not much. I told her it was an urban legend." Merton smacked his forehead. "Just tell her." "You know I can't, Merton." "You told Carole Lefevre after knowing her for like three days." "She's a cat girl! She can't out me because then I could out her." "She's your cousin, Tommy. She's not going to sell you out to werewolf hunters." He looked off, distracted, smirking to himself. "Although the going rate for werewolf parts is surprisingly high now that the syndicate's been taken down." "Merton."

He shook his head, putting his hands up reassuringly. "Regardless. Kalida's been helping with the wolf stuff and hanging out with us tons. She's got your back both ways. It's only logical that she'd be fine with you being the werewolf." Tommy hummed. "You're probably right." Merton nodded to himself. "I often am, yes." Tommy got up and stretched. "What are you doing?" "I'm gonna go tell her I'm the werewolf." "Right now? What about Mortal Kombat?"

---

Tommy sprinted across town and up the mountain to the camp grounds. Hiding in the shadows and trees, he tracked her scent until he could make out the white camper through the brush. From behind a nearby tree, he spotted her, sitting cross-legged on a blanket near the fire pit.

He stepped out into the clearing and saw that she had various other items on the blanket with her; a circle of candles, incense and crystals. The kind of stuff Merton might have. Kalida squeaked in surprise when she heard footsteps behind her, spinning around. "W-wolf man," she breathed, holding something against her chest. "You startled me."

"What've you got there?" He pointed at her hands, then to the items on her blanket. "Oh, I-" she tucked her hair behind her ear, then opened her hands enough to show him the knife she was holding. "This is an athame. But don't touch it, it's silver." "A silver dagger," Tommy raised his eyebrows and nodded as he took a step back. "Interesting." "It's just for spell work." She grabbed a stack of flash cards from the blanket and held them up. "I moved here partway through the school year, so I was doing a spell to help with my grades."

Tommy slowly walked around so that he was on the other side of the fire from her. From there he could see that she had laid her textbooks out in front of her as well. "I didn't know you were a witch." "Well we've… never really talked?" Kalida felt uneasy. If he's Tommy, then now Tommy knows I'm a witch, which Uncle Bob won't like. If he's not Tommy, he might think I'm one of the things he has to fight. She gripped the athame. "Right. I guess we haven't." Tommy paced, unsure now if he wanted to tell her his secret or not. She has a silver knife in her hands. "I usually just leave you with Merton when it's all over."

"I-is he okay?" He could smell the concern coming off of her now. It made him a little relieved to know she was worried about his best friend. Maybe he was just overthinking things because he hadn't expected her to be a witch. He waved his hands dismissively. "Oh, yeah, he's fine." "Is there... something happening?" Tommy shook his head. "No, nothing's happening. I just went for a run and… I didn't expect to see you, uh, spell… ing…"

"O-oh." She licked her lips, barely able to keep eye contact. "W-well I am." "Right." Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to it-" "Wait!" She stood up suddenly, making Tommy back away. "I wanted to ask you, um…" She trailed off, glancing at his fighting stance. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Tommy lowered his arms, feeling embarrassed. "Oh. Reflexes." Kalida carefully put the athame at her feet and stood back up. "Right. Um, what I wanted to ask was… Do you know me? Like, do we know each other, when you're not-" "I should go." Tommy bolted from the campsite and ran through the forest.

When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he kicked the tree he was leaning against. "Stupid!"

---

Tommy snuck back into Merton's room, locking the door behind him. "There you are!" Merton looked up hopefully from his bed. He was sprawled out reading Darkest Goth magazine, kicking his legs behind him. "How'd it go?" "I ran away like a baby." Merton laughed, shaking his head. "What? Why?" "I just got so… caught off guard." Tommy flopped down on the couch and ran his hands over his face. "When I got there she was doing some kind of studying spell, and holding a silver knife, and-"

"Slow down," Merton joined him on the couch. "She was doing a spell?" Merton tried to wrap his head around Kalida being a witch. She hadn't said anything about it, but he supposed she hadn't said anything to deny it either. "Yeah!" he gestured emphatically. "I didn't even know she was a witch! And I was so surprised, I didn't know what to say anymore. So I tried to leave, and then she asked if we knew each other, when I'm not wolfed out." "She asked you? So then, you told her." "No, I panicked!" He threw his hands up. "I mean, she had a silver knife, and she had all this witch stuff around her," he drew a circle with his paws. "I didn't know what to say, so I bolted and came back here."

Merton sighed and relaxed against his seat. "She's probably a wiccan or something. I bet that's what she was hiding in the camper this whole time." "But why hide that?" "She said that your dad told her not to bring hippie garbage into the house." "What? She never told me that." "She might have thought you'd judge her for it? Like you're doing right now?" Tommy rolled his eyes, but looked away pouting. "Maybe."

"I think it's kind of cool. What if she's a really powerful witch and can do spells to fight vampires-" "Like the movie rental guy!" "Tommy," Merton groaned. "Trevor is not a vampire!"

---

The next night, Kalida pushed a log deeper into the fire, sitting alone at her campsite. The sun was long down, stars piercing the indigo sky above her. Despite the warmth of the blaze, she had wrapped a thick wool blanket around herself.

I wonder if Wolfy will come back tonight…

She perked at the sound of gravel crunching down the road and noted the headlights' glow through the trees. She was momentarily afraid when the vehicle backed into her site, but when it parked, she recognized the back end of the large black car. "Merton?" She walked over as he stepped out. "Hey. I brought dessert." He held up a bag of marshmallows, offering her a hopeful smile. "Um, cool." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I wasn't expecting you." "Wolfy told me you were up here, and I thought you might like some company." He gestured at the hearse. "I can leave if I'm intruding."

She rolled her eyes and took the bag of marshmallows from him. "Don't be stupid." He grinned and followed, joining her on the log by the fire. Soon they were both holding sticks over the fire.

"What did he say about last night?" "Wolfy?" Merton turned his stick slowly. "Just that he saw you up here by yourself." "I think he might have gotten the wrong idea…" Merton cleared his throat, glancing away. "Well, he may have mentioned you were doing some kind of spell or something." "I'm not one of your monsters-of-the-week you have to worry about, if that's what you're getting at." "I didn't think you were." Merton met her gaze in the soft firelight.

