#[gentlemen. and claptrap]

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Max: It's pride month, everybody! You know what that means!

Ash: Do you want us to play like... gay poker?

[r-k800]

My wonderful statue collection finally got widowmaker in yesterday and my boyfriend had to go away for a week for training for work and he brought me home Moxxi!!!!

[oursklpper]

x. @heedingcalls​ intel .x: Don’t mind Kitty, Skipper! The tiny mouse pads her way over to him and then squints, as if annoyed. She leaves, only to return by pushing a phone book over to the penguin’s side. Oof. Thing’s heavy! Kitty catches her breath then pulls herself up to a stand on top of the book. There. Now she’s closer to him! The mouse gives a hop and presses a little, quick kiss to the side of his beak. .... What? Too much for one, little smooch? Maybe. But Kitty hopes that Skipper won’t mind.

Skipper had been off on a tangent, just running through a (not so brief) briefing with his soldiers. The important information had spilled from his beak long ago. The rest of it was just pure unadulterated claptrap. This penguin likes having the authority to be listened to that much is clear. But he could never anticipate the petite mouse storming up to him, her eyes narrowed in what seemed to be frustration. She leaves and he almost loses words to speak, he caught her in his peripheral and it doesn’t help that his subordinates are just gawping at the beautiful mouse that has came to their home. They look between each other when she leaves. Perhaps there was some drama between their leader and his lady friend?

And when she pulls up the yellow pages book, he half expects her to bop him on the head with it. Had he forgotten a crucial event?! It wasn’t Valentine's day it was the middle of May? So what then?!

His boys just stand to attention, looking awkward and not knowing what to do with themselves. Meanwhile there is a blush warming Skipper’s cheeks beneath those feathers. That beak of his contorts into a grin at the corners when he maw meet the side of his beak. 

❛ Excuse me, gentlemen. ❜ He dismisses his men, with a dry cough. He takes her paw into his flippers in an attempt to carry her out of there. Well that was the plan to carry her bridle style to somewhere where the two of them could flirt a little more but who knows? She will probably throw him over her head as always. Kitty is unpredictable that’s what he loves about her. 

[fic-xation]

First of Many

During a night of cards at the Inventory, Sam recounts the events leading up to his and Max’s first wedding.

Archive

“Soooo... Can I ask you guys a question?"

Brock and Ash exchanged an eye roll.

Claptrap ALWAYS seemed to have a question in regards to Sam and Max.

"Shoot." Sam said with a shrug, tossing a pair of chips towards the center. He never minded the little unicycle-dumpster-fire's innate lack of tact. In fact, he found a lot of Claptrap's mannerisms similar to Max's. The high-pitched voice, the manic eccentricity, the endearing vulgarity...

'... God Lord, do I have a type?' he suddenly thought.

"... What exactly ARE you guys?" Claptrap asked, his processed voice cutting through Sam's somewhat horrific epiphany. Sam, giving his head a stirring little shake, looked towards Claptrap curiously.

"... Like... our species?" he paused, before shrugging. "Well, as far as I know, I'm just your run-of-the-mill anthropomorphic Irish Greyhound. Max, on the other hand-"

"No, no." Claptrap gave his claw dismissively. "I mean, like, your relationship. Are you guys just friends, or dating, or nerf-buddies, or...?" he trailed off, visibly cowering under Brock's disapproving glare.

"Knock it off, Johnny Five, that ain't our business to know."

Claptrap's light flared up almost at once.

"Oh-!" he seethed. "Don't go givin' me that 'holier-than-thou' crap!" Angrily, his lens flitted between Brock and Ash. "We were ALL thinkin' it!"

Sam's brows shot up.

"... Really? ALL of you? ... Even GlaDOS?" he gestured towards the ceiling, and, as if on cue, the ivory skeletal frame of the Aperture AI lowered herself to the table.

"~Quite frankly, I don't really care one way or another.~" she chimed, her yellow sensor unnervingly affixed to Sam's face. "~But even I have to admit, you fail to follow the standard routine of a normal mammalian courtship... But then again, you two are not normal mammals, so I suppose it's just as well...~"

And with one graceful bow, she slid back up towards the ceiling.

"... Gee-" Max said, at long last looking over from his usual booth. "I didn't realize our personal life was such a hot button issue."

Ash leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "... Well, can ya blame us? You two are about as inseparable as me n' my chainsaw. Ordinarily, I'd just say you were real good buddies, but..." he shrugged. "I dunno, it's hard to tell with you whackos."

Sam, somewhat hot under the collar, readjusted his tie.

"... Well, since the whole room seems compelled to put me on the spot, I may as well say it." He glanced over his shoulder, briefly sharing a reaffirming smile with Max. "... Max and I are recently divorced."

... If if it weren't for the soft ambience of smooth jazz, one could've heard a pin drop.

Finally, after a prolonged moment of flabbergasted stares, Brock was the first to speak, carefully keeping his eyes to the minuscule font of his cigarette pack.

"... I'm, uh... I'm sor-"

"WHAT THE #@*&?!" Claptrap screeched, standing up against his wheel. "YOU TWO WERE MARRIED?! LIKE... LEGALLY?! IN FRONT OF GOD?! ... AND THEN YOU JUST... BROKE UP?! BUT YOU'RE STILL FRIENDS?! ... Not to indulge in a harmful stereotype towards robots, but... DOES NOT COMPUTE, MAN! DOES. NOT. FREAKIN'. COMPUTE!"

He then fell back against his chair, his servos evidently spinning.

"... Subtle." Ash quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast. Sam, however, looked confused.

"Broke up? ... What're you talking about? Max and I haven't broken up; we're just as in love now as we've ever been."

"We're just not married." Max continued, hopping up onto Sam's lap. He'd ultimately grown bored at listening in from a distance. Besides, these bozos were finally discussing a worthwhile subject... Him and Sam!

