#or her unqiue role in a story

[joshuamj]

man, some people really do just be making wild assumptions about people's intents huh 😔

(keep on seeing people giving the Side Eye to those who want Zelda to be able to wield a sword, and asking them why they want her to be a "Link clone." Like bro. bro. Wanting her to be able to fight doesn't mean that people want her to be a Link clone. This isn't some hidden misogyny or anything like u think. And letting her fight with a sword and shield doesn't automatically make her "basically" link, or make her being the protagonist pointless. like bro Link is more than just his sword. And even if Zelda's combat was identical to Link's, she's still more than that. I genuinely don't get why people keep on saying stuff like this.)

[thebestusernamepossible]

Literally going insane, might have to write fanfic for the first time in 2 years because the people™️ do not get my favorite female characters like I do and I feel the insurmountable urge to write her. I’m going to bite drywall why don’t ppl see her complexities. PLEASE STOP WRITING HER ETHIER AS DOMICILE MOM OR BITCH (or just for shipping) she is so so cool please guys please.

Also while I’m here, fandoms tendency to shove women in the ‘pure powerful goddess who can do no wrong’ box and then proceed to never give them an actual narrative role other than like ‘supportive’ or ‘took out a few background guys’. Like why DOES this incredibly badass and complex female character just get shunted into doinging some cool flips, getting praised about it (she’s the strongest fighter, so feminist wow) then never getting actnowleged as a 2 dimensional character.

I saw this a lot when I was in the Batman fandom, particularly with Cassandra Cain. She is a highly complex and interesting character, but in fandom she’s kind of shunted to ‘Badass therapy dog who takes care of the men’. Because even on the slight chance her backstory is brought up it’s always never delved into and mostly used to make her etheir more tragic and in need of support on a surface level or to let her be compassionate with the men characters who get their actual problems foucused on. It’s a unqiue kind of frustrating because it’s like almost letting the cool female character be cool, but it’s more like the idea of a badass women is shoved in your face, maybe joked about (or if we’re lucky she gets to beat up a few bad-guys), but ultimately treated like a cardboard cutout. Interestingly this actually isn’t entirely a female character thing, it’s also common with like old grandfather/grandmother characters and the elderly in general. But it’s usually badass women from what I see. :/ Why can’t fandom explore their stories (people do but why is it so much less), why can’t they be the prtags of cool AUs or time-travel fix-its, or crossover events

Idk I think I’m just frustrated, and I typed out more than I thought I would. Also Ive seen what happens to some other posts complaining about fandom misogyny, so please know if you’re a TERF, fuck off you have no place in this discussion. We will never agree, and frankly all of these points apply to canon Trans Women characters. Don’t say shit ill fucking end you.

[theesirenteller]

Domesticated | Unqiue

🅳🅴🆂🅲🆁🅸🅿🆃🅸🅾🅽

After the passing of his child's mother, Kadeem Mathis better known in the streets as 'Unique or Nique'; has taken on the role of being a full-time parent. Which causes more difficulties rather than smooth sailing, A full time caregiver for his son and new home in Astoria, Queens is needed. What starts off as simply business quickly turns personal when the tender love & care of a woman warms his once hollow heart.

Michel'le couldn't believe that she had gotten the job. She wasn't expecting it so it came as a positive surprise. ‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.’ she thought to herself when she had gotten the news from Jasmine, three days after her interview. Upon getting her employment contract and filling out the proper paperwork, Michel'le was given instructions from Jasmine to wait outside of her current residence to be picked up by a man named Worrell. Any belongings could be brought with her as the employer had an area in the home where she would be staying permanently. A new home.

She tried not to grow anxious at the thought of being in a new space. And instead spent her time cleaning out her studio apartment. It was about the size of an average living room but with more closet space. She loved what she called her ‘hobbit hole’. The only door was the front door. She'd removed the bathroom and closet doors when she first moved in and instead replaced them with beaded curtains. Majority of her apartment was just filled with books, cds, a boom box, with a twin sized mattress by the window. So cleaning out the place meant using her laundry cart to transport books to the library to donate and going back home. She'd taken a total of six trips before she had fully finished.

Now, after a much needed bath. Michel'le stood in her apartment in a black long sleeved bodysuit and fuzzy black socks on her feet. Her hair clipped into a low messy-bun by a claw clip. The two black leather suitcases that she arrived in New York with were a bit beaten down and now used once again for her to pack away her articles of clothing. A burnt orange Nike backpack was packed with the books and CDs she did keep which were; Misery by Stephen King, Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Book by Julia Child, Hannibal by Thomas Harris, Two Led Zeppelin CDs, One Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday, and Etta James CDs. She had her collection of her dearest items safely tucked away.

Her autumn brown eyes flickered to the clock that sat on her kitchen counter. 10:00 a.m. Worrell would be at her apartment in fifteen minutes. Michel'le arose from her old bed and grasped the pair of fleece-lined joggers that she set aside to travel in. Her feet then slipped into her leather boots that she wore daily like a second pair of feet. Once her heavy coat was layered on, she collected her things and gave her ’hobbit hole’ one last look before leaving to start a new beginning.

Michel'le stood out of the vintage brown six-story building with her bags in front of her. The weather was worse than the North Pole, she was convinced. A bitter cold was in the New York air but luckily for her there wasn't any snow. Being cold was one thing. But being cold and wet was another type of pain. Soon but not soon enough, a white mustang pulled into the block and slowed down near her. She recognized the same man in the driver's seat as the one who had taken her coat off for her at the interview. The man gave a head nod in her direction as he pulled up and in return, Michel'le waved awkwardly back.

