#belle destroyer

[navybrat817]

Are any of the motocross guys into thigh riding?

Yes, nonnie! All of them are into thigh riding. Let's imagine just a little bit with our guys, shall we?

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune.

Steve - He rubs his hands up and down your sides and encourages you to move. He’s almost too handsome to look, but that deep timbre telling you to open your eyes is impossible to ignore. His expression is one of bliss as you move faster and your forehead touches his, a bit of affection mixed with the naughty act.

The perfect mix for the two of you.

Bucky - He lays back slightly with a smirk and watches as you go to town. You may narrow your eyes if he grabs your hips and tries to control your pace, but you love it when his fingers dig in and guide you. You also love it when he shoves his leg up so that the wet spot on his pants gets bigger. 

But what you love the most is how he tells you how beautiful and amazing you are before he kisses you.

Ari - He wants to stay close to you, so he keeps a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head so he can pull you in deep kisses. His voice is like gravel when he tells you how good you are, how pretty you are when you let go. He may rub his beard along your neck before his lips find yours again. 

Because he loves feeling those sweet sounds vibrate on his tongue.

Hal - Since you’re a bit on the shyer side, he’s happy to go at your pace. It’s slow, gentle, and he can’t help but moan when you tremble. He places a hand on your cheek so you can’t look away when he says how gorgeous you are. How you’re a goddess. That you’re the only one he sees.

Both of you figure out pretty quickly that his praise goes straight to your core.

Jake - Oh, this man can still hardly believe you’re his most days. So he lays back and can’t decide where to put his hands. Maybe your breasts since he loves the weight of them in his hands. No, your ass. He can grip it and help you grind on his thigh. Oh, maybe your hips. Your thighs? 

He touches you everywhere and you’re more than happy to let him.

Chris - He doesn’t like any space between the two of you and shifts so his chest is against yours. You gasp when brings his thigh up over and over as he brings your hips down. It’s filthy, like he’s actually fucking you, but he tenderly mouths along your jaw with words he longs to say out loud. 

And he holds you after like he’s going to lose you.

Curtis - He has to keep from smirking when you grip his shoulders and rock your hips. It’s not like he means to make it a challenge when he says you can’t get off on his thigh, but he likes riling you up. And he only buries his face in your chest since it’s right there and has nothing to do with that sweet perfume he claims he can’t stand. He may even bite down when you climax.

So you don’t forget that you’re his girl you came on his thigh.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[warlocks-and-phoenixes]

Since I’m writing a prequel to As The Bells Toll, it made me realize that it’d probably make sense to actually show yall where, on the maps, my version of the DWs are each from. Because the words “southerners” “khasian” “scalesians” and “ northerners” Actually Don’t Tell You Anything.

Sooooooo here

Where Each Was Born:

Irene - a village known to her as Windyr, evolved into Scaleswind

Shad - a neighboring village called Kalnyr, no longer exists

Esmound - O’Khasis

Enki - An island chain known to him as Vanrfjörd, later renamed after him

Kulzak - Port Raiya, an island-town in the Gold Sea

Menphia - a farming town in the Corsan (Tu’lian) countryside, named Cortézara

Where They Met:

Esmound and Kulzak met, for the first time, in Provencia

Irene and Shad met in a village there-abouts of where the Scalesian Guard Academy is, now

The two of them then met Esmound in O’Khasis

Those three met Menphia and Enki in Vasilyr

And finally, all five of them met Kulzak again in Taravan

[doctorslippery]

Herbie Crespo

[wildlyfamousmusic]

[rolandrockover]

Do You Love Goodbyes?

Oh, another one of those songs that uses and recycles the end of another one.

You can't even turn around without them reappearing behind your back. It's starting to remind me of that game you usually encounter at fairgrounds where you're handed a padded striking tool. And in front of you on a predetermined playing surface are half a dozen to a dozen holes, from which mechanically automated cylinders painted like small animals appear and disappear again in a highly irregular manner, which you then have to hit on the head as quickly as possible. Whack-a-Mole, yes, that's exactly what it's called! To be honest, it's a pretty cruel game that I've never once felt the need to play in my entire life, but it always offers a suitable comparison. It's also far too exciting for me and I'd rather play camel rally anyway, but even that I've never played. Well, what else can I say?