Now it was the table's turn to look confused. Once again, Brock's voice came first.

"... Okaaaaay, ya lost me."

"It's not that complicated, really." Sam said, offering the trio a bemused little smile. "See, every so often, Max and I get a divorce just so we can experience the pleasure of marrying each other all over again."

"Like buyin' a new pair of shoes once the old ones wear out!" Max piped up.

"Or, at least, that's what we ASSUME buying shoes is like." Sam added, helping himself to a sip of root beer.

Another bewildered silence fell over the room.

"... Wait, so-" Ash leaned his elbows against his table, pointedly staring towards the odd couple. "... Exactly how often does this happen?"

"Oh, we're on marriage number twelve now, actually." Sam beamed, seemingly oblivious to the stupefied silence over the remaining players.

Claptrap's lens fidgeted uneasily. "... That's like... romantic, bordering on masochism..."

"Ro-Masochism." Ash offered.

"... Okay, so-" Brock smothered the end of his cigarette against an ash tray. "I can understand wantin' to marry the same person over and over again-"

"Really?" Claptrap glanced over.

"... Well, not really, but I can humor 'em." he shrugged. "... No, what I don't get is, why go to all that trouble? ... Repeatedly, no less. I mean... wouldn't it be easier just to renew your vows and leave it at that?"

"Yeah, we don't believe in that baloney." Max scoffed, folding up Sam's cards into an origami swan. "I mean, what's the point in setting up a fake wedding if you're ALREADY married? It's a total sham."

"A disgrace to the sacred institute." Sam added solemnly.

"Here-Here!" Max proclaimed, shooting the paper swan towards Ash. He caught it almost at once, crushing it between his metallic fist, and dropping it to the floor.

"... Well, I guess I fold." Sam said, scratching his ear. "Pun not intended, of course."

Max rolled his eyes. "Liar."

"So... wait-" Ash held up his hand, drawing the conversation back on track. "Just how the hell can you n' Thumper afford eleven consecutive weddings? I'll admit, my experience with this sorta thing is limited-"

"Yeah-!" Claptrap broke in. "His last fiance wasn't exactly top-shelf material!"

"... In ANY case-" Ash continued through gritted teeth, as Brock slammed his steely fist against the robot's flat top. "Doesn't all that ceremony get pretty expensive after a while?"

"Not at all," Sam said, watching as Claptrap clattered to the floor like an oversized soup can. "Ya just gotta know how to economize."

"We're good friends with the president," Max said, absentmindedly picking at his nose. "And I'M a registered Minister, according to Nebraska. So, we never have to bother with hiring an officiant."

"Not to mention, we get most of our essentials from Bingo's Birthday Bonanza." Sam added. "Balloons, cups, goodies bags-"

"And of COURSE, the cake!" Max bounced a little at the thought. "Last year, it had a dinosaur motif. THIS time, though, I'm thinkin' more... Race car. What do YOU think, Sam?"

"Can't think of a reason NOT to," Sam smiled, tenderly setting his hand between Max's ears.

Brock scratched at his nose. "... So, basically, this whole routine is just an excuse to throw multiple parties in which you two knuckleheads are the centerpiece."

Sam and Max exchanged a look.

"More or less," Sam shrugged.

"Isn't that just a wedding is, though?" Max asked.

Brock had no choice but to chuckle, shaking his head lightly. "Touche."

"Ooh!" piped Claptrap, as he awkwardly clambered back onto his chair. "Here's a question for ya! You two got this whole crazy-train system down to a science... but what about your first run-through, huh? How'd THAT go down?"

"... What, our first wedding, you mean?" Sam asked, a little surprised.

"Hey, yeah!" Ash nodded. "Knowin' you two, that must've been nuts..."

"More importantly, who asked first?" Brock shot Sam a slight smirk. "My money's on ol' Rover Romeo over here."

Sam suddenly gave an embarrassed sort of laugh, shyly averting the table's curious eyes as he turned his muzzle to the side.

"... Well, it's, uh... It's actually a funny story..."

"Oh!" Max clapped his hands together excitedly, glancing up towards Sam. "Can I tell 'em, Sam? Can I, can I, can I?"

Sam paused, before easing back against his chair with a soft smile.

"Sure, buddy. Knock yourself out."

Squealing in delight, Max took to the center of the table, clearing his throat theatrically.

"... Well... it all began on a dark and stormy night..."

 ~~

The rain lashed the ancient cobblestones of our victorian manor like the cruel tongue of an unforgiving governess. I, clad in nothing more than my scandalously sheer negligee, sat alone in my bed chamber, coyly plucking at my harp like a fluffy siren of yore. There was a CRASH of lightning, when suddenly, my door FLEW open with enough force to rattle the chandelier! I gasped, retreating to my bedspread in an effort to save my modesty, but Sam strolled in all the same, beads of rain still fresh against his unkempt fur.

"Max-!" he cried. "I can't STAND it any longer! Your tender touch, your delicate fur, and the THROBBING of your MASSIVE-"

~~

Sam's hat came down like a burlap sack over Max's head, silencing him almost at once.

"... You'll have to forgive my associate." Sam mumbled, shades of red visibly peering through his fur as he dragged Max back towards his lap. "... He, uh... He's been taking some creative writing classes as of late."

"No kidding!" Claptrap announced, ever the enthusiast. "If I had a stomach, I'd be barfing it inside out!"

"... Yeah, that was..." Ash squirmed slightly.

"Gross." Brock concluded.

"... I was gonna say HEART, in case anyone was wondering!" Max shouted, slightly muffled through the material of Sam's stretched-out cap. "... Sheesh, people, get your minds outta the gutter!"

"How's about you let ME tell the story, buddy?" Sam said gently, finally freeing Max from the hat's pincer grip. He gasped for air only once, before shrugging.

"Eh, works for me. That was only a first draft, anyway."

"Much obliged." Sam turned to address the table. "So! You gentlemen ready to enter a proper flashback?"

