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whumpster-fire · 3 years

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Having several thoughts about how gnolls are really cool as a basic concept but hot damn D&D 5e’s lore for them is absolute garbage, and... seriously, Tieflings are in the fucking Player’s Handbook now but gnolls are just Too Demonic For Players? Does someone at WotC like, have something against hyenas or something?

So I’m posting my fanmade gnoll rework concepts that I’ve had for years and I’m finally accepting I’m never gonna fucking use.

Just

Fucking

Base it off actual hyenas as a starting point. Think about what hyenas are actually like compared to other predators.

For ability scores, A lot of the playable gnoll races I’ve seen give them high strength or dexterity, which is kind of a weird one because I don’t think hyenas are particularly dexterous, not compared to other predators like cats. They’re pursuit predators with relatively good endurance, they have really good immune systems that make them effective scavengers, and they’re pretty darn hard to kill. Gnolls’ biggest physical stat bonus should be Constitution, absolutely no question, with strength next. For mental stats... hyenas are really smart by animal standards, and good at cooperative problem solving in particular. Being bad at any particular mental stat in D&D/Pathfinder doesn’t really fit with that, but if the system requires a stat penalty for balance reasons Charisma is probably the best one to put it in to represent the cultural and body language barriers between gnolls and... well, non-furry humanoids.

7′ tall, 300 lb gnolls is kind of bizarre since spotted hyenas are pretty close in weight to humans. Wikipedia lists 198 lb as about the heaviest weight for them. My headcanon for this is that gnolls are supposed to be human-sized-ish, but the clans a heroic adventuring party is most likely to get in a fight with are, y’know, the ones that are basically demon cults, and have a significant number of 7′ tall monstrosities as a result of interbreeding with demons.

Spotted hyenas are matriarchal and females are bigger and stronger than the males. This shouldn’t be reflected in RPG stats other than a difference in the height and weight stats basically get ignored unless someone needs to carry an unconscious character or something, for the same reason that ability scores ignore sexual dimorphism for every other race in the game and... does any culture in D&D canonically have strong gender roles by default besides the Drow?

Having a super-short lifespan is technically not “unrealistic” for an animal-based race, but it’s... just really player unfriendly, especially when half the party’s probably playing elves and dwarves that live like 300 years.

Other traits: Give ‘em low-light vision, disease resistance (not poison: disease specifically). Gnolls have powerful jaws and should have a natural bite attack, but like... most of the time natural weapons on a humanoid shouldn’t actually be very useful in armed combat because... yes it can do serious damage, but so can a fucking spear, and you can run someone through from a lot farther away than you can bite them, and not have to expose yourself to someone driving a fucking knife through your chin while you’re trying to rip their arm off. If you give gnolls any other gimmicky combat ability, it should be based on teamwork or survivability / making it a miserable process for someone to attack you.

I’m kinda ehhhh on gnoll subraces, other than maybe giving demonblood gnolls their own stats.

Okay so for gnoll culture... first of all we have to figure out how to handle Yeenoghu, and there’s two ways of handling this that I like.

Option 1: Yeenoghu is actually just the gnoll war goddess, but is believed to be a demon lord by most other cultures based on rumors spread by people at war with gnolls, and... like, literal demonization your enemies’ gods is a common phenomenon throughout history IRL. This is best for a low-magic campaign where the gods don’t get involved enough to correct these misconceptions.

Option 2: Gnolls are a cautionary tale of what happens when demon cults aren’t stopped early. Gnolls actually have/had their own patron deities, but they’re now powerless to protect their people from Yeenoghu’s followers, and they’ve overrun a significant portion of the species. Not so much through conversion as through conquest as subjugation and extermination, except now they’ve reached such a critical mass and become so much of a threat to other cultures that it’s turning them against the surviving non-cultist clans, and some of them are starting to convert by “choice” because they see it as the only way of surviving that’s left.

With this one, I really like the idea that Yeenoghu is actually female and the widely known lore gets her gender wrong due to a translation error / misinformation / because of very human gender stereotypes causing people to assume that female demon lords are all the sneaky, subtle, corrupting/tempting types and that a demon lord of sheer brutality and destruction would obviously be male. This misconception persists because Yeenoghu’s followers are too busy eating people to discuss pronouns.

The other really important factor driving gnoll culture to evolve in certain ways is that gnolls are obligate carnivores. Their diet needs to be mostly meat, whether living or dead, and in a medieval-tech society, unless it’s really high magic I don’t think a sedentary gnoll community would be able to produce enough food to support themselves. However this doesn’t require gnolls to be hunter-gatherers / survive by raiding.

