#Mordecai Brown

[principiumindividuationis777]

[gummyartstradingcards]

[ciaoteamo]

i just made my first gifs ever omg

i've unleashed a new power 😏

[systimming]

Zer0 x Mordecai board with guns + birds + nature stims! For @jackedupsystem

- Mod Jamie.

((Sources of gifs: x, x, x | x, x, x | x, x, x ))

[musclemanveryregular]

[ID: in the image on the left is Margaret, an anthropomorphic "Robin" (clearly based on a cardinal actually tho), and on the right is Pops, a very ripped man with a perfectly circular giant head. Wearing a top hat. /end ID]

Some more information below:

Margaret:

-mordecais love interest for much of the show.

-very smart.

-the daughter of a news reporter who goes into the news herself.

-by moving away to college to follow this career path.

-margaret always gets the MarGETS the bad guys.

-once saved the entire concept of news by defeating an android reporter lady from the future.

-in her species typically the males are the red ones so she's trans

[ID: two cardinals. The one on the left is gray with some brown highlights and the one on the right is red and looks a lot like the type of bird margaret is. /end ID]

My thoughts on getting high with Margaret: hell yeah hell yeah, she's cute, she's single, and she's fun. But seriously I feel like she'd be pretty chill to get along with and I'd love to pick her brain about her job.

What i think her tolerance level is? Probably a solid 2.5/5. She's definitely not getting high super often but she does the occasional party and when she's hanging out with Rigby and Eileen on the weekends like every other weekend.

Pops:

-confuses lollipops for money.

-has psychic powers.

-kinda gay.

-very happy very go-lucky.

-stern when needs to be but very rarely finds himself needing to be.

-technically ranks over benson but doesn't pull rank often.

-easily scared.

My thoughts on getting high with Pops: tbh i don't think id like it so much, he'd easily get scared and I dont want the rest of the park mad at me when he freaks out because we watched a movie with a slight amount of high pace in it.

His tolerance level is probably a .5/5. He will partake at the occasional party with his friends but outside of that good luck even trying to get him to smoke.

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

Ahem ahem

After months of waiting!

I AM PRESENTING THE BRACKET FOR DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN!

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!

The first 16 battles will happen at 8pm CET (gmt+1)!

Group 1!

Uhh btw some of these were put on one day accidentally

Roronoa Zoro & Monkey D. Luffy aka Zolu (one piece) vs Good times with Scar & Grian aka desert duo (hermitcraft)

Bill Preston & Ted Logan (bill & Ted’s excellent adventure) vs Jessie & James from team rocket (Pokémon)

Wayne & Raj (total drama) vs Denji & Power (chainsaw man)

Burton & Shawn (psych) vs Rosencrantz & guildenstern (hamlet & rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead)

Josuke Higashikata & Okuyasu Nijimura aka Josuyasu (JoJo’s bizarre adventure) vs Shouyo Hinata & Tobio Kageyama (Haikyuu!)

Isaac & Miria (Baccano) vs Jay Walker & Cole Brookstone/bucket aka Bruise (lego ninjago)

Ace & Deuce (twisted wonderland) vs Aang & Sokka (avatar: the last airbender)

Tommyinnit & Tubbo aka Clingyduo (dsmp) vs Shiver, Frye, & Bigman aka Deep Cut (splatoon)

Blue Beetle (Ted Kord) & Booster Gold (Michael Carter) aka boostle VS Mustard Lesbian and Ketchup Gay from this post

Mordecai & Rigby (regular show) vs Lindsay & Tyler (total drama)

Rui Kamishiro & Tsukasa Tenma aka Ruikasa (project sekai) vs Zuke & Mayday aka Bunk Bed Junction (no straight roads)

Ruffnut & Tuffnut Thorston (how to train your dragon) vs Jedediah & Octavius (night at the museum)

Merry & Pippin (lord of the rings) vs The Doctor & Donna (dr who)

Jedward (irish music history) vs Min-Gi Park & Ryan Akagi (infinity train)

Grif & Simmons (red vs blue) vs Beavis & Butthead (Beavis & butthead)

Bender & Fry (futurama) vs Porsche & Pete (kinnporsche)

GROUP 2

1/8-18:30 & 2/8 18:30

Kaz & Oliver (mighty med) vs Bobbi Morse & Lance Hunter aka Huntingbird (agents of S.H.I.E.L.D)

Henchman 21 & Henchman 24 (venture bros) vs Spongebob & Patrick (Spongebob Squarepants)

Galo Thymos & Lio Fotia (promare) vs Yusuke & Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Charlie Kelly & Mac (it is always sunny in Philadelphia) vs Donald, José & Panchito (the three Caballeros)

The Bros (the bro duet) vs Chai & 808 (hi-fi rush)

Markiplier & CrankGameplays aka Unus Annus vs Knockout & Starscream (transformers)

Caspar & Shez (fire emblem warriors: three hopes) vs Yukiko Amagi & Chie Satonaka aka Yukichie (persona 4)

Tk Strand & Evan Buck Buckley (911 on fox lonestar) vs Shane & Ryan (buzzfeed unsolved)

Ontario Pipping Plovers (birbs from canada) vs Kaminari Denki & Ashido Mina (My hero academia)

Rin Okumura & Kuro (blue exorcist) vs Adam Blampied & Sullivan Beau Brown (No barrels rolled)

Chip & Gillion aka Fish and Chips (just roll with it) vs Josuke Higashikata & Yasuho Hirose aka Yasugap (jojo's bizarre adventure)

Soldier & Demoman (team fortress 2) vs Cuphead & Mugman (the cuphead show)

Nott/Veth & Jester (critical role the mighty nein) vs Troy & Abed (community)

Walter White & Jessie Pinkman (breaking bad) vs Barbie & Ken (barbie life in a dreamhouse)

Cuddles & Toothy (happy tree friends) vs Heath Burns & Hoodude Voodoo (monster high)

Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta (bandom) vs Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng & Nie Huaisang (MDZS/the untamed)

TAGS TO CHECK OUT!

#propaganda #dumbass duo showdown announcements #dumbass duo showdown update #round 1 #art gallery #polls

[bardic-tales]

Tumblr Games: OC Prompts: Profile: Mordecai Delacroix

Thank you so much for the tag, @inkednotebook. I loved Teddy's appearance and his goals in yours.

Rules: Answer the prompts for an OC

I choose to fill this out for my newest OC, Mordecai Delacroix, my incubus who fought against Asmodeus to save his wife and lost. Mordecai plays an important role in Fantasy Worlds Collide, as it shows that demons can resist the call of a primordial demon, like Asmodeus.

Matt Bomer is Mordecai's face claim

Full name: Mordecai Alessio Delacroix (formerly Atticus)

Age: Over 2,000 years

Gender: Male

Species: Vampiric Incubi

Appearance: Mordecai is 6'1" (185 cm) with a lean, muscular build. His skin is often pale with nearly trimmed dark brown hair. He has very sharp facial features, including a chisled jawline and piercing grey eyes. His eyes turn blood-red when he is anger or he is feeding. He likes to wear tailored suits in very dark colors.

Occupation: CEO of Dark Light Publishing, a publishing house that caters to supernatural beings, such as he.

Family Members:

Spouse/Partner: Bianca Moore (wife)

Parents: Unknown Roman parents

Siblings: None known

Demonic “Father”: Asmodeus (not biological but influential)

Best Friends:

Lucian Grey: An ancient vampire who works as Mordecai's right-hand man at the publishing company. He’s a bit of a trickster and the only person who dares to challenge Mordecai's serious nature.

