#mr. reza

[travelinglibrariansdesk]

Picture books with an international focus

A mom came in today with an astounding heap of children's books. Every one was "presumed lost", so her kids had been enjoying them for quite a while. She wanted to see if the returned pile cleared the card they had been checked out on, but to my amazement, it didn't. She still had about a Benjamin in overdue fines on her card, so we checked her daughter's, which had almost as much in overdue fines! Then she asked me to check her husband's card, where we found about $20 in overdue fines, and she decided to just pay that one. Wow. It reminded me of the women who used to come into Lord & Taylor's handbag department: when one of their cards failed, they'd pull out another until they found one that wasn't maxed out. You'd think if one of your credit cards were maxed out, that would be a warning to stop shopping, but apparently not. At least in this scenario, it's about kids reading books - which I ALWAYS wish to encourage. And she apparently does, too - she returned with another HUGE stack of books to take out on her husband's now-clear card.

In her stack, I found three intriguing items: Reza Dalvand's Mrs. Bibi's Elephant, Minfong Ho and Saphan Ros's The Two Brothers, and Duncan Tonatiuh's The Princess and the Warrior. I'm delighted that she's teaching her children to read about other cultures!

Mrs. Bibi's Elephant is adorable: a simple story with a surprisingly cryptic ending. My favorite page showed Mrs. Bibi having tea with her elephant, the teacup balanced perfectly on the end of its trunk. The story pits people who have and love pets against people who like things (chandeliers, jewelry, the stock market). The town's children, who love the elephant, oppose the town's adults, who don't care about pets. A delightfully furry (or scaly, or feathered) Marxist message from Iranian illustrator Reza Dalvand.

I thought I would write about Ho and Ros's The Two Brothers, but there's not much to say about this one, unless you're simply into Cambodian stories. It's a classic fairy tale of the 1001 Nights style; unfortunately, the artwork is pleasing but unremarkable. I much preferred the startling art of Duncan Tonatiuh's The Princess and the Warrior: A Tale of Two Volcanoes. No fable with a lesson here: the princess and the warrior's adventure is remarkable and traditional, but bittersweet and unresolved. The art really sets this story apart. Although I'm sure it exists elsewhere, this is the first time I've seen an artist employ precisely the style seen on artifacts, tombs and temples of the Aztecs, placing them in action sequences like cartoon characters. It's gorgeous, unusual, and faithful to Aztec art.

[alleswatmijblijmaakt]

Gelezen

Mrs England: pagina 99 t/m 153

Ik begin het idee te krijgen dat Mr England niet is, zoals hij zich voordoet in het bijzijn van anderen. Wel moet blijken of hij zich ook anders tegenover de kinderen gedraagt. Al is aan de reactie van de kinderen dit niet te zien. Ze lijken een goede band met hem te hebben.

God: a human history - pagina 51 t/m 111

In het tweede gedeelte kijken wij naar goden die erg sterk op mensen lijken. Een paar van deze religies had ik al weet van, maar de theorie achter waarom de religies gevormd werden was uitermate interessant. En het is ook best logisch. En daardoor leer ik niet alleen over de geschiedenis van de religie, maar ook van de maatschappij, groepen en samenleving die door de geschiedenis gevormd werden en waarom. Ik pik blijkbaar ook wat antropologie op.

[momolady]

Reza the Manticore

A strange house covered in scrap and whose front yard is more akin to a junk yard than a lawn is the site of today's story. An artist uses trash to turn it into treasure. But he's seen as more mad scientist that artist.

Nonbinary Reader (afab) x Male Monster (cis)

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The old house you stood outside of looked as though it had seen better days. The iron fence was overgrown with weeds and vines, and beyond it the yard was littered like a junkyard. The only reason you came here was because you were fed up, but if you had passed this house at any other time you would have sped your gate to avoid it.

The gate was open so you just let yourself inside. This was a mission, so you felt partially like a spy sneaking into an enemy base. Your friends at the boarding house had told you not to come here, but you were sick of the tensions extending from your boss and all through the one paradise-like boarding house. The man who lived in this house was the cause of all that tension.

“You there,” a bellowing voice called from above.

You had barely stepped inside and already you were spotted. Just up on the awning of the porch roof there stood the man you were looking for. He grinned down at you, pushing up the brim of his shabby hold hat.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he jumped down from the awning, barely missing a flower bed full of scrap.

You stiffened your shoulders and put on a brave face. “Is that supposed to scare or impress me?” You walked forward towards him. “You’re Reza Radan right?”

The tall, burly man removed his sunglasses to reveal a set of eyes so golden they glowed under the brim of his hat. He grinned, showing off the gold incisor in his mouth. “Is that who you want me to be?”

You frowned at him, not giving him any sort of reaction beyond displeasure. “I’m from the Nasrin Dance Theatre-”

The big man started laughing hard, his wide mouth opened in a strangely grotesque way. “My bitch sister sent you!”

“No! She didn’t!” You stomped a foot forward. “I came on my own, because I am sick and tired of the tension at the boarding house!” You had to yell over his guffawing.

Reza took a step back. “I suppose you’re all pissed I bought your crappy little theatre. So what do you wanna do about it?”

You grimaced as you looked at him, he looked crusty and unkempt, covered in grease stains and rust dust from his massive boots to the top of his salt and pepper head. “I wanted to ask you to let us use the theatre once before you do...whatever it is you plan on doing to it.”

Those gold eyes looked you up and down and a black tongue darted over the corner of his mouth. “Do you think I’m kind or something?”

Reza’s gaze felt strange upon your body so you crossed your arms against your chest. “From the shouting matches I’ve heard you have with Mrs. Riahi; no I don’t.”

“Good, I’d hate to build any sort of differing reputation. Although, it is a pleasure to get someone such as yourself knocking at my door. Always willing to hear out a pretty face.”

You balked and dropped your arms. “Excuse me?”

Reza chuckled, stepping towards you. “Usually I would knock solicitors out the gate and onto their asses. But an ass like yours deserves to be treated with nothing but respect.”

As soon as he was close enough you slapped him. Reza didn’t budge, he just stood there with a pleased grin upon his face.

“My ass has nothing to do with this,” you huffed in a sort of defeat. “I am asking you just this one favor. One! Let us do this last performance then you can have that theatre. I just want there to be some peace at the boarding house.”

Reza rubbed his jaw where you struck him. “No wonder I like the cut of you, you’re a dancer. My sister was always bringing dancers home when we were kids, so I grew a taste.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “You’re disgusting!”

A chuckle built in his chest. “Forgive me, I lose myself in front of attractive people. My brain just short circuits and allows the pig to come out.”

Your were unsure how to take that, so you remained quiet with a disgusted look upon your face.

That sug grin never left his face. “You’re androgynous too, another point. I never much cared for gender, all I cared about was how much fun we were going to have.”

“The theatre,” you snapped at him.

“Oh right. Right. No.” He said decisively.

“Why not?” You snapped. “What are you going to do with a theatre anyways?” You barked.

“Whatever the fuck I want, it’s mine,” Reza chuckled. “I can tear it down, build it up, maybe even open it up to let nature take over.” he then placed his sunglasses back onto his face. “My sister knows what she did.”

You flapped your arms out. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know what I’m doing and get stellar reviews for it.” He lowered his sunglasses and looked over the rim at you. “If you ever grow sick and tired of dancing, my arms are always open.”

You took a breath to steel yourself against his verbal diarrhea. “I don’t know what you and Mrs. Riahi have between you, but you’re being a severe prick about it. Just let the dance troupe use the stage for this show! It means a lot and after that we’ll start looking for another.”

“Well, let me think about it.” He rubbed his chin, thickly coated in stubble. He was silent for a long while, and you began hearing noises coming from the clutter and shrapnel in the yard.

Rez then dropped his hand with a laugh. “If you come pose for me, I’ll consider lending you the theatre.”

Your guts churned. “Pose? For what?”

Reza nodded. “An art piece I’ve been struggling with.”

“You make art?”

He scoffed, his smile vanished for the first time since you walked up. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I could be a creative?”

The same had been said about you and dance, so you kept your mouth shut. “What kind of artwork?”

“Sculptor. Can’t you tell by my art supplies?” he swept his arm out, motioning to the junkyard heap piled on all sides. “Everything I make is made from recycled materials.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “Well, that makes sense.”