Seriously guys. Nomadic pastoralist gnolls. Or at least transhumance. Gnoll shepherds, using domesticated hyenas as herding animals. Or if you’re doing a Western AU... consider, and I’m just saying consider this as an option: Gnolls in cowboy hats.

However, in warfare this also creates the darker side of even non-demon-worshiping gnolls. They’re predators, and biologically adapted to be scavengers, and in any premodern setting an army marches on its stomach. It is way harder for gnolls to keep a fighting force supplied, especially if the enemy is burning their own fields and any livestock they can’t take with them. Why would they pass up free meat? Even if they have a taboo against cannibalism unlike real hyenas, do humans really count as cannibalism for a gnoll? Not eating enemy corpses would be a huge handicap for them.

This, of course, tends to make most other cultures hate gnolls if they’ve fought them in recent memory, and resort to tactics like poisoning livestock or corpses, or infecting them with contagious diseases (disease resistant doesn’t mean disease immune, IRL spotted hyenas can still catch diseases like rinderpest). Unfortunately in gnoll culture that is considered a war crime.

Seriously though, hyenas are cool, gnolls are a really cool concept if you actually make them basically anthropomorphic hyenas, IDK if I have to eat my “Not A Furry” card over this.

#not whump #worldbuilding #gnolls #D&D fandom #Fantasy #hyenas #medieval fantasy #random thoughts

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unholyhelbig · 5 years

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I don't know man, give me something angsty with Hope and Josie?

A/N: I don’t know how this is going to hold up, my angst isn’t the greatest so hopefully you like it!

Read all my Hosie Oneshots

Josie’s hands were cold, so much so that she couldn’t exactly unlatch the buttons of her coat without frustration. She could feel the smooth plastic under her fingertips, and suddenly the black scarf around her neck seemed too constricting, the fabric wrapping close to her jugular. Something so simple that was supposed to protect her made her feel trapped instead.

She could feel the emotion building behind the brick wall she had lain behind within her mind. A dam that was filling up slowly with water as black as night- the lump in her throat thickening as she struggled to steady her breath. No, she told herself sternly Lizzie is the one who gets to feel everything. She’s the one who’s allowed to break. But you have to stay strong.

Josie Saltzman had remained strong for her sister, for her school, for her father who had lost too much to even comprehend. But never for herself, she realized, standing in the school’s chapel under the blood-red stained glass. It left a watery reflecting against the dusty pews and the large golden cross that hovered over them with it’s looming shadow. Josie hadn’t even made it to the front row before she started to feel the hot air push against every inch of her.

It was empty. Across the courtyard and past the replaced statue of the gargoyle that still had those dusty demon eyes. The snow had made him look less threatening, dwarfing him into stone and nothing more. Her fingers tingled at the memory as she let out a frustrated grunt, once again trapped by her coat. It shouldn’t’ be this hard, nothing should be this hard. It was a coat- and she had only wanted to come here to think. For the silence. No one had enough faith to worship here anymore.

“can I help you with that?”

Josie gulped down stale air and whipped around in the carpeted aisle. She had her numb fingers raised, ready to shoot off a mumbled spell consisting of ancient languages. She frowned, she had been followed, and it brought her anger to boil. Her boots probably left tracks in the freshly fallen snow. It was her own fault, she decided.

“There’s no magic to siphon here,” Hope said, letting the intricately carved doors fall behind her. “Unless you want to take some from me.”

The Saltzman twin scoffed and dropped her hand completely. Hope wasn’t a danger, if anything, she had annoying perseverance about her that made Josie want to scream sometimes. But she never did. Instead, she just watched as the tribrid’s boots left half-moon snow prints against the floor.

She was close, within touching distance before she finally stopped and glanced around at the way the building stretched. How the bibles were left untouched and a thin layer of dust collected against everything. They both stood in the crimson light leaking from the full moon ushering through the stained glass. It shaded Hope’s face, demonized her features.

“I’ve never been in here.” She admitted, moving her golden stare back to Josie’s. “I have to admit, my family has never been much for faith. But the churches in New Orleans are nothing to cry home about. This one is a close second.”

She was rambling, and Josie could recognize that. She could recognize how close so was, and the questioning look of approval that Hope offered as she lilted her chin slightly to the side. Josie nodded and Hope laced her fingers against the collar of her peacoat before moving to the first button.

“Alaric never told me you were religious.”

