#Iraqi Fiction

[stuckinapril]

About to deep clean & rearrange my bookcase …… I am about to be a girl reborn

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

[pensivegladiola]

The Last Pomegranate Tree by Bachtyar Ali

[sams-special-space]

2023 Reads: The Sky Blues by Robbie Couch

Genre: Fiction: Contemporary  Age Level: Young Adult  Format: Novel

Summary: Sky Baker is going all out for prom, and has a list of promposal ideas on his wall in his room. He plans to ask out his crush, Ali- because even though he's tried to keep himself invisible, he's determined for his senior year to end with a bang.

But then someone leeks a picture of his wall, and sends out a e-blast that's equal parts homophobic and racist. And now it's up to Sky, Ali, and the rest of their friends to figure out who did it before the countdown till prom ends.

Thoughts: I was surprised by how much I loved this one! Outing narratives are pretty hit or miss for me(though Sky isn't outed, the premise is similar), and the book summary didn’t pull me in. But after a bit of a rough start(I just wasn’t interested at first), I was able to get really into it, and I think this is probably one of my favorite reads of the year. Sky is such a sweet teenager and I loved his heart. His struggle with the question of if his dead dad would have supported him being gay hit me really close- I adored how that plot line was concluded.

All the characters felt full of heart, and I loved the eventual romance Sky had. I also love how he didn’t get with his crush at the beginning, but instead fostered a close friendship with him! I appreciate the handling of racism as well, and the solidarity shown between different minorities. I think it’s just a really cute read! The plot threads were wrapped up nicely too. Sky my beloved <3

Rating: 5/5  Trigger warnings: Homophobia, racism(specifically anti-Iraqi), past car accident, and past death of a parent.  Rep: Gay MC, mlm romance, Black SC, Iraqi SC, trans SC, autistic SC, and gay SCs.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'. 

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break! 

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Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit. 

Until now. 

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire. 

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him. 

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no. 

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime. 

The man could swear he was going crazy. 

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact. 

It was just the effect she had on him. 

If there was anyone to blame it was her. 

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter. 

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness  

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose. 

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to. 

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing. 

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more. 

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more. 

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers. 

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh. 

Of course. 

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had. 

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck. 

He was going to tear her apart. 

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her. 

Mind, body, soul… heart. 

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered. 

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane. 

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes. 

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible. 

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.  

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain." 

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him. 

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered. 

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing. 

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine. 

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose. 

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly. 

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger. 

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?" 

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower. 

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day. 

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment. 

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin. 

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot. 

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise." 

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists. 

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further. 

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin. 

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant. 

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her. 

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat. 

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy. 

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes. 

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before. 

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?" 

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!" 

She was breaking his fucking heart. 

It was officially official. 

Abel Ford Syverson was in love. 

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love. 

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew. 

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right. 

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder. 

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?" 

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There. 

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one. 

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.  

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest. 

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts. 

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. 

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards. 

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond. 

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last. 

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock. 

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already. 

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler. 

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew. 

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner. 

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds. 

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?"  She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh. 

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming. 

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this… 

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled. 

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take. 

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what. 

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure. 

A lady that he had found at last. 

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already. 

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.  

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety. 

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased. 

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter. 

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought. 

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the  renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone. 

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink. 

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please." 

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.  

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha." 

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

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Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

Just saw that suzanne collins has said that the inspiration for Hunger Games came after watch how media normalized US violence in iraq invasion. And Katniss is brown in the novels

The thing is though she greenlit the Jlaw casting because she didn't understand the impact of taking the Iraqi invasion story and casting white people as the main protags. You see this in lots of science fiction and fantasy. Like for example star wars obi wan kenobi was supposed to be asian (specifically George wanted to cast Toshiro Mifune) because George got the inspiration for the Force from Asian religions.

