#is the 2 dollar coin even real?

[r0semultiverse]

Two Truths & a Lie Round 10

For people who can't see polls: Pick the lie.

I've gotten my hands on a 2 dollar coin when working retail as a cashier.

I've came close to 20 times in one session.

I've gotten a partner off with Scout TF2's voice.

[11cupids-tarot11]

What can help your dreams ★Manifest☆ ?

1 -> 3

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Tarot Deck used: Garbage Pail Kids

Oracle Deck used : The Roast Iconic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 1- The Devil, Six of Coins in Reverse, The Hanged Man

Oracle cards- "Billionaire: Are you hoarding wealth to fuel your King or Queen Baby dreams? Do not pass Go, do not collect a million dollars, don't even go to jail or pay taxes- think about doing some good and using your hoard to end WORLD HUNGER ALREADY!"

"Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

Hi my pile 1's 😭 I feel like it's been forever I hate being away from my blog for too long cause I start to miss y'all literally lol.

So anyways for your reading today I feel like Spirit is wanting to draw attention to maybe some addictions, self sabotage is what I heard while shuffling the cards. I feel this heavy energy of someone purposely messing up their own blessings in a way I feel like maybe someone's stuck in this very heavy energy but also not really doing anything about it? Like maybe you know something's not good for you, maybe it's a connection or even a job that's tiring you out, it's something along those lines but you just can't stop it, you know? I heard someone needs to do an energy cleanse! I heard take some time off. Maybe someone's drowning themselves in something like studying too much, there's something about over doing something. Someone could have very curly hair here.

So I'm hearing here someone should take the time off and do something fun, relax a little. I think there's a message here also of feeling like you haven't done enough of something and you're obsessing about it mentally a lot and spirit is saying just take a little break from it and endulg in something else, something that makes you happy and makes you feel like you, you know? Even if it's just taking a walk while listening to your favorite music or maybe reading your favorite book and watching your favorite movie, you know? So with the six of coins here I'm also getting a message of like you've worked really hard already and you've done a great job honestly it's okay to rest and not be perfect already already, Rome wasn't built in a day I'm hearing!

The hanged man is just confirmation you've definitely been making yourself sick and stuck by obsessing over this thing. I also feel like maybe you're stuck because spirit is wanting you to see things from a different perspective, like in my garbage pail kid tarot card Wacky Jacky is hanging and all stuck in a tree but while she's stuck she realizes she sees the world in a whole different perspective and it's then new ideas come to her. Approach your goal from a new angle!

I feel like someone here is also someone very important with a very hard position and that might be why you work so hard, you have a lot of pressure on you maybe. Take what resonates!

Hope you enjoyed this reading! Let me know, I love you and take care ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Queen of Wands Reversed, Seven of Wands Reversed and Three of Cups.

Oracle cards- "Troll: Are you a Necessary Evil? Do you feel you must play Devil's Advocate? Or are you someone who hates themselves so much they feel they have to try to get others to feel the same way? If you answered "yes" to one or more of these questions, please seek help or therapy, or get a hobby."

"Bitch: Are you being a Bitch, or just making sure they can't take advantage of you? Stand up for yourself, but make sure you don't steamroll anyone in the process. Do no harm, but take no shit."

Hi pile 2's, hope you're doing amazing 🤩

So right off the bat I'm picking up shy energy lol, someone who's maybe more reserved or introverted. I don't want to say basically Spirit thinks you should be loud or more outgoing but I definitely think you'll go through a time period of weird energy and out of the ordinary situations happening that are forcing you out of your comfort zone. You might not get any more extroverted but I definitely do see branching out might help, sitting with your close friends and just letting yourself let loose or just enjoy the company. You might be someone who people look at and not get the big picture right away, like they have lots of accusations about you but you're kind of closed off so these accusations aren't 100% true because there's more to you than people know, you're just not the type to go and give yourself away that easily. You might be someone who prefers to keep a very close knit group of friends, I heard something about trust issues.

You could be petite, someone who doesn't look like they're very strong and that's what surprises everyone when you finally do show them you are indeed strong. You can be loud and extroverted too I think it's a choice to really be in this shell of yours, maybe it's what's comfortable and that's exactly the problem, when we're too comfortable we don't see the point in changing. Like why fix it if it isn't broken? But you hold great significance, you're just a significant person to the universe and I'm not even sure if you're aware but you are lol.

It's crazy because I'm picking up mixed messages lol, with the Queen of Wands in reverse it makes me feel like someone here is very down and unsure about themselves, needs to take some me time and get away from socializing but with the Three of Cups someone here needs to "stop being alone so much" is how I channeled it, advising you to go out more with the people you love and celebrate, have a good time and just have fun so take what resonates as you know yourself best and what applies to your situation.

With the seven of Wands I'm getting a message of someone who's stressed, you maybe have felt very tired, over worked maybe, even dealing with certain responsibilities or relationship makes us feel tired and all worn out so take this how it resonates. You're on the brink of giving up, maybe you felt like it's not worth it or simply just can't find results you've been wanting to see, maybe this thing is literally killing you because Spirit is stressing you drop it enough to take the stress off you. I wouldn't advise anyone to just give up, but Spirit used such words as "drop it" like maybe the thing you're supposed to drop isn't serving you and that's why it's making you feel so bad. I'm just hearing Spirit even ask if you think all of this is worth it? This is something tough that's been bothering you, it could even be as simple as negative thoughts with all of the wands energy here, I think this is a group in their head a lot always trying to hold themselves accountable and very motivated to just do right. I heard a message that it's hard coming up for new creative endeavors because of all of the negativity in your thoughts holding you back, this energy is blocking your ideas. It's like you vs you almost, I think you have the power to help your dreams manifest all on their own just with your thoughts alone so keep a check for your energy, watch who you share your energy with because it's important and powerful. You're powerful I heard!

I hope you find this helpful! Take care angelz love you! ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- Seven of Cups, The Chariot and King of Wands.

Oracle Cards- "Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

"Red Flag: No matter how often you try to bleach the red flags white, they only turn back to red. You have been warned- now PULL ANOTHER CARD!"

"Cult Leader: You are not a guru, a Timelord, or a demigod. You are an egomaniac who needs minions so you can feel like an authority to compensate for your own feelings of inferiority. Grow up!"

Hi pile 3! Hope you're having a fantastic day where you are!

So right away I'm picking up a message of not seeing the bigger picture, this pile feels more like a "How to Manifest more quicker" lol. I'm hearing this very slow moving energy, someone refusing to move on to the next chapter though you might be aware it's time to even but I'm getting a sense of fear. Even if you are unaware of these changes there's still so much anxiety and fear surrounding you at these times because the universe is basically forcing you to move lol! Move or be moved I'm hearing.

So overall I feel like someone in this pile might have lots of distractions, someone might have adhd and a hard time concentrating on tasks. Spirits drawing your attention these times and reminding you to stay focus.

With the Chariot card I feel like there's some movement here that needs to happen, you need to take action. I think that's the best way to help your manifestations right now, maybe someone here even forget exactly what they were manifesting and Spirit is like "Uhh HELLO? DO YOU REMEBER THAT THING??" lol. I heard someone's just been away from the job a little too long, I even get from the Seven of Cups it might've been you were distracted with something else that just sparked your attention better, but all that glitters isn't gold!

So I think you're working on being in this King of Wands energy, someone who is very productive, knows what they want, speaks up about anything, rather it's an idea they have or just wanting authority. I feel like a few of you even might know exactly what this is, I feel like a few of you might not even have a specific dream you want to manifest just clicking on the reading for fun lol but there's still a secretive message here I think you'll understand as you apply it to your situation.

Spirit is asking you to maybe think about the roots you want to plant and start from there, stay true to your craft and perspective and be committed.

I hope you enjoyed this reading! I love you, see you soon ❤️ ★

[magapatriot64]

A brutally honest take on Ukraine from a U.S. Army Veteran of Afghanistan and Iraq that is also a Purple Heart recipient (edited):

I have never and will never support the war in Ukraine. I now understand the Military Industrial Complex and the trillions spent off of the lives of US, the people.

If you do support the war, this post is going to offend the shit out of you.

And I honestly don’t care what you think. Some of you may agree, and some of you probably truly need to hear this.

I have been shot at, blown up, returned fire, everything imaginable. War is serious shit. This is not Call of Duty, this is real fucking life. The term “War is hell”, is coined for a reason.

First: I will start with NATO and Europe.

Why the hell are we in NATO if they don’t barely lift a finger for shit? Why is America always the one that will carry the burden of these asshats. Even President Trump commented TODAY and was almost begging for an end to this. To NATO: If you want this war so badly, then grab a compass and head due East.

Second: You can say whatever you want about President Trump. You can like the man, or you can hate him. However, you cannot argue the point that none of this bullshit was going on when he was President. Just throwing that out there. This is an undeniable fact.

Third: Why is it that it took an Airman to leak classified documentation to totally disprove the efforts in Ukraine? Don’t you notice how this story has been completely wiped from the mockingbird media? They are concealing the truth as well. American taxpayers have been lied to since this began.

Fourth: Where is all of our American taxpayer money going? Let’s be honest about it. How do you “over-calculate” over $6 BILLION DOLLARS of our money for this effort? Where exactly is it going? Into Politician or Zelenskyy’s pockets? If any of us made an “accounting error” on our taxes, we would all be in prison now. This is fraud, waste and abuse putting it lightly.

Fifth: This brings me to another point. Are politicians making money off of this war effort? If so, sorry to say, but you belong in prison. Plain and simple. And that is bipartisan speaking. There are Americans working 2-4 jobs at times just to make ends meet. People are recovering from a lockdown that YOU created.

Sixth: To the Americans backing this war. Why don’t you book yourself a flight to Kyiv and partake in this fight? It’s easy as fuck to be okay with war, while you’re chilling with your Starbucks in your comfortable environment. You love to criticize our country but have never contributed a fucking thing to it.

Last: Why are we not discussing diplomacy? There have been ZERO attempts to sit down like grown fucking men and come to an agreement. None. It is all too clear that they want this war to continue.

I sure as hell don’t claim to know everything, but this bullshit has gone on long enough.

To the dickheads who will inevitably cherry-pick this tweet know this, your opinion does not matter to me. You can comment, but I won’t give you the benefit of replying. Thanks for playing.

I know this is a very long-winded post. But if you took the time to read, thank you for listening.

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[tacitoru]

above snakes - kamo choso

pairing: choso x reader

summary: “At your service, ma'am,” he says, with an earnest grin and the tilt of his gallon hat. “Always.”

rating: explicit

wc: 7.6k

ch: 1/2

You can’t imagine the number of things I had to google that probably don’t matter but would’ve driven me up a wall if historically inaccurate. Idk how to fucking paint so pls forgive me, artists and art history majors.

read on ao3

There was a particular brand of wildness that seemed to touch everything this far west. 

It had to, you surmised, come from the lack of seasonal rain. Something must’ve mixed into the well water with the first wave of settlers. Grown into the dry cracks and crevices of the desert with the rest of the shrubbery. Crept into the hearts of every untamed beast that could endure the sweltering heat, timid or truculent. 

You’d experienced that wilderness in bits and pieces in your short time this side of the Mississippi River. You’d heard it through the stories men traded on bar stools. Felt it in the rough callouses of the hands that traded coin for drink and paint. In the first few weeks after you had settled, you had attempted to capture it yourself. But no matter how long you spent bent over a canvas, painting broad blue skies and looming canyons and bands of wild horses, your brush simply could not replicate that untamed, beautiful something, native only to nature herself. 

It intrigued you. It called to you from the safety of your New England home and the polite society you’d been indoctrinated into all of your life. The desert and its residents were both beguiling and dangerous, in real, tangible ways that tea parties and gossip circles back home couldn’t even begin to compare to. 

On its worst days, the sun and the heat did terrible things to people who linger in it for too long. But for most of your life - and much of your stay thus far - you’d been lucky enough to have never seen that kind of violence up close, not if you could help it. Not if your father could help it.

The unbearable heat, however, is something you had willingly signed up for the moment you rejected your birthright and fucked off into the countryside for good - something you try to remind yourself at the sight of half of your paints gone runny in their cases.

A sudden wave of anger causes your fingers to twitch against the wooden lid. I don’t understand.

“Is…Is everything alright?” You blink and straighten up, taking a second to compose yourself before turning to face your inquirer with an expression as blank as you can muster. You don’t understand how the paints had melted in storage - since you had moved, you had done what you could to keep them cool and out of the sun. For the two years you had taken residency in the ramshackle saloon, your materials had managed to survive the desert heat from the safety of the trunk you kept under your bed.

  And yet today of all days, half of your case is a watery, separated mess.

