#I love that the Orks took one look at it and said Fuck That and just used a nastier version of what basically is English

[scrmnviking]

"the Black Speech was created by the Dark Lord Sauron to be the official language of all the lands and peoples under his control... The Orcs are said never to have accepted it willingly;"

The Dark Speech is the Esperanto of Middle Earth.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Speech

[the-bau-quinjet]

How could you do this babe?

In Breakable Heaven chapter one! Here we go!

Summary: Reader’s ready to celebrate her anniversary with her boyfriend, but things don’t go as planned. 

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, drunk people

Word Count: ~2100

“…leave a message at the beep.”

You couldn’t help but be disappointed that he didn’t answer, but didn’t mind leaving a message. “Hey babe, I was able to close the bookstore early! I should be to yours in the next few minutes if you want to celebrate early. I know you like to have ample time to get ready, so I guess I just wanted to warn you. Anyway, I love you. See you soon.” You left the voicemail as you walked to your car. Tonight you are celebrating your three-year anniversary. You even changed into your brand new lingerie to surprise him, wearing a long coat to hide it in public. It felt a little bit wrong not wearing real clothes, but you were determined to make this the best anniversary celebration yet.

 The drive to his apartment was relatively uneventful. A light rain started about halfway through the five-minute drive. As you pull up to his apartment building, you notice the lights on in his room. “Good, he’s home” you think to yourself as you open the door, shuffling inside from the muggy DC weather. As you approach the apartment door, you can hear the soft music of the playlist you made last month featuring all of Taylor Swifts most romantic love songs. Your heart flutters as you think of the kind gesture. Of course, he would be thoughtful enough to put on music as you arrived at his apartment. Unlocking the door and untying your coat at the same time proved to more difficult than anticipated, but you managed to nudge the door open whispering “happy anniversary baby” in the sultriest tone you could.

 As you took in the rest of the apartment, your heart burst. There were roses everywhere. Candles lit a path to the bedroom. Maybe he did know how to be a romantic. Dropping your things on the counter and sliding your coat off the rest of the way, you tip toed into the bedroom to surprise him since he clearly did not get your message. The next sixty seconds felt as though time stopped. Or, more accurately, you froze and everything else in the world took on an impossible speed.

As you pushed open the bedroom door, three things caught your attention. First, you felt a surprising amount of resistant as you pushed the door over a bundle of clothes you didn’t recognize. Second, you heard the bed bouncing against the wall. Third, you saw streaks of auburn hair running through you’re boyfriend’s hands as he mercilessly pounded into a woman you didn’t recognize.

 Apparently, your entrance was too quiet for either of them to be interrupted. All you could manage was to slowly retreat into the living room, closing the door, but knocking into a side table.  You could hear them as they stopped moving, running to the door to investigate the noise. All you wanted was to get out of there though. Throwing your coat back over your lingerie, you grabbed your purse and keys, slamming the door shut. You didn’t even turn around when you heard him opening the door and calling your name. Whatever he had to say was not worth your time anymore.

 You couldn’t get the image of the two of them in bed together out of your head. You were feeling absolutely everything at once. You felt betrayed. You felt sad. A small part of you was actually glad you had a reason to end it. It had never felt like the kind of relationship that would move on. But still, you thought you were happy with him.

 But mostly, you were pissed. Rightfully so, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. Your blind adrenaline carried you to the car, and you wound up at a bar. You don’t even remember starting the car, much less driving, but you knew you needed something to drink. You ran inside, ordering tequila shots to drown the sadness, and sat at the bar. As you sat at the bar, contemplating your existence, a man walked up to sit next to you. You had your fair share of practice with this scenario. You had mastered the right mix “fuck off” and “sorry, I’m taken” to get men like this guy to back off with just a single look. But right now, all you could manage was a halfhearted grin that very clearly said “you do not want to deal with my emotional baggage right now.” It was all in the crazed look in your eyes, you were sure of it.

 Nobody else came up to you while you were there. You couldn’t help but think over the past three years with him for signs that he was unfaithful. You couldn’t come up with any, the cheating bastard. He must have been pretty good at hiding the secret phone calls and date nights. But then again, you had your own secrets. Not that they would have made him feel like you do right now.

 After sitting long enough to consume four shots of tequila, two vodka sodas, and one dark and stormy, reality set in. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball and scream. Or cry. You were obviously not returning to his apartment, but you couldn’t go back to your own either. There was too much there that reminded you of him. The idea of walking in there to see his sweatshirt on your couch made you feel sick. You were teetering on the edge of a full breakdown when the idea struck you. Penelope.

 Penelope Garcia is your best friend. You met her at a Doctor Who convention the same day you met he who must not be named. She was there with Kevin, but they broke up a while ago. The realization that you could go to Penny’s couldn’t have come at a better time. Ha. Penny. You only call her that when you’re drunk. She’ll know what to do. You opened your phone, barely able to call up the Lyft to take you to her apartment. It’s honestly shocking you didn’t fall asleep on the seven minute drive there. Whatever, all you needed now was to get inside and forget about him.

 After entering the building, you tried the elevator. Of course it was broken. It took you about thirty six minutes to hobble your way up two flights of stairs to Penny’s floor. With each step, you considered texting her to come get you, but you knew the second you saw her you would break down. You absolutely did not want to start sobbing on these stairs. Too many people could see you. Finally arriving to her door, you were exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” you imitated the Big Bang Theory, knowing the small joke would make you smile, even if just for a second. When the door finally opened, you vaulted in for a hug, not even opening your eyes.

 As you squeezed Penny, you finally broke out into a fit of sobs. Whisper yelling, you told her as much of the story as you could remember. “Penny, thank god. I left wo-ork early to surprise Dr-Dr-Drew for our anniversary – hiccup – but he was having s-s-se-sex with someone else…” you let out a strangled sob, not noticing how stiff Penny felt in your embrace. You buried your head into her as you continued “So I got very drunk and came here. Was he cheating on me this whole time?” You asked as your tears turned back to rage. “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him” you shout as your coat had begun to fall open again. After what felt like an hour of crying, but in reality amounted to no more than 60 seconds, you finally noticed something was odd. Two things lead you to a simple conclusion that was somehow difficult to comprehend in your drunk state.

 First, Penny felt taller. Second, she was wearing converse. Upon noticing these two facts, your hands traveled up the body you were hugging until you found shoulders. Turning your head up, your eyes followed the path your hands had just taken. This series of events lead to the obvious fact that whomever you were hugging was absolutely not Penelope Garcia. Penelope was in fact not even in the foyer, but rather a very attractive, tall man with slightly curly brown hair and eyes like honey was staring back at you. And you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

 --

Reid’s POV

 Spencer hadn’t actually had anything to drink since arriving at Garcia’s. No, he just drank prior to that point. Normally, he didn’t drink at all when his team got together, but this was just worth celebrating. Another serial killer was behind bars for life because of the work the team did today. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi stayed for a few hours before they left. As part of the “young crowd” on the team, he had stayed at the bar longer than the two older men before the group of you retreated to Garcia’s. Hers was the closest apartment, and everyone else wanted to keep the party going. Spencer couldn’t help but join them, not wanting to return to his empty apartment after the long day they all spent testifying.

 Finishing his second glass of water, he began to get up to get more and maybe some for the group when everyone heard the knocking. The group laughed as three consecutive “Penny’s” came from the door. “Reid, can you get that since you’re already up?” Garcia asked, motioning toward the door. “It must be Y/N. She always calls me Penny when she’s drunk.” He obliged. He obviously remembered Garcia mentioning Y/N before, but he had never met her. He swung the door open, expecting a drunk friend of Garcia’s. He was not prepared, however, for said drunk friend to throw herself at him, grasp him in an alarmingly tight hug, and start sobbing. He could barely make out what you were saying through the sobs hearing “surprise Drew”, “anniversary”, “sex”, and “drunk” before you practically screamed “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him.”

 It was clear you meant to be pouring her heart out to Garcia, but you hadn’t yet realized who answered the door. For the first time in his life, Dr. Spencer Reid couldn’t think of words to say as you ran your hands up his body to his shoulders. You were clearly taking in the information required to come to the conclusion that he is not in fact Penelope Garcia. As your eyes met his, all he could do was stare. He made every effort to keep his eyes level with yours, but one glace was all it took to be ingrained in his memory forever. He wouldn’t have looked, but the movement of your coat caught his eye as it revealed the exact type of surprise you had planned for whoever Drew was.

 The two of you were frozen, unsure of how to proceed. You looked just like he did- a deer in the headlights. Neither of you could move. Neither of you could speak. You could both hear Garcia’s voice as she stumbled down the hallway, but it sounded distant. It wasn’t until the mystery woman broke eye contact that he backed away. Trying desperately to control the blush he were sure had made its way to his cheeks.

 --

 Y/N’s POV

 The moment was broken as you felt Penny turn you towards her. The flush on your cheeks only grew as you kept your eyes on the tall man as he retreated into the living room, not having said a word. “Y/N… Y/N? Y/N!” Penny had to yell slightly to get your attention. “What happened? What are you doing here? I thought you were celebrating tonight?” She asked rapid fire. You could tell she was also a little bit drunk.

