can you PLEASE do more zukka. PLEASE

on todays episode of will siki finish their 3rd wip of this week

For the Artist Asks,

7. Favourite works of all time excluding your own?

21. Weirdest thing you’ve ever drawn?

7....... im just going to put my pc wallpapers here because i think it says something when i can stare at a piece of art every day for years and not get bored with it

(1: nqrse/meychan magnet mv art by hakuri, 2: rainybluebell 3 stars mv art by siki)

21. fun answer: one time i drew fanart for some middle aged happy hardcore producer (i had a 90s electronic music phase when i was like 14 please dont question it) im not posting it here because its super old and bad though. OH YEAH i also drew fanart of john zorn once not fun answer: also when i was like 14 i was peer pressured(?) into drawing fetish art several times

Your Fantasy- Rescued By A Dragon

Source Material; The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K

Pairing; Saiki Kusuo x Dragon! Male Reader

Warnings; mention of being hurt (not descriptive)

Prompt; Human/Dragon, “You’re hurt, let me help you.”

Request; “thinking about- « you're hurt, let me help you. » : human! saiki kusuo x dragon! male reader, fic. — ah, congratulations! ♡”

A human boy lay bruised and gashed on the side of a mountain. How the young man ended up here, he honestly couldn’t remember. He was running away from someone, but where he ended up in his quest to get away was unknown. Kusuo didn’t recognise his surroundings, this was somewhere he’d never been before, he would have loved to admire the scenery if it weren't for the throbbing pain that ran through his entire body. So, instead, he lay there on the ground, searching for the strength to do something, wondering how he’d gotten to this point in the first place.

Humans hated things they didn’t understand. They drove away anything they didn’t understand, or was different to them in any way. That was a thing many creatures of this world had to live with, no creature was safe in the human dominated cities, so many beings stayed away. Kusuo didn’t have as much luck as some did with staying away from those who didn’t understand him. Kusuo was a human, yes, but he was so much different to those in his town. Siki Kusuo was different, some people expected it was witchcraft, others that he was cursed by a deity, but for Saiki it was something he had since birth. He had known since birth that if he wanted to live a normal life he would have to keep these powers of his a secret. He succeeded in doing that for a while, the only ones who knew about his abilities were his parents and himself, but some secrets are hard to keep. And eventually his entire town found out.

And now, he lay in the grass of a mountain wondering if this is where he dies. His eyes stared at the sky, pain slowly taking over his body. Kusuo’s mind was going blank, that was until he heard someone making their way towards him. He didn’t have the strength to move, deciding on simply shifting his eyes in the direction of the noise. A figure stood over him, but Kusuo’s vision was so blurred he couldn’t make out the person above him. Before he completely lost consciousness, Saiki heard the person say,

“You’re hurt, let me help you.”

When Kusuo’s eyes opened the next time, he was lying on a bed. It was a large bed, filled with plush blankets. The room around Kusuo was well lit and spacious. The room was filled with odds and ends. Little jars of coins, flowers, and other trinkets littering the room. Before Kusuo could question where he was, the door to the room opened, and Kusuos eyes locked with a strange looking man that appeared to be about his age.

“Oh, you’re awake,”

“Where am I?” Kusuo asked, his consciousness had caught up to him, and he was immediately filled with no desire to stay in a place he didn’t recognise, with a man who he also didn’t know.

The man in front of Kusuo was unlike any person he had seen before. He had the aura of someone powerful. And his eyes were strange, they didn’t look like human eyes, more like the eyes you’d find on a lizard. Saiki’s eyes lingered on the man as he silently made his way over to the pink haired man, choosing not to answer the question.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, instead.

Saiki frowned, although it hadn’t crossed his mind before, he was feeling better than he had previously. When he was last awake, he was bloody and in more pain than he could bear. Now, although he was still sore, he felt much more alive than he had previously.

“Fine,”

“You're lucky you ended up on my mountain, if you hadn’t, you might have died.”

“Your mountain?” It was strange to refer to an entire mountain as one's own, although Kusuo being in the presence of a noble was a possibility.

“Yes, my mountain, ” there was a pause, it was long enough for Kusuo to wonder if the man in front of him was even going to speak again, “So tell me, how did you end up here in a dragon’s den?”

the tea - czaj - herbata anon comes to YOU now! :D I actually asked dad why we do it that way. Said "well, that's how it's been done since I remember" which explained exactly nothing, but then mused that it may have come from ye olde times when the most common tea in Poland was not the bagged one (one had to actually go and buy it abroad) but the ground loose leaves. Then the process was the same, you made esencja in small czajniczek z sitkiem (co też ma sens, te czajniczki przecież chyba zawsze są sprzedawane z sitkami) and made herbata from it. He then, additionally, grumbled that using bagged tea one per mug is just "niepotrzebne pieprzenie się, a użyta ponownie, to siki nie herbata". so yeah, maybe it is caused by the mix of being quicker and just an echo of older times. also, I'm also happy to finally meet another person doing herbata that way! *highfives* :D

WHOOO *high fives* Oh man "siki nie herbata" xD Have heard that more than once haha

I wonder too if that's the reason, that would make sense! I've always compared the size of czajniczki too, in the US it's REALLY HARD to get like, little czajniczki that are better for esencja, so you can get that good concentrated effect. They have the sitka but they're big like the ones you see in shows about England. But in Poland I know they had actual smaller ones, not tiny but you know "just the right size".

Funny enough, my parents's answer to "why' is the same - that's just how we do it! xD lol

New Post has been published on https://www.jg-house.com/2020/07/13/chapter-5-part-2-road-to-podor-hercule/

Chapter 5, Part 2: Road to Podor - Hercule

“We’re going to head east now,” Raphael announced in French as the driver turned left on a road, called Route N2, directly in front of a large gas station displaying a sign with a single word, OiLibya. Raphael bent over slightly and looked at a watch strapped to Hercule’s wrist. “We’re making good time,” Raphael added in French, now studying the expression on Hercule’s face. Hercule gave the impression he was ill or otherwise in distress and could not remain still. He glanced at Raphael but quickly directed his gaze toward the front of the bus.

“Is that a water treatment plant?” asked Bertrand suddenly in French. He sat on the aisle next to his wife, Beatrice, in the second row, behind the Chinese couple. Bertrand turned and looked at Raphael. On the right side of the road, I saw a series of structures interspersed with large pipes and pumps occupying a plot of sandy ground extending hundreds of feet to the east and south. There were also numerous small artificial ponds divided into sectors. It appeared to be an ambitious operation. We were on the outskirts of St. Louis with no dwellings or businesses in sight.