I'd better get back to the music, because this time, fortunately and for once, it's not just the rattling off of a drastic high-octane ending that hits the brakes, but rather the expansion of the sonically colorful finale of the last track on Destroyer. We're talking of course about the brilliantly culminating bell harmonies on Do You Love Me (1).

And since these are so beautiful in and of themselves, what could possibly and hopefully be created out of them that are just as beautiful? Maybe a song from one of the solo albums? Paul's has always been good for more or less pleasant surprises, so why not this time? I'll tell you something, we're lucky today, and please say hello to Goodbye.

Side Note:

(1) Or should it be a well-accented piano? Half the fan world always talks about bells when they talk about Do You Love Me, I hope you can see how this can get confused, even though I love those harmonies at the end.

If you want to hear Paul give himself the world's most beautiful send-off after his own question for love, then, you've probably already guessed it, please press the play button. Do You Love Me is highlighted, and Goodbye just starts:

Do You Love me (1976)

Goodbye (1978)

[eyeofthetoto]

You know what would fix me? A good, hearty stew. Not goth girls nor femboys, not even la lego star destroyer can fill the hole that fits a good, hearty stew.

I'm talking potatoes, carrots, beef, leek, onions, cabbage, bones, garlic, maybe even some bell peppers? You knoe what I mean?

Holy shit.

[nellasbookplanet]

I don’t have very many specific predictions for Downfall (Brennan, if you give me a young Inevitable End I will die of joy on the spot) but something I do suspect is that there will be a vibe similar to the death of Bor'dor.

Here’s what I mean with this: Bor'dor's death was a tragedy. He was a sad, traumatized man who’d had his pain manipulated against him by a cult. In a perfect world he would've gotten help, been deradicalized, not killed in a horrifying manner. There very well may have been better ways of handling the situation that wouldn’t have led to his end; by killing him, Laudna went off the deep end and has since only kept going downward. But here's the thing: no matter how tragic, Bor'dor was the agressor, not the victim. He was a member of a cult that has killed countless innocents. He has himself killed for the sake of this cult. He lied to the bells hells with the full intention of attacking and killing them if given the chance. They weren’t at fault for harshly defending themselves against not only an agressor, but an agressor part of an organisation seeking what may be a second calamity.

I joke about Aeor being an evil, weapons-of-mass-destruction creating hellhole, but its fall was a tragedy. The death of a civilisation is always going to be a tragedy. Even the most evil city in the world is going to have innocents, civilians, children. Striking the entire city down is a horrific act that shouldn’t have happened, but Aeor were the ones seeking to develop a weapon to kill not only the Destroyers but also the Primes, who were allies of mortals, trying to save Exandria. The gods struck out harshly and should perhaps have sought another solution, but they were ultimately acting defensively. Aeor were the ones seeking a weapon to kill their own allies in the war against the Destroyers. Their fall was tragic and avoidable, but that doesn't mean they weren’t in the wrong and ultimately the architects of their own end.

[talonabraxas]

The Feminine Mystery

In Tantra the woman is sacred.

“For some she came in a dream. For others in words as clear as a bell: it is time, I am here. She may come in a whisper so loud she can deafen you or a shout so quiet you strain to hear. She may appear in the waves or the face of the moon, in a red goddess or a crow.”

Lucy H. Pearce, Burning Woman

In Tantra SHAKTI, “the cosmic feminine force”, is raised to the position of Divine Mother who sustains the Universe and all the beings, the multiple manifestation of gods (the angelic entities).

It is called UMA, The Virgin, in its primordial hypostasis that precedes the Universal creation. In this case SHAKTI is the highest peak of all worlds, pure and untouchable. Once it manifests the universe, SHAKTI becomes the maintainer of space and time and all subtle and physical worlds.

In its final hypostasis she is the destroyer, KALI, the one who absorbs into the divine everything that is incomplete and limited in order to prepare a new Creation. KALI wants to make the entire manifestation to have an evolutionary sense.