"It was just a spell for school. There are lots of pagans, you know. Even in the States." "Not judging." Merton put his hands up defensively. "You just never talk about it." She snorted. "I think I did, actually? And I made you a protection charm. Did you think I was a Jehovah's Witness?" He gave a sideways nod. "I hadn't really put it together."

"So that's it, then? You just came up to confirm that I'm not a card carrying Christian?" "No." He pulled his marshmallow off the stick, having burnt half of it by accident. "I thought it would be fun to camp out with you." "I didn't really think it was your style." "Well it's no haunted castle, but with the right people…" She pulled a layer of marshmallow off her stick and popped it in her mouth as she held the leftover goop back over the flames.

"For the record," Merton offered, "I'm not a Christian either." She glanced over at him. "Are you pagan?" "I'm not really anything. I mean, I've tried my hand at magic a few times, but it tends to backfire on me." Kalida laughed. "Mostly it's just prayers with props." She fiddled with her roasting stick. "I have been trying to do actual magic lately, though. I thought maybe I could help better with the wolfy stuff." "How's that been going?" She shrugged. "Nothing to report yet." "Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"No! Not at all." He watched the fire. "I really did want to see you. Last night with Tommy was fun, don't get me wrong. But there were a few times when I wished you were with us. I guess I've gotten used to having you there." "You two have a different kind of friendship than you and I do." Merton glanced her way, swallowing softly. "How so?" "Well, you two are both guys. You have a… guy thing going on." She gestured awkwardly. "And when Tommy's around we can't talk about the wolf stuff. So it's like… your friendship with him is more normal." "Normal," Merton wheezed. "Right."

"You know what I mean. You two are best friends." "It might surprise you to hear this, but… Tommy was my only friend before you came to town." "What about Wolfy?" Merton winced and gave an awkward cough. Wolfy, right. "That's more of a business relationship."

"Well… it might surprise you to hear this, but you and Tommy are my only real friends right now. And Tommy's my cousin, so I'm clearly a social butterfly." "Everyone seems to like you at school, though." "I'm just popular because I'm a Dawkins." "You're popular because you're beautiful."

She looked away, trying to hide the burning in her cheeks. Merton cleared his throat, rubbing his hands on his pants. "That didn't come out right." "So I'm not beautiful." "No! You are." He forced eye contact. "You're perfect."

"Merton, I'm not perfect." She ran a hand through her hair. "I feel like I'm expected to be. But I can't. Tommy's captain of the football team, my uncle's the mayor, my aunt is a news anchor, and I'm just… in the way." "That's not true. If anything I'd say Dean's in the wa-" "My parents just left me here."

The sudden pain in her voice made him freeze. She stared into the fire, eyes wet. "I only had half a year of school left, and instead of graduating with my childhood friends, where I grew up, I was dumped on my uncle who hates me."

"You didn't want to move," he realized. "With how easy going you've been, I just assumed you were okay with it." "What was I supposed to say?" Tears spilled over her cheeks. "No, don't move for work? I'd rather be homeless than live with my aunt and uncle?" She wiped at her face. "I should be happy they even took me in."

Merton took a deep breath and reached over to rub her back slowly. "If it's any consolation, I for one am glad you moved here. We wouldn't have met otherwise." She sniffed and looked over at him. "That's true." She inched closer to him on the log and hugged him. "Thanks Merton." He wrapped his arms around her. "If you ever feel lonely or… anything, you can call me. I promise I have no social life." She laughed against him. "Tommy was right about you." "He told you of my disrepute?" "He said you were a really good friend"

Merton smiled bashfully to himself. "Aww. That's nice to hear." "To be honest, if it wasn't for you two, I might have left by now." Merton pulled back slightly, furrowing his brow. "Left?" "Sure, it's every teenager's dream, isn't it? Pack up in the camper and take off." She smirked. "I hear you can live in Walmart parking lots down here." His eyes were wide. "What about school? Aren't you going to apply to college or university?"

"I didn't mean it seriously." "Good." He smiled crookedly, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "I'd have to tell Wolfy to track you down." She forced her breath to remain steady as he wiped the tears from her face. They were so close it would only be a matter of leaning in if she wanted to kiss him.

He held her gaze, both of them paralyzed by indecision. A loud pop from the fire startled them both, and Kalida quickly got up, poking at the logs. "So, uh, did you bring a tent?" Merton gestured to his vehicle. "I was just going to sleep in the back of the hearse." "Oh, okay. Cool." She glanced at the camper and then at the fire.

Kalida's voice betrayed her nerves. "Merton… There's something I've been meaning to ask you." He swallowed, but glanced at her. "Ask away." "Do you know who the wolf man is? Like, when they're not wolfy?"

"Uhh…" The wolf man. That's what's on her mind. Of course. Merton cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "Well, a werewolf's identity is a closely guarded secret. In the wrong hands it could be deadly information." She hummed in thought. That wasn't a yes or a no. "It must be pretty scary, having to hide something like that." She looked over at Merton. "Sounds lonely." "He's got us, though." He patted her knee. "Another reason for you to stick around."

---

Sunday afternoon Kalida walked into the house, assaulted by the volume of the television. She scurried upstairs, dumping her bag before poking her head into Tommy's room. "Hey! How was camping?" "It was something," she shrugged. "How was guy time?" He grinned, playing with a football. "It was great." "What's Dean doing?" She pointed down, the bass from a theme song making the carpet vibrate. Tommy rolled his eyes. "It's some show he ordered VHS tapes of online. Mom and dad are at some city council meeting tonight so he's got free reign of the living room."

She nodded. "Hey I meant to ask, how did you get the green bird goop off your jeans?" Tommy threw his hands up. "It's impossible, right?"

Her shoulders slumped and she stood silent in the doorway, staring at him. He raised a brow, smiling nervously. "Uh, you alright?"

"Why didn't you just tell me you were Wolfy? Does Merton not know?" Tommy's eyes grew wide, realizing he'd just outed himself. "W-well I was going to tell you, at the camp site," he gestured wildly. "But then you were doing witchy stuff and I got freaked out-" "So you sent Merton to check." She crossed her arms. "What? No I didn't." She furrowed her brows. "But he came to the campsite last night." "I told him about the…" He motioned at her. "Stuff. But I didn't tell him to check on you."