“Oui,” Raphael replied to Bertrand after a long pause. “It’s the main water treatment facility serving the population of St. Louis,” he added in French, looking out the window at a man and a woman who were boiling water over a fire in front of a make-shift tent just beyond the edge of the highway. The tent itself was in front of a chain-link fence built around the treatment plant. “There are 300,000 people in St. Louis,” Raphael said quietly, as if he were talking to himself.

Encampment

“The trees along the road are beautiful,” Beatrice interjected loudly in French. She wanted everyone to know she wasn’t interested in water treatment or reclamation. On both sides of the road, a line of gum acacia trees, their leaves rustling in a slight breeze, extended to the east as far as the eye could see.

“Gum acacia trees have been important to the economy in this area for many years,” Raphael continued. “The gum produced from the sap in the tree trunks has been used for a broad array of commercial applications, particularly in the preparation of food and beauty products.” He bent over in the aisle to adjust the strap on one of his sandals. Suddenly, Hercule stood up from his seat, accidentally hitting Raphael and causing the African man to lose his balance. Lomax reached out and steadied Raphael with two hands so he wouldn’t fall.

“Désolée,” Hercule muttered and rushed up the aisle, placing a single hand on the back of the driver’s seat and glancing at the Chinese couple with an expression of disgust on his face. He leaned over the bus driver, uttering a few words only he and the driver could hear. Immediately, the driver slowed the vehicle, pulled it to the side of the road, and brought it to a halt in the sand just beyond a small store. The driver opened the front door and motioned to Hercule, who brushed past Ismael in the stairwell and stumbled as he leaped onto the sand. Regaining his balance, Hercule broke into a run toward the line of gum acacia trees.

“He has to urinate. I saw him react in a similar manner back at the hotel after he drank a large glass of wine,” Lomax commented. “Bladder problems.”

Bus Depot

Refreshment

Hercule disappeared behind a tree. When he re-emerged a few minutes later, he had zipped up his pants. He paused, brushed off his pant legs, and spun around to look at something behind him. I expected him, though, to be self-conscious as he walked back to the bus, but, on the contrary, he acted as if nothing had happened. He crawled over Ismael in the stairwell, nodded to the bus driver, and shuffled down the aisle, making a bow before taking his seat again.

“Ça va?” Raphael asked.

“Ça va,” Hercule replied almost cheerfully.

As the driver pulled the bus back onto the road, I felt my iPhone vibrate. I looked at the screen and saw a text message from a colleague in Washington, D.C., the vice president of my consulting group. He wanted to know when I was going to respond to his last e-mail message. Then I remembered. I had received the message the previous evening after dinner as Lomax and I were leaving the dining room of Hôtel de La Résidence to meet Sylvie, Madeleine, and François at the bar of the Siki Hotel. For a whole day, I had neglected to reply to one of my superiors, a mistake I needed to address quickly.

“I’m en route to Podor,” I wrote in a text message. “I’ll contact our sources in Lagos, Nigeria, and Accra, Ghana, immediately.” I pressed the white and blue icon in the WhatsApp chat window to send my message, but I didn’t receive a confirmation that the message was delivered until several minutes later.

Next, I dialed one of the telephone numbers my superior had given me, but there was no answer. I dialed another number. No answer either. I became nervous. I realized I should have made my calls early in the morning, and then I remembered it was Sunday. I relaxed slightly. I decided to leave several messages later in the evening, and make several calls at 9:30 in the morning. I would call Karim Wade at the university in Dakar as well. I knew my boss would expect a report the next day, and I had to show some progress.

In his message, the vice president of the research group presented a collection of facts about security issues in Niger, Mali, and Burkina Faso but also Senegal. Although Senegal, with its long history of religious and ethnic tolerance, had served as a model of stability in West Africa since its independence from France in 1960, analysts warned that terrorist activity in the Sahel soon could spill over Senegal’s borders and bring an end to the peace. I had memorized basic facts, including the number of French and U.S. troops deployed to the nations in the Sahel; the number of airplanes, helicopters, and drones conducting operations; and the number of insurgents eliminated during a previous 12-month period. Finally, I was aware of the costs associated with joint French and U.S. peace-keeping patrols in the area—nearly $1 billion.

Roadside Gathering

In the interior of the bus, I heard, at the same time, a number of voices in French mixing together in the warm air. One voice, though, rose above the rest. It belonged to Hercule, I realized, as soon as I stopped reading my latest report about recent attacks of insurgents in Mali and directed my attention to the man from Lyon.

“Did you read that the Chinese have sent another flotilla of fishing vessels to the waters off the coast of Senegal?” Hercule said loudly. “They’re going to destroy the marine life in West Africa just as they did in the South China Sea.” A silence ensued, but it didn’t last long. “There will be no more fish! That’s crazy. Senegalese people will starve,” Hercule shouted.

Hercule was standing in the aisle next to his seat, bracing himself with both arms and delivering his speech toward the front of the bus and the Chinese couple. The other passengers sat, tense and silent, staring at the impassive couple. No one knew what to do or what to think: take the side of Hercule and join in the criticism of the Chinese; take the side of the Chinese and reject Hercule.

“The Chinese government,” Hercule continued, “wants to trap the Senegalese people in a spiral of debt. It’s the same strategy they’re using elsewhere across the globe, in Cambodia and in Myanmar, for example, but also in Nicaragua and in Peru.” Hercule turned, saw I was looking at him, and rested his gaze on me. He appeared to be searching for, at a minimum, a reaction to his comments or, even better, a validation of his ideas. Lomax, who had been focused on applying a new color palette with Photoshop to images on his computer but who now seemed eager to take a break because the bus was bouncing on an increasingly rough road, looked up.

“Monsieur,” I said, addressing the Frenchman while removing the lid from the Styrofoam box on the seat, “have a beer and relax a minute.” Immediately, I thought I had made a mistake. If Hercule accepted the beer, he would become more aggressive and force the driver to stop the bus again. A second idea, though, was more consoling. Hercule would reject the beer, thinking I just wanted him to shut up and sit down.

“Ah, merci,” Hercule replied without hesitation, reaching out and grabbing the bottle from my hand.

I was wrong, twice.

“My friend,” Hercule said in accented English, “I’m thirsty. Talking is hard work.” He removed the bottle cap with an effortless motion of his fist and drank the beer in three gulps. “That’s good. Very good.” He looked at me. “You’re a friend, aren’t you?” he said. “You’re brothers, no?” He looked at me and then at Lomax and raised his bottle. “We drink together.”