[ltwilliammowett]

Tom Whiskers on duty on the USS Relief, 1921

Tom is quite a rascal as Philippa Sandall stated in her book Seafurrers. It happened in December 1919 when this cat was away from his ship, the hospital ship USS Solace, and its crew wrote to the destroyer USS Bell to accuse them of a serious case of catnapping. Here are the two letters that were exchanged to settle this serious case:

December 13, 1919

From: Commanding Officer, USS Solace

To: Commanding Officer, USS Bell

Subject: Ship's Cat

Several members of the crew of this ship have informed me the commanding officer that the mascot of the Solace, Thomas Whiskers, has been kidnapped or catnipped [sic] by certain members of your crew and is being impounded on board your ship. This mascot is a large, black Tom and when last seen was in dress uniform consisting of a leather collar with brass tag marked USS Solace.

If this cat is on board your ship, please inform me and I will send a member of the crew for it.

RWP

-

From: Commanding Officer, USS Bell

To: Commanding Officer, USS Solace

Subject: Your letter of Dec. 13, 1919

Your ship's cat "Whiskers" is being returned under guard, but an explanation of his presence aboard the ship is no doubt due you.

Prior to our departure from alongside the Solace, the cat in question developed a warm regard for the USS Bell, consequently spending much of his time aboard. On the morning we shifted berth his presence aboard was unknown to us. Later in the day after your ship had sailed, he was found to have taken possession of an unoccupied stateroom. The master-at-arms immediately made him prisoner on the ground that he was a stowaway and incarcerated him in the paint locker. This will account for the fact that he is no longer the black cat you describe, but battleship grey.

We advise against the removal of this collar since its low visibility aids the performance of his duties.

In regard to the dress uniform worn by the prisoner – in his attempts to remove the paint he pulled off the collar and lost it. This ship feels under no obligation in regard to the latter. In adding one 10¢ collar to its stores it lost $2 worth of paint.

But he didn't seem to have stayed on the ship for long, so a short time later he found himself 1921 on the USS Relief, where he was clearly happy and diligent in his duties. Maybe he just wasn't a hospital cat and wanted to see active duty.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Rough and Rowdy Ways

Day #22 - AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Van Tour, Known Destroyers of Hotels, Motel Desk Clerk Steve Harrington, Meet Cute

One more dingy room, one more motel that's just a little more rundown than the last. It's been a long few years on the road, each one getting harder and harder. They have upswings, and downswings, and right now, they're definitely down. Playing smaller venues in the middle of fucking nowhere, more often than not. 

They aren't famous, more infamous than anything, because there's been a few incidents over the years that have put them in the papers for less than flattering reasons.

Damages, lawsuits. 

Rough and rowdy.

Assholes.

That's the name they've made for themselves. Gareth is still on probation from the last hotel trashing, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, making all the major chains put the kibosh on them staying anywhere decent for the near future.

Most of them have their pictures hanging up, like they're outlaws. 

Eddie sees an old, falling apart neon sign with an arrow promising a motel. He's not sure it'll still be there. It's a toss-up, for sure, as shitty as that sign looks. 

But when they see the gravel turn-off, there is a solitary car sitting in the parking lot. Something that looks too nice, too expensive, for a place like this. 

But, they'll have to try their luck and see if they can slide under the radar, pay cash, give fake names, and go unnoticed. Move on down the road tomorrow. 

There's a guy sitting behind the desk, and he looks out of place in this shitty, unkempt place. He's very kempt. The most kempt person Eddie's seen in days.

Gareth immediately rings the bell, and Eddie wants to throttle him. That's never a good way to make a first impression. And they are the ones needing something here. 

"One room, please," Gareth says. 

The guy looks them up and down, and then shrugs. Pulling two sets of keys off a peg behind the desk. 

He has pretty eyes. Very pretty eyes, pretty everything, really.

"Twenty dollars. Room four," he offers, like he doesn't give a shit if they burn the place down. Maybe he doesn't care. "Name?"

"Edward Jones," Gareth says, mashing their names together.

"Sure you are," the guy says, and they both look at each other, "just sign here."

"What's that mean?" Gareth asks.

"Edward D. Jones? The financial advisors?"

It's not ringing a bell. They carry their money in a duffle bag. They definitely don't have any advisors.

"Coincidence," Gareth says, and Eddie thinks it might actually be, because he's not sure Gareth would know that either. 

"Checkout is at noon," he says, and then picks back up the book he was reading.

