#Savannah writes

[foxloreandfandoms]

Just found an old draft of a nearly completed book I wrote about a fictional Kpop group and the woman hired to be their social media manager and, like, it's cringey but also so good 😂

[feral-ballad]

Savannah Brown, from Closer Baby Closer; “Retroactive jealousy”

[Text ID: “Someday I’ll care for something / without wanting to close a door behind it.”]

[mariasabanahabanabana]

Every word you wrote to me that day,

A treasure in my soul it will stay.

Our love, a secret we both confide,

In every message, I feel you by my side.

[iamumbra195]

Ashlyn Spider-woman AUs are genuinely so funny because this girl would hate it so much.

She already has to deal with sensitive hearing now she has to worry about super strength, spider senses and sticky hands that only relax when she's calm which is like never because how on Earth is she supposed to calm down when she can punch through walls without breaking her arms and can practically sense everything within a mile-radius?!

The sensory overload would be painful as hell too.

If it was set in the canon universe, I think she'd tell her parents and they would all work together to figure out her powers. They'd probably use all the junk in the bus graveyard to gauge how much she could carry and how strong she was overall.

Over time, she'd probably get used to her powers, maybe even find some of them fun. Sticking to the ceiling and just chilling there for hours without all the blood rushing to her head was kinda nice and seeing her dad's reaction to her sticking to the ceiling for the first was entertaining. Plus, the powers made her even more flexible and she's into ballet. This girl would love being able to jump super high.

But she only really uses her powers at home where she feels like she doesn't need to hide it anymore. I don't think she'd feel the need to ever become a spider-woman. They'd managed just fine without her before and Alto was a pretty boring town. She wasn't a superhero anyway. I don't think her parents would ever want her to put herself in danger like that either. Plus, they don't their daughter to get attention from any unsavoury people or the government. They were both in the military after all. They knew how corrupt and messed up the government could be and they didn't want Ashlyn anywhere near it.

But then the new school year starts and there's a weird new kid that makes her senses prickle with unease. In fact, almost everything about her first day back at school makes her uneasy. The new kid. The shoe that almost took her head off. The new teacher. The field trip. The new kid.

Aiden just won't leave her alone and it was irritating. He was loud and talked too much as well. Still, her dad wanted her to give it a shot and it couldn't be that bad. It was just a field trip, she'd been to plenty of those.

Although the last field trip she went on was the reason she ended up with her superpowers... She really didn't want to go. Especially with Aiden constantly pestering her about it. Agreeing to go felt like losing. Urgh.

She ends up going and at first, it's not bad. All until a woman offers to give them a free tour of a 'haunted' house. Ashlyn doesn't want to go. Something about the whole situation was making her uneasy. But the others all wanted to go so she went with them. The uneasy feeling along with the phantom noises that kept getting louder made it even worse, sweat collecting in her palms and the urge to flee only getting stronger.

So when she sees that creature and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, she doesn't catch her reaction fast enough, hastily taking a few steps back.

"Ash?" Aiden said and there was a hint of concern in his voice. The others were all staring at her with varying looks on their faces, from concern to irritation. It wasn't real. She needed to calm down. It was just a hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

But what if it was, the paranoid voice in her mind whispered. She had superpowers, who's to say that demons or ghosts couldn't be real?

She shook the thought away, tearing her eyes away from the creature and taking a deep breath before turning back to her classmates. She was being ridiculous. "Sorry, I thought I saw some-"

She was paralyzed in place when she saw them staring past her with terrified expressions, senses blaring with warning as a cold, slippery hand wrapped around her arm.

It was real.

And it was right behind her.

[qalrey]

just two teenage girls who are crushing on each other fighting over some guy

it's been years since i've drawn furries with human-like features

[the-inheritance-games]

I’m procrastinating my Metamorphosis essay

Here are some of my favorite Grayson quotes from the Brothers Hawthorne:

““Get your hands off my sister. Grayson could feel the words building inside him”- he was ready to kill that man, it was so hot 😫

“Holding on to his fury by a hair, Grayson exercised steellike restraint in taking just one more step. “Walk. Away.”- again HOT 🥵

“Duncan appeared confused—and possibly inebriated. That shall make killing him easier. ”- what did I say!!! This man was full on death glaring and it’s sooooo HOOOTTT!!!!! 🥵🥵🥵🥵

“Who the hell is this guy?”, “You’re about to find out, Grayson thought,”- NEED I SAY MORE UUUGHHH

FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT!!!