Motorcycle

Angry Hercule

Unconsciously, I opened another e-mail. It was one of many newsletters which I received each week and I didn’t read. But now, as I started feeling apprehensive about what Hercule would do next, I starting reading. According to its author, the Senegalese government was going to auction off licenses for oil drilling in a series of newly mapped quadrants off shore. The discovery of an oil field deep under water off Point of Sangomar, 100 miles south of Dakar, was the largest discovery of any reserves in any location over the previous five years.

I glanced at Lomax. He removed two additional bottles from the Styrofoam box, took off the caps, and handed one to me while keeping the other.

“I’ve been traveling to Africa for more than 30 years,” Hercule now resumed in awkward English. “Things don’t change. Africans are poor. They’re trying to recover from hundreds of years of exploitation.” Hercule paused. I didn’t speak and instead looked past Hercule up the aisle of the bus. Although he spoke loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone, I could detect no reaction from anyone. The Chinese man and his wife continued to stare out the front window. It wasn’t clear, though, that they understood Hercule’s criticisms. François tilted his head toward Hercule, Lomax, and me. He approved of Hercule.

“One thing is clear,” Hercule continued, turning slightly and following my gaze toward the front of the bus. “Africans don’t want a master.” He paused again before raising his voice, “The Chinese want slaves.”

The bus driver slowed the bus, bringing it to a rolling stop as a speeding car passed in the opposite direction along Route N2. We turned left onto a narrow, very bumpy road, now heading north. Hercule seemed to lose his concentration. I looked past him again, peering up the aisle and out the front window at the road ahead. In the distance, I could see a medium-sized, twin-propeller airplane descending at a gentle angle and approaching the ground. It was landing on an abbreviated airstrip just beyond a box-like building sitting among a cluster of trees.

“Who will stop the Chinese?” Hercule asked suddenly, staring at Lomax, who was staring at the noisy airplane. Our bus driver continued in the direction of the box-like building, apparently a terminal for passengers. Behind the terminal, I could see the airplane more clearly now as it taxied and came to a stop beside another plane. From the side of the twin-propeller craft, a door burst open and a staircase dropped to the ground. In the open doorway, a figure appeared with two small cases, one in each hand. When the figure on the staircase reached the ground, a second figure, wearing a headset, appeared and went down the staircase.

“Who will stop the Chinese?” I repeated. “Well, I hear what you’re saying. I don’t know the answer.”

Meeting

The bus driver passed a line of gum acacia trees and approached the box-like terminal. Hercule held his empty bottle of beer in one hand while holding onto the back of the seat in front of me with his other hand and focused on the twin-propeller plane. When the driver stopped the bus in front of a set of glass doors, Hercule looked at his wife, pointed at the plane, and smiled. Above the glass doors was a sign displaying the words, Bienvenue à Aéroport de Saint-Louis.

“What are we doing at an airport?” Hercule asked. Then he said, “That plane is wonderful. I flew one just like it. Long ago. It has big Rolls-Royce engines. It could easily cruise at 600 kph.” When Lomax extended another bottle to Hercule, the Frenchman eagerly accepted it and drank its contents in another three gulps.

The driver opened the door of the bus, and Ismael leaped down the stairwell, walked to the glass doors at the front of the terminal, and called out to someone as he entered the building. I watched Ismael disappear. I wondered when he would re-appear. Madeleine glanced at me over her shoulder from the second row of the bus, but didn’t speak. On the north side of the terminal, I saw a modest control tower rising into the air. The two structures, I realized, comprised the airport. Our driver closed the door of the bus and shifted his weight in his seat behind his steering wheel as if in preparation for a long wait. He didn’t turn off the bus’s engine. Several young men appeared from behind a cluster of palm trees and approached the bus, peering inside and smiling broadly attempting to catch the attention of the passengers.

“It looks like we’re not leaving right away,” Lomax said, standing up from his seat. “I’m going outside,” he said, picking up his big camera from an adjacent seat. “I’ll get photos of people arriving or preparing to depart.” He looked at Hercule. “Do you have to use the bathroom? There should be one in the terminal.”

Hercule met Lomax’ gaze.

“I’m with you,” Hercule said.

Lomax approached the bus driver with his camera in one hand while gesturing toward the front door of the bus with his other hand. Hercule followed. I noticed the other passengers on board the bus remained silent in their seats, looking out the windows. I assumed they were, like I was, waiting, a little confused. When the driver opened the door, François, carrying his own, much smaller camera, stood up and followed Lomax and Hercule onto the sunlit pavement.

Young Woman

Chinese Man

A silence ensued. It was broken by a shrill voice belonging to a man.

“What are we doing here? What are we waiting for?” Denis exclaimed from his seat in the fourth row of the bus. Nobody answered. I looked at Raphael, but he was talking with Bertrand and Beatrice. The bus driver looked out the window toward the airstrip. He reached to one side of the steering wheel and flipped a switch. I heard a fan somewhere in the ceiling at the back of the bus turn on. Denis stood up from his seat and turned to look at Raphael, who was explaining to Bertrand and Beatrice that many species of birds from Europe had stopped migrating to Senegal because of climate change.

“In parts of Europe,” Raphael explained to the French couple, “it’s now just as warm as it is in Senegal during the winter, the time of the year birds traditionally fly south.” Raphael paused, thinking for a few moments before adding, “We’ll have an opportunity to see many of the birds which still make their homes in Senegal when we stop at a famous bird sanctuary on our way down the river. Of course, I am referring to the world-renowned Djoudj Bird Park.”

“Excusez-moi,” Denis said, entering the aisle and looking initially at Raphael and then the bus driver. He moved toward the driver, continuing to speak in French, “I asked a question.” But the Frenchman was restrained by his companion, Jean-Paul, who also had entered the aisle.

“Just relax,” Jean-Paul said, clasping the arm of his friend. “We’ll be back on the road soon.” Denis, allowing himself to be comforted by Jean-Paul, collapsed in his seat and let out a sigh. He looked like a person who had seen clearly for the first time circumstances beyond his control.

The bus driver, motionless in his seat behind the steering wheel, never shifted his gaze from the parked plane. Raphael, though, glanced at Denis before standing and going to the front of the bus and looking at the front of the terminal.

Denis’ question went unanswered. What was the purpose of the stop? At no point had Raphael made any mention of the airport.

Marketplace

Lomax, I noticed, as I allowed my gaze to drift across the flat desert landscape, had walked over to the twin-propeller airplane parked next to the narrow airstrip, its silver wings reflecting the glare of the sun. Ten feet from Lomax, Hercule stood looking at the cockpit of the plane as if he were imagining himself inside. Lomax turned to face our bus while pointing at an image and a series of characters on the side of the plane. I had no idea what Lomax wanted to convey. It occurred to me that the marks on the metal panel of the plane were Chinese characters.