 You told her everything. The words practically falling out of you as you started crying again. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Here, let’s get you inside.” Penny started to guide you into the living room, but you froze “Wait! Can I borrow some clothes before I go in there? I don’t need to flash anyone else right now.” You whispered. Penny laughed, “Of course! Who did you fla- ohhh. Reid.” She said, trying to hold back the giggles.

 “Yes. If that is the very tall man with the perfect eyes and the completely tuggable hair.” You responded, not quite filtering your thoughts, as you were still very drunk.

 “I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Penny replied, not knowing how else to respond to the fact that you are very clearly attracted to the young doctor, but also going through shit right now. She would just file away this information for later.

taglist:

@mac99martin​ 

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Fire meet gasoline | Draco Malfoy one shot

Request: yes, from the prompt list and by a lovely anon. (Hi! So I was wondering if you could make a Y/N x Draco fanfic with this prompt: “Please be quite, I can’t even hear myself losing the will to live”? The details would be like Draco and the reader had gotten into a fight about a stupid thing but make up in the end? Also...can it include fluff?)

Word count: 1,984

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader

Used prompt: 1. Please be quite, I can’t even hear myself losing the will to live

She was fire and he was gasoline. If people didn’t know better, they would have thought Malfoy and Y/L/N hated each other. They were always arguing about something, screaming at each other, ignoring the other, death stares and cold shoulders were the right description for their friendship. And it became even worse, when they smelt each other through the Amortentia potion. Draco became the most possessive and overprotective boyfriend ever, only letting his friends to talk to her. But just because he was acting like an arrogant asshole, it didn’t stop Y/N to be her own person and live her life the same way she did when they were only friends with the blonde boy. Of course Draco always picked a fight over this, and they would entertain the whole Common Room and sometimes even the Great Hall with their arguing. They were clever, one of the brightest in their year, so their fights were smart too. They were the explosion when fire meet gasoline. They were burning, but they burned in their love. 

Neither of them could have tell the exact reason of their argument. Both of them were tired, couldn’t sleep enough because they were up all night studying for their upcoming exams. The tiredness made them irritated and sensitive, and the whole week, they picked fights over the stupidest things. Like why was Draco always so mean to everyone who only wanted to be nice with him. Or why did she felt the sudden urge to help Harry and Ron with their essay for History of Magic. Malfoy even managed to get detention, because he almost hexed a first year old who picked a flower to his girlfriends as a thank you gift for helping him found his way back to the Hufflepuff Tower. They were fighting all week, and they were tired of it. But it wasn’t enough for them to actually push their pride aside and apologise to each other for being a bitch. No, they chose to argue over everything they could. 

“Do you think they will ever get tired of arguing so much?” Pansy Parkinson asked Blaise Zabini with a sigh, and rested her head on the chuckling boy’s shoulder. She was glad for the few minutes without Malfoy and Y/L/N, she had been listening to their bickering and arguing all day. On the other hand, Blaise found the couple rather entertaining, and often mocked them for being so stubborn and hot-headed. No matter what some people said, they were actually a match to happen. 

“I think they will argue even on their wedding day” Theodor Nott said with a huge smile and watched as the famous Slytherin couple entered the Great Hall. Both of their faces were red, and even though they were holding hands, it was evident they were still fighting about the same thing.

“Yeah, only if she doesn’t kill him until then” Blaise laughed with Grabe and Goyle, who were more occupied by the huge amount of food in front of them. Draco and Y/N joined their friends by the table, but they didn’t sit next to each other. Draco hopped down next to Blaise, and Y/N sat next Theo. Their friends watched them with amused looks.

“Look, all I’m saying, if you want to be with saint Potter, go and be with him” Draco spat and grabbed the plate from Y/N’s hand to put on some steamed vegetable for her. She rolled her eyes at his comment, and poured a glass of water and another glass of orange juice for him. Pansy chuckled at them. She found it funny, how they still cared and went along with their usual routine while they were clearly pissed at each other “But don’t forget that…”

“What?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at Draco “Don’t forget that your father will hear about this?” She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, but her eyes were smiling “Please, you know that Lucius actually likes me” she shook her head and placed a stuffed potato on Draco’s plate.

“Bitch” Draco murmured and took away his plate from her “Everyone is head over heels for him, and I don’t know why” he rolled his eyes and aggressively cut the meat of his plate “And I don’t understand why’d you go and help him with that stupid essay, Y/L/N. You are a perfect pureblood, with a powerful family and you’re my girlfriend” he kept on renting. Their friends sighed in union and grabbed turned back to their food. It was going to be a very long night “Plus, should I mention that he is probably only using you for your looks? He is so pathetic, like who on Earth would actually be friends with an ork like Hagrid?” 

Pansy looked at her best friend, seeing the familiar look on her face. Y/N had enough of Draco’s childish behaviour, and how he was accusing everyone for every single thing, acting like he was so perfect. It was one thing when he was acting jealous and obsessive with her, but she couldn’t stand hearing him talk shit about nice and pure people like Hagrid. He was one of her favourite teachers, and she just wanted to put him in a bubble and protect him from the cruelty of real world. And she was certainly tired of arguing with him all day. She thought they were over the little incident, which was actually just a quick study session with Harry and Ron in the library, but it looks like Malfoy couldn’t drop it and believe that they were only friendly with her when they hugged her in the end. Those two would have failed History of Magic if she didn’t help them with their essay. But mostly, she was tired of hearing Draco talk and talk and talk and talk. She understood why Lucius was usually so annoyed when his son talked. Draco had the tendency to overdramatise things and make them look like it was the reason of the world ending soon. 

“Shut up, Draco” she said and put down her fork. Y/N felt a headache approaching, and she couldn’t afford resting for the rest of the day. They had an important Potions test on Monday, and she didn’t want to spend her whole weekend in the library. Not, when they had plans in Hogsmeade. She stood up and made her way out of the Great Hall. She needed space and silence, and she couldn’t get neither there. Malfoy was fast on his feet, rushing after her, and stopping her by grabbing her hand. They were standing in the middle of the Hall, most of the students’ eyes on them.

“Excuse me?” He said with concern. He didn’t mean to upset her and make her angry. He knew his behaviour wasn’t the best, and how he acted was a little bit toxic, but this whole love thing was so new to him. He never thought he could someone like he loved her, and he certainly believed nobody would ever love him. Not until he realised why he felt his blood boiling in his veins every time he was Y/N with a boy. And not until he realised why he was always so excited when he saw her, and why he felt that strange feeling in his stomach when she would hug him or just touch him. He was in love with her. Deeply, crazily and madly in love, and he didn’t plan to let her go so easily. That boy, honestly wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side. Marrying her, buying their own mansion and filling it with little Dracos and little Y/Ns. 

“Please, be quiet. I can’t even hear myself losing the will to live” she said annoyedly and tried to free her hand from his grip, but Draco was stronger. She looked up at him with a determined look, ready to tell him to go and fuck himself, but the amused look on his face confused her.

“Drop the attitude, woman” he said and bend down just enough to be able to pick her up and through her on his shoulder. He knew she wasn’t used to be told what to do, so it always silenced her when he did it. 

“Draco, put me down right now” she commanded, but he acted like he didn’t hear her. All eyes were on them, their own group of friends laughing at the pair. They knew this was their way of ending the argument and making up, so they continued their meal with the thought of not having to worry about the scene they would walk up to in the Common Room.

“Come on, princess” Malfoy playfully patted her butt and made his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. He smiled innocently at the students who were passing by them, looking at them strange and wondering why on Earth he was carrying a cursing Y/N on his shoulder. 

When they finally reached Draco’s dorm room, she refused to say anything. She just let Draco drop her on his bed and watch her pouting and looking up at the ceiling. He always found his girlfriend rather cute when she was mad at him, which she was a lot of time. He didn’t even know why they made such a big deal out of his jealous tantrum. They should have been so used to it by now. He gave up and with a sigh, he climbed on top of her, so she no other choice but to look at him. 

“Baby” he said in a soft voice, kissing the top of her noise and nudging it with his “Don’t be like this” 

“Piss of, Malfoy” she turned her head and stared at the picture of the two of them, hugging each other. It was taken last summer, when they visited the beach together and spent the whole day playing in the water, chasing each other in the sand, and cuddling under the stars, making future plans and talking about baby names for their kids. Even though they both knew they had plenty of time for those things, it was something very intimate and heartwarming, talking about their future together.

“I know you love me” he laid down next to her, and pulled Y/N on his chest.  He played with the ends of her ponytail. It was something that calmed down both of them “And you know that I love you” he tilted her head just enough to see her beautiful pace. She wasn’t angry. She was annoyed with him. She didn’t understand why he had to act like a baby when he was almost eighteen years old. They could have spared so much time for themselves. 

“No, I hate you” she buried her face in the crock of his neck. She breathed in his amazing scent, and felt how the stress and annoyance slowly left her body and mind. She relaxed under his soft touch, and let herself to enjoy the small kissed he was showering her face with.

“You can hate me as much as you want, as long as you don’t leave me” he said with a smile, and with a sudden movement, she was under him. She blushed at the way he looked at her. It was pure love, lust, admiration and loyalty. She knew he was the last one who would have heart her. Draco might have been the biggest cry baby ever, but he knew when he had to act like a man and protect his lover. 

“How could I ever leave you, you annoying little twat?” She laughed and pulled him down by his tie and kissed him sweetly. They both smiled in the kiss, and knew they were done fighting. At least for the day. 

