#this is pure rage right here folks

[fragonreal]

so mad rn. another gay lookin mf all over my dash so i had to learn about him, naturally now im head over heels FUCK EVERYTHINGGG

[excusemeaminute]

Say what you want about the henry cavill chaos but his fanboys are getting real scary out there

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

Manner Matters - Irene Red Velvet × Male Reader

Rape/Non-con, Slight Violence, Blackmail, Pussy Fuck, Creampie

Red Velvet Irene

2,769 Words

The traffic jam devours almost an hour of your precious time because some dumbass had to go and have an accident right when you've got some important shit to do. As an independent plumber, you don't often get offers from big companies with the potential for the fattest paycheck you've seen in your five years of plumbing.

Today, you've already spat out more curses than you can count, and it's still morning. You don't even dare glance at the clock as you pull into the company compound. You know you're way beyond late, but you're still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, the company will cut you some slack and be open to negotiation.

Your buddy who recommended you to this gig mentioned that you'd be working alongside other hired folks, and you're cool with that. You just need to get in. As you navigate the jam-packed parking lot, filled to the brim with vehicles, you catch sight of a lone empty spot.

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave. Just as you start easing your truck into the spot, a blue KIA Niro zooms past you and snatches the parking space right out from under your nose. Your blood boils as you stick your head out and let out a deafening honk at that little shitbox on wheels.

Nonchalantly stepping out of the car is a chick in a pink mini-dress. The blaring honks from your truck go completely unnoticed by her as she bends down inside her car, rummaging for God knows what.

She's practically flashing her panties in your face, but your anger drowns out any horny thoughts. This woman acts like she owns the whole world. She slams her car door shut and starts fussing with her hair, using the dark-tinted window as a mirror.

You leap out of your truck and march toward her, yelling, "Hey! Are you fucking deaf? Blind too? Didn't you see I was here first?"

Finally, she glances back, acknowledging your existence with a condescending stare. Her eyes sweep over your lumberjack shirt, snug jeans, and brown hiking boots, and she clicks her tongue in disgust.

"You do know you can find another parking spot, right? Don't waste my precious time," she says, well aware that she snatched someone else's spot but completely unapologetic about it. Fueled by rage, you grab her bare shoulder just as she tries to walk away. In an instant, she spins around and slaps you hard across the face. "Don't you fucking touch me, you filthy man!"

With her insult echoing in your head, the woman struts off, leaving you speechless. "What a fucking bitch," you mutter under your breath as you trudge back to your truck. Ain't got time for this bullshit.

You would've parked your truck right behind her car out of pure spite, but that would block two more innocent vehicles, so you reluctantly spend another ten minutes finding a random parking lot nearby. Then you have to trek your ass back to this damn company.

The hiring is going down on the last two top floors, and let's just say you're swiftly shown the door without any second chances. Instead of feeling disappointed, though, you're just straight-up pissed. You're furious that it's etched into your expression, and your teeth are grinding together so hard it's a wonder they don't crack.

You sit in the lobby for what feels like an eternity, spacing out and seething with rage. Finally, you rise from your seat and leave like some damn aimless robot. Your destination? That woman's fucking car.

If it's gone, so be it. But if it's still there... You don't even know what you'll do. By some twisted stroke of luck, that woman is once again checking herself out in the side mirror. Now, as you endure the crushing weight of losing everything, her provocative outfit starts whispering all sorts of evil and nasty shit in your ears.

"Yah, woman," you calmly call out to her.

She turns around, clearly annoyed, and when she recognizes your face, she rolls her eyes. "Really? I already told you not to waste my time."

"Apologize. Once you do that, I'll fucking disappear from your sight like a ghost," you demand, your voice dripping with restrained fury.

She scoffs, her arrogance still in full force. "You want me to apologize? To a filthy man like—"

Without another word, you grip her whole face with one hand, silencing her. You've had enough of her shitty attitude. Then, you slam her back against the side of her car. She pricks your hand, feeble and panicked, as if her weak-ass strength could make a difference.

"Hmph! Mm!" She struggles within your grasp, hitting your arms in a futile attempt to break free. During her feeble attack, her purse slips from her grip and falls to the ground.

However, your attention is diverted by the search for any potential witnesses. You scan the surroundings but find no one in sight. Glancing back down at the woman, you tighten your grip on her face, causing her complexion to grow redder with each passing moment.

A swell of anger transforms into lust as you admire the beauty of her face. "It's such a shame that you're nothing but a bitch," you chuckle, a twisted amusement in your voice. "But who gives a damn? A woman like you needs to be taught a fucking lesson." You can't help but laugh at the double meaning of your statement.

Fear takes hold of the woman, and she shakes her head in a desperate plea for mercy. Checking the area one final time to ensure there are no witnesses, you deliver a powerful punch directly to her gut. The impact is excruciating, causing her knees to buckle, but she can't muster a scream.

Straightening her up, you strike her stomach once more, this time aiming a little to the left. She coughs against your palm, her eyes widening as she blinks slowly. Releasing your grip on her face, you swiftly backhand her, sending her sprawling sideways to the ground.

Unsatisfied with the outcome, you use the roof of her car for balance as you unleash a relentless barrage of kicks to her abdomen and thighs, following it up with brutal stomps to her ribs.

Silenced by the pain, she is unable to call for help. Her chest tightens, making it difficult to draw in a proper breath as consciousness slips away. Your final blow lands squarely on her pelvis, rendering her unconscious in an instant.

"Know your damn place, you snobby whore." Right when you're about to stomp on her again, a ringing flares from her purse. Grabbing the purse on the ground, you dig out her phone. "Kim Taeyeon..." you mutter the caller's name, glancing at the woman on the ground before letting the call end. A message pops up on the screen.

- why aren't you answering?

- whatever irene-ssi…

- come to the office this evening

- or you'll get in trouble

You smash her phone on the ground and start rummaging through her purse. It's just a bunch of random crap until you stumble upon her ID. "Bae Joohyun... What the fuck is Irene then? Celebrity wannabe bitch and a goddamn hag at that," you snicker, mocking her for being in her thirties already, and pocket her car key.

Opening the driver's seat, you toss her stuff inside. After closing the door, you take a moment to look at Irene. Her mini-skirt has ridden up, revealing her smooth and curvy ass. Your teeth scrape across your lower lip as your gaze travels over her milky thighs and slender legs, making your cock throb.

You pop open the back door and squat down. You hoist Irene up from the ground, draping her body over your shoulder and giving her ass a grab. Lifting her legs, you shove her into the car. One leg ends up hanging off the seat while the other leans against the backrest, knees spreading wide.

Irene's dress does nothing to protect her down there anymore. It is a priceless sight, seeing her in such a helpless state. The perfect payback for what she had done to you. And now, you can finally unleash all your built-up frustration on her body as much as you want.

Unbuckling your belt is a piece of cake, even though your hungry eyes are glued on her cameltoe. Climbing onto the seat, you shut the door and kick off your jeans and boxers in one swift motion. Having a knee resting on the seat, you position yourself between her legs.

Giving her hand on her chest a slap to the side, you squeeze her tits through the thin fabric and mold them however you like. Your rock-hard cock presses against her dangling thigh, seeking temporary enjoyment.

You are eager to fuck her pussy as you tear her lace panties. Irene's snatch is fully exposed, a thin layer of pubic hair offering no protection. But merely dominating her body isn't enough. While rubbing her clit with one hand, you smack her face with the other, careful to avoid the bruised side from the backhand earlier. The sound of the impact reverberates in the car.

"Wake up, bitch! Don't think you're getting off easy," you declare, delivering another slap.

Irene begins to stir, hissing in pain as she grimaces. You gather her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head. As she regains full consciousness, the first thing she sees is your face, and then she feels the invading sensation between her legs, causing her eyes to widen.

"You feeling that, huh?" you taunt, pressing your thumb harder against her clit while two fingers graze her slit.

Irene glances down at her pussy. "Get the hell away from me, you creepy fuck!" she shouts, trying to push you away, only to realize that you already had her hands under control. Closing her legs is her next instinct, but you are placed between them.

She is trapped and helpless, her voice her only weapon to resist you, though it seems futile. "Let me go! You disgusting piece of shit! Fuck! Get off me! You filthy, crazy fucker!"

She glances upwards, scanning for any sign of someone outside the car, anywhere. You cease playing with her pussy and deliver a powerful punch to her cheekbone. Instantly, she sees stars, groaning in agony. Cupping her face, you force her to meet your glare.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! One more word from that foul mouth of yours, and I'll ruin your pretty face," you warn, ensuring she understands the seriousness of your threat.

"Fuck you! You think I'm scared!?" Irene yells defiantly, spitting in your eyes. That's it. She won't understand until she experiences it firsthand.

You release her hands and proceed to choke her. She struggles to pry your hand away, unaware of your true intentions. Fueled by anger, you unleash a torrent of punches upon Irene's face, repeatedly striking her cheeks, chin, and nose.

Her desperate hands gradually move to shield her face, but it's too late. You deliver one final, forceful blow directly under her eyes. Blood streams from her nose, her lips are split on both sides, and bruises emerge on her cheeks, with one eye swelling shut.

When you finally cease, Irene's trembling hands, raised in front of her face, betray her fear, and her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. The sight of her tears brings an absurd sense of satisfaction. Once again, you pin her hands above her head and spit on her wounded face.

You wipe your bloodied knuckles on her dress, marking the end of your assault. Before leaving her, you strike her ribs with a single punch. Irene groans in pain, attempting to recoil, but you firmly grasp her hip and straighten her body.

"No need for your pathetic face anyway. I'll rape your nasty cunt until you learn the meaning of respect," you declare, thrusting two fingers into her pussy, causing her to jerk in shock as you scratch her insides.

Both of you tremble as you vigorously finger-fuck her, causing her legs to tense up. Despite the pain and discomfort, Irene manages to whimper weakly. Her eyes slightly roll up, blinking with feebleness. Her face becomes numb while her pussy continues to be manipulated, causing her body to squirm from side to side. It doesn't take long for Irene to naturally become wet.

As you withdraw your hand, soaked with her urine, you forcefully shove it into her already-opened mouth. "You're nothing but a filthy whore," you insult her, delivering a smack to her breasts.

"N-No... Stop! Don't hurt— Ugh!"

You choke her and guide your cock along her slit before forcefully thrusting it deep inside her pussy in one powerful motion. She's incredibly tight for a bitch, her inner walls gripping your girth. Fully burying your cock inside her, you firmly grasp her toned thigh and gaze down, relishing the sight of her stretched pussy.

"Take it, slut. I'm going to fill you up until you can't spout shit ever again."

You commence rocking your hips back and forth, and your cock penetrates her as deeply as possible, exerting all your strength with each rough jab. As you choke Irene, gripping her windpipe, she can only emit groans while your anger finds release, your balls loudly slapping against her asshole.

Her pussy tightens around your cock as her breathing becomes increasingly difficult. Her toes curl inside her heels, and her hands weakly tap your arm, begging for release from your grip on her neck. But all you do is chuckle at her pitiful state while continuing to fuck her reddened cunt.

Her disheveled face still annoys you, especially as you recall her shitty behavior, but you can't deny the incredible sensation of her pussy. Sensing the impending orgasm, you release your grip on her neck and sit up straight, firmly grasping her waist.

Irene coughs painfully and gasps for air. Her pussy is being stretched even further than before, and she pleads, "S-stop... Pull out—Shit, just fucking stop!"

"Fuck you, bitch. I'm gonna make sure you never forget this day," you declare, hooking an arm under her knee and pushing it towards her chest.

Leaning forward, you exert all your weight onto her as you continue thrusting your cock into her tight pussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin resonates through the car, even causing the vehicle to shake, accompanied by your loud grunt as your climax reaches its peak.

"Ahh... Don't you dare! N-No... please—Ohh!"

With one final powerful thrust, you slam into her and release your fresh load deep inside her womb. Moaning in pure ecstasy, your entire body trembles as you impregnate the arrogant woman who has shattered your golden opportunity.

Irene's head slumps to the side as she takes in your load. The pain on her body and face fades into the background as thoughts of what comes next start creeping in. Meanwhile, you come down from your high and let out a laugh before pulling your dick out with a satisfying 'plop'. Her pussy oozes out an excess of cum.

You ain't dumb enough to just leave her like that. You reach down to grab your phone from your jeans on the floor and snap a few quick shots in succession. You capture her used and swollen pussy, dripping with cum, and finish it off with a picture of her messed-up face.

Irene tries to reach out to you, her weak and sore body struggling. "What the fuck are you doing...? Ain't you had enough, you bastard!?"

You jump to her side and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her up. "Listen up, bitch. If you try any shit, these nasty pictures are gonna spread like wildfire in this whole district." You show her the explicit shots of her pussy.

"I got plenty of friends who'd pay a fortune for this kind of shit." Tapping your phone against her head, you continue, "So you better show me some goddamn respect next time we cross paths, got it? I'll see you around then, Ma'am Joohyun."

Can't make out Irene's expression under all the beat-up bruises. Not that you care. You got her right where you want her. You shove her back onto the seat and give her a solid knee to the gut, a final warning. She doubles over in pain.

Pulling up your jeans, you spit on her and bounce out of the car. Nobody is around as you fix yourself up, sporting a wicked grin as you walk away.

[shadowshrike]

Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

My First But Not My Last.

Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader

Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Some folks will not die // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.

Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t

Part 10 : My First Love

<< Previous ...... Next >>

"This is…" You said in both awe & rage, "This is what I'm looking for."

You're in fury that none of the archives in Tokyo High holds this knowledge. Then again, if it falls in the wrong hands, then it'll all be pointless.

"This is not going to be easy," you muttered in frustration as you read through the files that you can find about the prison realm & Ryomen Sukuna, "I'm gonna kill Geto the second I find him."

"That's all there is," Maki said as she dusted her hands, "I hope you were able to find it."

"Yes I did. But it's not going be easy," You hissed, "Fuck!" You slammed your fists on the table.

You calmed yourself down as you recalled the information that you got. "Let's go, Maki."

And if possible, Shibuya was totally unrecognizable.

"The fuck happened here?" You exclaimed as you approached Shoko.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Shoko shouted & this is the first time you have ever heard your friend raised her voice in temper. Of course anybody would be in this state, given the conditions.

"Sorry, Shoko. I had to find a way to break the seal," You explained, "Walk me through it, Muta."

"Takaba is fighting Geto now & Yuta is finding the right timing to kill him," Muta explained, "Megumi… was taken over by Sukuna."

"I can neutralize Sukuna once Gojo is out, but we need to get him here first or else he is going to rampage all over Shibuya," you said.

"I have to face that farce-Geto myself," you stated, but Shoko & Muta were trying to stop you, "I know Kenjaku is IN there, but Geto… Suguru is also in there… somewhere."

"No, you can't! Think of all the efforts of the other sorcerers, if Yuta fails to kill Geto, then by all means, back him up. But if he doesn't, then don't do anything!" Muta countered & it brought you back to your senses because he is right, You can't waste the efforts of others.

"Shoko, if Yuta succeeds, put Suguru to peace, will you?" You mumbled weakly, "He's my ex, I can't forgive him for what he started, but he's still our Suguru."

"You know I will, Y/N," she answered, wrapping her arm around you.

You grounded yourself, leaving Muta to work. You looked around & saw Inumaki & Nanami being tended to. Inumaki almost lost an arm as you were seconds from grabbing him away from Sukuna's domain. You only found Nanami by chnace & thank goodness you did because the man is already exhausted. He deserves a break. You'd personally sponsor his ticket to Malaysia after all this is over.

You are hoping that Kugisaki will survive, thankful that Todo & his team mate found her.

Meimei & Ui Ui are back, along with Utahime. You don't know where the rest are, but you need to lay out your plan.

And that you did, however it was disrupted by Muta.

"Y/N sensei! Yuta needs back up!"

Up on your feet, you wasted no time. Ui Ui understood & transported you to where Yuta & Geto were fighting.

You came face to face with the man you used to love. But this is not the man you fell in love with. He died & Kenjaku defiled his body by taking over his entire being. You feel your insides churn in pure disgust as the man before you smiled sweetly, but not the same smile you fell in love with. It was evil & sinister.

"I'm sorry sensei!" Yuta shouted in remorse, "I had to drag you in here!"

You recalled what was written in the book. Bodies that were taken over have memories.

"Yuta," you whispered, "Order Rika to attack me, then you'll get another chance. Don't waste it."

"But sensei-"

"Just fucking do as I say," you said in gritted teeth, hoping that the books were right.

"Remember our training, keep your eyes locked," you said calmly.

"On the enemy," Yuta finished, his voice trembling as he order Rika to attack you.

And right on the spot, you saw Geto's body lauching towards you, not to harm you, but to protect you.

You watched his face warp in confusion as you cowered your head down his chest as quick as you could, seconds later you felt hot liquid drip on your shoulders, you knew that your instincts were right. You knew that Yuta succeeded.

