#the crocodile and the riverbank

[piyasi]

The Unexplained Incident of My Life

I was in the seventh standard when I realised something awkward in me; in my thoughts basically. I liked daydreaming a lot back then. Sometimes, I would think about something spontaneously and the next moment I'd find it happening. It was all weird. I'd think that may be 'I'm weird'. I'm over-thinking. But there are some unexplainable incidents of my life which leaves me pondering for a while still now.

Sometimes, I'd dream something and find it all happening later some time with wee bit of laterations here and there. I'd think that I'm just being peculiar about myself. I'd just ignore the random visions that I'd see while daydreaming.

I still remember playing 'Kumir Danga' or 'The crocodile and the riverbank' with a bunch of kids in my garden one summer evening. It's a lot of fun when you play it with a lot of your friends. It's one of the traditional Bengali games enjoyed by the most. For those of you who are unaware of this game, I'd like to do the honours of explaining it.

Well, as the name of the game suggests that among the bunch of players, there should be a crocodile who is supposed to be on the ground which is considered to be a medium of water or the river where crocodiles are believed to be found; and the rest of the players are supposed to stay away from the ground as it's the crocodile 🐊 that's going to chase them away but if it touches any one while in water then he or she is out of the game immediately. And the next crocodile will be that person who's been chased in the prior game round. The other players, basically, are supposed to be teasing the 🐊 crocodile constantly challenging it to chase them.

Anyway, while playing, I randomly kept guessing and telling what one of the elder sister's thoughts were going on in her mind simultaneously one after another. The surprising look on her face gave me quite satisfaction. I thought I possessed some kind of supernatural power.

Later, I kept guessing many such things in life and felt the same. But as I grew up, I felt I, may be, am trying to connect the dots which may not have existed in the first place. Basically, I was trying to be modest and humble. I kept insisting myself that I may not have guessed anything as such but just trying to think myself of something superhuman except sometimes when I couldn't even explain what or how or why I thought so.

Now, let's come back to from where I started my blog today. I was at school that morning. No teacher was there in some particular period for over fifty minutes. And I wasn't feeling good suddenly, not physically but emotionally. I left home that morning on a good note but still I felt quite unusual. All my friends were shouting and having fun while I just looked right outside the huge French windows, staring right through the coconut trees standing tall on the school campus, lost in the random train of thoughts. Suddenly and peculiarly, I just pondered if both my parents or only Baba (father) will come to pick me up that day after school gets over.

I have this weird habit of instantly visualizing things I ponder over. So, I just had a vision of my parents on motorbike but they had blood-smeared faces as if their forehead was struck on something. I felt guilty of why such thought came across my mind. I started fearing for my parents' lives. I was worried if they're going to face any kind of accident until I saw Baba, fit and fine, coming to pick me up that day after school got over. I was relieved after reaching home and finding Ma too good and healthy.

I slept off at night, early, along with my little brother. Suddenly, my sleep was disturbed early morning at around four when the lights in the room were switched on and I heard my parents talking to my eldest cousin who lives an hour away from our house. He always traveled in his bicycle but why such early morning struck my mind for a while but I was too lazy to wake up. So, I tried getting some sleep. Eavesdropping is not in my trait but few words caught my ears though when Dada asked, "Who'll go to the Airport to bring the body?" and Baba replied, "I'll go." I was asleep until when Dada left and my parents were still discussing something.

I finally woke up and asked Ma, "What's the matter?" The things she told me took me back to my last day's vision instantly and I felt guilty of thinking such things although it was really stupid of me back then. Another cousin brother, Kiran dada used to work at a jewellery shop in Delhi. Last night, he was returning from the shop in his friend's bike. They had an accident and was dead at the spot instantly. I felt really bad for his little baby who was just going to turn six months after a week that month. Kiran da came a month before and invited us for his baby's Rice ceremony. We're excited but the irony of life is always shocking. On the same date when the Rice ceremony was supposed to be held, we had Dada's funeral. The day when we're supposed to hear laughters and jokes, we heard only screams and wailings. It was quite bitter.

I still think about it and feel, may be, it was just a coincidence. But the vision and it's resemblance to Dada's death is still a mystery which remains unexplainable yet. For some of you, it may be insignificant but I know how I still get goosebumps just at the thought of it.

[bobsblips]

#crocodile #krugernationalpark #kruger #littlesabie #sabi #sabie #wildnature #wildanimalphotos #amateurphotographermagazine #sonyrx10iv #appicoftheweek #wildanimalphotography #wildlifephotography #gamedrive #gamereserve #riverbank #wildlife #reptile #sunbathıng #wildscapes (at Kruger National Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/CopHyiwIW3I/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[morphids]

Ok so I have two requests ideas, you can choose to do one or both if you like :3

The first request: CaitVi x reader where they’re in a poly relationship but the reader becomes a little insecure because they’ve been spending more time with each other and leaving the reader out sometimes (whether this is due to work or maybe as they’re on dates). They don’t realise this at first but when they do they feel bad and try to make it up to the reader. Basically a bit of angst to fluff and it can either be based on the show or a modern au ❤️💙

The second request: Sevika x reader where the reader is talking to Sevika about their current hyperfixiation druring their break or something and she acts like she’s not interested in listening, but then she’s like “no wait continue” when she hears the reader stop. They can be in a relationship or not but still have feelings for each other and haven’t confessed yet 💜

Hope you like my ideas!

thank u for requesting my love! as i dont have much experience with poly relationships, didnt want to risk not doing it justice so as an autistic person, i went with sevika x hyperfixated!reader, hope thats okay!!

reader has a hyperfixation on nature, specifically symbiotic relationships between species im sorry if that’s not what you wanted/find interesting!! i hope you enjoy <3

Sevika x Hyperfixated!Reader

cw: fluff, current relationship, domestic/soft sevika, smoking, angst??? idk reader gets a bit in their head, ambiguous setting, r is gender neutral.

wc: 750 sorry its a lil short

——

The illumination of the room was dim, two mellow oil lamps on either side of the room brightening up the space ever so slightly. Sevika was sat comfortable on her chair, further away to the wall than you, hands grasping a book which lay stable on her lap, her eyes grazing through its sentences.

You glanced over at her, lifting your head from your own nature book rested on the dining table that you had been studying, found neglected deep in a decrepit library you had passed through, and took in her features. She was more at ease than usual, tension relieved from her brows as the ambience softened her face. Shoulders slackened, as she would lift her hand to puff on her cigarette in short bursts, before eventually letting the smoke ripple through the air.

“Guess what I’ve just found,” You spoke, eagerness coating your voice as you grew excited from new facts you had read in your book,

“Yeah?” She answered, eyes still pointed at the pages she held, the response working as a cue that you were to continue on with your sentence.

“I’ve found another symbiotic relationship between species! Crocodiles and the bird species Plovers.”

“After they feed, crocodiles will lay on the riverbanks, hold their jaws open to signal the Plovers to enter their mouths,” You read on the paragraphs from the book, switching between the drawn illustrations of the crocodiles and the birds, before continuing, “The bird will then sit inside their mouths and pick out the remaining food stuck on their teeth!”

You felt your excitement build, enthusiastically word vomiting about this relationship, “The crocodile will not eat the Plover, it’s a mutually beneficial relationship where the crocodile gets its teeth cleaned, helping ward infection from the raw meat, and insects resting on its skin,”

“Yeah,” Sevika interjects, in between your words,

“And the Plover gets free food! Plover’s are basically tiny, flying dentists in the bird world and they charge exclusively in left overs” You chuckled, amused by your own jest.