“Money,” said a voice, which then continued speaking in French. I turned to find the African porter in the seat across the aisle from me. The young man, peering intently into my face, finished his short speech and extended his hand in the air. “15,000,” he said. He wanted the equivalent of $25. I stared back at him while reaching for cash in a pouch under my shirt.

“What’s your name?” I asked in French.

“I carry your bags,” he replied in English. “My name is Macky.”

“Macky!” shouted a voice. The porter stood up and looked toward the front of the bus. I followed his gaze.

“Allez!” said the voice. It was Raphael.

The porter moved quickly up the aisle to the front. Raphael, who stood at the top of the stairwell, shifted his gaze from the porter toward the glass doors of the terminal. In front of the doors now stood a figure holding two suitcases, one in each hand, the same man who had emerged from the twin-propeller airplane a few minutes before. The man, in his 40s, appeared to be Chinese. He met the gaze of Raphael from inside the bus. When the Chinese man started toward us, I realized it was no coincidence our bus had arrived at the terminal at the same time the airplane landed. Raphael had known all along we would pick up the Chinese man.

Bertrand and Beatrice approached my seat. They thought I had information about the appearance of the plane and its passenger.

“We have a new member,” Bertrand said to me as the driver opened the door and the porter took the bags from the Chinese man.

“You think he came from China?” Beatrice asked, stopping in the aisle while looking out the window at the newcomer from Asia.

“No,” I said.

I recalled the Chinese characters on the side of the twin-propeller aircraft, but I deduced the plane had arrived in Senegal from China at some point previously.

“Now he’s coming from Dakar,” I added. “It’s a 20-minute flight. Before departing Hôtel de La Résidence, our driver spoke to the pilot of the plane, and they arranged the rendezvous here.”

“You’re right,” Bertrand said, glancing at me before moving back to his seat. “Our new friend has been on the ground for exactly ten minutes,” he added over his shoulder. “Soon he will be on board the Bou el Mogdad. But what are his plans? Sun bathe on the deck of the boat? Watch birds on the river?”

“Definitely not,” Beatrice interjected.

Queue

Madeleine, talking with Sylvie, Anta, and Delphine about a new generation of fashion designers from Senegal and Nigeria, paused in the middle of a sentence and watched the movement of the porter. The other women turned to watch as well. After the porter took the bags from the newcomer, the two of them approached the bus. At the door to the vehicle, the porter, carrying pieces of luggage, stopped and allowed the Chinese man to go in front.

“S’il vous plaît,” Raphael said, guiding the Chinese man to the row behind the bus driver, and then turned to the driver and uttered a few words. The driver tapped lightly at the center of the steering wheel, honking the horn at a low decibel and catching the attention of Lomax, Hercule, and François, who returned to the bus. Hercule didn’t glance at the newcomer. He appeared lost in thought, undoubtedly in the memory of his days flying a twin-propeller plane.

I looked at the Chinese couple sitting in the first row across the aisle from the Chinese man. The female spoke a few words in Mandarin to the newcomer. He turned around in his seat and looked at the rest of us. It was a long, slow survey, not a quick glance. I noticed Sylvie leaned over and spoke to Madeleine sitting beside her after the Chinese woman spoke. Madeleine studied the Chinese couple for moment and, next, examined the Chinese man across the aisle. She turned and looked at me.

“Nous sommes prêts à partir,” Macky shouted from the back of the bus after storing the luggage of the newcomer. We were ready to go. The digital watch on my wrist showed 2:24. The driver set the bus in motion. But now Hercule became aware of the newcomer.

“Mon Dieu,” Hercule croaked, grimacing at the Chinese man.

“Merci,” issued a different, more dramatic voice. It belonged to Denis, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap as the driver maneuvered the bus toward the turn-off to Route N2 and the road to Podor.

**

#Africa, #Travelogue #Africa, #Art, #Beauty, #ClimateChange, #Culture, #Environment

Black Death - Black Death (1984) review

If you’ve ever spoken to me about music for more than five centiseconds, you’re probably aware that I have a raging ear-boner for the recordings of Black Death. If you’re not familiar, they were a heavy metal group from Cleveland, Ohio (and quite possibly the first all-black metal band ever) headed by guitarist/vocalist Siki Spacek, alongside guitarist Greg Hicks, bassist Clayborn Pinkins, and drummer Phil Bullard. Pinkins was shot and killed in 1979 and was replaced by Ed Goodan, who in turn was quickly replaced by Darrell Harris. Sadly, one LP, a few demos, and a spot on a Cleveland metal compilation were Black Death’s only existing recordings before they mysteriously (and, as far as I can tell, without clear reason) dissolved in 1988. Earlier this month, Spacek chose to unexpectedly release a compilation of never-before-heard Black Death recordings, news which has kept my aforementioned ear-boner fully erect for more than four hours. Frankly I could ramble more and cover their entire history in this review, but let’s get to the actual album!

So first off, holy SHIT does this thing ever wear its influences directly on its flame-decal-bedecked sleeve. This album is positively dripping with the mark of Priest, UFO, even some Sabbath here and there. If anything, this relatively wide range of influences gives you a good idea of how genuinely VARIED the album is, as in 40 minutes, Siki and co. cover thrash, doom, NWOBHM, and even a melancholy ballad without ever once losing sight of their style and sound. The album opens with a punchy, energetic foot-stomping pseudo-thrasher and closes with a crushing nine-minute doom metal epic; if anything, Black Death’s lack of recorded material is compensated for by the variety that their limited discography holds. Later re-releases would include a bonus disc that houses three extra songs, including two of my favourites from the band: Retribution, a galloping number soaked in UFO’s hot seminal fluids (the chorus riff is, almost note-for-note, the same as Doctor Doctor’s), and Until We Rock, a long solo-laden piece that seems to derive influence from, of all things, Kiss and Thin Lizzy. If you somehow track down this album physically (good luck lmao), DEFINITELY don’t hesitate to throw on the bonus tracks assuming they’ll be sub-par (as most bonus tracks are), these songs are just as powerful as the other seven on this album.

