#rasha mama

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🍉 Queer Palestinian Books 🍉

🇵🇸 The algorithm is going to keep silencing my posts, but they're not going to silence me. I grew up with little to no books that made me feel seen as a queer/bisexual Palestinian Arab American. Today, it's still not easy enough to find those books online, even though we have thousands of lists, posts, and directories to guide us. To make your search a little easier, here are a few queer Palestinian books to add to your TBR. Please help me spread this by reblogging. Consider adding these to your least for Read Palestine Week (click for resources)! 💜

🍉 The Skin and Its Girl by Sarah Cypher 🇵🇸 A Map of Home by Randa Jarrar 🍉 Hazardous Spirits by Anbara Salam 🇵🇸 To All the Yellow Flowers by Raya Tuffaha 🍉 You Exist Too Much by Zaina Arafat 🇵🇸 The Specimen's Apology by George Abraham 🍉 Birthright by George Abraham 🇵🇸 Nayra and the Djinn by Iasmin Omar Ata 🍉 Where Black Stars Rise by Nadia Shammas and Marie Enger 🇵🇸 The Twenty-Ninth Year by Hala Alyan 🍉 Guapa by Saleem Haddad 🇵🇸 From Whole Cloth: An Asexual Romance by Sonia Sulaiman

🍉 The Philistine by Leila Marshy 🇵🇸 Love Is an Ex-Country by Randa Jarrar 🍉 Shell Houses by Rasha Abdulhadi 🇵🇸 Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique by Sa'ed Atshan 🍉 Belladonna by Anbara Salam 🇵🇸 Confetti Realms by Nadia Shammas, Karnessa, Hackto Oshiro 🍉 Blood Orange by Yaffa As 🇵🇸 The ordeal of being known by Malia Rose 🍉 Decolonial Queering in Palestine by Walaa Alqaisiya 🇵🇸 Are You This? Or Are You This?: A Story of Identity and Worth by Madian Al Jazerah, Ellen Georgiou 🍉 This Arab Is Queer: An Anthology by LGBTQ+ Arab Writers 🇵🇸 My Mama's Magic by Amina Awad

[tertain-the-original]

Artfight batch!

1. Dove and Estella for @totally-not-an-awkward-okapi and greesyreesie

2. Mama Mawdie for colingrnwd

3. Percy for azerttyo

4. Seeko for leniproduction

5. Milla for animalartist19

6. Qin Xi for qyldriss

7. Sweet Dream for epictitanoboa

8. Rasha Narin for Neeciachan

9. Lunar for grecha

10. Telo and Nirva for @drzone

[autumnslance]

Intimacy prompt, #23, anyone except for Aeryn! #41 for Aeryn! :D

(Two prompts, both kinda long, so below a cut it goes!)

23: wearing someone’s clothes

The house was far too quiet.

Iron Summer could hear the sounds of the forest shifting from night to morning songs as the sun slowly rose over the Twelveswood. Inside the house, however, were only the muffled sounds of his wife already in the kitchen preparing breakfast for just the two of them.

It was unusual that they were alone in the sprawling farmhouse; some of their many children usually stayed with them, grandchildren were often present (and sometimes snuggled alongside them in bed, as their parents had years before), even members of Gage Acquisitions were often guests in their home, using the family farm as a safe waypoint when they had to travel through the Shroud.

But at the moment, those children with their own homes—in Gridania, or even elsewhere in Eorzea—were at those homes. A pair were in Ala Mhigo aiding their rebuilding, another in Yanxia helping with theirs. A couple were even in Garlemald, aiding the Contingent’s work (despite Iron’s own ambivalence on that matter). Their youngest was a grown adult now, and training in the Fane.

They had wanted a large family, he and Singing Willow, and the Twelve and Elementals had blessed them, and granted strength through the few losses they had suffered along the way, for what life didn’t experience strife? He was still a luckier man than many.

And a man about to be in trouble, if he didn’t get up as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the windowsill. He heaved himself out of bed and got ready for the day’s work, though some things would have to be put off until at least one of his children, or older grandchildren, came around. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and Sing had her own work to do—and some of that she could use more help on. Perhaps he ought to consider hiring a field hand and a house worker, though his wife might protest…

Iron frowned as he finished his morning toilet, except he couldn’t find the shirt set out the night before. More curiously, Sing’s clothes were still where she had neatly left them. His eyes narrowed. It had been awhile since she had played this game.

He tromped out to the kitchen, shirtless. “Sing?” he called.

“There you are, love. I thought you might sleep in with how quiet it is.” She had just finished making the usual hearty breakfast that would see him through the day, but was doing so wearing his shirt, far too large for her, one shoulder bare from the wide collar she hadn’t fully buttoned, the hem to her thighs.

It took him a moment to realize she was wearing only his shirt, a saucy smirk on her face as his brows raised. “Well,” he drawled as he moved closer. “It isn’t usual, for us to have the place all to ourselves.”

“No,” she breathed as her hands ran up his chest to his shoulders, his own hands sliding down her sides to find the hem of his shirt. “I thought we might take advantage of that.”

“Breakfast will get cold,” he murmured in her ear.

“I made it to eat either way,” she replied. He laughed; of course she had.

The work could wait, Iron decided. They could take this rare day for themselves.

41: washing each other’s hair 

The sticky heat of Thavnair’s summer persisted even as the sun sank beyond the purple mountains, bathing the sky in warm colors as it journeyed toward the western sea. As her brothers argued, laughed too loudly, and made crude jokes at each others’ expense, Aeryn wished her sisters were along on this season’s trade circuit, but they and the grandmothers had remained in Davarresh due to Rashae’s new baby. There were other families traveling with them; maybe she could sit at one of her friends’ quieter fires later to get some peace.

“Come on,” Mama said, carrying a small basket, towels draped over it. “Let’s go to the river.”

Aeryn leapt at the chance, following her mother away from the caravan, until the sounds were an indistinct hum combining with the background song of Vanaspati’s jungle. They did not have to go far, the path to the riverbank clear, but they did walk alongside it a couple more yalms, putting trees, brush, and a little rocky outcropping between them and the others.

There were already markers among the trees and stones, indicating where it was safe. Sweetly pungent incense smoldered on torches, and even buoys placed a little ways out in the water to keep most creatures away. Even so, the pair swept their eyes over the designated bathing area before stripping their outer layers and playing in the shallow water for a few minutes, soothing the aches and grime from the day’s work.

Aeryn heard the other women and girls making their way down the path; she and her mother had been the first, but by no means were the only ones wanting to relax as camp was set, the next town on their group’s route still half a day’s journey off. “Here,” Mama said as they returned to the edge. “Sit on this rock and I’ll wash your hair, and then you can wash mine.”

