#Mizzy Raw

[kiochisato]

anon from this ( https://www.tumblr.com/kiochisato/760516127067652096/may-ii-have-the-mask-or-whatever-used-in?source=share ) id love to be shown how to do the dashed thing :3

this was supposed to be for mizhamster but okay :smiley face:

[dev1lsadvocate]

@shimmerbeasts another random self-indulgence banter

"Tell your illithid to protect him from the Elder Brain’s influence. Quickly!"

Jaheira’s voice cracked with urgency. Through Wyll's eye, they could see the raw desperation evident in her features.

Then — silence. Wyll hesitated. No, not hesitation — debate. With the Emperor.

The druid's breath hitched. Her eyes flicked between them, certainly taking in the rigid set of shoulders, the way his gaze seemed far away, focused on something unseen. And just as Mizzy had quickly clocked out what was going on, so did Jaheira.

“The mindflayer pours poison in your ear, I think,” she bit out, her voice sharp and cold as steel. She stepped forward, her jaw tight, her hands curling into fists. Her voice came out in a semi-growl. “Tell him I will tear the prism from your grasp and throw it in the deepest lava pit I can find! Long after our bones are dust and ash, the walls of its prison will still be burning.”

Her breath came in hard, furious, uneven gasps.

“Now HELP. MY. FRIEND!”

Right beside Mizora, the little shadow snorted.

“Yeah, at least she's funny, I'll give you that.”

A moment passes. Mizzy’s smile falters.

Gale paled. "Jaheira, you—” His voice wavered, half a plea, half a desperate attempt at reason. "You couldn't possibly mean that! Do you have any idea what would happen if you— you must be bluffing—"

Jaheira’s lips retracted in a snarl, and she turned to him so fast the mage nearly stumble back. Her eyes burned with fury, her nostrils flaring, her whole body coiled tight with rage barely restrained.

"Do you really want to find out, Gale?" Her voice was low, dangerous — a warning between clenched teeth.

He swallowed hard, and the little shadow swallowed along. That was not a bluff.

“Wait— is she— is she serious?” She looked up to her other self, seeking for… something. Anything. Reassurance? “She'll doom us all!”

Then, after what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the mad Rashemi finally snapped free from the Absolute's grasp, and — praise the Nine — Jaheira took back the threats and stopped growling like a cornered wolf. Well, she didn’t take them back, exactly. She just… stopped adding new ones.

Mizzy let out a sharp, almost manic laugh, high-pitched and breathless, somewhere between relief, fear, and complete exasperation. "She would actually risk everything for one guy?? Are you fucking kidding me??"

She doubled over, wheezing through her laughter, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. "What an absolute lunatic! Oh, I love this, I really do. I think I’m finally starting to understand your tastes — never a dull moment with this one, hm?" With a wicked little grin, she elbowed her other self, the gesture full of impish amusement.

"Well! It seems that another legendary hero joins this sad little circus. And he comes with a hamster!" Mizzy smirked, arms behind her back as she tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Say, are you planning to snatch this one up too? Or are all the legendary hero slots in your little legendary hero wishlist already full?"

[rollinsland]

Truth and Mizzie have the Raw tag titles!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[princedevitt]

Truth Mizzy DIY and Finny omggg it’s mother con on RAW rn 🥰

[dev1lsadvocate]

One moment, the sky was hers. The next, a crushing force closed around her throat. Claws like iron sank deep into her flesh, stealing the air from her lungs. Wings flailed, desperate to stay aloft, but the weight pressing down on her made it impossible. Red eyes, seething with fury, burned into hers — eyes she knew too well. Her own, yet not. A hiss of rage slithered through clenched teeth, and panic clawed its way into her chest. She struggled, but the grip only tightened. The sky blurred, her vision tunneling, until she was hurled through the air.

No time to recover — Mizora was already upon her. A blur of movement, then a sharp, stunning impact against her stomach sent her reeling. Claws tore across her cheek, and the sky spun around her — the notions of above and below completely lost, just like her senses. Yet, she remained, the figment of magic made flesh to be torn apart by her own self.

Yes. Claw and pierce and tear — break and crush and shatter. Do as you must. Do as you yearn.

There were no words, but she knew the other could hear. Could feel. No words, no screams, no prayers. Only the wet, raw sound of flesh giving way and the bone-deep crack of something vital snapping under the pressure. And in the midst of it all, beyond the agony, beyond the white-hot burn of suffering that split through every nerve, there was...