You also see this in Dune because the 80's version specifically made the fremen all white actors. its slightly better in the villanueve version because Zendaya is cast as Chani and the rest of the fremen are poc, but her father Stilgar is played by the white spaniard Javier Bardem.

also Frank Herbert was inspired by the film Lawrence of Arabia

Specifically the Arab uprising against the ottoman empire.

There's a quote by someone I can't remember that describes of taking the oppression of brown people at the hands of white ppl divorced from the racial implications and cast in hollywood with all white casts.

mod ali

[perfectlyripeclementine]

queer novel masterlist: Palestine edition

Found this list via @evereadssapphic on Instagram.

You Exist Too Much, Zaina Arafat

On a hot day in Bethlehem, a 12-year-old Palestinian-American girl is yelled at by a group of men outside the Church of the Nativity. She has exposed her legs in a biblical city, an act they deem forbidden, and their judgement will echo on through her adolescence. When our narrator finally admits to her mother that she is queer, her mother's response only intensifies a sense of shame: "You exist too much," she tells her daughter.

Told in vignettes that flash between the U.S. and the Middle East--from New York to Jordan, Lebanon, and Palestine--Zaina Arafat's debut novel traces her protagonist's progress from blushing teen to sought-after DJ and aspiring writer. In Brooklyn, she moves into an apartment with her first serious girlfriend and tries to content herself with their comfortable relationship. But soon her longings, so closely hidden during her teenage years, explode out into reckless romantic encounters and obsessions with other people. Her desire to thwart her own destructive impulses will eventually lead her to The Ledge, an unconventional treatment center that identifies her affliction as "love addiction." In this strange, enclosed society she will start to consider the unnerving similarities between her own internal traumas and divisions and those of the places that have formed her.

Opening up the fantasies and desires of one young woman caught between cultural, religious, and sexual identities, You Exist Too Much is a captivating story charting two of our most intense longings--for love, and a place to call home.

Haifa Fragments, Khulud Khamis

As a designer of jewelry, Maisoon wants an ordinary extraordinary life, which isn't easy for a tradition-defying activist and Palestinian citizen of Israel who refuses to be crushed by the feeling that she is an unwelcome guest in the land of her ancestors. She volunteers for the Machsom Watch, an organization that helps children in the Occupied Territories cross the border to receive medical care. Frustrated by her boyfriend Ziyad and her father, who both want her to get on with life and forget those in the Occupied Territories, she lashes out only to discover her father isn't the man she thought he was. Raised a Christian, in a relationship with a Muslim man and enamored with a Palestinian woman from the Occupied Territories, Maisoon must decide her own path.

A Map Of Home, Randa Jarrar

In this fresh, funny, and fearless debut novel, Randa Jarrar chronicles the coming-of-age of Nidali, one of the most unique and irrepressible narrators in contemporary fiction. Born in 1970s Boston to an Egyptian-Greek mother and a Palestinian father, the rebellious Nidali--whose name is a feminization of the word "struggle"--soon moves to a very different life in Kuwait. There the family leads a mildly eccentric middle-class existence until the Iraqi invasion drives them first to Egypt and then to Texas. This critically acclaimed debut novel is set to capture the hearts of everyone who has ever wondered what their own map of home might look like.

The Skin And Its Girl, Sarah Cypher

In a Pacific Northwest hospital far from the Rummani family's ancestral home in Palestine, the heart of a stillborn baby begins to beat and her skin turns vibrantly, permanently cobalt blue. On the same day, the Rummanis' centuries-old soap factory in Nablus is destroyed in an air strike. The family matriarch and keeper of their lore, Aunt Nuha, believes that the blue girl embodies their sacred history, harkening back to a time when the Rummanis were among the wealthiest soap-makers and their blue soap was a symbol of a legendary love.

