#the profits would have been made once upon a time not today

[goldenrubymandrake]

JKR spends her millions of dollars Harry Potter fans like you give her even by just platforming her shit to fund transphobic bills and politicians in the UK

You cannot separate art from the artist in the case of Harry potter

Just say you love shitty children's books more then you care about trans safety and leave

Books literally have nothing to do with trans safety.

There are literally so many books in the world with controversial themes with famous authors that have their stories still being enjoyed today.

Yes, you can separate politics from stories rarely easily.

Perhaps the book was bought or was given to you years ago before you noticed the themes in them.

So what Merge do you actually have to buy to enjoy a story that you already had the book of.

What profits are being made by me personally if there's no Merge being bought.

Enjoying a story does not mean enjoying any bigotry that may of been around when a book was based or from who the author is.

It is understanding that, yes, the author may think this but but we, the readers, don't have to agree with any bigotry in the book to enjoy the underlining themes and plot there.

To negate so many factors of the stories that have been written and not making even the attempt to understand the other point of view makes you seem quite the fool.

[drunkkenobi]

Today I’m thinking about three guys. Thinking about how they all had hands in creating concepts and videos that made the company they worked for famous. Thinking about how, despite that, they weren’t allowed to own what they created. Thinking about how their two biggest series were threatened to be taken away from them and given to more popular (whiter) hosts. Thinking about how they nearly burned out and faded away, but an idea lit a fire under them instead. Their own company, where they could have full creative control, where nothing could be taken away from them, where no one could tell them there wasn’t the editing budget for a show that was already written. Thinking about how they started it in secret, with no business knowledge. Thinking about how one of them took it upon himself to learn everything he could about running a business. How he knew it would mean putting his own creative pursuits on hold just to support his co-founders. How he did it anyway.

Thinking about how they announced their company to the world, with a shocking surprise. Thinking about how the world delivered its own shocking surprise back to them a few short months later in the form of a global pandemic. Thinking about how their company was almost strangled in its crib, how they thought it was DOA, how everything they worked so hard for was almost gone. Thinking of how, instead, it survived. Thinking of how they pivoted, how they threw everything they could at the wall, and while not everything stuck, the things that did kept them going. How they took every cent they made and put it back into the business by hiring fellow creatives and weirdos and investing in their future. Thinking of how they kept taking gambles, by taking the series that made two of them famous and making it their own. Thinking of how if that series had failed, it would have taken the company down with it and how they went for it anyway.

Thinking about how the CEO talked openly over the years about how he missed his old co-host, how hard it was to find that spark again. Thinking about how he focused on running the business instead of finding his own creative path. Thinking about how much thought he put into caring for their employees, how he put their well-being over churning out content, even if it meant less profit. How a work-life balance might not be in his wheelhouse, but how he wants it to be for the people that work for him.

Thinking about how the internet has changed in the decade since these three guys starting making videos for it. Thinking about how the algorithm values cheap drama over interesting stories. About how one wrong thumbnail or title can tank months’ worth of work. About how a misplaced swear can do the same, because the world is run by advertisers and not human beings. Thinking about how disheartening it must be to make a video to appease someone that would never watch it anyway. Thinking about how hard it would be to look at the numbers and realize the place that once was your space for success could now be home to your failure. Thinking about how much time they spent looking for a better alternative and how they ultimately realized there was only one.

Thinking about how delighted those three guys were once they had a plan. Thinking about the one of them who had finally reunited with his creative partners to start a new show, the one he’s been dreaming of for years, the one that’s been put on the backburner for the betterment of his company, finally able to exist. Thinking of the week of announcements, of the thousands of excited comments when this partnership was publicly declared. Thinking of how much joy was in the air, how much hard work was about to pay off. How their plans for months were about to come to fruition, how excited they were to take the fans on this next journey.

How they announced their new venture with a corkboard of fanart, showing it’s about them and us, together.

Thinking about how nearly everyone turned on them.

Thinking about how they walked back some of their plans to appease the loudest and the nastiest. Thinking about all the racist screeds their CEO had to read about himself. How he had to keep working despite it. How he and the rest of the company had to pivot immediately. How they had to know some of their contemporaries were also planning something similar and how none of them came to their defense. How they had to watch everything that they’ve worked so hard for become perilous. How a global pandemic was easier to weather than the cruelest words typed for everyone to see.

Thinking about how tomorrow, a new show will premiere. The one that’s been worked on in relative secret for so long and thought of even longer. The one that everyone was eagerly anticipating before they realized the people that make it need to eat, too. The one that everyone immediately mischaracterized to justify their own racism. The one that was supposed to be their big flagship series. The one that maybe still will be.

Tomorrow I’m hoping it will be the start of a new chapter. Hoping that the worst actors will get bored and move onto something else. Hoping that those who got the wrong impression will come back. Hoping that the show and its new home are a success and they get to make as much of it as they want, with no one to tell them how to do it.

I hope.

[dilfs-bitch]

Ralnga' | Neteyam (NSFW)

Pairing: Neteyam Te Suli x Fem Omatikaya reader

Word count : 5k

Summary: You do everything in your power to get out of an arranged marriage, but it ends up arousing the fury of the Omatikaya prince.

Warnings: Characters inexperienced, p in v sex, degradation kink, angst, arranged marriage, dom Neteyam (slightly) rough sex, hair pulling, biting, some mentions of blood, use of the word bitch in a derogatory sense, choking, aged up Neteyam ( 22) dirty talk, nsfw.

Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. English is not my first language.

Image its not mine, credits to the ower.

The golden child of the Sully family.

The prince of the Omatikaya clan who left unmated females breathless every time he strutted through the village with the swagger of a future chief.

The passionate gazes and sighs of many who once dreamed of being his future Tsahik, yet that fate has been forced upon you since you were a child.

Everyone in the clan knew who his future mate would be, and yet many didn't seem to care especially since he reached adulthood, his slender body now had so much muscle, his voice was much deeper and more authoritative, his once youthful face now had features of a man, who was wanted wherever he went except for you.

That wanted since the day your parents decided that arranged marriage would be good for the clan, that before the ceremony, Neteyam would fall in love with someone who would make him give up that engagement.

But a warrior as noble as he would never do that.

That's how that ugly feeling grows inside you towards him, it was no longer enough to be forced into an arranged engagement, your hopes of getting rid of it slowly died every day because he never seemed to be interested in anyone, because he was always focused on perfectly executing every task he was given, focused on being so kind and affectionate whenever he was with you.

Just the thought made you snort impatiently rolling your eyes, such a human gesture learned from Kiri having your whole life been so close to the Sully's, adoring each one of them like your own family, except the eldest son.

Maybe that was even why the elders thought that arranged marriage would be profitable, but did that have to be him? Even Lo'ak being your future mate seemed like a better idea, it sure was, the boy was much more fun, cheeky, cocky when he needed to be, butted heads with anyone just like his father, but Neteyam? He was so dull, always serious and moody, taking anyone's orders without hesitation, always so kind and what fun was that?

Certainly none for you who never wanted a mate and much less a man like him.

Sometimes you even wondered if you were the problem considering how many Na'vi wanted to mate with him. Maybe Neteyam even had its attractions, but that anger you've felt since learning you'd be mated to him clouded your judgment of him.

“ Yawne ? ” Are you listening to me? “. He says, his big hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“ I was lost in my thoughts, what did you say? “

Neteyam's brows furrow, and his ears flatten, his gaze lingering on your face which has a visibly annoyed scowl and he swallows hard at the thought that this was his fault, although now a gentle smile adorns his face when he pushes those thoughts away by convincing himself that the day has just been tiring so far.

His heart flutters in his chest at the familiar warmth of your hand now against his, so small in comparison to his own. “ Meet me today, at our spot after the eclipse Yawne ”

Our spot was a small waterfall he found a few years ago, deep in the forest, the place is breathtakingly beautiful, one of the most beautiful places you'd ever seen in the vast forest that surrounded you since was a child, but spending time with Neteyam there it was almost torturous and yet you smile nodding satisfied the man in front of you who smiles proudly leaving a soft kiss on the top of your forehead before walking away from the area where you collected herbs to Tsahik.

His breathing is heavy with each agilely step he takes, his braids swaying back and forth clouding his vision for mere seconds each time his heels hit the sandy ground beneath his feet.

His fist is clenched so tightly that his knuckles are almost white with anger, which bubbles up in his chest at once again being left waiting.

Because he waited during the entire eclipse until the rays of sunlight began to illuminate the running water that flowed down from the great mossy rocks of that waterfall that day he found deep in the forest.

Neteyam still remembered exactly how he found that place

Sweat trickled from his hairline in Pandora's heat, his mouth was dry and his body begged to go back to the village.

The soft moss that grew on the ground gave some kind of comfort to the soles of his feet that ached for he had been going deeper into the forest for so long clinging to some thread of hope that that day he would finally find a special place so that he could take his mate there.

Just the thought of her made a genuine smile appear on his face and his heart pounding in his chest that suddenly seemed to beat at a much stronger frequency when he saw the waterfall in front of him, it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen, on the rocks grew species of plants he had never seen, such an intense blue was the perfect contrast with the green of the plants that surrounded the lake of warm water that was drunk by several hexapedes, it was as beautiful as Y/n and he was sure she would love that place.

After so many days, it was worth get in deeper into the jungle just to find the perfect spot for her.

The thought made his stomach churn, his anger now redirected towards himself.

How could he have been so foolish all these years? Always pushing himself harder than he should, always hunting the biggest Sturmbeest and cooking for you the best meal, weaving the prettiest jewelry and clothes and all that to be thanked with a not-so-convincing smile and yet, he pushed those feeling away of ingratitude that sank his chest settling for whatever you gave him.

There were so many nights where he waited in that place only for you to apologize the next day saying you were too busy at Tsahik's tent, and each time he forgave you with a smile on his face, but the lack of apologies this time in the next morning left him fed up with everything.

The words were stuck in his throat, stealing his breath, begging to be said when he stepped in the entry of your tent.

His ears twitch at the sound of your familiar laugh, on other days it would warm his heart, but now the sound of your laughter curls inside him conjured daggers so sharp that left his heart bleeding, sunk in the sadness of your coldness of not even caring if he was still alive, the rage now succumbs to his body dilating his nostrils leaving behind any trace of that kind and attentive Neteyam that now disregards any kind of education entering your hut abruptly without bothering to greet Ya'nut and Tun'ti who quickly feel the tension in the air leaving you two alone the.

“ I'm so- ”

" Be quiet " He snaps before you can finish your sentence, close the flap of your tent and turning to glare at you, his lips a thin line. “ I'm tired of you looking down on me even when I've tried all these years to make myself a good potential mate, but that stops today”.

Your hands stop arranging the herbs and medicines along the shelf that Neteyam himself had made, the words have barely left his lips, and your heart is racing, beating desperately in happiness against the chest, the corner of your lips has a smile from the sudden relief that takes over your body it's like Eywa has finally heard your prayers all those years getting you out of that arranged marriage.

The feeling of freedom flowing through your body is so addictive that suddenly confidence rises in your body, quickly abandoning your good girl act that you so graciously pretended to be in front of the entire clan, who was happy with an arranged marriage that barely couldn't wait to mate with the future Olo'eyktan before Ewya.

“ Come, we should tell our parents that you give up then ”

You pass by him trying to hide the smile on your face, but before your hand can reach the knots that close the flap of your tent, your eyes widen and your body is pulled back, an almost desperate scream comes out of your now parted lips with the strong tug on your braids hair.

The sound perked up Neteyam's ears as he smiled, not the gentle smile he always had on his lips it's a sneer, a different kind of smile just like his own features that although he couldn't see it, he swore it was dark, because the cry of pain that leaves your lips ignites a flame in his heart that clouds his own thoughts as he drags you deeper into the hut by your braids, nearly undone by how tightly he's gripping a handful of hair.

His eyes light up and his ears twitch at the sound of your whimpering voice as he stops, forcing your body to kneel on the mat and Neteyam squats down, his muscular body towering over your that seems so small, the sight makes his heart felt like it was crumbling, being crushed under the happiness of finally feeling in control of the situation because now you were the one feeling inferior under his sneering gaze that had his brows furrowed and teeth clenched.

