#Cape Town street art

[lelopatienceklaas-blog]

10 Awesome Things You Must Do in Cape Town City Centre

https://pixabay.com/photos/city-cape-town-south-africa-morning-2096093/ Welcome to the heart of Cape Town, where history, culture, and fun vibes collide! The City Centre is packed with amazing things to do, so whether you’re a local rediscovering the magic or a visitor exploring for the first time, you’re in for a treat. Let me guide you through 10 must-do activities that will make your time in…

[ascen-sion]

Street art in South Africa 🇿🇦

[intotheunknownworld]

[mo0dyjewel]

Observatory, Capetown

[afrotumble]

Mural titled 'Ahead' by Ilya in Cape Town, South Africa.

[moongirlcleo]

An Unlikely Treat

Tags: Alcohol Use, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Baggage, Snezhnayan F!Reader, Slow Burn to Fast Heat AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

You only meant to drink away the past, drown the bitterness of a love long gone, and maybe—just maybe—lose yourself in the warmth of a fleeting distraction. Enter Kaveh: all golden hair, silver tongue, and just enough trouble to make forgetting easy.

One drink turned into two. Two turned into teasing. And teasing? Well, that turned into a night tangled in silk sheets and whispered confessions.

With a sigh, you step off the boat that had finally made port, the trip taking far longer than it should have.

The lush greenery of Sumeru’s Port Ormos was a stark contrast to the icy cold front of Snezhnaya, the only place you’d ever called home until today. Fresh off the boat with sea legs, you make your way off the docks toward getting all your things in order– food, drink, and sleep. Heavy emphasis on sleep.

Djafar Tavern was nestled on the side of town, dozens of patrons chittering outside at the tables enjoying the drink and beautiful warm weather. Surely they’d have rooms available, right?

You strolled up to the heavy wooden doors, amazed at the intricacies carved within. It was a wonder how long it took the carpenter to notch each and every design into the stained wood, fitted perfectly in its hinges to show off to the world.

Back in Snezhnaya, you’d seen plenty of artisanal work, and they were nothing to scoff at. In fact, you’d wager your nation was one of the more proud ones around when it came to the livelihoods of craftsmen. 

Your nation. Hah. 

It was that notion that reminded you why you were even in Sumeru in the first place. 

With a deep inhale, you step inside the tavern, the scent of warm spices, aged wood, and faintly sweet wine wrapping around you like a much-needed embrace. The chatter inside is a low hum, a comfortable backdrop against the ache still lodged in your chest. It’s lively, sure, but not overwhelming—exactly what you need right now.

You make your way to the bar, dropping onto the stool with a quiet sigh. The weight in your limbs isn’t just from travel fatigue—it’s from the sheer exhaustion of holding yourself together. Of pretending you were fine when, in reality, you’d left everything behind.

No more crisp winter mornings in Snezhnaya. No more familiar streets, no more shared apartment, no more him.

You swallow hard, blinking against the sting creeping at the edges of your vision. No, you weren’t doing this. Not here, not now.

"Something strong," you murmur to the bartender, voice rougher than you’d like.

The man nods, quickly sliding a glass toward you, the amber liquid sloshing slightly. You don't ask what it is. You just lift it to your lips and drink. The burn is immediate, and you welcome it.

A dry laugh slips from you as you swirl the remaining liquid in your glass. “Pathetic, huh?” you mutter, barely above a whisper. “First night in a new place and I’m already drowning my sorrows. Classic.”

The stool next to you shifts. You don’t pay it much mind at first—just another patron settling in—but then you hear it:

“Wouldn’t call it classic, necessarily,” a smooth voice muses, the tone rich with something between curiosity and amusement. “But I would say it’s a bit cliché.”

You blink, slowly turning your head.

Sunset eyes meet yours—bright, intelligent, and just a little bit tipsy themselves. The man beside you is striking, with wavy blonde hair that falls in tousled layers around his sharp features. He’s draped in a red cape, gold accents catching the dim light, and even in the haze of alcohol, you recognize the look in his eyes.

The look of someone who’s also running from something.

He lifts his own glass in a half-toast. “To the art of self-pity, I suppose?”

You scoff, though there’s no real venom in it. “Eavesdropping is so charming.”

He grins, unabashed. “Not my fault you were practically talking to the whole tavern.” He takes a sip of his drink, watching you over the rim. “Besides, I couldn’t just let such a dramatic statement go unchecked.”

You huff, shaking your head. “Yeah? And what would you call it then?”

His smile falters—just slightly.

“Necessary,” he murmurs.

You don’t expect the honesty, the quiet weight behind the word. But before you can ask, before you can pry, he plasters that easy smirk back on his face and offers you his hand.

“Kaveh,” he introduces, tilting his head. “And you?”

You hesitate, then sigh, sliding your palm into his. “Y/N.”

His grip is warm, solid, grounding in a way you didn’t know you needed.

“Well, Y/N,” he drawls, releasing your hand and leaning forward on his elbows, “if you’re going to drown your sorrows, you might as well have some good company while you do it.”

And somehow, despite everything, you find yourself smirking.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You snort, swirling the last remnants of your drink in your glass before tipping it back. “Good company, huh?” You tilt your head, smirking. “That depends on what kind of company you are, Kaveh.”

His lips curl at the edges, something playful but measured. “Well, I’d like to think I’m great company. Award-winning, even. But I suppose that depends on what kind of night you’re hoping for.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against the bar. “And what kind of night are you hoping for?”

His Sunset eyes flicker with something unreadable before he rests his chin on one hand, elbow propped up lazily. “One that makes tomorrow seem a little less miserable,” he says, casual, but there’s something about the way he says it—like it’s not the first time he’s needed to forget.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your empty glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Kaveh grins and signals the bartender. Another round appears in front of you in seconds, and you don’t hesitate before lifting it. “So,” you exhale after a slow sip. “You planning to be vague and mysterious all night, or do I get to hear why you look like you’d rather be anywhere else?”

Kaveh chuckles, low and amused. “Oh, I don’t know. I could say the same for you.”

You roll your eyes. “I asked you first.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, making the golden strands fall even messier than before. “It’s not a particularly exciting story. I may have just escaped from a conversation with my roommate. He has this annoying little habit of pointing out my flaws—a delightful skill of his, really.”

You quirk a brow. “And what flaws are those?”

Kaveh takes a slow sip of his drink, considering. “Oh, you know. Being ‘too emotional.’ ‘Impulsive.’ Having a spending problem. The usual.”

You smirk. “So, you’re an expensive mess.”

His hand flies to his chest, mock-offended. “I prefer the term passionate artisan.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think your roommate is wrong. You do seem a little… dramatic.”

“I am not dramatic,” Kaveh huffs, though the twinkle in his eye suggests otherwise. “I just happen to have strong opinions and deep artistic sensitivities.”

“Right. And that’s why you’re sulking at a bar instead of proving him wrong?”

He lifts a finger as if about to argue, then sighs, slumping forward with a groan. “Ugh. You might have a point.”

You smirk, satisfied. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least your drama is self-inflicted.”

Kaveh cocks a brow, intrigued. “And yours isn’t?”

You exhale through your nose, leaning back slightly. “Nope. Mine’s the ‘I just left my entire life behind because my ex turned out to be a massive disappointment’ kind of drama.”

His eyes widen just a little. “Oof. That’s the big leagues of drama.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter, running a hand down your face. “One minute, you’re making plans, building a life together—then suddenly, you’re just… done. And now I’m here, halfway across the world, drinking with some guy who calls himself an ‘artistic genius.’”

Kaveh smirks. “Self-proclaimed artistic genius. Let’s not forget that part.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Wouldn’t want to misrepresent you.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that lingers just long enough to let the weight of the conversation sink in. Kaveh is watching you, his expression less teasing now, more thoughtful.

Then, he lifts his drink in a quiet toast. “To new beginnings, then.”

Your throat tightens for half a second, but you clink your glass against his anyway. “To moving on.”

You both drink, letting the sentiment settle. The weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy now. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that, for once, you’re sitting next to someone who isn’t pitying you, who isn’t feeding you useless clichés about how things happen for a reason.

No. Kaveh gets it.

The tavern was alive with warmth, a stark contrast to the crisp air of Snezhnaya you were used to. Golden light flickered from lanterns strung along the walls, their glow pooling across the wooden floors like melted honey. The scent of roasted spices and aged wine wove through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter from a particularly rowdy table in the corner.

You exhaled, letting the warmth sink into your skin, into the bones that still carried the cold of home.

Snezhnaya had never been kind like this.

A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts.

“You’re thinking awfully hard for someone who just toasted to ‘moving on,’” Kaveh mused, swirling the remnants of his drink in slow, lazy circles. The liquid caught the light in deep amber ribbons, like firelight reflected in glass.

You tilted your head, considering him. “You always this nosy?”

His lips curled in an easy grin, but the gleam in his eyes was sharper, more perceptive than his teasing tone let on. “Only when I find someone interesting.”

You huffed, letting your fingers trail along the rim of your glass. “I was just thinking about how different it is here.”

Kaveh leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. “Ah, Snezhnaya. The land of ice and stone-faced diplomats. How does it compare to our humble, sun-drenched chaos?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You make Sumeru sound like a painting.”

His grin widened. “Oh, but it is. Everything is. You just have to know how to look.”

You hummed, not sure if you agreed. Still, you glanced around—at the deep, lush wood of the beams, at the intricate floral carvings twisting along the support columns, at the way the lamplight spilled in soft, golden pools over every worn table. Maybe he had a point.

“Snezhnaya’s not a painting,” you said after a beat. “It’s more like… a sculpture. Carved by force. Shaped by necessity.”

Kaveh’s expression shifted—curious, intrigued. “You sound like someone who knows exactly what it took to chisel it.”

You tapped a finger against your glass. “You grow up there, you don’t have a choice. It’s all about control, structure—everything has a place, and if you don’t fit into it, well…” You trailed off, watching as condensation formed against the smooth glass, tracing patterns you weren’t sure you’d finish.

Kaveh watched you carefully, but—thank the Archons—didn’t push. Instead, he took another slow sip of his drink before setting it down with a quiet clink. “And where exactly did you fit?”

You chuckled, the sound short, almost bitter. “Wherever I was told to.”