“I’m not, I just needed a place to think.” Josie finally spoke, voice hoarse “I don’t think there’s much to be said about God when we’re capable of what we are.”

The first button came undone and Josie felt an immense pressure lift from her chest. Her fingers still numb and her lungs filling with the dull orange scent that Hope carried. Always mixed with blood, always mixed with the earth. This time it was comforting though.

“Any solace in what you’re thinking?”

“No, not much, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed thickly as the second button came undone, and then the third. Each lifted a weight from Josie’s chest until the coat was shed completely and the scarf soon followed. She draped them over the nearest pew and plopped down, ignoring the dust and the immittance of a kneel.

Hope carefully lowered herself into the wooden seat next to Josie. The two of them stared up at the blank cross. At the way the window warped and how quiet the church was against the howling wind and falling snow past the doors.

“People die too easily around here. And I think if there was a God, a higher power, that could prevent it, then it would have.” She stared, feeling Hope’s stare against the side of her face. It made her skin prickle. “My mother created this school to protect the outside from what we’re capable of. But who is going to protect us from each other?”

Hope swallowed thickly to fill the silence that the statement had created and the pit in her stomach she knew wouldn’t dissipate as quickly as the knot in her throat. Josie was right. Hopes mind flashing to leaning against the large doors of Alaric’s office. Trying not to listen as he explained to parents that entrusted them that the estate, that the school, wasn’t safe anymore.

“You can’t take all of that on, Josie.” Hope finally mustered the courage to say, her knee was hot against the Saltzman girl who resigned to holding her breath to keep out that intoxicating rusty scent. “None of this is your fault, and you- hey, look at me.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement and Hope grasped Josie’s chin and turned her tear-stained eyes towards hers. They looked blood-red in the reflection of the window, and she searched for something other than tenderness.

“It’s true, we can’t be there to save everyone, but the people we have helped wouldn’t see it that way. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the closest thing to safety people have in this place and you can’t burden yourself with the fear, with the… with the pain of not being able to help everyone.”

“If we don’t help them, who will?”

Hope had a slight twinge of a smile against her lips. One of those effortlessly charming ones that made Josie cross her ankles and look away at the sheer cockiness that it possessed. Most of the time she had that look when she knew they had won. This time it was more of an effort of comfort. “Don’t know, Jo. Maybe God.”

#hope mikaelson #josie saltzman #hosie #hosie fanfic #hosie oneshot #Legacies #legacies fanfic #lizzie saltzman #the originals #fanficiton #request

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the-story-of-six · 6 years

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Meditation

“Meditation provides a way of learning how to let go. As we sit, the self we’ve been trying to construct and make into a nice, neat package continues to unravel.”

- John Welwood

Iris would sit on the roof for hours, never moving even for the slightest passing breeze, with one leg resting upon the other and both paws clasped together firmly. The sun had just begun to disappear over the tops of the trees, and the Spring air had started to cool as the distant Westward horizon glowed with waves of soft red and purple light. In the distance, the swooshing sounds of passing cars on the nearby freeway could be periodically heard over the serenity of an otherwise quiet and peaceful late afternoon.

The Lucario’s eyes were gently shut, and a small stream of transparent, blue aura vapor seeped from the crack between her right eyelids, indicating that she had been concentrating hard enough to draw energy from the outside air, and then let it flow throughout the conduits in her brain to increase her focus. It was not as violent as it usually was during a battle, rather it was more gentle and wispy as it floated upwards from her eye socket and then dissipated.

She was, on the outside, completely at peace with the world, her entire body appearing as relaxed as a hammock on a warm beach. She was still, and she stood with as much poise as a buddhist monk. On the inside, however, her train of thought had begun to drift off of the tracks, letting old memories and internal struggles plague the mindscape she had worked all day to create. The small thoughts happened so suddenly, like rolling a snowball down a mountain only for it to reach the bottom and become a devastating boulder. She couldn’t help it, not after what she now knew, not with the truth that plagued her like an Egyptian curse. Another wave of anxiety hit her body like a speeding truck, and it shook her so badly that it nearly threw her off balance as she wobbled slightly in the wind passing over the roof of the house, jolting her back to consciousness.

Iris gasped and stared into space for a moment, the real world returning to her, and the haze of aura stopped flowing and then evaporated into the atmosphere. She stood dazed, her pupils dilating, and her surroundings came back into focus. This never happened to her, she had never felt like this for years, not ever since she matured. She needed to calm down, to think things through rationally. She regained control of herself and sighed, taking in a fresh breath of afternoon air to clear her head, and then she righted herself as she was before. It took but a few seconds for her to return to her previous state of thinking, but she eventually recalled the thoughts that had been violently shaken from her mind and then continued where she had left off, pondering the events for the past week of her life.

