#she asks

According to legends surrounding the Hannya, notably the tale of Kiyohime told in the Noh Theatre play Dōjōji, the Hannya's transformation during her decent into rage is a progressive one, ending in a form that bears not only the face of a demon, but the body of a snake, and the ability to kill by breathing fire. It it at this point that she is considered to have truly given up on her humanity.

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Where are my non-op trans people at?

Where are my non-hrt trans peeps at?

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I refuse to believe I’m the only one in this boat. The internet’s too deep, the discords are too many, there’s far too much infighting for us not to exist.

And I don’t mean those who just financially aren’t able [You’re cool too! I understand!]. I’m talking about us who can’t get anything because our bodies hate us as much as we hate them.

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I need to know where y’all at!

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and everything was perfect in such a place. It was a new world, free from the constraints of the old. The witch had brought those who desired a fresh start away from the chaos and madness of a world that was crumbling. It was only a matter of time before it shattered into endless shards that could not be repaired, no matter how hard one tried. The only issue with such a move was that it was to a better world that had not yet been touched.

A witches duty to nature and the people.

"To protect, not destroy; to aid, not harm." It's truly odd that one sinful being of greed did not understand this. He was confined to a small dwelling within the forest, and starting a new life was not an easy feat, hardly. The urges, needs, wants, and wishes - a new cult was calling, a world not graced with sin. So many hearts, so many in need of being harmed and then turned into loyal and devoted followers.

Yet that was not the witches intentions.

An argument erupted, filled with insults and accusations. The man asserted his power and warned of the dangers that could befall anyone who defied him. The woman, a witch, expressed her concern about her partner upsetting the balance and causing harm. She felt that he behaved irresponsibly and could not allow him to harm anyone or venture into nearby villages. In order to protect others, she cast a curse to limit him, preventing him from causing harm in any form.

In the morning, she could hear it: the routine was as perfect as ever. He would be in the gardens of the endless forest, trying to figure out a way through to people. It was always the same - he would go through and come back defeated. This time, when the wife went into the kitchen, it wasn't the white-haired partner she was linked to, but something else entirely. There stood a white-furred jackass, a donkey, at the kitchen table eating breakfast, fully unaware of what had happened to it and how much it had been cursed to learn a lesson.

She knew Regulus didn’t like his prison. She knew that every morning he was trying to leave their (new) home. Always unsuccessful. Always defeated. And although her heart was sad for him, and although her heart urged her to help him, Nunnally didn’t believe the right time had come. She resisted her heart. Though it was PAINFUL. And it wouldn’t be too difficult to help him. To break the spell that restricted him. No matter how odd it may have appeared, it was her husband who was restricted. Not her. Whatever little powers she possessed (or whatever that was, indeed, as Nunnally refused to accept she was something else than a mere human), it allowed her to see through things. It allowed her to leave (and guide him out of) his prison.

 Was is because there was a part of a witch in her? Or was it something else?

Love for him? She loved him. She truly did. Her LOVE was UNCONDITIONAL, and yet it wasn’t blind. She was aware (at least partially) what kind of man her husband was. And yet she didn’t care. And yet she wasn’t to follow him blindly. Nunnally had her own little agenda. Her own desires and wishes. And she considered a witch A FRIEND.

A friend, though Regulus should be protected from the witch. And the witch should be protected from Regulus. She wanted both of them. But as far away from each other as she could separate them. Though sometimes she couldn't.

Humming, she welcomed another morning. Nunnally was sure, she would find the other side of the bed empty. Regulus was probably out there seeking a way out, while he could not realize that it was not anywhere there, but here so close to him. She was his way out. How foolish of him not to notice!?

When she was ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw there. She liked their life here. He cared for much less things than Regulus would assume. Did the witch of greed understand her better?

“Nunnally  you are beautiful. Charming and smart. And you’ll get all you deserve.” – she hummed coming downstairs to the kitchen. Not that she was hungry. Quite opposite actually, but she was almost sure she’d find Regulus there. It was their ritual. He would be complaining about his failure, or pretending it had never happened, or do yet another thing. It didn’t matter. There was there to support him. To love him. To spoil him. To listen to his endless words. To caress his hair. She was there for him until he was to notice the obvious.

But when she entered the kitchen, the hum stopped as Regulus was NOT there. Instead, she saw a donkey eating breakfast prepared for Regulus and her!?

“Tsk…” – the annoyance was visible on her pretty face – “What are you doing here, little donkey? My husband will not be happy to find you here…” – not that she was worried about the animal’s well-being nor the ruckus Regulus might be causing seeing the donkey finishing their breakfast. Such an encounter could actually be rather funny to watch. Though probably not for the animal with the white fur.

“Come on…!” – she hurried the donkey gently – “You need to move…”

But there was something weird about this donkey. Something…

“Regulus…is that…you!?” - what has he done again to annoy the witch?