Isabella Tremaine: An old lover who specializes in magical artifacts and occult research. Mordecai relies on her expertise in supernatural matters and considers her one of the few people he can trust, outside of Bianca and Lucian.

Pets: None. He prefers a minimalist lifestyle and hates the idea of owning pets.

Describing their bedroom: His bedroom is spacious and uncluttered. He has a king-sized bed draped in black satin sheets. A black marble fireplace stands across the bed. Next to it is a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with ancient texts and modern literature. A sleek desk sits in one corner with a laptop and a few scattered papers. His walk-in closet is organized by color and occasion: featuring mostly suits and former wear. There is few personal items, save for a framed portrait of a night date to the coast with Bianca.

Way of speaking: Mordecai speaks with a refined, aristocratic tone. His speech is deliberate. He very rarely raises his voice, as he doesn't need to. He will occasionally use archaic phrases. When agitated, his accent subtly shifts, revealing his ancient Roman roots.

Physical characteristics: Beyond what is already mentioned, he has no visible scars. He has demonic healing abilities like Bianca. His nails are kept short, but occasionally grow into sharp claws when his demonic nature is triggered.

Items in their bag/purse: Mordecai doesn’t typically carry a bag, as he prefers to carry briefcases. If he does, it would contain:

a leather-bound journal for note-taking

a small vial of Bianca's blood for emergencies

the latest iphone.

ancient coins to remind him of who he really is

Hobbies: Mordecai enjoys fencing, historical research, martial arts, reading, and playing the piano. He likes to manage his publishing company, finding comfort through history and literature. In his free time, he is often honing his swordsmanship or reading obscure occult texts by Aleister Crowley and the Ordo Templi Orientis.

Favorite Sport: Mordecai is not a fan of modern sports, like hockey or football, but he has an interest in fencing.

Abilities: As he is a demon, he has enhances strength, speed, and healing. He also has an enhanced scent of smell, as do all demons. As an incubus, he can manipulate emotions and desires. He avoids using his incubus powers, due to his grief. He is also well-versed in ancient languages, rituals, and supernatural lore. Mordecai is probably the person who knows Asmodeus the best, as he has dedicated his life to finding a way to destroy the demonic prince once and for all.

Relationships:

Bianca Moore: His wife, whom he deeply loves and protects. Their bond is built on mutual respect and shared trauma. He never consummated the marriage, respecting Bianca’s boundaries.

Asmodeus: A figure from his past who turned him into a vampiric incubus and serves as a constant threat.

Lucian Grey: His right-hand man at Dark Light Publishing and a trusted confidant. Their relationship is founded on centuries of camaraderie and shared struggles.

Fears:

He is terrified that he won't be able to protect Bianca from Asmodeus or even his own dark nature. He had already murdered his mirrored soul when he was first turned, as he had no control over his powers.

Despite his centuries of discipline, he is haunted by the fear of losing control and harming someone he loves by his bloodlust, as he did centuries ago.

He is fearful of fire as it reminds him of his transformation. He is very uneasy around flames.

Faults:

Mordecai has an overwhelming sense of guilt which often prevents him from moving forward. He is afraid that if he becomes entangled with someone he will harm them. However, meeting Bianca, Asmodeus' biological daughter and his tool for ascension, shook up his life.

He keeps others at arm's lengths to avoid causing them harm or facing his own emotions

He prefers to handle problems himself, leading to difficulty in delegating tasks or trusting others.

Good points:

Although he is distant, he is fiercely protective of those he cares about. This is illustrated when he sacrificed himself for Bianca's well-being.

Due to his love of history and literature, Mordecai is very well-read and resourceful.

Despite his internal struggles and who he currently is, he continues to be a bastion of light against Asmodeus' darkness. He will never allow the demonic lord to take Bianca and her soul.

What they want more than anything else: Mordecai desires redemption and to rid the world of Asmodeus and the other demons' influences. His ultimate wish is to ensure Bianca's safety and happiness, even if it means that he will have to sacrifice himself and send her to another dimension.

[bookishcatcafe]

A Short Hellerby Fanfiction

Mordecai leaped over the wooden crate as a string of bullets followed him. He panted as he reloaded his revolver. As he did, bullets shot against the crate, some of them going through it, and barely grazing the cat.

His eyes fully dilated at the rush of rounds soaring around him. This wasn’t his first rodeo with violence and he’d be damned if it was his last. Then, a sudden silence.

Such a quiet felt like forever. It was shrouded by the swiftness of his heartbeat, the idle wind passing around them, and the shuffling of feet and anxious hands trying to reload. A soft curse under the tongue. The enemy was impatient, ruthless, and he was not docile to their demands.

After a click of the hammer, he shot up over the crate, standing while glaring back at his assailants, before firing the shots. One by one they kneeled over into a bloody mess. Suits drenched with moist redness, stained as the brush from the colour of pomegranates.

As the last one fell, crawling towards some semblance of safety, Mordecai walked over, aiming again.

“Do not double cross us again.” He pushed a heel onto the tannish cat’s leg, the exit wound spurting from his abdomen. The cat groaned and cried out in pain. Mordecai was prepared for just the occasion. He wore his black leather gloves and leaned over the dying man, opening his waistcoat, and pulled out a letter which now was stained in a darkish hue of reddish brown.

“I’ll take this. Property of Marigold. A thief knows the number one rule is to never be spotted out as such. You failed in just this mere task. Such an inkling would make one surmise you to be a beginner. A novice pickpocket. A dandy who knows not a lick of what it means…” he steps off the man and dusts his own waistcoat,

“To be an honest worker.” He pulls the trigger.

A silence once more. The slow creaking of the ceiling fan. Or is that the mattress? Sweat drenched Mordecai, the blanket was askew—another dream. Another nightmare, more specifically, why was it that one? What depravity was this, which haunted him, dream he’d been having every other night—no precursors—just happenstance.

Then it hit him: the smell. Flapjacks. A usual. Tradition! And coffee? More tradition!

His blurred vision became apparent, especially after rubbing one’s eyes, a yawn, the stuttered breath: the morning routine as it were.

A scratch of the chest, more specifically the white tank top, which now was drenched.

His glasses lay on the side table. He put them on.

In clarity, he saw him: his dear, adorned in a flour covered apron.

Roarke.

Rocky, the living personification of poetics. The vagrant Grecian urn turned prohibitionite—a rumrunner. The magnitude of his chaotic personality was tenfold during every mission he dealt out from Miss M. It diminished on the daily, he hid it well, yet it would slip within the cracks of this aged vase.

Mordecai was no older, then again, that’s just something he’d say to himself to disregard the obvious physical evidence of time passing on. The grey hairs started to pop a few months ago. The lines on his face became more apparent from years of stress and need for perfect symmetry, be it order in Marigold, his constant studying, the years of hiding, the possible acts of vagrancy through moments of rumrunning and murder. This in particular came with the toll of two options of response, of trauma in aftershocks or of bleak stoicism with hints of nihilistic performance.

Yet, when he saw Rocky in his dainty outfits, in such a gaily almost dandy ways of self-performance—it brought a warmth to his shivering heart.

He got out of bed, yawning once more, and stumbled toward the bathroom to freshen up.

This. This is what made Mordecai. What is Mordecai? Mordecai is an intellectual witty man, aged by moments in time, experienced, and one who does not follow by ego. He follows by heart and for the need for order—and in some moments—a desire for sustaining himself.

After washing up, he walked to the kitchen. Rocky wiggled his hips slowly, singing ‘Blue Skies’ as he sauntered over to Mordecai.