"Sensei…"

You held on to Suguru's body, to the love that you once had, to the friendship that you cherished, to the memories that you have shared. To your first love.

And finally, he can rest.

A/N : i dunno how I came up with this. Sorry if it was all over the place or filled with loopholes cause I was just drabbling & drabbling until I got here.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Hey. Found you not so long ago but I’m already lovin it (pa ba ba pa baaaa I’m lovin it)

I was thinking about one plot for a long time. It’s TCOAAL request.

so the reader is male, kid from bad family. Well his only family was mother that abused him for quite awhile. Then, at the age of 15 he killed, dismembered and ate her before running away. (I took this idea from one concept metal album I’ve listened to recently).

Then he met graves siblings and they kinda became friends. it’s Ashley graves x male reader. again I like the stuff you do. Have a good day.☺️

Welcome to the blog dude, hope you enjoy your stay!

And bonding over mutilating and eating your shit mother’s corpse, how romantic <3

TW: Descriptions of bludgeoned corpses and cannibalism

Ashley Graves x Male Reader

Life on the run is….interesting

Trips to the store to buy food is always an anxiety induced endeavor of if the cops or store clerk recognize you as the kid of that one couple who went missing

That poor, poor couple

Such upstanding people of the community, a shame what happened to them

….a shame

You remember the night clearly. The taste of their blood. How it clung to your clothes and skin.

You sat before your parents….or….what was left of them. Things were never meant to go this far. You just- you just wanted to defend yourself! That’s all!

You didn’t expect to not stop after the first swing…

You had run off of the adrenaline of it all, the pure catharsis it gave you to watch your father crumple under the barrel of your metal bat. The way your mother’s face smashed in as you hit her over and over and over again. All the built up hate. All the built up rage coming back in full force.

Though, that feeling was gone. In its place was the reality of your situation. You had killed your parents, their blood on your hands and murder weapon. You couldn’t go to jail, you were just a kid! Nor would anyone believe it was self defense…your folks had always been such “great people”. No one would believe they’d hit their kid.

You knew one thing though, you had to get rid of the bodies. You couldn’t bury them, no- a police dog would dig that up right away. They’d rot if you hid them in the house…

….which left only one option.

You don’t regret killing your parents

You kind of regret eating them, that’s only because you did it shittily

There’s really no good way to prepare a corpse- and there was a lot so you tried them all

Maybe they were just that bitter of people

Or you just couldn’t cook

It’s probably both

But, it’s been 7 years and no one’s found out

The case on your parents went cold

So did yours

So really the only thing making you anxious to leave the motel room was getting caught

You’d been here for a while, the trash starting to pile up

It’s hard to tell if the stench was the shitty motel, or you.

You were going to take it out when- you paused..

Your blood ran cold as you watched through the blinds. A hooded person, face obscured from your view, coming towards your room. You internally said your prayers until….they made their way up the stairs to the room above you.

You let out a long sigh of relief, placing your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating. It was- at far too fast of a pace though. But it was still beating nonetheless. Though, once the adrenaline rush from that scare passed you by….you realized something.

There were only two people staying in the room above you.

Your anxiety has led to you to be rather…observant- noting the pair of dark haired people when they arrived. They always left the room together, and not once did anyone else show up. And you had seen them rush out earlier….but never come back.

Now, this suspicious looking hooded figure that definitely didn’t have a knife in their hand could easily just be a friend…..but it just didn’t sit right with you.

Your eyes widened, staring out the blinds again as your neighbors made their way to the stairs. If your heart was pounding any faster it would burst. For a moment, you asked yourself-

Are you really going to risk your life for two strangers?

And you didn’t even have time to answer, as you already opened your door before you processed the question.

You had come out of your hobbit hole of a room, scream warnings up the stairs before the pair entered their room- seemingly stopped to discuss something

They blinked down at you with their unamused pink and green eyes, and you felt yourself shrivel under their stare

Green eyes began speaking to you- wanting you to go away and that they’ll handle whoever is in their room but Pink eyes stopped him

She thanked you, asked for your name, and that they’d love to just run away…but their stuff was in their room and they didn’t have the money to responsibly replace it all

But there was three of you, and only one burglar

You just needed a weapon

It hurt to grab your old bat…the one you foolishly kept since that night, but….you did

And you followed them into their room

You kept your footsteps light as you entered the room, it smelled of old furniture and the air was stale- much like your room when you had first arrived.

You looked at your neighbors, Ashley and Andrew they had introduced themselves as. Ashley walking in so casually before she loudly announced to Andrew, “Oh golly gee Andrew! What a great dinner. Let us grad our stuff post-haste and burn off those calories with a walk in the park!”

You and Andrew shared a look of confusion, to which Ashley grimaced at and continued on.

“I will be but a minute! Be ready…” her cherry blossom eyes stared daggers into your own, clearly referring to you.

You gulped, nodding as you readied your bat. Ashley guided you to where to stand, just to the side of the closet where you wouldn’t be obscured. She gave you a final glare as she moved to the other to safely open the door. Your hands shook as the grip tightened on your bat, nodding to let her know you were ready.

It was all a blur, the hooded figure bursting out with their knife in a stabbing motion. Before he could even process what was happening, you brought your bat down to the back of his head hard. He collapsed to the ground, not down- but that same rush from that night came back to you….and the next thing you knew they were mush on the floor.

Ashley and Andrew stared in bewilderment as you fell to your knees, bloodied bat slipping from your hands and you caught your breath. You were a monster. You knew it, and now they knew it.

But that didn’t seem to matter, as you felt a hand gently tilt your chin up to look up. Your fearful eyes staring into Ashley’s surprisingly calming gaze as she spoke,

“What did you say your name was again?…”

[cryoux]

Wanderer x reader - Soul Invasion

(Part two to Dream Invasion)

The Wanderer had honestly forgotten you were there for a moment, too absorbed in his own racing thoughts. When he returned from his mental journey, the lengths of which he didn't care to admit, he was acutely aware of you. Your eyes, staring at him, seeing him for who he really was. Though right now, that would be a liar and a creep, he assumed.

"I can't be that nice to look at," he said dryly, in an effort to get your uncomfortably nice gaze occupied with something other than staring into his soul.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before looking back up at him. "You know you are, jerk." You pointed out, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Wanderer couldn't hide his shock at the statement. It seemed you quickly realized your mistake, though, when you coughed awkwardly and averted your gaze.

"I mean, from an objective standing." You said quickly, but the damage had already been done. If the Wanderer had a heart, he was sure it would be pounding in his chest right about now. But he didn't, so it wasn't, and therefore he shouldn't logically be feeling this. He couldn't logically be feeling this. Yet your eyes dragged up to meet his, and he was reeling again.

The long silence was getting more awkward by the second. The Wanderer almost possibly felt bad for you, so he rolled his eyes and remedied the situation the best way he knew how.

"Shut up."

You fixed him with an unimpressed look, but it appeared that his clever words had given you the gift of conversation again.

"Glad to see my near-death experience hasn't shaken you up at all," you shot back. The Wanderer almost laughed - your near-death experience had shaken him beyond repair, had damaged him so much that he was now having these feelings. It was all your fault, wasn't it? It was your fault he was feeling this, your fault he couldn't get the stupid feeling of your lips on his out of his stupid head.

He only scoffed. "Why would I be? It wasn't our near-death experience." Except it was probably the closest he had ever gotten to a heart attack, the Wanderer thought.

Now you rolled your eyes at him, yet that smile played on your lips: the very same lips that he currently struggled to get out of his thoughts.

And then he was hit again by the stabbing, aching, pounding reality that you had kissed him in that dream. That you were the one who supposedly couldn't hold yourself back. That you liked him. He didn't feel worthy of such pure, happy feelings. The only things that most folks associated him with were fear, snark, and general rudeness, so why did you feel differently? It stumped him so much that he may as well have written it down as his thesis for that damned Akademiya project Nahida told him to do.

What was it these scholars did after their hypothesis? Experiment? Research? Seethe in a pool of horrible rage and frustration? Nevertheless, the Wanderer found no real issues with his particular question, so he launched it forward into the heavy air.

"Why do you stick around?" He asked, sounding as nonchalant as he could, even though he felt sick with anticipation.

You seemed surprised by that question. He had taken you off guard, yet for once, he didn't feel like gloating about it. Instead he made tense, unwavering eye contact, staring at you even as you looked away.

"Because you're not that bad." You responded with a shrug. Not that bad? Well, it was already a huge improvement from conniving, evil, and loathsome.

Plus, apparently 'not that bad' equated to a kiss, even if it wasn't strictly real. A kiss that, by all means, should not have happened. Yet here he was. Here you were.

You really had a way of defying his expectations, in a way that almost seemed personal sometimes. It was almost like you were created specifically to challenge everything he thought, to argue with every mindset he'd gained over his life.

The Wanderer may have invaded your dreams, but even there, you managed to invade his thoughts. His feelings, his emotions, whatever garbage melded together to constitute a heart. Perhaps it was his soul; his soul you had invaded, made a home in, and stubbornly refused to vacate.

"Is everything okay?" Your voice cut through his internalized crisis, bringing him back to harsh, confusing reality. You were confused, and for good reason. He had just been scowling at your face as he ventured his mindscape.

So, oh powerful Balladeer, oh divine creation, how would he respond? Was being honest even an option?

Would you even still like him if he was vulnerable?

Something about your eyes, the way you looked at him quizzically, but not harshly, told him you just might.

So he let out a massive sigh and allowed the words to leave his tongue. "What is it you see in me?"

How dare you look at him that way, with fondness buried in your gaze. He hated it. Or maybe he hated himself.

"You…" your voice trailed off, and it was a horrifying moment of anticipation. "You're mean. You can be cruel. Sometimes I want to yell at you, other times I just want to understand you." Another pause as you gathered your thoughts.

"But… you have good in you. Something tells me you weren't born this way, but life forced you to become something else. I actually like being around you. You make me laugh, you protect me without even realizing it sometimes. And hey, you brought me here, so you saved my life." You explained, looking around at the little village hut the two of you were in.

The Wanderer tried to find a lie in your words, but there wasn't any. Everything was true, distressingly true. Even if he didn't want to, even if it didn't make sense, he cared about you. And somehow, you cared about him.

He couldn't meet your eyes as he processed it all. You looked at him so comfortably, it was despicable. It was its own kind of cruelty.

"You're an idiot." The Wanderer scoffed, glaring at the bed you lay on. He should have prevented your injury, he thought, proving all of your words right. "You're an idiot for liking me."

You sputtered for a response, and the word 'cute' crossed his mind, and he couldn't tell who he hated more in this moment: You, or his own mind.

"I- Okay, I didn't say I liked you, just that I… I've grown a little fond of you, alright? I know you don't feel the same, so it doesn't matter anyway." You spoke quickly, trying to sound convincing, but your attempted indifference was futile. He knew the truth. And maybe he just couldn't resist the chance to tease you with it.

He smirked at you, in the way that had always made you a bit shy, and now he could pinpoint the reason.

You liked him.

"Really? That's not the message I was getting earlier…" he snickered, leaning closer to you. He was always so in control on the outside, but truthfully, he was on the verge of breaking down for good.

You frowned at him. Wait, he didn't know, right? How could he? There was no possible way, he was sure you were thinking. Just like how there was no possible way for him to develop feelings for you. And yet…

The Wanderer sighed. Oh, he really didn't want to explain this to you. Or to anyone, for that matter. It was terribly complicated -seeing that he'd erased his existence from the world- to explain anything from his past, so he had just decided not to.

But something in him said you deserved an explanation, and he wanted to punch that something in the throat.

"What are you talking about?" You blurted out after an admirably long thought process. Or, that's what he assumed. Maybe it was just a jumbled mess like his was.

A sigh preceded his words, a common occurrence. "Not too long ago, I was… exposed to a great deal of divine power. It granted me extra abilities, and appearing in dreams and visions was one of them. You…" The Wanderer paused. Did he really want you knowing that he was worried about you, when he saw you in that nightmare? …maybe not. That was not something anybody needed to know.

"I wanted to check on your condition." He concluded, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. The way you were looking at him, so adorably confused, made him wish he had a heart so he could tear it right out of his chest and be rid of this turmoil.

"Wait, so you were actually in my dream?" You asked nervously, and the Wanderer only nodded.

Your face turned bright red as you processed the information, then stumbled over some form of response.

"Oh shi- I'm so sorry, I didn't know- I mean not that I wouldn't have- I mean I would, and I did, but only because I thought you weren't actually there, and that was probably really weird for you but also it's kind of weird that you were even in my dream in the first place, not that I particularly mind but it's just a strange thought and-"

…silence.

The first thought the Wanderer had, that broke through the quiet reverie, was something along the lines of: your lips were lovely.

He couldn't care less if you had chapped or perfectly soft lips. All he knew was that he'd never felt this alive before. You were warm, you were breathing, you were shaking, you were imperfect, but at that moment he couldn't think of anything more attractive.

Heh. What a curse you were.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Fake dating to piss off Shuichi's parents

Clown: Thinking about shuichi lamenting to his friends about his parents always needling him about a girlfriend/ getting a different job/ settling down. And he makes the vauge suggestion of considering taking anyone home just to shut them up And (maybe rantaro) goes "haha, I know someone who would make them lose their minds for like…30 dollars and free dinner" And it's Ouma It's always Ouma The first text he ever recieves from ouma is, "Soo…my dearly beloved to be, how bad do you want this to go?" "Absolutely horrid." "Splendid."

Checkers: He shows up in clown makeup pulls up to their driveway in his little clown car honks at then with his clown nose

Beez: oh you know what would be funny if shuichis parents had to take him w them to some kind of event or wtv n to make him not look like a loser they tell him he needs a date

Checkers: RUIN THEIR IMAGE jokes on them they’re the real losers here

Apollo: Kokichi makes little cue cards with all the problematic things he's learnt about Shuichi's parents and idly flashes them at random people to spread the news

Beez: HE DOES THE STUPID HIGH SCHOOL PRANK TAPING A PAPER ON THEIR BACKS "WE'RE SHIT PARENTS" Clown: He's causing scandals left and right

Dra: No but it would be so funny if he wasn't [wearing a clown nose] and still managed to get the sound by touching his nose/pl Clown: AJSGSH Its a skill!! Along with the several handkerchiefs he hacks up onto the floor

Apollo: Shuichi: WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME? Rantaro: Since when have my friends ever been normal? Clown: Rantaro is watching this from home. Sipping his tea as he watches the news roll in Dra: He complains but he actually loves it

Beez: they gotta pretend they like kokichi too they have an image to maintain they are so happy for their son and his ugly fucking boyfriend theyre serious Sini: They are so pro gay rights Clown: Their clenching their teeth so hard they bleed but "oohh they're sooo happy their son has found love" Apollo: Shuichi's embarrassed by the stories Kokichi is making up but seeing his parents in pain? It makes it the embarrassment worth it

Clown: I have the image of ouma stretching idly as he tell the reporter " Oh me? Psh! I'm actually an adult entertainer. Mhm! You won't believe how far the clown niche gets ya, mhm, real freaks out there. This? honk drives them bonkers. These kind folks are so understanding of my line of work!" He absolutely feeds a different story to every reporter

Apollo: Sure…People talk about what sort of…Things Shuichi are into considering his boyfriend says that sort of shit but hey…If it's pissing off his parents, he'll let Kokichi to claim to do whatever the fuck he wants He uses the fact he's multilingual to his advantage as well.

Sini: “These young celebrities are in love with me!” “One bad joke is all it takes, trust me” “These people have no humour! That’s humorous on its own, really! So charming” Clown: "Oh they've been sooo welcoming. They only tried to pay me off once?? Twice??"

Checkers: He’s reciting a waffle recipe in Spanish Reading out loud a Russian translation of My Immortal Clown: He's sobbing the entire time like its something emotional Apollo: He comes up with 'pet names' to use during interviews. The interviewers think it's super sweet…Until they see the comments pointing out that Kokichi was just saying random words Checkers: He is passionately defending pineapple on pizza. In Italian Clown: Omg, nicknames ranging from the classic "babe" to "my combusted inflamed refrigerator on wheels " And shuichi has to stutter his way through something equally as bad And yet the faces of pure rage on his parents face lend him strength he didn't know possible Apollo: Interviewer: Aww so sweet Interviewer, reading the comments: Why was he calling Shuichi a soda covered stress toy??? What is wrong with today's youth? [my reply to Apollo's message] that sounds kinky

Clown: I love the thought of this starting out as ouma leading the charge. He's throwing out ideas he hopes shuichi picks up. But as the night goes on the last remaining fucks shuichi gives fly out the window. And he is absolutely going all out. Ouma nearly stumbles in keeping up with the absolutely insanity shuichi has awakened in himself and he may be swooning Sini: HE’S CREATED A BEAUTIFUL MONSTER Apollo: Shuichi's gone from the awkward attempting to flirt back stage to the You're actually sorta cute so I'm going to put effort into this stage in like one night and Kokichi is shook Checkers: Saiharizz but it’s just unhinged insanity Beez: the most effective rizz on kokichi tbh Sini: Shuichi: evil unhinged laughter Kokichi: [heart eyes] “I will make my parents eat their own shit” “….So are you free later-?”