" Give up? No, today I'm going to teach you a lesson Yawne "

You sigh at the sound of his voice, as you take a deep breath through a wave of nausea, swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth at how suddenly the endearing name now sounds strange on his tongue, it was more like a threat and your body shivers with instant regret for keeping him waiting all night.

An irritated snarl escapes his lips as you try to stand up only to suddenly have your back bumping against the treadmill mat, and your eyes widen at the grip on your throat of his hand making it difficult to breathe, his body muscled now hovering over yours who is cowering from the intense sensation that makes your head spin, the words are stuck in your throat though your mouth opens nothing comes out it's only Neteyam's chuckles in a low, gravelly echo as he loosens his grip on your throat that coughs as you breathe in the air so eagerly.

" St-stop it ". You swallow your saliva, fighting your words, crawling away from him.

But your body quickly goes still, it's a single tear that rolls from your amber eye at the sting that leaves the skin on the back of your thighs itching, your pointy ears ringing from the pain that shoots up your spine with a shivering itch every hair on the back of your neck and you choke on your own spit at the realization that he's given you a few smacks on your thigh.

Your thoughts is clouding as yout body shivers as you feels his hand quickly circling your thin tail, it's an intense sensation of heat flowing through your lower belly as Neteyam lifts the fist that he's curling with your tail lifting your hips up and the scream that was trapped in your throat comes out more like an inaudible moan at the strange but pleasurable sensation that flows through the base of your spine when he growls, his nostrils flaring breathing in your natural scent that suddenly flows throughout the tent, it's so intense that his own pupils dilate leaving only a thin layer of amber in his almost completely black eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as his muscular body curves over your.

" Oh, yes " He hums rubbing his face against the sweat-wet skin of your arched back. “ This whole time and you only feel this way when I'm being rude? ”

You shake your head deny more to yourself than to him, trying to convince yourself that your body's reaction was just the instinct of Na'vi females sensing his potential as a mate, submitting to the urge to breed, nullifying all contempt that you've felt for him your whole life.

However, your breathing is breathless feeling his body pressed so close to yours in that position that felt so intimate, like the intense desire that puts you in a trance to mate with him, it's overwhelming in how suddenly the scent of wet forest that radiates from his body leaves little noises coming out of your parted lips, begging for something you don't know what it is, and the thought of it makes your body tense, trying to slowly pull away from Neteyam's body heat only for him to pull your body back by your tail, your heart pounding in your ears with the shivers of your body totally stunned by the way he keeps his grip.

" Let me go, it hurts " You hiss.

" You're sure? ” He chuckles huskily pulling the base of your tail arching your back even more. " This your bitch in heat scent of yours tells me otherwise "

He sneers, repeating the english words he once heard his father say, but he gasps slightly when he feels you forcing your ass against his groin and he lets out a guttural growl, sliding his hand to your hips to squeeze them hard moving his hips against yours who sighs looking over your shoulder watching his sweaty skin, flushed cheeks, ears down and his facial expression, dark, lustful, that makes your sex clench around nothing begging to be filled by Neteyam that slides his tongue against the skin of your back bucking his hips into yours harder.

And you bite your bottom lip to try to contain the moan stuck in your throat, afraid to admit your own thoughts aloud regarding your future mate who seems so different from the other times turning you on with his overpowering pheromones almost putting you in heat , because now your nipples are hard rubbing against the colorful feathers of your top and it pisses you off, the idea that he's the one making you feel like this makes your stomach churn, not understanding why until a few minutes ago you were beaming with happiness that thought he was going to back out of that engagement, but now the mere thought of it makes the jealousy cloud your vision at the thought of him claiming another woman as his other than you.

“ Teyam please ”

It's with that thought that you give in to your animalistic urges, to want to be claimed by him, to cover your body in his scent and you do this by rubbing your clothed pussy against the growing bulge under the thin wet cloth of his loincloth for his own pre cum, but Neteyam just growls, his hand that was on your waist comes down hard on your ass making that side of your hip tingle and the corners of your eyes water, and he repeats this movement again and again until the blue skin turn an almost purple color, until tears rolls over your face contorted with pain, pleasure and frustration for not understanding why he continues to be so rude, but that's the point.

Neteyam is so bothered to the point of continuous grunt because can't understand why all those years he could only get the pet name to come out of your lips now, when he was being rude, mistreating you, but it leaves him… -so horny that his throbbing cock is begging to be released now from the uncomfortable tightening of his own loincloth.

“ Say that again ” He sighs finally loosening the grip on your tail which is now swinging from side to side.

You say through groans, rubbing yourself against the hardness under his loincloth. “ Please Teyam, please mate with me.”

He closes his eyes, his breathing now heavy still trying to assimilate the fact that his future mate not only repeated the words he order but also said those words that he dreamed so much of hearing from your lips, damn it he dreamed awake so many nights while he waited in that spot.

Neteyam could even imagine it perfectly, the noise of the waterfall and the nocturnal animals of Pandora while you were dressed in that top he had woven for you that only covered your nipple, he could even perfectly imagine the sight of you looking at him through your eyelashes smiling shyly asking him to mate with you, maybe that was even why he got so angry because the last night he planned everything, the place, the fruits and flowers that you loved so much because he felt ready, ready to finally move on that phase of just gentle kisses on your lips, he wanted to mate, wanted to know what it would feel like to be buried so deep inside a woman, inside you.

But now everything looks much better.

" Yes " He growls, shoving his hand between your legs covered, slick with your arousal. “ I'll mate with you here and now, would you like that? ”

“Yes, Teyam, mark me as yours”. You moan, tugging at the band of your loincloth.

Impatient, he groans giving in to his primal desires, tearing the fragile fabric that covers your breasts, the beads that adorned it fall spreading across the mat, your ears twitch feel his warm, large and callused hand on your soft skin, when he starts fondle your right breast. His length twitch uncontrollably with the desire he's always felt to touch them finally come true, it's soft, warm and wet from the sweat trickling down your hairline down your neck disappearing between the valley of your breasts, your cheek now resting against mat, trying to control the sighs that come out of your lips from the pleasure that flows through your belly as you feel him rolling your hard nipples between his fingers, you moan softly pushing your ass into his groin .

Your core pulsing, your neglected clit is aching begging for something more as he tries to pull away, but your tail coil his muscled thighs that makes him cocky, assuming you really are lusting after him to the point your body doesn't want to stay away from his heat even for mere seconds.

" I want more ". You purr, your cunt clenching in anticipation.

He moans in wonder at the purr that vibrates from your chest, his animalistic thrusts clouding any sober thoughts of him as he rips off your loincloth, throwing the tattered cloth to the side, his hands now squeeze your hips as Neteyam rubs his now covered cock hard on your bare cunt making you gasp, whimpering in desperation to feel him inside because just the friction on your clit doesn't seem enough, not enough to control your arousal it seems leave his head spinning, as the room moves swiftly around him, he feels intoxicated by the scent of your, by the moans that come out of your parted lips, you want him as much as he wants you it's with that thought he digs his nail into your hips when he undoes the knot of his loincloth in the base of his tail.

He jolt at the raw friction on his sensitive cock as it springs up slapping against your ass, his stomach churns at the heat flowing through his belly at the sight of his pre-cum leaking the bulbous tip that's the perfect contract with your skin almost purple blue from the smacks.

It's at that moment Neteyam forgets why he was there in the first place, to teach you a lesson, make you respect him, desire him as your future mate, but now he's lost in his own pleasure, watching with his mouth open as the you crawl forward just enough for his cock to now sit between the heat of your thighs, rubbing against your clit as you bucks into his hips back and forth.

He is in pure ecstasy, tilting his head back slightly concentrating on the pleasure that although not what he so badly desires is still better at his own hands, his ears are flat against his head in embarrassment at the memory of all the times he has toched himself in the solitude of his tent after a hard day, relieving his frustrations stroking his cock thinking about what it would be like if it were your small, soft hands doing it, but now he swears this is so much better.

“ Is it good Teyam? “ You ask between moans bringing him back to reality.

He growls between moans and breath breathless" Could be better "

Your heart feels like it's caving in, being crushed under the pressure of the weight of his single word, 'could be better', and he looks at you with furrowed brows, big eyes shining, chuckles in reaction at the mean words that came out of his lips. Neteyam now curves his body over yours once more, rubbing his face against your shoulder before biting hard, making you cry out in pain beneath him stopping your movements because it feels so good your sex tightens around nothing, the moisture trickling down your thigh mixing with his precum making your thighs sticky.

His fangs finally leave your bloodstained skin, his hand finds the base of your tail, gripping it tightly, lifting your hips again, the wetness of your arousal now against the hot skin of his groin, his fingers prods at your slick entrance.

“Clenching so tightly around nothing, did I make you feel like this? “ He asks, a smirk playing on his lips before quickly sliding two fingers into it.

Groaning at your wetness the feel of his fingers inside you that had your brows furrowed trying to crawl, running away from the discomfort, pain his fingers bring and his smirk drops quickly, his heart racing in his chest at the thought that you still haven't had mated to no one, perhaps waiting for the day of the ceremony where you two would become one before Ewya.

“ Who would have thought that you would be waiting to mate only with me ”.

He teases, looking at you with piercing eyes, ramming two fingers even deeper into your slippery cunt which clenches with the pleasurable sensation that replaces the pain before, mixed with the tone he uses to make your back arch even more when you feel him curling his fingers, stroking the inside in a torturously slow rhythm that has all four of your toes curling as a moan escapes your lips, your eyes rolling back in the pleasure that races down your spine as he growls pulling your tail.

“Oh, I-I… it's so good, b-you… fuck, aren't you too? “ You babble, feeling your eyes fill with tears at how good his fingers are.

A high confidence fills him as he hears you say those words, his mind clouding with your loud, desperate moans each time he continues a few more times he pulls them out of you cunt taking his fingers to his mouth, savoring the last of your taste in his tongue. Lifting your hips enough by the grip on your tail lines himself up with your slick entrance so that the tip of his cock against your entrance, instantly thrusting almost his full length into you when that dig your nails into the mat trying to get used to the sensation to finally be filled.

“ You don't think it's that important, do you? ”

For a minute you feel something new blossom in your heart, something that Neteyam has never made you feel before, something like jealousy that makes a snarl leave your lips at the thought that he had become intimate with a woman other than you, the possessiveness has you gripping his forearm scratching his sweaty skin so hard he hisses in pain and pleasure as he starts to thrust into you, setting a lazy rhythm to his thrusts, pushing his pelvis against your ass burying himself deep inside you as possible, before halfway out and filling you up again with his cock.

Just as he remembered listening at that conversation from years ago hidden behind a tree, listening to the things his father and the most skilled warriors talked about when they were drunk, Neteyam committed every word to memory for the day he finally mated with a woman who he was in love, he yearning to gave her as much pleasure as he felt, exactly as he was doing now.

The hard slaps of skin against skin resonating throughout the hut mingled with the pathetic moans of your lips as you grip his forearm tightly shoving your hips into his, he's startled, lips between his teeth to keep from escaping a moan stuck in his throat at your obscene, insistent body language, grinding against him, the squelching noises of your cunt permeating the air.

“ Mmnh… ah, deeper, please Ma' Teyam”. You beg, sighing breathlessly between moaning.

He moans as he feels his cock bumping against your cervix, your body writhing beneath his, his tail swaying back and forth content with the words coming out of your mouth, it seems unreal to hear you call him that while begs him to go deeper, it's so overwhelming that he feels like his heart is going to stop beating any minute because suddenly everything seems too much, its too much to feel you pressing against him sighing between moans that consists only moaning his name when he thrusting into you like the sweetest of songs, mating with him because you want to it and begging for it and so good that his legs almost give out, as he purrs frees his hand from your tail only to bring it down onto your ass in a hard slap.

That screams with the tears that form at the corners of your eyes as the sensation of his now wildly, falter thrusts the walls of your cunt clench around him tighten around him almost becoming too much for him.

“You are mine now”. He whispers in you ear as his hand snakes around to your front so he can grip onto your throat, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingers when he squeeze down, you whimper in a pathetic display of submission. " Say it "

You shake your head weakly, that would be too much, it would be too much to say when you still didn't want that arranged marriage, you still didn't want that Nateyam, who suddenly seems so attractive, so handsome that the irrational part of you desperately wanted him to be only yours. Tears well up in your eyes from the lack of air, which causes a strange feeling inside you, and you let out a silent cry as your body approaches orgasm with the stimulation of his fingers on your clit.