[jakey-beefed-it]

God, I need to expand on this because it was SO FUCKING COOL.

So I mentioned that Altanin died yesterday as part of a puzzle to gain access to a tomb... but that really doesn’t do any of it justice.

Quick background: Altanin is a tiefling, he was raised by human steppe nomads but never really regarded as one of them save by for his few friends and his adoptive mom. Eventually he accidentally killed his fiancee’s asshole brother (barbarian rage is a thing) in what should’ve been just a brawl, and was exiled.

Come to find out somewhat recently that the real reason he was exiled is that all the clan shamans had been having prophetic visions that a figure with horns and eyes like burning coals (which very much describes my tiefling lad) would bring ruin to their people. Some wanted to exile him right then and there, others thought it would be better to kill him, but the majority were like ‘Altanin? Kehuja’s boy? He’s big but he’s not dangerous to US, he’s a good kid.’ 

Until of course Altanin killed a man *by accident* just by dint of how fucking strong he is, at which point they kinda reconvened and were like ‘Ok yeah he’s dangerous to us whether he means to be or not, destiny is not to be fucked with, should probably kill him’ but Altanin’s mom, who is one of said shamans, convinced them to settle for exile. 

Anyhow so we’re trying to get into the tomb of the legendary khagan who united the nomads ages and ages ago, because there’s something there that the bad guys who have invaded the steppes want and we’re determined to get it first or otherwise ensure they can’t get it, as that would likely be really bad. And there’s this full on transitional gateway that leads to... the spirit world, as far as Altanin’s concerned- a representation of the top of the holy mountain in the middle of the steppes, with carved megaliths representing the aspects of the Stormfather, the sky god who makes up half of their sort of national pantheon (the other being Earthmother). On the one side of the summit is the gateway we came through, showing the inside of the tomb. On the other side of the summit is another stone gateway, but empty. In the middle were the bad guys’ elite soldiers who were trying to puzzle out how to open the other gate.

There was a huge fight (where Altanin literally grabbed an enemy tiefling by the horns and yeeted him off the top of the mountain), and after we won, and dealt with a malevolent ghost possessing our rogue, Altanin went around to the megaliths and did the gestures or whatever they required to ‘activate’ them. In the process he took a fuckton of damage and a level of exhaustion, and had to cast aside all his gear before coming to the final pillar. The carvings indicated that the thing to do in order to proceed... was to die, as every storm must.

Now, Altanin isn’t fearless as such, just perfectly willing to fight and die for strangers, much less his own people. But he is a bit conflicted- his people are the ones who cast him out, after all. Other people elsewhere in the world- particularly orks generally and the mostly human city where he settled for a while -think  very well of him and welcome him and even love him. He’d die for any of them without hesitation. But that’s not what’s being asked of him. So here he is, on an echo of the holy mountain of his people, and to go forward and unlock the tomb of their legendary hero-founder, he has to die for them.

Altanin looks back at his friends one last time, and gives them a sad, slightly wry smile. He then channels all the energy he’d gathered from the other megaliths into his fist and punches himself square in the face. A lightning blast the size of which no one in the party has ever seen flashes down, and he drops dead.

Altanin, now basically a ghost, sees that the other door is open after all (to him anyhow, now that he’s dead). While his friends try frantically and unsuccessfully to raise him, he proceeds into the final chambers of the tomb.

There he finds it guarded by countless mummies... of tieflings. Who proceed to tell him that the legendary khagan... was an evil sorcerer who manipulated the steppe nomads into serving him to escape the fate of the other evil sorcerers to the east (who were killed in a huge epic war with most of the rest of the world like several thousand years ago). And these tiefling mummies are there to guard his remains, and ensure that they can never again be free from his sarcophagus prison. They were the first of the steppe nomads, these tieflings, Altanin’s ancestors. They were the ones who served the khagan the most loyally, and so it is their duty to ensure he never returns. Over time, the legends changed such that the khagan himself was remembered heroically but the tieflings were cast as accursed, leading to Altanin’s less than warm welcome among most of the nomads apart from the ones who knew him well. 

So he realizes that he really is one of them, one of the nomads, not just by the way he was raised by also by ancestry... but to learn the truth of things would break the spirit of his people, even if they believed him. And so he must keep this secret from all but his companions- both that the khagan was a wicked tyrant, and also that he, Altanin, is truly one of the people by blood and bond both. The best news of his life... but he can’t really share it with the people who would treat him differently if they knew.

The guardian mummies guided him to four legendary (and, they warned, cursed) treasures that had been buried with the khagan. Well, three- one of them had already been removed ages ago and found its way to Altanin’s hand previously- this is Ravener; his magic longsword forged by Stormfather. They led him to see the sarcophagus of the khagan, where Altanin agreed he must remain for eternity and promised the guardians he would keep the details secret to protect the resting place. Walking out the door he was returned to bodily form (his corpse vanishing in another flash of lightning), passed out the rest of the loot to the party.

Anyhow it was a Big Dramatic session that was kind of the culmination of a whole lot of good emotional plot stuff for my boy, and I am SUPER PUMPED to keep goin’ with Altanin.

[thedappleddragon]

happy birthday to my favorite rat girl <3

Toni is my teenage Were-Rat sorcerer from a semi-modern dnd campaign, and I love her a lot. I have a lot to say about her but no Idea where to start! 

She’s kind but a bit of a punk, big >:) energy. Loud and high energy, with humor that can often come off as rude, but she means well. Very ambitious; she works at her “uncle’s” pizza shop, Papa Pastrolli’s, in New Ork, raising money to try and make ends meet and hopefully go to college someday. 

He’s not a blood related uncle, he's more of an adopted guardian that took Toni under his wing after she left home. While her parents did love her, they were awfully distant, which lead Toni to spend more and more time out on the house and one the streets, spending less and less time at home until she eventually never came back. She made the sewers her new home and the rats her new family. The people of New Ork dont take kindly to were-rats, which only made Toni louder and cockier, sometimes flashing a half-transformed rat face at catcallers and other dickheads on the street. 

Toni was not born a were rat, however. She was a nerdy preppy kid that hung out at anime club in middle school. One of her peers said they knew a guy who could turn them into vampires, which sounded like the coolest shit ever to Toni, so something something oh whoops she got rat, not bat. (EXACTLY how she got turned im still not sure.) Having to hide this mistake from her parents was a factor of her eventually leaving. 

In early high school, when she was part of the punk clique, she and some of her edgier friends went to get piercings (probably from one of their older brothers who recently bought a tattoo gun lmao). Toni chose a helix in her right ear. Unknown to her, the jewelry was silver-plated, and silver is famously one of the most painful and deadly substances for lycanthropes. It instantly started burning her, and out of sheer panic and pain, she ripped the jewelry out, leaving a sizable chunk missing that never grew back. She hid the scar under her hair until it healed enough to look cool instead of gross and painful, and now she thinks it looks cool but probably wouldn’t tell you the story unless you asked. 

She joined an adventuring party as a chance to practice her sorcery, as she’s fallen out of practice aside from basic self defense. (TBH I dont remember why I made her a sorcerer, she has way more potential as a physical fighter with pact tactics and race traits but whatever. she knows shocking grasp as a cantrip and I like to pretend its a little keychain taser lmao) 

I rolled really damn good on her stats (and the way I did it actually may make these illegal but whatever who cares) so currently she’s level 2 with 14 strength, 15 dex, 20 con, 13 intelligence, 12 wisdom, and 20 charisma. I can't fuckin WAIT to play again so we can get into combat and she can release rats from her backpack to utilize pact tactics and kick SO MUCH ASS

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send an ask with questions or comments or even birthday wishes. this is the first time I've been able to celebrate the anniversary of a character’s creation and I love her a lot

more artwork under the cut!! 

(blood warning tho)

older “bad timeline” Toni with a mullet ^ and with blood v

an post-adventure Toni design by @painofredemption1​, who DMs the campaign Toni’s from and technically designed her design’s first iteration! So thank you a bunch friend :) I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT

concept of Toni using the silver chain on her hip as a weapon against fae or other lycanthropes at the cost of burning her hands

aaaaaaaaaand a big fat compilation of slecthes from my sketchbook when I was still figuring out how the FUCK to draw her lol

[peterparkyourassonme]

mr. hot stuff; tom holland [rewrite+new chapters] ONE

pairing; tom holland!teacher x student!reader word count; 4.4k summary; mr. holland is a fairly new science teacher at the readers high school. she might be surprised when she finds out her inappropriate crush on him is mutual warning; teacher x student NOTE; I am rewriting this series. this is the old first two chapters edited and rewritten into one longer chapter. same will follow for the unedited chapter three and four next week. after I’ll post a complete new chapter. ENJOY!  my other work| part two | three 

‘Bye mom’. You step out of the car and wave your mom goodbye before shutting the door behind you and sighing. First day of school, senior year. The only thing you have to do today is pick up your schedule and get introduced to new teachers all day. The first day of school isn’t ever that bad. It’s not a lot of work. 

You walked up to the doors when you got a pat on your shoulder. ‘(Y/n)!’ Your best friend greets you. ‘Oh my god, (B/F/N)! How are you?’ You hug her closely. ‘Well, first day of school, eh’ She gives you a half smile. ‘Same’ you laugh together. You hadn’t seen her in a while since you have been working most summer. Of course you had some sleepovers and you went shopping together, but it hadn’t been the summer you dreamed of.

