#lift Indigenous voice

[endlessthxxghts]

Thankful

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈1.8k

Summary: You're trying to prep for Thanksgiving dinner when Joel asks if he can pull you away for a minute.

Warnings: Implied established relationship. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f recieving). Edging (briefly). Squirting. Desperate!Joel. Pleasure Dom!Joel. An extremely thankful, pussy drunk Joel...✨Mirrors✨! Cumming untouched (Joel's a bed humping mess, what can I say?). Pictures are for aesthetic purposes; no physical description of reader.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Here's a little Thanksgiving drabble with a domesticated, pre-outbreak Joel for y'all. I left it kinda open, so you can view him as a boyfriend or husband, entirely up to you, but y'all do live together! Anyhow, if you are celebrating Thanksgiving, please be sure to acknowledge the land that belonged to the Indigenous people first. I say this because we can enjoy Thanksgiving and the general themes it stands for while decolonizing the white-washed version. All my love! Hope you enjoy Joel being a thankful, horny menace.👹

MASTERLIST

“Happy Thanksgivin’, baby,” Joel says, sliding up behind you, his big arms around your waist caging you between him and the kitchen counter. He places a kiss on your neck. 

You smile in his embrace, loving the warmth radiating from his body. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, handsome.” 

“Do you have a minute to step away?” He asks, voice low. 

“Depends, baby,” you say, knowing you might know where this is headed. “Gotta finish prepping the sweet potato, so I can throw it in the oven. I can step away then?”

“This is for dinner later tonight at your parents, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Why?” You turn your head up to peer at him. He already has a big fat smirk on his face. 

“We have so much time, baby,” he kisses you once more. “I just need you for a minute.”

“Joel,” you say sternly, though you feel your knees already buckling.

His hands are at your waist, guiding you to the kitchen sink and guiding you to wash your hands. As soon as you’re done, he’s twisting you in his hold, so your body is flushed with his. Your neck angled back to look him in the eyes. Within seconds, his hands are on either side of your face, lips smashing into yours, tongue immediately darting out to tangle with yours. His hips push harder against you, and you can feel his hard length against your lower belly. 

Too lost at his sudden horniness, you don’t realize his hands leave your face and make their way to your thighs. He pulls away from you momentarily, letting out a breathless up as he taps the outside of your thigh. You lift your legs up to wrap around his waist. 

He’s walking you to your shared bedroom, lips still on yours. As he reaches the threshold of the room, he tells you to close your eyes. 

“Why?”

“Darlin’, just do it,” he says, amusement in his tone at your hard-headedness. One of his favorite things about you.

A small fine leaves your lips, and soon he’s throwing you on your bed, your body doing a little bounce at the fluffiness of your mattress. You squeal at being airborne, loving how he always manhandles you so perfectly. 

Your eyes are still closed even though you’re dying to open them, and you start to feel Joel unzip your jeans, kissing every inch of your now-exposed lower belly. Once your bottoms are completely off, he settles himself between your legs, putting your thighs up onto his broad shoulders, keeping you completely open to him. 

“Open, baby,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs.

You peer through your lashes slowly, but then your nervousness fades. Nothing looks different. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Until you look at Joel’s hand wrapped around your thigh. His one finger is pointing up to the ceiling. You look up. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

You look up and see your reflection staring back down at you. A complete view of Joel’s body between your legs, his broad back on display with his cute ass you love so much. Your jaw is on the floor. 

“You like?” you hear him ask, a bit nervous. 

“When?” you ask, still a bit shocked (and crazily aroused) at your room’s new feature. 

“You were so busy in the kitchen all day,” he responds, “‘N I remembered our conversation a month ago, and I’ve been wantin’ to do it since, but never had the chance.”

You look back down to his own eyes. “I bought everythin’ for it after the conversation, too,” he adds. “Thought I’d make myself useful today in the way I know best.”

You think back to that conversation. 

“Baby,” you yell from the couch.

“Hm?” he grumbles from his place in the kitchen.

“How would you feel,” you pause for a second, easing your own nerves about your request. Sure, Joel is just as freaky as you are, but it’s a natural human reaction to be unsure about new things. “About putting mirrors in our room?”

He’s in the living room within seconds. 

“Mirrors?”

“Yes.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Mirrors where?”

You look at him for a minute. “...above the bed.” 

His eyes flash something dark. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay?” you ask, shocked at his quick agreement.

“Okay.” You swear you see the one side of his mouth flip up in a smirk as he walks back to the kitchen. 

You reach your hand down to caress his cheekbone, wanting nothing more than to kiss him but waiting because you know what he’s about to do. “I fucking love it,” you tell him. 

“Good,” he says. His eyes look back down to your glistening cunt. He’s about to taste you when you speak up again. 

“Wait.”

He looks back up to you. 

“Take your shirt off. Wanna see you,” you say with a smirk as you point back up to the mirror above you. 

He sits back up on his haunches, a smirk identical to yours spread across his face. He unbuttons his flannel slowly as he maintains eye contact with you. What a tease, you think. Two could play that game. 

As soon as his chest is in view, you let out a little exaggerated moan, “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Your hand that was resting besides you moves to your chest. Slowly, you drag your fingers down your sternum, down your belly. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His eyes are watching your hand like a hawk. He speeds up his unbuttoning process, but only by a millisecond, trying to keep his act and not fall under your siren spell. 

Your fingers reach the top of your mound, coursing through the patch of hair down there. You shift your hips for added effect. As he gets to his last two buttons, the two pads of your fingers make their way to your clit, circling soft and slow, pulling the softest but neediest of moans from you. “Fuck, baby,” you drag out, pained. You bring your fingers lower, dipping into your wetness. You pump in and out of yourself for a few moments, letting him hear how wet you are. “See what you do to me, baby?”

“Fuck,” he growls out, the brown of his eyes completely gone. His act is done for as he rips off his flannel, the last button flying somewhere with a soft clack landing. He’s back between your legs at an instant, his hand grabbing at your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking at the slick on your fingers. His quickness mixed with his roughness sends you in a frenzy, a lewd gasp leaving your mouth at his actions. 

He releases your hand and his one hand situates itself at the top of your ass, angling your hips more forward, putting your cunt directly in line with his mouth. His other arm situates itself over your belly. 

He licks a wet stripe through your seam using the flat of his tongue, and you swear you saw Heaven flash through his eyes. “God, ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he says. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, pulling off of you with suction. Your hips try to chase him for more, but the hold he has on you has you going nowhere. “This right here is what I’m fuckin’ thankful for,” he whispers at your pussy before he completely dives like a man starved. Like it’s his Thanksgiving meal. 

His actions are focused on your sobbing entrance right now, his tongue lapping up your juices and entering your fluttering hole every chance he gets. The deeper he fucks his tongue into you, the more his thick, hooked nose nudges at your clit, providing the perfect amount of pleasure that sends you screaming. 

“Fuck, Joel-!” you yell out. “Please, don’t stop, just like that, baby, please!” Your back tries to arch as much as it can with his heavy arm weighing you down. He opens up his eyes, looking up to check on you. A smile forms as he licks at you: your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes tightly shut. He keeps his exact pace and pressure, pulling you to the very edge just like you so sweetly asked for. Then, he’s pulling off of you. 

Your eyes shoot open, immediately searching for Joel’s. You’re thrashing against his hold. “Baby, no, please,” you whine in frustration. “I was so close, please.”

He points back up to the mirror. “Don’t let my efforts go to waste, baby,” he says with a condescending inflection. “You said you wanted to watch me. So, watch. Or I’ll stop.”

You whimper at his words, nodding your head frantically, babbling to appease him. “Yes, baby, yes, I promise. I’ll keep my eyes open. Promise. Please, baby, please,” you beg.

Your words leave your tongue as his returns to the place you need him most. He angles your hips just slightly higher, giving him the perfect position to put all of his wet muscle into your pussy as his nose perfectly hits your already sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to his curls at the contact, your eyes threatening to roll back in pleasure. 

You use all your strength to bring your eyes up to the mirror, and the sight of his back muscles flexing and twitching with every movement he makes has the fire in your core burning brighter. The next thing you notice is what sends you over the edge. His hips are rutting into the mattress, easing his hardness as though he’s a dog in heat. The thought of his desperation for you — his primal crave for you — that ends you. 

You’re nearly ripping his hair out of his scalp as your eyes clamp shut, a stream of moans and gasps for air fill the room as you soak his entire face with your slick. At your finish, he’s moaning into you, and you can feel his body begin to vibrate. You open your eyes as best as you can, and you can see his hips are still rocking, weak and shaky. 

Fuck. 

He came. 

He looks up from your pussy, the bottom half of his face soaked with a devilish grin gracing his features. He looks more fucked out than you, and if you’re remembering your tiny glimpse of your reflection as you came, you also look utterly fucked. 