“ I'm yours, your vonvä ” You gasp. “ Only yours Teyam”

A sick satisfaction washes over Neteyam at your words. Ewya, he knows you'd hate it if he actually knocked you up, but your submission takes him totally over the edge. His hand releases your throat as he fucks you a few more times, a guttural growl coming out of his chest groaning as his his cum paint the slick walls of your cunt which are so sensitive in search of your own orgasm and he smirk watching you try when his fingers stop the stimulation on your clit, the lewd sounds coming from your used pussy seeps his cum.

He circles your clit a little more precisely, the pressure in your lower belly becomes immense, it's like ecstasy, flooding your body as it shudders beneath his, screaming you let out a hoarse moan, throwing your head back as your entire body shudders under his control finally succumbing to the orgasm that leaves your vision dark, your body relaxing at the pleasurable sensation.

A silence falls as you both pant, his muscular body slumping as his knees give way, putting all his weight onto your body that is now lying on the mat, eyes closed and heavy breathing trying to establish the normal rhythm of your breaths heartbeat that now seems to beat at a much stronger rate than normal with the thought that even without tsaheylu, even without being in front of Ewy you are now mated.

With a man you're now not so sure would still prefer you over all those Na'vi who practically begged to be mated, however that fate has naturally been accepted by you now.

“ Will you mate with me now? “. You hold his hand, wrapping it in yours. “ I mean before Ewya”

“ You're mine, aren't you ?” The words roll off his tongue before he even has a chance to process them. “ I'll mate with you before Ewya and make the bond for life, I'll make you my Tsahik, but only if you want it ”.

You take a moment to answer, not out of uncertainty but because the words are stuck in your throat, his warm breath blowing against your neck now that he's nuzzled his face there, inhaling you natural scent, licking the pulse point until you moan softly.

“ Yes Ma'Teyam, I want to ”

[kingsanddragonsandgods]

a/n: this is just the story preface, not yet chapter one. for this fanfic i am keeping mostly the book timeline, but there will be a little bit of show timeline further ahead.

it is a AU which blends aspects of book and show canons but is also a lot of headcanons. i am a bit of a history nerd, so there is bits inspired by real life historical events, i also drawn a lot of inspiration from medieval/renaissence royal courts to write how i imagine life at the Red Keep would be, most numbers i will use in this story are also taken from history (noble households, courtiers, armies, ships and crews etc), as are titles for functions an jobs that are not shown on the show or books. There are a couple of Original Characters that are going to be introduced over time, and a few canon characters that are barely mentioned or not seen at all on the show. additional information: I chose to keep the show's 'ages' for some characters, so, for the sake of the story: Viserys was born in 70 AC, Daemon in 74 AC, Rhaenys in 67 AC, and Aemma and Rhea share the year 76 AC.

word count: 2802

warnings: none for this chapter

“...Princess of Runestone, proved herself in her maiden voyage crossing of the Narrow Sea, six pirate ships gave chase as we crossed through the Stepstones, their inferior ships however were no match for our girl or to our brave crew. We had already sunk three carracks when they choose to surrender the remaining three after sighting Archonei descending upon them. We lock the surviving pirates in the holding cells, and seize their cargo, to my great surprise I was able to ascertain that the cargo on the ships once belonged to none other than the Sea Snake.”  Enya reads aloud the letter she received from Ser Orys, her half-brother, coming all the way from Lys, the first stop on his great voyage. “We intend to sell the cargo in Lys, Maester Aldus believes it will yield a great profit, at least 20-times Mother’s initial investment, it seems almost unbelievable that we are only on the first leg of the journey. Gods willing, my next letter home shall be sent from old Volantis. Tell Mother I miss her advice and our morning rides, as I miss your sweet face, and our daily flights. Send my love to everyone home and make sure that young Willam is dedicating himself to his training. Your loving brother, Ser Orys Stone…”  Her granddaughter finishes reading her the letter, folding it carefully and putting it inside the hard cover of the book she has next to her on the wheelhouse seat.

How the girl manages to read in the bouncing carriage is something that marvels her, she feels nauseous just watching it.

Elys would have much preferred to have made the journey by ship, but the early spring storms that plague the East Coast they didn't allow them to leave the safety of the harbour.

The lady wouldn't be making the trip if she could help it, she had just come out of mourning period for her dear husband, all she wanted was to be able to take the time to visit her daughters and spend time with her grandchildren before returning to Eyrie to resume supervising her niece's upbringing. But the beginning of spring means Visenya's relocation to the royal court in King's Landing, to spend the spring and summer with her father and paternal family.

Last time her granddaughter was at court was four years before the death of the Old King, whom she had served as cupbearer when he still had the mental faculties to attend the Council. She had been just a child then, the king's favourite great-granddaughter.

 Since then, she had blossomed into a stunning beauty, no longer a girl but not yet a woman, striking in that way that only those from the blood of the dragon are.

A beauty worthy of a crown.

A crown she had been promised as a child.

If the gods had been merciful, little Prince Aerion would have survived infancy and today he would be a boy of nearly three and ten, the heir to his father’s throne, betrothed to Visenya by the will of King Jaehaerys. But Aenar died in his cradle, followed by his little brother, Aelor, and two early miscarriages. And her granddaughter lost the her chance at the crown promised to her.

“Do you think Orys can one day surpass the feats of the Sea Snake?” Elys turns her head from the window to look at her granddaughter.

“He might,” Elys candidly admits, “Orys has advantages that Velaryon did not, Archonei being the greatest of them."

Elys had disagreed with her daughter's decision to raise the prince's natural son after the boy's mother died—Orys was, in Elys' opinion, the stain on her daughter's dignity, a bastard child her betrothed fathered on a Royce cousin of lesser consequence, during the feast celebrating the union between Houses Royce and Targaryen—as he grew, the boy proved her wrong in her reservations against him. He was as devoted to Rhea as he was to Visenya, respectfully calling her ‘Mother’ after asking permission to do so, loyal and honourable, dedicating himself to every life opportunity offered by his stepmother.

She would never forget his terror when Visenya's egg hatched in his hands, it was the day he won her over, he had tears in his eyes as he asked Rhea for forgiveness for hatching the dragon as it was not his intention, he went on to say that he had never coveted her sister's egg and that she could have the hatchling. Her daughter just laughed, kissing the boy's head and explaining that the dragon had chosen him.

Jaehaerys was not at all pleased with the accident when Rhea sent a letter informing him of what had happened. Daemon finally took an interest in the dark-haired boy Rowena birthed, flying to the Vale to see the dragon, taking it upon himself to have twenty dragonkeepers sent to Runestones.

“I hope he can accomplish it, for himself and for House Royce." Visenya says looking out the window, pulling back the curtains to get a better look, wrinkling her little nose at the stench that enters the carriage and allowing the curtain to fall closed again. “I had forgotten that the city smells so bad.”

“You better get used to it again." Elys passes a bag of scented salts to the young woman. “Tie it to your wrist, you can smell it when the stench gets too much.”

The slums around the city wall have grown considerably larger than Lady Elys remembered from her last visit so many years before.

People beg with outstretched hands on the road as they see the bronze wheelhouse pass by.

It's a sad sight.

The lady sighs before pulling the small dark wooden chest out from under the bench under Visenya's curious eyes. She takes out a heavy bag of coins and pushes the chest back with her foot, hiding it with her skirt. She signals with her hand for any of the knights escorting them to approach the window. Willam Royce, her nephew by marriage, Gunthor’s youngest boy, and Leofric Corbray squire, is the one to come to her.

She contains a smile as she sees the boy blush when he notices Visenya's curious gaze on him.

It's no secret that the boy is sweet on little Enya—just like half the boys of similar age in Runestone—in another life he would be a good match for the future Lady of Runestone, Willam is handsome, with dark curls and blue eyes, and will probably grow up to be a tall, handsome man, and appease everyone in the family that the next heir would retain the surname Royce without the need for major manoeuvres.

“Lady Aunt." He greets her with a nod, keeping his horse's gallop in sync with the carriage. “My princess.”

Visenya just smiles at him, looking at him from beneath her lashes, which only makes him blush more.

“Willam, my sweet, be a dear and hand out these coins to the people." She passes the heavy bag into his hand.

The squire just nods again, looking once more at the Targaryen princess before doing as his aunt asked of him.

Once he is away and the curtain is closed again, Elys lets out the laugh she forced herself to hold in, lightly slapping her granddaughter's knee in reprimand.

“Shameless flirt!” The Dowager Lady of Runestone pointed her finger at the girl.

“I have to train for court life, don't I?" Visenya says with a naughty tone. “I'm of marriageable age, I have to charm all the beautiful second sons, have them all at my feet asking for my hand, there is no better opportunity than during a season at court.”

A beauty of beauties in all the Seven Kingdoms, if not in all the Known World.

Visenya is slender, nymph-like of body, with very pale white skin dotted with golden freckles—the only inheritance from Rhea in her appearance—, plump lips and pretty pearly teeth, a neat nose, and large eyes of an unusual bluish-lilac shade. Her hair is a beautiful flaxen, a few shades lighter than Elys own, curled and long—she's not sure her granddaughter's hair was ever cut more than a little trim at the ends—now ribboned for practicality during the travel.

Elys remembers vividly the Good Queen Alysanne carrying the baby in her arms during her anointment commenting that little Visenya reminded her of Viserra, the most beautiful of her daughters, in appearance.

“Be careful child, you don't want a reputation, especially in the Red Keep."

“I can be discreet." The girl winks at her grandmother amid giggles.

The wheelhouse takes a while to cross the city from Dragon's Gate to the Red Keep, the guards escorting it thought it better to go around Fleabottom than through it. Especially with the four glitzy wheelhouses carrying the noblewomen and their ladies-in-waiting, and the wagons with their belongings coming right behind, with things that attract the attention of the wrong kind of people.

Their retinue arrives at the Red Keep midday.

There is quite a crowd waiting to receive them. The standard-bearers stop between the carriage and the people waiting, proudly carrying the banners of Houses Targaryen, Royce and Arryn, and the Princess of Runestone personal crest: a pearlescent white dragon with the halved shield with the crests of Royce and Arryn between its claws in a black field with bronze runes around the border.

“Princess Visenya of House Targaryen, heir of Runestone.” The Herald announces her granddaughter, as a guard opens the wheelhouse door for them. “Her Lady Grandmother, Lady Elys of House Arryn, Dowager Lady of Runestone.”

Elys arranges the balzo on top of Visenya's head and centres the small jewel on her forehead, pinching her cheek for a healthy blush before the girl pushes back the linen curtain and leaves with the assistance of a Kingsguard guard.

The lady fixes her own skirt before leaving the wheelhouse behind her granddaughter.

The first person she notices is the Queen, her younger sister, in the light blue silks of her paternal House.

A chill runs down her spine as she looks at her sister.

Despite her Targaryen blood through her mother, Princess Daella, in appearance Aemma is an Arryn, with pale sandy hair, an aquiline nose and light blue eyes. Aemma is only eight and twenty, a few months older than her Rhea, however, she looks like a woman nearly to Elys own age.

She looks emaciated, haggard…sick. The Stranger follows her closely. Her youngest sister would not survive a full-term pregnancy and childbirth, it surprised Elys even that she had lived until this moment, with so many failed pregnancies and increasingly long and painful periods of recovery.

Beside her, giving her his arm for support, is Viserys, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, dressed in silk damask of gold and Tyrosh-purple, his grandfather’s crown upon his brow, looking more youthful and healthier than his younger wife. His silver-gold hair is kept short, following southern fashion which has a great Andal influence, he also sports a silver-gold moustache, so thin and pale it almost disappears on his face.

He is a handsome man, but pales in comparison to his dashing younger brother, especially when the two are side by side.

“Your Graces.” Visenya makes a perfect curtsy to the King and Queen and stands as if the castle belongs to her.

The couple is smiling at the young woman with indulgence.

“You have grown beautiful Visenya.” The king says, his eyes fixed on his niece.

Elys recognizes the expression on his face.

Like any woman who was once young and desired, she recognizes the almost obscene expression when older men look at women young enough to be their daughters and imagine themselves as young as their sons.

 The look on a man's face when he lusts after a woman old enough to be his daughter, and who he knows he shouldn't desire.

“Thank you, Your Grace."