His brows lifted slightly, but again, he didn’t pry. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling dramatically. “See, that is why I could never live in Snezhnaya. I’d be exiled within a week for refusing to follow orders.”

You laughed, genuinely this time. “No, I think they’d let you stay—just for entertainment value alone.”

Kaveh gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “So, I’d be a court jester? Not exactly the legacy I was hoping for.”

You shrugged. “Could be worse. You’d be rich.”

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples. “You know, I keep hearing that, and yet, my debts remain tragically unpaid.”

“Because you spend all your money on architecture.”

“I invest in beauty,” he corrected, pointing a finger at you.

“You overpay for furniture,” you deadpanned.

“I have taste.”

“You have impulse control issues.”

Kaveh gaped at you. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “Not as much as your financial choices do.”

He groaned, dragging his hands down his face before peering at you through his fingers. “Are all Snezhnayans this ruthless, or did I just get lucky?”

You grinned, propping your chin in your palm, mirroring his earlier posture. “What do you think?”

Kaveh exhaled, shaking his head with a rueful chuckle. “I think I’d be terrible at living in Snezhnaya.”

You shrugged. “You might surprise yourself.”

He studied you for a moment, the humor in his gaze giving way to something softer, something thoughtful. “And what about you? You think you might surprise yourself here?”

The question caught you off guard. Not because it was invasive, but because it was… honest.

You glanced down at your drink, watching the way the liquid shifted under the candlelight. Did you?

You didn’t have an answer yet.

So instead, you sighed, rolling your shoulders as if physically shaking off the weight of the conversation. “I think,” you mused, reaching for your drink once more, “I could use another round.”

Kaveh let the shift happen, let the moment breathe. Then, with a smirk, he signaled the bartender. “You know, I do believe in investing in things of value.”

You arched a brow. “And?”

“And this conversation, my dear, is priceless.”

You snorted. “That your way of saying you’re paying?”

Kaveh winked. “It’s my way of saying I hope you can keep up.”

You shook your head, laughing as the bartender set another drink in front of you. “Kaveh, I think I’m gonna be just fine.”

Somewhere between the third and fourth drink, the teasing started to shift.

It was subtle at first—a lingering glance, a brush of fingers as Kaveh handed you your next glass, a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there before. The edges of the world softened, the weight of Snezhnaya, of the past, of every damn thing that had been sitting heavy on your chest—gone, melted away like ice under the Sumeru sun.

You weren’t drunk. Not quite. But you weren’t sober either, and neither was Kaveh.

His laugh had become looser, richer, his gestures more animated as he talked—hands flying, eyes gleaming with every exaggerated story about his architectural misadventures. He was dramatic in a way that should have been ridiculous, but instead, you found yourself leaning into it, hanging onto the way his voice lilted, the way he smirked just before delivering a particularly scathing self-own.

And maybe, just maybe—you had started flirting.

“Tell me something,” Kaveh mused, swirling his drink before lifting it to his lips. “Are all Snezhnayans this effortlessly beautiful, or are you just some kind of anomaly?”

You raised an eyebrow, though your lips twitched into a smirk. “Effortless? That’s a bold assumption.”

His gaze flickered over you, slow, appreciative. “Oh, I don’t know. You make it look easy.”

The heat behind his words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. You leaned forward, propping your chin on your hand, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “You use that line on all the newcomers, or am I just special?”

Kaveh grinned, resting an elbow on the table as he mirrored your posture. “Oh, you’re special, alright. Not everyone can keep up with me, you know.”

You huffed a laugh, letting your fingers toy with the rim of your glass. “A tragic fate, really.”

He sighed, feigning sorrow. “Truly. And yet, here I am, forced to endure it.”

“You must be suffering.”

“I am.” His hand landed over his heart, Sunset eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you could make it up to me.”

You tilted your head, playing along. “Oh? And how would I do that?”

He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the warmth of spiced liquor on his breath. “Buy me another round.”

You scoffed. “You’re terrible at this.”

Kaveh let out a low chuckle, tipping his drink in your direction. “Oh, cutie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something deeper, something smoother. “That wasn’t my real suggestion.”

Your breath hitched. Just slightly.

Because this was different.

This wasn’t just playful anymore.

The weight in his gaze wasn’t just teasing, wasn’t just light-hearted banter—it was intentional.

And Archons, did you want to see just how far you could push it.

“Then what was?” you asked, voice steady, measured, a challenge laced in every syllable.

Kaveh hummed, dragging his fingers idly along the condensation of his glass, considering you like a puzzle he wanted to take apart, piece by piece.

“Well,” he mused, “I was going to say you could admire my work.”

You smirked. “What, your blueprints?”

“My home.”

You stilled. Just briefly.

Oh.

That was it, wasn’t it?

The shift. The invitation wrapped in a casual tone, delivered with just the right amount of ease to make it seem harmless—but there was nothing harmless about the way he was looking at you now.

And there was nothing innocent about the way you leaned in just slightly, your fingers ghosting the stem of your glass.

“Your home, huh?” you mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And what exactly am I supposed to admire?”

Kaveh’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Oh, you’ll see.”

The air between you felt charged, humming with something unspoken, something unrestrained.

And then, without thinking, without questioning—without a second of hesitation, you downed the last sip of your drink and stood, arching an expectant brow.

“Well?” You gestured toward the door. “Are you giving me the tour or not?”

Kaveh blinked once, clearly caught off guard by how quickly you called his bluff. But then his expression morphed into something sharper, something starved—and without another word, he stood, tossing a few mora onto the table before grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit.

The cool Sumeru night hit you like a shock to the system, but it didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t thinking about the night air.

You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Kaveh’s grip tightened around yours as he led you through the winding streets.

You weren’t thinking about anything except the fact that whatever this was—whatever this night became—you didn’t want to stop it.

The streets of Sumeru felt quieter now, the lingering warmth of the day settling into a balmy night. Lanterns flickered above, casting long, golden shadows along the winding pathways as Kaveh led you through the city’s twisting corridors with an ease that spoke of years spent navigating them.

But you barely noticed.

Because all of your attention was fixed on the man beside you.

Kaveh hadn’t let go of your hand—not entirely. His fingers still lingered, brushing against yours in a way that was almost accidental, almost innocent, but you weren’t stupid. Not when his touch was deliberate, not when his thumb ghosted over the curve of your knuckles every so often like he was testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

And neither did he.

“Gotta admit,” Kaveh mused, voice light, teasing, as he glanced down at you. “For someone who just arrived in Sumeru, you sure seem comfortable following a stranger home.”

You smirked. “Should I be worried?”

His sunset eyes gleamed under the lantern light. “Depends.”

You arched a brow. “On?”

His grip tightened—just slightly—as he gave your hand a not-so-innocent tug, just enough to make you stumble a step closer, just enough to make the space between you disappear.

“On whether or not you handle disappointment well,” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Oh, he was playing dirty.

You swallowed, tilting your head, meeting his gaze with the kind of challenge he had to know was dangerous. “You worried about underperforming, architect?”

Kaveh let out a low, amused chuckle, his smirk widening. “Cutie, you should be worried about keeping up with me.”

Your stomach flipped.

He was good. Too good.

But you weren’t about to let him have all the fun.

You leaned in just slightly, lowering your voice to something dangerously close to a whisper. “That’s funny,” you mused, eyes flicking over him slowly. Intentionally. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type to go slow.”

Kaveh inhaled sharply—so slight you almost missed it.

Almost.

But then he recovered just as quickly, flashing you that easy, golden grin that was entirely too confident.

“Depends on what I’m working with,” he murmured.

Your fingers twitched against his, and you swore you felt the way his thumb rubbed over your pulse—slow, calculated, taunting.

You exhaled, shaking your head, laughing—partly because of the ridiculousness of it all, partly because Archons, you weren’t used to being outmatched.

And he knew it.

The worst part? He was enjoying it.

“So,” you said, shifting the conversation before you did something stupid, “are you always this forward with strangers, or am I just special?”

Kaveh hummed, as if considering, then shot you a lazy smirk. “Oh, you’re special.”

Your heart shouldn’t have stuttered at that. But it did.

Damn him.

Before you could fire back, Kaveh suddenly stopped, tugging you to a halt in front of a tall, ornate building—his home.

No turning back now.

Kaveh exhaled dramatically, throwing an arm out. “Here we are!”

You arched a brow, glancing at the entrance, then back at him. “No grand speech? No last-minute warnings?”

He grinned, stepping up to his door and pushing it open, shooting you a look over his shoulder. “Oh, cutie,” he mused, voice dropping just enough to make your skin tingle. “The only warning you need is that once you step inside, I might not let you leave.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking.

And that?

That was the problem.

Because you didn’t want him to be joking.

You wanted to test him.

You wanted to see just how far this could go.

So you smirked and stepped forward, brushing past him as you crossed the threshold into his world.

“Guess I’ll have to take my chances, then.”

And the way Kaveh exhaled, the way his sunset eyes darkened as he shut the door behind you?

You had a feeling you’d just made a very, very reckless decision.

The door clicked shut behind you, the soft echo of it settling into the stillness of the house. Kaveh let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders before running a hand through his tousled blond hair.

It was a nice place—too nice, if you were being honest. Sumeran architecture was beautiful, intricate, filled with warm golden hues and carefully carved details, but this? This was something else entirely.

Polished floors gleamed beneath the soft glow of lantern light. Arching bookshelves lined the walls, filled to bursting with texts on engineering, history, and—unsurprisingly—architecture. A large drafting table sat near the window, covered in messily stacked blueprints and half-sketched designs. Papers were everywhere, scattered in organized chaos, and somehow, the place smelled like cedarwood, ink, and something faintly sweet.

You smirked. Kaveh would be the type to have a home that’s as dramatic as he is.

And speaking of drama—

The man in question suddenly straightened up, clearing his throat as he shot a glance toward the hallway.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured, raising a finger before swiftly padding forward, sticking his head around the corner with a suspicious level of caution.

You blinked. “What, is there a trap door or something?”

Kaveh hushed you, waving a hand frantically behind his back.

You watched, amused, as he listened carefully, his head tilting toward one of the rooms. His eyes narrowed, as if calculating something extremely important.

Then, after a long moment, he exhaled in relief.

“Alright,” he said, relaxing as he turned back to you, grinning. “We’re good.”