Had you been back home, this could have been easily resolved within a day with a few silver dollars and a quick trip to an art store - that very same day if you were early and lucky. The largest commission of your life wouldn’t have to be postponed for longer than mere hours, and you and your standoffish companion could be on your way in a few days. 

It’s been two years since you made the journey west and settled in this small haven in the middle of a dry sea. It was a purposeful two-day travel by horse to get to the nearest train station. When you first rode into this tiny town, it had been the perfect place to escape. He was determined and astute, but you doubted that your father and family would follow you this far out into the middle of nowhere. Life here wasn’t perfect or easy, and there were often times (like now) when you longed for the conveniences of modern society.

But it was yours . For the first time, you could confidently say that you were in control of your own life and content - happy, even.

 And yet looking at the mess in your hands, all you can feel is unadulterated rage as you calculate about many weeks it will take for the general store to have black paint again. 

Weeks. Months , maybe. You don’t have months. 

The sheriff had paid good money to have his deputy’s portrait remade, despite his lack of knowledge in your lack of knowledge. That I-don’t-have-to-worry-about-food-or-rent-for-the-cold-season kind of money that you couldn’t just pass up on. All he had heard was that you were a painter from the north - a skill no one had the luxury for this far out west - and all you had heard was the promise of financial security .

 In your turmoil, you’d nearly forgotten about your unlucky patron - a tall, broad, and stolid man with inky black hair and sullen eyes that tracked you about the room as you had prepared to paint him. Deputy Choso sat atop your rickety stool, poised for his portrait to be painted. His impatience radiates throughout the room.

The portrait painting hadn’t been his idea, but his mentor’s. An apology from the sheriff after his original portrait - the one he received after his installation as deputy of your quaint township, conceived by a much older, real artist passing through town - was bullet-whipped in a close call with a gang member turned near - escapee at the station.

While you weren’t there for the initial conversation - or however Sheriff Nanami decided to break the news to his young deputy - judging by the icy demeanor and rigid posture he had maintained since his arrival, you can only imagine that the gift had been met with some measure of reluctance.

The deputy had arrived at your doorstep in the early hours of the morning looking haggard and half-ready to jog back downstairs and escape on his horse, maybe relay some poorly composed excuse to his mentor about why he couldn’t see this through when you first opened the door to greet him.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen each other at all in the two years since that fateful encounter. Your tiny town was exactly that - tiny. The proximity of everything compared to the vastness of the empty desert made it so that no one strew too far from home without the purposeful intent of doing so. You had always seen Choso in passing on the way your way out of the general store, making his survey rounds about town, or on his way into the saloon after a long day, pretending not to see the way you slide from the bar to the furthest corner of the room at his arrival. 

Admired him quietly from afar all the while he seemed to avoid you like the plague. Straight up ignored you, even.

Head down, gaze averted. Worn gallon hat shielding the upper half of his face. Never offering more than a polite nod if you happen to be roped into the same conversation. But seeing each other like this, up close, without the usual buffers of his colleague, your nosy neighbors, or drunken bar patrons, was an entirely different beast.

At the sight of you, the shock on his face was plain as day no matter how quickly he schooled his expression into one of impassivity. You couldn’t blame him, maybe even look at him similarly - overnight, the anxiety leading up to this appointment had crept into your bloodstream and buzzed in your ears like a pesky mosquito. If he ever asked how you had gotten to the door so quickly, or if you had been waiting up on him by the door, you would lie. Profusely.  

After inviting him in wordlessly with a tight smile and excusing yourself to gather your things, Choso had taken a moment to take in your other works littered about the tiny studio - horses, lots of them, racing thunderously alongside dusty mesas and atop desert plateaus. Vivid oranges, murky browns, and brilliant blues dance across his vision.

Snakes too - long, scaly reptiles with cavernous maws bearing thin, murderous, and razor-sharp teeth. Choso feels like he could prick his finger just touching the painting.

You’d taken careful time to mimic the way the relentless desert sun made the scales of the reptilian appear nearly wet and shiny, its eyes glinting soullessly back at him from different angles. No people, though , he notices. No faces.

 He’s in the middle of wondering when the last time you saw a snake this close to town was when he notices you freeze in his periphery, staring into a wooden case.

The deputy shifts in his seat; this is already taking longer than he anticipated, and you have yet to even start painting.

“Ma’am,” he calls out again when you don’t respond, pursing your lips as you struggle to think of what to say. You can hear him trying to bite back the bark of annoyance in his voice. “Are you okay?”

Not at all. “Absolutely.” You offer him a placid smile if only to see him relax a little. 

Recalling the pale look on his face when he first marched up to your little studio above the local saloon, you get the sense that despite his usual impassivity,  this appointment isn’t easy for either of you.

Deputy Choso Kamo is the young gunslinging protege to your town’s sheriff, a champion fighter with his own tall tales from the desert tied to his name. 

In any other situation - if you were anyone else - this would be an honor beyond your imagination for the amateur artist you considered yourself to be. 

There was a time when Deputy Kamo would stroll through the center of your dusty little square in the early morning hours of a Sunday on his brooding black mare, surly and stolid, and the sun would roll in behind him as if waiting for his arrival for permission to set. Women would flock to the windows of the chapel to snag a glimpse of the gunslinger and peak behind their hands at him in passing. Men would amble out onto the deck of the saloon to gawk at him in the guise of appraisal, arms crossed, fingers resting on the hostlers of their guns. 

Of course, that was in the earlier days, when he first took up the position as Sheriff Kento Nanami’s secondhand man. Before you arrived. That was what was told to you after you had already made your own unforgettable first impression.

You knew the deputy as simply Choso, the man who you fucked half senseless the first night you arrived in his small town.

You had been drunk, celebrating your first night of true freedom with as much ale as your silver could carry. And he had been there. Hair long and unruly, observing you from his quieter corner of the saloon. Never looking away when your gaze caught his, finally noticing him looking, watching. Not a belt or badge or holster in sight - just quiet, confident resolve, and enough money to buy you one more drink before you invited him back to your closet-sized rented room.

He had probably figured you were a city slicker just passing through, journeying to the booming mining cities near the coast. It had probably never crossed his mind that you would stay.

And yet here you were, having never spoken to each other again in the two years since that fateful night and clutching your half-melted paint palette between the two of you like it would shield him from you.

Or vice versa.

Choso glances at the wooden case again and then places both hands on his belt with a sigh, arms akimbo. “Look, if you’re going to be weird about this-,”

“No, no, not at all!” You grimace and sigh, flipping the oily mess in his direction, frown growing when the paints slosh in their pans. “I’ve run out of black. That was the last of the only tube I had.”

“So what does that mean? You can’t paint?” You try not to feel a bit hurt at the hint of hopefulness in his voice. You know this interaction is awkward - you’ve been dancing around each other for two whole years, there’s only so many people in this tiny town - but you hadn’t thought your company was that unbearable.

“No, I can still start, it’ll just take a little longer. It takes a while for the general store to order the paint, and even longer for it to get. But maybe I can order the materials to make the paint a little faster if I can just get my hands on some linseed oil…”

At this point, you’re murmuring more to yourself and into the canvas propped in front of your reluctant subject than to the young deputy himself, who has quickly schooled his expression back into one of disinterest. All he hears is that he’ll be seeing you a lot more often than he already had expected, quickly coming to the same conclusion you have.

Much of his appearance and uniform attire were comprised of dark greys and browns - hell, his hair was black. His skin took on a gold tone from long hours in the sun. Tiredness cast a dark shadow beneath his low-lidded eyes. Like many of the men who spent their time out in the wilderness, he seemed to carry pieces of it with him. If you didn’t come into possession of any black paint any time soon, this process would take much longer than either of you had anticipated. 

 “I can still get started.”

As if sensing his uneasiness, you meet his gaze full-on for the first time since greeting him at the door. And then you add, a little quieter, “But we don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”

His brows shoot up in surprise, contemplative, as if recognizing that this is the closest either of you has ever gotten to addressing the massive elephant in the room. His fingers idly fiddle with the gold plate at his belt, palms curling over the leather at his waist, and you try not to remember the way they felt bracing your hips. Your thighs. The way his grasp had trembled when you touched him.

It was all so long ago, and yet somehow not long enough. The faded memory is now clear in your mind at your forced proximity.

Choso considers leaving. He thinks of Nanami, of how he’ll probably pry the real reason for his reluctance right out of him with little to no effort the moment the young deputy tells him that he’s no longer interested in receiving the sheriff’s gift. He thinks of how the man will most likely march him right back into your meager studio and sit in the corner and watch . He’d rather not have this debacle unfold in front of an audience, much less his mentor. 

The deputy is facing an internal uphill battle of his own as he struggles and fails to repress the memory of your last private encounter with every minute of sitting in your presence. Fighting back a warm blush that threatens to spill over his cheeks when he remembers the last time he was in this room. If he is uncomfortable now, he can only imagine the immense discomfort that would come with the sheriff seeing him so on edge like this. So openly undone by your mere appraisal..

Choso is a grown-ass man who will not run away from a gift just because he can’t unsee you bent over this very same stool two years ago, crying out on his cock.

“I can do this,” he resolves and then reddens with the realization that he has exposed a bit of his inner dialogue when you frown, scrambling to rephrase his words. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

His heart aches a little at the way your expression shutters, closed off, but then again maybe you’re just reflecting his own. “Take as much time as you need, I mean. It’s up to you,” He tries again, but you’ve already returned your attention to your easel with a sharp nod, ducking behind your canvas. 

This way, he can’t see the way your hand trembles when you make your first brush stroke.

Your appointments are sparse and brief. 

At first, the whole ordeal is kind of a burden. It’s not that Choso is too busy to give it much thought - not really . Your town is quiet and picturesque - an unknown speck of nothing smack dab in the middle of nowhere. A watering hole, maybe, to those who wandered across the wild desert in gangs. Choso has done his best to keep the peace in your region, even in the few years before your arrival. Between him and the presence of Nanami - a legendary quick draw -  keeping the unruly at bay, it’s been a while since the young deputy had come across anyone that he could truly consider his rival.

The problem is that he does give it too much thought.

He only sees you maybe once or twice a week. The appointments are brief - there is only so much you can do to add to the portrait when you’re missing such a vital color, and for all of the patience and timeliness rumored to have carried his infamous gunslinging career, Choso is terrible at sitting still for too long.

You being, well, you , doesn’t help his case much either.

When he is not with you, Choso finds his thoughts drifting back to your studio. He thinks back to your many landscape paintings; the snakes and the way you paint their glittering scales. The distinct lack of portraits in your gallery despite being commissioned to make one. There seem to be more iterations of the desert each week he comes to visit as if you’re missing something you can’t quite put your finger on with each new edition. 

He daydreams about the way your bare ankles cross as you sit on a stool of your own. You’ve eventually stopped wearing shoes in his presence (he takes that as a sign of you being more comfortable with him rather than just simply too lazy to do anything about it when he comes through). 

His mind wanders to the pensive look on your face when you tune him out and really get to work. To that scrutinizing gaze you turn on him every so often while he poses, in the moments when you’re willing to pry yourself from the canvas to refresh yourself on the subject you’re replicating. He ruminates on the furrow of your brow, and how the first time he saw it he was knuckle-deep in your wet heat, wringing the sweetest sounds from your mouth.

But worst of all he thinks of your hands. Your fingers more accurately. The digits that wield your brush and paint palette with practiced ease. He imagines the grip of your fingers on the brush and recalls a time when they braceleted his neck and squeezed. The ghost of the delicious pressure of your fingertips against his skin, the band of your knuckles wrapped around his throat, haunts him on the hottest desert nights. 

Choso is reluctantly obsessed with the memory of you choking him, subconsciously chasing that shock of surprise at the sensation, followed by the rush of pleasure that sent him quickly tumbling over the edge faster than he ever had in his life. The feeling had hit him before he had even known was what happening. He remembers with stark clarity wrenching out of the grasp of your tight heat in surprise before spilling onto the wooden floor with a sharp cry. The cocktail of shame and confusion in his stomach at the sight of your pleased smile.

And then, as he makes his way into your modest studio, mentally preparing himself for another round of sitting as still as a statue, he reminds himself that that night was a one-off, one-time thing.

When he’s not plagued by his growing hunger for you, Choso has come to enjoy this moment of silence and stillness away from his usual routine. Typically, his days are filled with patrols about the perimeter of the town or hauling overzealous drunkards from the bar. He has been long familiar with the mercilessness of the desert this far west, the maliciousness that lurks in animals and people alike. 

While the bored bumble of your small town was reprieve itself, the young deputy can’t help but begin to look forward to his afternoons cooped up in your rented room. 

He stares at you from behind the canvas and wonders if you’d sound the same as you remember if he got his hands in the way he’s been itching to. Restraining to. Wonders if he got up from his station and crowded you by your canvas if you’d brace his neck with your small hands again just to keep him at bay.