Kalida sighed. "You know I'm not like, a bad witch or whatever, right?" "Of course. I just didn't know what to say, and I got all flustered about how to tell you..." "Merton knows it's you too, right? I mean you were at his place the night you-" She smacked her forehead. "Oh my god. Friday was the full moon. That's what guy time is?" Tommy nodded, wincing. "Yeah, I usually hide out at his place so my parents and Dean don't see me wolfed out." She nodded. "That makes sense. Even with Merton being so chill about it, I was kind of afraid of the wolf man." "I could tell." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"But I'm not scared of you, Tommy." She rubbed her arm. "I just didn't know it was someone like you." "Like me?" "Someone that wouldn't hurt me, I mean. Werewolves are still kinda freaky for me..." "Says the secret witch." "Well I don't have like, proper magic powers or whatever." "Yeah. Look, I'm sorry. I should have just told you properly."

Kalida sat down beside him on his bed. "It's fine. I get it. It's not something you can just… trust everyone with. I won't tell anyone. Promise. I've got your back." Tommy smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Thanks, cuz." She elbowed him. "I can't believe you both lied to me for so long! I was so worried about you that time with the perendi thing, and when the Factory flooded?" "Sorry," he grinned. "For what it's worth, Merton kept saying I should tell you."

She tapped his nose. "He's a smart guy, you know." Tommy laughed. "Yeah, I know. And kind of an idiot, too." Kalida laughed. "I'm telling him you said that." "I thought you had my back!?"

---

Chapter 7 here.

Chapters: 1&2, 3&4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

#big wolf on campus #bwoc #big wolf on campus fanfic #merton dingle #tommy dawkins #merton x oc

[unoriginaldotdotdot]

It's funny to see younger generation saying that Disney Channel and Nickelodeon were the best times between early 2000's and early 2010's.

As if I didn't see this kind of statement before a decade earlier, but instead it was geared towards the 1980's —early 2000's. Though Nick and Disney actually were good during the early 2000's and early 2010's era. Cartoon Network however... Thankfully they recovered.

People need to realize that during the early 1980's and late 1990's/early 2000's of the animation era, aptly named The Renaissance Age of Animation, was groundbreaking that wasn't seen since The Golden Age era of Animation that was originally between late 1920's 'til about late 1950's or 1960's. But the impact of animation during that era, while still iconic, have lessened over time because the tropes that was new back in day is repeated, and often diluted, 'til death in modern animation, to the point it's so common that kids won't even blink an eye to it. Also, a lot of animation reruns from older eras and being syndicated also plays a role.

The current The Millennium Age of Animation, which started around early 2000's, has it severe decline (as I mentioned before CN during most of 2000's and Nickelodeon starting in early the 2010's) and increase of quality (CN starting in 2010 and Nickelodeon/Disney in 2000's).

With the rise of the internet and television not being the main source of media anymore, including network decay, the standard programming of animation has changed significantly in a relatively short time; so I wouldn't be surprised if a new generation of people will say in about two decades from now that the 2020's/2030's era will be the best time of animation that they saw in streaming services platforms like Netflix, Hulu, Disney+ etc.

it's a constant reminder that life comes to full circle and that time will always be an odd concept for me.

#Cartoons #Animation #personalpost #Rant #animation

[the-whatcherof-89]

Foolish Gamers AKA The dual-faced totem (Demi)God

CR 22 NG Humanoid

XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)

Shabti Cleric 7 Witch 3 Mystic Theurge 10

Neutral Good Medium, humanoid (Native Outsider)
Init +3; Senses Darkvision 60ft, Perception +28


AC 33, touch , flat-footed (+3 Dex, +4 Shield, +5 Deflection, +5 Natural, +5 Armor, +1 Intuition)
hp 160 (7d8+13d6+80)


Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +25

Speed 60 ft.
Melee Thundering Khopesh+23 1d8+6+1d6 electric, Spells
Ranged Dispelling Light Crossbow+16 1d8+2, Spells


Racial: Native outsider, Darkvision 60ft, Immortal, Immune to undeath, Resist level drain, Past life knowledge, Shattered soul, Pharaonic will.

Traits: Strong swimmer, Doubt.

Class features: Channel energy 4d6, Domains (life, artefice), Artificer’s touch, Rebuke death, Healer’s blessing, Domain spells, Patron spells(death), Famliar (Falcon), Hex (misfortune), Combined spells (1st~5th), Spell synthesis.

Spellcasting DC18 spells per day

Cleric CL17 4/6/6/6/6/5/5/4/3/2/1 plus domain spells

Witch CL13 4/6/6/6/6/4/3/2 plus patron spells


Str 14, Dex 16, Con 18, Int 27, Wis 27, Cha 18


Base Atk +11; CMB +13; CMD +26


Feats: Divine interference, Guided hand, Power attack, Craft wondrous items, Quicken spells, Extra hex (Fortune, Cackle, Ward, Flight, Cauldron).

Skills Appraise +12, Craft(Alchemy) +25, (Stone&Metal) +31, Diplomacy +12, Fly +11, Heal +21, Intimidate +11, Knowledge (Arcana) +31, (Dungeoneering) +16, (Planes)+16, (History) +16, (Engineering) +21, (Religion) +31, (Nature) +21, Perception +28, Profession(Architect) +16, Sense motive +21, Spellcraft +31, Use magic device+27, Swim +10, Linguistics+19

Languages: Common, Draconic, Aquan, Auran, Ignan, Terran, Alko, Infernal, Giant, Sylvan, Undercommon.

Combat gear: Robe off the archmagi (golden), Ring of protection+5, Amulet or natural armor+5, Mithral animated caster shield (greater), Thundering +4 Khopesh, Dispelling light crossbow+2, 20 adamantine bolts, Metamagic rods: (Extend greater, Maximise greater), Headband of mental prowness+6 (Int, Wis, Craft stone&metal), Ring of evasion, Helm of brilliance (lesser), Belt of physical perfection+4, Sandals of speed, Bag of holding type II, Tome of Clear thoughts+2 (used), Tome of understanding+2 (used), Ioun stones (Dusty rose prism, Ellipsoid lavander and green, Pale lavander ellipsoid), Stone familiar, 4 Potions of cure critical wounds, 1 dose of salve of slipperness, 2 Clay golem manuals, Cleric kit with silver (un)holy symbol, Witch kit, Alchemical laboratory, 492GP.