“My blue skyyy…smilin at meee…” Rocky held a hand out. Mordecai chuckled and held his hand while making sure not to get covered in flour, swirling Rocky who was laughing before he continued singing. He slowly stopped as Mordecai gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you for not waking me…and for making breakfast.”

“You were rather tired last night. Too much celebration!”

“Yes—no? Well we did have a big score—oh god did I drink?”

“Yes. You get really rambunctious when you’re drunk.”

Rocky laughed. Mordecai went over to his drawers and started pulling out clothes for today. Rocky tried to pull him into a barrage of kisses, but Mordecai gave in, a small smirk on his face as his need to truly get properly ready being delayed by affection. Not that he didn’t mind it.

“I must get ready. You knowww—haha—you know I how I am, you silly romantic affectionate boy!”

Rocky continued for a moment before stopping. He truly loved the man. They might’ve seemed like opposites, especially at first, but attraction knows no boundaries especially regarding one’s differences. Sometimes those things bring people closer—in the right circumstance.

He soon was dressed in a white undershirt, dark grey pleats, leather brown suspenders hooked to the buttons of his pants, black oxfords, and for when he would actually leave his home a black overcoat with a red tie.

Mordecai sat down and began eating.

Rocky ate with some speed, though Mordecai would give him a look, as if to tell him to slow down.

Rocky started to speak. “Well besides work…maybe we could go out for some fun?”

Mordecai sipped his coffee. “Like what?”

“A movie?”

“How about a play?”

“Play could work.”

“Hamlet?”

“Faust?”

“We can just see what’s performed today. Our guesses will do no good.”

Both of them, starting with Rocky, began snickering. The morning was just beginning, the day ahead was free for the taking, and their plans would have to come with due time. Time, which the both of them have to share in earnest collaboration, not that either would mind otherwise.

[crowblincray]

I like to binge watch cartoons when I'm sick. It's mindless and keeps me distracted from how miserable I feel.

I think last time it was Kipo and the age of the Wonderbeasts. 9/10 btw. Highly recommend! The music, the animation, world building, character development, character design. Love it!

This time it's the Regular Show.

I've seen a couple of episodes here and there, but know it more from memes and reputation.

Then as an animal nerd I'm over here talking to my hubby about how weird it is that Mordecai has teeth in his beak and the Female cardinal chick he's into has male coloring.

The show is wild but exactly as the memes said.

Also Rigby is brown when raccoons are more grey.

[hanasnx]

⿻ CHARACTER LIST — !

MINORS DNI 18+ ༄

"We want more than the wars of our fathers." — Switchfoot. (2003). Meant to Live.

TIP: bold is current favorites in which i respond to the quickest.

── characters ┆ EVERY CHARACTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN ON THIS BLOG (DOES NOT INCLUDE GIFTS).

dc comics ¡! ❞

✩ bruce wayne ✩ dick grayson ✩ terry mcginnis ✩ jason todd ✩ talon ✩ dr. manhattan ✩ wally west ✩ j’onn j’onzz ✩ nanaue ✩ tim drake

marvel ¡! ❞

✩ peter parker ✩ venom ✩ hobie brown ✩ miguel o'hara ✩ tony stark ✩ logan howlett ✩ wade wilson ✩ harry osborn ✩ the great protector

the boys ¡! ❞

✩ black noir ✩ soldier boy ✩ the homelander ✩ jordan li

star wars ¡! ❞

✩ anakin skywalker ✩ darth vader ✩ han solo ✩ nd-5 ✩ plo koon ✩ din djarin

wizarding world ¡! ❞

✩ fred weasley ✩ remus lupin

movies misc. ¡! ❞

✩ indiana jones ✩ brian o'conner ✩ patrick bateman ✩ elton tiscia ✩ optimus prime ✩ jake sully

outer banks ¡! ❞

✩ jj maybank ✩ rafe cameron ✩ drew starkey

atla-verse ¡! ❞

✩ jet ✩ zuko

tv. shows misc. ¡! ❞

✩ jake peralta ✩ abed nadir ✩ mordecai ✩ kevin levin ✩ dean forester ✩ christopher hayden ✩ dean winchester ✩ sam winchester

jujutsu kaisen ¡! ❞

✩ toji fushiguro ✩ satoru gojo ✩ naoya zenin

boku no hero academia ¡! ❞

✩ katsuki bakugou ✩ taishiro toyomitsu

akatsuki no yona ¡! ❞

✩ hak

namaikizikari ¡! ❞

✩ shou naruse

manga misc. ¡! ❞

✩ riftan calypse

mass effect ¡! ❞

✩ garrus vakarian ✩ nihlus kryik ✩ saren arterius ✩ urdnot wrex

christensen-verse ¡! ❞

✩ hayden christensen ✩ scott barringer ✩ leo campo ✩ sam monroe ✩ billy quinn ✩ clay beresford ✩ jacob ✩ stephen glass

rpf misc. ¡! ❞

✩ indy ✩ andy biersack ✩ corpse husband

── additional ┆ CHARACTERS I'D LIKE TO WRITE FOR.

✩ cad bane ✩ general grievous ✩ boba fett

✩ barry allen ✩ conner kent

✩ luke riordan

✩ korra ✩ mako

✩ sirius black

✩ shoto todoroki ✩ dabi ✩ kai chisaki ✩ hitoshi shinso ✩ toshinori yagi ✩ yo shindou

✩ garnet

✩ jace herondale

✩ sinbad ✩ masrur

✩ tomoe ✩ kurama shinjirou

✩ sesshomaru ✩ koga

✩ marshall lee

✩ bill cipher

✩ dan lynch

✩ nicholas devereaux

✩ eric knox

✩ sherlock holmes

✩ jack sparrow

✩ james norrington

✩ ned nickerson

✩ mike ross

✩ gregory eddie

✩ sam sweeney

✩ david rice

── gifts ┆ CHARACTERS I'VE WRITTEN GIFTS FOR AND DO NOT WANT MESSAGES ABOUT.

✩ luke skywalker ✩ carmy berzatto ✩ druig

NAVI | M.LIST | RULES | FAQ

[80ssuperstar]

Here's another Story Script I wanted to do which is a part from Madagascar Escape 2 Africa 🌍 When Alex and Marty tries to find the Water from the Humans and Gloria Rescuing Melman from the Volcano Sacrifice 🔥

This Time I want to change the characters from Regular Show which is the following:

Benson as Alex

Rigby as Marty

Mordecai as Melman

Samantha ( @80ssuperstar ) as Gloria

Hot Dog Leader as King Julien

Fat Hot Dog as Maurice

"Operation Water Rescue: The Volcano Dilemma"

[In the woods, Benson and Rigby go to look for the clog.]

Rigby: Is this place starting to freak you out?

Benson: We'll slip in, find the problem. Hunters will never know we were here.

Rigby: Why are we doing this?

Benson: Look Rigby, maybe my dad will think I'm... I just want to show him I'm a real Boss.

Rigby: As opposed to a chocolate Boss.

Benson: Shh. I know this may sound hard to believe; but apparently, Bosses don't dance.

Rigby: [shocked] WHAT?!?

Benson: SHH!! As far as my dad is concerned.

Rigby: As far as people are concerned, you're a huge hit.

Benson: That was California. This is Africa... it's much tougher crowd. Rigby! Rigby, this is it! This is the clog! Come on.

Rigby: Well, there's the water.

(Rigby drinks some of the water. While Rigby is drinking the water, Benson notices Nana)

Benson: Rigby, stay down. Look at that.

Nana: Knit one, purl two.

Benson: It's her.

Man: Is this right?

Nana: Very good.

Man: Nana, slow down.

Nana: You're a little tangled, aren't you? No, don't pull. I'll do it.