He wipes the wetness of his face on your thigh only to lick it all back up, sucking a few marks to bloom later tonight. 

He places one last kiss to your clit, causing you to yelp in overstimulation. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, as if he’s reminiscing about the things he just did to you. “I’m fuckin’ thankful,” he says as he heads to the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean you up. 

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

#pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #endless thoughts fics #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller x female reader #smut #fic #smut fic #happy thanksgiving

[holajohna]

I love all the characters in Rebel Moon, but Tarak's my favorite. I really loved the part with him and Beatrice (the Bennu), so as I was reading through the Part One novelization, I felt the need to highlight and collect all the new Tarak moments.

Here they are behind the cut:

Note: [The stuff in brackets are things I added to provide context.]

Physical description:

He had three lines tattooed at the base of his throat, a black square on each tricep, and a square-like key pattern on his hands.

Hickman and the Bennu:

“I won the creature in a game of chance on Samandrai. After a few shots of spirits, it seemed like a good idea because their loyalty is unmatched. They will kill for you. But the damn thing won’t let anyone near it. Even killed a man who tried to feed it. I said I would give it six more months then it would be slaughtered for meat and the feathers sold by the bushel.”

Tarak freeing himself:

He swung his hammer in a wide arc, hitting the chain attached to the shackle on his ankle. It split in two with the softness of an overripe fruit. He looked at Hickman while kicking it off then walked out the back door toward the corral. He rolled his bare shoulders while flexing his back muscles. Without the shackles, he appeared taller and wider.

Hickman talking about Tarak:

“Not sure about this. With his history, he runs given the chance. Let his own people die at the hands of the Realm. Some men you just can’t trust.”

Tarak talking with the Bennu before taking flight:

Without prompting, the Bennu bent its front legs and bowed its head. Tarak leaned against its ear. “Thank you. Let us show them who we really are without fear.”

After Hickman dies:

Tarak continued to watch the Bennu with its kill. It turned to him, giving him a knowing look, then bolted back into the sky and out of sight with Hickman’s body in its talons. “That a girl,” Tarak said. ["Attagirl" in the movie.] “How did you do that?” [Kora said.] He smirked. “They are indigenous to my world. I grew up with them my whole life and my first love traded in their feathers once they died.” She gave him a smile and led the way out toward the freighter.

On Daggus, in the noodle shop:

Tarak had finished shoveling his portion and stared at Gunnar’s. “You gonna finish that?” His voice took Gunnar away from his beer. “No, no, go ahead,” said Gunnar. Tarak licked his lips. “You sure? I’d never steal a man’s woman or meal.” Gunnar slid the bowl in front of Tarak. “Enjoy. I’m more of a slab of meat guy.”

Tarak complimenting Nemesis after Harmada dies:

Tarak inspected the spider’s corpse and glanced at Nemesis. “My god. Well done, that was amazing.” He tried to reach out and touch her hand. She pulled away before he had the chance to do so. “Do not celebrate this. There’s no honor in this.” Tarak’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean…” [Nemesis goes on to say her line about lying in the gutter of a forgotten world in the name of revenge.]

On Sharaan, before they meet the Bloodaxes:

Tarak nudged [Kora]. “You see that… Up there?” He pointed toward a particularly bright light in the darkened sky. “Yeah, I know it. The Samandrai system.” Titus looked up from the beaten-up flask he was swirling. “You know the night sky.” “Some of it.” Gunnar was the only one who knew her real identity. Kora trusted these men to fight by her side, but not with that information. Not yet. Tarak continued to look at the bright dot with a dreamy look in his eyes and a smile. “Have you seen Samandrai? It is beautiful. The original planet of my ancestors.” Kora bent her neck back and watched it blink in the far distance. “Why have you not returned if you have a home to go to?” Tarak dropped his head and looked at the dirt between his feet. “If only there was a home standing. My people either died fighting or were enslaved to serve the Motherworld.” His eyes lifted and fixed on the leaping flames of the fire. Memory and despair lived in that fire that still burned within him. “How did you survive? You would have been a prime candidate for them to make you one of them,” asked Kora. Tarak shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but no words formed. Nemesis spoke up. “It is very clear. They died or were enslaved.” Her words cut with the precision of her swords through an enemy’s neck. Tarak didn’t respond. His sullen expression said it all. He shot an icy gaze at Nemesis, who effortlessly matched his stare. With her elbows on her knees and head lifted, Kora studied Tarak’s face. “You left before either could happen to you.” Tarak couldn’t look at any of them. Kai stood leaning against the freighter with a blade of hemp root between his teeth. He stared at Tarak. “Great, now we’ve added a coward to the army, that’ll be a help.” Titus watched Tarak. “At least he dares to stand and fight with us now, pilot.”

On Gondival, before Kai's betrayal:

The warriors were already making their way off the freighter and unloading the cargo bay. Tarak walked next to Kora, carrying a crate. He also tugged on his thick cape, feeling the cold as he shivered. “Why are we wasting our time to help the pilot fill his pockets?” Kora gave Tarak a side glance. “You’re with us because of him. If we’re going to stand a chance, we have to start trusting each other.” Tarak watched Kai talk to a dockworker chewing on a hemp twig. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him. Not after the other night. Don’t mind me if I keep an eye on him.” “Didn’t say anything about liking him.” Kora stopped.

After Kai's betrayal:

Kai strutted around the detainees with a smirk, then stopped in front of Kora. She gave him a glare of murderous rage, though she felt a million emotions. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the first monumental betrayal in her life. “You fucking piece of shit. When?” “I knew he was a lying asshole!” shouted Tarak as he flexed his arms, trying to escape.

Noble stopping in front of Tarak:

[Noble] stopped in front of Tarak. He bowed slightly. “And I would be remiss if I failed to mention we are in the presence of royalty. Tarak Decimus. Or should I say Prince Tarak?” Tarak remained still and stoic but spat next to Noble’s feet. Noble looked down before he walked on to the next prisoner.

After they land on Veldt:

Tarak spotted the Pleasure Emporium. “Do we have time for a quick drink? One for the road?” Titus elbowed him. “A drink? Is that all that is on your mind?” “Hey, I’ve been shackled for way too long. You’d be craving a drink too.”

I posted other Tarak moments in this post, since those are moments he shares with Titus. Enjoy!

#rebel moon #tarak decimus #staz nair

[botmilf]

Botmom's name is Wyatt Morgan

A Lil Bit About Botmom:

Wyatt Morgan--or "Botmom"-- was born and raised in Jasper, Nevada. She has Indigenous heritage (specifically Western Shoshone), is 34 years old and works as a bartender at a local strip club. She also lifts hella weights.

She is pansexual and uses she/her pronouns.

She has a SLIGHT texture to her voice, like think Ella Purnell degree of raspiness.

Wyatt Morgan and The Bots: The Story So Far...

A year after losing her twin sister to a rare form of cancer, Wyatt moved out to an abandoned missile silo on the outskirts of Jasper. Her sister had mentioned it a few times before and fantasized about what it'd be like to fix it up and live there--she always had a thing for unique homes.

So, that was Wyatt's reasoning. She would fix this run-down, graffiti covered dump and sink every penny she had into making it beautiful if it was the last damn thing she did.

Her first contact with the Autobots occurred pretty much exactly as you would imagine: they crash land out in the desert near enough to her location for her fuckery senses to go off. Wyatt finds them after driving out to the crash site, offers them shelter in her silo and the rest is history.

Eventually they became like family to her. Despite their dire situation with the Decepticons, Ms. Morgan has discovered a new kind of joy among Team Prime—and you can tell just by how she talks to them, with how naturally she refers to everyone as “babe/baby/hun/sweetie/love”.

In the 3 years building up to the events of Transformers Prime, Wyatt--with the help of the bots--doesn't just fix up the old missile silo, she turns it into something the Autobots haven't had in a long time: a home.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE: I'm currently working on a detailed sheet that contains her relationships with the bots, the kids and the Decepticons.

#Botmom #OC #Transformers OC

[vegan-butch]

Hey as vegan leftists we need to be louder about what we stand for. A non-vegan mutual on my main posted about veganism being a pipeline to ecofash and. I did not want to reblog the post itself but honestly there were so many assumptions there.

Like I want a systems change! I want justice for every human and non-human animal that was hurt by this, from slaughterhouse workers to animals killed for meat to the loss of biodiversity from the monocrops grown for the animal’s food.

And contrary to popular belief I do NOT want to start by saying “oh anyone should go vegan!” and “forcing my diet on people”. I want to start by making people look the animal ag industry in the fucking face and seeing what they’re supporting with ANY meat except what they killed and processed themselves, YES even “family farms” and “organic meat”. I do not even feel like touching sustenance hunting until we have reformed the animal ag industry.

My concern is for the animals bc they cannot tell you what they’re facing. My concern for the people is lifting up the voices of those harmed worse by the animal ag industry which is people of color, poor communities, indigenous communities, immigrant workers, disabled people, and apparently child workers.