You refuse to speak to him and yet he craves your presence even in your tense silence. He craves the solace of your company. Knowing he is your singular focus for just a small portion of time. Watching you watch him as you - supposedly – immortalize his face into a masterpiece.

When you finally receive news that the general store has ordered your paint and it will be here before the summer turns to autumn, Choso can’t help but wonder if you’ll paint him with the same quietly murderous black eyes as your snakes. 

He knows now that you are actually capable of painting human bodies, despite his earlier skepticism. Albeit only from the chest up, Choso’s painted double takes on a broad and heroic stance, filling out his deputy uniform with all of the muscle and build of somebody sculpted by hard work and hardship. 

All that’s missing is his face. 

The deputy talks to you now, speaking freely, offering quiet words here and there. There is a shared sense of amicableness between the two of you. A shared, unspoken understanding that you’d both silently chosen to ignore whatever had transpired up to this moment, for the sake of the commission. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice when your gaze lingers on his face for longer than probably necessary. That doesn’t mean his eyes don’t track your hands as you move about the canvas.

 Eventually, every time he comes by, you update him on the last thing the general store told you about the status of your paint order, and he wracks his brain to calculate when he’ll see you next. How long this will last. 

He doesn’t know if he can go back to ignoring each other after this.

--

It wasn’t until Deputy Kamo became a regular fixture in your routine that you would feel the cool bite of the steel and the worn wooden handle between your own two palms.

Guns, the indiscriminate dictators of the lawless West, were not an uncommon sight. Men carried them as casually as cigars. It was a less common occurrence for women, although the wives of cow wranglers were known to be familiar with riffles. Every so often when he would visit, you would curiously watch out of the corner of your eye as he would remove the weapon from his holster and place it gently on your rickety excuse for a kitchen table. When you ended your last painting session by asking Choso if he could teach you how to handle a revolver, he almost whited out at the concept.

He looks at you now as you balance the device in hesitant hands, impassive as ever. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself more than someone else with a grip like that.”

You huff and wordlessly adjust your hold on the weapon, frown furrowing your features. Trying hard to recall the deputy’s earlier patient instruction. The pair of you stand on the outskirts of town, at the lip of his patrol range. As far out into the desert as you’re comfortable venturing. The candlelights of your township twinkle in the distance like little figurines in the fading sunlight. 30 feet away, a beer mug balances on a dead log, perched directly in your line of sight. 

You hope he can’t feel the way you tense when Choso wraps his arms around your frame from behind, readjusting your grip with his own. 

“Breathe,” he admonishes.

“I am.”

“Right.”

His tone is clipped as he takes a step back, and you can’t help but frown a little as he steps away.

“Shoulders,” he corrects you, and you adjust accordingly, rolling them down and back, away from your ears. Not having made your first shot yet, you’re silently taken aback by how cold and still the device is in your hands. Unable to fully comprehend the violence it could administer - loud and quick and unforgiving. Permanent.

The sun sinks. The sound of crickets gets a little louder.

“You’re alright,” the deputy calls from behind you, softly, as though sensing the fear crawling up your throat. “Focus, don’t think. Steady.”

You level the revolver.

“Aim,” your finger rests on the trigger. A slight tremor in your stance. 

“Fire.” 

Too much happens all at once. The crack of the revolver is deafening, the force of the firearm rocking you back in your stance. You cringe. Your ears ring, and your shoulders burn. Tears well up in your eyes on instinct. The once cool metal now radiates with a minacious warmth. Your elbows drop but you keep the weapon extended as far from your body as possible.

“Did I hit it?” You face him rather than your makeshift target, as if afraid to be greeted with the sight of the aftermath of some sort of carnage and not just some shattered beer mug. 

The air tastes like gunpowder when you speak. Choso takes one glance over your shoulder and grimaces.

“Depends on what you were tryna’ hit.”

You whirl around, indignant. “What-,”

A gaping hole now graces the side of the barrel. In your haste to shoot, you’d completely missed your target, the mug having fallen into the shrubbery with the force of your firearm.

Choso is patient and watchful. He slips the revolver from your grasp, easily dismissing your disgruntled look. “Go pick it up. Try again.”

You try not to roll your eyes and gripe at the patronizing tone he’s taken on and fail as you trudge toward your fallen target. Wondering again why you had thought that he of all people would be better to ask to sate your curiosity rather than any of the other gun-totting residents of town. Nanami was just as accessible as his deputy.

He’d probably charge me for the lessons, you muse, take it out of my commission or something.

As you reach for the beer mug, the snake sees you before you see it, but Choso is faster.

A flash of reptilian skin and teeth whips in your direction, sending you startling backward and falling on your ass.

“Shit!”

Two gunshots ring out in quick succession, but you feel the whiz of the bullets go by more viscerally than you hear them. 

The deputy’s gentle hand on your shoulder wrenches you from the shock of your fright.

“Are you okay?” The question is asked with such sincerity you have to look up at him in astonishment. The sight that greets you sends chills up your spine. Choso’s stolidity largely remains the same, but after studying his figure for weeks on end, you can see the cracks in his composure. The tightness of his jaw. The knuckle-white grip on the weapon in the hand not holding you. You zero in on his comfortable grasp on the metal, trailing your gaze up his sun-warm arms and well-toned neck and nearly flinch at what you see when you meet his eyes.

It’s a fleeting look, one you would have missed if you had looked back at him a second too late. That wild thing that is found in all desert things. That violence. It dances in the blown pupils of his eyes, wicked, sharp, and hungry and suddenly you understand the stories. Suddenly you can’t help but marvel that once long ago, there had been a moment when you had a creature capable of such violence crumble beneath your simple touches. You know he can feel the way you tremble a little in his grasp, even as you nod and straighten up, dusting off your skirt.

“Yeah I’m-,”

The snake twitches violently in the dry grass and the deputy is quick to react, drawing back from you to stomp on the beast’s neck with such force and precision it shocks you more than the initial attack. The thing makes a pained, high-pitched wheezing sound akin to a shriek before going limp under his boot as Choso twists his heel sharply. Blood turns the desert floor a murky brown. 

For a moment, the two of you stare at the thing. It’s nearly as long as you. White, reptant eyes stare unseeingly back at you. 

Choso sighs, turning away from you almost sheepishly. He considers asking if this is the snake you’ve been painting. Instead, he shakes the blood off the bottom of his shoe and starts with, “‘Sorry you had to see that.”

He knows that despite your few years here, you’re still not akin to the dangers of the wilderness. You never wander too far from the confines of your township. You are far from the comforts and safety of the city you once called home. He doubts the men of New England are shooting each other willy-nilly in the streets. Knowing this, the guilt he feels is immense. He shouldn’t have agreed to teach, let alone see you outside of your appointed painting sessions.

So it is his turn to be shocked when he registers the look on your face to be one of approval. Admiration, naked and plain on your face. The expression of someone who just experienced a revelation. As you stare up at him in wonder, something hot coils beneath his stomach.

“Don’t be,” you finally say, sneering at the snake and spinning sharply on your heel. The moment is broken. “I’m not.”

--

The day you finally get black paint is more momentous than it really should be. The general store owner has to keep you from nearly breaking down his doors when the morning after the shipment arrives, relieved to put an end to your incessant hounding. If there was anyone else more ready for you to complete your portrait commission than your deputy, it was the store owner. 

Choso tries not to frown at the news when he meets up with you for what would now be the very last time, especially when you seem to have lightened up significantly at the return of this pigment to your arsenal. You’re giddy - you can finally give this man a face. And hair!

Caught up in your satisfaction, you hardly notice the subject of your masterpiece fidgeting in his seat more than usual. He’d rather not admit it now, but the deputy is distraught at the thought of things returning to normal after this. The sense of finality that lingers in the room disturbs him.  He revels in your quiet but stern presence, the passion and dedication to your craft. That odd hunger for danger and risk that reflects in your paintings a craving you seem too embarrassed to put a name to, but too curious to fully ignore.

 Choso would like to consider himself an honorable man of the law - he dons his badge with pride and purpose. But before that, he was a boy in the desert with a gun and enough bullets and anger to strike as deadly and indiscriminately as that snake. That life, no matter how far in the past, sticks with him and reflects off of him in an intangible way that even without seeing his scars and bullet wounds, people just know . Most strangers and visitors, especially women from the city, would turn their cheek to his particular brand of unruliness.

For a moment, you seemed to want to eat him whole despite of it. 

As you meticulously mix the black paint, your movements are precise, almost reverent. Choso watches you work, the evening sun casting long shadows across the room. The air feels heavy with anticipation, charged with an energy neither of you can ignore.

With each stroke of your brush, the likeness of Choko begins to take shape on your canvas. His features emerge from the blankness with startling clarity.

The sun sets, dying your small studio in hues of pink and orange, and you finally step back from your easel with an air of completion. Choso can feel his heart pounding in his chest when you gesture for him to come to look, his breaths becoming shallow and quick. He thinks of taking a glance, granting you a decisive farewell, and never speaking to you again, and his chest aches. 

“What do you think?” you ask as he rounds the canvas. 

Your voice is smaller than he’s ever heard it. Choso silently takes in his painting and tries not to sigh in relief. You have captured his stoic demeanor perfectly. Looking astute in his deputy uniform, you have portrayed him as a figure of pride and power. His face looks back at him with a gaze so steady and confident he’s almost unnerved.

“So?” You ask, trying and failing not to appear anxious.

 “Have you always known how to paint faces?”

You blanch and whirl on the man you’ve spent most of your summer studying in this exact same studio. “Did you not think I could do it?”

Choso shrugs, and nods to the little corner cluttered with your other discarded pieces of work. “Didn’t see any other portraits."

“It’s just not what I’m into painting right now,” you sputter, indignant. “Why didn’t you think to ask?”

The deputy mumbles, aptly studying the heel of his boots. “Thought you’d paint mine in the shape of a horse or somethin’.”

The man admits it so forlornly, you can’t help but chuckle, turning away to pack up your materials and allow him to take a closer look. “Maybe I should’ve.”

He says nothing in response, and you don’t look back to catch his expression. The silence that follows. You’re both hesitating and you know it.

Choso is the first to break.

“I’m sorry for what happened after…after we met for the first time. I shouldn’t have left like that.”

You sigh and put your brushes down, unwilling to turn and face him just yet. “I feel like all you do is apologize to me lately. We gotta put a stop to that.”

You wait for him to laugh you off and excuse himself, trying to offer him an out. Your tone is playful, joking, but Choso can sense the sincerity in your words. You can’t see it, but he shakes his head, adamant. “I was scared.”

The omission weighs heavy between the two of you.

“That I’d hurt you?” You wonder aloud, knowing that’s not the truth but pressing him anyways. You think of how he towers over you easily, how he could probably snap your wrists with two of his fingers, and can't help but laugh at the idea of this death machine of a man finding you physically threatening. But there was something else - 

“No,” he admits, almost a whisper this time, still full of resolve. “That I liked it.”

You finally face him, inching closer, still unsure. Your breath catches in your chest at the sight of his expression. Open and vulnerable, eyes wide and expressive with want.

“We can try something else,” you offer, pouncing on the opportunity. “If you’re feeling brave.”

A challenge. For the first time, he is willing to confront the suffocating something between the two of you - desire . The pure longing and awe on your face after the snake incident is imprinted on the forefront of his mind and haunts him as frequently as this memory of your hands around his neck.

He reaches for those very same hands now, in silent askance. Pleading you to collar that untamed unruliness lurking beneath his skin, quell the hunger that boils in his blood.

Choso has been bored . He loves the slow pace of your quaint little town. The stability and predictability are a welcome change from the life he once lived. But… he misses the thrill of the fight. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, the euphoria that follows the moments after brushing that thin margin between life and death

He feels it again, that buzz, as he allows his odd little painter to guide him back to a seated position on the stool, undo his belt buckle and slide the leather through the loops with delicious intent. Permits you to secure the material around his wrist. Encourages you to free his hips from the denim fabric of his pants. 

He is suntanned beneath his trousers too and the thought of how that came to be makes you feel a little lightheaded. The deputy is completely bare beneath his trousers, and it occurs to you that he had been squirming in his seat originally for reasons more than just impatience. 

“Oh,” you sigh at the sight before you, breath ghosting over his cock, and Choso nearly pitches forward in your grasp at the sensation. He wrenches his bound arms towards his chest, away from where you kneel between his knees before him on the floor.

“You’re so pretty down here,” you murmur absently, thumbs rubbing along where the waistband of his pants press into the tops of his thighs, tucked just beneath his balls, and its true. His erection throbs from where it sits propped up against his tummy, red and leaking under the weight of your attention. A smattering of soft, curly hair runs a trail from his stomach to his groin.