Benson: We need dynamite. Got any dynamite?

Rigby: (loudly) Oh, snap! I just used my last stick this morning!

[Benson tells to quiet down, but an arrow hits the fruit hat of shame 🏹]

Rigby: Savages!

Benson: Evasive maneuvers!

Rigby: Serpentine, serpentine!

Benson: Squiggly squid maneuver!

Rigby: Zag, zig-zag, zig ziggy zag!

Benson: No, no! Squiggly squid!

Rigby: Etch A Sketch! Etch A Sketch! Etch A Sketch!

Benson: That's too complex! Octopus, octopus!

Rigby: Benson!

Benson: Run, Rigby!

Rigby: Come on, I can't leave you here!

Benson: Go get help! Squiggly squid maneuver! Go! Go! Squiggly squid!

Rigby: ETCH A SKETCH!!! ETCH A SKETCH!!!

[The camera changes to the volcano where Mordecai, Wearing a White Orchid Flower Cowrie Shells Veil Headwear, 4 Flower Lei's, Black and White Feathers on his Ankles and Wrist, is about to go into the lava, but he is looking to the deep of the volcano.]

Mordecai: OK. OK, OK, OK. OK, here we go. OK, OK. Here we go! Here we go!

Joe: What's all the hoopla about?

Blue Jay: Joe?

Blue Jay 2: Joe the Witch Doctor? We thought you were dead!

Joe: So did I. Then I realized I'm covered in brown spots.

Blue Jay: So, Mordecai's not dying! [suddenly realizing the truth] Mordecai's not dying!

Blue Jay 1: Oh, no!

Samantha: Excuse me! Mordecai!! Move! Don't do this! Hot Dog Leader, stop this! This is crazy!

Hot Dog Leader: Oh, suddenly throwing a blue jay into a volcano to make water is crazy!

Samantha: Yes! Please, Mordecai! STOOOP!!!! 😱😱

Mordecai: Samantha? 😯

Samantha: You can't do this! 😭😭

Mordecai: Why not?

Samantha: Because...Oh! 😯😯

[But as she could finish, she trips which causes cracks to come out, Mordecai is shocked at what he's seeing, he runs up, but begins to fall. Samantha stops him from falling]

Samantha: You can't do this, Mordecai. 😢😢

Mordecai: First of all, that hurts. Second of all, I've only got 18 hours to live, anyway. 😢😢

Samantha: Mordecai, I gotta know...did you really mean those things you said about me? 🥹🥰

Mordecai: Of course I did. 🥲🥲

Samantha: That's crazy 😧😧

Mordecai: It Is? 😟😟

Samantha: It's crazy to think I had to go halfway around the world... to find out that the perfect guy for me lived right next door. 🥹🥹☺️😊

Mordecai: Then I guess it's you and me, neighbor. You and me for the next 18 hours. 😻😻😻

Samantha: I'll take whatever you got 🥹❤️🩵

Hot Dog Leader: WHOA WHOA WHOA Fat Hot Dog, what just happened?! 😱😱😱

Fat Hot Dog: I believe the Hot Sassy lady has sung. 😏❤️

HERE'S THE END TO THE PART! 〽️ I Hope you guys love it!!!

------

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @mordorigs , @jgquintelslut , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity , @sidoresca , @siinhorhy , @insomniacz , @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry , @at-weeb96 , @kiwithekool11437 , @kiko2032 , @orchestralauthor , @untitled14360 , @loudlyhappycupcake

[pussinbootsandbountyhunter]

My Pamson Triplets

Johnny, Bobby and Lilly (before Benson Jr)

💙Johnny is a blue gumball machine who wore glasses and had dark brown hair just like his dad, he plays the drums and do science in his spare time before he would help his dad to get the job done. Benson wasn’t sure if Johnny was reminded of Mordecai due to the blue colour and he plays video games with Mordecai’s son Zack, but he would it funny that Johnny would turn his face red when he’s angry.

💜Bobby is full of energy and passion since he’s a purple gumball machine as he loves doing his schoolwork in maths and English before he goes to get his hands dirty with nature at the park. He does have a crush on Mordecai’s daughter Octavia and rather keep it as a secret, he loves to get himself drunk with hot wings when he’s off work but he enjoys being with his siblings dearly and helped mom with science before he plays ping-pong and tennis with his mom.

🩷Lilly is a special pink gumball machine as she has pink eyes and long brown hair like Rapunzel, she loves to spend time with Poppy as they are best friends since they were toddlers and she loves to study with books. Learning new things is her hobby along with drawing art and writing stories, she also enjoys playing with a guitar and piano with her siblings. But her face would turn red as well when she’s angry as she hates other kids bullying Poppy or her siblings. She can be stubborn sometimes but deep down, she’s a soft-spoken person who can be so kind to others.

@br333 @tr85n

[nichenarratives]

A Doggone Shame: Part 1

An Obscure Oneshot

Inspiration art by Tracy J Butler

It's a rarity Mordecai finds himself home before sunrise, so it is with great delight he's enjoying some time to himself that fine autumn evening in 1926. He'd made dinner - a warming and nostalgic Matzo ball soup, with enough for tomorrow - had a shower, made a hot cup of tea and had just settled into his favourite armchair to continue reading Soldier's Pay by William Faulkner when there's a hurried, desperate knock on his apartment door.

The monochrome tom glances up, stilled in place with book in hand and cup halfway to his lips. He's not expecting to be bothered. The Lackadaisy would still be in full swing, which would keep most everyone Mordecai knows occupied until gone three tomorrow morning. It's possible Atlas has sent someone to fetch him at the last minute, but Viktor would not knock so gently, nor not announce himself.

Another knock, this one faster, more urgent. Mordecai sets his teacup down on its saucer and closes the book without saving the page, placing it on the chair. Slippered steps are silent as he crosses the room, habitually drawing a pistol from within his dressing gown on the way. He's tense as he presses his body to the wall beside the door - not the wood, as it's too flimsy - and cranes his neck to peer through the peephole, expecting at least an enemy.

Familiar large, yellow eyes framed by a deep brown bob cut stare back. The black feline sighs, though he's unsure if it is out of relief or vexation, and slips his pistol away. Taking a breath, he composes himself once more before answering the door. "Miss Pepp-Urgh!"

There had been more to his greeting, some formalities and an honest query for her visit, but Mordecai can't help but recoil when he sees what Ivy holds; a mangy animal, beady black eyes and nose standing in sharp contrast to scruffy, white fur. The creature is small enough to fit in an austere lady's handbag, sharp, unkempt claws loosely grasping Ivy's sleeve as its ratty tail swings uselessly between its legs. 

A dog, he realises with disdain, scrunching his nose at the scent of slobber and damp fur. He takes a step back into his apartment and half-closes the door between them, as if the partial physical barrier might make it less revolting. Sadly, it does little. "Miss Pepper," he tries again, forgoing formality for precision. "Why is that… thing, outside my apartment?"

The girl puffs out her cheeks. "He's not a thing, he's a dog!"

Mordecai scowls at the creature, which seems to find joy in his discomfort; the thing wags its tail more intensely and in a fit of excitement, begins to squeak and struggle in Ivy's arms until unable to get free, begins frantically licking her chin. Ivy giggles and tries to block the slobbering tongue lashes with a hand, with very limited success. "Isn't he cute? I found him running about on campus, no collar or anything. He might be a stray!"