“Grayson heard the boy mutter, “You don’t have to be such a bitch.” Grayson lunged forward, and Gigi popped in front of him again.”- GRAYSON HAWTHORNE DOESNT LOSE CONTROL BUT HE WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO JUMP THIS JERK AND HAD TO BE REELED IN BY HIS SISTER 😭😫

“we were here for the same reason as you two. Privacy.”“No,” Grayson gritted out. “No privacy!”- lol boy was mortified 💀

These are all from the same scene bc it’s my one of my favorite scenes in the book but maybe I’ll make a part ii later

[nope-nora]

on hometowns and on leaving hometowns

Fredrick Backman, The Deal of a Lifetime | Peter Gabriel, “Growing Up” | Taylor Swift, “You’re On Your Own, Kid” | Conan Gray, “Idle Town” | Maggie Stievater, The Dream Thieves | Julie Buntin, Marlena | John Darnielle for Pitchfork | James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room | Savannah Brown, “a poem for ohio”

[theonemarvelousness]

Scar of King's Roar [TW]

Leona's eye hurts.

A lot of stuff hurts. His eyes are dry.

It's rare he sees his father.

Talking to the doctor in the other room.

His ears ache; but he catches some words.

"--Unique Magic..."

"--sand? Everything?"

"--blot--"

"--blind?"

He can't see out of his patched-up eye.

Things are weird.

He wants a bath.

A nap.

"And STAY here. No one wants to look after a cursed prince!" The servant scolds, hauling him in the--well. He's not sure where he is, really. It's dark. And small. And there's no one here.

If he wasn't a lion, he wouldn't be able to make out this small, box-like space. He has to sit to fit.

Jiggling the handle does nothing. He can hear the clatter of a lock.

Maybe if he just naps?

---

The door's still locked when he wakes up. He's thirsty, and his stomach growls. Hungry, too.

Pressing his ear against the door...

"Hello?!" He calls, maybe he can't hear them?

"HELLO?!"

Nothing.

He takes another nap.

---

Sleep is nice, but when he's awake he's remembering how hungry and thirst he is.

Why are there no servants? That's... how it's supposed to be, right?

Why did the nanny leave him in here?

---

His tummy hurts.

His throat hurts.

He's hit the door, and tried to use some magic. But he's not strong enough to get out. His claws aren't as long or as sharp as Farenah's, either. He can't just slash through things like his big brother.

Farenah's at school, far away, too.

---

Why can't the door disappear?

Words--strange words bubble in his throat. "I am your hunger, I am your thirst. I am what steals your tomorrows. Kneel before me! King’s Roar!" He doesn't know where it comes from. This strong magic takes nothing, but--but the door!

The door he was pushing against... it's sand?

"What is THAT?" A servant yells, looking at him in horror.

"What did he do!?" Another.

Coming toward them, he grasps their pant leg. "I--"

The cloth turns to sand.

The servant screams. And shoves at him--hard. Their claws pierce and cut his skin, as he's shoved away by his face. It hurts.

It hurts so much.

Stumbling, he falls into a cabinet.

It turns to sand, slowly, as he uses it to get up.

It's.

There's a lot of shouts.

He sees guards.

He...

---

Waking up here...

King's Roar.

That was the magic he used. His Unique Magic.

He isn't sure anymore.

Did kids get their Unique Magics?

He's so tired.

"PRINCE LEONA!" The shout of Kifaji startles him. Ears back.

Leona doesn't want...

"Oh no--what did they do to you? My little prince..." The bird flutters and all that.

But he doesn't want to talk. "Thirsty." He gets out, stomach grumbling. Suddenly, all of it's back. The hunger and thirst.

"Yes, yes!" And off the bird goes, coming back with a fresh glass of water. "Slow sips, Leona."

Taking it, he downs it gratefully. It soothes a lot. But he listens. Slow sips.

"I want a nap, Kifaji." He wants his room.

"The doctor hasn't finished--but what happened, Leona?" The soft tone of the adult. The old bird bends to look him in the eyes. Eye.

"...The nanny put me somewhere..." He mumbles, looking away. "And I got out with sand."

The King and the doctor return then.

His father looks just like Farenah.

Sunset hair. Gold eyes. Large. Proud.

He looks like his mother, the late queen. Dirt hair. Green eyes.

But he's only seen her in paintings. Farenah's photos.

