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braindead94 · 7 months

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Little blue lady and the big black cat 18+

Werecat!Andres x Cop!Reader

Happy Spooky Month! Today is werecat Andres Galan for Spooky month and it's a frisky night tonight! Hope Ya'll enjoy!

TW: Gun Violence, blood, Magic, magical violence, Minors DNI, reader is a cop, horrible spanish spelling (on my part)

A happy sigh left your smiling lips as you sat back in your seat. The patrol today turned out to be a nice one, even if it was in LA. Nothing wrong living here, but as a cop… well, the media just loves to bash on the boys in blue and the public has a thing or two to add to that.

You looked at the moving imagery of the people and buildings outside of your moving vehicle, your partner bobbing his head in the tune of the song from the radio.

You and Buddy just diddly bop by some neighborhoods, met up with some kids playing basketball (and shot some hoops with them), met up with some friendly veterans who (kinda) took over a bench overlooking a playground, and help a man moving his stuff out of his ex apartment (mostly to make sure she wouldn’t make any false accusations on him, the poor man has been through enough already).

Then got a noise complaint from a part that was being too loud with raunchy music that turned out to be a Quinseanera party for a lovely 15 year old girl who invited almost everyone in her neighborhood (except for that one lady, which you two quickly learned why, cranky old bitch). The parents were super nice enough to give you two some delicious pastries and some soft tacos for the road.

“Feeling good?” Asked Buddy as he glanced around with an aloof attitude. “Feeling full. Man, that family is super chill and are great cooks. I’m kinda tempted to just patrol past their streets again if they are handing out some free food again.” He laughed as he said “Well, I asked around the family and they are the proud owners of a family restaurant that has been here for a long time.” “Pleeeaase tell me you got the restaurant's name?” He gave you a smirk with a nod, earning himself a high-five from you before continuing on to keep a look out at the streets.

You glanced outside too as you sat straighter, just to be safe. This part of the city was not the safest to be around, even for the police. Normally, those activities involve some gang violence, something about stepping onto their turf or some bullshit that these punks got into their heads. Lately though, it has gotten worse. Now the little gangs are disappearing as the bigger threat, the bigger fish that eat the little fish, wipe them all with very little effort.

Now there are signs of drug dealings, mini fight clubs and even sex trafficking; and the people are starting to get affected by them. Weirdly enough, some of the markings on the victim's body had animal marks, so your lab concluded that they have been using animals to kill them off. Really big cats.

Though it is becoming clear (or allegedly) that the main gang belonged to the notorious leader, Andres Galan, or as many mexican folks would call him “El Gran Leon”. Based on what pictures you've seen of him (which you admit that he is very attractive, but that was your secret to keep), from news blogs and from the evidence room, he does resemble a little bit like a lion. Or somewhat a regal feline animal. Or just a fat cat.

How he evaded their countless times of arrests, you never know. Only relying on one rumor that when the first, and only, guy to slap handcuffs on him, Galan snapped his body in two. Looking back at the mob boss, you doubt that he has the strength to pick up even a tall child above his head unless he was a secret powerlifter.

Regardless, he was still dangerous and had a warrant on him for years before you joined the police force. You and Buddy kept silent as you dove on peacefully when you came upon a secret strip club that was closed this time of night.

“Hey, what’s that?” Looking up, you saw what he was pointing at.

A black fancy looking car parked inside of a dark alleyway, and just stepping out was the man in question was none other than Andres Galan followed by one burly man. The Mexican boss walked up and into a hidden door with a stripper logo, turned off, and the man stood beside the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Buddy stopped right there, both of you staring at this bizarre chance of an opportunity before you looked at each other in a comical fashion. Quickly, he parked it close to the sidewalk (almost on top of it) as you called it into the station.

The reception turned out to be bad, you furrowed your eyebrows at the not fun coincidence of it all before Buddy ready his gun at your side. “I’m not getting a clear call from them. We shouldn’t go in if this gets out of hand.”

“No, this man has somehow evaded our arrests and has gotten a lot of good people hurt and killed. He needs to be taken down now.” You sighed as he jumped out and moved quietly to the brick wall of the building while rechecking if you have all of your gear in your belt. You followed suit, also drawing your gun out.

He peeked around the corner, and you stood stiff, ready for anything. Your partner motioned ‘lets go’ and you followed closely behind him. The muscular man was whistling a tune when he cocked his gun at him. “Put your hands behind your head, and don't make any sudden moves.” The man just looked down at him, seemingly unbothered but slowly complied.

You trained your gun on him while Buddy took out the cuffs with ease and tightened the metal bands on him. “Y/n, you go in and scope out the place. See if you can find Galan and stop him from whatever he’s doing.”

“You two are making a big mistake. You might want to skip out on making arrests tonight.” Said the man with a shaved head with a smirk that was held in a secret. Your eyebrows furrowed down at his words, your gut bubbling with worry. ‘How is he this calm?’ You wondered. “The biggest mistake I’ve made today was eating too many soft tacos. Now, I’m going to read you your rights and you are going to follow my every order. Understand?” Buddy commanded in his deadpan voice that demanded attention.

The man smirk then showed his teeth, his tongue sticking out to lick the crooked canines. “Of course, officer. Anything you say.” He said with a hot and eager voice. An uncomfortable tingle slithered up your spine when you heard his voice as you entered the club.

It was a lot smaller than the other strip clubs you’ve seen, but a hella nicer than others. More fancy with plush furniture, blackened marble tables and an elegant stage with poles erected from the floor to the ceiling. Even the air didn’t smell like sex or drugs, it smelled like… flowery spices or something warm. It almost made you want to take off your bulletproof vest, but you ignore it. The whole establishment showed wealth and the guise of a gentleman's club, and luckily has no patrons.

But no Andres, however there was a short, curvy woman who stood frozen near a closed door. She looked tired, frightened with some of her make-up still caked on her sudden face and a blue, fluffy robe clutched around her body. Her golden curls rain down on her shoulders beautifully, covering her ears as well. She stared at you, her body shaking like a leaves on a tree in the wind.

