#Due to her sins she's forced to wear chains

[maslosstuff]

Instead of a virgo being a maid how about her being a nun instead, it fits with her sinful behavior and the fact whenever I see the zodiac it has wings.

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[wlwloverwrites]

omgg for lovers hour (btw LOVE this concept you’re legit my fave author on this app i can’t wait to read what you write!!!) what about bottom!nat in a maids outfit for a smutty blurb?? that image Does things to me🥵

Anonymous said

natasha and reader have a thing for riding each other’s faces 🥵 i bet nat makes the loudest moans and whimpers as she rides your face and begs you for more.

Warnings: MAID COSTUME! light degrading, choking, face sitting, anal fingering, smut (18+)

Word count: 1.3k

Lover Hours Masterlist

not edited *

The maid costume was bought as a backup plan in case Natasha didn’t like her nun costume. She always hated the idea of online shopping, never truly knowing if the clothes would fit too big or too small and not to mention how addicting it was.

It was already the second week of November when the package was delivered to your shared apartment. The both of you agreed to have your own privacy and get away from the other avengers. It was a new change and so far it was going well. Completely clueless on what package you were carrying with you walked up the many stairs. Causally flipping through your mail.

“Babe!”

“Yeah?”

“You got a package!” Chuckling to yourself when you hear her shuffling and almost trip over her two left feet. Handing her the small package, watching her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. At first it’s because of your kiss, but your eyes follow hers.

“Is that a maid costume?”

Natasha is holding up the tiny costume, the black skirt of the dress is shorter then short. Big white ruffles are displayed from under the skirt. The top of the costume had a reasonable neckline, it was low enough to leave you thinking the dirtiest thoughts.

You could almost picture her accidentally flashing you when doing, literally anything. Maybe if Natasha bent down too far, no matter which way she was facing, you’d be there for an eyeful. Whether it was her breasts or sinful image of her soaked panties.

“It came too late,” Natasha pouts, despite her flushed cheeks - fully aware what thoughts are running through your head - she’s sad. Sad that she couldn’t wear this cute little number on one of the funnest holidays of the year.

“Doesn’t mean you still can’t wear.”

-

“Such a pretty maid.”

Natasha is sitting on her knees, staring at your with the prettiest bambi eyes. The ball gag is making her drool all over her chin and onto her breast, so messy. Her thighs look even thicker with them flushed together, you knew if you looked close enough you’d see her clenching them together.

“Open your legs, maid.”

Natasha whimpers at your command, immediately complying and opens them. The costume is doing very little to cover her body, and you loved every second. Her light pink cotton panties are soaked through, a dark pink spot getting larger with each comment you made.

“Looks like the lovely maid has a mess between her thighs,” you mock while removing the ball gag and throwing it to the side.

Your fingers hooked on to her necklace, scoffing at the little accessory she added. Tugging harshly at the chain, pulling her up to her feet. You can tell you pulled with the right amount of force due to the little moan that slipped through her mouth.

Natasha has always truly been a sucker for pain.

Your warm hand finds her neck, starting off with a light squeeze and then fully wrapping around her throat. Her eyes flutter shut when she feels your other hand bunch up the back part of the skirt and grab a handful of her ass. Massaging her bum, purposely digging your short nails into her skin.

“I want you to sit on my face.”

If it weren’t for your hands supporting her, Natasha would have melted into your arms. Natasha is quick to nod at your request. She wanted nothing more than to ride your face and come all over your tongue.

“Have to clean up that dirty mess between your thighs.”

Your hand that was on her ass hooks her panties down her legs and stuffs them into your jean pocket. The simple yet naughty action makes Natasha needier. Falling onto your back and on top of the soft queen size bed. You watch hungrily as Natasha crawls on top of you. The natural scent of her sex reaches your nose when her thighs land beside your face.

Brushing your nose softly against her inner thighs, her pussy is dripping with juices. Truly she’s a mess. Locking your arms around her thighs, you knew as soon as you’d get your mouth on her she’d start squirming.

“I want you to moan as loud as you want, got that?”

Natasha nods, forgetting that you couldn’t see her she’s quick to correct herself before you could correct her yourself. “Yes, I understand.”

As if on queue, Natasha lets out a loud moan and squirms in your firm hold when you lick a wet stripe on her pussy. Lapping your tongue over and over again, never getting enough of her sweet taste. Her pretty moans fill your ears, a beautiful song you had total control over.

“Please.”

Kitten licking her throbbing clit, almost in a teasing manner. Her thighs twitch around you, you’re scared for only half a second that she’s squeeze your head too tightly and make you pass out. But does that really sound so bad?

“Please more!” Her whines are broken as her hands grip the white sheets. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, the sting of her nails sudden digging to her soft palms make her flinch.

Ignoring her pleads, you continue your slow pace. Take your time, pulling each moan and licking each drop. Digging your fingers into her milk thighs, wanting nothing more than to leave bruises in their wake.

The urge to mark her body with your touch, your bruise, your kiss.

She groan in protest when you detach your mouth from her heat. Not liking her attitude you sneak a quick bite to her thigh. She flinched for a second then moans. You soothe the ache a small kiss. Pressing more kisses all over, occasionally sucking a hickie or two on her pale skin. And by ‘occasionally’ you meant every chance you got.

Landing a soft, almost nonexistent kiss on her clit. Pride fills your chest when Natasha cries out in pleasure.

“Ride my face, baby.”

Natasha could cry, the build up was making her hyper and needier and now you granted her permission to do one of her favorite things... ever.

She does exactly what you ask, she rides your face like her face depends on it. She more confident then the first time you ask her. One of the worlds smartest spies was shy and self conscious when you ask her to ride your face. Now? She had no care in the world and focused on your voice and mouth.

Rolling her hips, finding the perfect angle that makes her tummy flip and pussy clench with need. Your chin is soaked with all she had to offer.

Moving your hand and reaching for Natasha face. Your hand squeezes her face harshly. Her lips are puckered and her cheeks are smashed. Bringing your fingers to her mouth, sucking on her clit unexpectedly. Your silent command, she gets the memo and sucking your fingers. Once she’s done coating them in her salvia you bring fingers under her skirt.

Your hands slip and find her ass. Grabbing the perky flesh and spreading her cheek, your soaked pointer finger is quick to find her tightest hole.

“Wh-What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, yeah?”

“M’kay.”

Circling your dripping finger along her tightest ring, the tight muscles flutter with your touch. A foreign feeling takes up Natasha’s body when you carefully push in the tip of your finger.

Studying her moans, you continue you lick her clit. Experimentally, you wiggle your finger.

“Fuck!”

Pushing just a little bit more of your finger, you suck hard on her clit. Her moans are loud and whiny, her hands grip the sheets until her knuckles turn white.

“Ah! I’m gonna come!” Never stopping until she falls apart on your face. Her mouth opens to let out a silent scream.

“I’m coming!”

~lover hours~ (send smutty concepts/blurbs NOT RESQUESTS)

[medusinestories]

Onwards to the episode in which we get to see Flint and Silver each having a very bad day (as well as two literal dicks that nobody had asked to see).

Black Sails VII (s1 ep07)

- We open on Pastor Lambrick's sweaty face as he intensely rehearses the Easter sermon and he’s obviously eaten up by what he did with Miranda. His sermon, unsurprisingly, focuses on sin, keeping sin hidden, and the hell that awaits the sinner. Which leads us nicely onto Flint, who’s distracted (by his own sin? by thoughts of Miranda? both?) during a meeting with Eleanor. Eleanor is pissed that Miranda let Richard Guthrie send a message to the Andromache and then waltz into town to close up his business; Flint tries to take the heat off Miranda, once again protecting her (at this point, he may not know the contents of the letter).

- During this meeting, Flint is startled when Silver first speaks up to say that the mob in the street was bad - clearly Silver is a sort of intruder in this meeting. But Eleanor, after Silver reminds her by unsubtly clearing his throat, tells Flint that he’s not to harm Silver because he was instrumental in setting up the Consortium. Silver looks so pleased with himself in these scenes, and Flint quite defeated when he tells Silver to follow him back to their camp. I love it.

- To parallel Flint/Miranda’s Sulky Sex scene from ep4, we have Anne/Rackham’s frustrating/disconnected sex scene. It shows us a few things about them mainly that Anne wants to keep a lot of control over what happens, hence Rackham being tied up (though of course this might also be his kink), her wearing a shirt that covers up most of her body, and the reverse cowgirl position that means that she’s both in control of what happens and completely avoids eye contact. The position reminds us of the Flint/Miranda scene, where Miranda was also on top, but their scene involved more eye contact (yes glaring counts, he’s still intensely focused on Miranda), gentle touching (on Miranda’s side) and her being naked and open to him. Another parallel is that both Flint and Rackham aren’t in the right frame of mind for sex, Flint being angry and Rackham lost in a sea of worries (and probably also somewhat angry/disappointed at Anne for forcing him into the plot to kill their crewmates). The difference between Flint and Rackham is that while Flint doesn’t seem to have any trouble performing, Rackham is miles away and doesn’t even notice that he’s lost his erection - again. Anne is frustrated by this, and apparently knows him well enough that she offers to put something up his arse, but he’s clearly not in the mood, and she leaves in a huff, abandoning him all tied up as a sort of revenge for his performance problems. Whatever the problem is between them isn’t put into words (because Anne can’t yet, for starters), unlike the one between Flint and Miranda. The intimacy between Rackham and Anne, so often described as close partners, seems much more distant to me than the one shown between Flint and Miranda. I’m not sure whether it’s because of anyone’s sexual orientation, or just the fact that they’re fucking but they’ve never discussed the big important things, such as Anne’s identity/feelings/etc.

- In this episode, Dufresne gains a lot of power: with a freshly (and badly) shaved head and a new tattoo, he’s been promoted to Quartermaster on the Walrus in Billy’s place. And very quickly he has a problem to deal with: Randall revealing that Silver stole the page. Gates had actually already told this to Dufresne, as is revealed at the end of the episode, which might explain why Dufresne is relatively calm during the whole conversation, while DeGroot wants Silver and Flint hanged and Howell is surprisingly ruthless: he brings up the idea that it may be better to kill off Randall in order to get to the treasure, if they can’t make sure he’ll keep quiet about Silver being the thief. Dufresne is actually quite kind towards Silver in the scene where he puts Silver’s memory to the test - a test that could result in his death if he fails it and that Silver constantly grumbles against (I love his grumbling!). Basically, at this point Dufresne remains quite a sympathetic character, which will change a lot as the show goes on, especially after Jannes Eiselen had to leave the show (such a sad story, RIP Jannes).

- In the meantime, the Flint and Gates relationship is crumbling. It's sad to see, especially since they're shown sharing chuckles as they talk about Dufresne's appointment in the beginning of the episode. But then Gates brings up the subject of Miranda and demands explanations about the letter Billy found. We're not shown exactly what Flint answers, but it's clear that he's actually trying his best to give him an explanation without incriminating Miranda too badly. The sad thing is that Flint is actually telling the truth: he actually wasn't involved in any betrayal of his crew and and can only guess at Miranda's motivations. But the fact that he's lied time and again in previous situations, including on the Maria Aleyne where he claimed Lord Alfred drew a weapon on him (and Gates secretly verified that this was a lie), and used men as pawns to advance his and Miranda's plans, is now catching up to him. Flint seems truly hurt when Gates accuses him of using the men for his own purposes, and turns spiteful, telling Gates that he should have been "a better father" to Billy and helped him "understand the world he was living in" (suggesting that such a forthright character as Billy can't really survive in a world of pirates who are all ready to stab each other in the back). After that slap in the face, Gates says he's exhausted from Flint and threatens to take it to the crew. Somehow, this pushes Flint to bare all: he tells Gates about his plan to keep a part of the treasure and use it to build up Nassau, depicting himself as a sort of saviour, doing it for the men's good: they'd rather be rich men in a safe place than dead thieves hanging from a noose. Gates sees this as delusions of grandeur, and tells him that while he'll see the Urca plot through, after that they're done. I actually think he sees Flint’s point, since he doesn’t just throw him to the crew, but won’t admit that out loud. The whole of this scene hurts bad, because you can tell that Flint is desperate and sad to be losing his closest ally and friend, and that Gates is hurting from the loss of Billy and exhausted from the toxic relationship he has with Flint, where he's played enabler to his manipulations for years.

- While Flint and Gates’ alliance is breaking, Silver has to forge one with Randall or die. Randall finds out in the beginning of the episode that he’s been voted out of the crew. This is apparently due to DeGroot’s fears that Randall could be a fire hazard, which the crew took disproportionately to heart. Randall is furious with Silver, who smugly tells him that in these situations, a setback often comes with a new or unexpected opportunity. He’s right, but at this point he doesn’t know that he is the opportunity Randall’s going to latch on. Randall reveals that Silver is a thief, and Silver denies it, saying that Randall is both a halfwit and was in a haze of opium when he heard what he thought he heard; he even tries to convince Randall that he was mistaken (this, my friends, is gaslighting). However, by revealing that Silver was the thief, Randall sets a chain of events into motion which could either end with his death (if Howell has his way, since Randall is an inconvenient witness) or Silver’s (if DeGroot tips the balance, not trusting Silver to remember the coordinates and not wanting to sacrifice Randall for nothing). Silver figures out that these are the outcomes, and tries to talk sense into Randall by making a deal with him: he’ll care for Randall and make sure he can stay on the ship. But it’s only when Silver finally admits that he is the thief and that Randall was right, that Randall accepts the deal. Later, Silver realises that Randall might have orchestrated the whole thing: he’s now got Silver to serve him, doesn’t have to take any risks on the ship, and gets to remain with the crew. Silver wonders if Randall is a genius rather than a halfwit (a word thrown about a lot to describe him). And it seems quite obvious, considering what happened, that Randall still has strong survival skills (an amputee with impaired cognitive skills doesn’t stand a chance of survival outside a crew and he must be aware of it), that he still has a good memory and an ability to pick out useful information and that he’s aware enough of what’s going on to be upset by the crew’s rejection and Silver’s attempt to gaslight him. I think it’s important to recognise that Randall is more than a comic relief or a grotesque character: he’s a disabled man who's lost parts of his cognitive ability and is struggling to survive.

- This episode focuses on Vane facing his past. He seeks out the island where he grew up and its master, Albinus. I’d forgotten or never really registered that Albinus was a pirate and that the men who work for him were mostly his crew - and likely slaves (or children, hence Vane?) that he managed to capture/press into service. He’s retired from pirating and set up a system where his men cut down trees for timber all day, without wages. It’s not clear exactly how he holds so much power over these men, although it seems that everyone is terrified of him. He’s extremely strong physically, seems shrewd, speaks rather well, and his tattoos suggest that maybe he’s involved in some kind of ritual (truly religious or just for show?) which would make him all the more scary to superstitious people. Vane is clearly still frightened: he barely makes eye contact and practically stutters when he first tries to make the deal with Albinus, which is that he’ll take some of Albinus’ men as crew and send Albinus part of their earnings as tribute. It says a lot about Albinus that Vane, after years of having run away, is still so scares that he’s willing to pay him a tribute. But he changes his mind as he stares at a boy bearing the same brand as he does: he tries to persuade the men that Nassau is a pace of pleasures rather than hard labour, and confronts Albinus. The fight is brutal and ends with Vane buried naked, just after Albinus tells him that he’s proud of him. But of course Vane wouldn’t be Vane if he didn’t rise from the dead at the last minute and kill Albinus, goaded on by his inner Eleanor voice.

- In the meantime, Mr Scott returns to Eleanor, apologising for what he did, telling her he betrayed her out of love. However he also reminds her of his slave status: technically, he belongs to her. The argument upsets her, and he quite cleverly uses this moment to ask her to free the slaves who were on the Andromache. And it works: by the end of the episode, she’s made arrangements for the men to work on ships and has bought the women’s freedom and found them jobs in her tavern. But Mr Scott has still decided to leave Eleanor to join Hornigold’s crew, to refrain from meddling with Eleanor’s affairs, since he disagrees with her so strongly re: the Urca. Hornigold approached him earlier in the episode, and the introduction to that scene is quite interesting: Hornigold says to Mr Scott “I’ll need to know your secret” and Mr Scott looks startled and frightened. It seems that he’s startled because he’d been giving food to the slaves, but in light of S3, it could be a much greater secret that’s being referred to. Mr Scott is relieved when he realises that Hornigold is simply talking about tolerating Eleanor, who he clearly can’t stand.