The instrumentation is top-notch. Spacek is a guitar god, and has more talent contained within his Crimson Underwear of Power™ than any mortal human being could ever hope to attain. His blistering solos fly all over this album, essentially weaving in and out of every song, never really going away for too long (think Hendrix, how most songs would be constantly punctuated with mini-solos and leads, but in a metal context); dude has pure shred coming out of every available orifice at all times. As a vocalist, he more than holds his own, utilizing traditional thrash shouts, deep guttural growls, charismatic mid-range wailing, and notably a VERY distinctive, if grating until you get used to it, high-pitched Halfordian scream, featured perhaps most extensively in the closing seconds of bonus track Retribution. As for Greg Hicks, Spacek alleges that he played just TWO solos on this record (Hicks states otherwise), but I’m unable to tell by ear which are his, so I’ll have to assume he’s damn good too if he’s keeping up with Spacek that well. Darrell Harris’ bass playing is very intricate and brings some fantastic bulldozing low-end to the mix, including a nice mini-solo in the opening seconds of When Tears Run Red. Spacek states he taught Harris how to play bass not long before the recording of the album, and if this is true, I have nothing but respect for the man for getting that damn good that fast. Phil Bullard rounds out the lineup with a pummeling, fill-heavy swing style, never overpowering the guitars but creating a rock-solid foundation for the band. His playing is somewhat dampened by the production, but more on that later.

Lmao okay it’s later, and the production, frankly, isn’t great. Right off the bat, one will probably notice the vocals being VERY loud in the mix (which gets most grating when Spacek unleashes one of his head-splitting banshee screeches), and conversely, the drums are very quiet. Not so quiet that they’re inaudible, but if you told me Bullard set up his kit inside a dumpster, closed the lid, and played in his dark Sensory Deprivation Trash Booth while the rest of the band recorded it through an answering machine outside, I’d believe you. To top things off, one guitar is distinctly much quieter than the other at certain points, such as the opening lead in Retribution (Sorry to constantly bring that song up but DAMN it’s good), which is really cool but barely audible unless you’re really listening closely. Ultimately, this sounds more like a demo recording than a proper studio mix. In fact, their demo recordings generally have better sound quality, as seen in utterly fantastic tracks like Breaking the Chains of Hell and The Last Prophet of the Rise of the Beast, which never made it onto the album for reasons unknown. That said, the flawed production does NOT take away from the songwriting and impressive performance courtesy of this godly (satanly?) talented group.

If you’re looking for new bands to listen to, make one of those bands Black Death. These guys were beyond talented, full of energy, and never got the recognition they deserved, even a full 33 years after their first (and final) album. Once you’ve heard the album, check out the bonus tracks, the demo tapes, even Spacek’s new projects, since basically everything this guy touches is gold (including, if his word is to be believed, Cyndi Lauper’s tit!). Also, bonus points for stating that Dreamer Deceiver is his favourite Judas Priest track, anyone who says that is cool in my book tbh

Here we go, into the pit, Black Death, the angels scream

Hey there, big fan of your work! I was just looking through your de tag and saw a bit about Kagome going to the Chamber of Secrets and it made me think... what if she befriended the basilisk? I remember seeing this recount once upon a time about squib!Harry and in that it involved him befriending the basilisk. I mean Kagome's befriended people/creatures who tried to kill her before, so why not a big snake who she can actually talk to?

Oh scratch the squib!Harry, that was a different story. The one where Harry befriended a basilisk was the one where he grew up in Hogwarts because Petunia didn’t take him in.

Aaaa, thank you friend!! ^^

But j e s u s, can you imagine if she has a fucking basilisk on her side during the final battle?? It could swallow up a line of death eaters, or even werewolves in one fricking gulp. Maybe take down a giant without much of a sweat.

But the basilisk – it’s loyal to Salazar, and isn’t Voldemort his descendant?? I think that was how he was able to gain control of the snake, bc it was loyal to Salazar’s line and could only be controlled by his true heir. So would Kagome actually be able to reason with it? To befriend it??

[more under the cut bc this got loooong]

It wouldn’t be easy, if the snake is compelled to listen to Salazar’s true heir. Maybe Kagome ventures into the chamber with Kirara at her side, and tries to talk to it but it turns out it’s no good. It won’t listen to her, instead tries to attack her, and it’s only because of Kirara that she escapes. Maybe that’s how it goes for a long while. Until the summer comes and Kagome has to leave it alone for a couple of months.

When she is back, the snake does not immediately attack her, but is definitely still hostile. Demands why she has returned after all this time, why she persists. *This one will not allow another to control it. This one will only listen to master’s true heir.*

And of course Kagome immediately goes, *I don’t want to control you. I want to… befriend you. I’d like to be your friend*

And the basilisk, it smells no lies. However, it does detect the faint smell of another snake – of Siki, who had visited Kagome before she had left for Hogwarts. And maybe that and Kagome’s sincerity is enough for it to listen, if only for a small time. Though it is still quick to hiss and snap at her.

But over time, Kagome grows on the basilisk. Why not? This is the only company it has had in decades and Tom Riddle doesn’t seem the type to take the time and chat with the snake and consider it as another intelligent being. Oh, he respects it’s power, but first and foremost sees the basilisk as a tool not an equal, not anything close. Maybe even Salazar did not consider the basilisk as such either, or perhaps considered it only a pet – for he left it locked away in the chamber to be used by his heir to clear the school of muggle-borns (if the legend is to be believed. maybe the basilisk devoted its life to salazar and agreed to stay for him. maybe it was protection if muggles ever discovered and took over bc he was paranoid that by taking in muggle-born children, it raised the risk of the magical world being revealed to the world. who knows)

Either way, the basilisk is a little bitter about it. If Salazar treated it kindly, maybe it had been waiting so long for his true heir to release it so they could meet, only to meet this little shit that wanted it to murder human snakelets (salazar had talked about muggles one day ransacking the castle and destroying everything he and the founders had built, these are just human snakelets wanting to learn magic, not doing any harm. it only petrified kids until myrtle after all – maybe bc voldemort said to get rid of muggle-borns at first so it was like, well he didn’t specifically say kill. and took to indirectly looking into the children until mrytle discovered voldemort speaking to it in the bathroom and he ordered it to kill her.) 

So yeah, the basilisk grows to become fond of Kagome and her visits, eventually arriving without Kirara, which to the basilisk is a show of trust. (one that the basilisk questions the wisdom of the first time it happens, to which kagome answers – you don’t bring protection to talk to a friend. The basilisk is kind of touched, but still tells kagome it doesn’t mind bc it’s also fond of the furry beast. maybe because kirara brought some food down to it as a treat lol – the basilisk lives of the magic provided from the castle, but appreciates food all the same, misses it too.) 

And sometimes Kagome comes down to the chamber to escape, because this place isn’t on the map so the boys can’t find her. No one but Kirara can find her. The basilisk of course smells the scent of tears and is furious – who dares make it’s favorite snakelet cry? Demands to know who so it can eat them. Kagome laughs and says it isn’t necessary, probably thinks it’s only joking and finding it weirdly comforting – until realizing it’s not and oh, the basilisk is a her and now her motherly instincts have been agitated. 