Background: Foolish came from the sea by a tribe of similar god totems and during a peaceful mission he accidentally caused a huge incident in a village that went mad. After running away in shame, he decided to abandon his past and become non-violent. After centuries of isolation, he got adopted by Captain Puffy as surrogate mother and by Quackity as step-father because he didn’t wanted to feel no longer alone. After building his summer house, Foolish was invited to partecipate to the red banquet where he perished at the hands of Antfrost and lost some of his confidence in his powers (and maybe something else). After a long time, he received a visit from XD and built a statue of him upon which the fickle god granted him the ability to be unkillable in battle. Foolish then helped his “father figure” to bolster the defenses of Las Nevadas in preparation for the assault of the syndicate. One day, while meditating in his lounge he felt a strange vibration in the ether and the world suddenly shifted. His form changed and knowledge before unknown to him flooded his being. Foolish awakened in an unknown place that he did not recognize. “A brother broken...” faintly spoke a voice “...a shackle unwanted...” continued “...your family pulled into a cage.” Foolish froze for a second. “What does that mean?” There was silence. “Find him before the others, break the spell. Before it is too late.” Foolish was more confused than before. “I guess everything is foolish one way or another.” And he started to journey ahead into the unknown.

Special: Every day when he prepares his spells, Foolish can change (within the limits of his levels) his patron and his domains among those described in the notes below. Doing so, requires full concentration and if interrupted, Foolish has to start all over. This changes also his domain/patron related powers, channel abilities and extra spells but not his other abilities.

Notes: Since he is immortal, his mental stats are increased without age penalty to his physical stats. Furthermore, his familiar is completely filled with all the known spells of the witch cumulated through the centuries. Finally, being a demigod not only he is virtually unkillable by mortal means, but he is also capable of bestowing divine spellcasting abilities to other people using the following domains: life, death, artifice, water, oceans, storm and weather. These changes increases his challenge rating by 2.

Link for the image https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=76mnh6MV-pk

#minecraft #dream smp #roleplay game #pathfinder #fanart #foolish gamers

[t0tallyspine]

Tatsu lore because I love them, that's it.

It was Spine’s second day in the Syndicate base, and she was caught up in the middle of an angry discussion. The main room was filled with people, all buzzing with energy and shouting things out to yells of approval from other members. Ancient books and scripts were lying all over the table, everyone referring to them for proof on their points, and although Spine couldn’t understand half of the things everyone was saying, she couldn’t be happier being here and listening as the members discussed the newest article by the nearest village’s famous journalist.

The article was an essay on the barbaric nature of the supporters and followers of the godly entities, best known by the grand names of The Blood God and The Angel of Death. The writer criticized the gods' violent tendencies and their uncaring nature, calling them “cold-bloodied and power-hungry tyrants.” The Syndicate members were clearly displeased with the essay’s contents, to put it lightly, and were destroying every point of it while continuing to complain about incorrect and outright lacking sources. The rage in their “Take a look at this and tell me in my face Techno’s uncaring” as they pointed to a paragraph in a centuries old book was palpable, and the nephilim, while being reasonably scared of all the noise, was enjoying the passion in everyone’s actions and words.

Spine took a look at the article itself: she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but the bias in the text was obvious and definitely not in favor of the ones the author was writing about.

”But isn’t almost every hero from their time extremely violent? I don’t know much about those gods, but it seems really hypocritical to not mention it.”

Someone to her right whose name Spine hadn’t yet memorized clapped her on the shoulder in agreement and spiraled a whole rant out of her words, discussing it with another person at the table, but the girl got distracted by something he hadn’t seen in the base before. A beautiful bird like nothing Spine’d ever encountered, made out of shiny metal gears and screws, flew out of nowhere and landed on her shoulder. Its golden wings flapped a couple more times before folding, before the bird touched the nephilim’s temple almost… gently with its equally golden beak.

The moment the bird showed up, Spine heard two people shout "Tatsu, my beloved" and "Fuck off, Tatsu" at the same time before going back to their discussion. Seeing the perplexed expression on the nephilim's face, Aelyn, who was sitting across from her, explained,

"Oh, that's Tatsu, our inexplicable pet. Don't mind them: no one knows where they're from and what they're doing most of the time, but they show up sometimes when they like something a member says. They'll go away soon, don't worry."

Spine was fascinated by the way Tatsu looked: they were light despite the material they were made of and they moved like a real bird would, which delighted the girl to no end.

"Thank you, Tatsu" she whispered warmly, and the bird let out a whistle before taking off.

It was then that Spine felt that something was off with her; her back was itching, not painfully, but still making sitting at the table uncomfortable. She exited the room silently and came up to the nearest mirror before lifting up her shirt to check. To her surprise, a small pair of gray feathered wings appeared on her back. She tried to move them experimentally, and the feathers shuffled compliantly, making Spine laugh in delight. For some reason, the nephilim wasn't scared or worried at all - she wondered if other winged people in the Syndicate also got their wings only after joining.

She felt someone's gaze on her and turned around: Tatsu was sitting on a protruding stone on the wall, their head tilted in curiosity. Spine smiled brightly.

"You're amazing, Tatsu. Hope I see you again soon."

The bird nodded and flew away, disappearing in the shadows of the hallway.

#c!Spine #writing #zablr syndicate au

[copias-thrall]

Domming Mary Goore

This was supposed to be a short PWP. Oops. 

*choking/breathplay; frottage; everything’s gross*

It’s one of those nights where Mary comes to you already in a snit over something. You two have developed something that’s not quite a booty call, not quite FWB. Usually he just shows up, banging into your apartment (“Fuck, don’t you lock your door? There’s all kinds of weirdos out there!” “I have a hammer.”) ready to fuck you into next year.

And sure he’s kinda . . . ripe . . . and dirty, but you’re not winning any prizes either with your hair you haven’t bothered to wash in a week, wearing a hoodie covered in pasta sauce stains. (“Are you depressed or some shit?” “I live alone, who’s gonna notice?” “I fucking noticed.” “I don’t perform for—” “Yeah, yeah . . . I don’t actually give a shit. I’m just here for the pussy.”) Most of the time you guys don’t even make it into your bedroom, and you usually never make it out of all your clothes. You drew the line at your kitchen counter after that time one of you hit the faucet on and you got a face full of water. He never stays after, always gone after you get out of your shower.

But sometimes you come home to find him camped out on your couch eating the last of your sour cream and onion chips watching The Golden Girls on your TV. He just grunts at you—like it’s totally normal he’s gotten into your (yes, locked) apartment and is watching 90′s syndication. You make yourself a dinner of rice and beans, offering some to him even though he just ate half a bag of your chips. You don’t stop yourself from dozing off on the couch after—you’re never concerned about being rude to him—and when you wake up, he’s always gone.  Other times, he’ll just be on your couch when you shuffle into the living room in the morning—his stage paint gone—eating your cereal. You’d bitch at him, but he always does the dishes.

