#mordecai beware | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

confusedhomicidalrage · 2 months

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Welcome to this hellhole! 🙋🏻

❌DNI! Racists, Homophobia, Transphobia, terfs, Anti-Xenogender, Anti-Therian, Anti-Furry, Ableism, Zionists, Sexists, MAP/Pedo (supporters), If you don't like @shakespeare-official-account and @brains4ne❌

⁠✯!Info Sheet!✯

🩹Basic Information!🩹

💳Name: Fips

📇"Signature" name: (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✯ (I DO NOT OWN THIS SIGN, I JUST USE IT FOR MOST OF MY ACCOUNTS!)

🗂️Nicknames: Fipsy, Fip, Eli, Bassie, Fi, Ribby

🗒️🩷Pet names: Puppy, Bun, Pookie, Darling, sweetie, Froggie

🗃️Dead name: Unavailable

🔞Age: Under 18

📏Height: 5'2" (156/157cm)

⚖️Weight: Unavailable

🎁Birthday: 26th of April

🐂Zodiac Sign: Taurus

🇩🇪Country I live in: Germany

🇩🇪Nationality: German

🇺🇲🇩🇪Languages I speak: English, German

🏳️‍⚧️♂️Gender: Bxy, Transmale, and many many Xenogenders!

🌈Sexuality: Aroace (Aromantic, Asexual)

⚧️Pronouns: Any, except She/her

🩺Mental illnesses: Autism, Depression

🎉More stuff about me!🎉

🎇🤩Current Special interests: Children of the corn, Sam Neill, frogs, Kirby, newsies, bandages and bandaids, language learning, Historical figures, poppy playtime, Struwwelpeter

🩷Other things I like: Plushies, dolls, Beware! Children at play, moths, Leeches, dogs, cats, flowers, snakes, the umbrella academy, Julius Caesar, space, Saw, Axolotls, the good son (1993), Basically any movie Sam Neill played in, Daniel isn't real, Dark Deception, Murder by Numbers (2002), ducks, Murder drones, clocks, Game of thrones, The umbrella academy, cry of fear, minks, seals, The Lucius games, The omen (the first three), the big bang theory/the little bang theory (basically Sheldon Cooper and young Sheldon)

🙅🏻Things I dislike: Bright/neon lights, loud noise (my music doesn't count), the words "crawling and "armpits", spiders, Flashing lights, spitting

💕"Favorite" stuff!💕

💖🍝🌽🥐🍫Favorite Foods: Spaghetti Bolognese and corn (with butter), Chocolate filled croissants

💖🍫🥛Favorite Drink: chocolate milkshake

💖🌻Favorite Flower: Sunflowers

💖❄️Favorite Season: Winter

💖🎆Favorite Holiday: New Year's Eve

💖🐸Favorite Animal: Frogs

💖🎥Favorite Movie Genre: Horror

💖🖍️Favorite color: The most specific shade of maroon red ever

✖️"Least Favorite" stuff!✖️

🤢🦐Least favorite Food: Shrimps... (Ew!)

🤢🥤Least Favorite Drink: Vanilla stuff

🤢💐Least Favorite Flower: Unavailable

🤢☀️Least Favorite Season: Summer

🤢🥂Least Favorite Holiday: Thanksgiving

🤢🕷️Least Favorite Animal: Spiders

🤢🎬Least Favorite Movie Genre: Unavailable

🤢🌈Least favorite color: Neon/bright colors

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦Family/Relationships!👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

👫🏻Siblings: 7 older siblings; none of them use Tumblr! :(

👨‍👨‍👧‍👦👩‍👩‍👧‍👦Parents: "4", one biological mom, one biological dad, one step-dad, technically one step-mom

🏡Who do I live with: Step-dad, Mom, older step-Brother, older Sister

🐈‍⬛Pet: A cat called Fritzy

💞Bestie: Lawrence/lauren (@brains4ne) (I adopted Eli, Joshua, Micah, Josiah, Mordecai, Abel, Isaac and Malachai with them)

💕Queer-platonic partner: River, I don't know if they use Tumblr, but I doubt it!

👨‍👨‍👦‍👦Adopted Fictional children: Eli and Joshua Porter (children of the corn; Urban harvest), Micah and Mordecai (Children of the corn; Final Sacrifice), Abel (Children of the corn; Revelation), Isaac Chroner, Malachai Boardman, Job, Sarah and Joseph (Children of the corn, 1994), Josiah Nock (Children of the corn; The gathering), Matt (Children of the corn; Isaac's return)

🐈Fictional pet: Lancekitty (Something that started off as a joke on @thornonthevine, but now it's the Family's pet..)

💫Other Random stuff!💫

🤷🏻Non-categorized: I'm a white and black moth therian

🌟Random fun fact: The reason why I have "Eli" as a nickname is because I once said how I wanted to change my name to Elias, but didn't want to have the same name as a classmate, so my sister suggested shortening it to "Eli", so no, It's not because of my COTC obsession. The nickname "Bassie" came from my (ex-)friend trying to write "baddie", but she accidentally called me "bassie"...

➡️Side blogs: @real-antonio-vivaldi, @messy-stimboard-disaster, @lord-alfred-douglas-official

⚠️Important: Please don't spam my inbox with stuff. Unless you are Shakesdear. To me, it feels like me and her spamming each other is sort of like a unique love language, so please don't spam my inbox unless you are Shakesdear!

#Introduction #intro to my blog #intro post #introduction post

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scrunkalicious · 2 months

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HEYO!!

I'm Marly/Scrunkly/K-9!!

♦️ My pronouns She/Her, I'm a Filipino artist, selfshipper, writer, musician, and more!! I'm Proud Pinoy Pansexual,, hello world!! I often use capital letterz a lot so errmm beware,,,,,

♦️ My interests and fandoms are as follows: BATIM, MCSM, Lackadaisy, Arcane, KATAOW, Carmen Sandiego, uhh prolly more just ask, art, music (I play the cello + ukulele!!), speech and debate, studying the mutualz under a microscope in the lab,,, and loving viktor from arcane

♦️ I EMBRACE THE CRINGE. I'm a selfshipper!! My full F/O list can be found here!! My main F/Os are Viktor (Arcane) & Mordecai Heller (Lackadaisy), and I'm not comfortable sharing those two guyz!!

♦️ wuuhhh im the CEO of Martor (Marly x Viktor) and Marloray (Marly Divata x Mordecai Heller) im a business woman ong

♦️ PLEABSEE DNI IF: Pro.shipper, pe.do, homophobic/transphobic, racist, MD.NI/NS.FW blogz, just basic DNI n weird shit,,, op is queer and a poc!!

♦️ Here are some other blogz I have!! @viktors-filipina-girlfriend (RB gamez n general selfship related thingz [follow MAIN blog for actual content]) @unscrunkalicious (random stuff n whatnot) @marly-mahal-ko (RP blog), @marloray (writing blog) n sume more idk

TAGZ AND OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAZ:

#martly🧍🏻‍♀️ (Art Tag)

#marly yapz!! (me when I yap a lot,,,)

#marly writez (all my writing stuff)

#💜martor💜 (anything relating to ur fave silly scholarz)

DON'T BE AFRAID TO CHAT,,,, ID LOOOVEE TO BE FRIENDZ :3

(userbox and blinkie by LUCY. when I catch you bruh)

below cut is art gallery from me n otherz,,,, check out everyone mentioned or else i send you to the MEATGRINDER.

Art gallery 🤯,, my art is at the bottom lmao

LEFT ART BY h0t-p1nk-ch33tah-pr1nt,,, RIGHT BY sapphicseal,,,, LUCY N KAT WHEN I GET YALL,,,,,,,

ART BY dreambird on ToyHouse,,,,,,nwoaoahah

ABOVE 2 BY Tempo ON TOYHOUSE,,,,, BRO....

ABOVE ART BY l0v3sickl0s3r,,, LIZ,,,,, BRO.

OKOK NOW ALL BELOW ART BY MEEEEEE

#intro!!#scrunkalicious #please talk to me i am friendly #your local viktor kisser!!

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xclaws-n-talonsx · 1 month

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"Another notch on my rifle."

ABOUT

Name: Red/Steph Age: 26 Pronouns: They/he Gender: Fluid Sexuality: Pan F/O: Mordecai from the Borderlands series

MAIN TAGS

#bird husband: Mordy stuff #nsft: 18+ content (minors, beware) #red's sketchbook: my art tag

IMPORTANT TO KNOW

I am married IRL. This means I am NOT open to being flirted with or participating in NSFW RP's. (I am open to cute interactions with Mordy role players though!)

My S/I is entirely based on me! They share my pronouns, my appearance, and my name.

Minors, I will not chase you away from my blog, but please be fully aware that I am an ADULT. I may post ADULT THINGS. I would prefer you not interact with my NSFW posts.

I am autistic and my social battery runs out quickly at times. I may forget to reply to messages, or take a long time to respond. Please be patient!