Reza chuckled. “And since you’re a dancer, I’m sure you can mold that body of yours as you please, so I’m certain you’d make a good model. Do that for me, and the stage is yours.”

You grumbled under your breath. “Can I bring a taser?”

“If you’d like, but I promise, I may talk like a pig, but I will always act like a gentleman.” He bowed, sweeping his arm along his waist.

“You promise?”

Rez extended his hand out to you. “I am a man of my word. Shake and it’s a deal.”

You took a deep breath in then grabbed his hand. “Fine. When do you need me?”

Reza’s smug grin returned and he chuckled suspiciously under his breath. “As often as you can sacrifice yourself. “I know my sister can be a slave driver with her troupe, so whenever you are free, come to me.”

His word choices had you questioning. “Okay, fine.”

“Excellent! Would you like to start now?” he motioned back towards the house.

You shook your head. “No. I’ll need some time to prepare myself.”

The golden glow behind his sunglasses flickered. “Fine by me. Then I suppose I shall see you soon.”

Back at the boarding house, the rest of the troupe was eager to hear your report. They gathered around you, waiting to hear what happened at Reza’s place.

“I heard he’s worse than Mrs. Riahi.”

“He’s supposedly some sort of monster caused by a curse, that’s why Mrs. Riahi won’t fight him for the theatre.”

“He’s weird and creepy,” you huffed, but I wouldn’t say he's a monster.” You took off your boots before you walked through the front door. You were followed into the kitchen where you got a drink.

“But what happened?”

You sighed. “He’s an artist, apparently,” you shrugged and cracked open your drink. “He wants me to pose for him.”

“That’s all?”

You took a long drink and exhaled loudly. “Top surgery was nothing, this will be a pain in my ass.”

“So you’re doing it?”

You frowned and nodded. “If that’s all it takes, I’ll grit my teeth and bare it as long as I have to.” You then turned to the others. “Just don’t tell Mrs. Riahi about this! I’ve worked too hard to get a spot in this troupe, I won’t lose it.”

The next day, after practice and rehearsals, you left to go back to Reza’s home. The front gate and door were both wide open, so you let yourself in. His foyer was dark, the only light you could see came from a distant doorway.

“Hello?” You stepped inside and heard what sounded like a buzzsaw going off. You stepped back outside just in case.

The buzzsaw stopped and heavy footsteps came down the hall. Golden eyes gleamed from the shadows, and Reza turned on a light. He saw you and grinned. “Ah, it’s you. Come on in.” He waved his hand for you to follow. You kept a distance between you, making sure he walked into the room before you did.

“This is my workshop!” He threw his hands out to show off. “Together, you and I will make something wonderful.”

His word choices still perturbed you. You set your bag aside and looked around. Scrap metal gleamed on the walls, along with power tools and canisters. A large table stretched from one wall and nearly all the way to the other side.

“Have you ever murdered anyone in here? Because it looks great for that.”

Reza guffawed. “No, no, sweetheart. Murder isn’t my style.” He motioned to a wooden palette. “I set you up on a stage, just for you.”

You shucked your coat which he took and hung on the door. “What do you want me to do?”

“That’s half the problem. I’m not sure what I want. I just know that I want to capture something. A moment.”

You stood there and frowned. “You’re going to have to give me something more than that to work with.”

Reza tipped his glasses down, gazing at you with those golden eyes. “How flexible are you?”

“You better be asking that professionally.”

“I am, I am, hold your horses, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I have an idea in my mind, but I want to make sure you can manage it.”

“Yeah, I’m flexible,” you huffed.

Reza’s eyes flicked up the ceiling then back down. “If I can attach a strap of some kind it might help you hold the pose. But first can you bend back like-” he attempted to lean backward but stopped. “Why am I even trying?” He came up behind you, placing his huge, warm palm against your back. “Ease back for me.”

You lowered down, laying into his palm. You focused ot he ceiling, not wanting to look at his face.

“That’s it, very good.” He held you there for a moment before pushing you back up. “I’ll have to set up a rig so you don’t hurt yourself.” He walked away, gathering up his hair and tying it back. “By the way, what do you want me to call you?”

“Certainly not sweetheart,” you grouched.

He chuckled. “No, I mean what makes you comfortable to refer to you as?”

You touch your back where his palm had been, your skin still feels warm there. “I’m nonbinary if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Gotcha. Good, I wanted to make sure.” He looked up from his desk at you. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable here.”

That was a surprise from your first impression of him.

He then waved his hand at you. “You can go now, that’s all I needed tonight.”

“That’s it?”

Reza looked up and grinned. “You can’t rush these things. Besides, I have to make a few modifications to assure I get the best ose from you that I can. Come back tomorrow.”

You frowned, but you weren’t going to argue. You picked up your bag and left without another word.

More questions awaited you once back at the boarding house, but you didn’t have much to give since the visit had been so short. Once people scattered, Ela, mrs. Riahi’s youngest daughter, joined you in the kitchen,

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” You asked.

Ela shook her head. “No. Not at all. I’m actually kind of relieved you’re doing this.” She sat down with you at the table. “They’ve been fighting like this since I was a kid.”

“Do you know why?”

Ela shook her head slowly. “I’ve never gotten a straight answer. I just know they’re both very similar. My uncle is a good guy, he always spoiled my sisters and me when we were little. He just was dealt a shitty hand.”

You furrowed your brow. “A shitty hand?”

“It’s a little strange to explain, but it’s a genetic thing. Sort of like werewolves but...different.” She got a strange, concerned look upon her face. “He was born with it, and it causes him to be a manticore.”

“Someone said something about a curse,” you murmured.

“My eldest sister has it too, but Uncle Reza got it really bad. He was really out of control as a kid from what I’ve heard, and he’s only recently been able to control it. He was sent away a lot as a kid.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked.

“I think Uncle Reza just wants someone to talk to. I think he’s lonely. Mama stopped letting him around us when I was little, and most of the family won’t have much to do with him either. I don’t think he’s a bad person, and I don’t think him being a manticore is something wrong. I don’t want you to think that. Maybe if he has someone to talk to, a confidant or something, it’ll help him.”

You sighed and looked down. “Maybe that’s why he asked for me to model then. Because he’s lonesome?”

Ela smiled. “Try and be his friend for me. Tell him I miss him.”

You nodded and put a reassuring smile on your face. “Fine. Okay. I’ll keep going. I was going anyway just so we could use the theatre.”

“Thank you so much!” Ela beamed. “I really appreciate it.”

You still weren’t sure about him, but having a little backstory helped. Although you weren’t sure how much that would mean down the road.

The next day when you went to his place, Reza was outside waiting for you. He was sitting on his porch with his feet propped up onto the railing. Smoke billowed around his head while he chewed on the end of a cigar.

“There you are!” He stood up, taking the cigar from his mouth in a flourish. “I just got your stage finished.”

You waved your hand before your face as the smoke crept closer. “Stage?”

He grinned. “Something I rigged up to make the posing easier.”

Frowning, you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter. “Like meat hooks?”

Reza waved you into the house, taking you back to his workshop. “I figure I would need to see all angles to get this piece just right, so I rigged up a sort of lazy susan contraption.” Where the wood palette had sat before there was now a round stand with strips of fabric hanging from the ceiling. “I even got the strap here to rotate with you so you don’t get tied up.” He then looked at you with a smile. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

You grimaced at him and set your bag aside. “Let’s just get this started.” You hopped up onto the stage then looked back at him. “Oh, right. Ela told me to tell you hello.”

Reza froze for a moment, and his characteristic smile vanished. He snubbed out the cigar and scoffed. “Is that right?”

You watched him for any other sort of reaction, but he turned his back to you. He whipped off his leather jacket and you were distracted by the muscular back he had hidden beneath it. You stared despite you best wishes, watching his muscles flex and turn as he reached for equipment hanging on the wall.

“Haven’t seen her in ages.”

“She told me that.” You slipped into the strap, leaning back with ease and a surprising amount of comfort. It reminded you of ribbon dancing so you lifted up your legs and kicked them up towards the ceiling.

“What a show off,” Reza chuckled. “I figured you could do something special with those legs.”

You set your legs back down. “You ruined that moment.”