“That’s really interesting, darling,”

“It gets even better,” you continued, “Then if the Plover senses movement or sudden sounds of potential danger, like other predators, the Plover will use its warning call which the crocodile heeds to return into the water and get away from threats! How amazing is that?” You were beaming, eyes glimmering as you read through the pages.

Finally turning your head to look at Sevika’s reaction, noticing her eyes still glued to her book as she didn’t respond before realising you had kinda just kept talking and not thinking you may have been irritating her, with your useless factoids. The pull on your lips dropped slightly, biting the inside skin of your lip as you thought that she probably could not care less about this, reading her own book full of her own interests.

You began to enter your own head, remembering all the times people had been dismissive or simply not listened as they had their own thoughts going on, oftentimes making you feel like a silly burden for blurting out such things. Tilting your head back to your book, Sevika’s voice broke out through the silence,

“Why did you stop talking?”

Looking back at her, her face was turned to you, brows lifted in curiosity,

“I just… figured you weren’t listening or, I don’t know, didn’t want to hear about it,” You muttered, tone loaded with your unease, as you fiddled with the dried skin on the rims of your nail beds.

Sevika looked over at you for a few seconds, before her features slackened and she closed her book, folding the edge of the page as a placeholder, before getting up and walking closer to where you sat at the table.

“I’m sorry,” She sighed, sitting next to you and wrapping her built arms around your shoulders, “I promise I was listening, was just enjoying hearing you talk about it,”

You looked up at her, meeting her eyes tentatively as she lifted the corner of her lips to smile at you, “I was just kinda thinking how if we were the animals you’d be the Plover,” she chuckled, pressing her lips to your forehead.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as your own lips tilted into a small smile,

“Ugh, you’re probably right, too.” You sighed, not impressed.

“Don’t stop talking about that stuff just because I’m not responsive, okay? It’s cute when you ramble,” You fell into her hug, her hand rubbing at your back, before grabbing the side of your face and bring your lips together into a gentle kiss, aware of the way you might still be feeling.

You grabbed onto her, pressing your lips closer against hers.

“Thank you,” you smiled,

“I also found the dentist thing quite funny,”

——

[mindblowingscience]

Three crocodiles saved a dog seeking refuge in a river - in a possible display of "emotional empathy". A report published in the Journal of Threatened Taxa outlines how a young dog was observed being chased by a pack of feral dogs and entered the shallow waters of the Savitri River, in India's Maharashtra. The dog had not spotted the three mugger crocodiles floating nearby, which began edging closer to what appeared to be certain prey. The adult reptiles - described by the Wildlife Institute of India as "opportunistic predators" - instead pushed the dog to safety using their snouts. They even guided him to an area of the riverbank that wasn't occupied by the feral pack, allowing the dog to make a safe escape on land. It was an action the journal said may have been down to "sentient behaviour suggestive of cross-species empathy". The "curious" incident was uncharacteristic of the crocodiles.

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[lindsay00000008]

Fantasy/Historical whump….

My whump must be aesthetic.

Whumper keeps their pet crocodile chained along the riverbank, lazing between reeds until it gets peckish. Whumpee is not fond of the beast. In the shade of the columns of the alabaster pier, Whumpee gets their punishment — the sand is thick and the water cool. Their clothes are wet and stick to their skin with sweat and river water, making them shiver. The weather is hot, but overall it would seem a comfortable way to spend the afternoon, were it not for the watchful eyes of Whumper, the thick chain and collar tugging at their throat, and the crocodile bathing in the reeds nearby.

The collar has been their constant companion these years, and whumpee is familiar with the chafing, weighed down by different chains over the years — some lighter, some heavier. Some tarnished, some pretty. This one is not very pretty.

A pole has been placed in the river, several yards from the bank. It’s drilled firmly into the earth below the water and held down by a massive stone. A loop of bronze peaks out above the water, with two lengths of chain attached — one for each of Whumper’s pets. The crocodile’s chain is long. It can enjoy a wide circle of freedom, up to the bank and into the deeper water. The bank below the pier is its territory. A place where only the unluckiest servants go, tossing goat legs and cow heads before they sprint away to safety. And now Whumpee, with the same length of chain, crouched by the same reeds on that same bank, glancing up at Whumper as if to say, don’t leave me.

It’s a wonderful punishment, Whumper thinks. A remedy for Whumpee’s distracted mood all day. There is nothing to focus on but the pull of the current, and the ripple of a knobby head moving slowly on the bank. And Whumper of course, who has eyes only for Whumpee, despite that large, pale, grey-green tail that swipes aside mud and silt.

Whumper has a bow. They sit cross-legged on a mat with fresh fruit and thin bread before them. They would never let Whumpee get injured, of course. At least, they themselves know that. However what they’ve told Whumpee is less comforting.

“Should the crocodile seek to devour you, I shall ease your suffering. For all that you deserve your punishment today, I should hate to hear you cry at the punishing mouth of another.”

[per-oceanum]

she's always so soft and pleasantly sweet when nestled against him, like fresh spring blooms and crisp rain that comes to the desert to ripen the riverbanks each year. the weight of her hanging onto him is practically nothing, but she's addictively tangible pressed flush to his chest. a privilege hardly anyone can claim when it came to the elusive woman.

thea hums affectionately, almost a purr, as she presses kisses over elio's cheeks. silky featherlight touches of her lips, that press just a little firmly to his mouth and linger, the semi-sweet taste of her lipstick left behind. then she draws away to continue her meandering path of doting. along his jaw, slackening her grip on his shoulders to continue down his throat; a very leisurely array of smooches.

some of his clothing gets playfully displaced to plant a few on his clavicle. and when she is done? well. there's certainly many shimmery pink kiss marks all over him, and a humored smile on the lady's face. c;

ㅤ⠀The hook had been carefully removed for the evening, set aside- along with it's smaller, hidden counterparts, leaving Crocodile without fear of unintentionally snagging Thea's clothing- or worse, her skin. Evenings such as this were a guilty pleasure he would never grow tired of. The gentle weight of her pressed to his chest, her smaller form able to rest atop his larger with such ease. It was addictive, yes; more than he would ever dare admit aloud.

ㅤ⠀The sudden barrage of kiss after kiss had his head swimming slightly, eyes falling shut as she decided that he would be her canvas, her lips her brush, and her lipstick- the paint. A chuckle rumbled free akin to a crocodile's purr, deep in his chest as his arm curled around the small of her back, helping keep her in place so that she wouldn't roll off on accident. The lingering touch to his lips draws a slow, soft sigh from him as she pulls away.

ㅤ⠀❝Not that I'm complaining, but what's gotten into you?❞ He muses curiously, head tilting back to give her ample space to continue her journey. If he had a mirror, he had no doubt that he would be covered in sparkly, lightly tinted kiss marks. The semisweet taste of the lipstick lingered upon his lips, upon his tongue. Distinctly Thea.

[hidekomoon]

women in mythology: ADOMA

"In Cameroon, this folkloric heroine was an exemplary daughter except she refused to marry. This angered her parents and she became something of an outcast. During a festival across the Mbam River, all the young people set off to enjoy themselves, so Adoma went along. But when they reached the banks of the river, no one would let Adoma ride in their boats. As she sat there glumly, a crocodile urged her to take his hand and step onto his back. The crocodile took her below the waves and decked her in finery before taking her to the festival. Elegantly attired, Adoma caught everyone’s eye, and men competed for her attentions. She refused until she felt like dancing, then took a flute from a bag the crocodile had given her. When she played it, people stuffed money into her bag. As soon as it was full, it disappeared, then reappeared, empty and ready for more offerings. Back in the river, the crocodile counted the money, which had been transmitted to him. When the party was over, more than one suitor wanted to take Adoma home, but she went back to the crocodile, who once more took her beneath the waves and dressed her splendidly. When the girl returned home, her older sister decided she, too, would gain a fortune, so she went to the riverbank. When the crocodile appeared, she said he was smelly, so he ate her." Source: Patricia Monaghan, Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines, 2014, pp. 3-4

[brasideios]

Snippet Sunday/Morsal Monday

(Depending on where you are in the world)

So... I've been tinkering around with my Roman stories again, in a tentative fashion, mainly correcting grammatical errors and such; so today I present to you a little scene by way of introduction to Plautius Rufus.