You arched a brow. “Were you expecting a ghost? Because I really don’t—”

“Worse.” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically, expression grave. “Alhaitham.”

You snorted. “Your roommate?”

“My parasitic roommate,” Kaveh corrected, scrunching his nose. “And the last thing I need is him ruining the mood.”

You tilted your head, arms crossing as you leaned against the nearest wall, grinning. “The mood, huh?”

Kaveh’s lips parted like he was about to protest—but then stopped.

Because you caught him.

You knew exactly what he meant, and instead of covering it up, you were making him own it.

His sunset eyes flickered, and just like that, the hesitation melted away into something far more dangerous.

“The mood,” he repeated smoothly, stepping closer—just enough for the air to shift. “Or did you think I invited you here for a friendly drink?”

Your breath caught for half a second.

So that’s how we’re playing this?

You licked your lips, watching the way his gaze flickered down, the subtle clench of his jaw at the movement not going unnoticed.

“I don’t know,” you mused, tilting your head in mock innocence. “For someone who’s so worried about his roommate overhearing things, you seem awfully confident about what’s going to happen next.”

Kaveh chuckled, low and warm, and Archons, it was unfair how good he sounded.

“My sweet Y/N,” he murmured, raising a hand to lightly brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “If I were truly confident, I wouldn’t have let you get a head start on teasing me at the tavern.”

His touch burned.

And he knew it.

Because the second your breath hitched, the second you didn’t pull away, Kaveh’s smirk widened.

You exhaled through your nose, composing yourself. “So, what? You’re saying you were letting me win?”

Kaveh hummed, his fingertips ghosting down your arm, barely touching, just hovering close enough to feel.

“Not quite,” he murmured. “I’m just saying…” His voice dipped, teasing, sunset eyes dark with something deliberate. “I hope you weren’t planning to leave so soon.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Kaveh was dangerous when he was bold.

The distance between you was nonexistent now—a breath, a flicker of hesitation, a pause that stretched just long enough to make the air too thick to breathe properly.

Kaveh didn’t step back.

Neither did you.

His fingers lingered at your wrist, tracing lazy, featherlight patterns against your skin—enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. The kind of touch meant to drive someone insane.

Sunset eyes burned into you, sharp and knowing, waiting.

Waiting for what, exactly? For you to break first? To give in?

He was playing a game.

And damn it, you wanted to win.

So, instead of folding, instead of letting the slow crawl of heat unravel you, you smirked—slow, deliberate, the same way he had at the tavern, when he knew he had you hooked but wouldn’t bite just yet.

You dragged your fingertips up the front of his chest, slow enough to feel the way his breath hitched before he schooled his expression back into its lazy confidence.

“Does this patience of yours ever run out, Kaveh?” you mused, voice silky smooth, like you weren’t already feeling the heat of his body soaking into yours.

Kaveh hummed, tilting his head slightly—considering you, sizing you up like a blueprint he wasn’t quite finished drafting.

“It depends,” he said finally, voice low, warm, his other hand brushing the outside of your hip, his thumb dragging slowly against the fabric of your clothes. “Are you planning on testing it?”

Your lips curled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” you murmured, your fingers trailing up, slow, teasing—resting just beneath the sharp line of his jaw. “But I will say… I don’t think you’ve ever been this quiet all night.”

Kaveh let out a breathy laugh, rich and deep, his hand at your hip gripping just a little tighter.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk,” he murmured, voice thick with implication.

Your pulse jumped.

Not a tease. Not a dance around the obvious.

A confession.

Your fingers tightened slightly at his jaw, nails lightly scratching, just enough to make him breathe deeper, slower.

“Then what do you want?” you asked, leaning in, barely a whisper between you.

Kaveh’s smirk faltered, just slightly.

His grip on your hip tightened, enough to pull you flush against him, enough to make your breath catch.

His voice was a low murmur against your lips, a ghost of a touch.

“Oh, cutie,” he purred, tilting his head just enough to barely brush his nose against yours. “I think you already know.”

Kaveh wasn’t in a hurry.

He should have been—he really, really should have been.

But the sight of you, bathed in the soft glow of his dimly lit room, lips still parted from the way he had whispered against them, skin flushed from the warmth of Sumeru’s air and something entirely different now—

He was going to savor this.

The door shut behind you both with a quiet click, the sound sealing your fate.

No more distractions.

No more teasing looks across a crowded tavern.

No more restraint.

And yet—Kaveh still didn’t touch you.

Not yet.

Instead, he watched you.

Watched the way your gaze flicked around his space—the cluttered desk, the half-rolled blueprints, the sketches pinned messily against the wall. Watched the way your fingers hovered over the carved details of his furniture, the intricate patterns of the woodwork—the work of a man who built beauty but had never had someone admire it quite like this.

His breath hitched when you finally turned to him.

Slow. Deliberate.

“You live with Alhaitham,” you murmured, voice silky, knowing. “So where is he?”

Kaveh huffed and shrugged, rolling his eyes, though the corner of his lips twitched.

“Not here,” he said smoothly, stepping forward, closing the space between you inch by inch. “And before you ask—no, he won’t be back anytime soon.If he’s still not home, he won’t be tonight.”

Your smile was pure mischief.

“How convenient.”

His sunset eyes flashed.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he murmured.

Then—finally—he reached for you.

One hand at your hip. The other ghosting up your arm, your shoulder, your jaw.

Slow. So painfully slow.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t pull away.

And when his fingers finally tilted your chin up, when his lips hovered just over yours, you could feel the tension snapping like live wires between you.

Kaveh exhaled, slow, measured.

“You were so bold downstairs,” he mused, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “Where did all that confidence go, hm?”

Your breath hitched.

Kaveh grinned.

“Oh,” he purred, leaning in, just barely, just enough to feel your sharp inhale. “There it is.”

Then—he kissed you.

And damn if it wasn’t the most devastating thing.

Soft at first. Gentle. Controlled.

But then—not.

It was needy, urgent, a push and pull between two people who had spent the night dancing around the inevitable.

His hand tightened on your hips, fingers pressing firm against the fabric of your clothes, gripping like he was afraid to let go. Like he didn’t want to.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, tugging, pushing until his back hit the edge of the desk, sending rolled parchment tumbling to the floor.

Kaveh only laughed against your lips, breathless, exhilarated.

“You’re impatient,” he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the column of your throat.

His grin was pure sin, his hands slipping lower, tugging you closer, closer.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” he murmured, voice honey-smooth, warm and wicked all at once.

Kaveh was done waiting.

No more teasing.

No more pretty words.

The moment your back hit his bed, his patience shattered.

He loomed over you, sunset eyes dark with heat, lips parted from stolen breath, hands bracing against the mattress on either side of you.

"You wanted to make a mess of me tonight, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice low, smooth, dripping with something dangerous.

His fingers trailed slowly down your side, ghosting over fabric, barely there, barely touching—

And then, all at once, he grabbed you.

A sharp tug, a delicious press of heat, and suddenly, you were flush against him, his body caging you in, his breath fanning against your jaw.

“Congratulations,” Kaveh murmured, his lips grazing your ear.

“You’ve got exactly what you wanted.”

You barely had time to think before Kaveh was on you.

His lips met yours again, soft at first, tasting, testing— but when you didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate, something shifted.

Something unraveled.

You weren’t sure who deepened this kiss first, but suddenly it wasn’t soft anymore. Suddenly, it was needy, hungry, urgent—like two people who had spent far too long holding back.

His hands were warm. A little clumsy in his tipsiness, but still so deliberate as he traced along your waist, your back, pulling you closer.

And oh, the way he kissed.

Like he needed this, needed you, like he had been holding back all night and just waiting for an excuse.

You sighed against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair, and Kaveh groaned, low in his throat, his grip tightening.

“You taste like alcohol,” you murmured, dazed, a little breathless.

He huffed a laugh, forehead resting against yours. “So do you.”

You bit your lip, barely resisting the impulse to kiss him again.

Kaveh didn’t move back.

Instead, his fingers ghosted down your arms, slower this time, more sure.

“You know,” he murmured, voice dropping just a little, just enough to make your stomach flip, “for someone who just got out of a relationship, you’re handling this very well.”

You smirked, emboldened by the wine, by the warmth of him, of this.

“Maybe I was ready for a distraction.”

Kaveh exhaled, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “Careful.” His hands tightened on your hips. “I might take that as an invitation.”

You swallowed, pulse skipping.

“…Maybe it is.”

His sunset eyes flickered, and suddenly, he was pulling you toward him again, kissing you deeper this time.

Messier.

Needier.

This wasn’t pretend. This wasn’t just tipsy teasing.

This was real.

This was happening.

And neither of you had any intention of stopping now.

Kaveh’s hands were everywhere. Warm, eager, mapping your body like a blueprint, like he was trying to memorize every curve, every sigh, every little shiver beneath his fingertips.

And you let him.

No second-guessing. No guilt. No thinking.

Just this. Just him.

His lips trailed lower, slower, teasing down your jaw, across your throat, pressing heated kisses like he was determined to make you forget everything but him.

“You’re not going to regret this, are you?” he murmured, breath hot against your skin, voice low, waiting.

You didn’t hesitate. “No.”

That was all he needed.

Kaveh groaned softly, hands sliding under your clothing, pushing fabric out of the way with an impatience that made your head spin.

And then there was nothing between you.

The world blurred. The air crackled.

This wasn’t rushed.

No, he made sure of that.

Every kiss, every touch—he took his time, savoring the way you responded, the way you sighed his name like it was the only one that mattered.

And when he finally pressed into you, filled you with his length, you gasped, fingers gripping his shoulders, feeling him shudder at the sensation.

“Fuck—” Kaveh’s voice was wrecked, sunset eyes hazy, blown wide. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours as he moved, slow at first, relishing in every breathless moan, every little shift of your hips.

His hands found yours, fingers intertwining, pinning them above your head as he thrust deeper.

You were gone.

Lost in the heat of him, the fevered kisses, the desperate way he held you like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance.

And maybe that was the truth.

Maybe you both knew this could only be tonight.

But right now, that didn’t matter.

Because he had you.

And you had him.

And neither of you planned to stop until there was nothing left to take.

Sunlight.

Warm and golden, it streamed through the wooden blinds, painting long stripes across the floorboards, your skin, his skin. You squinted against it, the unfamiliar ceiling above you making your brain lag as it tried to catch up.