Transaction over.

Eddie paces the room, and the rest of them are getting annoyed. Goodie has already kicked him twice as he's walked by, and Gareth is sassing him.

Just. That guy. Steve, his name tag said, but that might have been as fake as Edward Jones.

"I'm gonna go get ice," Eddie declares, and the rest of them all seem to sigh in relief that he and his nervous energy are leaving the room.

Eddie carries the cheap plastic ice bucket up to the counter, "Steve?"

Steve looks up, so maybe that is his real name.

"Where's the ice machine?"

"It's broken," Steve answers.

"Oh. Damn," Eddie says, leaning up on the counter, trying to encroach on his personal space, just a little. Steve doesn't back up, not an inch, which is impressive. This usually works to make people uncomfortable. "I really need some ice. It's so hot."

Steve is looking at him, straight in the eyes, "Is that so?"

Eddie smiles, and isn't sure what he expects might happen, but he'll shoot his shot. There's no harm in it, he'll never see this guy again, come tomorrow.

"I have an ice machine in the back, if you want me to get you some. It's not really for the guests."

"Well, I appreciate that. I won't tell any of the other guests," Eddie says, a little sarcastic, because he's pretty sure nobody else is here.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grabs the brown bucket, pulling it across the counter and disappears through the open door behind him. 

Eddie follows.

He's pretty sure he's not supposed to, but Steve didn't tell him to wait at the counter.

Steve lifts the lid and grabs the metal scoop, filling the bucket. When he turns, he catches sight of Eddie and the bucket goes flying, ice spilling all over the floor.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" Eddie says, holding his hands up, just realizing that he may look threatening. He forgets that sometimes. "I'm not, I won't. Fuck. I'm sorry."

And then Steve laughs, a nervous giggle that makes Eddie smile, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking. I'm a musician. Eddie."

"Jones?" 

Eddie laughs, "Munson. That's my best friend, Gareth Jones. A coincidence, I think."

And Steve smiles, just a little, "Okay, just. This place brings in the freaks and weirdos," Steve says.

And Eddie points at himself, eyebrows raised.

"Little bit," Steve teases, and Eddie grins.

"Let me help you pick up the ice," Eddie offers, getting down on his hands and knees, swiping it all towards himself. Then Steve is standing over him with a broom.

"This might be more efficient," Steve says, sarcastically and Eddie laughs as Steve sweeps up the mess.

Eddie's palms are black from the floor. And somehow it's not the dirtiest place they've ever stayed.

"Is there a sink?" Eddie asks, showing Steve his palms, and Steve nods towards the little bathroom off the breakroom.

There are personal items all over the sink, and a small, corner shower. Does Steve live here? Eddie suspects someone does, if it isn't him.

Steve is leaning in the open doorway, watching him, but in a curious way, not in a suspicious way, Eddie thinks. Which is good. Great.

"Do you live here?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve says, smirking.

"Wanna run away and be a roadie?"

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[revisitingfandoms]

Idea 14- Bride of shadow Milk

“I bet no one would ever love a monster such as him.”

“I bet he wouldn’t even treat his partner well.”

He would feel his annoyance and distaste and perhaps even anger grow at those comments before it came to him with a wild grin, “A bride”

Elder Faerie’s face went ghastly as a number of others in the area paled, White Lily only half aware replied, “A bride?” 

Shadow Milk grinned, almost looming, “A bride, they neither have to be a woman or just anyone of the female spectrum, I say Bride because it is the best word to describe what I want, and that is a willing bride to marry me.” The escaping giggles only dimming the atmosphere more, “And note I say willing, not interfering with the choice of who makes the decision. Oh, and I won’t take any of that sacrificing bullshit.” He lets out a little whistle, “Toodle~!”

Before disappearing. 

In the remaining chaos with numbers of fairies willing to volunteer to act as a sacrifice for the greater good- all against what the beast had spoken, one blonde contemplates and makes a silent decision. 

He doesn’t speak to any of the others of his decision, he knows what they speak, they would seek to dissuade him in his choice- but..

(He was the former holder of truth and its greatest liar, and he is oh-so familiar with the light of truth- with shadow milk.)