“I’m serious,” he said sternly. “I knew you’d be a good dancer the moment I saw you. My sister must have had to steal you from someone.”

You sighed. “No, not really. I quit a job to come to the troupe. But no one was really fighting to keep me or take me. I was actually lucky that her first choice had to drop out.”

Reza set equipment on the table as he listened. “And that’s why the theatre is so damn important to you.”

You realized you gave yourself away, so you decided to lean into it. “Yeah, it is. I’m risking a lot being here, and I’m not losing my dream job because some creepy asshole wants to get his revenge or his jollies off.”

Reza chuckled, leaning over his desk. “And what else did Ela tell you?”

You leaned back in the straps again, lifting your arms up to take hold and you swept your legs out. “She said she thinks your lonely.”

“Well,maybe she’s right.” He put on a face shield and turned on a welding device and that was the end of the conversation.

Reza worked until late into the evening, stopping just when you were beginning to cramp in your shoulders. He turned off his equipment, then lifted up the shield mask.

“That should be it for tonight.”

You grunted as you rose from the straps, rubbing your shoulder as best you could. The cramping traveled between shoulder blades and sucked the breath from you.

“Come here.” Reza approached, removing his thick gloves. “Let me see that.”

“No, no, it’s nothing it’s-” His warm hands fell upon your shoulders, and once he started squeezing it melted away the ache. You let out a moan which made him chuckle in return.

“How’s that?” Reza asked. “Not too shabby huh?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Reza continued kneading his big, warm hands into your shoulders, moving his fingers to your neck where, with one twist, there was a cereal-like crunching that went down your neck.

“What the hell was that?” You whimpered.

“Tension and stress.” Reza moved his hands down your lower back. “Do you tense your jaw a lot?”

You placed your hand under your jaw and around your neck. “Maybe?”

Reza walked around to face you. “Let me try this then.” His big fingers slipped around your cheeks, making you freeze in place from such an odd touch. He pressed into your jaw, focusing on the hinges. It felt strangely good.

“There now,” he said under his breath. “Doesn’t that feel better.”

Your face heated up, but you blamed it on his close proximity. You placed your fingertips upon his wrist, hoping to move him back, but you really didn’t make an effort.

Reza stepped back, releasing you from his clutches. “How about a drink before you head home?”

“I really shouldn’t.” You reached for your bag, taking out your phone to check for messages.

“I take it by the shouldn’t that you want to?”

You sighed. “Mrs. Riahi doesn’t like us drinking.”

You threw his head back laughing. “That’s hilarious coming from her!”

You eyed him as you slipped your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m not trying to do anything to risk this job.”

Reza chuckled. “I know, I know. Quit your job. Shattered dreams. Blah, blah, blah. What’s your poison? I’m sure I have it in stock.”

You hesitated speaking, thinking you should just go home and get some sleep. Only thing was, a drink did sound nice. “Vodka.”

Reza snickered. “I have an endless reservoir of that. Come on.” He lead you a room over, taking you into the kitchen where there was a chest freezer next to the stove. He opened it, taking out two bottles of vodka that were frosted over.

You mouth watered at the thought of how cold it would be. “I haven’t had a drink since I moved here.”

Reza took glasses from the cabinet and set them upon the counter. “Trying to be a good little student.”

“I suppose,” you grumbled.

Reza poured your glasses then handed it to you. As you were about to take to a sip he lifted up his white tank to wipe off his face. His chest and belly were covered in coarse hair, his pecs were well defined, and even if there was a pooch to his belly, he looked solid as a rock.

You sputtered, almost choking on your vodka.

“Too strong for you?” he laughed.

You shook your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “No I just-”

Reza held up his glass. “So long as you enjoy the experience.”

You sighed, taking your glass and tapping it against his. “Cheers.”

He drank deep from his glass, breathing out and his eyes glowed brightly. He looked at you, and you were well aware of his gaze traveling down your body. “What else did you give up to dance for my sister?”

You scoffed. “Nothing much really.”

“No relationship?” He asked calmly.

You blew a raspberry before taking another sip.

“No relationship,” he chuckled.

You sighed and leaned over the counter. “Why? Are you offering?”

Reza beamed. “Always offering, sweetheart.” He leaned over the counter towards you. “Have I piqued your interests?”

You take a longer drink.

“Or did my Ela say something else?”

You licked your lips then shrugged. “She said you were a manticore, but she really hammered in the loneliness.”

Reza’s smile softened, turning a shade of sad that almost touched you. “Glad to see my sister didn’t brainwash her completely. She was always my favorite.” He moved back, leaning against the fridge behind him. “But yes, I am both of those things.”

“You don’t look it,” you murmured.

Reza chuckled. “Which one?”

“Both. You don’t appear to be either.”

“That’s what years of practice and lying to yourself will do, sweetheart.” he aimed his glass at you. “Look at yourself, you’ve hidden plenty I’m sure wouldn’t be given on. The tension in your jaw and the crackling of your neck give that away.”

You frowned and shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ve hidden much, just like me.”

You place your hand upon your chest, just above your top surgery scars. “Yeah, well, you got me.”

Reza smirked. “My sister thinks I’m dangerous. So she took my nieces from me, turned my family’s backs against me. We got into a fight and I may have overreacted. But then she did as well.”

“Did you try to eat her or something?”

A slight smirk appeared on his face. “Not so literal. But I did try to jump down her throat. But enough about me. I’m much more curious about you.”

You chuckled as you sipped your vodka. “I don’t turn into a magical beast, so I don’t know what you’re curious about.”

“Now, now, don’t be so modest. I’ve seen many dancers in my life and seen what they can turn into. Passion creates magic, that’s what it all boils down to. Hatred, love, joy, sorrow, put those at their strongest and that is where you’ll find magic happening.” His smile grew. “And I can tell from your posing how well you can control your body. You have a gift.”

You bit back your smile. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.” He then brought out the vodka bottle. “Another glass?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

After a couple more drinks, Reza called you a car to send you back to the boarding house. In the morning you woke with a bad case of cottonmouth and a slow moving ache in your head. You guzzled water during practice, but luckily the headache wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Each evening you went back to Reza’s place, posing for his sculpture which bit by bit was taking form. You would sometimes move your stage, turning it so he was sure to get the angles right from every possible side. You sometimes shares drinks at the end of it, but what you looked forward to the most was when he offered to massage your shoulders and neck. Those strong hands on your body felt so good it was hard to ignore.

One evening, as you were walking in, Reza got a look on his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.

“What?” You huffed. “It was a pretty strenuous class today. I’m tired.”

Reza frowned then he grabbed your hand. “Come here. I won’t have you posing tonight looking like that.”

“Looking like what?” You balked as he tugged you into another room. He smacked the top of a dining table. “Lat on your stomach.”

“What?”

Reza’s eyes glowed from behind his glasses. “Lay down. I’ll find some lotion. Your body is in no shape for modeling tonight.”

The idea of getting a much more through massage than usual did sound inviting. “How can you tell?” You hopped up onto the table and there was a twinge in your lower back.

“You’re carrying yourself far too heavy.” Reza came back in with a bottle in his hands. “Now lay down, and don’t squirm, I’ll have to pull you shirt up.”

You did as he said, flinching a bit when he touched bare skin. You bit your lip, finding more pleasure in it than discomfort. He smoothed something cold against your skin, and his fingers worked into your shoulders and back, slowly making your body warm to his touch.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

You moaned softly. “Amazing.”

Reza chuckled. “Good. Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Those words sent a shiver down your body.

“You would think she would take better care of her troupe,” Reza grunted. His strong handed melted your body into a puddle, rubbing out every ounce of tension you held, looseing each knot he came across.

You moaned and grunted, trying to hold back your voice while he worked. “Fuck that’s good.”

“That gave me goosebumps,” Reza growled very close to your ear.

Your cheeks heated and you kept your head down.

After a while, Reza moved his hands away and tugged your shirt back down. “You should be good to go now.”

You sat up with a sigh, your body felt warm and loose, you felt comfortable and cozy. Yous miled dreamily, and Reza’s expression shifted.

“That felt amazing.” You touched your neck. “How do you do it?”

“Nothing really,” he chuckled.

You look into his eyes which were a deep, moving liquid gold. “How about I do you then?”

Reza’s eyes widen, burning brighter. “What?”