Anyway holy shit this is getting so long /cries – but the years pass and Kagome takes to visiting the basilisk (who needs a name of course, and man, imagine how long since the basilisk has heard her name? has been asked that?) at least once a week, even allowing her to roam the forest freely, as she won’t attack snakelets of her own will. 

Until the final battle happens and, because Kagome had left the door to the chamber and therefore to the pipes open, the basilisk comes out to fight those that dare attack the snakelets of the castle and the real test of loyalty comes when Voldemort finds her. Here is the true heir of the man she vowed her loyalty to, and maybe once upon a time she would follow his orders without question, maybe his words compel something in her, but she either smells or hears the snakelet that has been a constant companion to her over the years, that has treated her not below like some animal or tool, but an equal as an intelligent being, that has been a friend when for so long she had has none, and it destroys whatever compulsion or loyalty that is tied to him.

Relearning love

( This is a bnha fanfic for how the big three adopted a kid.warning this story does have mentions of abuse and harsh conditions...The only character I own in this story is Rei/Yurei. All others are owned by the creator of Bnha) 

Nejire huffed and walked up to the boys with her hands on her waist. "Well it looks like we finally know what we're in for?" "You got the location Nej?" Asked Tamaki, Nejire nods with a proud smile but turns serious once more. "At least now we know where all the quirk erasing drugs are coming from..though I hope its not a hoax because, you know how things can go.." "Yeah well we better get on it now then, better now than to wait." Joins Mirio who stands up from his comfy spiny chair of their agency, he goes to grab his cape. Sun eater stands as well Good job on finding the information Nej" "Thanks Tama, I'm just glad someone gave us a hint" Mirio comes over with Tamaki's cloak while clipping on his red cape. "Well lets get going, day light's burning, do you have back up on the way Nejire?" Nejire grabbed her 'work phone' "As soon as we get to the car we will have back up Mirio" She informs earning an amused smile  from the blond "now lets hope this goes..well" The three head for the door and soon to their car. Mirio's in the driver's seat with the destination in the GPS, and like promised. Nejire had back up to join them as soon as they got to the car. Parking a few blocks away from their destination, the group talk to their back up people and talk about their plan. Thanks to Nejire's hard work they had a blue print of the warehouse and where secretive groups could be held and possibilities for being able to invade. with that they follow their plan, busting down the large double doors after knocking out the security cameras and the exterior guards, the interior ones were stronger but it was to be expected and they were taken down with a challenge yet back up wasn't too necessary. Rushing up the stairs while back up and the police were able to take evidence and accomplish into custody and questioning. Breaking through until they finally opened a door to a what looked like a vacant dark room. "I wonder what's in this room?" Nejire inquires as she searched for a light source, though when she flipped a switch and lights came on what they saw horrified them. A small child like body laying on the floor, it gave them all flash backs of when they were saving Eri from overhaul this was even more graphic though. The small limp body was covered in bruises, blood and was chained up to the wall. A puddle of vomit near by the body, they were sure the person was dead but that didn't stop Mirio from rushing over and kneeling down to it. To his surprise they were breathing but, the bringing was shallow and you could hear how hard it is for them to breath and their body temperature was ice cold. "Th-they're alive!??" Tamaki was quick to follow Mirio after checking their surroundings and Nejire wasn't far behind. Gently lifting the body up Nejire paled at just how sickly the child seemed up close, like they barely ate and what they did ate they threw it up. "Oh poor kid, hm Tamaki can you try and brake the chains form the wa-" Just as Nejire was asking for Tamaki's assistance, Nejire's phone buzzed, checking it she huffed. "We've still got company guys" "then we'll have to work fast and get this kid out of here and to a safe place." States Mirio confidently, Tamaki gets to work on breaking the chains and just in time the last chain disconnects enough to run off. Holding the child close to his chest Mirio is between tamaki and Nejire as they try and find the quickest and best way to get out. Though not quick enough because the Hench men are coming around the corner. It must be Sun eater's lucky day though, he's got his tentacles all wrapped up with them with one hand squeezing and holding them in place long enough for Mirio and Nejire to run. So Tamaki shoves the henchmen into the room and locks the door. Then running the same way his partners's did to catch up with them. It took some more back up to help come out alive with the child but they did it! Arriving in the parking lot they've got an ambulance ready, even the media came as Mirio carried the child that he hoped would be okay. Maybe new anchors tried to get a word from him and photos as he rushed to the paramedics but he was focused on getting the child to safety first and for most. He'd told the paramedics what they found and what him, Tamaki, and Nejire suspected about the child. It wasn't long after just walking away from the ambulance that they were swarmed by the media who were only given answers that said "We can not give out that information since we are unsure if it is correct" or. "Taking down the henchmen were the first priority when we entered a 'busy' room than just running in an looking through boxes. Besides that should be left up to those who know how to handle such equipment." When they were finally permitted to leave Mirio couldn't help but hold a feel of concern for the child they'd found. It was just like when they found Eri, she was all alone and no one to care for her until Mr Aizawa took her in temporarily but. Ms Midoriya stepped up with Toshinori to take her in seeing as they were thinking of marriage and couldn't leave Eri to the foster system. Tamaki could tell by the look on Mirio's face as they got to their car that Mirio was thinking about the kid and if he was honest. Tamaki was too and so did Nejire, it was embedded into their minds. "Mirio, do you want to see the kid?" mirio's head snapped to Tamaki with a blush on his face, he silently nodded and Nejire giggles. "Well we're not gonna stop ya babe, lets go, I wonder if they're okay?" Mirio nods and starts the car to drive to the hospital they were told the kid would be at. Finding a parking space, detaching their capes or unnecessary items then leaving them in the car before getting out and walking into the hospital. When they walked in they gained many stares from the civilians and nurses. Mirio went up to the front desk and asked the lady. "Excuse me ma'am, we were curious as to where we could be able to see a patient who's been taken here. We'd rescued them not long ago and the paramedics told us this would be the hospital." She looked up at Mirio and asked back "well can you describe any thing of this patient?" Mirio had to think but Nejire was quick to help. "A small child who had broken chains, looked pretty sick and hurt, we'd gotten them out of a warehouse?" "hmm let me see-" A doctor came rounding the corner and smiles at the three heroes. "Excuse me, are you the ones that brought