Thanks for reading! <3

(divider credit: @saradika-graphics)

#self ship #self ship community #self shipper #f/o #f/o community

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irenadel · 1 year

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Small Graces

Mitzi x Mordecai The animated short took over my brain and re-ignited the hots I have for Mordecai. Filthy porn ahead, beware. I'm not brave enough to make this furry. Everyone is a human here. Pre-canon. Lackadaisy glory days when Atlas was still alive. Some mild spoilers for the last couple of comics, so read at your own risk.

Part I

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Unprofessionalism notwithstanding, Mordecai abhorred falling asleep in his clothes. It was liable to wrinkle them and require his pants be sent to the dry cleaners yet again this week. At least someone (he earnestly hoped it had been himself, he shuddered at the thought of strange hands touching his feet) had had the sense to take his shoes off and neatly drape his bloodied jacket and vest over one of the apartment’s plush chairs.

And there was the small matter of keeping a lookout for anyone seeking revenge for the recent bloodshed on his boss’s estranged wife.

He supposed it had been the steady ticking of the clock which had lulled him into sleep. On difficult nights he always slept with a pocket watch close to his ear… But his was most certainly still securely tucked into the pocket of his vest, and he didn’t see a clock anywhere in Mrs. May’s Bohemian though, he begrudgingly accepted, tidy bedroom. It wasn’t a clock. Ah. The high sweet keys of a piano emerged from his cottony, still half-unconscious perception (it had been a lot of blood loss, he wouldn’t have volunteered for lookout duty if Viktor hadn’t been in a sorrier state than he was). A metronome. He should have known, though somehow hadn’t expected it from Mrs. May’s self-admittedly hodgepodge musical education.

There’d been a man in the tenement building Mordecai grew up in who had fixed and tuned pianos for a living. Sometimes when he was working, he would use the metronome for some unknowable purpose. Mordecai had always liked the sound.

He let it draw him out of sleep now. Let it provide him with an excuse not to bother, or be bothered, by the lady of the house. It was still dark out, still dangerous, though the hint of a slowly graying sky promised him a ready reprieve. Soon he could be back home, change into fresh clothes, and never have to think about having had to intrude into a married woman’s private chambers. Nevermind that this married woman should have been in her husband’s home, not in some dingy apartment where Mordecai had to keep a lookout for her. He couldn’t pretend to understand what happened in a normal marriage, let alone one with any sort of turbulence to it.

The steady tick of the metronome, the accompanying slow, high notes of the piano let him tune out the distracting reality of the room, let him focus on his post at the window. He would not think of the confounding Mrs. Atlas May. He would not think of her vanity behind him, or the brush disgustingly full as he supposed it was with human hair. The whiff of perfume and cosmetics. The slept in unmade bed or any dirty clothes that–

But the bed was made. It had not been so when he arrived, when he’d woken up its occupant in the middle of the night. And someone had cleaned her vanity, down to putting her brush and combs away… The same someone who had draped his bloodied clothes upon the back of a chair, maybe taken his shoes off when he had curled up in the window sill… the same person who could have fallen asleep again but had chosen to stay up and occupy herself with something outside the bedroom, giving him space…

He’d known Mrs. May a long time. He’d known she was smarter than she let on, more perceptive… He hadn’t realized she was also kind.

“Would you like some coffee, sweetheart?”

He’d nearly jumped out of his skin, had certainly scrambled off his perch in the window sill. He hadn’t heard the piano stop because the metronome was still going.

“Thank you, Mrs. May, but not presentl–”

He’d turned to at least acknowledge her presence and was jarred into full alertness by the sight of Atlas May’s wife in nothing more than a nightgown and a robe. He averted his gaze immediately, brushing past her on his way out the door, unable to keep from shuddering at the extraneous, unexpected contact.

“I’ll just give you a minute.”

He fled into her little parlor for safety, finding himself drawn to the still ticking metronome. A good enough excuse to keep his back to her and allow her the grace of an inconspicuous exit.

“Sugar, you can give me ten or twenty minutes,” she drawled, still leaning on her bedroom’s door frame. “I’m still not putting on any clothes before the sun is out. You’ll just have to make your peace with it, honey.”

She gave him no time for further discomfort, sitting herself back down on the piano’s bench and resuming her practice. He was frozen in place, unable and unwilling to cede her the territory she had just gained. He should go back to his post at the window, pretend none of this had taken place and hope it would not be mentioned to any of their mutual acquaintances.

She didn’t play the same high, melancholy melody as before, but a set of scales. Somehow, that was better. Somehow, the repetitive, rising and decreasing nature of it soothed him. He wouldn’t look at her but still he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and found himself suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. It had been a long night.

“You can sit down, sweetheart, you don’t have to stand at attention”

He glared at her, not dignifying her comment with an answer but still not finding in himself the energy to move back to the window.

“… if it makes you so miserable, I can dispense with the babysitter, Mordecai.”

He tried not to roll his eyes at her. “Mrs. May, your husband made it clear—“

The piano stopped with a sudden, dissonant twang. “What my husband wants is no longer my concern.”

The venom in her voice embarrassed him. This whole situation was simply intolerable. He wanted to cringe back from it and suddenly the thought that all her small kindnesses, her attire and her proximity may have been an attempt to involve him in some kind of petty revenge against Atlas… it was too much. Spite could be so tiresome.

“How ever much I appreciate your courtesy Mrs. May, I wish to play no part in your marital strife.”

She stared at him, half dumbfounded, half immeasurably wounded. He was not prone to sentimentality but somehow her big green eyes (beautiful, he’d often heard the boss comment what beautiful eyes his wife had, personally he was indifferent to them) made him fidget.

“Mordecai sweetheart,” she said tiredly, closing the piano’s fallboard over the keys. “I know it must be hard to understand, but not everything a married woman does is about her husband.”

There was a certain exhausted defiance in the way she looked at him that made him uncomfortable. His mother had looked like that at times after his father had passed away. It made his cheeks burn with a guilty sort of flush.

Atlas is still alive, he wanted to say, don’t look at me like that, Mrs. May.

But he said nothing, just returned her tired gaze with a bewildered one of his own and watched her silently give up. She made to get up from the piano, one hand reaching for the metronome to stop its steady ticking and he panicked. He didn’t want her to go back to her bedroom, disrobe even further and sleep in the bed he would have to be near if he went back to his lookout spot. Out of options to detain her further, he did the one thing he could think of: he acquiesced to her request and sat down on the bench beside her.

There was a certain satisfaction in seeing those usually languid, knowing eyes widen in surprise, and his stomach did a flip at the hint of a smile dancing on Mrs. May’s unmade but still very rosy lips. She flipped the fallboard back back up and started her scales again. Mordecai let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Up close, she didn’t smell like cosmetics as she usually would have, no slight sheen of sweat as he had always known her to have, from her exertions on the stage or the dance floor. Had she bathed too, while he slept? For his benefit? He forced himself not to squirm on the bench, suddenly aware of the bare, warm flesh beneath her thin nightgown and robe. He should not have sat down. For all her skimpy costumes back in her stage days, Mordecai had never personally been so close to a woman in such a state of undress. It made him nauseous, made his skin itch, made him…

She’d stopped playing.

“Mordecai honey,” she said tentatively. “Do you need a minute?”

For a second he didn’t understand what she meant. Then he became aware of the rapidly forming bulge beneath his silk pants.

He clambered off the bench, against the piano’s keys, their frantic, offkey protest mirroring his own frantic, strenuous desire to flee. He would have, if she had tried to touch him, would have ran if Mrs. May hadn’t left her seat on the bench and taken a slow, deliberate step back.

“Darling, it’s alright,” she’d said softly, so kindly it made him even more anxious. He wanted to blame her for this. Her and her uncharacteristic concessions to his innumerable peculiarities, so often points of contention or mockery. He wondered if she had planned this. Would have found it easier to retreat in a fury if she had. He wondered how she could have undone him so thoroughly, how she could’ve known, as she seemed to have guessed everything else, that nothing but the scent of her clean skin and talcum (no perfume, no artifice) could have left him in this dizzy, pitiful state of arousal…

But she didn’t seem to know what to do anymore than he did.

He could see her make up her mind in real time. Felt his whole body thrum with anticipation the moment she stepped into his space. It must be the blood loss or the drugs still swimming in his veins that kept him frozen in place. He must still be under the influence, woozy from adrenaline, or he would have never allowed this, never considered this. Would have never let her get so close. So close he could feel the heat of her body beneath her nightgown. So close he marveled that it was not enough.

“Mrs. May—“

“Honey, if you call me ‘Mrs. May’ again while we’re doing this, I’ll scream.”

She didn’t scream though. And for a short, panicky second Mordecai was afraid she would try to kiss him. Mrs. Ma– Mitzi did not. Did she know he could not stand it if she tried to kiss him? Even when she threw one arm around his neck, running her nails up his scalp in a way that made him forget about propriety, promises or even the wrinkles sure to form on his pants, all she did was lay her forehead against his while he panted madly, waiting, hoping, aching… Her other hand found the front buttons below his belt, deftly undoing them before snaking inside. Did she know he could not take anything else? All the secret, lewd things he’d heard others whisper about, the ones that had seemed too full of fluids and other people’s filth, the ones he’d scoffed at (wondered at)... did she know this was the only one he could stand? He looked at her pleadingly, not recognizing himself, so desperate he was almost ready to tell her she could try to put her lips on him, anything, anything at all to quench this needy, wanton fire on his skin.