Leona bows to the king, as he should, and keeps his gaze to the ground.

The doctor pulls up his chin. "His Blot levels are high, he's severely dehydrated. He needs water. Several good meals. That is an impressive amount of magic for a five-year-old..." He doesn't like looking at the old doctor. But he doesn't pull away like he wants to. "My King, you should be quite proud. You have two powerful princes in magic!"

"He summons sand." The king cuts back.

Leona's ears press flat to his skull.

The doctor is older than even Kifaji. "My, yes, we... are unsure if he'll keep his sight. Kifaji, make sure he's here after dinner. We'll do twice-a-day looks until it's healed."

"Yes, of course."

"He can go now." The doctor releases Leona.

"Come, my Prince." Kifaji gestures for him to come along.

Leona slides off the table, and bows to his father quietly before he leaves.

He doesn't stumble until he's out of the older lion's sight.

---

The servants are scared now.

They were just mean before... cursed is thrown around a lot, more.

They say, in their whispers they think he can't hear, that he killed the queen when he was born.

He took too much.

Of course he did, look at that magic.

Sand.

---

It left a scar over his eye, but he can see out it.

His fingers trace over it again and again.

"It does make you look like the King of Beasts, Leona." Kifaji points out.

"Really?" He turns back, looking at the old bird, curious.

The bird gives a big smile. "Yes, and I think you'll follow a path of greatness too, one day."

Kifaji's just saying that.

[sevenofdeers]

[dcbbw]

Commoner, Part 2--Secret

Part 2 of Commoner! Part 1 can be found here.  We’re picking up where we left off (Leo left, Sav is pregnant, and no one knows)

This story was born of a long-standing head canon (Sav would crush on the older brother, not her brother’s best friend), and the song inspiration (original version, but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement was invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 62 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,201

Rating: M for Mature themes

I sit in the back of the sleek, black Mercedes that is Duchy Ramsford’s official vehicle with the Brothers Beaumont, en route to the Palace. King Constantine has requested a meeting of the Great Houses.

And me.

I vacillate between relief that he will put those awful rumors to rest, and fear that Leo will be there with that woman.

“You appear to be deep in thought,” Bertrand observes. “Are you feeling well?”

I plaster a quick smile onto my lips. “Merely curious why the King would want me to be present at this meeting.”

The Duke gives me a solicitous nod, and I again wonder why he’s been so nice to me since our breakfast encounter.  It’s not that Bertrand is a bad guy; he has taught me a lot during my month at House Beaumont. I know more than I ever wanted to about utensils, glassware, table etiquette, and bloodlines and lineage. I now know that the reason I don’t have the title of Lady, the most ubiquitous yet ambiguous title a woman can hold, is because I don’t belong to a House.

I’m commoner.

But he isn’t a nice guy either, so the attention is a bit … odd.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with Leo, and all the news stories?” Max pipes up. “Although I suppose if Bastien is at the Palace and Leo isn’t, that may be all the confirmation we need.”

Bertrand looks out the window. “We’re here,” he announces.

I swear I feel my baby flip inside my stomach, which is stupid. I’m only eight weeks along.

As we walk up the front staircase, I don’t feel a sense of homecoming. I only feel dread. My throat closes when Bastien opens the door and leads us to the formal living room where the other guests are gathered. Groups are huddled close together; there are murmurs of conversations I cannot hear. I hug my brother and struggle through a curtsy meant to encompass the entire room. No one acknowledges me other than Kiara, who gives me a huge grin and enthusiastic hug.

And I wonder why I feel the need to be a part of this world, to be accepted by the very people who never will.

That it'll never change And it will just stay like this

I catch a glimpse of Madeleine, who is stone-faced; only the paleness of her skin and the clenching of her jaw signals anger, embarrassment, and hurt. I look down at her hands; her fingers are bare of jewelry.

Leo has left both of us.

The King clears his throat, and we all turn towards the front of the room. He is flanked by Queen Regina and Liam; all of them are wearing stoic expressions and I know … in my brain, my heart, my very soul … Leo has run off and fulfilled promises he could never make to me to another woman. I’m a single, teenaged mother with absolutely nothing to my name; I can’t even leverage the child growing inside of me.

There is a buzzing in my ears that drowns out the words my monarch is uttering until he states that Liam will ascend to the throne. There is to be a social season, and I will be the House Beaumont sponsee. The Crown will fund my sponsorship as I was still their ward and had no properties of my own. Drake’s face darkens, Bertrand beams proudly, and Max jumps up and down in excitement.