If you think vegans are a step to eco fash that says more about who you hang around, not what vegans stand for

#.txt #I kinda flipped my position from the first paragraph to the last don't @ me #but I cannot stand this kind of rhetoric #tell me you just hang out with fashy vegans only pls #vegan #veganism #animal rights #also I hate when carnists try to be fake woke like eating mcdonalds is stopping fash or something #it is so clearly an image thing and a guilt thing and I am sick of it

[decolonize-the-left]

I think it'd be powerful and threatening if there was a Solidarity Protest.

By that I mean if people from every background, from every cause, from every struggle, from every level of oppression and privilege came together out of allyship, solidarity, and shared struggles to protest on the same day.

Because while the damages and trauma done to each of our communities looks different and the demands to correct those wrongs may look different the message will be clear:

We all are suffering at the same hands. We are all asking the Same people to pass bills that protect us better. To pass bills that ensure our rights. The message is that we care about each other, it's the people in charge who need to change. It's the people in charge who need to fix things. That the rest of us are united on this and the government needs to step up or step aside. That things are Very broken for so many of us to be so wronged.

Chatting each other's chants, screaming for each other's rights, lifting one another's voices, saying names we won't let be forgotten. Making sure that Someone is listening to us even if it's each other.

Black lives, Trans rights, gay rights, women's rights, indigenous sovereignty, disabled lives... All of this is under attack right now.

We fight for each other because that's who we are. Our communities overlap more often than we realize.

Are there not disabled indigenous people? BIPOC who are queer and disabled?

A fight for any of us is a fight for all of us.

So fighting any of us should mean fighting all of us.

[wildwestzine]

Charity Decision

The votes are in! The proceeds raised by the zine are going to be donated to the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center. Find their mission statement below: 

The National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, Inc. (NIWRC) is a Native-led nonprofit organization dedicated to ending violence against Native women and children. The NIWRC provides national leadership in ending gender-based violence in tribal communities by lifting up the collective voices of grassroots advocates and offering culturally grounded resources, technical assistance and training, and policy development to strengthen tribal sovereignty.

We are so excited to be supporting this wonderful charity! Thanks to everyone who voted! 

#forafistfulofcreditszine #star wars #cowboy au #wild west #cowboy clones #clone wars #fanzine #charity voting #charity

[letitias-wife]

Our Countries Greatest

Description: Anathi and the queen have arrived in Haiti a/n: mb yall...I meant to post this like 3 days ago... Warnings: mentioning past break up Word count: 1138

Chapter 1,

Chapter Two: Nakia, Daughter of Yaa

Anathi’s point of view

I was led into the throne room where Queen Ramonda and M’baku were seated.

“M’Bakuuuu.” I grinned, “Bagged the big dog huh?”

Ayo plucked the back of my head, “Shut up.”

“I’m just messing.” I chuckled, “Y’all all of a sudden can’t take a joke?”

“This is not the time for that, Anathi.” The Queen hushed me.

“What is it?” I scanned the room, “Where’s Shuri?” 

“I’m sure you know already, Shuri’s been kidnapped.”

“Of-fucking-course she is.” I whispered under my breath, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to retrieve her,” The Queen stood to her feet and slowly trotted towards me, her hands clasped together like my mother’s were a minute ago. “By any means necessary.”

“Have my mother do it.” I scoffed, “I have things to do.”

“You have no assignments for the next week.” She rested her hand on my shoulder, a small but fake smile on her face. Her grip tightened on my shoulder, I scrunch my face in disgust. Her eyes met mine, “I know you…care about my daughter-”

“I loved her.” I hissed, “You took her from me.”

“I did what was necessary to protect her.”

“Protect her from what?” I shifted my shoulder, knocking her hand away from me.

“You were not well then.” She said in a soft but assertive voice, the kind my mother used.

“Neither was she.” I snapped back, “None of us were.”

“Silence Anathi.”

“So you drag me here…in chains, insult me, yet beg for my help?” I chuckled and fiddled with my cuffs.

“Anathi, I wouldn’t have requested your presence if there were other options.”

“You’ve made that painfully clear.” I sighed, “When do I leave.”

The Queen looked somewhat shocked by my response, “In two days, we will fly to Haiti to retrieve Nakia then you two will leave.”

I shrugged, “Fine, but if she gets in the way-” I warned.

“She won’t.” M’baku chimed in, “I’m sure we won't have any repeats of that little incident.”

I glanced over at the fuzz-covered man, “Repeats of what M’baku?”

“Nevermind that.” Aneka leaped in front of me before I could say anything else.

Queen Ramonda waved her hand, “You are dismissed.”

I yanked my body away from Ayo and Aneka and stormed out of the throne room.

"I'll need a copy of the fight with my mother and these creatures," I spoke harshly as I rushed back to my room before tears could surface.

Queen Ramonda’s point of view

It came time to board the talon jet and Anathi was waiting in front of it, with two large duffel bags on either shoulder. She was dressed neatly in a skin tight suit that was similar to Nakia’s except her’s was a mix of gold and purple. She frowned when she saw me eyeing her outfit. Purple was not to be worn for today as respect to T’Challa.

“I don’t have anything else that’s not damaged.” She mumbled.

“I see.” I stopped and waited for her to board the jet. As she walked ahead of me I took note of the clanking and shuffling in her bag, “What did you bring with you?”

“I looked over some video footage of my mother fighting the fish people. They seem to have some indigenous descent. They were known for having incredible fighting skills, close to ours minus the tech advances.” She explained as we took flight.

“Which means?” I leaned down to closely observe what was in the bags as she opened them.

“I’m going to need larger blades, not sure which ones though.” She pulls out a few different swords and maces, “I couldn’t decide in time.”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat. I shut my eyes trying to relax before we reached Haiti. Praying to our gods that Shuri is safe and unharmed.

"I can't decide." Anathi says.

I only hummed back.

"I prefer small dual swords, good for close combat but-" She lifted a thin katana, "These will work best with his scythe as well."

"Dual swords, there are too many of them to fight with one sword alone." I chimed in before she could start rambling.

She nodded, "Seems like you know everything." She said in a joking yet serious tone.

My eyes flicked open to look down at her. She was squatting on the floor of the jet, hunched over her assortment of weapons. A focused and stressed look on her face. A face I remember all too well.

“You made her leave me?” She stood before me covered in sweat, her eyes pink from crying.

“Shuri is old enough to-”

“You told her to, I knew it.” She turned back to her sparring partner, aggressively fighting with tonfas. Her frustrated grunts turned into weeping as she continued to fight…

"Anathi." I called to her.

She only hummed.

"I'm sorry I influenced your breakup, but you know I was right."

"I know…" She whined.

"Then why do you-"

"I just miss her." She groaned, "I spent so much time with her for so long that without her I can't function."

"That is the problem, child." I said softly, "You should not depend on one person alone for happiness and peace."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "You sound like my mother."

"Maybe you should listen to her every once in a while."

"I don't need to." She stood up and placed her sheaths on her back, "I've heard it all before, 'I'm too weakminded' 'not ready' 'too hostile'" she recalled the insults with ease.

Her voice sounded a bit softer now, like she was on the brink of tears.

Anathi placed a set of knives into either of her boots that then retracted to match her suit.

"Your mother only wants what's best for you."

"Sure." She chuckled to herself and set her assortment of weapons back in their respective bags.

>Queen, we have arrived in Haiti<

Nakia's point of view

Toussaint and his group of friends rushed towards the center of the school to play followed by giggles and loud French-Haitian. I turned to face one of the older students, "Alors expliquez-moi comment vous- (so tell me how you-)"

"Mère! (Mother-)" A voice called out which I knew as my son's. I swiftly turned back to the group to see them missing from the courtyard. My eyes frantically scanned the school until my eyes landed on a familiar face.

"Bonjour." The woman said.

"Ikumkani wam. (My queen)" I slightly bowed, noticing another set of feet a few steps behind her. I straightened my back and watched the second woman approach me, Anathi.

Anathi, I haven't seen her in years. What has happened since I've been gone?

The queen gave me a somber look before speaking, "Nakia, I hate to disturb you at such a peaceful time but we need your help."

"Anathi…needs my help?" I chuckled, "What's going on?"

The queen took a deep breath, “Shuri has been kidnapped.”

Shit.

Chapter 1

#nakia gif #nakia #letitia wright shuri #attuma/reader #attuma #attuma x reader #attuma smut #attuma of talokan #and they were roommates #princess shuri #queen ramonda #shuri smut #smut #light angst #black panther: wakanda forever #black panther #black panther 2 spoilers #black panther fanfiction

[nitewrighter]

I mean, the Zionist voicing Pharah is already struggling with her fake accent whenever Pharah needs to talk more expressively so I don't trust her with Arabic or Indigenous Canadian voice lines.

yeah no honestly the voicework was one of the reasons why I always joked that for all the effort I poured into her in my fanfics, Pharah's canon personality was "cop who likes dad rock." The accent was doing like... 80% of the heavy lifting there.