(B/F/N) looks to her side where her eyes meet one of the cutest teachers in the school. Well, not one of the cutest. The cutest. ‘Mr. Hot stuff has returned for another year’ (B/F/N) comments as you watch him walk into the school. You  always call him Mr. Hot stuff, because you both hadn’t picked up his name over the last year. Neither of you had had him as a teacher. ‘Let’s get our schedules’ You say. (B/F/N) nods and hooks her arm with yours.

‘We barely have any classes together!’ You exclaim. ‘This is cruel’ (B/F/N) yells. ‘We’ve got to at least have science together, right?’ You ask with a sigh.

Senior year will suck if you don’t have classes with (B/F/N).

‘I don’t know, I have science from..’ She looks over her schedule. ‘Mrs. Johnson, damn it. I hate her’ (B/F/N) says with a disappointed expression on her face, the poor girl despises Mrs. Johnson.

‘Let’s see… Mr. Holland? I’ve never heard of that teacher. It does mean we don’t. have. science. together..’ You say, clearly annoyed. ‘You have got to be kidding me. I gotta be honest I have no clue who that is.’ She says disappointedly. (B/F/N) and you chatted a bit before the bell rang. 

‘Shit, I gotta go. See you at lunch’ (B/F/N) says to finish off the conversation and speeds off into the crowd. ‘See ya’ You softly say, but she’s already to far away to hear.

You sigh and pull a hand through your hair. Who knew the first day could have such a disappointing start. You didn’t really want to go to class now. So you stand still in the hall, staring and thinking at and about nothing, waiting for the crowd to become smaller. You sigh once more and turn around. 

Crash! 

You walk headfirst into someones chest, losing your balance and falling to the ground. Seconds later a hot liquid spills over your head and onto clothes. You gasp in pain. On your way to the ground you had twisted your leg, in result you sprain your ankle. You reach for your foot. ‘Fuck’ you curse under your breath.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry’ a British, male, voice speaks up. British? You wipe the drink, that appears to be hot tea, off of your face and look up to look Mr. Hot stuff right in his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks and squats in front you. You feel your face heat up. You and (B/F/N) had been drooling over this man since he had first entered the school. Never had you known his name, age or the subject he teaches. Or even that he’s British.

‘I think so. My ankle hurts.’ You say and looked at your ankle. His eyes widen in worry. ‘A- and I feel a bit dizzy’ You add. ‘Uh-h I’ll take you to the school nurse.. let’s do that. Can you stand up for me, love?’ He seemed really scared. Like he was about to be fired. Or something like that.

He holds out his hand for you to take. You shiver at his touch. His hand folds tightly around yours. He tried to pull you up, supporting your back with his other hand while you tried to balance on one foot. ‘Okay, now try to stand on your other foot, slowly’. He supports you by holding you around your waist, your arm was around his shoulder. You put your foot down on the floor and bite your lip in pain. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t do that’ He comments, seeing that you’re definitely in pain. You both chuckle at his comment.

‘Do you know where the nurses office is? It’s my second year and-’ He started rambling about that he hadn’t visited the nurse before. ‘It’s close to the gym’ You say. ‘That’s.. all the way across the school’ He concludes and combs his hands through his hair in frustration. ‘Is it okay if I…?’ He gestures towards your body with his hands. ‘Hm’ you hummed and nod yes. He scoops you up and carries you to the nurses office.

You couldn’t believe it. Your life isn’t that exciting. And here you are in the arms of “Mr. Hot stuff”. It’s the craziest thing that had happened to you at school ever.

His body was warm and tight. His torso pressed against the side of yours. One of his arms is underneath the cavity of your knees and the other supports your back. You hold onto him, arms around his neck. You don’t even know each other, but it could’ve been more awkward. You tried not to lean your head on him, that’s a bit weird in your opinion.

You and Mr. Hot stuff had rushed into the nurses office. Luckily there was no one else. ‘Oh girl, what happened to you. You can sit her down there, handsome’ The nurse winks at the teacher that worriedly carried you to the table. The school nurse was a very sweet middle aged woman. ‘We were b-both in a rush and I knocked her over when we walked into each other. She must’ve twisted her ankle and she said she feels a bit dizzy and-’ She stopped his rambling and starts taking. ‘Okay, now get out of my office she’s gonna be fine’ The nurse says. 

‘She is? Great, that’s great’ He sighs in relief. ‘I’m gonna try and catch up with my class, are you sure she’s gonna be okay?’ He had moved to the door opening, leaning on it. ‘She’s gonna be just fine’.

‘Okay, good. Again I’m so sorry for causing this’ He gestured to you. ‘No worries’ You say. He gave you a dashing smile before disappearing. The nurse started to look at your ankle.

‘Was that your boyfriend? He must be a little older than you’ She commented. You chuckled at her comment. She gave you some aspirin. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s a teacher, but I have no clue who he is or what he teaches’.

‘How’s your head?’ She asks. ‘I’m not dizzy anymore, I just have a bit of a headache’ you rub your head. ‘Your ankle will be fine, you take a quick nap right here to cure your headache and you’ll be good before next period.’

•••••

After an hour you were woken up and carried on with your day. At lunch you told (B/F/N) what had happened and she flipped out. Before you knew it eight period rolled around, science from Mr. Holland. You finally get to find out who he is.

You get to the class and when you finally got to the door to give Mr. Holland a handshake you were face to face with that dashing smile once again. He shook your hand before realizing it was you. ‘Mr. Holland-’ he starts and then realizes it’s you. His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth turned up again. ‘Hey, you’re okay’ he lets go of your hand. ‘Yeah, got some aspirin, am doing fine’ you smile. ‘Good, I was kind of worried’ he scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. ‘I’m (Y/n), by the way’.

•••••

You were on the phone with (B/f/n), talking about Mr. Holland or Tom, as you’d like to call him. ‘It’s been two months since I first entered his class and I’m failing, because he’s distracting me. Not on purpose, but still. He is just so hot. And he’s a great teacher, but he’s an amazing person as well’. You say. ‘Maybe you should transfer,’ You both start laughing. ‘I’ll admit I’ll never do that, please don’t transfer I love your Tom stories’ she says. ‘Me too hah- I’m sorry I have to go my mom’s calling me’

‘(Y/n)!’ you hear your mom from outside your door. ‘What?’ You ask as you open the door. She storms into your room with your grade list on her phone. ‘I got an email from school and it’s not looking good. Do I need to take your phone away again? Or should I give your house arrest? You decide. Is (B/F/N) in your science class, because honestly this is just ridiculous. She must be distracting you. She’s exactly like her mother, god.’

‘Mom I’m doing the best I can!’ you go against her. Your mom started rambling about (B/f/n).

‘Well, she’s not the distraction’ you mumble to yourself. You look back to your mom. 

‘She’s not even in that class!’

‘Well, you better fix this’ she pointed at you and was about to close the door. ‘I will gosh’. You held the doorknob and slammed it in her face. ‘Stop being so disrespectful!’ She yells once more before you hear her stomping down the stairs. ‘Christ’ You say with a scrunched up face.

•••••

‘That will be all, class dismissed’ Mr. Holland says. Students raise from their seats and rush out the door. You take all the time you need to collect your notes and pens. You hang your bag over your shoulder and leave your seat. ‘Bye Mr. H’ you were about to walk out of the classroom when Tom stopped you.

‘Actually (Y/n), could you stay back for a second?’ Mr. Holland asks. You feel your face heat up and you start to stutter. ‘Yeah, yeah sure, what for?’ you put your back down again and take a seat at one of the lab tables. He took the seat next to you.

‘(Y/n), you haven’t been doing exactly great in my class. And I get it, science can be boring and difficult, but I believe that you can get through this year with a little bit of a push. So I would like to offer you tutoring sessions after school or in free periods’ He proposes.

Tutoring sessions. “great” you think. It’s not like you were gonna say no. ‘Sure. I hope it’ll help boost my grade’ You say. ‘It will, trust me.’ He smiled at you. Butterflies rushed through your stomach. Just because of that smile. Than it occurred to you. You’d get to spend extra time with Tom, just the two of you. Now that’s not too shabby.

‘What time do you finish classes today?’ He asks you. ‘Around four’ you respond. ‘Hm what about tomorrow?’. ‘Two thirty’. He sighed. ‘Would you mind showing me your schedule?’ 

‘Oh not at all’ you say and pull your phone out or your pocket. ‘We could meet up on Monday and Friday. On Monday I’ll go through all the new information with you and on Friday we’ll go through everything we did throughout the week. Sound good?’ He looks at you. A little curl of his hair gets out of the grip of his hair gel and fall onto his forehead. You admired how precious he is. And nod in agreement.

‘Bye Mr. Holland, thanks for the offer’ You wave goodbye and walked out of the door he was leaning against. ‘Anytime (Y/n). I’ll see you in class’ He smiles at you as he watches you walk away.

•••••

You did not think the tutoring was gonna help, but it actually did. Your mom hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to you when your grade raised. She was too busy with other things to focus on you at the moment. At first you didn’t know, but after a while your parents sat you down and started the conversation that flipped you life around.