“Your back. I can massage it if you want.”

Reza chuckled and rubbed his hairy chin. “I’d be a fool to turn that down. But are you sure?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m feeling good so I want to pay it forward.”

Reza stepped forward as you slipped off the table. He look off his shirt to reveal his bare chest and back. If you were being honest, you had been wanting to get at his back for a while now. He laid upon the table and you placed your hands upon his back. He felt solid like a rock and was warm as one left out in the sun. You started kneading into his shoulders, but you needed some elevation, so you climbed up onto the table and straddled his back.

“I like that.” Reza’s laugh had a tinge of nerves to it.

You tried your best to knead and massage down his back, but you weren’t as skilled as Reza was. He made small grunts and moans as you worked, but you felt you were taking more pleasure in this by touching him.

As you rubbed down his sides you felt something brush up along the back of your leg. Turning, you saw a tail curling around you. Reza sat up like a shot, nearly knocking you off the table. He was breathing hard and he kept his head down.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he growled.

“Is something wrong?”

Reza scoffed. “Oh just...just let my guard down was all.” He looked back at you for a brief second. His hair had gotten thicker and grown around his face like a mane. “Give me a second to collect myself.” The tail tucked itself around his side as he tried to hide himself.

You stepped towards him, placing your hand upon his back which was growing smooth, velvety fur. “It’s alright.”

His voice came out a low, raspy snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What's the worst you could do?” You brushed your fingers down his side and he shivered.

Reza glanced back at you, his face changed, but it was still recognizably him. His golden eyes were larger and sharper than before. You smiled up at him, trying to reassure him.

“What’s that smirk for?” He growled, his voice deeper.

“Nothing, I just think I realized I like you.”

Reza jerked and his voice caught in his throat.

“You’re strange but that’s not a bad thing. You’re kind of charming, and I guess you’re sexy.” You smooth your hand down his arm to take his hand. His palm was heavier and bigger, and there were claws tipping his fingertips. “So what if you’re a manticore? There’s worse things in this world.”

“Don’t try to tease me like this.” Reza grabbed your hand and held it tight, careful with his sharp claws.

“I’m not,” you murmur. “I like coming here. I thought I’d hate it but I kept looking forward to seeing you.”

Reza pulled you around to him, cupping your chin in his hand as he looked down at you. He dipped down and his gaze felt warm on your skin. You closed your eyes as his breath fluttered against your cheek. Reza nuzzled to your shoulder, then your neck, slowly moving himself towards your lips where he stole a kiss.

You reached for more, pulling him to take another and another. Reza pulled away, placing his hand over your mouth.

“I need to calm down. Stay here!” He left in a hurry with wings sprouted upon his back. He charged off on all fours and you could hear him bumbling down the halls. You smiled, touching your lips as you thought about what you had done.

Reza returned later, back in his usual guise. He cleared his throat and walked into the room as confidently as he could.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” You couldn’t hold back your smile. “Does that happen often when you get flustered?”

“You could say that,” he huffed. “So don’t get any ideas. I’m an old fashioned type.”

You took his hand and placed a kiss upon his knuckles. “I’m okay with going slow if that’s what you need. It’ll be fun.”

Reza’s cheeks darkened as he looked at you. “Easy now, I only just got my glamour back on. I’d hate to ruin the evening.” His usual smirk returned. “Especially since it appears we won’t be working.”

You prepared yourself for another kiss, but he instead placed one upon your forehead. It was nice though, and you chuckled softly.

“How about dinner then?”

Reza nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

The Badun detective agency in the 1920 mafia AU

For @hannahhook7744 I hope you enjoy!

There is a child at Jace's doorstep.

A fucking child, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes, like a fucking cherub. His hair a wild mess flung around by the chilly wind, and their ends were dyed blue.

(Who on earth lets a child dye its hair?)

Jace slowly blinks and looks down again: the boy is still here. Well.

„What do you want, kid?“ he asks, hoping that the child might want, well, directions back to his parents? That would be nice?

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement,“ the boy states blankly, a picture of perfect innocence. His eyes are suddenly mildly unnerving, and it takes Jace's brain a moment to catch up on him.

��…What the fuck?“ he mutters more for himself than for the child, who takes it as an encouragement to repeat its words anyway.

So Jace draws a sharp breath and yells down the hall at his cousin: „Harry! Come here this instant! And bring your gun!“

You know, just in case-

Harry Badun runs to the door in truly record speed, the weapon safely pointed down. He looks disappointed when he sees only a child.

„Tell him what you told me,“ Jace sights towards the visitor.

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement. They talk to me when I sleep.“

Ok. 

That is a new info.

This is cool. Totally cool.

Harry tightens his grip on the weapon and looks around the street, then up the roofs, which, you know, always a good idea.

They are clear, though. It doesn't look as if anyone is gonna jump them, much less some psychotic woman. Those don't tend to be too quiet, and the Badun cousins would know.

Oh, and by the way. That silhouette against that balustrade over there? That is totally Reza. Snogging Jade. Harry owes Jace for this one. 

Anyway. Right, the corpses.

„Come on, kid,“ he says, „Go inside and then tell us what you know, yeah?“

The kid's eyes shine as he steps inside and exclaims: „Do I get to be a detective too? I have always wanted to be a detective! I would be an awesome detective, since I know how do bodies look how long after death already!“

This is not a worrying statement at all. Not at all.

A shadow peels off the wall. Hermie. She was listening the whole time, of course she was.

„Dead bodies?“

„What exactly do you mean?!“

The kid answers and Jace bites back the irrational need to scream his lungs out. A vein at his temple pulses as the kid starts describing a rotting corpse with freakish accuracy to way too interested Hermie.

„Quiet! I need to concentrate!“ shouts Yzla from upstairs, „This is a delicate process!“

„Stop painting your pretty pictures for a moment,“ shouts Harry back, „This is a bloody murder case!“

„I'm trying to recreate Renoir here, you ignorant simpleton-“

„A what?“

Yzla screams incoherently and Jace interrupts the argument before it can truly begin: 

„We also have a kid that might be in danger and knows absolutely too much.“

„…I'm coming. But if the paint dries and I won't be able to get back to it, it will be all your fault.“

Jace doesn't even acknowledge that as worthy of an answer.

„Jace?“ Hermie nudges him slightly, while the kid infodumps at slightly traumatized-looking Harry about the different types of gunshot wounds, „Should I get Reza too?“

„…Nah,“ decides Jace, „He is snogging Jade right now, and we wouldn't want to interrupt.“

Hermie nods curtly and turns over to Harry: „You owe me and Yzla a bottle of cognac,“ she says, and Jace whistles. His cousin is losing in the big, today.

The kid tugs at his sleeve: „So what about my mom's basement, Mr Detective?“ the kid asks and he really should ask who his mom is. Also, what is his name?

So he asks, and when the child answers, looking at him with impossibly wide eyes, he almost gets an aneurysm.

„I'm detective Hadie, sir,“ the child reports proudly. Harry and Hermie just shrug – they don't know what is happening either. Nor does Yzla, who just appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but a negligee, and didn't she say she was working?

Oh, well.

Jace clears his throat.

„Right, kid. Hadie. And who is your mother?“

„But you are detectives!“ the child protests, „You gotta know that, no?“

„…Sure. We know that. Absolutely. And the bodies? Wait, no,“ Jace catches himself. This will certainly be a conversation, so:

„Let's go to the saloon first, shall we?“

Even if the saloon is just a fancy name for a room with a dining table and the kitchen counter, as he and Harry can hardly afford anything else.

They do have enough chairs, though, even if they are rarely used and mostly ignored: Hermie sits on the table, swinging her legs idly in the air, and Yzla plops herself down Harry's lap, setting his weapon aside. Fucking menace, that girl.

Jace himself takes the chair next to them and the boy stays standing.

(If Reza wouldn't be too busy with his current hookup, he would just lean against the wall and try to look very cool and intimidating, and smoke his cigarettes. Jace could do with a cigarette himself. Or better yet, a drink. The cigarette smoke reminds himself and Harry a bit too much of Cruella.)

„Now, tell us what you know,“ Jace asks the kid and damn. That kid. Does not shut up. Ever.

By the first thirty minutes, Yzla gets up and opens a bottle of wine to pass around, not even bothering with the glasses.