You immediately lowered your gun and made yourself look friendly but kept your distance. Just in case. “Hey hun, I’m sorry for startling you. But I’m here for Andres Galan, do you know where he is?” The woman only stares back at you. Her eyes almost threw you off, they were the brightest color of purple you’ve ever seen. Not humanly possible, but you pushed it aside as contacts.

“A-are you going to arrest him?” her voice was shaken, her body swaying towards the door. You nodded as you explained “Yes, he has an arrest on him for a while and needs to be taken in for his crimes. I understand you have a job to do, ma’am, but there are better clubs that have better and kinder bosses and staff without having to entertain crime lords like him.”

She frowned, making her face look unpleasant and sour. There was a slight buzzing sound coming from her and her robe moved a bit. “My boss treats me and the girls just right. I don’t need anyone else, or any other places!” You apologize, trying to keep her calm with a lower and softer tone with her.

“Just-please, ma’am. I need to find him and take him in. He has done a lot of harm and had people killed. He has traffic drugs, sex traffic and that’s only the scratch on top of the iceberg. You don’t have to go anywhere, but you need to leave tonight.” She paused, the windows of her eyes showing you a great debate in her mind.

“So, you’re going in and just… arrest him in handcuffs? Just like that?” You frowned, puzzled at her how sudden her voice became stronger. The way she's looking at you with unknown hatred and distrust, it didn’t sit right with you. ‘What type of question is that?’ “Yes, I will. I don’t want you to get hurt, so I need you to go somewhere safe.” ‘Shit, is she loyal to him? Perhaps he’s her favorite customer-’ She cut off your thinking process as she pointed at the door she was near. Her eyes clear with a decision made, but also with her body slumped in relief.

“He’s in there, waiting for me. Good luck tying him down, sweetie.” She said with a mockingly sweet tone before she walked off fast on her high heels. Your eyes just followed her as she sauntered away into a staff only door, taken aback of her change of attitude. ‘What is her problem? Should I get this place looked into?’

You refocused to the door and schooled your face to remain neutral, cocking your gun at the ready, finger off the trigger and your body stiff with anticipation. ‘Deep breath, in…and out…. okay.’

You barged in, no knocking or any warning and came face to face with Andres, the big so-called ‘lion’. Still wearing his gray suit and his cream shirt still buttoned up standing near a desk with a notebook and pencil. The room was dark like the outside, but had pink furniture, the bed with see-through curtains, a cozy chair and the desk he was at.

Andres turned sharply; his dark eyes boring into yours as you raised the gun at him as his wavy dark with silver hair swept away in the air. Your eyes quickly darted around the room and saw that he was the only one inside.

“Andres Galan, you have a warrant for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent as I read you your rights. Failing to comply will result in physical harm.” You gave him the same command that Buddy did to the first man as you stood firm, followed up with his rights being told to him.

The tall, portly (and hot, holy fuck! Why is he this good looking?) man just raised a thick eyebrow at you, smiling through his mustache and stubble beard as if he heard a good joke. Nodding his head while gesturing at your uniform, he starts talking in a baritone voice. “I see you girls have amped up your costumes. Gun looks real too-”

He stopped as he sniffed the air, then frowned. His nose sniffed again as his big eyes looked at your tool of weapon in your still hands, then to your name tag on your heavy vest. You ignored his comment and stalked closer to him. “I will not repeat myself; put your hands behind you.”

Andris placed his notebook on the desk with a “Ah, I see. I don’t suppose I could buy your silence of seeing me tonight?” Your scowling face told him off. “Well then,” Then the Latino held his hands in front of him, his smile returning, but with a dark twist in his lips and a hunger in his dark eyes. “Take me away, Officer Y/n. I’m all yours.”

That same feeling from the first guy returned, but much stronger when you cuffed Galan's hands from behind. Once the taller man was secured, you radio Buddy on your walkie talkie with a firm hand on the mob boss jacket. Probably the closest you’ll ever feel actual expensive silk for a while. “Officer Bently, do you copy?”

Static was your reply, and the feeling grew as the milliseconds ticked by. “Officer Bently, do you copy?” You asked again but didn’t get anything but static again. “Shit.” You muttered as you made Galan sit down on the pink armchair, acting along with your directions. “Anything wrong, Senora Y/n?” You turned to look at him, sitting back and relaxed (as relaxed as one could with both hands cuffed behind his back) and looking up at you, like a cat looking innocently after knocking something off the table.

You glanced at him to stay silent, then almost froze how his gaze looked. His handsome, plumb face, his dark eyes, that damn smile just oozes mischievous.

Something isn’t right.

“Bently, I need you to answer me now.” Your voice was harsher with begging, worry laced in with your tone. It was only that one guy that Andris was with, right? Was there more in the car? Static filled in the blanks until it was cut off by Buddys voice, which sounded frantic as he shouted “Y/N! You need to get out!”

Your hand reached for your gun as you moved to the door. “Bently! Talk to me-” But your radio was cut off too short, leaving you standing near the door with your hand on your holster. Your heart beating fast, the all too familiar feeling of fear coursed through your veins along with powerlessness.

You hated that feeling.

Taking out your phone turned out to have the same results, no reception and no chance of calling backup. “Looks like you need to get your phone plan rechecked, Senorita Cerda.” Your back straightens out as you turn around with your blood heated that shoves aside the uncomfortable feeling. “Despite what I look like, I actually know how to speak Spanish. So lay off the insults and maybe your ride to jail won't be in broken arms, anciano.”

He just let out a laugh, still relaxed even after your threat, and that made your anger grow more. However, now was not the time to get mad and Buddy needed help. But you can’t leave Andries alone.

You spotted the pink phone and made for it, ready to dial 911. Just as you were finished dialing it in, you looked at your suspect and froze.