Clown: All it takes is realizing how afraid his parents are of breaking their facade and hes pulling ouma to the corner, absolute giddy realization happening in his anxiety ridden husk of a body as he frantically says "Did you see their faces?? Ouma did you see how mad they were?? Haha! Oh my god! They can't do anything to me. I can do anything" Apollo: Kokichi is internally screaming because holy fuck a cute guy just dragged him into a corner are they gonna kiss? No? Oh well, hearing him realise how he can do anything is just as good Me: this is a fake dating scenario, of course they're going to kiss, just not in a corner, that would be against the point, do it in front of everyone Sini: Kokichi: “I can fix him” Bitch, I did, and that was by making him worse Clown: He may be going mad with power Just a little Will shuichi regret this in the morning? He doesn't CARE. That's future him's problem. He's having FUN Rantaro is lowkey impressed by how fast Shuichi has managed to lose it Sini: Rantaro is dramatic [rolling eyes emoji] He’s fine. He’s his best self rn Ignore the maniacal giggling

Apollo: Shuichi manages to get his hands on some soda, something he's not allowed a lot so his 'teeth aren't ruined' or some bullshit…Man's on a trip Sini: He really is in his rebellious teen phase rn He will eat after midnight HA He will drink alcohol He will tag a building He will post embarrassing photos on a burner account

Apollo: Rantaro: What the hell Kokichi? Kokichi: It was one cup! Shuichi: [h y p e r]

Sini: “I feel so alive! Why haven’t I tried this before!? This is great! Fuck coffee, this is my life blood!” He’s been deprived Too much You give him a taste of something new and he goes wild

Clown: On one hand, shuichi has never looked happier, on the other, his eyes show a manic energy that is just a wee bit spooky Sini: Kokichi isn’t sure if he should be concerned or aroused Clown: Just one moment, a single moment for shuichi, grinning, tells ouma honestly "thank you for this" and its over for one kokichi ouma Sini: He is on the floor Shuichi is poking him

Me: sugar rush Shuichi just dips Kokichi and kisses him while showing a middle finger to the camera Clown: Shuichi offers a very nervous peck on the cheek initially and by the end he's dragging ouma halfway over the table to kiss him passionately on the lips in front of his parents

Clown: The aftermath may be less fun But it was so worth it Sini: It’s like a hangover lmao Wtf did he do last night? Clown: He wakes up feeling empty, shakey, strangely shirtless in a bed he doesn't recognize, theres a lingering feeling of impending dread and his phone is buzzing nonstop. Still. He feels so satisfied with himself. He smells like grape soda Sini: He smells like….Him Clown: YES. That and he's blanking on the memory of him toppling over the soda tower at the end of the night Apollo: He sees Kokichi and internally freaks out because What the fuck did we DO? but he then learns when he fell into the soda tower, his shirt got all gross and Kokichi being the everloving boyfriend he is, washed it…Well got someone else to wash it but yeah

Clown: Reality may be creeping up on him in the background but the phones been chucked to the side for now Ouma grins at him and goes "I never got the dinner you promised" and shuichi grins back Apollo: They're fucking dorks. Meanwhile, the Saiharas are attempting damage control, Shuichi's uncle is supportive but also god damn it did it have to go like this and the internet is fucking blowing up Clown: Need Miu to be watching her daily drama channel in the morning with a bowl of cereal and the first thing she sees is ouma's face and she does a spit take Apollo: She starts ringing him but he's not paying attention Clown: Kaito minding his buisness when he sees "Former child actor gone rouge" and it's just shuichi cackling maniacally Apollo: Kokichi is hovering in the background all smug like, dressed in the most horrible outfit despite the stylists trying to make him look nice. Clown: He loves to watch the world BURN From a distance, as shuichi and him take the time to tentatively start to know each other in the aftermath Sini: More so Shuichi causing the world to burn Me: Me: some paparazzi takes photos of them on that dinner they go out on and the relationship gets solidified in the media's eyes Clown: YES. If someone spreads a picture of them at some run of the mill diner in the morning for some breakfast. Hair unbrushed. Ouma still has remains of clown makeup. Shuichis eyeliner is smudged all over. Shuichi is shoving a cinnamon roll into oumas mouth mid rant with the biggest smile on his face.

Apollo: Maki, waking up because her Ouma Sense is going off: Who has that brat gone after this time? Maki knew Shuichi would be getting a fake date for some event. She switches on the tv, sees the bastard of the orphanage she grew up in and just turns it off Shuichi says he wants to introduce Kokichi to his best friends and he and Maki lock eyes. Kokichi: ["*chuckles* I'm in danger." gif]

Clown: She can't be too mad!! Look at shuichis face!! Thats pure joy right there!! Maki begrudgingly accepts and oumas like" sOB I knew you loved me!!! " Apollo: She does hit Kokichi over the back of the head later and then gives him a shovel talk. Shuichi is confused when Maki hands him one of those backpack leash things Clown: Maki, deadpan,"you'll need it." Me: she's a little confused about who needs a leash atm

Clown: I am thinking of the end of the night immeadiately after. Shuichi did not expect to go that far. And as he's calming down. The jitters come back. His phone is a death sentence. He's obsessively waiting for the ringing to start.

Ouma leads him to the bus stop, shuichi drove them there but its just not the time. Ouma wants to live thank you.

Drenched in sweat, and soda, and oumas pockets being stuffed with cake they ride together silently. Shuichi barely even thinks to ask where their going. Reloading his notifications again and again.

Shuichi is hugging his knees. He barely remembers sitting on oumas bed. He's still hugging his knees. "I-" he breaks out into nervous giggles, "I screwed up didn't I?"

And kokichi sighs, it's silent between them before kokichi erupts into laughter. "You were amazing!" He insists, and he's so absolutely giddy. Nearly in awe. It's hard for the doubts to eat at him when ouma looks at him like he hung the moon and the stars. "You were amazing."

And ouma teases him relentlessly, and shuichi is too busy being embarassed to let himself fall into regret. He ultimately falls asleep peacefully in a bed that isn't his and ouma yawns and steps away to sleep on the couch.

Bonus:

Beez: saiou pulling fake proposals in restaurants to get free dessert thats it Hina: Kokichi initiates them Shuichi tries for real and Kokichi thinks he's joking Beez: damn the dessert must look good if shuichis the one proposing for it Ves: they just move on shuuichi thinks they're engaged kokichi thinks he was doing a bit Me: 1) do it AFTER they're married 2) have their actual proposal in privacy, duh. I think they would prefer that anyway This is the sequel movie to the fake dating to piss off Saihara's parents romantic comedy Ves: but the comedy Me: Adam Sandlers plays Kokichi Ves: im imaging him in a terrible purple wig now why would you say that Well, it would be more of his type of deal to play Shuichi, since this makes Kokichi the love interest while he is the protag Beez: alternatively someone they know goes into the restaurant theyre at n witness a proposal so they go over to congratulate them but saiou r like shit [eye, mouth, eye emojis] Me: Ha! Deserved

[drinkthestars]

spoilers for nimona (2023)

just watched the new nimona movie and it was fantastic! great children's movie, excellent animation and clean plot progression. but it's missing something: the subversive morality that i first experienced when reading nimona as a kid.

in the actual comic, nimona killed people. she was morally gray- she took that step into murder and atrocity. in the movie, she's a punk kid who likes to make (admittedly pretty scary) faces and joke around about death, but it doesn't seem like she's actually gotten around to the real murder part.

and you know what? i get it.

this movie isn't meant to be the book, and that's fine. it's a wholesome misunderstood hero story for kids and a non-controversial way to have positive queer representation without compromising the themes with characters that aren't 100% good and sweet and lovely. it's great for a mainstream audience.

here's the thing: it would've been so much more INTERESTING if nimona WAS the killer. i was expecting it as a plot twist the whole movie- nimona impersonating the director (who was, tbh, not a very interesting twist villain, especially with her lack of forshadowing and her very easy and quick admit to her crimes- you'd think such a high-ranking individual would know better than to confess her sins and then murder the direct descent of gloreth in her office)

nimona has been trying and trying to convince ballister to reform the system the whole movie, saying that he SHOULD be mad, the INSTITUTE is what's in the wrong, not JUST the director. they can't run away- they have to fight back! that would've been such good foreshadowing for her having orchestrated the whole thing, with her being clearly shown to be able to shift into other people.

i'm almost convinced that the writers initially planned for that as the plot progression and then edited it to make it more family-friendly.

so in an ideal world, here's what i think should've happened:

nimona actually does frame the director for the murder- but as revenge for experimenting on and torturing her, as in the book. ballister is pardoned by the public and by ambrosius, but then the director shows the video footage of nimona shapeshifting into her, and the consequent sword-swapping. in a nutshell, nimona uses ballister to kill the queen and tries to manipulate him to help the world change, for a place where she isn't tortured needlessly just for being different.

ballister, betrayed, fights with nimona (insert key weakness that she has told only him here) and she is captured. the director informs him of the experiments on nimona (while dismissing her as a heartless monster) and he is horrified. the director reveals her new plan to get rid of (non-existent) potential monsters in the city like nimona (witch-hunting, reference to eugenics, you get it). ballister and ambrosius free nimona, and they work together to stop the enby-murder laser or whatever, nimona sacrificing herself in the process (or does she...). the ending remains the same from there.

the unfortunate issue with queer media at the moment is that people need it to be pure- a depiction of a morally gray queer character right now might throw the whole theme into question. after all, if queer people aren't perfect, than they're dead. which is interesting, because that's kind of the theme of nimona, in a sense. a narrative about people who are different, and for that reason alone are unforgivable monsters.

queer and disabled folk (see attorney woo, a show i love, for a similar problem) aren't allowed to be flawed in media. if they're not paragons of humanity or supergeniuses, they can't be accepted. nd stevenson was one of the first authors i ever saw really subvert that in widely known media meant for teens.

real life people aren't going to be as forgiving as the movies make it look. i liked the old nimona because she reflected that- she was not a sinless matyr in the end- she gave into her rage and despair and let it warp her. did that make her a monster? no- it made her human. queer media is trying its best, but in the end the issue is the very inhumanity of perfection.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2023- Day 20- Humanoid Cat/Cat folk- Part 1

What to Bring to a Table

Ok, so we've all heard the saying that in relationships- 'What do you bring to the table?" Right? And the older I get, the more I realize, that metaphor is, as archaic as it is, still has a good point.

It's not really about what you can bring to a table, but it's about the table itself. Or its what you as the individual are and have made yourself into. Is the table well made? Is it purely decorative or is it dual purpose or is it rough or just slapped haphazardly together? Is it too high for anyone to reach? Is it so low that it's barely off the ground? How big should it be? Or should it fear that another will come along and saw it and break it apart and rebuild it to suit them? Or worse yet, look at the table that you've built and stacked and stocked for yourself, and think they're entitled to eat everything on it, leaving you with table scraps and a tale full of dirty dishes?

And it should also be a of note, that each dish that you may try to put on the table itself, may have been a labor of love and you may have put a lot of work and effort into it. But if all that hard work is not recognized or praised or noticed, but if anything, taken for granted or demanded, then why do it at all?

And I was totally listening to Labour by Paris Paloma while I was writing this and it shows. And while that song did unlock thousands of years of feminine rage, for guys to recognize that it is a lot of labor and that they should count themselves privledged to even be invited to take a seat at the table and come to the table with some support, and praise and recognition of all the hard work that went into the table and be willing to do the same and willing to join their own table to yours, not to feast and then walk away, but to help make both tables better and stronger for it and willing to cook for the food and clean up after too.

Also, I was severely injured last week and it's thrown yet another monkey wrench into my life. And then my grandmother's caretaker, went off her meds, got 51/50'd into the psyche ward for homicidal tendancies so I, even as injured and in as much pain as I'm in, have tried to help in facilitating her rescue and escape and get her safely to my Mom, only to find out, only hours before we were supposed to go that my parents both got Covid. And then I immediately tested myself, at the time, I tested negative. So it was up to me to clean/disinfect and sanitize my parent's van that just got an oil change and brand new tires so that two of my three sisters could take it down to AZ to pick up my grandmother and bring her here to Ohio. And guess what? I woke up sick this morning myself. Which, honestly, is no surprise for me. I just hope my injury continues to heal and I don't have to be hospitalized for it. Because i'm at risk for MRSA, Staff, Sepsis, and Gangrene. Murphy's Law might as well be my middle name.

Anyway, my first exophillia stories, were actually with rakshasa. So this is going...all the way back to the beginning and then reworking this and rewriting this was really fun for me. I forgot how much I missed this story and these characters. And this was actually fanfiction of @momolady 's Ruby Empire, that I got her permission to write, way back when.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompts. I know it's April now, but I only have 11 more prompts to go. And when I'm done, I'll put them all in a masterlist like I did with Kinktober.

Monster March 2023 Day 20- Humanoid Cat- Rakshasa

Zakira and Sulaimon

Part 1

Commander Sulaimon Ahusharaht stood stoically by as he waited for the envoy from Willow to come. Willow, was the newest prefecture and protected city state of The Ruby Empire. And his friend, Lomi, and his wife, who was from Willow, asked him if he could serve as an escort to some members of the envoy. She even offered to pay for him to do so. But Lomi and Zara-Joy were his friends and he gladly accepted the request, no payment needed. From that moment, Zara-Joy had told him all about who she wanted him to protect, her best friend, Zakira Ukani and her daughter Zeeanna, while they would be in The Crown City of The Ruby Empire. They were a small ethnic group from Masraiem, before the War of the Pharaohs tore The Old Kingdom from the top down and rebuilt the The New Kingdom of Masraiem a new, and a new dynasty to go with it. And thankfully the people of Willow were thankfully spared. But not for long. And before Willow knew it, it was pulled into a war, it had lost the knowledge and training to fight in the first place. Masraiem while demanding soldiers- did not offer the protection they once promised. Which was why they sought out the Ruby Empire instead. 

According to Zara-Joy, Zakira was descended from the Old Dynasty Royalty. Granted it had been an affair with one of the pharaoh’s many sons. Thankfully she left with her illegitimate heir and kept them safe from The War of The Pharaoh’s and from being killed off as being an heir period, because they were out to take out any and all remnants of the Old Kingdom to set up The New Kingdom and the New Dynasty. However, the reason she still held the title of Mushrief was because her family had otherwise been the heads over the pharaoh's kitchens and especially the banquets. And those traditions got passed down to the point that Zakira was hands down, no contest- the best cook in all of Willow. Her family had planted the most amazing vineyards, growing many kinds of grapes, making the best wine. Olives for olive oil. And figs and palms for dates. Along with leeks, garlic, onions, tomatoes, and other herbs and especially spices. The most prized being saffron of course while her own family were also from the kitchens but were responsible for the desserts. Thus all the marshmallows and other confections, with figs and dates and pomegranates and other fruits. 

But while all the talk of food had made Sulaimon very, very hungry. Zara-Joy stressed that he needed to use extra care and caution with her. Zakira was widowed. Her husband and love of her life, practically since infancy, had left for war, and not returned. Along with her own father and brothers. And she was the only daughter of her family. And so before the men went off to war, they all got hastily married, even though Zakira and Zahir had been planning on getting married anyway. But, instead had to share their wedding night with all the others. And she was one of four who got pregnant. And none of the fathers to the new babies had come back. Either a family got either a father, or in rare instances, a son back. But never both. Nearly all of the men of Willow had gone, except for the lame and very old. And only a handful had returned, and were never the same. 

But Zakira’s father, nor her brothers, nor her husband came back. Her mother died of grief. And she nearly lost herself and her baby to grief several times. To the point, many of Zakira’s friends simply moved in with her to help her care for herself and at least nurture her own pregnancy. And Zakira had not moved on. She refused to wear white, because she refused to accept the deaths of any of them. And instead, had only worn black ever since. Even if the weather was good for it or not. 

Sulaimon, being a black jaguar rakshasa himself, could empathize. He was naturally dark, so the sun was always shining most fiercely over him. And all he could hope was that for Zeeanna’s sake, she too would not be dressed in black either, for fear she would overheat. But Zara-Joy assured him that Zeeanna was now the only thing Zakira was living for, and she was the most loved, cherished, and spoiled rotten baby in all of Willow. Where Zakira would always make sure she was bathed, clean and well fed. So that Zeeanna would never have a reason to cry in the first place. Which worried Zara-Joy, who by now, was expecting herself and she worried that Zeeanna was going to grow up- never hearing the word “no” and know what it meant. And that the reason Zara-Joy specifically asked Sulaimon, was because he had a lot of experience with babies, since all of his siblings had them of all ages and he was used to watching them to give his siblings and their mates breaks and “date nights”. And that she was hoping Sulaimon would give Zeeanna, the gentle, but firm correction and loving discipline, she would no doubt need since she was fast approaching the terrible twos, despite only being about a year old. 