By an hour, Hermie is playing with her favourite dagger a bit too much and Harry has reclaimed back his handgun.

By hour and half, Jace is very ready to bleach his brain, thank you very much.

Hadie slows for a moment and Jace immediately stops him: „I think that's quite enough for today, Hadie,“ he says, „Thank you. Would you just step behind that door real quick?“

The kid pouts at him.

„Ehm… Me and my detectives need to discuss the evidence you just presented to us. And decide the, ehm, next course of action.“

Hadie finally steps behind the door when all present adults – including Eddie, who showed up half-way through – point at them.

And there is not much of a discussion, not really.

„Tell me we are taking that kid to Uma,“ blurts out Yzla before he can even speak.

„We could keep him,“ propose Hermie and Harry at the same time, and, yeah, no. As if Harry didn’t know they are barely staying afloat as it is, never mind, you know, not remotely responsible enough to raise a child?

…Yeah, it says a lot when a child would be safer on the streets, under the protection of one of the wildest Auradon City gangs, than anywhere else.

„We are taking him to Uma,“ decides Jace, and Yzla sights in relief. Eddie motions for her to pass the wine.

„You can come back, kid!“ Jace raises his voice, „We have decided!“

„Yay!“ the tiny disaster runs back to the room, „Do I get to be a detective too? Will we solve the case of my mother’s basement? Track down the victims’ family?“

Actually…

Jace knows how to get the kid to cooperate and go to safety voluntarily now: He winks at his associates, as to signal the general „don’t question me, I’ve got this.“

„Sure we are, kid. But, you see, right now we are working on another serious case, and we need you to help us. Will you be our eyes on the streets, detective Hadie?“

„Yes! I will, Mr detective sir! When do I start?“

„As soon as we can get you to the location. Now, let’s not lose any more time: We will debrief you on the way.“

That will hopefully give Jace enough time to come up with decent backstory, so, yeah.

With a yawn, Yzla gets up and sets off to her atelier, also known as the attic, not bothering to say goodbye, and Harry sets off to find his metal boxer and emergency knife.

„Reza is gonna be so mad he missed this-“ Hermie giggles, „It’s gonna be so much fun!“

And then, the Badun detective agency escorts its newest member, or, more accurately, adoptee, to Uma.

They don’t have any idea how much trouble they are causing Uma in the long run.

[skullkxd]

Ree has a well known list of enemies, but do they also have a list of friends?

“My enemies list isn’t that well known, is it?

… but yeah. I do have a list of friends.”

They stick out their fingers to count.

“Boss, Dosh, Plumes, Peej, Silva — all of skull, duh — Hau, John, Mr Lu, uh… Nanu, I guess? — my gastly an’ Haunter. Tio hassel, tio colza Pops. Red. Green. Fresca, Tegs, Momo, Reza…”

a pause, as they ruffle poppy’s hair.

“And you, of course!

— but yeah. my list of friends is a lot longer than you’d think. Actually, I’m surprised at how long it is...”

[politicalblade]

What the hell did they think was going to happen?

Israel was mere moments away from an airstrike on April 1 that killed several senior Iranian commanders at Iran’s embassy complex in Syria when it told the United States what was about to happen. Israel’s closest ally had just been caught off guard.

Aides quickly alerted Jake Sullivan, President Biden’s national security adviser; Jon Finer, the deputy national security adviser; Brett McGurk, Mr. Biden’s Middle East coordinator; and others, who saw that the strike could have serious consequences, a U.S. official said. Publicly, U.S. officials voiced support for Israel, but privately, they expressed anger that it would take such aggressive action against Iran without consulting Washington. The Israelis had badly miscalculated, thinking that Iran would not react strongly, according to multiple American officials who were involved in high-level discussions after the attack, a view shared by a senior Israeli official. On Saturday, Iran launched a retaliatory barrage of more than 300 drones and missiles at Israel, an unexpectedly large-scale response, if one that did minimal damage. The events made clear that the unwritten rules of engagement in the long-simmering conflict between Israel and Iran have changed drastically in recent months, making it harder than ever for each side to gauge the other’s intentions and reactions. Since the Oct. 7 attack on Israel by Hamas, an Iranian ally, and Israel’s subsequent bombardment of the Gaza Strip, there has been escalation after escalation and miscalculation after miscalculation, raising fears of a retribution cycle that could potentially become an all-out war. Even after it became clear that Iran would retaliate, U.S. and Israeli officials initially thought the scale of the response would be fairly limited, before scrambling to revise their assessment again and again. Now the focus is on what Israel will do next — and how Iran might respond. “We are in a situation where basically everybody can claim victory,” said Ali Vaez, the Iran director of the International Crisis Group. “Iran can say that it took revenge, Israel can say it defeated the Iranian attack and the United States can say it successfully deterred Iran and defended Israel.” But Mr. Vaez said: “If we get into another round of tit for tat, it can easily spiral out of control, not just for Iran and Israel, but for the rest of the region and the entire world.”

This account of these tense weeks is gleaned from interviews with U.S. officials, as well as officials from Israel, Iran and other Middle Eastern states. All of them spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss sensitive matters they were not authorized to reveal publicly. Planning for the Israeli strike in Syria started two months earlier, two Israeli officials said. The target was Mohammad Reza Zahedi, the commander for Syria and Lebanon of Iran’s elite Quds Force, a branch of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps. About a week beforehand, on March 22, the Israeli war cabinet approved the operation, according to internal Israeli defense records that summarized preparations for the strike and were viewed by The New York Times. The Israeli military did not comment on the internal assessment. Those records also outlined the range of responses from Iran that the Israeli government expected, among them small-scale attacks by proxies and a small-scale attack from Iran. None of the assessments predicted the ferocity of the Iranian response that actually occurred. From the day of the strike, Iran vowed retaliation, both publicly and through diplomatic channels. But it also sent messages privately that it did not want outright war with Israel — and even less so with the United States — and it waited 12 days to attack.

American officials found themselves in an odd and uncomfortable position: They had been kept in the dark about an important action by a close ally, Israel, even as Iran, a longtime adversary, telegraphed its intentions well in advance. The United States and its allies have spent weeks engaged in intensive diplomacy, trying to tamp down first the expected Iranian counterattack, and now the temptation for Israel to reply in kind.

When it came this past Saturday night, Iran’s show of force was significant, but Israel, the United States and other allies intercepted nearly all of the missiles and drones. The few that reached their targets had little effect. Iranian officials say the attack was designed to inflict limited damage.  U.S. officials have been telling Israeli leaders to see their successful defense as a victory, suggesting that little or no further reply is needed. But despite international calls for de-escalation, Israeli officials argue that Iran’s attack requires yet another response, which Iran says it would answer with still more force, making the situation more volatile. “The question now is how does Israel respond in a way to prevent Iran from rewriting the rules of the game without provoking a new cycle of state-on-state violence,” said Dana Stroul, a former top Middle East policy official at the Pentagon who is now at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy. In fact, Israeli leaders came close to ordering widespread strikes in Iran on the night Iran attacked, according to Israeli officials. Israeli officials say the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas, which caught them by surprise, changed the ground rules of regional conflict. To its enemies, it was Israel’s bombing and invasion of Gaza that did that, and it led to increased rocket fire by Hezbollah, Iran’s proxy in Lebanon. That in turn drew heavy fire from Israel.  The Israeli airstrike in Damascus killed seven Iranian officers, three of them generals, including Mr. Zahedi. In the past, Israel had repeatedly killed Iranian fighters, commanders and nuclear scientists, but no single strike had wiped out so much of Iran’s military leadership.

By March, the relationship between the Biden administration and Israel had grown increasingly fraught, as Washington criticized the Israeli assault in Gaza as needlessly deadly and destructive — “over the top,” as President Biden put it. Then came the Israeli strike in Damascus. Not only did the Israelis wait until the last minute to give word of it to the United States, but when they did so, it was a relatively low-level notification, U.S. officials said. Nor was there any indication how sensitive the target would be. The Israelis later acknowledged that they had badly misjudged the consequences of the strike, U.S. officials and an Israeli official said.