Decades later, Betty returns to Aunt Nuha's gravestone, faced with a difficult decision: Should she stay in the only country she's ever known, or should she follow her heart and the woman she loves, perpetuating her family's cycle of exile? Betty finds her answer in partially translated notebooks that reveal her aunt's complex life and struggle with her own sexuality, which Nuha hid to help the family immigrate to the United States. But, as Betty soon discovers, her aunt hid much more than that.The Skin and Its Girl is a searing, poetic tale about desire and identity, and a provocative exploration of how we let stories divide, unite, and define us--and wield even the power to restore a broken family. Sarah Cypher is that rare debut novelist who writes with the mastery and flair of a seasoned storyteller.

The Philistine, Leila Marshy

Nadia Eid doesn't know it yet, but she's about to change her life. It's the end of the ‘80s and she hasn’t seen her Palestinian father since he left Montreal years ago to take a job in Egypt, promising to bring her with him. But now she’s twenty-five and he’s missing in action, so she takes matters into her own hands. Booking a short vacation from her boring job and Québecois boyfriend, she calls her father from the Nile Hilton in downtown Cairo. But nothing goes as planned and, stumbling around, Nadia wanders into an art gallery where she meets Manal, a young Egyptian artist who becomes first her guide and then her lover. 

Through this unexpected relationship, Nadia rediscovers her roots, her language, and her ambitions, as her father demonstrates the unavoidable destiny of becoming a Philistine – the Arabic word for Palestinian. With Manal’s career poised to take off and her father’s secret life revealed, the First Intifada erupts across the border.

The Twenty-Ninth Year, Hala Alyan

For Hala Alyan, twenty-nine is a year of transformation and upheaval, a year in which the past--memories of family members, old friends and past lovers, the heat of another land, another language, a different faith--winds itself around the present.

Hala's ever-shifting, subversive verse sifts together and through different forms of forced displacement and the tolls they take on mind and body. Poems leap from war-torn cities in the Middle East, to an Oklahoma Olive Garden, a Brooklyn brownstone; from alcoholism to recovery; from a single woman to a wife. This collection summons breathtaking chaos, one that seeps into the bones of these odes, the shape of these elegies.

A vivid catalog of heartache, loneliness, love and joy, The Twenty-Ninth Year is an education in looking for home and self in the space between disparate identities.

Between Banat, Mejdulene Bernard Shomali

In Between Banat Mejdulene Bernard Shomali examines homoeroticism and nonnormative sexualities between Arab women in transnational Arab literature, art, and film. Moving from The Thousand and One Nights and the Golden Era of Egyptian cinema to contemporary novels, autobiographical writing, and prints and graphic novels that imagine queer Arab futures, Shomali uses what she calls queer Arab critique to locate queer desire amid heteronormative imperatives. Showing how systems of heteropatriarchy and Arab nationalisms foreclose queer Arab women's futures, she draws on the transliterated term "banat"--the Arabic word for girls--to refer to women, femmes, and nonbinary people who disrupt stereotypical and Orientalist representations of the "Arab woman." By attending to Arab women's narration of desire and identity, queer Arab critique substantiates queer Arab histories while challenging Orientalist and Arab national paradigms that erase queer subjects. In this way, Shomali frames queerness and Arabness as relational and transnational subject formations and contends that prioritizing transnational collectivity over politics of authenticity, respectability, and inclusion can help lead toward queer freedom.

Belladonna, Anbara Salam

Isabella is beautiful, inscrutable, and popular. Her best friend, Bridget, keeps quietly to the fringes of their Connecticut Catholic school, watching everything and everyone, but most especially Isabella.

In 1957, when the girls graduate, they land coveted spots at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Pentila in northern Italy, a prestigious art history school on the grounds of a silent convent. There, free of her claustrophobic home and the town that will always see her and her Egyptian mother as outsiders, Bridget discovers she can reinvent herself as anyone she desires... perhaps even someone Isabella could desire in return.

But as that glittering year goes on, Bridget begins to suspect Isabella is keeping a secret from her, one that will change the course of their lives forever. (I believe this book is by a Palestinian author but not actually set in or about Palestine.)

[babybimbo777]

𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓡𝓞 𝓟𝓞𝓢𝓣 🎀

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 ♥︎

made by me ↑ {do not steal, if you want to use it CREDIT ME}

🎀 𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 ☉ | 𝒶𝓆𝒶𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 ☾ | 𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 ↑ 🎀

𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒, 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓉𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔

Hii i'm angel, twenty yrs old, she/her, I'm chubby ♡, arab (Iraqi girl) bisexual, born and raised Catholic, still am Catholic (be respectful of this or leave my blog), i study law at uni but write in my free time (not fanfics)! I was raised by my single mommy, 2 (now in the military) older brothers, and the best big sister ever - im the baby <3

Things you may call me 🎀 Darling, sweetheart, pup/puppy, kiddo, princess, baby, love, pretty, good girl, little one, baby girl, kid, sweetie + anything else like this (ask b4 calling me it ♡)

I can/could/maybe call you 🎀 Daddy, sir, mommy, dad + anything else like this (must ask if I am comfy with calling u anything else, if not I am, I am not obligated to call u it ♡)

some of my interests 🎀 baking, cooking, reading, writing, shopping, animals, watching anime, horror movies, anime, gilmore girls, to all the boys i've loved before, lots of TV shows and movies, collecting lots of plushies, playing Minecraft, stardew valley, and the sims, fictional men, dad bods <3

some of my dislikes 🎀 my dad, insects, vomiting, spiders, carnival clowns, lighting/thunder, fireworks, mean people, & loud noises.

my kinks 🎀 ddlg, daddy kink, choking, nipple play, clit biting, bondage, breeding (like being bred, don't want kids yet), cockwarming, praise!!! , spanking, name calling in bed, older men (?), voice kink, hands (?), & more ♥︎

artists I love 🎀 taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, olivia rodrigo, harry styles, girl in red, chappell roan, gracie abrams, lana del ray, cigarettes after sex, the neighbourhood, arctic monkeys, lizzy mcalpine, beach bunny, conan gray, sza, & more 💕

do not do the following / don't ask 🎀 my socials, don't ask for pics or audios, sc@t play, v0mit, foot fetishes, r@ceplay, @g3play, bl00d, p1ss, no r@pists, z1on1ists, p3dos (50+ go away), & no minors (I love my block button btw 🩷)

my husbands/wives 🎀 Tom Riddle, John Price, Simon Riley, Ellie Williams, Valeria Garza, Mitch Marner, Eddie Munson, Michal Mrakiz, Roman Godfrey, Rafe Cameron, John B Routledge, Abby Anderson, JJ Maybank, Zade Meadows, Bakugo Katsuki, Sukana Ryomen, Rhys Larsen, Coriolanus snow, Nate Jacobs, & more ♥︎

🩷💜💙

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓜𝓪𝓷 𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓭 - 𝓣𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓸𝓻 𝓢𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓽 ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

0:13 ──|─────── 4:05

𝒾𝒻 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁

[warcrimecryptid]

Terrorism is defined as “the unlawful use of violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims.”

The IDF are colonizers and the IDF are terrorists.

Israel is a terrorist and apartheid state. They’ve been doing this shit for 75 goddamn years! So of course they’re backed by the OG colonizing terrorists; America, England, France, etc.

Now, I know that most of you know that Israel, America, England, France, etc. are colonizers and terrorists. I know that you know that. But the reason I’m spelling it out and posting it everywhere is because using that language against the people who made it is helpful.

The OG colonizers only really call oppressed people that fight back terrorists. They do this because it brainwashes their constituents into hating or being fearful of these minorities. They did it with the Iraqis and the IRA and the black panthers and so many others and now they’re doing it with Hamas. We describe them as being animalistic in their cruelty. We separate ourselves from them in our language. That’s what those in charge do. They create a sense of separation and then they let their followers do the rest. They lead us to the waters of bigotry and hatred and like the dumb horse we are, we drink.

And you wanna know something? I don’t blame these groups. I don’t hate them and I don’t blame them. You can only be oppressed and killed and raped and pillaged for so long before someone fights back!!!

So that’s why we need to call it like it is. If Hamas and the Black Panthers and the IRA were terrorists, then we need to blame the people that helped create them. We raped and pillaged and colonized in our pursuit of God and precious, finite resources. We caused these terrorists. We’re great at making them because we were the original blueprint.

I see so many people post about how Katniss was a hero but then they turn around and condemn Hamas or the Black Panthers. They’re only about that shit when it’s fiction. But make no mistake, if we continue to allow what has been happening, it won’t be fiction anymore.

This is a turning point for many people and a lot of Americans. We see what’s happening. We are watching Motaz and Bisan and Plestia and we see the truth. We see the truth and we see how badly the western countries are lying to us. Our governments may stand with Israel but the people stand with Palestine. We stand for a free Palestine.

NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE!

[worldbuilding-project]

Worldbuilding masterpost: The International 2030

The Worldbuilding projeckt "International" is not an alternate history, I would concider it fiction, as it lacks a clear point of departure.

The worldbuilding starts during the russian revolution, were oposed to the Bolsheviks taking power, the First Congress of the Soviets was formed and dominated by the democratic socialist PS, who with the help of ukranian anarchist groups ousted the authoratarian SRP (Socialist Revolutionary Party).

The first political iteration of "The International" was formed in the interwar years by the Soviet Union to support and influence socialist movements abroad.

In the year 2030, 108 years after the founding of "The International", the now federal union spreads over large parts of Asia, Africa and Europa.

The situation around the world is a lot diferent. Ever since the Revolutions of 1989, the USA has worked to maintain and strengthen its influence in the Americas and in southeast Asia. Over the past two decades, China has ended its Maoist isolation and become a rising star, threatening the postiton of the two superpowers.

The International voted to federalise in the year 2000 during the Cairo Conference. Since then it has been focused more on its internal reorganisation than spreading socialism further, to great internal debate. The International operates on the grounding principles of Democratic Socialism. Meaning in practice, political decisions are made through direct and representative democracy, whilst the means of poduction are owned by the workers, through a worker cooperative system.

The United States has fallen into an Authoratarien sham Democracy, undergoing a largescale reactionary backslide.

China has left its maoist emposed autarky and is the rising star of the superpowers.

Curent Crises:

The Mexican Emergency

The Congolese Civil War

The North American Refugee Crisis

The Venezuelan Insurgency

The Iraqi Civil War

The rise of Islamic Radicalism

The Rise of Christian Terrorism in Europa

The Taiwan Dispute

And smaller ones not listed here.

If you have questions, want clarification or are just interested into a specific part of the worldbuilding, my asks are open.

[stuckinapril]

this is a bit of a weird or maybe personal question but. okay so my baba (ik baba means dad, hes my grandpa but irl i call him "baba [name]" so) is from iraq. he wanted to raise his kids (my mom + aunts) as american as possible. because of that me and my mom have always been seperated from our culture. do you know how i can start reconnecting with that? if there are any authors or movies or anything to help me connect?

hii not weird!! glad to see you trying to reconnect. tbh my story is similar to yours. my mom did live in iraq for a good portion of her life before immigrating here, but she never put effort into teaching us the culture (which i don’t blame her for!! she was a busy single mother of two, so i get it). my bibi also didn’t really try to teach us much, aside from cooking iraqi cuisine haha (i will always die by that iraqi cuisine is the best cuisine). i’m basically hopeless when it comes to iraqi media. i literally only know about kadim al-sahir (famous iraqi singer, would absolutely recommend him) bc my mom probably continues to have a crush on him to this day.