the kid out of the warehouse?" "That is us yes" Offering his hand to shake, the young male introduces himself as. "Hi I'm Dr Hiroshi Siki" Mirio shook the man's hand "Hi, we're the big three, this Tamaki, Nejire, and I'm Mirio" "Nice to meet you, would you like to see him?" "C-can we really?!??" "I mean you are the ones who saved him, besides I think you'd want to know somethings about the young boy." "oh okay then" The doctor instructs the three to follow him down to the children's ward and down the hall into a large room with many beds only separated by curtains. It was like the children's version of the ER, this was way too similar to to Eri's situation. Opening the soft blue curtail, there on the large bed was a small boy in a gown who had needles, lines, and machines hooked up to him as well as some bandages. "Wow, i-is he okay?" Sun eater frowns while looking to the doctor, then the bed and back as if to ask permission to go near the bed. "Well, he has some broken ribs, and some bruised muscle, dehydration which is being taken care of by the IV lines. What they injected into him, I'm working on the results now, hopefully it shouldn't be long but. For the injuries he has physically right now he's gonna be okay." They all didn't know they'd been holding their breath as a sigh was let out that sounded to be from relief for the boy. The doctor was about to go out and check to see if his nurses had any new information for him but. A nurse was already on her way with the results he needed bu when she handed it to him she said. "You wont believe this Dr Siki" The doctor looked back at the nurse with a confused and concerned look before opening the file. Reading it with furrowed brows that soon curved up in confusion then sympathy. "What is it Dr Siki?" "Well I've only seen these cases very rarely and it is common among child victims like him.." The pro heroes knew the news wasn't great at all with even being told what it was, they could here to sympathy dripping from the Doctor's tone. "His quirk has been totally switched" The team was perplexed themselves, Mirio then asked. "what do you mean how can that be?" With a soft huff to prepare himself to explain, Dr Siki just looked to the paper before speaking. "Well what the results show is that, the coding to the quirks he has the possibility to have based on his original genetics has been erased and. Replaced with a different coding to give him a different quirk and its now most likely permanently genetic." "so what are you gonna do with him?" Asked Mirio as he'd grown close to the child in the bed and his larger hand lightly brushed against the bandaged smaller ones. "Well we'll keep him till he's awake and have CPS come in to take custody of him." The mention of CPS brang tension and gloom to Mirio, Nejire, and Tamaki. "Oh okay then" It had been three days since the rescue and the kid hadn't been taken in by CPS yet. Mirio wasn't the only one concerned for the boy's safety if he were to be in the foster system since he'd been through so much already. Nejire couldn't help but think that harming a child was the worst offence a person could do. To such a small child who's too young to have to know that the world of cruel and full of awful people. Tamaki had grown a lot as a person ever since he'd been in the big three as a UA student and when it came to cases like Eri's there was something inside of him that wanted to do all that he could to help protect kids who suffered and. The little boy was no different, it left the same feeling in Tamaki's heart. Mirio had done some research and was hoping he could get his partner's to agree with his plan. Walking into the bedroom he sat on the bed. "Hey guys?" "yes mirio?" Tamaki was brushing out Nejire's hair for her, both Tamaki and Nejire found it relaxing to do. "I've been thinking and I've done some research and...I-I'd like to adopt the kid we rescued?" Both Nejire and Tamaki's gaze snapped towards the blond, Nejire was first to reply. "I've always wanted a child and I'd be happy to make a child's life better.-" Tamaki interrupted politely "I do too, the system can be terrible and the bullying that kid could face would be just as traumatizing as what he'd been through." It was soon agreed upon the by the three of them. Going to the hospital in their casual wear, they walked into the children's Icu and up to the room the young boy was. CPS was in the room, a worker sat in the chair talking to the frightened child who shook and avoided eye contact. Knocking on the door the worker opened the door and looked confused. "Hello who are you?" It wasn't rude just perplexed, Mirio set out a hand to shake with a warm smile. "We're the big three, the ones who saved the child from the warehouse..I'm glad we got here now that you're here we'd like to talk." "Ooh wait you're the group I spoke with on the phone, yes yes, sorry we haven't met in person too much." The young lady shook Mirio's hand with a happy smile. "So I'd like to talk to you three about what you'd need to do with the boy when you do take him but. I'd rather the doctor be in so the correct terminology is used and both sides can have an explanation." "Oh okay that's fine with us, though for now why don't we meet the kid, we don't even know his name yet." Suggested Nejire the lady nods "Sure thing, though he's not very talkative and seems to be very jumpy and skittish." The group makes a mental note, knowing to take precaution. Opening the door to lead the three inside the lady went over to the boy. His hair down over his face, the color of his hair was pretty strange. Dark dark maroon down to hot pink around the tips, the mop of hair was quiet messy and covered his eyes with a shadow. "Hey sweetheart look who I've got" Lady says in a soft voice, the boy hummed quietly to show she's got his attention. "The one's who saved you from the warehouse" Hesitantly the boy's head slowly rose, his hair still covering his eyes but he was able to see them. The three waved at him "hello bud" He barely spoke they all presumed he was scared. "Well they're here to adopt you" That really got the boy's attention as he sat up from his slumped state, his small yet raspy quiet voice then asked. "wh-why?" Nejie approached the bed slowly and got down to the boy's level. "Because kids like you deserve a better chance at life. we care about our jobs, as heroes and as being human beings. It tore us apart to see you when we found you. The system isn't always the best and, judging by how we found you, you've already been through a lot." Her voice was gentle and her eyes held a look of a tender kind hearted soul. It seemed to melt the boy a little as tears began to roll down his cheeks. It was the same case as Eri, the kindness he was being shown had him crying since he'd never received much of it in such along time. "Kiddo why are you crying?" Asked Mirio quietly, the boy fiddles with the bandages on his arms while stammering. "s-so k-k-kind" Smiling mirio gingerly took the boy's hands in his as he says. "You deserve a better life than the one from before, and we'd love to give it to you." nodding was the boy's answer, it made the group smile to see him cooperate so well. While the social worker came with the paper work the three adults stayed with the boy. "So hun, what's your name?" Inquired Nejire the boy frowned and shrugged "I-I..i was called pr-project 12131 or Yūrei." "Yūrei means ghost..I wonder why they called you that?" "may have been his quirk" Tamaki looked to be thinking when he answered "How about Rei?" It was a few seconds before the boy gave a thumbs up as if to say 'yes'. "alright Rei it is, now we can put that on the paper work when the social worker comes." Like clock work the woman came back, with