"Hold it-" Brock held up a hand, stone faced. "Will there be any mention of the word 'negligee?'"

"... Not that I can recall." Sam said, quite honestly.

"Alright then." Brock lit the end of his cigarette. "Continue."

"... Well-" Sam gave the ceiling a ponderous glance, leaning his chair against its back two legs. "... I suppose the the REAL story starts with us cowering behind a tire pile in the city dump."

"And we're startin' off strong!" Max grinned.

~~ "I can't believe that innocent toxic waste mutated New York's over abundance of garbage into a monsterous, (yet vaguely effeminate,) shape!" Sam exclaimed, checking his gun for any remaining ammo.

"Ooh, lovely exposition Sam!" Max said,  his back to the rubber wheeled wall. "I just can't believe she wants ME to be her King of Crap! ... Why ME of all people?

"Could be your smell," Sam proposed, cocking the cylinder back into place. "Second only to her, you're the foulest thing in New York."

"... Saaa-aaam..." giggled Max, coyly cupping his hands to his face. "How am I suppose to concentrate on a life or death situation if you keep flirtin' with me?"

Sam felt himself flush slightly.

Why were Max's obvious jokes beginning to rub him the wrong way?

Suddenly, Max's ears began to twitch. Dropping the act, he hurriedly peered out from behind the mountain of discarded tires.

"She's comin' back!" he hissed.

Instinctively, Sam threw his arm around the rabbit as if shielding him from a bomb, and the two promptly ducked.

The putrid air of the city dump was suddenly made even worse, as the mucilaginous form of the twelve-foot garbage wench (or 'beldump,' as Max'd taken to calling her,) slithered by like a slug. She then paused, raising her misshapen head, as her divot-nostrils curiously flexed at the air.

Wordlessly, Sam threw both arms around Max, drawing him to his core as if suddenly desperate for a hug. Max, more than surprised, was thrown against his partner's chest like a ragdoll.

... His sensitive ears picked up the heavy hammer of Sam's distressed pulse, while the full weight of his heavy arms squeezed against Max's back...

Max, in spite of his best efforts, felt an odd warmth rise against his cheeks.

The beldump, with a disappointed sort of grumble, soon began to meander away.

Sam sighed, slowly loosening his grip on Max.

"... S-sorry..." he breathed, wiping at his forehead. "... I, uh... I had to hide your scent-"

"G-gee, Sam-!" Max broke in, smiling frantically. "... i-if ya wanted to cuddle, all ya had to do was ask!"

He laughed, though it was a far cry from his typical mischievous titter.

Sam's brow furrowed. "... Are you blushing?"

Max's ears shot up like corn stalks.

"... N-no!" he seethed, suddenly anxious to get away. "... It's... it's your stupid cologne! ... It's givin' me a rash!"

'Funny, considering I don't even WEAR cologne,' Sam was about to point out, when an idea suddenly came to mind. He quickly began to loosen his tie, before slipping off his jacket

Max's "rash" only worsened. "S-Sam, what're you- oof!"

Sam slapped his hat between Max's ears.

"This'll mask your smell." he said, affixing his loose-fitting tie to Max's throat. "Or, at the very least, it'll buy me some time to lure the beldump away."

He gently drew his jacket around Max's shoulders like a blanket, before plucking out a small tuft of fur. Max winced.

"Hey!"

"This should be adequate bait."

Gently holding the lock between his fingers, Sam stood up, and carefully surveyed the landscape.

"... Okay, lil' buddy. You just hunker down here 'till I get back."

Max's face suddenly dawned with distraught realization.

"... You're leaving me?"

Sam looked down. Underneath all that bulky clothing, Max suddenly appeared so much smaller. Any other time, that might've been amusing, but now...

It just broke Sam's heart.

"Only for a minute." Taking a knee, Sam offered his gentlest smile, in spite of Max stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. "Just long enough to draw her into the city."

Max, however, kept his eyes to the dirt, practically pouting.

Sam sighed. He knew what that expression meant. They'd made a unspoken agreement never to be separated for too long. Not after... well... everything that'd happened recently...

In a rare moment of tactile tenderness, Sam curled a finger beneath Max's chin, guiding his gaze upward.

"... I PROMISE I'll come back." he said softly, practically a whisper. Cupping it with a chuckle, he added, "After all, I got YOU to come back to, right?"

Max said nothing... He simply stared, as slack-jawed as a blind man seeing color for the first time.

... If this were a movie, the sacrificial hero might've planted a peck against his lover's forehead, either as reassurance, or goodbye.

But this wasn't a movie... And Max certainly wasn't his lover.

Compromising, Sam sweetly scratched at Max's drooped ear, before standing back up. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he made to run, when all at once, he felt Max scaling up the front of his shirt like an anxious reptile.

"Marry me." he said stoutly, looking positively fevered.

Sam scowled. He'd had his fill of cheap jokes for the evening. "... Max, c'mon, don't-"

"I'm not kidding," he croaked, his hands grasping at Sam's collar for support. "Please, Sam... marry me. Like... right now. I don't wanna be with anyone else. I don't think I CAN be with anyone else. Losing you the first time was..." he broke off, trails of tears and snot running down his face. "... Well, it sucked. Like, a lot." he finally choked. "... But the worst part was...  I finally realized just how crazy I was about you... But you were dead!"

He then began to laugh, but something in it made Sam cringe... It was a high, unsettling, hysterical laugh... Different from his usual variety, anyway.

There was no joy in it.

"Isn't that hilarious?" he continued. "And what's even funnier? ... I actually got a second chance to tell you how I felt... and I STILL chickened out! And now you're leaving me AGAIN, and... and..." he quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter and sobs, clinging to Sam's shirt with no intention of letting go.

... Needless to say, Sam was more than shocked... The same three shrieking words seemed to reverberate against his addled brain.

... How I felt... How I felt... How I felt...