He was still looking at you with those damn, hooded eyes and that smirk on his plump face. Still sitting with his hands folded in his lap, watching your every move-

…….His hands were supposed to be cuffed behind his back.

You stormed in front of him as you grabbed the second handcuffs. “Nice magic trick, gatito, but the next time you pull that again, you’ll come in with broken wrists.” You said, just before he grabbed your hand in a tight hold. “Ah, so you have heard of me. This will make this much more interesting.” He said with his Spanish accent before he pushed you away.

You almost flew back to the wall, nearly stumbling with surprise just how strong he is, he didn’t even look like he used his whole strength to do that. ‘He’s just bigger and taller than you. Not like you have arrested anyone his size before.’ You think as your hands reach for your gun holster, but you froze again when you look, REALLY look at him.

The tall man slowly stood up, almost taller than you first saw him and started walking towards you slowly. You eyed his suit, how it clings to him as if it was too small for him. How the buttons on his shirt was straining against his chest (Holy FUCK does it detail his pecs nicely). His pants were straining against his hips and-

You avoided looking down.

This isn’t right. His clothes fit him when you first saw him. How did it change? You looked back at him and he almost chuckled at your questioning look. “Worried about my attire? There’s no need to be, I have plenty of others back home.” He said with a deep rumble in his voice.

“Stay back, or I will open fire.” You threaten as you draw your weapon. He stopped but didn’t back up, just eyes at your gun again and sighed in a tired tone while smoothing his hair back with his eyes closed. Like he was disappointed. “Y/n, it would be wise of you to not draw your weapons at me. You’ll end up getting harmed.”

His eyes opened back on you and a shiver jolted up your spin.

Andres' eyes changed into feline pupils, with glowing bright green eyes and black surrounding the green instead of whites. There was a sound of a button snapping off his shirt. You looked and saw his chest wider than before with dark hair growing on his skin. The sleeves ripping, bulging with muscles, controuting longer as well as his legs. He walked up to you again, like a cat stalking a prey.

Or like a lion.

Snapping out of your stupor stare, you aimed your gun at him, but his large hand, much larger now, grabbed hold of it. You shrek as you manage to withdraw your hand in time, and watch with growing horror as his fingers bend the metal. The magazine was dropped to the ground first before the end was bent out of shape. You saw with fear as his nails grew longer, sharper and darker.

Looking back at him, you backed away when you saw how his face changed too. Shit, you had to tilt your head back, for he grew taller again. More angler with black hair-no, fur sprouted on his skin. His hair grew too, darker that framed around his head and shoulders, like a mane. Andres smiled that only a cat could make, and his teeth looked SHARP.

“Well, what would you do now, mi Querido cerdito? You were speaking so boldly, so fierce,” He said, his voice deeper, rougher like gravel in honey. Your back hit the wall and your hands palmed at it like a lifeline, pushing at it if it could part open for you to escape. “But now you are so silent. What's wrong, cat got your tongue?” He chuckled, his laugh rumbled in his chest, which was still growing out of his suit.

He finally stood in front of you, laing a hand on the wall next to your head. You could hear how his bones are changing into something else, something monstrous. Still changing and not yet done!

A claw grazed under your chin, and you shivered as it trailed up and down your throat. His eyes never left yours, boring into yours with fiery intent; so much of a primal lust that no man or woman could make. “What pretty eyes you have there, with such lovely lips to match. I can’t wait to hear you squeal.” Your heart stilled that second.

Your hands immediately shot to your taser with practice ease and you shot him in the stomach. The taller man-creature, snarl in pain and stumbles back, giving you a wider area to escape.

You dashed out of the room and straight for the door, going past your record speed. Grasping at the door handle, you twisted it but it wouldn’t budge.

Panic mixed in with fear as you tried to twist it again, only to pull at it, then kicking the door in hopes for any results. But the accursed metal door didn’t budge.

You hear more growling from the room along with more ripping and snapping. Sounds unnatural that only a horror movie could depict Something in your mind warning you that he was almost done, soon he’s ready to get out and hunt for you.

Looking around and spotting a few other doors, you dashed to one farthest away from where Andres was and went inside, closing and locking it. Looking around, you noted it was the same built as it is in the first one and you set out to barricade the door with the desk.

Then backed up with pepper spray in your trembling hand and in the other, your phone. You tried calling your captain. Nothing, just static. Then to your chief. More static. Sweat was trickling down your skin as you looked through your contacts for help until you heard heavy footsteps outside the room.

‘Fuck…. He’s out.’ You looked at the pink door, praying that Andres wouldn’t look for you. That he grew bored of you and went after… oh God, you couldn’t dream of having him hunting down another soul. Fuck! Is that what happened to Buddy?!

You were about to try another contact, another life line that hopefully would rescue you from this nightmare-

A long, hard scratch was made outside of your door.

You stood still, holding your phone. Looking at the door.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in.” Came a dark, husker voice with the crime lord's voice from behind the door. You backed up again until the back of your knees hit the bed. In your haze of dismay, you dropped your phone and almost along with your spray too. ‘This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening-’ You repeated in your head, tears starting to flow down your cheeks.

“If you come out now, I promise I won't harm a single hair on your little chin.” He said with a mocking, sweet tone that only made his voice sound more terrifying. You did nothing. “I can hear your heartbeat, Y/n.” There was another scratch on the door. It bends under the pressure, followed by a low growl. “It sounds sweet, like a bird confined in a cage. I can smell the fear in your blood, it smells so heavenly. There is no way out for you, and no cell to call from. It will only get worse if you continue to defy me. Open the door and let me in, bonito cobre.”

It took everything to yelled-no, screamed “FUCK OFF!!!” at the door. Following behind that was a low growl mixed with a elation laugh, as if he was dared for a challenge. “Then I’ll crush this door down,” The door bent again, but more closely to a breaking point. “And I’ll catch you,” He growled again, but much more deeper. More husker. And much more deadly, ready to create malignant destruction. “And I’ll make you beg for your life, little cerdita.”