“Aye, you Michele right? I'm Worrell. We met at the diner.” He greeted the moment he had gotten out of the vehicle.

“It's Michel'le, not Michele.” She quickly corrected, her words rushing out so fast that they had mushed together,“But uh yeah um we did.” It had nothing to do with him personally, but she felt uneasy. Perhaps she would've preferred to be given the address so that she could take a cab alone. If not that, she would have been comfortable with Kadeem picking her up. Or her supervisor, Jasmine. Some familiarity would have been more comforting.

“Oh my bad.” He apologized before taking her bags from the ground and loading them into the trunk of his car, “This all ya stuff?” Worrell asked with a raised brow. He thought women had more clothing items and accessories than men. But then again the woman before him looked like someone from a convent or some modest wife of a bishop. How she had gotten hired looking like a member of the children of the corn still blew his mind. Her scattered attention, the way she moved her eyes so quickly, or would look at the ground made Worrell feel a little uneasy. But he kept things brief and opened the passenger door for her.

“Thanks.” Michel'le said as she slipped in and buckled up. The warmth of the car heater brought her relief.The earphones that hung around her neck like a necklace were soon put on her ears when Worrell got in and started up the engine. As he did so, Michel'le pulled her cd player from her coat pocket and pressed play. ‘Drive Me Insane Trouble Is Gonna Come To You

One Of These Days And It Won't Be Long

You'll Look For Me But Baby I'll Be Gone

This Is All I Gotta Say To You Woman:

Your Time Is Gonna Come

Your Time Is Gonna Come’

The electric guitar and the leader's soulful voice easily detached Michel'le from reality. Drowning herself in the artist's pain and feeling the bass of the instruments against her skin made the ride more digestible. Her eyes stayed fixed on watching the scenery that they bypassed through the window. She hadn't meant to but Michel'le had doze off during the ride at some point because she had been awoken by Worrell shaking her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide and she rugged off her headphones as she looked at him confused, “Why are we at the Brooklyn library?”

“Nique picking you up.”Worrell replied shortly.

From the side mirror, Michel'le saw a Black BMW pull up behind Worell's White Mustang. Kadeem's tall frame soon came out in a black chinchilla with a matching black velour tracksuit. He looked like a million bucks. And Michel'le's stomach had done a few flips when she saw him. Both Worrell and Michel'le then proceeded to get out the car.

“Sup, Michel'le. How you feelin, babygirl?” Kadeem greeted her with a suavé tone and gentle smile. Perhaps it was her timid nature that made him want to be kind to her. Handle her with a bit of gentleness that he didn't care to give to others.

The corners of her lips curled up as a smile stretched across her lips as her face warmed, “H-hi! I'm cool, thanks.”

Her bashfulness caused Kadeem to chuckle as he opened the passenger door of his BMW for her.”Hey, how's Jerome doing today?” Her checking in on Jerome and just the fact that she remembered his name made his infectiously-beautiful smile slide across his lips.

The man turned into silly putty when it came to his son, “He straight, you'll meet him soon.” he replied as he closed the door. Kadeem then proceeded to walk around the car and met Worell halfway to his driver's side. As he had done so, Michel'le admired him. The way he wore his clothing and walked. Minor details about him she studied in her mind as she drank him in. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she gazed at him. He was like a dream physically manifested into reality. His nose scrunched as his lip curled in what could only be perceived as distaste at whatever Worell had told him. His distasteful look slowly started to turn sinister before Michel'le’s eyes. His large hands that were adorned with chunky gold fingers balled into fists. The way his broad shoulders hunched forward as his lips moved quickly gave Michel'le the impression he gave a harsh order before he slid into the driver's seat.

“My bad.” He apologized for the wait as he kept his eyes forward. His tone was sharp but the pressure his foot put against the gas pedal was harsher. His driving wasn't reckless but it was faster than the speed limit. Michel'le had to grasp onto the console and take a breath out her nose to calm herself from going into an anxiety attack. As he took jagged turns through different streets, Michel'le gulped dryly as she mustered up the courage to make small-talk. But, Kadeem had spoken first.

“I hate mess and niggas these days is real messy.” He spat. Hatred seething from his words as he spoke. “So I'd appreciate it if you don't bring no messes into my crib,” his attention briefly brushed to her before he turned his attention back on the road.

Michel'le gulped dryly as she nodded, “I can do that.” she decided it was now that was the right time to ask her question, “Why didn't Worell take me all the way to your house? I mean…isn't this a bit out of your way?”

“Nah, it's not.” He replied shortly. Nobody needed to know where he laid his head at, Worell included. Kadeem had made that mistake before letting his crew get comfortable with knowing where he resided. He always said he trusted nobody but having someone near or aware of his sacred space was trust. Women and children were supposed to be off limits but Kadeem knew all too well that not many followed those rules in the game. Anywhere Jerome was, nobody Kadeem didn't trust could be.

Michel'le couldn't help but gawk at the home that resembled a mini-mansion as soon as the pair arrived. The home was a two-story dark sienna-brown Tuscan style brick house with black exterior trim around the front door and large windows. Homes a few sizes smaller were located along both sides of the home with large bright-green trees and clean, crisp lawns. Kadeem had opened the passenger-side door and Michel'le gawked at the neighborhood as she had gotten out. “This area is really nice.”