... Funny. He wasn't nearly as shocked as one would think. If anything, Sam felt a kind of... serenity settle over him.

He'd known it, without knowing it...

... Max loved him... Max'd loved him for a good while now...

Of course he did... Of course he did! It was too damn obvious! It practically went without saying! And... and...

'... Holy hotpot party hosted by a Hostess Hoho...' thought Sam. '... I think I might love him back.'

"Officiate."

Max looked up, his face a mess of varying fluids. "... W... what?"

"You're a high priest, remember?"

Sam then flinched. Of course Max wouldn't remember, HE never experienced that.

".... N-no...?" he sniffled hesitantly. "... But I AM a registered minister, according to Nebraska."

Sam smiled, briefly relieved, before glancing around. Spotting a rubber band off to the side, he snatched it up, before twining it around the middle finger of Max's left hand.

"If you think I wouldn't want marry you, right here and now, you're even crazier than I thought."

Prying Max from his shirt, Sam set him down, and took both hands.

"Don't even bother asking anything," he said quickly, smiling a little. It was one of the few instances Max was ever lost for words. "You already know I do. I do a thousands times over, and twice on Sundays; never to anyone else but you."

"... D-ditto.." Max said at last, grinning incredulously. "... Th-then... I guess... b-by the power vested in me by the state of Nebraska, I now pronounce us-"

He didn't even have time to finish the sentence before he and Sam began to kiss.

It was the kiss of a thousand unsaid longings, the kiss of sweet, relinquished grief. It was cathartic, practically euphoric- 

~~

"- and the first of many to come." Sam concluded, beaming towards the wide-eyed faces of the Inventory regulars.

Ash huffed a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "So you two professed your love, got engaged, and then married, all within the span of a few short minutes..."

"In the middle of a stinky landfill, no less!" Claptrap added.

"Just for the record-!" Max said quickly. "Sam was TOTALLY exaggerating my little proposal. I was doing doughnuts on a tricked-out motorcycle, and tossed him a ring made out of pure gold. It was the smoothest thing in the world, and I did NOT cry!"

"~Max's temperature seems to be rising at an alarming rate.~" GladOS's voice rolled out coolly. "~Perhaps he is suffering another rash outbreak?~"

The table broke into a bout of good-natured laughter, as Max folded his arms grumpily. He already knew he'd never hear the end of that...

"So whatever happened to the garbage monster?" Brock asked, still smiling.

"Oh, that-" Sam waved his hand dismissively. "That was easy. Using the scent of Max's hair, I lead her back to our office. Once there, she immediately fell in love with the trash congregating in our workspace, and took that as her husband rather than Max."

"They then moved to Detroit to live among their own kind!" Max sighed, fluttering his eyelids. "It was like the ending to a fairytale..."

"Yeah, that's... one way of putting it." Ash mumbled.

"And how long was it before ya decided to get re-married? Claptrap asked.

"Three days." Sam answered, leaning forward to dig through his pocket. Fishing out his wallet, he opened it up to reveal a small photo guarded by a sheet of plastic. "We knew we wanted our second wedding to be a lil' more formal, so we pulled out all the stops." he pointed towards the lavish church setting, as well as Max's uncharacteristically grandiose top hat and tux.

"... Nice dress," Brock remarked with a sneer.

"I know, I know..." Sam smiled sheepishly. "It's a little old-fashioned, but it belonged to my Granny, and she insisted on me wearing it."

"Plus, she n' Sam have the same cuddly corpulent build, so it was an easy fit!" Max chimed in. Sam, rolling his eyes, pushed him to the floor.

"Well-" Brock raised his glass. "Cheers to your divorce, I suppose."

"And may many more follow!" Ash said, joining the toast.

Claptrap, however, remained motionless.

"... Does it bother anyone that the six of us guys just spent the last half-hour discussing marriage and weddings like an old sewing-circle?"

The table traded looks.

"Not really."

"No."

"Not even remotely!"

"'Course not."

"... Alright, just checking!" Claptrap held up his sippy-cup. "To Sam and Max!"

"To Sam and Max!"

~~

"Ya know-" Sam said, as he and Max barreled along their the long stretch of their familiar street. It was a perfect night for reckless driving. "We oughta invite our poker buddies to our next wedding."

"Oh, HELL yeah!" Max said, nodding vigorously. "It wouldn't be a dream wedding without 'em! Ooh-!" he grabbed at Sam's arm, nearly swerving the Desoto into an oncoming truck. Sam pivoted back almost at once, heart thudding, but smiling all the same.

"Think we could get GladOS to sing at our reception?" Max bobbed excitedly against his seat. "I would, and CAN, kill for her to do Nat King Cole!"

"We'll havta ask next time we see her, buddy." Sam chuckled, sparing a hand to pet at Max's head. "Though, personally, I wouldn't mind meetin' some of YOUR old card sharks... 'Specially that wrestler fellow, uh... What was his name?" Sam snapped his fingers rhythmically. "String bean?"

"Strong Bad. But PLEASE, call him String Bean once you finally get to meet him!" Max giggled. "I have GOT to see how that goes down."

Sharply rounding a corner, the two finally skidded their car into its usual spot, halfway hunched atop the curb adjacent to their building.

Making their way up the stairs, they soon found themselves in the comfortable chaos of their office. (Naturally, it didn't them long to re-accumulate all the garbage swept away by the beldump.)

"Well, that depends-" Max shrugged, as he and Sam crossed into one of the more residential rooms. Flopping down onto the patchwork couch, Max made an immediate snag for the remote. "When're you gonna propose already?"

"Guess I'm just waiting for the right occasion. Timing is everything, ya know. Here, scooch over."

With a sigh, Sam helped himself to a seat beside Max, and the two finally settled on something to watch.

"Ooh! Robot Terror From Beyond the Galaxy!" Max curled up against Sam's leg, and Sam, smiling contentedly, rested a hand to his back.