(Whether or not the beast remembers or recalls or buries in the back of his mind- Pure Vanilla knows things- secrets that the beast had whispered in moments of silence and solitude.)

(This is not an act of sacrifice- not an act of giving up everything to be a protector as everyone else would have called it- nor was it an act of redemption as some would have you believe.)

(No this was act of truth- of pure vanilla instead of burying himself with hurt and pain and deceiving others, he sought his other half to speak in whispers of truth.)

(He sought for the truth of actions- to find out what they were to each other- if they are enemies, replacement and replaced, hero and villain, Jester and king, healer and destroyer.)

(He wishes to seek if he can break these roles.)

Of all things, shadow milk had considered, for some reason he’d never thought- never consider Pure vanilla would be before him in his newly reclaimed territory. 

He’d specifically put a barrier around the area- trapping those damned faeries who thought they would be a sacrificial bride- yet of all people, its the one who he damn well knows would give his life in the first choice. 

Oh pure vanilla, just how much more interesting you have become.

He grins as slanters down from his throne to the waiting blonde.

(He didn’t come dressed in that king attire of his- no pointed cone crown-hat, no long white robes or waffle shoulder bearings, Pure vanilla doesn’t even bring that staff of his- No the flower is curled around the man's wrist as he walks in.)

(The outfit he bares- the tattered brown robes tided with rope, blonde hair halfway messy, stumbling and tripping and-)

(Something shifts instead him as the realization comes over him- no lies, no hidden agendas.)

(Pure vanilla came for the truth- no shields, no barriers and no differences.)

He less vicious as he comes down the stairs, “I see now, I’ll admit, I was caught off guard when you of all people arrived here first.” He touches pure vanilla check as the other tenses at the sudden touch. 

He leans over and whispers into others ear, “Now then, my dear, my bride, my pure vanilla.” He interlocks a hand forcefully with the other, “May we bound to the flames of the oven. I do my dear.”

The bell rings its toll, whether it be in celebration to union or the mourning of the actions taken this night is unknown.

But the whisper of Pure Vanilla is all the more damning.

“I do.” 

Is the whisper. And the beast grin only widens.

(Sorry for the late post! I've had exams, being sick and a bunch of other bullshit to deal with :p)

(But anyways- your bride of shadow milk.)

[navybrat817]

Miss Navy, which of the motocross guys are morning people, afternoon people, and evening people?

Love this question, nonnie. ❤️

Early morning - Steve 

Early runs or getting some laps in, he's one of the first guys up. It sets the tone of the day. Even better if he catches Daisy out and about. Maybe they can get a coffee or breakfast together? 

Late morning - Ari

Like Steve, Ari likes to exercise a bit earlier in the day, but he's content to stay in bed just a little bit longer. If Sweetart is beside him, he may not find a reason to leave. 

Afternoon - Hal

Usually when the temperature climbs for the day and sun is shining bright so Hal can lose his shirt. He'll gladly take it off for Belle and perform mundane tasks that way. 

Late afternoon - Bucky

It's when Bucky gets his second wind, usually after relaxing with a book if he can. Spitfire isn't surprised when he wants to get busy during that time either and it's lots of fun before dinner.

Early Evening - Chris

Chris loves to watch the sun go down and reflect on the day. Snuggling up with Kitten to watch the view is evening better.

Evening - Curtis

He doesn't mind the darkness, especially if the stars are out. And some nights he just can't sleep. Maybe Princess could help with that. 

Depends on the day - Jake

Morning, afternoon, evening, it all depends on his energy and mood. Lucky knows this and goes with the flow. 

Love and thanks! ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your grandmother waits for you on the porch. She has a book in hand as she sits on the wooden swing, nose scrunched beneath the wire of her glasses. She looks up as you near the bottom of the steps, the wagon rolling and rattling loudly behind Chris.

“Gramma,” you’re nearly breathless as you step up on the lowest step, “I got the groceries.”

She looks up over the frames of her glasses and closes her book. She clears her throat as she sets it beside her on the flat cushion and fixes the kinks around her ears. She stands with her slight hunch and tugs at the front of her handspun blouse.

“And who’s this?” She preens, “I wasn’t expecting company, sir.”

“Um,” you hesitate, waiting for him to answer. He doesn’t, “this is Chris?”