I've spent the last couple working days pulling apart the 125K draft of In Saturnus' Shadow, which I completed in 2019, with plans of making it into two shorter novels.

What I have so far isn't well written - there's a weird distance between narratorial voice and character which I think came from reading a lot of academic papers leading up to writing this and the Hand of Fortuna, but wherever it came from, the result is very dry. I was also writing in 'hopping from character to character' mode which I've since come to loathe. On the bright side, it emphasizes to me what I've gained with the years of practice at characterization between then and now.

Anyway. This story.

Set in the year 7CE, my boy Rufus is in Egypt, working for his cousin Aulus Plautius back in Rome (the father of the Aulus Plautius who conquered Brittania in 42CE). Rufus is attempting to start a business in animal trading for Aulus. He's been wining and dining an ex-pat Roman, Gurges, who controls that trade in the city, and he's been invited to his riverside villa to see a new batch of crocodiles being prepared for transportation. Gurges is horrible, though in this snippet he just seems generous.

So. The snippet:

~~~

Their boat had been tied to the dock, and the pair stepped ashore, and following Gurges, Rufus advanced up a wide set of stairs which ran straight up the middle of the frontage [of Gurges' villa], allowing access to each level. They went only as far as the first storey, into a spacious triclinium which was decorated in a very fine red and black scheme, with lounges replete with gold fittings, and plump, duck-down cushions. Golden stands with elaborate lamps stood in the four corners of the room. The floor was pure white marble, buffed to such a sheen that Rufus could see his reflection in it. Golden tables stood ready, and as they entered the room, several very beautiful maidservants entered with golden trays of finger food – fruit, small cakes and other sweet meats. Wine was served in the most elaborate glasses Rufus had ever seen; they were a reddish pink, held within a green cage-like construction, also of glass, showing scenes of Hercules and his struggle with the Nemean Lion. ‘These are exquisite,’ Rufus said, almost afraid to hold the glass, but needing the wine to get through the sheer excess on show in the room. He was no prude, but he was truly shocked by how luxurious the room was.  ‘Where on earth did you get them?’  Gurges grinned at Rufus’ reaction, and said, ‘Many years ago, I heard from a friend of mine of a man who was, he said, considered the penultimate master of glassblowing. When I went to see him, he showed me a specimen just like this one. I simply had to have a set. I won’t tell you how much they cost; it shocks even me when I think about it,’ He laughed quietly in evident self-satisfaction. Rufus forced a short laugh from himself. ‘Well, I'd better not drink too much of the wine – I surely couldn't afford to pay for a replacement if I broke it.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Gurges said with a magnanimous wave of the hand. The two fell to eating – or rather, while Gurges ate swiftly, and Rufus picked at a few items before excusing himself and walking out onto the terrace, carefully carrying the glass with him. From this perspective he could see that, while the villa looked like a straight facade from the river, it was in fact two wings running at an angle to each other which matched the curve of the hill. On his left, to the north, the lower terrace met the riverbank; while on his right, there was a much greater distance between the villa and the river. Between the two, there were a cluster of small buildings built right up to the river’s edge. Beside one of these, two barges were docked, and many people were milling about, no doubt preparing to cage the crocodiles. Gurges had finished eating, and came to join Rufus on the terrace. He noticed where he was looking, and said, ‘I expect they’ll be ready to cage the animals now. I told them to wait until we joined them so that you could see how it's done. Shall we go down?’ Rufus nodded, and turned to go back into the triclinium, holding out his glass towards the nearest maidservant, but Gurges stopped him. ‘Take it with you,’ he said with a smile. ‘A gift from one friend to another.’ Rufus was horrified. ‘No! It's too much. I shall never be able to repay you with a gift that could even come close to the value of this!’ He waved Rufus’ objections aside, and gestured to a slave who stepped forward, holding a wooden box lined with richly embroidered fabric, and into this he placed Rufus’ glass beside it’s fellow, the vessel Gurges had drunk from. He closed the lid and handed the box to Rufus, who took it reluctantly. ‘Now come,’ Gurges said, enthusiastic and pleased with himself. ‘Let’s go down to see the crocodiles.’

[teratocrat]

if i was a big crocodile i would probably spend less time on tumblr and more time sunning myself on warm rocks and riverbanks. but not NO time on tumblr. i like you guys too much to abandon you 💚💚

[clansbeforetime]

The Territory: BevyClan

BevyClan is the hardest territory to map by far, mainly because the exact locations of the rivers and islands created in the deltas changes slightly every wet season, when the waters rise, and dry season, when some of the smaller streams disappear completely. Regardless, BevyClan is full to the brim of beautifully diverse semi-aquatic life and hosts a wonderful display of stunning views that you just can’t get anywhere else. Some of these include:

The Croc Pond: Near the border between BevyClan and SunClan's territories, a lake sits comfortably in the Delta, lush greenery and shrubland circling it. A great place for a swim. If it wasn't for the crocodiles, of course. Making their home in the peaceful waters, crocodiles are very commonly found here year-round, a lot more often than any other stretch of BevyClan land.

The Cub Islands: A smaller section of the Delta where the streams of water grow thinner, making smaller islands in between them. Named for their size, the islands are so small that "only a cub could live on them".

The Rapid Currents: From the Baobabs, where the river of the other Clan's borders meet, the waters grow turbulent as the flow increases. Sending water down to BevyClan's very Delta, the currents in this stretch of the river is at its most dangerous. Even the most experienced swimmers should tread with caution.

The Fallen-Tree Bridge: Located along the way to the big swimming hole, a fallen tree that's been long resting between the riverbanks became a landmark for BevyClan sabers as they made their way back and forth. Many say an apprentice's first crossing of the bridge is an important moment in their lives, and so, the tree is kept and preserved.

The Mudpits: Near the very border of the Gathering place, where the land is not entirely covered in water, pools of mud formed from the stray water making its way to the Rapid Currents. Not being enough to make a body of water, the area became mostly mud and some debris- at least the young ones enjoy playing here.

The Whistling Grasses: Tall reeds line the edge of the river, making melodic sounds whenever the wind blows through. A great spot for fishing or resting.

The Big Swimming Hole: A massive section of the river where the waters widen into a large lake where sabers come to swim often. The varying levels of depth makes it a great location for both beginners and experienced swimmers alike.

The Otter Dens: Well protected and nestled between sticks and branches woven tightly to ensure their safety lies the otter's home! Tread carefully and with respect, this is one of the most important spots in the territory.

The Small Forest: Found in the most southern section of the territory, a few number of trees begin to form into a small patch of forest. The ground is a lot drier where the water tapers off, and it's a good place to explore and train your senses.

Of course, there is always room to discover more interesting and unique BevyClan features, they’re just waiting for the right adventurer to find them!

[ladymisteria]

Diego done with Alejandro’s outings

Don Alejandro: Did I ever tell you the story about the crocodile and the little rabbit on the riverbank?

*Diego's expression says that yes, he had - and many times. Felipe, meanwhile, gets interested.*

Don Alejandro: The crocodile turns to the little rabbit and says: "Hop on my back, and I'll take you across to the other side." The little rabbit said: "Oh, no! You'll eat me!" The crocodile said: "No, never! I've changed my ways." The little rabbit hopped on his back, and away they went.

*Diego continued to listen, exasperatedly amused.*

Don Alejandro: Halfway across the river, the crocodile turns and swallows the little rabbit. The little rabbit yelled: "You lied to me!" The crocodile just shrugged. "What did you expect, little rabbit? After all…