Defense Secretary Lloyd J. Austin III complained directly to Israel’s defense minister, Yoav Gallant, in a call on April 3, U.S. officials said, confirming an earlier report by The Washington Post. Mr. Austin said that the attack put U.S. forces in the region at risk, and that the lack of warning had left no time to ratchet up their defenses. Mr. Gallant had no immediate comment. The vulnerability of thousands of U.S. troops deployed in the Middle East became all too clear earlier in the Israel-Hamas war, when Iranian-backed militias fired on them repeatedly, killing threeand injuring more than 100. Those attacks stopped in early February only after retaliation by the United States and ominous warnings to Iran. The night of the Damascus strike, Iran’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs summoned the Swiss ambassador in Tehran to convey Iran’s outrage to Washington, along with the message that it viewed the United States, Israel’s primary backer, as accountable for the attack. Using Oman, Turkey and Switzerland as intermediaries — Iran and the United States do not have formal diplomatic relations — the United States made clear to Iran that it had not been involved and that it did not want war.

The Iranian government went on an unusually open and broad diplomatic campaign, spreading the word that it saw the attack as a violation of its sovereignty that required retaliation. The government publicized that it was exchanging messages with the United States and that Foreign Minister Hossein Amir Abdollahian was speaking with representatives of countries in the region, high-level European officials and leaders of the United Nations. On April 7, Mr. Abdollahian met in Muscat, Oman, with his Omani counterpart, Badr Albusaidi. Oman is one of the main intermediaries between Tehran and the West. The Iranian message at that meeting, according to a diplomat briefed on it, was that Iran had to strike back but that it would keep its attack contained, and that it was not seeking a regional war.

Before and after that meeting there was a whirlwind of phone calls between Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr., chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken; Mr. Biden; Mr. Austin; Mr. Sullivan; their counterparts in Israel, China, India and Iraq; NATO allies; and others, officials said.  The Biden administration did not think it could dissuade Iran from attacking at all, a U.S. official said, but hoped to limit the scale. Mr. Blinken talked to senior Israeli cabinet members, assuring them that the United States would help defend against an Iranian attack, and urging them not to mount a rash counterstrike without weighing all considerations. American and Israeli intelligence agencies worked closely together, with help from Jordan and other Middle Eastern countries, to learn what they could about Iran’s intentions. Intermediaries and allies told the United States and Israel that Iran planned to hit military sites and not civilian targets, U.S. and Israeli officials said. Iran’s message was that it would temper its attack so as not to elicit an Israeli counterstrike, Israeli and Iranian officials said. But in reality, the Israelis said, Iran was expanding its attack plans, and wanted at least some of its weapons to penetrate Israel’s defenses.

Initially, Israel’s military and intelligence services expected Iran to launch no more than 10 surface-to-surface missiles at Israel, an attack they code-named “Late Foliage.” By the middle of last week, they realized Iran had something much bigger in mind, and the Israelis increased their estimate to 60 to 70 surface-to-surface missiles. Even that turned out to be too low. On Wednesday, Mr. Biden publicly reinforced what he and his aides had repeatedly said: Despite friction with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, the American commitment to defending Israel from attacks was “ironclad.” Still, the Biden administration also redoubled its diplomatic efforts to head off a confrontation, and Iranian officials said their government fielded calls last week urging restraint from countries across Asia, Europe and Africa — an effort they described as frantic. 

Turkey, relaying an Iranian message, told the United States that Iran’s attack would be proportionate to the Damascus strike, according to a Turkish diplomatic source. Mr. Abdollahian, Iran’s foreign minister, told state television the day after the Iranian barrage that Iran had given its neighbors 72 hours’ notice of the attack, though the specifics of that warning are unclear. Israeli officials say that, thanks in part to international cooperation, they had a good idea in advance of Iran’s targets and weapons. The Israel Defense Forces evacuated families from some air bases and moved aircraft out of harm’s way. The U.S. military coordinated aerial defense efforts with Israeli, British and French forces as well as — crucially — those of Jordan, which lies between Iran and Israel. The United States and Israel had been working quietly for years with friendly Arab countries to develop a regional air defense system with shared detection and alerts. The effort picked up steam after several drone attacksagainst Saudi Arabian oil facilities in 2019. 

News of the first wave of the Iranian attack on Saturday, consisting of 185 relatively slow drones, spread worldwide hours before any of them reached Israel. The three dozen cruise missiles Iran launched later were much faster, but the biggest challenge was Iran’s ballistic missiles, which traveled several times as fast as the speed of sound. Iran fired 110 of them, posing the first major test of Israel’s anti-ballistic missile defense system. American, British, French, Israeli and Jordanian warplanes and air defense systems shot down most of the drones and missiles before they reached Israel. Only 75 entered Israeli airspace, where most of those were shot down, too, Israeli officials said. The attack did only minor damage to one air base, and only one serious injury was reported. Throughout the strike, Iran’s Foreign Ministry and the Revolutionary Guards kept open a hotline to Oman’s government, to pass messages back and forth with the United States, Iranian officials said.

At 3 a.m., the Swiss ambassador in Tehran was summoned again — not to the Foreign Ministry, the usual practice, but to a Revolutionary Guards base, according to an Iranian and a U.S. official. She was asked to convey a message that the United States should stay out of the fight, and that if Israel retaliated, Iran would strike again, harder and without warning. Iran cast its barrage against Israel as a measured, justified act that should not lead to escalation. “We carried out a limited operation, at the same level and proportion to the evil actions of the Zionist regime,” Maj. Gen. Hossein Salami, commander in chief of the Revolutionary Guards, said on state television. “These operations could have been a lot larger.” Mr. Biden told Mr. Netanyahu in a call that Israel’s successful defense had demonstrated its technical superiority, according to John F. Kirby, a spokesman for the National Security Council. “The president urged the prime minister to think about what that success says all by itself to the rest of the region,” Mr. Kirby said on Monday.

But in interviews, Israeli officials described the attack in far more dire terms, in part because of its sheer scale. They emphasized that this was a sovereign nation, from its own soil, attacking Israel directly, and not through proxies abroad.  Israel’s war cabinet had ordered the military to draw up plans for a wide-ranging set of strikes against targets in Iran in the event of a large-scale Iranian attack. After news came of the Iranian launches on Saturday, some leaders argued behind closed doors that Israel should retaliate immediately. Waiting, they said, would allow international pressure for Israeli restraint to build, and could let Iran think that it had set new ground rules for the conflict, which Israel considered unacceptable. Among the leaders making that argument, according to three Israeli officials, were Benny Gantz and Gadi Eisenkot, former military chiefs of staff who were in the Parliamentary opposition to Mr. Netanyahu’s right-wing government and are usually considered less hawkish, but who joined the war cabinet last fall. The Israeli Air Force was ready to carry out the order, but it never came. On Saturday night, after Mr. Netanyahu spoke with Mr. Biden, and because the damage was limited, the war cabinet postponed a decision, and more postponements followed.

The world is still waiting to see what Israel will do.

I don't know what Israel was expecting.

They bombed an Iranian Consulate nearby an Iranian Embassy. That's a no-go by international law. It's like they were expecting to get away with this sort of thing.

Israel fucked around, and now they're crying victim now that they're finding out.

[hannahhook7744]

Naming background vks redone;

I looked back on my old renaming of background vks and decided to redo it because of all the age/spelling mistakes I made .

And no. I couldn't just edit it unfortunately since I reblogged it and deleted the original. So this is necessary.

Enjoy.

Cassius 'Cash' Clayton. Age 9 years old (as of D2). Youngest child of William Clayton.

Shan Deja. Age 9 years old (as of D2). Youngest child of Shan Yu.

Gemma LeGume. Age 2 years old (as of d1). Daughter of Gaston LeGume and the Enchantress.

Raymonda Snoops. Age 8 years old (as of D1). Daughter of Mr. Snoops.

Kathleen 'Cat' Bimbette. Age 6 years old (as of D3). Daughter of Claudette Bimbette. Younger sister of Claire and Curtis Bimbette.

First row; first kid is Claire Bimbette in a different outfit. She's still Gil's age (i.e 16). 

Second kid is Domonic Salt. Age 19 years old. Son of Damien Salt.

Second row; first kid is Wilson 'Will' Clayton. Age 11 years old. He is William Clayton's middle child. 

Second kid is Chantelle and the last kid is Imani. They are the children of petty criminals.