- Flint’s bad day continues, of course, with the big confrontation he has with Miranda. He’s furious about the letter (of which he now knows the contents thanks to Gates), telling her that it could have got him killed, or destroyed the plans they’d made and asking her whether she was trying to embarrass him. This sounds so weirdly petty, and yet it also sounds exactly like the kind of argument that would come up in a bickering couple. Miranda answers that she was trying to help him out of that life, because she wants to move on. This is where Miranda utters the famous “there is no life here, there is no joy here, there is no love here”. I noticed that, covered by Flint yelling at her, and distorted because her voice has gone very shrill, Miranda says another line, which sounds like “you used to love, then”. If that really is what she says, it’s extra-extra-extra heartbreaking to hear (if someone wants to check it for me, it’s around 35:40). It’s obvious that Flint and Miranda’s views on life are very different, and I can’t help but think back to the fact that, as a carpenter’s son from the country, Flint has had to struggle all his life to become who he is. So when he says that you can’t get a life without having a war, and Miranda tells him he’s wrong, she’s speaking entirely from the point of view of her privilege. She’s never needed to fight as hard as he has to be happy, because she got extremely lucky in marrying Thomas. And when she says that Thomas would agree with her, I’m certain she’s right. But life has never been like that for Flint, and there’s no way he’ll ever entirely agree with their point of view. Rewatching this scene is tough, btw, because they both have great points, they’re both hurting so much, and there’s so much to take in between the body language, the facial expressions, the tones of voice and the actual words that it’s a whole whirlwind. And it feels very, very real.

- It’s absolutely hilarious to see Rackham get robbed by the whores taking advantage of his lack of knowledge (and research). He should absolutely have done a better job and has no clue how to run a brothel. He’s lucky Max takes things in hand after having heard from Idelle that the girls were taking advantage.

- Then we have the beautiful Drunk Flint scene. Eleanor notices him feeling very sorry for himself after Gates has pretty much broken up with him and he’s still reeling from fighting with by Miranda. I think Flint feels very misunderstood here. He thought that he was doing something good, to save Nassau and avenge Thomas, and doesn’t understand why they can’t see it, why they only see the terrible methods he uses to reach his goals. So he’s full of doubt, clearly wondering if he’s the villain of the story, and puts the question to Eleanor: is their plan worth it? Eleanor is the only person who still believes in him, which leads us to the only scene that I would ever call straight-baiting. Flint hovers near Eleanor, breathing heavily, and a variety of emotions play over her face during this moment of tension, as she seems to think this is leading to a kiss. It does, he gives her a chaste little forehead kiss and leaves. All the elements are in place to make your average viewer start shipping these two. I actually find it hilarious that the ship barely exists in the fandom (though I wasn’t there in the beginning of the fandom and I guess the viewership changed a lot between S1 and S4).

- The scene with Flint and Gates glaring at each other from their respective ships and Parson’s Farewell playing in the background... epic! We know this is the beginning of a big struggle between them, especially since we find out that Gates has pretty much decided that he’ll hand Flint over to the crew once they get the money. But nnnnggh that scene! The ships leaving on their hunt! Awesome and heartbreaking!

[mirageofthecrystal]

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 19: The Devil's Due (Extra Credit)

[Continued from day 18]

"You just love to hear yourself talk, don't you? If we hadn't a need for your words, I'd suggest to the good Lady Iceheart that we tear your tongue from your mouth and force you to wear it 'round your neck, so all know what a snake you are. To think that such a monster sits at the feet of the Archbishop, lapping up every piece of praise so that you may spew out all the lies you're filled with, even though you know the truth of it all. To purposefully stoke the fires of this war... to what end we still do not know, and I suspect that even someone of your position does not fully understand the intent of the Archbishop. Be that as it may, there is still much information you hold that could be useful to us in our fight to show the people of Ishgard the truth. Best find some rest while you can, Inquisitor. I suspect quite a few sleepless nights in your future. And best not let Verdan catch you running your lips in an attempt to fill his mind with your filth. He watched his family burn alive for their sins, you see, and no amount of twisting words and manipulative slime will turn his mind from our cause. You will find all among our number to be much less malleable than the others you so easily play for fools."

Mariuseaux cackled at the expense of his own throat, drinking again of the waterskin. "That is where you're mistaken, traitor. Lady Iceheart has twisted you lot all around her little finger, and soon she'll have you rutting with dragons and thanking them for the blood they've spent one-thousand years spilling, allowing you to grovel and beg for every day of life that you're allowed to live as you serve them. I cannot wait until the fires of the Holy See spread all across these lands, purging all who do not hold the utmost faith and loyalty to the Archbishop and his guidance which has allowed us to prosper for so long, as his predecessors also did. You're right about one thing, however... I may not know his plans, but I know that he seeks to bring glory to our people, and ever searches for a way to be rid of Nidhogg and the menace of his brood. You will all suffer the same fate as your masters, heretic filth."

"Not untli you've done a great deal of suffering yourself, if I have a say in it," Verdan interjected as he re-entered the tent. "Iceheart wants to see you, Artemoux. Says it's urgent. She wants to let this one recover a bit before we find out what he knows. A mercy he does not deserve," Verdan moved to give the Inquisitor a firm kick, but Artemoux pushed him back. "As you said... the Lady wishes he get some rest. You'll have your chance, Verdan, to avenge your family. But not upon a defenseless man who might be of some use." Artemoux regarded the Inquisitor one last time before leaving him in Verdan's care.

"Some food would not go amiss. As your Lady and her dog both seem to believe, I will be more use of you alive than having starved to death." Verdan scowled, his fist tightening and trembling with desire to silence the bastard. "You will be fed when someone instructs me to do so, worm, and not a moment sooner." He returned to his post just outside the tent, leaving Mariuseaux to his brooding and scheming. He drained the waterskin of its last few drops, feeling the soothing effect of cold water upon his cracked throat. He began glancing around the tent, taking stock of anything he could use to his advantage. Though his wrists and ankle were bound together, he managed to force himself to his feet.

How long had it been since he fell, since his quarry had escaped his grasp? No doubt the heretics thought they were safe from reprisal, overestimating their own cleverness in the face of Ishgard's might. They would not forsake him to capture so readily. Even now, they were likely pursuing the heretics with blade and flame, prepared to paint the snowy highlands a deep crimson of heretic blood. And while he awaited his vindication, he would wait, watch, and plan for the moment that he knew would come.

And come it would, far sooner than expected. While Artemoux and Iceheart spoke of the pursuit noted by their scouts, the forces of the Holy See had already tracked their encampment down. They had taken great pains not to draw the attention of Iceheart's eyes, who had too late discovered the tracks of a considerable host. There was a rushing about of boots as the heretics began collapsing tents and organizing provisions, loading carts and preparing their escape routes. Verdan spoke briefly with one of his fellows before coming to enter the tent, no doubt to secure the prisoner for transport. Mariuseaux stood at the wash basin, the water within still frozen solid, but he played as if he were washing his hands and face, making no notice of the man's entrance. "Time to go, Inquisitor. Your friends have come sniffing around, but we've no intention of letting you go yet. Not before you've given us what we want."

"Is that so? Then I shall give you what you want, heretic... I shall give you a traitor's death." Verdan drew his sword, but Mariuseaux was a step ahead of him. He hefted the frozen water basin in his hands and smashed it against Verdan's face, which spouted blood as the cartilage of his nose collapsed behind the weight of the bludgeon. Taking the chains binding his wrists, he wrapped them around Verdan's throat, listening to the glorious sounds of struggle breathing. As Verdan kicked and struggled, Mariuseaux wrapped one of his legs around one of Verdan's, applying a sudden jerk that snapped the leg at the knee. For several long minutes did this go on, until no longer could Verdan draw breath, growing still and cold in Mariuseaux's grasp. The Inquisitor untangled himself from the guard, searching his person for the keys to the shackles. A singular clever move by the heretics had been made, as Verdan had not the implement of the Inquisitor's freedom. Nevertheless he would have it, drawing up the fallen man's blade and using it to break the shackles at his ankles. Freedom of movement restored and blade in his hand, he slipped through the flap of the tent and into the morning.

He encountered a single heretic, packing food onto a chocobo-drawn cart. Before she knew what was happening, he drove the sword through the back of her throat. Cutting the chocobo free from the cart he threw himself atop it, and made haste to the sounds of battle coming from the edge of camp. A knight of Ishgard raised his bow to fire, but recognized the haggard form of the Inquisitor from afar, signaling to the others to secure him and kill as many heretics as they could. As was the Inquisitor's utter wish, many heretics paid with their lives that day for his freedom, but as was always the case, Lady Iceheart eluded capture.

Riding in a northerly direction, Artemoux Penderghast and Ysayle left behind their doomed camp, joined by a number of their compatriots. One rode up from behind, bearing with him Verdan's body and the truth of Mariuseaux's escape. Ysayle cursed their rotten fate, but Artemoux appeared impressed. "He may be a damned devil, but he must be given credit... his patience and brutality has undone us for the moment. We will not likely get another such gift placed into our lap."

[getreadytosmash]

Small smash headcanons I was thinking of and to put out my reboot designs

Skaar

Skaar took a more gladiator look from his time on Sakaar and no longer wears the loin cloth except for when he's on off days

His hair gets to around his upper back and often tends to be in buns and ponytails

Working on his reading and writing and gets help from Hulk and goes to the Xavier Institute for sessions with his mind control and memories

Got introduced to queer stuff by Rick and he was THRILLED to find out about this stuff and the footage of Skaar carefully picking out non binary, asexual and panromantic stuff was trending for a month

Yes I'm going into pridecanons a little more

Skaar's very happy with his own feelings of being nb. The rocks below him whisper about it always being fine and he doesn't need to care about what others say anyway. Not when they're too busy calling him a monster to care about his gender

Anyway. Skaar's sex neutral and I say this because its quite often the theory that all ace folks won't have kids blah blah but??? Some aces want sex to have kids and that's Skaar.

Ridiculously good sword fighter and often meets up with Nightcrawler and Shadowcat to have sword fights and compare tricks

Lots of whipping scars on his back and some around his mouth that hardly anyone knows are from

Has a matching scar with Red of a circle on the back of his neck as well as running lighting scars up his hands and feet with Rick, Red and Jen from where the Skrulls tried to harvest their gamma

Absolutely has the tattoo and has no clue about it

Occasionally has days where he can't remember the entire event and Skaar's become rather thankful that they can rely on Rick's cameras to guide him home if needed.

Adores the Savage Lands and is best friends with Kazaar and Zabu

Sometimes copies memes from Rick and it’s terrible

Likes having Jen help him with normal stuff, especially when she helps him learn stuff like reading and writing 

Rick

Yeah, can’t feel anything and that causes a few secret depression episodes aha 

Big on other sensory stuff now. Really likes to savour sights, sounds, taste and smells since he lacks a big ass part of it now. It really isn’t that uncommon for Rick to have a low of flowers within his bedroom and shit. 

Has to file down his spikes since they keep growing and often Hulk does it for him while Rick falls asleep

Rick needs a lot more protein now and often eats eggs or fish and gets into big fights with Red over it daily

Uses a stylish for everything since his fingers don’t work on touchscreens anymore

Often wears sleeveless jackets with different pins. Owns four of them with three of them entirely dedicated to alien, mutant and bi rights

Well known Youtuber and I really need to get around to writing some videos he’s done god someone remind me to put out that shit

Hardcore gamer and still screams at Samuel to help make a dating sim come oN-

Can hold his breath for an hour and a half and didn’t realise until he fell asleep in the bath and got woken up by Hulk panicking and tossing him out of the water

Very intent on mutant rights and often helps out with teenage mutants and raising the social status of the school 

Loves bi culture and is very defensive over aspects of his identity after years of feeling lost among the orphanages 

Has gotten more comfortable with his gender since he’s been wearing kilts and skirts for almost two years now

Used to have scars across his hands and thighs from years of canings from the nuns but now has a large cracked scar across his chest after Abomination ripped his shell off

Red unintentionally fathers him and blames Hulk 

Best pals with Jen and Betty and is the only one who gets to join them on Ladies Night with Lyra and Marlo

Stands on his tip toes when talking to Hulk often because he wants to be tall and it amuses Hulk to no end

Jen

Has a lot of different costumes she changes regularly and Rick always posts a vote on “What outfit has Jen got this week?”

Freckles and curly hair galore 

Hulk paints her nails and she does the same for him and it isn’t long before Skaar joins in

Works in New York but stays at Vista Verde for her time off

Yes i do want a all female gamma mutate team and yes they are A-force

They consist of Jen, Betty, Lyra, Carmilla and Marlo but are sometimes joined by other female heroes

Wears sweatband wrists, left one is the bi flag and the right one is the trans flag

Was afraid about being open towards loving women for a few years since Jen knew her father didn’t do anything about Bruce’s abuse, what would happen to her if Brian found out she liked more than boys? Came out after hulking out and is happier than ever

The same goes for being trans since Jen’s form is based heavily on her mentality of her body. Gamma gave Jen the body she wanted and she was SO pleased with it

tbh I do imagine she was more comic/noodle armed at the start since Jen wanted to look rather feminine but over time she’s gotten more comfortable with her body and idea of who she wants to be and slowly she got beefier 

Has two wardrobes at the base and makes Red help rearrange stuff for laughs

Pals with Samuel and often enjoys sitting around and dragging him out for shopping and starbucks while discussing cases

The one who appears in Rick’s youtube videos the most 

Can never finish a book and feels deep seeded adhd guilt

Sings outloud to every thing she hears 

Likes grape flavoured stuff and she is so thankful that she can’t die for that sin

BEST pals with Betty and Rick. Like. There’s a reason my “Betty is the OG Hulk and is a lil wlw with Jen” has happened honestly 

Has vitiligo patches of grey around her arms that were left over from her more traumatic transformations

Watches Red bake if she’s having a panic attack and the videos don’t help

Red

Has a lot of scars over his body from where Ghost Rider’s chain dug into him and left him burnt. idk seems really fucking cool

Like Jen, has yellow patches along his spine and hands from where he was joined mentally with Zzzax 

Still gets nightmares about said incident and is still scared for the day that a nightmare is actually happening

Started to bake because it helps from when he couldn’t control his heat powers or during ptsd attacks

Tends to get lost in work alongside Samuel, especially if they’re overly excited about a certain idea

Hulk fondly calls him a nerd for this exact reason and Red tackles him over it to this day

Tech reacts to him badly sometimes due to his possession issues and there’s been once or twice where he’s had some...odd experiences when it’s come to certain technology or alien tech

Stays the same mostly with his outfits but occasionally wears a leather jacket and fuck it takes his shirt off a lot he’s a dilf he can do that 

The one who crouches for humans the most and it isn’t uncommon for him to do it purely to unsettle the humans. Ass

Uh. Likes women but??? Sometimes there’s an annoying guy and shit being able to be easily suplexed now means that anyone who can do it can kinda catch his eyes and he fucked a demon- uh. Red has a lot of thoughts now about dating and it’s nerve-wracking

Still does missions with his Thunderbolt team and still hangs out with Hell’s Circle team when he met others that had been dragged down to hell as well

Gets courted by vampires and hates the fact that the others laugh at it 

Gets nightmares of crashing, of electric burning him away but doesn’t want to admit to the fact that he has some ptsd 

Not really Red but fuck it Betty has her own team and I’m shifting the Gamma Corps for Betty so her team involves; Betty (Harpy), Marlo (Sirin), Clay (Hulkverine), Lyra (Athen), Carmilla (Scorpion) and Gwen (Daydream) 

Right. Uh. So for those who don’t know who Daydream are, basically the writer at this time had been going through a bad divorce and he treated Betty like SHIT which involved breaking Bretty up before they could have a child, making Betty suffer a miscarriage, killing her and having the villain Nightmare raping her in her sleep and having Betty give birth to Daydream who appeared for one arc and was never seen again. So. I’m mad. 

anyway fuck him but I did like Daydream so instead she was an experiment from gamma base as a unique weapon that got used to infiltrate the Agents sleep but was later on rescued along with the rest of the gamma experiments. Got adopted by Betty when she found out Gwen had her DNA and went “oh worm?” to getting a baby i have more thoughts about this but u know. carry on.