"Hope we haven't missed too much."

"Nah," Max shook his head. "We haven't even gotten to the marrow-suckers yet."

Sam nodded, and then glanced over. His partner's eyes were beginning to droop, and Sam wondered whether or not Max was about to fall asleep.

"... Hey, Max-" Sam whispered, lightly jostling the lagomorph's head. "... You wanna get married?"

Max chuckled, tucking his hands beneath his head as his eyes closed in full.

"... Well, DUH, Sam... A thousand-" he cut himself off with a yawn. "... A thousand times over, and twice on Sundays..."

Sam, with a warm smile, leaned over, planting a soft kiss to Max's forehead.

"You're the light of my life, lil' buddy."

[mathiaslaurent]

Welcome to Pandora, Kiddos...

"Kinda smells like butts, and dead people." - Axton, The Commando

 "I can't see where you comin' from,

But I know just what you're runnin' from.

And what matters ain't the 'who's baddest,' but the

Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause

 This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call 'home.'" - Short Change Hero by The Heavy

 This was inspired as a result of a recent cartoon/gaming/gamer based costume event at Once Upon A Time created by the talented mind of Justice Vought and DJed by the amazing ColeMarie Soleil. The costumes were inspired by the ass kicking Borderlands game franchise.

 It was shot at The Junkyard at The Wastelands, a intensely awesome post-apocalyptic destination. Thank you to Meg Frequency and everyone at The Wastelands for your help and patience while we visited your sims. The Wastelands Flickr Group.

 "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for….the CREDITS! - Moxxxi

 Windlight used: The Wastelands

 Poses:

Mathias (Axton) - [SAC] Military Poses Vol.3 - 07_MPSMAWCARRY_Pose_Male

Aleriah (Maya) - Amitie Poses - Run Wild

Amaya (Lilith) - Le Poppycock - Dark Secrets

 "Guns, glorious guns!" - Marcus Kincaid

SAC M107A1 AMR v2.01

SAC Tier-One (L) v1.00

SAC 1911 Operator Pistol (L) v1.04 PATRIOT

SAC M870 Tactical v1.04

SAC M9_Bayonet v1.0(sheathLLeg)

Aii & Ego Sumaii - {egosumaii} + Orb Censor FATPACK +

 See Aleriah Laurent's and

Amaya Mavinelli's killer versions.

 Needless to say, the process from costume inspiration to picture completion turned into a hell of an adventure in and of itself! Thank you to Aleriah and Amaya for dealing with everything from rezzing issues to receiving your own personal armories. LOL

 "Apart from the excruciating pain, this is great! I’ve always wanted to have a mighty vault hunter helping me out! I will be your wise leader, and you - you shall be my fearless minion! - Claptrap

(05-27-2020)

[tpjerematic]

Gentlemen Caller Claptrap

[akumadeshitsumon]

*Jehovah witness knocks on the door* Good sir, are you aware of your natural connection with the Divine father and what potential lies in your hands as His child? What, do you believe, is the significance of your existence in the greater scheme of things?

London, 1889.

It was a grey and rainy afternoon in London, as was so often thecase. Today the rain did not pour, but rather camedown from the sky in a dismal drizzle that did not look like much,but nevertheless left any that spent more than a few minutes in itsoaked to the bone. Animals and humans alike hurried along thestreets, and even though darkness had not yet descended onto the citythere was a distinct grey tone to the light that made it to Earththrough the thick layer of clouds. Sebastian noticed allof this through the townhouse’s kitchen window, which was coveredin hundreds of tiny drops of water. This made it rather hard to seeoutside, but only a glance was needed to know what the situation waslike. It was very fortunate that his master’s plans for the afternoondid not involve any outside activities, because Sebastian was notkeen to expose himself to the cold and the wet. It would not make himsick, of course, but even so it was deeply unpleasant.Therewas a knock at the kitchen door, distracting Sebastian from hismusings about the weather. It was quite common for deliveries to bemade around this time of day, so Sebastian did not think twice aboutopening the door. What he saw there was not quite what he hadexpected. Instead of an unhappy delivery person carrying heavy cratesor riding a cart stacked high with barrels, he found two bedraggledlooking humans in bland grey clothing, looking entirely too cheerfulfor people who had so apparently spent all afternoon in the rain.Water was quite literally dripping out of their clothes, and when oneof them shifted position Sebastian could have sworn he heard waterslosh in their shoes. Before he could ask the pair whattheir purpose was, one of the men launched into a speech atastonishing speed. It was impossible to get a word in edgeways, soSebastian was forced to listen as the man expanded on the history ofChristianity, the true Christian faith, and most of all why joiningtheir movement would apparently save Sebastian’s soul from the firesof hell and lead him to salvation. It was such a torrent of wordsthat Sebastian was momentarily stunned, which was most likely theeffect that the man had intended. As soon as he realisedwhat was happening, it took most of Sebastian’s willpower not to rollhis eyes. Terrific. Religious fanatics, who had ironically chosen theleast likely household in all of London to pitch their story to.Sebastian had heard stories of suchnew and audacious groups coming over from the colonies, but this wasthe first time he had encountered them in the wild. They certainlyseemed persistent - the front one was still talking, clearlypassionate about the topic of divine salvation, while the one at theback nodded emphatically at every definitive statement. The topic ofhell also came up,though it was not described in avery favourable manner.Sebastian almost laughed out loud at the inaccuracies in the man’sstory about hell, but managed to keep his face straight until the manended his impassioned plea with some questions. “Goodsir, are you aware of your natural connection with the Divine fatherand what potential lies in your hands as His child? What, do youbelieve, is the significance of your existence in the greater schemeof things?” Sebastian’s lip twitched, but he managednot to smile. Despite his annoyance he could not help but be amusedat the irony of this entire situation. “I am very aware of myconnection to your Christian God,” he replied, showing but themerest hint of a smirk on his face. “As for the significance ofmy existence, as a mere butler I rarely have time to contemplate suchmatters. Now if you would excuse me, I have some work that I have tocomplete.”He made to shut the door, but the man whohad not yet spoken had the audacity to stick his foot between thedoor and the door frame. There was a thunk and a grunt of pain, butthe man did not remove his foot, forcing Sebastian to open the dooryet again. “Good sir, please reconsider! The well-being of yoursoul is more important than any earthly work.” A hand was thrustthrough the half-open door, holding a rather soggy pamphlet entitled’Zion’s Watch Tower and Herald of Christ’s Presence’. Aquick glance revealed it to be moreof the sameclaptrap.Thesepeople were really getting on his nerves, but they would not go away.The louder of the two was now quoting passages from the pamphlet inSebastian’s hand, attempting to keep Sebastian from fully shuttingthe door. His efforts were, of course, entirely futile, as Sebastianwas much stronger than any human being could hopeto be, but these humans werequite persistent. Sebastian had a feeling that even if he were toshut them out they would not give up, and so he decided on amore extreme countermeasure. So far Sebastianhad been keeping the door half-open,blocking the two men from entering the house,but now he flung it wide, which took both men completely by surprise.The one whose foot had been blocking the door took a step backwards,and the other one who had been holding the doorwas forced to let go in a hurry. Hestumbled and almost fell, butsomehow righted himself again just in time.Sebastiandrew himself up to his full height in the doorway,which grew inexplicably darker with every passing second.Without saying a word he held up the pamphlet, stared the loud mandead in the eyes, and lit the soggy paper on fire in his hand. Theman’s face blanched. Sebastianwinked. “A word ofadvice,” he said, as the two men seemed momentarily frozen infear. “You might wish toproperly inform yourselves onwhom you are speaking to about heaven and hell before you start yourlittle lectures. A moment or two of reflection may serve you well inthe future. Have a good evening, gentlemen.” As he closed the door he heard thetwo men scramble down the steps and take off down the street,frantically chanting their prayers in ever rising voices. Sebastianshook his head. Honestly, he should probably not havedone that, but it might befor the better. He was reasonably certain that these people wouldnever come back to this house after that display, and they wouldprobably warn their colleagues in the city as well. Sure, therewas a very slim chance that theywouldreturn to perform an exorcism, but Sebastian had experience with suchoccasions. In fact, he almost hoped that they would try. It would probably be very amusing.