There’s something about Bertrand’s smile … he isn’t surprised to hear this news. Did he already know what to expect?  Was Leo the phone call that morning?

I throw up on the priceless carpet and my hand-me-down shoes.

Three weeks pass, weeks where I scour newspapers, magazines, and the internet for news of my baby’s father. There is a plethora of media, mostly photos of him in motocross tournaments: smiling happily in the Mojave Desert, frowning in concentration as he inspects his vehicle in UAE, sunning on a beach in Greece. The woman is not in the pictures, and rarely mentioned in the articles.

Now she can be his dirty little secret.

And when we spoke for months Well, did you ever mean it? How can we say that this is love When it goes like this?

Meanwhile, in Cordonia, my hips are spreading; my breasts are getting fuller, and my belly is only slightly rounded. Bertrand has ramped up my training but takes care to give me breaks throughout the day and we are now spending our meals together without Maxwell. He shares stories of his education, his time as a fashion designer, and memories of his childhood.

He walks me to my room every evening; occasionally he holds my hand.

I am not in love with Bertrand, but I find myself enjoying his company more and more.

But every time I meet somebody new It's like déjà vu I swear they sound the same It's like they know my skin

We’re sitting in Bertrand’s study one night; he is poring over documents related to Liam’s cabinet. Bertrand and Rashad Domvallier are to be financial and legal advisors to the new future King. I watch him nervously. I’ve decided that tonight is the time to tell him I cannot be the House’s sponsee. It isn’t fair to not tell him; he’ll need time to find someone new and school them in the ways of nobility.

My fingernails pluck nervously at my robe. I could very well be homeless in the next 15 minutes. Bertrand takes his duties as Duke seriously and is extremely rigid when it came to appearances and reputation; an unwed, pregnant commoner could not reside under the roof of House Beaumont. However, returning to the Palace would be a disaster between King Constantine and Big Brother Drake.

But it has to be done. This baby is going to make itself known sooner than later.

He drains his third glass of cognac before sighing heavily and pushing himself away from his desk. With an unsteady gait, he crosses the room to join me on the sofa. He looks almost regal in his gold silk robe with black piping, and black pajama bottoms. He sits so closely, I smell his cologne; it’s Hermès.

Leo always wore Armani.

“Savannah, I’d like to have a … conversation of a different sort with you.” His breath smells of liquor and his words are slightly slurred.

“Isn’t that funny?” I reply in a squeaky voice. “I wanted to have one with you also.”

He pulls one of my hands into his as he begins to speak. “You need to know that while you may be participating in the social season, you won’t win the hand of the Crown Prince. The position requires someone of lineage, with a knowledge of world politics and has a pulse on the fluctuating nature of both Court and Crown. However, the Engagement Tour should afford you an opportunity to marry into a minor house.”

I stare at him dumbfounded. Drunk Bertrand pisses me off.

“However, I do find myself being very attracted to you. I propose an offer that should be beneficial to both of us. I’d like you to be my mistress until we both find persons worthy of our status and station. You would become an honorary member of House Beaumont to assure you have a title, and I can be a very generous lover in more ways than one.”

He drops my hand and rises from the couch on his second attempt. He goes to a coat closet, opens the door, and retrieves a package. The box is emblazoned with Hermès’ name and logo. He brings it back to me, carefully placing it in my lap.

“Open it,” he urges.

I do so to find a limited-edition white matte satchel, made of leather and silk. The tag is still attached: $200,000 USD. I look up at him, knowing that he wants me to know how much it costs.

“Your … mistress?” I ask as my body feels as if it’s going numb.

And it will just stay like this Never really dating, breaking up

“This world is cruel. I’m just playing by its rules. It would behoove you to do so as well. You can’t be anything else to me or anyone of stature. You’re a commoner with the most basic of public education. You are ignorant in the ways of Court, the circles you would need to travel in. I am happy to give you the benefit of my knowledge, but at the end of the day, I am a Duke. Dukes don’t marry commoners.”

He says it all as if he is telling me the sun will rise in the east. Bertrand means no harm; nobles never do. Or so they claim.

Every word they say sounds just like him

My eyes fall back to the price tag, realizing I have my way out. I can keep my secret, and everyone’s precious reputation is intact.

“It’s late, Your Grace and you have given me a lot to process. I’ll have an answer for you in due time.”