Where were you?

The bed beneath you was too soft, too warm. The air smelled different—spiced, woodsy, so unlike the crisp cold of Snezhnaya.

And then, a breath against the nape of your neck.

Your entire body tensed.

Kaveh.

The realization settled in slow, like ink bleeding into parchment. The heat of his body against yours, the tangled mess of sheets, the way his arm had found its way around your waist sometime during the night.

Your heart did something weird in your chest.

Not panic. Not regret. Just… something.

Moving carefully, you turned your head just enough to glance over your shoulder.

He was still asleep.

Or at least, you thought he was.

His golden hair was a tousled mess, strands falling over his closed eyes, breath steady, lips slightly parted. The faintest crease remained between his brows, like even in sleep, he couldn’t escape whatever weight always seemed to linger in his mind.

It hit you then—you didn’t actually know what to do.

You had nowhere to be. No real plan for the morning after. No well-rehearsed excuse to grab your clothes, mumble something about needing to leave, and vanish before things got too real.

Because leaving meant what?

Going back?

You had nowhere to go back to.

The thought left a strange hollowness in your chest.

And as if sensing the shift in your thoughts, Kaveh stirred beside you.

A slow inhale, a small sigh.

Then, his arm tightened just slightly, fingers flexing against your hip as if anchoring himself to you.

Your stomach flipped.

Was he awake?

Did it matter?

Swallowing down the foreign rush of something, you focused on the ceiling again, trying to steady yourself, ground yourself.

Maybe, just for this morning, until he said otherwise, you could stay.

[whirlybirbs]

Miss birbs, my dearly beloved feral Boston cryptid, I have a question:

My partner and I were gifted a surprise vacation from his parents to any state chosen at random. We got Massachusetts 😅

We've never been and I was wondering if you had any suggestions? Recommendations? Places to avoid or any warnings we should heed? We're open to anything and we're going the first week of July.

We haven't decided whether to fly or take an Amtrak out. Is Boston Logan decent enough or is it equivalent to DFW?

xoxoxo

[CUE THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR FLUTES & DRUMS]

now is my time to shine.

hot take: i love logan airport. but i say this after having recently been in fort lauderdale's fuckass airport for about five hours too long. amtrak is also easy, that will bring you into either north or south station depending on your point of origin — those two spots are nestled in the city of boston!

(side note: don't rely on the mbta to get you anywhere on time while you're here. the orange line literally catches on fire every other month. the red line cannot stay on its tracks. the green line sounds like its using echo location.)

from a tourist point of view, i frankly ignore anything west of framingham. i spent enough of my developmental years in worcester and i can firmly say it ain't it from a wooooaaahhhh perspective.

boston, compared to other US cities, is pretty small (especially once you nail how to drive in it, yippee, that's me). top five things i tell everyone to do when in the city of boston:

isabella stuart gardner museum — i love her, she is amazing and i prefer her to the mfa just because the lore and sights!

red sox games — i hate to say it but i fucking love baseball and i love fenway park even more. games can be pricey these days, but nothing beats a night game + hot dog + beer and heckling from the grandstands

dani's queer bar / club cafe / dbar — these are my favorite gay bars in boston if you're of that sort. personally, i would rather be shot dead than be seen in midway cafe for the infamous queeroke but it could be a blast if you aren't acutely aware of every other person's dating history and beef (this is a small city)

mfa first fridays — if you can time it right! they do themed nights!

chinatown — if you hop off the t by the boston public garden, you can basically walk through the theater district (also fun) and head into chinatown. amazing food, really cool art, and on the way out you can stop for a drink at my shayla: ruka.

modern pastry in the north end — i promise you fuck all that mike's pastries noise. go here, then go to the speakeasy downstairs and order their banana bread martini. that is bliss.

encore — i hate casinos but i did take a free harbor cruise to encore from the north end (you can too) while blasted on aforementioned banana bread martinis and it was great

i will most likely thing of more the moment i post this. now, the real deal, tourist traps in boston that suck absolute ass:

i don't give a shit what anyone says i fucking hate newbury street. nothing good happens on newbury street. oh, there's a cafe you really like on newbury street? cool, i won't be going. it's simply not for people like me, in my meager tax bracket.

don't go to harvard. it's boring. i basically lived on their campus and i promise you the 'park the car in harvard yard' jokes are not worth it. you can't park a car there. it's literally impossible.

listen, it's been a minute since i've walked the freedom trail but that 2.5 mile long stretch is some of the most harrowing shit. people are going to know you're a tourist.

fundamentally speaking the idea of a duck boat should align with my values and morals however: i have seen the way these fuckers drive. also, i have no idea the cost of a one hour long spin around the city in something called jason varitek's left nut or something but it cannot be cheap.

you should definitely head to the cape — live out that yuppie old money dream, sure, but also if you head down to p-town during a certain week in july then you're bound to encounter the most beautiful migration of our species: bear week.

if you get the chance, while you're down there, take a swing over to nantucket. it's a short ferry ride over and good for a day trip. that's something i haven't done since i was a kid and it's reaaallll cute over there.

if you're the outdoorsy type, there are a lot of good hiking spots in our state. me and the queer girlies like to go swimming at walden pond that a bunch of sirens in o brother where art thou.

okay. i fear i have given you all too much information about my whereabouts any given weekend. if you see me in public no you didn't.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

All the books I reviewed in 2023 (Graphic Novels)

Next Tuesday (December 5), I'm at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill, NC, with my new solarpunk novel The Lost Cause, which 350.org's Bill McKibben called "The first great YIMBY novel: perceptive, scientifically sound, and extraordinarily hopeful."

It's that time of year again, when I round up all the books I reviewed for my newsletter in the previous year. I posted 21 reviews last year, covering 31 books (there are two series in there!). I also published three books of my own last year (two novels and one nonfiction). A busy year in books!

Every year, these roundups remind me that I did actually manager to get a lot of reading done, even if the list of extremely good books that I didn't read is much longer than the list of books I did read. I read many of these books while doing physiotherapy for my chronic pain, specifically as audiobooks I listened to on my underwater MP3 player while doing my daily laps at the public pool across the street from my house.

After many years of using generic Chinese waterproof MP3s players – whose quality steadily declined over a decade – I gave up and bought a brand-name player, a Shokz Openswim. So far, I have no complaints. Thanks to reader Abbas Halai for recommending this!

https://shokz.com/products/openswim

I load up this gadget with audiobook MP3s bought from Libro.fm, a fantastic, DRM-free alternative to Audible, which is both a monopolist and a prolific wage-thief with a documented history of stealing from writers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

All right, enough with the process notes, on to the reviews!

GRAPHIC NOVELS

I. Shubiek Lubiek by Deena Mohamed

An intricate alternate history in which wishes are real, and must be refined from a kind of raw wish-stuff that has to be dug out of the earth. Naturally, this has been an important element of geopolitics and colonization, especially since the wish-stuff is concentrated in the global south, particularly Egypt, the setting for our tale. The framing device for the trilogy is the tale of three "first class" wishes: these are the most powerful wishes that civilians are allowed to use, the kind of thing you might use to cure cancer or reverse a crop-failure.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/11/your-wish/#is-my-command

II. Ducks by Kate Beaton

In 2005, Beaton was a newly minted art-school grad facing a crushing load of student debt, a debt she would never be able to manage in the crumbling, post-boom economy of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Like so many Maritimers, she left the home that meant everything for her to travel to Alberta, where the tar sands oil boom promised unmatched riches for anyone willing to take them. Beaton's memoir describes the following four years, as she works her way into a series of oil industry jobs in isolated company towns where men outnumber women 50:1 and where whole communities marinate in a literally toxic brew of carcinogens, misogyny, economic desperation and environmental degradation. The story that follows is – naturally – wrenching, but it is also subtle and ambivalent. Beaton finds camaraderie with – and empathy for – the people she works alongside, even amidst unimaginable, grinding workplace harassment that manifests in both obvious and glancing ways.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/14/hark-an-oilpatch/#kate-beaton

III. Justice Warriors by Matt Bors

Justice Warriors is what you'd get if you put Judge Dredd in a blender with Transmetropolitan and set it to chunky. The setup: the elites of a wasted, tormented world have retreated into Bubble City, beneath a hermetically sealed zone. Within Bubble City, everything is run according to the priorities of the descendants of the most internet-poisoned freaks of the modern internet, click- and clout-chasing mushminds full of corporate-washed platitudes about self-care, diversity and equity, wrapped around come-ons for sugary drinks and dubious dropshipper crapola. It's a cop buddy-story dreamed up by Very Online, very angry creators who live in a present-day world where reality is consistently stupider than satire.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/22/libras-assemble/#the-uz

IV. Roaming by Jillian Tamaki and Mariko Tamaki

The story of three young Canadian women meeting up for a getaway to New York City. Zoe and Dani are high-school best friends who haven't seen each other since they graduated and decamped for universities in different cities. Fiona is Dani's art-school classmate, a glamorous and cantankerous artist with an affected air of sophistication. It's a dizzying, beautifully wrought three-body problem as the three protagonists struggle with resentments and love, sex and insecurity. The relationships between Zoe, Dani and Fiona careen wildly from scene to scene and even panel to panel, propelled by sly graphic cues and fantastically understated dialog.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/11/as-canadian-as/#possible-under-the-circumstances

Like I said, this has been a good year in books for me, and it included three books of my own:

I. Red Team Blues (novel, Tor Books US, Head of Zeus UK)

Martin Hench is 67 years old, single, and successful in a career stretching back to the beginnings of Silicon Valley. He lives and roams California in a very comfortable fully-furnished touring bus, The Unsalted Hash, that he bought years ago from a fading rock star. He knows his way around good food and fine drink. He likes intelligent women, and they like him back often enough. Martin is a—contain your excitement—self-employed forensic accountant, a veteran of the long guerilla war between people who want to hide money, and people who want to find it. He knows computer hardware and software alike, including the ins and outs of high-end databases and the kinds of spreadsheets that are designed to conceal rather than reveal. He’s as comfortable with social media as people a quarter his age, and he’s a world-level expert on the kind of international money-laundering and shell-company chicanery used by Fortune 500 companies, mid-divorce billionaires, and international drug gangs alike. He also knows the Valley like the back of his hand, all the secret histories of charismatic company founders and Sand Hill Road VCs. Because he was there at all the beginnings. Now he’s been roped into a job that’s more dangerous than anything he’s ever agreed to before—and it will take every ounce of his skill to get out alive.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

II. The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation (nonfiction, Verso)

We can – we must – dismantle the tech platforms. We must to seize the means of computation by forcing Silicon Valley to do the thing it fears most: interoperate. Interoperability will tear down the walls between technologies, allowing users to leave platforms, remix their media, and reconfigure their devices without corporate permission. Interoperability is the only route to the rapid and enduring annihilation of the platforms. The Internet Con is the disassembly manual we need to take back our internet.

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

III. The Lost Cause (novel, Tor Books US, Head of Zeus UK)

For young Americans a generation from now, climate change isn't controversial. It's just an overwhelming fact of life. And so are the great efforts to contain and mitigate it. Entire cities are being moved inland from the rising seas. Vast clean-energy projects are springing up everywhere. Disaster relief, the mitigation of floods and superstorms, has become a skill for which tens of millions of people are trained every year. The effort is global. It employs everyone who wants to work. Even when national politics oscillates back to right-wing leaders, the momentum is too great; these vast programs cannot be stopped in their tracks.

But there are still those Americans, mostly elderly, who cling to their red baseball caps, their grievances, their huge vehicles, their anger. To their "alternative" news sources that reassure them that their resentment is right and pure and that "climate change" is just a giant scam. And they're your grandfather, your uncle, your great-aunt. And they're not going anywhere. And they’re armed to the teeth. The Lost Cause asks: What do we do about people who cling to the belief that their own children are the enemy? When, in fact, they're often the elders that we love?

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

I wrote nine books during lockdown, and there's plenty more to come. The next one is The Bezzle, a followup to Red Team Blues, which comes out in February:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

While you're waiting for that one, I hope the reviews above will help you connect with some excellent books. If you want more of my reviews, here's my annual roundup from 2022:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/01/bookishness/#2022-in-review

Here's my book reviews from 2021:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/08/required-ish-reading/#bibliography

And here's my book reviews from 2020:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/08/required-reading/#recommended-reading

It's EFF's Power Up Your Donation Week: this week, donations to the Electronic Frontier Foundation are matched 1:1, meaning your money goes twice as far. I've worked with EFF for 22 years now and I have always been - and remain - a major donor, because I've seen firsthand how effective, responsible and brilliant this organization is. Please join me in helping EFF continue its work!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/01/bookmaker/#2023-in-review

[slytherhys]

Noctis Florere

Vampire AU - An Elriel Short Story

AN: Happy Halloween! 🎃

AO3

Chapter One: Bad Omens

In a village like Velaris, where the winters were deadly, and the nights deadlier still, there was no such thing as being too cautious.

Every afternoon, as the streets went from gold to cobalt, the echoes of locks clicking into place could be heard ringing through the village – such a definite sound, legend says, that it could too be heard across the Illyrian Mountains. As soon as the sun set, there was no window left open, no door left unlocked. To keep the cold away, of course, but something else as well. 

As it was, everyone in the kingdom of Prythian knew just how strange Velaris was – they heard the tales of people going missing under mysterious circumstances, of houses that seemed to move during the night. They heard whispers of how no animal seemed to ever cross the village's borders, other than the occasional bat or two. It was why no visitor ever lingered for too long, why their carriages seemed to pick up speed as soon as the rusty brass sign announced the name of the town (Velaris, city of starlight). Why their gazes turned unfocused, their horses restless, no one really knew - some said it was fear, some said it was something older than fear itself. It was why no one ever moved to Velaris – you were simply born here, and then you never left.

That is until, merely 6 years ago, the Archeron sisters came. Their carriage – an old wooden coach that seemed a few miles away from collapsing on itself, pulled by a stubborn, stocky horse they tenderly called father– stopped in front of a small cottage just shy of the city limits.

Their arrival had been odd enough to raise some eyebrows, but that they had arrived just as the sun fled from the sky, clear-faced and a spring in their steps, had driven even the more sceptical into lightening three extra candles. 

That night, not even the bravest dared look outside their windows. Nothing good ever graces the streets of Velaris at sundown, they would say, and so they ignored the wind that seemed just a bit more incessant against their windows, the noises that went beyond the arrival of three young girls. They simply turned off their lights, muttered three quick prayers to the Mother and rushed the youngest children to bed. 

There was simply no need to show bad luck a curious eye. Not when it could stare back.

That the youngest Archeron sister – a pretty little thing with stars in her eyes and a talent for the arts – disappeared no longer than a fortnight later didn't come as a surprise. The people knew what had lurked in the shadows as the young girls made Velaris their new home. They knew it was just a matter of time until one of them would be taken away, gone as if she never were in the first place. She hadn't made a sound - not a scream, not a gasp - but everyone knew exactly who had gotten to her.

The older sister, however, ignored such tales. Only a few days later - the amount of time it had taken her to gather enough supplies to face the cold of the mountains - Nesta Archeron left home, a too-large wool cape around her shoulders, a too-heavy burlap sack on her back, and a determined look on her beautiful face. A quiet conversation had taken place between her and sister, Elain Archeron, which had ended in a hushed goodbye and a resentful agreement. What they had discussed had stayed between them and that cursed horse that always seemed to be paying entirely too much attention.

Don’t know how that girl thinks she’ll survive, the villagers had said as they watched her leave, bitter words hidden beneath soft voices, not when they crawl the streets at night. Elain Archeron had heard their whispers, but she hadn't need to ask who they were. She knew - just as everybody knew - exactly what lived in the mountains.

The Wicked - the only name the Velarians ever allowed themselves to utter when talking about the terrible creatures that lived in the Mountains of Illyrian– the very same creatures they claimed had stolen Feyre Archeron, the ones they believed would take Nesta Archeron as well. With their keen sight and their sharp fangs, there was little that could defeat an Illyrian - they were honed by centuries of survival, predators in the purest form. And as the weeks went by and no one word ever came about the sisters' whereabouts, the villagers grew sure of what it meant, even if Elain Archeron refused to accept it.

Still, no matter how cursed – how marked – the sisters seemed to be, what with their night travels and their eerie disappearances, nothing so stop the people of Velaris from asking Elain Archeron to tend their gardens. 

The more cynical ones would say it was pity – the poor thing had lost both her sisters in a matter of days (something Elain still refuted ardently, that pitiful child) and all she had left was a rude horse and a small cottage to tend to. But the wisest ones - the people that were too smart to shrug it all off as superstitions - knew talent when they saw it, and there was no one more talented that Elain Archeron at keeping the Illyrian bastards away from their homes.

They hadn’t questioned how she knew, how she had learned such things, but it mattered little when, in just a matter of months, every single house in Velaris was surrounded by rosemary, thyme and just enough bushes of lavender. Purples and greens and pinks covered every garden in a lush display that ought to mock the vampires lurking in the shadows - and mock they did, for their wings weren't heard as often, for curses and hisses could be heard during the night, as if they kept trying to cross into places they weren't welcome in. Their fragrances, the people gathered, seemed to keep those damned fangs away from their backyards. 

And so, Elain Archeron – sisterless, innocent, as lovely as she was lonely – became revered in the village of Velaris. Ivy seemed to grow in every corner, the sickeningly sweet smell of the flowers tainting even the foulest booths of the market. No one left their homes after dark – no one was stupid enough to - but now they seemed to breathe a little easier. To sleep a little more deeply.  

Such was the relief, the glee, that no one ever remembered to ask why, exactly, the Archeron cottage seemed so different from all the others - instead of rosemary,  there were evening primroses, blooming only from sundown to sunrise. Instead of thyme, thistles, their prickles as sharp as teeth. And instead of lavender - sweet, innocent lavender - poppies, as scarlet as fresh blood. You need only to open an ancient tome on Botany to find out exactly what they did - who they summoned.

Which explained why, when the people of Velaris seemed to finally lay down to sleep, the door of the Archeron cottage would open and Elain would emerge - ever so lovely - her hands bare, her smile innocent, her voice as sweet as dew as she hummed an old tune about lost souls and tended to her little garden. And she smiled even as the thistles bit into her skin, and she hummed even as the air behind her seemed to stir. 

Yes, Elain was well respected for knowing how to keep the beasts that haunted the streets of Velaris far away, but had they ever wondered if maybe - just maybe - she knew exactly how to call to them as well? 

Elain raised her head slightly when she felt the air around her go still, a curious tilt to her head as she felt a presence behind her. Still, she remained silent, the blood slowly dripping down her fingers, waiting for him to talk first.

And he did. He always did. 

"Miss Archeron," A deep voice rumbled, dark as midnight and just as promising. Elain still didn't dare move. "I believe you called for me?"

[han11dh]

•A Chance Encounter•

- hello, please keep in mind that i'm a begginer with writing stuff. If there's any mistakes or something that doesn't make sense, please do tell me. I really appreticiate it, thank you. <3 -

Dottore x fem!reader

The streets of Sumeru were alive with the vibrant energy of the bustling city. The sun shone brightly, casting a golden glow upon the cobblestone pathways as people hurriedly made their way through the narrow alleyways. Among them was a young woman named (Y/N), a talented medical student with a passion for history and a heart filled with curiosity.

On this particular day, (Y/N) found herself wandering through the famous Sumeru City, mesmerized by the grandeur of the sculptures that adorned the town. Lost in her own world, she hardly noticed the crowd that had gathered around a street performer. Curiosity piqued, she made her way closer to see what the commotion was all about.

As (Y/N) pushed her way through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of a man with a striking appearance. He stood tall and proud, his light blue hair neatly combed back, and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was dressed in a traditional Renaissance outfit, complete with a flowing cape and a feathered hat. It was none other than the famed street performer, Dottore.

Dottore was known throughout the city for his remarkable skills in science and his uncanny ability to captivate his audience with his wit and charm. His performances were filled with laughter and awe, leaving the spectators wanting more. Intrigued by his reputation, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull towards him.

As Dottore continued his act, (Y/N) watched in amazement as he effortlessly injected a needle, then watching his poor victim. The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the square. (Y/N) couldn't help but join in, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm.

Caught up in the excitement, (Y/N) didn't notice Dottore's gaze shifting in her direction. The applause died down, and as the crowd dispersed, she found herself face-to-face with the charismatic performer. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he observed her.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Dottore's voice was smooth and velvety, drawing (Y/N) further into his enchantment. "A beautiful maiden lost in the maze of Florence, perhaps?"

Flustered by his sudden attention, (Y/N) managed to find her voice. "Oh, I... um, I'm not lost. Just... captivated by your experiments."

Dottore chuckled, a melodious sound that made (Y/N)'s heart skip a beat. "Ah, I see. So, you are one who appreciates the fine arts, then?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his captivating gaze. "Yes, I've always had a deep admiration for the arts and the wonders they bring."

Dottore tilted his head, a playful smile dancing upon his lips. "Well, my dear, you have piqued my curiosity. How about we take a leisurely stroll through the streets of the Sumeru? I could show you some of the hidden gems this city has to offer."

(Y/N)'s heart raced at the thought of spending more time with Dottore. She couldn't resist his charming offer. "I would be honored, Dottore."

And so, together, they ventured into the labyrinthine streets of Florence, their laughter and conversation blending harmoniously with the city's rich history. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow upon their surroundings, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel that this chance encounter was the start of something extraordinary.

TIME SKIP

The sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of gold and orange, as (Y/N) and Dottore strolled through the narrow streets of Sumeru. The city seemed to come alive with whispered secrets and hidden wonders as they weaved through the labyrinthine alleys.

Dottore's knowledge of Sumeru's history was unparalleled. He regaled (Y/N) with captivating tales of the city's past, bringing the ancient architecture and famous artworks to life. With each step they took, (Y/N) found herself falling deeper under the spell of Dottore's words and his infectious enthusiasm.

They arrived at the famed Apam Woods, it's elegan branches reaching deep into the starry sky. The caves buzzed with activity as merchants displayed their interests, and the tinkling sounds of laughter and adoration filled the air. Dottore leaned against the stone railing, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"(Y/N), my dear, let me show you something truly extraordinary," he said, extending his hand towards her.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, the weight of the unknown mingling with anticipation. But there was something about Dottore's charisma that drew her closer, melting away her reservations. She placed her hand in his, and together they walked towards a hidden cave beneath the cliff.

As they stepped into the quiet sanctuary, Dottore reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered notebook. Its pages were filled with sketches, notes, and cryptic symbols. He flipped through its worn pages, stopping at a particular drawing.

"Behold, the lost legend of the Dendro Archon," Dottore proclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "Legend has it that beneath this cave lies a hidden passage, a secret tunnel leading to a forgotten world."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened with wonder. She couldn't believe she was about to embark on a journey into the unknown, all in the company of this enigmatic scientist. Her heart raced with anticipation, and she nodded, ready to uncover the mysteries that awaited them.

Dottore led (Y/N) through a concealed entrance, and they descended into the depths of the underground passage. The air grew cooler, and the echoes of their footsteps reverberated through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows, painting the tunnel with an ethereal glow.

As they ventured deeper into the unknown, Dottore's voice filled the silence with tales of ancient civilizations and lost treasures. (Y/N) listened intently, her imagination running wild with the possibilities that lay ahead.

Finally, they emerged into a hidden chamber bathed in soft candlelight. The room was adorned with artifacts and relics, each holding a piece of history within its grasp. Ancient manuscripts and maps lined the walls, and intricate artworks adorned every available surface. It was a treasure trove of knowledge and beauty.

Dottore's eyes shone with a mixture of pride and affection as he observed (Y/N)'s awe-struck expression. "This, my dear, is my sanctuary. A place where the past intertwines with the present, where stories come to life."

(Y/N) approached one of the illuminated manuscripts, her fingers tracing the delicate script. "It's... breathtaking," she whispered, her voice filled with reverence.

Dottore stepped closer, his presence comforting yet electrifying. "It is yours to explore, to unravel the mysteries of the past, and create new stories that will resonate for generations to come."

In that moment, (Y/N) realized that she had stumbled upon more than just a chance encounter with a captivating scientist. She had found a kindred spirit, someone who shared her love for history, adventure, and the magic of the world.

As the candlelight flickered, casting shadows upon their faces, (Y/N) and Dottore exchanged a knowing glance. Their hearts danced to the rhythm of shared dreams, and in that hidden chamber beneath the Sumeru city, a bond was forged that would defy time itself.

[scotianostra]

17th August 1871 saw the death in London of the Scottish landscape painter Patrick Naysmith.

Patrick was the eldest son of the more well known Alexander Naysmith, known as ‘the father of landscape painting in Scotland’. Patrick was named after his father’s friend Patrick Miller of Dalswinton. He was taught the rudiments of drawing and painting by his father before moving to London in 1807. He suffered from poor health and an accident to his right hand when he was young meant that he had to learn to draw left-handed.

He studied under his father, and travelled to London in 1807. Nasmyth was a landscape painter and although his subject matter was usually found in the countryside around London, his style was modelled on the Dutch seventeenth century artists, especially Meindert Hobbema, he was wrongly given the nickname “the English Hobbema, having said that from what I can gather he spent most of his life down south.

His landscapes are described as “pleasing and conventional” and achieved considerable success in their day, I’m not an expert, but enjoy some art, to me his work seemed boring and all the sameish, unlike others Scottish artist like Allan Ramsay Jnr, David Roberts or, in my opinion, the best of them all Henry Raeburn.

Naysmith exhibited at the Royal Academy, Suffolk Street and the British Institute and was one of the founder members of the Royal Society of British Artists. Many of his brothers and sisters were also painters, which led to much confusion about the family and their work he was one of eleven children, of whom Patrick was the eldest. Of the other ten Jane (b.1788), Anne (b.1798) and Charlotte (b.1804) were all landscape painters.

His studio sale was held at Christie’s 18th June 1831. Titles exhibited at the Royal Academy include “View of Windsor Castle”, “A View in the New Forest” and “A Windmill on the River Don, Yorkshire”. His works can be found in museums in: Cape Town; Edinburgh; Glasgow; Hamburg; Liverpool; London, National Gallery, Victoria and Albert Museum; Montreal; New York and Sheffield.

Pics are of the artist, Valley of the Tweed and Edinburgh from Craigleith

You can find a more detailed bio and more pics on him here http://www.thefamousartists.com/patrick-nasmyth

[rareklub]

10 Hidden Small Towns in the USA You Must Visit

The charm of small-town America lies in its unique blend of history, culture, and natural beauty. While major cities attract the spotlight, countless hidden gems across the country offer peaceful escapes and unforgettable experiences. These small towns are perfect for a weekend getaway or a memorable stop on a road trip. Let’s explore ten must-visit destinations.

1. Bisbee, Arizona

Tucked in the Mule Mountains, Bisbee is a historic mining town that has transformed into an artsy haven. Its streets are lined with galleries, quirky shops, and Victorian-style homes. Dive into history with a tour of the Copper Queen Mine or enjoy the cooler temperatures of this mountain retreat as you browse local boutiques.

2. Marfa, Texas

Marfa is where art meets mystery. Known for the unexplained Marfa Lights and the Chinati Foundation’s large-scale installations, this small town in West Texas has become a cultural hotspot. Spend evenings under the famously clear skies, stargazing or simply soaking in the desert’s tranquil beauty.

3. Eureka Springs, Arkansas

Eureka Springs offers a picturesque escape with its Victorian architecture, steep streets, and natural springs. Its vibrant downtown features unique shops and galleries, while the surrounding Ozarks provide ample opportunities for outdoor activities like hiking, biking, or kayaking.

4. Leavenworth, Washington

Experience a slice of Bavaria in Leavenworth, where alpine-style architecture and festive traditions bring European charm to the Pacific Northwest. Enjoy hearty German cuisine, wander the delightful shops, or venture to nearby trails for an unforgettable hiking experience.

5. Mystic, Connecticut

Mystic is a coastal treasure steeped in maritime history. The Mystic Seaport Museum brings the town’s seafaring past to life, while waterfront restaurants serve up some of the best seafood in New England. Take a stroll along the Mystic River to savor the serene ambiance of this charming destination.

6. Taos, New Mexico

Taos seamlessly blends culture, art, and nature. Explore the ancient Taos Pueblo, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, or marvel at the views from the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. For adventure seekers, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains offer thrilling opportunities to hike, ski, or simply revel in their natural grandeur.

7. Galena, Illinois

Galena’s 19th-century charm is reflected in its historic homes, brick-paved streets, and local shops. Once home to Ulysses S. Grant, this town offers a perfect mix of history and leisure. Be sure to explore its scenic trails, which provide stunning views of the surrounding hills.

8. Cape May, New Jersey

Cape May is a Victorian gem known for its beautifully preserved homes and pristine beaches. From whale watching to exploring local lighthouses, this coastal retreat offers something for everyone. Its charming cafes and boutique shops add to the town’s timeless appeal.

9. Beaufort, South Carolina

With its antebellum architecture and moss-draped oak trees, Beaufort exudes Southern elegance. Take a boat tour through its scenic waterways, step back in time at its historic sites, or savor Lowcountry cuisine at a waterfront restaurant.

10. Whitefish, Montana

A short drive from Glacier National Park, Whitefish is an outdoor enthusiast’s dream. Whether skiing in winter or hiking during summer, this mountain town offers year-round adventure. Its cozy downtown, filled with breweries, shops, and art galleries, makes it a must-visit destination.

Pack Light, Explore More

Visiting these towns often means long walks, unexpected adventures, and memorable photo opportunities. The charm of these hidden gems lies in their ability to surprise you — be it a scenic trail, a quaint boutique, or a delightful local eatery. Moments like these make every journey special, and the right bag makes it easier to enjoy them fully.

A thoughtfully designed bag keeps everything you need close at hand, from a camera for capturing stunning views to a scarf for cool evening strolls. Rare Klub offers an elegant yet sturdy range of options — from weekender bags, backpacks, duffels, and totes, each crafted to fit seamlessly into your travels. Practical and stylish, they’re ready to accompany you wherever the road takes you.

Plan your next getaway to one of these hidden gems and immerse yourself in the charm of small-town America. With unique attractions, welcoming communities, and unforgettable landscapes, these destinations promise memories you’ll cherish for years. Happy exploring!

[lilllithdraagon]

PART 10: Gorgeous world

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD. READ AT OWN RISK.

Main Post Link

Thedas has never looked better.