Diego, exasperated, mouthing with a resigned sigh the end of the story, along with his father: …I'm only a crocodile."

*Don Alejandro laughs as Felipe smiles.*

Season 2, Episode 10 - The White Sheep of the Family.

[mickmundy]

@5piecechickendinner i answered number 97 on this post, so this is part 2, numbah 122! :-) HEHE!! TY AGAIN SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING BESTIE THIS WAS SOOO FUN!! another kiss meme fill (which are still open hehe!)

122. “it’s always been you” kisses

“It’s always been you, since the day I met you.”

An old romance movie played dully in Medic’s lab from a small, tabletop television. The screen flickered and black bars rolled upwards off of the screen every few minutes. Nobody was watching it, only idly listening. The lights in his lab were low, pointed at the only subject in this room other than himself. 

“You’re so beautiful under this moonlight, my darling…”

Sniper nearly glowed beneath the light, shadows flirting and playing along the expanse of his skin as he took deep, even breaths. In and out, and again. He looked ethereal. Not that Medic would want him anywhere else other than where he was, but he could vividly imagine him looking even more stunning within his element… perhaps lounging among crocodiles on a rocky riverbank or laying alongside exotic flora in rich green, brown and golden hues…

“I daresay there’s not a more angelic sight than you before me…”

His gloveless, bloody hand lovingly ran itself through Sniper’s thick hair, his nails brushing over his scalp. Medic smirked as he heard the EKG kick up just for a moment before falling back into its relaxed beat. He paced around the table, admiring his beloved’s nude body, the modesty sheet that had covered him now laying over his hip and thigh. Dense body hair kept him… somewhat modest at the groin. The composition looked intentional, like he was a marble sculpture in one of the museums he favored in his young adulthood.

“Oh, my love! My heart beats for you!” 

Sniper’s eyes fluttered open, then closed again, smiling lovingly as he could smell his beloved doctor before he could see him. The hand that had been laced in his hair came down and caressed his cheek with the back of his knuckles. His thumb gently stroked his bottom lip. Medic inhaled shakily as the marksman’s mouth parted, tongue slipping out to slide over the pad of his thumb before pressing a chaste kiss to it. 

“Guten morgen, my heart,” Medic breathed, observing him as his patient, his lover, and his masterpiece. “Are you doing alright?” He asked, watching Sniper yawn and move to get up, being politely halted by the doctor pressing a palm gently at the center of his chest. “Na, na, not yet.” He urged, watching as Sniper’s brow furrowed in silent protest, but he obeyed all the same. He instead opted to stretch, arching his back and blowing a puff of air out of his mouth. 

The bushman’s stomach puffed out as he stretched and held the arched position, lopsided and misshapen ribs stretching against his skin despite the fat that typically concealed them from view. Scars, a light sheen of sweat that kept his body hair slicked down, and a few stray smatterings of blood adorned his skin. He finally relaxed again, flopping gently onto the table with a small thud before reaching his arms up and stretching them as well, extending his legs out and popping his knees and hip.

“I’ve never known any creature as beautiful as you… look at you. I’d even call you demure if I swear you didn’t know you were such a knockout…”

The backs of Medic’s knuckles came down over Sniper’s jawline, down his neck and trailed over his body as he stretched, watching as his movements influenced the shadows and how they caressed his beloved. “How’d I do, pidge?” Sniper asked, putting a hand behind his own head while the other reached down and idly scratched at a bit of dried blood on his belly. He yawned again; Medic smiled. 

He never overdid it with the medigun use with Sniper, but when they weren’t in combat he found that consistent use of the gun’s rays regardless of frequency often left the huntsman a bit groggy. Very cute. “Perfectly, of course. I’d expect nothing less from my greatest achievement.” He purred, stroking the backs of his knuckles over Sniper’s y-shaped scar.

“Good. Want to stay in your good graces, keep my title.” He teased, grinning crookedly as Medic perked up and looked at him with a look of surprise, laughing loudly and shaking his head. Sniper watched the doctor and propped himself up on his elbows, leaning back against them as he tilted his head to the side. “Something funny?” He asked. “Anyone could’a been your greatest achievement. Unless you’re tellin’ me I have nothing to worry about?” His lip curled up into a bit of a smirk; when Sniper’s smugness came out to play, so did those marvelous canine teeth. Medic’s toes curled in his boots.

“If I got just once chance to prove to you how much you mean to me! You’re my whole world, and you don’t even know it! I almost want you to go on not knowing… I’m just that selfish!”

“Oh, you,” Medic sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head with  a warm chuckle. He sat on the edge of the table and Sniper watched with a satisfied purr as the doctor’s fat thighs squished against the cold table. He giggled at the bushman’s shameless staring, hearing the EKG kick up just for a second. “That title will never belong to anyone but you.” He purred, leaning over Sniper and brushing their noses together. 

“Yeah?” The bushman asked, closing his eyes as he felt Medic gently urging him to lay down again by lightly pressing his forehead against his own. The doctor’s wide frame towered over him, obscured him in shadow and framed Medic’s head with a holy-looking crown of light. Sniper rested his hands on his own chest and let himself be mesmerized.

“Ja,” he confirmed, pressing a soft kiss against Sniper’s lips, kissing his bottom lip and taking him in another dizzying kiss right after. As if anyone else could truly carry such a title: important to Medic both romantically and professionally. Sniper was reborn of his own genius, sustained in part now by his own love, too. He grinned as he felt Sniper kissing the corner of his mouth, like an animal showing submission. After which, the huntsman claimed Medic’s lips in a tender kiss, claiming what he knew to be his. Medic did the same, kissing the canine tooth he adored so much before sliding his tongue against Sniper’s. Another successful procedure.

 “It’s always been you.”

[patheticbatman]

@kim-poce won this round again! The 47th Win A Commission contest was Nana Miriam. I adapted this from the Myths and Legends podcast version. If you’d like to see the drawings in context with the story, please keep reading!

This a standalone story from the predecessors of the Zarma, the Sorko people, one of the peoples who was part of the Songhai Empire, known for their fishing ability on the Niger River. The Songhai empire was in West Africa and reached its peak in the 15th and 16th centuries. This story may take place, but it's not really connected to anything historical. All you need to know is a hippo has been terrorizing a village, and a young man was hired to take him down.

—

The young man crouched in the tall grass surrounding the Niger river, watching the hippopotamus - the river horse. It was larger than he expected. He had killed bigger. He had killed everything. Dragons, giant crocodiles, wizards, anything that brought pain, destruction and chaos to the land was what he was called on to fight.

He smirked.

The funny thing was he hadn't done anything special. Really? He was just brave enough to go into the dark after the monsters, only to discover that the monsters were nothing more than normal. The dragons were scared lizards, the giant crocodiles were regular crocodiles made massive in the mind by panic. The wizards were twisted old men who delighted in cruelty.

The young man rested his spear on the ground and unlooped the bow from his shoulder. Everything - no matter how big, powerful or otherworldly - everything died. His job was just to help it along. And this, this was just a hippo.

He placed his spear on the ground, and then climbed a tree overhanging the river, careful to stay out of sight. He crept out onto a branch, balanced himself on the wood and drew an arrow from the quiver. He steadied his hand, nocked the arrow, drew it back and let loose. At the one spot he knew would kill this thing quickly.

The hippo dropped, but not in the way the young man had expected. It rolled to the side.

The young man drew back the bow ducked and rolled as the earth seemed to rumble. He lowered his bow as he crouched, jaw agape, then a smile curled on his face.