He’s always complaining about something—always off on a tangent about sheeple or how the work week is a capitalist construction or escalator etiquette or his slumlord—and you just let him fuck it out, loving the way he pounds fast and insistently into your body. You’re not really a “make love” kinda girl.

Tonight, though, he’s crashed into your place hard enough that one of your frames falls to the floor, glass shattering. Mary just walks through it, glass crunching and breaking further under his boots. You cry out in dismay—at the destruction of something you care about and at the fact that he’s going to track broken glass throughout your entire place.

He’s still yammering on about his “idiot bandmates”, paying no heed to your distress, and it enrages you. Goddamn Mary flouncing into your goddamn home like he owns the place and just . . . using you for your shit. Like the chips and the dinner and the cable are owed to him.

You raise yourself up onto your knees so you can face him over the back of your couch,

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, Mary. Fucking stop.”

He turns to you, halfway through another pace across your living area, and tilts his head at you.

“Fucking what? What’s got your panties in a twist?”

You gesture emphatically at the floor.

“You broke my goddamned picture frame and now there’s glass everywhere.”

He shrugs. “I never pegged you as a materialist. And if you’re that worried about your prissy little feet, put some fucking shoes on.”

You see him gearing up to move again, so you straighten up and use your Teacher Voice.

“Don’t you fucking dare move another inch, you fucker. This is my home, I’m not your goddamned mother, and your dick isn’t that good [it is] that I’m going to just fucking let you trash my place because you think it’s antiestablishment, or whatever the hell your pretentious ass comes up with.”

Mary’s just staring at you wide-eyed, so you take a breath before he has a chance to continue being a dick.

“Now. Go to the kitchen. Get the broom and dustpan. And sweep up that shit. And if my prissy fucking feet step on a shard you didn’t get, I’m going to pull it out of my foot, save it, and make you eat it next time you come over looking to raid my kitchen. So make sure to clean the treads of your boots too, you little shit. Are. We. Clear?”

Mary mumbles something to the floor.

“I SAID ‘ARE WE CLEAR,’ MOTHERFUCKER?”

His eyes snap up to yours. “Yes . . . yes, ma’m.”

Hmm. That’s interesting.

You watch him, arms crossed, as he walks on tiptoe the 3 steps it takes to get to your tiny kitchen. You don’t move from your perch on the couch as he retrieves the items in question—first using the brush to dust off the soles of his boots—and begins the arduous and careful process of cleaning up all the detritus.

When he’s dumped what seems to be the last panful into your garbage, he shyly asks you if you have a mop.

“To, uh . . . to get anything small I might have missed.”

“What a clever boy you are, Mary. Thank you. It’s in the hall closet.”

It’s hard to tell if that’s a blush you see—the fake blood still cakes his face—as he scampers off to get your squeegee mop. He’s just as careful with the mop as he was sweeping up the shards, and you grunt in approval once he’s finished.

He stands there awkwardly in the kitchen corner where he’s inadvertently boxed himself in.

“Um. Should I . . . ?”

“You will stand there quietly until the floor dries. I’m going to finish watching House Hunters. Let me know when it’s done.”

You turn back around before he has a chance to do or say anything, and turn up the volume.

It’s been maybe 15min when you hear him clear his throat, and you turn lazily around.

“Is it dry?”

“Yes, ma’m.

You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“You’re sure, Mary?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Now go lie down on it.”

“Um . . . what—?”

“Did I fucking stutter, Goorey boy? Go lie down on the fucking floor. If it’s really as dry and glass-free as you say it is, it shouldn’t be an issue, especially for your disgusting ass. I know you’ve slept in a dive bar men’s room.”

Mary hurries to comply, and you wonder to where all his pissbaby bravado has fled. 

Whatever. Your gain.

He lies down on the floor, back stiff as a board, as if he doesn’t live a good pie-chart slice of his life sleeping or fucking on them.

“Good boy,” you purr. “Stay.”

“Fucking all right n—” he starts, but you swing over the back of the couch and put your foot on his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. No one cares.”

He’s looking up at you in shock, but makes no attempt to throw you off. You tentatively raise your foot from his mouth and let it hover just within his eyesight.

“Now. Does my prissy foot have any glass on it? Be honest.”

Mary tentatively raises his hands, watching you for signs of displeasure, before taking your foot between them to carefully search for shards. It tickles like a motherfucker, but you keep your face blank. When he shakes his head, you offer him your other foot. When that also comes up clean, you smile down at him.

“Don’t forget who’s in fucking charge here, and don’t disrespect my space again. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

He gulps, nodding at you.

“Great!” you chirp. “Now we can finally get around to what you came here for.”

You straddle yourself over him, his face cautiously optimistic, before lowering yourself down, just shy of his crotch. He goes to lean himself up on his elbows, but you growl at him,

“I’m sorry. Did you not hear what I just said?”

“Um . . .”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Y-you?”

“And did I say you could move?”

He shakes his head, and lies back down.

“You aren’t that quick on the uptake, but I do like a boy who can take direction. Do you think you deserve a reward, Mary?”

He’s giving you a look like this is a trap, which—well, it is—before he stutters out a No like it’s a question.

“Hmm,” you say as you run your hands up the outside of his greasy, ripped jeans. “I’ll admit your performance here tonight has been lacking, but I love a man who can admit his failings.”

Your hands reach his studded belt, after pointedly bypassing his prominent bulge, and you begin to unbuckle it. He’s looking down at you with hooded eyes that turn to confusion when you start to tug the belt through the loops (you don’t need to remove his belt to ride his cock!).

Finally, you yank the belt free, scrutinizing it for length—he’s pretty skinny, so you’re not certain if what you want to do is plausible—but you think it’s probably long enough.

“Sit up,” you command, and he does so with alacrity, eyes eagerly fixed on the belt in your hands. It’s no secret, to you at least, that Mary is into autoerotic asphyxiation—so he knows to tap your arm 3 times if it gets to be too much—though it’s the first time you’ll be using something on him other than your hand.

You loop the belt around his neck, feeding the one end through the buckle, and consider how much lead you have by tugging gently on the end in your hand. Mary’s eyes roll back even at this subtle constriction. You smile wickedly and jerk him toward you. He puts up no resistance.