I mean it. Have you stopped to watch the waterfalls in Arlathan Forest? Have you looked down at Treviso from the rooftops? The amount of times I just paused to soak in the scenery... I wish I could forget the first time my Rook stepped out from the bar and into the streets of Minrathous so I can experience it all over again.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I kept going to new locations and forgetting to breathe.

Every few steps if you stopped to take a photo you’d be haunted by the most breathtaking scenery or horrifying atrocities. I would unironically live in that topsy turvy forest called Arlathan. Fight me. I have filled a folder with images of altars and aravels, lakes, and floating ruins.

I want to have a cup of coffee at a cafe in Treviso. I want to stick my legs in the water off the Dock Town pier. I want to... No actually I never want to go to Lavendel. It has really pretty flowers though. (Lunadys: yeah no the Anderfels can go die in a fire there is so much blight.)

The art department outdid themselves. The hair textures move so fluidly. The armour’s capes have motion. The water! God, the water. You can see droplets on the statues in the rain.

Some of the amour sets are goofy and dragon age will always be the silly hat franchise, but even if they aren’t my cup of tea, you can’t claim they’re poorly modeled.

It’s gorgeous. Not in a slapped together in a terrain generator and call it a day sort of way. In a someone took the time to add just the right touches at the corner kind of way. Even the gross stuff is done with a meticulousness that we can’t help but admire. That first, jarring, transition in D’meta’s crossing from abandoned village to absolute train wreck of the gods will never leave us.

Speaking of D’meta’s Crossing.

[thotsofsolidary]

I took this photo in March of last year while in staying in Salt River, Cape Town. I ashamedly knew very little concerning the the 75 yr struggle that Palestineans had endured up until that time, and more importantly how its presence in Salt River revealed particularly sinister reminder of the global and interconnected struggle against neocolonial apartheid. Ahead of the ICJ hearing today, I began to reflect on my experience as a humble visitor of CT, a space that had resisted apartheid and persecution for 50 years at the hands of the same forces that are bombing Gaza at this very moment. I realized last year that my education up until that point was successful in conceslinv Salt River’s history of forced segregation, economic exploitation, and purposeful elimination of a community that was just one of many in SA. Apartheid isn’t just an abstract concept left to for historians to define or humanitarians to resolve. It’s a series of continued choices and policy changes brought down by our elected politicians all over the world as they work to maintain the demented and racist lie that one group of souls must enjoy the fruits of this earth at the violent expense of another.

Dehumanization campaigns on behalf of the state will never fail to do its job effectively, and us as a collective will continue to believe that these actions of violence are common and even necessary. These were the same campaigns that conceal/distort the history of my own ancestors as revolutionaries who were able to rise above the western imperialist project in 1804 as citizens of the first free black republic 🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹 I’ve had to weep at the stories of my relatives and the conditions of my ancestors as they continue to pay the price for daring to escape from a sinister, systemic, and never-ending violence under the cruelest form of apartheid, chattel slavery. Resistance has and always willl be a continuing struggle against western hegemony and their hunger to reproduce the same value as the Transatlantic Slave Trade once did! We are fighting against the will of empires that view the labor, land, minerals of the global south as spoils of the game to win and not intrinsically tied to the indigenous that have/will continue to live there. Since columbus crossed into these shores and shifted the global order in favor of mass migrations and conquest, the world has never seen a turning tide in favor of restorative justice. We live in an age of globalized aparthied whether that therm is recognized or not by the state.

The place where I was set to study apartheid as it was EXPERIENCED, not as it was written after the fact, was itself a historical rembrandt of the Continuous Struggle. story having the familiar ending of spirits young and old gone in seconds by the “wrong” missle, or a “mistakenly”dropped bomb, or a “stray” bullet. Spirits so quickly taken away and never seen again in this realm. Imagine my shock when I passed the Statement of Significance (ZOOM IN) that welcomed visitors of the center. in CAPE TOWN SA, upholding its legacy as the literal first colonial outpost the slave trade for centuries! 30 YEARS AGO the imperial DA Party felt that the safety of the state could only be ensured though the dropping of a bomb here in 1987(Read Above). Despite this, I was able to enjoy a building that was standing tall and continued to be a center for education and community gathering despite this!

Crazily enough I was graciously given a tour of Salt River shortly after hearing the history of the SR Community Center and it’s activists, and was given incredible retelling of the street art located here. Not only fighting the hisotry of apartheid era violence, street artists of today’s time are struggling with state sanctioned gentrification efforts simultaneously eliminating the freedoms of expression and collective action calling for the end to Palestinean apartheid. Despite this, the level of Palestinean solidarity displayed so clearly across the homes of SR residents was incredible to witness despite hearing their bloody history of their oppression and continued resistance.

Bottom line, not only does the struggle persist, it is carelesslessly replicated and repackaged until it is acceptabe enough for us stomach on our TLs or news channels years after the fact. Genocides, ethnic cleansing, slavery, all exist and are being documented live! If you are so blissfully unaware…could you look back at your present self and take that as an excuse? if your children asked you where you were and asked what you stood for years from now, would you want to answer ‘I had no idea?’ You know what’s going on. you know that the carnage that has taken place is unconscionable!!! the people we elect, the state, whatever you want to call it at this point, has never atoned for their collective sins of the past few centuries. Not with actual fucking reparations, we’re far beyond expecting anything close to receiving back the value of systemic violence that was never contained. all that the opressed ask is to LEAVE US ALONE!!! it’s that simple. Stop sending your bombs! Stop sending your diplomats! Stop sending your twisted policies. This is only my second election cycle and I refuse to play these fucking mind games. Not that I belive voting really matters atp, but we must take back power where we can get it. I am of the opinion that this only comes from demanding MORE from OURSELVES than the people that end up on our voting ballots! How have you genuinely re-examined your position in this world and used the thinkers of today to challenge your position?

All I can ask of this world is for us to question where our collective allegiance rests. Are you fighting for or against western neocolonialism it’s quite literally that simple. the other side is clearly operating under delusion. this delusion…no this privilege…clearly knows no bounds! Our collective consciousness has long been shattered. From 🇭🇹 to 🇿🇦 to 🇵🇸 no land on this earth has been untouched by the dropping bombs and destroying community/culture in the name of successful western diplomacy. What can be changed is our individual alignment towards rge support of the oppressed, the dismantling of global apartheid, . Youtube/Google/Public Libraries are free belovedss 💔 If you have an iphone you can take a couple hours to hear the other side for maybe the first/only time in your life. play it in the background of whatever you need to do but even at 2x speed if you have to! challenging your own mind is the bare minimum…

[tangentburd]

~ Oh So Fly! ~

From the rockin’ street doves to the coo-l Capuchines We’ll pick and peck apart every piece of bird-based bling Warmers, collars, capes… Gramma’s cornbread cowls? You might as well go back home with your head in a towel!

~ A nonsensical poem I wrote on pigeons and their Fabulous! Bread! Necklaces! for the recent "Toasty Mart" bread x animals zine hosted by @bycmykae. Thanks for the pun fun-filled experience!

Shoutout to @katsuayumu too for making all the super cute and delicious pigeon character art for this piece :D

🕊 [ Read the full poem on AO3 or under the cut! ]

🍞 [ Read the free zine via itch.io! ]

Greetings! Salutations! Birds of a feather! Welcome to the Bread Derby, sisters and brothers! The name’s Pasquale and I’m your host for today— Colomba of keen eye for fashions of the day ~✦

It’s party pigeon time down here in the square Where every-birdy’s decked in their fanciest neckwear Where the have-its flaunt it! And the have-nots want it! Where upper crusts and lower crumbs clash in showers of grit!

From the rockin’ street doves to the coo-l Capuchines We’ll pick and peck apart every piece of bird-based bling Warmers, collars, capes... Gramma’s cornbread cowls? You might as well go back home with your head in a towel!

We’ll see who’s the boss in their oven-baked best! And who’s burnt toast that’s only good for lining nests! Beaks up and b-ready, we’re starting the show Coo! Here’s our first lady—let’s fluffin’ go!

———

Behold! This uppity—I mean, blue-crowned royalty: The Duchess of Dovershire, come to visit from her county With her pearl-tipped crest as though dipped in icing And draped with a most exquisite braided bread ring Such graze! Delicacy! (Maybe a hint of power?) The air and flair of fresh-milled flour—

“How do you do? Your reds and greens are lovely!” Hold up, did... she just say something to me? Why yes ma’am, thank you! I adore them too! It’s just avocado bruschetta, nothing too frou-frou~ She chortles, nods; then away she struts: A portly, pleasant presence in her posh, plaited doughnut.

———

Kerfuffle from the crowds! Cue the world’s favourite Frillback: Pop idol Pae-Dae, in a cushy cape of flatbread Luscious curls of feathers bronze all across his wings A dishy dove indeed: he’s every fledgling’s prince! His shuffling feet pause, his misty eyes find mine I wonder what words might leave a beak so sublime...?

“Wish I could sleep, Mister Host, but I’ll do my best Ask me about the dramas I’ve been filming without rest Or how everyone thinks my wings are hazelnut flakes...” Sigh, a celeb’s life! You can’t ever get a break I’ll interview you next week! Now go and catch some Z’s Your tortilla blanket should be cosy—but don’t let your fans see!

———

An emerald dove patters by, sleeves shimmering green Donning the airiest, fairiest sourdough I’ve seen: Scored like a flower, flour dusted like a lace veil Aw, she’s proud of it! Look at her bobbing tail~ “My name’s Paige Pidgerton, I baked it just today I hope to open my artisan beak-ery someday!”

You’re a natural, miss, this here’s a work of art! But really, is that all you dream of deep inside your heart? She flusters, she flushes, her white headband askew The rosy eyes of a heroine’s fairytale come true! “Maybe... if I can’t bake for everyone in town Then at least for some-birdy I’m happy to be around.♥”

———

You hear them before you see them: Two lean, rugged doves Squabbling, squawking, crash-landing (on the) square from above “I told you to hurry, old man, now we’re late for the parade!” ‘Why don’t you stop by a corner shop again, you ingrate!’ Good day, gentlemen! I might have seen you somewhere, sir Aren’t you G.I. Low, that decorated war officer?