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t dare move.

The door splintered as black claws punctured into it and ripped it away. In a blind panic kicked in with muscle memory of escape from your training, you dashed and slid on the floor under a dark mass that almost blocked your way like a baseball player. You stumbled up and turned to see your attacker, then completely fell down in horror.

The hulking thing-fuck, no…. a cat-lion-werelion, turned around to face you. God he was fucking TALLER then the last time you saw him. His whole body was wide as he was tall, with muscles covered in black fur, a tail swished gently behind him as his hinds legs moved towards you. You looked up, up, up at him and almost stopped moving.

His face, now very much like a lion, was grinning. Some gray fur was sprouting from his fluffy chin and around his cheeks and ears. Even his mane had some silver in it too. And his green eyes……. They bore into your frightened eyes, piercing like a dagger into a flying fish.

He growled in amusement as he knelt down on all fours, stalking you closer until he was nearly close to your trembling body. Like a lion stalking its prey, with his tail swaying behind him. “Well, what now, copper? Do you still want to try to cuff me again, or are you ready to lay down and be a good, little pig.”

You glanced around the wide room, looking for anything in desperation for-wait! The staff room! A possible escape!

You shot your arm out and dosed his nose with the pepper. He hissed like an injured cat pricking its claw on a cactus and you sprinted to it, practically throwing your body against the door. You tried to turn the knob but it wouldn’t budge. You swore as you screamed for help, calling for the dancer whom you saw.

A muffled voice called out from behind the wooden door. “Just give up, bitch! It will be sooooo much easier to let him have at it, TRUST me. Make sure you use lots of lube!” “Please! He’s going to kill me!” “Ehhh, wouldn’t be the first time he spilt blood like this. Probably the main reason why he always asks for fairies to do him off. We are more capable of handling that fucking meat he’s packing.”

‘Fairies?!’ You think in that frantic state before giving up and throwing your body against the door again and again. There were some shouts of ‘Stop it’ and ‘We just paid off the paint in this joint!’ until a big hand slammed against your back, shoving your body against the door.

Before you could do anything, his face appeared on your shoulder with a bite that nearly pierced through your vest. You screamed loudly when you felt his teeth almost tearing into your skin. The hand, fuck-it was wider then your back, pushed your body harder onto the wood as his mighty jaws slowly clinch onto your shoulder harder, but never completed his bite. You cried as you begged him to stop while your hands tried to reach behind you.

Andres released your shoulder, leaving a bit of drool on your bulletproof vest (holy crap, his teeth can rip into it!) and shirt before he nosed into your hair. Smelling it before he whispered into your ear with a rumble in his voice, his body rumbled as he spoke. “Now, here’s what is going to happen, querida. If you continue to fight against me, I will not be kind.”

You felt claws digging into your sides, nearly breaking your skin. “I will fuck your brains out with no regard for your wellbeing. You’ll be found in a dumpster, unrecognizable, all torn to pieces like a used sex doll. Or,” The werelion licked at the bite while the claws eased up on your sides. “If you comply, if you let me have you for tonight, I’ll be gentle.”

Your tears flowed down your cheeks as you blinked your eyes shut. Only to open them when his nose nuzzled into your face. “I can make you feel good, make it worth your while. You must be tired from your hazardise job, I can ease your tension. Then I’ll let you live on to protect those poor civilians you work so hard to protect. I’ll even tell Elvio to ease up on your partner.” You became *painfully* aware just how fucked you are, caged in by him. Your face was shoved against the wall, how you could FEEL him slouching over you, like a hulking wall of muscel and fur.

“Maybe I could even make you cum harder than anyone else has ever had, stuffed your little cunt until it overflows over my cock.” ‘ Oh Jesus have mercy.’ You think as your face turns red, trying to ignore how his voice with his stupid, hot spanish accent, what his promise made your insides feel.

Maybe…… maybe you could survive this. Just for one night. Just…fuck the monster and hopefully he keeps his word and lets you and Buddy live.

You let out a whimper, trying to convey words into sentences. “O-o-okay-” His huge, furry head leaned against yours as his hand pressed harder again. “Hmm? Please speak up, darling. I didn’t quite catch that.” He asked with mockery in his deep voice and a smirk on his lips before it kissed your cheek.

You gasped in as much air as you could and shouted “Okay! Just-Please call him off Bently and-GAH!” You screamed as he backed up and flipped you on your back to the wall.

“All in good time, pequeno cerdo. But first, lets us get rid of this infernal vest of yours.” With only the tip of his claws and with one hand still around your neck, tore through your bulletproof vest. Your armor, your only shield becomes shredded like aluminum while ruining your shirt and bra. You shrek as your arms went to stop him in vain but Andres just held your hands and raised them over your head.

His dark eyes, the green just glowing with lust as he stared down at your breasts, how it moves when you're gasping for air, the slight plump of your stomach that almost overtook your abs, and how the muscles of your arms bulge out to break free. He saw a few fading bruises and little scars all over your body, reminding him of how dangerous your job really is besides patrolling the city and eating donuts.

Just look at you, your tear-stained face that still showed teeth at him, your wide eyes never leaving his own or his body. Full of fear, God, such delightful fear, but inside that fright sight of yours was a need. To protect your partner? Most likely. The need to take him down for his crimes? Absolutely. To fuck him? No, not possible what you really wanted.

He couldn’t lie to himself; you are just another cop just doing your job to protect these people like him and he had or shouldn’t be having these feelings for good cops. Yet, a hidden part of him just wanted to hold you in his clawed hands and never let you go, but that would compilated things later on. In fact, he should kill you off and let a corrupt cop take your place. That’s what a crime lord would do.

But he isn’t like most petty criminals, no. He’s a powerful one. A monster hidden among Humans.

Well, this monster is just drooling at how appetizingly helpless you look in his hands.