Third row; first kid is just Jace Badun. He's 17 years old and Jasper Badun's son. 

Second kid is Axel Huntsman. Age 18 years old. He's the Huntsman's son. 

Last kid is named Lamar. Age 21 year old. He’s the son of one of Hook's crew mates and part of Harriet Hook’s crew. 

Last row; first kid is Alya. Age 8 years old. Adopted daughter of Sadira and Mozenrath, and adopted sister of Reza.

Last kid is Omar. Age 10 years old. Adopted son of Mozenrath and Sadira, and adopted brother of Reza.

First row; Boy is Henry McLeach. Age 10 by d3. Son of Percival McLeach.

Girl is Edith Olympian. Age 12 years old (by D3). Daughter of Eris. 

Last kid is Mako, Sharky. Age 16 year old kid.

Second Row; first girl is  Nova. Age 10.years old. Member of Harriet Hook’s crew.

Second, Third, and Fourth kids are Huns named Lin, Su, and Fen.  They're all 16-19 years old. 

Fifth kid is Sean, the son of the Sheriff of Nottingham. 

Last kid is Anais. Age 12 years old.  She is a member of Harriet Hook’s crew.

Last row; Wolfrick Wolfe. Age 18 years old. Big Bad Wolf's son, Harriet Hook's sworn enemy. 

Girl is Jia Hun. Age 19 years old. One of the Hun's kids who was orphaned and raised by the rest of the Huns.

First row; first kid is Raven Bog. Age 17 years old. Daughter of Chernabog and enemy of Harriet Hook.

 Last kid is Na’vi. Age 10 years old (in D1). Member of Harriet Hook’s crew.

Second row; first kid is Kingsley King. He's 19. Enemy of Harriet Hook and son of the Horned king. 

2nd kid is Queenie Bog. Age 17 years old. Daughter of Chernabog and enemy of Harriet Hook.

Last Row; first kid is Holiday 'Holly' Sinclair. Age 19 years old. Daughter of Helga Sinclair and Hunter de Vil, Mabel Badun, and Harry Badun's half-sister, and the only one to live with Helga. 

Last kid is Donnie Salt. Age 17 years old. Son of Damien Salt.

First row; first two kids are named 'Mark' and 'Misha' Mullins. Age 16 years old. Sons of Mullins from Hook’s crew and member of Uma’s crew.

Guy in purple is Steward Starkley. Age 17 years old (in D1).  Son of Starkley.

Second row; First girl is Annalise. Age 16 years old. An orphan girl who is Rachel’s best friend. 

Rachel Ratcliffe. Also 16 years old (in D1). Daughter of Governor Ratcliffe.

Last row; first girl is Brigitta, Annalisa’s sister. Age 18. She is an orphan girl.

2nd kid is Jonas Olympian. Age 18 years old (by d3). Uma's cousin and Morogana's son.

 3rd kid is Freddie Facilier with short hair and a different outfit. She's fifteen to sixteen like the core four. 

4th kid is Aj Slade. Age 19 years old (in d=D1). She os Amos Slade's daughter. 

5th kid is Shan Desire  in a different outfit. Shan Yu's daughter. She's 14 in first movie, almost fifteen. A year younger than the sea three. 

6th kid is Eddie Balthazar in a different outfit. He's 13 in first movie. Aunt Sarah and Edgar Balthazar's son.

[merrybandofmurderers]

it’s been a while, but i made some ocs with this picrew

Bashaar (ae/aer)

Mahanon Lavellan (he/him)

Kost (it/he)

Reza Cadash (she/her)

Repressed Desire (it/its)

Aisling Trevelyan (they/she)

Kanaan Adaar (she/her)

Ephraim Lavellan (ey/em)

Faolan Sky-Breaker (he/they)

@mrs-theirin, @calicostorms, @gaysolavellan, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @brainworm-terrarium

[bookishcollegemom]

Florida Man vs. Aquatic Hamster Wheel

COM 301 Blog 1

Have you even been on social media if you haven't come across at least one outrageous Florida story?

On September 6, 2023 Max Matza posted an article on BBC.com titled "Florida Man Arrested after trying to cross Atlantic in hamster wheel vessel". Now as far as Florida stories go this one seemed pretty tame to me. And normally, if an article is posted on BBC I tend to trust it. But if this class has taught me anything it is to double check because even the most trust worthy looking article could be just a great piece of fiction.

The first thing we see is a picture of the hamster wheel contraption on a beach with a photo credit to Flagler County Sheriffs Office. As seen below:

Since I am not really up and current on my Florida geography, or any geography for that matter, I did a quick google map search of Flagler County. Flagler County is a real Florida county, on the east coast, north of Port Canaveral.

My next search is on the man of the hour, Reza Baluchi. Immediately the first thing that comes up are several images of him and other hamster wheel maritime contraptions and a Wikipedia page. His Wikipedia page confirms a lot of the background that the BBC article had including his past failed attempts at crossing large distances on water in the hamster wheel.

My final search is on the journalist, Max Matza. Matza not only writes for the BBC but also Nestia, MSN and several other international news outlets.

This Florida article appears to be factually accurate. My hope is that Mr. Baluchi returns to cycling or running and stays out of the ocean. And I think that the Coast Guard would agree with me.

[exnihilo-comic]

14, 21, and 22 for the art ask?

14. digital or traditional

i have NO training in digital art, everything i do is ink on paper with occasional digital edits. i respect digital artists so much though, they go from blank screen to majesty so quickly, its fuckin magic

21. something you would like to improve on

the process of formulating ideas, really. in school i visited a friends house and he showed me his desk, which he described as being his place where he "brainstormed for at least an hour a day" and i was taken aback by that. id love to have enough free time that i could just sit down and doodle with no pressure and no thought process, and just think about stuff for the sake of thinking about stuff.

22. what inspires you

other cartoons and comics, actually! i talk off my friends ears constantly with my favorite comics, animation styles, movies, cartoons, etc. i didnt realize i had such a fondness for cartooning until someone said to me "you know a lot about cartooning that ive never even heard of before" and it finally occurred to me that half the time i talk, its about cartoons.

briefly, my fav webcomics that im a huge fan of are cyanide and happiness, xkcd, smbc (which got less funny over the years and more just bleak and nerdy, finishing your degree and having kids can do that), poorly drawn lines (@pdlcomics reza is my ROLE MODEL i take so much inspiration from him) perry bible fellowship, channel ate, oglaf (NSFW), mr lovenstein, war and peas (@warandpeas), the red dot, the other end (@theotherendcomics), extra fabulous, rory blank (who deserves a lot more attention, he makes limited order t shirts every month), pictures for sad children (which if you know anything about how it ended, read this article about how the author isnt as bad as ppl say

and theres artists whom i love that arent exactly weekly webcomic artists but still cartoonists/artists in their own right, like graham annable (@grickle14, he has a new book im going to preorder) mateusz skutnik (who makes video games and comic books as well, im SO EXCITED for submachine legacy), Lev Yilmaz (@levniyilmaz, you can see one of his comics as the pinned post on my sideblog). god who am i missing...brad neely, yotam perel, keith stack and his wacky lesbian hour, sarah anderson for sure, god theres so many

[beardedmrbean]

Courts in Iran's capital have handed prison terms of up to 10 years to 400 people arrested at anti-government protests, a judiciary official says.

Tehran's prosecutor-general said 160 "rioters" were sentenced to between five and 10 years, 80 to between two and five years, and 160 to two years or less, the Mizan news agency reported.

Another 70 were fined, Ali Alqasimehr added, without providing any details.

It comes a day after authorities hanged a second man convicted over the unrest.

The judiciary announced on Monday morning that Majidreza Rahnavard, 23, had been executed in public in the north-eastern city of Mashhad.

A Revolutionary Court convicted him less than two weeks ago of the charge of "enmity against God" after finding he had stabbed to death two members of the paramilitary Basij Resistance Force.

Amnesty International said he was subjected to a sham trial and that the judiciary was "a tool of repression sending individuals to the gallows to spread fear and exacting revenge on protesters daring to stand up to the status quo".

Iran has been engulfed by protests against the country's clerical establishment for almost three months.

They erupted following the death in custody of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old woman who was detained by morality police in Tehran on 13 September for allegedly wearing her hijab, or headscarf, "improperly".