the doctor and paper work. They had multiple conversations about Rei's treatment plan and what to look for if his quirk manifest or if he's struggling to handle things. When they were able to discharge Rei, all the paper work had bee filled out and finished now they could take Rei home. Guiding him out to the car, Nejire sat in the back seat with him while Tamaki and Mirio were up front. "So Rei, you hungry we can pick up something or can you wait till we get home?" Asked Mirio a soft "n-no..I can wait" "Alright then, well it should't take to long to make dinner tonight, we planned on just having rice bowls." The car ride remained silent from then on as they drove home, Rei was anxious about his new home but was willing to try and trust them the best he could. Parking in the garage, they let Rei into the house that had him looking around frequently. The house wasn't huge but they did have big furniture like a large sectional couch, bathrooms, bedrooms. "I'll get started on dinner" Stated Sun-eater who heads towards the kitchen, Mirio and Nejire smile to him. "Alright Tama, Rei sweetie why don't we watch Tv?" Mirio offered, Rei shrugged having never watched TV, not that he remembered at least. So taking him into the living room with was open to the kitchen. They sat on the couch and Nejire turned on the TV, finding some kid shows which seemed to entertain Rei. Sitting with his bandaged legs dangling off the couch, his eyes that remained hidden behind his hair were glued to the screen. It hadn't been long of a wait suddenly Tamaki called them in for dinner. Making Rei jump a little, Nejire gingerly pats his shoulder. "Its alright Rei, come on lets go eat" Nejire holds his hand as they go to the table where the dinner was set. Tamaki set it up so they could get as much a they wanted on their own. Mirio made Rei's bowl for him setting it down in front of the small one, he puts a spoonful into his mouth. Then he froze, it worried the three seeing him freeze like that. Tamaki was nervous now. "R-R-Rei, a-are you okay?" Small lips started to quiver and tears rained down. "th-thank you...it so yummy." Tamaki smiles fondly at Rei who kept eating finally giving his body the nutriance it rarely got before. After dinner and some movies it was time to get Rei to bed, they didn't exactly know what size Rei could fit but first it was bath time. Mirio filled the tub with warm water and bubbles since most little kids liked bubble baths. Mirio unwrapped the bandages Rei had before the other stripped off his shirt and shorts. Then getting into the tub, being in the tub brought a new feeling to the kid it felt strange but it was warm. Mirio helped wash up Rei, while washing the boy's hair. Mirio pushed the messy bangs out of his face and when Rei opened his eyes, Mirio was greeted by big icy blue eyes that shimmered into his own dark blue ones. When they finished up the bath Mirio wrapped him up in a towel and takes him to Rei's room. They'd have to go shopping so it'd be more kid friendly for his age. Nejire set out a t-shirt and shorts, it was a Sun-eater merch shirt that she thought would be cute on Rei. So Rei put on the shirt and shorts, the shirt reached his knees and made him look smaller. "You like the shirt Rei?" Rei nods, it was warm and he liked the design. "do you know what hero that is on there?" asked Mirio, earning a 'no' making them both giggle. "that's sun-eater, Tamaki." Hearing his name Tamaki walked in curiously "hm?" "Oh nothing babe we're just telling Rei this is your merch shirt" Nejire informed with a giggle seeing her elf boy blush, Mirio puts Rei on the bed seeing his hair fall back in front of his face he asked. "Rei do you want us to move your hair out of your face?" "N-n-no thank you..um?" Rei was twiddling his fingers while struggling to make words to ask them a question he had in his mind. "What is it hun?" nejire notices this, Tamaki comes over but is at a distance as to not make the kid feel crowded. "u-uum..so a-are you guys l-like all together?" Mirio grins and nods "yes we are, I know its a little weird since most couples are only two people but..we're a special type of couple." "o-okay, u-um s-so you are all my p-parents?" It felt odd to say the word parents, since that had been what the little boy missed for so long he honestly didn't know what parents are really supposed to do. "Yup we are" "Wh-what a-are parents suppose to do?" Hearing this question confused them then when the three thought about it, that made them a little sad for Rei. Nejire sat on the bed while she answered the question after she thought about it. "Well a good parent is supposed to be there for their child, do the best they can to raise and support them. They make sacrifices for their child to help learn and grow. They love them for who they are and accept them, and defend them when they can't defend themselves." Nejire says wondering what the boy's reaction would be. Biting his lip the small boy's shaky voice came out again. "I-I nev-never h-had good parents" Mirio softly pats his head in a kind way "that's why we signed up to be those good parents that you deserve. Nejire, Tamaki, and I are your parents and we love you Rei." Tamaki came over a little closer with a warm smile to confirm what the two had said. Rei then looked at Nejire "m-momma?"  Nejire only giggles and nods, then Rei's eyes look to Tamaki who froze in place. "da-daddy?" His frozen state quickly warmed into a loving smile, Mirio was then faced with those shadowed eyes. "...Papa?" "That's perfect Rei, good job." Mirio grins making the little boy smile a bit then a yawn interrupts the sweet moment they were sharing making Nejire giggle. "Its late, you should get some sleep Rei." Rei nods and crawls up to pull back the bed sheets and get under them. Oh how lovely was it to sleep on something so warm and soft. Rei always wondered what it was like to sleep in a bed, this was like heaven to him. wrapped up in soft warm sheets the covered over his entire body, laying on the pillows felt like his head was laying on a cloud. Watching Rei get comfortable under the sheets, Nejire, Mirio, and Tamaki wished him good night. "I love you Rei" They managed to say in unison before leaving Rei to sleep soundly in his room. When they were all in bed, Nejire in the middle between the two males. Softly stroking her fingers through their hair, she hummed a soft tune before tamaki said. "I'm glad we took him in" Both nod in agreement "So am I, my heart wouldn't be able stand it if we didn't." "Neither would my conscience, I just hope that people wont try for him just because of our relationship. Our relationship is still frowned upon by society and he's already had a tough life." explained nejire "Well if he does we wont stand for it, and I hope he knows that." countered mirio with a yawn. Nejire gave them both sweet kisses before saying an. "I love you both so much" "we love you too~" It wasn't long before the big three was asleep.

prompt #43; bloody kisses

suggested by none other than @nostalgicish <3

We look towards the same sky, but do we look towards the same future? I will journey along my path until it intersects with yours, and we can forge a new one together. If you’d rather I diverged from my path, I’d do that for you. Know your heart as I know mine. If only the clouds gave answers rather than spelling questions and hinting dreams. Who knows what the sun and moon are doing... waiting for another glimpse of the blue green sea. #writersofinstagram #amwriting #clouds #palm #eucalyptus #fate #hope #love #waiting #wanting #divergence #joining #shapes #wish #siky #hope #mentalhealth #nofilter #betternature #dreams #her #mermaid #sea

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