“Well, you're a fast one,” the young man said, glancing down to where he left his spear. He looked back up at the beast, but noticed that the hippo was following his eyes. Did this hippo know what was going on? He didn't have time to think through the implications because the hippo now appeared to be three sizes larger than it was when the young man shot the bow. It roared and charged as the young man dove from the tree.

He had to get to a spear. He hit the ground, rolled and found himself before a wall of hippo. The creature had tripled in size since the young man had seen it triple in size. It was nine times its original size. And now wait, were those ovens on the creatures back? They flashed to life with flame.

The young man couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. There was wonder in the world after all. He narrowed his eyes. Too bad. It had to die.

—

Nana Miriam sat on the riverbank with her father. She had seen the hippo eating the rice fields as it did every day.

Her father hobbled over and took a seat by her. “Oh, Hey, there's that new hero type guy that they got to fight the hippo.” Fara Makan said as he grunted to a seat. “How's that going?”

Nana Miriam saw the hippo, the size of a convention center, light the fires on its back. 10 of them. This time she glanced down at the young man, the hero, just in time for him to become a silhouette and the flood of flame. When the fire stopped, the hero’s bones fell among his ashes.

“Well, it's not going well,” Nana Miriam said as the hippo shrunk back to its normal size and shuffled back to the rice fields.

The men who hired the hero rushed to put the flames out before they spread. This hippo would destroy the village, not by carnage, but by starvation.

“Don't worry about it,” Fara Makan said to his daughter. “Everything has its time. We should get back to our lesson.”

Nana Miriam was Fara Makan’s only child. Her training had started one warm morning. Three years ago, she sat by the river with her father and he pointed at the fish. He would ask her what each fish was that swim by.

“And that one and that one,” she told him each time.

But he only shook his head with a grimaced. “Nope, not that type of fish.” He told his daughter she needed to learn to see the world as it truly was, even if it was muddy and uncertain at times. Only then would she have power.

And so Nana Miriam learned to see. It was difficult of course, but she was a quick study. Three years on, in her late teens, she rivaled her father.

About six months later, the hippo had arrived and the father and daughter knew it for what it was instantly, through a rare combination of magical forces.

A monster had been born, whether it was an actual hippo that had discovered the power or a demon that took the form of a hippo. They didn't know, but they saw its wrath. It devoured all the rice fields. Anyone who tried to stop it, was incinerated, trampled or devoured himself.

They had banded together one time and surprised the hippo with the whole village, making a stand against one of the monsters of the unknown.

But the thing turned into a mouse and darted into the reeds.

Their celebration was cut short by the seven more trampled fields the next morning.

That day, Fara Makan, Nana Miriam's father, had hunted the beast. The monster had caught his spears, melting them in bullets that popped out of his back like some fifth generation Pokemon. Fara Makan’s magic was the only reason he was able to walk away. But magic can only go so far when a hippo the size of a Mack truck is jumping on your body. So Fara Makan walked away with a permanent limp.

Now the village was looking at moving. It was a tragic and harrowing prospect. This had been their land for generations and the journey to find a new home would be a long one. The neighboring peoples were nice, but not like let-the-neighbors-live-in-their-home-permanently nice.

The last night in their home, Nana Miriam smelled the air and walked to where her father was cooking. “What was all this? That was a lot of rice and meat for the two of us.”

Her father sparked a grin. “Oh, it wasn't just for the two of us.”

Just then, outside, they heard a cacophony of barking.

Nana Miriam looked to her father. “You didn’t.”

Fara Makan rushed to the door.

“You did!” Nana Miriam followed with a groan.

Her father, despite criticizing the town for looking elsewhere for their salvation, was inviting a hero.

There stood Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi, and his 120 hounds.

As Nana Miriam walked up to the hounds she found she looked up to them. Not like they were role model dogs or anything. They were the size of horses.

“One hundred and twenty horse-sized dogs.” Nana Miriam said, nodding approvingly as she looked over the field of dogs.

Not only did they sound like a real threat, but they might actually have a chance.

“Thanks for coming,” Fara Makan said to Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi.

The dog handler asked the father if he had the fee ready.

With a grin, Fara Makan went in and got the first pot of rice. “Who's hungry?” He yelled out to the hounds.

They bayed and wagged their tails and jumped as he flung the rice and meat out to them.

“Your fee is feeding your dogs?” Nana Miriam asked the dog handler.

He shrugged. “Yeah, having a hundred and twenty horse-sized dogs is expensive.”

The next morning, the trio walked to confront the hippo with 120 horse-sized dogs.

“Why do you have them all on separate leashes?” Nana Miriam asked. “Wouldn't it make more sense to have one big leash, one that branches off into smaller leashes? That way you're not pulled in 120 different directions.”

The warrior said that this gave him more control this way. He could decide which dogs to loose.

“When does it usually take more than one dog to win a fight?” Nana Miriam asked, but she would soon learn the answer to that question.

They were in one of the far off rice fields, one of the few still remaining, and they found the hippo there bent down, munching on some rice. It looked up, barely registered the field of horse-hounds in front of it and continued eating.

“Hounds, attack!” Fara Makan said, pointing at the hippo.

The animal didn't even look up, and the hounds didn't move.

He smiled, embarrassed. “Oh yeah. Sorry. I guess that's your thing.” He said to the warrior.

Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi let the first hound go to attack the hippo. It charged for the hippo’s throat.

—

“Well, what did we learn?” Nana Miriam said to the two sheepish men, when the trio returned home.

The two men remained silent.

“You're going to make me run through this little post-mortem - oof.” She sighed. “This literal post-mortem-”

Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi exploded into tears. “They are dead. All of my dogs are dead.”

Fara Makan patted his friend on the back. “It wasn't your fault.”

Nana Miriam couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yes it was!” She had told him after he let the first ten go one-by-one. The hippo had crunched each lone dog with the same amount of effort that we would give to a piece of popcorn. She told Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi as he was loosing the eleventh dog that he needed to let all the dogs go at the same time so they could surround and overwhelm the hippo.

He told her to know her place and that he had this in the bag.

“Well congrats. All of your dogs are gone. I hope you have a Plan B.” Nana Miriam was not trying to be nasty, but her hope had faded fast as the hippo finished eating the dogs, and all that was left was irritation.

Kara-Digi-Mao-Fosi-Fasi left in tears to go update his resume from Dog Handler to Regular Guy.

And Nana Miriam and Fara Makan were left alone. The father and daughter went out to sit by the riverbank. They didn't have enough food for dinner. He used the last of it feeding the 120 horse-sized dogs.

Rice was exceedingly scarce in the village. They would need to find an alternate soon, or they would die.

Looking up at the clouds, Fara Makan said that they would need to leave soon if 120 dogs couldn't hurt the thing. In addition to all the heroes that had tried and died, maybe the hippo couldn't be killed.

Nana Miriam sat up. She said, “Yeah. I’m going for a walk.”

Fara Makan nodded. “Yeah, I kind of want to be alone too.”

They joked, but watching 120 dogs get chewed up by a giant hippo is the kind of thing that sticks with you.

Nana Miriam patted him on the shoulder and rose to her feet. She started walking to the north, toward the village. She looked back until she was out of sight of the river, where her father sat, processing all the death. And when he was out of sight, she moved west and looped back, past their house. She was going south. She was going to see it. She was going to see the hippo.

“Hey, what's up?” The hippo asked Nana Miriam when she walked up to him, chewing at the rice fields as per usual.

“You can talk?” Nana Miriam asked,

“Well, kind of,” the hippo clarified “You can hear me because of your magic. You do magic with your dad. I can kind of tell, you seem like the type. By the way, I am a shape-shifting hippo who can make oven jets on his back. You're kind of amazed about the wrong thing here.”