Her hand was enough. Wrapping around his penis, firmly, hotly pulling at him. He’d only done this to himself a couple of times during the first desperate pangs of adolescence. It shouldn’t have surprised him how much better it would feel when someone else did it for him. It shouldn’t have surprised him how much more skilled she was at it. He was mortified at the whimper that escaped him, his glasses fogging with a sweat he suddenly could not care less about. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips almost a smile, as she stroked him again and again, good God, to the rhythm of the metronome.

“Mitzi,” he keened desperately and heard her throaty, low chuckle before he saw the first real smile he had seen all evening break out on her face.

She must know, surely she must know how good it was, how crazy it drove him to have this done to him properly. He bared his teeth, letting his head hang back, keeping his hips still out of sheer stubbornness. He would not interrupt her blissfully rhythmic strokes. He’d surrendered any protests he could have. She knew better, knew him better than he knew himself. Knew he would prefer the chaffing to any improvised lubrication. Knew the only kind he could allow was what she could gather from the weeping tip of his erection, with her sharp little nails, running down his length again and again, again and again, all to the steady ticking of the metronome behind him. He was swimming in that even, predictable tick, tick, tick. Swimming in the heat at the pit of his stomach, in the sweet smell of her skin and her lady’s talcum, mysterious and alien and clean. Balls tight, nipples tingling, his skin so hot and needy he felt it would crawl off him any minute now, any second…

“Mordecai sweetheart,” he heard her one more time, searing lips against his neck. “Come for me.”

He hadn’t known the words would make a difference. They did. He screwed his eyes shut, hands braced against the piano and felt his balls empty themselves in her hand, his hips lost at last, pumping of their own accord against her. He, for once in his life, utterly heedless of the mess he was making, while choking on her name, Mitzi, Mitzi, Mitzi, like a prayer.

When he came back to himself, Mordecai realized she was panting against his throat too, her other hand still firmly cradling his neck, whole body draped across his own heaving one. The wound on his shoulder throbbed dully, and for a moment he was at a loss before this overwhelming, bounteous humanity in the form of Mitzi May, still in her nightgown, one hand covered in the shameful, evidence of his transgression. For a moment he felt like he could heave.

He felt like a fool when she used her clean hand to extricate a handkerchief from somewhere – the lady in her had thought of the handkerchief, the ballroom bawd had thought to stock it even into her undergarments – and used it to clean him up so thoroughly and expertly he was left dumbfounded. Deeply, heartbreakingly grateful. Almost ashamed of his brief, furtive revulsion.

“Thank you,” he managed, pathetically sincere.

Mitzi smiled at him again, something watery hiding behind her large doe eyes, which he could, at last, admit were beautiful beyond measure.

“Thank you,” she countered. “I needed that.”

Mordecai didn’t know if it was the haze of orgasm, danger or gratitude, but he touched her of his own accord then. He reached for her face and felt nauseously delighted when she leaned into his hand. He did not know if he would ever understand his sex’s fascination with beautiful women… but he understood this much. He felt reckless with the knowledge, almost drunk on it. He felt generous but afraid, suddenly, that whatever this was, would evaporate as morning dew…

When Mitzi made to go dispose of her soiled handkerchief he grabbed her wrist with sudden, forceful intent. It felt delicate, birdlike under his hands, capable as they were, of such brutality. He felt a thrill in that new awareness of her fragility, compounded by her still racing pulse and the lingering warmth of their exertions on the thin skin stretched over her veins. Reckless, heedless of consequences or even his own inclinations, he pulled her closer grabbing two ample handfuls of her hips and buttocks. He risked his forehead against her stomach and was exhilarated both at his persistent desire to touch her and her clean, handkerchief-free hand on his hair, carding fingers through the mess they had made of it. Together.

“Take a bath,” he’d risked the order, looking up at her from his seat on the piano’s edge. He was glad she bit her full unpainted lip, seemingly pleased, instead of cutting him down with a condescending “sweetie” or an icy glare. His heart was hammering at his daring. “I’ll meet you in your bed.”

#lackadaisy #mordecai heller #mitzi may #mordecai x mitzi #mordecai smut #lackadaisy fanfiction #no one ships this but me #fine i'll write it myself then #there will be a second part hopefully #just dont hold your breath #iresmut #my writing

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asksoldieron · 5 months

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SO-16: And Here's the Action!!

If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand.

No art, and I'm pissed because I had a really cool idea for this one. Erik is playing with guns and guns are cool! I have played with some guns (in a controlled environment, don't get nervous) and I can confirm that they are very cool. Not cool enough for me to spend money spraying more lead indiscriminately around the environment, but if forty feral hogs habitually showed up on my lawn, I'd have me some fun. Well, I'll edit the art in later, at some point, hopefully.

*ahem*

Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for The Chatterbox Massacre (SO-16) an instalment! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a 475 character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!

😭Waaaaaah I wanted to draw St. George-in-Erik firing guns with magic but I just CAN'T yet! I mean, non-zero chance I'll screw up my first couple illustrations when I can draw again, so I probably shouldn't draw that one first anyway, but I wanna see it. Damn.

IRL, I'm not fond of violence as a solution, but as a writer I appreciate the expedience. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG! Okay, and now we have a whole bunch of NEW problems. I suppose that's not really a solution at all, but it's still gonna look cool when you imagine it. That's how come they say it's not possible to make an anti-war movie. You script it and make it part of a narrative and put some good actors and effects in it, and it just looks cool. Can't help it, gotta roll with it.

On the other hand, while Erik certainly doesn't deserve to die for being who he is, you can see why the cops prefer to kill immies on sight. Look what they can do! But, on the third hand, look at what Maggie can do. Nobody's going to unload on her for being magical unless she does something and they see it.

Poor Maggie made a little error and punched Mordecai when she really didn't need to, but if you've been reading you may suspect who (or what) put their finger on the scale, and who helped her shrug off David's little god trick. But to tell you the truth, it's like that because I forgot how magic works when I wrote the first draft. I needed her to punch him in the face! Fortunately, their unseen observer needed her to punch him too. We'll get to that when they get home again.

I was surprised by how little time it took to actually kill everyone. (Ha-ha, there's another one of those things I can only say because I'm a writer.) I was worried it needed to be more epic. The spouse advised me that that's just how it is when only one guy has a working gun in a street fight. It's over. People are dead and that's forever. On to the next thing. Bleh. I don't like the idea of it, but it rings true enough.

John is... not doing well, is he? I'd been planning this scene for years but that caught me off guard. I didn't realize what the situation would look like to him until I got him back inside and George handed him a gun. Well, let's see, Erik's family are right there to help him and he knows that, and he's holding an object that will get him out of the way so Erik can go home. Uh, yeah, why wouldn't he? (Currently writing the next 6 and I've almost got him out of Prokovia, and the plot, for the time being. Jenny will put him back together and Rob will forgive him, but Billie might not...)

Next instalment goes up on Erik's birthday, and mine! It's not birthday-themed or anything, but after all this nonsense his family do finally have enough information to get him home. They just have to put it together!

[Back to site?]

#tin soldier and soldier on #instalment #engagement lounge #still wanna draw #but also need to make tamales and more cookies #dang christmas why you so complicated?

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bastardsunlight · 2 years

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Shaking up your inbox with this one for all your married muses:

You get pinched on the butt by your partner, wyd?

//This answer is so long (like my dick), I'm not tagging it with more'n the essentials god bless.

Cable – Would actually be surprised if Wade didn’t pull Some Shit Like This™… and that’s without telepathy.

Gavin Reed – When he was married, he would jump and cuss at the top of his lungs—flailing and hissing, the whole bit.

Harley Quinn – You know that squeal she makes? That. She jumps and it’s pretty much the cutest shit ever, zero homicide. She loves her Pammy.

Jim Kirk – Honestly it’s RARE, but our beloved Captain (sometimes Admiral) does his level best to maintain dignity.

Johnny Cage – In all verses, across all timelines, he whips out a classic charmer line and his spouse HAAAAAATES him for it, but they should’ve known better.

Kung Lao – Eyes wide, lips pressed together, holding back a yelp. He knows who it is—nobody else but Liu Kang would have the moxxy to pull that shit, but it surprises him every time.

Matt Horner – Okay if it’s Mira, he’s screaming and moving away quickly, possibly pulling a firearm. Valerian, he’s still going to scream, thinking it’s Mira, but when it isn’t and the Emperor is feeling frisky, all bets are off.

Mileena – She goes red, hisses, and pretends she doesn’t love it. Tanya knows better.

Mordecai – is just impressed Brick found enough cheek to pinch.

Noctis – Squawk. I don’t know what other word describes that noise—plus he goes red to his big ol’ ears.

Piccolo – Grunts a little then makes a crack about being impressed Vegeta could reach. Violence ensues, but dw they’re into it.

Raiden – Quiet intake of breath at the audacity of it, but Shang Tsung is nothing if not audacious—one must be, if one is to wed and bed a god.