The stone left Aeryn half submerged still. Her mother’s sure fingers massaged the foaming soap into Aeryn’s fine hair, nails very gently scratching across her scalp. Her head bobbed in whatever directions needed, any tension or stiffness melting away. Mama was careful to not pull or yank, nimbly untangling any snarls or knots, smoothing the long dark strands. “Rinse,” Mama said quietly, perfectly audible over the background of the others’ conversations and laughter. One hand on the back of Aeryn’s neck, the other on her collarbone, guided her back and down, hair fanning over the water, Mama careful to keep Aeryn’s face just above the surface—harder now, with their friends nearby.

Mama helped Aeryn back up, squeezing the excess water from her hair. “There we are. Now you wash mine; it feels full of dust yet.” They swapped places, and it took Aeryn a moment to realize her mother had maneuvered them to a space off to the side, their backs to the others. Bathing on the road like this was usually a social time—and the other women and girls were making use of that, the day’s work complete, unwinding amongst themselves—but Aeryn appreciated this little pocket of solitude with just the two of them while she worked the sweet-scented foam through her mother’s hair, as fine and black as Aeryn’s own. “I’ve been so busy with helping Rashae lately,” Mama suddenly said as Aeryn massaged her scalp. “I feel it’s been too long since we’ve had time for this.”

“It has,” Aeryn said, realizing how true that was, and how much she had missed her mother’s direct attention. “But it’s all right; we’re here now. And it’s time to rinse.” She helped her mother lean back, carefully balancing to keep her face above water while she washed out the foamy soap.

“You’ve gotten strong, love,” Mama said, smiling up at her. “I’m barely holding myself at all now.”

“Learned from the best,” Aeryn replied, face warm from the praise, from being able to take care of her mother, as Mama had always taken care of her. She helped Mama sit up, squeezing out her long hair for her.

Another woman called to them as they left their little corner, Mama returning the greeting. The other girls called to Aeryn, inviting her to join their game in the slightly-deeper water. Mama laughed and shooed her off to join them, their quiet semi-solitude broken, but the feeling of her mother’s certain hands on her head, in her hair, lingered even as she and Aeryn stepped away from one another.

[fiercynn]

palestinian poets: iman alzaghari

iman alzaghari is a muslim palestinian american from california. she holds bachelor's degrees in arabic and linguistics from the university of california, berkeley. iman is an avid reader, and is passionate about language. she runs @arabicnerd, an instagram account focused on arabic and arab-american literature.

IF YOU READ ONLY ONE POEM BY IMAN ALZAGHARI, MAKE IT THIS ONE

"We Inherited Trees | ورثنا أشجارا" (which also included a reading by iman alzaghari) was published in the strange horizons special issue on palestine from march 2021, edited by rasha abdulhadi, which has many other amazing pieces of writing by palestinian authors.

OTHER POEMS I LOVE BY IMAN ALZAGHARI

"Happy Birthday - Sana Helwa" at Unootha (also read aloud)

"Mama" at Unootha (also read aloud)

[bollywoodmixtape]

Song: Rasha Mama (2018) - Coke Studio Season 11, Episode 2 Singers: Zarsanga, Gul Panrra and Khumariyaan Produced & Directed by Zohaib Kazi and Ali Hamza Lyrics Traditional Folk. Composed by Ustaad Gulzaman Zarsanga comes to Coke Studio for the very first time accompanied by the sweet voice of Gul Panrra and Khumariyaan, the boys that took Pashto music mainstream. #RashaMama composes a percussion-driven track with Rabab, Dholak and Guitars as Zarsanga soars effortlessly through one of her well-loved folk songs. -- Rasha Mama, Zarsanga, Gul Panrra and Khumariyaan, Coke Studio Season 11, Episode 2. (via Coke Studio)

[romanticmoonchild]

Hey, it’s RaShae again! I’m asking for help in getting my cat in for a teeth cleaning. She’s got a cracked tooth I think and she has gingivitis really bad. I’m gonna do everything I can but she’s at least 4 now (she was a stray and the vet said she looked about 3 last year) so she’s got to get a cleaning anyways since this is the age real bad gum troubles begin. All together it’s 228 + tax. I already have 150 so I’m only asking for help with the last $78. Any extra I get will go towards the taxes plus any meds etc needed. I will be lowering the amount once I’m able to save more money, I promise. I’m just trying to be a good cat mama. Thanks for the help. For sharing, please don’t tag donat*ns.

PayPal Cashapp

[amethyxtnix]

2.67 Family Day

It was family day in the Spring Steppes residence.

It was mostly the siblings from both sides of the family who came to visit.

"Ravina, how come Mama and Dad didn't come?"

"Oh Rasha, you know what they're like. They're probably happy that Raika and I actually left the house for a bit. For sure, they're chilling near the fireplace doing a movie marathon. They send you their love though."

"Fair enough. It's a long drive for them as well. Tell them I miss them please."

previous || next

[leilabeaux]

Learning

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Ivar is able to learn more about Reader as her walls slowly comes down.

Author’s Note: I’ve been slow with updating anything. With work and all the things going on in the world, I’ve been much like the reader and preferred to stay in bed all time. Hopefully, I can get back into the groove because I do enjoy entertaining you all with the ideas that pop up in my head.

The Stolen Queen: When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen Lost The Secret Visit

----

The knot on the wooden plank across from you seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. You were lying in bed with your arm hanging off the edge and no intention of moving. It seemed like today was going to be the same as the rest. Your ankle was getting better and you could finally put some weight on it but that still didn’t give you enough motivation to step outside.

There wasn’t much of a point. You could only sit in silence with Arn so many times and watch as he sharpened his sword or gutted whatever animal you'd be feasting on that day. Even if he were more of a conversationalist, he knew no Saxon and there were only a few Norse words you could understand. You two were limited on the ways you were able to get your point across to each other. 

Like a few moments ago when he plopped a plate of food onto the bed. He pointed at your lunch, acted like he was spooning it to his mouth before he crossed his arms and waited for you to make your move. You nibbled on a slice of meat just to appease the older man enough to leave you alone. Once he made his exit, you dropped the morsel immediately and went back to staring at the wall.

Your eyes grew heavy as you slowly drifted off for the third time that day. You spent most of your days asleep. Ever since the last time you ran off, you realized that it was only in your dreams when you could escape from these four walls, getting lost in past memories. Some good, some bad, and some that hadn’t crossed your mind since you were younger...

It was the sound of a clay pot crashing right outside your room that woke you from your nap. You stood on the tip of your toes over your pile of blankets to take a peek out of the window. The usual bustle of the marketplace was replaced with panic as people tried to quickly pack up their stalls. Mothers had their children in their arms as they ran from the town center.