“Just stating the truth my dear." In a gallant gesture, the king kisses his niece's hand.

“Brother, stop holding up the line!” The prince’s impatient voice interrupts, causing the King to take his covetous eyes away from his young niece.

Prince Daemon is a tall man, only a few centimetres shorter than his older brother, he keeps his silvery hair long, following the fashion of Old Valyria.

Unlike Viserys's ostentatious clothes, Elys good son is dressed in all black leather, well cut and elegant, but infinitely more subtle than the rest of the court. He carries Dark Sister around his waist, and his only ornament is the livery collar that marks him. as a member of the Small Council and Master of Coin.

Visenya smiles and turns to her father making a new curtsy. “Lord Father.”

“Little dragoness.” There is a smile on the prince's face, he has his hands on his only daughter's shoulders, despite being considered a tall young woman, Visenya looks small next to her father. He puts his forehead to hers, saying something that only she hears, and then kisses her cheek.

“Sister." Elys takes her eyes off the reunion between father and daughter and approaches her sister with her hand outstretched.

“My queen." In a gesture of deference, Elys kisses her sister's pale hand and offers a profound curtsy. “Your Grace.” She bows her head to her good brother.

“Lady Elys, it is good to have you at court again." Viserys says amiable. “I am sure your sisters missed you dearly." He looks at Aemma with a smile and at Lady Amanda Redfort born Arryn, standing next to the queen. “Let's give them time to rest from the road, later we shall have a welcome feast.” The king announces to the court members present, taking the queen's hand in his and guiding her into the castle.

Prince Damon follows them, his arm around his daughter's shoulders, and head tilted toward her as they continue their private conversation. One by one the courtiers follow them, even her ladies and her granddaughter's, Elys nods for them to enter, until only Amanda and her remain in the courtyard.

“How bad is she?"

Amanda approaches until the two are face to face, she looks to the side for a moment, making sure there is no one else around.

Her younger sister, like herself, maintains a youthful appearance, even as they have both now seeing past their forty years of age. It comes with their Upcliff blood, their mother died young, not even thirty years old, yet she still had the appearance of a woman half her age.

Amanda inherited her colouring, beautiful red-gold hair, and blueish grey eyes like a stormy sea.  

“The Maestre has already recommended that she not try to get pregnant again after the last miscarriage, she had a difficult time recovering, almost a year," Amanda informs her, there is concern in her eyes “now she is once again with child, and it is taking a toll on her. I don’t believe she will live to see the child.”

“The child will not be born." Lady Elys declares it like a sentence. She can feel it.

 “There is more." Amanda says. “The Small Council has been hinting that he should set her aside, that he should marry a queen who can bear him heirs.” She lowers her tone, tilting her head toward her sister. “There are rumours that His Grace had a bastard boy with a courtesan, and he might be discreet, but I know for sure that there are mistresses.”

“Does Aemma knows?”

“I believe so.” She nods. “They are, however, ladies of little consequence, barely noble, daughters of second and third sons, some not even that, daughters of knights and rich merchants,” Amanda explains, “His Grace has a king’s an appetite and a queen constantly bedridden who clearly does not meet his needs.”

“Hm.” It's the only reaction Elys gives.

A tale old as time, men will be men, even the best of them.

Viserys may be gentle and amiable, but he was always a man of appetites, and pious Aemma was never an ardent lover.

Elys blames the Good Queen for her precocious marriage and sheltered upbring, Aemma was just a girl, still playing with dolls.

The marriage was not consummated before her four and tenth nameday, and until then Viserys would entertain himself with whores and courtesans usually in the company of his brother and half a dozen favourites.

“We shall have to stay alert to whom he takes to bed." Elys says, linking her arm with her sister's and directing her into the castle.

“What happens if she dies or is put aside?"

Then perhaps Visenya will have the crown she was promised. And we might yet have a king of our blood on the Iron Throne.

[sesskagarchive]

From the Archives: September 2024

banner by @jafndaegur

MissTeak

Dokuga | FFnet

Recommended by KillingPerfection143 & @kaoruhana08

"She has some really cool, funny, romantic SessKag fanfics and some others but I only read SessKag so.. and she apparently last uploaded something in 2010 or so. She has a well deserved right to be in this list. Her work needs to reach more people even though she's not active." - KillingPerfection143

"MissTeak was a huge contributor to the fandom in the late 2000's, early 2010's. She's actually the one who got me into SessKag. Her effortless way of creating so many scenarios for the pair left me breathless and I will always feel my heart ache for our favorite pair when I read Wisteria or Once Upon A Time in Edo." - @kaoruhana08

Recommended reading:

Happiest Christmas Rated T. From 2009. One Shot. Summary: Last Christmas, Sesshoumaru had been around to hold her hand. No matter how cold it got, he had the magical ability to warm her up from head to toe. They would stroll along the streets illuminated by merry Christmas lights that shone like a thousand amber gem stones. Today, she was walking alone, and had no idea how long she could take it. But Christmas never came without magic, or love, for that matter…

Happy Father's Day, Inupapa! Rated K. From 2009. One Shot. Summary: [Response to InuYoukaiLiz' Father's Day challenge] As they all say, Kagome is the only one who can make Sesshoumaru do anything and get away with it. This Father's day, just for Inupapa, her grand plan involves baking a chocolate fudge cake, a thank you speech and a hug…(Warning: Hilarity ahead at Sesshoumaru's expense.)

Happily Ever After Rated MA. From 2010-2011. Incomplete. Chapter fic. Summary: (1st place for Best Romance, Best Drama and Best AU/AR, Dokuga Awards 2nd Quarter 2010) Struggling to maintain her old family shrine, Higurashi Kagome could not be more thankful for the miracle that came in the form of a letter telling her that the Higurashi family owned forty percent of a traditional Japanese inn in Tsumago, Nagano prefecture. However, in exchange for the profits made by Shiraito inn, Kagome would have to marry the devastatingly handsome yet arrogant owner and serve as the inn's okami. Happily ever after? No way!

KH: "the only SessKag work that I would give arms and legs for her to finish. If you don't know me as an author, here's a secret: I never would have become half the writer I was without this story. The setting, the characters, the slow burn, the plot: even years later I see the influence of this strangers getting married trope in my writing. This is hands down, in my opinion" the best arranged marriage SessKag AU ever."

I knew you'd marry me Rated K. From 2010. One Shot. Summary: \"Higurashi Kagome!\" He had called out in his childish voice. \"You will marry me.\" Kagome takes a trip back on memory lane on her wedding day, recalling how her husband Sesshoumaru first proposed to her at the age of six, armed with nothing but a bunch of wilted daisies and a plastic pink ring from Toys R Us.

Jealous of you Rated K+. From 2009. One Shot. Summary: "Dearest Sesshoumaru, I've created a list of five reasons as to why I am jealous of you. 1) 'You have prettier hair'…" Kagome is jealous of her lovely husband, and the list goes on in this sweet little oneshot. Done for fun, joy and laughter! Please drown in the fluff!

Just turn around…and fall in love Rated T. From 2010. One Shot. Summary: Would you believe that love was just a turn away? A chance meeting at a high school carnival left them in each other's minds, but Fate had decided to play a little game with them in the modern city of Tokyo. She had always been around him, as he had always been around her, yet they have never met for a second time. Neither knew that all they had to do was turn around, and fall in love. (inspired by r0o's lovely fanart 'Separate Ways')

KH: "I love this oneshot of missed meetings. And I think this story over all others influenced my take on how to write SessKag as it shows a lovely modern take on SessKag."

Kinky Ramen Rated MA. From 2009. One Shot. Summary: 2nd place for Best Oneshot - Dokuga 4th Quarter Awards '09 (Response to Kirai's Funny Edible one shot challenge - rated for hot, hot sexual content and hilarity) All Kagome wanted to was to have sex in peace with her husband, but what was a couple to do when their little daughter was around? "Rin, Daddy and Mommy are going to eat ramen in our room now. Don't come upstairs."

Once upon an Edo night + The Sequel Rated MA. From 2009. Complete. Chapter fic. Summary: On a moonlit summer night in Edo, 1639, a famous courtesan from the Yoshiwara pleasure quarters met a demon lord in a bizarre chance meeting moments before she took her own life by jumping off the Nihonbashi. In modern Tokyo, 2009, Higurashi Kagome and Takahashi Sesshoumaru were strolling along the Nihonbashi when their entwined fates from 370 years ago, once upon an Edo night, came back in a crease in time to revisit them.

KH: "This is truly a second chances tale. The historical portion from Edo is full of angst and heartbreak and your heart aches for Kagome despite the smut. The modern portion makes you want to cheer on their reunion. Thevhistorical details are also very good."

Rumor has it Rated MA. From 2009-2010. Complete. Chapter fic. Summary: “I swear, Sesshoumaru is gay.” Inuyasha said dramatically amidst murmurs of agreement. “Totally! He never really talks to or looks at other women.” Kagome agreed excitedly. Inuyasha had replied, “But we have no proof.” And that’s how one conversation led to Higurashi Kagome being caught in a dare – to prove on Christmas that Taisho Sesshoumaru is gay. MissTeak\\'s three-chapter response to Kirai\\'s Christmas challenge!

KH: "is a hilarious take on Kagome making assumptions about Seshomaru and learning just how very wrong she is."

The Adventures of Chibimaru and Gang Rated K. From 2010-2013. incomplete. Drabble fic. Summary: The title says it all! A collection of MissTeak's attempts at cute, funny stories revolving around a six year-old Chibimaru and Gang in their daily lives. If you've enjoyed 'I knew you'd marry me', this is the one for you!

KH: "I think I go back to read this once a year because it leaves me in stitches. Trust me, we'll all want to know more about the little chaotic terror that is Sesshomaru after reading this."

The Third Parties Rated M. From 2009-2010. Complete. Chapter fic. Summary: [COMPLETED] "If I keep reminding myself of how wrong my feelings for her are, I might finally do something right." She was the third party in his half-brother's three-year relationship. He was merely a good friend. Watching her get hurt over and over again, Taisho Sesshoumaru wanted to tell Higurashi Kagome to let go. Yet he could not, not when he knows he could never let go of her just like how she could never let go of Inuyasha.

KH: "I love this one because I love the character growth we see for both characters as the story progresses, but mostly love how Kagome's is portrayed."

Wisteria Rated MA. From 2009-2010. Incomplete. Chapter fic. Summary: [1st for Best Drama and Best Romance - Dokuga Awards 1st Quarter '10] Wisteria is like the sleeve of a maiden, lovelier when it is cared for… Kagome was abducted and brought to Western Gion, where the famous flower streets are. By virtue of her pretty face, she was adopted into a geisha house and trained in the ways of a geisha under the name of Fuji, the Wisteria. Escape was not a option in this beautiful illusion, and Kagome found herself increasingly detached from her old life…until fate throws a figure of her past in her path again…

KH: "a must read for the heavy angst. It's never been completed but it pulls at your heartstrings and doesn't let you go."

XXX-ing in Bed Rated M. From 2009. One Shot. Summary: [Oneshot] A sweet, sexy oneshot exploring our favorite couple's life after marriage! Ever imagined how their married life is like? Especially in bed? What do they exactly do in bed in the privacy of their home?

Recommend a creator who's no longer active in the SessKag fandom for this monthly spotlight HERE!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Writing Share Tag!

Thanks for the tag @drchenquill (here)!

This is a scene that will take place a bit further down the line in Supernova Initiative but I wrote it today and couldn't wait to share it so here it is!

(Spoilers for Supernova Initiative under the cut)

The door wooshed open and Zenyth stormed into the room, his boot's heels clacking loudly as he walked, practically stomping on the polished stark white concrete. "Where the fuck is Jasper?!"

In the high table, the Syndicate looked down upon him with a myriad of different expressions - a mocking, patronizing air being the main one.

The High Councilman, sitting in the center of the half-circle that was the table, answered lazily, barely looking up from the holographic screen in front of him. "Somewhere else, until you fulfill your end of the bargain. Are you certain that's pertinent information as it stands?"

Zenyth seethed, closing his hands into fists "He's my son! Of course, that's 'pertinent' information. You have no right- "

The man looked at him then, a smug smirk on his face and a condescending lilt to his voice that made Zenyth want him dead even more "But we do," He tapped his fingers on the shiny lacquer surface of the table, "You should've thought of that before dealing with us. We want those weapons, and you assured us AstroCorp would provide them."