His nose nuzzles between your breasts, smelling your sweat. If you had the power to phase through walls, you would have done so to get away from his face so close to you. “Oh Y/n,” His voice purrs as he licks his way up to your neck. You cringe at the rough sandpaper like texture scraping up your skin-shit, you can’t ignore how good it feels. “I’m going to completely ruin you forever.” His face nuzzles into your neck, smelling the bite he left on your skin. “Tonight, I’ll make you mine.”

Those words should not have turned you on as it should. “G-g-great, but about my part-” You were cut off again with a yelp as he picked you up (with ONE HAND) and you were hugged against his soft, furry chest. The feeling of his padded fingers on your butt was the only warning you’ve got before he tore apart your pants and shoes too. Not even the underwear was spared.

You blinked as you're now naked in the arms of a tall werelion, who is a criminal boss in a stripper club. With a possibility to die by him, if he decided to go back on his word. You sent a silent prayer in hopes for survival as you gripped onto tufts of his fur (shit, they are super soft).

A clawed hand held you closer to his chest and you heard him purr again as you felt him moving. You glanced up and your blood turned cold when you saw him looking down at you with hunger in his eyes. “Now, let's retire and fulfill that deal, estimada cobre.”

#alfred molina #fanfic #minors dni #ao3 fanfic #Andres Galan #Matador tv #Spooky month #Werecat #lycanthrope #halloween 2023

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steve0discusses · 10 months

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Ep 46 Pt 1: Zorc’s Massive Low Hanging Fruit

We are getting very close! I don’t actually...remember how many episodes there were in this season but listen, It can’t possibly be more than 50 right?

Right?

Anyway, we’re starting off in the battle basement in Yami’s tomb. Who, of course has a battle basement installed right outside of his final resting place, just like how he would have wanted.

And it’s here that the form of Bakura that the dub is telling me is Ryou wants to kill his own classmate. Which, I’ll just point it out since a couple people mentioned it, apparently the manga did not do this nor did the original Japanese version. The dub just made this Ryou for giggles. We already know Bakura can split into evil pieces, this was not necessary. We also know that Ryou is sleeping on those painful steppies, so this doesn’t make much logical sense.

But like we’re watching the dub right now, so sorry, everybody, this is Ryou. Ryou on a bad day, I guess. Dark Ryou. Not to be confused with Shadow Ryou, who is...that other freaking guy.

Yugi just upset that he forgot to bring his dueling disk to a dream universe in the past or whatever. Must feel naked without that thing stinking up his left arm and making that school blazer all wrinkly. Bro is telling me that Yugi should have one really big arm, kind of like trogdor.

(read more under the cut)

the one thing that does make sense with making this Ryou is a little bit of symbolic imagery. Ryou talks about how he doesn’t have friends anymore in the beginning of this arc, and we can assume it’s because he’s decided to step away from other people because of the ghost in his bean. In contrast, Yugi has all these friends he cursed to like him (woops), and for whom he just risked his whole life for, and for whom he didn’t learn the Pharaoh’s name that he needed in order to save all of mankind.

Which, for reals, Tea and Joey are such good buds, that he really did just end the world to save their ass, and that is pretty anime of him.

But Tea gets very nervous over whether or not Yugi was going to perma-die. It would be very awkward if he died, since he’s also the host of this puzzle which is she is currently stuck inside of. Though I’m not 100% on if it’s even possible for him to die here. Little bit of a chicken or the egg situation, which I may have brought up before.

But still, she’s worried about it.

Which is when Joey does a quick head count and go “WAIT WAIT"

(the show does not show us where Tristan is)

Back at Kul Elna, everything is very quickly falling apart. Rocks are falling from the sky, Pharaoh is back at the capital with Seto and the other Seto, and Karim helllllllllllllla died last episode (or 2 episodes ago? I have such bad memory nowadays) so we’re just gonna leave his corpse in the barn and go.

sorry I just took in the incredible abs on this oversized chess piece that is Hassad.

Why bother? Like for reals why bother?

I have so many questions about this random guy and his character design and they will not get answered. Apparently Dark Side of Dimensions dives into it as well as other unresolved issues from this season but like, that’s for another time. We will be watching that later, and at my rate it’ll be like 5 years from now but I swear...unless I caught covid a second (third?) time we will eventually get there and find out the deal of this...this freakin guy.

Meanwhile, our story boarders are not finished flexing. I think they really enjoyed this particular episode, with this really fun composition around Bakura here. They LOVE to shred scenery with Bakura on this carving, and there are so many good shots where it’s like a comic cover. I mean, look at this:

Damn that’s a good idea. This composition is fun. You got the curves from this...pokemon that I forgot the name of... you got him dead center all strong and rigid to contrast the curves. You got purple and green clouds. It’s fun. If y’all ever want to do the “draw this anime still but in your style” this is a good still. Good stuff.

And then Bakura peaces off--no idea where, and it doesn’t really matter since we have like so many Bakura’s at this point. Lets just assume he’s everywhere.

And with that, the ground gives way to the ZORC within.

This ultimate being, Zorc, who we’ve been talking up for so many episodes.

And that’s when we find out Isis also left out another crucial detail about Zorc:

So listen. We can say that the...neck...of the snake is coming out of his lower stomach. But also, they left it in shadow for a reason.

The reason is, this episode is getting me flagged.

It occurred to me I don’t have to go for the low hanging fruit. I don’t have to. I can find a way around this. And I struggled. And I did whatever I, a full grown adult, could think to do. I thought to myself, I am a creative person, and I am inventive and I can write comedy well enough so it’s not just about poops and butts and dicks.

And then I gave up because of the number of times this thing is dead center on screen. And really, truly, I make a lot of low hanging jokes on this blog anyway so we’re just going to embrace Zorc for who he really is, both inside and outside.

And he is a slowly growing talking dragon shaped penis with legs.

Covered up by my joke towel in this scene I want you to know the snake just had it’s maws wide open to shout them down. It literally does only talk out of the dragon head on the bottom part of him.