The pendant she wore around her neck, artfully smithed from gold and embroidered with a black cross passing in front of a smaller sapphire-blue disc, had been with her ever since she was still inside an egg. It was engraved with symbols that roughly translated to a dead language used by an ancient tribe of Lucarios, a tribe that had lived in the Northern mountains of the Sinnoh region thousands of years before the first man had ever set foot in the area.

It was her tribe, it was her ancestors who had all but disappeared as the sands of time etched away at them and their history, their entire population thought to be completely extinct and yet here she was. They were always heavily shrouded in mystery, as ancient ruins with unsolvable hieroglyphs were the only lead to go on. However, more recent investigations had been conducted since the early 50’s, when technology and research had advanced to the point where they were finally able to learn from this apparently once-great civilization. Books were written about their findings, and Iris read them, as many as she could get her hands on. As she read, she began to notice a pattern, a series of intersecting threads that never seemed to quite connect. Of the dozens of books she has ever flipped through, each one of them had always pointed to one, terrifying paradox.

She. Should. Not. Exist.

Her eye, tinted blue and constantly glowing with an intense light, was one of the few connections between her and this tribe of Pokemon she called her ancestors, her family, the ones who left her alone up in the mountains as an egg and never heard from again. It was all there, the language they used that was inscribed in the jewelry she owned, the location she that was found in as a newborn, and most importantly, the source of her abilities.

Her abilities were not simply gained through sheer willpower and physical exercises, no, her power could never be achieved through any normal means of training. This was something else, something that materialized in her when she had evolved into her final form, it made her see and feel things she had never felt before, like she had been injected with knowledge that which existed beyond the boundaries of the dimensional plane she resided in. She could never understand it, nor could anyone else that came across her. Even her trainer was baffled and slightly afraid at the sudden, seemingly unexplainable changes that sprouted, but it never affected the bond they shared as Pokemon and master.

What she read in those old books made her out to be some sort of savior, like a demigod of sorts, blessed by the god named Arceus who watches over all life from above in his Holy kingdom. Her eye was the determining factor, anyone could see that it was something special, but it carried a weight that Iris would have to bear for the rest of her days. The eye represented power, it represented wisdom, and most importantly it represented that Iris’ connection to the spiritual realm of aura and thought was so strong, that she essentially transcended from being a mere Pokemon to being nearly omnipotent.

Arceus was supposed to bless one chosen member in each generation of her clan’s life, as per the deal they made with their holy idol. As long as they continued their worship and sacrifice, as they always had, they would always be protected from harm. Arceus was far, far too busy (apparently) to attend to the needs of each individual on the planet, so instead he bestowed upon them a blessing. In her clan’s own language, Iris memorized the prophecy upon which her life was created to fulfill;

“May the plagues infest us, for our savior will arise from within our numbers to burn the pestilence with aura like fire, and those who oppose our way of life and threaten our loved ones will be forced to face their sins until they repent, and only then can our hero find divine rest until they are once again needed.”

There was a book in the back of the Public Library, which was located in her hometown of Jubilife City, a place she went to quite often. Pokemon were allowed to use public services such as the library, or the local shops, or public transportation, because they could be trusted to understand how such things operated. She got herself a Library card, and she used it periodically to indulge herself in as many intellectual and philosophical works as she could possibly find, occasionally delving into other genres like fantasy and things that entertained and engaged her. She also used the library for her own, personal research, as she scoured the depths of the History and Geography section for anything related to her ancestors. Of course, there were the documentaries, the investigations that gave her the knowledge that she had memorized end to end. There were even works in the Religious category that talked about cases of Arceus appearing on Earth and granting wishes and blessings to those who prayed to him. In those she could sometimes find her clan hidden within the pages, amongst other tribes that were similar to hers, but not quite as important to her for the moment. Her tribe had always been written off as another ruined civilization, a fallen kingdom where all of their beliefs and practices had meant nothing because they had ultimately destroyed themselves and completely disappeared off the face of the planet, never to be seen again. Iris was so emotionally attached to the history of her people, who they were, what they believed in and strived for, but to everyone else they were another example of the way that time can just completely wipe away an entire tribe of once-magnificent creatures and move on to the next one, and then the next one, over and over to infinity and even beyond that. Time is unending, time is limitless, and time feels no remorse.