[epickendall]

Borderlands 2: New Vault hunter part 5

The Vault Hunters and Claptrap left the Hyperion Barger they head to Liar’s Berg Claptrap inform the Vault Hunters about an important thing to know. “Keep your wits about this glacier is run by a Bandit named Captain Flynt. The jerk kept me as his torture plaything for a few months. We played games like dodge the blow torch and don’t get dunked into the pool of acid I was really good at the first one.” “That sounds painful,” said Gwen “Hm this Captain Flynt does not sound so dangerous to me or to us,” said Number 4. The Vault Hunters and Claptrap climb down the cliff as they reach Liar’s Berg Handsome jack cast an echo call to everyone with an echo and to the Vault Hunters. “Attention people of Pandora! Handsome Jack here, offering a million bucks to whoever brings me the head of the Vault Hunters who just arrived in Liar’s Berg oh and I’m still offering a reward for Roland, the mass- murdering leader of the Crimson Rader good hunting” Handsome Jack get off of the echo. “Great we have to deal with ever nut on this planet that wants our bounty,” said Number 4. “More importantly how did Handsome Jack know we’re in Liar’s Berg,” said Gwen. “Maybe has something that fellowing out everywhere we go,” said Dipper. “Guys help” Claptrap scream and the Vault Hunters see Claptrap surround by  Bullymongs. The Vault hunters deal with the Bullymongs as Number 4 new shotgun was greater taking down the Bullymongs then his pistole taking them out. When getting to the gate of Liar’s Berg they get all echo call from Captain Flynt. “A million bucks alright boys this Captin Flynt! I want you to find those Vault Hunters and bring em to me NOWW” Captain Flynt sign off the echo. “He sounds like short a few marbles,” said Dipper “Yeah get the feeling that with have to fight Captain Flynt,” said Gwen Then the Vault Hunters hear screaming and gunfire behind the gate of Liar’s Berg Claptrap goes up to a speaker box next to the gate and press it. “Hey Hammerlock,” Claptrap said to the  speaker box “Specular-first  Captain Flynt bandits attack, then Claptrap shows up! I must have been cruel to puppies in a previous life to deserve this kind of treatment I say Vault Hunters could you gentlemen’s and Lady kill Captain Flynt” said Sir Hammerlock. “Yes we will I need to test my skills against some bandits,” said Ferb that made the other Vault Hunters turn to him. The gate rises up then sparks near the gate and it falls to the ground and the Vault hunter runs into the Liar’s Berg. (Author note: Sorry this chapter short the next one is going to be longer)

[the-desolated-quill]

Cold War - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Here we go again with another Mark Gatiss episode and it always pains me whenever I have to slag him off. I’m a big League of Gentlemen fan and Gatiss has done sterling work with them over the years, but the sad fact of the matter is the stuff he does outside of the League just isn’t very good. His first Doctor Who episode, The Unquiet Dead, was decent but flawed, The Idiot’s Lantern was a ripoff of Little Shop Of Horrors except with none of the charm, Victory of The Daleks was utter crap, and Night Terrors just bored the pants off me. Now here we are with Cold War, and I wish I could say this was the episode where Gatiss finally pulls out all the stops to give us the magnificent Doctor Who story we’ve all been waiting for, but sadly it’s yet another dud I’m afraid.