Zenyth smiled, so vitriolic it seemed more like a snarl than an actual smile. All things considered, the latter was probably more suitable to the context.

"And my company will provide those weapons, as was agreed, once I see the benefit in allying my resources with your cause. And kidnapping my son isn't doing your case any favors here."

The High Councilman cut him off, teasing "Oh, since when did you - an anarchist, the most infamous weapons dealer in the system - start being picky with your clientele? Isn't your whole M.O. 'profit before anything else'? You don't exactly have the moral high ground, anywhere."

Zenyth answered, crossing his arms over his chest, " That may be true - but as a businessman, I want to ensure I'm siding with the winning side. There's no profit in funding a lost cause, much less in a civil war. That would just be bad business." He tilted his head slightly to the side as he continued, narrowing his eyes "Either way, my son has nothing to do with this - he has, literally, nothing to do with the deal. Or with the company."

The other's smirk grew even more unbearable and his voice dripped saccharine like rotten candy "Well, now he does. Besides, I'm starting to like this new arrangement quite a lot - the genius founder of AstroCorp is now my obedient puppet, ready to supply as many weapons as I need, whenever I require them. For as long as my army needs him to. Quite beneficial."

The other members of the Syndicate, who had been rather silent until then, exchanged a look - a silent toast to their not-so-small victory. He should've seen this coming. After all, this was a business of sharks and any weakness would be sniffed out like blood in the water from a mile away - Zenyth cringed at how overconfident he'd been to think he had the upper hand.

Still, that didn't wound his boldness. In fact, the amount of paternal rage he was feeling right now only bolstered his defiance. He gave the High Councilman a venomous glare and this time, he was the one who smirked. "Or... maybe one day you'll wake up to a bomb under your bed and that shit-eating grin of yours will get splattered into smithereens halfway across the galaxy with everything in this fucking base if you don't give me back my son."

Hushed whispers from between the members of the council echoed from the high table and around the vast hall. The two men glared at each other for a long moment, but then the High Councilman broke the silence.

With a laugh.

"Are you sure you want to make that threat?" The older man asked, standing up, before gesturing at the holographic screen in front of him, casually, as if Zenyth's prior threats were no more than the annoying buzz of a fly "Because I've got at least five, very trigger-happy, soldiers waiting in the other line - and they're itching to hear their next command."

Zenyth said nothing in response, mouth forming a thin line as he took in the implications of the not-so-unspoken threat. His eyes practically boiled with rage, and if a glare could kill, each one of the Syndicate's members would be dead a long time ago.

The High Councilman leaned forward, "Thought so. Are we in an understanding?"

Zenyth took a long while to answer, simmering in his anger and using all of his willpower not to do something irreversible right now. After a long, drawn-out moment that felt like a whole minute, he answered "Yes."

With that, he didn't even wait for the other to say anything else and spun in his heels and beelined it out of the hall as fast as he could. Mind racing, his thoughts were torn between the impulsive urge to kill the entire Syndicate and trying to figure out a way to locate his son.

And he knew exactly who to call to bring this place crashing down.

Tagging (gently) @your-absent-father @ray-writes-n-shit @drchenquill, @saltysupercomputer @agirlandherquill

@sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart @sm-writes-chaos

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Gander That Lays The Fool’s Gold Egg

We all know Aesop’s fable about the goose that laid the golden egg.

The farmer who owned the goose would get a golden egg a day but being a greedy sort wanted all the eggs Right NOW so he cut the goose open…

…and got nothing.

Let me update the tale for today:

Once upon a time the capitalists ran a consumer economy.  They made their money by providing goods and services to consumers.  Those consumers were the employees who provided the actual labor that went into said goods and services.

The system worked well.  The labor force made and provided, the capitalists paid them for doing so, the labor force then turned into consumers who purchased goods and services from the economy at large, and the money flowed back into the hands of the capitalists as increased revenues.

But the capitalists grew greedy.

Now it’s one thing to look for the least expensive means of providing labor and material to go into your goods and services, but at some point actual goods and services need to be provided.

And if your labor force can’t afford said goods and services, well, then the whole system comes crashing down, doesn’t it?

Then in the 1970s the economist Milton Friedman proposed “an entity's greatest responsibility lies in the satisfaction of the shareholders.”

In other words, make money for the capitalists through any means.

Not “make money by providing goods and services in exchange for cash” but just “make money.”

You know, the way Bonnie and Clyde made their money.

Armed with this justification of rapacious selfishness, capitalism has been systematically robbing their work force to line their own pockets.

Productivity and profits have skyrocketed, the minimum wage and middle class salaries have not.

Indeed, capitalism has turned into the ultimate incestuous worm Ourboros by shifting the making of money away from providing goods and services to consumers over to providing protection to capitalists for the making of money.

Now, hedge funds in and of themselves are no nefarious.

Indeed, they can provide useful insurance for businesses.

Using an example provided by reporter John Bloom (better known in his movie host persona as Joe Bob Briggs), say the state of Colorado experiences 45 days of heavy snow a year.

The Colorado ski industry banks on that 45 days to make money.

Conversely, the Colorado trucking industry sees it as 45 days the roads are closed.

Now, as long as both groups can accurately predict how many heavy snow days there will be, they can schedule and budget their businesses around them.

But say it only snows 40 days a year.

The ski industry loses one nineth of their yearly business.

Conversely, let’s say it snows 50 days.

The truckers lose almost a whole week.

What the hedge funds guys do is figure out what are the odds of there being more or less that 45 heavy snow days a year, then arrange a bet between the ski industry and the truckers.

The ski industry there will be only 40 days of snow; if they win their bet, they get 80% of their losses covered by the hedge fund.

The truckers bet there will be 50 days of snow; if they win their bet, they get 80% of their losses covered by the hedge fund.

The hedge fund as the house calculates the over / under odds re 45 days of snow, and offers the bets to the ski industry and truckers.

Done properly, they accurately guess how often Mother Nature will go over / under the typical 45 days and figure out how much they can induce the two sides to bet against each other without actually having to pay out.

On those rare occasions when it’s either 40 or 50 days of heavy snow, great!  The rival businesses have covered that loss and the hedge fund has raked in pure profits on the normal snow fall years.

Nothing wrong with that…

…but then the hedge funds get nervous in case they miscalculate and end up with a couple of bad years in a row so they seek another hedge fund to cover their bets.

In financial parlance, these are called derivatives.

Wanna guess where most of the wealth of the world is located today?

Not in property such as real estate or intellectual property.

Not in precious metals.

Not in resources.

The vast majority of money in the world today is generated in and around derivatives, hedge fund atop hedge fund atop hedge fund, money protecting money, not serving humanity by providing goods and services.

How do capitalists make money?

By slashing expenses.

In my own personal bailiwick, media companies seek to replace most forms of human created content with AI generated content, knowing that 80% of the time humanity is satisfied with amusing mediocrity.

Already they are driving human composers and performers into poverty by churning out hundreds of thousands of copycrap tunes that ape the style of established artists, channeling royalties directly into the coffers of the music labels, not the creators.

They’re about to do the same thing with visual media.

Publishing?  We’ve already got bottom feeder quislings churning out two genre novels a month, knowing every genre has enough dedicated fans who will buy anything of passable quality that contains enough of the tropes they love.

But here’s the snowfall issue for the capitalists:  What will you do when the day comes that nobody can afford to buy your copycrap anymore while simultaneously there’s so much copycrap none of it has any value?

Y’all might want to have a word with Monsieur Robespierre.

  © Buzz Dixon

[kanohimineka]

The Murder of the Power Rangers: A Conspiracy

This post requires brief context of this one: https://www.tumblr.com/kanohimineka/729314732989874176/i-would-like-to-add-i-also-posted-this-to-my?source=share

I didn't want to reblog it, since this is more of its own thing, but whatever, read it anyways.

So, Cosmic Fury is now out, and it seems that our friend Simon has completely let loose. In a brief Twitter Space thingy, he took in questions from fans, where he would eventually answer them. Most of it was pretty innocuous, basic production stuff. However, there were a few moments of Hasbro heavily limiting what could be done with Cosmic Fury. The two biggest examples of this are the first two posts, with Hasbro being the ones to limit Cosmic Fury to a measly 10 episodes, despite Netflix being interested in more, the seeming circular production hell of Once and Always, and the fact that, for some reason, they only had 2 weeks to film the action footage. Of course, there is still some issues on the production's end, but they seem to have interest in continuing Power Rangers, that's just being stopped by Hasbro's Reboot plans, plans that have been in talks since 2019, Both Cosmic Fury and Dino Fury 2 being stopgaps. This fills into a continual issue that I briefly touched upon before. So, let's talk about the economics of the Power Rangers.

Power Rangers started as a massive success, a series designed on the cheap, basically only filming half a show's worth of generic sit com footage, licensing out some weird Japanese show, and ADRing your new actors over it is an extremely inexpensive production for the kind of action show it is, all things considered. Then, the series got massively popular, selling reprints of pre existing Japanese toys with some new branding, ensuring extreme profits for everyone involved, Toei, Bandai, and Saban. However, after some time, the series starts to slump in popularity, it happens to the best of us. However, Power Rangers, being, again, relatively inexpensive, and still having some cultural relevance, allowed it to stay in some form of existence for the past 30 years. It is a series that has been able to coast, staying financially viable, while still not being a gangbuster success. It persisted, giving a decent living to those around it, and allowing artists to create something fun.

It has been hot potatoed between multiple rights holders, who all eventually saw value in the way it was made. However, we jump to today. Now, Hasbro is cancelling that, as mentioned, moderate success to form a reboot of it, helmed by Jonathan Entwistle, a creator who seems like a decent fit, his two big breaks being focused on teens in small towns doing stuff, a decent fit for at least half of the Power Rangers Pipeline. It is yet to be seen how he will do in the more action heavy elements of Rangers, as again, most of his projects are smaller, but he at least seems interested, also working on some sort of Karate Kid reboot. However, it seems they want it to be bigger in scale. They want it to fit that Netflix Limited Series High Budget, Short Length structure, targeting a slightly more mature audience. However, a lot of this seems to come from one main desire. They want the Power Rangers that was there in the 90's

I don't just mean, "They Want MMPR!" though that is a symptom of this issue. What they really want is the size and growth that MMPR had back in the day. Therefore, they're going to pump their whole ass into this project, shifting it to be whatever would be seen as following the popular Hollywood trends. This, to me, is a secret side reason to hire Johnny E. He fits into that MCU Formula of hiring a relative unknown known for a few smaller, personal projects and getting them to make some big action blockbuster. And part of this is to reboot to MMPR. It is the recognizable iconography. It's the version of the Rangers my Grandma would know.

Now, it seems neat that Hasbro would want to invest into Rangers. However, they aren't really investing into what Rangers is. That has been going already, and it is only a moderate success. That's not enough. It needs to be a massive success. It needs to be the next big billion dollar hit. Which means, while they are risking the money, since they are a business, they will be trying to mitigate risk. Which, again, means they will be trying to make the safest choices possible. This means taking the old iconography, taking out the weird unique ideas and grafting on more conventional ideas. You know, making it like the MCU 5 years too late. This is an infinitely deep hole caused by the visualization of art as capital

Now, of course, most art, when made in capitalism, needs to be somewhat financially viable. This is more extreme in things like Power Rangers as they are toy vehicles, ways to sell other products, a practice heavily strengthened by the deregulation of children's television under the Reagan administration. A lot of what is going on with Rangers right now reads as the hyper extreme of this concept. At least before, Rangers was able to fit in that weird little corner of the toy shelf that had its own campy vibe, flowing with new ideas every year, staying viable through the Power Rangers brand. It is this perfect creative balance where new ideas can be forged while also staying to a single IP. Yes, Sentai footage limits this, but sticking to whatever weird ideas Toei makes forced the writers to push Power Rangers further. However, now, Hasbro is bucking away from the Sentai footage, not to be able to be more creative with the brand, but to be less creative. Bringing it to be the old Power Rangers, rather than anything new. That's why I am sceptical. And a lot of what has been discussed has only cemented that in my mind.

If anything, thanks to Simon Bennet for keeping with Rangers for so long, for making one last ride, even through Hasbro can suck. And thank you for liking my silly, pessimistic tweets. And godspeed to Johnny E, I hope you can make something good.