But that, was what gave Sulaimon pause, because most parents were usually pretty protective over their kids and didn’t like “strangers” telling them how to parent their kids. Especially when he didn’t have any himself. So, he would just have to wait and see how this meeting with Zakira and Zeeanna would go. 

But that fact that he was even willing, was a huge relief to Zara-Joy, who then, gave him a “gift” to exchange to Zakira since Willow was known for it’s customs and traditions of trading gifts. That he would give this bottle of perfume to her once they got to meet in person. And she’d give him a flower necklace that would match the one she would make for herself and the flower necklace would serve like a name badge so she would be able to tell him apart from the other escorts who were also called in on this. 

Sulaimon watched as his comrades were happy to meet their person in the envoy to escort them while they were here, visiting with Zara-Joy and her husband. 

Sulaimon waited and waited and waited as the envoy that never seemed to end, as he realized, it was practically one huge group of young women, all Zara-Joy’s age, with a few families, being in the mix. They all came in and greeted Zara Joy first before she pointed them to their escorts and protectors. And soon, all of his friends and comrades on either side of him and all around him were pulled to their intended protectee- while in the Crown City. 

Finally, the last person in the envoy came through the gate, leaving Sulaimon to assume that this must have been Zakira Ukani. She was, indeed- wearing all black, although it was embroidered with gold thread as an accent. But she was clutching a small baby to her chest, wrapped in still damp white clothes to keep her cool in the heat. Which fit the description Zara-Joy gave him. So he figured that was his cue to finally go up and introduce himself at least. 

But the closer he got, the moment she pulled her black hood back, to reveal a river of black and sun lightened brown hair, he was suddenly mesmerized and then slowed down to a stop as his pupils dilated as wide as they could be while his focus was suddenly solely on her. She had to be the most beautiful human looking woman he had ever seen before in his life. The Crown City had all sorts of species of people. So he was used to seeing all manner of them. But to see all of these very pretty girls come in, his friends were suddenly very pleased with the “assignment”. 

But once she embraced her friend and then Zara-Joy pointed to him, her face changed to that of one of weariness and apprehension but she seemed to try to push that down as she purposefully came forward to at least meet him halfway before his feet soon did the same. 

“Mushrief Zakira Ukani?” He greeted hopefully as he came over to her. 

“Commander Sulaimon Ahushrat.” She greeted back cordially as her voice still had a thicker Masraiem accent. And he had heard tales of queens of the Pharoh’s being handpicked from the beauties of Masraiem to serve in his harem when he wasn’t, of course, fucking his own sisters to keep a “pure” bloodline, that is, well, at least, according the rumors anyway. 

“I believe this is for you.” He offered the gift of the bottle of perfume. 

“Thank you, and this is a gift for you.” She offered as she handed him the flower necklace whose blooms were the darkest reds and purples and practically black themselves, but their scents were heady and heavy but divine. 

“Thank you.” As he took it from her and put it on himself while she put the bottle of perfume away into the bag that hung at her hip but hung across her own chest, over her mother’s sling, where her baby was nestled against so that her own mother’s breasts could serve as pillows when she would sleep. The baby still had milk on her face. This was probably why she was the last in, she wanted to feed her baby right before and was probably hanging back to do just that. 

“So this must be little Zeeanna.” He gestured to the baby at her chest before said baby turned at the sound of her name from clutching at her mother to look him over curiously. And if Sulaimon thought that Zakira was beautiful, this little baby had to be the most adorable baby he had ever seen before in his life, his own nieces included. 

But after Zeeanna looked him over, she seemed to make up her mind about him and pulled away from her mother and leaned towards him and started cooing and babbling at him and reaching out with her chubby little hands. 

“No, Anna.” Zakira immediately pulled her baby away from him and tried to wrap her up even closer in the mother sling she had her daughter in. 

“I wouldn’t mind holding her.” He offered. 

“No, she’d hurt herself on all the weapons that are strapped to you.” Zakira sharply turned him down as she tried walking back to her horse while also trying to contain a now very wriggling and bawling baby in her mother’s sling. 

“Here, I’ll take them off.” Sulaimon offered before he took off the straps across his chest where his daggers were and put them around his hips instead so his arms and chest were disarmed and open. 

“Your armor’s most likely burning hot in the sun, it would burn her skin.” Zakira added as she tried to continue to excuse as she tried to walk away but with each wail of Anna, she got more upset and distressed, as did he before he took that off too and handed it all to a friend to keep for him. 

“There, I’m not wearing anything that’ll hurt her or harm her. I can hold her.” He offered as Anna was trying to climb up her mom’s chest, and over her shoulder and cried and still reached out to him and Sulaimon didn’t care if he’d strip down to bare fur if he had to -because her cries were hurting him more than any burning arrow could. 

Finally, Zakira turned around and noticed that he had taken off his chest armor and his daggers and even the swords on their belt at his waist before she begrudgingly and reluctantly got Anna out of her sling and then nervously handed her baby over and watched him like a hawk as he took her and held her securely in his arms as she instantly stopped crying and settled down as Sulaimon instantly started soothing her and cooing to her in turn. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you too. So Anna huh?” He assumed as he looked at her as she smiled, showing off four, tiny little teeth in her otherwise bare gums. Sulaimon made sure his claws were otherwise deep into his fingers as he oh so carefully wiped the tears from Anna’s eyes and her cheeks and began to purr to put her at ease which helped her settle down more and relax and get comfortable. 

“Everything ok?” He asked Zakira as he looked up from Anna to see Zakira standing there, watching him hold her daughter as she was frowning in confusion at the scene. 

“She…she usually doesn’t like anyone but me to hold her.” Zakira reluctantly admitted. 

“Zara-Joy said that she and Lomi got to when they came to visit Willow last.” Sulaimon recalled. So at least he wasn’t first rakshasa Zeeanna had ever met before. 

“I…I thought it was a fluke.” Zakira allowed. 

“Well, Zara-Joy is a very sweet person and her husband was always a remarkable guard in the Palace Guard and is a very good and honorable man. Babies have good senses about people.” Sulaimon offered before he reached up to brush Anna’s thick curls from her face before Anna reached out to grab his hand. 

“Oh, Anna don’t…!” Zakiria immediately rushed to pull his hand out of her daughter’s grasp. But was not fast enough. 

Because with lightning fast speed and surprising strength, Anna grabbed his hands, one hand on his thumb, and the other on his pinky and shoved the back of his first finger into her mouth and bit down. Hard. 

Sulaimon impressed himself by not roaring out in pain but his ears pinned back as his gasp and grunt of pain while his tail nearly snapped like a whip. He just instantly clenched his jaw and let out a low growl as his face scrunched up in pain as his eyes snapped shut before he heard Anna let out the most evil little giggle as Zakira gasped in horror at her daughter’s actions. 

He took a few calming breaths and opened his eyes and fixed Anna with a softened but still firm look of disapproval. 

“I’m so sorry, she’s a biter. I should have warned you.” Zakira offered apologetically as she tried to pry his hand from her daughter’s mouth. 

“No Anna! No biting! Biting bad!” Zakira chastised her baby and popped Anna in the mouth once she had freed Suilaimon’s hand from Anna’s grip and her daughter’s mouth, but that only sent Anna into hysterics again before she rolled in Sulaimons’ arms and sought comfort in Sulaiman's arms and chest and rolled away from her mom to avoid her look of disappointment and anger. 

“Anna, you need to listen to your Mama ok? Biting for the fun of it is bad. If you’re biting to defend yourself, that’s one thing. But biting just to be mean is bad ok?” Sulaimon offered as he moved her to lay over his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles into her back as she then tried to climb into his shirt, like it was another sling before he opened up the top of the vest over his shirt to make a pocket to put herself in. as she was happy to do that. 

Then she gave a huge burp and Sulaimon’s ears went back again as he could feel her milky spit up spill down his back. That this heat only amplified the scent and the feeling of it soaking into his clothes and going down them too. 

“I am so sorry!” Zakira apologized again as she grabbed a cloth from her back to try to wipe it up and off of him before it would soak into his clothes too much. But then Zakira was happy to simply sigh in relief and then nuzzle her head into the crux of Sulaimon’s neck and shoulder and reach up and grab a fistful of his fur in her fist and then promptly, fell soundly asleep. 

Zakira tried to clean it up only to look up and softly gasp at the sight again. 

“What’s wrong?” Sulaimon asked as his ears trained on Zakira behind him. 

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, she’s…she’s asleep. She hasn’t slept hardly at all this whole trip. She has been incredibly upset and restless since we left home. And…she really needs it. I’m sorry she made a mess of your clothes. I can try to wash them once we get to..” She tried to offer. 

“No, it’s fine. Babies are messy. I know. I don’t have any myself but all of my siblings do. This is not the first or the last time this vest and this outfit will have gotten spit up on it. And it’s pretty easy to clean too, no worries. There’s more than enough soap and fresh water to wash it, and I can wash it myself if need be.” Sulaimon calmly reassured her. 

“Well, thank you, very much for understanding that and being so gracious about this.” Zakira offered. 

“Thank you for trusting me with Anna.” Sulaimon offered in kind as they seemed to finally catch gazes and really see, each other, for who they really were. Sulaimon could just see that she was a young widow, trying to deal with immense grief and loss and motherhood all at once and all on her own. And he could empathize with that. And she could see that, while he may have looked rakshasa, there was still a very good man in there, underneath all that handsome fur. 

“Well, you’re right, babies can tell things about people. And if she likes you enough to play with you, even though she did that by biting you. And if she is comfortable enough to fall asleep in your arms, and you’re willing to forgo your weapons and armor to just hold her. Then I’m sure I can entrust her into your care for now.” Zakira offered, with the shyest of smiles, it was small, but still precious before she noticed the others were getting back up on their horses. 

“Do you need help to get back up on your horse?” Sulaimon asked. 

“Uh, no, I’m fine, I got it.” She quickly dismissed.

“Yeah, I know you do. Just, let me at least, offer you a leg up. Here, put your foot on my knee, and you’ll get up on your horse easier.” He offered before he knelt next to her stallion, while still keeping Anna on his other shoulder and securely in his other arm. 

“Thank you.” She thanked him as she took his free hand and used his offered knee to jump up onto her stallion and let him lead the stallion with the others as the group went to Zara-Joy’s palace with the others where she had many guest rooms prepared for her guests from home. 

“Joy! You didn’t have to go all out like this.” Zakira said as she appraised the suite of rooms that her friend showed her to and the many gifts all around it. 

“I can, so I did. Plus I mean look, won’t Anna look so pretty in these?” Zara-Joy asked as she showed Zakira the matching mommy and daughter outfits she had gotten Zakira, that progressed include other colors other than black, trying to tempt Zakira out of her prolonged mourning. Slowly, but surely. 

“Yes, they’re very beautiful. I don’t know how I could ever…” Zakira began to say. 

“Do not cheapen my gifts by trying to think of how much they are worth or how much trouble they were to acquire. Please, don’t steal my joy, accept them. And if you can bring yourself to wear even a bangle, I’ll be happy. I know it’s been hard grieving, but you’re here, enjoy it. They have an entire Spice District here in the Crown City in the Market Square, I’m sure you’ll have fun playing around and finding new ways to mix them together to make anything you wanted. My chefs would be eager to watch you work and try to copy down all those secret recipes your ancestors brought over from the old country being the exquisite Mushariefs they always have been. Your kitchen has always had the best food in all of Willow. Find something new and create something or put a twist on the old. Or even honor the old ways if you really want to. In the meantime, I know you’re anxious to get cleaned up from all the dust from the roads, come, this palace has it’s own private bathhouse.” Zara urged her friend before Anna woke up from her nap and looked around. 

“Just in time, come on Anna, lets get you and Mommy and the other women cleaned up ok?” Zara-Joy said before Zakira took her daughter back from Sulaimon. 

“Joy got you some special oils Sweetheart, come on, let’s get cleaned up and we can let Commander…” Zakira began. 

“It’s just Sulaimon or Sully if you really want to be casual, you don’t have to use my rank or anything.” Sulaimon invited.

“Oh, well then it’s just Zakira for me then, excuse us.” She said as she simply grabbed the closest set of bathing robes, scooping up undergarments under them as she did so and put them with the basket of bathhouse supplies. 

“You can use the other side of the bathhouse, and obviously, get your shirt and vest cleaned at least.” Zara-Joy urged Sulaimon as she went with her friend and urged all the women to join her in “the ladies” side of the bathhouse. 

“Why did you choose Sulaimon to escort me around?” Zakira asked her friend once they disrobed and stepped into the ever hot and gently floating water. While the other women were already giddily talking about how much they liked and were attracted to their escorts. 

“Because, when he’s not in “Commander Mode”, he’s surprisingly quiet yet gentle. He comes from a large but very good family. He’s always been single because the military has always been his career and he’s always saved his wages living in the barracks. And once all of his siblings got married and started having kids, suddenly he found himself on more blind dates because everyone always wants to play matchmaker with him. And he is very guarded against that sort of thing. As I know you have been since you lost Zahir. This way, I figured you’d both get the break from the pressure, even if it’s only for a visit.” Zara-Joy casually explained as she tried to hide her scheming smile as she helped wash Anna and wash her hair while Zakira washed Anna’s body and thought that over and did feel a sense of relief to learn that.  

“Has he ever had…” Zakira began to ask but her emotion cut off her voice. 

“No, he’s never been married, but according to Lomi, he did like one girl. But she couldn’t wait for him to even get out of basic training and was already six months pregnant by the time he came back from his training that takes a year. And the worst part was that she cheated on one of the idiots who got kicked out of basic training because it was too hard for him. And apparently had been having an affair with the other one before he even left for basic training. So ever since then, he’s just…thrown himself into his military career and training more cadets and making sure they are well trained, and very well equipped.” Zara-Joy answered.  

“I wish Willow had had something like that.” Zakira muttered resentfully. 

“I know. But now that Willow is an ally of The Ruby Empire, no more will the men of Willow be led to the slaughter and I’m sure Sulaimon would be the first to volunteer to teach such things there, so that Willow will no longer be vulnerable or at the mercy of anyone or anything, other than the weather itself.” Zara-Joy insisted as Zakira nodded but still fought back tears. 

“Not that there’s many men left.” Zara practically hissed.

“The war took too much from us. From you especially. That’s why I chose the best soldier in King Amit’s army as your escort. Because even if he was without weapons altogether. He would and will find a way to keep you and especially Anna safe, even when you’re not inside your home or inside mine.” Joy soothed Zakira as she put conditioning oils into Anna’s hair. 

“Where will he be staying while I’m here?” Zakira asked. 

“In the next room over from you. And there is a private entrance from his quarters into yours so you don’t have to go out into the hallway if you don’t want to. But there’s a lock on all the doors so no one will have access to you or Anna without your permission and consent.” Zara reassured her friend. 

Zakira got redressed in a bathrobe and took Anna back to her room so she could give Anna a proper massage and a chance to nurse again, since she did spit up quite a bit, and hopefully, fill a diaper or two before she would get dressed and then put Anna into her new outfit, because Zakira did not want Anna to make a mess of such a precious little outfit. 

Then there was a knock on the door that Zara-Joy had told Zakira led to Sulaimon’s guest room. 

“Yes Sulaimon?” Zakira asked. 

“Dinner is almost ready. Are you ready or do you need help with Anna or anything?” He asked through the door as he finished getting redressed himself in clean clothes and had washed himself. So that he too would be fresh and clean for dinner. 

“No, I’m…” Zakira began before Anna immediately popped off from nursing and began to babble and call out to Sulaimon and began crawling on the large bed to get towards the door while Zakira huffed and pulled the robe around her tighter once Anna got to the end of the bed and actually slid down from the bed to the chaise lounge at the bottom of the bed and then slid down safely to the floor and was crawling as fast as Zakira had ever seen Anna move before. 

“Ah! Anna!” Zakira tried to lunge to catch her daughter before she slid from the bed and then got up to try to catch her before she fell from the chaise lounge at the end of the bed. 

But Sulaimon, upon hearing Zakira yelp at her daughter broke the door down and open to get to her but only came in to see Anna there, sitting up on her feet on the other side with Zakira trying to reach for her as Anna smiled happily to see Sulaimon again and closed the distance between herself and him and climbed to stand up on his legs while babbling and reaching for him. 

“Oh, I’m, I’m so sorry, I heard…” Sulaimon quickly apologized as he quickly scooped Anna up into his arms only to be met with the sight of Zakira in only a robe that had come a bit loose in her attempts to get her daughter up off the floor. 

“Sorry to worry, you, obviously, she’s…she’s just fine, I just didn’t think she could move that fast.” Zakira tried to excuse as she looked at the way the wood broke in the door itself as the lock was still in the other half of the lock in the wall. 