The shouting from the other room had you hopping off your bed and quietly walking toward the archway. Your mother and Sigbert, her loyal guard and friend, hovered over the table, looking over the battle plans. The white paint on her face was smudged and now replaced with blood but you weren’t sure if it was hers or someone else’s.

Sigbert pounded his fist against the table causing one of the figurines to tumble onto the ground. “Dammit, Rasha! More than half your warriors are gone. We must leave while there is still time. I know King Wuldric would insist on your safe return to Essex.”

Your mother hung her head as if in silent defeat. Her braids dusted the table below her. “My people need their queen and that far outweighs any need of a foreign king,” her voice was just above a whisper. You had to poke your head out of the archway just to hear her clearly. “You need to return to Essex and you need to take Y/N with you. There is no one else I trust more with her life.”

“You cannot stop them,” Sigbert tried to reason with her one last time.

“Then I will have to die trying.” She looked over to you. “I’ll take comfort that my legacy will live on through her.” Your lip began to wobble when you saw her tears flowing, pulling the red and white coloring down her face. You’ve never seen your mother with such sadness in her eyes and you didn’t know why but it frightened you.

Picking you up, she smoothed your hair back as she tried to stop your tears. “Y/N, Be not afraid, you’ll always be safe with Sigbert. He’s taking you home. Home to your king.” She pressed a kiss against your temple, holding you tight to her before passing you over to your new guardian.

As he carried you off to his waiting horse, you reached out your small hand to her, calling out for her, “Mama! Mama!”

You woke up to the bed shifting next to you. You peaked over your shoulder to find Ivar sitting next to you, picking at the food still left on your plate. Though most days you didn’t feel like seeing him, you didn’t feel particularly up to it today.

“Do you know you mumble gibberish in your sleep?” he questioned before shoveling your leftovers in his mouth. “Arn says you’ve stopped eating. Is something wrong with you? Do you need the healer?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You turned your head away from him, focusing on the knot in the wall again. You heard the clink of the plate being set on the floor before the bed dipped right behind you. 

“You know you can talk to me, you don’t have to be afraid.” His warm body was close to you as you felt him twirling your hair around his finger. 

You could only laugh mockingly, refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“You can. Anything you say here will not get you in trouble.”

You rolled over to face him, “Anything? Like I can tell how much I dream of climbing on top of you.” His eyes widened as you straddled his waist before you leaned down to press your forearm against his neck. “So I can slice open your throat or stab you in the heart.”

Your threat must have fallen on deaf ears when he smiled up at you, his hands slowly sliding up your thighs and under your dress, “Maybe if you get a hold of another chicken bone, you’ll get your wish.”

You smacked your hand on his chest in annoyance before climbing off him and the bed. Stomping out of the cabin to get some distance from him, you tried to not focus too much on the jolt of electricity that flowed through your body when his rough hands were on you.

You could hear him getting off the bed and the strike of his crutch hitting the ground as he made his way outside.

“Come with me,” Ivar ordered as he passed by you and walked over to his chariot. 

You slowly followed him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, standing by and watching as he climbed in. You raised a brow when he held his hand out to you.

“You could walk along with me, my queen, but I think it’ll be faster if you ride with me.”

Pushing his hand away, you grabbed onto the side of the chariot and you pulled yourself in. 

He chuckled as he grabbed the reins. “Still stubborn as ever, I see. Maybe nothing is wrong with you.”

---

It felt like it didn’t take long for the horse and chariot to break through the edge of the forest. The trees had cleared out, exposing the bluff that was in the distance. Ivar would come here when he needed to be truly alone with his thoughts but with trying to visit you and with his duties as King, there hadn’t been enough time to come back. 

He had been away for some time, busy checking on the stronghold at York. He had hoped you’d be more welcoming to his presence when he arrived at the cabin instead he was informed by Arn that you rarely left your bed and were barely eating despite his efforts. Ivar thought that a change in scenery would heal whatever was ailing you.

When the chariot came to a stop, you made a move to climb out but he gently pushed you back before he stepped down and, once again, held his hand out to you. Rolling your eyes, you finally took his hand and his assistance in getting out from the chariot. 

He propped himself up against a large boulder, watching you as you walked toward the edge of the cliff, taking in the view of the bay. You closed your eyes while you took in the ocean air, wind whipping your long curls around as you stood still.

Backing away from the edge, you started making your way towards him. “Is all of that down there your kingdom?”

Ivar tried to not be so excited that you were initiating the conversation for once. “It is. You sound surprised.”

“Well, with how boastful you are, I assumed it to be much smaller,” you smirked as you took a seat on the grass not too far away from him. 

While he would have been content sitting in silence with you, there was a question weighing on his mind since he took you from Powys. “Why did you run away?”

“You let me go so I--”

“No, from your kingdom, from your husband.”

You continued to stare straight ahead as if you needed a moment to consider your answer, “I was tired of it. Tired of being his queen.”

Ivar snorted at your response and looked down at you incredulously, “You are an odd woman. You could ask any woman in Kattegat if they would want to be a queen and I don’t think one would tell you no.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be a queen. I didn’t want to be his queen. I don’t think I desire to be any man’s queen if they’re anything like a Fremund. I’d rather be a queen without a king.”

“There’s a simple solution for that. Just get rid of your king.” He suggested as he made a slow, slicing motion across his neck.

You laughed at what he was insinuating, “I can’t say that the thought never crossed my mind. I think I’d be dead if I ever tried.”

“When we first met, you said that he wanted you to be a proper queen. What would that be?”

“According to Fremund? One that is only seen and not heard. Just a piece of decoration in the room when he’s entertaining other kings or earls,” your voice was dripping with disdain. “My father once told me that iron sharpens iron. ‘A great king should have no intention of trying to change, control, or silence his queen. He should want her to be as strong and as outspoken as him because her strength is a reflection of his own.’ I learned early on in my marriage that my husband didn’t share the same views.”

Ivar didn’t miss the way you touched the side of your face as if you were recalling a bad memory. He wondered if your usual unwillingness to talk wasn’t just because of your need to defy or irritate him but that it was an ingrained trait.

You stared down at the ground, plucking the grass. “That’s when I started to run away. But his men would always find me. I became a prisoner in my own kingdom. He surrounded me with handmaids and his guards and decreed that I was to never be left alone.” You cut your eyes to him with an irritated look on your face. “It’s funny that I am so far from Gwynedd, yet his order still holds.” 

He constantly wondered how he could convince you to accept your new home. But he now realized that your instinct was to run when someone tried to control and hold you back. “I think I owe you an apology, Y/N. Maybe I was mistaken to have you kept so close to the cabin. You should be free to explore the lands you live on or to even come back here if you wish.”

You looked pensive as you considered what he was telling you. “So I’m still your prisoner but with a larger jail cell?”