what got me to reconnect was visiting baghdad last summer by myself. i just made the spontaneous decision and went w it, rather than get pushed by anyone to do it. i still have relatives in iraq, so that’s why it was feasible for me to actually go (i kind of hopped between jordan and iraq bc i have family in both countries). it was a magical experience honestly, still super surreal to me. people speaking arabic on the streets, arabic music playing in restaurants, even got to see so many iconic landmarks… actual dream come true. but i haven’t put much effort into exposing myself to iraqi media yet, so that’s the next step. i think im just gonna start w a history fiction novel or nonfiction history book of some sort tbh. i’m more interested in iraqi culture beyond islam than i am in the religion, so im probably not a good reference if you wanna know more about the religion too.

w all that said!! i’ll ask my mom/bibi and let you know if they have any movie recs :) my bibi is a literal cinephile, so i’m sure she’ll have many actors/singers up her sleeve lmao. so cool of you to be putting effort into this 💕

[xollii]

When fiction authors want to portray an arbitrarily violent and repressive military/police force they basically recreate US style no-knock raids perfected on Iraqi civilians

[trans-leek-cookie]

the thingw the orcs in dunmeshi is sth i skirt around bc like u said it is. not a great modern take on orcs. obv not the worst it could be and kui at least did engage w trying to write a more involved lore on them rather than just having this be the same “orcs are big uncivilized brutes” version 8000000 but that element is still there. and i do think “its not the worst” is hardly what i would want to set my highest expectations to jdhdgksgd

tumblrs being a bitch n not letting me put images in so I'll just paste the text from the other ask

Nodding. ty for the info on the ways halfling racism can be compared to irl examples in “the middle east” like that rly is such a close comparison i wonder if it was at all intentional… AND FR on the whole . wishing we knew what they called themselves bc the “halfling” “half foot” thing i rly cant help but think abt how it feels like irl examples of certain groups being denigrated to category slurs its like. LOL. dunmeshi makinh me feel party to fictional racism and microaggressions against my will...

Idk Abt skirting around bc I think it's smthn we should face head on, but at the same time I'm not in a place where I can really add onto the discussion wrt orcs as a white/East Asian person. IIRC ppl have said tolkiens orcs are black and/or central Asian (Mongolian I believe) coded, which is meaningful cause he's influenced so much of modern fantasy, and thats. Y'know. Not great. Also the orcs in dungeon Meshi are essentially an indigenous group from what I remember so that's also a whole mess. Again, my opinions arent very meaningful when it comes to this, but I feel like it's incredibly disappointing to see an author who's clearly capable of nuanced and interesting commentary on racism in the context of real life and fiction (even if it's not always great it's clear she's thinking about it in some depth) really just. Fall back on tropes. Bc for the other races - human is a wider category than usual, tall men aren't always the Everyman, elves are long lived but that doesn't make them wiser, and halflings are mature, worldly and resourceful, which I feel like does a lot to break free of typical fantasy pigeon holeing. But the orcs are just sorta... The Bad Guy but Not That Bad I guess? Theoretically it's a departure from the "super evil forever no exceptions" idea of the but it's still so far behind what needs to be done to make it less of a lazy, racist trope.

Yeah, again I'm not west Asian or Arab like I said, but between reading stuff ppl online write n talking to my Iraqi friend + rereading dungeon Meshi and really trying to analyze it, it kinda stood out to me. I will say I was a little unconfident posting about it bc it's 3 things (4 if you count the name note) but theyre still really notable at least to me. The hand/foot cutting is I feel the most explicit? Because that's such a fucked up stereotype it just stands out immediately. I don't necessarily know if the half foot/middle east connection was intentional, because I assume Japan/Asia in general has a different relationship with West Asia (since they are the "far east" in comparison, so "Middle East" wouldnt really make sense?), but it could be one of those things that colonialism managed to spread. I'm not very knowledgeable about that, but even if it wasn't intentional I think it's a very interesting parallel in how language can be used to categorize people as "normal/other". So i can't say if its intentional or not, but it's definitely an interesting lens to consider the story thru. Id also say I believe halflings are said to be native to a place that's east from where the story takes place, but not the eastern continent (which is p much easy Asia). I've seen some ppl take this to mean eastern Europe, and I don't think that's wrong, but I think u could also think of it as west Asia? Idk if we ever got much info on it in story, so I might be missing some details. (Honestly I'd personally HC that halflings are generally mixed Eastern European/West Asian- not to conflate the two, but rather Im imaging the majority of them are in a kinda blended culture).