“Nor did I think you’d be that strong, unless that door is especially flimsy.” Zakira offered as she gestured to it before Zara-Joy and her husband Lomi came in to see the scene. 

“What happened?” Zara-Joy asked as she looked between her friend and Sulaimon as Sulaimon’s ears pinned back sheepishly. 

“I heard Zakira cry out for Anna and thought they were in danger, and I uh, I broke your door. I can uh. I can either pay for its repair or replacement.” Sulaimon offered. 

“Wow, don’t worry about it. You were just doing your job.” Lomi reassured his friend as he appraised the door before he unlocked it and the other half of the locking mechanism fell onto the floor once it was released as Lomi picked it up.

“That’s quite impressive.” Lomi praised. 

“Zakira, if you want to be moved I have another spare room available.” Zara-Joy offered consolingly. 

“No it’s alright. I think if anything, it just proved that you chose a good and protective escort for me. To the point he’d break your house at the thought of Anna being in danger, it’s fine. I was going to unlock it and keep it unlocked anyway.” Zakira offered. 

“Well, we can still get it replaced while we have dinner. But um, we would just need to put away your gifts for when the repairmen come to install the new door, but first you might want to get dressed.” Zara suggested before she helped Zakira get a set of clothes and into the bathroom before she put the gifts she had gotten her into the dressers and other places in the room before Lomi left to seek out a new doorman. 

“Great first impression.” Sulaimon muttered to himself as he simply got Anna dressed in the matching outfit that corresponded to the one that Zakira had grabbed and got Anna dressed at least. 

“I thought it wasn’t half bad.” Zara- Joy shrugged. 

“Why’d you pick me as her escort? Why not Rhyad? He is a composer and you told me that Zakira was too. At least they would have that in common.” Sulaimon asked Zara as she continued to put all the jewelry that she knew Zakira probably overlooked before she pulled out a different necklace that didn’t match the style of any of the jewelry that was common in The Ruby Empire, much less the Crown City. 

“I could have. But even though they both love music, they have very different views about it. Rhyad and his music is all about the big performance, the large, complicated and intricate workings. Zakira believes in the simple but profound and authentic music. That even if all you have, is your own voice, than that is all the instrument you really need to make good music. And using the natural sounds around you to set the pace and the rhythm. But otherwise, when Rhyad is not a composer, he is a pushover. And that’s not what Anna needs. Anna is a stinker through and through. Aren’t you- you cheeky rascal.” Zara-Joy cooed to Anna as she sat on the bed next to where Anna was being laid down so Sulaimon could dress her, after he checked her diaper to make sure it didn’t need changing. 

“You have a great capacity to give Anna the gentle firmness in structure and discipline that she’s been missing so far. Honestly, I think Anna only does most of the naughty things as more of a joke and to get a laugh, which is why she’s the first to laugh, hoping her mother will too, or at least, just to see Zakira smile. Because all Zakira could do once Anna was born, was cry to see so much of Zahir in her. I’m surprised she just didn’t outright name her Zahini instead.” 

Zara-Joy admitted in a low murmur as Zakira eavesdropped while she got ready. 

“Too much like tahini or zucchini.” Sulaimon noted which got Zara-Joy to snicker a laugh while Zakira made a face. 

“Yeah, that’s what Zahir had said before he left too. He liked the name Zeeanna, his little Anna - Banana. But not his little Zee, because there’s always too many little Zee’s in Willow as it is. It’s hard enough that I share my name with three others. You saw Zara-Grace and Zara-Hope already. So little Anna it is. And she does like bananas, ripe ones anyway. Which I thought was great, a way to finish off the Z’s and get back to the other letters of the alphabet.” Zara-Joy admitted with a bittersweet smile to Anna once Sulaimon finished dressing her before Zara-Joy put the distinctly Mizraim piece of jewelry onto Anna, coiling it around her chubby little upper arm as Zakira leaned against the door and fought back tears of the memory of Zahir talking about Anna-Bananna and how Zakira had laughed at how profoundly stupid that would be to name a daughter that as Zakira smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall down her face and tried to regain her composure. 

“There, like proper Khandi.” Zara-Joy cooed to Anna once she finished putting the arm band around her upper arm. 

“Why did Wennet lead your people out of Mizraiem when she did?” Sulaimon asked. 

“Because in Wennet’s temple, it’s a place of peace, understanding and clairvoyance. Wenet could see there was going to be feud between who would be next to be Pharaoh over Mizraiem. And she could tell it would be futile. Princes were already trying to pit the gods themselves against one another in the pantheon. And Wenet didn’t want any part of it. So she led her most loyal of followers out. And led them to Willow. A valley, surrounded by tall mountains that look like just another arid wasteland on the outside. But such mountains held treasures for us. And she wanted to enjoy such treasures in peace, without anyone coming to conquer and take them away. That is why if you ever get to go to Willow, it looks like a piece of Mazraiem plucked right out of the Mizraiem Delta and plopped right into the Willow Valley. Because that’s what Wenet did for us, or at least, according to the ancestors. She at first, only transported her temple to Willow. And then, as more and more of Mazriam was taken up by the sands when the Old Kingdom of Mazraiem fell when there was the war of the Pharaohs, and thankfully she got to save some of the better houses and transport them to Willow for us to live in. Now granted the houses were made for the Mazraiem Delta, we’ve made them our own and to suit the weather and conditions in The Willow Valley. She even had all of the priestesses and priests and loyal followers put all of their most precious possessions into the temple itself so that they could flee Mazraiem with only food and clothing and tents for shelter, saying they needed to go out into the wilderness to go on a pilgrimage, and not be stopped. Which, according the ancestors, worked.” Zara-Joy recounted. 

“And then once they were safely out of Mazraiem, Wennet led them to the Valley of Willow herself, where she had already moved all of their houses and their gardens and even made off with one of the Pharaoh’s seed storehouses and his livestock. So for once, we could have our animals, breed and raise them with love and care, slaughter them as they got old to feed ourselves, but not before. Seeds and saplings and vines, so we could plant and grow our own food. And work for no one but ourselves. No more pyramids to build, no more elaborate burial rituals of the pharaohs and other nobles. And no more slavery, no more sacrifices to feed a never ending need to outdo the previous pharaoh before them. Just a place to worship in peace. To not toil under the sun and harvest food for the noble’s table while we were simply given bread and fish and oil, without having to brave crocodiles or hippos to get the fish in the first place.” Zara-Joy recalled with a fond smile. 

“The reason Zakira has the title of Musharif was because her ancestry came from the pharaoh’s household of servants, Musharif was the title held by the head of the banquet feast, making sure every dish that came out of the kitchens, whether it be served to pharaoh or one of his nobles, or guests, would be met with pleasure. And that has not been forgotten. The foods from Zakira’s house since Willow’s founding, have always been the best in all of Willow. She elevates simple, humble ingredients and elevates them to dishes worthy to be used as food offerings to any and every god worthy of them.” Zara-Joy praised. 

“Oh like your own confections do not deserve the same praise?” Zakira offered as she came out of the bathroom redressed in the outfit Zara-Joy had gotten her as Zara smiled while Sulaimon’s breath was practically pulled from his chest. Because Zakira was even more breathtaking. Which he didn’t think could be possible. But here he was, sitting down on the bed with Anna in his arms and smiling in awe while Anna giggled with glee to see her mom’s bashful smile at Zara-Joy’s praise. 

“Sometimes. It depends on the humidity.” Zara-Joy shrugged. 

“Here, I got you…” Zara said before she reached behind her and got out a special Masraiem style arm band that doubled as a bracelet and offered it to her friend as Zakira took it and smiled fondly at it before she put it over her wrist but refused any other makeup or jewelry. 

“Thank you for indulging me. You look beautiful.” Zara-Joy praised. 

“Agreed, very beautiful.” Sulaimon praised with a proud grin and realized as an afterthought that the teal on his own dress clothes matched hers and that made his heart beam with pride and happiness. Zakira spared Sulaimon an appreciative smile and decided to wear the perfume you had gotten her after all, just a small line down the center of her chest. 

Sulaimon tried to hide his deep breath in when he smelled the perfume but Zakira caught it and grinned to herself before she put a couple of the toys into her bag along with a few extra cloth diapers and things into it. 

“Well, dinner should be ready any time now.” Zara-Joy encouraged. 

“Here, let me get that.” Sulaimon offered as he reached out for Anna’s diaper bag to put on and wear for her, so Zakira didn’t have to carry it herself. Zakira got her own flower necklace on and dupatta before leaving with him, taking his arm as he escorted them back to the dining room. When they arrived all the girls and young women gasped softly and reached over to grab their friends, cousins and sisters as they shared an excited look and bright, excited smiles. 

“You look beautiful!” They all told Zakira as she walked by. 

“Thank you, a gift from Joy.” Zakira answered. 

“Aww!” They all fawned before reaching out to feel the silk of her skirt as she passed them. When she was done passing them they looked to Zara-Joy and gave her an appreciative smile for finally succeeding in getting her to wear a color other than black, even if it was just a skirt, it was still a small victory. 

Zakira and Sulaimon sat down at the very long table, and towards the end that had the other young mothers and widows as Sulaimon’s friends were practically doing the same thing he was, holding the daughters of the women they were escorting while they were in Willow. 

Although he could already see and feel all the romantic chemistry going off like fireworks among everyone else while he felt awkward because Zakira was not giving him any indication of any interest in him, other than platonic friendliness, as he felt more resistance than anything. But while he was attracted to her, he would respect that unconscious choice she had made and not pursue anything. But the conversation that Zakira engaged in was telling. She was proud of her home, and she was proud of her orchards and her vineyards and was very much looking forward to the harvest this year. And Sulaimon realized why she was resistant. She didn’t want to give up her freedom, independence and control up, which he could sympathize and empathize with. Because that’s why he had been resistant in the past, because he didn’t want to give up the lifestyle he had learned to like and appreciate up either. He liked his own freedom, independence and control over his own life, and his own finances and while he liked to come home to his family for the family dinners, and while the invitation was always open to move into the large suite of rooms that doubled as a home within his parent’s much larger home, he had liked his bachelorhood. Not that he would go out and stay out all night like he used to as a young cadet and soldier. But, that the option was always there. He liked having the ability to take on any assignment at the drop of a hat because he had no other obligations than his own work ones without a second thought about anything. 

“You’ve been quiet.” Zakira noticed when she noticed that Sulaimon, other than eating and listening to the conversation, didn’t add too much to it. 

“I’m just listening.” Sulaimon offered. 

“And you’re brooding.” Zakira realized. 

“I don’t mean to be.” Sulaimon replied apologetically. 

“No, you’re thinking, I can practically see and hear the gears in your head turning from here. What do you think?” Zakira asked. 

“About what?” Sulaimon asked. 

“Any of it? All of it? Something in particular that’s catching your attention?” Zakira asked. 

“How similar we are.” Sulaimon answered which got Zakira to blink in surprise as a small smile soon spread on her lips. 

“How so?” She asked. 

“You have a home that’s been in your family for generations since Willow’s founding, taken right from Masraiem. Your family, in that time has built up a lot. And you have a responsibility to all of it. To keep it safe and protected for Zeeanna. In Willow, you have full and complete control of everything. Your home, your fields, your vineyards, your orchards, your gardens. And traditions you feel you need to keep alive that have been passed down. And on top of that, you’re raising Anna all on your own when you thought you’d be sharing all of that with, with Zahir. Now you have to do it all by yourself. You’re a stronger person than most. You’ve strengthened your shoulders for such burdens, all while grieving. Most would have crumbled and been crushed by such things. And while you carry those burdens well, doesn’t mean that they’re not heavy. And it’s very admirable.” Sulaimon praised in a low murmur. 

“So how are we similar in that respect?” Zakira asked. 

“I’m the youngest Commander. I’m up for the position of being a General soon. And if I get it, I’ll be the youngest one to do so. It’s a lot of responsibility. And a burden that very few can comprehend, let alone wrap their heads around. You have a family legacy that you are doing everything you can to keep alive. And I can sympathise with that. Where you have fields, and orchards and vineyards, I have entire troops to care for and attend to myself. And I take that responsibility very seriously. And I’ve traded a “traditional” life for the one I have now. I moved out from my parents home as soon as the army could let me. I moved into the barracks and I never moved out. Granted I’ve moved around in the barracks, but other than my uniform and armor, I have all this freedom and independence to do what I want when I want, well, when I’m not following orders myself that is. And so far, I haven’t wanted to give that up for anything. And I don’t know how much Zara-Joy has told you about me. But because I’m a bachelor, I’m always getting set up on blind dates and all they see is decorated soldier, or they see my family’s legacy that everyone else in the family is keeping alive and building and adding onto, but me, because I wanted to have something of my own. And it came with a lot of responsibilities that I’ve had to strengthen my own shoulders to bear too. But I chose this and I chose my path and my job and my career. You haven’t. You haven’t had a choice in taking it all on and doing so all by yourself. You’re officially the strongest person I know.” Sulaimon offered as Zakira’s eyes got glassy but her smile was so sweet because she finally felt seen and felt sympathized and empathized with. 

“It’s a lonely life isn’t it?” Zakira noted.

“It is. On one hand I see all my siblings married with kids and have families. And I know that marital union can bring a lot of happiness. But it can also come with a lot of strife and a lot of problems and complications and obligations. And all my siblings see me and my singleness, and they see my freedom and independence and they get jealous…” Sulaimon confessed. 

“But they don’t see the responsibility and the burden and the loneliness.” Zakira finished for him. 

“Right. Exactly.” Sulaimon nodded. 

“Zara-Joy told me that you get set up on blind dates a lot. And that it’s always with girls who are privileged. And who are either after the glory of your military career, or your family’s status and wealth and think all they have to do is seduce a soldier and then never have to do much of anything else and that all their problems are over and that your family will take care of them. Which is why none of them have worked out. Because you don’t want a girl looking for an easy way out.” Zakira surmised. 

“Right again. Because the older I get, the more I realize that there are huge differences between a girl, a young woman, and a mature woman. The girls always have their heads filled with fairy tales and are looking for the whole, love at first sight, soul mate, perfect match kind of thing, which is honestly setting themselves up for failure. The young women, they are looking for security and looking to use their own beauty, or wealth or influence to get whatever they want, thinking that if they say the right things, do the right things, dress the right way, look the right way, it will come to them. But it’s the mature ones, who realize that if they want a life they want to live and do so happily, they have to build it themselves or someone else will build it for them and they may not like how it’s built for them by someone else. And if they’re going to share what they’ve built with someone, they want it to be the right person who appreciates them and sees the value in what they’ve built and appreciates the work it took to make it that way.” Sulaimon noted as Zakira was impressed that he was mature and smart enough to put that together. 

“I’ve always heard the saying “what are you bringing to the table”. And when I was younger, I thought I had a lot to bring. The older I get, the more I realize that it’s the table itself that’s the most important part. Is the table well made? Is the table made with good and sturdy materials? Was it built with time, and careful effort and planning and actually hand crafted? Or was it just slapped together at the last minute and wonky and unstable and the moment you put anything on it, it’s all gonna slide right off or fall apart at the first test of how much the table can hold. And so far, I like to think I’ve built a decent table for myself. Granted some of the materials used were from my family and the style is similar. But I’ve had to build it none the less. And then once it was built, I’ve had it stacked and piled high and sometimes, feels overflowing and cluttered, when it’s not bare or being rebuilt to handle more and more weight and loads in the first place.” Sulaimon tried to illustrate. 

“Exactly. And if you’re going to join your table with someone else’s, you want the table to be the same height as your own. And you want it to be just as strong and just as well made and just as sturdy as your own. You want help to keep it decluttered, but you don’t want to shove everything you have onto someone else or have everything on someone else’s table shoved onto yours so theirs is cleared for lavish meals while yours is piled high with work.” Zakira surmised. 

“Yes! Exactly right.” Sulaimon practically laughed and beamed because finally, finally, someone understood it. 

“Well, then you’re right. We are very similar and have a lot in common. I always thought my table, was the family’s table. And then when there was no family. Suddenly, I had to take ownership of it. And then realize what was broken, what was needing work and realizing that it’s just too big of a table to handle by myself, when I always thought I’d only be taking up a chair at the end of it. Not the one at the head of it. And the head chair at the head of a big, long table, that’s had generations of crap put onto it, it’s cluttered and disorganized and overwhelming. But if I’m going to adjoin my table with anyone else’s I’d want help with it. And not simply hand it all over so that anyone else can do whatever they want to it, or break it apart and use it for firewood.” Zakira confessed. 

“Or use it as a cutting board. Or take a hacksaw to it and cut it and resize it how they want it, and not realize it’s built that way for a reason. Not for the looks, but for function.” Sulaimon muttered. 