“You will be my guest. I’m giving you the freedom to roam and live as if you were a queen without a king. But you must understand I can’t leave you alone. It’s for your protection. I think we both know that you would get lost in the forest and die if you were left on your own.”

You nodded along in agreement. The furrow of your brow had him prepared for whatever clever comment was about to exit your mouth. “Why haven’t you punished me for going against you?” you wondered. “Fremund would have at least backhanded me for less.”

Ivar walked over to you, offering his hand to you. The sun was getting low, he was needing to get you back home. “Because I am not your husband, I’m not a weak king.”

Without any resistance or roll of your eyes, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to help you up.

He led you to the chariot with his hand at the small of your back. “And I can appreciate a strong queen when she’s right next to me.”

----

Endnote: The quote from Reader’s father is actually one I found from a quick google search. Here’s the actual quote:

“A king had no intention of trying to change, control, or “shut up” a queen. He wants his woman to be as strong and tactfully outspoken as him, with her own mind, because he knows, his woman’s strength is a reflection of his. Iron sharpens iron.”—ebrahim aseem

----

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​ @walkxthexmoon​ @ivarsgoddess​ @tsumamibaddie​ @akaward-potato​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @castielsangelsx​

(Edited to fix tags. 😒)

[jaxdrawsartthings]

A WIP of a digital paint of my first ttrpg character, Rasha the catfolk rogue and incarnate of bad luck.

I started playing ttrpg with Pathfinder and transitioned over to 5e after Rasha’s campaign was cancelled. Now I’m DMing my own campaign and my bad luck girl was turned into an NPC and gifted the party their first magical items.

Long live my lesbian rogue, sugar mama to her party and queen bad luck bitch forever. <3

Hopefully I’ll be done with this painting soon.

If you like my art, I’m taking commissions! Check out my pinned post for more information!

[shemakesmusic-uk]

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to shemakesmusic@hotmail.com. We look forward to hearing from you!

Rasha Jay

Rasha Jay is an NJ-based singer and songwriter who fuses her love for alternative, rock and soul. Like Big Mama Thornton and Sister Rosetta Tharp before her, Rasha Jay is not afraid to blast away convention and dive headlong into a world which has long been the domain of men. Taking influence from musical mavericks like Prince and rock royalty like Foo Fighters, Rasha Jay is the injection of new blood that rock was crying out for. Inspired by her Uncle Larry’s eclectic record collection which she listened to as a child, Rasha grew to not only embrace different musical styles but also to have confidence with her own voice, happy to keep the raw edge, just as so many blues and soul hollerers before her have. Her new song ‘BACKBONE’ was written in February 2020, ahead of the headlines and lockdowns after losing family members. “I paused, and through that grief came gratitude and joy,” she says. “I originally wrote it for myself and my family, however now the audience for this message is bigger. Listen below.

Rasha Jay · BACKBONE

lottie

British singer-songwriter and producer lottie wears her heart on her sleeve with her intimate lyrics and smooth vocals. A proud member of the LGBTQ+ community, lottie has a unique sound and viewpoint that match seamlessly with the producing expertise of Hangi Tavakoli. Her songs fall into the genres of indie and pop in a way that is distinctly lottie. All of her lyrics are voiced from a lesbian perspective and she wears her pride like a badge of honour. Taking inspiration from artists like Lorde and BANKS, lottie combines her intimate lyrics with soulful, pure vocals. Her new song ‘Dance With You’ is a romantic, piano focussed track that’s about not seeing anyone else when you’re around the person you love. “I wrote it after a bunch of friends cancelled on a party my girlfriend and I threw,” she says. Listen below.

Ha Vay

Ha Vay is the musical and storytelling project of singer-songwriter, artist and performer, Maddy Toy as she explores her identity as an Asian and bi-racial young woman navigating her early 20s. Songs are made in collaboration with her close friend and audio engineer/producer, Elliott Jacobs. Together they create a 90s-inspired anthemic pop rock sound, experimenting with a mix of punk, shoegaze, country and hyper pop elements. Combining classic songwriting storytelling with experimental psychedelic sections and a political punk sensibility. Her new single ‘Ode to the Party Girl’ is a driving pop rock tune with a mix of punk, 90s anthemic rock, and psychedelic hyper pop elements. “The song is a celebration of my wilder teenage party days as I explore how this time gave me a sense of independence and adventure coming into adulthood,” she explains. “It’s a reclamation of the “girls gone wild narrative” retold from the perspective of the girls, as partying is often the avenues of rebellion for teenage girls/young womxn, while other adventures are deemed too “dangerous” or “masculine”.” Listen below.

Ha Vay · Ode to the Party Girl

India and the Jones

India Jordan, vocalist, songwriter, and guitarist on new song ‘Caught In The Middle’, creates music with her band India and The Jones that channels the fire of great soul and alternative music through the ages. Her songs explore themes of self-discovery, disrupting normality, and celebrating the delicious bits of life. She's been singing supporting vocals for R&B, Soul, and Pop artists for several years while honing her voice. India and The Jones's debut EP is set to release this Fall. ‘Caught In The Middle’ is a thrilling celebration of individuality set to a spooky soul-rock soundtrack. Listen below.

Razteria

San Francisco and International-based artist Razteria’s new single, ‘No Veo Nada,’ is a Reggae/EDM/Pop song sung in Spanish that combines a sultry and sensuous beach vibe with pop hooks and the ethereal qualities of ambient EDM. ‘No Veo Nada’ was written using a piece of Zezé Fassmor's poetry. Zezé became blind at 25 as a rare consequence of an eye injury. The Peruvian-Argentinian poet is now 34, and in his poem he describes how he now perceives the world, as one eye is dead and the other shines perpetual in bright white, as it still has some neural activity. It is like having one eye in the new moon and one eye as a sun. Living in between reality and the dream world, he finds peace through acceptance, diving deep into his being, and his desire to live and love. Symbolically through this song, Razteria is the "dulce voz,” the sweet voice, helping him to “see the horizon”. Listen below.

Lina and the Lions

Lina and the Lions wind up the tempo of 2021 with the release of their new single ‘About Us’. 'About Us’ is a synthy Art Pop earworm riding the crux of the 80s New Wave sound while bringing in a brand-new tide of ingenuity to the tune of warm synths and grinding bass. Lina Lane had this to say; “’About Us’, is a song about fighting the battles within. Knocking out all of the negative voices that we hear in our heads before they stop us in our tracks. I imagined myself and the voices as two fighters in a boxing ring both passionately fighting for the win! Musically, we went with something up beat, hard hitting and groovy! They say that boxing is like dancing, so we made sure that the groove makes you wanna move! With mental health problems on the rise, I dedicate this song to anyone who needs cheering on to win their battles! We’re in your corner!” As well as new single the band will be releasing a brand new track from their upcoming album Second Nature every month throughout 2021 until the album release. Listen to ‘About Us’ below.

Isla Croll

You may have already heard Isla Croll’s voice; she is the young singer who dazzled the coaches on The Voice Kids 2020 with her jazz rendition of ‘Summertime’ earning her a Four Chair Turn. As a songwriter, her songs are genuine and authentic. Her melodies are catchy, and her music has a bubbly persona which is delivered with a contemporary vibe. With her music, Isla wants to be part of the story-telling artistry.  Presenting her latest single ‘Has to Be this Way,’ Isla, who is busy writing and producing songs, as well as doing her GCSE’s, she added: “The song is about the end of a friendship by betrayal. Instead of crying about it, seize the day, outline the lies, set boundaries and take back control. During production, it became very clear that to achieve my message, the music had to be high energy representing strength and growth in self-esteem. The dance vibe shows the fun to be found in setting boundaries and feeling free from the hurt and blame.” Listen below.

Elluna

Elluna's love for music led to recording and performing locally since age nineteen, being very involved in the local Arizona music scene while recording music, doing features with many other local artists and doing shows at local venues. To begin with, Elluna's music had been shaped by the heavy influence that hip hop has had on the Arizona music scene as well as the tastes of online collaborators. Fans have since introduced Elluna to new influences with comparisons made with Banks, Bjork, and HANA. Elluna’s music vision was abruptly changed upon discovering ASTR and Purity Ring. ‘Trapped’ is the fourth single off of Elluna’s upcoming EP Alien due out later this year. Elluna says: “’Trapped' is an emotional, ethereal electronic song about being relegated to unending loneliness by the fear of love leading to more hurt." Listen below.

Elluna · Elluna - Trapped

Kylie Rothfield

When one hears Kylie Rothfield‘s voice, there is no denying the timeless, raw sense of emotion in her delivery. Crafting songs that combine elements of soul, blues and pop, Kylie’s music is unique, honest, and expressive. Although her vocal ability is undeniable, she is also an accomplished self-taught guitarist, capable of supporting her captivating live show as a solo acoustic performer or with a full band. Latest single ‘Everyone Else’ was written about the feeling of never really fitting in. “I remember being 17 years old, wanting to stay in my room and write songs instead of partying like my friends and wondering why we wanted such different things,” explains Kylie. “I'm 28 now and it seems like everyone else around me is getting married, working a stable job, buying a home, etc. Basically doing what they're "supposed to" be doing at our age...and sometimes I wonder if I'm strange for not having achieved those milestones yet or if it's just not quite my time. A lot of musicians/artists I know especially feel like we sacrifice things like solid relationships and stable income in the pursuit of our dreams, but I think I've realized in writing this song and having open conversations about it that everyone moves at a different pace and that's completely okay.” Listen below.

DVG Records · Kylie Rothfield - Everyone Else

Leanna Firestone

Y/N is the debut EP from singer-songwriter Leanna Firestone, a self taught artist who is currently studying commercial songwriting in Nashville. The EP is an embellished retelling of the vital moments of Leanna’s life, what did, what could’ve, or what she wanted to happen. It details of loneliness, love, and loss: written for and by teenagers and twenty-somethings. "The final track on the EP is ‘(redacted)’. It was also the last song I wrote on it, making it the rawest for me to perform and listen to,” sayd Leanne. “The title of ‘(redacted)’ was originally the name of one of my friends that had a crush on me, that I had found myself developing feelings for. However, the friend that I was developing feelings for was not a cis man, which was a very scary prospect for me because I had previously believed that I was straight. In ‘(redacted)’ I confront the changing of my identity while also admitting to the listener that even if I leave my friend behind, it's for fear of hurting them, not because I don't like them back." Listen below.

Leanna Firestone · (redacted)

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🍉 Queer Palestinian Books for Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈

🍉 Want to add a bit more diversity to your TBR? Consider reading one of these queer books by Palestinian authors for Pride Month!

🏳️‍🌈 Fiction 🍉 The Skin and Its Girl - Sarah Cypher 🍉 You Exist Too Much - Zaina Arafat 🍉 Belladonna - Anbara Salam 🍉 A Map of Home - Randa Jarrar 🍉 Muneera and the Moon - 🍉 Guapa - Saleem Haddad 🍉 The Ordeal of Being Known - Malia Rose 🍉 The Philistine - Leila Marshy 🍉 Hazardous Spirits - Anbara Salam 🍉 From Whole Cloth - Sonia Sulaiman

🏳️‍🌈 Graphic Novels 🍉 Mis(h)adra - Iasmin Omar Ata 🍉 Where Black Stars Rise - Nadia Shammas & Marie Enger 🍉 Confetti Realms - Nadia Shammas 🍉 Nayra and the Djinn - Iasmin Omar Ata 🍉 My Mama's Magic - Amina Awad 🍉 Squire - Nadia Shammas & Sara Alfageeh

🏳️‍🌈 Non-Fiction/Memoirs 🍉 Are You This? Or Are You This? - Madian Al Jazerah 🍉 Love is an Ex-Country - Randa Jarrar 🍉 This Arab is Queer - (ed) Elias Jahshan 🍉 Decolonial Queering in Palestine - Walaa Alqaisiya 🍉 Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique - Sa'ed Atshan 🍉 Between Banat - Mejdulene Bernard Shomali

🏳️‍🌈 Poetry 🍉 To All the Yellow Flowers - Raya Tuffaha 🍉 The Specimen's Apology - George Abraham & Leila Abdelrazaq 🍉 Birthright - George Abraham 🍉 The Twenty-Ninth Year - Hala Alyan 🍉 Blood Orange - Yaffa AS 🍉 Who is Owed Springtime - Rasha Abdulhadi 🍉 Shell Houses - Rasha Abdulhadi 🍉 Halal If You Hear Me - (ed) Fatimah Asghar & Safia Elhillo

🍉 None of us are free until all of us are free. 🏳️‍🌈

[cryptidphotography]

². Tranquil

². Tranquil

Featuring my Pathfinder Catfolk Rogue, Rasha - the Embodiment of Bad Luck, bitchy sugar mama of her party, and Lesbian Queen of Rogues.

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - May 2023 - Illness

((Prompt List Here. A sick fic, but I avoid details on bodily fluids. 3200 words; a bit shorter than last month! ARR Late Patches.))

Thancred woke coughing, stomach heaving and head pounding like Amalj’aa war drums. His tongue was a slab of sandpaper in his sour mouth, and his stomach spasmed again, the acid rising.

“Here,” a familiar voice said, gentle hands guiding him toward a bucket just as another wave hit. What came out was mostly liquid, and tasted even worse than when it had gone down the night before.

The hands held him steady as he spent a few minutes retching, his minder rubbing the back of his neck.

And not the person he had been expecting.

He took the offered towel to wipe his mouth as she set aside the bucket. He didn’t want to look at her just yet. Not in this state.

“Water?” she asked.

“Please,” he answered. “Not quite ready for my coffee yet, I’m afraid.”

She huffed a brief laugh and stepped away, leaving him leaning over his knees. Sitting up, let alone standing, seemed a terrible idea. He heard the tap running in his little washroom.

From the direction of his fireplace, a piercing whistle sounded, the noise splitting his head, and she cursed in her native tongue as she rushed to stop it.

“What the hells was that?” Thancred asked through the renewed ringing and pounded in his skull.

“Tea kettle. Here,” she said, setting a tray on the nightstand.

There was a glass of water, and a cup of tea steeping now; it took him a moment to identify the scent. “Is that a ginger?”

“For the nausea. Start with the water, I’ll return soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

She gently squeezed his bare shoulder—someone had gotten his shirt and boots off—as she pressed the waterglass into his hands. Then she walked away, his door opening and clicking shut again.

Hells.

He sat on the edge of his bed and sipped the water, slowly, mindful of the empty bucket left nearby; she must have also dealt with that when getting the water. He wasn’t as observant as usual this morning.

So when Aeryn returned a few minutes later, he was sure to look up to give her at least a weak smile. As awful as he felt, she didn’t look much better. Her midnight hair was falling out of its cord, strands wisping around her drawn-in face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her tanned complexion seemed ashen. She obviously hadn’t changed clothes recently, her rumpled red shirt in need of a good wash. She wasn’t wearing her usual tall boots, and he realized they had been left by his desk, her jacket slung over his chair.

She carried something steaming on a tray, and the scent of chicken broth set his empty stomach to rumbling.

“You’re too kind,” Thancred said. “Were you here all night?”

She set the tray down. “I helped Riol guide you here, but then he was called away on Braves business. You passed out before we got your boots off. I told him I’d stay, since Minfilia’s out.”

A cold sweat broke over him; he didn’t remember her arrival in the Rising Stones, didn’t remember returning to his room, didn’t remember because he had passed out…

“Can you eat?” she asked.

“I…I think so,” he managed to say, swallowing bile of another sort threatening to rise. “Is this…chicken soup?”

She nodded. “Had F’lhaminn make it. Chicken, hard-boiled egg, vegetables, noodles, salty broth, plain toast to help soak it up; all one needs to recover from a hangover. So say the alchemists back home.” Aeryn shrugged. “Always worked for my Papa, anyroad.”

He raised a brow at that as he stirred the broth; it was still rather hot. “A hard drinker, your father?”

She didn’t answer right away. “For a time, after Mama passed. Rashae—my eldest sister—convinced him to stop.”

“I see. Apologies, if I roused painful memories.”

Aeryn shook her head. “It just was.”

He cautiously ate a few spoonfuls. F’lhaminn had outdone herself on so simple a dish for his wretched sake, and his weakened stomach made it easy enough to eat slowly and savor it. He remembered the tea, and took a few sips there, too.

Thancred recalled why it had been so damned easy for Moenbryda to goad him into drinking that strange dark liquor she’d wheedled from a Mamool Ja trader.

“I thought you were in Thanalan?” Preventing yet another attempt at Ifrit’s summoning, that he yet again could not help with.

Aeryn nodded. “Soon as we’d dealt with Ifrit, we received word of Harriers moving a large number of crystals near Whitebrim, so made sure Iceheart wasn’t calling forth Shiva again. T’was a false alarm, thankfully.”

“Still, you must be exhausted, between all the fighting and teleporting.”

She smiled weakly. “I’ve had better weeks.”

“You don’t have to tend to me,” he said.

Aeryn gestured for him to keep eating the soup and drinking the tea, which he did. “You let Moen goad you.” The ‘again’ was unsaid, but present in her tone. “And you asked not to be left alone when you get too deep in your cups. So I stayed.”

It was usually Minfilia, or Yda; once Y’shtola, and she had been gentler than he had expected or deserved. He couldn’t bear to ask F’lhaminn, Papalymo, or Tataru, and he didn’t trust their newer members. Alphinaud was out of the question, when the lad was even present and not tending to his new Grand Company. Alisaie likewise wasn’t an option, even if she weren’t in the Waking Sands most often between her investigations. Urianger, too, was not present often enough, but had stayed the one time he could.

Not that Thancred tried to allow this to happen too often.

He had never dreamed of asking Aeryn to tend to him when he over-indulged. To try to keep him from going too far, imbibing too much—and failing that, helping him keep from losing more time, more memories, more of his control…

Aeryn collected his empty soup bowl and tea cup, passing him a refilled water glass. “A few more bells of rest, and you’ll be fine,” she said.

“Indeed; I feel much recovered for your ministrations already,” he said, giving her one of his more charming grins. It triggered the expected blush on her dusky cheeks, and if anything, showed how wan she herself was. “I shall take it easy today, but you must also promise you will take your rest, my friend.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn. “I have need of a shower and a long sleep myself.” She paused, looking at him biting his lip. “Go on, make your jape.”

He pretended to be affronted. “What? Surely you don’t expect me to suggest we save time and water by showering together! Why, t’would be untoward, my lady!” He gave her an exaggerated wink.

Her blush deepened and spread up her ears as she laughed. “Yes, you’re all right.” She collected her boots and jacket. “Oh, I did manage to find a new book in Coerthas—one of the merchants we aided had it on hand. Mayhap this evening we can give it a look.”

Thancred grinned. “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. She smiled in return, and took her leave.

A plan to keep him occupied and not get into another drinking contest with Moenbryda. He bit back the uncharitable thought; Aeryn, being Aeryn, likely was simply thinking of their similar literary interests and the lively debates they tended toward. It would be a welcome distraction, from both their lovely colleague’s formidable stamina, and from Aeryn and her too-few blessed comrades facing off against such threats as primals for their sakes yet again.

—

Thancred bathed, changed his bedsheets, and slept more, having found that the extent of his capabilities—gods, what was in that western liquor?

He had no nightmares of cruelly laughing Paragons stealing his days and puppeteering his actions; just dreams of the ocean waves outside Vesper Bay, drowning out the Scions’ conversations, though their laughing camaraderie was visible from the distance he kept himself.

By evening Thancred felt sentient enough to make it to the common room. Moenbryda was thankfully not in this evening, apparently off to consult with Urianger. In fact, it seemed a good number of his colleagues were away, leaving him alone to sit at the bar as F’lhaminn came out of the kitchen.

“Hello, Thancred; feeling better?”

“I am, thank you. Next time Moen ropes me into a drinking contest, please stop me.”

“That’s the third time you’ve asked, and I’m sure you’ll again ignore any attempts on the fourth,” she replied dryly. “Feel up for dinner?”

“Please,” he said. “Have you seen Aeryn this eve? I should thank her, and she mentioned a new book besides.”

F’lhaminn shook her head. “Haven’t seen her since passing her that soup she insisted upon for you. I am glad it seems to have worked.”

“As am I.” He masked his disappointment; Eorzea’s champion was ever in demand for her time and attention, after all.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, chatting with his old friend, and eventually getting into a card game with some of the off-duty Crystal Braves. Thancred stuck with water, not even trusting a common ale after the previous night’s antics, and retired just slightly earlier than his usual post-midnight hours, and fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

—

When Thancred finally shuffled out of his room at what the rest of the world incorrectly considered a “reasonable hour”, he turned the corner and paused at seeing Aeryn slowly moving through the hall herself. Normally she was already far too full of far too much chipper energy at even earlier hours than this.

“Good morning,” he said as cheerily as he could manage before coffee. “I’m sorry to have missed you last night.”

She turned toward him, about to speak, but swayed so alarmingly he automatically reached out to grasp her arm.

“Are you all right?”

“‘M fine,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

“Right as rain, in no small part thanks to you.” He could see how flushed she was, a light sheen of sweat on her skin though she shivered, and her eyes seemed almost glassy. He put the back of his hand to her cheek and then her forehead, with no flinch nor protest from Aeryn.

“You’ve a fever,” he said. “Back to bed with you.”

“I know, but I needed to get food and liquid…”

He turned her around and walked her back to her chamber. “I’ll handle that; I do owe you, after all.” He tried to sound charming and light about it. She made a weak sound of protest, but otherwise did not fight him. “I’ll be right back,” Thancred said.

Aeryn nodded, leaving the door unlocked. He actually had to make sure it latched properly.

Thancred strode with renewed purpose to the common room. “Ah, there you are,” F’lhaminn said. “I nearly put the last of breakfast away.”

“Set some aside if you wouldn’t mind,” Thancred said. “And do you have more of that soup from yesterday?”

F’lhaminn tilted her head. “I do, why?”

He pitched his voice lower. “Aeryn’s ill; bouncing from Thanalan to Coerthas and then home again seems to have taken a toll on even her resistance.”

“Poor dear; I’d wondered where she was. I’ll get her food and juice—some of that mint tea she likes when feeling poorly—and medicine and see to her. Thank you for—”

“Actually, I can take the victuals and medication to her, whilst you tend to your other duties.”

F’lhaminn’s coral eyes watched him over the rim of her glasses. “You’re hardly one to play nursemaid.” She then sighed. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

He suppressed a wince. “Perhaps not, though I certainly didn’t help, and I do owe her. So if you don’t mind…?” He gave F’lhaminn his sheepish charming smile, the one she knew he used when wheedling a favor from her but often gave into anyroad.

“Very well; we can start with what’s available now, and I’ll bring more later on.”

Thancred nodded, and soon enough had a full tray to carry down the hall, balancing carefully to knock on Aeryn’s door, wondering—but doubting—if she had fallen asleep.

“Come in,” was the faint reply, and he quickly stepped inside.

She might have changed back into her sleeping shift, but it was difficult to tell as she was wrapped in a blanket. She sat upon a furnishing he wasn’t sure to call either a large armchair or a small sofa, set in front of her fireplace.

He had never actually been in here before; not since they’d each claimed their rooms and moved in, at least.

“You ought to go to bed,” he admonished, setting the tray down on the low table next to the sofa.

“Cold. But can’t get the fire going.”

“F’lhaminn will stop by with more, but for now there’s a draught for your fever and a light repast.” He turned to get the fire going for her.

Aeryn was dutiful about her medicine, downing half the tall glass of juice with it. “Thank you.”

“Of course; ‘tis the very least I could do. Is there aught else you need right now?”

That little crease between her eyebrows formed as she thought. “I could use the pillows from my bed. If you don’t mind? I don’t want to move if I mustn’t.”

“A far better patient than most,” he noted, walking around the partition splitting her bed from the rest of the apartment. “Dear gods!” She made an interrogative noise. “Commenting on the frankly obscene amount of pillows you keep.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“Well I’m not bringing all of them,” he said, choosing a couple of the large ones. “This ought to do, if you won’t lie down.”

“I can rest here,” she said. “Now that I have all I need, and you’ve got the fire going.”

“Huh. Usually around here it’s a fight to keep anyone abed when they ought to be resting.”

“Drives me up a wall,” she muttered, adjusting her pillows and blankets. “Risk more harm with injuries, prolong illnesses. S’stupid, for such a smart group.”

He laughed. “If nothing else, this fever has loosened your tongue.”

She blushed, ducking her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, the candor is refreshing. ‘Tis an unusual mindset for an adventurer, I’d think.”

“Wasn’t always,” she said, propping her chin on her hand as she watched the fire. “I studied magic, but everyone thought I ought to formally study alchemy, ‘specially after nursing my mother.”

“Ah. Got used to taking care of others that way, then?”

“And myself. I didn’t,” she hesitated. “I don’t like to be a bother.”

“My dear, the last thing you are is a bother,” he said sincerely, and smiled as she blushed again. “And on that note, is there aught else you need at the moment?” She hesitated, that blush deepening and spreading further. “Come now; out with it. You’ve already seen me at my worst, if it helps.”

“S’nothing like that, I just…Um. Could you maybe…stay? And read with me? I’m not going to be able to sleep yet but dunno that I can focus well enough on my own and I don’t wanna be bored and…” she shrugged as she trailed off.

“Rambling, even, with this illness,” he teased. “But very well. I must admit, I was disappointed we missed our reading last night, but we can make up for it now.”

She smiled gratefully. He brought the desk chair over, found the book with a little direction—her pack was more of a stuffed mess than he’d expected—and ended up doing most of the reading, as Aeryn listened and offered her comments and opinions as usual.

F’lhaminn checked in, bringing more soup and tea for them both. She said little except a reminder that Aeryn needed to rest, and debating character motivations and plot impacts in a novel stopped counting with as animated and argumentative as the pair could get.

“She’s not wrong,” Thancred said after F’lhaminn left, as Aeryn sipped her tea. “I should let you get some sleep. We can talk more when you’re feeling better.”

Aeryn made a face, but nodded. “Thank you, for staying.”

“Of course. Need anything before I go?”

“Make sure the fire lasts, if you don’t mind? I’m just going to sleep here.”

“Very well.” Thancred said, checking on the logs and prodding them into a longer, slower burning arrangement as she adjusted her nest of blankets and pillows.