‘We’re getting a divorce.’

As if it couldn’t get any worse. It’s such an unfamiliar situation to you. You don’t know how process it. The next week sucked. Since you didn’t get a good nights rest, you weren’t able to focus on anything. You don’t tell (B/f/n). You aren’t ready. It was a form of denial. Class was a blur. You did not care about anything. You just want to go home and hide in bed.

You looked at the clock. In five minutes class would end. You watched the hands of the clock tick every time another sixty seconds passed. ‘Class dismissed, have a good weekend everyone.’ your Spanish teacher says and snapped you out of your trance. ‘Finally’ you think to yourself.

You walk to your locker to get your coat. You put some of your books in when you hear your name echo through the now empty halls. You turn your head around. You see Tom at the end of the hall with his bag in his hand, his coat hangs over his arm. With he other hand he waves at you. ‘I was gonna get some tea, do you want any? Free drink am I right’ He asks with a little wink.

Shit.

You forgot it’s Friday. You have tutoring today. You hold the air in your lungs back so you won’t rudely sigh. ‘I’d like some coffee if that’s alright?’ You give him an apologetic smile.

‘Naturally, I’ll see you in 5 minutes’. He walks away and you sigh deeply. Tears build up in your eyes. You sigh once more, wipe away your tears and slammed your locker door shut.

You walk into the classroom you and Tom had planned to meet. When you walk through the door you bump right into him. You fall to the ground and he falls right on top of you. Tom tilts his head up. He looks at you and pushes a strand of hair out of your face. ‘Are you okay?’

You nod yes. He gets up with a grunt and then pulls you up. ‘Bit of a deja vu there’ He chuckles. ‘Well, it actually happened before’ You laugh with him. ‘I’m glad I don’t have tea with me this time’. You both laugh and get inside.

•••••

‘Y/n are you with me?’ Tom softly snaps his fingers in front of your face. You pull your head up from your fist and you removed your elbow from the table. ‘You’ve been a little distracted today is everything alright?’ He puts a comforting hand on your upper arm. ‘I’m fine.’ you flash him a weak smile.

Tears prickled your eyes.

‘You’re clearly not. (Y/n) what’s going on?’

He squeezes your arm and turns his upper body towards you. ‘I don’t know..’. you mumble. ‘Is it about a guy? Or a girl that’s fine too. You’re doing fine in school so uh’ He rambles on. 

‘My parents are getting divorced’ You clear the air. ‘Oh’ was all he said. ‘And.. ‘ you hesitate on opening up to him, but you decide to anyway. ‘my mom is acting crazy and it’s driving me crazy. I’m tired all the time, it doesn’t matter how much sleep I get. I haven’t really been seeing my friends that often because I have a job after school and well, these tutoring sessions two times a week. Everything just seems like it’s working against me.. I-i’ You wipe away a tear and sob. Your look down at your fidgeting hands as you sigh, tears falling from your eyes. Tom’s jaw was dropped and his eyes were soft. 

‘Oh my god this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry’ you say and loathe yourself.

He wasn’t sure of what he was about to do, but he just went for it. ‘No it’s okay.. c’mere’ he softly says as he reaches forward to you. You move with him and you both stand up embracing each other. Your hands creep around his waist and you rest your head against his chest. His arms travel around you and rest above your arms. One of his hands hold the back of your head. The side of his head was pressed against the top of yours.

Ever since Tom had bumped into you that first day of school he felt there was a special connection between the two of you. The tutoring sessions had made his feelings grow stronger and stronger. He knew it was wrong , but he couldn’t help himself. The time had finally come where he could just hold you tight and keep you in his arms without feeling guilty. The feeling that he was doing something extremely wrong. That would disgust others.

He inhales your scent and strokes your hair. You keep sobbing against his chest. ‘It’s gonna be alright’ He whispers and sways you from side to side.

You stand there for awhile, hugging, you sobbing, him whispering things to soothe you. Your heartbeat starts to settle and your breathing pattern stabilizes. You pull away from him even tho you don’t want to. ‘I’m so sorry’ You immediately say and wipe away your tears. ‘No, no it’s okay’ Tom says and lets go of you.

“I want to be here for you, (Y/n). I see you’re going through a rough time and I’m here for you, I can help you through this” Thoughts like these bounced around his head, but he kept them there. ‘Let’s call it a day’ Tom gestures towards the studying equipment on the table. You nod with a smile.

Tom closes up the classroom and walks you to your locker as if he was one of your friends or a fellow student. You were deep in conversation and hadn’t even realized you were already at the door. He holds the door open for you. You smile at the gesture and walk down the front stairs of the school. Tom had to go to the parking lot and you had to go to the opposite direction since you didn’t have a car and the bus didn’t drive at this hour. ‘I have to go left’ You say as you were about to say goodbye. ‘Wait, are you walking home?’ Tom asks. ‘Yeah, I mean it’s just a thirty minute walk’ You shrug.

‘Let me give you a ride’ Tom offers. ‘Mr. Holland, you don’t have to-’ You politely decline. ‘I know, but I want to. I’d rather get you home save’. He smiles at you. ‘Okay, I guess’ you gave in and walk to his car with him. ‘Nice ride’ you compliment him on his car. ‘Thanks’ he says with a chuckle.

Silence falls during the car ride. You had been on the road for about ten minutes. ‘Thank you Mr. H-’ you weren’t finished yet, but Tom cut you off. His eyes were focused on the road. One hand on the wheel the other on his thigh. He had gotten out of his blazer so now he was wearing a shirt that was unbuttoned at the top. Curls dangle upon his forehead. It was a pretty hot sight. ‘You can call me Tom i-if you’d like’ He wanted to slap himself. “Smooth one” he thinks to himself. ‘Sure. Thank you.. Tom. For helping me and being here. A-and for the ride of course’. You say with a little smile even tho he couldn’t see it. Your face as red as a strawberry. ‘Of course, anytime (Y/n). If there’s something that’s bothering you or you’re not feeling well, know that I’m there for you.’ The soothing words smoothly came out of his mouth. You smiled down at your lap.

•••••

Weeks had gone by. Your parents were still fighting a lot and you couldn’t wait for this divorce to be done and one of them out of the house.

It’s Monday and you are in your tutoring session.

‘(Y/n), as much as I enjoy our sessions I don’t feel like you need them anymore. We honestly don’t talk about science anymore’ Tom says 10 minutes in. No. Nooo!, you didn’t want it to end. You had gotten to know Tom over these weeks. He is a 23 year old science teacher from London. He transferred to the US because he got offered a great deal here and it was always a dream of his to live in America. He has 3 brothers and a dog named Tessa. He always dreamed of being an actor, but his passion for teaching was bigger and since he was quite the genius he graduated early and became a very young teacher.

‘How’s things at home tho?’ He keeps the conversation going. ‘Not great. They just yell all day. About nothing. “You parked your car to far away from the house, asshole” you imitate your mother. ‘Language’ Tom says trying to come off as serious but he starts laughing soon after and so do you. ‘Just imagining having to go back there today.. it’s exhausting’ you sigh.

‘(Y/n), since we’re done with science.. I uh.. I could- we could grab a coffee or something. I know a place just out of town’. He had you at ‘we could’. ‘I’m sorry that must’ve sounded disturbing. I mean you wouldn’t have to go home for like another hour or so. ’ he suggests. ‘I’d really like that, actually’ you smile up at him.

‘You go get your stuff, I’ll pick you up at the lot exit. So no one gets suspicious’ he awkwardly chuckles. You couldn’t blame him you both knew he was right. You nod and go to your locker.

You stuff all your books into your locker so your bag won’t be heavy. You take some lip gloss out of you bag and apply a thin coat of the glossy liquid while looking into the little mirror on your locker door. As you swipe the brush against your lips a thought occurs to you. “You’re technically going on a date” The thought makes you blush. “A date with a man. An older man. Who is you’re teacher. He can lose his job (Y/n)”. You think. ‘Shit’ you whisper. But you decide to just go with it and be selfish for a little while.

Tom took you to a nice and cozy cafe. Very warm. Much like an idea of a home. You sit in a booth, knees touching. ‘I hope this isn’t.. weird for you’ he said and looked at you while sipping his tea. 

‘I mean being here with you is great.. it’s good, but I mean thinking of the way we’re connected it is pretty strange, isn’t it?’ you responded and took a sip of your own drink. ‘True. As long as I’m not making you uncomfortable-’. ‘You’re not. We connect on some kinda level which makes this feel, normal? Like we know each other really well. Like you aren’t my teacher’ You lowered your voice as you mentioned his position. You both were comfortable, but of course it was a little awkward. ‘I feel that too. That connection’ He said. You glanced at each other and both looked back at the table.

You and (B/f/n) had been growing apart over the last few weeks.

“You’re always away. Working, having issues with your parents, studying or being all over Tom” some examples of what she had cried about before. “I have to earn money, my parents are getting divorced and I have to keep working on my grade. Mr. Holland is helping me with that!” You stressed his name. “You don’t even think about our friendship anymore.”  “(B/f/n), once the next break is here and the divorce is done I’ll have so much time. We’ll have so much time together”

“I don’t have time to wait” she said coldly.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your mouth opened in shock.