[worms-i-think]

*skids down the road to your inbox* HELLO WORMS!!! have you thought about Vyn's R Card [Leisure Time]? I would love to know how tf he got such a steep necked sweater. it's so out of the norm based on his outfits,,, how'd that get in his closet? what story does it hold?

ty and have a nice day!!!

yooooo hey remember when I made an ask game??? Yeah, turns out I got super sick and then had writer’s block! Anyway HI SAM IM GLAD YOURE HERE 🤍!! That’s a great choice for a card, and I was hoping someone chose that one! Here’s a thingy I wrote :)

Vyn Richter: “Leisure Time”

Hobbies, hobbies…

Vyn Richter was a multifaceted, multi-talented man. He could pick up nearly any skill with elegance and ease, whether it involved physical resilience, strategy and quick-thinking, or a unique taste in design.

Though, she had suggested I find a circle to share my hobbies with. It is not a necessity, certainly, but proving that my hobbies are more than needless tasks would make me appear more open.

He stood in front of a bulletin board in Hemingway Heights, perusing the many advertisements and posters. His personal goal this week was to find a group to participate in a hobby with. When his new colleague Rosa had asked about his personal interests a few days prior, Vyn found himself eager to tell about his experiences with polo, archery, music, and the like. They spoke for a while. She said he was an impressive individual.

Impressive. Vyn knew that he was gloating when he replayed their conversation in his head…up until she had asked with whom he shared his talents.

So now, as he stood, Vyn intended to do just that.

She certainly seems like a more sociable individual…this sort of community activity must be of great importance to her.

After moments of careful consideration, he took a picture of the contacts of one interesting group, gracefully tucked his phone in his pocket, and walked away.

—

A month later, Vyn sat with his legs crossed by the waterfront, holding a warm mug of tea and wearing the sweater that Ida had just finished.

“Oh, thank you so much for taking us out today, dear. The sweater looks lovely on you…it’d be a shame if you didn’t keep it.”

Vyn smiled gently to the old woman, insisting that he “mustn’t profit from her handiwork”, but she patted a wrinkled hand on his arm and laughed.

“So sweet! Oh, what a kind man we have…Vyn, I insist.”

Edith took a sip from her own tea. “And handsome too! I bet the waitress was jealous when she came out to see this dashing model with us crones!”

Vyn chuckled, and set his empty mug on the table before standing with his bag. “Well, I do admit that as much as I have enjoyed my time with you, I must be going. And Edith, thank you again for the cardstock. My colleague will be very pleased to see that we may begin scrapbooking our vacation travels. I will continue working on the sock pattern until our next meeting.”

“Of course, dearie! Cozy up with a book when you get around to wearing those—the merino is very soft. Or invite a friend to cozy up with you!” Edith had seemed to listen very intently whenever Vyn mentioned Rosa’s name, and in the moment he felt his features soften at the thought.

He said his final goodbyes to the women, paid the bill as they teased him for being a generous gentleman, and began the walk to the research center.

Vyn would never have expected that he could’ve found so much satisfaction in crafting with others. He had always prided himself in his independent nature, and when he returned to his workplace it dawned upon him that he hadn’t once tried to dissect their mannerisms during their meetings. Instead, he had focused on his own. Their chats gave him a genuine sense of comfort—not only in proving to Rosa that he was capable of sharing his hobbies, but that there were elders who cared for him enough to tease him, or send food when he’s sick, or suggest he adopt a cat. Hell, even as he sat there at his desk Vyn looked down to see the sweater that had been lovingly made for him.

Vyn made a mental note to thank Rosa for her suggestion, and pulled his white coat over the sweater while he tucked his bag of scrapbooking materials to the side. It was a productive day for leisure time, without a doubt.

ty again for the ask! I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve appeared…living is wonky and my brain didn’t Want To but oh well! it may take a long while until I’m done with all of them, but I’m just reminding myself that this is a hobby and I shouldn’t be under any obligation to post lol,,, social media is weird. but I genuinely like everybody sitting in my inbox! Thanks for the patience <333

[foundry-fabrications]

Future of the Foundry

The Foreman stands above a piece of machinery, his fists clenched around a large hammer, arms held high for a strike. He waivers, unsure of his actions. A surge of anger floods through him as memories of greed and deception return to him, causing his to grip to tighten as he brings the raised hammer down. But before the blow connects, more thoughts enter his mind. Memories of satisfied customers and the joy his creations bring them. He relaxes, letting the hammer drop to his side as he gazes upon dozens of other machines, a smile on his lips.

The Foreman returns to his workshop and grabs a dusty catalog from a long forgotten corner of the room. The Foundry only had tooling for producing Coastal Wizard items, but perhaps it was time that changed. He flips though through the booklet, eyes scanning the pages. Golarion. Ironlander. Weyland. Cypher. Countless companies, each offering tooling and licenses for manufacturing, and each less restrictive than his previous supplier. “Well then, looks like I better make a few calls…”

Hello again friends. It’s been over a week since we last spoke and in that time I’ve done a lot of thinking. When I made my last post, I was in a pretty bad place. I was on the verge of tears more than once writing it, and when discussing my decision to cut ties with D&D with my friends. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m an incredibly emotional person and I often have trouble regulating those emotions, especially when things I love are involved. This has gotten me into trouble in the past and will likely do so again in the future, but I’m working on it. I’ve made many poor decisions based on my own fickle feelings and I believe this is no exception. I should have stayed quiet, taken time to think, talk it over with those I trust. Could have, should have, would have, didn’t.

I will say, however, making that decision was oddly freeing. A certain clarity that comes from detachment. Cutting ties with the game allowed me to think clearly as I no longer had any stake in the situation. But I still love the game, nothing will ever change that, and I heard someone say amidst the chaos of it all something that really hit home for me: Don’t let WotC’s greed ruin the game we love. It is clear WotC can’t be trusted so it’s up to us to make sure this wonderful game gets the love and support it deserves while making sure WotC doesn’t get a cent of profit from it. We made this game what it is today and we’ll keep it that way, with or without them.

So, as one can probably guess from my shift in tone, I’m not done with 5e anymore, as a player or content creator. I'm going to continue making content for 5e just as I always have, regardless of how this OGL situation turns out. WotC may be trying to control D&D, but they won't control me. If I ever start selling my content, however, things might change, but for now it will be business as usual. I will, however, be alternating between 5e content and other systems as I explore them. I’ve wanted to play other games and make content for them for a long time and going forward I really want to diversify my content both in terms of what I produce and in what form it's produced. This will be a year of change, growth, and diversity for the Foundry and I couldn't be more excited.

So what can you all expect from me in the future? The homebrew content will continue, but spread across multiple system, namely 5e, Pathfinder 2e, Starfinder, and Ironsworn. They’re currently the systems I either have the most experience with or are the most interested in (mostly the latter). It’s unlikely I’ll make content for games outside of those but anything is possible. I just don’t see it happening anytime soon.

On the topic of other systems, I want to start spotlighting other games that I find interesting. There are thousands of wonderful RPGs out there and I want to share some of them with you and my thoughts on them. I’ll talk about their rules, any fun systems, whatever world they have, that sort of thing. I figure these will be things I can post in between projects.

Speaking of projects, what do I want to work on next? Well sadly, my latest project that I've been working on was a commission and both my client and I decided to scrap it so that project is dead, for now at least. Now free to work on whatever, I would love to release something in honor of the upcoming Dead Space remake, which I could not be more excited for. But on such short notice, I can't do anything too crazy if I want to release in time. After that, I have a big project I want to work on using another game entirely which I'm very excited for.

Anyway, I'm glad to be back and I'm thankful for the support I've received while away. Things are about to get a lot more interesting around here and I'm hoping you'll all come along for the ride. As always, stay safe, don't forget to love each other, and I'll see again you soon.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

24th November >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 19:45-48 for Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time: ‘The people as a whole hung on his words’.

Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Luke 19:45-48 You have turned God's house into a robbers' den.

Jesus went into the Temple and began driving out those who were selling. ‘According to scripture,’ he said ‘my house will be a house of prayer. But you have turned it into a robbers’ den.’

He taught in the Temple every day. The chief priests and the scribes, with the support of the leading citizens, tried to do away with him, but they did not see how they could carry this out because the people as a whole hung on his words.

Gospel (USA) Luke 19:45-48 You have made it a den of thieves.

Jesus entered the temple area and proceeded to drive out those who were selling things, saying to them, “It is written, My house shall be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves.�� And every day he was teaching in the temple area. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people, meanwhile, were seeking to put him to death, but they could find no way to accomplish their purpose because all the people were hanging on his words.

Reflections (6)

(i) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus as a twelve year old teaches in the Temple in Jerusalem. On that occasion, he referred to the Temple as ‘my Father’s house’, declaring to his parents who had been frantically looking for him, ‘Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’ If Jesus regarded the Temple as the house of God his Father, he would have a keen interest in what was going on there. In today’s gospel reading, the adult Jesus is not pleased with what is going on in the Temple. What God had intended to be a ‘house of prayer’ had become a ‘robbers’ den’. Those responsible for the Temple were more concerned with the profits to be made from the sale of animals for sacrifice and from the changing of money to a currency acceptable in the Temple than the proper worship of God. Jesus could see that the priorities of the chief priests and scribes were at odds with God his Father’s priorities. When Jesus challenged their priorities by driving out those who were selling in the Temple, the chief priests and scribes, with the support of the leading citizens of Jerusalem, were determined to do away with Jesus. The religious authorities were not only out of step with God’s priorities, they were also out of step with the people as a whole, who hung upon every word that Jesus spoke. The people were more attuned to God speaking and acting through Jesus than their leaders were. Sometimes what we value and prioritize doesn’t correspond to what God values and prioritizes. Like the people, we need to hang on every word that Jesus speaks if our values and priorities are to be in keeping with those of God.  It is Jesus who reveals the mind of God, the vision of God for our own personal lives, the life of our church and of our world. It is to Jesus we have to keep turning if what is important to us corresponds in some way to what is important to God, our heavenly Father.

And/Or

(ii) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In the gospel reading we have just heard, Jesus firstly drives all trade out of the Temple area and then he proceeds to teach there every day. According to our reading, the presence of Jesus in the Temple met with a divided response. The religious leaders, the chief priests and the leading citizens who were responsible for the running of the temple wanted to do away with Jesus. In contrast, the people as a whole hung on Jesus’ words. A few chapters further on in his gospel Luke describes the crucifixion of Jesus and once again he makes the same distinction between the religious leaders and the people. He tells us that as Jesus hung from the cross the leaders scoffed at him, whereas the people simple stood by watching and after Jesus died they returned home, beating their breasts as a sign of sorrow and repentance. Luke makes it clear that the religious leaders were much more hostile to Jesus than the people as a whole because Jesus was perceived by them as threatening their vested interests. They had something to defend against Jesus whereas the people as a whole knew they had much to receive from Jesus. They somehow recognized that God was visiting them in a special way through Jesus. They had nothing to lose and everything to receive from Jesus. This morning we are invited to stand with the people in hanging on the words of Jesus, and, like them, we too beat our breasts as we look upon the cross of Jesus, recognizing that we have not always lived by his word or walked in his way.

And/Or

(iii) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In the gospel reading this morning, Jesus drives all trade out of the temple, so as to purify it for the worship of God alone. The temple was to be a place of worship and prayer but it had become something else. The buying and selling of the market place had intruded into the temple and had undermined the temple’s primary purpose as a house of prayer. The temple no longer exists but there are still houses of prayer. Our church buildings are houses of prayer. We all feel that we have a very special house of prayer in our own parish church. It is a place of worship, a space into which people can enter to pray and to worship God. Everything in the church is to serve that purpose, the art work, the lighting, the decor, the furniture. I have always felt coming into this church that it is a place where people have been praying for a very long time, as indeed they have. The bulk of the church goes back to the late 1830s. People’s prayer over the generations leaves its mark on a building and makes it easier for us to pray. Our prayerful presence here, in turn, leaves its mark on the building and makes it easier of others to enter into prayer, including those of the generations to come.