Hulk

So Tired. Part time team leader and Avengers and even has his many own adventures of trying to help so many people out

I imagine he has a lot of the same issues as Steven in suf where Hulk often stresses out more about not being able to help people since he worries about the worst case scenarios 

Gets forced to take days off by each of the team and appreciates it but dear god if he doesn’t get anxiety about the whole situation every time

SomeTIMES he wears a blue shirt but only sometimes and that’s if he’s actually prepared for missions. Also has boots Red got him but Hulk keeps those clean and safe instead

Team dad for a reason. Fathers anything he can get his hands on and well known for it enough that Rick and Skaar get him something for fathers day every year and Jen gets him goofy ties because she KNOWS he doesn’t throw them out

Pretty relaxed about being pan and yes he makes jokes about being attracted to kitchenware he’s THAT terrible Rick wants to die and not come back pls 

Buys a lot of pride stuff for the others. Skaar owns so many nb and ace colour chalks he needs help

Really wants to own a guinea pig but he’s worried about scaring it or not being around all that often to take care of it properly

Falls asleep through almost every movie that he usually starts one half of it one day and finishes it the next day

Meets up with Ben Grimm and Logan Howlett every Wednesday for a night out. Usually they do bowling, play cards or go out to eat. It’s isn’t uncommon for other heroes like Spidey or Gambit to join them occasionally

Has business lunches with Betty to discuss movements of gamma mutates that turns into a fun brawl because they’re immortal children

Keeps a whiteboard in his room so that he can have arguments with Joe and Bruce.

Samuel

Keeps his outfit relatively the same but adjusts it slightly so it isn’t the exact same outfit he wears back when he was evil

Tends to cover up more after he gains a power that lets him control people just by touch

Aware of this power and thus often awkwardly flitters when someone near him might be upset and keeps spare gloves or arm sleeves on hard just in case

Has the sharpest teeth of all the hulks and actually tends to file them down so he doesn’t need to “scare people off” when in reality he’s self conscious about his teeth and the fact that he keeps biting his tongue by accident 

Buys and redesigns Icarus’s cage every other month to make it more elaborate, is currently fighting the constant urge to buy more rats for this reason

Demiboy! Fine with what he is, doesn’t give a shit. He rules hell and he’ll send you there if you argue with him so who the fuck cares if Samuel wears dresses and makeup?

Big stupid bi. Cannonly into women who are more powerful than him with examples being Rikki (Aka Brilliance, a female Leader) who kicked his ass and threw him across the room with her more advanced mind, Betty Ross...who can blame him, and lately is that one scientist in Hulkverine who Samuel literally fell for within one night sksksk

Big manipulator for people he cares about. Samuel has and will make elaborate plans to keep someone he cares about safe and is more than willing to kill anyone who has hurt his loved ones

Owns a large collection of nail polishes and tends to vary them when he’s bored and creates amazing art. Red watched Samuel once spend and hour re-creating all of Van Gogh’s paintings on his nails

Really good friends with Betty surprisingly, mostly because she can make jokes about being dead and he’ll just snort and go “same” 

Has the second best sense of smell after Skaar as he can smell early signs of sickness as well as a wider range of emotions

Info dumps so much and has long winded theories about the oddest things that resonate really well on the Youtube channel

talks to his oversized rat so seriously

Suffers nightmares and currently runs the Down Below and is so tired

Has actually died from exhaustion twice already 

Has large sockets in his back due to the fact that Samuel physically cannot hold the information he knows all the time and uses it to charge his phone

Still hangs out with villains like Loki and Mystique tho

[brindaneer]

“Brinda: I love Superhero films. Marvel, DC and of course, our very own Krrish!

Neer: umm…I really can’t watch anything from the entire genre except Krrish!”

This is an appropriate example of a typical conversation regarding ‘superhero’ ventures between us. Shocked? What?! We already told you that our opinions varied at times! Oh! Ok! Shocked about the fact that Neer does not like the Marvel and DC universe? Well, yeah! Neer can be a bit ‘weird’ about certain things 😝! Don’t worry! Brinda loves them all❤️... However, what really matters is that both of us absolutely adore our first Indian superhero, Krrish; the reason for that is not Hrithik Roshan alone although he obviously is the primary source of our attraction.

MR. Rakesh Roshan! What a man! The sheer courage that must have been required to even dream of making a film about an Indian Superhero, all those years ago, is rare to find; it makes us salute the possessor, Mr. Rakesh Roshan again and again. At some point, fed up with relentless struggle, many among us have probably thought of giving up on our dreams. Let us take a lesson from this man and aspire for great things without worrying about the results. Only then can we achieve that which is largely perceived to be unattainable.

Technically superb with high quality VFX and cinematographically fabulous, Krrish possessed all ingredients that are usually required to make a commercially successful superhero venture. Yet, in a hypothetical SWOT analysis of the film, its numero uno strength would definitely have to be the script. We realize this must remind you of the blog on Koi Mil Gaya but please excuse us for sounding repetitive. It is not our fault that Mr. Rakesh Roshan places utmost importance on the script of a film. No, we are not saying it is his either. In fact, it is quite the reverse. Mr. Roshan’s astuteness in coming up with a crisp script with the help of a very talented team of writers is undoubtedly his best quality and that, in turn, enhances his abilities as a director, thereby making the end product not only saleable but also worthy of critical acclaim. Therefore, not surprisingly, Krrish had a sound and very believable storyline, which ultimately is the most essential element of any film. So, lets just delve into it right away!

Krrish is all about Krishna, Rohit’s son, who has inherited special powers from his father, the very ones that Jaadoo had gifted lovingly to Rohit years back in ‘Koi Mil Gaya’. Unfortunately, Rohit and Nisha are no longer alive, having died a few years after we had last seen them (😭😭). Scared of exposing her super heroic grandson to the world, Sonia Mehra leaves Kasauli and retires to an obscure but beautiful little place somewhere in the Himalayan countryside. Krishna’s face is an exact replica of Rohit’s but otherwise he is quite different from what his father used to be at this age. Krishna has superpowers that allow him to leap across mountains, fall into a gorge from the top of a high peak and yet escape unhurt, climb mountains faster than any other living being, and run faster than a horse! He is also a lonely young boy, desperate for companionship and exposure to the vast exciting world he has been kept away from. Despite harbouring a grievance towards his ‘Daadi’ for this confinement, Krishna loves her too much to be really offended. Her world revolves around him and he is very aware of it. Yet, he cannot let go of his boredom in the sleepy little hamlet he has been forced to dwell in! What a tragic irony! The very powers that had once enabled Rohit to be largely accepted within the so-called mainstream society have now chained his son, keeping him forcibly hidden from the rest of the world.

However, destiny obviously has other plans, and Krishna meets Priya (Priyanka Chopra) who is visiting India with her friend Honey from Singapore and are in his neighbourhood with an adventure group. For him, it is love at first sight. For Priya, he is initially a mystery and eventually a friend. The parallel between Krishna and Priya’s story and that of Rohit and Nisha is worth mentioning in this context. Nisha had also considered Rohit just a friend for a long time until she fell in love with him.

Despite his grandmother’s restrictions, Krishna’s powers are revealed (somewhat deliberately by the man himself) in front of Priya and Honey, who are naturally awestruck. The scenes where they and their companions mistake the superhuman Krishna as supernatural and are convinced that he is the ghost of Ramcharan provide some very effective comedy to keep the audience engaged.

After spending some lovely moments together, and getting acquainted with Krishna’s grandmother, Priya leaves, much to Krishna’s disappointment. Having grown up far from the madding crowd, away from the complexities of urbanism, Krishna is still innocent to a degree that is rare to find in the contemporary world. Priya is aware of his feelings but she does not reciprocate them despite genuinely liking him. However, that does not deter her from luring him to Singapore with false proclamations of love just so that Honey and she may save their jobs by showing off his unique skills in a television show. Quite a diabolical plan! Naturally, we were developing acrimonious feelings for Priya at this point when we first watched the film, and we are sure, so were you! However, keeping aside our concern for the ever-lovable Krishna for a while, how refreshing was it to see a flawed heroine for a change? We are definitely not suggesting that this was the first portrayal of such a female in Hindi cinema, but Bollywood had most diligently followed the tradition of glorifying female lead characters up to a very long time, and it was not completely out of fashion in the late 2000s. In fact, it is still frequently observed in television shows that are highly influenced by obsolete Bollywood themes. How many heroines can you name off the top of your head who were selfish and unsympathetic in mainstream commercial films during that decade? Yes, definitely more than what used to be in the 60s, 70s and 80s, but still not too many. Just close your eyes for a moment and think of the number of films where the ‘hero’ has faked love for the heroine due to selfish reasons (to win a bet with friends, to satisfy his own ego, for the sake of his job, etc). If you can think of such films far more easily than the ones where heroines have made similar mistakes, we have made our point. Please do not get us wrong; we are definitely not advocating such behaviour. However, our society has normalized the concept of a ‘virtuous’ female to such a massive extent that sometimes people forget we are human beings, made of the same flesh and blood as men, and capable of making similar mistakes and sins. We do not intend this blog to be a discourse on feminism by any means; yet somehow this discussion seems very relevant here.

Moving on, Krishna is elated to find that his feelings are reciprocated and wants to go to Singapore at the earliest to get permission from Priya’s mom for their marriage. However, his daadi has severe objections in this regard. The scene where Krishna lashes out in anger and accuses her of selfishly wanting to keep him to herself is one of the best enacted scenes of the movie. But more on that later. Heartbroken by her grandson’s accusations, Sonia Mehra finally reveals the reason for her apparently irrational fear, and in the process, we get to see our very own Rohit once again, although in flashback.

After Jadoo had given Rohit his powers back, he became widely known in the scientific community due to his research works, eventually attracting the attention of internationally renowned scientist, Dr. Siddhanth Arya (Naseeruddin Shah). Dr. Arya wanted to collaborate with Rohit and build a computer that could predict the future, thereby saving the world from catastrophes. To that end, Rohit moved temporarily to Singapore and worked day and night in Dr. Arya’s research laboratory. Nisha, who was pregnant at the time, was being taken care of by Rohit’s mother. The day Nisha was hospitalized for delivering the baby, Sonia Mehra called Rohit who anxiously told her that he was coming back because his powers had been used for wrong purposes. The next day, she received news of his death in a lab accident. Nisha could not bear this shock and passed away a few days later, leaving little Krishna as Sonia’s only reason for existence.

Convinced that Rohit’s death was not a mere accident, Sonia decided to keep her gifted grandchild away from prying eyes so that the same people did not try and use his powers for evil as well.

This revelation naturally mellows the agitated Krishna down and he feels guilty for having hurled harsh allegations at the person who is actually his protector and saviour; more so because she not only agrees to let him travel to Singapore but also ushers the best possible blessing upon him by giving him Rohit’s coat. On his part, Krishna promises that he is going to keep his powers hidden from all. However, that’s easier said than done, as he soon finds out. Although he manages to ruin Priya and Honey’s attempts to showcase his skills for a show, it becomes impossible for him to keep quiet when a circus tent catches fire in front of his eyes and children are trapped inside. As he dons a common mask and wears his father’s coat inside out as a cape, Krishna becomes Krrish, a superhero who does not think twice before jumping into fire to save the entrapped. The name is a shortened version of his real one and he uses it as a pseudonym so that he may keep his promise to his grandmother. However, when has truth remained hidden? As they say in Bollywood, ‘sach ko to ek na ek din saamne aana hee hoga’! Priya, who has now actually fallen for Krishna (who wouldn’t?) comes face to face with him as he emerges out of the burning tent, carrying a child in his arms. Since he is all masked up, and the surrounding is filled with smoke, she only sees his intense greenish grey eyes, and quite logically draws the conclusion that he is none other than her very own Krishna. Smart girl! Who else has those gorgeous pair of eyes in the world? Nevertheless, Krishna’s promise to his grandmother is worth more to him than admitting the truth to Priya, and he ruins all her attempts to make him confess including getting deliberately beaten up by goons to prove that he is not the superhero she thinks him to be. He also gives his identity willingly to Christian, a young man in need of money for his wheelchair-bound little sister; a pair he had already helped before by collecting money through a stunt show on the streets (a particularly touching scene).

Just when everything seems rosy in Krishna and Priya’s life, he gets to know about Priya’s lie after a chance conversation with her supposedly sick mother on phone. Priya had hitherto avoided their meeting on the pretext of her mother being sick but the latter herself exposes that lie unknowingly and Krishna is stunned by the disclosure. Hurt and angry with Priya’s betrayal, Krishna decides to leave Singapore immediately. Meanwhile, Priya comes across a clip in her own video recording of that night at the circus and realizes that her initial intuition about Krishna being Krrish was right all along. Elated, she tells the truth to Honey and also confesses her true love for him, all the while unaware that her past lies are about to haunt her soon. She also gives the tape to Honey to show it to their boss, this time not for the sake of their jobs but also for Krishna’s fame. When she comes to meet Krishna and reveals what she has discovered and then done, he lashes out at her in probably one of the best scenes of the film. His every word is justified, and she is repentant. However, Priya crosses the line when she rebukes his grandmother and throws the same allegations at her that Krishna himself had once. Furious, Krishna reveals the reason behind Sonia’s overprotectiveness to her and starts for the airport, leaving an utterly ashamed and heart broken Priya behind.

We are now in the last leg of the film. Reenter Dr. Arya, who is definitely not what he seemed like! He too is wearing a mask like Krishna, the only difference being in their intentions. Krishna has put the mask on to save the innocent while Dr. Arya wants to destroy them. He is a power-crazed egomaniac who has already rebuilt that computer from Rohit’s lab notes so that he can effectively play the role of God. And surprise surprise! To fulfill his purpose, he has kept Rohit alive. Well, barely alive at least! What actually happened all those years back was that Rohit had successfully built the computer that could foresee the future. During his time in the laboratory, he had formed a deep camaraderie with Dr. Arya’s head of security and after Rohit had finished building the computer, his friend wanted him to foresee the gender of his unborn child through it. The computer correctly predicted Krishna’s birth but it also foresaw Rohit’s death on the very day his son was born. After further exploration, Rohit realized that Dr. Arya was going to kill him so that no one else knew how to operate that computer. Shocked and distraught, he understood that he had been used. That was when he had received the call from his mother and informed her about his decision of coming back. Before leaving Singapore forever, Rohit decided to ruin Dr. Arya’s evil plans by destroying the computer he had toiled over for months., and he was partly successful. Although he managed to destroy the computer, Dr. Arya caught him before he could leave. But for the Chief Security Officer, Rohit would surely have been killed. That honest man who had genuinely become fond of Rohit saved him by reminding Dr. Arya about the password to the computer- Rohit’s handprint and retina. Dr. Arya who had already hatched the plan of rebuilding the computer kept the latter’s heart beating. But just that. This story is narrated in the present times by Dr. Arya’s Chief Security Officer to Priya who brings him to the airport and stops Krishna from leaving. Meanwhile Dr. Arya has already seen his own future in the computer. Any guesses? He has seen his death at the hands of a masked man! Of course, the man is none other than Krishna or Krrish himself. Eager to destroy every threat to his existence, Dr. Arya promptly kills Christian, the guy who had taken up Krrish’s identity at Krishna’s behest. However, when has anyone ever escaped destiny? Even Dr. Arya doesn’t! Krishna in complete superhero mode leaps across tall buildings and finally defeats his nemesis (The insanely dedicated Hrithik Roshan who performed every stunt by himself escaped a near fatal experience when a cable snapped during a stunt! As fans we are both amazed and concerned about this man’s immense humility and absolute submission to his craft. We just hope and pray that he takes care of his health since it is more important than anything else). Before dying, Dr Arya asks why Krrish wants his death. In a terrific cinematic moment, Krishna takes off his mask and reveals his face. The shock and realization on Dr. Arya’s face is evident as he breathes his last. Finally, everything turns out fine as Krishna comes home to his daadi with not just Priya but Rohit (who has now recovered sufficiently and is back to his old self) too. The film ends on a positive note with Jaadoo’s spacecraft peeping through the clouds once again as Rohit plays that same old tune which had beckoned the former and his companions to earth in the first place.