“Chris, ma’am,” he echoes at last, “I’m new around here. Just bought some property down the way. Wanted to come by and say thanks for that pie. Lucky me, we ran into each other in town.”

“Oh, gosh, that is so sweet,” she fawns as she comes to the top of the stairs, “I’m Sadie, I hope you enjoyed the pie. I didn’t have much left in the pantry, I know rhubarb’s not for everyone.”

“It was delicious,” he pushes the handle up and lets it stand on its own, “please, don’t trouble yourself.” He steps past you up the stairs, “very nice to meet you at last. I’ve heard a lot from your granddaughter.”

He offers his hand and she takes it gently. They shake as she smiles. “You have?”

“Please, sit,” he insists and gestures her back to the swing. 

“Oh, thank you,” she swoons, “I just had my hip done, you see? Only just back on my feet.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came by, isn’t it? Looks like you two could use a spare pair of hands.”

“Um, I’ll get the groceries inside–”

“So, you two… talk?”

“Yeah, she was nice enough to deliver that pie and I guess we just hit it off. She didn’t say?” Chris sits beside her. You watch, dumbfounded. What is he talking about?

“No, she didn’t say she was sneaking off with some handsome man,” your grandmother trills.

“You are too nice, Sadie,” he grins, “I didn’t even get a chance to ask her out… you know, I know things are real old-fashioned around here so I thought I better check with you first.”

“Me? Oh, of course, of course!” She nearly claps her hands as she clasps them together, “my granddaughter… it’s about time she went out and had some fun. The dear helps me out so much–”

You grab a bag from the wagon and keep your chin down. Really? She doesn't call it help when you're alone. She tells you you're nagging or useless or irritating.

Chris clears his throat, “so I have your blessing?”

“Oh, certainly you do,” she squeals, “oh, honey, that’s so adorable.”

You look up as you climb the steps. Your stomach is doing somersaults. You can tell she’s already hearing bells. He has her in the palm of his hand and why not? She's only ever wanted you to finish the job your mother left undone. She wants someone she can boast about to the ladies at the quilting club.

“Woah, woah,” Chris stands as he glances over, “let me get that.” He stands and strides past your grandmother’s knees, “I’ll get everything sorted and you ladies can take it easy.”

“Now, that is just too much, sir.”

“It’s not enough,” he insists as he takes the bag from you, “Sadie, please call me Chris.”

“Chris,” she repeats, “you are a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“Well, you know, it’s why I left the city. People don’t got much manners anymore. Out here, you all are so nice,” he turns and nears the front door, “can I get you something, Sadie? Water, tea?”

“I’m just fine, honey,” she chimes, “my, my, been so long since we had a man around to help.”

He nods and lets himself in through the screen door. You chew your lip and furrow your brow as he disappears inside. Your grandmother hisses your name.

“Dear, come here,” she points you next to her, “you didn’t say he was so handsome.”

“Gramma,” you groan as you drag your feet towards her.

“Oh, don’t you spoil this,” she grabs your wrist and tugs you down, “we’re gonna fix up one of your old dresses, do your hair nice…” she starts to pick at you.

“Gramma,” you drone again, “please–”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re a pretty young lady and he’s…” she makes a face, “well, isn’t he a certain kind. Never saw no men in my days with a jawline like that.”

You try not to cringe, forcing a smile again, “alright.”

“Try to be a little excited, dear! It’s your first date,” she exclaims, quickly tamping down her voice as the door opens squeakily. 

She giggles and watches Chris as he goes to haul two more bags from the wagon. You watch him sheepishly and he looks over, sending you a grin that neatly hides away the sinister gleam in his eyes. You swallow and focus on your fidgeting hands as he once more passes through the front door.

“It’s not too late for you,” she pets your cheek and you flinch, “why don’t you go inside and ask him to stay for dinner.”

You stand and don’t say a word. As you go to the door, you hesitate. Your grandmother was never so happy about anything you did. No, but a complete stranger can walk up and have her singing his praises with just a ma’am and a smile.