No matter how deep she dug, Iris always felt in her heart that something wasn’t there, like a piece of the puzzle had escaped and run off. For months she lost her lead, up until she found that book. She had never seen it before, not until it randomly fell off of it’s shelf as she passed by. To any common man the situation could have well been written off as simply being coincidental, albeit incredibly so, like perhaps it wasn’t shelved right, or the wind blowing off of Iris’ body as she passed by was strong enough to knock it off of its fragile perch. But she knew that wasn’t possible, the aura in the air was faint but it happened to appear right where the book has been, then vanished. It was like a passing ghost, something otherworldly that still had a physical interaction with the plane of existence all life on Earth inhabited, but whatever the case may be it still got Iris’ attention as she picked up the book and studied it. The writing on the front of it had faded away so it could no longer be legible, but some red, shiny lettering on the spine of the book barely read, “Gōruden'ōra.”

“Golden Aura…”

She had heard her clan’s name many times before in several different languages, so she knew how to pick it out, but she had never come across this book before until now. On the spot she began to rapidly flip through the pages, reading as fast as her eyes were allowed to move, at first finding only information she had already figured out up to this point, but then suddenly the pages stopped turning and she froze.

It was there, depicted in detail with fine, black ink, next to a wall of text, the pendant she was wearing around her neck. She took one hand off the book and used it to quickly remove the necklace from herself, then placed it on the page. The two of them were side-by-side, identical copies of one another, it couldn’t be mistaken for a different one even if the most skilled craftsman alive attempted to replicate it. Her mind raced with questions as she took the necklace and sat down with her back against the bookshelf behind her, starting to read the text beside the picture.

Since the clan was founded, sightings of this pendant around the tribe leader’s neck had been sourced through studying the surrounding areas of the Eastern Sinnoh region, where other, less-prosperous tribes of other Pokemon had written their history on their own walls. They would write about the blue warriors whose leader would always sport a shiny, blue medallion they would wear wherever they went. In this specific instance, it was a group of Sneasels and Weaviles that had never before been thoroughly documented, as many investigations never seemed to look further than the collapsed snow banks that used to be their homes. This was different, way different. As Iris continued, she discovered that a small group of humans, a party of around 4 or 5, came from their homes to another country in 1942 to further investigate what other researchers had called a dead end. They dug into the snow for months, setting up a remote base camp near the site. Nobody passed through the area normally, so nobody even knew they were out there. They eventually hit a cavern some 10 feet underground, and what they found inside now lie within the pages of the book Iris was holding, and it had never been investigated since.

But her ancestor’s trail ended centuries ago, where no further evidence could prove they still existed past that point in time. There were no writings, no relics, and no way to pull back the thick blanket of snow that had covered the sacred ground upon which they used to roam. According to all accounts she had ever read, the tribe had been wiped off the face of the planet.

And yet here she was

The people who discovered her took both her egg and the necklace back with them, and it had been in her possession ever since. It carried quite a bit of emotional weight for Iris, even if she never made it outright obvious. She never knew what it was for, but she knew it came from her family and that it was important to finding out who she was. Now here, in this book that she had been gifted by some entity whose origins remain a mystery, it was said that the trinket that she had been left with has been worn by every single documented tribe leader that had ever ruled over her tribe. No other history book, encyclopedia, cultural website or Pokemon professor had ever even mentioned any of this before, as far as she knew the necklace was given to her as a parting gift from the family that had left her behind. But now she knew, that it had a much, much greater importance than she could have ever imagined.

The pendant was a symbol of strength, of utmost authority over all others and respect from even the wisest of elders. She could barely come up with a reason as to how, or why, but there it was hung around her as it had always been, a silent symbol of the past that she had so longingly wanted to uncover bit-by-bit. She stood motionless, but visibly there were signs that her concentration was waning, every fiber of her being felt like it was falling face-down into an endless pit as realization washed over her in a tidal wave.

At that moment, she heard voices whisper to her.

They were incoherent, and very, very quiet, but the cacophony of whispers contained key phrases that Iris could just faintly pick out as they swirled around her head like ghosts;

“… forgotten…”

“… -will never understand…”

“… -need you…”

“… prophecy…”

“… half-god…”

“… protect us…”

She could sense the presence of other entities with her now, they were all around her, suffocating her and spinning around her like the clouds of a hurricane. Books began to fall over and off the shelves around her, and lights started to flicker on and off in the section of the library she was in. And her necklace, her necklace seemed to almost hover upwards as the thread attached to it hung around Iris’ neck still. The sapphire disk was glowing brightly then, and it shook violently with the concentrated power of hundreds of generations of Lucarios, who all gave their lives to protect their families, their loved ones, all of the innocent people in the world that needed to be saved because that’s what leaders do. That is what leaders do… and this one singular phrase repeated itself inside of Iris’ head over and over again, with different voices sounding off in an orchestra of enlightenment. These voices, this necklace, it was a connection to the other side, to her ancestors, to her tribe, it was a link to everything she had ever wanted to know, and now it was decided that it was the right time for her to understand.