The very prospect of being slathered with dog germs makes Mordecai feel nauseous. He has no idea why anyone would willingly cohabit with such a beast, let alone allow it to share its microbiome so recklessly. Ivy has also pointedly avoided his questions. "If it's a stray," he asks carefully, choosing his words to evoke an accurate response. "Why bring it here? Why not transport the infernal thing straight to the pound-"

Ivy gasps and foregoes protecting her face from more licks to pointlessly cover the animal's ears with her free arm and hand. "Mordecai," she admonishes through grit teeth, yellow eyes wide and judgemental. "You can't be serious? They put strays down in the pound." She uncovers the dog's ears and snuggles him close, trapping its head under her chin. "I'm going to keep him! I just have to convince someone he'll be a great addition to the cafe!"

"Wonderful," the tuxedo tom cat answers flatly, ears laying flat and eyes narrowed with resignation. He doesn't want to run into this animal again, certainly not at his place of work. Unfortunately, given their unique brand of relationship, explaining as such would only encourage Miss May to keep the thing. He'll just have to pretend not to care. Starting now. "If that's all you wished to discuss, my tea is going cold. Good evening."

"Actually," the student interjects, even pressing a boot into the space between the door and frame before it can close, bringing the dog even closer while doing so. It's difficult for Mordecai not to hiss in discomfort at the renewed proximity. "I was hoping to ask a favour."

Green eyes fixed on the mongrel within inches of his pristine home, the statement snaps his gaze to wide, hopeful yellows. Ivy looks almost as pitiful as the animal she carries, gazing up at the man her Godfather would take everywhere like his personal shadow, batting her eyelashes and offering the soft smile that always works on Viktor.

He doesn't need to hear her question. "No."

"Come on, please?" The university student begs. Apparently still oblivious to his aversion, she holds it at arm's length towards Mordecai, forcing them within an inch of each other. Its tongue lolls absently, eyes devoid of intelligent thought, and its breath is faintly tainted with an unidentifiable stench. Mordecai grimaces. "It's just one night, and Atlas is so small! He won't get in the way or anything!"

Gingerly pushing her arms - and by extension, the dog - back into the hall, Mordecai snorts humourlessly. "Naming it after my employer does not garner additional sympathy for its wretched existence," the sharpshooter responds flatly. He feels like he needs another shower just being in the same building as the creature. "What on Earth led you to believe I would willingly shelter this creature at all?"

Her mouth twisting and brows knitting together, Ivy looks away. "Actually, I… you're kinda my last choice," she admits, holding Atlas tightly as he begins to whine and squirm anew. A few gentle pets calm him down, but her eyes water when their gazes lock once more."We're not allowed to keep pets in the dorms, so I asked Viktor and Freckle and even Miss May already if he could stay, but they were all yoo busy to talk tonight. I just need time to convince someone to keep him for a night or two while I convince Atlas to keep him. Please?"

Factoring in his own sacrifices and discomforts, Mordecai can see two possible outcomes to this request. First, he can refuse to assist and force her to take the dog to the pound. While this option would make his evening more pleasant, it could also incur negative affiliations with his character, of which he already has plenty. While unbothered by their perceptions, Atlas would likely find fault, something Mordecai does care to incur.

Alternatively, he could agree to house the glorified rat for a night or two, bolster his social standing with the few people he cares for the opinions of - namely, Atlas and Viktor, who are both fond of Miss Pepper - and garner appreciation from Ivy. Factoring in time to feed and clean up after the dog, it's a substantial and exhaustive alternative, but the potential benefits could outweigh the short-term detriments.

Despite the logical analysis, Mordecai feels like he's making a mistake when he sighs and opens his door wider again. "It can stay in the bathroom tonight," he concedes, but raises a stilling palm when Ivy begins to vibrate with excitement on the threshold. "A single night, Miss Pepper. I don't have the time nor patience to coddle the mongrel beyond that."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The young feline speaks as she steps inside, bouncing on her heels as she heads for the bathroom backwards, so she can continue talking to her newest benefactor as she goes. "I'll bring him some food in the morning and go straight to Miss May to talk about Atlas after! I promise, you won't even know he's here! We just have to set him up with some old blankets for a bed."

Dark ears fold back, already regretting his decision. He'd not considered the messier components of a dog staying in his apartment, having assumed it would sleep on the tiles. "I do not own any old blankets; they are of the finest-"

"That's okay, he won't mind!" Ivy deposits the small bundle of problems onto the tiled bathroom floor and pivots straight to the airing cupboard, opening it up and extracting a slew of pristine, carefully folded sheets. To the tuxedo's horror - and before he can object - said sheets are dumped onto the likely bacteria-ridden tiled floor next to the toilet. "There! It's perfect! Now, some newspapers."

Mordecai has yet to recover from his dirtied sheets, hackles raised and tail fluffed when he dares to ask as Ivy retreats into the living area: "Newspapers?"

"Of course!" She yells from the next room, a sifting of paper as she rifles through his magazine rack. Mordecai stares at the little dog sniffing around his bathroom and the bundle of sheets with great interest. Its nose creates an obnoxious, displeasing snort with every breath, like a wheezing vacuum cleaner in dire need of a filter change. "In case he needs to go potty!"

Ivy reappears with an arm full of old broadsheets just as this new information clicks into place. The tom turns on her with a sharpness that could dislocate a lesser man's neck, his disgust evident on his usually carefully modulated muzzle. "Potty-? No, he is not… relieving himself in my bathroom. He will have to refrain until morning."

The black feline glances back to see Atlas is making himself at home in his borrowed sheets, climbing all over them while his nose works overtime. Mordecai shudders, deciding that once this ordeal is over with, he'll burn them, just to be sure whatever contaminants the beast left behind are dealt with. Ivy seems less concerned as she kneels down and sets out a number of sheets of paper. "He's a dog, not a person. He can't just hold it until you take him out."

Sitting back on her haunches, the university student studies her handiwork with a look of satisfaction. "There!" She says, leaning over to scratch behind a flopping ear. Atlas tilts his head slightly into the attention and begins jerkily twitching a back leg, his tongue lolling stupidly from his drooling maw. Ivy giggles. "You're all set, little guy! Now, be good for Uncle Mordecai, okay. Of course you will! Yes, you will!"

Mordecai watches the pair exchange idiocies with a sense of dread. He feels foolish, for being so shortsighted with his expectations. What had seemed to be a simple favour has already evolved into discomfort in his own home. The oddly overly-affectionate farewell Ivy offers the dog only intensifies those feelings, though he can't pinpoint a distinct emotion to associate it with as she kisses it's revolting head and stands back up.

"Thank you so much!" She reiterates as she turns back to the older feline lingering in the bathroom doorway. To both his surprise and relief, Ivy seems to step toward him for a hug, only to reconsider and falter at the last moment. An awkward second of silence passes before she clears her throat and edges around him, towards the front door. "I really mean it. Thank you! You saved that dog's life, Mr Heller. I'll make sure Atlas knows what a good man you are! See you tomorrow!"

She lets herself out, and Mordecai finds himself alone with a panting mongrel, the warm scents of saliva and dog seeping into the air as they stare each other down. The tuxedo tom cat wrinkles his nose, takes a step back into the living room and closes the bathroom door with care, eliminating the new problem from his peaceful evening. One night, he reassures himself as settled back into his chair, book in hand and a sip of lukewarm tea, trying to relax. How difficult can a dog be?

[whatavery]

My part of an art trade with @goobygaba, featuring their OC Sylas and Mordecai Heller himself! I was told to freestyle it, so I decided to make a short compilation of moments between the two. It was a lot of fun writing this one and the last part is partially inspired by an art piece featuring the two.

Again, I'm so glad you liked it, Snail!