Now that we have recounted the story, a few much needed words about the actors- Rekha ji was once again at her best in the film, effortlessly slipping into the role of Krishna’s grandmother. Hrithik and her chemistry was as fabulous here as it was in ‘Koi Mil Gaya’. Priyanka was her charming self as usual. Undoubtedly, she is one of the most natural actors in Bollywood, and this film was no exception. The easy, playful chemistry that Hrithik and she shared was one of the major highlights of ‘Krrish’. What do we say about Naseeruddin Shah? Well, probably it is better to say nothing because it might be redundant. Finally, praising Hrithik Roshan is also becoming repetitive in these blogs. So, we have decided to stop it henceforth! Just kidding! At least in this life, it is utterly impossible! Brilliant in every frame, Hrithik aced the role of a superhero like only he could, his body language being as flawless as his expressions; actions as perfect as emotions. The moment when Krishna met Rohit was a proof of this man’s immense versatility and talent. Who would think that someone that perfect as Rohit could also be equally superlative as a superhero or vice versa? The scenes where Krishna lost his temper with his daadi and Priya were also among the best moments in the film. Hrithik is always so natural at portraying rage, but he never goes overboard with it. But then, isn’t that true for every emotion in the book?

Krrish 3, the third project in the franchise continued Krrish’s saga and Rohit’s story with a vitality that characterized both its predecessors. The film featured Hrithik in a full-fledged double role and pitched him against Vivek Oberoi as Kaal who was a far tougher villain to destroy than Dr. Arya. Kaal was the quintessential supervillain, at times even more ‘powerful’ than the hero himself but ultimately destined to lose as good always triumphed over evil. In fact, this is the message that pervaded throughout all the three films- ‘Koi Mil Gaya’, ‘Krrish’ and ‘Krrish 3’. It was only natural that Hrithik’s terrific performance simultaneously as Rohit and Krrish grabbed a lot of eyeballs and went a long way in making the film a massive box-office success. It broke major box-office records and set new ones. However, Vivek Oberoi also deserves special mention in this context. His portrayal of Kaal with an optimal mix of cunning, intelligence, and cruelty earned major brownie points from the audience and definitely contributed to the mammoth success of the film. We finally lost Rohit forever in Krrish 3 and as tragic as the moment was, Hrithik’s performance was so good that we still watch it frequently despite the pain involved. Then again, Hrithik usually has that kind of impact on the audience every time he performs. Krrish was able to destroy Kaal at the end, thereby proving yet again that no matter how challenging times were, with goodness in heart and genuineness in intentions, any evil could be defeated. The assertion ‘Hum sab mein Krrish hai’ has never seemed more important than the present times. Let us all truly believe in it. We can and we will defeat this virus by our individual as well as collective efforts. So please #MaskUpIndia and #GetVaccinated. How uncanny that the plot of Krrish 3 actually revolved around a virus and vaccines! Just like Rohit and Krrish were able to defeat that virus, let us have faith in our real-life superheroes too.

P.S: At the end, Krishna and Priya had a son who also seemed to have inherited his dad’s superheroic powers. So, is there any chance of daddy Krrish in the fourth venture? Fingers crossed for that 😊😊

[asktheheartsprincess]

Solo Para: That’s So Unreal You Believe That It’s True (Celena Nightmare Event, Part 2)

Continued from here: 

Cora didn’t know how long it was before she awoke.  All she knew was that she wore the same dress- her coronation gown –except now, it was in tatters.  Everything was dark.

“Hurry up, Cora.  You’re going to be late for a very important date if you don’t come to soon,” Alice’s voice sounded far too smug.  Before Cora could react, two guards in Wonderlandian livery hauled her to her feet.  They dragged her through the palace, though its black, white, and red elements seemed to have been replaced all in pale blue or white. 

Colors of a little girl’s infamous dress.

Colors Ardenzana hated.

Why would the architects do that?  Remodel the palace after Alice’s dress? Cora wondered, though aloud, she slurred, disgusted at how weak she sounded, “What did you do to me?  What did you give me?”

Because Palaterra had obviously concocted some sort of biological weapon. 

“Nothing you don’t deserve,” Alice sing-songed, “but don’t worry.  You were only playing pretend.  And I, unlike your mother, don’t kill people for playing.  It’ll wear off soon.”

“You killed your daughter,” Cora tried to spit, but the venom behind her words was somewhat lost due to her weakness, “How could you do that?”

“Iris wasn’t my daughter,” Alice replied, high heels clacking on the floor, while Cora’s vision finally decided to sharpen, “She was a mistake.”  

“You’re wrong-” Cora started to condemn the woman she hated more than anyone, but the words disappeared as she took in Alice’s outfit.  A blue silk gown, white embroidery woven throughout.  But on her head…on her head….

“Do you like it?” Alice simpered, performing a twirl for Cora, “I had them make a few adjustments of course.”

“How dare you!” Cora wheezed, “That belongs to the Queen of Hearts.”

“This belongs to the Queen of Wonderland,” Alice tapped the gold, though indeed, as she said, it was no longer recognizably Ardenzana’s crown- or Cora’s.  Intertwined with the gold were strips of silver, and the rubies had been ripped out, to be replaced by pearls.  It was an abomination.

“And you see, I’m now Queen of Wonderland.”

“You’re a liar!” Cora retorted immediately, trying to spit in Alice’s face. 

Alice slapped her, the gesture sudden and sharp like the blade of a knife.  And Cora momentarily felt the wind knocked out of her.  She tumbled, losing her footing, but the guards held her tight.

“No.  You see the people were persuaded by my argument at your so-called ‘coronation.’  Ben, Aziz, Hannah…they told me they’d all been thinking of it themselves.  People were just waiting for an excuse.  And when I chose to defend Wonderland, well, they all said they wanted me to be queen.  Who am I to deny the people what they want?” Alice shrugged, “Which reminds me…” She snapped her fingers, and the guards hauled Cora further down the hallway.

Abruptly, they turned outside towards the hedge maze, and Cora hissed in pain as the sunlight met her eyes. Courtiers murmured, though Cora didn’t recognize them.  No one from the House of Clubs, no one from her father’s extended family, the House of Diamonds, and curiously, no Palaterra.   Where was she?  The ghost who had no business existing, let alone destroying Cora’s future?  

Cora tried to find her, but instead of finding her, found the guards dragging her past Alice, pas the hedge maze, into a courtyard where the tiles were laid out like a chessboard.  She knew this place, instantly, from all the stories. 

No.  No.  Alice said she wouldn’t kill me, so why…?

And then she saw her mother.  Unlike Cora, who remained in tattered coronation gowns, Ardenzana, it seemed had been dressed in her most frabjous.  A long silk gown, red as blood, trailed behind her, and ropes of rubies graced her elegant pale neck.  Similarly, bracelets wrapped around her wrists, and on each ring finger, she had a ring: one, symbolizing her marriage to Rhombus, and the second, the signet ring of the monarch of Wonderland. 

Unable to keep her fear, her roiling emotions, her utter terror inside her any longer, Cora completely forgot every bit of etiquette Ardenzana had taught her.  For the first time, she uttered the word: “Mother,” dread in the word.

The Queen of Hearts turned to look at her.  Her green eyes swept over Cora, taking in her appearance from head to toe, and she pursed her lips in an unmistakable look of disappointment.

“Mother,” Cora pled again, completely ignoring the guards at her side, “What do we do?  Alice says- she says the impossible –she says she’s queen of Wonderland.”

Ardenzana merely replied, “Not yet, she isn’t.  But she will be.”  This time, as she stared at Cora, the green eyes flashed with fire:

“You failed, Corazana.  You didn’t accept the crown, so Wonderland is left without a monarch.”

Somehow, though Alice had been the one to actually hit her, it was Ardenzana’s words that made the deepest wound.  Shaking her head, Cora insisted fiercely:

“No it’s not.  It has you.  You’re the Queen of Hearts, ruler of all Wonderland-”

Ardenzana’s smile twisted as she said, “Indeed I am.  But Alice will rectify that situation.  As I have no heir, the crown goes to who the people desire, and unfortunately, that appears to be her.”

“I’m your heir!” Cora repeated, rattling the chain one of the guards was still holding, “And you’re talking like you’re going to die-”

Cora’s face drained of color as Ardenzana broke into a laugh.   It was so unexpected, so shocking, that Cora was momentarily left speechless.

And then she remembered Alice’s words:

“You were only playing pretend.  And I, unlike your mother, don’t kill people for playing.”

Now, as her own eyes landed back on a newly constructed executioner’s block, she realized the horrible truth: this wasn’t for her.  In Alice’s eyes, she’d only played at being Queen of Hearts.  Ardenzana, however, actually was Queen of Hearts.  And, as she had never abdicated- and Cora had never been crowned –would remain Queen of Hearts until her death.

“I am going to die,” Ardenzana confirmed Cora’s worst fear, “in a few moments.  However, at least I will die for my country.  I will die a crowned queen.  You?” her mother shook her head, and Cora felt tears start to spill from her eyes before Ardenzana even finished speaking, “You are a failure.”

“Mother,” Cora struggled against her guards’ grip as Ardenzana’s own guards began to escort her to the block, “Mother- MOTHER-”

That forbidden word she’d never spoken until now, it seemed she couldn’t help but repeat over and over again, desperate to prove Ardenzana wrong, desperate to get one last moment with her, desperate to say all the things she should have over the years.   Perhaps, most importantly, “I love you.”

But Ardenzana never looked back.  Instead, she stood tall and regal on the dais, hands bound as Palaterra read the charges against her:

“Ardenzana of Wonderland, Queen of Hearts, you stand accused of willful and unrepentant murder of your subjects.  At least 2,000 cases where you misappropriated the wheels of justice into a knife-”

Cora couldn’t stand to listen anymore.  She pushed back against her guards, increasingly desperate to escape their grip.  She managed to to punch one in the nose, sending him stumbling back while the other tried to bring her back under control.  Still, Cora was beyond that now.  She had no idea how this was happening- how could Ben of all people allow this to happen –but she had to stop it.  She couldn’t let her mother die.  She couldn’t just stand here and watch-

That thought in her mind, she launched herself at the second guard, wrapping her chains around his neck and tightening them.  The man started to gasp for her, but before she could strangle him to death as he so richly deserved and she could save her mother –someone else yanked her off him.  He gasped for air, color returning to his cheeks, and Cora tried to elbow her new captor, but he instead looped his arms under hers, immobilizing her.

“Ah, ah, princess, this is a bad idea.  We don’t interfere with Judgment Day.”

Cora knew that voice, and oh, she decided she’d kill him later, but she had other priorities first, and even he wouldn’t stop her now-

“Fuck your judgment, and fuck you, Raphael,” she hissed, for once welcoming the neon that flooded her vision.   Digging her foot into the black tile, she leaned forwards- forcing him to be pulled onto her back –before throwing her own own head back as hard as she could.  Raphael groaned, releasing her as she headbutted him, and Cora ignored the gasps, the shouts, the cries as she scrambled towards the block-

“-for these and all your crimes against humanity itself, you are sentenced to death.”

Somewhere in the corner of her vision Cora saw red curls lay down on wood.  She saw a man who told her bedtime stories kiss the wicked White Queen on the cheek.  She saw the witch raise a blade, and it flashed in the sunlight, temporarily blinding her.  She felt splinters in her skin, and then the warm rush of blood around her fingers.

Oddly, she heard cheers.   

And then, in her ear: “Come on, princess.  Your sins aren’t worth dying for.”

Then he hauled her up, leaving behind the warm blood on her hands for tears running down her cheeks.

[chronicparagon]

💍 for Kris and Har please

 @skullboysfinale

Send me a 💍 and I’ll create a ring based off our ship!

There’s a design of matching bands that fit these two perfectly. I gave them bands instead of one ring since they are engaged. It’s the tripe twist rings, representing past, present, and future within an infinity loop. The past, present, and future is a theme in their relationship. Kris’s ring is the top one. Harmony’s is below. The difference is Kris’s band is thicker than Harmony’s. I can see Kris choosing to wear his ring on a chain like a necklace due to his work and not wanting to take it off. Harmony may do the same on the clock too.

 Kris has a dark past involving his part in experiments conducted during the Great War, and his death before being revived. He struggles in dealing with the trauma, often working hard and loved harder to not dwell on memories and atone from his wrongdoings.  Harmony’s past is not pleasant either. She had a brush with death as a child, but even as a scared little girl, she refused to give up when odds were against her. She was afraid Kris would reject her for the burns from childhood, but he didn’t turn her away. He thought she was beautiful as she was. 

These two have been through hell and back. It’s what led them to find each other at the clinic where they both serve patients. This brings them to the present when they are closer and became lovers with hope for a future together. The infinity loop around the stones shows how that their history will not go away. Healing is possible, but the past will never disappear. This shows they still need to face their pasts which is difficult, but they don’t have to do that alone. It will be interesting to see how that unfolds. 

However, the loop represents another element in their story. It shows that despite what happened, their love is strong, eternal. It will overcome the darkness of their sins and mistakes. Together, Kris and Harmony are a force to be reckon with. A powerful team that will stand by each other through thick and thin. 

I chose rose gold for the warmth present in their relationship. Rubies are two hearts, two lives with a moissanite showing their unity as one heart, one love, and a bright future. 

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART II: THE BLOODMOTHER}

written by: @bebemoon 

outfit ref: n/a, see the above image .

tag list: @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules​ @vampirkaninchen​ @blubbingbeautifully​

Soundtrack: AMOR EST MORTIS, susanne sundfør

[THE FAVOURITE]

"MISSING ELDER MYSTERY DEEPENS"

Beneath the headline emblazoned on the front page of the Halacre Herald, there was a photo of a toppled vehicle in a densely wooded area. The caption mentioned that it had been discovered up in a cluster of trees but had fallen through the forest canopy after the authorities were called.

And it was found to have belonged to the Maminots, who had been missing a week over by that time.

Zammurad had taken her "clean-up" duties a little too far.

"What does it say?" Lia asked softly.

Darling Amaelia was beside Ysabelle as she read the newspaper at her vanity. She had taken up a silver-handled brush to run through Ysa's long, dark hair, and until she spoke, she had been humming something under her blood-sweetened breath.

Ysabelle folded the paper and placed it on the vanity table. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "The authorities are wonderfully dim," she replied flatly. "Zammurad has managed a confusing scenario- I doubt they'll be able to suss anything further."

The authorities had, of course, shown up to Bilitis House asking questions since it was the last known location of the missing Historical Society elders, but Ysabelle was able to successfully divert the police- bending their senses in a different direction. Well, several different directions.

Still, the mortals weren't the only ones to be dealt with.

Poppy was still confined and under heavy guard. Last Ysa spoke with her, the girl had revealed her utter unrepentantness regarding the knotty situation she had created.  

"I need to send Poppy away," Ysabelle said to her own dark-eyed reflection. "She is a threat to this coven's survival as long as she remains here. The Wolves are circling as it is."

Lia paused momentarily in her brushing. "I think Poppy's awful for having placed you under so much stress," she said, her tone strangely tender. Her bronze brows furrowed then. "And you've been so forgiving... . She deserves much worse, in my opinion."

Ysa's eyes drifted upwards of her own reflection to regard the ghostly-pale woman standing over her bare shoulder. The flesh of a white rose, the intense jade-stone eyes wreathed in gold-

Amaelia was still overcoming her bloodlust, but there had been much improvement in her over the past days. She was no longer in constant, blood-curdling agony (though, it still came and went, contorting her body disturbingly when it did come). The whites of her eyes had returned, her fangs were finally retracted. And, strangely, her hair was becoming steadily more pink. It was subtle against the fawn-colour, but nonetheless, she seemed to be pinkening- even her brows and eye-lashes were changing.

It was a pleasure to have her Amaelia back in lucidity, her gentleness and devotion returned. The awful gutting Ysabelle felt while watching Lia become delirious and wretched with pain caused her a sort of anguish she could hardly name- could not recall enduring, not even when Amare had clung to her like a petrified child ages ago.