And/Or

(iv) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus shows his displeasure at what is happening in the Temple in Jerusalem. Instead of serving its original purpose as a house of prayer for everyone, it had come to serve the interests of a few. Every human institution needs ongoing reform and renewal, and that includes religious institutions, like the church. The Lord is always prompting us to reform and renew our institutions so that they serve God’s purposes more fully, rather than our own purposes. No human institution, no matter how revered, is perfect; it will always be in need of renewal, because it will always be shaped by people who are tainted by sin. What is important is to acknowledge this in an ongoing way and to be open to the Lord’s call to repentance and renewal. This was not the case with those responsible for the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. After Jesus’ actions in the temple, the gospel reading says that the chief priests and the scribes tried to do away with Jesus. To resist ongoing renewal is to resist the Lord. Our journey towards God, both as individuals and as communities, will always involve repentance, a willing to keep on turning more fully towards what God wants for our lives.

And/Or

(v) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading Jesus refers to the Temple in Jerusalem as a ‘house of prayer’. The primary activity of the Temple was to be the activity of prayer. However, other activities had taken over and become more important than they should have been, such as the selling of animals for sacrifice, the exchange of coins, all of which could have been done outside the temple precinct. Jesus’ identification of the Temple as a ‘house of prayer’ is appropriate for every Christian church building. The primary activity of this parish church, and of buildings like it, is the activity of prayer. Every other activity is secondary and should, in some way, be at the service of the primary activity of prayer. Everything in the building should be at the service of people’s prayer such as the lighting, the furniture, the art work, whether it be in the form of statues, paintings, mosaics or stained glass. Our purpose in coming into a church is to pray, and to pray in the whole variety of forms of prayer that have evolved over the centuries within the Jewish and the Christian tradition, the prayer of petition, of contrition, of praise and thanksgiving, of intercession, the quiet prayer of attentive listening. All those forms of prayer have their place within the great prayer of the Eucharist. If this parish church is a ‘house of prayer’, then its primary purpose is to help us to become a people of prayer, in the way that Jesus was a man of prayer. In becoming people of prayer we open ourselves more fully to God’s purpose for our lives and for our world.

And/Or

(vi) Friday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus, quoting one of the prophets, speaks of the Temple in Jerusalem as a ‘house of prayer’. Prayer was to be the primary activity of the Temple. However, in Jesus’ day certain economic activities had become so important that they had gotten in the way of the Temple being a house of prayer for everyone, including non-Jews. Jesus is suggesting that the Temple had lost its way; it was no longer serving God’s purpose but was at the service of various human purposes. We can all lose our way. We can all end up serving our own purpose rather than God’s purpose. This can happen not only with individuals but with institutions, even institutions as sacred as the Temple in Jerusalem. Every so often we need to hear a prophetic voice calling us back to God’s way. For us as Christians, the most authoritative prophetic voice is the voice of Jesus which we hear above all in the gospels. We need to keep returning to his voice, to his living word, as it comes to us through the Scriptures, so that we can live our lives in keeping with God’s purpose. Every parish church, like the Temple in Jerusalem, is a house of prayer. It is above all in that setting that we can prayerfully listen to the word of the Lord addressed to each of us individually and to all of us as members of God’s people, the church.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[quatrecentvingttt]

This is the first chapter of a very chaotic historical fiction novel I wrote called Leavitt Stafford and the Awful, Terrible, Not Very Nice Plan. It’s the first of a book series on Wattpad, and any thoughts on it would be very much appreciated. If you want an idea of how chaotic it is, check out the blurb in the link below.

Chapter the First: The Letter

Once Leavitt had begun to fret over the delay of his dear wife, Evelyn, a letter arrived which was scrawled with rather despondent-looking handwriting, delivered from the brother of the husband of Evelyn's sister Georgia, a gentleman of the appellation Mr. Leopold Cummings*, as demonstrated by the atrocious quality of the handwriting. In places, the letter was wrinkled as though it were a person of ninety years, which suggested that Mr. Cummings had wept upon the envelope. Leavitt had a suspicion that something dreadful had occurred, but he chose to ignore this intuition, for he did not wish to accept the grim reality of the situation. And so, as a means to avoid reading the fateful tidings, he placed the letter upon his mantelpiece and made his way to work, and he told himself that Evelyn would return shortly.

Upon the operating table on the morning in question was a matron, her silvery locks flying about in every direction as though even they wished to escape the pain of the gangrenous leg which would today be the object of the surgery. "ALLOW ME TO BE RID OF THIS LEG!" she cried, for even the pain of the blade must surely be preferable to the gangrene which threatened to consume the entirety of her anatomy!

"Her uterus has flown to her head," Rupert, the employer, and friend, of Leavitt, informed the surgeon coldly.

"MY LEG IS DECAYING!" rejoined the matron.

Rupert paid no heed to the matron, and continued: "We must diagnose her with hysteria and have her sent away to St Bethlehem, for that is surely a more appropriate treatment." A frightful smirk diffused across his countenance as though it were miasma as he observed the fury of the matron.

"I am terribly sorry about Dr. Stephens," said Leavitt with an apologetic smile. He turned around to face Rupert. "I believe I have already informed you of the lack of evidence for the uterus journeying throughout the female body."

"The evidence is in their behaviour."

"This is going to hurt once you awaken," Leavitt informed the matron, and he soaked a cloth in chloroform and placed it upon the matron's nose. "Rupert, please have sense; I have noticed that men many a time behave just as irrationally."

"Nonsense," scoffed Rupert as he pinioned the matron's leg. "Have you not noticed that only women are diagnosed with hysteria?"

"That is because men are blind to their own behaviour."

"And you are blind to your own foolishness!"

Leavitt grabbed ahold of the saw and began to slice into the matron's leg, painting the table with gore and making a dreadful mess. If Satan had been present, he would have found the sight of the gore most delightful, and he would have implored Leavitt to employ his surgical skills in the depths of Hell without the anaesthesia.

"May I examine the leg later?" Leavitt enquired. "I find its gangrenous nature terribly fascinating!"

"You revolt me, but your curiosity shall cause my services to become by far the most superior in the land! People shall travel from across the entirety of Great Britain to seek my superior services and surgeons, and I shall move to a stately home! You may examine the leg, for I shall profit immensely!"

"Thank you ever so much," replied Leavitt with utmost delight. "I shall perform many experiments upon this leg, and I shall inform you of the results."

One prominent concern of Rupert's was that Leavitt would some day decide that he no longer wished to be a surgeon, and that he would pursue the profession of a doctor instead. As Leavitt had amassed a great deal of knowledge through experimentation, and because he would undoubtedly continue to run such experiments in the future, his services would be superior to his, and the mere thought of such an outcome caused his blood to run cold. Rupert must be the superior doctor! If Leavitt made an attempt to undermine him, he would certainly regret doing so!

Before long, the gangrenous leg was cast into a bucket.

"May I use the bucket to transport the leg home?" Leavitt enquired, probing the leg with crazed eyes. "I shall return the bucket tomorrow."

"You may," replied Rupert, "although you must remember to inform me of the outcome of your experiments."

"I shall!"

As Leavitt and Rupert continued their work, the unpleasant presentiment of what the letter would contain weighed upon Leavitt, though it was naturally nonsense, for Evelyn was in perfect health, and would shortly give birth to his first living child. Evelyn would return in a matter of days, and so there was no need to read such a letter! He knew of the habit of Georgia's husband's brother to imbibe the devil's drink, so it was most likely written during a stupor of drunkenness, and this is why he knew he must not read it! He was merely refusing to read it out of courtesy to Mr. Cummings, for he knew that reading such a letter would prove terribly embarrassing to both of them.

Once the sky had turned as black as a pot of ink, Leavitt called for a cabriolet, and he made his way home whilst he seated himself with the gangrenous leg at his ankles. As he carried the leg, he amassed many a peculiar glance, though he hadn't a care in the world, for he would be advancing science... and because his intuition was turning into a sickening anxiety.

Once he returned home, he was greeted by the maid, Marjorie. An apprehensive expression had spread throughout her countenance.

"Evelyn has not yet returned," she had squeaked, "and the letter appears to be serious..."

"Mr Cummings is a drunkard," said Leavitt curtly, placing the gangrenous leg in his office for further inspection.

"Yes, but I feel that this letter is serious! He appears to have wept upon it!"

"The devil's drink is excellent for causing one's emotions to spiral out of control, and I do not believe Mr Cummings would wish for the humiliation caused by me reading the letter." His heart thundered in his breast.

Marjorie snatched the letter from the mantelpiece. "You must read the letter," she insisted, "for it is clearly important."

"I shall read it later," he said, though he had no intention of reading it.

Marjorie folded her arms and shook her head at the dreadfully stubborn man. "I know of your habits, and I know that you haven't the slightest intention to read the letter. Read the letter, and I shall leave you in peace to examine the... leg."

Marjorie was fortunate that Leavitt and Evelyn were as tolerant as they were, otherwise she would have surely been cast into the streets for her impudence. Though, it must be said, Leavitt and Evelyn required a voice of reason in order to prevent their endeavours from becoming too outrageous, and so it was equally fortunate for Leavitt and Evelyn to have a maid who would act as this much-needed voice of reason. And, it must also be said, she had prevented disaster from striking many a time through her interventions.

Leavitt knew that he had no choice in the matter, and so he took the letter and gaped at the scars inflicted by the tears which were most certainly a result of drunkenness. He would wait until Marjorie left, and then he would cast it into the rubbish-bin. He was only doing what any polite gentleman would surely do, considering the knowledge he possessed of the letter.

"I know what you are thinking," declared Marjorie, "and I shall not allow it!"

"Okay, I shall read the letter now!" Leavitt snapped, and he tentatively began to open the envelope. His hands trembled as though they were autumn leaves.

The letter contained within the envelope was even more wrinkled. The handwriting, jerking upwards and downwards as though it were the wheels of a carriage, was almost indecipherable, especially as the tears had blotted it, and the words the letter bore were ghastly:

Dear Mr. Stafford,

My heart tears itself apart as I write to inform you of the recent events which have befallen your wife, her sister, and my brother. I had decided to deliver a gift to Cuthbert,** for his birthday was approaching, and the sight which greeted me was a horror which I shall never forget! Once I reached the house, I had discovered that it had burnt to the ground, and that all that remained were the skeletons of the furnishings! Once I enquired of the location of its residents, the neighbours informed me that they had all passed away amidst the flames! Oh, you must consider yourself fortunate that you have not yet bore witness to their corpses, for they are charred so severely that they appear as though they are enormous coals! I deliver my sincerest condolences, and I strongly suggest a closed-casket funeral, for your wife is burnt so severely that she no longer resembles a human being.

My deepest condolences,

Leopold Cummings

Leavitt could not believe his eyes. This was surely an insensitive joke. His wife was still alive, and she would be returning soon, and that was the truth! "I knew the letter was birthed from drunkenness," he told Marjorie.

Marjorie sighed, for there was no convincing this man of the truth until he made the decision to face the truth himself. "I shall leave you in peace to examine the leg..."

*Yes, my sense of humour is just as immature as yours.