Now she did understand, she hadn’t just been chosen to protect her clan, she had been chosen as the clan’s leader, and ever since she was born it was always her destiny to take her place beside her ancestors. And now her family was calling her back, lending her their energy, their knowledge, their willpower, to have her lead her clan as their chief, to guide her into her true calling as a hero amongst her people.

But the question still remained, why did they leave her in the first place?

And more than that, where did everyone go?

As she stood there on the roof, all of these realizations rattled around in her head so hauntingly, so absolutely brutally and unrelentingly, that she just had to stop. Her eyes thrust open as an audible gasp escaped her lips and she planted her second foot on the roof to prevent herself from losing her balance again. She took a second to breathe, to calm herself down as the deep dark thoughts of paranoia phased away into stardust inside her head. She was calm now, she felt the gentle breeze blow through her fur, heard the droning sounds of cars on the highway once again, and she sighed as she stretched her arms out into the air. She put them back down and just stared at the sunset, watching the last shred of color vanish behind the horizon, appreciating the world and the small pleasures that came with living there. She smiled slightly, but it dropped again as she turned her attention towards the pendant, using her right paw to lift it up so she could see it around her neck.

She studied it closer now, picking out every detail she could find, all the tiny engravings with thin, swooping lines and miniature stars, and as it sparkled in the moonlight the sapphire disc seemed to almost glow. It was a beautiful work of art, crafted by the finest artisans in the village thousands of years ago, and it was entrusted to her for reasons she used to wonder about constantly.

She used to think perhaps it was a reminder that she had a purpose, set forth by the gods and left for her to figure out the rest. Perhaps her parents knew, or had always known, and they wanted to give her hope, to show her that they would always be with her in one form or another, maybe it was a sign of love.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, she hadn’t cried for years and yet this was enough to bring forth her emotions from the steel-locked gate that she kept them behind. She needed to know why she was abandoned, only to be called back like this. She needed to know how, and she needed to know as soon as possible. There had been a feeling clawing at her back, which had gotten more severe in the past month or so. Something was coming and she didn’t know exactly when, or even what she needed to look out for, but she could tell it was going to be devastating to her and everyone she’d ever loved and that she needed to do something about it before the point of no return.

Iris let the pendant drop to hang where it would always sit, and then turned to stare at the moon coming up and over the trees. On this night it was full, casting the entire region in a soft, bluish light. She looked at it with an expression of determination, with a tinge of melancholy. No matter what may threaten her home she would protect it with her life. No matter how menacing or how powerful these monsters could possibly be she would find a way to save the ones she cared about, she would save them all. Then she would go on to lead her people and rebuild their civilization, if there was anything left at all. She hoped to the gods that it would be so. Iris would never be afraid, not with the strength she had knowing her ancestors were watching over her. She only hoped she had enough time to prepare for what lay ahead, for failure would destroy everything she’d ever had, and the threads of prophecy would be cut. But first, she would have to find her home, if there was anything left of it at all. She hoped to Arceus that she wasn't too late...

As she stood, she swore she could almost feel a warm, reassuring paw on her shoulder.

#pokemon #ocs #oc #short story #literature #rp #roleplay #lucario #iris

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wwefangirl69 · 7 years

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Cesaro

An Imagine on what it would be like to date him! <3 Lordy I had fun writing this one! Fluffy - a tinge smutty.

Long slow kisses.

Coffee dates, with deep discussions about art, poetry, music, literature, travel, deep thinking, and staring intently into your eyes... and down your cleavage. He thinks he’s being all sneaky sneaking glances at your boobs. ;)

Speaks foreign terms of endearment and other filthy things in the many foreign languages he knows!

Likes for you to be the Lady in the streets, and the Whore in the sheets!

He is the perfect gentleman, and your parents and friends adore him!

He is your protector.

Going to museums together, The ballet, the Opera, musicals, and acting right in public - or giving the illusion of such - when actually he whispers naughty things in your ear, or secretly gropes you!

Sweet shit, those bedroom eyes!