Relief.

A sick, twisted kind of relief. As if the pain itself was some long-awaited release, peeling back layers of restraint like the rotten barks of a tree, exposing the core that had always lurked beneath. And oh, how it rushed forward now, surging into the wounds, filling the gaps, whispering in the blood pooling thick and warm between trembling fingers.

It’s all right now. I'm no mortal. You don’t have to hold back with me.

The other knew. On some level, she must have known.

Mizzy would have laughed — would have smirked and soaked in the righteous fury, the excuses, the justifications tumbling so fiercely from the other one's lips. She would have been proud. But now? Now, there was no humor in it. Only pain. But all that pain still didn't suffocate the sick, sinking weight curling in her gut.

Oh, if she just knew.

This time on the Material Plane, the harrowing brush with death at the hands of the mind flayers… Had she truly forgotten? Had she longed for Avernus so much that she let herself forget what awaited her there? The truth of it? Wasn't a shattered wrist enough of a reminder?

Zariel’s wrath wasn’t a story whispered among devils to keep them in line. It wasn’t a distant thing, lurking just out of reach. It was real, immediate, a blade always poised above the throat.

Oh, if she just knew…

...if she just knew how much Mizzy wanted to protect her.

The air burned.

She gasped, lungs raw, the heat of the spell searing through her ribs like molten metal. Fire swallowed her whole as an the violent force of impact, her body hurtling downward like a broken doll, the world rushing up to meet her in a brutal, bone-rattling embrace.

And even through the ringing in her ears, she heard it: The sound of wings cutting through the air. Fast. Precise. Hunting.

And then — impact.

The weight landed just before her, a shadow blocking out the light. Clawed fingers snatched at her dress collar, hauling her up, closer.

Her body lay in ruins.

Bones jutted at wrong angles, her limbs splayed, ruined. The weight of her own broken form pressed down, suffocating, the last remnants of blood leaking out of the wounds that could undo any mortal — and some immortal — being.

Mizora spat her anger, her question, and for what seemed like an eternity, there was no answer.

But then— movement.

A slow, awful shift.

The head twisted first, jerking unnaturally, vertebrae groaning like rusted hinges, the sickening crack of bone grinding against bone filling the silence. Her neck, bent too far, too wrong, snapped itself back just enough to face the cambion looming over her.

Dead, glassy black eyes met burning crimson.

She stared — not in defiance, not in anger, but in longing. Recognition.

Because there she was — the woman she should have been. The woman she had tried to be.

But she never would be.

And now, that woman was throwing it all away.

Everything she built, every sacrifice she made, every bloody step taken to claw her way to where she stood now — all of it. All for a mortal.

A mortal who, no matter how legendary, would simply wither and be swallowed by the sands of time. A name etched in history for a while, perhaps, but eventually forgotten like countless others before her, like countless more to come.

But Zariel’s wrath? That would never fade. It would outlast empires, outlast lifetimes, outlast even the memory of the one she risked everything for.

And still… she chose this.

Chose to stand in the storm, knowing she could never outrun it.

And hells, how knowing it hurt.

"I understand. A well-trained, obedient little hound? Boring. But a feisty stray feline with claws? Now that’s exciting. She’s got a spine, doesn’t roll over, makes you work for it — yes, yes, I think I see the appeal."

The voice scraped against the air like shattered glass grinding underfoot, layered with the eerie rasp of breath rattling through hollow, broken bones. Her lips never moved though. Not even a whisper escaped — but she didn’t need to speak. She knew the other could hear her. Could feel her. Just as clearly as if the words had been carved into the very air between them.

"But what do you think Zariel will do... when she finds out the nature of your new fondness?"

A faint, wavering silhouette peeled itself from the body like smoke unraveling from a dying flame. It had her shape, her outline, but it was empty — thin as mist, flickering like a shadow cast too far to the edge of candlelight. Its form quivered with each breath of air, as if a single whisper could scatter it to nothing.

Still, its hands rose, slow and uncertain, translucent fingers barely grazing Mizora’s blood-spattered skin. The touch was weightless, the sensation almost imagined, like a distant memory pressing against her flesh. It cupped her face so gently it was nearly imperceptible, a presence felt more in the absence of warmth than by any true contact. Fragile. Hollow. And yet, impossibly there.