Ysabelle leaned forward to prop her elbow on the vanity table. She rested her chin in her palm and continued to watch Lia as she brushed her hair and slipped her fingers through the dark, silky tresses with each stroke.

Little by little, the pair started to grin, and their grins deepened through the mirror. Knowing one another's thoughts precisely.

"The house is so still with everyone away," said Lia, a suggestion in her tone. Her voice was soft and her reflected eyes half-lidded as she slid her fingers about The Bloodmother's throat. She leaned closer to place a kiss on Ysabelle's shoulder...

And when she did, something heavy and cold thumped into Ysa's back.

Ysa reached over her shoulder to grasp whatever it was- a familiar pendant on a necklace that Lia was wearing.

She turned fully in her chair to face the consort, never releasing the pendant. "What are you doing with this?" she asked firmly.

"I...found it among your things, in a dusty little chest," Lia replied innocently. She gestured vaguely to the armoire. "I thought you wouldn't mind since it was so buried-"

"Mistress?"

Lia started at the sudden appearance of the cherub Weep-not, who, unlike his bald brother, had been blessed with a mop of golden curls. The angelic feature was greatly juxtaposed with his wretched little visage.

Ysabelle exhaled impatiently. "Yes, what is it?"

Weep-not waddled closer, his eyes cast downward. He would have possessed more confidence with his faithful porcelain doll companion, Marguerite. However, the word was that she was indisposed, of late- whatever that meant.

"Mistress," he began again, "I do not wish to disturb you, but Mr. Durwin is back. I s-spied him through the drawing room window."

Bothersome man.

Roland Durwin was Paulette Maminot's older brother and the man that sold Bilitis House to Ysabelle in the first place. Dutifully, he had shown up on the house's doorstep each night since the police informed him that they had cleared its inhabitants of any culpability in his sister's disappearance. Durwin, it appeared, was not convinced. He wanted an audience.

"Persistent, isn't he?" Ysa muttered, casting a glance to the draped windows. "Go. Leave him to me."

"Yes, Mistress," Weep-not mumbled. He executed something resembling a bow before backing out of the room through the heavy drapes.

Ysabelle, not overly concerned with the mortal on her doorstep, then returned her attention to Lia, whose fair features had fallen into worried lines.

"I would prefer it if you did not look through my belongings," said Ysa, her tone mild. She reached out to retake the ancient rock crystal pendant into the palm of her hand. It was in the shape of a scarab beetle.

Immortality, resurrection, transformation-

Unbidden, Amare's voice swept in an echo through Ysa's mind. It has the hue of clear moonlight.

The Bloodmother cleared her throat of emotion before continuing. "I was going to give this necklace to Amare," she explained. "She admired it, and I wanted to pass it on to someone who would care for it as I have. Before I could gift it to her on the anniversary of her death, I was forced to put her to sleep... . Since then, I've kept it safe and tucked away... . Not unlike Amare."

Lia, lips apart, pressed a hand over her still chest. "I’m sorry, I didn't realise-"

Ysa quelled her with a wave. "It is a beautiful necklace," she said gently, a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. "Someone ought to wear it."  

Lia beamed, her green eyes alight. She clutched the delicate, braided gold chain to her chest and half-spun herself on the balls of her feet. In the midst of her thrill, she seemed to have a sudden revelation and paused, sweeping blushing hair out of her speckled face.

"Could I see her?" Lia wondered. "Amare, I mean."

"What for?" Ysa asked.

Lia dropped herself into Ysabelle's lap. "Almost everyone's in Bay Haven tonight," she said, low. "So there's no one out and about in the house to threaten to 'make my bone dust into baubles'-"

"Zhang," Ysa guessed.

"-which means you can let me out just this once to look around, right?"

"And you want to start with Amare? I doubt Sabine will allow it," the Bloodmother replied.

Lia's brows lifted. "Can a servant like Sabine disallow you from anything?"

Ysabelle emitted a small noise of disgust and pressed the other woman out of her lap. "You do not need to manipulate me," she chided but only half-heartedly. "You had to know I would take you."

-

(Soundtrack: LE CYGNE, camille saint-saëns)

[SLEEPING EVIL]

Amare's chambers were strung in sheer drapes, gathered and hanging over every corner of the room, obscuring everything like an ethereal, ebbing mist. It would have been dark within, save the flickering candlelight, but the gossamer brightness of the drapings caught the moonlight pouring in through the uncovered windows, lending the space a great deal of soft light.

Sabine did allow Ysabelle to enter Amare's chambers, and Lia along with her, but only after assurances that the newest coven member would not touch her sleeping mistress.

The servant walked briskly ahead of the pair and moved one of the veils of gossamer aside, revealing the bier and bed of Amare wreathed in golden candlelight. Amare, too, was covered completely in a sheer shroud, her form and features just visible beneath the white film.

Lia wasted no time. She gathered the skirt of her nightdress and stepped up onto the dais to lean over the sleeping form bedded in dahlias and orchids.

Sabine stood in rigid silence just behind Ysabelle. The woman was noticeably tense, but Ysa assumed she was anxious due to Lia, a virtual stranger, being so near Amare.

"You needn't be so alarmed, Sabine," Ysa said without turning to face the woman.

She kept her eyes on Lia, who, even as a mortal, seemed to possess the curiosity of a child. She could be almost alien-like in her fascination with beauty, with finery...with blood. Her eyes would become large and her lips would part with a soft gasp...

Ysabelle pressed the image down. Cleared her throat.

When Lia flicked the shroud back from Amare's face, Sabine started forward with a scolding behind her teeth, but Ysa held her arm out to prevent the servant from performing any violence.

"Be still," said the Bloodmother. She was not curt, only good-natured. After all, protectiveness—particularly over someone she loved as her own child—was not a sin in her book.

"She's beautiful,” Lia breathed and laughed. “Like a doll.”

She sounded like a little girl in a toy shop.

Silence reigned for several moments following. Outside, the moon disappeared behind the clouds and plunged the chambers into near-darkness. The candles haloed the scene on the dais. Everyone was still.

Finally, the moon reappeared and Lia turned away from Amare’s sleeping form. The crystal scarab gleamed at her sternum in the moonlight.

“Could you put Poppy to sleep like this?” she asked, stepping down from the dais. “Actually, why haven’t you put Poppy to sleep?”

Ysa folded her arms. “Putting Amare under nearly killed me. She fought it—it was weeks before she finally succumbed and the spell took hold,” she said. “And then it took months to recover from the effort. That was years ago. Aged as I am, I do not think I have it in me to do it again- in particular with Poppy, who once assured me that she would have the Devil himself devour me ‘from the toes up’ if I ever tried to do the same to her.”

Lia lifted her eyes to the ceiling pensively. “Couldn’t Zammurad assist you? Maybe if you both tried-?”

“Lord Greggor is searching out a new bride,” Sabine quietly put in.

Ysa looked back at the woman. “Really? What happened to the last one?”

“The Lord said that she’s missing,” replied the servant.

Given Greggor’s portliness and inability to stand on his own two feet (indeed, his servants carried him around on a covered palanquin), the usual underworld gossip was that he devoured his brides on their “wedding” night.

Ysa was certainly angry with Poppy, however, she did not want to see the girl sold into marriage and eaten.  

The Bloodmother released a sigh. “It’s a discussion for another time, then,” she told the two women. “Sabine, thank you. We will let you return to your duties. Ah- actually, if I could make one more request of you-?”

Sabine bowed her head. “Anything, my lady.”

“Has your mistress been fed yet?” Ysa wondered.

The servant shook her head without raising it.

Ysabelle smiled. “Fantastic. I have a loose end that needs tying off,” she said. “There is a man outside the front door- tend to him, won’t you?”

-

Soundtrack: WHEN THE LORD, susanne sundfør

[AWAY FROM THE DARK. SOFTLY...] 

The Bloodmother dreamt as the sun rose: 

Ysabelle could see them standing together by the window,

but she could not make sense of it.

Why would they two be together? How did they come to be acquainted?

The shorter of the two figures was livid with bloodstains, her face was slick and glistening with blood, her hands were gloved in it. She wore the crystal scarab,

but she was not Amaelia.

The taller figure, a broad-shouldered man, naked to the waist, was concealed in shadow,

Nonetheless Ysabelle knew him. She knew his stench, she knew the way he carried himself. She could hear his heart thrumming, almost humming with the hunt.

They were together, but it was impossible. Impossible.

“Mother,” they said.

Impossible.

[zithjen]

Some Core Issues of this World

Before we dive into the execution of a revolution we should probably address why change is necessary and why it is so important that it happens soon.

The issue that has always bothered me personally the most is that of the exploitation of the worker. To think that the t-shirt I was wearing was sewn by a girl my age or younger, in a run-down factory, breathing in poisonous gases, continuously working her hands bloody (literally) because she has no real choice but to let companies exploit her, just to ensure that her family can afford the barest necessities of life. It is one of the most disgusting things I can think of. She doesn’t have the option of doing something with her life that fulfils her. She has to sell her labour at a wage that is no where near enough to provide for her loved ones. And to top this off employers could not care less for their employees’ safety and thus the working conditions are often insecure and endanger the workers. Phew, all the topics that come to my mind when thinking about this. Apart from endangering their workers, big companies and employers take away people’s means of living by for example pressuring them to sell their farmland which has been their main source of food and income for generations or buying up a vital fresh water source, bottling it up and selling the water these people used to get for free straight from nature for money which they simply do not have (not to mention the pollution created during the process if plastic bottle-making and then the shipping of the goods (I tip my hat to you if you also immediately thought of companies like Nestlé who are one of these monsters)). Or, which I might find even worse, such factories polluting their environment with chemicals either out of self-servitude or ignorance. Excuse me, I get carried away. Awful things that we let happen.

Now, as for the reason why this is an issue that could and needs to be ended by a system change is that this exploitation is the absolute base on which capitalism is built. Capitalism relies on the means of production getting cheaper and cheaper and the market to continue expanding. And seeing as we as consumer ship expect less expensive products the money we do not want to pay needs to be taken from somewhere. I can guarantee you that CEO’s will not part with a single penny which means that labourers (this includes office workers as well nowadays, contrary to Karl Marx’ time where this particular class struggle was first properly studied and where Marx’ oppressed class, the Proletariat, was made up by all workers (meaning factory and manual labourers) of the world) will have to deal with worsening working conditions and even less pay.

Instead of having only a handful of people in a company call the shots, make most of the money and not care about the people doing the actual work, anarcho-syndicalists as well as communists suggest self organisation and the complete abolishment of hierarchies, as well as a reconnecting with the work we are doing. The people working in a factory deciding how, when, and what they want to do that is, however, just a small part of that change.

While we are on the topic of exploitation, something else that is grossly being exploited is our earth and her resources. I don’t know where or when people got the idea that the earth is a 24 hours unlimited all you can eat buffet but it isn’t. Get that idiocy out of your heads. On the bright side, not all people are completely unaware. So there have been multiple trends in recent years such as a ban of plastic bags in supermarket chains all over the world and the most recent trend of refusing plastic straws. While it is admirable that some people are doing something it is hardly enough. What needs to change is again the system. 100 companies are responsible for 70% of emissions and although I do not know the numbers for the responsibility of ocean pollution I’d wager our plastic sins, while despicable and under all costs needs to be reduced, if not stopped, are nowhere near as harmful as that of big companies. Now, more important than continuing to reduce the harmful ways in which we impact our planet as individuals, is that we pressure big companies to either do the same or make sure they disappear forever. Aside from harmful emissions and plastic, in order to make profit, companies destroy enormous amounts of forest (especially in South America) for mono cultures of plants such as soy and palm trees. I have to admit geography is not my area of expertise, however, if I’m not mistaken then the hummus layer (which is the layer with most nutrients) in the ground in the rain forests is rather thin and can only be used for a short amount of time before yield is close to non existent without massive fertilisation. As though removing a big chunk of our planet’s lungs, our oxygen provider, wasn’t bad enough, using such amounts of fertiliser is incredibly harmful. And eventually these big stretches of land will have to be abandoned and by then the ground is so exhausted of nutrients that the forest struggles to reclaim the land. I can not even express my disdain for such reckless and stupid actions. And again we have only scratched the surface of these atrocities. We have yet to address the massive loss of life and habitat during deforestation. But I’ll leave that to organisations such as WWF and Green Peace.

Another topic close to my heart is discrimination. This will take me some time to cover as we are talking about discrimination against different ethnicities, people in the LGBTQ community, women, and, tied to the discrimination against ethnicities, xenophobia, and I’ll scrape the topic of the absolute brainlessness of borders and keeping people out of a country.

As a foreigner who grew up in the central European country I quickly learnt how normal discrimination is. As a child I got harassed and called slurs due to my origins. I wasn’t alone in this. If you didn’t absolutely adapt to the predominant culture you would have a though life. While this can be rather traumatising it is nothing compared to what prejudices for example black people in Europe as well as the US have had to live with. Shot at, killed, unjustly taken into custody, wrongly imprisoned. To name a few. I can’t believe that I am explaining this because the only right thing, on which I will not argue with anyone, is to judge a person based not on their skin colour, clothes, physical appearance, piercings, tattoos, hair colour, headscarf, burka, or anything like that, but on their actions and their capacity to show kindness. Back to the topic at hand. While there may be a lot of minorities, such as black people who live in poverty, which in no way represents their laziness or inferiority, they are not given the same opportunities as other people because of their skin colour. Prejudice and decades of oppression has forced them into impossible situations, where for many survival is their biggest concern. Being denied access to education or having to “sit with the brown kids” at lunch is what keeps them imprisoned in a lower class. This struggle is exceptionally painful as black people freed themselves of slavery mere decades ago just to be continuously mistreated.

Unfortunately, discrimination is not limited to people of colour. Modern women’s rights movements, which have been going on for over 100 years also still struggle and have to fight for each scrap of equality. I will not delve too deep into the topic. I will say though. My body. My choice. You can fuck the hell off if you tell any woman who did not specifically ask for your opinion how she should live her life. This is regarding clothing choices, choices regarding children, or how many or few sexual partners she has. Aside from that, many people see equality between men and women as achieved when plain and simple it has not been. The pay gaps being the smallest issue. Women are denied jobs for which they would be the perfect candidate for the reason of being female. The annoying thing about this is that many are not aware of their own prejudices, which makes it that much harder to battle. Women are naturally assumed to be the stay-at-home parent and are pressured into the “right” gender role. This applies to both men and women of course and the issue of bigenderism will be another point of discussion in the future. DISCLAIMER: Just because you do not do one of these things that does not automatically make you a non-sexist. It just makes you not quite such a sexist. Treat women as equals and there you go. Now actively say or do something for equal rights for women and you’ll be a feminist. This includes all women; white, black, Muslim, Christian, trans, etc. (We will discuss feminism and the fears connected to it at a later point as well.)

Speaking of trans (great TRANSition). Acceptance towards the lgbtq community is lacking as well. Not only is there a lack of acceptance but people actively hinder lgbtq members from being happy and living their lives the way they want to. I will try to make this very clear: they are not harming you by loving who they love and fucking who they want as you are. Who do you think you are, attacking them when they do nothing to harm you. Instead of complaining or hating queer people you might want to judge people based on their morals, as I have said before. A gay guy that’s rude is just as much of an unlikable person as a straight guy. He is, however, not an unlikable person because he’s gay. Never. Let people do what they want as long as they don’t harm anyone. And no one has a right to harm them for being who they are. Not civilians, not police. We just passed pride month, which, apart from reminding us to love who we love, should remind us of those who have fought for the rights of lgbtq members. It should remind us of those who were crushed and prohibited from loving and those who were suppressed by their governments and their police. Hatred will not stand against love.

And it is in these times, I believe, that we need love for one another more than ever before. We have reached a certain standard of living in western society that we do not have to fear for our lives. Unfortunately, not all people are that lucky. People flee from their home countries, whether it’s because it’s at war, or they can’t provide for their families. For whatever reason they flee, they are looking for a better life for their families and themselves and they need to be given a chance. Of course the problems in their countries need to be solved, but until they are these people need a home. Instead of pretending that they are all evil you could get over yourself and get to know some of them. Yes, there may be a cultural difference but it might be interesting to get to know it, broaden your horizon. Everyone is a human as you are. Some where just more or less fortunate in where they were born and how their country has been or is being governed. They have worries enough. Be kind to them. There is no need to put them in concentration camps, build walls to keep them out, separate children from their families, or be scared of them altogether.