Nana Miriam thought that if she could talk to the hippo, she might be able to reason with it. She said that he was killing the village by eating all of their rice.

“Ah, bummer. Hey,” the hippo asked one question. “Did you ask to be born?”

Nana Miriam shook her head.

“No one does, right?” The hippo said through a mouthful of food. “Well, neither did I. I was born though. And do you know how much energy it takes to run ten ovens on your back to defend yourself from guys trying to kill you?”

Nana Miriam said, “No, but that didn't mean-”

“Oh, didn't mean what? That I, a hippo, can't defend myself? If someone attacks me eating the one food source that's both delicious and calorie dense enough to feed me, I can’t defend myself? That seems like a double standard. And it’s not like I’m going into the village eating people or something. No, I'm hanging out on the outskirts, eating rice. You all should let me be.”

Nana Miriam asked the hippo if they had any other choice.

It said, “Nope. I’m not saying that I am invincible, but I am kind of pretty much invincible. I mean, I just slayed 120 dogs - new record, by the way. And they’re not as filling as you’d think. No one can kill me and you humans obviously don't respect me. So I can and will continue to do whatever I want.” The hippo swallowed the rice and bent back down to eat.

“I can kill you,” Nana Miriam said.

The hippo looked at the girl and laughed, and started to light the fires on his back.

Unlike all the others, she didn't shirk away.

She kept looking right in his beady little hippo eyes.

“Sure you can, little girl,” The hippo said to the grown woman. “Maybe come back tomorrow though. I kind of had my fill today.” The fires on its back ignited shooting a ring of fire that expanded out from the hippo. It came to rest on the ground, not burning the rice, giving the hippo a comfortable space to eat without being disturbed. Or so he thought.

Within minutes his walls of flame flickered, smoked, and turned to water, which dropped to the earth.

Nana Miriam stood, tossing out bits of spices from her belt-bag and finishing up the last of her incantations. Her eyes snapped open and she looked directly at the hippo. “One of us is going to die today, and it isn’t going to be me.”

The hippo’s giant nostrils flared. He squinted his little pig eyes and charged in the absolute opposite direction. He didn't need any of this. There was something about that woman, something that filled him with a deep abiding terror.

After a short sprint, the hippo was far enough away to throw up some walls. The ground rumbled and Nana Miriam rocked back and forth as the rice field parted and iron walls grew from the dirt. They stretched high into the sky, secluding the hippo. Nana Miriam heard a low laugh echo around the chamber.

But Nana Miriam was just beginning. She waved her hands, said an incantation and transformed into a smith.

Nana Miriam, Smith Extraordinaire, made short work of the wall after she'd conjured a bellows, hammer and an anvil. She smashed her way through just as the hippo floated out underneath her feet. The hippo had transformed itself into a stream and was now making a break for the river.

Nana Miriam took off after it.

It was nearly to the river's edge when Nana Miriam waved her hands and the local river was gone.

The little creek that the hippo had turned into slid into the cracks of the Riverbed, but there was nowhere else for it to go.

Knowing that it could move faster as a hippo, the creature changed back and took off in a full run toward the Niger River.

Nana Miriam was able to dry up that tributary, but not even the hippo's magic could dry up the Niger. It could rest, reform, and come back and destroy this woman and her entire village.

The hippo was so busy congratulating himself that he didn't notice another wall until he slammed his head into it and started bleeding. The hippo staggered backward to see Nana Miriam finishing her incantation.

She said, “There is nowhere else for you to go. I should thank you for helping me realize my true power.” Nana Miriam laughed. “But for now? It was time for you to die!”

But before she could charge, however, they both heard, “Nana Miriam!”

The woman turned to see Fara Makan, his best spear pointed at the hippo.

“Did, did you do this?” Fara Makan asked, gesturing to the lack of a river, the wall, the bleeding hippo.

Nana Miriam nodded.

“My girl. I am so proud.” He smiled wide.

The hippo had a wry smile of his own. He turned not toward Nana Miriam, but toward Fara Makan. It charged.

Fara Makan stood up as straight as he could. He wouldn't die, shrinking and fearful. If he was going to be eaten, he wasn't going to be an easy meal. He gripped his spear, braced himself and gritted his teeth for the gaping maw that just this morning had gulped down 120 horse-sized dogs.

But the hippo froze inches away from his spear point. The hippo scraped at the dirt, but couldn't get to the man.

Nana Miriam was gripping its tail. She couldn't get in front of the beast, but she could get there fast enough to grab it and stop it.

She held it as it desperately scraped at the dry river bed, pulling uselessly away. As she hauled the hippo to herself and from her father, her hands and arms glowed with the otherworldly light of her incantations.

She started spinning the hippo.

He, who had destroyed lives, villages and hope, was at her mercy.

And it would find none.

It went around and around, over her head, Miriam spun and spun and spun the hippo.

With a cry, she released it, and it flew into the sky. Soon, neither Nana Miriam, nor her father could see it. In fact, when the creature crashed into the earth, all the way to the east, it was already dead. Nana Miriam had thrown it so hard, it had circled the earth three times, and died of thirst, before hitting the ground once again.

The creature that had plagued their village was gone and it was never coming back.

Nana Miriam flew to her father and hugged the man, weeping as she allowed the water to return to the river. She was so glad that he was safe.

Fara Makan patted her on the back. He could hardly believe it. The famine was over. Nana Miriam had done it. The fight was over.

But the fear had not left Nana Miriam’s heart.

—

“Hey, so I was in town just now,” Fara Makan said to Nana Miriam, as he knocked on the doorframe of her workshop. “Did you make an announcement in town telling everyone to come to the river?”

She shook her head slightly. “No, no. I made an announcement in every town.”

“Okay,” The father said, then he looked to her work bench. “My girl, you had been in here for 40 hours straight. What were you working on?”

Nana Miriam was wide-eyed. She was working on a solution. So that nobody would ever have a problem with magic hippos again.

“Again?” The father forced a smile. “Nothing like the hippo would happen again. He was dead. Nobody can't fall from low orbit and survive. Not even if you're a hippo with back ovens.”

It had been a few weeks since she had killed the monster and saved everyone living along the river. She even personally hunted any other, normal hippos that dared walk within her village lands. Fara Makan taught the people songs about his daughter. Her name would live on forever for this brave act alone. Like he said, it was over.

She stood, her fingers stained by the powder that she had been working on. She got up in his face until she was mere inches from him. “It isn't over.”

As someone blessed with such power, she was duty bound to serve her people. She could never let such a dangerous creature exist again. She showed her father an egg - her final solution to all their hippo problems.

There was a murmur from out front. The father emerged to see not only the members of the village, but all the neighboring ones too, assembling on both sides of the river.

Nana Miriam stepped out, and announced, “I hope you left your weapons at home, friends, because you won't be needing them today.”

The father jumped when he heard Nana Miriam yelling out behind him. Some of the people nodded that they did leave their weapons at home. Others set their spears and arrows down.

Nana Miriam walked to the water's edge and said that they never needed to worry about another hippo attack with her magic. She will be able to get rid of all of them. “With only this,” she held up the egg, your only responsibility will be to feast.”

She dropped the egg in the water and light shimmered out from it.

She stood, her eyes fixed on the ripples. Smiling.

The people looked at each other, faces reflecting the light. But when was this feast coming?

Then a lump, a small island surfaced in the river.

The crowd around it jumped back when they saw that the gray mass had eyes, but then relaxed when they saw that those eyes were dead. Some jumped in and started fighting over who would get to take this hippo home.