‘Some eye you’ve got, chap! Sharp as this one I’ve got left Better than my grandkid here who thinks he’s bloody EMS.’ “If this thumbdrive don’t reach later, I’ll be toast-er than my toast! Name’s Payload Swift, mister, I’m a racer turned pigeon post.”

(Aha! Do I sense a glorious generation gap? A question trap to set their wings and tempers aflap!) Living life in the fast lane? Your intake must be insane! Care to share with us your go-to holy grains?

“This grilled tuna sandwich melt from Leaven-Eleven’s Is the best thing since sliced bread—a taste made in heaven!” ‘It IS sliced bread, for heavens’ sake! See the junk this boy is eating? Not like this chipped beef on toast from back when I was serving It’s provisions! Nourishment! Blessings for the whole flock!’ “Yeah sure, if only you can eat it without a fork...”

———

A zig-zagging, a tango-ing, a high bird-song and dance A kererū, post-dine-and-wine, down on the bench in a trance That passé office plumage versus bland-as-heck handbag— Lady, your tastebuds are wrecked! And that fruit loaf’s a big red flag!

She waves her bottle—budget Pigeot Noir!—before my eyes “I’ve seen your shows on CooTube, you’re that real fly guy! That Nicobar fella who’s gone way up the pecking order...” Lady, your tastebuds are just fine! Ignore what I said earlier—

“Can you tell me how you’ve been eating every-birdy’s lunch? You’re now rolling in dough, but I’m just rolling off the branch... How can a common quill-pusher like me, Karolie Flee Fly to the top, eat all I want, and still be this carefree?”

Oh Miss Flee, let’s first put my inspiring haute coo-ture aside No matter what you’re doing, you should do it with pride! Push all the quills (and your bosses’ too) until you’re seen and heard But remember: there’s more to you than just this corporate bird!

Sure, your whites, greens and purples may not be the hottest stuff But if you’re a better you than yesterday then that’s good enough~★ That said, please just toss that brick of cursed candied fruit Get a loaf that tastes more chic! With marmalade to boot!

———

So there we go, folks—our roundup of this Derby: A true-blue cross-section of our bling-based society I’ve seen a future star baker, courier, wine connoisseur Stay inspiring, inspired and well rested, you youngsters!

Boast your bread-lace loud and proud, bake it till you make it The true slice-of-life is how you wear it and what you make of it! And to every-birdy else who’s stayed with us throughout— Beak thanks to you all! This is Col. Pasquale, signing out~♫

~ end ~

[inside0ut-dotnet]

As Pride Month approaches, many in the LGBTQ+ community are looking for welcoming destinations to celebrate their identities. Whether you're looking for a vibrant city experience or a relaxing beach getaway, there are plenty of amazing destinations to choose from. Let's explore some of the most welcoming states for the LGBTQ community and kick off your summer with flair and pizazz!

What Makes a Destination LGBTQ-Friendly?

When considering travel destinations, it's important to look for places that are inclusive and welcoming to all. LGBTQ-friendly destinations are those that have anti-discrimination laws, vibrant LGBTQ communities, and a variety of LGBTQ-owned businesses. These destinations often host Pride events and have a strong sense of acceptance and diversity.

Top LGBTQ-Friendly States

According to recent surveys and studies, some of the most LGBTQ-friendly states in the US include California, New York, Massachusetts, and Washington. These states have a long history of supporting LGBTQ rights and have vibrant LGBTQ communities. Cities like San Francisco, New York City, and Boston are known for their inclusive environments and diverse populations.

Amazing BEACH Destinations to Consider:

Provincetown, Massachusetts:

Looking for a summer getaway that's as fabulous as you are? Consider heading to Provincetown, Massachusetts, a charming coastal town known for its LGBTQ-friendly atmosphere and stunning beaches. Whether you're flying solo, with your partner, or with a group of friends, P-Town has something for everyone.

Provincetown, or P-Town as the locals call it, is a vibrant and welcoming community located at the tip of Cape Cod. It's a place where you can truly be yourself, surrounded by like-minded individuals who celebrate diversity and inclusivity. From the colorful houses lining the streets to the lively nightlife scene, Provincetown is a place where you can let your hair down and have a good time.

One of the biggest draws of Provincetown is its beautiful beaches. Whether you're looking to soak up the sun, take a dip in the ocean, or simply relax with a good book, P-Town's beaches have got you covered. Race Point Beach and Herring Cove Beach are two popular spots where you can unwind and enjoy the natural beauty of Cape Cod.

When the sun goes down, Provincetown comes alive with a vibrant nightlife scene. From drag shows to dance parties, there's always something fun happening in P-Town. Grab a cocktail, hit the dance floor, and let loose with new friends and old. You never know what kind of wild and wacky adventures await you in this lively town.

Aside from the beaches and nightlife, Provincetown offers plenty of other activities to keep you entertained. Take a stroll down Commercial Street and browse the unique shops and art galleries. Visit the Provincetown Art Association and Museum to admire the work of local artists. Or hop on a whale-watching tour for a chance to see these majestic creatures up close.

So, if you're looking for a summer getaway that's as fabulous as you are, pack your bags and head to Provincetown, Massachusetts. With its LGBTQ-friendly atmosphere, beautiful beaches, and lively nightlife, P-Town is the perfect destination for a fun and memorable vacation. Get ready to make some unforgettable memories in this charming coastal town!

Key West, Florida:

Key West, Florida, is not just your average beach destination. It's a vibrant LGBTQ paradise with a lively nightlife that will make you want to stay forever. So, what makes Key West so special? Key West is a small island city that packs a big punch. It's known for its inclusive and welcoming atmosphere, making it a haven for the LGBTQ community. The colorful and eclectic vibe of Key West sets it apart from other destinations, making it a must-visit for anyone looking for a good time. Key West has a long history of embracing diversity and celebrating individuality. The LGBTQ community has found a home in Key West, with numerous bars, clubs, and events catering specifically to them. From drag shows to pride parades, Key West knows how to throw a party that everyone is invited to. When the sun goes down, Key West comes alive. The nightlife scene in Key West is legendary, with bars and clubs lining the streets, offering everything from live music to drag performances. Whether you're looking for a wild night out or a laid-back evening sipping cocktails by the beach, Key West has something for everyone. Key West is more than just a destination; it's an experience. The laid-back attitude, stunning sunsets, and welcoming community make Key West a place like no other. Whether you're looking to party all night or relax on the beach all day, Key West has it all.

So, pack your bags, grab your sunscreen, and get ready to experience the magic of Key West. You never know, you might just fall in love with this quirky little island at the southernmost point of the United States.

For those seeking an urban city vibe, consider exploring these destinations:

 New York City, NY:

Are you ready to dive into the vibrant and diverse world of New York City? From the bustling streets of Manhattan to the trendy neighborhoods of Brooklyn, the Big Apple has something for everyone. Let's explore how this iconic city offers a mix of culture, history, and LGBTQ-friendly attractions that will leave you wanting more. New York City is a melting pot of cultures, with residents from all corners of the globe calling it home. From world-class museums like the Metropolitan Museum of Art to Broadway shows that will leave you speechless, the city is a treasure trove of cultural experiences. Don't forget to sample the diverse culinary scene, where you can find everything from authentic Italian pizza to mouth-watering dim sum. New York City has long been a haven for the LGBTQ community, with iconic landmarks like the Stonewall Inn and the annual Pride Parade drawing visitors from around the world. Explore the vibrant LGBTQ-friendly bars, clubs, and events that make NYC a welcoming and inclusive destination for all.

So, whether you're a culture vulture, history buff, or simply looking for a good time, New York City has something for everyone. Pack your bags, hit the streets, and get ready to experience the magic of the city that never sleeps!

San Francisco, CA:

San Francisco, the city by the bay, is known for its eclectic mix of culture, history, and LGBTQ-friendly attractions. From the iconic Golden Gate Bridge to the vibrant Castro District, there is something for everyone in this diverse and welcoming city. San Francisco is a melting pot of different cultures, making it a mecca for art, music, and cuisine. Whether you're exploring the colorful murals in the Mission District or sampling dim sum in Chinatown, you'll find a rich tapestry of experiences waiting for you. With its storied past as a Gold Rush boomtown and a hub of counterculture in the 1960s, San Francisco is steeped in history. Take a stroll through the historic Haight-Ashbury neighborhood or visit Alcatraz Island to uncover the city's fascinating past. San Francisco has long been a beacon of acceptance and inclusivity for the LGBTQ community. The Castro District, known as the heart of gay culture in the city, is home to rainbow flags, vibrant nightlife, and the iconic Castro Theatre. The annual Pride Parade is a must-see event that celebrates love and diversity.

So, whether you're a history buff, a foodie, or a member of the LGBTQ community, San Francisco has something special to offer. Come explore this city of contrasts and discover the magic that makes it truly unique.

Seattle, WA:

Are you ready to dive into the vibrant and eclectic city of Seattle? This Pacific Northwest gem is not your average urban experience. Seattle offers a unique blend of culture, history, and LGBTQ-friendly attractions that will leave you wanting more. Seattle is not just known for its rainy weather and coffee culture. This city is a melting pot of creativity, innovation, and acceptance. From the iconic Space Needle to the bustling Pike Place Market, there is something for everyone in Seattle. Seattle is a haven for the LGBTQ community, with a plethora of inclusive and welcoming attractions. Whether you're strolling through Capitol Hill, known as the city's LGBTQ+ hub, or attending the annual Pride Parade, Seattle embraces diversity with open arms. Step back in time at the Museum of History & Industry or explore the rich Native American heritage at the Burke Museum. Seattle's cultural scene is as diverse as its population, offering a wide range of museums, galleries, and performing arts venues to explore.

Make sure to visit the iconic Space Needle for panoramic views of the city, indulge in fresh seafood at Pike Place Market, and take a leisurely stroll through the lush greenery of the Washington Park Arboretum. Seattle is full of hidden gems just waiting to be discovered.

So, if you're looking for a city that offers a little bit of everything, from culture and history to LGBTQ-friendly attractions, look no further than Seattle. This dynamic city will capture your heart and leave you wanting more.

Wishing you safe travels & a fun journey:

Whether you're looking to relax on the beach, explore a new city, or attend a Pride event, there are plenty of amazing destinations to choose from. So pack your bags, grab your rainbow flag, and kick off your summer with some flair and pizazz in a welcoming LGBTQ-friendly destination!