He gives me a small smile. “May I … may I kiss you?”

A small shake of my head. “No,” I reply in an almost-rueful tone.

I know my place.

His smile falters, and he nods slowly. “My apologies. That was presumptuous of me.”

I mentally shake my head. THAT is what he considered to be the most horrible thing about his proposition?  I box the purse again, and stand.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Three months later, I am standing on the balcony of my small pied-a-terre located in a quaint, quiet Parisian neighborhood, watching the day come to an end. The sun is still bright in the sky, but evening is fast approaching. My fingers comb through my dark, thick tresses before pulling a toffee-colored cardigan tighter across my expanding body.

It’s springtime and I think again how leaving Cordonia to settle here was the best move. Paris had always been my dream destination: red lipsticks, rich wines, decadent perfumes, trendy runway fashions.

The baby and I have even learned to enjoy the food.

My eyes take in the Palais Garnier, also known as the Paris Opera House, not that far in the distance before falling to the cobblestoned streets below: restaurant and café doors open, unleashing aromas of grilled meat and sauteed onions as bakeries pull window shades down. Women with chic hats and impossibly high heels exit dress stores, shopping bags bunched in fisted hands. Street vendors begin putting away their wares.

My stomach rumbles, and I head inside. There had been a late breakfast/early lunch a few hours ago, but the fruit, yogurt, and cheese and spinach omelet have all but disappeared now. My child has a healthy appetite. I walk around a black wrought iron table with matching chairs, pausing to fluff oversized chair cushions decorated with huge sunflowers.

I push the terrace door shut behind me before going into the kitchen. I had taken a chicken out earlier, but I no longer have an appetite for it. Instead, I want pistou pasta with grilled duck and extra mushrooms from my favorite bistro.

But money is tight. Despite having a job and being frugal with the savings leftover from the sale of the purse Bertrand gifted me, I need to be mindful of rent, food, doctor’s appointments once the child gets here and I will be on unpaid leave.

I’m having a boy that I will name Barthelemy, Bartie for short. It’s my way of paying homage to Maxwell for being such an incredible and caring friend during all of this. He doesn’t know who the father is and has never pressured me to tell him. He sends money and has offered to make an honest woman of me.

All of this even though I left House Beaumont without a sponsee, and they now either have to find one that they will have to fully sponsor or withdraw.

A knock at the door captures my attention; I stare at it with a frown. I don’t have many friends in Paris; Maxwell is due for his monthly visit next week. He’s bringing Drake and Kiara with him. They were the only two I instructed Maxwell to tell of my whereabouts. Drake and I aren’t close, but we are all we have left as far as family. He deserved to know. Kiara’s my best girlfriend, and she speaks French. Win-win.

I would like to see Liam, but he has much to learn and do before the social season begins in less than 12 weeks.

 I slowly and laboriously cross the small distance between the kitchen and the front door; my eye widens as I peer through the peephole.

Leo.

He looks even more handsome if that’s possible. He carries a bouquet of flowers in one hand as he looks around the hallway. I quietly and cautiously back away from the door as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

And then one random night When everything changes You won't reply And we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 ​@ao719 @marietrinmimi @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​​ @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet@busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

[eldestdaughterx]

original poem by yours truly

[feral-ballad]

Savannah Brown, from Closer Baby Closer; “Seduction theory”

[Text ID: “so let it be known when I want something I want more of it than usually exists.”]

[mariasabanahabanabana]

Im translating the / my attempt at a last song and although I like how it is turning out, the chorus is undoubtedly my favorite part

(Chorus)

So please, with fervor, I implore,

Stay away from me, find your own shore,

My company won't bring glamour galore,

It's best you go solo, it's better, I'm sure.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Thri-Kreen

D&D lore has never been kind to human/animal hybrid characters, especially to those who resemble animals stereotyped as being “evil”, such as gnolls or lizardfolk. This goes double for Thri-kreen the game’s default bugpeople, who etither get no lore at all, or get a few paragraphs describing how they don’t have emotions or personalities and see most other humanoids merely as food.

That’s the personality of a monster species, not a player option, and that general flatness of concept is expressed by almost every piece of thri-kreen art: depicting them mostly naked in a barren landscape brandishing a weapon at something.