Nana Miriam told them to calm down. “This won’t be the only one.” She pointed back out to the river.

As far as the people could see, dead hippos were surfacing in the Niger.

Nana Miriam raised up her hands and told the people, “Hop to it!”

For hours people came to drag the bodies of the hippos from the water to render them, to smoke and sear the meat. To save it for the future. While their villages were still recovering from the famine, they could eat hippo.

And now she had saved them from every possible future hippo attack. All the people were grateful. None of them would ever threaten her father or her people again.

—

Weeks passed. And the river was clear. Only the hippos had been killed. The frogs, fish, birds, even the crocodiles, everything else flourished, but something, something strange was going on.

“Where have you been?” Farrah Maka nearly hit the ceiling while tiptoeing into his hut. He found Nana Miriam sitting up waiting for him.

He chuckled. “Nowhere, just out for a walk.”

“Tell me,” commanded Nana Miriam, not echoing her father’s chuckle.

“Since when does a father need to explain himself to his daughter?” Farrah Makkah asked. “I will tell you nothing.”

Nana Miriam rose and reached into a pouch at her side. “That's what I thought you would say.”

She went to the threshold and sprinkled powder from the pouch onto the dirt outside and muttered an incantation. The footsteps, the path that her father had walked, glowed in the night. It stretched off alongside the river. Beyond Nana Miriam’s sight. “Nowhere looks awfully far away.”

She swung her pack onto her back. And without a goodbye left her father standing in the doorway.

He hesitated for only a moment before rushing off after her. It took a little over three hours following the glowing footsteps until Nana Miriam arrived at a second larger hut.

She said another incantation and a hovering light glowed above her. She unhooked the gate and entered the darkness there.

She saw two beady eyes staring back at her. Hippo eyes.

Fara Makan arrived, winded from jogging the whole way, just as his daughter drew the dagger from her pack. “Now wait,” he said.

Nana Miriam turned. “What were you doing? Are you harboring it? Are you caring for it?”

Fara Makan nodded. “The hippo has a child, and is pregnant.”

Nana Miriam couldn't believe it. After everything she had done, he went and did this?

Fara Makan stopped her. “I did it for your fear!” She closed her mouth and he took a breath, and then continued. “I don't know what it was. If it was when the magical hippo charged me or from something that happened in the fight. But you've taken things too far. People who are fine, don't wipe out entire species.”

Nana Miriam lowered her dagger. “But what if another hippo monster came? What if it came after you again?”

“Then we'll handle it the way we handle everything: together.” The father said. “But these hippos weren't the ones that deserved to die.”

Nana Miriam sheathed her dagger. He was right.

She'd been scared. She'd been scared for him. And she had taken things too far.

Nana Miriam opened the door and took it by the chin. “You’re free to go.”

The pregnant hippo and calf trotted out.

Nana Miriam and her father began the long walk back home in the dark, side by side. And Nana, Miriam would forever be known as the destructor and the source of all the hippos in the world.

And so ends the happier version of Nana Miriam.

—

But in some versions, that is not the end.

Apparently after everything was finished, the hippos returned and the land was at peace, Nana Miriam met someone. Fono was a good kid and they were happy. But Fara Maka was worried. All that magic. He taught Nana Miriam. That was his old family secret.

If it got out, that would be it. So he sat Nana Miriam down and made her promise to never reveal the family magic to anyone except her own descendants. Since her father was her father and her betrothed was just that, she agreed. After all they had been through, she would honor his request.

Well, things changed. Nana Miriam married the man and he became her family too. It also didn't help that Fara Makan was showboating. Literally. When the father and son-in-law went out fishing, Farrah Maka would return with a full boat, laughing and berating his son-in-law's empty boat, telling Fono “Don’t worry! I will take care of your family for you.”

Then one day, a year or so later, Fono returned with a catch bigger than Fara Makan. Soon, all of his catches were bigger than Fara Makan’s.

Nana Miriam had consulted with a holy man and asked to whom she owed a greater duty. Her husband, who was honest with his feelings, or her father, whose fame by association had gone to his head.

The holy man replied with the former.

So Nana Miriam taught her husband the magic.

One morning, Fara Makan was in bed with a fever. Fono told him not to worry. He could fish for the both of them. He knew that it was a bit of a stinging blow, but he was also being genuine. He knew his father-in-law was getting older.

Fara Mako winced and waved Fono away with a sneer.

As the man left for the day, Nana Miriam remained behind to care for her father.

When Fono was gone, Fara Makan rose from the bed, his fever having disappeared like magic.

He asked Nana Miriam, “Why did you do this to me, your family.”

She replied that Fono was her family too. He was Fara Makan’s family. It wasn't fair to shame him each day when Fara Makan was over there, cheat-fishing. So yeah, she told her father that she taught Fono the family magic. But once again, there was nothing to fear because he was family.

Fara Makan did not see it that way. And he attacked.

Whether Nana Miriam was unable or unwilling to fight back, it was never said. Nana Miriam’s might was considerable, and she loved her father dearly, so she may have been holding back.

But when Fono came back from fishing, Nana Miriam was dead and her father was gone.

Enraged and sorrowful, Fono found his father-in-law and challenged him to a duel.

At sunrise, the pair rode their boats out on the Niger and had a final battle. They unleashed all of their magical powers.

And both died.

And so ends the sadder version of Nana Miriam.

Nana Miriam Explanation

This was another story I had in the works for several years. I based it off the transcript of a Myths & Legends podcast by Jason Weiser. If you’ve seen my story ‘The Eyrie’, it’s the same podcast. This episode came out in 2021. The show does not release its transcripts or sources for free, so I found a site that recorded an iffy transcription. Then I fixed it up and adapted it to be more obviously dialogue and cut some details that sound good by ear and in context, but were distracting on-page.

But I actually drew the pictures first. Due to how long it took me to get to writing things, and because I knew how the story went, I drew the pictures for this one early.

The first one is my crappy attempt at making Nana Miriam (NM) throw the hippo. His tail is supposed to spell Nana Miriam, but I accidentally added another cloud tittle (the dot over the letters ‘i’ and ‘j’) so oh well. It’s the most famous part of the story, and I wanted to include it in a special way. Also I originally was only going to draw four pictures total for this story, and had a lot of ideas on what to draw.

My sources for the Sorko people’s wear was inconsistent, especially in terms of how the women wore their hair. So NM has various different hairstyles, some based off Zarma hairstyles and practices. But the most fun part was drawing her dresses! Again, I used Zarma patterns for the drawings, and it was quite fun. They’re complicated, but I personally am looking forward to coloring them in.

For the second picture, I wanted to draw the giant hippo (occasionally called Mali in some sources) but at the time I was using a small page. So I just drew his face! I wish I could’ve included his ‘ovens’ but oh well.

Third, I wanted to put the scene of NM killing the ring of fire to paper. I thought that was pretty cool, and easier to draw than the iron wall event or the river nonsense. In some versions, her bag holds magic spices that are huge amplifiers to her power, so of course I had to include it. I was pretty proud of her hand position, so here’s a closer-up sketch of it.

The fourth picture is where I feel like I lost her face. But anyway, that’s her being triumphant and mean over the other hippos.

Hippos are a genuine danger to river-dwelling peoples. They’re fast and like to literally break boats open and destroy fields. Even zookeepers who know their hippos for decades avoid interaction whenever possible. They can and will eat you, if they’re hungry enough. But they’re also very important to the ecosystem.

The last picture is NM ‘freeing’ the hippos after terrorizing them for so long.