By far the biggest problem with Cold War is its total lack of originality. An Ice Warrior gets loose aboard a Russian submarine and it’s a fight for survival as the Doctor tries to reason with the alien and save the crew. Yep, this is yet another base under siege story, and it goes through all the cliches. The Doctor meekly trying to persuade the villain to show mercy, the crew splitting up to search for a solution, the monster picking them off one by one, and so on. I’ve seen this kind of story done so many times in Doctor Who now that I was practically nodding off halfway through it. 

Cold War also borrows liberally from other sci-fi stories, the most obvious being Alien, but there’s also elements from other Doctor Who stories too, such as the multiple Silurian stories where the Doctor tries to persuade two sides to play nice, and Dalek where the last surviving member of a warrior race threatens to destroy all of humanity out of desperation and rage. The problem is the reason Dalek worked so well was because of the Doctor’s long history with the Daleks. A relationship he simply doesn’t have with the Ice Warriors. Plus Cold War shares the same problem as The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood where neither side are given any sort of nuance or depth, and therefore it’s hard to empathise with anyone.

Of course Cold War is significant in that it features the long awaited return of classic series monsters the Ice Warriors. Having heard all of my rants about the Cybermen, the Sontarans and the Silurians, you’re no doubt wondering what I, a veteran Whovian, thought about the Ice Warriors during their heyday.

Yeah, I’ve never really been a fan. Not that they’re bad villains, mind. They’ve had some decent stories in their time. I’ve just never found them to be particularly interesting. The only time I felt the Ice Warriors really came into their own was in the Jon Pertwee era story The Curse Of Peladon. It was a sort of murder mystery plot where an alliance between the Galactic Federation and Peladon was in peril due to someone killing off the delegates. Naturally the Doctor and his companion Jo suspected the Ice Warriors due to their reputation, but then the story pulls the rug out from under us by revealing the true culprit to be the High Priest Hepesh and the realisation that the Ice Warriors really had changed their ways after all. It was a genuinely good twist and opened up a lot of creative possibilities for the Ice Warriors. We’d seen heartless zealots like the Daleks, altruistic foes like the Cybermen and one note pantomime villains like the Master, but we had never seen a monster in Doctor Who that starts out as evil only to realise over the course of the show that what they were doing was wrong and try to make amends. This put the Ice Warriors in an incredibly unique position I feel. One that sadly was never fully capitalised on because in their next and last story, The Monster Of Peladon, the Ice Warriors reverted back to being baddies again.

So what direction does Gatiss take the new, revived Ice Warriors? Are they a morally complex race of warriors trying to make up for past mistakes or boring alien invaders hellbent on world domination?

...

Boring alien invaders hellbent on world domination.

Great! Yeah! God forbid we should do anything interesting with them!

To the episode’s credit, the new Ice Warriors look really cool. Much more high tech and imposing than the classic series ones. And Gatiss does try to address a few discrepancies in Ice Warrior lore, for example how did a race of cold blooded reptiles survive on a cold planet like Mars? But it’s the characterisation that severely lets this episode down. The Ice Warrior just isn’t a very interesting character. They try to make you feel an emotional connection to him by wheeling out the cliched dead daughter, but the character is just too extreme for us to empathise with. One human zaps him with a cattle prod and suddenly he wants to destroy the world, and the only explanation we’re given as to what justifies such an overreaction is some bollocks about Martian code of ethics. Also, didn’t he attack them first? And I had to let out a hollow laugh when the Doctor said the Ice Warrior would have left them alone if they didn’t zap him. Bit naive, wouldn’t you say? The Ice Warriors are many things, but merciful is not one of them.

And it just gets worse when they then commit the cardinal sin of getting the Ice Warrior to come out of its shell. So instead of the tall, imposing Ice Warrior we were promised, we instead get a pair of green rubber gloves gripping people’s faces and the worst CGI face I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s hard to imagine an Ice Warrior being that fast and nimble out of the suit, (not to mention that spindly looking), not just because I’m so used to the Ice Warriors being slow, sluggish brutes, but also because Earth’s gravity is much stronger than Mars’. Shouldn’t the Ice Warrior be a quivering puddle of slime on the floor? And what was the point of the Ice Warrior ‘disassembling’ people to learn human weaknesses. It never comes into play at any point in the episode. Everything about the naked Ice Warrior just feels utterly divorced from anything I’d associate with them to the point where I question why Mark Gatiss would even call it an Ice Warrior. Why not come up with your own alien? Why bring back the Ice Warriors? And I’d prefer a better reason other than ‘it’s the 50th anniversary.’

The human characters are just as bad. Whenever I’ve seen Cold War related stories, it’s usually from the perspective of the Americans. Hardly ever from the Russians. This is an opportunity for Doctor Who to cover new ground here, but they don’t really. The Russians aren’t actually characters. None of them are given any real development, arc or personality of their own. You have the captain who’s... well... the captain, some douchebag who is obsessed with war and gets promptly killed off, and then you’ve got David Warner’s character who we learn absolutely nothing about other than he’s obsessed with Duran Duran. The rest are just pointless redshirts that I don’t give a single shit about. If you’re going to give me a base under siege story, the least you can do is give me interesting characters that I actually care about, otherwise it’s going to be a bit hard to work up any kind of shock or sadness when they do kick the bucket. There’s no tension because I don’t care who lives or dies.

And speaking of tension, that’s another missed opportunity. It’s the Cold War. The world’s on a knife edge. Any spark or conflict could trigger nuclear armageddon. Combine that with the claustrophobic submarine setting and this episode should be brimming with paranoia and nervous tension. But you never get a sense of that, not only because I don’t give a shit about any of the characters, but also because at no point did I feel the weight or scale of what’s happening. Oh sure the Doctor keeps reminding us about the threat of a nuclear apocalypse, but it never feels imminent because none of the characters seem to take the prospect seriously. For one thing, the Russians are very quick to trust the Doctor and Clara despite them mysteriously appearing out of nowhere and could very well be working for the enemy for all they know, and whenever they do talk about the Cold War, it’s very quickly brushed to the side. Well if the characters are’t bothered by the prospect of a nuclear holocaust, why the fuck should I be? Even the finale with the Doctor praying that the Ice Warrior won’t launch the nukes is undermined by Clara randomly singing Hungry Like The Wolf. Strip all the tension out, why don’t you?