You can feel his presence from across the room, and suddenly the world just stops and it is just the 2 of you. Very Hot!!

He likes to spoil you in various ways. Handwritten love notes and cards, Perfumes, lingerie, jewelry. He likes it when you wear that black lace panty and bra set. The sheer see thru lace gets his mouth watering! You are his Queen, his Goddess, his world and he will not let you forget it!

Anniversaries are a big deal to him, and you celebrate whenever he is in town. Yes he is cheesy and celebrates monthiversaries - the anniversary of your first date together!

You both make Sheamus gag because you two are so damn cute! Sheamus always tells you two to “Get a fookin room, ya fookin lovebirds!”

He likes for you to be beautiful, so he is always sending you to the spa for all day treatments, or to the salon to get your hair and nails done.

He likes taking you shopping. Michael Kors, Burberry, CoCo Chanel, there is no place he won’t go with you. He also wouldn’t dream of letting you carry all those heavy bags by yourself!

Fine dining. Nothing but the best for you, his ladylove. Loves for you to get all dressed up to go out on the town. You are the IT couple. Screw the Miz and Maryse - it is Cesaro and Y/N!

He is also one HELL of a barista! He likes making yummy coffee drinks at home for the two of you. He also is a wonderful baker and chef, and treats you to candlelit dinners at his place all the time.

Making out in the Hot tub.

Stargazing. He knows all the constellations and planets and the Mythology that goes along with them - but his favorite stars are the ones he sees in your eyes.

Lots of romance. Flowers, gifts.

Slow dancing under the stars.

Very passionate. Loves soft kisses that gradually build up to lip biting, and wrestling tongues. Loves to tease and deny you your release a few times, before he finally allows you a release - and LORDY what a release! The 2nd time around is for his release! Always the gentleman.

Loves for you to stroke his body all over - loves being petted. He feels so good under your hands as you rub his chest and down his tight stomach. You both worship each other’s bodies. That “Happy Trail” tho... damn!

In bed, likes very much to be in control - as in using silk neckties to bind you to his will!!

Passionate lover.

Loves PDA, hugs, hand holding, pecks to the cheek, on top of your head, forehead, hand kisses..

He is competitive, but not above stopping his weight lifting to be your spotter as you are lifting weight in the gym with him. He always gives you tips on how to enhance your workout and be the best you can be. He is proud of your accomplishments, and never slacks in giving you lavish praise.

He has a very dry sense of humor, but you two are always laughing and smiling.

The best hugs.

He loves it when he can take you to have a new experience in dining or travel - he actually gets off seeing the wonder and joy in your eyes as you experience things he has experienced many times.

Selfies together. That goes without saying.

The tear away suit isn’t just part of his ring gear - he has used it on you in the bedroom a time or two. IT. NEVER. DISAPPOINTS.

My tagged beauties: @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @deidrelovessheamus @helluvawriter @laochbaineann

#Cesaro #Cesaro Love #Cesaro Fluff #Cesaro Imagine #WWE Fluff

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eddiejpoplar · 6 years

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First Drive: 2018 Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster

Split personalities are, mostly, not at all like they’re portrayed in the movies. In reality, the condition is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, and it’s a serious affliction, not a fun premise. At Lamborghini, the reality is somewhere between the two. On the one hand, there’s the razor-sharp performance and impressive bandwidth of the Huracan, from the rear-drive LP 580-2 to the ‘Ring mastering Performante. On the other hand, there’s the Aventador. Both are completely Lamborghini, but neither will ever be mistaken for the other.

If the Huracan is the distilled essence of New Lamborghini, the Aventador is the flaming spirit of Old Lamborghini, and Old Lamborghini has always been a bit wacky. That’s not a criticism—on the contrary, the completely out-there style of the Countach launched beyond even the eroticism of the Miura to cement the brand from Sant’Agata as a global icon. The progeny of the Countach—Diablo, Murcielago, Aventador—carry on that legacy. The latest model to extend the line is the Aventador S, which is now available in Roadster form.

Updates include the full S treatment given to the coupe in 2017: a power upgrade for the 6.5-liter V-12 engine increases output from the first Aventador Roadster’s 691 hp to the S’s 730-hp rating, four-wheel steering is added, as is a new dynamic steering ratio system, and a revised suspension tune. The result? A car that’s still totally wacky and is now a bit better to drive.

That’s still not to say it’s good, in the supercar sense of the word, especially in today’s incredibly competitive context. When it first debuted, the Aventador’s handling was most closely modeled after a full-size pickup minus the body roll, or so it seemed to me. The Aventador S improves substantially on that starting point; it now drives somewhat like a midsize crossover, minus the comfort.