He’s still wearing lipstick, and you smudge it across his plump bottom lip and onto his cheek before kissing him on the mouth. He tastes like skunked beer, which should be disgusting, but now just tastes like “Mary.” Your hand winds up into his hair, still greasy with product and stiff with the (hopefully) fake blood he uses.

You’ll wipe it off on the back of his shirt later.

Lead still curled in your hand, you grind down on Mary’s erection, and you hear him wheeze. So you do it again and are rewarded with a rumble in his chest. You make out with him like that for a bit, belt tight around his neck, tongue in his mouth, rubbing yourself on his cock through his jeans.

When you get tired of just grinding on Mary, you pull away and grab one of his hands to put the end of his belt in. He’s red and perspiring, but still attentive.

“You’re in charge of this for the time being. Don’t let it go slack, or you lose privileges.” 

He makes a tight fist around the end you’ve given him, careful not to let it loosen. You curl over him, intent on shucking off his jeans without ripping them further—you doubt he’d care, but after that long speech you gave, you’re not going to play the hypocrite. You don’t actually think the two of you have ever gotten his pants all the way off before—he’s usually into fucking you through the slit in his jeans (“To remind me of you later.”—he’s honest to god got one pair with fading brown stains from when you let him fuck you on the rag), but when when you manage to push them down, they don’t seem to ever make it past his surprisingly ample thighs. This time you manage to pull them down inside out over his knees—enough to give you access to what you want, but not enough to give him a range of movement. 

And his boots are in the way, anyhow. 

You yank off your rank hoodie—really it should go straight into your laundry basket—and realize belatedly that you’re wearing one of his band tees: the one he inexplicably left in the cushions of your couch (did he just go home bare under his leather jacket??) that’s got a hole so big in one armpit the sleeve is merely decorative, whose one side had been ripped and stitched up like Frankenstein’s monster, and on which there are discolored spots you assume are from improper bleach care. You had washed it and meant to give it back to him . . . but then you ran out of clean shirts again, and you figured it wouldn’t matter if you took it for another round of use. And, ok—truth be told—after wearing it for awhile, you just decided it was asshole tax.

You can see in his eyes that he's considering whether or not to disobey you and break his silence to say . . . what? (you cannot read his expression)—but you cut him off before he ruins this. You don’t actually want to punish him.

“Finders keepers, Goorey boy. You shouldn’t be so careless with your stuff.” As usual, you’re free boobing it, and you cup a breast in each hand to waggle at him. “Besides, my tits look better in it than yours, Mr. AAA.”

You stand up so you can wriggle out of your pajama bottoms and red lace panties. You can see he’s surprised you’re not going commando—you usually are when you’re home—but you put them on earlier when you went for a beer run. 

You’re a classy broad.

“This is how it’s going to go: I’m going to get myself off, and if you’re a good boy who stays still and quiet, I’ll let you cum. If you piss me off, you can blue ball it all the way back to whatever hole you crawl out off in the morning. Capisce?”

He nods at you, wide-eyed.

“Great!”

Whatever he’s expecting, it’s not for you to lower yourself onto one of his thighs, straddling it, labia spread open.

“Fuck, Mary. You’ve got such nice thighs. How can you be so skinny and still have such shapely motherfuckers?”

You begin to rock yourself on him. Once you feel you’ve got a good arousal buzz going, you lean back to swipe your hand through your cunt. You get it nice and messy so that when you wrap it around Mary’s weeping cock, he jolts and twitches with the exertion of following your orders. You extract the belt lead from his clenched hand and give it a little tug, watching as he bites his bottom lip to white at the strain of not crying out.

“That’s my good boy. You’re doing so well, Mary.”

It takes a little bit or coordination on your part, but soon you’re riding Mary's thigh while jacking his cock slowly and giving him short bursts of constriction while he’s tensing and flexing in time under you. You’re sure your hand is nice, but you know that the wet slick of your cunt is so close but so far from where he wants it to be. (If the hardness of his erection is anything to go by, however, being covered in your juices isn’t a turnoff.)

He keeps looking at you pathetically—you know what he wants, but you're not going to give it to him, even if he's begging you please with his eyes. Despite himself, he's making low, whining noises.

“Shhh, it’s ok, baby. Do you need me to help with keeping quiet? I know it’s hard. You can ask me for help. Do you need it?”

He nods his head, his eyes wet.

“Thank you for being honest.”

You grab your panties and shove them in his mouth.

“There now. If you keep being a good boy, I’ll give you what you need.”

He's staring at you plaintively, his knuckles white where they’re clenched in fists at his side. You stop stroking him as you get close (though you only tug tighter on the belt)—intent on reaching your own climax—and you hear an aborted whimper around the fabric in his mouth. You let it slide though—he does have to feel and watch you as you use him.

Finally you reach your peak—curling over and palms flat on his hips as you press hard down into the meat of his thigh, grunting unattractively—and when you come down you realize that he is still, but he’s trembling. His face is red from how tight you have the belt pulled around his neck, but he’s not in any distress (well, not the bad kind, anyway).

Hot and flushed, you yank his your shirt over your head, smiling wryly when you notice how sweaty and glistening you are. Mary has a thing for trying to fit your tits in his mouth, even though you’re a D cup on your skinny days. You shake them at him again, meanly teasing. After manhandling him out of his own t-shirt, you lean over him—not quite pressing your bodies together—and you run your hands up and down the planes of his body that’re within reach. You loosen the choke hold just a little, and coo to him that since he's been a good boy, you'll give him what he needs. 

But instead of easing him into your cunt—which is what he’s clearly expecting—you splay your legs on top his groin, rubbing your slick folds over him, your lips parting to either side of his cock.

You said you’d let him cum.

You never specified how.

So you work him like that, rubbing yourself on his hard cock, your still sensitive clit lighting up whenever it hits his cockhead. True—it's not exactly what he was aiming for, but he'll take it, if the way he’s rocking his hips and has his eyes rolled back is any indication.

You lean over him, braced on your arms for leverage, and let your tits graze and bounce along his flat torso. You can see his arms twitching with the need to touch you, so you say, "You may touch if you want, but If you do anything more than that, I'll stop and then you won't get anything."

He nods eagerly as his hands fly to stroke your arms, then settle lightly on your hips, his range of motion much hindered by the length of belt you have pulled taut.