While there’s a few seeds of interesting worldbuilding in the different versions of the Thri-Kreen , I’ve found the best way to make them conceptually rich is to continue my trend of combining two lackluster bits of canon into something distinctive, in this case, the mostly forgotten race of creatures known as dromites, who share the Thri-Kreen’s traits of being insectoid and psionic, but have a lot more interesting notes about their culture, Here’s What I’ve come up with:

The “Kreen” evolved on a distant world as a singular psionic hivemind, functioning much in the way you’d expect any colony of insects might save their ability to learn and retain information was far greater than that of any simple arthropod. Developing knowledge of engineering and magic that let them spread across the planes, they eventually suffered some kind of disaster that caused their hivemind to dissolve, leaving the “Thri-Kreen” as free willed individuals for the first time, where as before they were merely fragments of a consciousness that spanned planets.  The chaos was immediate, as if each organ and cell of a single body suddenly gained awareness, forcing the fragments of what was arguably a single world spanning organism to begin constructing cultures and civilizations from scratch.

While in the many millennia since the end of their hivemind have seen the Mantises take numerous different paths, the concept of “wholeness” is a reoccurring theme. The name “Thri-Kreen” literally means “un-whole”, referencing their psionic bond with one another, and hearkening back to their undiminished “Kreen” or “whole” state of the distant past. This search for wholeness leads the Thri-Kreen to live in small, closely bonded groups where each individual may be in contact with every other individual, much in the same way that creatures in cold climates will stick together to share bodyheat. While it’s not unsusual for smaller groups to break off from a larger one, absolute isolation is considered to be a terrible state for a Thri-Kreen.

Outsiders who come into contract with the Mantisfolk would describe them as a strange mix of dependant and standoffish: offering help without ever being asked but challenging every opinion ever voiced. This is because unlike most mortals, who tend to become resistant when their opinions are challenged, Thri-Kreen seek group consensus above all and when faced with a crisis will begin checking their ideas against others to throw their weight behind the best option possible. This leads to Thri-Kreen settlements being largely non-hierarchical, through prone to sudden political swings.

Thri-Kreen are mostly genderless, through groups looking to expand ( or larger enclaves looking to maintain their population) will yearly elect “queens” and “consorts” for the reponsibility of producing young.  Most other species mistake these individuals as leaders of the Thri-Kreen, when really their job is to fuck for days to months at a time.   Smaller, nomadic groups of Mantisfolk gather together to have these sorts of elections, and the young are divided equally to be raised by the different packmembers as they enter their pupation stage.

 The umberhulks that populate the underdark and slave pens of the cruel neogi bear an uncomfortable resemblance to present day Thri-Kreen, hearkening to the fact that while many of their kind found new beginnings across the astral sea after the dissolution of their singularity, many others found terrible ends. Likewise, the clockwork horrors that swarm across spelljammer ships and junkworlds communicate in a codified form of the Thri-Keen language, hinting at the existence of what might be an extinct conclave of mantisfolk engineers, or a hidden coterie of insectoid artificers intent on recreating their kind’s previous numbers in metal.

[garadinervi]

Carolee Schneemann, (1972), Parts of a Body House Book, Women's Studio Workshop, Rosendale, NY, 2020 Edition of 90 [Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN. Fondazione Bonotto, Molvena (VI). © Carolee Schneemann]

Contributors: Rachel Helm, Lilah Dougherty, La Niña, Chris Petrone, Natalie Renganeschi, Kelsey Borsch

Printing method: risograph, silkscreen, letterpress, B&W film, hand stamping, stains, and other markings; paw marking with beet juice and mud by La Niña

Printer: Risograph printed by Oddities Prints in Kansas City, MO; Silkscreen by Courtney Parbs, Savannah Bustillo, and Erin Zona; Letterpress and hand interventions by Erin Zona

Binding: Perfect bound and stapled with colophon insert

First Edition: Beau Geste Press, Devon, 1972

[orangecountydayabortionclinic]

what different lps characters would call vaginas:

Remake!Tom Dawson: "lady flowers"

OG!Brooklyn Hayes: "cunts" Remake!Brooklyn Hayes: "I want you." Alternate/Remake!Brooklyn Hayes: "please i don't have time for this where are my antipsychotics"

OG!Savannah Reed: "Oh, um... You know, your special area." Remake!Savannah Reed: "please i don't have time for this where are my antidepressants"

OG!Sage Bond: his juvenile ass would not be able to stop giggling like a middle schooler when asked this question Remake!Sage Bond: "i prefer men"

Remake!Savannah Reed's Mom: