#zad plays

[zaddyazula]

w. what.

[zadz0]

spreading my our last summer satosugu agenda

[wendiglow]

I started this drawing in December, burned out, but I liked where it was going. Frankly it's been too long and I don't have the drive to do it justice. Let's pretend I didn't do really lazy shading to finish it and call it a day. Not enough time has passed for a redraw yet, but it's definitely getting a redraw. Maybe next year.

Anyway, here are my oldest and still active OCs, Kano and Zad! (There is a third character as well, named, Randall and they make a trio. He's just as important, just didn't have the patience to add him.)

Kano is a pre war robot that was part of a RobCo line commissioned by Vault Tec to be distributed into various vaults to fill in roles where humans were lacking (such a teacher, doctor, parent etc.). The bombs fell and they never made it post production. I made Kano quite a while before Fallout 4 or institute synths were a thing, so he's not affiliated with the institute lore wise.

I was 9 when I first played Fallout 3 and made Kano, and naturally I was excited at the choice of hair color as any little kid would. The pink hair became so integral to Kano's character, I couldn't change it. When he was first made, his hair was blonde like the rest of the robots in his line. It turned pink over the couple hundred years from being exposed to various chemicals ( I love using shitty Sci fi logic to justify my choices lol).

I'm in my early 20s now, and these characters have grown up with me. I have PLENTY of Fallout characters as Fallout is my one true love, so I'm sure you'll be seeing them again!

Here's an old drawing of Randall (lowkey looking yassified the fuck), since it's strange to show Kano and Zad without him.

P.S. I had Sticky with me when I was trying to take this screenshot for the picture, and he wouldn't shut up.

[tranz-regent]

trauma writing in mha doeznt work

i uzed to be a huge fan of mha. it waz one of the firzt anime and manga i got really into and haz characterz i ztill love. but there zomething about it thatz been a problem for a long time. and thatz how it treatz abuze

horikoshi (and the fandom) haz thiz little writing problem i like to call 'bad thingz are bad (unlezz they happen to katsuki bakugo)'

when todoroki getz hit and yelled by hiz parentz, itz framed az incredibly tragic and horrific and the art reflectz thiz

thiz iz a hurt and zcared child, we're zuppozed to feel bad thiz happened

when katsuki getz hit and yelled at by hiz parentz?

itz framed az comedic

thiz iz a 16 year old being yelled at hiz mother for being kidnapped. thiz iz a ZIXTEEN YEAR OLD being blamed for GETTING KIDNAPPED

but the art and framing are telling me i zhould be finding thiz funny?? im zorry are we having fucked up parentz be dark comedy or actually zeriouz?

or, hey. another example. zportz feztival. when ojiro zayz he wantz to drop out of the zportz feztival becauze he doeznt feel he earned hiz victory?

that choice iz rezpected. he getz to drop out with no problemz

when katsuki zayz he doeznt feel he earned the 1zt place in the sports festival and doeznt want the medal?

he getz drugged, chained and muzzled to a ztone podium on live fucking televizion. and when Mizter Number One Bezt hero all might comez up? he forcez the medal into hiz mouth with only the comment 'well thiz iz a bit much'

zeriouzly, think about thiz. thiz iz a bunch of 'heroz' doing thiz to a, again, 16 year old becauze he. wanted a fair fight? becauze he dared to tell them no?

hell, the only people in-univerze to even comment on thiz are the league of villainz when they, az mentioned before, kidnap him.

and not only doez thiz cheapen the effect of the todoroki family ztoryline (even before we got to the current ztory) it alzo deztroyz any zympathy i have for 99% of the cazt.

when midnight died i waznt thinking 'oh no thatz zo zad they juzt lozt a great hero and teacher' i waz thinking about how she drugged a teenager for zaying no.

when aizawa talkz about how he carez about hiz ztudentz im thinking hez a fucking liar becauze he waz there for both the bakugo home vizit and the sports festival and he didnt do jack zhit to help katsuki. who iz his ztudent.

when there waz that wierd fucking arc about aoyama ztalking deku or whatever and it getz framed az creepy, im not zympathizng for deku becauze hez literally introduced az writing all hiz obzervationz about hiz clazzmatez (including bakugo) down in hiz notebookz. which iz alzo fucking creepy. zo im juzt thinking hez a fucking hypocrite getting a tazte of hiz own medicine

when all might getz praized for anything i juzt think he doeznt dezerve it becauze he waz alzo there for both the sports festival and the home vizit (and unlike aizawa he doeznt even have the excuze of being in a full body cazt for the feztival. and itz not even the firzt time he waz around katsuki in a horrible zituation

thiz zeem a bit familiar to anyone? maybe? maybe zomething that happened in the very beginning of the ztory?

yeah. and all might walked away from that too

a bnha zerver i uzed to be in a did a count of how many adultz katsuki had no bad interactionz with and it waz like. 5. of the whole cazt.

thzi iz a 16 year old, thiz iz a kid, who iz routinely treated horribly by the adultz around him and nearly every time itz framed like itz funny. like im zuppozed to be finding a kid being hit, yelled at, chained, muzzled and ignored comedic.

and maybe it could have worked. dark comedy iz a thing having fucked up family or zchool dynamicz being played for laughz can work.

but then when thiz kind of ztuff happenz to any one elze itz meant to be zeen az traumatizing and horrible and like i zhould feel bad. and you cant treat child abuze az actual abuze for zome characterz, but comedy for otherz, becauze it fuckz with the effect of both

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Silly Game Time: What was the last meme or joke that made you burst out laughing?

One of my roommates has been playing a lot of Elder Scrolls: Oblivion lately, and their character has a pointy hat and tunic on right now. Which resulted in another roommate and I having this exchange:

R: Oh look. Leg of Zeg. Me: Zad. R: Lonk Me: Lonk of Zonk, Bronk of the Wonk R: TONK OF THE KONKDONK Me: TWONKLONK PRONKCONK Oblivion roommate, hearing all of this: Stop

Yeah, I was in tears after “tonk of the konkdonk”

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Storm Rages

“Fuck May ’68, fight now!” –Unknown

On May Day morning, as is customary, several small morning gatherings occurred before the classic massive demonstration in the afternoon. That morning, no fewer than five different actions were planned. Around 10 am, traditional unions and organizations (including the CGT, FO, FSU, Solidaires, and UNEF) gathered at the Père Lachaise cemetery in front of the “Mur des Fédérés”—the wall where many of the last participants in the Paris Commune were executed. (Although the Communards died fighting as revolutionaries, they have been dead long enough that these legalistic organizations can risk keeping company with them.) At 10:30 am, a morning demonstration took place in Saint-Denis, a northern suburban city. At 11 am, after leaving their own traditional morning procession, some people gathered in downtown Paris in memory of Brahim Bouarram, a 29-year-old man killed on May 1, 1995 by supporters of the French National Front after they left the National Front May Day morning procession. At noon, as usual, the traditional annual anarcho-syndicalist march left Place des Fêtes to walk to the departure point of the afternoon procession. Finally, around 1 pm, people were supposed to meet at Place de la Bastille for a lively gathering to support the ZAD.

In view of the threats of the authorities, we decided to play it safe and joined the anarcho-syndicalist march to get a sense of the situation in the field. Once we reached Place des Fêtes, some of us decided to redecorate the police station with personal messages and posters about the Haymarket affair and the origins of May Day. As more and more people arrived, it was already apparent that a lot of autonomists, anarchists, and other radicals had decided to join the morning festivities before the afternoon march. Throughout the crowd, we could hear people speaking in French, Italian, German, and English. International call or not, some comrades had decided to visit France and spend May Day in Paris with us.

The morning march finally started. Everything went smoothly; trade unionists and families walked alongside autonomists and newer generations of anarchists while police remained almost invisible the entire time. Some of us took this opportunity to take action: banks and insurance companies saw their front windows smashed and colorful messages appeared on the walls. As we were approaching Place de la Bastille, the departure point of the afternoon procession, tension and apprehension were palpable. Would the police actually stop and search everyone attempting to join the May Day demonstration? Not at all! As the anarchist procession passed a group of policemen in plainclothes (members of the anti-criminality brigade, the BAC) and insulted them, we reached the Place de la Bastille. We had entered the belly of the beast without a hitch!

When we arrived, the Place de la Bastille was packed. Thousands of people already thronged the streets, making their way through the numerous food trucks, traditional organizations, political stands, and balloons. As in 2017, we decided to leave traditional organizations behind us and hurried to catch up with the front of the procession. Along the bassin de l’Arsenal, hidden by the blossoming trees, the colorful crowd progressively changed color. Waves of black appeared among the leading procession. Once everyone was properly changed and equipped, we all moved forward to reach the first lines of the march, already located on the Austerlitz bridge. Once on the bridge, we realized that we would not be at the front of this May Day demonstration, as another crowd of activists was already walking ahead of us.

The beginning of the demonstration was quite strange. While we waited on the bridge, a line of journalists separated us from the front of the procession. All the corporate media outlets wanted to have their own footage of the impressive bloc that was occupying the bridge. For long minutes, we remained completely static; several smoke bombs and torches were lit and the banners at the front formed a perfect line. To us, this entire situation was unproductive and somehow narcissistic, as it seemed that part of the bloc was completely at ease with having their pictures taken by photographers. We felt that they were actively participating in the political spectacle of May Day by playing their role and posing so the media could broadcast their sensational images. In the end, when people were tired of waiting, fireworks and large firecrackers were thrown at journalists to push them back. After several unsuccessful attempts, the bloc charged them and thus finally managed to cross the bridge.

Once we reached the other riverbank, we found police forces and water cannons waiting on both sides. This created confusion in our ranks. For several more minutes, no one knew what to do or what we were waiting for. Would police forces try to split the procession and carry out an enormous mass arrest before the march even started? While the bloc paused again, indecisive about what to do next, the journalists recreated their line in front of us, taking more shots of the famous “black bloc” while preventing us from reaching the other group of demonstrators ahead of us.

Then things began to accelerate. Someone climbed a post and started to smash a city camera with a rock. As the journalists continued filming us unrelentingly, we were finally compelled to respond by smashing or spray painting every single camera in our path. It was time to put out the eyes of the state; in such a situation, rather than being neutral tools, cameras are connected directly to the apparatus of repression. Then the first advertisement billboards were smashed, along with some bus shelters. It seemed that we had finally found our pace.

We entered the boulevard de l’Hôpital, passing the Jardin des Plantes (a large public park) and the rue Buffon, where additional police units were already blocking the street, until we reached a McDonald’s. The storm broke. Activists took out all the front windows of the fast food restaurant while others enthusiastically decorated the walls. As the windows fell to the ground, others entered the restaurant, destroying and looting everything inside. At the end, someone threw a Molotov cocktail inside. Other activists extinguished the flames, as inhabitants living in flats above the restaurant started appearing at their windows. (As lundimatin put it, “Finesse was not the theme of the day.”)

From this point on, nearly every window display was smashed and every wall spray-painted. The march continued thus, destroying everything in its path, until it reached two car dealerships. Again, some activists ran to the front windows and shattered them. Others entered the premises of one car dealership, wrecking everything inside. Finally, they pulled two cars out onto the sidewalk and set them on fire.

On the other side of the street, not far past the Austerlitz train station, several activists were breaking down the barriers around a construction site. Behind the fencing, they found an excavator. This, too, was set on fire. As the flames consumed the machine, someone took the time to spray-paint “ZAD everywhere” on it. Whatever happens at Notre-Dame-des-Landes, the ZAD will survive! Perhaps not in its current form—as the process of normalization seems to leave fewer and fewer breaches open for experimentation—but its spirit continues to inspire us in other struggles, as this tribute action demonstrates.

At this point, we looked ahead and saw that we couldn’t go any further: police forces were waiting with anti-riot fences and water cannon trucks. They were blocking the route of the demonstration, probably to prevent us from reaching the district police station located a little further ahead on our right. At the same time, confrontations with police broke out at the construction site near the train station. It seemed that police were located inside or near the station, behind additional fences. Law enforcement units answered our projectiles with showers of tear gas canisters, which created a great degree of confusion. As reported by lundimatin:

“Then, we witnessed the most absurd scenes of the day. Dozens of activists in black threw hundreds of stones over the fences at an enemy that was completely out of reach. Others threw stones at a machine in flame, others at a McDonald’s that would no longer cause any harm to anyone. Actions that showed that the static but overwhelming and ubiquitous police presence was about to win, that is to say, to diffuse powerlessness. There was certainly a lot of will and determination during these events, but it ended being compressed in a restricted space where in reality frustration and fear prevailed.”

Little by little, the police trap was closing. While we were distracted by the confrontations near the construction site, the police lines blocking the boulevard ahead of us took the opportunity to move forward with their water cannon trucks, then filled the streets with tear gas. Our only option was to retreat. We were pushed back near the ruins of the McDonald’s. There, we were blocked between the thick clouds of tear gas, the closed fences of the park, and a disoriented and panicking crowd. Facing the jets of water cannons and uninterrupted showers of tear gas canisters, some of us tried to resist with Molotov cocktails and stones, but without any real success. As the intensity of confrontations escalated, people began to escape by climbing over the fences of the public park. Eventually, realizing that the increasing panic could lead to a potential tragedy, firemen decided to open the gates of the park. A breach was opened, and some of us took this opportunity to exit the confrontations. Shortly after, police units fanned out to attempt to arrest people inside the park.

Those who stayed on the boulevard de l’Hôpital continued retreating as the water cannons were now in full use. They ended up crossing the bridge we had departed from and then tried to start several actions by taking other routes. Some joined the march of the CGT, others went back to the bassin de l’Arsenal in order to bypass police lines and harass them. For the occasion, a huge barricade was built to slow the police while others were attacking another car dealership and several stores. Then, as police reinforcements arrived, activists dispersed into the nearby streets, only to gather again a bit further away to begin another spontaneous demonstration. Several Autolibs—electric car sharing vehicles owned by the Bolloré industrial group—were set on fire during the action. Later, the Place de la Bastille was occupied by police, who repeatedly tried to surround people in order to carry out additional arrests, while other small groups of activists were blocked in a nearby boulevard by other law enforcement units. The authorities cleared the entire square of any potential activists.

Once the afternoon demonstration was definitely over, people began to converge around a bar located at Place de la Contrescarpe, in the Latin Quarter, the same district where most of the confrontations of May 1968 had taken place half a century earlier. The main objective of this event was to gather people from different political horizons in order to meet, debate, and create new connections. Unfortunately, police forces were already on site when the first groups of people showed up at the square. As more and more people arrived, police left the square so people could occupy it, but not without stopping and controlling some groups that wanted to join the gathering. Clashes erupted, with police repeatedly beating and pepper-spraying the crowd. The rest of the night witnessed an ongoing cat-and-mouse game between activists and police forces, involving several reoccupations of the Place de la Contrescarpe.

During these events, several spontaneous demonstrations took place. In one case, activists succeeded in escaping police units by entering an already occupied building of the EHESS, the School of Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences. Fascists and neo-Nazis armed with gulf clubs were patrolling the Latin Quarter at the same time. They assaulted several activists who were on their way to the gathering, injuring at least one individual.

[alexbkrieger13]

No offense but same and jill are not starting players in this team. With P’s arrival both zad and stan play as a no 6.

So you have a midfield of P as the cam and zadi and stan as a pivot. Lohman plays at RM interchanging with linda. Buhl occupies at LM so honestly Obi is that player you get for depth and rotation. If zadi and stan get injured i rather have obi than kerr.

As much as people talk about hoarding world class players win you trophies not the other way round 😂.

you need a few of them always on the bench that you can sub in

[eddsworld-roleplay-madness]

Zamn this blog deader than I am. Thiz iz zo zad Alexa play dezpacito.

[yukicustos]

Zad Glover ♦ They/Them Zad is inspired by the Archangel Zadkiel and my Rising in Virgo although their sign is Cancer. X-Playing Card: Maskup Make 

‘PLAY!!’ ♦ ACE OF DIAMONDS. UNIQUE. > They fulfills any desire within. As they wear the gloves it makes them attain the state to have whatever or be whoever they desire to.

The side effect of using the card is that their makeup shifts to a different style with new colors. If is a unshakable swordsman, their eyeshadow can turn gold with bright red lipstick. If it is an extraordinary shooter shades of red, purple and details in black in his cat eye. An elemental bender will have aspects of all elements: Orange glitter eyeshadow, blueish cat eye, brown lipstick with a white glow.

When there’s a hand where he uses two cards his hair will also change in color. The possibilities are infinite. As their makeup changes with the states. They have a daily makeup routine that exercises their imagination, so that the Card can be used with more proficiency. Making anchors with certain details on their Makeup it is easier to bring about in reality with his Card.

Appropriate our right of not giving a fuck. Floating, dreaming and possessing. Outwardly seraphic. Godly, appealing and boundless. Violet flames summoning in our rituals cleansing our shame. Forgiveness. No self-containing or censoring. The sharp blades of my insides. All that I create to remember. I am in command. Righteousness.

Inspired on the High Card Profiles!

[zaddyazula]

klavier is deadass called piano. mein gott.

[edens-notesfromthegarden]

v1/zadkiel (oc) || spicy

[oc uses he/they]

the first time zadkiel touched v1, it needed time to recover.

on a day like no other, they had approached it in minos' home. a hop in their step and a smile on their face, he told it how curious he was about its design, and asked if he'd be allowed to take a closer look.

while with most people, it wouldn't allow them such an intricate look at its body, zadkiel had been staying with itself, gabriel and the two prime souls for some time now. it simply shrugged and got comfortable, allowing zadkiel to satiate their curiosity.

were the angel's touches intimate on purpose or accident? v1 couldn't tell, fans straining at the need to maintain its composure as zad explored its body. they were slow but methodical, so gentle and delicate in their tracings as if it were glass. the words of praise and awe did nothing to calm it either.

"hardlight technology is such a wonderous advancement," zadkiel mused, a hand upon v1's wings. he smoothed down one of the lit wings, and v1 failed to hide the whirring of its fans as fingers dipped inside, being so intimately aware they were in. "such a marvelous tool for the transportation of goods... was their purpose always for storing such intriguing weaponry? or have you found other means for them?"

a gentle nod. it was hard to fit much else in the wings with its weapons, but when it had the chance, it would pick up small trinkets and knick-knacks whilst exploring hell.

those hands were now further down, tracing the seams between metal plating. its fists were beginning to clench; an act to try and distract itself from how it felt. the hands danced on its hips, tracing the tubes that carried blood across its systems.

"such small tubes," zadkiel whispered. v1 could feel the warmth of the angel's face near its hip. "and yet... they do so much... they work so hard every day to keep such a wonderous machine running."

zadkiel's finger accidentally tugged on a few wires, caught in the seams. v1 jolted completely upright, wings flaring as it scrambled out of zadkiel's hold. the angel simply sat there, mildly surprised.

"ah, i'm so sorry, v!'' zadkiel was quick to apologise, "my fingers got caught, i hope i didn't hurt you at all!"

v1 was too flustered to admit that zadkiel had done the exact opposite, that it wanted him to dig his fingers further into its body. they signed that they had to go refuel in a quick manner, and practically bolted out of the room they were sat in, much to the calling of its name.

-----

it was later in the day now. zadkiel had found gabriel to lament over what had happened with v1.

"... and then i accidentally got my fingers caught in its wiring, and it ran on me! oh, i feel so bad, gabe!"

gabriel blinked for a few moments, before laughing. "zad, you don't realise what you actually did, do you?"

zadkiel paused his pacing.

gabriel paused to take a sip of his tea. "gods, that explains why v1 looked so flustered today. it practically begged me to help it out after what you did."

"wait, flustered? what do you-"

zadkiel's eyes went wide.

"oh."

gabriel chuckled watching zadkiel's expression shift into a fiendish grin. "oh boy, i recognise that smile. you're plotting."

"oh, whatever do you mean, dear gabby?" zadkiel crooned, hands clasping together. "no, little old me planning? with what you told me? no, definitely not!"

the taller angel let out a sigh. "just don't tease it for too long! i know from personal experience it can give twice as hard as it takes."

"and you know from personal experience that i don't break."

-----

for days, they committed to this dance: zad would get close to v1, they would touch it, and then it would run off looking for one of the other three in the house. minos and sisyphus had been informed of zadkiel's antics, so they were now playing along just as much as gabriel was.

fluster turned to frustration. v1 quickly realised that if those touches weren't purposeful the first time, they sure were now.

today, they come across one another in the library. that same chipper smile, that same hop in their step. they crouched down where v1 had been scanning through a history book, reading along with it for a few moments before finally making a move.

that hand smoothed up v1's wingpack, so slow and gentle, and that's when v1 finally snapped.

the book is shoved aside in its sudden movement, swivelling around and pinning that hand down on the floor with the knucklebuster. they laid there in silence, zadkiel only blinking as he watched v1's body shift, mimicking deep breathing.

"gosh, is everything alright, v1?" zadkiel asked, playing innocent.

"STOP TEASING ME." it signed.

"me? teasing?" zadkiel let out a laugh, "my apologies, v! i was only ever... curious."

from the way zadkiel's other hand traced down its chassis, it just knew they were bullshitting it. that hand quickly joined their other with the help of the whiplash, v1's optic now squinting at the angel beneath it.

"okay fine, maybe i was teasing you a little," zadkiel admitted. "but i promise that didn't start until after that first session!"

from underneath it, a leg snuck out from under v1 and hooked around its hip, pulling it closer.

"i have meant every word i've said though, v," the angel added quietly, "i think you're a marvellous machine... capable of so many wonderful things..."

for a moment, the only noise in the room was the heightened noise of v1's whirring fans. then a clicking noise, followed by hissing as a panel slid open and something pressurised against zadkiel's thigh. the angel let out a little gasp upon noticing the glowing member pressed against them.

"oh my, what a pretty looking thing you have there," they praised. "is that for me?"

"YES. PLEASE. CAN I?"

zadkiel laughed again. v1 felt one of their hands wiggle in its grasp, followed by metal tapping against the floor twice (the staff he always had, it realised), before zadkiel's pants de-manifested themselves, leaving his lower half naked. it stared at the folds that adorned the apex of zadkiel's thighs, before looking back up at the angel's face.

"well, what are you waiting for, v?"

[poetandwolf]

How we met-

It was weird, well not weird. I dunno how to put it into words because it was 23 years ago. It was the summer of 1999- and my bff @deathsembrace662 had gotten me into the game, W1ld AR\Ms. I played it a bit but she was at the part of Court S3im, and the Epitaph Sea. Boomerang and Luc3id (not my dog, the guardian) were giving her some trouble and I was attempting to help her defeat them.

Then came the rest of the events that happened in that part of the game. I always looked at movies, stories, and games from a neutral point of view. The scene where Jane and Rudy talked all night reminded me of how I would spend the nights talking to spirits. Alh@zad’s fight came on screen, and at this point we were playing the game at each other’s house and sharing the files back and forth- in hopes to beat the game together. The battle with him was struggling and I was all “ Do I will kiss you three times if you let us win”. And... lol. it worked. My friend and I laughed and looked at one another. And the game continued. I was kind of enchanted by his politeness and silver tongue. Even if his methods were a bit.. questionable.

It am *pretty* sure the Ocean City trip happened after the fact, at least I think...?  It was all around the same time.

I was at Ocean City and a spirit was lonely, and I told him to follow us home. That me and my friends would welcome into our coven. I was 15, and overly friendly and wanted to help everyone. Once I got home I told my friend all about how I found someone else to join our group. And he was kind, sweet, very polite, old school knightly and just.. very well mannered. I didn’t put “ water is wet” kind of moment until later. When I tried to see him with my third eye I saw a blur of brown, with black hair, and intense eyes. I assumed he was a anthro cat- because I drew everyone as a anthro cat back then. I remember welcoming him into my life, even to go as far as to make him a sandwich and soda, and giving him a space to sleep on my top bunk.

He was my best friend, we did everything together. I had struggled with love and relationships and thought dating was stupid, and cried over him a number of times. I didn’t know I could feel this close to someone else. The bond and friendship was so intense. We shared and did everything together. He aided me in Algebra and Biology. He helped me in Spanish 2 when I couldn’t wrap my head around it. My grades went up. There was no scientific explanation for all of this. He was intelligent, almost to the point it was kind of scary (in a hot way) how some spirit this smart was helping my goofy ass.

My friend, and her f/o Garrett (yes same one, he’s clueless. He didn’t know Aub was *him*). Laughed and pushed us to date. So we did, and a lot of stuff happened over Nov of 1999 through Nov of 2000 when we handfasted. Now.. 2000 that’s a story for another day, but we definitely went through hell together in a very F\FSevenh0use kind of way. Those events absolutely strengthened our bond. I don’t think I would have survived any of that with out him. I knew he was Alh@zad the entire time. So when I finally told him that I already knew, when he was nervous about being honest with me. He admittedly broke down in my arms...

We were a match made in Heaven. Nothing could stop us.

And of fucking course was this was known to everyone in our circle. Some kids in our group started messing around with Simon’s version of the Necr\onomic0n. There’s a reason why they were. I was taken a long for the ride. Al was *pissed* he got very lectury with my friends saying this was dangerous. I had a hunch why, but the spelling was different. The names were slightly off. I didn’t really know if they were the same person- but I had a hunch (that hunch was later clarified in 2005).

He was so protective, kind, and his wit was unmatched by anyone else I knew. People would come and go- but nothing had the connection that we had. Nothing was even close. I felt safe around him, safer than I had ever felt around anyone else. Which is kind of questionable I suppose to people who know who he really is and *love* to judge him. They don’t know him like I know him. And I am lucky to have this sweet, kind, gentle, intelligent man. Who I am proud to call my husband.

He had been by my side the whole time- and a lot happened between late 2000 and 2023- I could write stories for days about that.

[tinytelepath]

🧿Zad

Where have you even been?

Some angel of forgiveness. Another one making full use of their power I see. What is the point of you? Any of you, really, but especially you.

Were you searching thrift store bins for rainbow shirts while my children were condemned for the great crime of being born?

Playing mind games with another one of the Almighty Asshole's high priests while a tortured teenager suffered millennia in Hell for her final act of desperation?

Did you even try to live up to your domain?

What are you even doing now? Moping on the floor and giving my sister another existential crisis?

Perhaps we should have left you to fall all the way down. Let you see what your inaction meant for millions before you.

[trackmelodycom]

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[fragmentedink-archived]

i need yall to know that when Zad and his mom got away from his abusive dad Mei got her own lil apartment close to her kid and likes to make him grilled cheese and soup and they play checkers together

[astoldbychae]

THICK ZAD-

Hollup!���� No because like why he got my heart skippin beats and shit! Most definitely a tree I'd like to climb. Like...I just wanna braid his hair, play with his ears, trace his tattoos with my-- MOVING ON! 🙃

"at your own discretion" ...aww hell, he's liable to ruin my damn life but then he starts staring at me with those eyes & got me over here like:

Is he fluent in Spanish (or Selvadorada-ish) because if he is, Papito THE WORLD IS YOURS! Whatchu want? Whatchu need? 👀

But no like for real; Where's he from? Does he have kids? What are his skills? Does he have any hobbies? (I think I may know what a few of his hobbies and skills are but I'm tryna be wholesome...borderline failing miserably at it but...moving on) I really could be here forever tryna get his whole life story...how does he make his money? but just one last question, does he have voiceclaim?

and Lana you say?

it's about to get real "merry christmas ya filthy animal" meets Pinky up in here

and I just washed my hair too...shit, i'm about to be slangin' moisturizer everywhere on her ass! Count your MF days Lana!

🤣

My soul has left my body & it won't be back for the next 3-5 business days because...

He snatched it...

and you know what, at this point, he can keep it! 😩 *also secretly saying a mini prayer that he ain't "ain't shit" because my lil radar was snatched too because he a lil too stealthy and caught me slippin* LMAO!

Thick Zaddy Assan?

What would you like to know? Only thing wrong with him is this girl named Lana…but we can discuss him