You're already so close again—the orgasm on his thigh was good, but not quite direct enough to fully sate you—but you don't feel any need to hold back even though he's still miles away. His grip on your hips tighten in frustration as you stutter to stop after you ride through an orgasm for the second time.

"What did I say?" you snap, and his eyes widen as his grip slackens.

You start up again, slower now that you've gotten off, and he starts to shake below you, little pathetic whimpers coming from behind the lace in his mouth. You have him just as you want him: needy; begging; desperate—and Lord help you, you're still so sensitive and you feel like you could definitely cum again soon. You speed up on his dick again, making sure the ridge of his cockhead hits your clit with every rock of your hips.

"Fuck," you say. "I think I'm going to cum again." And then you do, your body spasming at the intensity of it as you moan and accidentally drool on him.

His grip tightens for a fraction of a second before he stops himself, but his eyes look at you in naked disbelief that you're not going to make him cum yet.

I’ve been such a good boy, he gaze tells you.

You smirk at him and say, "You can cum anytime you want, princess. This is for you. I have my vibrator if I want multiple orgasms."

He’s flushed and red, whether from the teasing, the frustration, or the lack of oxygen—maybe all 3—but he doesn't say a word. He's too afraid that if he breathes wrong, you'll stop and he won't get to cum at all.

A 4th orgasm is actually eked out of you before he starts sweating in earnest—the rivulets making naked trails through his corpse paint—and jerking under you; and while you do feel a bit bad, he has to learn his place. 

You know he's close when he starts tensing and convulsing in time to your rocking. He's lovely like this—panting heavily, the whites of his eyes showing, and making little mewling noises as he sucks for air through your panties. You’ve been saving this upcoming move for when he got really close, and you hope you’ve timed it right.

Slowly, you begin to wrap what little slack there’s left on the belt’s lead around your palm as you continue to thrust on his cock. Mary actually has to bow his back if he doesn’t want you outright choking him. You carefully wind it tighter until he’s practically upright, his head tipped back, the veins in his neck bulging as he swallows.

He trembles and jerks—and you’re about to let go—when suddenly his hands slam down hard onto the floor. Then you do release the belt from your hold, and Mary lets out two unrestrained screams around the fabric in his mouth as he finally orgasms, his cum shooting in quick bursts up his chest to the throb of his kicking cock.

Mary falls back heavily onto the floor, gasping and panting. You work him through it slowly until you're jostled off of him when he curls into himself and onto his side. Quickly, you remove the belt from around his neck and toss it aside, the studs making a swish noise as they slide across the wood. You maneuver yourself behind so you can wrap around him, stroking down his arms and whispering words of praise and comfort into his ear as he pants and shakes.

You run your fingers through his hair and it lulls him to sleep. For now you'll let him rest, but you know that soon you’ll have to clean him up and move him somewhere soft. Unkindly you think of the mess he’ll leave in your bed, but—yeah, ok . . . probably time to change your sheets anyway. When was the last time you did that?

Grabbing the comforter you’ve had since college off your bed, you make your way (about 5 steps) back into the living room. After divesting him of his boots and jeans, you toss the blanket over his sweat-cooled body, tucking it in around him. You pull on his your shirt and pyjama bottoms before heading into your kitchen. Your fridge reveals no surprise sports drinks or chocolate bars, but you do have some frozen oj and a Ziploc bag with old jelly beans and Hershey’s kisses from . . . last Easter?

Whatever, it’s fine.

By the time you have the fake oj ready and a few kisses unwrapped, Mary is beginning to stir. You tiptoe over to him and squat down to his level as he shakily sits up, rubbing at his eyes and smearing his makeup even worse.

“What the fuck,” he says.

“Hey, buddy,” you say as you rub his arm, “how’re you doing?”

He bats you away.

“Don’t baby me. I’m fine.”

Surly is good.

You get up so you can bring over the wonderful bounty you have prepared for him. His eyes follow you, wary, but relax when he sees what you have. He accepts the fake oj from you eagerly, and begins to gulp it down.

“Shit. Slowly, Mare.”

He stops, coughing a little. “Ugh, no shit. What is this crap?”

You flush a little, embarrassed. “Fuck off, it’s all I had,” you say as you look down at your hands. He glances over at you.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Thanks, I guess.”

The two of you sit in silence as he finishes his glass.

“You want more?”

Mary wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Nah. I mean, I’m good for now . . . but maybe in a minute?”

You nod and reach out the hand that’s been holding the chocolate. He takes one and immediately pops it into his mouth before accepting the remaining pieces. You lean against the back of the couch as he works his way through the kisses, taking his time to let each one melt in his mouth instead of chomping them down.

When he’s done, he holds out the glass to you again, and you’re quick to refill it. After he’s finished his second glass, he sprawls out and says,

“Thanks and all, but just so you know: oj and chocolate taste like ass together.” You frown at him and he smirks. “You know. For next time.” He winks.

“Next time,” you say slowly.

“Yeah. ‘Next time.’ That was hot. Can’t wait to do it again! But if all you’re gonna offer me is concentrated crap and moldy chocolate—”

“It’s not mold, it’s the wax coming to the surface!”

“—then I’m going to have to find a new girl to fuck.”

You make a sour lemon face at him.

“Whatever. Like your other women have it so much better. Unless you got a sugar momma I don’t know about—in which case, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Mary squints at you. “What other women?”

You roll your eyes at him. “You know,” you say as you twirl you hand, “the other women that you fuck when you’re not here.”

Mary is now looking at you like he can’t decide if this is a trick.

Slowly, as if he’s making sure he’s not messing this up, he says, “There are no other women that I fuck.”

You blink at him owlishly. He scoots a bit closer to put his hand on yours, rethinks it and pulls away, and then re-rethinks it and places it down anyway.

“I mean. I know we never said—or whatever—and like, it’s cool if you aren’t into the whole thing—I mean I could take it or leave it too, you know—but I kinda thought you were . . . my girlfriend.” 

You stare at him, but he’s very pointedly looking only at where his hand rests atop yours.

“I . . . “ you start, “but you’re never here. I thought . . . ?”

Mary looks at you like you’re the dumbest cunt he’s ever known.

“I’m always here.” He stares at you dumbly staring at him. “How have you not noticed this?” 

You stand up. “Wait—no,” you say. “You’re always only here at weird times. I never know when you’re just going to randomly show up on my couch, and you never spend the night.”

He gapes at you.