Anyway, then Hassan jumps in front of the missiles zorc shoots from his crotch and well...he dies that way.

Death by firecrotch. This is like an immortal God meant to be the protector of the Pharaohs but you can kill him and the way how is disgusting.

There they go, back to the palace, which like, I guess is VERY close to Kul Elna, since Yami and Seto are currently vibing there right now.

Back at fight club, these two are still at it.

and then back at the funeral of the most romantic anime death of all time, Seto is still at it.

Seto, despite probably having to throw just SO MANY funerals for his tragic backstory is not very good at them. So right now he’s just distancing himself emotionally from literally everything going on around him by convincing himself this is all a very vivid hallucination.

Which it is. For once he is correct, this entire arc is a hallucination, but a hallucination with consequences. Which he is not used to. Hell he doesn’t see consequences when he’s not in a hallucination half the time. He’s like super rich.

Yami decides he did what he can, but he’s done with this freakin guy. I guess trying to reach through to Seto is a skill that only Yugi possesses, cuz Yami is just clear out of patience for this sociopath. Which is a shame, he usually loves this sociopath.

I laughed out loud at this cut to this horse’s ass and Seto’s reaction to being left behind from getting a ride the one time he was the one who needed a ride.

LMAO at the dub for adding that suspicious soil clump where a dead girlfriend probably was laying before.

but being real, this is another very nice shot, I didn’t cap it for vibes, and I really should have. Again, if you’re looking for a “draw this in your style” anime still challenge, this is another fun one. You got a juxtaposition of old and new. You got the storytelling of the dead girlfriend and trying to understand feelings you don’t understand because you were taught to never love. You got lovely ancient pillars. You got a clump of dirt that used to be a girl...

Like we may have dragged Seto’s ass back here, just to make him look cool and out of place in that coat as the wind sweeps by him. And that’s fine, I’ll accept that Seto this season may only be here for some vibes.

As he admires her slowly breathing (yes, breathing, thanks dub) he flashes back to that only time he every had a single conversation with this woman (a conversation they had, only because she thought he was someone else)

And off he goes, to look cool and probably do little else.

And as always, here is the link to read these from the beginning in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#YGO #Yugioh #Yu-gi-oh #photo recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #bakura #ryou bakura #Theif King Bakura #bewd #blue eyes white dragon #joey wheeler #tea gardner #yami muto #pharaoh #Episode 46 #season 5

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rosieyart · 2 years

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he’s make an big steppy

#chongyun #genshin impact #chongyun genshin impact

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daily-axolati · 2 months

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day 86!

he make an big steppy!

original post!

#beastieball #axolati #axolati beastieball #daily axolati

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gender-trash · 6 months

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I had to go to a department seminar today for a requirement and the talk was 'Modeling, Estimation, and Control of Quadrupedal and Humanoid Robot Locomotion in Non-Inertial Environments' and it was interesting but I kept thinking 'darn, I bet gender-trash would love this' It was essentially, hey can we get a robot to walk in a straight line while on a rocking ship?' and the answer was 'lol. sorta kinda' anyhow I hope you have a nice evening :)

:0 this is really cool!! i looked up the person giving the seminar (yan gu) and found this video linked from one of the papers she coauthored:

youtube

(n.b. that i just skimmed this paper and am definitely not bothering to work through all the math, but) the key assumptions this makes are that 1) the robot can perceive or otherwise know the movement of the surface relative to itself (in the lab they use fiducials stuck to the treadmill, and hint vaguely in the paper that integrating sensor data from the ship or whatever would be plausible in a real-world deployment, which -- PERSONALLY i am much less confident about, as someone who has been socially adjacent to industry work on robot integration with elevator controllers, but whatever, it's research, i'm willing to cut them slack on that) and 2) the walking surface is planar (for the biped the surface position is determined from forward kinematics assuming the robot's feet always make full contact with the surface when it does a steppy; i read the quadruped paper much less thoroughly but given how careful they were to select a gait that always has three feet in contact with the ground i'm assuming the same condition holds).

DEFINITELY a big improvement over "let's assume the floor does not move :)" control, and i don't mean to be critical here, i think it's perfectly fair for a controls paper to leave the software integration/perception challenges up to Future Work to figure out! this is just how i personally analyze robotics research -- there's always a bunch of assumptions involved to make a robot problem tractable, some of them more realistic than others, so the most important thing i want to understand about a new research thing is what assumptions they're making. (for example, a lot of navigation research assumes no sane person would design or construct a building like the stata center...)

(also, really makes you appreciate how average humans can walk on wildly pitching ships with zero perception, just pure IMU, surface contact sensing, and proprioception/kinematics. take a moment to be grateful for your cerebellum :p)

anyway -- thanks for the pointer, i always love seeing awesome new controls-y stuff! anon, i assume you know most of this stuff already, but for followers interested in learning more about controls for leggy bois, i always recommend russ tedrake's underactuated robotics class -- he has his very well-written lecture notes and several years worth of lecture videos all available online. thanks prof tedrake i love you <3

#the trashcan speaks #6.832blogging #they fucking renumbered everything but you know what i mean #professional robot torturer

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azraelthecat · 9 months

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#azrael #azrael smurfs #smurfs #cat #azraelthecat #enjoy my picture of cat #happy #he make a big steppy

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day0walker · 1 year

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casually drops a 2.3k xavier/benji for @fr0ntier again like i’m crazy anyway goodbye cw: canon typical violence btw

“We got one.”

Xavier’s rifle punched up against his shoulder, hard recoil. A good feeling, all things considered; he didn’t feel much when he was in the thick of it. Some part of Xavier that was fundamentally him just…shut off. Went somewhere else for a while; somewhere nicer than here, probably. No longer a man, but 0-5. Shadow. Operator. Killer. He squeezed the trigger, felt the jostle of his tactical gear as he ran. Rendezvous. Leaving soon; extract. Everything bounced in his skull, made for a clear vision of, go now. Go there. Kill them. Survive.