Speaking of concentration camps (aka ICE). Many anarchists will agree that we hold no love for the police. I only briefly mentioned police brutality in the paragraphs about discrimination. I did not even scratch the surface of the disgusting things they do. They have been given the power and the right, by their government, to use force when they deem it necessary. Keep in mind they choose when they want to use force. It is no coincident that there are more black people being shot than white people by police, or that more lgbtq members are beat up than cis men. There is an imbalance in the distribution of power. We are governed from the top down and it is all we can do not to submit and accept this injustice.

If you take anything from this, let it be that we are all human beings, who deserve to live our lives as we choose, without fear for survival. Assuming we are different from one another because we are born in different places marked only by an imaginary line, or the colour of our skin, sexuality, or gender (which is also an ide constructed by our society).

It is not a coincidence either that all the oppressed are not white, straight, old men who sit in positions of power and assure that these few named injustices continue. It is our duty to ensure that no innocent is harmed and every moment we fail to do just that, is one moment too much. We need to fight this. Now.

[bi-marvel]

marvel made jane foster thor to be politically correct... im not wrong

Jane Foster is a fictional character appearing in American comic books published by Marvel Comics, most commonly depicted as a supporting character of the superhero Thor Odinson. Created by writers Stan Lee and Larry Lieber, and artist Jack Kirby, the character first appeared in Journey into Mystery #84 (Sept. 1962). For many years, Foster was a nurse, employed by Dr. Donald Blake, Thor's first mortal host, before becoming a doctor herself. In a 1978 and 2014 storyline, Foster is revealed to be deemed worthy to wield Thor's hammer Mjolnir when the former is no longer able. During this period, she adopts the name Thor, the Goddess of Thunder, and joins the Avengers. This storyline ends with the character sacrificing her life to defeat a dangerous adversary, and the reverting of the mantle Thor to its original bearer. After Brunnhilde and the rest of the Valkyrior are killed in The War of the Realms, during which Foster briefly acts as another Thor, Jane Foster takes up the mantle of Valkyrie.

Following the deaths of her husband and son in a car accident,[24] Foster is diagnosed with breast cancer,[25] and accepts an invitation from Thor to represent Midgard in the Congress of the Worlds on Asgard. She undergoes therapy but refuses all magical treatments.[26]

During the 2014 "Original Sin" storyline, Nick Fury whispers an unrevealed secret to Thor that causes him to lose the ability to wield Mjolnir.[27] Soon afterwards, an unidentified woman picks up the hammer, taking possession of Thor's power as the new Goddess of Thunder, and fights Malekith the Accursed, Dario Agger (the new Minotaur), and the Absorbing Man. Although Thor initially attempts to reclaim the hammer,[28] he – referring to himself as 'Odinson' – relinquishes the name and role of Thor after witnessing her wield its power.[29] Odinson suspects Foster as a possible candidate for his successor,[29] but he soon dismisses her due to her weakened condition from chemotherapy.[30]

Angered that someone else is wielding Mjolnir, Odin and his brother Cul, the God of Fear, send the Destroyer after the new Thor to retrieve the hammer but Odinson and Freyja assemble an army of female superheroes to aid her.[31] When the battle is over, Odinson asks Thor to reveal her face but is interrupted by S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Roz Solomon, Odinson's last 'viable' suspect as the new Thor after all other possible candidates came to assist in the battle. Unbeknownst to Odinson, Mjolnir has given Jane the strength to fight as Thor while it is in her possession.[32] However, Jane's use of Mjolnir has perpetuated her cancer as a result of the transformation process purging all toxins from her body, including the chemotherapy being used for her treatment, each time she transforms.[33]

Foster appeared in the original graphic novelAvengers: Rage of Ultron as a member of the Avengers.[34]

The concept of Jane Foster gaining the powers of Thor had previously been explored in What If #10 (August 1978).[35][36]

Thor is also once again a member of the Avengers and appears in All-New All-Different Avengers. She appeared by chance in their encounter with Warbringer and subsequently agrees to help form a new official Avengers group.[43] Her identity is unknown to her teammates until she is separated from the hammer when she is transferred a few days into the future by Kang the Conqueror, and Sam Wilson, the new Captain America, witnesses her as she reverts to Jane.[44] He agrees to keep it secret, and offers her moral support during chemotherapy treatments.[45]

While treating mystical tumors in his former patients created by Misery, a manifestation of his own darkness, Doctor Strange calls on Thor for assistance; fully aware of her true identity as Jane Foster, Strange guides Thor in performing the necessary operations to remove the tumors from his patients after they had defeated the manifestation of Misery itself.[46]

Eventually, Jane's cancer reaches a point where she must confess her identity to Odinson and others, who force her to stay in a hospital under observation by Doctor Strange despite the threat of Mangogattacking Asgard, as Strange determines that one more transformation into Thor will kill Jane as the cancer spreads too far.[47] When Mangog proves too powerful, Jane transforms into Thor and confronts him,[48] sacrificing Mjolnir – and thus her life – by binding Mangog and Mjolnir together with Gleipnir, the chain used to trap Fenris the wolf, and hurling both into the Sun. Knowing that she will die once the enchantment that turns her into Thor wears off, Jane kisses Odinson for a final time before expiring.[49]Consumed by grief of Jane's loss, Odinson works to revive her as she hesitates at the gates of Valhalla. Upon Jane gaining his respect, Odin channels the powers of the God Tempest and assists Odinson into resurrecting Jane. In the aftermath of Mangog's defeat, Mjolnir is destroyed, but it is discovered after Foster hands Odinson an uru shard that he is now capable of wielding the metal again. Jane convinces Odinson to reclaim his name and continue in the War Between the Realms as the true Thor while she resolves to focus on her chemotherapy.[50]

[wisdomrays]

The Invincible Power of Faith

QUESTION: What are the greatest obstacles faced by the volunteers who wish to share with others the inspirations of their souls and the beauties of the values in which they believe?

ANSWER: Worldly desires and wishes are the greatest components for a human’s trial in this world. In societies where these components have seized individuals’ feelings and thoughts, the consequences have been many cases of oppression and suffering. Many people on the path of truth faced relentless and faithless attacks, various kinds of insults and slanders, and even assassinations and massacres; the Prophets, peace be upon them, are prime examples of this.

The first heart-rending incident took place in Prophet Adam’s home, one blessed with showers of revelation. Although he was raised in such an atmosphere, Cain murdered his brother Abel for the sake of his worldly desires. Thus, the first story began with Satan’s deception and an unending chain of deceptions followed.

According to old scriptures, Prophet David’s once downtrodden people, whom he saved from disgrace and guided to dignity (with God’s permission and grace), slandered him with adultery and murder, terrible sins even ordinary believers do not easily commit. His people forced him to swear by placing his hand on the Holy Ark and put him in a difficult situation. The Pride of Humanity faced his enemies’ slanders—such as being, may God forbid a hundred thousand times, a magician and soothsayer—by means of which they tried to prevent the truths he told to reach hearts.

Do not destroy the eternal in this world!

Similar things can happen today as well—and they will not cease to exist in the future either. It is important not to express our troubles and hand future generations a heritage of complaints. What really matters is meeting all that befalls us with resignation and not complaining about it to people; we can open up to God when places and times provide us with due privacy, but must not let anyone know about this lamentation. The sole owner of time and space is God Almighty, and to Him belongs the final decree. Interfering with the result is not of our business.

If we live with this understand, we will meet His decrees about us with appreciation.

There can be troubles from His Majesty or graces from His mercy; one must welcome them both and neither feel joyful with favors nor complain about troubles. One must not say, “What did I do that these befell me? Why do I always come up against all these sufferings, troubles, gossip, and envy?” 

If you really expect to be rewarded with some perfection in the next world, it is a sign of lacking perfection to expect perfection in terms of worldly things here. Desires like expecting applause and flattering remarks from people means going bankrupt; this is a lost investment in terms of the Hereafter. The Qur’an warns us on this issue and states,

 “You consumed in your worldly life your (share of) pure, wholesome things, and enjoyed them fully (without considering the due of the Hereafter, and so have taken in the world the reward of all your good deeds)” (al-Ahqaf 46:20). 

Therefore, one must leave to the next world all Divine favors to be enjoyed, and not consume in this world all good things God promised for the Hereafter.

The following parable conveys a meaningful lesson about this subject: The wife of a saintly person complained to her husband about their humble livelihood. She asked him to pray for them to be saved from this state. So as not to turn down his wife’s wish, that righteous person prayed about it and his prayer was accepted. All of a sudden, a golden brick appeared near them, out of nowhere. That righteous man told his wife, “Here you are. This is a brick from our would-be mansion in Paradise.” Upon this, that conscientious lady felt regret for her previous words and told her husband, “Though we are truly needy, and God willing, we will have many other bricks like this one in the Hereafter. However, I do not wish to waste in this transient realm the reward we are to receive in the eternal one. Let not a single brick of our mansion in Paradise be missing. Therefore, please pray for this brick to go back to its place.” Upon this sincere wish, that righteous person prayed again, the golden brick disappeared, and went back to its place.

The invincible power of those devoted to the truth and a lofty ideal, and who seek to have a bright future for their people again, is keeping away from worldliness, acting with a spirit of dignified contentment, and devoting themselves completely to the happiness of others. There is nothing wrong if the people who earn from trade and support the services for faith and the Qur’an seek material prosperity. However, the devoted souls who are in a position of representing their values must take a clear stance against worldliness and always act with dignified contentment against it; this is their greatest credit. As they behave with genuine indifference to worldliness, people will listen to their words attentively, welcome every matter they point out, and fulfill the duties they are supposed to do without the least hesitation.

While this is what should have been, unfortunately it seems that there is a considerable number of people who set forth with a spirit of devotion, then inclined to the world by initially saying that a bit of enjoyment will bring no harm; this led to deeper indulges, and they could not manage to straighten afterwards, and finally lost against worldliness. 

These people came one by one—and they unfortunately perished one by one. If the devoted souls are ever taken by these devilish considerations and say, “Let me also earn and live like them; let me also have a house and fortune...” this will mean ruining their credit with their own hands. Divine destiny issues a decree for their losing the blessings in their hands; they will slip and fall. Then God Almighty will remove from the scene those lifeless ones who entirely lost their spirit; and as the Qur’an states, God brings a fresh group of people who are not weary, and have never been dazzled by the world.

The way to bring haughty ones to their knees

The esteem and honor of devotedness must be protected against all odds. Like in every other virtue, the Pride of Humanity is the prime devoted one who represents the peak of this virtue. When he died and passed to the horizons of his spirit, his armor was held in pawn by a Jewish merchant, which he had given in return for an amount of barley he had taken in order to treat his guests. After his demise, Muslims realized the situation and they took back the armor from pawn.

The first caliph Abu Bakr followed in his footsteps; he had left an earthen jar to be handed to the next caliph after him. After he passed away, the trust was handed to the second caliph, Umar ibn al-Khattab. When they broke the jar with curiosity, the contents turned out to be the bits of money that remained after meeting the needs of his family, and a note. The note read: “The money you allocated for me was more than necessary some days. I felt ashamed against God to spend it, for it belongs to the people and should go back to the state treasury.” This message by the blessed Abu Bakr moved Umar ibn al-Khattab, who said with tearful eyes, “May God have mercy on Abu Bakr! He left such a difficult example to follow for those who remained behind.”

Umar continued his caliphate with the same understanding. He never had a throne; he always sat in the mosque and carried out his tasks from there. He did not claim to be representing the dignity of the state as a pretext for leading a life of luxury, lavishness, and pomp. On the contrary, he brought the world powers of the time into line with his modest conditions. When they were going to take over the keys of the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, the leaders met him in sumptuous clothes, but he rode the same mount with his slave (in turns), came with his patched clothes, and his general air was modest. As it is also plainly understood from this, the way to bring down the conceited ones of the time is effacement and modesty. This state and attitude will bury all types of conceitedness. This was the understanding of Umar ibn al-Khattab. He never cherished a thought like, “let me leave some worldly wealth for my children and grandchildren…” He entrusted his children to the faithful understanding of the blessed Companions and passed to the other world thus.

The third caliph, Uthman ibn al-Affan, was very rich. He was engaged in trade. However, he forsook the world in his heart, even if he did not necessarily forsake earning, as Bediüzzaman put it in The Seedbed of the Light. As a matter of fact, when Muslims were asked to donate to equip the army to meet the advancing Byzantine army in Tabuk, he donated hundreds of camels, together with their loads, without having the least bit of regret in his heart and purely for the sake of God’s good pleasure. Had the Messenger of God, peace and blessings be upon him, told him that he was supposed to give everything he had, he would no doubt have done so without any hesitation.

The life of the fourth caliph Ali was no different. He ruled a vast territory, one that was larger than Europe. The area of the lands he ruled, in spite of some political rivalries and strife, was large enough as to contain the Persian and Roman empires of the time. On the other hand, caliph Ali used to wear summer clothes during winter, causing him to tremble, and winter clothes during summer, causing him to sweat. When asked about the reason, he answered, “This is what I can afford with my own means.”

If this is Islam, then where are we?

Some claim today that “We are also on the path of the Righteous Caliphs,” but spend their lives in luxurious mansions in summer and winter, try to secure a fortune for their children and grandchildren, and thus misappropriate state money. It is necessary to ask them, “Who is your example? Is not a believer supposed to totally keep away from such thoughts, which normally belong to greedy pharaohs, and feel ashamed before God?”

It is my wish from God Almighty that the people devoted to a lofty ideal always retain this noble feeling of shame, that they are not taken by the temptations of this world, and that they do not let these trip them up and bring about their fall. Let them say, “We can show patience in this world, so that nothing will be missing in the next one.” 

Let the volunteers consent to suffering troubles, but not covet others’ ostentatious lives. Let them see worldly things as dirt that smear a corner of their foot. And let them pass to the next world so nobly that when they are asked in the presence of God, “What did you leave in the world?” they should be able to say, “I cannot remember anything.” The essential of our path is dignified contentment, effacement, and modesty. Other codes of conduct by the idealist souls devoted to restoring a ruined heritage will not only shake the people’s trust in them, but also cause them to lose credit in the sight of God. As seen throughout history, those who commit injustice and misappropriation will fall like Qarun (Korah) in the end, even if they appear like Prophet Aaron, peace be upon him, at the beginning.

Even if they offer a title of a great conqueror, the thought of devotedness must not be sacrificed for anything. Just as we did not possess anything when we came to this world, one must similarly pass to the next world with zero wealth; just like in the examples given above. Let those who do see those examples appreciate them; their appreciation will turn to a blessing in the Hereafter. As for those refuse to appreciate? Their non-appreciation will slam on them like a sledgehammer.

They fear not the censure of any who censure!

Many roses have been taken by thorns, and many nightingales have lamented this. And today, it falls to the heroes of noble ideals to lament. They meet slanders, condemnations, derision, intrigues, and plots... In the face of all these, it is necessary to act with the understanding voiced by a Sufi poet: “Neither the world welcomed us, nor did we expect from worldly ones; nor do we seek refuge in any door but God’s.”

It is necessary to present a stance of dignity. As Sadi Shirazi put it, “If a stray stone touches a golden bowl, neither the stone gains value, nor the bowl loses value at all.” Therefore, if you are a golden bowl, let them stone you; with God’s permission and grace, nobody will be able to harm you.

The Qur’an states that steadfast believers do not fear the censure of any who censure (al-Maedah 5:54), and shows us the attitude to be taken in such situations. On the other hand, it is necessary to know that everything that befalls us is a trial which serves as a means for further closeness to the Eternally Beloved Creator, thanks to a perspective that sees beyond apparent causes.

Without being hindered by the evil words they hear, they must focus their attention on the task they need to carry out and walk uprightly on the righteous path.

Have no doubt about it: with God’s permission and grace, they will keep serving under Divine protection and no one will be able to stop them. They must keep walking with the understanding, “Whatever it is that God ordains, it is sure to be goodness.”

[toasttz]

From the Tabletop #6

As of the end of the last session, where #5 left off, we've been doing alternating games, between D&D and a new Exalted campaign, swapping every Saturday. So, I'll start with D&D as there's a bit less to report on at-present. We're in an original world of the DM's design, with a design so subtle that the instant he described it to me, I was like "Wait, so the world is all on top of a giant, like Xenoblade Chronicles. Except this is a woman laying on her back?" The main town we operate out of literally has a name meaning "Belly Button". So, for context, a fellow of this party and I were inspired by JoCat's amazing "Crap Guide to D&D" video series and decided to take his advice, form a party of holy class heroes called the A-Men and rock the world around us. This never came to fruition as two of the supposed party fo 4 never showed up for a session. So this is how our party ended up with two clerics out of four players. I guess I'll go first this time. My character is Laga, a Half-Orc Solar Cleric, who follows St. Helbram, an original deity of the DM's. I decided to make Laga as an example to the other half of the party (the same half that was the problem half in Exalted in previous installments), to demonstrate how one plays against type and expectation - by playing a Lawful-Good version of a creature strongly associated with Chaotic-Evil stereotypes. It's a very different mindframe, as I play her as excessively goody-goody in her nature and a strong desire to use diplomacy to get by, rather than force. Our other cleric is Lucius, a Human Forge Cleric, who actually is quite openly racist against non-human characters. He acknowledges Laga, on account she's a lady of the cloth and also in that, despite being half-orc, she's still half-human too. He's been unable to join us for a few sessions, but already set himself up as quite the forceful personality, being the spear to Laga's olive branch. Next is Laguna, a male Drow (apparently those exist) wizard, who runs a pawn shop as a front for the mafia. I actually need to give mad props to his player on this one, as not only has he actually worked really hard to make the character interesting, but he also has very gracefully endured the ribbing the other characters give him. Apparently he is an incredibly beautiful male and, thus, is often mistaken for a woman. And lastly is Kaz. No, that's not his full name, but no one particularly cares. Kaz is the party's munchkin, who decided to play a Aarakocra Monk (and fuck you, where-ever you are right now, Kaz, for making me bother to look up how that stupid race's name is spelled). If you're not familiar, this means that he basically fudged it so he had 20 on Dexterity and then he tried to stack every movement he makes based on Dex. He even tried to argue that Natural Weapons (key word: WEAPONS) counted as unarmed attacks and, thus, should be based on dex. And he also really, really likes the words "BONUS ACTION", on account he's trying to just play himself as a living pinwheel of dex-based attacks. Seeing as he sucks at everything else he tries. So, taking a nod from Rising of the Shield Hero, in town, we find a countdown to the next disaster in town square - 7 days. The people of Belly Button (fuck you, DM-san, that's its name for the sake of these blog posts!) are honestly so used to this that they've become incredibly jaded towards the countdowns. This actually alarms Laga, who finds that the apathy worrisome, as one disaster being worse than the previous ones would be all it takes to cause untold harm. She meets with Laguna, who she has a brief history with (teasing him playfully that he should give up his 'sinful' pawn shop, due to the shady history some of the merch has) and they, more or less accidentally meet Kaz in so doing. Long story short, Laguna and Kaz agree with Laga's assessment, and they set off to try to learn what they can of the impending disaster and what they can do to deal with it. Long story short, they sign up to take on work at a sort of hunter's guild, resulting in a very impromptu battle against a freakin' dinosaur inside the test chamber. Due to... reasons I've honestly forgotten already, Laguna actually wasn't present for this. Laga, seeing this unarmed and unarmored idiot bird-man in harm's way, swiftly takes to the front line, shield and mace at the ready. For reference, Laga's AC is 18, between chain mail and a shield. Due to the aforementioned min/maxing, Kaz has 20. Kaz also wears just a karate gi, essentially. This ultimately results in Laga getting ragdollized as she attempts to protect said idiot bird-man. Thankfully, she has HP for days and, thus, took it like a champ as Kaz rolled 2-3 attacks in a row (this was before the DM and the rest of the party realized he was rolling his talons as unarmed attacks) and easily dropping the beast where it stood. Turns out, it was mechanical and the test was just to see how we'd react, but it was treated as a win, so we were largely satisfied with the results. Some faffing about later (the nature of each impending disaster seems to vary greatly between each instance of such, so information was sparse), so we decided to restock supplies before we leave. There, we meet Gunther, a stout fellow with a shop full of odds, ends, and everything inbetween. He even has wyrmstone, a magically-potent element semi-rare of this world, legendary weapons and tomes, and more. Laga purchased a book that, when united with the other Dragon Ba-- I mean -- copies of the same book, will grant the user a wish. She admitted fully that she wasn't 100% sure she trusted wish-granting magic, or that she could even phrase the wish such that there was assuredly no trouble from doing so, but the mystique won out and she bought it anyway. The entire time, Laguna, default rival of Gunther, kept attempting to... um... smooth things over between rivals. Or... trying to at any rate? On account that everything he said came off as a veiled threat, and it was only because Laga vowed to keep him on a short leash that Gunther relented and let us shop peacefully. Afterward, we ultimately headed to the bar to regroup. There, Laga spotted a proud hound in the corner of the bar. Squeeing like a small girl at a boy band concert, she asked permission to pet and feed doggo. Doggo approved. Turns out he was a mighty hound named Regnar, who the party would soon briefly recruit. I confess this scene made me irrationally happy, even out of character, as the idea of this large, thicc half-orc completely losing her marbles over a cute dog was too endearing not to enjoy. While at the bar, a girl from the DM-original race of Warcur, sought out our help due to a missing sister. She was last seen in the company of a noble, so our goal was clear: we needed to get into the ritzy part of town. No small fear due to us all being demi-human races in a town that really frowns on that. Ultimately, I was able to sweet-talk the guard, on my honor as a cleric. We then spotted the noble in question, and we devised a plan. ... Not... not a particularly SWIFT devising of plans, mind. While Laguna and Laga were largely on the same page, Kaz slowed deliberation down a bit and often confused the nature of the scheme. By the time we broke huddle and prepped to put it into motion, the DM joked that the man was already several blocks down the way, forcing us to race after him in a mad dash. After a brief, but ultimately fruitless, confrontration, the noble went on his way. But not without leaving a note behind. Laga was able to read part of it - something about "Four Sacrifices". Immediately, we put it together: the missing Warcur girl was likely to be killed off in the name of some dark deity! There was murder afoot and it was taking place just outside of town, beyond prying eyes, that very same night! We swiftly recruited Regnar, for his master tracking, and made way for the destined place. There, we saw goblins. Hundreds of them! We approached as stealthily as we could muster, well aware that one misstep would result in us being rushed by hundreds of the green menace, but also the deaths of four innocent maidens! Then, Laguna had a plan. Laga, due to her orc/cleric combination, actually spoke the most languages in the party - common, orc, goblin, and giant. This is important for several reasons, not the least of which was Laguna's plan was to mask Laga as the goblin's primary deity of choice, and then have her, speaking the goblin language, talk down this murderous army from their attempts at sacrificing maidens. His set up was masterful and I actually thought the plan was pretty concrete. We even saw the four girls in question, on a raised platform of some sort at the center of the gathering. Then I screwed up my charisma roll. Laga: You must not proceed with this! This is terrible! Warcur Girl: HEY! How dare you call our band terrible! We only just started playing! Laga: ... WHAT?! Y'ever... have your DM just pull a fast one on you? Well, ours sure as Hell did. And it all started because of a wry observation I made, out of character. In the D&D 5e manual, it lists the available languages and the alphabet they are written in. Turns out that dwarven, golbin, giant, and a few other languages all are written in the dwarven alphabet. DM-san then informs me that he fully planned the dwarves of this world to be very much akin to feudal Japan. Which is a pretty neat idea. And so he began joking that goblin language would be akin to Korean. And if you haven't put it together just yet, we had just walked into a multi-ethnic goblin-pop idol sensation band. G-Pop. And, due to the misunderstanding, Laga herself became something of a pop idol sensation, despite having yet to sing or dance yet. "The Four Sacrifices" was a band name and we had just inadvertently heckled their concert. When they returned to town, bootleg Laga merchandise had begun to make its round, much to Laga's deepest regrets. Not long after, Lucius joined the party, just in time for us to find a help wanted poster. When we sought out the interested party, we found a jilted lover situation - where a terrible witch had seduced and taken away her man! The client wanted us to steal something, which Laga admittedly had a hard time rationalizing away, up until Lucius clarified that liberating items from the witch and turning them over to the church would be a means by which furture generations could be better prepared against black magic - and that set Laga's indecision to rest. We agreed to break into the homestead and "liberate" the item in question. We entered using a magic doorway and this lead us to agreeing to always asking more questions about the nature of our work before we get underway. We were transported into an unsettling and otherworldly library, with strange entities keeping watch over things. Kaz attempted (and spectacularly failed) stealth, nearly knocking an entire bookshelf over on Laga and Lucius - the latter of whom was bopped over the head with a book that he would then claim as his own. We quickly made haste into the hallway, where we engaged with... God-damn Demons. The one race I decided would be fine for Laga to harbor a racial hatred of. The fight was brief, but brutal, as we easily laid them to waste. Then the puzzles began. Each door was guarded by an enchanted, speaking plaque which had a question about the lord of the manor. And, instead of using the... y'know, room FILLED WITH BOOKS AND KNOWLEDGE THAT CLEARLY WOULD'VE HELPED US... we decided to brute force the solution. One instance, when asked what the lord held in highest regard, this exchange actually happened: Kaz: Money? Plaque: No. Lucius: Gettin' laid? Plaque: No. Laga: Love! Plaque: I... y-yes, technically. ("It was actually his 12 wives. But, whatever." ~DM-san, after pointing out how fucking stupid we all had been.) Eventually, we get tired of guessing randomly and head 'forward' best we can manage. This results in our being prompted to roll for perception, which only Laga passes. I then get to be sole witness to a massive, gaunt, nigh-invisible figure approaching us. I desperately attempt to explain what's happening to the others as it nears, and it finally dawns on me (Huehuehue) that one of my basic cantrips is to make objects I touch glow. So, upon nearly getting strangled, I set the figure aglow and the battle begins in earnest, most of the damage being dealt via the two clerics and their divine powers (CoD of War indeed). Eventually we banish the killer and make our way to the safe, which Lucius pries open... only to then have a tiny, cat-like creature (which the DM informs us is called a Poogem) roll out and begin sounding the alarm. With its mouth. Too stunned to think straight, Lucius takes the gambit of the session: Poogem: I'm an alarm! WAY-WOO-WAY-WOO! Lucius: No, you're not! You're my best friend! DM: Roll charisma. Lucius: 20! DM: ... Poogem: I AM?! YAY! Then, we recovered the item and fled as quickly as we could, to the satisfaction of our employer. Afterward, the party split up as Lucius and Laguna went their own ways and Kaz and Laga went to the bar, met by bands of Warcurs. Kaz immediately humiliates himself by failing to understand cultural nuance more complex than "This race is typically NG" and spends 10 real-world minutes trying to fumble a name for his character's father (not a joke). Laga, meanwhile, sits with the female Warcurs and is offered a drink from one after hearing that they spent all day slaughtering demons. Now, due to meta-knowledge, I knew this drink was not safe for consumption. However, I throw my hands up and went with it, having Laga bottoms-up that tankard into her maw. DM: Okay. Roll Constitution. Me: 20! DM: ... Well, alright then. You enjoy it but it has a weird aftertaste. And, holy crap, this has gone on way longer than I expected so, join me next time as the D&D party undertakes a new mission and: Kaz is useless again! Laguna goes on one hell of a trip! Laga seduces a dragon and gets embroiled in TEEN GIRL SQUAD political movements! Laguna gets cursed by MegaSatan! Kaz nearly gets the party killed by offering a dragon a potato sack dress! And Laguna dies in boiling magma! See you there!

[theonyxpath]

Hey folks! Chris Allen here; today, I’m bringing with me a bit of bonus content originally cut from The Pack, the first supplement for Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition.

When we were developing how Lodges would work in 2nd Edition, one of the core concepts I wanted to push was the idea that Lodges are cults. They’re weird groups of weird people doing weird things; they’re transgressive because those transgressions bond the adherents together and often give real power, and they’re secretive because they don’t want outsiders to know about those transgressions. They practice odd traditions and perform strange acts to strengthen the mystic power of the Lodge and its totem.

In order to really demonstrate this in practice, I wrote up a set of “Mysteries” for each of the sample Lodges in the book. These were going to replace the story hooks — indeed, you’ll see where some of the story hooks were repurposed for the Mysteries format — and serve as a direct presentation of the ways each particular Lodge was blasphemous, transgressive, tight-knit, or just plain odd. In the end, we kept with the story hooks format that was published due to a lack of time to insert the new Mysteries approach, but I kept the cut material and I’m glad to now be able to share it with you.

Ultimately, Lodge Mysteries best represent my vision for how to get across the nature of each of these Lodges, detailing the practices and mystic secrets that fuel rumors and suspicion among the uninitiated.

The Lodge of Garm: Mysteries of the God-Killers

The cult rejects the second tenet of the Oath of the Moon, the People do not murder the People. The Lodge believes the tenet is false doctrine spread and encouraged by a corrupt faction among the Lunes. Garm has bestowed the adherents with true wisdom — killing other Uratha can be righteous.

Garmir harvest slain Pure elders to make grisly trophies. The cult believes these steal the power the Pure Firstborn have invested in their Anshega champions. On the first hunter’s moon of the year, cultists gather and offer a tithe of such trophies to the sand-fleshed wolf spirits that serve Garm. Garm demands captive Pure elders are also offered up as sacrifices, usually by being burnt alive.

Fierce wolves and dogs guard cult property or accompany Lodge warriors. The cult feeds the flesh of fallen Pure enemies to the beasts in the belief that the canines thus steal the Anshega totems’ strength. When the animals perish, the Lodge consumes the bodies in bloody ceremonies.

To repay loyal spirits of strife or destruction, Garm orders Lodge cells to stir up conflict amongst mortal communities. His wolf-servants of sand and hieroglyphs judge disobedient cultists harshly, but sometimes gift successful cells with fetish weapons wrought from wolf-teeth and bronze.

The Lodge guards two secret forms of the written First Tongue, one a runic script and the other in hieroglyphs. The cult believes the runes and glyphs hold special power over wolf spirits and Uratha ancestor spirits. Garmir uses these sacred scripts to call and bind ancestral spirits of their enemies, denying the Pure their allies. Trapped spirits undergo terrible torments and inquisitions by the God-Killer’s brood.

The Thousand Steel Teeth: Mysteries of the Steel Teeth

Humanity owes the roads a debt; the spirit courts are eager to collect in blood on the asphalt. The Steel Teeth fight that ravenous appetite, chaining the road spirits with pacts to enforce restraint. They let the spirits collect only a small tithe of lives through accidents and deaths.

The spirits cause accidents as part of the tithe. When a driver survives through sheer luck or supernatural intervention, it weakens the pacts. The Smoke Drinker reaches through car radios and the pattern of raindrops on windscreens to its adherents when this happens, setting them on the hunt of the hapless survivors — and any entities responsible for causing the upset.

A gear dog who dies well on the high-speed hunt, perishing amidst hurtling metal and spraying gasoline and the scream of air rushing past, is her own offering to the road courts — forcing them to accept her blood in place of a thousand human lives.

When the phases of the moon and the stock market prices of the big car manufacturers align, it is time for the sacred Hecatomb. In these wild celebrations, one hundred cars must burn in a grand sacrifice to the Smoke Drinker — a night of thievery and high-speed chases as the Steel Teeth compete for the finest rides they can steal.

Cultists perform the iziga to repent after sinning through breaking Oath or ban or whatever minor traffic law the totem has declared sacrosanct. In this fiery ritual, adherents paint sigils of repentance on their flesh in oil or gasoline then set them alight, searing the sin away.

The guhkharraan is a holy pilgrimage of roads. A cultist seeking revelation or spiritual harmony begins with naught but the clothes on her back, eats only what she can glean from the roadside and listens to the oracular whispers of the spirits of road and fume. Some find hallucinatory revelation at the end of their journeys.

The Lodge of the Screaming Moon: Mysteries of the Screaming Moon

All banshees practice the kilisu-zithu, the ritual girding before the sacred hunt. The adherent wears terrifying trophies taken from her own kills; the bloodier and messier and the more screaming there was, the richer the resonance of fear. The Tyrant’s allied spirits pay honor to cultists with the most terrifying kilisu-zithu.