Rayden – Gives it right tf back—usually with a crotch grab so beware. Porno moans optional, depends on how much of a goblin he feels like bein’.

Sandman – “Hey!” Followed by the dumbest old man dad grin you’ve ever seen.

Scorpion – “THIS DISHONOR WILL NOT GO UNANSWERED.” Violence. It’s Shirai-Ryu tradition probably.

Holmes – Actual surprise???

Snake – “Hrrn, Otacon…!” They then proceed to fumble about and then make slow, languorous love. It’s pretty great when love blooms on the battlefield, innit?

Shiro – Like, the cutest “EH!” you’ve ever heard out of a dorito-shaped man.

Twisted Fate – “Well ain’t you cheeky? Gunna finish what you started, big man?” Or some variation on that theme. He is very in love with his giant dingus husband (which is fortunate because Graves is very in love with his twinky dingus husband, so it all works out)

Valerian Mengsk – A surprisingly Anime Gasp™ for a man his size.

The Boss – A comical scream that sounds so much like Nolan North you’d swear it was Nolan North, but that’s crazy… right?

#twisted graves #luckyshot #cablepool #sheith #$andman #warring exes #thermodynamic equillibrium #caged heat #faraday cage #brick and mordy #taleena #snotacon #shaolin rowdy boys #harlivy #two tsuns one bed

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huntsvillehq · 2 months

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(Jamie Campbell Bower) [THE FIGHTER]. Please welcome [Mordecai Pluto (He/They)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [35]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [THE COMMUNE]. You may see them around working as a [Piano player at the Huntsville Chapel]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.(Hi….its me Pixie)

WELCOME TO HUNTSVILLE, WV, mordecai. Please follow this checklist and submit your account within 48 hours. Do not stay out after dark, and beware the whispers calling you into the woods at dusk.

#accepted.#huntsvilleaccepted

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dfroza · 1 year

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A pure River

True illumination.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 22nd and closing chapter of the book of Revelation and the closing words of the Holy Bible:

My heavenly guide brought me to the river of pure living waters, shimmering as brilliantly as crystal. It flowed out from the throne of God and of the Lamb, flowing down the middle and dividing the street of the holy city. On each bank of the river stood the Tree of Life, firmly planted, bearing twelve kinds of fruit and producing its sweet crop every month throughout the year. And the soothing leaves that grew on the Tree of Life provided precious healing for the nations.

No one or nothing will labor under any curse any longer. And the throne of God and of the Lamb will sit prominently in the city. God’s servants will continually serve and worship Him. They will be able to look upon His face, and His name will be written on their foreheads. Darkness will never again fall on this city. They will not require the light of a lamp or of the sun because the Lord God will be their illumination. By His light, they will reign throughout the ages.

Guide (speaking to me): These words are faithful and true.

And the Lord, the God who inspired the prophets, has sent His heavenly messenger to show to His servants what must soon take place.

The Anointed One: Look now, I am coming soon! The one who remains true to the prophetic words contained in this book will truly be blessed.

I, John, am the one who heard and witnessed these visions. And when I heard and witnessed them, I fell prostrate at the feet of the heavenly guide who showed them to me. But he refused.

Guide: You must not do that! I am a servant with you, with your brothers and sisters the prophets, and with those who keep the words contained in this book. Worship God instead!

(continuing) Do not seal up the prophetic words contained in this book for another day, for the finale is near. Let the one given to evil continue down evil’s path and the one addicted to filth continue to be its servant. But let the one who is righteous journey along the righteous road, and let the holy continue in holy ways.

The Anointed One: See, I am coming soon, and I will bring My reward with Me. I will pay back every person according to the deeds he has done. I am the Alpha and Omega, the First One and the Last One, the beginning and the end.

Blessed are those who wash their garments. In the end, they have rightful access to the tree of life and will enter the city through its gates. The dogs, the sorcerers, those who commit immoral acts, the murderers, the idolaters, and all who love and practice deception must remain outside the gates for all eternity.

Jesus: I, Jesus, have sent My messenger to show you and guide you so that you in turn would share this testimony with the churches. I am the Root and the Descendant of David, the Bright Morning Star.

The Spirit and the Bride: Come.

And let everyone who hears these words say, “Come.”

And let those who thirst come.

All who desire to drink, let them take and drink freely from the water of life.

Beware, everyone who hears the prophetic words of this book. Know this for certain: if anyone adds to these words, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book. And if anyone subtracts from the prophetic words of this book, God will remove that person’s access to the tree of life and to the holy city which are described in this book.

The One who testifies to these realities makes this promise:

The Anointed One: Yes. I am coming soon.

To which we say, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

May the grace of the Lord Jesus [the Anointed One] be with all [the saints]. Amen.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 22 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 6th chapter of the book of Esther that turns the table on Haman’s plan to execute Mordecai:

That same night the king was unable to sleep, so he ordered the official records of his reign to be brought and read before him. As the record was read, the king was reminded of the time when Mordecai saved his life. Mordecai had been the one who reported that Bigthana and Teresh, two of the royal eunuchs who guarded the doors, were plotting to assassinate the king.

King Ahasuerus (to his servants): Did Mordecai receive any recognition for this action? Was he honored in any way?

Servants: He received no recognition for this.

King Ahasuerus: Is anyone out in the court now?

Haman had just arrived at the outer court of King Ahasuerus’ palace. He hoped to speak with the king about executing Mordecai and hanging him on the pole he had prepared.

Servants: Haman is here waiting in the court to see you.

King Ahasuerus: Allow him to come in.

So Haman entered the king’s chambers. He waited for the king to speak first.

King Ahasuerus: Haman, I want to ask you something. What do you believe is the proper manner in which to honor a man who has pleased me?

Then Haman thought to himself, “There is no one the king wishes to honor more than me.”

Haman: If you desire to honor a man, I believe you should do this: First, have your servants bring one of the robes you have worn and one of the horses you have ridden that has worn the royal crown on its head. Then, you should give the robe and horse to one of your most noble officials. Have him robe the man whom you want to honor and then lead the man on horseback throughout the center of the city. It should be announced that this is what happens for the man whom the king wants to honor.

King Ahasuerus: Your idea is perfect, Haman. I want you to go and do this immediately. Take one of my robes and one of my horses and do exactly what you have suggested to Mordecai, the Jewish man who sits at my gate. Do everything you have said, and don’t leave out one single detail. Not one!

Haman was mortified. He took the robe and horse; he dressed Mordecai in the king’s robe and led him throughout the square of the city.

Haman (shouting): This is what happens for the man whom the king desires to honor!

When it was done, Mordecai returned to the king’s gate. But Haman fled to his home, mourning and covering his head in humiliation. He told his wife, Zeresh, and all his friends everything that had happened to him. They offered him a bit of wise advice.

Zeresh and His Friends: You must be very careful with how you handle Mordecai! If he really is a Jew, a descendant of the nation that defeated your ancestors, then you won’t be able to succeed. In fact, you will most certainly be destroyed! Look, you’ve already begun to bow to him.

In the middle of their conversation, the king’s eunuchs arrived at Haman’s house and rushed him off to have dinner with Esther and the king.

The Book of Esther, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, April 21 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the cleansing of sacred Blood that was foreshadowed in the sacrificial rituals instructed to Moses and the priests, outlining God’s law that was fulfilled (for us) in the Son:

The cleansing of a metzora (i.e., "leper") corresponded with other significant sacrificial rituals given in the Torah. The sprinkling of the hyssop by the priest recalled the blood of Passover; the offering made of the two birds - one which was sacrificed and the other set free - recalled the scapegoat of the Yom Kippur ritual. The washing of garments, the shaving of all hair, and the immersion in a mikveh (a pool of fresh water) recalled the birth of the Jewish people at the Sea of Reeds. Finally, the blood of the guilt offering sprinkled on the earlobe, thumb and foot, recalled the dedication of Aaron and his sons as the priests of Israel (Lev. 14:14). In other words, the individual purification process mirrored the purification of the community of Israel, and healing ultimately meant being re-identified as a redeemed child of God. In a very literal sense, then, we see how the metzora was “reborn” by water and by the blood (John 3:5; 19:34; Heb. 9:19).

Of the Messiah it is written: “He is despised and rejected of men, a man of pains (אִישׁ מַכְאבוֹת) and acquainted with sickness (וִידוּעַ חלִי), and we hid as it were our faces from him. He was despised and we esteemed him not. Surely he has carried our sicknesses (חֳלָיֵנוּ) and borne our pains (מַכְאבֵינוּ), yet we esteemed him as plagued (נָגַע), smitten of God (מֻכֵּה אֱלהִים) and oppressed. But he was pierced (מְחלָל) for our transgressions (פְּשָׁעֵנוּ), he was crushed for our iniquities (עֲוֹנתֵינוּ): the discipline for our peace was upon him (מוּסַר שְׁלוֹמֵנוּ עָלָיו); and in his blows we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way, but the LORD has attacked in him (הִפְגִּיעַ בּוֹ) the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:3-6). Through the substitutionary sacrifice of the righteous Suffering Servant, Yeshua, we are both forgiven and made free from the power of sin and death. Because of Him we are no longer “lepers” or outcasts from the community of God but are made clean through His loving touch.