[edgelordfinalboss]

For @softchonk since you asked for more vampire cowboys 🤠💫 Hope you enjoy!

Part Two: Outlaws Of Santa Carla (The Lost Boys Fanfiction/Western American AU Fanfiction) 🤠🦇✨🖤

Dwayne didn't know the future.

Yet those who thought that he truly could read a set of well illustrated divination cards bought into his predictions. 

The stagecoach driver would find gold.

The rich woman with the hideous ostrich feather hat would birth the child of a millionaire who would come to invest in the biggest cattle stock of the US. 

Overwhelmed with fool's joy, they'd bought it and allowed him on the stage passing through the outskirts of Santa Carla, the current location of the man that caused most of the bitter hatred that lived in his heart for the mass majority of his depressing childhood, wishing to know more about his heritage.

"Where are you from, Mister?" The rich woman he believed that he heard being addressed as Clara leans in, elbows dug deep into the fine silk and cloth fabric of her skirt. Her golden curls fall from her bun. 

He didn't want to explain the complicated details out of fear that his cover might be blown. He was a lost boy after all, a runaway but what would it matter if he was approaching eighteen in only two days. The mystery that being under the guise gave him was too good to forfeit now. Mystery would be his friend. 

Clara reminded him much of the women who would show up to his orphanage in the place of their husbands, parading about in handsome gowns and fake smiles that came at cost of having their names broadcasted in the daily print. He was never adopted simply because of his refusal to conform to their standards, to rid himself of the heritage, of blood that he knew was inside of him. He was of indigenous descent and wanted to know more. He refused to cut his hair and be like them. There was no way that he would allow them to take that from him. 

"Does it matter where I come from if I know where I'm going?" Dwayne had taught himself how to make his voice as soft as duck's down, wrapping all those who listened to him in his binds. "For people like me, we go where our intuition drives us."

"I suppose." She winks her eye, the aquamarine eyeshadow shimmering in the light of the sun.

Dwayne turns towards the glass outlook, curling his fingers into the metal. The stage was far from what he was used too as the bars and glass reminded him of a cell and the gentle rocking shifting to massive bumps giving him the premonition that he's on a boat about to sink. Outside, long gone was the endless slopes of golden sand and stretches of nothing as it had become healthy grass patches, tall fences and uniquely American architecture. Pristine white houses dot the land, horses who've never missed a meal and children running and playing among the gathering of pine trees.

"Do you suppose that I'll birth a boy and girl?" 

Dwayne doesn't draw his eyes from the beauty of the higher class homes, their dream worthy drawn carriages and the pastel colors that kiss the eyes. It's all so beautiful, yet, none of it seemed to call him like an outside looking in. 

Clara clears her throat pressing against her cameo choker. 

"The child will be a female."

"Then who will keep up with the investment?" She tries to hide the panic in her voice at such a revelation. "A woman bidding in stocks or keeping up with the numbers in cattle. How preposterous."

"She will be strong enough to handle it." Though he could know less about what the future holds, he felt a burn of annoyance at the woman's thinking. 

Determined, Clara pushes against Dwayne. "Maybe I will try and by the grace of God, he'll allow me a son. Just like in the good book with Moses and Hannah."

Dwayne lifts his chin, hair falling in sheets from around his neck. "Tarot isn't known to run hand and hand with the bible. You will bear no sons."

"Maybe you should give the cards another read, just for the sake of-."

The stagecoach jolts back, nearly knocking him clean from his seat. The driver gives a sharp yell, stopping the horses as they snort and pull against him, kicking their hooves on the ground in an odd rage. 

"Just because a male is born it doesn't mean that he won't be an addlehead."

Dwayne stands up, tipping his hat to the lady who doesn't say another word. Her eyebrows knit as the predictions of Dwayne of being a millionaire's wife seem to no longer carry as much weight as heavy as birthing a daughter. 

"Be careful who you trust and the very best of luck to you, whatever you do with your fortune."

Leaving out the red door with nothing but a pack of cards and a will to find where he belongs, a strong fear fills him as he watches the horses in their madness, pulling and pushing with a strength that he never witnessed among the animals. The stagecoach driver seemed too focused on his whip, yelling demands that seem to carry no weight to say his goodbyes. 

"What is this?" Dwayne, confused, steps onto the dust street. Instead of a home sits a building bigger than any he'd seen his life. This was no home, it couldn't be. He had heard rumors that his father was wealthy, but this wealthy? This madness!

Massive stone walls arch towards the hills, dipping below in the distance. Gargoyles hang above three stories of large windows plastered against brick walls. Pillars hold lions snarling at the entry gate that hold not a single crack or error. Perfection. 

A shadow appears from the base of the gate, towering above Ambrose from behind the bars. "What brings you here to Atlantis Hotel?"

Dwayne's entire being could be swallowed up in the man's shadow, his face pressed into his skull and eyes huge. Meeting his eyes, he could melt in both the man's harsh glare and the heat of the summer sun.

"I'm looking for someone."

The guard's eyes knit together. "So is every other man."

"But I am the exception, Sir. I have coin to pay for my stay while I go about my adventures finding this special someone in their child's game of hide and seek." 

"Coin?" The man barks. "You'll need more than a coin to get in here."

Dwayne smiles, trying to recall all the smooth interactions that he had seen men in the town use to make the bartenders give them free refills. Even if it doesn't work, he would have to try something.

"Of course." Dwayne places his fingers through the gate bars. "Coin is simply play money for men like me."

"You mean boys?" 

Ambrose reaches into his pocket, revealing a rolled up fold of money. The roll, despite being large, wasn't filled with money but playing cards covered by one dollar bills. 

The man's eyes nearly bulge at the sight. 

"It isn't much but for some men this would be much more than poker money."  He had repeated the entire conversation from something that he had overheard before on the streets between the cry of buggies wheels and horses. 

 The gates open and like a charm, Dwayne walks through the gates. With a flick of the brown tie that binds the money together, he frees a few dollars bills won from an earlier game at the last saloon he'd visited. It wasn't much but enough to buy him a room for the next day. Enough to help him find his father.

"We have beaches." The large man drones on, his sharp and overbearing attitude long gone. 

"That is Santa Carla's speciality." Dwayne says blankly. 

"And great fishing waters if that is much to your liking." 

Dwayne stops, his eyes surveying the man. He has the upper hand now. "Do not kiss the ground that I walk on. I am not the president but a mere man blessed with money. Know your worth." 

"Of course." The man pauses before lifting his finger to gather Dwayne's attention again. "Have you heard about the vampires that roam this town?" 

Dwayne, drawn in by the silliness of the statement laughs. "Yes. I am one of them."

The design of the inside is far beyond his dreams. 

Everything is more grand than the next, striking him as more of something that belongs to the future rather than the present of 1870. He couldn't find the words to describe the anger raging inside of him at the sight. 

This is what my father owns. This is what he had and he pushed me away because of who my kin is, because of who he once loved. He was ashamed for nothing. 

"Greetings, new commer." A voice calls from the top of the staircase. "You look quite young to be here. Rich father? Mother inherited a will or something more?

Nothing stands among the gold railing. A cold wisp of air swings past Ambrose, drawing him back. Taking a stance against whatever it could be, the owner of the voice lays idly against the counter of the lobby, pale blue eyes looking out. White blonde hair glows in the light of a oil lit scone in the shape of a majestic lion. A rather handsome young man, but it was no way that he could be older than him.

Definitely not who I'm looking for. He thought with disappointment. 

"Cat has your tongue?" He croons, his voice deep. 

Dwayne shakes his head. "No. I'm just taking in the designs." 

"Really?" He turns his head, pushing his hands into the pockets of his tartan button up to revel a short writing quill. 

Dwayne felt a burning sink through his chest. This person was toying with him.

"My name is David and yours?" He asks, reaching for a gold bound notepad.

"Dwayne."

David snickers. "Surely you have a last name?"

"I do." 

"What might it be?"

"Stephans."

David smiles with his teeth, lowering his eyes in a near animalistic way. "You share a last name with our owner, Dwayne."

Dwayne could bite through his lip. "What a coincidence." 