“Mhm, real quiet too.” Kadeem agreed as he had gotten her bags. He had led her to the front of the home and the front door had been opened by his mother, Sheronda.

The elder woman and Michel'le gawked at one another. One with a wide-eyed gaze and the other sizing-up the younger woman. Kadeem had her same complexion, eye shape, and nose. This was clearly his mother from what Michel’le could see, “Hello, I'm Michel-”

“I know. From the agency.” Sheronda’s tone was anything but welcoming. And Michel'le quickly stuffed her extended hand back into her coat pocket and moved her gaze down to her feet.

“Ma, watch out. Michel'le, come on.” Kadeem said with a smack of his lips, he moved past the two woman, carrying the suitcases in his hands. Michel'le quickly followed behind him while mumbling lowly “Excuse me,” to his mother.

The foyer of the home was a deep shade of chocolate brown with hints of cherry-red mixed in. It matched the dark oak wood accents. A large burnt orange runner on the floor had hand-painted brown leafs that looked like ending of Autumn. “I made sure you got your own spot,” Kadeem informed as he walked up the oak staircase.

“Thanks.''Michel'le timidly whispered as she quickly followed his lead.

They’d made it to the third floor, which at a glance looked like an antic. The door was made of wood and was blank. But when Kadeem had unlocked it and led her inside, the view was immaculate. What may have been viewed as simple or modest to some, was amazing to her.

The floors were freshly waxed cherrywood, the wide open spaced area was styled with earth-toned furniture. In the center of the room was a large vanilla-cream colored sheepskin rug. Which had a matching vanilla-cream and cappuccino colored loveseat that was made of cedarwood and egyptian cotton. A low level mocha-brown tea table sat a few feet away from it. A porcelain tea set and a stack of JET magazines sat in the center of the table. Two leather chestnut chairs sat opposite of everything. And a wooden chest was placed against the wall with a Tv seated upon it. To the far left was a hand crafted wooden vanity with a uniquely shaped mirror that resembled moving water. In the shape of a wave.The large windows smack dab in the middle of the room was a large circular shape that gave the area a heavenly sunset glaze. Steps were created along with a platform off to the far left and laid on top of it all was a queen size bed with fresh sheets and duvet that looked like clouds. The table in front of it looked hand crafted with it brown, beige, and peach detailing and smooth, shiny overglaze.

“So…you fuck wit it-” Kadeem hadn't expected to be engulfed in a hug. Her soft and chunky arms pressed against his sides. His chest was warmed by the fullness of her breasts. It was slightly off-putting to him to encounter raw emotion up close and personal. Out of his norm. But he didn't decline it. Instead, he wrapped both of his arms around her shoulders with his gold ring-covered fingers pressed against the center of her back, “you good, sweetheart?”

His honey-bourbon cologne overlapped Michel’le as she hugged him. His smokey voice that prickled against her ear caused goosebumps to form at the side of her neck. The warmth that radiated off of him felt like being drunk in by the sun. The morning sunshine reflected off of the grill that graced his teeth,“y-yeah…” she squeaked as she slowly pulled back, “This is just really nice and I’m grateful for it.” Looking into Kadeem’s eyes, Michel’le could now relate to the term ‘getting lost in his eyes’ that so many romance novels described.

His hands smoothed down her shoulders as Kadeem smiled when looking down at her. The corners of his lips held a slight curve as he smirked. His lips slowly started to spread but before he could utter a word, a cough echoed from behind the two. Which had caused Kadeem to drop his hands off of Michel’le’s body. He turned his neck and looked over his shoulder, “Sup mama?”

“Let her get settled in so I can show her Jerome and his routine before I leave.”Sheronda said with a sharp tone. She sizes up the two before side-eyeing Kadeem as he joins her outside the room. “Don’t be too long. We’ll be on the first floor, first door to the left.” She ordered Michael's before closing the door.

“Lil nigga you ain’t slick.”Sheronda smacked her palm against the back of Kadeem neck.

“Lady, I’m just doin what you asked.” He chuckles as the two of them make their way down the staircase.

Meanwhile on the other side of the door, Michel’le looked around at everything once more before she rolled her suitcases towards a closet. She then chose to leave them within the closet for the time being. Her coat was soon removed before she had taken out her medical bag. What once held gauzes, hypertension medication, and adult diapers now held; Infant acetaminophen. rectal thermometer, a nasal aspirator, saline drops, bandages and antibiotic ointment disinfectant, as well as gas drops. An infant herbal aide book was tucked securely at the very top of the bag. Now feeling much more prepared with her bag in hand, Michel’le made her way out of her new room and headed downstairs.

The living room wasn’t what she had expected. It was far brighter and more welcoming. The whole interior was a creamy beige color with accents of vibrant orange and hints of green from the plants that were cascaded around various tops of furniture. Kadeem had been seated upon the leather orange loveseat while his mother sat beside him with Jerome in her lap. Michel’le had taken a seat on a brown swivel chair that was across from them. She couldn't peel her eyes away from the swaddled up infant within his grandmother's arms. He was more beautiful in person and slept soundlessly with a small pout across his lips, from what she could see. Over the course of half an hour Sheronda walked her through Jerome’s daily routine. She shared his medical paperwork and amongst that time Michel’le learned that Jerome had a weak immune system due to fighting of a pneumonia a few months prior. So, he needed his daily does of vitamins. Which also meant he had the runs often.