“Enemy combatant is medical.”

He skidded around the corner of the building, bits of the ground popping up around him from the grind of his boot heels. Xavier’s hand slapped onto the wall, his eyes going fuzzy and out of focus for a second. The transition of being something made for war into being a person again felt like he similar to being yanked from underwater by a fish hook. Caught right under the rib and pulled onto the dock to get his fucking head cut off.

“Corporal, where—”

“On my way.”

—

When Xavier enters the crumbling half formed room, he’s thankful for one thing—it’s Lark with his rifle pointed to Benji’s head and not Wilson.

Other than that, there’s nothing but an oily slick feeling in his stomach and cold sweat beading across his chest and back. Benji’s prone, hands on the ground in front of him, helmet tore off and in Wilson’s big, meaty fucking paw. Benson’s hovering by the window, skittish and nervous eyes scanning constantly; the warzone’s more north than this. Makes Xavier wonder if Benji was recovery, or last in—doesn’t matter, he figures. He’ll die here if Xavier isn’t careful. Die right on the ground of some nondescript, derelict location.

For an agonizingly slow second, Xavier does think about that. Thinks about the red wash of Benji’s brains across the floor. Slices that image right between the one of Benji’s quick witted replies to a joke, his dead pan snark and also his hands, warm and alive and touching Xavier’s sides. The bullet would enter from the back and come out right between those sad brown eyes.

Xavier’s fingers twitch, all ten of them.

“What you want done with this one?” Wilson asks and Xavier can see the blood across the operators knuckles. He tosses Benji’s helmet aside and the clatter of it feels entirely too loud to Xavier. It echoes inside him, unending. Long, bottomless steps down to a basement he’ll never reach.

“Kill him,” Benson seethes between his giant horse teeth. His pale eyes are narrowed, skating off Benji and back to the window. Quick flick to Xavier, Wilson, then the window again. Poor fucking Benny. Was never right after the first time Commander Graves punished him for fucking up.

“You don’t kill medics.”

Lark’s voice of reason makes every man in the room look at him, including the one positioned on the ground. Xavier get’s a glimpse of the blood welling up on his split eyebrow and feels sick to his stomach in ways he didn’t know was possible.

“Least one of you isn’t all shite, yeah? Geneva Convention n’all that.”

Xavier’s eyes briefly close. He thinks, Jesus. Not even with a gun to the back of his fucking head.

“You think we give a fuck?” Wilson says, stepping forward. He can see that cruel contempt curling up over his face, something physical, something morbid. Like there’s a swarm of insects underneath his skin, all fighting to get to the surface. More filth than he is human, Wilson.

“I reckon y’don’t think much at all, mate.”

It’s fast the way Wilson is darting forward and Lark is meeting him halfway, one hand raised, the other still holding the rifle. Tip of it still grazing the back of Benji’s skull and making Xavier’s heart thud and thud and thud. Benson’s fast, pathetic barking and all Xavier can think is, I don’t want you to die, Benji. I like you alive, I like you warm and alive. So he’s the one stepping forward instead, he’s the one reaching down while Lark is shouting at Wilson to step back. He’s the one and he has to be the one.

He grabs Benji by the hair. He pulls, without any grace or hint of delicacy. With no trace of sympathy or kindness. He takes him and he hauls him onto his knees.

Convincing, convincing, convincing, his mind chants.

Xavier’s fingers thread harsher into Benji’s hair (for a moment, he’s remembering putting his nose there, kissing into these curls, his hand curling around the nape of Benji’s neck and—) and he jerks the man’s skull back against his thigh so hard it pulls the medic’s entire body where he’s kneeling. Oh God, Xavier thinks, Oh God, please.

“Fuckin Brit,” he sneers and he’s shocked at how venomous it sounds, how cruelty rolls off his tongue with ease. “You either shut up, or I shut you up.” And he’s begging, he’s radiating the feeling through the expanse of his leg where Benji’s been forced to lean against him. Please, he thinks, please. His knee bounces slightly, jolts against the middle of Benji’s shoulders, and he can’t loosen his fingers even if he wants to. Not because they’d notice, but because he feels frozen.

“Waste him, Corporal,” Benson whispers, jittery eyes floating about.

“Take off the patch. Just a flimsy fuckin’ cross—piece of fabric,” Wilson agrees.

“Four big guys,” Benji quips right after them, like he’s part of this conversation. “And—”

Xavier’s hand slips from Benji’s hair and instantly slaps over his mouth so hard it makes a crack of a sound. He jerks the medic’s head back, grips it hard and tight. He can feel the way Benji’s breathing gets faster from his nose and he feels slippery and disgusting with it. There’s a spot on this man’s neck that when he kisses it, makes him breathe similarly, breathe hard and fast. He wants to be there, with him, in a bed, under a blanket. He wants to have his hands on him in a way that feels good. Not like this. Not like this.

And Wilson is staring at him then, like he’s figured something out. Like there’s cogs working in the big brutes head for once, and he’s puzzling something together. And that something includes Xavier and Benji, so he says,

“I’ll kill the fuckin’ medic.”

Lark’s shift on his feet is almost imperceptible—probably is to Wilson and Benson, anyway. But Xavier can see the argument forming. Can see the steel in Lark’s eyes, the window of his balaclava revealing only skin, pretty lashes and his deep fury. Xavier’s head tilts, minute and soft, a little angle to the man he’s holding. His index finger taps out a rhythm on Benji’s face while he looks up at Benson.

“Fuck SAS, right?” And Benny’s immediately incensed, pulling away from the window and nodding. He’s got lanky blond hair poking out from under his helmet that always looks unwashed. He isn’t bad, Xavier reminds himself—just a follower. Quick to hang on to whatever someone else says. Aren’t they all? “I’ll take the medic, kill him and put him somewhere they’ll find the body. In the open. Kill ‘em all—no one fuckin’ safe.”