August 3rd 1927

Mordecai’s ear gave a slight flick in annoyance. The gambling tables were especially crowded and loud tonight. Even from across the Marigold Room, it was hard to ignore everything that was going on down there – clearly, someone was putting on a show. Standing on the upper level of the party room near where his boss was seated, Mordecai’s green eyes surveyed the scene from afar. The sizable crowd would have blocked his view had he been there in person. Even with the live band music, the gambling table seemed to be the loudest source of noise in the Marigold room.

“Have a seat, Mr. Heller; people are going to mistake you for an ornament, if you keep standing around like that!” Mr. Sweet told him, before he chortled. It had to be the third time or so tonight alone that he’d asked him to sit with him and his guests.

“I’ll stand per usual, Mr. Sweet,” the tuxedo cat simply replied, not averting his gaze from the gambling table, quietly observing.

“Oh, fancy yourself a game of cards, kid?” The older cat seemed to finally have noticed where Mordecai's attention was directed. He chuckled, apparently finding the idea of Mordecai playing cards quite amusing.

“No, I most certainly don’t,” he told his boss, shooting him a rather contemptuous look. Mordecai may be many things, but a gambler was not one of them. He watched as Mr. Sweet pushed his chair out from the table and stood up. Mr. Sweet was a stoutly built man and quite tall as well, and he carried quite a presence wherever he went within the walls of the Maribel Hotel.

“Well, gentlemen, perhaps we should go have a look – I think I know who's putting on a show,” Mr. Sweet told the other guests around the table, though not many of them seemed to be quite as interested as he was. Mordecai sighed inwardly and followed his boss. He hadn't the slightest clue who would be entertaining a crowd like that. His most immediate thought was the Savoys, but he didn’t recall ever seeing them draw people to them like that.

In the main party room, Mr. Sweet guided Mordecai and the rest of the party towards the gambling tables. The craps tables looked downright empty next to the tables where people were playing cards, but even despite still being occupied.

Mordecai flinched when Mr. Sweet grabbed his shoulder and guided him forward through the crowd to watch. “Ah, Sylas! How’s it going, kid? Hope you're remembering to go easy on our patrons!”

Ears giving an irate flick, Mordecai looked upon the three players. The one Mr. Sweet seemed to address looked to be around Mordecai's age. His fur was dark brown with darker accents on his fingers, ears and in the form of dots under his orange eyes. However, what Mordecai took note of immediately was his state of dress.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Mr. Sweet? If they ain’t holding back, I won’t either!” Sylas was dressed in a way Mordecai wouldn't call up to code, far from it; white shirt, black vest with vertical gray pin stripes and a pair of black pants. The dark-furred cat’s white dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it wasn't very neatly done – very asymmetrically done, in fact. And on top of that, quite a few of the top buttons of that white shirt were undone, showing the dark cat’s chest fluff. Mordecai scoffed quietly.

“Does he work for us?” Mordecai asked with mounting dislike as he looked over his spectacles at the other cat. He turned to look at Mr. Sweet, who grinned at him.

“Sure does. He’s one hell of a card player. Almost as good at playing cards as he is at his job,” the older cat told Mordecai vaguely. Mordecai raised a white eyebrow, staring at Mr. Sweet, clearly awaiting elaboration. Mr. Sweet smirked and lit a cigar in the midst of the crowd and when he saw the look of dislike on Mordecai's face, he only seemed to smirk more. “Oh, you want to know what he does… why don’t I introduce the two of you?”

“Please don’t-”

“Hey, Sylas, I need to speak with you once you’re done here!” Mr. Sweet called loudly before Mordecai could stop him. Laying his ears back in annoyance, Mordecai inwardly groaned and knew that he was in for another unpleasant meeting with some other crazed Marigold employee. As if the Savoys weren't hard enough to deal with…

When Sylas eventually finished his game, Mordecai couldn’t help but notice how much he was playing to the crowd; loudly bidding the people at the table farewell, wishing them better luck next time and he even bowed once he'd left the table. The sight alone made Mordecai frown.

“Ah, gentlemen, sorry for the wait,” Sylas greeted the two, grinning at the two. Mr. Sweet returned the grin and put his hand on Mordecai's shoulder yet again to guide him forward against his will.

“Evening, kid. This here’s Mordecai Heller – said he really wanted to meet you.” Mordecai cast a startled look at the taller, older cat, who just grinned. “Well, you kids play nice – show him your collection sometime, yeah?”

Mordecai looked at Sylas again, taking a glance up and down the other cat once more. Sylas likewise fixed Mordecai with a curious glance as he approached with strong, confident strides, holding out a dark-furred hand for Mordecai to shake. He did so reluctantly, which earned him another curious glance.

“A pleasure,” Mordecai said, tone flat and formal, meeting the orange eyes with his own green ones.

“A pleasure it is,” Sylas agreed with a smirk. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you – your reputation precedes you, Mr. Heller. I heard you’re real handy with a hatchet.”

Mordecai was left in silence for a moment as he stared at the other cat. His gaze then turned to Mr. Sweet, squinting at him. He sighed and shook his head when he saw the look on Mr. Sweet’s face. “Of course…”

“Yeah, he usually prefers guns, but I’m sure he could learn a thing or two from you,” the older cat said with a chuckle as he nudged Mordecai with his elbow. “How about I leave you kids alone to talk? You’re already getting along swimmingly well.”

“Sure, we’ll talk!” Sylas loudly announced before Mordecai could excuse himself and leave. Mr. Sweet chortled and walked away to rejoin his guests, leaving the two alone in the middle of the party room. The crowd had dispersed quite noticeably by now, spread between the card tables and the craps tables.

“Please, don’t mind Mr. Sweet, he just likes to… kid around,” Mordecai told Sylas, hoping he might have a chance to get out of this arrangement. He wasn't at all sure just how familiar Sylas was with Mr. Sweet’s antics, however.

“Oh, but I did want to talk,” the other cat nonchalantly noted with a shrug. “Let’s go sit over… there.”

Much to Mordecai's dismay, he looked towards the bar when Sylas waved towards it. He frowned. “Well, if you insist…”

September 7th 1927

“You fool… what were you thinking? Were you thinking at all? No, you stay down there.” Sylas had tried sitting up, Mordecai forcing him back down onto the bed. The sheets around him weren't exactly clean, far from it. Blood stained the otherwise clean, white fabric here and there, though Mordecai couldn’t exactly change the sheets, even if he wanted to – not without getting Sylas out of bed.

“Hey, I don’t question how you do your job-” Sylas began, but as he tried to get up again, he grunted and gave up, laying back down. He supposed he deserved it. “Ow… Alright, no, I’m staying down…”

It had been a work-related accident for Sylas and he knew he had been the cause of it himself. A moment’s carelessness had led to him getting shot. Sylas knew going on these jobs wasn't all fun and games, but he supposed he'd been over-confident as he made to finish off a target, only for them to pull a gun on him. Being a hatchet man wasn't an easy job, far from it.

“Why do you have a fixation on these things anyway?” Mordecai almost spat the words as he held up one of Sylas’ knives with two fingers, as if he'd rather not touch it. Mordecai looked at the small bladed weapon with mounting dislike. After putting it down on the nightstand, he looked back at Sylas. “They’re a liability, obviously.”

It was true that Sylas fancied knives – hell, he'd even go so far as to say he preferred knives and would pick them over guns any day. He had to admit that the fact that they best in close quarters with his targets was their main downside, but usually Sylas was careful. Usually.

“Wait, what time is it?” Mordecai raised an eyebrow at this as he wiped his hands clean with a cloth, but nevertheless he checked his pocket watch.

“It’s… nearly 1,” he told Sylas. He fixed Sylas with a curious look again as he put his pocket watch away. “Why?”