“You can go find a new best friend. I would tell you to go fuck yourself but why don’t you go fuck Tom instead” she walked to your front door and looked back once more. “And when you do fuck him, let me remind you that he’s 23 and you just turned 17. He’s an adult, you’re a minor. he’s your teacher, you’re his student.” She opened the door before walking out she said; “What you’re doing is illegal”. With that she walked out slammed the door behind her.

“Screw you!” You yelled back, but she was gone.

‘So how are you and your friend uh.. (B/f/n)-’ he snaps his fingers in front of his face as he remembers the name. ‘- how are you two?’. You cringe, because of the mention. ‘I can go find a new best friend.. in her words’ you chuckle thinking about her. How stupid the fight was and how you miss her, even tho she was being quite a bitch. ‘So not good, huh?’ he gives you an apologetic smile. You shake your head no. You and Tom keep talking. About deep stuff, but also about nonsense. More than an hour had passed and you both had some drinks. Tom looks down at his watch and asks for the check. You reach over to your bag. But Tom insists on paying.

•••••

‘That was fun’ Tom says as you’re driving back. ‘Definitely. It was the highlight of my week.’ You say with a smile painted on your face. ‘Well, maybe..’ he mumbled. One of his hands is on the wheel another clenched into a fist and presses against his face as his elbow rests against the window. ‘maybe we should uh.. we should do it again sometime?’ his voice pitched as he asks you. Your smile widens and you grin. ‘What? I couldn’t understand you, your hand was in your mouth’ You tease him. He lets out a soft laugh at your comment and hangs his head down with a smile. ‘I asked if you wanted to do it again sometime, maybe?’ he coughs to steady his voice and removes his hand from his face and waves it around. ‘I’d love that, Tom’. His eyes widen and his eyebrows raise. ‘Well, how about we do it on Monday on tutor hours? You don’t need it anymore anyway’.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

-

sunday night 9:30 pm

I got some work to do. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow ;) - thomas

Ugh same I still have some homework to do. See you tomorrow! :))) - (Y/n)

••••• IM BAAAAACK, again. It’s been over a year since I first released mr. hot stuff and I love this series. I was sad about the fact I never finished it. life got in the way. but since it’s summer I decided to put some life back into this story. but i want to start fresh. if i’d just upload part five no one will read it since people who read it probably don’t remember. so im rewriting this and putting more thought into the character, story line, grammer.. and hope to deliver quality content. I decided to mash part 1+2 and 3+4 together so they turn into 2 larger chapters. And a new part is coming! you can expect part two next week. im glad im back. 

if you have any requests, comments or concerns you can hit up my ask box! if you want to be tagged let me know. and if your friendly and want to talk? my dms are always open :)

MRHS tags; @agirlwithpointlessideas @bishopl @bloodysleepy @zon-chan @mad-kidx9  @spider-strange-iron-loki @bubbles1642 @meerkovo37 permanent tags; @smexylemony @tom-hollands-blog @quackson-queen @randomsandfandoms1967 @the-hero-of-queens @princess-chocolate-drop @justanothershawngirl @rumoured-whispers @elenapatricia99 @dashlilymark @angelicvipbeauty

have a lovely night and I’ll see you soon <3

-sab

[canalstreetbaker]

Sixth World Storytime

Sit back kids, and get comfortable.  I’m going to tell you about Dozer.

Shadowrun, as most of you are aware, is a cyberpunk hypercapitalist dystopia which we’re slouching to even today, with a bevy of guns, cars, sweet-ass cybernetic implants, corporations larger than any country today with yearly profits in the trillions, and absolutely everything being for sale.  Food is mostly soy and corn reconstituted into a myriad of things and treated with a flavor faucet.  Surveillance is omnipresent but the analysis systems are so bad that those without ID numbers just kind of slide through the spaces between.  Those without System Identification Numbers - without SIN - do not exist.  This is good, and bad.  

Shadowrun also has magic.  And fantasy races.  Specifically it has Orks.  This is important, because Dozer is an Ork in a Human’s world.

(Below the cut we get a little nasty.  Disclaimer for the admins when they eventually fall upon this depravity - this is a fictional event in a fictional world based upon a tabletop roleplaying game.  Back the fuck off.)

In the Underground of Seattle rests a community of Trolls, Orks, and Dwarves no that’s all.  Until recently in 6W canon, the Underground was not recognized as an official District of the Seattle Metroplex - and the Orks liked that just fine.  The Trolls didn’t care much, since they tended to hang with the Orks or their own kind, shared Hurlg (a hyper-IPA with plenty of nutmeg and a caustic that could burn an Elf’s stomach to pieces) and plenty of meatlike substances at bars and restaurants that catered to them.  In short, the Ork Underground was its own little city, with businesses, religion, medicine, and police.

Dozer, an Ork, was a member of the Underground’s police force - the Skraacha. An Or’zet term meaning ‘Scorcher’, the Skraacha handled neighborhood watch, ne’er-do-well training into ‘functional’ members of society.  They kept the peace, supported metahuman rights rallies, beat the fuck out of the local neo-Nazi human supremacists in town (Humanis) and in their off time ran protection rackets and smuggled wepaons.  They loved young, angry Orks with a bone to pick and a chip on their shoulder.  Dozer fit in perfectly.

An aside, this is 5th Edition Shadowrun.  Dozer was built as a cybered ‘street samurai’ specializing in close-encounters of the murderous kind.  His muscles were cybernetic, he had a blade the length of his forearm concealed in his forearm, and he’d somehow begged, borrowed, and stole enough nuyen to install a bespoke Synaptic Booster, which - coupled with an Adrenaline Surge to make sure he always went first - ensured anyone who crossed his fist had a very bad day.  

By the time he retired (a wonderful story in itself, but not the focus of today), Dozer had about 350 karma, 4 Street Cred (after faking his death, a story I’ll tell later), 4 Notoriety, and managed to stay out of the Public Eye until the very end when he stole a nuclear submarine.  Again, a story I’ll tell later.

Dozer had quit the Skraacha after a terrible fight between a lieutenant of the group (Eybyu) and another pipe-thumping patrolman which left both patrolman and lieutenant dead, and Dozer in critical condition with massive damage to his face.  Upon recovery, he promptly quit the force and went into business for himself - running a food truck he’d bought with the “insurance money” that he called C2T Solutions.

(Because you can solve any problem with a Cyberspur 2 the Throat.)

You see, Dozer had also installed a Suprathyroid Gland, which is pretty much what it says on the tin - it’s a carefully engineered runaway growth problem which confers increased strength, speed, and toughness.  It also makes one the terror of buffets everywhere, and after Dozer had been thrown out of the fourth one he decided he was going to start cooking.  And if he was going to cook, then by Dunkelzahn he was going to make enough for everyone.  

Plus nobody looked at the cook unless he had a ponytail and a storied Naval career, so he could use it for information gathering.  Only...things didn’t go that way.

Dozer’s first use of the food truck was when he and a team of pipehitters was hired to cross off a list of names - with bonuses for those made to look like accidents.  There were six names on the list:

* A Federated-Boeing executive

* A Stuffer Shack employee

* An IT goon in a corporate enclave

* A retiree on the state dole

* A city employee with the Parks Department

* A ten-year-old trustafarian in a ritzy enclave

Dozer drew the short straw (or stole them while the rest of the crew argued) and took the city employee, the Stuffer Shack employee, and in a move that disgusted the rest of the team, the ten-year old. How can an Ork just cruelly kill a ten-year old kid?

With cupcakes, Dozer reasoned.  Kids love cupcakes.

In a stunningly macabre display of chemistry and culinary science, Dozer whipped up a pair of dark chocolate cupcakes one would expect to find at a boutique patisserie, both frosted with chocolate buttercream icing. Special icing.

Because icing doesn’t burn off the alcohol content of spiced rum - and Chloral Hydrate (Shadowrun’s version of Rophynol) has double potency when mixed with said rum.

Add in a gaily-wrapped box from an actual boutique patisserie with an Augmented Reality tag noting they were offering gift boxes as a ‘thank you’ to the community they served, and Dozer had created the perfect lure to ensnare anyone with a sweet tooth.  

Ten-year old Trudy stepped out of the schoolyard gate, savoring the fine Bellevue weather as she walked along the road towards home.  She didn’t *need* to walk, but it had been a nice day at school and Trudy felt even better about the day as she could remember the highest points of it while getting that last bit of exercise before the afternoon homework session began.

The sun was shining, the roads were quiet save the occasional yellow bus or GridGuided car taking her classmates to *their* homes.  Allison had suggested Trudy come over to her house for a group study session, but the last time that had happened Allison’s homework looked suspiciously similar (okay, they were exactly the same) as hers.  

“Afternoon, Ms. Appleton!”

The voice caused Trudy to turn and wave with a bright smile, her DocWagon bracelet jangling against her pale wrist.  Two Knight Errant patrol officers leaned against their car, waving back before scanning the area for potential suspects to question and search.  

“Good afternoon Officer Cortez!” she yelled.  “Hi Sergeant Weber!”

The two officers were well known in the neighborhood, and Trudy’s parents had noted with pride the discount they had received on their insurance premiums by agreeing to the surcharge for having physical patrols in the area during and after school hours.  Really, they had said, it was leaving nuyen on the table if they hadn’t, and having security services available during their 12-hour workdays meant they could put in the extra hours at the office but still sleep easy at night.