"She's not like Wyll. You know that. Zariel values discipline, obedience — she sees the worth in a loyal, trainable soldier, one that can be molded from the ground up. But her? There’s no molding, no shaping an old cat that refuses to be tamed. This... Will cause us problems."

The voice wavered, unsteady, like a fraying thread on the verge of snapping. Its flickering form trembled, rippling like a candle flame caught in a cold draft, as if even the mere mention of Zariel’s name was too much to endure — too dreadful, too all-consuming to bear.

"Say whatever you want to the Lady of the First, try to argue that experience on the battlefield should count for something — that a general's mind could be an asset in the Blood War. But we both know that in her eyes, it makes no difference once you're in the kennels. She listens to no one other than herself..." The voice drops to a spiteful whisper as she added: "...and that stupid tressym."

The figure wavered, its outline distorting like a reflection on restless water before vanishing entirely for a moment. Then, from within the shattered remnants of its broken form, came a sharp, brittle snap — like dry branches giving way underfoot. A heartbeat later, the body itself began to crumble, fractures webbing across its ruined surface. Piece by piece, it collapsed in on itself, disintegrating into a fine, dark dust, scattering like salt caught in an unseen wind.

"She'll think you're a fool at best, insubordinate at minimum and a traitor at worst. And sooner or later, she will notice. The attachment. The... affection. A hound trained since youth has value. A rogue, unpredictable old lover, held back by a contract and whatever her feelings for you are? She’ll see it as a liability. A distraction. If not a straight-out weakness. And she won’t tolerate it."

The fragile silhouette flickered back into existence, this time further away — just at the edge of Mizora’s vision, where the shadows played tricks on the mind. It didn’t move, didn’t breathe, only loomed like a specter trapped between realms. And when it spoke, its voice was weaker than before, reduced to a threadbare whisper laced with dread, with a fear so thick it resonated in the air.

"She'll punish us. If we're lucky, she'll take her away. Or just destroy her entirely. If we're not..." A shaky breath, another desperate, fearful shiver. "And then everything — all of this, all of what we fought so hard to achieve in life — will have been for nothing."

"You know? Sometimes I think you overestimate the hag's usefulness."

She could not believe they were having that conversation again!

Mizora cast the little figment of imagination a dark and furious look. Her wings unfurled before they snapped down hard. The Cambion took to the air from where she was standing with all the barely suppressed rage of an adult dragon. Everything in her wanted to create an entire ring of fire, spread it across the tents and render the work the tadpole gang had done mute in minutes. All so this little, pestering parasite of her own stopped its whining!

Her wings billowed in the air as Mizora climbed above the treeline and disappeared into the chilling clouds. Her magic crackled underneath her skin in a restless fevour. While Mizora was not plagued by the strife a wild magic sorcerer had to fear due to their unstable magic, it did not mean that her shadow magic was any less comforting.

Even now, Mizora could feel her ascended form twist and coil underneath her corpse-blue skin. Salivating jaws yearned to chomp down on people and eradicate entire cities. The destruction was not very fiend-like and certainly not becoming of a devil if it was done without rhyme or reason. But then, loss was a coin flip. It did not care when and where it struck. And Shar was as fickle as any goddess of her calibre.

"You little shit cannot let this go, do you?!"

The moment her younger self materialised beside her midflight, Mizora dove towards her and caught her by the throat. Wings slapped back and forth hard to keep them afloat. Her claws dug deep into the dense flesh, only dense because she willed it so. Mizora hissed through clenched teeth, red eyes flashing with unbridled rage:

"You will never be satisfied! No matter how much I try to reassure you that I have a plan. No matter how many times I prove over and over that my targets give us the results we are after. Do you even have any clue what makes Jaheira such an excellent target? What makes her valuable?!"

She flung her younger self away from her before she dove after her once more. Mizora performed a sudden and precise loop forward, slamming the hooked end of her tail straight across her imaginary friend's belly, ripping open skin. Giving Mizzy barely enough time to keep her balance, she shot forward again, this time raking her claws across the other Cambion's cheek with such force her neck snapped backwards. Blood rained down the air and coated her fingers and tail end, cool and wet.

Saliva sprayed from Mizora's fangs as she shouted, "Jaheira may be an old warrior, but she is a living legend! Not just as a harper but as a defeater of Bhaalspawn. Plus it is clear she was in Avernus at least twice - and she lived to tell the tale! Stupid, disloyal Karlach idealises and worships her! She is what Wyll strives to be when he becomes older! Not every target has to be the typical rich, young nobleman who hungers for even more power or the poor farmboy who covets what he could never have! There is value in people with certain reputations. Jaheira is a living hero, someone who can shape the course of history! And now that living hero is mine!"

Her breathing turned faster and faster as the rage finally went from mere physical assault to magical too. Mizora rose both hands over her head before she slammed them forward and hurled a chromatic orb of blazing fire right at the younger Cambion. It exploded upon touching Mizzy's belly and catapulted her downwards, colliding with the ground hard. Mizora folded her wings ever so slightly as she shot down like a peregrine and landed right in front of her. Not even giving Mizzy the time to get to her feet, she grabbed the bruised and battered imaginary friend by her dress collar and leaned closer, a clawed hand flexing restlessly.

"I am so sick and tired of your constant whining!", Mizora spat, voice hoarse from her shouting. "How you little pest think that you know so much better than me in everything! You were not even that incessant with Wyll! Why is Jaheira so different for you? You know I always develop a certain fondness for my warlocks! I do so deliberately because it keeps them loyal to me. You never had a problem with that in the past. So again, why is Jaheira so different from all of them? And don't you dare come at me with your mocking song and dance! I actually want an honest answer from you."

[thedigitaltraphouse2]

By Myself - Khovu ft. Mizzy Raw

[mrramboapocalypse]

This Intercontinental Title fued is a rare example of a win win win situation where anyone of those three can leave Mania with the title, and the belt will be better off for it.

[brandontalkswrestling]

Okay, give a raise to everyone involved with that little video.

[themightychristoff]

I’m not a Miz fan, but him awarding Kurt Angle an award for “The Worst Decision By A RAW General Manager” is one of the best, most hilarious trolls/segments I’ve ever watched....

[lhcartoonist]

I love the miz and the shade he can throw. Takes a genius to do it so well and with such authenticity.

[yogabbagabba2194]

Time for our main event: The Mizzies

[stevetonyweekly]

Stevetony Weekly - December 18th

 Happy Sunday! Here’s what I’ve read this week. Enjoy and remember to leave your author comments/kudos. 

***Marks my recent favorites 

~*~ 

***Some Kind of Personal War by sara_holmes

And Tony realizes that working out who the Winter Soldier used to be and who he is now are two entirely different things.

***I'll Draw this Line (and hope you take my side.) by sara_holmes 

Steve Rogers is the Winter Soldier. He has his missions, he had his orders, he has his place in the world. If people would just stop reminding him about that time he was Captain America, it would be a lot easier to stay in that damn place.

Learning Curve by picturecat 

Freshly defrosted, Steve Rogers is the newest teacher at the Avengers Academy—an attempt to guide and teach the newest generation of heroes before they have to take on the burdens of their teachers. Steve himself has a lot of learning to do.

In The Meantime, In Between Time by nativemossy

Steve was born sickly, and by all realistic means he should have been dead. But he wasn’t, and that was precisely the problem.

He had been born a month and a half early, with asthma, a heart condition, and an irregularly bent spine, to begin with. That was followed by a bout of scarlet fever when he was eight, and a brush with death from rheumatic fever in his teens. These were interspersed with summer colds and winter flus, sometimes twice yearly. Into adulthood he had frequent stomach ulcers, and a case of pernicious anemia that required him to spend a significant portion of the little money he made on discounted liver at the butchers shop. Had anyone else had his cocktail of illness, they would be dead several times over.

Love me tinder. by captainstars

Anthony decides to set up a Tinder profile for his Dad. Greg Helps.

Or

"You've been busy, I had to take matters into my own hands." Anthony told him. "I don't want you to die old and alone dad. Or become grumpy like Jarvis."

"Why would I die alone when I have you to keep me company." Tony pouted.

"It's important to hang out with people your own age. Or at least that's what my homeroom teacher has been telling me." Anthony informed him, kicking a socked foot up.

so you could be king by mmtion

Tony is the rock star trying to regain the public's favour after his latest drug-induced disaster. Steve is the up-and-coming country music sensation, in over his head. Both of them are desperate.

Slut Era by BladeoftheNebula

Tony never meant to become the campus bicycle but since that was apparently what was expected of him he figured it was easier just to lean into it.

He just never expected Steve Rogers would ever want to take a ride.

Good Things to Those Who Wait by Annie D (scaramouche)

Tony assumed that after he and Steve got together, his heats would be more fun. He’s right, but he’s also wrong.

May This Be Love by lellabeth

Today will be a good day.

He’ll nod and he’ll smile and he’ll speak, and his voice won’t shake and his lips won’t tremble.

He’ll do well with the customers, he won’t hide behind the sleek chrome of the coffee machine.

He’ll pretend he doesn’t feel rubbed raw, doesn’t feel like a trapped nerve, doesn’t feel like his skin is too small and he’s about to burst out of it.

Today will be a good day.

Reasons To Be Thankful by WilmaKins

Well, an awkward reunion with the family is traditional at Thanksgiving.

So, it's probably as good a time as any for Tony to make his peace with the rest of Steve's team…

Indestructible Things by mechanicaljewel

Steve shows Tony a new use for the shield.

A Late-Night Snack, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

Love Is A Masquerade by Mizzy 

When the Avengers are invited to attend Tony Stark's Annual Masquerade Ball, Steve's hoping Iron Man will be there--after all, he can wear a mask and keep his identity secret. So when Steve recognizes Iron Man's distinctive thighs, Steve is SO sure he's found Iron Man's pilot... He's right, but not in a way Steve would ever have guessed...

***The Anniversary by nightwalker

Tony's not as bad at this relationship thing as he thinks he is. That's not to say he's exactly good at it either.

****Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

[rollinsland]

Sethie Jey Cody Tozawa and the rest of Alpha Academy NEW DAY ROCKS Mizzie Sami All the ladies And Becks and Indi's match made that Raw

[superbrett64]

I’m pretty sure sooner or later the Mizzie awards will be sold on WWE Shop sooner or later.

[theenbynightingale]

Rating Total Drama ships that showed up when playing with the generator! (Pt. 13)

Note: This might be the last one (for reals) because no one really notices these. Which means I might be speaking with no one right now :P

Amy and Harold (or Amarold): Harold deserves better. In fact, ANYONE deserves better than Amy. Fuck Amy. I ship Amy with a jail cell. Rating: 2/10

B and MacArthur (or BArthur): Only kept this one around because of the god-tier name. Rating: Gold/10

Chet and Duncan (or Chuncan): Yet another god-tier name. But not as god-tier as BArthur to make me excuse the fact that Duncan would get annoyed with Chet and Lorenzo’s shit real fast. Rating: 5/10

Emma and Anne Maria (or Emmaria): Thick thighs save lives. But seriously, I think they’d annoy each other quickly but would slowly start to warm up to each other. Maybe not enough for a ship but they wouldn’t hate each other like AM does with Jo (despite the fact that I actually ship them more for some reason). Rating: 6/10

Eva and Sanders (or Evers): Either Sanders has a thing for strong women with poor anger management problems or she’s just a bottom. Maybe she and Brick should be friends. What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. So I think Eva would be a bit too intense for Sanders. Or maybe that’s just because we saw way more of MacArthur than we did Eva. Rating: 5.5/10

Jen and Ella (or Jella): When the princess falls in love with her seamstress. Look, I’m just saying. The Fashion Bloggers are obviously gay. They’ve hung out with a prince. Jen knows what royalty dresses like and she would kill to find her the most elegant gowns. I’m spiraling at this point but I think they’d be cute, okay? Rating: 9.5/10

Jen and Josee (or Jensee): Well, if we can all ship Tom and Jacques, what about them? I say... Josee is fucking crazy. Too intense for Jen. Maybe we should ship Josee with Eva and they can destroy humanity together. Rating: 5/10

Jo and Amy (or Joamy): Again. Jo deserves better. Anyone. Deserves. Better. Than. Amy. Rating: 2/10

Miles and Izzy (or Mizzy): Izzy: *eats raw fish* Miles: *has a fucking meltdown* Rating: 4/10

Sky and Duncan (or Skuncan): Skuncan reminds me of a skunk. Which is appropriate because this stinks. Rating: 4/10

Sky and Stephanie (or Skyphanie): Either they would compliment each other very well or she would be too intense for each other. Actually, now that I think about it, Sky would be able to keep up with Stephanie. Rating: 7/10

Stephanie and Cody (or Stephody): Now they would not compliment each other well. She’d fucking kill him. Rating: 3/10

[youtappedout]

if your friends don't give you awards are they really your friend