“Christ, are you serious? I work nights. Mickey lets us play his stage for free because I bus tables, wash dishes, and bartend. Plus you know I do gotta spend actual time at my own place so my bandmates don’t get their boxers in a knot—they already think you’re Yoko. But, yeah—other than that, I’m here: washing your dishes, doing your fucking laundry, and making sure your bills don’t get buried in that landslide-prone, unopened tower of mail you got going on in that corner. You’re kinda a fucking mess, you know that?”

“Oh.”

“ ‘Oh.’ ‘Oh,’ she says. Well, fine. GREAT.” Mary throws his hands up in the air. “Well, you know what? Thanks for the great fuck, thanks for the mediocre aftercare, but I’m outta here. Have a nice fucking life.”

He stands up too quickly and teeters. You make to grab at his arm to steady him, but he yanks it away from you and ends up falling on his ass.

“FUCK,” he says, putting his head in his arms.

You stare down at him for a moment before sinking down to join him on the floor. Tentatively you put an arm around him, and he doesn’t shake it off.

“I’m an asshole,” you say.

He turns his head in his arms to look sideways at you. “You’re an asshole.”

“I suck at feelings.”

Mary snorts. “No shit. Do better.”

You nod. “I’ll do better.”

The two of you sit like that—shoulder to shoulder, his head in his arms and you lightly massaging his flaky scalp—for what seems like a long while. Finally you decide to speak up.

“Is the Girlfriend Thing still on the table?”

He looks at you sharply. “Look, I don’t need any pity—”

“Do I seem like the type to pity whatever you?” you snap back.

“Fuck if I know anything anymore.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m just. Fucking dumb.”

He looks at you, full lips pressed into a hard line. He sighs.

“You’re not dumb. You’re just . . . just pay more attention, ok?”

“Ok.” You put your hand out toward him. “Girlfriends, then?”

Before thinking about it, Mary puts his hand in yours and says, “Girlfriends. Wait—no. Fuck.”

You start giggling at him and he pushes you away.

“Christ, you’re a pain in my ass. My mother’s probably laughing in her grave. Told me her revenge would be me finally meeting my match.”

You don’t really cuddle, and neither does he, but you crowd yourself into his space and drape the comforter around you both.

“Look. I know you gotta go out and work and all, but—as your girlfriend—I’m concerned with you going out after, uh. Everything.”

He bumps his forehead to yours—hard, it kinda hurts—and snorts out a laugh.

“They’re closed for inventory tonight. I, uh. I might have begged out of it so I could come by and fuck you all night.”

You cluck at him. “Fuck, Mary. Don’t go getting all mushy on me. If you fall in love that’s your own fucking fault.”

“Whatever.”

You stand up, reaching a hand out to pull him up. 

“Well, if you’re going to spend the night, there’s no way I’m letting you in my bed with all that shit on your face. Wait—why is all the shit on your face? You didn’t have a gig.”

Mary accepts your proffered hand and almost tugs you back down with his momentum.

“I have a fucking reputation, you know. I had a hard day of canvassing record stores and in general being up to no good. You put on makeup and underwear just to grab beer from the corner bodega. So.”

“Fine, point made. You’re still disgusting and not getting anymore pussy until you wash that shit off.”

You lead him the two steps into your closet of a bathroom. He runs his fingers through your hair.

“It wouldn’t kill you to wash your hair either. Put it off any longer and you’re going to get those nasty-ass white-girl dreads.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say as you fiddle with the shower dial. “Get in,” you direct before turning on the cold water on full force.

Next ➡️ 

#mary goore #ofc I guess #ficlet #gritty girls #gutter punk #I'll probably write more with them #feral cats fic

[ambrosenina]

Where: Nina’s apartment, le plateau-mont-royal When: Friday, May 15, 2020, early evening Who: & @emiliaking​

The screens in front of her eyes grew fuzzier the longer she stared at them; the television had been muted all afternoon, reality show stars screaming into a silent void, while her laptop seemed to mock her. Nina was supposed to be strategizing, having sent her team at Ambrose Media a folder of items and ideas to review for discussion, but her head just wasn’t in it. Lately, all she could focus on was the Syndicate.

She had been back in town for six months and had resumed taking on small tasks at Zephyr’s discretion, but it wasn’t enough. Nina wanted more. She wanted to feel important, she wanted the Ivory members to respect her, and not just because of her last name. Many of them humored her, but she wouldn’t get far with people only putting up with her. She needed to really kick this into gear; she couldn’t let Milena’s faith in her be in vain.

A knock on the door stirred her from her thoughts. Nina’s eyes focused, really seeing now for the first time in hours. Golden hour had just settled upon the city and sent a warm glow through the large windows of her living room. That was nice. Knock knock knock. Kicking the plush throw off of her, Nina settled her laptop on the couch and made her way down the hall to the door. She threw it open carelessly, expecting it to be dry cleaning or a food delivery she’d forgotten she’d ordered, but it was much better. “Oh my god.” Nina’s jaw dropped and she nearly jumped on her best friend, squeezing Emilia as tightly as she could. “Oh my god, you’re back!” Just as quickly, she pulled away and swatted at the other girl. “What the fuck were you thinking?? Are you insane??”

#emilia #emilia02 #flashback #flashback01

[butterscotchbeluga]

Finally able to get something complete for posting and I’m really happy with it

This is a fan-mech design for Lancer RPG, I haven’t played it, but I fell in love with the world and art and have recently started watching Zero.Blue.Orion on YouTube. I very quickly felt the need to design my own mechs, Bleeding Tooth being the first.

The Golden Gear Syndicate is a large criminal organization who makes a profit off of stolen goods/materials. They then use the best parts to make mechs which they sell on the black market, and the best mechs they make are used to steal better stuff. They’ll all have a very scrappy, weathered, and personalized appearance to them. I chose to name them after fungus to reflect their resilient, scavenger like nature, and the highly individualized style (Also, fungus are just cool and have the best names, i.e. Bleeding Tooth). Bleeding Tooth is in reference to the fungus of the same name and was chosen for its brutal name and the weaponized head/mouth of the mech

#Lancer RPG #Lancer #mech #machine #Scrap #Syndicate #Golden Gear #Golden Gear Syndicate #Fungus #Bleeding Tooth #Bleeding Tooth Fungus #Gun #Shotgun #Sawed-Off Shotgun #Grenade #Eris #robot #Zero Blue Orion #rpg #youtube #my art #Fanart