Michel’le had frowned as the news as she felr bad for the child. She knew health issues too well and it hurt that a child so young was experiencing them. When she finally had gotten a chance to hold him, her hands were calmly. Luckily, he couldn't feel them through the blanket. Her knees unnoticeably shook as she held him in front of her. Michel’le didn’t know what it was about babies exactly that got her nervous. But if she took a wild guess, shes say it was the fact that they were so small and fragile. Fragility made her nervous. But then again, just about everything made her nervous.

As she held him in her hands, she leaned in and whispered,”Hi Jerome, I'm Michel’le.” as if they were sharing a secret. His soft coos as his big brown eyes stared into hers made her feel as though he was saying ‘Hi’ back.

From a few away, Kadeem couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight. It was cute. For lack of a deeper explanation.

Sheronda had allowed Michel’le to continue to hold Jerome so that he would get familiar with her. While Sheronda had given a tour of the home, Michel”le held onto the baby as if he were made of porcelain. His head nuzzled against her breast as her hand gently laid against the back of his head as Michel’le was escorted around the kitchen. The walls and cabinets were painted a vibrant shade of orange. Large, exotic plants were scattered around various corners. “This is really nice.” she murmured lowly.

“Yeah? Make sure you keep it that way.” Sheronda replied.

“Ma, I’ll be back!” Kadeem’s voice boomer through the home before the sound of the door closing followed behind.

“Get used to a lot of that. He won’t be here much so just make sure Jerome is good and this house is spotless.” Sheronda sized up Michel’le with her eyes, “No more. No less.” Despite Sheronda’s warning, something told her that her words would fall on deaf ears.

But in the beginning she was right. Michel’le barely saw Kadeem for the next three weeks. Usually it wasn't longer than three hours in the early morning or just after midnight. She followed his mothers recipes and always left his plate of food inside the fridge wrapped in aluminum foil.

Her job was blissful. Michel’le wasn’t a stranger to cleaning so she went through the rooms swiftly and kept things shiny and tidy. Expect for Kadeem’s room. He forbid her to enter it and would leave his laundry basket out his door when he needed his clothes clean. Specific instructions for certain articles of clothing. What he called his ‘meeting’ room was quite an interesting space. It was smaller, it if not the smallest room in the house. Dark interior walls with large paintings in orange and a beige and brown animal print rug. His desk drawers were locked and Michel’le only dusted the area and cleaned the rug. There wasn't much else to do in that room.

Jerome was a sweet baby once he had warmed up to her. Miss.Sheronda had told her to not pick him up too much but Michel’le couldnt help but to pick him up often. His sudden cries would make her wince or flinch and she had just wanted to ease his stress or discomfort. Sometimes he would cry despite not needing to be changed or fed, so she would cuddle and talk to him until he returned to a state of comfortability once again. This morning was no different. On Monday, at 6:30 a.m. Michel’le had finished cooking herself breakfast when he began crying again. He’d only been asleep for half an hour before awakening again.

“Oh geez.” She whispered frantically as she swiftly had gotten up and rushed into the living room. Reaching for the frowning infant who laid in the brown bassinet. “Hey buddy, what's the matter now?” whispering gently in his ear, she carefully cradled in her arms. Sneaking a peak at his diaper, Michel’le frowned. Green again. “Don’t worry bud I’ll get you sorted out,” she assured him as she began to get him cleaned up on the changing table within the living room. Her right hand rubbed his quivering belly. The warmth of her hand slowly caused him to stop shaking.

The tumblers of the front door’s lock clicked and soon Kadeem entered the home. The aroma of blueberries, vanilla, and butter, and cake batter filled his nose the moment he stepped inside. Jerome’s low wailing had wiped the drowsiness away from him. Kadeem’s timberland boots cracked heavily against the freshly waxed floors as he followed the cries, “Yo Michel’le, wassup wit em’?” A spark of panic swept across him until he laid his eyes on the housekeeper and his child.

“The formula ran through him again.” She stated as she began to swaddle him tightly before holding him to her chest, her mocha eyes settling above her at Kadeem, “The vitamin prescriptions are too strong for him as well, he needs more fiber to not get the runs.” Her tone turning saddened as she rubbed his back.

“Shit…” The kingpin breathed out as he ran his hand across his face, “So what that mean? We gotta take him to the doctors? Change his formula?” He reached his hands out towards her and as soon as Michel’le passed him the baby; the boy was cradled against his chest.

“No.” She smoothed out her cable knit sweater before tightly wrapping the diaper trash bag and folding the towel up, “Whole grains are fiber and according to the Jared association of infant natural and medicinal care book; We can fix that by adding whole grain cream of wheat into his formula along with half an ounce of banana.” She proceeded to reach into the medical bag underneath his changing table and pull out the book.

Michel’le then stood up and pointed towards the fine print of the highlighted page. Kadeem towered over her and she could feel the heat radiant off of his body due to how close they were. His dark cherry and whiskey cologne swept through her nostrils as he read over her shoulder.

“A’ight cool, I’ll be back.” His words slipped into her ear like a hushed whisper. With the book leaving her hands and baby Jerome slipping into them, Michel’le felt the sturdiness of his chest brush against her back as he passed her to leave.