The problem is, basically, everything. The Aventador’s carbon-fiber chassis has never been the lightest thing around, and it was tuned from the outset for manageable but infinite understeer. That’s not changed with the S’s improvements, but it’s lessened somewhat. The new four-wheel steering does make the very wide Aventador considerably nimbler, and able to make tighter-radius turns. But driven harder at speeds where the four-wheel steering is turning out of phase (in the direction opposite the front wheels), there’s a perceptible delay between steering input through the wheel and the rear end responding to that input, despite Lamborghini’s claimed 5 ms response time. The result is that a few hundred milliseconds after you turn in for a corner, the rear end turns more, making you dial out a bit of steering angle, then dial it back in once the rear wheels respond to the secondary input. Then rinse and repeat until the corner is finally over and the Aventador S Roadster can do what it really wants to: go straight, really fast. The 3.0-second 0-60 mph time and 217 mph top speed are not jokes.

Worse still, there’s the dynamic steering ratio, which alters the amount of steering wheel input required to achieve a given steering angle at the tires, based on vehicle speed. If you should chance upon a corner that has a long, arcing entry that just begs for a bit of trailing brake, a constant amount of steering wheel angle results in a constantly varying amount of steering angle at the road surface. Combine this behavior with the four-wheel steering’s lag time, and you have a reason to use your favorite map app to find the straightest route possible to your destination.

The one significant improvement to the Aventador S Roadster’s handling and finesse comes from the transmission. Tuned so brutally in its first iteration, the Independent Shifting Rod single-clutch automated manual is now just a touch more refined, allowing hard upshifts during acceleration without the extreme jarring to the driveline and jostling of the passengers—which, in turn, allows for smoother driving nearer the limits.

But handling was never the point of the batshit end of the Lamborghini spectrum. Furious power, sound like Thor’s hammer striking the Liberty Bell, and an image that would make an anime hero blush were the metrics, and the Aventador has scored 150% in each of those categories since day one. The S Roadster moves the needle to 200%.

A slight exterior redesign gives the S Roadster a sharper visual edge, and the extra power puts a deeper bite to the unrivaled bark of the big V-12, but a great deal of this Italian super-stallion’s appeal is timeless; it’s theater in motion. The Roadster version of the Aventador keeps all the over-the-top design, but pops the top, letting the Master of the Universe behind the wheel see and be seen—a key mission for any Lamborghini halo car.

Pull up to any valet at any hotel, restaurant, or country club anywhere in the world, and the Aventador S Roadster becomes the instant star—even if the display lot is already full of Bugattis, Ferraris, and McLarens. Give it a quick rev as you depart, and the whole building will know you’ve left. Even in jaded, gridlocked, Tesla-worshiping Southern California, the sheer visual and auditory presence of the Aventador S Roadster is a force potent enough to inspire (friendly!) honks, waves, thumbs-up, and, wild gesticulation amounting to sign language for “Rev it hard!”

Cruising Highway 1, the Pacific on your flank, you’re happy to oblige, blipping the throttle like a kid in a supermarket race car ride, grinning madly, disappearing into the sunset. You don’t need record Nordschleife lap times just like you don’t need a poster on your wall. You are the poster on the wall brought to life.

2018 Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $460,247 (base) ENGINE 6.5L DOHC 48-valve V-12/730 hp @ 8,400 rpm, 509 lb-ft @ 5,500 rpm TRANSMISSION

7-speed single-clutch automatic

LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, AWD coupe EPA MILEAGE

10/16 mpg (city/hwy) (est)

L x W x H

188.8 x 79.9 x 44.7 in

WHEELBASE

106.2 in

WEIGHT

3,785 lb (est)

0-60 MPH 3.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED

217 mph

IFTTT

#IFTTT #Performance Junk Blogger 6

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jesusvasser · 6 years

Text

First Drive: 2018 Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster

2018 Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $460,247 (base) ENGINE 6.5L DOHC 48-valve V-12/730 hp @ 8,400 rpm, 509 lb-ft @ 5,500 rpm TRANSMISSION

7-speed single-clutch automatic

LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, AWD coupe EPA MILEAGE

10/16 mpg (city/hwy) (est)

L x W x H

188.8 x 79.9 x 44.7 in

WHEELBASE

106.2 in

WEIGHT

3,785 lb (est)

0-60 MPH 3.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED

217 mph

IFTTT

#IFTTT #Performance Junk WP Feed 4

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