“To think that I’ll be spending my birthday injured… tsk, tsk, tsk… what a pity, eh?” Mordecai stared at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Sylas smirked up at him, finding the reaction rather amusing. When Mordecai stared at him like that, Sylas offered a wink. “What? I had plans – am I not allowed to be sad about having to cancel those?”

“I-… I’m just astounded that you got shot and that’s what you’re thinking about after getting stitched up,” the tuxedo cat said, frowning. He shook his head. “Well, you need bed rest – maybe some day I’ll have to teach you to use guns instead.”

Sylas raised both eyebrows in surprise and grinned. “Oh, really now? How very generous of you. You gonna have your arms around me while you teach me?”

Seeing the stunned look on Mordecai's face made Sylas laugh, though he had to stop as his injuries didn’t make laughing a very fun activity. Sylas swore under his breath.

“I can’t tell if your… attitude is admirable or appalling,” the black cat noted, shaking his head, before removing his glasses with one hand, rubbing his face with the other, he sighed. “Just get some rest, I need to go inform Mr. Sweet of this development.”

“Well, good thing we still got the job done, eh? You have a good night, Mr. Heller – hope to see you soon. I wouldn’t mind some company tomorrow. Well, later today…” Mordecai shot Sylas a look as he crossed to the door of the hotel room. Sylas winked at him and Mordecai sighed.

“I’ll… be about. I’ll inform Mr. Sweet what room you’re staying in… Hmmm… Goodnight…” Mordecai said, before he moved to the door, leaving Sylas by himself for the night. Sylas laid back on the luxuriously soft bed and sighed.

It wasn’t ideal, no, but at the very least he hadn’t been alone. Mordecai had proven to be an asset to have near. Sylas had incapacitated the target with the fling of a knife. He'd seen them drop their gun, but Sylas hadn't counted on them pulling out a second gun when he approached to finish the job. The pain of getting shot was one he wouldn't forget soon, only comparable to the pain and discomfort of the following treatment.

He had to say, even if he didn’t seem to care on a personal level, Mordecai had been a great help; he'd brought Sylas to the Maribel immediately and called a doctor. Sure, it was… unusual, but this hardly seemed to be the first time Mordecai had gone through with an arrangement of this nature. It was just a part of their line of work.

Having Mordecai along on the job was quite pleasant. He was a quiet, yet strangely comforting presence. And what made Sylas smile was the fact that Mordecai more than likely didn’t even realize this.

October 31st 1927

“Oh, Mr. Heller! Or is it Count Heller tonight? Count… Hellercula?” Sylas couldn’t help but grin when he saw the rather annoyed look on the tuxedo cat’s face as he approached him. Truth be told, he hadn't taken Mordecai for the type to dress up, but seeing him in a puffy white shirt, an orange vest and a black cloak with a high collar was a sight to behold. A sight that had made Sylas smile.

“Good evening…” Mordecai said rather stiffly. “I can assure you that if Mr. Sweet didn’t ask me to, I wouldn’t-”

“A shame… it’s fun dressing up, isn’t it?” Sylas asked, cutting in as he moved in on Mordecai. The black cat stood with his hands crossed over his lap as Sylas leaned on his shoulder with his arm. The black cat’s ear gave a twitch. “See? This is fun.”

“This is ridiculous,” Mordecai replied, frowning.

The Marigold Room was fully decorated for the occasion, fake bats hanging from the ceiling, jack-o-lanterns situated in the center of the tables, alongside rather unorthodox decorations such as chains, fake cobweb and what was (most likely) fake bones. Just about every party-goer was dressed up too; if not in full-on costumes, most of them stuck to the color scheme of orange and black.

Sylas had spotted quite a few women dressed as witches, a few men wearing masks, though Mordecai was the only vampire present – at least the only one Sylas had noticed.

Snickering, Sylas rolled his eyes. “Well, I think you make a lovely vampire.”

Mordecai looked Sylas up and down briefly, eyes scanning his form. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a werewolf, isn’t it obvious?” Truth be told, it likely wasn't obvious, but Sylas felt good about his getup. The brown cat wore a pair of black, pin-striped pants, a white shirt and an orange jacket. His feet were bare and around his wrists and his neck, he wore shiny metallic cuffs with chain links on them. And of course, all his clothes looked torn, especially the knees of his pants and the hem of his shirt and jacket.

Mordecai squinted at Sylas. “You just fell into a thorn bush. Am I correct?”

Oh, a killjoy as usual. Side-eyeing Mordecai, Sylas grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hatchet boy…”

Sylas offered Mordecai a wink of his orange eyes and let out a soft chuckle as the black cat looked anything but amused. He frowned and gave a low sigh. “Well, I see you’re walking around just fine. I take it your wounds have healed?”

“They have, wanna see?” Sylas burst out laughing when he saw the look on Mordecai's face. “Oh, ease up, Mr. Heller. As a matter of fact, how about we go get a drink?”

“You’re welcome to get a drink – I’m not drinking, however,” Mordecai said. To Sylas’ surprise, the monochromatic cat still walked with him towards the bar. He could feel Mordecai's eyes on him as that emerald gaze scanned his form. He knew Mordecai was looking for signs of weakness, signs that he hadn't fully healed.

“I’m fine, Mr. Heller, seriously – I’m alright,” Sylas told him, turning to grin at him. “But your concern is very sweet.”

Mordecai didn’t seem to have a rebuttal to this comment as he silently walked with Sylas to the bar. Taking a seat, Sylas patted the stool beside his own before Mordecai joined him. He seemed hesitant, but the fact that Mordecai had chosen to sit with him despite his hesitation told Sylas all he needed to know.

“One Sidecar, please!” Sylas loudly told the bartender. As he put his hands on the counter, the metallic chains on his cuffs rattled slightly against the wooden surface. Orange eyes settled on Mordecai as Sylas smiled. “And you, Mr. Heller?”

The white-furred bartender cast a curious look in Mordecai's direction, offering a polite smile. When Mordecai said nothing, Sylas gently nudged him with his elbow. He gave an annoyed grunt, ears giving a flick. “Whatever doesn’t have alcohol in it…”

“Slip him a club soda – with one of those little paper umbrellas in it,” Sylas told the bartender, smiling at Mordecai who looked progressively annoyed. And yet he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. As the bartender set about preparing their drinks, Sylas turned back to face Mordecai. “So… you're not going to run off tonight, are you? You're just here for the party, right?”

“I suppose I am… No jobs tonight,” Mordecai replied, tone exasperated as though he wished he would get called away at any moment. Mordecai's order was finished first, the tuxedo cat staring at the clear, carbonated drink in the tall glass. His eyes settled on the bright orange paper umbrella, which looked quite out of place.

“So you’re all mine tonight, eh? Lucky, lucky me…” Sylas winked at Mordecai yet again, before Mordecai turned to raise his drink, sipping from the straw. It clearly wasn't what he'd normally drink, but as he watched him sip, Sylas just leaned back against the counter as he pulled out one of his knives.

Both Mordecai and the bartender fixed him with very cautious looks. “Do you ever not have one of those on you?”

“I don’t know,” Sylas responded in a snarky tone, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever not have a gun on you?”

Mordecai had recoiled visibly when Sylas had gestured towards him with his knife, making the brown cat grin. Mordecai scowled at him as the Sidecar was pushed towards Sylas, who eagerly took a big sip. “Fair point… but you don’t see me playing with it every chance I get…”

Sylas offered a shrug as he twirled the knife about in a way that made the bartender flinch. He certainly did make sure to move to the other end of the bar for the time being. When his and Mordecai's eyes met again, Sylas looked quite pleased. “Do you dance, Mr. Heller?”