Tap, tap, tap, his finger continues on Benji’s cheek. Short and quick. Then tap. Tap. Tap. Again, but longer.

“Cold,” Benson whispers, eyes slitted and delightful. “That’s cold, Corporal.”

Tap, tap, tap, quick. Lark’s eyes glint.

“You all take point. I’ll catch up. When I’m done with this one.”

For a second, Xavier can’t believe how fucking lucky he is. A shiver of relief runs up his spine, his hand loosening against Benji’s mouth only briefly. But, Wilson is still staring. Hasn’t moved, seems frozen with his big, shouldered way of standing. Hunched forward slightly, massive in all that gear. His hand is on his rifle. He looks…

“Don’t waste your bullets, Corporal.”

The moisture drains from Xavier’s mouth when Lark says it.

“Let me do it. Graves will want you before he ever needs me.” It makes Benson crack a laugh, dry and hoarse that turns into a self conscious cough. Lark steps forward, back to the other two men and when Xavier looks over to Wilson, the big fuck is finally smiling. Looks tickled by it all.

“Songbirds first war crime,” he says in a sickeningly pleased voice. “Didn’t know you had those stones, Lark.”

Xavier watches Lark raise a finger, tuck it under his left canine. It’s silver capped, a dental implant. He’d had it ripped out by narco’s two years ago when they’d taken him in for torture, and Xavier had been the one to save him from that bolted chair. That dark room, those ziptied limbs, that camera recording the whole event. Two years ago felt like a lifetime. Lark touches the tooth one more time before he points down at his rifle and Xavier watches him thumb on the safety.

His entire body gives a shudder of relief.

“This guy makes it easy. Pretty annoying.” Lark starts pulling the little roll of tape from his vest, snatches at Benji’s wrists to get them together and tape them.

“Y-Yeah, should have heard him, Baby,” Benny is laughing, adjusting his rifle. “Wilson asked where that big skull faced fuck is; the little Brit says, oh go ask your mum.” He pauses a bit and then snickers even harder. Fakes the accent terribly and all, continues with, “Or Dad.”

There’s no mistaking Benji’s snort against his hand and Xavier coughs to try and cover it.

“Shadow One,” Xavier says into his comms instead of indulging the conversation. “This is Zero-Five, EX-One. Moving to point, plus Zero-Seven. Minus Zero-Six. He’s uh, working on a short business venture.” There’s a long moment of silence before Graves voice barks through.

“Tell him to make it real fuckin’ short.”

“Yep, yep.”

Xavier watches Wilson file out, Benny short on his trail. There’s a feeling placed inside his chest that is painful and tight, a stitch in that broken ribbed side. He waits a long minute before he moves his hand under Benji’s chin and tilts his head back. It’s the first soft gesture he’s given him since he entered this wretched room.

“You can trust Lark,” he murmurs, barely forming the words because those brown eyes are haunting up at him. He can see the indents of where his fingers had pressed so tightly; and Xavier knows he’s going to hate himself for a long fucking time over this. He wants to bend down, he wants to kiss him, he wants to—

The sound of the tape is jarringly loud.

“Sure, but I’m still taping his mouth shut. Guy talks a fuckin’ lot, Xavier.”

—

“I think it’s the curly hair.”

Lark prods the guy along with the rifle to his back—it has to look real after all. And well, maybe he was enjoying it a little too. He’d gotten the tape slapped over his mouth, winced a bit and apologized for the facial hair. Sure to pull some of it out, but, Xavier’s new enemy-lover or no, Lark was not putting up with the guy talking. He’d heard plenty in that short, yet tortuous scene.

“I think he gets stupid anytime someone with curly hair comes into his vision.” They continue walking a crumbling path, Lark’s eyes scanning left and right. Because, Wilson was supposed to be with Neal and Underhill—and if Wilson was bad, those two were fucking serial killers with PMC patches.

“Should have seen him with this KorTac bitch last year—stop here.” Lark sighs heavily, glances over his shoulder a few times. It’s good cover, which he’d been trying to find. He thinks about Xavier’s finger, tapping SOS away on this man’s face. “She almost kills him—and he’s obsessed instantly. Goes on a bender trying to figure out her name. We nail down a picture, and guess what? Curly fucking hair.”

The medic is staring at him, taped hands together, strip of it across his mouth. He looks absolutely done with the entire situation; eyes flat and tired, thick brows drawn down. Pinched in and annoyed.

“Oh, but like, don’t worry. Found out she’s married, so, no need to be jealous, alright?”

Lark pulls the knife from his vest and for a moment, contemplates if killing the guy isn’t the better option here. He has to be far from his team mates; has to be pretty deep behind enemy lines, even if those lines are moving north. Lark thinks about Neal and Underhill again. He sighs heavily and throws the blade into the ground, watches it stick up. Then very slowly, deliberately, he pulls his sidearm.

The medic shifts a bit. Antsy guy. Had been a real pain to bring down. Lucky Wilson was big, more lucky there was three against one. Otherwise, that situation could have gone FUBAR fast.

Lark lowers it to the ground and kicks it, lets it skid away from both of them—but there it is. The guy has cover and a sidearm now.

There lingers a moment between the two men that they seem just to stare at each other. Same height, very different builds; Lark is meant for running, for getting into small areas like vents, digging into wires and cutting electricity. Whole buildings go dark when he’s on the scene. This guy, the medic? He’s got thick biceps, made for hauling three hundred pound downed soldiers across the field, hands for stitching people back together and well, maybe for a moment, Lark thinks that might be why Xavier likes him.

Hard to find anyone around them these days who use their hands for anything other than murder.

“Corporals good,” Lark says, adjusting his rifle and thumbing the safety off. “But, you should know, he’s a little off.”

The Brit raises his forced together hands and rips the tape off his mouth, spits a little at the feeling of it tearing over his skin and facial hair.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it, mate.”

#original writing #xavier x benji #doot doot :>

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