**Georgia's husband

[masquenoire]

“Dead?! What the fuck do you mean they’re dead?!?” Roman snarled, apoplectic with rage at the news he’d just received. The piles of paperwork littering his desk scattered like leaves in the wind as he slammed his fists down heavily upon solid wood, the gesture doing nothing to appease his foul mood and only fuelling it further when Horsehead’s suspicions had been proven true. Business on the streets had been sinking like a corpse in Gotham Bay for some weeks now. Naturally there were slow periods from time to time, so Roman hadn’t been overly concerned after the first week but then profits only continued to decline, with today turning up less than a few hundred measly dollars. A few hundred fucking measly dollars! His profits had never been that bad, not even when he was a fresh-faced rookie for crying out loud, so where had all his customers disappeared to? Turned out they hadn’t just disappeared, they’d been turning up dead all over the city, many of them familiar names who’d bought from him for years. Now all of a sudden they were dropping like flies in just a few weeks? It didn’t make any sense and because of that, Roman was pissed. "So what the hell happened then?? And don’t tell me, they all decided to join a doomsday cult? The crap we sell is clean so it can’t have been that killing them all!” The muscle, those slack-jawed idiots shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, not one brave soul amongst them daring to lift his gaze for fear of getting a punch to the jaw for his trouble. Even Ms. Li didn’t have a smart quip for once which didn’t make him feel any better. Rocco was merely a dog, blissly unaware and uncaring of the situation that had befallen his master and Roman envied the mutt for the briefest of moments, wishing life could only be so simple. Horsehead was the only one who seemed composed, but the rubbery white equine mask he always wore concealed any and all expressions from others. ”Word on the streets is that bad drugs have gotten into Gotham and they’re coming from your territory. No idea what they are or where they came from just yet, but it’s bad stuff. Real bad. The GCPD claim twenty victims have turned up dead this week and they’re finding more and more bodies every day. Buyers are getting nervous so they’re staying away, you know... just in case they’re next.” ”No fucking shit. This is bad for business!” Roman snapped, running a hand over his blackened scalp. Today was turning out to be an absolute disaster. Roman didn’t give a rat’s ass about some random dropheads too stupid to know not to OD themselves but he did care about his reputation and how badly profits would be hit should people believe these lies being spread about him being the one distributing whatever the fuck was killing his regulars. Ever since the fiasco that caused him to lose Janus Cosmetics, Roman always double-checked his deals and made sure he’d gotten exactly what he’d been promised. Poisoned drugs were not what he desired - the dead didn’t come back for another fix and now he was out of pocket and liable to end up in serious shit if he didn’t get a handle on this situation quickly. It was only a matter of time before the bat brigade came snooping, if they hadn’t been doing so already, and tossed his ass in Arkham. Worse still, Red Hood might believe he was responsible for these killer drugs snuffing out people all over the city and would do a hell of a lot more than just breaking his bones and dragging him back to the slammer. And Roman really didn’t feel like dealing with that asshole today. Unfortunately, Horsehead seemed to read his mind and commented further before he could say anything against it. ”Why not contact Red Hood? He can’t be worse than the Joker, plus you might find out what the hell’s going on around here.” ”Have you lost your fucking mind, Horsehead??? The last time we dealt with that asshole, he nearly blew our previous building to Kingdom Come with a goddamn ROCKET LAUNCHER!!! Or did you miss that newsflash somehow??” ”That’s because he wanted to make a good first impression. Next time we might not be so fortunate, especially if he thinks these rumors are true. Shoot first, think later and all that.” Roman gritted his teeth, seething at what he was hearing but knew he didn’t have any better suggestions. For all his issues, Red Hood didn’t target civilians so he couldn’t be the one responsible for the killer drugs either. He would not poison a bunch of random people just to make up an excuse to come after his enemies, he did so anyway regardless so there weren’t many other options avaliable and like hell was he running to the Bat.

”Fine. Send a message to Red Hood, tell that prick we need to talk. Where and when, I don’t give a damn - somebody’s trying to set up shop or cause trouble between us, one or both and I ain’t interesting in taking the blame for this mess.” The muscle, who had been watching this exchange nearly breathed out a collective sigh of relief as Roman signalled for them to go, clearly wanting to formulate a plan with Horsehead in private. They did so quickly, coming up with the idea that the equine-masked man would instruct a new underling, one of the most harmless members they had on hand to get the vigilante’s attention and let him know Black Mask needed to discuss a delicate matter at a time and place of his choosing, preferably sooner than later. Roman sighed once Horsehead also left, collapsing back in his seat and pouring himself a shot of whiskey which he downed fiercely. What a way to start the week. At least he’d caught wind of this situation early, and would soon root out the little rat bastard who’d poisoned half his regulars and scared off the rest. Horsehead’s words rang in his mind, that Red Hood couldn’t be worse than the Joker. Roman had a hard time believing it but what options did he have at this point? He had to make his move before anybody else did and stop this from getting any worse than it already had. @jp-todd-rp​

[ask-spamton-gpory-spamgon]

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Dr. Holiday: Hello this is doctor holiday today I will be writing a small document in regards to.

[Project: Promotiongon]

All is going well in our research we have recently recovered one of the Dubious Disc from up in our labs at Kanto and have successfully induced evolution in our test subject,

amazingly it remains alive and in stable condition after doing so and thanks to the evolution the device installed itself completely into the pokemon making it apart of the pokemon completely,

so removing the "glasses" as their nicknamed would now be impossible unless the user wants to risk complete blindness.

We did have some problems at first a few times where the test subject almost died mid evolution but thankfully they were quickly handled,

and based on recent screenings unlike it's parent the test subject is already done growing so it will not be classified as an "Alpha" Pokemon yet it does seem based on a few tests that will be wiped from it's memory,

that it does still have traits from it's "Alpha" DNA which we at the lab find very curious and will make use of in the future if needed.

I'd also like to remind staff to let the test subject wear it's scarf when it's not in it's tank and to stop attempting to throw it away we want the subject to be obedient and when wearing the scarf it seems to be more relaxed,

When relaxed it's less likely to lash out we do not need a repeat of incident JPPK509 after we installed it's "Tri-Attack" move.

Further more anyone reading this document should be made aware that the subject needs to be spoken in a soft voice and should be given medicine with it's food to counteract the "error" we created when upgrading it's software,

It seemed some of our code messed up during it's evolution so currently it produces eggs at a very dangerous rate that can kill it if not given medicine during meals we will do our best to correct this issue in the mean time.

WE CAN FIX THIS ISSUE WITH ENOUGH TIME WE ONLY NEED IT LAYING EGGS ONCE PER WEEK that way we can make our funding back once the project is complete by selling it's eggs off because we can choose whenever the eggs actually hatch from the lab,

It be a nightmare if these things didn't hatch at all or only randomly upon certain conditions being met the whole point of this project is for our test subject to sell it's eggs to unsuspecting pokemarts and between our bases, and to go out and sell items and return all profits to our organization.

we want this to be a scam but a smart one, one where people don't realize it's a scam untill it's too late in my eyes if we can prevent any of these from hatching that be a blessing but too many unhatched eggs raises too many eyebrow's so SOME need to hatch but not right now.

For now destroy any eggs it lays and wait for further instructions,

this has been Dr. Holiday signing off.

[spooky-bean429]

"The production line" ( short horror story )

Today was Henry’s first day of work at his new job. He had applied to a factory about an hour away from his apartment in downtown Los Angeles. It had hefty pay and a relatively easy job description. He was told that he would watch over a conveyor belt, check over produced toys for any issues, and then send them down the line. He was to be the only one in his section of the factory however, as it wasn’t a very difficult job, and didn’t require much assistance. He didn’t even need to see them in person to ensure that he had the job. 

After Henry had gotten ready for the day, he jumped in his car and headed on his way. He kept a good eye out as he drove, as to make sure not to pass his destination. Frankly, he thought about turning on a GPS, but decided not to in the end. After about 45 minutes of driving he came upon a rather large and worn down factory with the name of the company he was looking for. “Cuddle time productions”. It was kind of weird to see a factory that was built around “giving the best quality for kids” looking so dark and dirty, but hey who was he to judge, he’d never run a business before. 

Henry made his way out of his car and onto the path to the main entrance. The sidewalk was definitely run down, and had more than enough cracks to share, but its softly faded rainbow paint job made it obvious that there had once been an attempt to look more welcoming. He continued his way up the stairs and through the two large steel doors. He didn’t have to wait long, as almost instantaneously he heard a voice from around the corner of the hall. “Hey, you must be the new hire. Welcome, I’m Elijah, the owner and general manager. I apologize for the walk outside, productions have been low lately with a lack of workers, and as you can imagine, a lack of profit means a lack of available output. Enough from me though, what’s your name ?”. “It’s an honor to meet you sir, I am Henry. I can’t wait to get started”. 

Elijah didn’t respond, but quickly turned around with a quick “follow me” gesture of his shoulder. To which of course Henry did. “I’ve already seen you here, so you can count yourself as clocked in for today.” As they walked, Henry had noticed the frames on the walls of the hallways. They were covered in pictures of all the different products that had been created over the years. They all had small label made stickers on the bottom left corners. They were small dates. Some dated from the 60’s, and the newer ones from the 2000s. 

Henry was soon brought back out of his thoughts when Elijah had stopped. “Well this is it. It’s not much, but it works as a small area for you to sit and make notes on any of the products if you ever need to”. He was right of course, it was just a small wooden desk, a swivel fan, some papers and pencils, and a foldable metal chair, but it definitely could have been much worse. “This is perfect, thank you.” Elijah gave a small smile at this, then continued. “The checking procedure is pretty basic, you’ll take any toys with a voice box and give them a little press or shake, but not before they have been x-rayed. It may seem a little intense, but you wouldn’t want to receive a bolt or nail in a bear for your birthday. So it’s best to check. Instructions should be on the side of the machine if you can’t figure it out. Any questions ?”. Henry gave a small shake of the head and stood near the production belt to the side of the desk. “No sir”.

Elijah left soon after, and it was time for work. He had read the instructions on the side of the conveyor belt and x-ray machine and pressed the button to indicate he was ready. The first to roll down the belt was a small cream colored bear with a heart nose, after checking it and sending it on its way down the other belt, he pressed the button again. A small stuffed lion with a blue mane, again no issues, so it went down the belt. Then came the third… an orange hippo. It was mangier than the rest, and the odor emitting from it was no less than horrid. Henry pinched one of its ears between his fingers to pick it up. “Dear god… what is wrong with you little man…” and that was when he felt it. A little weighted piece in the middle. 

He took it over to the little x-ray machine, and gave the lever a flip. There was silence for a minute and then… his ears began to ring. There was a finger, accompanied by a ring. Then the conveyor belt chucked out another. A larger one this time. A pink bat with an embroidered tummy, one Henry had seen advertised a year ago, Asclepia Anna. It was bursting at the seams. His body moved before he even noticed, pinching its tail he moved it over to the x-ray machine. He slapped the hippo out and slammed it in, flipping the lever. A fractured skull… Henry wanted to puke, but he didn’t have time, as he heard Elijah come up behind him. “Sorry that you had to be the one to do it… I didn’t know what to do, no one else took the job, and someone else had to find me”. Henry took a stumble back. Elijah’s finger was missing, accompanied by a wound to the head, his transparency was evident. 

Author Note : Hey guys, not my usual thing to post, but I had to do a creative writing assignment for my English class, and I was super proud of it. It's kind of based off a game I saw Case'oh play last night before bed, called Dollmare. Loved watching it, and recommend it. Have a good day ! 💞

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily Encounter Monday, June 24, 2024

A Happy Heart

Happy are the people with such blessings. Happy are the people whose God is the Lord.1

Our struggle to "have it all" usually begins with the state of our hearts. We set out to make our heart happy by chasing after what we know will make us happy— family, careers, and even religion. In the same way, many that claim to know Jesus lack the evidence of the joy that comes from an abundant life in Him.

King David's first wife, Michal, was the daughter of the former King, Saul. She had lived a privileged life and probably had everything her heart could desire, but she lacked joy. Her heart longed for something she had possibly not yet discovered. She had been raised as a child of God, knowing His Word and practicing His commandments, but she hadn't discovered her own personal relationship with God the way her husband had.

David's relationship with the Lord is evident throughout Scripture. On the day that the Ark of God (which held the tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were written) was being brought into Jerusalem, King David was overjoyed. But Michal sat, perched, high above the crowds and watched with disgust as her husband rejoiced and danced in Holy celebration. David, who openly loved the Lord with all his heart and soul could not contain his joy as he demonstrated his passion for God without shame or regret as he danced in the streets. His wife, who could not share in David's joy, disapproved of and even criticized his actions. David had seen the Lord move in many ways and had seen how the Lord had poured out his blessings time and time again, and now that the Ark of God's Covenant had been brought to his city, he could not contain himself. His wife on the other hand, wasn't willing to allow herself the freedom to enjoy God's blessings. Her heart, that had once loved David so deeply, had turned to scorn and it prevented her from receiving the Lord's blessings that came with hosting the Ark. (1 Chr. 15:29) Sadly, Michal allowed this disappointment to turn into bitterness and she missed out on the beautiful opportunity of enjoying a full and abundant life.

How often are we like Michal and allow the hurt and the disappointment from not having all we want to keep us from serving the Lord or simply finding joy in His blessings. We are called to invite God into our hearts and our homes with the same kind of dancing and rejoicing that David had; Joy that others may not understand. A truly happy heart is found only in a personal relationship with Jesus. Have you found that joy?

Suggested Prayer: Dear God, I ask that you come into my life and fill me with the unsurpassed joy that only a life in You can give. Allow my joy to spill over and touch the lives of those who are still seeking You. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Psalm 144:15 (CSB).

Today's Encounter was written by: Veronica B.

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