baby hanger

Today, while I was zoning the infant section at work, a visibly nervous twenty-something year old man decked out from head to toe in camo, and varying degrees ‘i spent my morning hunting deer’ dirt, approached me and with great hesitance, asked me if we had any ‘little hangers, small baby hangers.’ Unfortunately, we were sold out. Upon learning this, he thanked me for looking for them anyway, and with a sigh, informed me that ‘he just didn’t want her little shirts to get wrinkled.’

The Legend of Willow Slay Part 2

I am so sorry this took so dang long to get to, but it is finally here!!! After this next chapter, we’re gonna focus on some Willow family time with Skipper because we’ll need the happiness, but until then, have fun suffering through this battle @theredwallrecorder @the-redwaller @raphcrow @willzgirl

Music I listened to: 
some o’ this:

Some o’ this:


Chapter Two: A Legendary Battle

   The rat’s body convulsed automatically, his jagged teeth chattering sharply as he whimpered in despair. His brain was telling him to run, to escape the maddening chaos, yet he was rooted to his spot under a polished table in the quarters of the night club. He sobbed as he heard wood groaning under the strain of the battle. Magic crackled in the air, energy rippled and shuddered. The rat felt as if he was being flattened by it; his very life force being stolen. Sweat dripped down his fur, clinging to him. He had lost counts as to how many times he had tried to adjust himself and the slick fur had made him loose balance, made him slip and trip. He was contemplating peering out from under the dark red table cloth to see if he could make a break for it, when the table was knocked clean over. He screamed as he looked up at the carnage. 

     The nightclub had been torn apart. Wood jutted out like wicked fangs and gnarled claws. Various kinds of knives, swords, daggers, and battle axes impaled every inch of free surface like demonic rose thorns. But far more terrifying were the two beasts battling. The Lady’s dress was torn, blood dribbling down her matted fur. Her mouth foamed as she panted, her ears pinned back. Her paws were smoking, the swirls wafting up towards the ceiling while her flames crackled around the room, lazily crawling around overturned furniture. The rat had heard that the Lady could control fire, that she controlled the flames within the Night Club itself. The flames were the very heartbeat of the club, keeping everything alive and running smoothly. Or at least that was one of her rumored powers. Some said she was Vulpuz’s mate, others said that she was the guard meant to keep Vulpuz from entering the world of the living. Some whispered she had been put there to protect those who accidently wandered into Hellgates, he had heard of it happening before once or twice, and every time the unfortunate was safely escorted to the lush Dark Forests, where the Badger Lords reigned. The pirate who had been whispering the tale claimed that those who truly did not belong in Hellgates were always freezing cold and her flames kept them safe and warm. When the rat thought of it, he often saw the mink Willow Slay or the cute rat Nivedita suddenly shiver at random moments in the club. Suddenly the rooms would become hotter until the two looked as if they were going to melt on the spot.

      He hadn’t had much of a family life himself, but when he saw the Lady with Willow and Nivedita, he couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that swelled up within him. He was immensely jealous of the bond the three shared, yet every night he found himself in the night club, caught up in the hustle and bustle, the music, the magic flames, and the interactions of the patrons. But now his very tail shook with fright as Willow Slay, eyes glowing red from Bloodwrath, swaggered towards the Lady. Foam mixed with blood dripped off her sharpened canines and Willow let loose with a roar, reaching out her right paw as if she were gripping for a throat to strangle. Wood groaned as the weapons shook, trying to free themselves. The weapons ripped free already swirled around the room like a swarm of enraged hornets, and the rat swore he heard them humming with bloodlust.

     “My Lady! There’s a patron left!”

      The rat whipped around towards the voice. The rat lady Nivedita was limping towards him, an open wound on her shoulder leaking blood as she struggled to get to his side. Despite the fear he was feeling, he blushed slightly as she grabbed his shoulders.

     “Get him out of here!” The Lady snarled as knives whizzed around her head.

      “Please come with me.” Nivedita pleaded, trying to lead him out of the mad house.

      “We’ll be killed if we go out there!” The rat mustered to squeak, shame washing over him. “Erm, at least, uh, at least let me shield you.”

     “Nivedita! Run!”

      Nivedita turned, fear striking her heart as Willow had turned vengeful eyes towards the male rat and herself.

     “Willow! Please, this isn’t you!” Nivedita pleaded. “Please look at me, I promise whatever is happening, whatever is causing you pain, we can help you. Willow, I love you, please, I don’t want to have to fight you.” Hot tears dripped down Nivedita’s face. Willow Slay paused, her breathing becoming more crazed as she gripped her head. The blades paused in their frenzied storm and the Lady took the time to run for her steward.

     “No…I-I must…find…him!” Willow screeched.

    “Fight it! Please! We can help you!” Nivedita’s sobs were laced with hiccups as she collapsed to her knees on the ruined floors. The male rat wasn’t sure what to do. He had started to slink away during the confusion, but now he found himself back by Nivedita’s side, a uncertain paw reaching for her shoulder in what he hoped felt like comfort, because he was close to passing out.  

    Willow’s body swayed as if she were fighting a great force within herself. She threw back her head and howled, red mist circling around her feet, slowly wafting around her body until she was inside the cloud, her screams renting through Hellsgates like a demon. The ground shook as the red mist whipped away from her body, racing out from the ruins of the club. The building groaned, humming in time with Willow’s wails. Any iron or metal in the area moaned and groaned, shaking as Willow screamed, her hair standing up on end. Nivedita saw the weapons whistling through the air at the last second and through herself over the male rat, her mind turning white as her eyes closed.

      When Nivedita came to, Willow was crumbled up on her side, her weapons circled around her in a protective barrier. Rolling off the male rat’s body, whom she had been instinctively protecting, Nivedita struggled to get to her feet, about to approach Willow before stopping dead in her tracks. Stuck in the pose as if she were a statue, the Lady stood, her back towards Willow, still shielding Nivedita and their patron. Wicked knives and jagged swords impaled the Lady’s beautiful body like a cheap pincushion. She gave Nivedita a weak smile before coughing up blood, dropping down to her knees and collapsing completely, her eyes glossing over. Nivedita began to wail. 


Madam Glass Eye blinked and shook her head, looking at her questioning audience with a slight shrug and sheepish smile.

     “Ah, sorry my dears. I suddenly saw something quite interesting and horrifying with my magic eye, don’tya know.” She pointed towards the green glass eye. “Right, back to the story at hand. I’m sure things will work themselves out in Hellsgates somehow. Now, where were we? Oh yes! Now, there was a great otter holt here in these woods led by a brave and kind Skipper…”

The only person in my life right now who wears a fedora is a Hawaiian shirt and winter-shorts (khaki) wearing guy who is anti-abortion but makes hanger-baby jokes, and refers to liberals as “human-rights people.” As if… he wants to distance himself… from human rights.

But guys, Angharad is so, so important

(spoilers for the prequel comic, violence cw, abortion cw)

like whenever you have a narrative like this, a narrative in which a group of women are trying to get away from a polygamous abuser, there will be one that is privileged, that is treated better than the others, that is thee favourite wife, and always, always, she will want to stay.

so inevitably, the moral isn’t “women aren’t objects“ but it becomes “men, treat your property well or it will run away“ and it is scary, disgusting, heartbreaking.

but in fury road, angharad is the favourite, the splendid, the most loved, the first one joe calls for, and in the prequel comic, the only one he is remotely gentle with.

and yet angharad is also the one that wants freedom the most, angharad is the one that hates joe the most, hates him enough to try to get rig of his baby with a coat hanger (also, not feeling the anti abortion vibe i got from that bit, seriously, how dare you imply a rape victim desperate enough to stick a coat hanger up her vagina is killing something that isn’t even alive (tho tbh i can get that as an in universe only thing bc healthy children are so rare but still)) angharad is the one that is furious about her fate (seriously, anyone who thinks that somebody who CUTS UP THEIR FACE out of defiance and spite and a desperate desire to fight back any way possible isn’t a boiling well of well (ha ha) utilised rage, i just don’t know what to tell you), angharad is the one that rallies the others behind the words: “we are not things“

and it’s so important just so important, bc that makes the film follow through, it makes it clear that no matter how gilded the box, how soft the pillows, how clean the container, women are not things things to be had.