[decepti-thots]

sorry if you've answered this somewhere already - out of the books you've read this year, which three did you enjoy the most? and out of the fics you've read this year, which three did you enjoy the most?

All the fics I loved this year I mostly recced as and when on my fic recs tag, and tbh I don't think I read enough TF fic this year to really sort them into a top three- if I loved it, I put it up somewhere, mostly. If I had to pluck three out, I'd say Red Gold (god tier Rodimus characterisation), Your Own Hands (a reread, but still my favourite taraprowl fic, it gets the nod) and... oh actually. Okay, this one isn't Transformers, but I have to give a shout out to this Lupin III interactive fiction Twine fic that is an INCREDIBLE use of form to do something very ambitious with a fic. It's so good! If I do have any even casual Lupin enjoyers following me, definitely take a look.

The books, discounting one I already recommended:

Gilgamesh: A New Translation of the Ancient Epic, translated by Sophus Helle, is probably the single best book I read this year. I love the Epic of Gilgamesh very much, and this is a lovely translation, but what tipped it over for me was his essays after the poem where he discusses it in a way that is both accessible and also gets into the finer points of how to approach and appreciate the poem in a wider context. His discussion of the way gender plays into the power structures of the poem and the overview he gives of contemporary Iraqi cultural reaction to the poem were especially interesting. Especially after the former, I am really excited to read his book published this year translating and discussing all the poems of Enheduanna! Highly recommended. God I love Gilgamesh.

I reread The Invention of Love by Tom Stoppard, a play set in the Victorian era based (very loosely) around the life, death and afterlife of A. E. Housman. It's a really dense play on a lot of levels, mostly well known for being really obtuse. It has about six deeply obscure references to classical scholarship per sentence, twice as many offhand references to Victorian Oxbridge Stuff that go unremarked on, the timeline constantly jumps back and forth, a meaningful chunk of it is a dead guy talking to his younger self on the Styx, and they spend most of that time discussing the minutiae of latin grammar in poetry (with absolutely no dumbing down for the audience) as a metaphor for their unrequited yearning. I believe when it premiered on Broadway, they basically had to provide a book of like. Explanations as to what the fuck every other conversation was referencing. But I love it, even though I understand maybe fifty percent of it, because it's so beautifully written and clever and funny and able to withdraw from the ever-present threat of sentimentality. One of my favourite plays of all time. The 'poetical feelings are a peril to scholarship' exchange gets me every time. On my knees begging for a fucking proshot to be made of a performance one day.

A Play of Bodies: How We Perceive Videogames by Brendan Keogh is my favourite nonfiction by a narrow margin. It's a book that outlines a way to approach analysis and criticism of video games through a phenomenological framework, and it made me completely re-think how I understand what the 'text' of a video game is. This one is very much a work of academia, though it does give a lot more overview of what phenomenology is than, say, the average philosophy text is likely to, since it sits more in the 'games studies' area where that's not taken as much for granted, so it's not totally inaccessible. It made me think a lot about how video games exist as a unique medium in ways that completely diverge from the standard narrative of 'videogames are unique due to interactivity'. It takes a lot for me to be impressed by writing about games, given just how much of it I read/have read, but Keogh never disappoints.

[arablit]

New Short Fiction: Azher Jerjis's 'The Crow’s Revelation'

This spring, Banipal Books brought out Iraqi novelist Azher Jirjees’s At Home in the Cherry Orchard. Here, emerging translator Bianca Rosen brings us one of Jirjees’s satiric short stories from his 2017 collection, The Sweetmaker. The Crow’s Revelation By Azher Jirjees Translated by Bianca Rosen On my way home, I was intercepted by a crow, which blocked my path. It stopped, mid-air, flapping…