Like many people, she had gone through a lot of trauma. And like many people, she had to realize that her trauma did not give her license to hurt others. It’s a tough lesson, but one that was especially inspiring to see from a lady character.

I’m not sure how common was the ending with Fono, Fara Makan and the death of NM. As far as I know, it only appears in the ‘African Myths of Legend’ book collected by Stephen Belcher - at least as far as I found.

The parts of the tale that are definitely from Sorko culture, largely the beginning, hint at a view where heroines were maybe not the most common thing in the world, but weren’t outlandish within the culture.

But the Zarma are pretty different from the Sorko. The Zarma are largely Muslim, lived quite recently under foreign rulers far away with a tendency to enforce their own gender roles, and their women’s rights are stifled. Again, due to the effects of colonization in the countries the Zarma inhabit in modern day. Plus, the story was collected by an outsider - they may have left out details or changed things to keep bits of the myth private.

In any case, in the Belcher book I found, the tale is about Fono and Fara Makan. Fono is drawn to legends of NM and despite her father’s bad feelings, they happily marry. NM’s accomplishments are not mentioned in detail, and are only stated as equal to Fono’s own.

So from this newer, more conservative mindset, we get a quieter NM who is less willing to do violence or use magic, and lets her husband be the main character. And lets herself be killed by a weaker man, a man she loved and trusted, in the name of another man she loved. She even sought advice! When did NM seek advice in the ‘happier’ story? Never. She just did what she wished. And Fara Makan never wielded such dominance over his daughter. It’s just weird.

So in my opinion, that was a new addition tacked on to appease conservative listeners. But I decided to include it because sometimes, even the strongest people have trouble keeping up their boundaries and defending themselves from family. And that’s normal, and nothing of which to be ashamed.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed Nana Miriam!

[scb-tour-and-travel]

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[kohiiis]

left not one stone on a stone

PAIRING | kuran kaname/kiryuu zero

TAGS | alternate universe - birds, bird hybrids?, idk they’re people with wings, crack fic

SYNOPSIS | Kaname and Zero as satin bowerbirds, inspired by that one BBC Earth video.

One Kiryuu Zero was suddenly without a home. 

Why, you ask? 

Mating season was coming soon, and according to his (not) father it was the duty of every healthy young male to build his own nest and try to impress a female so that the two of them may venture forth with their mating shenanigans. 

(And with the continuation of their species, of course.)

Personally, Zero was content with not doing something so needlessly tiresome. Perhaps some members of his species did enjoy indulging in the attentions of the fairer sex--a certain Aidou Hanabusa certainly came to mind--but Zero would prefer to be left alone and in peace. 

There was nothing wrong with not wanting to put his reproductive organs to good use. Evolution might have given him the ability to... well, to put it delicately, spread his genes, but evolution also had given Zero the brain that allowed him to make the conscious choice not to do so. 

Unfortunately for him, his (not) father was not having any of it and before Zero could blink twice the young man had been evicted from their shared nest rather unceremoniously. His (not) father had waved goodbye, large crocodile tears streaming down his face as he proclaimed that he was so proud of Zero becoming a man. 

Zero had dropkicked the idiot back into his nest before flying off. 

Smoothing his ruffled feathers, Zero tucked his wings away and made for the riverbank. Although he wasn't going to be looking for a mate this upcoming season (or in any future season), he also had no desire to spend the rest of the summer months without a comfortable nest to rest in. 

Maybe he would be able to find some solid stones to use as the foundation for his new home...

Or maybe he was going to find the king of all jackasses wandering up and down the river as well. 

"What an unexpected surprise, Kiryuu-kun." 

Zero stared unenthusiastically back at the brunet. "Kuran." 

He wasn't sure what exactly he had done wrong, but the older Kuran brother seemed to hate Zero's very existence. As far as Zero could remember, Kuran had taken offense to Zero's presence. To be fair, Zero also had heard that Kuran's infamous sister complex was nothing to scoff at, and considering just who his sister's best friend was...

That was still no reason for Kuran to constantly stare at him like that. 

"Well then, I must be on my way--" 

"Wait, Kuran." He noticed that the older man was holding a handful of blue trinkets, and very belatedly Zero realized that oh right, Kuran didn't take a mate last season. And if that was the case, then, "You've...already built your nest, right?" 

Honestly, if he had any other viable options, Kuran would be the last person he'd ask advice from. But Zero was not stupid. His own dislike of the brunet aside, he knew that Kuran was probably the best option he had for survival. The older man was known for being resourceful and clever, and while he had yet to take a mate it was rumored that he had been the one to raise Yuuki after their parents died. 

Zero ignored the did you think I was collecting trinkets for fun look from Kuran and squared his shoulders as he plowed ahead with his request, "Could you...could you give me a few tips on how to build a proper nest?"

[dsandrvk]

Monday, September 2 - Kopar Village, Sepik River, PNG

At 700 miles long, the Sepik River is the longest river in New Guinea, and the second largest by volume in Oceania. We knew it was there hours before we reached it, as the outflow turned the water muddy and there was a lot of debris floating by. We watched as trees, branches, and sections of riverbank went by, including one vegetated patch with a Cormorant on top, hitching a free ride.

We also passed an active volcano with lots of steam and the occasional poof of black ash. This was Manam, and despite the danger, there are numerous villages around the northwest and southwest sides. A large eruption in 2004 resulted in the relocation of many islanders to the mainland, which created tensions among the two populations. It is unknown how many people stayed on the island and what is the current population number.

The ship positioned at the mouth of the river, and we took Zodiacs in to the village after lunch. It was extremely hot and sunny, and the space for the cultural activity was without shade. We wandered a bit before the performance, but unlike pretty much everywhere else we have been, the locals were not particularly friendly, and there was an entirely different "vibe". It might be because we have had so many of these, and they are starting to feel repetitive, but after the first dance, which was a "dragon" (crocodile) dance, people started fading away back to the Zodiacs, and the locals watching the activities far outnumbered us. Unlike Garove, there was a lot of litter, especially from snack foods, and many of the houses were not well kept up, adding to the feeling of the locals not really caring.

There was a large crafts area set up, and we saw these young crocodiles over by one house - we think they were going to be eaten soon. The Sepik River has both fresh water and salt water crocs, but these little ones were the only ones we saw. We had heard about the carvings on the bows of canoes, but this was the first I have seen in PNG, and it was quite nice. And as usual, there are always things like the Panama flag on one house or the Santa hat that defy explanation. Of course, here on the mainland there is more contact with the outside world, but also more crime and problems. Only about five weeks ago there was a massacre in a village less than 100 miles up river by gangs. Tribal rivalries as well as many young men with nothing to do add to the problem. I think we will all be glad to be visiting islands again, starting tomorrow.

Soon after all of us were back on board, the skies darkened again and the rain really came down, so no sunset. We were sailing north from the mainland and were still in the outflow of the river. Just as we neared another active volcano (which was mostly in the clouds because of the rain) we hit the demarcation line between the river and the sea, and the water was suddenly deep blue again. At this point we were 30 kilometers from the river mouth, which shows how strong the flow is.

Tomorrow will be our last stop in PNG on this leg, and we are visiting a tiny island just north of a larger, more populated island. We will have another village visit in the morning, and then snorkeling in the afternoon, and we are pumped to get back into the water!