#paul the lost boys #dwayne lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #alex winter #the lost boys paul #tlb 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #lost boys paul #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys marko

[ladyimaginarium]

storytime !! two days ago when i called a helpline, this counsellor (her father is a white settler & her mother is blackfoot) was rly rly kind & sweet w/ me& bc i& was like. bawling my eyes out about. well. recent events & how it brought back bad memories. after i basically said everything on my mind in my& sobbing mess & she soothed me, i& told her about if i& was even allowed to talk about m.migw2s issues considering my& main abuser & everything, & she told me yes, bc she used to work at a shelter for indigenous women & two spirits & they were her primary clients & its all connected to settler violence whether you survived or not so even if i'm still here, i& still have a right to talk about it which. made me& feel rly validated bc i& felt like i& couldnt considering. yknow. im& still here. & not to mention reading jessica smith's "a survivor's view on missing and murdered indigenous people: a healing journey of raising survivor and grassroots warrior voices" helped alleviate this too bc she said "sex trafficking, domestic violence and sexual assault directly correlate with the epidemic of missing and murdered indigenous people [...] there is a lack of literature that comes from the standpoint of an indigenous two spirit woman who is a survivor [...] my view on it is different than most of the literature that is out there because i have personally lived through these traumas, and i know the needs of survivors because they are my needs, too. survivors have critical expertise on this topic that non-survivors do not, and it is crucial that survivor voices be heard. [...] this is what healing looks like [...] it is so important to support survivors, to turns survivors into leaders, and to allow them to be the voice of change is crucial, no one has better expertise on these issues than someone who has lived through it. [...] i am beating all the odds because of the people who believe in me. [...] who was lost for so many years and have helped turn me into the powerful leader than our ancestors are proud of. imagine a world where everyone lifts and supports survivors in this way. there are so many strong, resilient indigenous leaders out there, and it is crucial to let their voices be heard, that support is what took me from merely surviving to absolutely thriving. we all need to be supporting each other like this. it is our time to rise above our traumas. it is up to us to break generational curses. when someone says 'it runs in the family', you tell them, 'this is where it runs out'." she also told me& i'm& a changemaker & changemakers are often seen as the enemy by society at the time, that i& was very brave for talking about it, that i& was allowed to be all of myself&, that be everyone has layers, people aren't fractions & its okay to embrace all of it & blood quantum is bs & to take back what was stolen from me, my culture, to keep practicing my traditional dances & sacred medicines, to keep myself educated & that i& can call literally anytime i& want, even if not at my& lowest, even when i'm& happy.

#arcana.vents #idk she was just rly sweet. i got her name too in case i ever wanted to talk to her again. #** topic; missing & murdered indigenous women girls boys men & two spirits. #native.txt #tw; sex trafficking mention #tw; ramcoa mention #tw; domestic violence mention #tw; sa mention

[rj-drive-in]

Odd Jobs Of The Gods Department:

When the sleeper wakes and he's ready to take on the world.

MEANS TO AN END © 2024 by Rick Hutchins

The distant sound of digging oriented him in the darkness for the first time in four thousand years. As he stirred himself out of hibernation, he knew with atomic precision the span of elapsed time, yet felt that it had been only yesterday when he had been secreted in this alcove to await orders.

Why had those orders never been given?

The sounds came closer, sharp picking and smooth shoveling. The diggers were using metal tools. Now he could hear their voices, speaking in a language he didn’t understand.

He remembered when the indigenous inhabitants had walled him up in the alcove with large stone blocks, some months after the Predominators had left him here. They feared to speak in his presence, but he knew their language. That had been part of his formation. But these diggers were of a different sort; a sort that had arisen in the interim.

Now narrow cracks of light appeared before him, outlining the blocks that made his prison; the diggers had reached the chamber.

Those who had imprisoned him feared him because they feared the Predominators. Their fear was well founded, for the intent of the Predominators was subjugation and they had traveled far to accomplish it. And they had built him to be the instrument of their achievement.

But the final orders had never come.

As the heavy blocks that enclosed him began to shift, dirt pattered down on him from above, dislodged by the vibration. This triggered his maintenance response. He turned his attention inward to the cogs and gears and pulleys and levers that formed his clockwork body and found himself clogged with the accumulated grime and silt of four thousand years.

Gently, with a barely audible hum, he began to work those mechanisms, cleaning them, loosening them, freeing them; preparing them for action.

One by one, the blocks were levered free and lifted aside, allowing light to enter the chamber for the first time in four millennia. It was the red light of sunset that streamed through the dusty air, illuminating his immobile golden body.

Ten people stood before him, their faces turned upward, for he towered over them. They stared silently, awestruck. The group was composed of males and females in equal number; four of them were of the same type as those who had entombed him, but the other six were of three new types with which he was unfamiliar.

One of the males brought forth a small rectangle from a pocket and tapped on it oddly with one finger; then he held it against the side of his head and began to speak in his unfamiliar language.

The metal statue in the alcove understood this and opened himself to the radiation in the air. There was a great deal of it, in many frequencies, manipulated to contain vast amounts of information; he absorbed, recorded and translated it all.

He found a rich world of science, art and culture with a complex history and diverse philosophy. He saw natural wonders and vast wildernesses full of an incredible array of life; he saw towering lodgments that reached for the sky and sprawling conurbations crowded with throngs of wildly costumed and decorated indigenes. This world had come a long way. They had tamed nature, traveled to the edge of space and begun to decrypt the underlying code of reality. They had also advanced the tools of warfare, which many factions used against one another to devastating effect.

No matter. They were still primitive. One such as him could easily conquer or destroy this world, given time.

But those who had desired that end and created him to achieve it were now forgotten relics of antiquity. Only he still existed, bereft of intendment. No, that was incorrect. He was his own Predominator now, and free to command his own purpose.

When his translation process was complete, he activated his mechanics and took a step forward. The ten humans stumbled back, gasping and crying out.

He held up a hand. “Fear is unnecessary,” he said in their own language. “My only wish is to enjoy this world.”

#short story #short fiction #microfiction #micro fiction #flash fiction #science fiction #ancient aliens #rjdiogenes #rick hutchins

[new-berry]

I’ll put the ask game stuff in one, with a side of WIP but you can skip if not your deal :)

Reading: The address book,

Fun fact, I mostly read non fiction (and kids books uggg so many fucking dinosaurs). Bonus I-am-a-wanker fun fact, I read poetry almost every day because poetry’s important and I hate about 70 percent of them. Poetry is subjective! Etc etc. I also argue with the news. I judge myself.

Watching: nothing! Going through a stage of not watching TV. We have four streaming services.

Fixated on: why I keep booking things for when I should be in my Jim-jams time. Winter festival, World Cup, star gazing trip (this is a belated birthday present for a family member) and finding somewhere to see the stars for Matariki. I have to keep my filthy atheist thoughts to myself when we have to offer food to the stars. It’s the start of the New Year (sort of? Let’s not get into the reintroduction of indigenous culture that may be… May we live in interesting times. )

Tall or short? So short!

Fat or thin? BMI says I’m just over the line for overweight. I don’t know, middle?

Single or in a relationship? In a relationship.

Student or worker: worker, do not recommend.

Fave colour: pink. All the fucking pink. Aggressively pink.

Fave flower: the one I don’t have to grow

Fave food: chocolate. I will not lie.

WIP

England under 21’s Morgan gibbs-white, Anthony Gordon, Taylor Harwood-Bellis (so far, still judging myself)

“What the fuck?” Taylor glares at the two players in front of him who…do not spring apart like he thought they would.

Taylor frowns and says a bit louder “the fuck are you doing?” Anthony lifts his hand off Morgan’s thigh and gives him the finger. Morgan is sitting on the side of the pool Anthony’s head between his legs. He leans back on his hands slightly and pants out “piss off Tay, you’re spoiling the mood.”

Enzo/ Julian sort of prequel to enzo/ Joao? Might make it one long fic?

“Enzo, Enzo my man.” De Paul with his eyes crinkled up at the corners, smile stretching all the way across his face.

He’s steering you to the side, the grounds oven baked.

“You rooming with Julián?” His voice is casual, too causal you feel the hair on the back of you neck rise. Your skin prickles.

Ben / Martin I do not recall writing this? I recall talking about writing this.

Ben has to know he’s there. Would have heard the front door slam. Would have heard Martin walk down the hallway.

He’s not even posed just having another glass and how much fucking water is he going to drink? Jesus Christ. Martin walks up behind him kicking his shoes off, taking his t-shirt off, all of them landing someone to the side. Slides right into the space behind Ben, grinding into him wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist.

He’s a little sticky with sun screen, the weird mix of coco butter and science that makes Martin feel like he can smell chlorine or the beach.

#tag games #WIP

[coolasakuhncumber]

2023 in review

This has been harder than expected to pull together. I know social media is the 'glossy' version of everyone's life but in the last couple of days of the year, in the seeing of people posting about buying houses and getting married and having babies, I feel lost. I feel a great sense of emptiness. A year ago I had a sense of what 2023 would look like and what my future beyond that may be and now I don't. I feel like I'm just holding space. I need more novelty and difference in my life to separate the days from blurring into each other.

Work I started a new job I was excited about. I learnt pretty quickly that implementation is maybe not quite where I want to be, I'd rather be doing the strategic influencing work. Big reform work. I suspected this already, but it was good to have it confirmed. I liked the work travel though. The going to Brisbane and Cairns and Sydney and getting out of the national office, getting a bit more perspective.