“… No.” Mordecai squinted at Sylas. “Don’t get any ideas, I’m not going out there.”

The brown cat glanced towards the stage where a band was playing, not an uncommon sight, though they had similarly dressed in orange for tonight. Sylas chuckled lightly. “A shame, you look like you have the frame of a dancer. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action. Sure you don’t wanna dance?”

Mordecai nearly choked on his soda as he took yet another sip of it, Sylas bursting out into laughter as he nearly dropped his knife. Mordecai coughed lightly and Sylas patted him on the back to try and help him out. “Easy, easy. Don’t worry, Mr. Heller, I can take a hint – if my ego was smaller I’d be hurt by that.”

Sylas turned back to his own drink and finally put his knife away. When he looked at Mordecai again, the tuxedo cat glared at him, a sight that wasn't too unfamiliar, though it always did make Sylas grin. Knowing that he could get that much of a reaction out of Mordecai was in itself amusing to Sylas – to him it was a sign that he knew Mordecai well enough to push his buttons.

“But in all seriousness… I’m glad Mr. Sweet introduced us – you’re really quite a cutup.” Sylas didn’t know anyone else whod describe Mordecai as a cutup, but he liked to describe him as such. He was certainly a very unique man.

Sylas held up his glass to toast with Mordecai, though the black cat seemed less than willing to do so. Sylas smirked. “Here’s to more jobs without injuries…?”

“To fewer injuries,” Mordecai agreed, finally raising his glass to gently bump it against Sylas’. As the two drank together, their eyes met, the orange fixated on the green. Sylas couldn’t help but look and feel pleased with himself. He felt like he was making progress with Mordecai, even if there was still so much about the tuxedo cat he didn’t know yet. He just saw it as a challenge to get closer, seeing as he never did turn him away completely. Mordecai Heller sure was an alluring man…

[licially]

Surprise! (Somewhat angst.)

// I'm not sorry for this @wpk12art, this is another one hour practice. // slight TW for blood and gore mention.

She stopped.

Halina straddled into the rain, the stormy weather that loomed overhead was about to give in, and no matter what she did she had wanted to meet Mordecai back at this parked car from the road: the usual Marigold car, headlights beaming at the two targets they had both put a bullet through and a third that escaped down the ditch and through the maze of a nearby cornfield. Mordecai had pursued him through it, and left Halina to fend the company car in case of any trouble.

Normally, a triggerman with a tenacity for killing such as Mordecai would be done in about three minutes, or even five minutes if the target proved too evasive. The case remained the same ever since Halina got recruited into Marigold, and it has been the status quo of the duo. 

Yet tonight it seemed an anomaly had appeared, with Mordecai having disappeared for 15 minutes straight with no signs of anything that could prove he’s done the job, such as a grunt, a gunshot, or him appearing to have teleported back into the position he was at. In this case, the company car.

Halina stopped walking around the car in what seemed to be a daze: she felt zoned out by the current situation, and had hopes of him being back about five to six minutes ago. Now she’s killing time for that to be faster, not noticing that too much time had passed already.

Halina stopped to check her pocket watch, it struck 16 minutes past midnight.

She felt ever so frail: once in her life she’d never feel this sort of frailty.

A tiny yet growing bubble of anxiety quickly overtook her, as she faced the direction of the cornfield past the ditch that they were about to dump the bodies over. 

They were tasked to handle three “leeches that backpacked most of the money” and they could “leave them to rot”, and so they were subconsciously selected by Asa to finish the job. Given how they were in Marigold, it was best for Mordecai and Halina to be arranged for this blatant betrayal against the company.

17 minutes passed.

Halina, now a little more frightened than she needed to be, scavenged a nearby handgun from the dead body. A clean decapitation, done almost flawlessly, but only if there weren't some arteries still stuck on her ax that she could have scavenged it. However, evidence is still evidence, and as she did pick up the imported gun: a Browning Model 1922, somehow brought over here, she rushed back out into the wilderness and unpredictability.

18 minutes.

She first ran through the established routes within the maze, footprints that littered the beaten path as she closely kept an eye beneath her, before the trail eventually led to a dead end.

Her eyes, now lifted off of its dead calm, sprouted and bursted into emotions.

The bubble of anxiety soon rivaled her usual state of calm, as she retraced her steps back out onto an intersection. She deduced that there may be conflicting steps as this last person was known to be the most proficient at maintaining stamina, and could have also outran Mordecai on several occasions. His strong suit wasn’t limited to marksmanship and trigger discipline, but for a night like this it didn’t make sense.

Why could he not shoot the target before it could have outrun him?

Was it purely because of ammo management or was it a practice, just like all he did during these missions?

She didn’t want to distract herself from the main question.

For the first time, as she ran back through the previous path, she had felt it.

Fear.

Fear that there was something else that was unaccounted for prior.

A fear that slowly rose with every passing minute.

A-third of the hour now wasted.

She stopped dead in her tracks. She did so, catching up with her own breath, when a glint caught the corner of her eyes. In the shadows, leaning against another body, and across sporadically littered items laid Mordecai Heller.

Her dormant and idly body now felt puppet-like as she rushed over to be on his side.

She didn’t have a light, nor was there enough light to make aware of the situation: was an ambush in plain sight waiting for her to pull it from that state? Was that body behind it still alive? 

No matter, she aimed directly at the background and pulled the trigger.

One shot, two shots, and three shots threw the dead of night into a stir.

A homogenous mixture of silence threw off balance.

22 minutes.

She kneeled beside him, an irreality dawned back onto her once again.

The broken pince-nez, the M1911 that laid strawn towards the ground, blood soaked suit that served as a bed for him, and–

Mordecai Heller, an unstoppable force,

Stopped.

[showtoonzfan]

Honestly not every person of a race needs to sound a certain way I know like two black ladies who sound white as hell I was surprised when I seen one of them in person it's rare but it happens just like some white people sound black also rare sorry if it sounds rude text is a bitch when it comes to tone sometimes

I think it suits Alastor I know you don't blame Bosco but yeah I say just keep his ass white because that's what he comes across as 😂 but honestly that cat doesn't look black either he just sounds it if he's black make him a brown or black cat to make it obvious and idk why but Mordecai is it? He gives me Asian vibes but I highly doubt he is IF they're supposed to be of any race let me know if you know

It’s okay, you don’t sound rude. Here are my thoughts. For me personally, I give Viv more flack when it comes to designing her characters (in this case her POC characters) because despite these characters being demons, her style is very humanoid, meaning she clearly has the power to change the hair style and make it look more like the race of the person. This would be a different story if her demon characters were like…blobs or big monster types but most of them (especially the main cast) aren’t, and we end up having Alastor’s Karen haircut, and Velvet’s standard boring hair, when it’s easy as hell to give them different styles, it wouldn’t change a thing. It’s different with Lackadaisy because……they are cats after all, you can’t make animals a race, which is why people use the term “black coded” instead, for characters that can’t be a race. I revert back to what I said before, why not give Alastor a POC voice actor? Even if he does come across as white, his character clearly isn’t, and it really isn’t that hard to get a POC person and perform an accent, so we can get a sense of where he’s from and what heritage…..again….representation is important.

And yeah, you’re right, not every person of a race needs to sound a certain way but like….if Viv went out of her way to establish that Alastor has the voice of an old 1920’s radio, WHILE also saying he’s mixed French creole and from New Orleans in the 20’s, I’d expect him to have more flair than just a Caucasian voice with an Atlantic accent. But again, that is just me.