As she walked past manicured lawns, a smelly groundskeeper trimming hedges, and Augmented Reality picket fence property indicators to her own modest home, Trudy’s day got even better as she spied a specialty cardboard container from her favorite bakery on the doorstep.  She’d never thought that Le Petite Sweet would send a delivery, but someone must have really been thinking of her today to send over such a treat!  Trudy picked up the box before sending the unlock code to the house’s front door via her bedazzled trode patch on her temple - right where her Datajack would be, she thought.

The cool air of the perfectly-adjusted central heating and cooling system brushed against her face as Trudy stepped inside, her commlink downloading personal messages from the corporate grid once her PAN interfaced with the wider house network.  There were two more messages from Allison, one of which was a repeated offer for Trudy to come visit today and do homework, and a second one that her Nixdorf Sekretar agent indicated was a phishing attempt via a picture of a cat playing a piano.  Trudy thought the picture was funny, but not funny enough to allow Allison access to copy her homework directly. Besides, there were much more important things to consider.

Trudy set the box on the dining room table and opened her prize, finding a pair of chocolate cupcakes with a dark chocolate icing.  They smelled freshly baked and sweet - not as sweet as she liked, and without the chocolate sprinkles she always wanted when she would get her weekly treat at Le Petite.  In fact, they didn’t even look quite like the bakery’s signature cupcake - but her stomach growled in anticipation anyway, so she took a bite while going through her homework questions for the day.  The rich flavor of the chocolate was slightly offset by the spiciness in the icing.  Trudy was confused for a moment, then took another bite.  

There was rum in the icing.  Trudy knew because she had stolen a drink from her father’s liquor cabinet, and the dark liquid in the bottle tasted just like this.  The icing, however, was much better than that terrible alcohol.

In no time at all, the first cupcake was gone, and Trudy yawned while sending a message to the fridge unit to pour her a glass of milk.  She felt oh-so tired all of a sudden.  Maybe the nice groundskeeper opening the back door could help her get her milk.

Shaking his head, Dozer gently took poor Trudy upstairs to the bathtub, ran the water, and laid her inside.  He took the box and the detritus from the cupcake, and let himself out the door he entered.

The payment hit his account fifteen minutes later, as medical services screamed towards the house where a drowning had occurred.

There are, of course, several other stories I have involving Dozer and his food truck, Dozer and his old patrolman buddy Stamp, Dozer being thrown off a ten-story building and hitting the pool with nothing more than a bruise, Dozer inventing the term ‘dumptrucking’ as it refers to lateral strategy, and finally Dozer stealing a nuclear submarine and becoming a pirate king with a mage and a decker he’d run with on that last score.

But for today, we’ll leave it with poor Trudy.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk about how Dozer changed the outcome of a re-enactment of the historic Battle of Helm’s Deep.

[occupyscifi]

Memory Mods

Before leaving for the meeting Johnny Amani mainlined some Abandoned Father Issues with a quick kick of Moody Adolescence, topped off with a chunk of Teenage Quest to get him in the right mood.

“oh yeah” he nodded as the memories came back to him, washing away the previous evening’s Happy Boyhood and Teenage Country Farm memories. In a few moments all recollection of his smiling parents, supportive siblings and that time with the girl from the farm down the road faded. In their place there grew memories of restlessness, of ambition and other people letting him down. In the bathroom mirror he felt his face get more serious. His eyes narrow slightly. His father’s eyes, and damn that man for pushing him to the brink. Well today he’d show him. Today he’d brave the things his father had never dared. He could look his father in the eye without getting called a pussy.

The meeting was taking place in the former palace of a Silicon Valley firm that had been requisitioned during the revolution and turned into community buildings. Now the great silver torus rang not with the sounds of data acquisition nor the cries of tormented coders but instead with communal civic startups and privacy therapy centres.

Johnny breezed in through the entrance, nodding at the blond wood and the blandly cloned trees whose wood still bore the imprint of the long gone branding that had been encoded into its genetic structure. He felt like a Jobs or a Bezos, ready to take on the world and hold it in the palm of his hand. With that thought in mind he manfully strode into the smoked glass cubicle of the meeting room, all the other attendees looking up at him as he took his place on the smart plastic chair.

“Okay” he said as he felt his buttocks firmly gripped by the chair “lets do this” he looked around the room at the rest of them, feeling them bow before his authority “My name in Johnny Amani, and I’m a false memory addict. Welcome to the first meeting of memory addon addicts anonymous”

“Its not the fault of technology” Johnny explained once they had gone around the room and they had all introduced themselves (back at the first meeting. He’d been maudlin, having been mainlining some lost first love he’d downloaded on the darknet) “FakeMem technology had a noble start” he looked at the small group of fellow addicts, knowing almost instinctively what their addictions were. Pria, the teenage girl in the corner was lost in kiddie fantasy land, revelling in memories of secret worlds through ordinary wardrobes and aliens coming to collect her to fly their last starfighters. Elena, the corporate bitch on his left and his current closest girlpal, could just as easily been tattooed with the same Daddy issues memories that Johnny had dosed himself with “memory rewrite technology was developed back before the revolution to help PTSD cases – a branch of Google dreamed it up, tried to sell it to the Pentagon for soldiers who’d left their sanity down Mexico way. But of course by then Uncle Sam wasn’t buying anything. So they instead went all philanthropic. California was awash with refugees from both sides of the war. Kids who’d seen things no human being- let alone a child- should see. The engineers figured it was simple. PTSD is all about memory, you see something that fucks you up, your brain can’t handle it. It plays it out on repeat, forever. It can’t get past it, like a stuck record” he paused for dramatic effect “so if you replace the memory then you get rid of the trauma. Course it ended up being used for evil means – Mcluhn’s maxim still applies” Johnny nodded at the wall where the late, great prophet of the revolution’s most famous phrase hung on the wall. Under a picture of a plump middle aged woman the words went ‘any sufficiently advanced technology will first be used for liberation, but then inevitably for repression and control. Often by the same people’. Johnny bobbed his head in respect to Mcluhn’s wisdom “which we saw in the revolution when the Silicon Valley oligarchs realised they couldn’t just charm their way out of trouble so they tried to make us forget. Had whole cities where overnight people got their entire lives turned upside down. Woke up not knowing what memories were real and which were not. Evil times” he shook his head, he’d just been fresh out of college in the Midwest when the silicon valley appligarchy had been overthrown so he’d been sheltered from the worst of it. Even so the town right next to his had been hit by a wartime era fearbomb and it had taken years for the residents to restore their real memories from social media backups and simulated approximations “but this is not about all that. It’s about us. Because we’re not frightened little refugees, nor are we Navy SEALs who saw too many heads explode down in Juarez” he looked around at them all “we’re addicts. We’re addicted to changing our memories because either we get a buzz off of feeling like we’re someone else or otherwise we’re too terrified to face reality with just our own boring memories for company”

“I’m Pria” the teenage girl had stood up first. Brave of her, Johnny though, but a cynical part of him knew that her bravery came not from within but from false memories of that time when she was twelve and she’d faced down an army of orks with nothing but her mage skills for survival. Course he only knew that because he’d done the same. Got fired from his job because of it – not for being an addict but for flipping out when a co-worker had laughed at him checking all the cupboards in a board room for secret passages to other worlds “and I’ve been using false memories since I was about ten years old” the girl gulped, wearing the faraway expression that meant she was refusing to meet anyone else’s eye. The room was good for that, the glass was only smoked on one side so from the other you could look out over the centre of the torus, down to where once cadres of Silicon Valley brodudes had set forth to conquer the world in the name of big data “I don’t even know why I started. I used to think it was cause I got bullied, then I checked my downloads and I realised that the whole bullying thing was a FakeMem too. I must have just been lonely, so I started taking them. I started with a few light ones. You know, the meet a celeb memories. A couple of Shanghai Disney world rides. My dad wasn’t always there so he used to share a few from his travels, so we could both pretend we’d been together” her voice quavered slightly “maybe that’s why I got too deep” she glanced at Johnny “but I don’t wanna act like I blame my dad. I got myself addicted. I didn’t want to be me, I think, it was easier to be Princess Peach or Empress of the Porcelain people. Better than being boring old Pria Park who went to the local high school and didn’t have a single experience different from anyone else I’d ever met”

With that she abruptly sat down. Johnny started the applause, nodding bullishly at her admissions “excellent. Remember, there’s no judgement here. We’ve all done things we regret, things we want to forget. Hell, that’s half the reason we became addicts” he looked suddenly serious “but because of that there isn’t a quick fix. The only way we can get past our addiction is to recognise what it is, to work together to support each other. To remember that our addiction isn’t some harmless fun” he looked around soberly at all of them “most of us have had so many mods we can’t even tell our real memories from the fake ones. We’ve squandered reality chasing some impossible dream. We need to stop looking to some bolt from the blue remedy. There isn’t something we can download into our brains that will magically fix us. There isn’t some brand new mod that will bring everything back and make us better again. We only have each other”

 “You know there’s an erase doing the round” Elena cornered Johnny, waiting till everyone else was gone and doing so on the pretext of cleaning up the coffee cups and wiping down the non digital whiteboard of its inspirational slogans. Only when the room had emptied had she sidled up to Johnny and whispered in his ear.