The Doctor is at his most ineffectual sadly, reduced to spouting his usual ‘show mercy’ claptrap and waving his sonic screwdriver around, but what annoys me even more is Clara. Not only is she back to her smug self, reducing the potential threat considerably because if she’s not taking it seriously, why should I, but also there’s an opportunity for a good character arc here that Gatiss botches spectacularly. At one point Clara wonders whether she could have handled her first encounter with the Ice Warrior better and at the end is able to use the memory of the Ice Warrior’s daughter to persuade him to leave. This could have been an effective moment had Clara been allowed to speak to the Ice Warrior freely the first time around instead of being reduced to a mouthpiece for the Doctor (why couldn’t the Doctor just talk to the Ice Warrior himself? They never properly explain that). Clara isn’t given any real agency of her own or licence to screw up, so rather than the ending feeling like a personal triumph for Clara as she grows and develops as a character, she’s instead just a convenient out for Gatiss.

And don’t get me started on all the stuff that just didn’t make sense. How can the Russians mistake a frozen humanoid for a mammoth? Why did that guy thaw the Ice Warrior out other than for the sake of plot convenience? Why would a submarine that was only sent on an Arctic expedition be carrying nuclear weapons? Why would the Russians have automatic weapons on a submarine? How is the Ice Warrior able to hide inside the walls of a submarine? How does the Ice Warrior expect to launch a successful nuclear attack from a submarine that’s stranded 700 meters down below sea level? Oh and the Doctor just happened to have been fiddling with the TARDIS off screen, which just happened to make it disappear to the South Pole, leaving them stranded in the submarine? That’s fucking convenient, isn’t it?

I suppose I don’t hate Cold War. It’s competently made and if you’re someone who can’t get enough base under siege stories in Doctor Who, I’m sure it’s possible to enjoy this one provided you switch your brain off beforehand. The only crime this episode commits is that it’s just really, really dull. The story is cliched, the characters are one dimensional, and the potential of the setting is completely wasted. The only noteworthy thing about Cold War is the Ice Warrior and they don’t even do that very well. Overall it’s a very bland and forgettable episode. Maybe one day the Ice Warriors will get an episode that finally realises their full potential, but it isn’t this one.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Ash: You think he's in Hell?

Max: He's bisexual and dead, where else would be be?

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Brock: Where's Max?

Ash: Don't worry, I'll find him.

Ash, shouting: Sam sucks!

Max, distantly: Sam is the best person ever! Fuck you!

Ash: Found him.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Ash, answering his phone: What's up, Marmaduke?

Sam: I'm sitting in a pool of blood.

Ash: ...

Ash: Is it yours?

Sam: I think so?

Ash: Do you know where the blood is coming from?

Sam: Probably the stab wound.

Ash: YOU'VE BEEN STABBED??

Sam: Oh yeah, definitely.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Brock: I play poker with a pack of idiots so silly it would knock the socks off your fucking feet, wise guy.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Brock: There is no god here! What have you done?!

Ash: You don't know my genius!

poker night as markiplier quotes

Ash: You wanna check it out?

Sam: Yesss... no. But yes.

.

Claptrap: I'm in charge!

[Explosion]

.

Ash: You'll never get me!

Ash: Oh, he's got me!

.

Sam: Okay. Alright. Okay. Alright. Okay. Okay!

Ash: Alright? Okay.

Brock: Yeah?

Sam: Okay, alright.

.

Claptrap: Can you guys let me win one just so I can know how it feels?

Brock: No.

Sam: Yeah!

.

Ash: Oh my god, guys, I'm starving to death but with water.

Ash: What's that called?

Claptrap: Drowning but without—

Ash: I'm the opposite of drowning!

.

Ash: Oh, mama. Oh mama. Hoh, mama!

Brock: I don't like what I'm hearing. I don't think this is good.

Max: He's just foopin' over there or something.

.

Brock: Hey, Sam.

Sam: Wh- no. I don't like- my heart rate just spiked. I don't want any part of this.

.

Claptrap: When Brock addresses me by name, it never ends well for me.

.

Sam: Mini-horde??

Ash: Yeah, there's just like a small group of five—

Max: LEAD 'EM INTO MY HOLE!

Ash:

Ash: Against my better judgement, man...

.

Brock: We're four hundred meters from home.

Ash: Centimeters.

Brock: You're right.

Claptrap: It's the metric system!

.

Max: Babies are mostly soup. It's a bread bowl!

Tycho: Oh no.

.

Max: But it still sounds circumstantial. Is it circumstantial, Sam? Am I using that term correctly?

Sam: No.

Max: See?

.

Ash: Give me your money. Give me your money. Give me your money.

Brock: I don't have your money.

Ash: Give me your money. Give me your money.

Sam: I think Ash wants your money.

.

Sam: Are we friendshipping right?

Brock: Couldn't tell you.

.

Tycho: Gallantly streaming.

Max: Yeah, the gallant stream!

Strongbad: I'm gallantly streaming, I don't know what you guys are doing.

Tycho: Yeah, we're gallantly streaming!

Strongbad: I feel pretty gallant.

Tycho: That's everyone's vocab word of the day. Gallant. What's it mean, you might ask?

Tycho: Fuckin' Google it, you lazy shits.

Max: When you buy milk at the grocery store, that's a gallant of milk.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Brock: I wanna show you a picture from last night that really upset me.

Ash: Hey, Max bet me 50 cents that I couldn't drink that shampoo!

Brock: That's not what I wanted to—

Brock:

Brock: You drank shampoo?

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

Brock: Is he stupid?

Sam: Well, yeah, but I think he'd rather be called Ash.