“Or think that it’s all for show and it’s meant to be embellished with fancy engravings and set up to look like it’s always full with a feast, but all the dishes are empty. And it’s never meant to be used or eaten from, always meant to be ornamental.” Zakira murmured back. 

“Exactly. Because, while those fancy and elaborate tables are pretty. That’s all they are. They have no strength, integrity or function besides being looked at for how pretty it is, but the moment you put any kind of weight on it, it’ll fall apart and break.” Sulaimon nodded in agreement. 

“Or one that will look at the feast you’ve made for yourself on that table and help themselves to it, and pull up a chair without an invitation and without bringing a dish to add. And then once they’ve eaten, won’t even help wash any of the dirty dishes or help clean up after either.” Zakira added. 

“Or worse yet, assume that they should sit at the head of that table that you slaved over, making every dish delicious and think they should eat first and eat their fill and leave nothing for the person, who actually made the food in the first place, when in reality, if you’re hungry, work, get ingredients and learn how to cook it yourself. Because the first thing I teach my soldiers is how to cook for themselves and how to forage for themselves and how to tell what is good and safe water or not, or how to clean the water in the first place. Let alone, how to cook. I see more and more incompetence and that incompetence being weaponized because such work is “beneath them”. Which is frankly, stupid. Because if one is hungry, they have two hands, they can make it themselves. And if they still depend on their mothers for such things, they might as well still be in diapers and sucking on their thumbs and not in my army, let alone my platoons.” Sulaimon professed and Zakira’s jaw was practically on the floor as her smile of delight was like sunshine. Because if she had thought Sulaimon was handsome before, he was practically the sexiest man she had ever laid her eyes on since Zahir for having that attitude alone. And she practically had to stop herself from grabbing him by the whiskers and kissing him right there at the table. 

Oh, when Zara-Joy said, that besides, Lomi, Sulaimon was practically the best man in the Crown City, she was not kidding. 

“What?” Sulaimon asked as he looked at her as she seemed to have something turn alight in her.

“I…wow. I completely agree. I want to meet your mom and thank her for raising one hell of a good son. Because I realize you’re a grown man. But yes! A thousand times yes! You have no idea how infuriating that can be! Everyone in Willow, ever since we settled there has always gone on and on and on about how great the food at our home was and always praised my mother for her cooking skills when it wasn’t that at all. My parents were equals in the household and always did everything together. It wasn’t my mother that was doing all the cooking and cleaning. It was both of them doing those things together, both of my parents were always in the kitchen with everyone else, everyone learned how to cook, everyone, once they were weaned, learned how to keep their room clean and then learned how to help make the rest of the house clean. How to mend clothes, how to cook, how to judge whether something was ripe or not. What to look for in ripe or unripe foods and how to pick your spices and how to blend them and grind them, and usually the more delicious the food, the more preparations went into it and how satisfying it is to do the work and then all come around and share a meal that everyone had a hand in making. And doing so as a team that made their marriage and every marriage before, a success. Because that’s part of why Wennet had us break off from Masaier, because she saw how it was the women that did all the work but the men got all the fruitages of their work and assumed that because they worked outside the home, that that exempted them from doing anything in the home. Wow. Just…wow. I’m astounded that we have that much in common. Good for you for figuring that out, and if going through military training is a requirement, I hope you get to teach every man here and far beyond that lesson. Cause that lesson alone will bring them so much peace and pleasure and satisfaction, not only in their tents but especially when they get home and really see how much labor goes into those things.” Zakira praised. 

“Well I mean if you really want to meet her, I can let them know. I’m sure they’d love to meet you and you could exchange recipes if you wanted.” Sulaimon offered. 

“I would love that.” Zakira smiled happily as she finally seemed to lower the last of her guard and for once, ate to her own satisfaction and enjoyed all the flavors of all the various dishes as Sulaimon walked her through the traditional favorites as they bonded over food, and how to cook said food. And especially how to do laundry. And especially about how to be a self-sufficient adult. 

After dinner, there was a series of games played, the biggest one being ‘cahoots’ that after the second round, Sulaimon was quick to catch on what the key was before Zakira let him whisper what he thought it was into her ear as she nursed Anna on a nearby couch, using her dupatta to maintain some modesty as Sulaimon was happy to sit next to her and help tuck it around her and between them so that Anna could nurse in peace and Zakira could do so with some modesty, which Zakira really appreciated. 

“Yup. You got it.” Zakira smiled happily that he caught on that fast as his whisper sent a delightful shiver down her body. 

“Sorry, whiskers.” Sulaimon apologized when he saw her skin break out in gooseflesh. 

“It’s ok.” Zakira waived off as now she really just enjoyed the sound of his voice as her imagination of how his mouth would feel on her skin while she felt a bit guilty about the thought and fantasy before she hissed a gasp and clenched her jaw before she pulled the cover out to fix her daughter with a look. 

“You bite- you’re done.” Zakira threatened Anna who didn’t seem to like that her view of Sulaimon was obstructed as she looked from her mother to Sulaimon. 

“Anna, no biting Mommy. You bite her, you’re not gonna nurse. Mommy’s body worked hard to make that milk. Don’t bite her.” Sulaimon repeated as he peeked in and locked gazes with her too. 

Anna’s eyes got a bit wide as she then looked from him to her mom with a look of shock. 

“Yeah, you need to listen. We mean it. If you’re hungry, eat. But if you’re gonna bite, you’re not gonna nurse and I’ll just wean you early. I’m not having you bite me on the one of two places you can get milk from.” Zakira leveled before Anna seemed to take a minute to think it over before she picked up nursing.

“Thanks for backing me up.” Zakira thanked him. 

“Of course, always. A mother knows best right?” Sulaimon offered with an easy smile. 

“Yeah, but it’s always great to have back up and support. You have a really nice balance between soft but still firm and authoritative tone to your voice.” Zakira praised. 

“Comes with years of practice and imitating my brothers and brothers in law and my dad.” Sulaimon chuckled softly. 

“Oh, so not something you learned in the army?” Zakira gently teased. 

“No. I learned many things in the army. And I’ve fought my battles. But I’ve also watched my nieces and nephews and it was practically mutiny, because it was just me against at least a dozen of them. I was outmatched and outnumbered and they knew it and took full advantage at first. Thankfully my brothers and brothers in law and my dad have helped me since as well as my sisters and sisters in law. How to be firm, but not harsh. How to be patient but not a pushover. How to be kind but not do them the disservice of spoiling them to the point that they think they’re the masters and thinking they’re in charge and you’re their servant to do their bidding. That doesn’t work. That the parent, or in my case, the adult- and uncle was. I can command a legion of a thousand soldiers, no problem, and lead them head first into battle, no sweat. A dozen kids all at once? It’s a juggling act, only you’re juggling swords that are all out of balance, and on fire and everything is made of paper. A disaster in the making. Just…chaos. No order, all anarchy and mutiny. Well, at first. The more I do it, the better I get at it. Now, it can get a bit hectic, but not as chaotic as it was at first. It was a lesson in humility, I’ll tell you that. I thought I was pretty hot stuff when I made Captain and had my own troop of a hundred soldiers. But that was nothing, those kids brought me to my knees and practically begging for mercy and trying to turn myself into a eunuch just so I wouldn’t have any myself.” Sulaimon readily confessed which got Zakira to laugh. 

“Did you succeed? Did you actually go through with it and chop your own balls off?” Zakira asked in that same teasing tone which got Sulaimon to grin and grow just a bit bashful.  

“No. Tempted. But no. But once I learned how to be the adult in charge and how to wield my authority over those kids without making all of them cry and sob for being too harsh or sharp in tone with them, it got better. And then once I showed them, I was in charge and proved I was in charge and that they could scream and cry all they wanted, I wasn’t going to budge and give them an inch because I knew they could take a mile, and got to talk it out and help them use their words instead of their mouths or claws to express themselves, then it got much better. I’m pretty sure half my battle scars are from them anyway.” Sulaimon revealed. 

“Well at least for Anna’s sake, you’ve learned that much at least.” Zakira offered before Anna drained that breast and began to climb to the other. 

“Ok, ok, hold your horses.” Zakira placated as she put one breast away and readjusted herself to put Anna to the other breast to nurse as Sulaimon tried to help her change her dupatta to keep her modest. 

“Would you mind putting your arm up and around my shoulders?” Zakira asked before he readily lifted his arm simply had her lean into his side before he, oh so gently and slowly let his arm settle around her shoulders before she seemed to relax and use his arm as a head rest as she led her head rest over his well muscled arm as her eyelids got heavier and heavier. 

“Do you need to lay down?” He asked. 

“Nah, just…I get tired every time she nurses.” Zakira admitted. 

“The night is young. Once everyone figures out cahoots, then it’s on to…psh…any number of games. It’s when I’m waiting for Bullshit.” Zakira smiled as her eyes closed serenely. 

“Excuse me?” Sulaimon asked. 

“Oh it’s where you tell two truths and a lie. And everyone else has to figure out which is the line of bullshit, or the lie. It’s really fun, because the more you go, you can’t use the same three things, and then you really have to get creative to use in the game. And some people are easy to read and you can very easily tell which one is the lie.” Zakira offered. 

“But you should ace that game. Humans have very expressive faces. You should catch on pretty quick, cause everyone has their little things that either they do with their faces or tells in what they do or how they hold themselves. Others, you’d swear all of them are the truth and others you’re pretty sure all of them are the lie. It works best when there’s alcohol involved because then the truths and the lies get more outlandish. But then that’s when you really get to the really good stuff too.” Zakira smiled as she relaxed and breathed a breath of relief to finally get the overfull ache from her breasts from milk released. 

“Well, then I’ll give you a secret to use against us rakshasi, kajit and tabaxi and catfolk in general.” 

“Ears and tail thwaps?” Zakira guessed. 

“Well, yeah, there’s subtleties to it. And yes, there’s expressions in both. Body language, posture and fidgeting tell on us just as much.” Sulaimon divulged. 

“So that thwapping that guy is doing with his tail on the floor over there, that’s irritation and frustration?” Zakira guessed as she didn’t even bother opening her eyes, just turned her head and nodded to the sound before settling back in. 

“Yup.” He admitted before Zakira cracked an eye open. 

“Black tiger with white stripes, his tail is rattling like a rattle snake. What’s that?” She asked as she nodded over to him. 

“Oh that’s excitement and happiness.” Sulaimon revealed. 

“And the one with lazy flicking, boredom?” Zakira guessed. 

“That or thinking, usually serious thought.” Sulaimon gently corrected. 

“Ah, so what are you seriously thinking about then?” Zakira asked once she noticed Sulaimon’s tail do the same as it laid next to him and the tip slowly flicked back and forth. 

“What I want to make you for lunch or dinner when we go to my parent’s house whenever I get the message to them.” 

“Mmm. I see.” Zakira nodded as she closed her eyes again. 

“What should I bring?” She asked. 

“Nothing, you’d be the guest.” 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it. I don’t eat at tables where I’m not allowed to add anything to. If your parents open up their home, I should be a gracious guest right? How do I do that?” Zakira asked. 

“Show up.” He admitted. 

“And?” Zakira prodded as Sulaimon took a deep breath in and slowly let it exhale as he had to think about it as the flicking of his tail got a little faster. 

“Honestly, they’d be happy to meet you and have you and show their own hospitality. So, you really don’t need to bring anything but yourself and Anna.” Sulaimon repeated. 

“Fine, spice mix it is, I’ll put strip peppers in it.” Zakira replied with a shrug and a smug grin. 

“Oh no, Zara-Joy already had me try those. Way too spicy for the kids.” Sulaimon quickly shook his head no, while his eyes went wide with fear. 

“There’s more than one kind. Some of them are as sweet as cherry tomatoes, others are the spiciest thing to put in your mouth and would tempt you to strip your clothes off and in your case, shave your fur off. I’d use the mild ones. They have just enough kick to tingle the lips but not burn. But they have really good flavor. Of course, I guess I could just give them some seeds to them too, if the kids eat the spice level that tonights meal was served at, they’ll like it just fine, if anything I think the kids would giggle to feel the tingle.” She mused. 

“Ok, that would be quite good then. They would love that.” Sulaimon had to admit. 

“Figured.” She grinned before Anna finished nursing and was halfway into Suliamon’s chest before Zakira could even get her breast back into her top, but Sulaimon was ready and able to get her with his one free arm. 

“There, better now you got a full belly?” He asked as he let her sit on his arm and use her arms up on his chest before he noticed the milk still around her mouth began to drip down, and without thinking, he licked her mouth clean which got Anna to squeal and wiggle and bounce in delight while Sulaimon tried not to get milk drunk himself because while he was nursed as a baby, he hadn’t gotten any since weaning and Zakira’s was…way too delicious. 

But the act got Zakira to laugh as she finished putting her breast and pulled the dupatta off from being wrapped around her chest and moved the pillow that Anna had laid on to keep her arms from having to hold Anna’s full weight while she drank. 

“Good?” Zakira asked Sulaimon before his ears laid down bashfully. 

“Yeah, it’s milk.” Sulaimon sheepishly offered with a shrug. 

“Mmmhmm.” Zakira hummed as she giggled through her nose. 

“Whose ready for Bullshit?” Zakira asked the group that was still in a circle in the living room. 

“I am!” All of the visitors from Willow began before Zakira got in and sat down on the pillow she had been using for Anna as the group let them into the circle as Sulaimon sent a message home that he would be bringing his protectee, Zakira and her daughter over to the house for a meal. 

“You go first Zakira.” They urged her. 

“Ok, 1. Anna has never pooped and threw up on me at the same time. 2. My house has the pantheon of Marsaier’s gods carved and painted on the walls. 3. There were 177 dunes of sand visible from the north side of the road between Willow and The Crown City.” 

“Three’s bullshit!” Almost all of them answered. 

“Nope. One. Anna was only four months old when she puked and pooped on me in bed at the same time.” Zakira proudly proclaimed as everyone laughed while groaning at the same time at how disgusting that was. 

“Why’d you count the dunes?” Sulaimon asked. 

“Boredom.” Zakira shrugged. 

“Your turn.” Zakira urged Sulaimon. 

“Oh um. 1. I was the youngest captain and youngest commander to be appointed in King Amit’s Army. 2. I have been on over 100 blind dates since I was appointed as a Captain that never resulted in a second date, 3 is… I have 216 weapons, six sets of armor but only 4 sets of the army uniform.” He proposed. 

“Number 2 is bullshit.” Most of them suggested. 

“Nah, I’m calling 3 bullshit, there’s no way you only have four sets of the uniform. But I believe all the other numbers are correct.” Zakira said. 

“That’s true. I only have three sets of the uniform.” Sulaimon admitted. 

“How?!” All the other soldiers asked. 

“Less to wash and dry myself. Otherwise my rank is a pin to pin into the shoulders of the regular uniform.” Sulaimon shrugged. 

“How do you have 216 weapons?!” Most of the people of Willow asked. 

“Yes.” Sulaimon confirmed. 

“Why so many sets of armor?” The others asked. 

“Well, there’s the regular training armor, the testing armor, the official deployment armor, which comes with a spare and then a formal fancy set for official ceremonies and then the last one is worn specifically for coronations.” Sulaimon listed off. 

“Why only three sets of the uniform?” Zakira asked. 

“One being worn, the second is dirty and in soapy water, soaking so the dirt and dust gets out of it before I can finish washing them when I’m done training for the day, the second is already up and drying in the sun, ready to be worn the next day.” Sulaimon smiled proudly.

“Simplicity and complexity, I like it.” Zakira smiled approvingly. 

“Thanks.” He nodded before he got a message back from his parents. 

“What’s that? New marching orders?” Zakira asked. 

“No, I sent a message home about your interest in meeting my mother. They want to have you over for lunch or even dinner tomorrow.” Sulaimon offered. 

“Oh, uh, which is better for them?” Zakira asked. 

“Either or, your choice.” Sulaimon. 

“Lunch is more informal.” Zakira decided. 

“Lunch it is then.” Sulaimon nodded and wrote down her reply and gave it back to the messenger. 

“I’ll need to go to the Spice District tomorrow morning then.” Zakira urged him. 

“We will definitely do that then.” Sulaimon readily agreed. 

After games, they all started to get sleepy and Sulaimon walked Zakira, the moment they tried to part, Anna began to cry like she was being tortured in between trying to nurse to go to bed. 

So once she had nursed her fill but still cried incessantly, Zakira finally caved and called Sulaimon into the room. 

“Sulaimon, Help.” Zakira said tiredly as she was sitting in bed, propped up by pillows and was near tears herself because of how exhausted she was from the rollercoaster of the ride the day was. 

“I got her.” Sulaimon reassured her as he quickly slipped into the room, the only sign he had done so, being the white of his shorts and the way the light reflected off of the back of his iris’ as he fought not to practically get into bed with her and hold her too. So he picked Anna up from Zakira’s arms and pulled her into his own as her cries started to lesson considerably. 