The Lodge sometimes kidnaps humans who possess second sight or psychic powers. The cult subjects such a hapless victim to endless terrors and maddening torments, aiming to drive him insane. Adherents believe this strengthens and purifies the prophetic power of such a lunatic visionary, and it links the victim to other such madmen held by the banshees across the world.

Several times a year, adherents secretly gather beneath the new moon. They share their darkest and most important secrets and perform the ihinudu iduth. In this ceremony, an Ithaeur and Cahalith each have an eye put out, which they crush and then smear the gory result on the eyelids of the other cultists. This sacrifice conceals the Lodge totem’s nature as a Lune from those who would pry, unleashing madness or blinding infections on fools delving into the cult’s secrets.

Banshees collect the paraphernalia and remains of famous human murderers and serial killers. The Lodge builds eldritch shrines with these morbid relics, not in praise but as lures for copycats, full-fledged slashers and even stranger horrors all drawn to the shrines like iron filings to a lodestone. This provides fresh prey for cultists, and also creates potent resonance to feed the spiritual vassals of the Tyrant Over Fear.

The Lodge totem can see out of any white mask that an adherent wears, if it chooses to pay attention to that Uratha and the cultist has not broken the Lodge ban in the last year. During the gibbous moon, the Tyrant can do far more than that — it can use its spiritual powers through such a mask or even manifest part or all of its body, although this takes a heavy toll on the Lune.

The Temple of Apollo: Mysteries of the Sun

The Thebans possess several omphalos stones — fragments of carved stone pulsing with spiritual power. The cult believes these are from a major manifestation of Apollo in the distant past. Lodge elders have tried to tap into these stones to become an avatar of the Sun Wolf, but every elder who has thus far tried has perished.

The Temple of Apollo murders humans for oracular purposes as well as to feed the Sun Wolf. The pack uses simple auguries to select victims, who they abduct and drug with a concoction of poisons and Essence. The dying victim falls to hallucination and gibbers glossolalia, which the Thebans interpret. This ceremony serves as an extremely powerful form of the Read the World’s Loom Facet from the Insight Gift, although it takes at least an hour to decipher the ravings.

Spirits of the hyacinth plant are either close allies or rabid foes of the Temple. Thebans anoint human sacrifices with extracts of the plant as it has the favor of the Sun Wolf. Furthermore, anointing the animated dead with hyacinth allows Thebans to vomit a blazing soul out of their Lodge bond in a reverse of the sacred hunt, turning the undead into a Ridden bound to a twisted, distorted helion spirit.

Over the years, the Shadow of the temples slowly develops and deepens. Repeated Apollonian ceremonies and rites reinforce the Hisil, imbuing it with resonance of the sun. The oldest temples have sizeable Places-That-Aren’t, strange sunlit structures of mirrors and marble.

Meetings of the Culte de la Raison are often debauched and orgiastic, but the Temple carefully manages these evenings of vice to feed various allied spirits of vices and pleasure. The Temple also holds Lyceum meetings, when Culte members judged to have the greatest occult aptitude join an “inner circle” — the pack — and learn to participate in rites. The Masters of the Culte are all loyal Claimed, picked from the inner circle and subjected to ecstatic ceremonies to prepare them as vessels.

The Eaters of the Dead: Mysteries of the Ravening Wolf

The Eaters of the Dead keep several old spirits of hunger sealed away. Ritual feasts of gluttonous consumption occur at times and dates suited to the nature of each spirit, usually banquets of putrid meat and stale cast-offs. The Essence generated keeps the spirits in quiescent slumber.

Some Lodge hunters exsanguinate their undead prey, decanting the stolen blood from fanged corpses or ravenous monstrosities. Hidden temples to Ravening Wolf have galleries of clotted gore. Through smell and taste, the Ki Anagh learn many secrets of the unquiet dead. The Eaters are mapping bloodlines and ‘families’ amongst the dead, revealing fresh mysteries to investigate.

There is a schism in the ranks of the Lodge. Some Eaters favor close ties to the Lodge of Death; Chinese emissaries of the Lodge are offering alliance. Other cultists flock to a different banner — the Tesfurfarrahu, or Devourers. The Devourers are a small cabal claiming to have proof of an old, powerful pact that bound Isim-Ur, though she does not remember this. Devourer doctrine states there are other dead children of Mother Wolf that the Lodge must discover and devour as a holy duty, just like with Ravening Wolf.

Ravening Wolf is powerful and very much present; she runs among her new followers on hunts through the Shadow. She is looking for a mate among her adherents, a werewolf with enough primal power to survive her affections and begin a new spiritual family. Suitors court the totem with trophies and rotting carrion from their kills.

At Ravening Wolf’s command, the Lodge takes young orphans and conducts strange ceremonies over them, even going so far as to kidnap them from state custody briefly. In these cult rituals, the children are fed a drip of Isim-Ur’s blood or a fleck of her spirit-flesh. The totem promises that one day, when this crop of orphans comes of age, they will be powerful Wolf-Blooded fated for great things.

[ryeclemons-blog]

Basef

History

When Demeter was settled, it was the new home of a wide range of people and cultures, and their religions they brought with them. The early history of Demeter is hazy to its current inhabitants, as the first farmers planted their fields nearly 300 to 400 years ago, yet hardly any records of that time remain on Demeter. Over time, the cultures and knowledge of their original home planet faded or were mixed together, and this included their religions. 

In the new melting pot of Demeter—where relying on your neighbor and making connections were the difference between life and death—religion became a unifying force, rather than a dividing one. The winds and dust of the unsettled wastes obscured and buried the past, and out of them, the remnants of the early years emerged. This included the crates that held the seeds that started the crops, most of them scoured by the sands. The only words apparent were BASF, and hardly any knew what they meant, yet they were significant as they were what started Demeter.

The letters became the name of the new religion that had sprung up out of the older ones—Basef. The old religions were still practiced, but in far fewer numbers. Basef spread, farmstead to farmstead, jumping from area to area until it was the new major religion of Demeter around 200 years ago. As the religion grew and evolved, practices became more normalized, although each region had slight variations. Now, most don’t remember a time that Basef didn’t exist, and know at least one person close to them who are an adherent. 

The large Demeter diaspora also are practicers of Basef, if a modified version of it. They usually act as independent worshippers, and often wish to return to Demeter to practice Basef in their homeland. As far as Basef believers are concerned, anyone not following Basef, either as non-religious or as a follower to another religion, are considered to be following an equal but separate path.

Practices

While exact practice varies from region to region, the most basic tenets of Basef are the same. Basef is a polytheistic religion that is mostly focused on the relationships of people with each other and the land they live on. Basef has a majority feminine pantheon, and has multiple location specific deities. Temples are found in most major cities of Demeter, and sometimes scattered around the countryside. Shrines are more widespread, often the location of worship in the countryside, and each adherent’s farmstead contains their family’s personal shrine. 

Basef has an all woman clergy who act as helpers to the poor, soothsayers, military leaders, and maintain their local temples and shrines. These priestesses are referred to by adherents as Mother, such as Mother Sharifa (one of the first priestess), and are raised from birth to take over their biological or adopted mother’s position. They are encouraged to marry, have children and lead a normal life outside of their religious leadership. The signifier of their position is that they have shaved heads, to set them apart from their non clergy feminine relations, and wear scarlet clothes.

Mothers lead worship in Temples and at Shrines. Worship includes a joyous public sacrifices and then feast, with each adherent family giving a portion of the sacrifices. The most common sacrifices are a basketful of wheat or similar field crop, which is burned, an animal (such as a goats, chickens or rabbits) that is slaughtered and cooked for the feast, or food that is used in the feast. 

Holidays are numerous, and are sometimes location specific as they might celebrate local deities, locally known Mothers, or events. However, the widespread holidays celebrate great Mothers, the solstices, the equinoxes, the harvest, the major deities, and minor deities. They are larger versions of the common worship, and those who participate try to give their best sacrifices such as cattle or more expensive crops. They also include other ceremonies such as coming of age, marriages or ordinations.

Beliefs

Basef is a religion made through the blending of many of the old religions. Some beliefs can be directly traced back to their parent religion, while others are unique to Demeter, arising from the landscape and culture of the planet. 

Basef adherents can be known through their tattoos and symbolism. The holy color is scarlet, yet laypeople are not allowed to wear scarlet clothes except when offering sacrifices on altars in Shrines when a Mother is not present to give the sacrifice. The holy symbols are a sheaf of wheat and an endless knot. Both are commonly found as tattoos on adherents, with the former being used in marriage ceremonies, while the later is given in coming of age ceremonies. 

In Basef beliefs, there is an afterlife, or the Great Pasture, a green and fertile land were work is not needed. It is an eternal party, and reunites those were separated by death. This afterlife is presided over by the pantheon, and cannot be reached by those who are alive. All are allowed to reach it, as long as they have passed through the coming of age ceremonies and are properly buried. Children who have not yet gone through their coming of age ceremony are considered to have their soul in the Great Pasture, so if they die, their souls already exist in the afterlife.

The supernatural plays a major role in Basef beliefs, as mischievous spirits, monsters and nature spirits exist and sometimes have a more direct impact on lives than any deity in the pantheon. There is also both good and evil witchcraft, often done by the female relations of Mothers. Mothers are also believed to be conduits to the pantheon. They often see signs based in nature, or practice divination in the entrails of sacrificed creatures. Basef mythology and beliefs are passed down through oral tradition, both through Mothers and among families. 

Within that oral tradition, the most important myth is the creation of Demeter. Through this tradition, it was the All-Mother who birthed the planet, from procreation with the Dark God. Their previous issue were the pantheon, yet the Dark God didn’t want more children. The Dark God became angry that he had become betrayed, that Demeter existed, cutting off the All-Mother���s right hand. She in turn slew the Dark God, scattering his remains in the sky to give the night form. From the bones of her right hand, the All-Mother made the first children born on Demeter, implanting them in new people from Earth.

Within Basef, they have their virtues and sins, which should remain in balance, preferably with virtues outweighing sins. The virtues include responsibility, selflessness, humility and thoughtfulness; while the sins include indifference, cowardice, apathy, and despair. While sinning does not impact the possibility of going to the Great Pasture in death or bring about punishment from the pantheon, it is believed that it increases the chance of monsters or non beneficial spirits targeting them. 

Rituals

There are multiple rituals that Basef have—including birth, marriage, conversions, ordinations, coming of age, and death. All require having a Mother present, except death in cases of accidental or sudden deaths. The one ritual that doesn’t require a Mother present is chanting. The Holy Chants are considered a form of worship, a verbal prayer. They are numerous, one each for every deity in the pantheon, and the most popular one is repeating the various epithets of the deities. Especially when set to music, it is considered an art form by outsiders.

Birth is the first ritual, with a Mother sacrificing an animal and christening the newborn in its blood, and painting the doorways of the farmstead in its blood.  A piece of the animal (such as a foot, horn, or feather) is kept and worn on a chain by the child until their coming of age ceremony. The child is given their birth name, something that could be considered a nickname, on the fifth day after their birth which is the name the child will be called by until their coming of age ceremony as well. This is to protect the child from spirits. The birth ritual is an effort to keep the body of the child in the farmstead and the mortal world, instead of going back to the Great Pasture.

The coming of age ritual is done on the nearest major holiday to the child’s birth, when they are 17 years old. The child is given their true name, receive their first tattoo, the endless knot, and give their first sacrifice to the Mother who witnessed their birth, or if that Mother had passed on to the Great Pasture, the Mother who had replaced her. They also burn the piece of animal from their birth ritual. The blood from the sacrificed animal is mixed with the ash of the other sacrifices on the holiday and dust from Demeter to form the ink for the tattoo. After recieving their name and tattoo, they are considered adults and adherents of Basef, and that their soul has left the Great Pasture and properly joined their body.

Marriage is often the next ritual experience most Basef have. Once the those who are becoming married announce they wish to be joined in union, the Mother closest to their farmstead acknowledges that they are permitted to do so. The ceremony happens on the nearest holiday, and are the most joyous and energetic celebration done by Basef, along with being the longest. 

It includes a chase of the first sacrificed animal, with all able bodied single adult members of each family chasing after the animal to be sacrificed. The first one to bring the animal to the Mother, sitting at the altar, is believed to be the next to become married. Due to the close quarters contact and wrestling that occurs over the animal, animals used in this portion of the ceremony are not larger than a goat. 

After the first sacrifice, the blood is used to anoint the couple, and mixed with the ash of other sacrifices along with dust from Demeter, and used to tattoo the sheaf of wheat. After receiving the tattoos, each person being married is led through a complex process under a canopy made from linen held by each person’s family members. 

Each is led around the other by the other’s mother, in the same direction as the sun’s path across the sky, first five rotations, for the five days they had remained unnamed, and then 27 for the number of bones in the All-Mother’s hand. Between these rotations, the most common Holy Chant is said. Once both have completed this, they then proceed tie an endless knot around their joined right hands, which is blessed by the Mother, who then unties it, cuts the scarlet cord in half, and ties the lengths around each participant’s right wrist, which should never be removed. 

After the main ceremony, there are rounds of dancing performed with singing and music. Between the dances, the families of those being married exchange gifts. The gifts are often food, household goods, and animals, and always in pairs. Once 27 rounds of dancing and gift giving have happened, half of those gifts from both families are given to the new couple. The marriage concludes with another sacrifice, with the blood mixed with the wine of toasts to the future good health and wealth of the married couple.

The last ritual most Basef have is the death ritual, and happens five days after the death. The most solemn of all the rituals, it involves the cremation of those who have died. They are washed, anointed with oils, and wrapped in a scarlet sheet which is tied tightly around their body. They are arranged with their arms crossed, clasping a sacrificed dove, believed to the the animal to carry the soul to the Great Pasture. The sheet is then embroidered with the name of the deceased, and an endless knot and wheat sheath. 

This bundle, along with a few possessions to accompany the deceased into the afterlife in the Great Pasture, are burned on a pyre. The ashes from the pyre, blood of the dove, and dust from Demeter are mixed and used to tattoo the blood relations of the deceased. The tattoos are called grief-marks, and are a short line tattooed at the outside edges of the right eye, usually about a half inch long.

The other ceremonies that happen under the supervision of a Mother on a holiday are conversions and ordinations. A conversion usually happens in two instances: when a recent immigrant to Demeter converts, or an outsider marries a Basef who wishes to keep their religion. In the case of an immigrant, they go through a coming of age ceremony, without the giving of a true name. In the case of an outsider marriage, a Mother does an abridged ceremony. The abridged ceremony includes only the knot tying. 

Ordinations happen when a future Mother reaches age 17, and is inducted by their mother on the closest holiday. Their mother shaves their hair, and dresses the new Mother in their scarlet vestments. The new Mother is seated at the altar, and have a dove sacrificed above their head by their mother, with the blood draining directly onto them. After the blood is drained, the new Mother lays facedown and flat on the ground, and are covered with Demeter dust while the Holy Chant is said. Once covered in dust, and the chant is concluded, the new Mother has the endless knot tattooed on their right hand, and the wheat sheaf tattooed on their left hand. 

After the tattooing, the new Mother sits next to the altar while other ceremonies are conducted, and does the Holy Chant 27 times. Once they completed it, they are considered a Mother. They are called under-Mother until their Mother dies, which is when they take over, or when they establish a new Temple or Shrine.

Pantheon

Cota, the Goddess of Autumn

Asyn, the God of Medicine and Life

Ghamis, the Goddess of Peace

Okaos, the God of Destruction and Youth 

Mihena, the Goddess of Shame 

Ruhdite, the Goddess of the Fields 

Thana, the Goddess of Horses 

Edis, the God of Politics

Wistus, the God of Intoxicants 

Nemmis, the Goddess of Names and Death

Muuna, the Goddess of the Hearth 

Vaaris, the Goddess of the Sun 

Razone, the Goddess of the Moon and Sky 

Tuttis, the God of Weather 

Cades, the God of Borders and Luck 

Banja, the Goddess of Kane*

*Considered an underground Goddess, she is not widely worshipped, except by those who participate in the Kane trade.