“didn’t you listen to my inspiring and not at all plagiarised speech?” said Johnny dismissively as he reset the room, wiping the machine memory of the defiantly non networked software that monitored the office. Revolution protocols stated that it was illegal to store any digital information of any user without express permission and even then to make sure it was not accessible by anyone with any commercial purpose “there isn’t some quick fix download. Its fantasy” he looked her in the eye, her façade of corporate bitch almost totally vanished. Now he saw the anxiety and insecurity that had lead to her addiction. The worst part was knowing that his own face mirrored that too “memory isn’t archaeology. You can’t just peel back the layers looking for what was originally there. Human memory is organic. When you change a memory you are literally moving the brain cells around. You change their alignment. They make new connections and the old ones are broken. There isn’t an erase function for that”

“This time its different” said Alma “look, I’m not going to get into a technical discussion but it seems like its more of a reconstruction than an erasure. Because you know that when you implant a new FakeMem it overrides the old one, but to do so you need to understand the old state. So it already maps your brain, right?”

“Sure” said Johnny, whose technical knowledge was probably less than Elena’s but wasn’t about to admit it. Perhaps had he not been stuffed to the gills with father resentment memories he might have not been indulging some alpha male bullshit but that was an argument for another day.

“So all you’d have to do to roll back the memories would be to establish the right trail. If’ you’ve got a record of the mods you’ve added then you should be able to follow them back and restore the original”

“Sounds like this software is pretty heavy duty” said Johnny “and also pretty fucking illegal. To go through a download record like that would violate, like, a dozen Revolution protocols. In fact it probably qualifies as a bioweapon in itself. Could probably be Gitmoed because of it”

“I’ll take that as a no then” said Elena turning to leave “cause I’m gonna download it in, like, two hours time”

“Oh no” said johnny quickly, leaping to intercept her “I just said it was seriously illegal. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested”

“in that case meet me here” Elena scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. Her handwriting was almost illegible, side effects of growing up before the revolution when every piece of information was sent via machine “at 4pm. Its gonna  be a blast”

“sure” said Johnny, already having moved beyond second thoughts into third and fourth thoughts. Did he really want to do this? He sighed as Elena exited the room “guess I’m going to have to call my sponsor”

 “so let me get this straight, another FM junkie wants you to download something that’s going to definitely roll back you mods and free you of your addiction?” “yup” said Johnny. They were sitting across the street from the former silicon valley campus in a café that had been liberated for the people but was otherwise unchanged from its days feeding the libertarian messiahs and the big data pushers of silicon valley. There were even still the posters on the wall of the last generation of Silicon Valley billionaires. Anywhere else in America those posters would have been torn down, but there was still an ambivalent relationship to the survivors living in the valley itself. Most of them had been hardcore privacy crusaders but there wasn’t one of them that hadn’t been raised on stories of the tech entrepreneurs, the men and other men who had taken a bunch of numbers and made a billion dollars out of them. Indeed the man sitting opposite Johnny was a typical example “that’s just what I’m gonna do Greg” “dude, that’s fucked up” said Gred Deen. Back in the revolution he’d on the frontline, former coder turned poacher, white hatting for the good guys when his former employers at Google had taken the ‘don’t’ out of their famous slogan. He’d met Johnny when the pair of them were in rehab, Greg could remember nothing of his life before the revolution, because for the five years after it he’d modded his memories so heavily his synapses were permanently screwed. Now he worked as a barista at the coffee bar, body occasionally wracked by flashbacks to memories that may or may not have been his own “you understand that, right? I mean that’s junkie talk. That one final big hit will set you straight? That’s not how it works. Hell, if I thought I could get back my real memories that way then I’d sign on the dotted line, but the fact is that it doesn’t work. I got out of being a junkie the hard way, same as you need to”

“but I want the real me back” said Johnny pitifully, pulling at his shirt “not this macho bullshit guy I am today, nor the sensitive well rounded guy I pretended to be yesterday. The real me”

“not sure any of us would know that even if we had our memories” he shook his head as he poured out cups of GM’d java guaranteed to wake up even the sleepiest of heads “I mean, you know what life was like before the rev, right?”

“I got too many memories man, you know that”

“back then people had their public selves – all that social media profile shit. Then they had their sensitive inner selves they’d only reveal in messages to their nearest and dearest. Were either of those the real them? Hard to know. You could watch someone’s livefeed for hours and you don’t know if it was the real them or not. People act differently depending on who they think is watching”

“I looked up my social media feed a couple of years ago” confessed Johnny, dropping his voice to a whisper. It didn’t do to talk about things like that. Even before the revolution social media had been a warzone. After the revolution a general amnesty had been predicated on the notion that any every trace of data harvested in those years should be destroyed. Some people had grumbled that this let the perpetrators of the Twitter massacre of Osaka and the snapchat murders off the hook but it was generally agreed that peace relied somewhat on amnesia. An irony which Gregg and Johnny could well appreciate.

“and?” asked Gregg carefully, his hands shaking minutely

“I didn’t find anything”

“nor should you man”

“no, but really. There was nothing. I mean, I used some back channels that would get me in trouble if certain people knew. But I was desperate. I was using several times a day back then. I’d have done anything. I thought if I could find….”

“good job you didn’t” rumbled Gregg menacingly “people know you’ve got that kind of data then they think you’re with the tech underground….”

“you really believe that even exists?” said Johnny “come on, its just rumours. If any of the silicon valley execs survived the last days of the rev then they’re hiding pretty deep. Hardly think they’re plotting some kind of takeover. People would never stand for it”

“never know” said Gregg “you didn’t know these people like I did….”

“I didn’t think you remembered” said Johnny accusingly

“don’t need to. I kept diaries. Stories that would make your hair curl. These were people who got to where they were by hacking society. Disruption, that was their big deal. They didn’t see the world like we do. Where you consider other people’s feelings and point of view. There was one thing they cared about. Power. Sometimes that came from money and other times it came from having so much dirt on people they could play ‘em like a harp. These people don’t just vanish” Gregg looked up to where several customers were waiting “like I say. Don’t try to dig up the past. If you fail you’ll just keep on being a junkie and if you succeed, well you might just wish you failed”

 Elena was waiting impatiently outside the hotel. It had the slightly melted pastel look of cheaply 3D printed walls and the fixtures inside recalled both the enthusiasm of the immediate post rev world as well as its terrible design choices.

“You got it then?” asked Johnny, still not sure if he was doing the right thing. He’d changed his mind five times since speaking with Greg and nearly turned around and headed home. But he needed to know, either because life is a journey towards truth or else as Greg said he was just a junkie needing a fix.

“course” said Elena, the last of her corporate bitch memory mod fading like old hair dye. Together they strode into the dilapidated hotel, the automatic credit readers long having been ripped out and replaced by a small armoured booth where a revolution veteran sat starting into space. They paid cash with the certainty that the veteran wouldn’t remember who they were. Odds on she wasn’t sure if they were real in the first place.

“are you ready?” asked Elena as she prepped the EEG machine and laid the electrodes across Johnny’s head. He could hear the apprehension vying with the excitement in her voice.

“no” said Johnny truthfully “ I mean, shit. What if we don’t like who we are? Cause chances are we were not good people. Otherwise why would have modded our memories in the first place?”

“we’ll never know unless we give it a try” said Elena, adjusting the electrodes on her own head “ready when you are”

“Listen if it turns out that the revolution was a fake and that we really live in google verse or Apple gulag then I’ll never forgive you” Johnny looked at Elena fiercely.

“Yeah, that would be awful” she said “not least cause there’s already, like, a dozen conspiracy theories that say exactly that” she smiled “probably find that actually we were just assholes instead. But I’d like to be my own asshole, if that makes sense”

“Hey, I don’t need memories to tell me I’m an idiot” said Johnny as Elena tapped a code into the machine “I see that every morning when I wake up”

“See you on the flip side” said Elena as the machine counted down from ten “lets hope we weren’t too bad people”

With that there was a burst of light. With most memory mods the effect came on slowly, the memories trickling through like coloured syrup through water. With this one however Johnny staggered under the weight of it. Echoes of past memory mods imploded in his mind as the program traced back through a decade of mod addiction. A burst of Happy Childhood suddenly overwritten by Growing up Gangsta. The light notes of Teenage Adventurer melded  with High School Hero. He could feel his neurons requiring themselves. The false memories being replaced by those he had gathered himself through eyes and ear, processed by his own mind. Suddenly it was there. Reality. And at the same time he finally realised why he had become an addict in the first place. And he realised that Greg was full of shit. Not only had that fucker clearly had his memory working, but that he had known full well who Johnny really was.

“Oh shit” he said, opening his eyes to see by the expression on her face that Elena was having the same realisation as him. He ripped the smooth electrodes off his head, holding it like it was bout to explode or send him mad, which effectively it had done. “Oh shit, shit shit. The fuck have we done?”

“Well I don’t know about you” said Elena, or as he realised now former CEO of Google and warcriminal responsible for the privacy deaths of millions, Mia Ramsey “but I’m gonna download as many memory mods as I can till I forget this ever happened”

“Oh yeah” said Johnny, or rather Facebook chief security officer Alan Khan. AKA the man responsible for the fear bombing of three cities and the subsequence suicide spike that had seen ten thousand people take their own lives “I guess there are worse things than being an asshole after all”