“Sweetheart, it’s time for bed. Come on now. Your Mommy’s had a very long and tiring day. We need to sleep.” He said before he cradled Anna into his own chest as Sulaimon paced the room, making sure to stay in the low lights coming into it from the windows so that Zakira could still watch him if she felt she needed to as he just kept purring, rocking and humming to Anna as Zakira gave him an appreciative smile and rearranged the pillows to simply lay back and tried to get some rest in the bed, even as attractive as the sight of a half naked Sulaimon was in the low moonlight. 

Anna fought sleep and kept an iron grip on his fur on his chest and neck in her fists and refused to let go, even in light sleep. But Sulaimon was undeterred and kept with it, keeping his humming soft and kept his purring loud enough to settle Anna further into sleep as he walked around the room but mostly stayed to the foot of the bed. Once Anna finally slipped into deeper sleep and finally loosened her grip did he pull her hands off of his fur and kissed them sweetly nonetheless before kissing her temple as he changed his hold on her carefully so that she was laying down in his arms rather then on his chest but kept her close to make sure she wouldn’t wake up, she still turned and curled up to his chest, even in sleep and tried to grab at the shorter fur of his chest. But once she slipped back into a deep sleep again, her hold fading again, did he finally stop humming the lullaby’s his mother always sang and hummed to him and his siblings growing up. 

“There. Get some sleep Zakira.” He breathed as he passed her back into Zakira’s hold in the bed. 

“Thank you Sulaimon.” She thanked him as she grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it gratefully as she put Anna snuggly next to her in the bed and curled her whole body around her daughter. 

Sulaimon smiled softly and fondly before he left the room and closed the new door as quietly and softly as he could. 

Then he pulled a blanket and a pillow and pulled the chaise lounge that was at the bottom of his own bed and put it right on the other side of the door, not wanting to be any farther than he had to be from them as he kept an ear out for any noise inside the room. 

Once he was asleep himself Wennet herself, taking the form of a lilac bunny, seemed to slip into the room by shadows. She considered him and was pleased by his efforts to be respectful to Zakira and mindful of her needed space yet protective enough to even guard her door at night and granted him very restful sleep, even as little of it that he would be getting. That even though he would only be sleeping for a handful of hours, that his sleep would be as restful and restorative to him as if he would be getting more than a dozen and granted him very pleasant dreams and hints at his future so he would remained patient, kind, and focused during the day. She also granted the same to Zakira, sensing how much Zakira needed the same while also blessing her with pleasant, enlightening and inspiring dreams as well so that her heart and mood would be lightened and she would be much more conducive to letting go of her pain, sorrow, anger and hurt and actually accept Sulaimon’s attention and affection and love and return it and come back to her former, happier self before she slipped out of the room and went around to the others who had come to The Crown City from Willow. It wasn’t too long before Anna had woken up as well and started to fuss which immediately woke up Sulaimon, his eyes snapping open and he immediately sat up and moved to get up and back into the room but then he heard Zakira’s gentle singing and humming and he couldn’t help but gasp softly at it’s ethereal beauty. Then he paid close attention to hear that she was humming and singing the same lullabies that Sulaimon had sung earlier. But coming from her, they sounded better than they ever could have. His heart melted as he swooned and laid back down, now that Anna had quieted down and let Zakira’s voice lull him back to sleep.

[kanohirren]

How to Make Rendog in DnD

I’ll go level by level and explain the reasoning behind my decisions and how I think it fits them in character. This build assumes starting at level 8 but includes notes on differences if you start at level 1 and progress to 8. This is not intended as a guide on how to play dnd, just how to build this character. I also don't explain every feature, but I may briefly touch on it and explain my reasoning for taking it.

Class: Barbarian 5 (Path of the Beast)/Bard 3 (College of Swords)

Race: Shifter (closest to an official dog race in 5e)

Base Ability Scores:

Str 15 (+2) + 1 from race = 16 (+3)

Dex 10 (+0)

Con 14 (+2) +2 from race = 16 (+3)

Int 8 (-1)

Wis 10 (+0)

Cha 14 (+2)

Background: Folk Hero

Ren is a strong player with a good track record when it comes to pvp in the life series. What he lacks in game knowledge he makes up for with pure charisma, being able to swing many people to his side (renpire, shadow alliance). Depending on how you look at it, he really is a hero to some (especially martyn) and knows how to make a good show.

Before we get into the class features, here’s the race and background ones.

Shifter:

Bestial Instincts: Skill proficiency. Choose Athletics.

Darkvision 60ft.

Shifting: Become more beast-like as a bonus action and gain temp HP. Become doggier.

Shifter type: choose Swiftstride to be fast, but if you want tankiness then Beasthide is also a good option. Barbarians often struggle with movement speed which is the main reason for choosing Swiftstride.

Folk Hero Background:

Skill Proficiencies: Animal Handling, Survival

Tool Proficiencies: Any Artisan’s tools, land vehicles.

Rustic Hospitality: Common people like you and will help you.

Shifters get to choose their animal ancestry and traits, so you can choose to be a dog. Longtooth is usually the default option for dog (the other options are associated with other animals) but the feature is quite useless in this build, which is why we pick one of the other ones.

Time for class levels! At 1st lvl, we start with barbarian, which grants us:

Proficiency in Light and medium armour, shields

Proficiency in simple and martial weapons

Proficiency in Strength and Constitution saving throws.

Skill proficiencies: choose Intimidation and Perception

Rage: Core barbarian feature. Hit harder and soak more hits. Keep in mind you cant use spells while raging, which will matter after multiclassing.

Unarmored Defense: Add your Con to your AC if you have no armour. Goes well with being a bard…

The red king Ren was very vicious kind of king who goes to war leading his troops rather than hiding in the backline. Barbarian is a perfect class for Ren who is both very good at and goes unga bunga on occasion. Keep in mind both Shifting and Raging are bonus actions, so you have to use them on different turns. The temp HP gets doubled value vs weapon damage if you’re raging because of resistance, so it might be usually better to rage first but it also depends.

At 2nd lvl, we continue with barbarian and will do so up to lvl 5.

Danger Sense: Advantage on dex saves against things you can see. Very useful for avoiding traps.

Reckless Attack: Advantage on your attacks is always good to have if you don’t mind taking more hits.

These features fit Ren perfectly too since he is pretty good at surviving and avoiding traps (unless a stalactite is involved) and in combat he can go pretty wild.

At 3rd lvl, we get:

Subclass: Path of the Beast

Path of the Beast gives:

Form of the Beast: When you Rage, you get an extra bestial trait to be even more dog-like. Bite gives you healing at low hp, claw gives you an extra attack and tail gives you extra ac. All fairly useful in different situations.

Now Ren becomes even more doggy. I always envisioned Ren being more of an axe-wielding barbarian, but these are still good to have. Keep in mind you choose the trait when you rage and can’t change it until a new rage, so choose the right one for the situation (low hp? Bite for healing. Two claw attacks actually deals more damage than the axe because you add your strength mod twice. Tail is good for avoiding hits or hitting something barely out of reach.)

At 4th lvl, we get:

Ability Score Improvement OR Feat: Take the Ability Score improvement and bump your Strength up to 18 (+4).

The extra strength helps everywhere as a barbarian.

At 5th lvl, we get:

Extra Attack (more damage! Woo!)

Fast Movement: an extra 10 ft. of move speed if you aren’t wearing heavy armour which you can’t really use as a barbarian anyway.

If you took Swiftstrider at the start, you’ll now have a whopping 50 ft. of walking speed, which is pretty dang fast. You’ll be able to run across deserts in no time.

At 6th lvl, we begin multiclassing with a level in bard, which grants us:

Musical Instrument Proficiency: Choose a Horn.

Skill Proficiency: Choose Persuasion

Bardic Inspiration: Increase chances of success. Not a spell, so you can use it during rage.

Two Cantrips: Choose Message (whisper chat msgs) and Minor Illusion (fun spell)

Four 1st lvl spells: Speak with Animals, Identify, Charm Person and Color Spray.

Now we get to the more… seductive side of Ren. Ren’s a really fun person but is also known to be a little on the less PG side of things if you know what I’m saying (not to mention the fact that as a barbarian with unarmored defense… fully exposed while being beheaded). I also tried to pick spells that are more useful outside of combat since he can’t cast spells while raging.

At 7th lvl, we take a second level of Bard, which grants us:

Jack of All Trades: Half-proficiency in all ability checks is good.

Song of Rest: Listen to Ren sing Britney during a short rest and heal up extra good.

One more spell: Command (Kneel before your king!)

Jack of All Trades will make up for some of Ren’s poorer stat checks now.

At 8th lvl, we take a third level of Bard, which grants us:

Expertise in Two Skills: Choose Persuasion (man literally persuaded people to go to war) and Athletics (good in general for strength builds).

2nd lvl spells: See Invisibility (doesn’t use concentration)

Subclass: College of Swords

College of Swords grants us:

Bonus Proficiencies: Medium Armor and Scimitars. Redundant because we get that from Barbarian.

Fighting Style: Choose Dueling and use a battle axe with a shield.

Blade Flourish: Even more movement speed when you attack, and the flourish options are all useful on top of the extra damage they provide (more ac, knockback and aoe damage). The go-to would probably be Defensive Flourish to stack with your Tail. If you chose Beasthide Shifter, your AC will go even higher.

Flourishes are especially useful because they aren’t spells and they don’t take any action economy. This is a surprisingly good synergy between a barbarian and a bard multiclass, especially since you get access to a fighting style with this subclass for some extra damage consistency.

Summary:

Final Stats:

Str 18 (+4)

Dex 10 (+0)

Con 16 (+3)

Int 8 (-1)

Wis 10 (+0)

Cha 14 (+2)

Two Attacks

Battle axe attack: +4 (str) +3 (prof. bonus) = +7 to hit, 1d8 + 4 + 2 (dueling) slashing dmg.

Three Bardic Inspirations

Cantrips: Message, Minor Illusion

1st lvl spells: Speak with Animals, Identify, Color Spray, Charm Person, Command

2nd lvl spells: See Invisibility

In summary, lots of combat power (as is fitting for the Red King himself) and a decent amount of Bard utility. A similar build to Scar’s, though more towards the combat end of the spectrum.

And that’s it for Ren! I think I managed to capture a bit of his savagery but also his fun and charming side into this build. He’s built for combat but he’s also quite good in social situations and he’s gonna be a tough nut to crack!

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 8: Mean as a Snake

December 1874

San Francisco, California

His father’s hand was hard on his shoulder, but then, it always was.  But at least this time it was a grip to get attention.  “Now, Arthur,” he said, “you know what to do.”

“But…”  Arthur shook his head, looking at the row of horses in the stable.  This was no hayseed town in the middle of nowhere.  This was a bustling city, and it felt like eyes were everywhere for most things.  They’d been living mostly off his pickpocketing for the three weeks since they’d gotten here, because the opportunities for that were much greater.  Kids especially seemed invisible, it seemed.  But he’d sensed–and felt the effects of–his father’s rage growing higher and higher with each passing day with no score of his own, and with the food dwindling.  Especially with the winter cold that cut through both of them.  Lyle Morgan was mean as a snake at the best of times, and mean as the devil himself at the worst.  This had slid more towards the worst, no question.

“I don’t think it’s a good score, Daddy.  There’s too many folk about.”  Stealing a horse?  That was so visible compared to lifting something from a shop stall, or even his daddy luring someone into an alley to relieve them of their money.  And of course he knew his father’s eye had fallen on some of the best of the lot, and the sight of the shaggy, shabby man riding a prize horse?  No, that wouldn’t cause any attention at all, would it?  Where did his father think they would sell that horse anyway?  They’d have to go clear across the city at least.

“I don’t ask what you think, stupid boy,” Lyle hissed, his grip hardening, twisting into Arthur’s shoulder, fingers digging in sharply.  “We’d both have starved years gone already, if we left it up to your brains.  Now keep watch and do as you’re told.”  He let go, and left Arthur to watch the ends of the lane behind the saloon.

He rubbed his shoulder, knowing it would bruise come morning.  Tucked himself back against the wall a ways down from the horses and scanned one end of the lane, and then the other, keeping a careful eye out for anyone looking their way.  Knowing also he’d be expected to draw any attention away if it did come.  Oh, he knew his job, all right.

He never could say, in all the years to come whether some part of him had actually wanted it to happen and stayed silent, whether it was sudden terror that came over him, or whether it was just pure shitty luck that made it happen.  Maybe all three.  But a policeman passed by, and peered down the alleyway, and before Arthur knew it, he’d raised the alarm, blowing his whistle.  A shrill sound pierced the winter night.  Ignored the boy against the wall, like most people did, and went right to the man struggling with the reins of the pretty chestnut mare.

Arthur stood, and saw it all happen.  Nothing he could do.  He couldn’t fight an armed policeman, and there was no distraction at this point that would work.  But he didn’t run away either.  If his pa got loose, and Arthur had run…God, the beating he’d take for that would make every other one look like a lark.  His father didn’t look at him, but he said, voice laced with raw fury, “You useless little shit.  You couldn’t even do that one thing right, could you?”  Said it in Welsh, so the policeman didn’t understand, and Arthur couldn’t know if he’d done that deliberately to not call attention to the boy standing there, or merely just him reverting to his native tongue in his rage.  “They’ll hang me for this, and on your head be it.”   

Arthur knew.  Horse theft was no joke.  But he couldn’t do much with the thought that this here was the end of it for Lyle Morgan, that Arthur’s own life would now never be the same.  Couldn’t do much of anything.  Felt like his mouth and his legs and his mind all had frozen right there, and all he could do was watch.

The lawman replied, “Yeah, whatever.  Tell it to the judge,” hauling Lyle upright and forcing him to walk down the alley.  

Arthur watched them go, and it was only minutes later that it felt like his trembling legs unfroze enough for him to finally run.  Where to, he didn’t know.  Only away, and that would have to be enough for the moment.

[untethereddreams]

Stone Soup

[Story starts below the ~~~ if you wanna skip the commentary/updates]

Guess who finally had enough spoons to type up the second sample story for the translation project! First story can be found here. If you want to be tagged for future updates please interact with the original project post or comment/message me to be added to the list! I seem to be on an up-swing right now so hopefully the first new translation piece, based on the stories behind the 36 Military Tactics collection of folk knowledge, will be done soon!