Authorities have portrayed the protests as foreign-backed "riots" and responded with lethal force.

So far, at least 490 protesters, including 68 children and 62 security personnel have been killed during the unrest, according to the Human Rights Activists' News Agency (HRANA).

It has also reported the arrest of more than 18,200 people in connection with the protests, of whom 3,780 have been identified.

Authorities have not revealed how many have been arrested nationwide.

However, judiciary officials announced in early November that 1,024 people had been charged in connection with the protests in Tehran. They said the suspects were accused of "acts of sabotage", including "assaulting or martyring security guards" and "setting fire to public property".

Last Thursday, authorities in Tehran executed a 23-year-old man convicted of "enmity against God" following what activists said was a grossly unfair trial. Mohsen Shekari was accused of stabbing and wounding a Basij member and blocking a street in the capital in September.

After Majidreza Rahnavard was hanged on Monday, Amnesty International said it had identified at least 20 other people at risk of execution.

According to the group, 11 individuals have been sentenced to death, three have undergone trials on capital charges and are either at risk of being sentenced to death or may have already been sentenced, and six may be awaiting or undergoing trial on capital charges.

The final category includes 26-year-old professional footballer Amir Reza Nasr Azadani, who a judiciary official in Isfahan province said on Sunday had been charged with "baghi", or "armed revolt".

Mr Nasr Azadani is accused of killing three security personnel in the city of Isfahan during protests on 16 November.

On Monday night, the global football players' union FIFPRO said it was "shocked and sickened" that he was facing a possible death sentence "after campaigning for women's rights and basic freedom in his country".

Prominent former Iran national team player Ali Karimi, who has backed the protests, tweeted: "Do no execute Amir."

Another former member of the national team, Voria Ghafouri, was arrested last month but was later released on bail.

[wordsmithings]

— Mourning the young || Reza & Davy —

@davyxmajumdarx​

Just his fuckin’ luck. Of course all this nonsense would bring him back to his place of work on this, his day off. In earnest, though, Davy did not terribly mind the library itself; as far as jobs went, this one was not the worst he had ever had. And he truthfully spent most of his hours goofing off, surfing the internet or playing games on one of the computers. But everyone’s collective dampness, the clinging wetness of the still falling rain, coupled with the musty odor of old books, was making the young witch’s stomach churn. He could not eat any of the refreshments if he tried.

This fact did not stop him from approaching the table, if only to escape the crowds. Still, everyone was being very loud for the library, he thought, half-imagining one of the meaner desk ladies shushing them with a wagging finger. Can’t you all cry a little more quietly? This is a li-brar-y.

Occupied with the macabre comedy of this thought, Davy crossed his arms, giving something of a low laugh when Reza spoke up. “The crumpets, aye? Who are ya, mate, the Queen? Want a spot of tea to go with ‘em, spit spot?” He huffed a little. “If they’re so good, how come no one’s eatin’ ‘em?” With something of a low sigh, Davy rolled his shoulders, straightening up. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m in sort of a shite mood. Lke everyone else is, I s’pose. You didn’t bake ‘em, did ya? Howay, man! They look real good.” He pursed his lips up. “Is that a thing people have, though? Favorite funeral snacks?”

Reza simply arched his brow, unbothered by the other’s sarcastic remark. “Obviously,” he answered after swallowing the crumpets, waving at his damp clothes then the top of his head, “can’t you see the crown on my head? And I’ll have a cuppa if you’re poring one.” He moved to take the tiramisu from the table, since it was obvious Mr Pretty Face wasn’t going to eat it despite his kind recommendation. “Too busy crying over the dead, I guess.” He did stop shoving the cake into his mouth, however, when the other apologise, brows furrowed together with his head tilted to the side before shrugging the apology. He was used to be the brunt of people’s anger, though most of the time it was warranted. It was his win this time since Mr Pretty Face didn’t straight up punch him in the face. He rather liked his face, after all.

“Queens don’t bake their own crumpets, love,” Reza replied as a matter-of-factly, snorting as he was halfway done with the tiramisu. He shrugged at the question. “Don’t go to funerals that often. I guess it depends on whoever’s available. Maybe they’ll serve hors d'oeuvres next time.” Reza glanced at Mr Pretty Face. “So which one is – was – one of yours? Did you know all of them?” Reza waved his free hand in the air, vaguely referring to vigil.

[richardnixonlibrary]

#Nixon50 #OTD 5/30/1972 President and Mrs. Nixon arrived in Iran for a one-night visit. President Nixon and Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi traveled by motorcade from Mehrabad International Airport to the Shahyad Monument (now Azadi Tower) in Tehran. (Image: WHPO-9267-17A)

[nhami-botri]

[hannahhook7744]

Zevon's Application;

Requested by @idontliketomatoesleavemealone .

🦙🐈‍⬛🧪🦙🐈‍⬛🧪🦙🐈‍⬛🧪🦙🐈‍⬛🧪🦙🐈‍⬛🧪🦙🐈‍⬛🧪

Name: Zevon Sorcerer.

Known Aliases: Yzma's son, Cedric the Sorcerer's son, Zevon Groove, Tantrum, The Potion Master, The Sorcerer, and Llama boy.

I hate those nicknames.

Hey, they asked ya to put them down so of course we have to put 'em down.

Oh like we have to put down your name Cal--

Don't you dare finish that sentence!

Or what?

I'll tell Yzla to slip you some Llama potion again--

Noted.

Nicknames or Other: Zev, Zevy, Twerp, Cedric Jr, and Yzma Jr.

Whyyyyyy did you have to out those?

Either I put it down or you do you're own application.

Yes ma'am.

Date of Birth or Best Guess: November 11th, a year after Mal was born.

Mal this, Mal that. Will you shut up about Mal?

Oooo someone is Jealous.

Shut up Freddie.

I know you did NOT just tell ME to shut up.

Place of Birth: Gee, take a WILD guess.

Zevon, don't be sarcastic on your application.

Why shouldn't he be? It is a stupid question.

Yeah, I agree.

Because you two can't come to Auardon if you keep misbehaving.

Well that sounds boring.

You can say that again.

Favorite Color: Black and Teal.

What a surprise.

You can't talk Mrs. Red, white, and Black.

None of us can. We all wear our favorite colors all the time.

Favorite Activity: Potion making, pulling pranks, and rowing.

Ah, fun times.

We did alot of dumb stuff.

And Yzla, Lil Yaz, Reza, and I tried to stop you from doing the dumb stuff!

Oh don't act all innocent.

Yeah, you four use to get in just as much trouble as we did.

Favorite School Subject: Werid science. It's like potion making.

Of course you'd say that.

Be quiet.

No.

Father's Name (or alias):  Cedric the Sorcerer.

Mother's Name (or alias): Yzma.

Father's Profession:  Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia.

Mother's Profession: Scientist/potion master.

She's nicer than you'd think. All of his family are.

What's that supposed to mean?

Nothing.

You're also wrong. His grandma is a bitch.

Hey!

Who is your favorite of the first wave of VKs? There is no wrong answer.

Mal or Freddie.

Bleh.

CJ!

In your own words, tell us why you want to come to Auradon. There is no wrong answer.

Because I want to see Freddie again. I also want to see my dad more often and want my sister to be able to get off the isle to. I also want clean clothes and water, and fresh food and access to my magic. Oh and to be able to spread my brother's ashes in Auardon because he always wanted to be there. But couldn't because of you.

Zevon.

No, let him finish.

--because he died because we didn't have a doctor to take him to. Because you people made sure of that.

Now get me and my family the hell out of here before my mom or sister or cousins or Cj or I die here too. Hell, before my grandma dies here. None of us deserve to die here no matter what we've done.

My sister and I deserve to be free with our family. With our cousins at least. And we deserve to know our family. To know our grandparents, Goodwyn the Great and Winifred the Wise. To know our aunt. Cordelia the Conjuror and cousin, Calista.

That is never not gonna be werid to hear.

Quiet Cj.

Hell, my sister and I even want to know Kuzco, since he's kind of our brother. Foster brother. Whatever. And Kronk because he's basically our uncle.

We did nothing wrong. So why fo we have to suffer?

Why did my brother have to die for my mother's sins?

IT'S NOT FAIR.

Signature:

Zevon Sorcerer.