[moon-is-a-cryptid]

A spicy challenge ❤️‍🔥

Warning: some language

Terms used: the word wife and the word Mrs. Otherwise gender neutral

While kirishima has a Pre-Work out brand I think Bakugou would definitely have a Hot-sauce brand (coming from this post by @scandalous-writing I saw a few weeks ago)

To say that katsuki’s hot sauce is hot is an UNDERSTATEMENT

“spark up your flavor with CryBaby hot sauce, hot enough to make fire feel cold” the advertisement would ring out

And that it did make fire feel cold. It would burn your tastebuds off, make a grown man cry, he has some milder flavors because his PR team reamed him about not wanting to loosen up on the spice scale for kids who wanted to be like dynamite and use hot sauce. Most places who have a spicy food challenge would use Katsukis hot sauce. And Katsuki would make sure he was on the ‘champion’ wall of the restaurant.

Despite his thoughts on the fact kids should be able to handle the regular spice he refuses to let you try his hot sauce, he tells you it’s because he doesn’t want to see you hurt (at least that’s what he says, In all honesty he doesn’t think you can handle it) and he’s only get you his mild flavor. so after months and months of begging him to let you try it he finally gives. Katsuki would take you to his favorite ramen restaurant that he knows uses his Hot sauce.

After you two sit down, you order the challenge bowl, this bowl was pork ramen made with Katsukis spiciest hot sauce ‘tongue destroyer’ and came with a glass of water, a glass of milk and the finish bell to signify you were done at any point. The rules were you just had to finish the bowl without going to the hospital, and under an hour. Once the bowl was placed in front of you, you look up at Katsuki who has a sly smirk on his face “you can’t back out now dumbass” he would let out in a gruff voice.

You narrow your eyes and pick up your chopsticks, the ramen is so spicy that your nose lowkey burns, you stare him right in the eyes as you begin to dig into the bowl. Katsuki watches, his face settling back into his usual frown, as you finish the bowl with ease, taking sips of water here and there not bothering to touch the milk. 30 minutes goes by when you set your chopsticks down, pick up the bowl and drink the broth. ringing the bell to signify that you were finished and setting the bowl on the table, wiping your mouth off from any broth that was left you look Katsuki in the eyes “Definitely can’t back out now, can I Suki?” His jaw drops as his eyes flick from you to the bowl. A smirk spreads across his face, “I’ve got one hell of a wife don’t I?”

Your picture would be next to Katsukis on the wall, Katsuki would take you to every restaurant he is on just so he could have your picture up next to his (along with the very small amount of pictures of people who defeated the challenge) and when the Paparazzi caught the wind of you two trying challenges together, You and Katsuki had your faces plastered on covers as you two were sharing a challenge ramen bowl

“MR AND MRS DYNAMITE, QUITE LITERALLY THE SPICIEST HERO COUPLE”

See RiotRage for kirishimas pre-workout

See Smittens coffee for some shinsou fluff and shinsous brand

Take a peak at the Masterlist if you’re interested

[santoschristos]

The Feminine Mystery

In Tantra the woman is sacred.

“For some she came in a dream. For others in words as clear as a bell: it is time, I am here.

She may come in a whisper so loud she can deafen you or a shout so quiet you strain to hear. She may appear in the waves or the face of the moon, in a red goddess or a crow.”

--Lucy H. Pearce, Burning Woman

In Tantra SHAKTI, “the cosmic feminine force”, is raised to the position of Divine Mother who sustains the Universe and all the beings, the multiple manifestation of gods (the angelic entities).

It is called UMA, The Virgin, in its primordial hypostasis that precedes the Universal creation. In this case SHAKTI is the highest peak of all worlds, pure and untouchable. Once it manifests the universe, SHAKTI becomes the maintainer of space and time and all subtle and physical worlds.

In its final hypostasis she is the destroyer, KALI, the one who absorbs into the divine everything that is incomplete and limited in order to prepare a new Creation. KALI wants to make the entire manifestation to have an evolutionary sense.