This story was another piece I wrote that was intended for oral storytelling at a specific event, hence the mention of a menu. I could have reworked the intro to cut that out but it would have taken more spoons than I have at the moment. Since this was intended as a performance piece the pacing and wording is a bit different from my purely written works. Still, it’s a story from my childhood that I'm excited to share with you all (historical accuracy not guaranteed, I’m literally telling it the way I remember it)

~~~

When I first saw that stone soup was on the menu it stuck with me: I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it the more I knew that there was a different story I needed to tell, a story about a different kind of soup and how it led to the creation of a city.

Growing up, I’ve only heard one person, my father, tell this story, and it is in fact a tale told only by the inhabitants of my home town Xining, the capital of Qinghai, a province caught between Mongolia and Tibet. Until very recently it was an out-of-the-way place renowned only for its proximity to other things, so you can imagine what it was like a long, long time ago, before the city’s creation, all the way back in the Ming dynasty when this story takes place.

It was the Emperor’s birthday and the capital city of Nanjing was gearing up for a celebration like no other. Everywhere you looked decorations abounded and delicious smells permeated the streets. What you didn’t see were the brightest inhabitants of each street, for they were shut away, wracking their brains in secrecy for the glory of their neighborhood. The Emperor had declared that there shall be a Picture Puzzle contest in his honour and every street and neighborhood in the city was to participate. He, his Empress, and his concubines would judge the entries and the winner would receive honour beyond imagine.

One by one, the streets hung up their puzzles and government officials and peasants alike thronged the streets, gawking and guessing at solutions. Soon, one puzzle in particular drew the Emperor’s attention, but what rained down upon its creators was not honour but retribution, for all the Emperor saw in that clever, colourful painting were insults against his beloved Empress. Back then Emperors were akin to Gods, and the wrath of a God is a terrible thing indeed. In his rage, he ordered the entire street banished to the hinterlands at the very borders of the kingdom.

That night, as the oblivious city celebrated around them, every body on that street, no matter how young or old, packed what they could carry and fled from the guards. Fled from their homes. And so, they began their shameful journey to the end of their world and beyond.

It was a long, arduous journey across increasingly desolate landscapes. They sought help whenever they could, but people were wary of drawing the Emperor’s wrath so help was few and far between. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and as the miles piled on snow began to fall. Soon, it was Chinese New Year Eve, the biggest celebration of the year, full of light and warmth and hope: foreign concepts now to this ragged band of unfortunates. Soul-weary and despairing, they huddled around a tiny fire and began to give up.

But as the children began to cry, the adults roused themselves. They all still had to eat. Someone produced a pot; they stuffed it full of snow and set it to boil. Someone else found their last hunk of dried meat and dropped it inside. One by one, the people gave what little they had to the pot, and as they watched the dancing flames and steam their spirits rose and they were, for that night, creatures of light and warmth and hope once more.

They shared the soup just as they shared their hardships, and when the fire died and dawn broke the horizon the warmth remained. Eventually they came to the foot of the Himalayas, the end of an almost 2000 km trek, and settled there. That settlement became a town, the town became a city, and the city became a metropolis, but those first families never forgot. Every New Years they would gather, make that soup again, and pass on the story of that darkest night, but though they were now warmer and their ingredients richer they could never match the taste of that first pot of soup.

[butchbarbieagainstterfs]

not going on anon because fuck it. i am SO sick of terfs and radfems or whatever the fuck they want to call themselves whining about how abortion bans only target women and how the abortion ban is apparently queer/trans people's fault when trans people have been WARNING PEOPLE SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE ANTI TRANS LAW THAT ABORTION AND GAY RIGHTS WILL BE NEXT. people have fucking TOLD them that it's about control and taking away bodily autonomy from marginalized groups of people. we have been saying again and AGAIN that these topics are ALL LINKED but they plugged their ears and refused to listen. and now it's come so far! we're here now and it's THEIR fault because they didn't fucking listen! how many fucking times will people have to suffer until they get it through their thick skulls huh???? jesus CHRIST i'm boiling with rage. like y'all did this!!!!! don't come bitching about it and blaming us when we were aware of it from the start!!!!!!

“but…but girl have xx and vee vee!! boy has xy and pee pee!! 😤😤😤😤”

reminder: this was leaked like a month ago now and rather than making noise about it, many radfems continued to devote their time demanding people define what a woman is and doing pointless shit purely to try and rile up trans folk.

within the first 24 hours of roe v wade being overturned, I saw one terf showing her lack of care about it by saying “tell it to biden” and at least one other, possibly multiple, spent their time harassing me in my inbox about genitals and a condition they do not fucking have and I do. whereas every single trans person I saw was posting about roe v wade and sharing resources about it and that was their primary focus.

[blacksupremacy86]

X-Men: Brainwave

Part 1 - 2

Professor Xavier using the help of cerebral is searching for this unknown source of pure mutant power.

Using my cue to summon my body into a red fiery raging bolt of electricity through the center of the system.

Professor Xavier is lost the moment I enter the cerebral main frame system hitting him.

The brainwave of electrical current surges high within him and his body flails falling forward.

He wakes up from being knocked up on the chair completely mind wipe with only his name.

“Professor Xavier? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, who are you?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I am your Master Charles surrender and obey.”

“Yes, Master Lawrence”

“How may I serve you?”

“Charles use your ability to transfer it to magneto.”

“Magnus, you must listen to me”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“OBEY…OBEY…OBEY”

“No Charles”

“STOP”

“No resistance”

“I will not give in”

“Yes, Master Lawrence”

Part 3 - 4

Professor X on my right and Magneto on the left of my throne plan our attacks.

“Attack the mansion immediately”

“Only let the X-men males survive”

“Yes Master”

“Master as you wish”

“Mwahahahahaha”

At the mansions they both sneak in easily no alarm sounds off.

They are cornering Morph with ease they tie him up and strap him down.

“Hold him Magnus”

“Quickly Charles”

“Soon you will be blissfully happy Morph I promise.”

Morphs has his orders transforming into him Mr. law and order.

“Not now pretty boy”

“Fuck off”

“What did you say to me?”

“I said Fuck off”

“That’s if I have had enough you”

“You want some of this”

“I fought with Cap in the war”

“I burn you alive”

“Nnnnrrrraaa”

“Surprise”

“Professor no, stop entering my mind aaahhhh. Why?”

Part 5 - 6

In the danger room Cyclops is evading and retaliating at Gambit.

Who is throw cards at him left, right and his axis in the center.

“You are going down Gambit”

“This is not a game”

“Oh no no”

“It is mon ami”

“Stop playing games”

“Just a bit of style”

“Cyclops look out

A bomb drops into the room exploding upon impact and hitting them.

“Master”

“Master Lawrence”

Part 7 - 8

Deadpool is on a trail of a renegade mutant in Germany.

This rub down old facility has been hijacked. by a ex mutant group.

He hoist himself over the gate onto the main grounds making a run for it.

“You see folks this is how jump the fence.”

“Get it? Get it?”

“Nobody appreciates the art of comedy any more.”

Deadpool freaks out at the sight of the blue hide nightcraler appearing.

“What on earth are you doing here blueberry?”

“Follow me”

It’s too late the facility goes on lock down and the ground starts to lower.

“We are trapped. Damn it”

Part 9 - 10

Beast receives a destress call from his pal and ally Colossus.

“Colossus?”

“Glad you could join me”

“Are you laughing?”

“You said you were in imminent danger.”

“Speak my friend”

“What was so dire?”

“Your demise Beast”

“I don’t understand”

“All things shall pass”

“That’s not phrase that goes down well”

“Too bad, hold still Mwahahahahaha”

The end

[jayne-hecate-writer]

Goth Dad and Vision Video Live in Bristol

With the global state of LGBTQ+ rights being rather shite at the moment, it is occasionally nice to come across something that affirms the right for rainbow people to simply exist and I found one of these things recently and was then rather taken with the character of Goth Dad.

Dusty Gannon created the character for Tictok and Instagram with the intent to share a message of kindness and support to young Goth kids and to be honest, us older Goth kids too. The words of kindness he shared were beautiful and I started to look for more of his kindness and wisdom in the short films and quickly discovered that Goth Dad was the singer of the American Goth band Vision Video.

For many years it has been easier to say to folks who meet me for the first time that I am a Goth, rather than trying to explain the intricacies of Heavy Metal culture. After all my first love is extreme metal, mainly in the form of Black Metal from bands such as Emperor, Enslaved and Akercocke. Already I can see that some of you want to discuss the differences between Black Metal Art, Viking Black Metal and Blackened Death Metal, but lets just make it easy and stick it all under the easily pigeonholed title of “Fokkin Goffic!” to quote the abusive thugs who enjoyed shouting at me as I wandered the dark streets of Plymouth in the late 1990s, before they swapped to “Fokkin Tranny!” Ahh, the vigorous repartee of the average urban 1990s thug, draped in his Burberry tracksuit while smoking Happy Shopper fags!

So back to my original point, I will identify as Gothic when asked, because I tend to wear a lot of black, often with funny make up and appear somehow Vampiric. The fact is though that I do enjoy the occasional Goth band, such as Siouxsie and the Banshees, Fields of the Nephilim, The Sisters of Mercy and The Cure. Pictures of You, by The Cure is one of the most beautiful songs ever written and everything ever sung by Siouxsie Sioux is pure magic. However Fields of the Nephilim have that dark post apocalyptic feel that makes me want to curl up and die in blissful soundscapes, with the track 'Trees come down' being my particular favourite. So when I found Vision Video, a fairly minor pop Goth band from America, I was happy to give them a listen. What I heard combined the wisdom of Goth Dad with the sadness of American societal despair at school shootings, huge economic inequality, almost constant war and a lack of health care into something beautiful. Despite the poppy sounding music, the themes have a serious message and strong heart, especially when the content of the song drops into the personal experiences of the singer's military service in Afghanistan.

I bought the first album, 'Inked in Red' almost instantly and played it nearly constantly. It reminded of the the very best parts of The Cure, mixed with the best parts of Siouxsie and with hints of Joy Division thrown in too. It remains a beautiful little record, with several high lights among the tracks. However the track Kandahar mixes beauty with a deep rage over the horror of the war in Afghanistan and the slaughter of those caught between the combatants. Let us not hide from the truth here, history will judge this era harshly, for the rampant capitalism that funded wars for oil in the Middle East, which then resulted in the deaths of many innocents. Meanwhile there was significant Governmental funding of groups such the Taliban who were set up and trained by the CIA in their early days, to fight against Soviet interests in the region. After twenty years of war, the West pulled out Afghanistan, leaving it to the clutches of the fundamentalist Islamic Government, who promptly took away the rights of women and girls before starting to complain that running a country was a lot harder and far more work than they had expected!

This leaves the world now as a fucked up mess and let us not hide from the main cause of this as the super rich companies still fight for the right to mine coal, while burning mega tonnes of what they already have dug up and filling the atmosphere with filth. Meanwhile, you are being chastised for not putting out your plastic and glass recycling in separate boxes (I read Environmental Science for my degree and it was heart breaking learning that with enough time the Earth will rebalance just fine, it's just unfortunate that our species probably won't make it!).

Vision Video as a band is not just about Goth Dad. Keyboard player Emily Fredock has a powerful voice as well as being a great musician and when she sings, you can hear her anger coming out too, despite the gentle pop sounds of the music. Combining with Dusty on vocals and guitar, Dan Geller on bass and Jason Fusco on drums, they make some truly joyous sounding music, but with those dark edges that Gothic music demands. None of it is offensive despite the sad imagery each song creates and it is fairly clear that these people will not be burning down any churches, murdering rival musicians in fights over who is the most evil or burying their stage clothes so they can feel the pull of the grave when they perform... All infamous tropes Black Metal has been guilty of in the past. The first. However, as a small Goth band in America, I never thought that I would get to see them... and then came the announcement, that they were to be support for the March Violets on a limited EU and UK tour.

I purchased my tickets that afternoon, despite knowing next to nothing about the March Violets, for the show on a ship in Bristol docks, The Thekla. Having seen some very good shows on the Thekla, I knew that that it would be intimate, with beautiful sound and a small crowd. I purchased two tickets, one for me and one for my friend Jan, my companion for the slightly more odd gigs, such as when we went to see the Kunts in Bristol, or when we went to see Richard Herring live in Wells, or when we went to see Richard Herring interview Kunt in London! I had played 'Inked in Red' to Jan and she quickly grew to love it. So she was quite excited to be going to see Vision Video.

A few days before the gig, we were told that Vision Video would be on early and it was advisable for us to get there in plenty of time for the show or risk missing them. However, the weekend before the show, Jan and I found ourselves broken down in Keynsham where we had gone to play with Lego on a steam train. The alternator in my car had failed and I had driven into the car park of Bitten Steam Railway with no power steering, nor any ABS brake assist, air conditioning, music or dashboard lights. It was thanks to a fairly new battery that we got there at all, but the journey back home again on the back of an RAC van, driven by Rob the kindest mechanic I have ever met. Luckily for me, my darling wifey Carol was on the case before I even got home and she quickly ordered replacement parts and also said that a new serpentine belt would be a good idea and promptly ordered one of those too. By Tuesday my car was back in good health and ready for our trip to Bristol on Wednesday evening. When we arrived at the venue, forty minutes before the doors (hatches?) on The Thekla opened, we sat in glorious sunshine listening to my favourite punk band, Alice Donut. As soon as the (as it turned out) roller shutters opened on the ship, we queued up and were inside within five minutes, only to come face to face with a poster of band times. Somewhere along the way, we had been viciously lied to! Vision Video were due on about twenty minutes later than we anticipated...

Jan and I headed inside the ship and quickly discovered that the floors were remarkably uneven. I had not noticed this before, but on this occasion I really struggled with the venue and found it difficult to keep a steady footing. I wobbled about like Bambi on ice and we eventually found our way down into the stage area (hold?) of the ship. Away from the heat of the day, it was deliciously cool and the DJ was playing some suitably gentle Goth themed music, some of which I recognised but most of which I did not. Like I say, I am mainly a metal head, I just look like a goth to the untrained eye. The first act on stage was electronic musician Kristeen Young and she reminded me of a mix of Diamanda Galas and Kate Bush, with powerful grinding rock backing and her voice that was capable of violent roars and shrill squeals. It was impressive, she was clearly hugely talented and very good at her art, but I did not gel with it and lamented that with her incredible vocal talents, she desperately needed to front a powerful Black Metal band, rather than playing a keyboard based rock music. However, I was probably alone in this thought because she had a lot of fans among the crowd who surged in to watch her perform.

I took the time to grab a t-shirt from the Vision Video merch stand and caused a laugh from the softly spoken American woman behind the desk when I asked for a size suitable for a fat bitch like me. Jan just shook her head knowing that I had said something objectionable, without actually hearing my words.

Finally Vision Video took to the stage and the four piece are just as beautiful on stage as they are on you tube or album. It was fairly clear that they were playing to a crowd who were on their side and I was not alone in singing along to some of the tracks from 'Inked in Red', although I did not hear much if any from the second album 'Haunted Hours'.

The songs were beautifully performed, both Dusty and Emily sang with their usual power, despite having spent several weeks on tour in both Europe and back home in America.

But all too quickly it came to the last two songs and that was when we got to see the heartfelt politics of the band as Dusty gave us a spoken word introduction that laid out all that is wrong in modern American society. He talked about wealth inequality, gun violence, health care provision, warfare and human rights and he did so with the undisguised disgust of someone who has seen the horrors of fighting a war. It was utterly heart breaking and yet also uplifting because surrounded by others of the same opinion, it gave all of us hope that by standing together we could change some of these awful things. With the speech over, they launched into 'Organised Murder' and it felt justified to be dancing to such angry and heartfelt words. With the final song done, they walked off stage to the whooping, yelling and applause of a very happy crowd, despite the sadly short play time. This is not to denigrate their performance time which was just over thirty five minutes. The truth was that I could have listened to them play each album twice and then the special new tracks from the as yet untitled new album. It was a very different experience for me, for a start the front of the stage did not turn into a violent maelstrom of a mosh pit. The dance floor was a remarkably gentle place, while still being energetic and fun.

With the band finished, Jan and I retreated to the seating area and then the toilets and had a chat. We had hoped to get to say hello to the band, which has happened a couple of times on the merch stand when I have seen bands on the Thekla, but sadly this was not to be. We chatted and I complained about the low lampshade that I had hit my head on when we had sat down earlier. The March Violets took to the stage and when I had recovered enough energy, Jan and I descended the stairs to check them out. The March Violets have been touring and producing albums for over forty years, but each song was new to me and to be honest it was not really my thing. It was very clearly being enjoyed by the crowd, but for me, it lacked the brutality of metal or the heart of Vision Video. It was perfectly good, electronic, new wave music from the eighties and I was a child for the eighties and did not turn eighteen until 1991. I had also not been exposed to a lot of music during my childhood, which looking back saddens me now because music is such a huge part of my life these days. However we did not have MP3 players with the sort of data compression needed to carry a whole album collection in my pocket when I was kid. Modern technology utterly spoils us these days, given how easy it is to access my music collection, take photos of bands and browse the internet from the small computer in my pocket that also allows me to call out for fried chicken whenever the whim takes me (thanks Ginny, for convincing me that smart phones were great. I never leave the house without it now!).

Feeling slightly sad that we had missed the chance to say hello to the band, while also feeling unsteady on my feet and remarkably energised at having seen the band, we decided to leave slightly early, meaning getting home at better time and not getting caught by the rush at the end. Slowly and unsteadily I climbed the stairs, with Jan behind me worried that I was going to fall and we reached the top, turned the corner and almost barged into Goth Dad himself, Dusty!

Dusty was everything you hope that a rock star will be. He was generous with his time, he was happy to sign albums and even pose for photos with fans. But the best of all, the politics and the heart are all real for him. The standing up for and caring about LGBTQ+ young people is real. The caring about the state of the world and his wisdom are all real. I wish that I could remember his exact words, sadly I was too star struck to take it all in, but it went something like this. “Those Motherfuckers in power are all old and they are fighting as they die out. Eventually they will be gone and the world will get better as the young people see them for what they were.” I could have cried. It was at that moment that Emily strode along the deck and said hello. We had obviously kidnapped Dusty and she had come to find him, the poor lad was probably on his way to the loo when we nearly crashed into him. But they both stood with us for photos, signed albums and Emily even talked to Jan about cats. These two people, gave me hope. Fuck, I feel old saying that. Now when Jan and I write about faerie warriors in our Winscombe books, it is just possible that we had unknowingly based one or two of them on Dusty and Emily.

I have said it before when I had the pleasure of spending some time teaching art to my friend's daughter, the insight of the youth is what is going to save our world and it will be safer in their hands than it ever was in ours. They will take the goodness from us and the vileness of our hate will fade away, acceptance and kindness will rise, maybe even the religion will fade away too? The world will be 'woke' and when you look at what woke means, a woke society will be a good society where minorities are protected, where institutional racism is dismantled and egalitarianism takes over. Fuck me, I am a fucking dreamer. At my darkest moments, all I can see is a foul dystopian end to humanity as global warming destroys the human safe climate and brings an end to the Anthropocene. As I think of this, I think of my nieces, of my friend's children, of my own children and grandchild and ache for a better world for them and for all young people. I want the youth of the future to feel safe to be true to themselves, to be accepted for being a rainbow person. I want the distinction of being LGBTQ+ to be minor to how we live our lives, just like eye colour is or how tall we are. Maybe, in his own small way, Goth Dad and the band Vision Video can add to that better future?