It didn't take him long to come to the store and come back. But by the time he had came back, the comforting scent of fried eggs for breakfast had blessed his nostrils. Before Kadeem had went to join Michel’le in the kitchen, he took time to get out of his chinchilla coat and timbs, before washing his hands. Mohair trimmed leather house slippers had been placed on his feet and his long-wool crimson-red house coat laid over his shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen, “What you cookin’? Smells good.” he asked as he put down the boxes of cream of wheat and a bundle of bananas.

“Mangú. Which is steamed plantains, fried eggs with salchichon, which is a type of salami that’s meant to be fried. Oh, ans I made blueberry stuffed pancakes with a vanilla-cinnamon glaze.” She explained as she watched him take a seat.

Kadeem grasped his plate with both hands and inhaled the smoke, inhaling its scent. “Thank you.” a genuine smile spread across his lips.

The apples of Michel’le’s cheeks had tinted a deep shade of scarlet that appeared muted pink on the surface, “It’s no problem.” she had gotten up from her seat and started to boil water in a small pot. Three different measuring cups were soon laid out and she then began evening out the portions of bananas, formula, and cream of wheat powder.

“How you like workin here, babygirl?” Kadeem asked as he cut into his savory plate. The clipping of forks against the plate could be heard soon after.

“I love it. It’s…” she trailed off trying to find the words, “This is so much better than what I expected or could have hoped for. The cleaning part is easy so I don’t mind that. But um, Jerome there had me nervous at first. But now me and the little guy are pretty good friends I think.”

“Mhmm” Kadeem smirked in between digging into his food. He couldn't help but to fuck up his plate, everything on it was so good that he debated asking for seconds. Instead, he moved onto his pancakes, “Why you so nervous all the time?” His thick black eyebrows knitted together, “Aint nun gon happen to you, you got my word.”

Michel’le sucked in a breathe as the hand that stirred within the pot, halted. Her head slowly tilted to the side and she looked his way, “You really mean that Kadeem?” she asked a little above a whisper but he had heard her clearly.

Her soft tone was pleasurable to the ears. A nice change from rowdiness of the block, or foul-mouthed women he ran across. The change wasn’t bad and it was his first sense of serenity in a long while…if ever.

The pair stared at one another few a lingering moments as he chewed with his mouth closed. “My word is bond.” He answered.

The fawn-like smile she gave him made him smile bacl at her. “Okay, thank you.”

After preparing Jerome a bottle and taking a seat at the table as she awaited for it to cool, Michel’le began to open up about herself,”I used to have seizures when I a kid. Mh grandma said if I played too long I’d overheat…I think it's called overexasperation. “ She bit at the corner of her lip as she shrugged, “I don’t know what triggers it, my blood just gets pumping ans my heart starts racing over the littest of things or sudden acts. I feel like a big scardy cat most of the time.” Her cheek rested against her fist as she looked down at the brown kitchen table.

Michel’le need to be protected from the roughness of the streets. The aggression of New York, or the world in general was attractive. It was a attractive to be needed. She may not have asked to be protected or express any need for Kadeem to protect her. But, he felt the need to. The desire to. Kadeem reached his left hand across the table and the tips of of his fingers gently tapped against her knuckles, “Don't beat ya self up bout it. Being scary sometimes ain’t a bad thing…means you don’t trust muthafuckas easily. Them nerves keep you vigilant, right?”

To which Michel’le quickly nodded her head. Kadeem’s smile came rolling back around making her stomach flutter. “Aight then, maybe that’s your super power or some shit like dat.” the nasily giggle she let out made his infectiously-beautiful smile widen.

“I-I like your smile, you should smile more often. Makes you look less…intense.” Michel’le complimented, bashfully.

His smile curved into a smirk, “Preciate that.” he then stood up and scooped Jerome in his arms before grabbing the now warm bottle off the table, “Go on and enjoy ya breakfast, I got em.” he assured before he carried Jerome out the kitchen.

With a smile plastered across her lips, Michel’le dug into her food; kicking her feet underneath the table with glee.

The morning soon transitions to late mid-day. Jerome had managed to sleep a total of six hours. Which, was major progress since he never slept longer than two. Both Kadeem and Michel’le were able to spend time doing what theyd wanted. Michel’le caught up on the latest chapters of Hannibal while Kadeem spent his time within his office and the other half outside.

An hour of his time was spent within the sheets and between the legs of a woman named Solana. Solana lived a few houses down the street from Raq and was a mother to four boys. And a lengthy wrap sheet with the law for gangbanging alongside various men. She was tall with a dark mocha complexion and slim build with a thick lower half. A bit of a sex addict with a burning desire for Nique that always kept him coming back. She was wild enough to leave the dents of her nails imprinted on his skin.

The smoke from his blunt filled the air of Solana’s kitchen as Kadeem peaked out of her curtains, looking towards Raq’s house. A dark chuckle leaving his lips as he watched Kanan leave.

“Yo Nique, you don't hear me talkin to you?” Solana said with a snappy tone and a musky voice.

“My bad, wassup baby?” Kadeem replied as he turned his head and looked her way.

Solana narrowed her eyebrows at him before smacking her lips,”Worrell’s lil flavor of the week told you moved. When you gonna wine and dine me other there? Let me come wit the boys and cook for you?”

Kadeem fought the urge to laugh. But, he couldn't hold off the chuckles that escaped his lips, “I ain't move nowhere. I'm still in the same spot.” the lies spilled from his lips easier than the truth. “Look, how bout I take you to Tao steakhouse next Saturday?” The suggestion came off his lips quicker than his previous lies. Would he hold up on his end of the offer was the real question…and the answer was most likely not.

Upon leaving Solana”s house and taking all of Raq’s resources away from her later that day; he managed to arrive home earlier than he previously had. The golden hour of the day was slowly clocking towards moonlight hours. Mother nature had been nicer tonight. The weather was breezy instead of brick and the thought of taking a stroll before dinner had been fresh in Kadeem's mind.

“Michel'le.” He called out with a husky voice from the threshold. Upon not getting any type of response, he called her name once again as he made his way upstairs.

There she stood in Jerome's room in a pair of brown leggings that hugged every ounce of her body and clung to her skin like a second layer of skin. A chunky orange canble-knit turtleneck sweater sat at her waist. Which gave Unique a full of her backside. Snapping out of his staring state, he called her name in a softer tone to avoid startling her while she had Jerome in her arms. When she slowly turned around and gave him a shy smile as she greeted him, Kadeem felt a sense of serenity. Her smile was like a warm hug on a cold night.

“Your home early. I uh haven't started dinner yet.” She said.

“It's cool. I'm not hungry right now.” He assured her. “How you feel bout talkin’ a walk? Just us three.” His hands folded over his fists as his back was leaned against the wall beside the door.

“That sounds nice. Um, I'll just get Jerome ready and we'll be set to go.” She replied.

It had taken her ten minutes to get Jerome and herself ready. The boy was dressed in a North Face infant snowsuit and a thick black hat on his head. His golden chain stayed around his neck, matching the golden colored thermal blanket that laid over him. Soon enough, the father, son, and house keeper walked alongside one another down the neighborhood. Kadeem's hand rested on the handlebar of Jerome's stroller as he walked closely beside Michel’le.

“If you don't mind me asking, what happened to his mother?” Michel'le asked, breaking the silence between them.

“She got herself killed.” He nearly spat out those words. The thought of her angering him.

“Oh.” She whispered with a frown, “Did you hate her? Or love her?”

Shrugging his shoulders underneath his brown coat, he replied, “I hate how she carried herself. Her actions that caused her demise got me hot. Like, maybe she ain't give a fuck bout lil man like she claimed she did.”

Michel'le didn't fully understand due to the details being left out. But she caught the jist and simply nodded her head,“Were you together when she passed?”

“Nah. I had no love for shorty. Shit, Jerome was just one of them gifts from God that come on ya doorstep like a Christmas present. I got no love in my heart for a lady in my life.” Kadeem replied. But before Michel'le could ask why, he clarified, “I don't trust nobody Michel'le. Loyalty means more to me than love.”

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb: From highly acclaimed, bestselling author Ava Reid comes a gothic horror retelling of The Juniper Tree, set in another time and place within the world of The Wolf and the Woodsman, where a young witch seeks to discover her identity and escape the domination of her abusive wizard father, perfect for fans of Shirley Jackson and Catherynne M. Valente.A gruesome curse.

 A city in upheaval. A monster with unquenchable appetites. Marlinchen and her two sisters live with their wizard father in a city shifting from magic to industry. As Oblya’s last true witches, she and her sisters are little more than a tourist trap as they treat their clients with archaic remedies and beguile them with nostalgic charm. Marlinchen spends her days divining secrets in exchange for rubles and trying to placate her tyrannical, xenophobic father, who keeps his daughters sequestered from the outside world. But at night, Marlinchen and her sisters sneak out to enjoy the city’s amenities and revel in its thrills, particularly the recently established ballet theater, where Marlinchen meets a dancer who quickly captures her heart.As Marlinchen’s late-night trysts grow more fervent and frequent, so does the threat of her father’s rage and magic. And while Oblya flourishes with culture and bustles with enterprise, a monster lurks in its midst, borne of intolerance and resentment and suffused with old-world power. Caught between history and progress and blood and desire, Marlinchen must draw upon her own magic to keep her city safe and find her place within it.

Review:

A gothic horror retelling of the Juniper Tree where a young witch must discover who she truly is and escape her abusive wizard father while falling for a ballet dancer with his own demons. Marlinchen and her two sisters live with their wizard father, a father who is cursed to never be satisfied and who is extremely overprotective of them... Marlinchen has been submissive her entire life, silent, obedient, and the daughter who does the most for her father. Marlinchin has the ability to see into people’s minds, read their secrets and memories just by touching them. Her father has kept his daughters separated from society, only letting them tend to clients with their gifts, but after a secret outing Marlinchin meets Sevas, the primary ballerino, playing Ivan. It is an instant want, an instant desire, she wants him like she’s never wanted anything else. But when Sevas turns up at her door as a client her father catches onto her desire and casts a new spell that locks Marlinchen and her sisters in and makes it impossible for them to even go out. Yet mysteriously Marlinchen soon discovers a way out... and a way to Sevas. Sevas has his own demons, tired of playing one role his entire life, of being the hero, and being forced to be beholden to the abuses from his uncle. Soon bodies start dropping and Marlinchen’s father becomes greedier for control of his daughters and soon things well get out of hand. This was such a unqiue gothic horror retelling of the original story and I actually loved the ending of the book so much. This is a story about reclaiming your body, about finding the strength in yourself to get what you want and to fight back against the abuses. The romance was quick but it truly works well in the end, seriously that ending was just magnificent.

*Thanks Netgalley and Avon and Harper Voyager, Harper Voyager for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[dupont]

In order to be more impactful in her role that helps feed the world, Marcia Berimbau returned to school to better understand people. This modern-day Renaissance woman shares her unqiue story in her own words. Read more here. 

Marcia Berimbau started her career at DuPont in the traditional way: as a scientist, working in Brazil. A chemical engineer by training, Berimbau was a believer in the fundamentals of science, and in the importance of formal, precise processes and procedures. But several years into her career, she broadened her way of thinking. Although engineering was still vital to her job — and to her — she realized after moving into an “innovation manager” role at Danisco that she needed to know more about business. She promptly enrolled in an MBA program in São Paulo, Brazil.

Berimbau, now the Innovation Director for South America for DuPont Nutrition & Health, is a can-do sort of person. She believes in taking initiative. She also loves to learn. So, when promoted to Innovation Director at Danisco in 2001, she realized that she now needed more knowledge than either her technical or business degrees afforded her. In her new role managing teams of engineers and business workers, she needed to better understand people. That’s when she went back to university — in her spare time, after putting in long days at work — to study literature and language. “As I became more and more involved in leadership, I realized that understanding the human side of people, and how they think, was essential,” she says.

Literature in turn opened the door to philosophy — and to another humanities degree that Berimbau finished in 2011. “This was very important to opening my mind, and understanding some very fundamental things about people,” Berimbau says today. “Although I’m in a technical area, my work is mostly dealing with teams, project groups, and strategies, and that’s what I needed the most help with.”

Think globally, act locally

Berimbau runs DuPont Nutrition & Health “Innovation Lab” for South America. Her group exists because, as she says, “science is global, but food is local.” DuPont R&D groups might come up with the firm’s blockbuster new enzymes, but if they don’t complement diets around the world, then it’s for naught. That’s why DuPont has placed Innovation Labs around the world. “To put a final product in something like ice cream, or a piece of bread, we have to see what that ingredient is bringing to our market in particular,” Berimbau says.

She points to some of the recent food innovations her team has been involved in. Countries in South America — Chile is a prime example — have been worried about their citizens’ health, and have recently passed regulations about food ingredients such as trans fats. In response, Berimbau’s team launched a zero trans-fat, low-saturated-fat campaign. “We’ve presented prototypes of margarine and biscuits using DuPont products to our customers, and are now working on a healthy cake. These are meant to be an inspiration to our customers, for products they can offer to their customers.”

Collaborative leadership style that promotes innovation

Berimbau is known for her participatory leadership style that promotes innovation. “I enjoy being close to my teams, to encourage them to exchange ideas and collaborate,” she says. Although each different industry group works huddled together — Dairy, Ice Cream, Bakery, Beverages and Oils & Fats — Berimbau fosters openness and cross-industry collaboration between the groups. “The ‘zero trans & low sat’ concept was originally an Oils & Fats campaign that moved quickly into Bakery,” she says. “Another example is the cooperation between the Ice Cream and Beverages team in the creation of milk & soy ice cream concept.”

According to Berimbau, innovation is a combination of structured processes and the freedom to create. “We have structured processes that involve deep understanding of customer needs and our capabilities. But I believe innovation can happen anywhere. Some of our best ideas come from talking around the coffee machine.”

It is also important to share beyond the South America lab. Each industry has a global knowledge team, a centralized multi-functional and multi-regional group that regularly meets to solve particular challenges affecting the industry worldwide. “We have systems in place so that local innovation is never lost or buried deep in some regional facility,” she says.

For example, her bakery team recently found an innovative new application for some DuPont™ Danisco® enzymes applied in the milling industry. “We discovered that if you used the enzyme earlier in the process, while the grain is still wet and undergoing what we call ‘conditioning,’ that you end up with whiter flours, and better yield,” she says. “I’m very proud of my team’s innovations. Sharing these innovations globally is the way to understand and realize our full potential.”

Growth Opportunities at DuPont

Berimbau says that DuPont is a good place for women to advance to leadership positions.

“When I started my career 30 years ago, it was very different. I felt I needed to fight to prove my point, that I could do things as well as my male colleagues,” she says. “But as the years have gone by, we see much more women in management roles, both within DuPont, and at our customers.” There is still a gap in the number of women in senior positions, she says. “I enjoy spending time mentoring women and also men on how to grow and be successful. I believe we all have the potential and opportunities to grow at DuPont.”

Looking back, Berimbau says she feels “wonderful” about her career choice, because she knows she’s making a difference. “Feeding the world is a noble challenge,” she says. “It’s a good thing to know that what you are doing benefits the global population.”

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss: Feline Encounter of the Gatlinburg Kind

So there we were--yours truly, Crazy Claws and the quartet known as the Cattanooga Cats, as in Country, Kitty Jo, Groove and Scoots--in the latter's retreat looking down on Gatlinburg and the Great Smoky Mountains, accentuated by a polarised picture window to avoid the glare. Over ham biscuit sandwiches and Royal Crown Cola, even.

And leave it to Kitty Jo, the Cattanooga Cats' female vocal lead and dancer, to explain what led them to Gatlinburg as their retreat: "It just felt rather interesting to imagine ourselves having as a between-tours retreat nothing less than an otherwise campy-looking tourist trap as Gatlinburg. Especially when such was situated out of the way, the better so as not to be too obvious."

To which Country chimed in: "Especially so a certain Chessie the Autograph Hound. She's long been nothing but an annoyance for us, constantly demanding our autographs--"

"--And acting rather obnoxious on the side," Groove remarked, "As if she really wanted to tan our hide!"

(Prompting Crazy Claws to remark that such a fondness for rhyming to express one's sentiments "is almost as weird as imagining just how Wisconsin Dells can survive the winter without its waterpark resorts.")

During which Scoots, the dimunitive one of the Cats, went into a banjo-picking exercise ("Keeps my paws all the more limber," he remarked) as much as coming up with some absurdly wonderful story to relate in his role as the Resident Storyteller for the sake of their act. And when Crazy Claws remarked that he had seen the Cats a few times in Wisconsin Dells, the response among the Cattanooga Cats was sheer and stunned disbelief. Disbelief of the sort that was enough to prompt Kitty Jo to recall the time when Crazy Claws helped her pick up a decent leather vest to improve her looks in the act. And enough to send Kitty Jo to the hall closet wearing that very vest.

Meanwhile, yours truly explained that our presence was but part of a publicity run from Chicago down to Florida promoting Wisconsin Dells, as in passing out brochures for the Waterpark Capital--prompting Groove to remark "Who needs a waterslide when a motel swimming pool/Can be enough to drive us all so cool?!" (Guffaws of laughter all around. And prompting Crazy Claws to ask of Groove if he ever tried diving "cannonball," given his massive girth, which drew further laughs--and plenty of memories about motel swimming pools, good, bad and ugly, they've been to on tour.)

Which led Country to ask what drove Crazy Claws and I to such a quest as this, and this I replied: "The thrill of the open road. And a desire to help an old friend out." Which was cue enough for Teeny Tim--that's Kitty Jo's pet dog and dance partner--to demonstrate his amusing way with the keyboard as much as the old terpsichore. Kitty Jo remarked that such "came about as an idea on a whim to me; besides, his joining me in the dancing, while alright, was getiing hackneyed."

Which was enough to lead to a rather wonderful evening with the Cattanooga Cats along the Parkway in downtown Gatlinburg, encountering plenty of tourists and signing autographs--even on copies of the brochures we were passing out. And we avoided the NASCAR Cafe for supper, tacky as it was in concept, instead looking for someplace more "down home" in the cooking department for a little nightcap. Which, as it happened, was back at the Cattanooga Cats' retreat, only this time looking down on Gatlinburg in her nighttime splendor. Such was the cue for one of their legendary Midnight Biscuits-and-Gravy Breakfasts, which Country explained as "perhaps the best way we've came across some rather creative ideas for our act." Especially when you consider that the sausage gravy uses mild and hot breakfast sausage in the same gravy "to add some balance," as Scoots put it.

All definitely from scratch--and from old recipes from Kitty Jo's branch of the band ("My late mother was rather wonderful herself with the cooking, and taught me much in the process. It's almost like extracurricular activity, in a way") ... for which Scoots "added some spice" by relating in his own unqiue way when some close half-crazy cousins of his from "back in the holler" almost feuded like the Hatfields and McCoys over who made better biscuits and gravy, esepcially considering that the sausage was freshly made back during "butcherin' time" for the family hogs, as was still something of a commonplace. Hence, the older cousin decided to do a "taste off" of their rival recipes when the neighbours' "swapping work" came over to their place over "butcherin' time" ... and just trying to keep up with the demand was rather trying for the women folk. "But, long story short," Scoots concluded, "when all was said and done--it was a tossup between the two. It emerged that they had used the same basic sausage recipe from a University Extension Service pamphlet, and used much the same spices. In any case, the two cousins remained rather close, even swapping biscuits and gravy on occasion." Not to mention Kitty Jo and Country bringing out the photo albums and relating plenty of hilarious misadventures, plenty of stories involving their several tour buses they fondly called "Gashopper," even plenty of test poses for album cover concepts. And in the Gashopper Department, an especially hilarious story was about the time when they found a VW minibus which had been "stretched out" big time ... and in getting things organised in the midst of a major tour, when they were doing small-time auditoriums and "opry houses," they realised that the bunks were probably a little TOO comfortable. Or were they? But at least there wasn't double-bunking to contend with, and a decent little kitchen besides, where many a kettle of their legendary post-concert grits bar grits was cooked up.

Before long, it was time for bed. Crazy Claws and I got an exceptionally weird-looking bedroom as seemed straight out of Scooby-Doo, and in the sky blue and chartreuse so associated even! Not to mention futon mattress as felt somewhat comfortable--a little TOO comfortable for comfort, it seemed.... Well, anyway we all slept in until around 8, when Kitty Jo announced breakfast was ready: Her own very special grits, with choice of toppings galore. And boy, I must've eaten at least three bowls seasoned with cheese, bacon bits and salt-free seasoning ... and Crazy Claws had his fill of such to which he added shredded cheese and cracked black pepper.

And taking our leave of Gatlinburg--but not before a selfie with all the parties involved overlooking Gatlinburg and the Smokies, and also satin jackets emblazoned with the Cattanooga Cats' own logotype--and autographs, even!--we couldn't get over ourselves in such incredible company Hanna-Barberian of the highest order ... and decided to kill time on the Smokies Mountain Coaster (and NOT manage to get sick in the process)!