He keens when you press a kiss to the base of his dick, thumbs tracing a new path at the crest of his hips.

“Please, quickly, please-,” he stammers, flush from the neck down and willing himself not to tremble in your hold. “Gotta get back soon and, ah -,”

Choso’s resolve and dedication to his job falls apart at the feeling of your wet mouth on him, warm and insistent. You nod and hum in understanding, wordless, but he feels it all with you pressed this close to where he wants you. The deputy would have half a mind to be embarrassed at the high pitch of his voice if he weren’t so eager to feel you again.

“You remember my first night here, right?” You say, mockingly, pressing a soft kiss to his dripping head. “You were pretty then too. With my hands around your neck.”

Choso’s knuckles are pressed tightly to his forehead as he purses his lips. He can’t respond, can’t even bite back and tell you to shut up when you call him something as silly as pretty. Eyes rolling back as he sinks into the warm cavern. He’s in heaven. He’s in hell.

You can’t help but marvel at how pliant he is in your hold, drawing back to press a quick kiss to the inside of his thighs when they tremble. A warmth and wetness builds between your own legs at the sight.  When you draw him into your mouth again, you have to brace an arm across his hip to keep him from fucking into the back of your throat.

“Please, fuck, hurry ,” 

He’s writhing, throbbing as you swallow him down. You had had your fair share of promiscuity on your journey west - part of the reason you had departed high society - but Choso was an impressive task. You moan at the weight of him in your mouth as he struggles against the slow, relentless suction of your mouth. The patch of hair beneath his stomach grows damp with a viscous mix of your saliva and tears.

When you pull back suddenly, his hips stutter forward, and you have to duck out of the way to avoid being blinded.

“Fuck, sorry,” Choso gasps. “Really sorry.”

He watches with breathless anticipation as you draw two fingers from the hand not braced across his hip to your open lips, coating them in spit until they’re slick and shiny.

“Scoot forward a lil,” is the only direction he receives before he feels rather than seems that same arm wrap behind him, wedged between his legs and the seat of the stool. His ass hangs precariously off the ledge, the seat of the stool digging into his lower back. You’re much closer in this new position, straddling one of his elongated legs he sits with a slight bend in his knees to balance against the seat. 

When he feels your slick fingers brush his puckered hole, Choso lurches again at the foreign feeling, and you narrowly avoid being stabbed in the face once more. You can’t help but grin, all teeth. Choso gets the foreboding feeling like he’s about to be eaten alive.

“Fuck, wait, wait,” he pleads, pitiful, but you are already rubbing slick circles around his rim. “N-not there.”

You coo, "Relax, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

The deputy shakes a little more in his seat, but doesn’t protest further, not when you’re returning the attention of your hot mouth back to the head of his cock, tongue torturing him with tight circles and light flicks before you press him further into your throat. He rocks his hips into your mouth with draw out pants of ha, ha, ha that only serve to fuel your own arousal. The sight of such a dangerous man, crumbling at your simple ministrations, has you pressing your thighs together You rock back on the deputy’s leg with a moan, subtly shifting so that the tip of his point leather boot presses blissfully into the soak crevice of your undergarments. 

“Huh?” The deputy hiccups, having given up hiding his face in order to lightly balance his bound hands against the top of your head. “A-are you-?”

Your fingers quicken in pace from where they slide around his untouched rim. This time when he bucks into your mouth, you don’t pull away, leaning in further to trap him between the heat of your mouth and the relentless sensation of your fingers. The deputy cries out, feeling helpless.

“I’m gonna, fuck, fuck m’gonna-!”

Choso sobs, his bound arms fully wrapping around the back of your head to thrust fully into your throat until your lips press fully into his abdomen and hold you there. Barely able to warn you before he locks up in your hold, cumming hard and damn near babbling at the sensation as you choke and struggle in his grasp, surprised. He cums long and and hard, gently rocking his hips into your face even as his comes down until you’re slapping profusely at his thigh to release your head.

The gunslinger is silent, eyes tightly shut as he struggles to catch his breath and regain his sense. Distantly, he hears you get to your feet, allows you to pull his hands away from his face so you can unwind the leather biting into his skin. The red marks they leave behind cause the red flush of his cheeks to flare up again.

He sits upright on the stool and peaks one eye open to glance at you, puttering around your small kitchen for a glass of water. Then he glances at his boots. “Did you get off on my shoe?”

He wonders idly if it was the same foot he used to kill the snake. You don’t respond, but the way you slam a glass of water beside him on a work table is answer enough.

--

Not much is said on his departure. You clean up and share soft smiles. He picks up his portrait, makes his way to the door, lingers with his hand at the handle.

“‘Ppose I should get going then.” His tries to keep the resignation out of his voice, but you pick up on it easily.

He makes to head out resolve to bother you any further fizzling at your slow response, but then you’re crossing the small distance to stop him, fingers digging into the thick material of his uniform.

“This won’t be the last time I see you, right?” You ask him. Implore him. “This time?”

The deputy breaks out into a grin, expressive as you’ve ever seen him, before pressing a kiss to your forehead and ducking before you, hand on his hat.

“At your service ma’am," he says, with an earnest grin and the tilt of his gallon hat. “Always."

--

“Hm.”

The town’s sheriff stands beside Choso, gazing contemplatively at his new and improved portrait from where it hangs in the place of its predecessor. He watches his mentor tilt his head to the side, hand at his chin. “I dunno. Something about it feels very..”

Sheriff Nanami’s gaze flicks between Choso and his replication. “Horselike?”

Choso nearly keels over in his boots. The sheriff waves him off dismissively. “Ask her to do it again, or at least touch it up a bit. We paid good a good amount of money for it.” 

He sighs, pinching his brow, remembering the shoot out and prison escape in the manner parents do when reminded of delinquent children. The deputy gawks at the portrait. Maybe he really didn’t understand art?

As if sensing his subordinate’s hesitation, Nanami clasps him on the back, marching back to his desk. “Can’t hurt to ask, right? Beside, how long could it possibly take?”

[gilverrwrites]

Some people have all the luck

Two-Face/Reader, 1.2K words Idk, writing that match-up with good ol' Harv sparked something in my brain and I haven't stopped thinking about him since. I just had to write something. Using his Arkham design in the divider but this isn't specific to that portrayal. [1/2] Already at rock bottom, Two-Face offers you the chance to test your luck. Rating: 18+

CWs: Drunk reader, smoking, implied threats of violence, sexually suggestible themes - nothing explicit, swearing, Reader is kind of a dick - but hey, we all have bad days.

Please: never apologise for being yourself.

It had been a terrible, awful, shitty day, but somebody else’s was about to be worse. 

Perhaps because you were too drunk to even think of minding your own business, or perhaps because you wanted to see somebody else’s day ruined, you watch, lucid and transfixed as a strong, grotesque hand clutches the arm of another drunken bar patron.

You’d clocked him as soon as he’d entered; tall, dark, and intriguingly handsome in ways you didn’t care to decipher. His suit was crisp, hugging him in all the right places, a cigar situated cleanly between his teeth. 

The unlucky girl had been in a world of her own, dancing amongst friends. The poor thing hadn’t been looking where she was going, and hadn’t seen him coming despite his very noticeable presence. She’d spun around, colliding with his large frame, spilling her cocktail all over his two-tone suit. 

Their voices can barely be heard over the blaring music, but she looks to be begging, hunched over in a show of submission, trying desperately to reel back her trapped arm. 

When he drops his cigar to the floor, putting it out easily as he reaches into his suit jacket to pull out his signature coin, you sit up straighter. At least you try to, your intoxicated body only allows you to lean further onto your table, angling for a better view. 

The silver dollar glints under the spotlights as it flips through the air and lands back in his good hand. 

His lips move, either an omen of what’s to come, or a warning for the future and then… 

He releases his grip. She bows her head lower, and then she’s gone, disappearing amongst the crowd. Disappointing. 

That should have been it, you should have averted your gaze when it was over, nursed your drink, watched somebody else, someone less dangerous. In all honestly, you don’t even realise you’re still staring until he’s standing directly on the other side of your table, glaring back at you. Half glaring. The unmarred side of his face, the ‘handsome Harvey’ side as the paper used to bill him, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbone seems softer, sadder. It looks at you like you’re a lost puppy, begging your safety.

The other side not so much; It's still handsome, all the trademark features of his right side still there, under layers of sharp, twisted skin. It doesn’t seem so bad up close, strangely attractive even, if not for the veiny yellow eye that appears to be routing for your demise. 

You can’t help but wonder how much of your perception of his supposed conflicting expressions is real, and how much of it is fuelled by his portrayals in the media, by the uneven shapes of his face under the blinking lights, by your own dubious emotions. 

“What are you looking at?” His voice is low, gravelly, threatening. More of a growl that emanates from his puffed-out chest. 

Had you been sober, you likely would have let your panic show, would have stuttered over your words, would have uttered a thousand apologies, not unlike his previous target. Instead, you continue to peer up at him as you take a slow sip of your drink, struggling to find your coaster when you place it back on the table. 

“I just can’t believe she got away with that.” The words come out slurred, but more confident than you’d expected. “Some people have all the luck.” 

Maybe your statement, maybe your demeanour, but something about you seems to amuse him. The space where an eyebrow would sit on his left side raises, his head twists to the side, showing you more of his undamaged side. 

“Not you?” His voice is still gruff and husky, but his tone is lighter now, entertained. 

“Me? Nah. If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” You try to make some form of gesture with your arms, but all you manage to do is spill a tipple from your drink. Finally looking away from him, you grab way too many napkins whilst trying and clean up your spillage. 

Distracted, you don’t notice his rounding the table until you hear the sound of metal knocking on glass far too close for comfort. Your eyes dart to the noise. His hand is beside yours, tapping his coin against the table. You unabashedly track your eyes up his body, taking in his dexterous hand, muscular arms, broad shoulders, until you’re face to face again.

Even as you’re perched on the bar stool his standing frame still towers over you. Up close he smells like smoke and jasmine. He radiates authority and malice that should caution you, should send you running. But for some reason you find yourself intrigued, captivated by his formidable presence. 

Presumably satisfied to have your attention once again, he brings the coin up close to your face, turning it back and forth between his fingers, displaying its two sides. One clean and shiny, the other dented and scratched, a mirror image of himself. 

“Care to test that theory?” What a terrifying prospect, the answer is clearly no, but it’s obvious you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Your only hope is that it lands on his good side. 

“Not really, but by all means.” Your attempt to crack a joke seems to land. The left side of his face doesn’t have much of a mouth, but the muscles twitch upwards in a manner that implies a smile. 

You watch with bated breath, teeth digging into your lower lip as the coin jolts into the air. It lands in the palm of his hand, and he closes his fingers over it quickly, denying you a chance to glimpse the results. 

“This is the part where they usually try to run away.” He comments, and you really can’t tell if he’s trying to make his own joke or not. You tilt your body away from him, buzzed brain trying and failing to locate an escape path. Then you look at your feet, heavy and unbalanced due to the sheer amount of booze you’d been trying to drown yourself in. 

“I would but…” I wouldn’t get far, I don’t think I can, I’d probably just fall flat on my face. Warm, rough skin meets your chin, directing your slackened face back to his. When you look up at him, your heart races under his lurid gaze. “I don’t want to.” 

His fingers move deftly, opening just enough for him to glimpse the result before placing it back in his inner pocket. Still declining you a peek at your fate. 

The same rugged skin that had held your face now rakes down your body, dropping lower until it’s wrapped around your waist, easily hoisting you from your seat and onto unsteady feet. The crowd parts with every step, eager not to get in his way. You wonder how you look to the masses, like lovers heading home for the night? Like a father caring for his inebriated child? His vice-like, bruising grip around your body implies something far less tender. 

You spot the girl from earlier, pale and shaking amongst a group of girlfriends attempting to calm her. She offers you a solemn, pitying look. Perhaps this is your penance for routing for her downfall. 

“Wh- what are you- where are we…” You trip over your words, nerves finally getting the better of your vocal cords. His expression gives nothing away. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know.” 

[scifigeneration]

ChatGPT and the movie ‘Her’ are just the latest example of the ‘sci-fi feedback loop’

by Rizwan Virk, Faculty Associate and PhD Candidate in Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology at Arizona State University

In May 2024, OpenAI CEO Sam Altman sparked a firestorm by referencing the 2013 movie “Her” to highlight the novelty of the latest iteration of ChatGPT.

Within days, actor Scarlett Johansson, who played the voice of Samantha, the AI girlfriend of the protagonist in the movie “Her,” accused the company of improperly using her voice after she had spurned their offer to make her the voice of ChatGPT’s new virtual assistant. Johansson ended up suing OpenAI and has been invited to testify before Congress.