“Thancred? Might I ask a…delicate question?” she asked, already sounding drowsy.

“By all means.”

“I’ve been wondering, since yesterday…does it bother you?”

He tensed. “Does what bother me?” He thought of the dark gap in his memory of the night before last, and of the few others preceding it, and before that the too long, too dark loss of time and control and…

“The scar.”

He frowned. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” He recalled that his shirt had been removed along with his boots; he had not always had an easy life, the reminders of that scattered across his skin. It was not the first time he had been bare-chested before a comrade, but he didn’t have anything recent that was particularly interesting or eye-catching.

“The one I left on you. When,” she hesitated.

“…Ah.” That one.

Part of his waking and realizing how much time he had lost, what all that bastard had done, had been finding out how damaged his body was afterwards; Lahabrea had neglected to do much eating or sleeping, and it had taken its toll.

There was also a magically-enhanced rapier cut on Thancred’s chest, from when Aeryn had driven the Ascian out of his body.

“Happily, the Elder Seedseer and Y'shtola are rather adept with healing magics. Though I must say, obtaining such an impressive mark from the Warrior of Light and having lived to tell the tale is quite the boon when speaking to ladies,” he said, keeping his tone teasing.

“I just…I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be; I shan’t ever be able to repay what you did for me.” He continued to poke the fire. “You know, I’ve never asked; did I leave any marks upon your lovely frame?”

“That was Lahabrea,” she said through a yawn. “You’d never willfully hurt one of us.”

He sucked in a breath, a sharp ache in his chest at that trusting response. “I’d like to think not,” he said quietly. “Yet I was the tool which he used. And you did not answer.”

She still did not. When he finally turned to look, her eyes were closed, though he was certain she was not actually asleep yet.

“All right,” he conceded. He made certain she had water near at hand, and turned down the lights. He paused at the door to look back, and was fairly certain even in the dim light that she was surreptitiously watching him. “Rest well, Aeryn,” he said as he left.

He stood outside her room for a long moment, knowing it was only late afternoon, perhaps early evening. Part of him wanted a drink. A greater part of him knew that was a bad idea, especially with one of those few he trusted to watch over him now ill herself, after already tending to his inebriation.

Perhaps a sparring match with Hoary would serve as a distraction. Thancred ambled down the hall, rubbing at the spot on his chest where under his shirt sat the scar from the friend that had pulled him out of the dark.

[peshookhan-blog]

Rasha mama zue de lewanai de

[galawolftrollna34]

We were strong

Rasha was walking around the forest, sits on a top hill, Scarlett went to her and was curious.

Scarlett: mama, can I ask a question?

Rasha: sure sweetie~!

Scarlett: Mama.. I see a lot of wolves In our clan, they're just...well...um...they have lost their arms or legs, mostly the eyes...was the war that bad..?

Rasha: hm.. sweetie.. I see what you mean...We, Soldier wolves have survived a lot, The War from the past..it was really bad.... but we survived luckily..

Scarlett: and that's when our clan became the Protectors of All Wolf clan ?

Rasha: When I was finally a Leader, There was a war where I had to attack my father...to avenge my mother. So, I finally named my clan the Protectors of All Wolf clan.

Scarlett: Mama, Are Soldier wolves kind..? Everyday?

Rasha: well..we are kind..some of them actually.... Some of Us have Lovers in different clans..some of us have disabilities but... we are stronger.... some of us..are scared..

Scarlett: Scared..? But I thought you guys are brave.

Rasha: We may be brave but we're always worried about our family... mostly the puppies...

Scarlett: were you alone with the clan during that war?

Rasha: yes we were out numbered.... cause some of them died in the war... but I was surprised and shocked... that the Fire Wolves clan came and attack my father's clan.

Scarlett: !?! really!? 😧

Rasha: *nodded* I didn't know any of them.. but more clans came to help.. I decided to make my clan grow stronger.

Scarlett: but Mama, All our wolves are resting..

Rasha: we, Protectors need some rest and a break.. after all, there's no trouble around here. *Lays down*...

Scarlett: *smiles* *sleeps next to Rasha*...*yawns*

The end.

[muzafar-mkc-blog]

Journey Of Gul Panra and The Beauty Queen of Pakistan

By Muzafaruddin Chachar (Shayan Chachar)

One of the most proficient female singer of Pashtun background, famous at home and abroad, Gul Panra has reached remarkable heights of fame through her singing styles, innocent behavior and awesome looks.

Gul Panra, was born on 6th September 1989 in Peshawar (City of Flowers), capital city of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Since years Peshawar was riddled with tribal battels, terrorist assaults and religious fanatism, it is no less surprise that despite these hardships she had completed her 12 years education from his hometown and enrolled in the most reputable Institute of Peshawar for her higher studies. She did Master’s in Social work from the same university in 2014. From the early days of childhood, she had the dream of singing songs because of her melodious voice.

In the beginning, she got famous among Pashtuns in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and some other countries by singing Pashto songs from famous poets such as Hamza Baba and Rahman Baba and many others.

Pashto songs notwithstanding, she gradually became famous all-around Pakistan by producing songs like Mahiya, Dilbar Jani and some other in Urdu as well as Punjabi. In 2015, she featured in coke studio season 8 with Atif Aslam in the Persian song Man Ahmedeh Am that increased her fame even more. Again in 2018, she appeared in coke studio season 11 with two songs: Rasha Mama alongside with a senior Pashto singer Zarsanga, a Pashto band Khumariyaan and she has sung the famous Pakistani song Hawa Hawa with Pakistani pop singer Hassan Jahangir. Furthermore, she has also sung anthem songs of Peshawar Zalmi in PSL and Pakhtoon Team in T10 League.

She had become brand Ambassador of Pakhtoon Team in T 10 league season I & II in 2017 and 18, respectively. She also was the Regional Brand Ambassador of Peshawar Zalmi team in Pakistan Super League.

he had become brand Ambassador of Pakhtoon Team in T 10 league season I & II in 2017 and 18, respectively. She also was the Regional Brand Ambassador of Peshawar Zalmi team in Pakistan Super League.

Besides singing, she has been promotor of Pashtun culture. She had promoted Pashtoon culture in different famous countries of Globe like Norway, Manchester UK.

For her performance, she was nominated the best performer of the year 2016 in the DAF Bama Music Award in Hamburg, Germany. She has also been awarded the title of Beauty Queen of Pakistan by her fans. She has a huge social media following of over 10 million.

It’s been 10 years since she embarked upon the journey of her singing career. Though the path is of full of ups and downs, she has conquered all these adversities and proved to be the most successful female Pashtun singer and she had created an example for the females not only in KPK but in all over Pakistan.