[utilitycaster]

Hey, so can you explain to me the difference between the gods taking down Aeor and Ludinus destroying Molaesmyr? I’ve read some pro-Ludinus takes and, at least the ones I’ve read, seem to forget Molaesmyr. I feel like Ludinus and the gods did the same thing but for different reasons. The gods wanted to save themselves and at the same time (maybe I read it wrong) tried to find other ways to take down The Factorum Malleus with minimal casualties. Ludinus, according to his notes in episode 58 of c3 hoped “a channel of consciousness could be opened and perhaps whatever is seeking his attention from the red moon can bring clarity and purpose.” But that didn’t happen. He caused poisonous fumes, miasma, to happen and it killed a lot of people. A lot of people who are pro-Ludinus (at least the ones I’ve read) always bring up the innocents of Aeor and how awful it it that they died because of the gods actions, but what about the innocents in Molaesmyr? The ones Ludinus killed? They both brought down citys. So, what’s the difference? I could totally be wrong, but every time I read Ludinus lovers takes I feel like I lose brain cells.

Hi anon,

I can't say I've avoided ascribing intent to other fans in the past, nor that I don't at times speculate (see: the Laudna ask from last night) but I cannot answer the question of why other people might gloss over Ludinus's destruction of Molaesmyr. I think it's fair to say these are very different situations in terms of intent of the destroyers, number of survivors, innocence and intent of the city itself, and lasting effects; I personally would say "Ludinus Da'leth has no moral high ground re: destroying a city," but some people wouldn't. You would have to ask them.

I did want to use this opportunity, however, to sort of explore my sticking point re: people in favor of Ludinus because what gets me in the end is I can't find any like...narrative or moral throughline. I don't think I've seen anyone at this point say that he's right, is the problem; the people who are in his favor still have him joining Bells Hells as a redemption arc.

I find a lot of the fans of Ludinus believe that the gods should leave. They downplay the threat of Predathos and the vast harm Ludinus himself has done; wildly overstate the harm done to Ruidusborn (and ignore that a lot of the contemporaneous harm towards Ruidusborn is specifically directed at the Vanguard, a cultish army), and make unsupported assumptions regarding the positions of the gods re: Laudna; they overstate the power of Vasselheim; and generally have either a tenuous grasp on the lore or a shameless willingness to fabricate support for their claims. However, outside of the occasional banal "idk maybe it would be interesting if a god got eaten!" post, pretty much everyone stops short of actually fully siding with him.

This, to be clear, is good, because he really has been an architect of such war and destruction and abuses of power within Exandria over the past several centuries that it's fairly unconscionable to do so. The thing is, this leaves us with an interesting conundrum: how does the campaign end? Does Ludinus just. step down? Does he start killing the Vanguard? Does he undo the harm he's done to the weave of magic? What happens to the Weave Mind? Do they become the enemy? If your clear and present BBEG just flips sides, and his larger goal is one you think is kind of okay...where does that leave us? What does this look like? What happens to the gods then when the guy trying to kill them just gives up? Is there any resolution to any of the story beats? Like, what is the ending of this story when Ludinus is on Bells Hells' side?

It's honestly the eternal fix-it fic/What if the Villain could be GOOD problem. I'm not saying there can't be compelling stories about redemption and healing - obviously there can be - but sometimes a fictional character really isn't built to make sense of a narrative of redemption and healing. I don't think Ludinus is built like that. The story kind of unravels around him if he does not see his purpose of a thousand years through to the bitter end. I'm not saying it's impossible; a simultaneous strength and weakness of actual play is that the unexpected can happen because of player choice and particular dice rolls, and sometimes the unexpected is brilliant and sometimes it really isn't.

I find myself with the following two hypotheses. They are only educated guesses; they are not confirmed in any way.

Ludinus Da'leth is, in a way, Matt exploring the terrifying question "what if someone who subscribes to the politics of bitterness and revenge happened to also be intelligent and competent." I hesitate to draw direct comparisons to such figures as, say, Trump, or Elon Musk, but there is something in how Ludinus is played that evokes that base desire to destroy something because you found it insulted you (especially if it wasn't even after you personally), and dedicating your power and resources to taking it over, even if that is a joyless endeavor that destroys you in the process.

I think a lot of fans of Ludinus Da'leth are terrified of being wrong, either morally or in terms of their predictions; ironically this leads to a tendency to hedge to the point of incoherence as seen above such that I think it's impossible for them to ever be correct in their predictions other than in the most tangential or obvious (ie, everyone is predicting this) ways.

Anyway: this didn't really answer your question for the reasons given but I hope this explores why, in my mind, it kind of doesn't matter.