This tiff highlights a broader interchange between Hollywood and Silicon Valley that’s called the “sci-fi feedback loop.” The subject of my doctoral research, the sci-fi feedback loop explores how science fiction and technological innovation feed off each other. This dynamic is bidirectional and can sometimes play out over many decades, resulting in an ongoing loop.

Fiction sparks dreams of Moon travel

One of the most famous examples of this loop is Moon travel.

Jules Verne’s 1865 novel “From the Earth to the Moon” and the fiction of H.G. Wells inspired one of the first films to visualize such a journey, 1902’s “A Trip to the Moon.”

The fiction of Verne and Wells also influenced future rocket scientists such as Robert Goddard, Hermann Oberth and Oberth’s better-known protégé, Wernher von Braun. The innovations of these men – including the V-2 rocket built by von Braun during World War II – inspired works of science fiction, such as the 1950 film “Destination Moon,” which included a rocket that looked just like the V-2.

Films like “Destination Moon” would then go on to bolster public support for lavish government spending on the space program.

Creative symbiosis

The sci-fi feedback loop generally follows the same cycle.

First, the technological climate of a given era will shape that period’s science fiction. For example, the personal computing revolution of the 1970s and 1980s directly inspired the works of cyberpunk writers Neal Stephenson and William Gibson.

Then the sci-fi that emerges will go on to inspire real-world technological innovation. In his 1992 classic “Snow Crash,” Stephenson coined the term “metaverse” to describe a 3-D, video game-like world accessed through virtual reality goggles.

Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and innovators have been trying to build a version of this metaverse ever since. The virtual world of the video game Second Life, released in 2003, took a stab at this: Players lived in virtual homes, went to virtual dance clubs and virtual concerts with virtual girlfriends and boyfriends, and were even paid virtual dollars for showing up at virtual jobs.

This technology seeded yet more fiction; in my research, I discovered that sci-fi novelist Ernest Cline had spent a lot of time playing Second Life, and it inspired the metaverse of his bestselling novel “Ready Player One.”

The cycle continued: Employees of Oculus VR – now known as Meta Reality Labs – were given copies of “Ready Player One” to read as they developed the company’s virtual reality headsets. When Facebook changed its name to Meta in 2021, it did so in the hopes of being at the forefront of building the metaverse, though the company’s grand ambitions have tempered somewhat.

Another sci-fi franchise that has its fingerprints all over this loop is “Star Trek,” which first aired in 1966, right in the middle of the space race.

Steve Perlman, the inventor of Apple’s QuickTime media format and player, said he was inspired by an episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” in which Lt. Commander Data, an android, sifts through multiple streams of audio and video files. And Rob Haitani, the designer of the Palm Pilot’s operating system, has said that the bridge on the Enterprise influenced its interface.

In my research, I also discovered that the show’s Holodeck – a room that could simulate any environment – influenced both the name and the development of Microsoft’s HoloLens augmented reality glasses.

From ALICE to ‘Her’

Which brings us back to OpenAI and “Her.”

In the movie, the protagonist, Theodore, played by Joaquin Phoenix, acquires an AI assistant, “Samantha,” voiced by Johansson. He begins to develop feelings for Samantha – so much so that he starts to consider her his girlfriend.

ChatGPT-4o, the latest version of the generative AI software, seems to be able to cultivate a similar relationship between user and machine. Not only can ChatGPT-4o speak to you and “understand” you, but it can also do so sympathetically, as a romantic partner would.

There’s little doubt that the depiction of AI in “Her” influenced OpenAI’s developers. In addition to Altman’s tweet, the company’s promotional videos for ChatGPT-4o feature a chatbot speaking with a job candidate before his interview, propping him up and encouraging him – as, well, an AI girlfriend would. The AI featured in the clips, Ars Technica observed, was “disarmingly lifelike,” and willing “to laugh at your jokes and your dumb hat.”

But you might be surprised to learn that a previous generation of chatbots inspired Spike Jonze, the director and screenwriter of “Her,” to write the screenplay in the first place. Nearly a decade before the film’s release, Jonze had interacted with a version of the ALICE chatbot, which was one of the first chatbots to have a defined personality – in ALICE’s case, that of a young woman.

The ALICE chatbot won the Loebner Prize three times, which was awarded annually until 2019 to the AI software that came closest to passing the Turing Test, long seen as a threshold for determining whether artificial intelligence has become indistinguishable from human intelligence.

The sci-fi feedback loop has no expiration date. AI’s ability to form relationships with humans is a theme that continues to be explored in fiction and real life.

A few years after “Her,” “Blade Runner 2049” featured a virtual girlfriend, Joi, with a holographic body. Well before the latest drama with OpenAI, companies had started developing and pitching virtual girlfriends, a process that will no doubt continue. As science fiction writer and social media critic Cory Doctorow wrote in 2017, “Science fiction does something better than predict the future: It influences it.”

[ottiliere]

oh my goodness your dios.. what a delight to see someone so fully invested in phantom blood dio wow. i am very happy. i love your 3D dios. really makes me want to sculpt him as well

Do it... clay is cheap bake it in the oven paint with 10 dollar set of acrylics your life will never be better. I adore phantom blood Dio so very much... years ago saw someone coin the term “phantom blood purist” and it's so funny I think about it literally every time I enter a Dio cycle. There are many aspects that go into this preference of course, and upon a great amount of time pondering i can say confidently that this is because mainly that:

1) I love history (especially the fin de siècle) and I love thinking about him in relation to Victorian values/etiquette/sociology in general... there's something so special about a society that enabled such a gross disparity of wealth&poverty while being so inherently pretentious that its asinine etiquette rules would completely elude you unless you were raised in an aristocratic family or had access to etiquette books. Dio absolutely read a great amount of these before going to the Joestar mansion btw, even before his father snuffed it I think. God help him he would not be doomed to look like a slovenly ill-bred gamin if and when he needed to manipulate the upper classes. I really can't think of a way for him to have developed these skills enough to outclass Jonathan otherwise. god and like thinking about him as a barrister too with his profligate fashion sense you just KNOW he gets drawn that way into all of the court sketches that go in all the newspapers since everyone loved to read about crime and there were a million papers for this in England alone... he'd get caricatured so bad sometimes and he is NOT happy about this.

2) You can probably tell from my indifference to the rest of the parts (except sbr; I call this the "diego rule") that I'm not the biggest fan of fantastical elements and I'm much more interested in interpersonal conflict/relationships in general... PB is extremely unique to the rest of the series because for five WHOLE chapters absolutely nothing abnormal happens and we just get to see Dio harassing Jonathan and his girlfriend until Jonathan snaps and humiliates him so bad in beating him up that he makes Dio cry. and then Dio kills his dog. Like it's literally just some impoverished child abuse victim bullying a spoiled rich kid who wanted to be his friend because lalala sunshine daisies only knows what "poverty" is from reading Oliver Twist and has no conceptual understanding of what the real-world implications of that are. That was the character development that needed multiple chapters to develop it's so fucking awesome. like yeah I'd read an entire novel of just this alone happening and how it impacts their relationship as adults no vampirism needed. I reread "dio the invader" so frequently I'm surprised the spine of my jojonium copy isn't cracked at the exact endpoint of it. I just adore him interacting with Jonathan so much it's hard to remove him from that… that's his FOIL... all the stories (some "AUs") I make with Dio involve the way he and Jonathan gravitate each other to some degree. we get the clearest view of who he is in the face of someone who is the polar opposite of himself. 🤯

2) This iteration of him is the closest degree of separation he has from his "humanity" (childhood), thus

3) I find him to be the most interesting, endearing, etc., version of him walking around, given that... well. behaviors stem from somewhere... the thematic & active severance of himself from a species he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with due to the way he adapted to help him tolerate his childhood... from his point of view I can't imagine that there is one convincing reason for him to continue being human after given the opportunity to deviate from it (despite likely still being inebriated when he vamped himself — very much an impulsive decision since he had, what, an hour or two to think that through? drunk?). If everyone's underneath him, yes, after the fact the choice seems extremely fitting. Maybe he'll cultivate a vast swathe of worshippers and disciples that obey his every command. Maybe he'll rule the world. And then, maybe, he will start to feel genuinely content for the first time in his life. But probably not. That's the drawback of having something fundamentally missing from within you.

4) He lacks a certain type of introspective awareness that 100 years alone in a box might enable him to develop... he's very animalistic to me and possesses a precarious/immature/nonexistent grasp on his emotions just given the fact that he exhibits enraged outbursts from perceived ego wounds (in both childhood and adulthood) + struggles with alcoholism due to an incapacity to self-soothe any sort of negative emotion that makes it past the self-aggrandizing filter he can't help but see life through; he really isn't in conscious control of anything happening inside of him despite needing control over everything and everyone so he can get exactly what he wants, and deserves, always. PB paints a very dim and pathetic view of his character by allowing us to see when he's most "vulnerable", which is the thing he likely hates being the most, so getting to see scenes where he's walking around publicly intoxicated and disparaging himself for acting like his father (implied: again), who he hates, and attacking men with a wine bottle for evoking the concept of his mother, who he also kind of hates but lacks the cognizant cogency to dissolve whatever cognitive dissonance is causing this mental incongruence, rules. he rules

tl;dr SDC dio is "iconic" but I feel like he misses a lot of the charm he had in part one, removed from the context of the society that had such rigid social boundaries and rules of decorum, in addition to his maladaptive approach to interpersonal relationships, his substance abuse issues, his humbling foil... he's too "cool" for me. In the end SDC dio is simply not my Dio... he is someone else's Dio. And that's okay.

[inter-fandomfollower]

*Leonardo x Fem! Reader* A Princess and a Frog Au pt 2

Story Prompt: Leonardo is the second eldest prince to the Kingdom of Shangrao. You're a woman who works to make a dream become a reality in New Orleans.

Who could guess that with new experiences, new dangers lurk around every corner?

Italics + 🎶 means singing

Years Later

As the same door to the bedroom opened, in walked you, but as a grown 19 year old woman and you were exhausted from work.

You begrudgingly closed the door with your back and kicked off your shoes with a tired look on your face. You then took off your apron and walked over to your dresser.

As you opened the top drawer, canisters of coins and some dollars could be found inside it.

"Well, that was a rough night, but every little bit helps."

You emptied the money out of one of your aprons pocket and closed the drawer. You reached into the other pocket of your apron to find the same picture your dad gave you.

A smile was plastered on your face as you placed the picture on your mirror. Right next to the mirror was a framed photo of your father when he went to war, and a medal hanging on a corner of the frame of the photo.

"Don't worry, Dad."

You placed a kiss to your pointer and middle finger and pressed it against the framed photo.

"We'll be there soon."

Tired and fatigued, you trekked over to your bed. Not even bothering to take off the rest of your apparel, you body slammed onto your bed, almost immediately dozing off into slumber.

However, the sweet release of sleep never came, as the alarm clock rang not even a minute later.

You pressed your toes onto the alarm clock to shut it off. You reluctantly got up and opened your wardrobe closet. You hastily took off your night waitress job's little bonnet.

"Good night, Cal's."

You grabbed your other waitress uniform from the small wardrobe closet.

"Good morning, Duke's."

Time quickly passed as you left the house and caught up to the trolley as it headed into town.

~🎶In the south land, there's a city🎶

🎶Way down on the river🎶~

You were reading a magazine on cooking, not noticing a man looking at you.

~🎶Where the women are very pretty🎶~

Just as the man was about to you a flower, you got off at your stop. And much to the man's disappointment, another guy on the trolley wasn't to fond of the flower, seeing as how it looked like it was being gestured to him.

~🎶And all the men deliver🎶~

Just as you stepped off the trolley, a brass band accidentally cut you off from getting to your job.

~🎶They got music, it's always playing🎶

🎶Start in the daytime, go all through the night🎶~

Just as the brass band seemed to end, a man with a trombone caught you off guard.

~🎶When you hear that music playing🎶~

Another member of the band began to dance with you, but you excused yourself from him to get to your job.

~🎶Grab somebody, come on down🎶~

You flawlessly handed out each order to the people at the front counter.

~🎶Bring your paintbrush, we painting the town🎶~

You began adding honey drizzle to some freshly baked beignets.

~🎶There's some sweetness going 'round🎶~

Just as you finished adding the powdered sugar onto the beignets, you handed them to a serious looking military soldier.

~🎶Catch it down in New Orleans🎶~

As soon as the man took a bit out of a beignet, he smiled and saluted to you.

You smiled and saluted back, but not before you were tapped on the shoulder by the cook, Chef Rupert.

He tossed the ordered food and drinks to you and thankfully you were able to catch them all.

~🎶We got magic, good and bad🎶~

A man by the name of Baron Draxum, more commonly referred to as the Shadow man, was performing a Tarot card reading for a man.