Notice that the word translated "blow" (i.e., חַבּוּרָה, "wound" or "stripe") comes from the same root as the word "friend" (חָבֵר), and therefore we can read this as "in His friendship we are healed." Yeshua gave up His life for us so that we could become his friends... As He later told us regarding his sacrifice: "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13). Indeed of Yeshua it may truly be said, Yesh ohev davek me'ach – "there is a friend who sticks (davek) closer than a brother" (Prov. 18:24).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 51:7 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm51-7-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm51-7-lesson.pdf

For more on this topic, see:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Scripture/Parashah/Summaries/Tzav/Holiness/holiness.html

And a post about being God’s children:

"Because you are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" (Gal. 4:6). Note here the Spirit does not cry out using “esoteric” or magical names for God, nor does the Spirit refer to one of God's many titles based on the divine attributes, but instead uses a term of intimacy and profound trust. After all, the word "abba" (אַבָּא) is not so much a name for God as it is a claim about who you are -- it is a confession that you belong to the Lord as his beloved child...

Throughout his ministry Yeshua referred to the LORD simply as his "Father," though he used the intensive address "Abba, Father" (Ἀββᾶ, ὁ πατήρ) just before his arrest and crucifixion, that is, during his intercession at Gethsamane (גַּת שְׁמָנִים), near the olive oil press on the Mount of Olives where the anointing oil for the Temple (שֶׁמֶן הַמִּשְׁחָה) was made, and therefore he called upon “Abba, Father” while in deep suffering and tribulation of heart (Mark 14:36). “Take this cup away from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will..." The mixed dialect of Hebrew and Greek here (i.e., Ἀββᾶ, ὁ πατήρ) may indicate identification with both the Jewish people and the Gentiles who would be united in his passion, as it says, shalom shalom la'rachok vela'karov: "Peace, peace, to him who is far off and to him who is near," says the LORD; oo’refativ: "and I will heal him" (Isa. 57:19, Eph. 2:15).

Knowing God as your heavenly "father" is an intimate matter of the heart, an inner cry or groan coming from the miracle of spiritual rebirth. "The Spirit himself bears witness to our spirit that we are God's children" (Rom. 8:16). Amen, may we know who we are in Him.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Isaiah 12:2 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa12-2-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa12-2-lesson.pdf

Hebrew chant:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa12-2-song.mp3

4.19.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

April 21, 2023

Holy Brethren

“I charge you by the Lord that this epistle be read unto all the holy brethren.” (1 Thessalonians 5:27)

There is probably no word more misused—even abused—than the word “holy.” In our day and age, it usually conjures up an image of sanctimoniousness, or even hypocrisy, and thus often becomes a term of snide ridicule.

Nevertheless, it is a biblical term of highest significance, most often used in connection with God Himself, the Holy Spirit. Since it is also used in connection with things (“the holy place,” as in Hebrews 9:12), it does not in itself necessarily have a moral connotation. Its basic meaning is evidently “set apart” and can refer either to people or objects that have been dedicated to God and His service.

Christians are all “holy brethren” in this sense, regardless of their individual behavior. They are all also called “saints” (same word as “holy” in the Greek—e.g., 1 Corinthians 1:2, even though many of the “saints” at Corinth were far from Christlike in their actions).

By all means, however, we who are called “holy brethren” ought to try, by God’s grace, to bring honor to such a name rather than ridicule. “Wherefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Christ Jesus; Who was faithful to him that appointed him” (Hebrews 3:1-2).

The term “saints,” or “holy brethren,” applies both to men and women, of course, and to believers of Old Testament times as well as New Testament. Peter, for example, mentions “the holy women” who honored and served the Lord “in the old time” (1 Peter 3:5), and also the “holy men of God” through whom God gave the Old Testament Scriptures (2 Peter 1:21). The eternal admonition of God to all believers of every age is “Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16). HMM

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denim-wrapped-nightmares-podcast · 1 year

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Berly and LA recap and discuss the season one Supernatural episode, Hell House. Over drinks, they'll discuss lore, gore, and what they adore about the Winchesters and their adventures. Now, let's get tipsy! CW/TW for violent and lewd commentary; listeners beware! 🔞

#supernatural #spnfandom #spn #spnfamily

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trashroyalty99 · 3 years

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Somethings I've said while playing borderlands.

"Tina is kooky and she's amazing like that."

"Lil, sometimes I love your way of thinking."

"This little psycho goes pop and that psycho goes pop. Everyone goes pop."

"Brick got em beef!"

"Do you think I'll die from that!? Come on, come lil bit closer, so I can shoot you."

"Moral of the story, I'm going to shoot you in the face."

"You're the biggest cock of all time. I just wanted to let you know that."

"I want what Mordecai's having."

"Choo, Choo mothafucka! Death is coming!"

"Hammylock, would it be out of question to get a new husband? Just saying." (For context I was super under leveled for one of the story quests.)

"Leech queen? More leech bitch!"

"Nomad, is mad!"

"She's good looking rich-ass bitch and she got em ways to make you freeze!"

"Lorelei we need to talk about your addiction and possibly figure out an alternative."

"Fan the hammer! Fan the fucking hammer!"

Lilith saving Sanctuary and saying hold onto something.

Me holds onto her: You said hold onto something.

"This feels like pokemon. But instead of pokeballs I'm shooting out butt stalions."

"Stalker are pain in the ass. Literally, they shoot needless in your ass."

"Nade incoming! Friendly fire, beware!"

"There's the times for reasonable thinking and then there's times yoloing. It's time to Yolo!"

"Claptrap, you're annoying shit. But you're my annoying shit."

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands incorrect quotes #Borderlands player experience #Borderlands playing #This game just makes you spit random nonsense.

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ysabelmystic · 6 years

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Church Adventures

Ok, so, I’m currently an atheist, but I had a super SUPER religious upbringing up until I was about 12 or 13. For no reason whatsoever, I got slammed with some extra stuff that I thought I’d blocked out. This is NOT a “stupid sheeple christians” post, but more just some particularly weird, lowkey culty stuff I witnessed that I’d like to remove from my system.

1. Church gave me my very first gender crisis. I was a super small child when they started pressing the gender roles. They said that the women must obey the man, for he is the head of the household or whatever. Ok. I won’t get married. But I was informed that I’d want to and eventually would. Ok. I’ll be a boy! I was sincerely informed that that was not an option. T’was not a fun day.

2. I was told to beware false angels. Which I get, demons are angels of light and whatever, but there was a very specific imagery involved. I was warned that angels would appear from the heavens and offer me riches and power, which is how I’d know they were false. It was presented like the “say no to drugs” stuff that was pushed in school. All I can think of now is some shifty looking angel in a golden hoodie standing in an alley-way like, “psst, kid, wanna buy some Satan?”

3. Batman was evil. During the few years I was in an actual cult, it was announced that Batman was evil. A woman claimed that she’d decorated her kid’s room with Batman stuff, and instantly, the whole area began to hold a dark presence, which disappeared when she prayed and removed the Batman stuff. Everyone just rolled with it.

4. I had asthma as a kid. It’s probably because the pollution where I lived was quite severe, but the cult-church decided it was CLEARLY demons that were clogging my lungs. Every other month or so, I’d get dragged in to see these three old woman in an old office building. They would chant and pray, throw herbs, and rub all kinds of oils on my body. After I sneezed a few times, they decided I was cured. That was always fun.

5. Again, the cult. The other kids and I were taught how to do magic. And I do mean that. We would lay on the floor and meditate and pray to invite the presence of the lord. I thought I was getting REALLY close to God, because I was feeling electricity and shit whenever I was in that room. But then I learned about static electricity. I was on the carpet and sitting next to a metal table. Any dreams I might’ve had about being a sith lord were ruined that day.

6. I want to mention that the cult was kinda racist. We had to invite the pastors into our house so they could do an official cleansing. They decided our closet was a source of demonic energy, and asked my mom what was in it. My mom opens it up, and their eyes go straight to a box of craft beads. They questioned my mom about their origins, and my mom says, “These are all from [craft stores] except for those, that my stepdad brought from Africa”. Aaaaand out went the African beads, because they were clearly cursed with voodoo and black-people magic. I’m still mad about that.

7. The final church I went to had a small library. The only YA books they had in there were either “teenage boy goes hunting and learns about raccoons and Jesus” or “girl turns into the world’s most worn-out doormat”. Lots and lots of lessons on forgiveness, letting people walk all over you, and becoming a proper woman in the eyes of God by letting your cousin beat you up and doing nothing about it. Fuck that series.

8. Veggie Tales was pretty weird, but Mr Henry’s Wild and Wacky Bible Stories just had a demonic energy. Puppet fish? An electric chair? Talking animal heads on the wall? Never seeing Mrs. Henry even though she was mentioned (did he kill her???)? The gray walls and the warehouse vibes? That was weird...and creepy.