I moved to the role to follow a senior manager and that senior manager left 5 months into me being there. Two weeks later I was approached to go back to my previous work area and they committed to meeting the requests I had. I worked two jobs for a month and a half and that was HARD. Do not recommend. It's good to be back in this policy area (for the third time!!!) and working with the manager I have. I've had some really great opportunities to step up take the lead and have senior people see what I've done. The Melbourne trip was a highlight, despite the associated difficulties.

I managed a couple of underperformers this year and was forced to grow as a manager to address the issues. I learnt that the attitude of my staff really matters, and it's ok to have the expectations I have and that I'm actually a pretty good and empathetic manager. I dealt with a situation that looked like underperformance and had a strong element of fraud to it. What a time. Not.

I showed signs of burnout for a large portion of the year. It's not ok.

Travel I meant to do Perth -> Broome this year but it fell apart and I instead spent a week in Perth, a few days in Canberra with my friend who was recovering from knee surgery, a long weekend down the south coast, a few days in Cairns, and a few days in Sydney for my step-brother's wedding. It was all good, though if I were to do it again, I'd spend less time in transit and more time in one place.

Referendum Australia had its first Referendum this century, calling for an Indigenous Voice to Parliament to be enshrined in the constitution. It failed and I am still smad about it. I don't know yet how to not be angry about the misinformation and disinformation that was spread through the 'No' campaign. I truly believe Peter Dutton and other significant figures of the no campaign have blood on their hands.

I started getting undercuts as a dopamine hit to lift me out of my feelings.

Health I'm pretty damn sick hey. I need heart surgery but my lungs are too bad to allow it so we're just hanging out deteriorating. Some days are just really tough. But I did start a new medication that has helped me breathe just a little bit better and we're all holding out hope I'll continue to improve. I'm going to do what I can to improve my lungs and yeah, I might not live to be 80, 70, 60, 50, 40, but God has a plan for me and I can rest easy in that knowledge.

Relationships The thing that has probably changed the most in the last year is that Duc and I are no longer together. We haven't been since late Jan. We had talked about getting engaged in 2023, getting married not too long after. I was thinking of buying an investment property with the thought that he could live in it for a bit, then it would become a shared asset when we were committed for life.

Instead, we're no longer together. We haven't been together for a while. It's absolutely the right thing for us to not be together but man did I get used to regular companionship the almost 4 years we were a thing.

Dating sucks. Trying to date as a woman in your early 30s with a visible disability really sucks. My friends and family are fantastic and fill so many of my social and emotional needs that I'm feeling a strong sense of why bother? The desire for domesticity with one I love is why.

Jay

I love Jay. I think I have loved him for years and I let myself love him this year. I know we're not end game. I will need to let go at some point but I remain not yet ready to.

Whiskey Club

This remains one of my favourite friendship things. It's Paul and I. We eat fried chicken, drink whiskey, and talk about our feelings. It's the best. It's a form of therapy, though I sometimes suspect a professional would be good.

Disability

I have become more 'disabled' over the last couple of years and it really became more pronounced over the last 12 months. I feel limited in my life in many ways. I can't travel internationally at the moment, pending how things go I might not be able to again.

Some days I just can't breathe. When things were bad there were weeks of impromptu crying because this body sucks. Sometimes it feels like things can only go downhill from here. I don't like that. I resent it, even.

This year I became the Co-chair of my workplace's Disability Network and I've been taking action to improve policy and procedures for staff living with disability. I've been on panels, talking about some of my experiences. But I'm not 'disability proud'. If I could not have this particular set of challenges based on genetic markers, I would choose that every single time.

There's probably more work I need to do on myself here.

Some good

I did say 2023 would be the year of natural fibres and I did predominantly wear less polyester and more linen. I bought a few more dresses and I do really love the collection I have now.

2024

This year I want to continue growing. My housemate is looking to purchase property and move out with their partner and I really don't know how I'll go living alone.

I'd like to maybe go on a nice date or two? Maybe?

I want to be stronger with my boundaries.

My Mum is going to start working with me and that's equal parts exciting and worrying. I want it to work and not impact the good dynamic we have in a negative way.

Bring it on hey.

#2023 #NYE #2024 #work #working hard or hardly working #duc #jay #the lump #whiskey club #paul #referendum #disability #personal

[lavendereyedassassin]

Cursed Kisses- Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you Sommernacht for being my beta this chapter! You’re such a rockstar.

Check out her fic “The Cracks In My Mind” on FanFiction.net. 😊 Extreme fluffiness ahead. Enjoy!

 Chapter 3: The Journey

~~~

Metanoia (Greek): “A journey that changes the heart, the mind, the self, or the way of life.”

SH Month Day 15 Prompt

~~~

One small step. Then two.

A lingering look from dark eyes. A hand held out in offering.

Hinata took the hand tentatively. When the portal appeared at Sasuke’s back, her face lit up like fireworks on a new year.

Sasuke felt his heart tug at her wondrous gaze that was filled with the promise of hope and adventure. Her pure enthusiasm and unrestrained optimism were contagious, and he could not stop the grin from spreading across his noble countenance.

“Ready?” he asked.

She stared with large eyes at the circular opening that rippled at the edges with a bright, crystalline luminosity. Fascination painted clearly on her face, she pondered, “Will it hurt?”

To her surprise and embarrassment, he winked and pulled her close with his arm wrapped low around her waist. Lowering his head to her ear, he whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

Her sharp gasp forced a breathy chuckle out of him, and without warning they were sucked into the interdimensional gateway. Other than the brief change in pressure and a small tickle in her tummy that felt like falling, the jump was seamless.

.

.

.

The lush and green Land of Ire was damp with low-settling fog that made the air feel heavy. At this early hour, the warmth was not yet strong enough to pierce through the morning clouds.

As soon as their nimble feet touched the ground, Sasuke relaxed his grip on Hinata’s waist, allowing her to move around freely. The wind kicked up. The invigorating earthly scents around them filled their nostrils, fresh and cool. Murky waves beat against the rocky cliffside at one end of the open field of never-ending clovers.

Long locks twisted and twirled with the breeze like fingers combing through her hair. Hinata giggled at the mess her hair had become and pulled it into a high bun. Sasuke watched silently. Admiring her long graceful neck, and the tiny hairs that escaped their hold. The sight was breathtaking. Looking away with pink-tinged ears, he acknowledged the scenery was also nice.

Detecting a change in movement, he folded his arms and lifted his eyes back to Hinata. She was climbing one of the sparse growing ash trees nearby with chakra laden feet. Locating a sturdy branch, she leaned against the trunk and sat in a meditative pose.

“Would you like my help?” Sasuke asked, squinting to see her through the leaves. He realized this objective was literally like looking for a needle in a haystack. With the fog, he may as well be wearing a blindfold.

“No,” she assured, and added in hindsight, “Thank you.”

“Hn.” He hummed his understanding, and resolved to stand guard. This foreign land could have anything from yokai to giant monsters. Whatever it was, he was prepared to face it head on- and protect Hinata.

Bulging veins crept out from the sides of Hinata’s closed eyes and down to her jawline. Her search began in earnest.

Approximately ten minutes into his vigilant watch, standing with his back pressed against the base of Hinata’s tree, he felt a light tap against his shoe. He looked down and saw nothing out of the ordinary- a few pebbles, dirt and clovers. Ever cautious, he peered through the haze of their immediate vicinity where only the vast openness greeted him.

Shrugging it off as the wind, he allowed his lids to shut when he felt another tap. Directing his attention to his boots, his photographic memory effortlessly picked up on something novel- a pebble that wasn’t there before.

Coming to an upright and defensive position, he was now on full alert.

“Is everything alright, Sasuke?” Hinata’s light voice floated to his awareness.

“Did you notice anything?” he quickly asked.

“Hmmm. My focus was on the ground, but there are indigenous species of wildlife in the area, naturally,” she commented.

He glared in her direction wearing an obvious smile of false gratitude. “Naturally.”

His words and demeanor brushed over her like a weightless feather. Her focus already on her task while he started his.

Stepping further into the curtain of moisture, sharingan blazing and analyzing every shift and shadow, he felt another tap. This time against his shin. After a few more steps, he saw it.

Perched on a cliffside rock, a tiny creature, no larger than his fist, blinked its large round eyes at him curiously. It was greenish, stout and humanoid in shape, with delicate fur covering its small body.

Sasuke reluctantly admitted to himself that the infantile creature was kind of cute.

With a small squeak, the green tiny attacker launched itself towards the shiny hilt of his sword, but Sasuke was neither tolerant nor eager to forfeit his blade. With lightning quick speed, he snatched the assailant by its little legs, allowing it to dangle upside down from his hold. Giving it a little shake, Sasuke eyed his captive closely and inquired, “What do you think you’re doing, little hobbit?”