~🎶Make you happy or make you real sad🎶~

The man turned out to hide his bald head under a hat, to which Baron Draxum gave him something that would give the man hair.

~🎶Get everything you want🎶~

The man soon afterwards tried to flirt with a women with his new look.

~🎶Lose what you had🎶~

The women screamed in fright and smacked the man with her purse, to which he could see his reflection in a window and he turned out to hair all over himself!

~🎶Down here in New Orleans🎶~

Baron Draxum chuckled at the man's reaction and flicked the coin he received as payment into his inner coat pocket.

~🎶Hey, partner! Don't be shy🎶~

The honking of a car horn caught Draxum's attention, and it turned out to be Mr. La Bouff.

~🎶Come on down, yeah and give us a try🎶~

A kid was giving out newspapers and Mr. La Bouff paid him with a big stack of cash and he drove off as the kid thanked him.

~🎶If you wanna do some livin' before you die🎶~

Draxum's shadow opened his jacket, took out the coin, and gave it back to his physical self, both feeling angry.

~🎶Do it down in New Orleans🎶~

As Mr. La Bouff was reading the newspaper, it read; Prince Leonardo comes to Crescent City - The second eldest, and eldest twin prince of Shangrao arrived this morning in Crescent City, as it is his final stop on his whirlwind tour of the US. Rumor has it that the eligible prince is looking for a bride.

The scene changed to Prince Leonardo making his debut at the docks. As quick as a flash, he ripped his formal attire off to reveal casual ones underneath.

The prince quickly grabbed his ukulele from his royal valet, Warren. He then slid down the railings to some ladies at the bottom. As the brass band was walking by the pier, Leo decided to join them, with the women following along.

As Warren was trying to get down the stairs with all the prince's luggage in his hands, he slipped on the prince's crown. He came tumbling down, as the crown landed right side up on his bum.

~🎶Stately homes and mansions🎶~

The La Bouff mansion came into view as Mr. La Bouff's car pull up to gate and Lottie got into the car.

~🎶Of the sugar barons and cotton kings🎶~

Mr. La Bouff gives his daughter the newspaper and she squeals reading that a prince was visiting Crescent City.

~🎶Rich people, poor people all got dreams🎶~

You were currently outside, giving a man his coffee and cleaning up another outside table. Leo happened to be passing by and tried to flirt with you, but you just rolled your eyes with an amused smile on your face.

~🎶Dreams do come true in New Orleans🎶~

[popculturebuffet]

Pirate Month III: We Lost Our Gold (Comission by WeirdKev27)

Arrgh all you happy swabs and welcome back to PIrate MOnth, our cleebration of everything piraty. eeyyyarrgh.

We're almost at the end and it's time for the return of an institution. Muppet Madness is back... and we've dropped the monthly as sometimes there's simply something else I want to do and trying to force it wasn't working. Thankfully we've come back with a whopper We Lost Our Gold

We Lost Our Gold is a 2010 puppet series by creators Vincent Bova and Damien Eckhardt-Jacobi, two pupeeteers with more than a little muppet energy to them. The two had previously made, and were still making at the time of this series Glove and Boots, another youtube show about a red muppet and his beaver pal covering various topics. I'd heard of Glove and Boots going into this but wasn't told it was by the same guys

Glove and Boots is one I'd actually considered covering on here and plan to now in 2025 in some form, and you can smell their hallmarks: the human puppets are the same they used, Mulligan of WLOG uses the same voice as Mario and has about the same personality, and Mario and Fava even guest star in episode 2.

The series was brought out of a need for promotoin: The two pupetteers wanted to draw more eyes to their work so they came up with a zany scheme I love: they took out ten thousand dollars in us coins, buired that heavy amount of money in a treasure chest, put a skull and crowbones on it and left clues. Then they shot 8 shorts starring a group of hapless pirates who lost the chest, seeding in clues to the chest. It's one of the most audacious stunts i've seen and deserves praise. They buired in in New York, made that clear and then... no one found it.

Yeah while many came close no one quite put the clues together, some deriding it as fake.. which it very much wasn't but is understandable given how hoax filled the internet is.. though given they SHOWED the chest at a few points and how hard it'd be to photoshop 10,000 us coins, I think it was safe to assume they were on the level and they were.

They eventually had to give up on it three years later for very understandable real life reasons: Hurrican Sandy ripped thorugh new york, tearing up the landscape and thus not only destroying their clues but leaving new york in a very bad state. So in a truly selfless and kind act they dug up the heavy treasure chest (A NY TIMes article covering it had them remakr on being remidned how heavy that much coin is) , and donating it all to disaster relief. It's a truly wild and heartfelt story and I love it.

So the question is how are the shorts themselves, more than a decade later and with the big reason for their existing, the treasure hunt long over? Jump down under the cut with me to find out

The Crew: WLOG follows four pirates and a parrot whose just kinda there to piss off the captain who , as the title suggests lost their gold and are trying to find it they are

The Captain: No name given ala Pirates!. A salty old cus with a giant mangy beard that covers his body half the time, and is liable to snap at the bulk of his crew, even if he cares for 2/3 of them. He's determined to keep the knowledge secret keep it safe and frustrated by his crew's deep well of incompetence minus one member.

Mulligan: A blonde pirate, a goof off whose deal is annoying the piss out of the captain and wanting to go up in the crows nest. Why isn't he allowed up there? Simple the captain dosen't want him to be happy and neither do I so I can undrestand.

Crothers: An injury prone dum dum. Not a bad guy but very clumsy and loud.

Black Tom: A ninja. None of the other pirates realize this

Yeah as you can kinda guess the crew's a bit one note: the captain's the constantly pissed off straight man, Muligan the annoying dumbass, Crothers the big ole dumbass, and Black Tom is a ninja who speaks in subtitles but dosen't really speak japanese far as I can tell , which was accpetable at the time for reasons i'm not aware of.

It's the series main weakness: the cast is fairly thin and with 7 decently sized shorts and one 30 second one, the gimmicks wear on you quick. There's just not enough comedic depth in any of these guys to justify an 8 episode series. Thankfully the series compensates in other ways as it goes on as we sift through this pile of episodes

So speaking of the pile

Ye Episodes

The Beggining: This is the weakest episode. It has a good gag or two: Black tom being the reason cruthers is missing an eye in flashback and the pirate captain getting SO tired of mullins interrupting his flashbacks "I'm not even going to wast a flashback on ye" but it's just... broing. It's not helped Mullins is at his most annoying here, working better as a foil to the captain in other episodes but here just popping in with a pretty lame joke about swapping letters around.

The Chase: This one's okay as the stuff on deck is kinda entertaining. it has a very dated bit spoofing anime animation that feels out of date even for when this came out. The ships under attack and naturally sinks

The Larry King: The best episode of the 8, and a fun one. It also has Mario and Fava in it claming the gold is actually theres, which in a joke I didn't see coming and love, it absolutely was. It's helped by the format: Larry king is interviewing the pirates and glove and boots , leading to some fun chaos as the captain tries to keep them from dropping clues, Mario bullshits, Fava interrupts then goes along with it, and Black Tom sits down with his good friend larry king. This was more lik eit

The Black Tom: A one minute short soley for the clues.

THE WPPPT: This one suffers from the same issu eof the first, dragging in places but unlike it has some great gags to it as the pirates play poker. The parody of the poker obession at the time has aged like fine milk on a sidewalk and it highlights an issue of the show at tims: some bits... just feel very dated in comparison to glove and boots. GAB had pop culture refrences, but the refrences here very late to early 2000's: celebrity poker, larry king still being around, the pirate craze at the time, pirates vs ninjas, all things long left buried by the zeigeist.

The Monkey Buisness: A really fun one as a monkey on an island reads a comic about our heroes exploits: i'ts really fun to see these goofy pirates drawn all muscular and realistic in a seroius story.. then see the style used for their usual nonsense. Really great. It's not a totally new concept but it's unexpected and fun.

The Ghost STory: This one is fine Not really much to say an da fun concept of telling ghost stories

The Final Episode: My second faviorite: the pirate captain recons with this quest, Crothers gets turned into a parrot and Mulligan finally gets to go up in the crows nest. It's an oddly moving finale too as Crothers dies in the previous episode, and posses the parrot and after freeing him from a demon they accidnetly summon is stuck there. But the Pirate Captain accepts it because he's his friend and lets go of the treasure, a suprisingly touching ending to a throughly silly series.

So overally.. I found the series.. okay. It has some good jokes, some great concepts but the core cast is fairly weak, making the ballance of the show wonky and th efirst half is bogged down by some topical refrences. The final three epiosdes are really good, as is the larry king.

The shorts main problem is pacing: the having to sneak in clues combined with the format mean it's not quite as snappy as glove and boots. And I hate to keep comparing them but by this point glove and boots existed. THey knew how to do this and I belivie could've done better. I don't feel they half assed it: the puppets themselves look great, really nice felt and the performances are great.. but the core of the series is a bunch of characters I just don't care about or find all that funny and it tempers the experince for me. It really dosen't help coming off reading the second pirates book, as that book knew how to have fairly thin characters but manage them well with wacky shenanigans. Here their trying to do a character based comedy at atimes with characters who don't fit it. It works best with stuff like the larry king or the monkey buisness where the weird scenario allows them to do fun stuff with the characters and format.

I will be positive here: while these shorts didn't grab me, the early glove and boots stuff around the same time was better, they'd learn from it and as glove and boots went it'd be awesome. These are two talented men who created a silly pirate contest then used the money for said contest to help people. I wish them luck in whatever their doing now after youtube left them off and thank them for this fun day. WELOSTOURGOLD isn't the best.. but it wasn't a bad way to spend an hour. Thanks for reading

[sanssouci-sims]

Those of you who have been to my main blog in the past year or so might recognize these familiar faces. The little girl is Karin Fjellvik, a character from the game “My Child Lebensborn” (I call it “MCL” for short), and the woman is Karita Omdahl, my MCL fan character/self-insert and Karin’s adoptive mother. I’ve made a few posts about them both on my main blog as well as my sideblog which specifically focuses on my OC x canon relationships, so take a gander if you’d like to read more about them! 

I’ll probably mention a bit of the game as I talk about them in this post, so minor spoilers ahead!! Also, fair warning if you do decide to check out the actual game for yourself: it’s based on real historical events (specifically having to do with the end of World War 2) and involves prejudice/racism and violence towards a child (among other things). Needless to say, it’s quite emotional, and let’s just say that by the end of my play-through, I wanted to punt quite a few people into the shadow realm because of what they did to my poor daughter. 😭

While MCL was originally set during the aftermath of World War 2, I imagine my sims counterparts live in the modern day. Funnily enough, the developers of MCL are currently working on a sequel which will take place in a more modern setting! I would think the sims versions of Karin and Karita moved to this new place in Willow Creek after they’d gone through similar events that happened in the original game. All they wanted to do was to just... get away from their old town, from Karin’s old school, from everything their cruel neighbors had done to them.

Karin and Karita would start their new lives in this modest but pretty one-story home with a small outdoor area for the two to sit and for Karin to play. In the game, you happen to make contact with Karin (or her male counterpart Klaus)’s biological father, who wires you money to help you move out of town. I imagine Karita used much of that money to pay off this new house. They started with only $200 in simoleons, which was a nod to how you would start off with 200 coins (? - dollars? Or whatever they used in Norway during that time? I don’t think the game actually specified what that actual currency was lmao) in the original game.

As money is tight in their household, Karita knows they’ll need it only for the most important items, and she’s made sure Karin knows that. There are times where Karin wishes she had the newest toys or clothes like the other kids have, and she’ll get upset when she can’t have them. Karita promises she’ll buy them one day for her, just not today. After all, it’s better to be selfless than selfish. Karin recently received a whole mini art studio set for her birthday, and she LOVES it! She plans to create lots of artwork to display in her room, and she even uses it occasionally in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep. She even says she hopes to help her mother earn money by selling her best artwork. 🥰

On certain days of the week, Karita works as a manual laborer as a way to bring in some stable income (I thought this was the closest to some kind of factory work, which is your/the parent’s job in MCL). The catch to this, though, is that she currently works during the weekend, which means Karin is left at home alone in the morning. :( Karita knows how much her daughter hates being by herself, so once she returns home from work, she makes sure they spend plenty of quality of time together. Their favorite activities include fishing (they can catch something to eat or Karin asks to keep one as a little pet), reading books, drawing pictures, cooking, and watching television.

See the little fish next to the television? Karin caught it and wanted to save it from being eaten!

Other than Karin’s idea to sell some of her artwork in the future, the two also already have creative ways to earn extra money on the side (or when they really need money fast). For one, Karita happens to enjoy gardening and has made a habit of exploring her neighborhood and harvesting wild plants to grow around their home. She may keep some to use as fresh ingredients/food, but most of the time, she’ll sell them when they’re fully grown.