9. Apparently they don’t like it when you call Mordecai a “lowly hobo”, especially when you’re doing an impression of Queen Esther as a valley-girl. To be fair, they did ask how Esther could have responded to his warnings of Hamon. I guess they just didn’t expect that much.

#I don't expect this to get notes #im just bored

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cursewoodrecap · 4 years

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Session 3: Darkness in Your Past

Hello everyone I’m still like. WAY sick. And I will be performing our next session entirely through texting and enthusiastic mime. But I can probably type, even if I’m hacking and wheezing?

In this session: oh no, backstory!

The party finishes their long rest at the bandit camp, universally antsy to get going and prickly with each other after certain ethical disagreements.

As the bandits warned us, the road turns out to be full of traps, and 3/4 of us roll terrible, awful perception checks. Clem, comically, immediately falls into a hole. It’s less comic when we realize there’s sharp spikes at the bottom of that there pit trap, but Valeria Channels Divinity and summons the Chains of Rack, catching Clem before she can tumble into the stabbity stabs. WHOOPSIE.

Traveling onward, we find a huge tree has crashed down across the path. We are all experienced players and thus suspicious bastards, and Shoshana rolls a good enough Nature check to suddenly have a childhood memory. There was once a local woodsman that she and her best friend used to hang around, a lumberjacky fellow and hunter named Mordecai. A good-natured fellow, he would let the local children tag along and show them lots of tips and tricks about the woods. Using the remnants of that remembered knowledge, Shoshana picks up on a few wood shavings and out-of-place bits. This thing has been tampered with.

“Everybody stand back,” she says, “I’m gonna poke it.”

“Wait, I have a crossb-” Gral begins, but Shoshana slaps it with a Mage Hand, which is only a 30 foot range. Two crossbow bolts shoot out of where the log has been hollowed out and the bark has been thinned to a sheet, and one sticks right into somebody’s boob. Good job, folks.

Going forward seems to be all well and good until, suddenly, someone notices we can’t hear Valeria, who’s guarding the back. We turn around and surpriiiise, a wild beast-man is hanging out of a tree and has her by a garrotte! There is a brief debate about whether attempting to free her by swinging an enormous greatsword is really the best?? idea??????? but Valeria puts an end to the discussion by stabbing the guy herself.

We complain at the DM about all the traps, and then get distracted, because OOH, A RAVINE.

Shoshana goes quiet at the familiar sight, but there’s something worrying here. There’s a beast-man of the Hunt and his wolf on watch, but there are dead people and wolves scattered over the blood-stained ground. A clutch Silence spell from Gral allows us to overcome the sentries with no alarm raised; Clem bisects the wolf with Extreme (and mildly panicked) Prejudice.

Inspecting the scattered corpses, they seem to have been pierced by something long and thin - like arrow wounds, except there are no arrows to be seen.

We cautiously move forward, Gral sneakily scouting ahead and messaging back to the clanky folks what’s up. Shoshana tries to sneak, but is too distracted looking at the Hunt-people corpses for - someone recognizable, maybe? - and trips over a dead wolf. CLANG CRASH WHAM, roll for initiative, folks!

We slash our way through a couple of toughs and their wolves, Lookin’ Cool and Kickin’ Butt, but...this is like, two guys. What happened to the terrifying force that had the bandit crew cowering in fear? Why are most of them gone, or dead on the ground with the same arrowless arrow wounds?

Maybe the answer is through that door.

What Shoshana remembers as a bit of a hollow in the wall of the ravine - enough shelter to get a quick snatch of rest, maybe - has been covered over with a crude ceiling and a curtained hide door. No sounds are coming from inside, so we cautiously make our way in.

It’s not much. Some rough skins and blankets to sleep on, a bag hanging on the wall, and a metal chest that we determine is booby-trapped. And loose scraps of paper, scattered across the floor. Shoshana bends down to pick one up, and reads it.

The gasp is audible. She stares at it, struck, as her player reads the text sent to her by the DM. The others begin to investigate the room as she stands there, absolutely floored - and then snatches for the next piece of paper, like lightning. And then the next, and the next, on her knees scrabbling for them, reading each one with mounting frenzy. She’s muttering to herself - “Why would she-? No, how-? The whole time?! And she NEVER??? How could she-”

Valeria cautiously picks up one of the cast-aside notes, reads it, and then caaarefully places it back on the floor, because Hoo Boy This Is Some Personal Stuff, Let’s Give Her Some Space. They seem to be unsent, half-finished letters, addressed to Shoshana.

While spooky lady has a breakdown, Clem ably does a bit of medicine for Gral and Valeria to get everyone in fighting shape for whatever comes next.

Shoshana collects all the letters, and somberly takes the pressed flowers Valeria found on the rudimentary table. Elsewhere in the room we find a key to the big chest, but still stand to the side when we release it - good, because an unsteady Mage Hand isn’t enough to hold the trap wire properly taut. Clem insisted we open the chest last thing before we leave, for fear that the roof would cave in, but a big scythe just swings out of the wall and slices the air where we all Decided Not To Be Standing. We find a bit of money, a Ring of Jumping, Ser Balderich’s sword, and a magic horn that is only heard by the person you choose to hear it.

The horn is apportioned to Shoshana, being the squishiest and the most likely to get targeted by these creeps. Shoshana, emotionally a bit frazzled, accepts it bemusedly. “Why?” she inquires dully. “I mean, it’s not like you’re exactly invested in my survival, past the next hour or two.”

Gral immediately protests. “I gave my word I would protect you, as part of my promise to bring you to Duke Shieldeater’s service. I would not betray that.”

Valeria nods enthusiastically. Shoshana blinks and then gives the universal “get a load of this guy” gesture to Clem.

Gral continues. “If truth must be known, I...am not entirely here on the Duke’s orders. I serve him, but it was my own decision to come find you. I strongly believe we Orcs need better relations with the local civilians. And I have my own aims, as well.” Cryptic behind his mask, he does not elaborate and continues back out into the ravine.

Up ahead is the part that Shoshana knows is waiting for her. A thick blanket of branches and hanging foliage cast a section of the ravine into deep darkness - a canopy impenetrable to light but not, as she remembers, to the falling, flailing body of a young woman.

It’s distantly terrifying that seeing it again feels so much like coming home. A voice curls out of the ravine, welcoming her back at last. It’s impossible for her to tell whether the others can hear it.

“Ser Balderich is in there. The bandits said they were keeping him in the dark place, and...that’s where...”

Valeria firmly places her hand on Shoshana’s shoulder, reaching out in empathy to steady a comrade in a time of clear emotional distress. Shoshana feels a gauntleted hand land on her shoulder, the executioner’s cue to go face her death with dignity. They go forth, into the darkness.

...

So, it’s DARK in there. Valeria lights up the Rune Beetle. It’s still dark, supernaturally so, heavy and sick-tasting in the air. Even those in the party with Darkvision are limited, and they move ahead slowly and carefully. Luckily, Ser Balderich hears them coming, and starts shouting at the FIENDS! who are BACK FOR MORE, ARE YOU? and the party is able to find the pit he has been thrown into, heavy wooden bars embedded over the top.

Seeing the glint of Valeria’s silver scales in the dim light of the beetle, Ser Balderich’s shouting stops short. “...Marius?” he asks, disbelieving. “You survived? D-did any of the others-?”

Valeria recognizes the name of Kyr Marius, a mentor of hers at the monastery where she trained. Another silver dragonborn of the order, with years of combat experience. “I’m not Marius,” she lets him down, “But we’re here to get you out!”

Ser Balderich, beaten and bruised and with at least one broken arm, is still with-it enough to notice that a young female voice does not sound like his presumably middle aged male friend. But he makes a quick recovery: “Oh! Uh, well, Kyr, it is an honor! But beware, the fiends are not far-”

Yeah, they’ve definitely noticed we’re here. A couple of worgs prowl out of the darkness as Valeria and Clem try to pry the bars off the top of the pit and haul Ser Balderich out. With Faerie Fire, Gral manages to illuminate one of the worgs and a mysterious cloaked figure, who simply gestures and we all take 3 Taint. What the what? It’s on.

We have a narrow battle - fleeing seems like the only option at one point, as several of us are boxed into a Hunger of Hadar spell by flanking wargs, but we persevere. In a moment of crisis, Shoshana pulls strength from the darkness and takes Taint in exchange for temporary HP. Finally, Clem and the wounded Ser Balderich break through to the cloaked figure. As Clem’s greatsword pierces the flowing cloak, it collapses to the floor, empty. The figure’s taunting voice drifts out to us one last time, looking forward to the next time we meet. You can try to escape the Hunt, just like your little friend, but this is where you belong in the end...

Limping forward, we investigate the cavern behind where his empty cloak fell. Well, not the part that spirals off forever into the darkness. We’re not that stupid. But there’s a little room, off to the side, and we stop short seeing it. There’s a bloody altar, decorated with animal skulls, facing a hanging painting on an animal skin.

The crude tapestry depicts a figure wearing an antlered helm, tearing his way out of where he is bound by tree roots jutting from the ground. Three less-detailed figures behind him seem to be similarly bound. The edges of the canvas are decorated with grotesque, gory scenes of animals and hunters slaying their prey.