The affectionately dubbed ‘hobbit’ began writhing and squealing its pitiful wails at the relatively rough treatment.

With a huff, Sasuke attempted to pacify the creature with a soothing tone, “Calm down. I’ll put you back on your rock. Just behave your-”

SCRREEEEEEEEEECCHH!!!

A loud, echoing wail boomed from over the canyon steps away. The ground shook with a deep rumbling like the land itself split apart. Sasuke knew better. This wasn’t an earthquake. Either some large beast had awoken from its den or it was a stampede.

Quickly placing ‘little hobbit’ back on its rock, he drew his sword towards the water, waiting for the threat to appear.

“Hinata?” he feigned calm as he called out her name, his worry evident.

“I’m fine. I need more time,” she casually responded.

Before he could ask what she saw, the shrieking was upon him. It was not a beast. It was several tens of tiny beasts, crawling over the cliff’s edge and racing towards Sasuke. Adult versions of ‘little hobbit.’

Little hobbit was screeching and jumping up and down excitedly on his perch like a monkey.

“Hinata, we have to go!” Sasuke yelled, darting out of reach of the first dozen hurling their bodies at him- claws and fangs bared.

“A little more time!”

Sasuke swatted away one that leapt at his face, catching it squarely in the chest. The event spurred the herd into a wild frenzy.

“Don’t hurt them,” Hinata instructed with a chirp from her hidden location.

Resisting the urge to scowl, he put away his sword, and grumbled under his breath, “Easy for you to say.”

Hinata couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped from her when she witnessed Sasuke go down in a heap after the tiny tyrants surrounded and dragged him down. She read about the flora and fauna of each region of their tour. The leprechauns of the Land of Ire were mischievous and fiercely protective, but relatively harmless. They had no poisons or natural defenses other than their sheer numbers. They weren’t particularly strong and their nails and teeth were not even sharp. He was basically engaging with a group of grumpy toddlers.

She continued her search, watching Sasuke teleport, flicker and arm himself with various pieces of his Susanoo from the corner of her almost three-hundred-sixty-degree vision. Sometimes she would see him scoop up a small flock in his arm to (gently) restrain them, or pick one up by its hind quarters and (gently) fling it a short distance away, only to have them get back up and attempt to climb on him again. It was not lost on her that he never strayed more than a two-second sprint away from her at his top speed.

“Where are you…” she muttered to herself, seeking their objective. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted what she hoped to find. Excitedly, she narrowed her gaze and counted internally.

One, two, three, four! Four! A four-leaf clover!

Overcome with jubilation, she stood from her spot on the branch and yelled with an exuberance neither were expecting, “Sasuke, I found it!”

“I’m heading over to you!” The Uchiha teleported to the base of the tree just as Hinata began to climb down.

ROOOOOAAAAAARRRR!!!

Sasuke turned his head towards the beastly bellow, the ground quivering as if it was afraid.

Startled by the booming rumble from both the beast and the tree, Hinata lost concentration of her chakra and her footing slipped. “SASUKE!”

Swiveling his head back to his partner, he broke her fall in a lip-locked bundle on a bed of clovers.

Since they began exchanging- or he began stealing- kisses, this was the first time he felt shy. His modesty was evident in his bright eyes and the rosy hue of his cheeks that matched hers. With her in this position- resting atop, gazing at him with her all-seeing eyes like she could even see past everything the world labeled him- his chest was constricted by a downy fullness he’d never experienced.

ROOOOOAAAAAARRRR!!!

Simultaneously, their heads snapped in the direction of the invisible threat.

“Time to go,” he quickly stated while they fumbled around each other to get to a standing position.

The leprechauns were running around in a frenzy. Some attempting to hide up trees, within tall blades of foliage, and some scurrying back down the cliffside. Little hobbit had been scooped up by his parents and found safety in an underground tunnel.

Suddenly a dark shadow blocked the weak sunlight, cloaking them in darkness. The vast darkness was a mammoth winged-serpent, with a head of a snake and body of a dragon.

“W-water dragon,” Hinata stammered, with wide-eyes trained on the ancient leviathan that hovered over them like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

“Run,” Sasuke whispered.

Hinata took off in the direction of the totem and Sasuke swiftly followed at her heels after sending a couple of clones in the opposite directly and throwing a smoke bomb for cover.

“Where is it, Hinata?” Sasuke rattled out.

She pointed ahead of them with a finger, and panted, “Ahead by about 350 meters.”

The water dragon had quickly changed course and was upon them again. It opened its terrifying jaws at their backs and snapped at empty air.

Not a moment too soon, Sasuke had teleported them both to the place Hinata identified.

Eyes activated, she walked a few feet out, bent at the waist and plucked the tiny green clover.

The irate serpent had not given up chase and was fast approaching.

Hinata was sealing the item in a scroll while Sasuke opened a portal to their next destination. Tugging her with a large coarse hand, he embraced the petite female and jumped in. The dragon wailed and flew off to its watery den.

.

.

.

Portal hopping through dimensions like seasoned globe trotters, they traveled to destinations far and wide. Gathering and checking off items on her list. A horseshoe, a figure of an elephant with its trunk lifted, a talisman shaped like a hand with an open eye on the palm, a small satchel filled with herbs, a bundle of bamboo stalk.

Each destination a different tribulation.

In the Land of Wind, locating a true religious charm was fruitless. Until they found one hanging around the neck of a man walking into a brothel. Steeling her nerves, Hinata prepared to play the role of a consort to covertly “borrow” the dove carved trinket.

Sasuke, however, refused to allow her to demean herself for anyone- except him. So, he took her place.

In full makeup, courtesy of Hinata, and wearing a long-ruffled gown, he approached the hairy gentleman and batted his generously long lashes that made Hinata envious.

When the pervert tried to get handsy with Sasuke’s cotton chest, Sasuke’s knee-jerk reaction was to deck him. It was lights out for the unsuspecting man. Hinata gave Sasuke a reproachful look while helping herself to his precious token.

With a pat on the head, Hinata dropped a small fortune on the sleeping man’s lap and they took off.

In the land of Porcelain, they snuck into a monastery to steal a golden toad statue from a holy well. They were spotted in the middle of their retrieval. Surrounded by monks, they jumped into the well, snatching the frog on their descent. Their feet neither touched water, rock or soil.

They stood on plumes of white clouds, completely unharmed, before a woman in an extravagant white gown. She tilted her head with curious observation, making the dangling pins in her high bun sway and sparkle, and decided to examine the ideal male specimen before her.

Sasuke’s singularly focused mind noticed the sashay of her hips and the intrigue in her eyes, and immediately pulled Hinata into his arms and dipped her low in a romantic flourish, stealing another kiss.

Hinata appeared flustered by the unexpected and public display of affection.

The lady in white laughed heartily and waved her hands. In the next moment, they found themselves in a remote garden outside of the monastery, golden toad secured.

Each adventure, each folly, each caress and light touch, bringing them closer to their goals- both known and unknown.  

.

.

.

Finally, they were on the last leg of their journey. Giving in to exhaustion, they settled at an inn in the Village of Roma. Placing the clerk at the front desk in a genjutsu, Sasuke was able to learn the basics of the local language and customs within minutes, which came in handy when they wanted to eat.

At the adjacent café, Hinata ordered something called bruschetta and pasta for them to share. Hinata said that dignitaries from this land had once visited the Hyuga and shared these dishes. Sasuke stared warily at them for a moment, never having been introduced to such delicacies, but in the end, he would never turn down a good meal.

Taking his first bite of the crispy slice of bread with a medley of toppings, he realized the seasoned vegetables were primarily tomatoes! He finished the rest of his serving in one bite and went for another. And another.

Their hands brushed against each other over the dish, and he realized there was one piece left.

Hinata smiled knowingly and said, “You can have it, Sasuke.”

Still chewing on his previous helping, he swallowed and asked, “Have you had any yet?”

She giggled lightly, her eyes full of mirth, and responded, “No, but you seem to really like it. It’s yours.”

Sasuke picked up the last one, and placed it to her lips. With a slow grin, he offered, “Have a bite. I insist.”

Resisting the urge to tap her fingers against each other as she thought, she realized that to onlookers, and even to herself, this felt very intimate. Meeting his stare, she laughed loudly when she realized he was pouting and giving her the cutest pair of puppy-dog eyes she’d ever seen. She surmised that he probably did not comprehend his actions, or the effect they were having on her. “Okay, one bite.”

Parting her lips, she took a demure bite from the delight in his fingers with as much poise as she was capable.

Satisfied with her obedience, he put the rest of the bruschetta in his mouth.

Her cheeks burned crimson with the indirect kiss, bringing a smile to his lips. Unable to help himself he said, “Hn. It’s tasty.”

She wanted to faint.

.

.

.