Being experienced in manual labor, Karita isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty by digging for things as well. She’ll sell the majority of her finds along with things she catches through fishing.

Karin is also a keen explorer and likes to look for frogs. She’ll keep them as pets, too, but once she catches a new one, she knows she’ll have to sell the old one since multiple frogs is... kind of a lot to deal with in such a small home, lol.

This is her latest find, a spotted leaf frog!

So that’s basically how a typical day would go for Karin and Karita! Karin goes to school during the week, of course, and since Karita doesn’t work on weekdays, she’ll usually spend those days building her skills and doing the many things she’s already come up with to earn extra money.

Currently, Karita is hoping to save up for some renovations, including expanding the interior of their home so she will able to build a little writing studio! She wishes to write about her and Karin’s experiences and to send a message to the world to be kind to each other - something among those lines.

I like playing wholesome families like this, and I think the added challenge of reduced funds not only ties into the original game where the characters came from, but it also makes playing this household a lot more fun and interesting.

Oh, I forgot to mention, guess who came by their household while I was taking screenshots of them for this post?

a wild rose appears lmao

also i just realized you can spy one of dina caliente’s sons in the background

[longhands-the-second]

Volume 2 thoughts, otherwise known as Disorganized Simping On Main. No i will not add pictures i think the lack of context makes it funny

1-

Oh fucking hell is it legato time already? It’s so EARLY. I mean we’d get to the cool stuff faster but SHIT.

Goofiest vash panel spotted

What that mouth d- *gets shot*

Holy shit he’s really different here huh. The depression is seriously obvious; it's wild.

That and he’s like. Extra pretty when he’s angry. Might be because those panels get more love and care put into them because there’s less of them so far.

We’re decapitating people now. DAMN that’s fucking heavy. We’re not even to maximum yet.

Tonally the manga is so much darker but I’m kind of eating it right the fuck up.

I wonder if there’s any significance to the one dollar coins? Those are impossible to find now, let alone however many centuries in the future they are (I think it was something like 400 years? Maybe that was just stampede.)

2-

EY YO COLORED PAGES???

Girl what the fuck-

I want to color this whole goddamn chapter but i have RESPONSIBILITIES and shit (<- unemployed and taking one (1) summer class)

The fucking smile. The switch. I yelled out loud. God they are so fucked up.

The fangs make an appearance. Lovely. Horrible circumstances though.

3-

He looks so fucking tired. Angry, too, but so tired. I love the simmering rage we get here, it’s missing from every other version tbh.

I always forget how absurdly capable he is. That’s the point, I guess, but man. Man.

OH SHIT THE ARM

Knives is so… wrong. In such a fascinating way though. The way he seems happy that Rem managed to save everyone, not for the people but for her- that’s so fucked and i am enamored with his specific brand of bullshit.

4-

I have so many questions about his scars. Like rule of cool or whatever but I need specifics. Why do they look like that in particular? What purpose do the implants serve etc etc?

I didn’t even register that they don’t know it’s a prosthetic. That had to freak them out so bad

His reasoning is interesting here. It’s not about his love for humanity at all, that comes later. He’s doing this for Rem. His vibes here are more like someone struggling to hold himself to what she believed in instead of actually, truly believing in it. It makes him more real, I think.

Maybe it’s the nature of the medium, but everybody seems much more introspective. Meryl specifically sticks out to me.

God he takes it so personally when people are all Dog Eat Dog. I can’t blame him.

Woah. Panty shot. (Side note i can’t WAIT to see him without the coat.)

Hunting he says. What’s he gonna do when he catches him? (Rhetorical)

5-

i read this in class so i didn’t take notes oops

6-

legato is unironically terrifying in the worst way.

I have never been a Huge Wolfwood Enjoyer. However i am charmed by his silly faces.

If i didn’t know better i’d call him a loser (affectionate)

GAY. HOLY SHIT

“come, let’s take ibuprofen together”

I love how 98, if anything, toned this interaction down.

Why the FUCK is midvalley built like a damn brick wall

7-

Vash is so. So fucking cute. My god i am the gayest mf alive.

I guess everyone is on this page but i'm fixated on confused vash he’s got me enamored

“DO NOT ENGAGE. I REPEAT, DO NOT FUCKING ENGAGE.”

I totally didn’t register that his arm was still gone until just now oops

Oh this is perspective porn. Love that shit

I hate to admit this but there’s something about seeing Vash freaked out that makes me grin. It might be like “WOAH SOMETHING IS HAPPENING.” Or i’ve just gone off the deep end.

Is. Is he blushing. Oh my god is he embarrassed-

I have to wonder why the bible is so popular here. Just based on the circumstances? I was never really sure if the events were literal in the trigun universe or not

VASHUSSY!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I am normal about him)

(It is NOT my fault he’s in those pants)

8-

I have a whole essay to write on vash and bodily autonomy but i'm gonna finish reading the manga first- other people have probably said it earlier and better than me.

Oh. Shit. That sure didn’t happen in 98 huh.

I find that every character has gotten more interesting in the manga. This might be because i’m already familiar with their anime counterparts. Wolfwood though, im starting to understand why trimax people like him so much.

The plants are so freaky here fr

CREATURE VASH

this is all kinds of fucked up and based on other posts i’ve seen this week it literally only gets worse from here

I hate how easy it is to empathize with everyone in this situation. I do appreciate Vash pretty much dropping the mask here, like this is what’s under all of the antics and his reputation.

He looks way too good in that top for the situation at hand smh i am SO distracted

Tbh had i not already committed to what i did i would’ve done these pages they’re so pretty

Does wolfwood know anything about this or is it all news to him???

God you can see the actual chunk of shoulder he’s missing from this angle

I do wonder how much of Knives’ concern is him genuinely feeling bad and how much is just like. Manipulation.

God this is so fucked up

On a lighter note the belts bursting from his arm are kind of a cool visual. Shit’s gotta hurt though.

MAN. FUCKING HELL.

EXTRAS

Day in day out- This made me laugh out loud. It also made me sad. No notes.

Pilot- Different vash definitely. My mans would not upskirt a girl like that.

I love seeing concept shit this is wonderful.

Time for trimax now i guess shit fuck goddamn

[luxurybrownbarbie]

As someone who works in wealth management, how do you feel about the Sam Fried Bankman case?

😭😭😭😭😭. Strap in, bestie. (This is very long! I don’t know how to do read mores on mobile.)

Okay so. 1) He's making my job about 20,000,000 times harder, because the SEC is going to overcompensate like hell because of his stupid little scheme. The regulators have already started throwing meetings in on JANUARY THIRD. Like, please let us come down from the holidays? 2023 will have barely been in action for 72 hours.

2) He’s an idiot. I know it's hard to get to non-extradition countries right now, because 90% of them are acting up, but he should NOT have stayed in the Bahamas. Charter a jet and fly to the Maldives, bro. Robinette would have to send the entirety of the Navy SEALS to drag me out of any non-extradition country.

3) My sympathy for these people is inverse to the amount of people who told them *not* to invest in this very clear scam. There are clients who are crying and throwing up, but all we can do is refer them to the millions of emails we sent telling them *not* to put their money in this.

That money is gone. Also... there really is no law saying they have to get any portion of it back. If the feds didn't step in, he really could have disappeared with all that money. Imagine if the CEO of Capital One just decided to dip with the entirety of your checking and investment accounts. And unless the SEC decided to step in, you're just out of money. He stole money from his clients, investors, and used it to funnel his lifestyle, and the only reason he's getting hit with anything is because it imploded so spectacularly the government had to do something.

He's a con man, that much is clear. It's... not exactly shocking to me that a company without a board and practically no oversight was able to commit a crime this absolutely bonkers, because 99% of the people involved are white men, but it is very telling of exactly how dangerous tech bros have become. The guy who dealt with Enron's collapse was sitting on the floor of the House telling the SEC they should have stopped them from scamming billions of dollars, because there's no way to get those people that money back. And SBF was sitting in the Bahamas refusing to be extradited. That audacity is genuinely hilarious, sorry. Good luck, worstie.

Now. I was called all types of uppity and hating by several family friends when I told them to put their coins into a Goldman Sachs or Merrill account instead of some unverified crypto funds. The ones who listened to me? They've still got their money! Why? Because the house always wins.

The idea of some beautiful, revolutionary development when it comes to money is... laughable. I'm sorry. Every banking CEO, including the very much disgraced banks Deutsche Bank and Credit Suisse, will lay down their lives to make sure they never allow these things to actually gain a real foothold in communities. At least not until they've managed to do it themselves. (And the actually successful and possibly revolutionary ones?They were bought up so fast, you probably only heard about them for about 0.02 seconds. They'll release them under the marketing umbrella of the banks and other institutions later on.) The house always wins.

And quite honestly, he's very lucky he got caught up by the feds. Because untraceable money attracts very unsavory people, and there's no telling what they're ready to do because of those astronomical losses. Especially if they can't even access some of the wallets. Some of them are happy to go through the feds, but I'm sure some of them have some more sinister ideas. Good luck worstie, redux.

He might be made an example of, but I truly doubt it. He’ll likely get a slap on the wrist in return for his information on some of those people, and the average joes who gave him money will have no recourse.

Bottom line: Please, for the love of all things holy, please do not invest in cryptocurrency. At least not as your primary investment method. Throw a couple hundred in there if you have it to spare, but nothing more. Until it is stringently regulated, you are better off putting your cash in the garbage disposal.

[w4nderingstarfanfics]

Disappointment Dissertation

With the launch of Overwatch2, I know everyone on the internet is jumping on the hate bandwagon. But I still wanted to get my thoughts into a cohesive argument. The short version is: I am so disappointed.

I have several chapters in mind, but the most shocking and yet not shocking one I wanted to do first as it literally affects every single player of the game.

Chapter 1

Part 1 

    The reason why they made these changes is very clear: Money. They can now force a majority of people to literally spend the same money on a yearly basis for a game that before, we only had to buy once. Even if you only buy the bare minimum of the new currency just for the battle pass and nothing else, you end up buying the the game for an even higher price on a yearly basis. 

The Battle Pass Math

The game now requires a new “battle pass currency” that you must spend your real life money on to unlock everything from Overwatch2. The Legacy Coins from Overwatch can only be used to buy some items that existed pre-October release. Let’s break down the pricing. 

(Battle Pass Currency shorthand will be a ‘c’ following a number)

500c = 5.00 (this is the least amount of currency you can buy)

1000c = 10.00

The premium battle pass cost is 1000c, or 10 real life (American) dollars. There will be a new battle pass roughly every 6-9 weeks. Let's take the fastest turnaround time per-pass to see the high end of what the true cost of Overwatch2 is. 

~52 weeks in a calendar year

52/6 = 8.667, roughly 8 battle passes a year

8*10= 80

To unlock all the new content a year you will have to spend 80 dollars a year. Overwatch itself was 60 dollars flat and you never had to re-buy it. Discounting the “Watchpoint Pack” where you did rebuy the game but with 2 $20 skins included. 

There is an option to buy 2000c and you get a “10% extra” where you get an extra “free” 200c for 20 dollars. To not overspend and only buy the 8000c required:

3 2200c packs: 20*3= 60$

1 1000c pack: 10$

1  500c pack: 5$ (and 100c left over that you had to buy even though you did not want it)

Total: 75$ 

Grand total savings: 5$

There is also the 50$ currency bundle for 5700c with a 14% “extra.”

1 5700c pack: 50$

1 2200c pack: 20$

1 500c pack: 5$ (with 400 left over that you had to buy even through you didn’t want it)

Total: 75$ 

Grand total savings: 5$

The extra bundles are the same “savings,” but with 100c or 400c extra that you were forced to pay for.

So the free to play game is 75-80 dollars a year to have access to the new content. 

Part 2 

The New Hero Math

BUT WAIT. The battle pass does not include all new content. 

Yes indeed you read that right, even after spending 80 real life dollars, you only receive access to unlock the new cosmetics and in-game content on the battle pass. And yes, you read that right again, you do not give them money and get the content, you must grind and “unlock” the content you already paid for. It’s unclear to me if you do not unlock all levels by the end of the season, if you just get those items, or if that content (and your money) is dust in the wind and you get nothing that you failed to unlock. 

 “Regular” new character skins, highlights, emotes are all completely separate from the battle pass and cost money. You like that new Junker Queen skin? It’s extra. Want that Sojourn highlight intro? It’s extra.

(I am excluding “souvenirs” and “weapon charms” as these might be 1 time unlocks that you can use for all heroes after being paid for once and also I have no clue what the hell a “souvenir” is or why anyone would want to spend money on it and I’m sure as hell not spending money on them to find out) 

All three new heroes appear to have the exact same spread of cosmetics with minor variations. Any cosmetics that appear on either the free or premium battle pass I have excluded from these price totals. I’m unsure if these are battle pass locked, meaning if you don't get them on the pass you will never be able to unlock them. Or, if at a later date, they will become “unlocked” and buyable like their rest. Which will increase the base price to fully unlock a new hero, only time will tell at this early point in the game’s launch. 

Cosmetic Discrepancies: 

Sojourn has 1 epic skin and 10 sprays (one less of each than both her counterparts) 

One of Kiriko’s legendary skins is currently free for watching Twitch streams but will be paywalled in battle pass season 2 

2 of her recolor skins are listed as locked and not purchasable and do not appear on the battle pass track. Possible glitch? Maybe part of a “bundle” in the shop that I don’t see and/or is rotating?

2 Legendary skins (1900*2= 3800)

2 Epic skins (1000*2= 2000)

4 Recolors (300*4= 1200) 

Total Currency For Skins: 7000c

4 Emotes (500*4= 2000)

3 Victory poses (300*3= 900) 

10 Voice lines (100*10= 1000)

11 Sprays (100*11= 1100)

2 Highlight intros (700*2= 1400)

Total Currency For “Other” Cosmetics: 6400

Grand Total To Fully Unlock ONE New Character: 13,400c  (135$ real American dollars)

Part 3

The Grand Total and the Future

If you are looking to unlock only the new Overwatch2 characters and the battle pass season 1 your total is: 

(3 x 135) + 80 = $485

FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS JUST TO UNLOCK THE NEW CONTENT.

I shudder to think what the cost to unlock the entire cast of heroes is since they have 6 years of cosmetics banked. No. I’m not going to go through each hero to run their prices and get a grand total, I want to keep what’s left of my soul. 

And this also does not include any possible “seasonal” event content. The first being the “Wrath Of The Bride” Halloween event. There appears to be 3 new (no doubt legendary, another staggering $50 just for those three skins if you buy that currency bundle) skins for Junker Queen, Kiriko, and Sojourn. Ashe was included in the promo art in her Warlock skin which is not new, unless they have changed something and will charge us again for a recolor of it. 

As these Halloween skins do not appear on the current battle pass track, I believe it’s safe to assume any and all “event” content will never be free or part of a battle pass “bundle.” This could change in the future, but I don’t see a financial reason for them to do so. 

    Absolutely gobsmacking. The cost just for launch day cosmetics makes me numb. 

    I honestly can’t see how this could be sustainable at these price points. $20 dollars for one hero’s single legendary skin. $7.50 for a three second highlight intro. It’s insane! And what makes it worse, is there is no “grind and hope” option. 

    In Overwatch, you were rewarded for grinding out levels with lootboxes. If you didn’t want to pay for new cosmetics, you could grind and hope you got what you wanted in loot boxes. Or, save your acquired coins and buy them that way. 

    My suggestion would be to bring back lootboxes in a limited capacity. Because the company is in the middle of a money hungry cash grab, yes, you should be able to buy them. But, after say 2-3 battle pass levels, you got a “free one.” It would reward the free track players to keep grinding (since 75% of the battle pass items are paywalled) as well as paid track player with extra content and currency to unlock non battle pass items. Obviously, paid battle pass items could not appear in loot boxes (until a later date if those items became unlocked) so it would not interfere with the push for people to pay for the battle pass. 

    And it would be critical for brand new Overwatch2 players to be able to have anything other than the base skin. 

    In conclusion, I’m disappointed about how naked the cash grab is. And I’m angry that they are not even doing the naked cash grab well. 

    If Blizzard had any sense at all, they would have kept the loot boxes, temping people to try their luck, and been a smidgen more kind to their players. They would have stuffed the battle pass full of things the player actually want. They would have done skins, highlights, poses, charms and not voicelines, player icons, and “player cards” that are worthless fluff that could have gone into loot boxes to force us to buy both currency and loot boxes. 

[blockchainx]

What are the 9 types of crypto tokens?

Tokens for cryptocurrencies have changed finance by making decentralized digital assets possible. These tokens may serve a variety of purposes that range from governance to reward. If you are an enthusiast of blockchain technology, then it is crucial to know the different types of tokens especially if you are considering , How to create your own crypto token. In this article, we will examine the main classifications of crypto tokens as well as their roles within the context of blockchain.

What are the 9 types of crypto tokens:

1. Utility Tokens :

Tokens are Built for allowing clients to access a service or product in a blockchain powered system, Utility tokens are not meant as an investment but perform the role of DApps.

Use cases : could be platform feature access or transaction fees payment.

2. Security Tokens

Tokens that represent ownership of tangible assets in the real world, like stocks, bonds, and real-estate are known as security tokens. These types of tokens have laws governing them making them similar to traditional finance tools.

Use Cases: Tokenizing tangible world assets and Following financial regulations.

3. Payment Tokens

Cryptocurrencies that function mainly as a medium of exchange are known as payment tokens. These tokens are made to simplify transactions, and in many cases they provide alternatives to fiat with quicker transaction speeds, lower charges or higher safety.

Use cases: Electronic payments and Intercontinental transfers.

4. Governance Tokens

Governance tokens bestow the right to vote regarding the decisions of a decentralized protocol or decentralized autonomous organization (DAO). Token holders have an influence in how the platform will grow in future and what rules it will follow.

Use Cases: Voting upon protocol improvements and Shaping up governance actions.

5. Stablecoins

Stablecoins are coins that have been created in order to keep a steady value, and this is achieved by pegging them against a reserve of assets, such as a fiat currency like the US Dollar (USD), or commodities like gold. This reduces the volatility characteristics commonly seen with cryptocurrencies.

Use cases: Reduction in price volatility during trade and Holders use it for preserving value or making remittances.

6. Non-Fungible Tokens (NFTs)

Non-fungible tokens are tokens that exist in unique form and represent ownership of specific digital or physical items, for instance, art, collectibles, or virtual real estate. Every NFT is unique and can’t be exchanged on a one-to-one basis. Therefore, they provide a good starting point for people on how to create your own crypto token because NFTs allow one to tokenize unique assets with different traits.

Use Cases: Digital art and collectibles and Proof of ownership in virtual goods.

7. Asset-Backed Tokens

The digital tokens that are supported by real-world assets, both of physical kind and abstract in nature, ranging from real estate to gold and stock securities are what we call asset-backed tokens. In this way, it enables smoother transportation and exchange of original illiquid properties.

Use cases: Tokenization of physical assets and Ownership transfer became easier for illiquid commodities

8. Reward Tokens

Users receive reward tokens so that they may be motivated to take part in specified actions on a blockchain system. Oftentimes, these tokens can be taken back in forms like services or products or continuing the engagement within that environment.

Use Cases: Promotes user participation on the platform and Rewards specific behaviors or deeds.

9. Exchange Tokens

Cryptocurrency exchanges have their own native exchange tokens that come along with a lot of benefits such as discounted trading fees, staking rewards or even governance rights within the exchange platform itself.

Use cases: Help reduce trading costs and However, the rewards accrued from staked funds unlike non-staking increases.

Conclusion

In the blockchain ecosystem, there are many different kinds of crypto tokens that serve various purposes. It is essential for all those involved in blockchain technology to understand these different token types particularly when it comes to utility coins which empower decentralized applications, security tokens representing physical assets and reward tokens for participation incentives. Furthermore, if you want to know about How to create your own crypto token then it is important to understand the difference. A token creation brand includes its function, technical provisions and how it interacts with the global blockchain milieu. With this information under your belt you will be able to traverse through numerous cryptocurrencies in order to design a blockchain oriented asset of your own.

[decentrawood123]

Decentrawood: The Future Doge? Why DEOD Could Be the Next Big Thing

Decentrawood: The Future Doge? Why DEOD Could Be the Next Big Thing

Cryptocurrency has a history of unpredictable surges, with tokens like Dogecoin (DOGE) leading the charge as some of the most unexpected successes in the crypto world. Once dismissed as a meme, DOGE turned into a multi-billion-dollar asset, driven by a passionate community and its widespread adoption. But what if we told you that a new contender, Decentrawood’s DEOD token, could follow in Dogecoin’s footsteps—and perhaps even surpass it?

Let’s dive into why Decentrawood (DEOD) is being hailed as the future DOGE and how its unique approach sets it apart in the crypto space.

1. Dogecoin: From Meme to Mainstream

Dogecoin’s rise to fame was nothing short of legendary. What began as a joke in 2013 became a global phenomenon, largely thanks to its community-driven focus, celebrity endorsements (hello, Elon Musk), and a fun, accessible vibe that made it easy for beginners to get involved in crypto. Despite its humble beginnings, Dogecoin climbed to new heights in 2021, making millionaires out of early adopters and proving that even "joke" coins could disrupt the market.

Dogecoin’s success was largely based on its community and brand appeal, combined with increasing acceptance as a form of digital currency for tipping, donations, and transactions.

2. Decentrawood’s DEOD: The Future of the Metaverse

Now enter Decentrawood (DEOD)—a native token for a metaverse that blends entertainment, culture, and gaming into a cohesive, immersive platform. While DOGE rode the wave of viral meme culture, DEOD is building its foundation on a much broader and sustainable concept: the future of digital interaction through the metaverse. Here’s why DEOD has the potential to be the next big thing:

Metaverse-Driven Utility

Unlike Dogecoin, which started as a meme with limited utility, DEOD powers a complete ecosystem where users can buy virtual land, avatars, NFTs, and access premium play-to-earn games. This token is backed by real utility, which creates intrinsic value beyond speculation.

In the Decentrawood metaverse, DEOD acts as the currency that enables users to not only enjoy an immersive experience but also to earn real-world returns. Whether it’s staking, buying in-game assets, or investing in virtual real estate, DEOD is woven into every aspect of the platform’s economic model.

Gaming, Culture, and Entertainment

Where Dogecoin has meme-driven value, Decentrawood taps into massive markets like gaming, entertainment, and digital culture. The platform allows users to explore cultural landmarks, participate in live virtual events, and engage with cutting-edge gaming mechanics. This taps into real demand for virtual experiences, ensuring that DEOD isn’t just a speculative asset—it’s a useful currency in a growing digital economy.

3. Community and Growth Potential: DEOD’s Secret Weapon

A Passionate Community

Much like Dogecoin, Decentrawood’s community is already showing signs of strong engagement and growth. The platform is regularly adding new users as it continues to roll out exciting features, from NFT staking rewards to partnership announcements at events like Token 2049 Singapore.

A Growing Ecosystem

DEOD has already secured notable listings on major exchanges like MEXC and has integrated with the BNB Chain, providing more opportunities for liquidity and adoption. As Decentrawood expands its metaverse and gains more traction, DEOD is poised to become a key player in the metaverse economy, much like Dogecoin has become in the general crypto space.

4. Market Sentiment: Will DEOD Be the Next Doge?

When Dogecoin began its meteoric rise, no one could have predicted its success. However, it tapped into an emerging market of crypto enthusiasts looking for something fun, viral, and profitable. Similarly, DEOD is targeting a massive, fast-growing market: the metaverse.

As more investors and users see the potential of metaverse platforms, tokens like DEOD could experience the kind of rapid growth that Dogecoin saw during its prime. While Dogecoin’s value was driven by memes and hype, DEOD offers real-world utility and is backed by a solid, expanding ecosystem.

5. A New Era: Decentrawood vs. Dogecoin

While Dogecoin and DEOD come from entirely different beginnings, there are some undeniable similarities:

Strong Community: Both tokens thrive on community engagement, with Dogecoin winning fans through memes and DEOD capturing attention through immersive, interactive virtual worlds.

Explosive Growth Potential: Dogecoin’s value shot up seemingly overnight, and DEOD is showing similar signs of exponential growth as the metaverse continues to expand.

Mass Appeal: Dogecoin appeals to the masses with its fun, casual tone, while DEOD targets the broader gaming, culture, and entertainment sectors, appealing to a wide audience of metaverse enthusiasts.

The major difference? Utility. While Dogecoin’s growth is speculative, DEOD’s growth is based on its tangible applications within a growing virtual economy. This gives DEOD the upper hand when it comes to long-term value and sustainability.

Conclusion: The Future is Decentralized, and DEOD is Leading the WayDogecoin may have started as a meme, but it ended up revolutionizing how the world views cryptocurrency. Similarly, Decentrawood’s DEOD token has the potential to reshape how we engage with digital economies in the metaverse. By offering real-world utility, an engaged community, and a rapidly expanding ecosystem, DEOD could be the next big thing, following in Dogecoin’s footsteps—but with an even stronger foundation.

If you’re looking to invest in the next big thing in crypto, DEOD could be your ticket to massive returns in the future.

Join the revolution today, and hold DEOD as it continues its journey to the top!