Oh, right. The DM notes he forgot to add the horror part of the scene. We look to the other side of the room and see a human corpse, nailed up on the wall. The word “PREY” has been carved deeply into his chest.

It’s Mordecai.

Shoshana is already so emotionally drained, barely able to register her dull rage at these grotesque atrocities here in HER darkness. She raises her hands, but Ser Balderich speaks up, saying Ser Quentin Morozov, his friend the Cursebreaker Knight, may have use of the tapestry. It might help him in his studies. Meanwhile, Valeria is gently pulling the body off the wall, looking for any sign of the man’s religion and finding not a symbol of the Obereon pantheon but a small pendant with two faces - Baba and Gramps, kindly spirits still respected by some of the more rural woodsfolk. Valeria’s big enough to carry the body, covering the carved words with her cloak and promising him a proper burial.

Shoshana lets them, dully watching. She can feel something magic within the altar, but the only thought she has left about today is the general concept of NO. She raises her hands and a wave of fire overtakes the altar. As it burns, the oppressive feeling of the darkness lessens. It doesn’t disappear, but something vital to this place has been destroyed.

A bit dazed, the party staggers out into the light, Valeria carrying the hunter’s body and Clem supporting a weakened but determined Ser Balderich. Wanting to avoid whatever hunting party was sent out after the escaping huntress, they make it back to the abandoned bandit camp before collapsing to regroup.

Valeria and Ser Balderich get to talking, Valeria asking how Ser Balderich knows her old mentor Kyr Marius. Did Ser Balderich ever speak to anyone who knows what happened at the Crusade?

Knows what happened? Pssh, Ser Balderich was THERE. Though it’s clearly a painful memory, Ser Balderich explains what happened to the members of Valeria’s order:

The Crusade was closing in, about a day’s hard travel from Valdsheart, the Duke’s capital city - the center of the Curse. The Order of the Rose has made it to the old summer palace - the roses were in bloom, the gardens were beautiful, still immaculately maintained by automated Unseen Servants that had continued working even as the city had been abandoned.

The commanders of the various knightly orders gathered together at the Rebel’s Temple. (A History check lets us know that this was the temple that Karena, the leader of the rebellion against Keva and the first Duchess of Valdia, had established to ask the blessing of the gods over the new nation.

If anyone ever had doubts the Curse was intelligent, they were ended by the way it waited until the knights were separated from their commanders. When the attack started, the gardens sprang to life. We were attacked by thorns and deadly spores. Ser Balderich took his horse and rode for the temple, while the knights held the line against the tide. The temple was holy ground - it should have been well-warded. Arriving there, he saw the windows stained with blood - the place was overrun. There were two groups of survivors still fighting: Archcleric Rudolf Klemsk and his knights of Rack fled one way, while the Peacock Knight (founder of the Knights Radiant) held the line alone. There were waves and waves of creatures, all sorts.

(Gral: Ser Balderich, please describe these creatures. DM: Absolutely not, it’s like midnight.)

Ser Balderich, unable to help, fled back to the palace to help the forces there. It was totally overrun. He hopes some got out, but was unable to get close enough to see. The aftermath? Well. Archcleric Klemsk got out, but Something happened there - afterward, he and his followers became the frightening Knights Penitent who violently hunt down all corruption and impiety. He assumes the Peacock Knight was overwhelmed, but he has been sighted since.

...I’m sorry.

Ser Balderich tells us: If anyone is going to solve this, it won’t be a marching army. It will be someone like my friend Quentin, and his Cursebreakers, or the madmen at Sturmhearst. We Beggar Knights will stand watch, and ensure as many people possible live to see the day the Curse ends, if that day ever comes.

We all mull that story, and then begin to get up to go. A quick discussion of options comes to this: we’ll go back to Ovruch and drop Ser Balderich off there, so he can recover and protect the town. In the morning, we’ll travel to the town of Holzog to bring the tapestry to Ser Quentin - perhaps he will be interested in our stories, as well. Gral certainly wants to discuss something with the Cursebreaker.

As everybody’s putting on their backpacks and stuff, Shoshana interjects, confused. Um...aren’t you guys...forgetting something?

Ser Balderich considers. “...yes.” He comes over to her, and she closes her eyes, readying for it.

“...I did not thank you, for rescuing me. You have my gratitude.”

N-no, you guys, don’t you need to...? Y’know? Take care of me, now that the Hunt and the bandits are dealt with?

...Oh.

Ser Balderich scoffs, compassionately. “Shoshana, I saw you reject the power that altar could have given you.” (Player: wait what? DM: yeah, there was a magic item in there”) “You were given your abilities, and what did you do with them? You took care of cats. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.”

Valeria is nodding. Gral is nodding. Even Clem is nodding. Shoshana’s brain just about fails to compute; you can see the blue screen behind her eyes. We pack up, find a quiet spot in the woods to bury poor Mordecai the woodsman, and make our way back to Shoshana’s place to crash.

---

We roll against the Taint we acquired in the Hunt’s territory. Gral and Clem fully save. Valeria takes a minor corruption. Shoshana is offered a deal by the DM and takes it, gaining a minor corruption as well.

We each draw a card for the next session: The Hunter, The Knight, The Madness, and The Heretic.

#session recap #the ravine #the hunt #shoshana bat chaya #gral omokk'duu #valeria argent #clem haxan #balderich von mornheim

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elarrendajoazul · 7 years

Text

Shopping Sucks (Morby fanfic)

DISCLAIMER: Shipping and adult stuff incoming.

Based on this: http://adultnarwhalshinyeyes.tumblr.com/post/147128289497/two-variants-of-the-same-thing-i-dont-know

Info: Searching for new clothes in the summer, because of an upcoming visit to the beach, Mordecai will force Rigby to buy some swimsuits for this special occasion. What Mordecai is not aware, is that Rigby may not be open to it , and the reason could be much deeper than she know, very important reasons.

Fanfic here!

First day of summer: in a clothing shop. The preparations of their free week vacation begin.

- Never cared of what to wear if you just wanna take a break!

- You may be burned, or passed out; your back’s tanned like a flaming ham!

- Checkin’ cute guys all around oh you better beware watch your sight!

- If you just take a little nap you may get covered in freaking sand!

“Oooooooooooh!”

The daily laughs of two girls were heard very close to the swimsuit store.

Mordecai and Rigby were there to go shopping.

- Dude, this will be awesome! Did you remembered to tell Margo?

- Ugh, dude! I didn’t even need to ask him, they completely agree with us about going to the beach! He will come up with the car.

- Just like the time he said he would camp with us but “nooooo, that’s too childish for me!” Without warning us, he left to cover another rally from “Mayor Douchebag” from another stupid town, population: DUMB!

- Uuuugh! I’m sure he won’t fail us! No worries, he will be! Besides, he just told me that Eugene is going to be there too!

- Pffft, right, “I’m sooo thrilled”

Just after saying that, Rigby’s arms were closed at the moment; her excitement for being in the store was just cooled down right after “that” brought her attention. Just a quick “no” whimpered through her head, she tried to assimilate much of the panic that was trying to surface throughout her inner emotion rollercoaster.

Her mental fears were interpreted as an “industrial complex” being incinerated through fire and flames, very small Rigbys were running on circles inside the complex trying to save their lives, only because she just discovered that the store were running out of….

- Bikinis!

Mordecai, on the other hand, she didn’t knew what to do with all that much, she was so captivated about the shiny looking colors that she was desperately anxious about trying to take them all as it was possible.

Every pair had on the superior top a bright yellow shiny patch promoting a discount which disclaims: SUMMER SALES.

- Ooooooh! They even got of my size!

“You…Idiot!” Rigby quickly thought, after watching with jealousy how Mordecai was just too lucky to find clothes: “How can she even like those!? They’re like… too many…. Agh!”

She was clearly objecting for the bikinis’ shiny little colors.

Outside, Rigby was following her, she was walking with her closed arms, with mostly a resentment look and an unfair judgement on her face; completely showing a reflex of negation and immaturity. Could it be that she did not like bikinis that much?

Meanwhile, Mordecai just picked the first clothes of their election, a pink bikini filled with sparkling diamonds all around, after that, she decided to look deeply only for her friend.

- Rigby, they even got some for you!

Shock and disgust covered over her tiny angry raccoon face. On the same time, her blue jay friend covered her back with her right arm, leaning his whole body through the other shoulder, and with her left, she was trying to show her: the same pink bikini.

- Don’t you even dare! This…. –she points at her body drawing imaginary curves through it with her hands – will never wear something….like…THAT!

- Oh, don’t be such a crybaby

- YOU ARE SUCH A CRYBABY!

Mordecai knew right after that moment: Rigby didn’t even want to bear with those bikinis. It’s never too late to find the truth, so as for the young blue jay, it was time to make her raccoon friend, totally mad! A bright opportunity only for the main reason to have a little bit of fun and safe entertainment.

- Rigbyyyyyy….

With malice and innocence all disguised, Mordecai came closer to their shoulders, docking her hips with theirs, covering the frontal part of her body with the bikini she just choose for her, pretending like she was just wearing them.

- Oh no! Don’t come at me with the puppy eyes again!

Mordecai protects her face as a blanket; her blue eyes were glowing over the pink silk, a match between a blue clear sky and the sands of a heated day, till the point of burning. With that strategy, she was taking advance of her cute birdie face to convince her friend, something that would never happen because how stupid that idea was.

Rigby, ashamed of Mordo’s antics, the lame one, she just looked at her eyes with a deadly glare, commanding her to stop, don’t matter how cute she would be, that would never change her mind.

Now, the fight was becoming as the preparation of a shooting scene in an old cowboy film: face to face, Rigby’s stare was clashing against Mordecai’s innocent look. They were too tough to get beaten.

- We got to try them on anyways, Rigby.

- That’s…. that’s what I don’t want to wear!

- Ha! Well, look for some other stuff and let’s try that, then!

- I don’t like bikinis…. I like….swimsuits!

Mordecai could not believe that, she was the number one fan of bathing suits. She cannot help to picture Rigby wearing a swimsuit just like she just request, like these swim training uniforms. Her rack looked bigger, hips were looking wider and to her head: there was a bathing cap.

Rigby wanted to end the interrogation, so she tried to answer with the most purest honesty she never had in like ever, surrounded by a lot of shame and embarrassment that even made Mordo feel sympathy and kindness to her. Anyways, questions were just coming.

- Do you really like those suits!?

- Yeah…. To set this… – again she did the same gesture with her hands around her body, pointing through bust and hips – under control.

- And I’m the baby here!? C’mon! – Mordecai could not still believe it!

- Stop talking! I feel much comfortable in that way! – Tension just cooled down, prior that, there was feeling a civil war out there, but now, peace talks were just in the making, calmly explaining their worries – I just want to buy some of them! But there are no swimsuits in here!

- Go to the kids’ store! With the size you have it’s gotta be easy to fit on those clothes!

Silence on the store. Rigby then explode like a volcano.

- STOP TALKING!

Mordecai laughed without a break, she just accomplished what she just wanted! She couldn’t even resist it, she just hugged the mad out of Rigby to prevent her incessant hamboning to strike her arms, they felt like buzz stings but they really hurt anyway.

When the storm just calmed down, Mordecai just made her offer again.

She kneeled to talk better with her.

- Dude, we won’t be spending a whole day on the beach just because I want to make you feel bad. This is the only free week we will have and I want to hangout, have some fun! Yes, we’ll be only four there, but Rigby… you’re the only person who can really made this trip really…fun. Besides, I think you can definitely rock these babies!

- Is it possible there would be a…?

- Yeah. The room is over there and we can try them. I don’t know if that compromises with hygiene rules or something like that, but I don’t make the rules. Pick some of them and I’ll bring the same model for me!

Headed to the dressing room, Mordecai and Rigby changed their clothes in the same booth.

The first pair to try out was a purple suit without straps over the shoulders; the bra only covered the circumference of the breasts and nothing more! That was the chosen game by Mordecai since the beginning, for the fact that the color emphasizes her clear skin, highlights the belly button and showed how flat her abs were, she could package an acceptable size of boobage and really surfaces her frontal part with a subtle cleavage.

Rigby, felt like she was sausage, in her mind she imagined as a jumbo hot dog just like the big ham she was feeling like. She saw that her tits where flooding out of the bra, trying to come out of every single fissure, her flesh was trying to escape, a little glimpse of their areolas can be looked on the outside, ruining any chance of wearing that on the beach.

- No!

Next: the pink diamond game. Mordecai could see why she choose that bathing suit on the first place: even though it was cute and had some bright colors: the added skirt on the inferior part played with the illusion of catching something more if you could watch under it. Eyes would go straight to her butt even though she admits that was a little too slutty to wear.

Maybe on other time, she would have tried to attract Margo wearing that, but it could never happened that chance of going to the beach in these days, and less in that time, they only knew a little between each other. It was really a shame to not look her wearing that anymore.

The bra finally got the conventional form with straps on their shoulders, but for Rigby the problem was down under.

- Too... tight!

Her hips don’t lie! A little silk by a narrow margin were covering most part of the surface, over her buns, a thin line divide poorly every part, a little bit of their buttocks were escaping of the lateral holes the underwear had: I do not want to talk about the corrupted skirt covering only her waist, letting it to spoil the mystery in need to decode inside it. Her tail was wagging with disappointment trying to cover up the imminent tragedy.

With hands on her butt, again embarrassing thoughts climb up to Rigby’s face, painting it in red. This happened to rise quickly after seeing Mordo smiling with sympathy and pleased of what she was seeing, making Rigby to get angrier.

Finally, a pair of white with blue shades on, made only to highlight dark skin, perfect for Rigby!

- That bra is open to someone else, dude. It’s just too big for me.

Mordecai could not fit for the bra, she was few cups smaller, but for Rigby, her perfect sized bikini was awaiting for her, or in that case: her “problem resolver” was on the case!

Problem resolved! A breath of relief showed calm on little Rigby, their hands were led to rest over her breasts, extremely surprised of the magnitude of their size; she could not believe she was wearing a bathing suit who could not see her as a hog, but as hot and attractive as she can always aspired to be!

On their hips, underwear was covering everything, nicely. It was as careful and tighter as panties could possibly ever be!

Her ass had size, volume, curves! But even skin was not yet to be seen!

Rigby was so proud over herself she was not aware of the flash of the recent taken photo that was taken. That completely fell off her balance.

- Dude, what the fuck are you doing down there!?

- Hang on! Hang on! I’m gonna send this pic to Margo and Eugene!

- Noooo!

Rigby jumped to Mordecai to stop the sending. Now they were both on the ground.

- Do you have any idea of what you’re doing!?

- I’m showing to the guys what you’re gonna wear at. I’ll do the same!

- But… I’m not ready yet! I don’t want me to be seen like…Don’t…send it!

A gasp of surprise came shortly for Mordecai as the time she aware to see Rigby pouring tears off her eyes; Rigby could not even handle the fact to be looked like that, crying and sobbing, with ultra-intensified senses after doing everything she didn’t even want to do in the first place, but the trust she put on Mordecai was so blind, that it was impossible to stop it.

She felt so much confidence around her that she even had the guts to confess her a so little but a so complicated truth that it was believing to be oversized and disproportionate when she tries to wear bikinis, even though she will always know they are too small for her.

“I didn’t know… you will felt too bad for wearing that…”

Rigby cleaned her eyes to see with much clarity, Mordecai was trying to channel her again:

- I just… went too far, right?

Rigby looked back to her, while she was sobbing and aching for her constant pain. Shortly, after an abrupt end for the heart break, the hug silenced the raccoon.

Mordecai’s arms were all around her, her head was over her shoulder, Rigby remained quiet and goosebumps make her feel shaky, because of the sudden hug action. Close to her ear, Mordecai’s beak got closer to it.

- If your tears ruin my bikini…. I’m gonna have to kill you.

To calm her down, Mordecai just could come up with that. Rigby could not help but laughing. Rigby shoved Mordecai’s face only with her hands.

- Not so fast! Because my ninja skills will vastly destroy your puny face!

Rigby smacked without mercy on Mordecai’s face. She screamed a humoristic growl, just like the death of a giant pig. They both laughed on the same wide margin.

They both knew the feud was over and Mordecai tried to shove Rigby by pointing her out with a hand sign.

- C’mon, let’s make a pic just to see how great we look!

Without anything else, kneeling on the floor, their bodies clash between shoulder and shoulder. Mordecai’s big hands come in handy to bring aim to her phone’s camera. On an aerial take, a selfie was shot to capture a both bright juvenile smile, an exciting emotion that were fearlessly awaiting for a week free of jobs and the happening of an unforgettable moment.

Beach day was finally here! Night was just about to drop by over the coast.

Eugene and Rigby were seated under the same umbrella; Rigby cannot fall with the boring chit-chat Eugene was trying to come up with.

The only difference was that Rigby was wearing the same bikini she completely adorbs on that shop.

In secret, Margo and Mordo were standing on the car, looking at the stars.

- It was so nice of you doing that for her.

- Oh…. That? Shucks, its fine. I only prove her that bikinis can look cute on her too!

- But you said she did not like them.

- Pfffft. Nonsense right? Ha! It was only a matter of color, I guess…?

- Could it be possible that she was upset for not fitting on them right?

Mordecai’s silence just sealed the last nail on the coffin.

- Fuck you.

- Ha-ha, okay! You can’t hide anything to a reporter! Besides, that pic you send me the other day, she looks too damn cute! I can see she is so in love of what she’s wearing!

- I told her that I would not send that. You’re the only one whom I send to, so please, delete it!

- Okay. Just a moment, it’s just too important for her anyways.

Mordecai and Margo stared silently to Eugene and Rigby as they were talking.

The pic was deleted, only leaving to Mordecai, a bittersweet memory.

The wave’s crush was the only noise that can be heard through the beach.

- If you jerked off my friend’s pic I swear I’m gonna kill you!

#RS666 #babynarwhalshineyeyes #morby #fem!rigby #fem!mordecai

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