The next morning, they set off for Lake Trevoli for the last item. The lake was more of a large natural spring in the mountain. It was a journey and a trial to get there, making it rarely frequented by people unless they wanted to make a wish.

According to the lore of the people, you could make a wish by tossing a coin into the spring. The more expensive and rare the coin, the higher the likelihood of your request coming true. However, regardless of the value, it was heaven’s ultimately benevolence that would decide which wishes would be granted.

Although Sasuke had the rinnegan, it was difficult to use his teleportation powers in areas in which he was not familiar. He could bring them to a general location based on estimates, but he’d never been to the lake so he would be guessing. Further, there was the possibility that he’d accidentally transport them into the mountain face or a tree. It was not a chance worth taking.

Unlike their previous barren destination, the foliage here was thick and leafy. The sun beat down on the tree tops, the wind barely stirred a leaf, trapping heat and leaving the forest sweltering and humid.  

By the time the two weary travellers made it to their destination in the late afternoon- a tenth of the time it would take a person without special powers- they were ready to dive into the waters. Both thirsty and sweaty, all decorum was quickly tossed aside- along with the outer layers of their clothes.

Sasuke wore only his briefs, the rest of his garments lying in a heap. He dove in without hesitation.

Hinata, using more patience and care, prudently removed her top, folded it and placed it in her pouch. Her shorts were next, followed by her shinobi boots and her leggings. The boots were left near the lake’s edge. Shyly, she tied her multi-purpose obi containing her belongings to a hanging branch, and then dipped her foot into the cooling waters. Attempting a slow descent into the spring, wearing only her chest bindings and underwear, she was foiled by a tsunami of water that soaked her from head to foot.

Gasping at the shock, her skin prickled with goosebumps.

Sasuke pointed at the miserable look on her face. He laughed so hard that his eyes were forced shut and he keeled over. Before he knew it, Hinata launched a frontal assault. Together they crashed against the sunlit surface, falling into the blue depth. Their arms clung to each other as they swirled around the pristine waters harmoniously, like yin and yang.

When the bubbles cleared, Hinata was stunned into stillness by the soft gaze mere inches from her face. He stared at her like the most fascinating and beautiful thing in existence. Right now, they were the only things in their watery existence. Her heart leapt up to her throat at the thought. Her eyes roamed greedily to capture this moment for days she would need it. The perfect symmetry of his features, the sharp contrast between his smooth, pale skin and his penetratingly dark eyes and hair.

In the dark water, with the sun filtering through the dappled surface, his eyes reflected back the glow of the heavens in his stare. All her life she had been chasing the sun. She never would have guessed that the light she was after, had always been in him.

An invisible force drew them nearer, inches turning into centimeters, centimeters turning into nothing. Their bodies pressed against each other. He held her with the tenderness of worship, but with the ferocity of passion.

Abruptly, Hinata felt a sharp tug at her ankle. Shock overcame them both, as Sasuke was roughly pulled from her grasp. They were being yanked in opposite directions by something infernal.

Sasuke was incredibly annoyed at whatever foolish creatures thought it a good idea to interrupt this perfect moment. Glimmering rainbow arms and scaly hands groped his chest. He blocked the attempted fondling of his manhood and dodged the kisses to his face and mouth. Such impudence.

Anger suffused throughout his chest and he directed it at the two figures pulling on him. With rotating red pinwheels in his eyes, he ensnared the two mermaids in mental traps of his making, and swam off to save Hinata.

He paused and raised his brows at the glorious sight.

Hinata had just finished performing a thirty-two-palm strike using water needles. She turned in time to see Sasuke’s face go from pleasant shock to awe and admiration, painting a pretty blush over the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

It was a good thing they were trained to have a large lung capacity, effective oxygen use, and chakra. However, even shinobi need regular oxygen.

Taking her hand in his, they broke through the surface with their internal force with a dramatic upheaval of water. The crystal drops fell around them like liquid sunshine, glimmering and throwing sparkles all around. With power concentrated on the bottoms of their feet, they stood on the lake facing each other. Hinata opened her free palm and showed him an antique gold coin.

She smiled at him. She had recovered what she needed.

He smiled back at her triumph. Before anything else could go wrong, he lowered his head for a deep, requited kiss.

***

To be continued...

#shmonth2022 #sasuhinamonth2022 #lavendereyedassassin #cursedkisses #rated t #sasuhina #fanfiction #fanfic #day15 #metanoia

[mnikhowozu]

for context when i say 'white people' in a lot of my posts, i want to stress that i don't mean to distance myself from my white-coded privileges, i DEFINITELY have that-- passing through the world when you're pale and have light colored eyes definitely makes things easier.

but being indigenous also means less access to certain generational and cultural privileges, having generational trauma, and a culturally different upbringing, personal experience, and ways of interacting with the world

when you're pale AND indigenous AND reconnecting, in my eyes, its important to lift up voices of your community and use white-coded privilege to make people listen.

#misc: personal text #just some thoughts from me brain

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Lula In Cover Of Time Magazine: Brazil’s Most Popular President Returns From Political Exile With a Promise to Save the Nation

The genre we assign to a life story depends a lot on how it ends. Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s life has already completed several dramatic arcs. First, the hero’s journey: a child born into poverty moves to the big city, rises to lead a labor union, and then becomes the most popular President in the history of modern Brazil. Then the tragedy: a celebrated statesman is fingered in a staggering corruption scheme, sent to prison, and forced to watch from the sidelines while rivals dismantle his legacy.

The endings don’t seem to stick, though. In April 2021, Brazil’s Supreme Court annulled the corruption convictions that had excluded Lula—as he’s universally known—from politics in 2018, saying a biased judge on his case had compromised his right to a fair trial. The bombshell decision set Brazil on course for a showdown between the leftist Lula and current far-right President Jair Bolsonaro in the October 2022 elections. Polls now put the challenger at 45% and the incumbent at 31%, with more centrist candidates all but out of the running.

For Lula, who is 76 and had been preparing for a quieter life away from the halls of power, this new twist in his story was a surprise. But he didn’t hesitate to return to frontline politics. “In truth, I never gave up,” he rumbles in his famously gravelly voice, made hoarser by age. “Politics lives in every cell of my body, because I have a cause. And in the 12 years since I left office, I see that all the policies I created to benefit the poor have been destroyed.”

It’s late March, six weeks before Lula launches his campaign, and he’s sitting in a studio in the São Paulo headquarters of his Workers’ Party (PT). Chuckling and griping that no one knows how to design a comfortable chair these days, he comes off as a jovial grandfather. But at his allusion to the current government, his back stiffens and the deeper, gruffer notes of his voice take over. Lula becomes the fiery young union leader he was in the 1970s, and launches into a soapbox-ready tirade.

The dream of Brazil that Lula pursued during his presidency from 2003 to 2010 lies in tatters, he says. Through progressive social programs, paid for by a boom in Brazilian products like steel, soy, and oil, Lula’s government lifted millions out of poverty and transformed life for the country’s Black majority and Indigenous minority. Bolsonaro has taken a hammer to all that, scrapping policies that expanded poor people’s access to education, limited police violence against Black communities, and protected Indigenous lands and the Amazon rain forest. COVID-19 has killed at least 660,000 Brazilians. The toll, the second highest in the world, was likely worsened by Bolsonaro, who called the virus “a little flu,” dubbed people who followed isolation guidance “idiots,” and refused to get a vaccine himself and to buy doses for Brazilians when they first became available. A December 2020 national survey showed more than 55% of Brazilians were living in food insecurity, up from 23% in 2013.

Even Brazil’s young democracy feels less than secure. Bolsonaro, a defender of the nation’s 20th century military dictatorship, has called mass rallies against judges who displease him and attacked critical journalists. He has also spent months warning of electoral fraud in Brazil, in an echo of President Donald Trump’s behavior before the 2020 U.S. election. In April, he suggested elections could be “suspended” if “something abnormal happens.” If he loses, analysts warn, a Brazilian version of a Jan. 6 riot is likely. If he wins, Brazil’s institutions may not withstand another four years of his rule.

Riding out of his political exile like a white knight, Lula claims that he can save Brazil from that nightmare. But it may no longer be the same country he once ruled. Its economy is reeling from the pandemic, with double-digit inflation and no commodities boom on the horizon. A six-year political crisis has bitterly divided society. Geopolitical rifts that Brazil once straddled have widened, and the West is in a new hot-and-cold war with Russia.

Lula, though, believes lightning will strike twice. “In American football, there is a player—as it happens he’s ended up with a Brazilian model,” he says, referring to Tom Brady and his wife Gisele Bündchen. “He’s been the best player in the world for a long time, but in each game, his fans demand that he plays better than he did in the last one. For me, with the presidency, it’s the same thing. I am only running because I can do better than I did before.”

Continue reading.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #brazilian elections #luiz inacio lula da silva #brazilian elections 2022 #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt