#Found it in a street food festival in the town near my village

[betelgeuse-the-second-musicman]

Just ate kangaroo meat and it was so damn good. Tasted a bit like metal, but it's nothing that a little barbecue sauce can't fix.

[jaesqueso]

The Bachelorette: NCT edition - Ep. 7

The season of love is finally here! An interactive series where you’ll get to choose who goes home each week and ultimately who Y/N chooses in the end!

pairing: nct(ot23) x fem!reader

summary: For the first time a week goes smoothly without much drama but could this make the bachelorette’s decision even harder?

episode guide

word count: 4,902

warnings: mentions of alcohol (all responsible!)

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Last week on the Bachelorette:

The big mystery remains in the air with no one willing to step forward and make a confession,

Nevertheless some bonds were strengthened while others are stopped to save a broken heart.

Unfortunately at the end of the rose ceremony a heart did get broken leaving a not so pleasant goodbye that startled everybody.

5 bachelors remain on this love quest but after tonight one of them will be going home.

Who will she choose? Who will she reject?

Find out on the Bachelorette!

-

“Hi everybody!” Chris Harrison walks into the guest house. “Excited for another week?”

They all cheer for new opportunities to amaze you and get closer to that last rose and your love.

“Great because things are about to change!”

The boys look around at each other, what does he mean change?

“So far each date, wether individual or in a group, gave you the opportunity to win a rose ahead of the ceremony and secure your spot here for another week to compete for Y/N’s love, Well from now on there are no more date roses.”

“What does that mean for us?” Taeyong asks the question that’s on everybody’s heads.

“That means give it your all on the dates and the cocktail party because all roses will now only be handed out on the ceremony.”

Mixed feelings run around the room.

“But since there are less and less of you there are also more opportunities for alone time with our beautiful bachelorette as there will be no more group dates. This week you’ll have 1 one-on-one date and 2 two-on-ones. But don’t worry, since no roses will be hand out before hand that also means no one will be sent home on the dates too.”

Breaths of relief come out of everybody’s mouths.

“Alright, enjoy your dates and I will see you at the rose ceremony!”

As Chris leaves, the siren his heard and all eyes focus on the TV.

I hope you’re all having as much fun in this journey as I am. And I think it’s time we celebrate.

The bachelors look intrigued.

Jeno and Jaemin, hope you’re excited to join me tomorrow!

“Yes!” The two boys high five happy to be paired together on a date with you, over the weeks they not only bond with you but also ended up growing closer to each other.

“Wait, you’re going to celebrate without us?” Yuta groans.

“I bet you’ll get to celebrate too in a few days.” Jaemin comforts him.

“And don’t forget one of us will still be going on an individual date this week.” Jaehyun looks between Yuta and Taeyong,

“That’s right!” Taeyong excitedly says.

-

The following day Jaemin and Jeno get ready and enter their ride that’s already waiting outside to meet you. They are taken to a near by city where a parade is about to start and that’s where you’re waiting for them in a pair of light washed jeans and a cute flowy top.

“Hi guys!” You greet them with a big smile. “I found us a great spot to watch the parade, shall we go?”

“Yes!” They say at the same time following you to a nice place by the fence where you had an amazing view.

They stood by your side as you watched the marching band, the decorated vehicles and the big balloons being pulled by the villagers. You explained the guys what the parade was about along with a little story of the city and they actually seemed more interested in what you had to say than the parade itself.

You start to feel shy having all their attention on you, their piercing gaze, beautiful smiles and light touches on your arms. These two have definitely touched your heart and you can’t even imagine how you’ll make a decision if it ever comes down to the two of them.

Once the parade is over the three of you walk around the streets exploring the city. Everywhere you look is decorated because of the festivities and you’re having a great time.

You then decide to stop by a grocery store to get some food to go and watch the concert in the park. After finding a nice place with a good stage view you all sit down on the grass.

The sun starts setting as the band begins playing a nice smooth tune that sets a very romantic ambience all around. You look at the two boys sitting next to you and you couldn’t be happier with the choice you made today, even without saying a word their presence just makes you feel so comfortable, you can imagine your life with either one of them at this point.

-

In the guest house Taeyong, Yuta and Jaehyun talk about the changes in the game.

“How do you feel about no more roses in advance?” Yuta asks.

“Honestly I don’t know how to feel.” Taeyong starts. “This could be good or bad.”

“It definitely makes me more nervous,” Yuta comments, “those date roses were very reassuring and you could relax a bit ahead of the ceremony.”

“Absolutely!” Taeyong continues. “I feel like I’m a little bit of an underdog here, we only started to really bond recently so having to wait until the end of the week really makes me anxious.”

“I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Jaehyun steps in the conversation. “We just gotta keep working hard on the date and the cocktail party just like we did until now. If we’re still here, there’s still a chance.”

“I guess you’re right…” Taeyong says before he’s interrupted by the siren.

“Let’s see who’s next.” Jaehyun gets up as they walk to the living room.

It’s good to go out and celebrate but it’s also nice to have a more chill and relaxed time.

They wonder if this will be another two-on-one date or the individual one.

Sometimes I just like to get on my car and drive around. Yuta, I’d love for you to join me on that ride tomorrow.

The mentioned boy cheers on his seat.

“Well, that means it will be us fighting for her attention after.” Jaehyun taps Taeyong’s back.

“Bring it on.” Taeyong tries to sound excited but deep down he’s scared about his future here.

-

As the band finishes their last song the crowd claps including the three of you and with the last beat of the drums a loud pop is heard starting a wonderful firework show. Your eyes sparkle at the splashes of color in the sky and you feel a hand gently overlapping yours. You look to your left and see Jaemin still looking up at the sky as if his touch wasn’t making his heart beat faster just like yours.

“Wow, that was amazing!” Jeno says as the last explosion disappears in the air.

“It really was.” Jaemin agrees.

“I’m glad you two enjoyed it, I’m so happy I got to share this moment with you.” You smile brightly as you look at them,

You let your back fall into the grass and they lay down too.

“You should be up there.” Jeno comments pointing at the night sky that now shows all the beautiful stars.

“But then I’d outshine them all.” You tease.

“Ok, you’re right.” Jeno chuckles.

“I think you’re good right here, next to me.” Jaemin lightly squeezes your hand making you turn your face to him as he does the same.

“Hey hey, I’m here too ok?” Jeno playfully says as he lifts up his torso separating your hands making you all laugh at his jealousy.

You lay there for a while talking and observing the stars until you decide it’s time to go back. On the ride home you almost don’t want this day to end but you try to calm down your heart thinking about the other bachelors back at the guest house.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jeno says as you exit the car.

“Of course.” You’re impressed with how talkative he is today, he’s usually quiet around other the other guys but you believe it helps that he gets along so well with Jaemin. Whatever the reason is you’re happy he’s loosening up.

“If you had a rose to hand out today who would you give it to?” Jeno asks.

You chuckle as Jaemin hits the other boy in the arm.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You wink. “Thank you for today guys, goodnight.”

“Thank you Y/N, goodnight.” They both say as you walk to the mansion.

“She would totally chose me.” Jeno says as he and Jaemin go back to the guest house.

“Right, keep dreaming!” Jaemin ruffles Jeno’s hair as they both laugh.

-

The next day a car horn is heard and all the boys go to the front of the guest house where they see you inside a convertible.

“You ready Yuta?” You call out.

“Oh I was born ready!” He almost runs to the vehicle taking the passenger seat.

“Bye guys!” You wave at the others as you step on the gas.

You drive pass the town, headed to the coast, feeling the warm air run through your hair. You tell Yuta how much you love the freedom of just driving around without a destination, observing the life around you without a plan. The sea breeze relaxes you as the low rays of sunshine embrace your skin.

You two sing along to the random songs that come on the radio, laughing at the misspelled lyrics and lines out of tune. Maybe your lonely car rides could be fulfilled with some good company like this.

You stop the car on the side of the road next to some picnic tables facing the sea. You both get out of the vehicle and you get a bag out of the trunk walking to one of the tables.

“Hungry?” You ask him.

“A lit bit yes.” He smiles taking a seat as you take out some bento boxes out of the bag making his eyes sparkle at the delicious food. “Wow! Did you prepare all this?”

“Yes I did.” You proudly state. “Let’s dig in!”

You start eating watching the sun slowly go down.

“This was really good Y/N, thank you.” Yuta complements the meal.

“You know,” you start saying, “it’s been a while since we went on a date just the two of us so I thought I’d make something familiar, a little birdie told me you like this type of food.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins. “That little bird seems to know me well, you should keep him around.”

You two laugh recalling a conversation you once had where you talked about food where he told you this.

“But I’m really glad you chose me for this date.” He continues. “I was starting to feel us drift apart and that’s the last thing I want.”

“I don’t want that either.” You reassure him. “I really like your company, Yuta, and I’m enjoying getting to know you.”

“Good to know.” He releases a relieved breath making you giggle.

“But the date is not over, I have one more thing planned for us.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Shall we go?”

“Let’s go!”

He helps you pack everything and return to the car, driving off to your next destination.

-

Back in the guest house the dates are the focal point of the conversation.

“How did it go yesterday?” Jaehyun asks the two boys.

“It was really awesome.” Jeno cannot hide the excitement that still runs through his body.

“It really was, Y/N has done a great job planning these dates.” Jaemin agrees. “You know Jeno, if it’s us two fighting for that last rose I don’t mind sharing.” He winks.

“Well I do!” Jeno protests making the others laugh.

“But hey hey!” Taeyong interrupts with a frown. “What do you mean you two fighting for the last rose? Should I just give up?”

“Oh c’mon we can’t all be in the final pretty boy.” Jaemin ruffles his hair.

“Are you two excited for tomorrow?” Jeno asks the two who are still waiting.

“Very much.” Jaehyun replies.

“And nervous!” Taeyong adds.

“Don’t be, it will all be fine.” Jaemin cheers him up before the siren is heard and the gather around the TV.

Taeyong and Jaehyun don’t think I forgot about you, there’s a special place I’d like to take you.

The boys brighten up.

Hope you like dark places with neon lights. See you tomorrow!

“You guys going to a strip club?” Jaemin widens his eyes.

“Of course we are.” Jaehyun laughs.

“What could it be though?” Jeno wonders.

“I guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow to know!” Taeyong says still feeling intrigued by your message.

-

You turn to a drive in movie theatre as the night takes over. You get some popcorn and a couple of drinks before park right in the middle of the space having a great view of the screen.

“Should we get into the backseat?” You suggest.

“The backseat? Right here in front of everybody?” He smirks wiggling his eyebrows.

“To sit more comfortable you pervert!” You chuckle, playfully hitting his arm.

You two follow your suggestion right before the film starts. It’s a simple sci-fi movie that you recall him mentioning liking the genre.

Halfway through, the now empty bag of popcorn is put on the side as you snuggle closer to your date. Yuta wraps his arm around your shoulder as your heads rest against each other.

Once the movie is over you two stay in his embrace while all the other vehicles leave the place, wanting to savour this moment a little bit longer. You then get back into the front seats to drive back to the guest house.

You decide to take the long route so you can talk a bit more a discuss the movie that honestly you didn’t pay that much attention to as you almost fell asleep against the warmth of Yuta’s body against yours.

“Thank you for today, I had a really great time.” He says as you drop him off.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You smile. “Goodnight Yuta.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

He watches you drive off before entering the house with a huge smile on his face.

-

The following day Taeyong and Jaehyun excitedly leave the house to go meet you. During the ride they discuss what could possibly await them on this date. All doubts come to an end when the car stops in front of a museum where you wait for them in a beautiful short white dress.

“Do I hear wedding bells already?” Taeyong asks as they walk to you.

“Not yet!” You chuckle. “This museum holds temporary exhibitions and once I heard they were having a neon themed one I just knew I had to come. Are you excited?”

“Yes!” They both say.

“Well let’s go then!” You lead them inside.

As you enter the building you get into a dark hallway that leads into a purple themed room. It looks like something out of a dream, the lights playing with the mirrors on the walls making it look like there’s infinite space.

The next room is blue. Wavy lights decorate the space making it look like you’re under water.

“This looks like the aquarium we visited last week!” Taeyong excitedly says.

“It really does! Minus the fish.” You two chuckle leaving Jaehyun feeling a little bit left out. He tries to play it off by pretending to be distracted by the room setup that you don’t even notice the sadness on his face.

You then enter a room that looks like a fantasy garden. Neon green lights fill in the space with fake plants and trees. It almost feels like you’re in a magical forest where a mystical creature will pop out any moment.

The next area is yellow. The brightness almost blinds you and Jaehyun takes the opportunity to hold your hand to guide you inside. You’re startled by his action as you were not expecting it but let him lead you around. When Taeyong notices it he decides to hold your other hand making you giggle at the small trace of jealousy.

The orange room that follows the yellow one is very fruit having neon signs shaped like all sorts of exotic fruits. Your mouth gets watery at the sight.

As you walk into the following space it seems like you entered the red light district. There are suggestive images on the walls and even a pole in the middle. The guys seem to be too distracted by the spicy surroundings almost forgetting you’re there.

“C’mon lets get into the next one before you start getting ideas!” You pull them and they laugh realising they were staring.

Entering a a pink area the environment feels more tropical with flamingo light structures everywhere. Taeyong seems to really like that room and you recall a previous conversation where he told you this is his favourite color.

The last room of the exhibit is a combination of all colors making you feel like you entered a scene from Alice’s wonderland.

“Wow, that was really cool!” Taeyong sounds like a kid who just went on his first rollercoaster ride as you get out of the museum.

“I know right?” You agree. “But I gotta say, that orange room made me hungry, should we go somewhere to eat?”

“Yes, I’m starving!” Jaehyun supports your suggestion.

You all head off to a near by restaurant that seems to carry the neon light theme.

“Now I see why you wore white today, you’re shining brighter than all the lights in the room.” Taeyong complements you making you blush a little. Luckily they can’t see that over the lighting in the room.

You order some drinks that funny enough reflect the neon colors all around and come in glasses that look like lab material. You make a toast to having a good time together as the food arrives.

The conversation is cheerful but you can’t help feel like Jaehyun is holding back a little. Could he feel intimidated by the other guy who seems to be having the time of his life?

Taeyong really has changed is attitude and you’re glad he did. He gave you the chance to get to know him better and get closer to him, bonding over all the things you have in common and even the ones you don’t carefully listening and learning from each other.

Jaehyun seemed to have this fight in him before but now he seems to be too relaxed. Could it be that because you gave him a quick kiss on your last date he got comfortable and started taking his position in the competition for granted?

As you wrap up the meal the three of you go for a walk admiring the city lights before you head back.

You say goodbye to the boys  when you leave the car and enter the mansion taking a deep breath. This week all dates went pretty well making it harder for you to decide on someone to send home.

-

You join the boys in the cocktail party that are excitedly talking about all their experiences this week. They welcome you in, encouraging you to give your perspective on all the activities, which you gladly do before you start talking to them individually.

As there are less and less people in the house it’s easier to catch up with all of them before making the ultimate decisions of the night.

The first one to call you outside is Taeyong. You could still feel the rush from the date exuding out of him as he excitedly thanks you for taking him to the museum. You understood is a very cultured guy that enjoys these type of activities which is something that attracts you in him. Despite all the happiness he also discloses how worried he is thinking he might have taken too long to try and build a connection with you but he’s glad you were willing to take a chance on him which you assure him you don’t regret doing at all.

The next bachelor to talk to you is Jaemin. As always, your heart skips a beat when he takes your hand and leads you to sit outside. As always, he wants to know how you’re feeling and if there’s something going on inside your head. As always, you let it all out with him, this week went really well but that actually makes it harder for you to make a decision. As always, he comforts you and makes you feel like everything in the world will turn out alright as long as you’re by his side. And as always you feel like your heart is going to explode with this inexplainable connection you have with this guy since day one.

After a while you see Jeno walk outside and Jaemin calls him out leaving you two to talk. Just like Taeyong, Jeno still looks pretty excited from the date. You’ve been growing closer and closer to him and you’re not sure if this is a good things because everything is getting so messy inside your head. Nevertheless you enjoy every single second by his side and you appreciate all the efforts you see from him, trying to open up more to you and even around the others too. He does seem to be here for the right reasons and you definitely appreciate all the effort.

Next in line is Jaehyun. Now this is a hard to read guy. Sometimes he seems so in sync with you, other times so off. Some moments you spent together in the past drew you close to him and made you imagine a possible future but other times it feels like he’s not really here, or maybe he just got too comfortable. You start to regret going back and giving him that kiss. Maybe if you didn’t he would still make an effort to earn it. Tonight he talks to you like you’re the only person on the planet but in the date with Taeyong he didn’t feel like the same person. As you get closer to the finish line and choosing the man you want to share your life with, could this be a setback?

Finally you spend some time with Yuta. You’re glad you chose him for the only individual date you had this week because you haven’t had that much alone time with him almost since the beginning of this journey. Of course you talk to him in the other cocktail parties and in the group dates, but it’s different. When he mentioned he felt like you two were losing your connection you felt bad because you realised you felt the same way and you don’t want that. He’s a very nice guy and you’d like to keep him around. Even if he’s not the one you end up with you’d still like to keep him as a friend because he’s an incredible person to have in anyone’s life. You’re glad you were able to reconnect with him this week and realise that some of that initial sparkle between the two of you is still there.

After talking to all of them you feel as confused as ever. All of them have strong points on their favour and you’ll really have to evaluate what’s more important to you. It breaks your heart having to send people home week after week but you came here to find love. One true love. You just didn’t expect the production to do such a nice job casting and presenting you such amazing guys the make you more confused than you ever thought you’d be in this journey.

Before Chris comes to take you upstairs, you take some time to talk to all the guys in a group again. It feels good to be here drama free. The environment seems lighter and you all joke and laugh having a genuine good time. You like seeing them all get along despite being in a competition against each other. The good mood helps them focus on what they’re really doing here and that’s proving they’re the one for you, not bickering with each other and forgetting you’re the one they should impress, not each other.

Chris finally enters the room and you know it’s time to reflect on the outcome of tonight. You thought that by now you’d have your mind made up but you’re as confused as ever.

-

“One more week has passed, how are you feeling?” Chris asks as you two sit down in the decisions room.

“Mixed feelings inside me Chris.” You honestly say. “I feel like I’m really bonding with all of them so it’s really hard to think of someone to let go of.”

“Very understandable. How did you find it not giving out roses ahead of today?”

“It was weird but it was also good because I genuinely wanted to give a rose to everybody after the dates!” You two laugh.

“Well we couldn’t have that!”

“It’s really harder than it looks, I’m not only breaking their hearts but I’m also hurting myself a little bit by sending someone home.”

“Do you have any idea of how you’ll make the decision tonight?”

“I think at this stage I have to think about every single detail to be able to single some one out.”

“It is a hard and important decision as every week. I will leave you to it and be back in awhile so you can share the verdict with the nervous boys downstairs.”

“Thank you Chris.”

As he leaves the room you once again stare at the pictures on the wall trying to make sure you don’t regret whatever choices you make tonight. You feel like you can see a future with any of these 5 men but that’s not how it works, you came here to find the one and for that you’ll have to send them home one by one until you get to him.

-

You and Chris walk down the stairs joining the 5 boys that anxiously await to hear your decisions.

“Good evening gentleman. 5 of you stand before us but there are only 4 roses to be handed out tonight so that means one of you will be grabbing his things and going back home.” Chris then turns to you. “Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

You thank him as he leaves the room and grab the first rose facing the guys.

“Before I start let me say I really like every single one of you and I feel like we’re building very strong connections. Unfortunately I can’t keep you all here. I want to find love and I’m modern and open minded but not that much.”

You all laugh at your comment and then you take a deep breath before starting calling them out.

“Jaemin.”

His eyes sparkle hearing his name.

“Do you accept this rose?”

“Absolutely.” You two smile as you pin the rose to his jacket. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He walks back as you pick up another one.

“Taeyong.”

The boy widens his already big eyes.

“Do you accept this rose?”

“One thousand times yes!” You feel him shake under your touch. “Thank you so much.”

You grab the next rose.

“Jeno.”

He sighs in relief.

“Do you accept this rose?”

“You scared me there for a second! Of course I do.” You giggle as you pin the rose. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip as you take the last rose on the bowl.

“Yuta.”

A smile opens up on his face as he steps forward.

“Do you accept this rose?”

“Definitely.” You pin it to his jacket. “Thank you so much.”

Chris walks back in.

“Jaehyun, that means that unfortunately you and Y/N are not meant to be. Thank you for being with us. You can now say your goodbyes.”

The other bachelors gather around hugging him. You patiently wait until he finally comes your way.

“I’m so sorry…” You mutter.

“It’s ok, Y/N.” Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, pulling your shaky body in for a hug. “I’d have to go eventually. Your prince charming is here but I knew I’m not him.”

“Thank you for everything, Jaehyun.” You say when he lets go, wiping a tear that fell on his cheek.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to go.” He chuckles. “But it’s time, thank you, I had a great time.”

You watch him walk out with sadness in your eyes. The other guys gather around you understanding how hard these decisions are. As you get closer to the finish line it’s practically impossible not to get emotional when someone leaves. You only hope Jaehyun is right and your prince charming is really amongst these 4 men.

-

In the next episode:

4 guys remain on the quest for love and it gets harder not only for the bachelorette but also for the bachelors:

“You should be careful, you’re getting a little too cocky.”

“I feel like I’m deluding myself.”

“What are you talking about?”

And someone else will go back home.

“I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“I really don’t want to go.”

Stay tuned for next weeks episode premiering 01/08.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Episode 8

a/n: jaeeeeeeee T_T I know this chapter is way smaller than the other ones and I’m posting this later than usual but I was out of the country this week with zero time to write so apologies if this feels rushed… I promise to do better in the future! (for real this time) also want to wish a happy birthday to the person who commented on this episode’s voting that this will be their birthday 🥳 do give me some feedback please! ❤

taglist: @skrtbabe @yutahoes @yokshi-unbeliebubble @nakamotonudes @n0hyuck @negincho @love-and-other-possibilities @readers-posts @sylviacxt​ @tyongf-sunflower99​ @princessjunnie​

If you’d like to be included in the taglist for the series do let me know ❤︎

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 17)

She finds herself lingering at the outskirts of Wujing, in front of the burned husks of the village. Partially, she wants to drink in her pain, to bask in her hatred and let it fester nice and fresh for when she begins hunting her prey. Mostly she is there to begin just that. She will find traces of them, track them down and eradicate them one by one. Nevermind the possibility that she will destroy her soul doing it.

It is entirely vacant and with good reason; who would want to live on a street stained with the blood of their loved ones? Even a little over a month after the attack the air still smells of it. Smells of blood and traces of the fire. She is doubly sickened by the potent reminder of her past. Is this not what she had wanted--Earth Kingdom villages charred beyond recognition.

A fine ash has settled in the cracks in the pavement amid chunks of buildings and a scatter of charred bones. She finds herself a seat amid the burned skeletons and stares at them. Stares until there is nothing but seething and hatred. She studies them. Studies them until she can differentiate the males from the females, the children from the adults, and the adults.  And there are children, so many small bones. Some skeletons cling to one another. At the very least this indicates that they were dead before they were burned.

When her hatred reaches a near boiling point, she picks herself up and moves forward. She walks past the old festival grounds, past the old bridge--noting that it had been very much burned as well, and to Ojihara’s farm.

Her belly gives a flop as she sets foot onto the useless soil. She stands at the fence post, she can practically see Seukhyun leaning up against it, flashing her one of his smooth, charming smiles.

She can practically hear him commenting, “I think you might have a chance to out harvest me this year.”

And she might have had the field and everything in it not been reduced to ash. Nothing grows within the ashes. The house has been reduced to forerally smoldering rubble. At least the left have anyways. But the right side is growing concave as well. She decides to keep her distance should it decide to topple. Anyways, she knows what is inside; Ojihara. All alone. His son and granddaughter at her house. And she knows that it is for the best, even knowing that he’d be soon to follow, Ojihara wouldn’t have been able to bare watching his son and granddaughter die. He would have been shamed knowing that he had let it happen.

She is shamed knowing that she let her husband and sons die. She is Azula. She should have been more powerful than that.

Her hatred reaches a new height.

And it only seems to swell as she grows nearer to her former home. She stands before the doorway and she feels nauseous. Absolutely nauseous. Really, she ought to turn back. Dimly she is aware that she is only hurting herself. She thinks that she might be addicted to the suffering. She has been ruminating on it since it had been inflicted upon her.

She pushes the door open and invites more of it in. When the smell hits her she caves into the nausea. She finds herself on her hands and knees, tears stinging in her eyes. A second wave hits when she realizes that her hands are pressing into dried blood. Her own. Where it had collected after the soldier had slashed her throat and belly.

She isn’t certain of how long she does, but she lays there shuddering and fight to control her breathing. She hears a clamor in her head; the rush of fire, the sounds of swords being drawn, of furniture being disarrayed, of screaming…

She shouldn’t do it, but she does. Eventually she crawls her way over to Hajime and Atsu. The rage she expects to feel amplifies but is swept away all the same by an overwhelming urge to just lay there with them until she withers away. She comes to find that there is only so much that she can take before her mind shuts itself down.

She finds herself back on the outskirts of town, she doesn’t remember how she got there. There is only a faint hum, a blurry tingle in her mind. A tiredness. A deep loathing. A deeper sorrow.

She carries herself back to Chin.

That day she learns that she cannot escape her past no matter how far she runs. No matter how long she runs. It is always there. It will always be there. She learns that her mind is so terribly fragile.

.oOo.

She is itching to say something, he knows that she is. He just isn’t sure what and he isn’t sure that he should ask. Instead he watches her wander about the palace garden. He decides to ask a different question instead, “what are you planting anyways?”

“Turnips.”

“Do you even like turnips?”

She thinks for a moment. “That depends.”

He furrows his brows. Either you like a food or you don’t, at least that has been his experience with it. “What do you mean?”

“They taste horrid but…” she purses her lips and rubs them together. “But the scent of them is familiar. I like how they smell.”

Sokka nods, he hadn’t thought of it like that. And then he remembers. He doesn’t say it, but he remembers. He recalls her journal and her mentioning the old man and his turnip farm. “Can I help?”

Azula hands him a trowel. Truth be told, he hadn’t realized that she even knew the difference between a trowel and a regular shovel. Yet she had used it rather efficiently, smoothing and patting the dirt over the seed she had just planted.

She only has the one so they take turns planting each seed until Azula is satisfied that they have planted enough. She stands up and half-smacks, half-rubs her hands together until most of the dirt has been cleared of them.

She seems pleased, perhaps even happy. He smiles too. It seems as though she has found at least one healthy outlet for her pain. She tosses a glance over her shoulder and catches him staring. He flushes.

At the very least, she pretends like she hadn’t noticed.

.oOo.

“I haven’t had a chance to do that in a while.” She notes. She holds her hand in front of her, inspecting her nails. They haven’t been so dirty in months. She can’t imagine that her serving girls are going to be all too pleased. Although, it might come as a comfort to them to know that she can respect the sort of work that a palace gardener does.

“Does it make you feel better?” He asks.

Azula nods, “quite.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yes.” She nods. “I will have to get my nails cleaned.”

He laughs, “right away?”

She tilts her head, “preferably, yes.” She now has the opportunity to be perfectly clean after gardening, she doesn’t see the harm in not wasting it. “I like to be clean.” She thinks that Ojihara might have rolled his eyes at that, but she had always had a habit of getting him to do that anyhow.

She tries to fend off the wave of sadness that comes over her. It is the same one that his been threatening to pull her under all day. She glances at Sokka. “Go ahead. Ask.” She mutters. “I know that you want to…”

He inhales sharply and melodramatically, “what’s bothering you?”

“I was thinking about Ojihara…”

“The turnip grandpa?”

Azula roll her eyes, “the turnip grandpa.”

“Okay.”

“And I have been thinking about how I never got a chance to tell Hajime my real name.”

.oOo.

Sokka cringes to himself. Somehow he has been under the impression that she had told him. Though he isn’t quite connecting the dots. “What does that have to do with turnip grandpa?”

She goes quite again for quite a while. “Ojihara used to think that it was...humorous that I didn’t like to get my hands dirty. He didn’t know that I’m…” she gestures to the palace. She looks back at her nails, at the dirt beneath them. “I can just go and clean them at my leisure. Before going to Wujing there was never dirt under my nails. He didn’t know that. Hajime didn’t know that.” She pauses. “Or they might have, but they didn’t know why.”

“And so being able to utilize the spa reminds you of how you never got the chance to tell them where you come from?”

She nods. “I was already thinking about that this morning. And now I am thinking about it more.”

Sokka nods. “That bothers you?”

“Alot.” She replies. “I don’t think that Hajime would have...loved me if he knew. He said that he would have, but that’s because he didn’t know what he was promising to cherish.”

“Who.”

“Huh?”

“Who he was promising to cherish.”

Azula half smiles. “Regardless of word choice, my point still stands.”

“I think that he would have.” Sokka declares with a smile of his own. “If he loved you for what you are now then I think that he would have been able to handle hearing about the past. I would have still loved you.”

.oOo.

“You would have?”

“Sure!”

She isn’t quite sure why it makes her feel better to know that. Perhaps because he reminds her of Hajime in many ways. Still, she has to ask, “why?”

Sokka furrows his brows. “What do you mean, why? You’re bold and fun and I’ve never met anyone like you. I bet that Hajime would have felt the same way. And I know your history, part of it anyways, I was there for part of it. I still lo-like you.” He smiles again.

She clears her throat, “that’s the other thing.” His face is flushing, his slip up is not lost on her but she isn’t ready to address it yet. “I...there’s a part of me that was hoping that he would have fought with me over it.”

He crinkles his brows. “Why would you want that?”

“Because it was so perfect, Sokka. We never fought, not once. I know that if we’d been together long enough that we would have eventually. I wanted to know what that was like. To fight with someone…” She wanted, perhaps still wants, to know what it is like to make up after a fight, to feel that special sort of relief that comes with the end of an argument. “To fight with someone and know that they’d still stick around. Hajime would have.”

“That actually...it makes a lot of sense.”

She swallows. “It does?”

He nods. “It’s reassuring to know that you can get someone so mad and they’ll still care about you so much. Like how me and Katara are sometimes. She’s pretty much the worst but she’s also the best?”

“I thought that I was the worst?”

“But you’re also the best.” He nudges her. His face grows serious again. “And that’s why I think that you will have that fight one day.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, I’m not exactly good at the words thing and comforting people. Katara says I’m ‘insensitive’.”

She shrugs. She can’t imagine that he is any more insensitive than she. Really it was a comfort enough just to hear that isn’t strange to have wanted a fight.  “You don’t have to say anything. Sometimes I just want someone to listen.”

[phantom-antagonist]

song of hope

commissioned by @slaygoldponyboy

A roar of cheers met the ears of the adventuring duo as they passed through the town's gate, people surrounding them on the edges of the street and tossing small coins their way. Tanith enjoyed the small clinking sound they made as they bounced off the hide of the beast she dragged behind her. She saw the mayor of the small town run down the street to meet them, intercepting Makilia in the middle of the road a few feet ahead of her. 

Tanith watched them exchanging words, the mayor smiling brightly in contrast to Makilia, her hood drawn low and her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. She wanted to run forward, place her hand on Makilia’s back and tell her that she was there, she’s there, but the townsfolk were surrounding her and the small children were asking how they managed to slay the drake that had been plaguing the local farms. She watched as the mayor wrapped his arm around Makilia and led her into the tavern, the hooded woman turning around in time to catch Tanith’s eyes before passing through the doorway.

Tanith made her way back to the inn room late into the night, humming a tune that the villagers had taught her over pitchers of wine. They were a kind people, giving her and Makilia a room in the inn for free that night, a night of rest in warm beds before they continued on their quest the next day.

Makilia had slipped out of the tavern after a bit of the festivities, assuring Tanith that she was just tired. The bags under her eyes were heavy, and Tanith decided not to push her too far, knowing how hard she fought against the beast a few mere hours ago. She squeezed her hand once after holding it a beat too long, watching her walk up the stairs before returning to the young man who had been asking about her adventures.

Tanith pushed the door open gently, wincing when the hinges shrieked, calling out that she was heading to bed so late. She slipped through the small crack she made before closing the door behind her.

The only sounds in the room were the faint crackling of the fire and the laughter of the townspeople through the floor below. Tanith couldn’t even hear Makilia breathe, but there she was, laying on her side, the blanket over her slowly rising and falling with each silent breath. She crossed the room, sitting down on the empty bed. For a moment she just rested, looking at Makilia. Her face was so peaceful in sleep, the near constant furrow in her brow gone from sight. Her hair covered the entirety of the pillow she laid upon, looking like spun threads of gold in the firelight. There was a tight feeling in her throat, similar to the pain when she had her first drink, the choking she felt her first time playing in front of a crowd, the catch in her breath just before her first kiss-

Makilia’s voice broke through her haze of thoughts. “Have an enjoyable evening?” 

Tanith shifted her focus back to reality and saw Makilia staring at her, eyes shining in the low firelight. She sat up on the bed and the blanket fell to her waist, showing off her arms decorated in numerous scars, crawling up her shoulder and down her chest. 

“I always do.” Tanith’s voice seemed too loud in the room, too loud for how soft Makilia was before her. Tanith cringed inward at the noise but Makilia just smiled, her eyes scrunching up as she did so. Her smile was warmer than the Drake fire that brushed past Tanith’s skin that morning, her eyes glittered like silver coins in the firelight. She was the most beautiful woman Tanith had ever seen.

“Sorry I wasn’t very good company this evening.” Makilia’s voice cut through the fog in Tanith’s mind. She returned her attention to her companion and saw her eyes were downturned, the smile gone from her face. Tanith found herself moving forward, reaching out for her friend. She moved to the other bed and sat alongside her, resting her clawed hand over Makilia’s smaller one. 

“You are always good company,” she said, her voice now the proper volume for their quiet room. “But something does seem to be bothering you.” Makilia did not answer, her head hanging low. Through the curtain of her light hair, Tanith could see the small charm on her neck, a small, hollow horn resting against her skin. The wood was dark and scuffed in places. Tanith had never seen Makilia take it off in the few months they had been traveling. She believed she remembered her saying it was a gift, a good luck charm from her sister given to her long ago.

“This village reminds me of my own,” she started, pausing as if she was weighing her words carefully. “It’s larger than where I am from, but the spirit is the same. They're simple people. Innocent.” She moved her hand out from under Tanith’s, who bit down her disappointment at the lack of contact, and touched the charm on her neck, wrapping her fingers around it tightly.

“What do you mean?”

Makilia sighed before continuing. “My people were the same. We were simple farmers and hunters. We had no defenses, there was no need for it. We looked after each other.” She lifted her head, and Tanith swore she could see tears glistening in her eyes despite the small smile on her face.

“We actually had a festival every year, on the longest night. The entire village would gather and craft a great bonfire. We prepared a feast for everyone, my mother, she was a great cook, would make a stew that could melt an ice giant's heart, and the neighbors would bake the sweetest bread you ever did taste. There was an old man, his name was Nolan, and he would play the lute as the children danced around the flames. My sister loved him so.” She laughed slightly at the memory, and Tanith’s stomach did a flip at the sound.

“We would stay awake the entire night, until the sun rose. Any leftovers were sent to homes with the most children and those of us that were younger would clean up the debris and the charcoal from the fire,” she trailed off, a far away look in her eyes. The smile that had been growing through her story slipped away into a frown as the tears spilled forward.

“But last year... Last year it rained, which was so odd, it never rained in the winter. We put up a tarp over the fire and the food, to try to salvage it. Nolan was under the shelter of his doorway, still playing his lute.” Her voice caught, a sob crawling its way out of her throat.

“Someone shot him. Arrow through the chest. Everyone went into a panic. Trying to hide the children, trying to find where the shot had come from, find anything that could be used to defend ourselves.” Her breathing was catching, chest heaving.

“It was hopeless. We didn’t stand a chance. A group of men marched in, and they cut down anyone that got close to them. One of them, he-” Her body shook with the cry that overtook her, and she fell forward into Tanith’s arms. She held the girl close, rubbing her back. She wanted to console her, tell her that it was alright, but the words died on her tongue. Instead she just hugged her closer, praying that Makilia understood all the words that she couldn’t express at that moment. 

Eventually her sobs stopped, and then her tears, and Tanith felt her body relax under her fingers. She was entirely sprawled out in her lap, the only time she truly looked at peace. Tanith smiled down at her, before settling back against the wall and allowing herself to fall asleep.

***

Makilia was quiet as they left the town, unwilling to look her partner in the eyes. She hadn’t meant to confide so much the night before, almost ashamed that she had let go so much. She expected Tanith to leave, or tease her, anything. Instead she was greeted with warm smiles when she dared look at the tiefling and a tight feeling in her chest, like she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

They continued on their path, heading down the road and on the trail of the bandits Makilia had been tracking for close to a year now. The days were getting shorter, and often they had to rely on Tanith’s magic so they could see what was around them. Nights were spent curled around their campfire, rotating who kept watch. As the nights grew longer, Makilia found herself growing restless, staying awake longer. She sat with her back against Tanith, crossbow in her lap and her finger on the trigger, exhausted but unable to relax enough to close her eyes. 

“What troubles you?” Tanith’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, bringing her back down to reality. She could feel warmth radiating from Tanith through their clothes, a sign of her infernal heritage. She welcomed the heat, a solace from the cold winter night that surrounded them. 

“I keep thinking of home. Of the bonfire, of my family.” Makilia felt her throat catch. She could almost see the flames in her mind's eye, violent and spreading despite the torrential downpour. “What if they don’t light the fire this year? What if they stay in the dark?” She didn’t voice her true fear, but she was sure Tanith had understood: What if they have lost all hope?

Makilia felt her companion shift against her back, and then her hand was covering Makilia’s own. She let herself relax slightly, smiling when she felt Tanith squeeze her hand.

“I wish I could answer that question for you, my friend.” Her voice was quiet, a whisper of wind against the leaves around them. The hand on her own disappeared, the cold night air sweeping in and leeching out all the heat Tanith’s touch had left.

A chord from a lute broke though the quiet murmur of the night, startling Makilia for a moment. Tanith’s voice then joined the night air, low and beautiful, singing in a tongue Makilia did not understand but knew intimately at this point. Makilia felt herself relax, nearly melt against Tanith, slowly drifting, all the while wrapped in her voice.

Just before she drifted to sleep, in a lull of Tanith’s singing, Makilia asked a question that had been resting against her lips.

“What song is that?” It was a fairly common question on her end. Tanith’s knowledge of music seemed to be boundless. She knew shanties from her time at sea, drinking songs in nearly every language, famous tales passed from bard to bard about heroic adventures. She managed to never sing the same song twice.

All was quiet, save for the lute, quietly chiming into the night air. Makilia felt herself drifting deeper into sleep.

“A song of hope,” was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

***

Tanith slept soundly at the end of her watch, fingers curled around her lute on her bedroll next to their campfire. Makilia was quiet the next morning, offering a small smile before they continued on their day, the way they always had. They repeated the same pattern for a few days: traveling as long as the light allowed, setting up camp just after dark, and Tanith singing her companion a song to lull her to sleep each night. They were approximately 3 days from the nearest village when the darkest night had arrived.

Tanith had been keeping track of the days on her own since they had left the previous village. She had seen how exhausted Makilia had grown as the night grew closer, how anxious, withdrawn. Tanith felt herself growing nervous as the time got closer, worried her plan would go over poorly with her companion. But she knew she had to take the chance.

The day passed quickly, even with them moving just before the sun had risen. They didn’t talk much throughout the day, just a few words about the state of their rations and Tanith playing a few chords throughout the hours to keep the mood as light as she could. It seemed harder and harder to do as the sun climbed through the sky, Makilia seeming to shut down before her eyes.

When the sun finally set, Makilia halted dead in her tracks. They had just crossed through a thick patch of trees and were on the edge of a small clearing, The sky was surprisingly clear, moonlight filtering through the dead branches and highlighting the ground. On the other side of the clearing, through the trees, Tanith believed she could see a road. 

“We can set up camp on the edge of this clearing, safer than staying in the center.” Makilia dropped her pack as she spoke, laying out her bedroll and bringing out her rations. Tanith gripped the strap of her pack tightly before setting it down next to her companion. 

“I’ll gather some wood,” she said before scurrying off into the woods, handaxe at her hip. Her voice seemed too loud again, like her nervousness was attempting to escape her body. She considered her plan once more, gathering up as much wood as she could. What if instead of consoling her, it only made her more distraught? Doubt crept up her throat, choking out what hope she had been holding on to. She decided she wouldn’t attempt it, instead just staying awake with Makilia without saying a word of her original thought.

Cementing her resolve on the situation, she returned back to camp, wood overflowing in her arms.

“Tanith, what’s all this?” she heard her companion say. When she shifted so she could see past the pile of wood, she noticed Makilia had set up her bed roll for her. She was sitting on the ground, and in her arms was the gallon of mead Tanith had bought in the last village and a pack of sweet bread, wrapped to preserve it longer. Tanith felt her face flush, busying herself with setting down the wood before she responded.

“I, uh, I bought those before we left the village. I…” She tried to think of a reason that wasn’t I bought them to celebrate your holiday with you because you’re miles away from your family and I felt bad and you’re friend and also because I believe I am falling for you. She didn’t want Makilia to think she pitied her, or that she only did this out of a desire for romantic affection.

She stood up and faced Makilia, ready to lie slightly and say there had been no reason, or it was a good price, or a drunken purchase. But when she raised her head and looked at Makilia, her soft eyes and light smile, how the moonlight bounced off her skin now that her hood was down. Her eyes were wide, brighter than stars and looking directly at Tanith, and she knew she could never lie to her.

“They’re for you. I know I’m not your family, but I have grown to,” she paused, attempting to find the right words, “to care for you, on this journey. And if you’ll let me, I would like to partake in your traditions. Starting tonight.” Tanith’s voice trailed off the longer she talked as she fought to keep a tremor out of her voice. 

Makilia was as silent as the night air around them, like the forest was holding its breath along with the two adventurers. A grin and breathy laugh broke the stillness, and Tanith watched her friend’s face light up brighter than the moon as her grin widened. She stepped forward, and Tanith could see moonlight reflecting the unshed tears in Makilia’s eyes, and then those eyes were impossibly close and slipping shut, and there was a warmth against her lips, feather light, the sigh of a promise.

And then she leaned forward and Makilia’s lips were on hers, impossibly warm against the night air and it just felt right. Her hand, so soft, rested against Tanith’s cheek and she felt her smile against her lips. Makilia pulled away and rested her forehead against Tanith’s and she giggled, the sweetest sound in all of existence, and Tanith nearly fell to her knees.

Makilia pulled away, grabbing Tanith’s hand and pulling her closer to their bed rolls before sitting down. Tanith continued to stand, blinking rapidly and trying to gather her bearings.

“Am I safe in assuming this means that you also... care, for me?” she heard herself ask, watching as Makilia began preparing their fire.

“You would be correct,” she laughed, and Tanith sat next to her companion, moving closer to kiss her once more. 

Her lips were soft and tasted of honey, and she smelled like the air did before it rained. It was more intoxicating than any drink, and it nearly pained Tanith to pull away after so long of aching for this. 

She settled on her bedroll, shoulder to shoulder with Makilia as the fire grew. Once it was stable, Makilia reached for Tanith’s lute and started to strum a familiar tune. It took a moment for her to realize that Makilia would hum this, under her breath in quiet moments of their adventure. Tanith watched her fingers dance over the strings, slow but familiar. She looked up and smiled, pushing the lute into Tanith’s hands and pressing a small kiss on her cheek.

“If you want to understand our festivals and traditions, it probably would be best to start with the music.”

[redroseinsanity]

Ōmagatoki  - Day 6

@daisugaweek2019​ | Day 6 - Fashion/History

Chapters: 6/7

Summary: In the Kamakura period, a fallen samurai undertakes a journey to pray for the mountain god’s mercy as a famine threatens his people, but instead meets an enchanting tree spirit. Daichi knows that the kodama is possibly the most dangerous being he has ever encountered, and yet, he falls.

—

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Daichi’s legs jerked into a half step, wooden and uncoordinated as his heart lurched ahead of him, pulling onward to where Suga was. 

It took another clumsy jolt before Daichi was tumbling over himself, cursing his bad leg as he discarded his last tool in the grass and ran. 

Or tried to at least. The months of building and plowing had made him stronger than ever, but an old wound was still a wound. He began with a trot, then throwing dignity to the wind along with all reason, broke into a slightly unbalanced jog that favoured his injured leg. Around him, workers carried on, eager to finish and get home, uncaring that their young lord had decided to take his leave in an urgent manner or if he had simply lost it and sprung for the hills. 

Only a handful raised their heads to watch as the third son raced across the plantation grounds, sunlight bouncing off gleaming, sweaty, tan skin, and Daichi, breathless more with the anticipation than the exertion, drew close to a smiling Suga. 

He could see the faint summer breeze ruffle light hair and even without that distinctive trait, he would know the figure anywhere, would recognise the tilt of that head, the glow of that smile. 

And he watched, aghast, in the last several strides that would have taken him there, as the wind collected all those features in a gentle gust. Feeling the back of his throat close up, Daichi arrived just as the silhouette fragmented into a flurry of leaves and petals that were cycled upward and away. 

Thrusting a desperate hand upward, his fingers closed on nothing more than air and a single, pale pink petal. 

—

“He’s in danger." 

Daichi spun in a circle, struggling to locate the voice that tickled at the back of his mind.

"He’s in danger and so are you.”

The fog thinned enough for Daichi to orient himself and he found himself somewhere resembling the clearing that he had last seen Suga in, all those months ago. 

Stepping out of the mist-like shroud, the speaker looked immaculately divine and yet, the slightest bit worn. 

“Tooru?” Daichi squinted. Tooru seemed to throw a disdainful glance over before promenading over to the edges of the cliff, almost disappearing from sight. 

“You both are fools. I’m only trying you because that imbecile is not heeding my words,” Tooru appeared to grow in height and presence. The sense of power that diffused from him threatened to overwhelm and drown Daichi, “The mountain god will discover what he has done for you and then you will both suffer his wrath. It is only a matter of time.”

As Tooru vanished into the mist, Daichi started forward, mouth open with questions overflowing and woke with a jerk, hand stretched above him as though still reaching for the dream figure that he sought. 

He buried his face in his hands, only looking up when something fell from his hair, shaken loose by his movement. Illuminated by the moonlight, a limp leaf, yellowing at the edges sat in his palm. 

Keep reading on AO3 or after the cut

Light. Although the evening was drawing near, the colourful lanterns and lamps that lined the streets fended off the edges of twilight. The village was awash with colour and cheer, with a smorgasbord of food and a myriad of activities laid out. 

At Daichi’s behest, the village was holding a festival for the summer equinox and to give further thanks to that which had given their crops life. 

With the Sawamuras’ backing, their people had gone all out and there were tables of summer snacks being sold, games to be played and small handcrafted wares for purchase. It had been a day of rest and preparation, and it showed in the liveliness of the atmosphere, with laughter filling the air and the shouts of children ringing out occasionally. 

Daichi strolled along the fringes of the festive area, hardly registering the scene other than the muffled noise that it emanated. He had done his checks earlier in the day and was satisfied with it, leaving his family to make their own rounds and bask in the ambience. 

Beside him, the rich, sweet aroma of roasting chestnuts and sweet potatoes wafted from where several were being grilled. Inhaling deeply, Daichi reminded himself that he should be focused on living here, that it would make no sense to dwell on what had happened in the mountainside, that he needed to gather himself in order to keep going. Toward what?  

Painfully, the way it is to pry a scab from a cut that has not yet healed, Daichi wrested his thoughts away from Suga and stepped decisively into a bustling lane, finding a faint smile on his lips as laughter infused the air and bright chatter followed. 

He nodded to a few farmhands who were now manning a game stall and awkwardly waved off another’s attempts to push free wine on him. Chuckling, he extracted himself and then held back a step as two children dodged past him, shrieking in glee. 

Looking up, the world slowed as his gaze foundered on the very person he had just firmly put aside. There, in the middle of the alley, resplendent and with those smiling hazel eyes, was Suga. 

Time seemed to trickle around Daichi as he took the other in, emotions brawling within, demanding to be felt. Though normally clad in pale green, tonight’s Suga was in robes of the most exquisite blue, ornate and far too extravagant for even someone of Daichi’s standing to own. 

Daichi straightened, a samurai’s excellent posture taking over as he pulled shoulders back and lifted his chin. Then he walked directly past the spirit, holding his breath and waiting, waiting, waiting for the instant that Suga would crumble to nothing but flora. 

He was prepared this time, had braced himself with disappointment in the set of his brows and the press of his lips. He was, however, not at all prepared for a hand to shoot out and clasp his wrist, loose in its grasp but warm and real. 

Staring at where Suga’s hand had to be underneath the sleeves of Daichi’s hitatare, he traced it to its owner, dumbfounded and reeling. 

“Do you not know me?” Suga asked, as gentle as a leaf settling on the surface of water with the barest ripple.

Daichi faltered as his feelings staged a revolution, tearing down his reason and engulfing him with the staggering desire to reach for Suga and pull him into an embrace, to hold him and talk him out of disappearing again, to beg for him not to go somewhere Daichi could not follow. 

“Are you real?” Daichi wheezed, “If you are not, I implore you not to give me any more false hope.”

Suga’s eyes softened infinitesimally before he pulled closer and ran a single finger down the line of Daichi’s jaw.

“Real enough for you?” He teased as Daichi’s entire body flared. 

“What-” Daichi stopped to clear his throat and tried again, “What are you doing here?”

“You vowed that we would meet again,” Suga’s eyes were dancing, “All I’m doing is making sure that you do not break your promise.”

Haven’t I been seeing you? Daichi wanted to ask. 

“It feels as though every day that I do not keep that promise is torture. Have you been punishing me? Or is being apart from you simply that painful?” Was what came out instead. 

Suga stared at him, surprise lifting his brows and the beginnings of delight tugging at his lips while Daichi fought the urge to exile his tongue for being so brutally honest. 

Belatedly, he remembered where they were and he glanced around with some concern. 

“Are you- Can they see you? How are you here?” He asked, suddenly struck by the possibility that people might see the young Sawamura talking to himself on a busy street. 

“Only those who want to,” Suga replied, waving to a small boy who shyly bowed back as his mother led the way toward a pottery stall. 

Up close, Daichi could see the elaborate design of Suga’s outfit even in the dying rays of the sunset. Rich blue shot with silver that highlighted his ethereal features and emphasised his moonlit hair. The material itself was soft and clearly high in caliber, sighing every time Suga took a step and falling over his lean frame just right. 

Just as those around him, Daichi included, had put on their best clothes for the festival, Daichi had the hunch that Suga had come for a specific purpose but exactly what, he failed to fathom. Questions bubbled to Daichi’s lips and clung there, on the verge of falling out. 

“Are you here for the festival?” He blurted, then felt like hitting himself because surely a kodama had more important things than a measly human festival to think about.

To his surprise, Suga grinned, instantly putting all of the festival’s beautiful decorations to shame. 

“Show me around?”

So he did. Watched as Suga’s eyes teared and then went enraptured as he tasted a spicy specialty of his town, one that made Daichi’s entire mouth burn. He trailed behind a fascinated Suga as the kodama made it a point to touch all the handicrafts they passed, eyes wide and wondering as he marvelled at the tiny figurines detailed with fine touches and the soft woven mats. 

They stopped for quite a while to watch an elder do elegant strokes of calligraphy with absolute control and grace. Initially, Daichi had assumed that Suga was intrigued by the writing aspect, however, the kodama had carefully rubbed a part of the parchment between thumb and forefinger before nodding pensively and walking away. 

The villagers were thrilled that Daichi came by to play a few games, gathering round to cheer him on as he tried his hand at things that he hadn’t played since he was a child. But with Suga beside him, excited and starry-eyed, it was reminiscent of Daichi’s most carefree days. So intent was he on committing every single charmed expression on Suga’s face to memory that he missed the whispered gossip of the villagers who had never seen this Sawamura smile so much in a long time. 

By late evening, they had wandered far from the village, munching on candied nuts and sweet plums as they settled beneath a wide tree at the base of the mountain, resting in the undrawn border between Suga’s home and Daichi’s. There, Daichi imagined that if he tried hard enough, he could believe that they were suspended in a timeless frame, some liminal space that allowed him to stay here with Suga indefinitely.

Under the cover of darkness, Daichi found the courage to pose the question he had withheld earlier.

“This robe,” He hedged, “Is it special? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“I suppose it’s special because we assign it meaning,” Suga hummed, “Now it is special because I have worn it to see you.”

“Oh, you- I meant-” Daichi flailed, not expecting such a frank and yet, convoluted response, “It seems to be of excellent quality,” He finished weakly. 

“Oh, it is,” In the shadows, Suga’s entire demeanour turned mischievous as he began undoing his obi, “Would you like to try it on?”

Daichi’s hands flew to catch Suga’s, making a rough estimate in the dark and colliding with cool knuckles and incredibly soft fabric.

“No! No, it’s fine,” He yelped, as Suga cackled. Suga’s robes whispered as he shifted closer, so close that Daichi felt the warm exhalation of the other when he spoke.

“Are you afraid of what you’ll find underneath?”

“I will never be afraid of you,” Daichi told him honestly, “I only fear myself, for I cannot trust myself when I’m around you.”

The hand that was in Daichi’s slipped from his grasp to cup his cheek as Suga leaned in and fit his lips flush against Daichi’s. For a beat, Daichi’s mind struggled to comprehend, to react, and then he was sweeping an arm out and cradling Suga to him in a bundle of silky material and pliant warmth. 

Daichi had known, had told Suga, that he had scarce control over himself around the kodama, but he was still surprised by his own boldness when he was the one to deepen the kiss, nipping at soft lips to elicit a gasp from Suga, his fingers taking the liberty to run through hair he knew looked like liquid silver. 

Suga’s other hand took a path across his chest, over a broad shoulder to graze over Daichi’s neck and there it rested, nails gently scraping the sensitive skin at the nape of Daichi’s neck as he reciprocated, lips moving in ways that had Daichi’s head spinning. He planted kisses down the length of Suga’s neck, savouring the cedar perfumed smoothness as he worshipped every exposed bit of skin until he got to a delicate collarbone. Resting his forehead against Suga’s shoulder, he nosed along the line of bone before summoning what was left of his restraint. Then, leaving a small kiss where he stopped, he tugged Suga’s stunning robes back into place, fingers lingering a little too long at times, but eventually managing to restore a semblance of order to the rumpled kodama. 

“Look,” Suga breathed, still folded into Daichi, the two tangled in a mess of coloured cloth and heated skin. 

A firefly had lit up near them, and as if by signal, tens of tiny floating lights appeared as Daichi gazed up in awe. The fireflies hovered and moved in steady patterns, filling the immediate area with a soft iridescence and giving the pair’s faces a luminescent quality.   

Slowly, reluctantly, Suga pulled away, releasing Daichi and drawing a deep breath. 

“The light from the fireflies will be sufficient for you to find your way home,” His hand stroked Daichi’s face before retreating into wide sleeves, “You should go now. Go.”

There was a measure of insistence in Suga’s tone had Daichi on his feet before he could stop himself, and yet, he could not bring himself to go. 

“Will I see you again?” He asked, a desperate note finding its way into his voice.

“Only if you promise to,” Though it was the same answer he had given all those months ago, Suga didn’t sound as certain as before, his pitch low and wavering. 

“Then I do,” Daichi swore, steady and hopeful, still giddy from the rush of how intoxicating Suga was. With one last glance back, he headed for home, his feet taking him in one direction while every fibre of his being yearned to go in another. 

About thirty paces away, he halted, heart thudding and the feel of Suga’s lips still a phantom weight on his. Then he whirled, tearing through the forest in the way he came from, feet moving faster than ever and still not fast enough. 

He skidded to a stop in front of the tree that he had left Suga, a few straggling fireflies floating about. 

But Suga was gone. 

[stacylaughs]

Bye, Korea

I taught English in Busan, Korea for a year, ending June 2011. I remember the dread I felt flying to Portland then. I left Portland again and returned to Korea February 2013. I felt like I was home. Since then, I’ve quit teaching and I’ve been working remotely for almost four years. When I flew back to Portland in August 2017, without any intention of coming back to South Korea, butterflies (different from before) filled my stomach.

I love Korea and it’s been a great experience living there. I love learning more about where I come from and improving on the language. I also know in my heart that I’m American and that I want to create my home in the U.S.

For the last month in Korea, I walked around as if in a trance. I can’t believe how much time has passed and how much life has changed. I miss singing along with my appliances (i.e. rice cooker and washing machine) and waking up with tinfoil in my bed because I fell asleep eating kimbap. 

I feel nostalgic for a time, as well as places, which is an overwhelming feeling. It’s scary to think of returning to Korea, and think of the last time I left, as if no time had passed at all. Time goes fast, life is short, and the impermanence of things is hitting me harder than it ever has.

I did SO much in Korea, met amazing people, ate all the things, and had amazing experiences. But, still, I know I can’t do everything I wanted to do or do things again. There are so many places to go in this world, but maybe I’ll be back. Because I obsessively make lists, here’s a list of places I wanted to experience but didn’t make the time for:

Andong Traditional Folk Village - Rural Korea is a sharp contrast from the fast-paced neon and concrete cityscapes. I never went to the mask festival at the end of September and beginning of October each year. Apparently this is the town for some awesome chicken, as well.

Anyang Art Park (안양예술공원) - This a cool park in Anyang City that's free and a photo dream. You can get off at Anyang Station (Line 1) and take bus number 2 to the park. It's a very large place and it might be a bit confusing, but so many photo worthy spots. Definitely wear walking shoes and bring water in this heat! 

Beopgi basin - Nestled in the mountains just 45 minutes north of Busan. Renting a car and visiting Hongryong Falls (홍룡폭포) would be a great way to spend a day.

Beopjusa temple stay - Literally “Mountain Removed from Worldliness,” Songnisan is where the 7th-century Buddhist Beopjusa temple is still located. It has the largest buddha in Korea. 

Bukchon Village - I’ve been here before but really wanted to visit this picturesque neighborhood again. It’s flanked by two palaces —Gyeongbok Palace to the west and Changdeok Palace to the east— this village has the largest cluster of privately owned traditional Korean wooden homes or hanok in Seoul. The easiest way to get to Bukchon in Seoul is to go out Anguk Station (subway line 3) Exit 3.

Cheongdo - I probably couldn’t stomach the bull fights but I always wanted to see the Wine Tunnel (와인 터널).

I really wanted to go to Chuncheon/Gapyeong again just to eat the Dak Galbi (닭갈비). I could eat dalkkalbi every day, and it really is the best where it was invented. The two best places are “Tong Na Mu Jip” and “1.5.″

I’ve been to Geoje several times, but, yeah, I want to go again. I’d love to hike up Mt. Daegumsan, take a short boat ride to Oedo Island, and ride the zipline at Deokpo Beach.

I visited my friend Anne in Suwon when she was teaching a camp there, but I didn’t have the time to explore the Hwaseong Fortress (수원 화성) or Toilet Museum.

Jeonju - I’d like to try the bibimbap and visit the Hanok Village (전주 한옥마을). 

Jirisan - What a shame that I never made it to the top of this mountain. I’ll always cherish the lovely trips I’ve had out there and only wish I could have spent more time there.

Kimchi Museum - I walked by this place so many times in Insadong but never went. Where else in the world will you be able to go to a museum solely dedicated to the Korean staple, kimchi? Kimchi, or seasoned fermented vegetables, is at the heart of Korean culture and its food and is usually eaten with every meal. There are 187 different documented types, ranging from kimchi of different ripeness levels to water kimchi, cucumber kimchi, and radish kimchi varieties. In addition, it is not uncommon for Korean households to have refrigerators solely dedicated for the storage of kimchi. At the museum, you can taste 7-8 different types of kimchi, view bacteria found in kimchi under a microscope, and even learn how to make kimchi in the education room. 

Oh, to see Kyeongju again. Korea used to be divided into three major kingdoms (Silla, Baekje, and Goguryeo) until the Silla kingdom conquered the other kingdoms and made Gyeongju the capital. Gyeongju remained the capital of this region for approximately 1000 years, leading to the creation of a number of archaeological treasures that are well worth your time.

On several visits to Seoul, I missed out visiting a Hanbok Cafe in Insadong or the Princess Diary Cafe outside Exit 3 of the Ehwa Women’s University subway station. These dress cafes give you the opportunity to wear a Korean traditional dress or wedding dress at rental prices of 15,000₩ ~ 40,000₩ an hour. 

The Robo Life Museum in Pohang does require a reservation but looks pretty awesome. Some are miniature robots programmed to be Psy back up dancers, some are robotic fish that swim, and some are robotic seals designed for therapy. 

Seonyudo sits off the west coast of the peninsula, 90 minutes from Gunsan by boat.

Seoraksan again. It was so lovely in the fall --but I see endless beauty in every season.

Seoul Fortress Trail, the Naksan section covers an enjoyable scenic route from Hansung University Station and the Hyehwa Gate traveling south alongside Naksan Park and Ihwa Mural Village until you arrive in the crowded, neon streets of Dongdaemun with the landmark Dongdaemun Gate at the foot of the pathway. The route itself doesn’t take too long to cover with sunset a recommended time to visit so as to enjoy the spectacular views across the city at their finest. Accessible from Hansung University Station, Seoul Subway Line 4 Exit 4.

Seoul Palaces - There are a lot of them (e.g. Gyeonghui Palace. Deoksugung, Changdeokgung, Changgyeonggung, Gyeongbokgung) and many are near each other. I always planned to see them all but ultimately got a distracted or bored. 

Seoul Forest - This park was opened in 2005 and features absolute beauty. It’s a bit of a trip from downtown Seoul, but I’ve heard it has five connected parks and it’s possible to see deer Located outside Seoul Forest Station (Subway Bundang Line) Exit 3. 

Ujeon Beach in “Slow City”

Controversy aside, I wanna see Ulleungdo + Dokdo.

Uponeup (우포늪) is the largest and oldest wetland area in Korea, a protected area that dates back to times when dinosaurs ruled the world. A favouite with Korean photographers due to the unspoiled setting and views that the wetlands offer up, it sounds like a romantic weekend.

Yeosu is a port city on South Korea’s East China Sea coast. I haven’t researched what to do there but I’ve always wanted to visit.

I don’t know much about the city of Yulpo but when my friend Allison went, she couldn’t wait to share: “I just spent three days there and visited the big tea plantation ten minutes away (TWICE!). It's a tiny farm village next to an empty beach. And there is a green tea spa on the beach. It was heaven.”

Alright, Korea, maybe next time.

[paul-s-walks-uk-blog]

Walk 8 :  Dartmouth to Totnes

 ‘A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation.’

William Blake

One of the area's truly great walks, this daylong ramble follows the wooded banks of the broad and beautiful river Dart, on a route crammed with gems and jewels of human and natural history.

The South Devon AONB website synopsis of the walk

View over Dartmouth

Walk data

Distance: 12 Miles, 19.3 km

Grade: Moderate. Easy walking, but on average uphill 

Start Point : Bus stop at North Embankment, Dartmouth (sx878512)

End Point : Steam Packet Inn, Totnes (sx805600)

Facilities: Full range of facilities at Dartmouth: Shops, supermarkets, pubs, toilets, banks. Also at Totnes. On route the are several pubs, all of which serve food. There is a village shop and cafe in Dittisham.

Transport: There are buses between Dartmouth and Totnes, regular on weekdays, but only twice on Sundays. There is also a river ferry between them, it is a beautiful trip, but but it’s timing is dependant on tides, so the timetable  must be checked before hand ( It is operated by the Dartmouth Steam Railway and Riverboat Company-check here for times). Totnes is easily accessible by bus or train from either Plymouth or Exeter. Dartmouth is directly accessible by bus from Exeter and Plymouth, but the busses also service the local villages on the way, so the journey time is in either case in excess of two hours (but you do get to see lots of scenery). Bus and train journeys can be planned here.

Maps  : Ordnance Survey Explorer OL20. Coordinates are from this map. A compass is not needed, but the map is strongly advised, even though the trail is well signed.

An album of Photos from this walk can be found on my Facebook Page

Walk overview

This is a fairly long but straightforward walk following a recognized and clearly signposted trail (The Dart Valley Trail) between two of Devon’s most historic and lively towns. It starts in Dartmouth, near where the river flows into the sea, and ends in Totnes which is the farthest point navigable by large boats.It consists mostly roads and country footpaths.  It is not a challenging walk, although a couple of small stretches are perennially muddy, so you will need good waterproof boots or shoes. There are a few long, steepish parts, and since the trail is following a river inland, the path is generally uphill. 

This is a great walk if you want to experience some good Devon pubs. Don’t try too many, or you may never get to the end!

Route Maps and elevation

Stage 1 : Route map and elevation

Stage 2: Route map and elevation

Stage 3 : Route map and elevation

Dartmouth

Dartmouth is on the western bank of the mouth of the Dart. It is a busy place, with seagulls crying and flapping around all day, and many boats bobbing up and down on the water.

Although Dartmouth has a natural deep-water harbour it was only an agricultural settlement at the time of the Norman Conquest (1066), but it soon began to grow and by the fourteenth Century it was well known enough for Chaucer to include one of its inhabitants among his pilgrims ‘A schipman was ther, wonyng fer by weste;For ought I wost, he was of Dertemouthe.’, who tells a somewhat morally dubious story about money lending.

By the Elizabethan times it was a thriving port. Castles were built on either side of the estuary with a chain between then, that could be pulled up to prevent  invasion from the Spanish fleets. The castle on the Dartmouth side is worth a visit. The Pilgrim fathers stopped at Dartmouth on the way to America (they hadn’t got very far at that stage).

The Navy has since had a keen interest in Dartmouth and the naval officer academy still sits in in an imposing Victorian building that dominates the a large hill on the edge of the town

The first bridge across the Dart is at Totnes, over 10 miles upstream. but in Dartmouth there are two vehicle ferries and one foot passenger ferry across to Kingswear on the eastern side.

There is plenty to explore. To find out what to see and do, and for any events happening, click here.  

 Dartmouth is one of those English towns which has grown up in a sort of hotchpotch fashion, so that it has many house from different periods. On the steep hills such as this the house frequently have a front door on the street, once inside you go down to the rest of the house instead of up. Some have little bridge connecting the front-door to the street. It is common in Devon towns for house to be painted in different colour. Dartmouth is no exception: There are blue houses, pink house, yellow house. Some have slate fronts, some wooden, some granite or limestone.

If you want to sample a traditional devon pub, there are too many to lst here, but check out this page. Almost all will serve good food (frequently fish and seafood, freshly caught) as well as a range of local ales.

On the subject of pubs-Devon has a host of local breweries, some large, some tiny. Apart from making very good beer, they also seem to be in competition to come up with weird names for their beverages. Here is a list of some them along with the breweries that make them. They are not all available everywhere, although Jail (personal favourite) and Otter are most common

Jail Ale (Dartmoor brewery, Princetown)

Pandit (New Lion Brewery, Totnes)

Cor bugga! ( Teignworthy Brewery, Newton Abbot)

Devon Dumpling (Bays Brewery, Paignton)

Otter Ale (Otter Brewery, near Honiton)

Pheasant Plucker (Hunters Brewery, Ipplepen)

Black Ops (Taw Valley Brewery,  North Tawton)

Pandemonium (South Hams Brewery, Kingsbridge)

Repeat Offender (Stannary Brewery, Tavistock)

Tuckermarsh Pale (Bere Brewery, Bere Alston)

If you are from outside the UK you can relax and  forget the myth of warm beer.The British have not drunk warm beer since the 1970's (except of course  when they do... at  beer festivals, where it is more or less compulsory)

Stage 1 : Dartmouth to Dittisham (4.5 Miles, 7.2 km)

The walk starts at the south west corner of the little square harbour near the waterfront. You will see a kiosk that sells boat-trip tickets, and on the lampost next to it a blue sign, which shows in white two castles with some wavy lines below. This is the first sign for the trail. You will see it frequently. Often it will be accompanied by a white arrow on a blue background showing the direction to walk. The trail is part of a much longer trail The John Musgrave Heritage Trail (this is 32 miles long) so the signs for this can also be followed (yellow and brown circles, with an image of aboot print inside).

Follow the road past the little harbour and past the white and blue painted Royal Castle Hotel until you come to a car park on you right. At one corner you will see a small street called Zion Place walk along this to the end, turn right and almost immediately there is a long flight of stone steps called Coxs Steps. Climb these til you come to a narrow road called Clarence Hill.

Cox’s Steps

Turn left onto Clarence Hill and follow it along. It eventually becomes Townstal Hill and the Church Hill. Towards the end in bears right and comes to the main road out of Dartmouth (The A379, College way at sx870515)

The trail goes the the end of Old Mill Lane, Down a flight of steps and into Old Mill Lane This is a pleasant walk on a country road that descend gradually to Old Mill Bridge (sx861519), situated, unsurprisingly on Old Mill Creek. Old Mill Creek always seems to be at low tide. It is pleasant to sit on the wall at the end of the bridge across it and watch the water fowl hopping around in the mud. The Old Mill  sir on one side of the bridge. One can only imagine that the stream to the bridge was once more lively, as it’s current sedately flow would not be enough to drive a mill wheel.

‘Old Mill’ is a self-explanatory place name. But not all the names on the map are. Here is a list of some names that are not. They are all on or close by this trail. I can guess at the origins of some of them, about others I can only wonder.. 

Tippity Van

Dinah’s Side

Blackness Point

Bozomzeal

Sprat Lane End

Poor Bridge

Corkscrew Hill

Higher (and Lower) Yetson

Hothole ( I kid you not)

Lower (and Higher) Gribble Plantation

From Old Mill Bridge turn right and follow the road. It soon becomes a country footpath, called Lapthorne Lane, which quickly brings you to the edge of Hole Copse. Here you have two choices. Both are signed to dittisham. You can either follow straight ahead along the lane or right into the woods. The fist is 2 miles to Dittisham, the second is 2 3/4. The longer way is more pleasant and takes you through Hole Copse and Great Copse. It will also give you some nice views of the Dart, where you can see to the edge of Dartmouth, with the Higher Ferry, laden with cars going back and forth.

Either way will bring you to the road just past Bozomzeal (sx861539). This is Fire Beacon Hill. This is so named as it is the site of one of the beacons that were lit to warn of the SPanish Armada. You can see the beacon across the fields, a tall pole with an iron basket on top. It has a grim look, like a gibbet. The fire beacons were lined along the whole South West. More information on these can be found here.

Dartmoor in the distance, from Fire Beacon Hill

Take the footpath that appears on the right, down through fields of grass and sheep. This eventually joins a farmers road. Here you will be glad if you have good waterproof boots. The farmer here must use a lot of heavy machinery, since the road is always deep in mud and churned up by giant tyres. You can walk on the banks of the road with some care. It is not a long stretch, and after a couple of turns you find yourself in Dittisham (sx861550)

Dittisham

Thatched cottage in Dittisham

If you talk to any of the residents and don’t want to look like a Grockle,  Dittisham should be pronounced Ditsum, or even better Dits’m. (This is a mild reduction of a place name for Devon- There is a village named ‘Woolfhardisworthy’ on maps, but which the locals pronounce ‘Woolsery’)

The trail only skirts the top of the village, which is a shame, as this is one of the best places to visit on the river. It is quite ancient, having been founded in about 660 ad by Saxons, who had found the Dart to be a good trading route inland.So take a detour into town if you have time.It has steep lanes to the water, clustered with old cottages. There are two good pubs, a shop and a good coffee house. A guide to the village can be found here.

stage 2 : dittisham to asphsprington (4.6 Miles, 7.4 km)

The trail passes along the top of Dittisham, following the road until it passes the hamlet of East Cornworthy, after which is cuts through a wooded area on a track to the right. This little country path must once have been a more important way, as there is a small but substantial bridge over the ltlle river. It is odd to find it in this quiet lane, on a dirt track. It has the curious name of ‘Poor Bridge’

Cottage near East Cornworthy

Woods and small river near Poor Bridge

The track becomea a road and leads through the  village of Cornworthy, another small ancient setlement. Agin it has a nice pub, the Hunter’s Lodge. At the far side of the village standing in a field is the remains of a priory, where Nuns lived from about 1200 to the mid 1550′s. It is marked Gatehouse on the map. (sx821555)

From cornworthy the trail turns right off the road and paases downhil towars Bow Creek, another tribuatry of the Dart. It passes through the small Charleycombe Woods, which are full of oak and ash trees.The path turns left. On the right is bow creek, where if you are lucky you can see herons flying low o ver the mud-flats. To your left is Corkscrew Hill. A lot of water flows off the hill after rains and the trail here is often VERY muddy. But there has been a lot of tree planting done recently, so as sapling grow into a new wood, it should they should contain the wet: At the monent though, take care not to get wet feet.

The trail rejoinns the road from Tuckenhay to Bow Bridge. Ther is a good pub in each of these places, The Maltsters and the Watermans Arms. Both have seating with river views.: In summer both are likely to be busy.

Cross Bow Bridge and head up hill to Ashprington.

The Waterman’s Arms, Bow

Ashprington

Ashprington has been in existence since at least the time of the Norman conquest, and is mentioned in the Domesday Book, in 1086, (where it is called Aisbertone). It had about 22 people living there. It has a church which dates back to this time, although the only remaining Norman part is the font. The current church dates from the fifteenth century. There isn’t much happening in Ashprington. It is a quiet, peaceful and secluded place. It has a pub, though, the Durant Arms. There is a bench by the churchyard, so if you need a nice long sit down, having walked just over 9 miles, with still another 3 to go, this is a good place to watch the world slowly moving by.

Stage 3 : Ashprington to Totnes (2.9 Miles, 4.7 km)

Asphrington Church Graveyard at sundown

This is the easiest part of the route as it is almost entirely in the Sharpham Estate until it reaches Totnes. The estate keeps the path well signed, neatly gravelled and clear. 

From the bench by the church head towards Sharpham (i.e. uphill) following the road until you get to the estate gate. Here you leave the road and take the footpath to the left.

Sharpham Estate

Sharpham Estate dates from around 1260, but it’s current form dates from the 18th century, when Captain Philemon Pownoll, who was something of an adventurer, made his fortune capturing a Spanish treasure galleon. (He had an adventurers death, too. He was hit by a cannonball in a fight with the French in the North Sea.) If  Philemon Pownoll seems a crazy name, consider that his grandson was named John Bastard.

Today the estate is managed by the Sharpham Trust. The mansion house is now a center for events and courses. Being close to Totnes ( see below) these are often New Age type events. The Trust supports many conservation schemes. It also has a vineyard, producing a range of wines, and makes it’s own cheeses. If you have time it is worth diverging from the trail and visiting the restaurant/cafe by the river front, and trying the wine and cheese. If it is summer, you may even have time for a guided tour of the vineyard.

Evening in a mirror in a hedge

On arriving it rhe end of the Sharpham footpath, turn right on the road and at the bottom of the little hill you will find the Steam Packet Inn, by the river. Reward  yourself with a nice pint and rest your feet, before going into town.

Totnes

Totnes is chefly famous as being a center for alternative lifestyles. It calls itself a transistion town, and ven has it’s own (not freuently used) currency. There are crystal shops, and mindfulness courses, and always buskers. But there is more to the town. It has a Norman Castlt, a museum, a medieval guildhall and the narrow streets at the tiop of town, still on the medieval layout. (With good Devon Common-snse, these are called ‘The Narrows’). There are lots of coffee shops, cafes and resturants: To many to list, but see here

Totnes High Street

https://www.pubsgalore.co.uk/areas/totnes-town/devon/

[ticknart]

Second Summer: Bedtime Story

Once upon a time, in the valley, Kingdom, and city of Grav, the twin kings, Ford and Lee, prepared for a tournament. Knights from across the land, even far outside of the great valley, were invited. Some would come to settle old scores. Some came to gain a name and honor. Some came simply for the purse. All, however, came to gain the favors of the kings. Grav was a small valley, but the kings made sure it was important to the world.

King Ford was a scholar. He created a college for higher learning which invited any to attend -- men, women, the wealthy, the poor, the crippled, the able -- as long as they continued to build on the knowledge that came before. Many came, expecting an easy life, cloistered and pampered. Life for King Fords scholars was whispered to be more difficult than life in the Royal army. Scholars living at the college had a large variety of duties. Each took a turn cooking and clearing and cleaning for the entire college. All were expected to keep the library clean and orderly and small groups were tasked with hunting down missing books lost in the dormitory, outside homes, or the King's private study and bedroom. Scholars in their fourth year went out into the city, towns, and farms to teach all members of the community. Everyone in Grav was expected to read, write, and cipher. King Ford firmly believed that the more educated the population, the stronger Grav would become.

King Lee, on the other hand, was ruthless, conniving, and greedy. His heart, though, belonged to his family, who he would protect with every fiber of his being, to his final breath. He believed that every individual within the Kingdom of Grav was his family. Each diplomatic mission he made was with his people in mind. His choice of ambassadors rarely came from the nobility, but from the learned commoner because they had a firmer grasp on the needs of their neighbors. After a flood, a fire, or some other disaster, King Lee was always seen swinging a hammer, carrying wood, or leading a plow. When they broke for meals, he sat with the others eating, laughing, and slapping backs. Though he hated spending gold from the treasury, King Lee did all he could to keep the people in their homes and working for each other.

Wen, of the Norwood, remembered when the kings visited her village, Cord, after a mudslide to help. King Lee dropped off his horse, pulled off his cloak and fine shirt, and got in line to help move rocks away from the slide. The guards with him quickly followed suit. King Ford commanded a group of men is brown robes trimmed with red, Scholars, who removed objects from wagons and constructed a great lifting device. It was a large tower covered in wheels that a long, fat rope was run through. Scholars placed a giant harness around the boulders, attached the harness to the rope, and were able to lift the boulders and place them out of the way. All who were taught to use the machine could lift a boulder. This was the first time she realized how strong the twin kings had made everyone, through leading by example.

The day before the tournament was Wen’s first time in the city of Grav itself. She was at the festival to sell furs from the animals she had trapped over the last year. She hoped that she would make enough money to leave her father's house. At one time, she thought she might be a Scholar. She wasn't so sure now. Here talents with reading and writing were stronger than some, but it wasn't what she most enjoyed doing. Sitting, reading a book, and taking notes all day didn't appeal to her. She didn't want to be trapped in one place unless it was the right place. She had only seen 16 winters, how could she possibly know which was the right place unless she visited them all.

As the wagon wound through the streets of Grav, Wen gaped at the buildings. At home only the church and the public house had stone foundations, but in Grav, most of the buildings were made of stone. The stone buildings were taller than the wooden ones. Yes, she watched the Scholars move boulders, but how did they stack stone so high without out any falling? How did they cut the stone so that it fit together so well she couldn’t see seams? Bridges of stone spanned from one building across the road she was on and over to another building. Children waved to her from above. She smiled in wonder and waved back. She'd always assumed that the books she'd read about Grav were made-up by people who had never visited. Now she knew differently.

The sun was near setting as she pulled into a vacant space near the tourney field and was glad that the sun took a long time to set during the summer. She locked the wheels then unhooked the team of oxen that had pulled the wagon. She hitched them to the far side and gave them water and fodder. She climbed back into the wagon to check on her booth and stock. Not only was her father a woodsman, but he was also a very clever craftsman. He altered the wagon so that one side could fold down and then open up into a booth. With a little bit of work she'd be able to attach a large rough cloth she'd bought to act as a canopy. Sometime, her father was as brilliant as he was infuriating.

A noise from down the way drew her attention. A crowd had gathered down where two roads crossed. Wen hoped that no one had been hurt.  She hopped down to the ground to check the hinges and clasps her father had added.

"OW!" She heard from beneath the cart as her feet hit the ground. She stumbled back, but caught herself. She knelt down in the mud. A round dirty face with bright eyes looked back at her.

She smiled and asked, "What are you doing down there?"

"Are they gone?" he whispered.

"Who? Nobody's stopped here until you."

"No. Down there." He pointed back to the group she'd been watching from the back of the wagon.

"Whatever it was, it's breaking up."

He sighed and she saw him relax.

"Do you need some help getting out of there?"

"Can you hold this?" He handed her a knit cap that had a star stitched to it.

"My sister gave me that," he said, out from under her wagon. "I think it's supposed to be funny, but I can't figure out why."

"Come around back. You can wash up before you go."

He followed her. The oxen stood chewing their cud, no longer interested in their food and water. The boy rolled his sleeves up and plunged his hands into the water. He splashed water onto his face and scrubbed it. Finished washing, he shook his hands in the air before untying his collar. He pulled his shirt up over his face and used the inside to dry his face. She laughed. Boys were boys everywhere.

He grinned up at her and said, "Thanks."

"You should watch that," she said, pointing to his eye, "it's gonna be sore soon."

He touched around his eye and winced.

"What happened out there?" she asked, handing him his cap.

He pulled it over his dirty hair and said, "I said the wrong thing to someone bigger than me. When he hit me, I ran. He was fast. When I knew he'd catch me, I dogged behind a woman in a big dress and he ran right into her." The boy smiled at her again. "He tried to push through her dress. How stupid is that?"

"That's pretty bad."

"Right? So, I started running again and dove under a wagon -- your wagon -- to hide until it was over."

The sun had finally set and darkness began to settle in over the city.

"Do you want me to walk you back home?"

"Thanks, but no. When there are so many people out here the guards set up torch bearer rounds to remind visitors that their being watched. They come at every half."

"You want something to eat?" she asked.

"Always."

Wen climbed into the back of the wagon and grabbed her pack. When she looked over the edge, the boy wasn't there anymore.

"Wendy, are you from the Norwood?"

She jerked around. The boy had climbed into the wagon with her and was petting one of her furs.

"My name's Wen, actually and yeah, I'm from a little town called Cord."

"That’s why you have this fur. This kind of beaver is only found in the Norwood."

She handed him a piece of dried meat and said, "I hope that means I'll get a good price."

"You should," he said, gnawing. He moved around, feeling the different furs.

Looking out at the city, Wen took a bite and said, "I've never seen so many lights before. It's like looking across at the night sky instead of up."

"That's brilliant!" said the boy, suddenly at her side. "I've never thought of it like that. I bet we could even set up patterns so it looked like constellations. They could guide people around the city at night! I need to tell Grunkle Fo--" He cut himself off and looked over at her.

"It's okay," she said. "I wasn't planning on doing anything with lights on buildings today."

"It's not that," he said, looking across to the city again.

After some silence, Wen asked, "Where in the city do you live?"

"Oh, I don't live in the city, but my sister and I are sent to visit family here every summer."

"I didn't expect it to be beautiful," she said as more lights were lit.

"Me either," he said, dreamily.

She looked at him and saw that he was looking at her.

He jumped at her gaze. "Oh, look," he said, pointing, "There's a torch bearer now." He dropped out of the wagon and ran off, paused, and ran back.

"Here," he said, reaching his hand out. "If you ever need help from someone, find a guard -- one that’s not drunk -- and they'll help you."

She took a child-sized ring from his hand and he ran off to the torch without another word.

Wen put the ring in a pocket and then arranged the furs on the bottom of the cart. She laid herself down on them. As she looked at the stars over head, she thought the strange little boy. She hadn't even gotten his name, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke not with the sun, but with the smells of cooking nearby. She hadn't smelled anything like that since her mother's cooking. Memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved them down and focused on her grumbling stomach. Drowsy, the climbed down from the back of the wagon and washed her face and hands. The water was cold and washed most of the sleep from her eyes. Before she set off looking for something warm to eat, she prepared her booth.

Sales that morning had been better than what she'd expected, but as noon approached the people trickled away from the sellers. Noon was the beginning of the tournament. Wen dropped the canopy to cover her wares then headed to the field. She'd miss the actual games, but she wanted to be there for the opening.

She pushed through the crowd to get as close to the kings' landing as possible. She was so young when she saw them before, she wondered if they lived up to her memory. She hoped.

Shortly after Wen pushed her way to the front, a very large man in a green robe stepped out. On his chest was the crest of House Pines: a pine tree divided down the center, one side all in black, the other simply outlined, a triangle with a single opened eye was at the bottom, in front of the tree. The large man pushed his hood back and grinned. He had the teeth of a beaver. He looked familiar, and not because she had trapped more than a hundred beavers over the last year.

"People of Grav," he said, "honored visitors, dudes in armor, welcome! Today will be filled with thrills, chills, and maybe a little laughter. Today grown men wearing tin will try to stab each other with really long sticks while riding on horses. And if that isn't funny, then I don't know what funny is."

The crowd cheered.

"And now, the men who brought this to you, from the Great House Pines, King Ford and King Lee." King Ford stood tall in his Scholar robe as he stepped onto the platform. King Lee looked a little bent over, but strong.

"Next, for the first time, the Kings present their heirs. I give you the princess--"

"Mabel?" Wen gasped. When did Mabel become a princess?

"--Mabe and her twin brother Prince Dip."

The field thundered with applause.

The prince looked familiar. She stared at him as he looked around at the crowd. When he locked in on her, he smiled. He had a bruise around one eye.

She gasped again. It was the boy she'd helped the night before. She'd helped the Crown Prince and didn't know. Her stomach felt sick. She pulled the ring from her pocket and saw the royal seal. She was going to be sick.

When the kings and their heirs sat, the man in green raised his hands to silence the crowd and said, "Yes, we're all happy to meet the princess and pri--"

Thunder boomed down on the crowd. The sky was clear. There was no flash of lightening. Thunder boomed again.

The world flickered. The royal family stood much closer to Wen now, behind a low wooden wall? Why was King Lee wearing a red fez? How did she know it was a fez? What happened to the princess's gown? What were those metal shapes around King Ford's eyes? Why was Soos smiling?

The world went white. There was no thunder. When her vision cleared, Wen...dy saw a short blonde, in a cloak so dark that it made the night seem bright, next to the royal family. Smoke rose from her feet.

Fika, Witch of the Northwest Barrens.

"FIKA!" someone screamed! Another scream. And another. Wendy felt panic encircle her. Before anyone else in the crowd moved, she took a step forward. She was going to be up there with her friends and stop the witch.

On her third step, the panic broke and the crowd ran in every direction. Fika pulled something from her cloak -- Wendy couldn't see what it was. -- whirled her hand over her head then pointed at Dipper. A rope appeared around him. With a tug, he was at the witch’s side.

Finally on stage, Wendy shouted, "PACIFICA, STOP!"

The witch grinned over her shoulder, waved a hand in front of her, and shoved the prince forward. He disappeared. Fika took a step forward and disappeared, too.

Wendy charged to where Dipper and the witch disappeared and ran into something hard.

"What are you doing up here?" asked King Lee.

"There's no time, Mr. Pines," she said, feeling the hard air for... something. She knew something was there, but she couldn't say what.

"That's your Majesty, missy."

One hand on the hard spot in the air, she reached out with the other to Mr. Pines and opened it.

The King's eyes shot opened at the sight of Prince Dip's ring. He fell to his knees and said, "Dipper." The princess and Stanford Pines were at his side immediately. Wendy still felt the hard spot in the air. She knew there was something there she could use.

"Dudes," said Soos, "what's going on?"

Something stuck out from the air. Something round and just as invisible as the wall in front of her.

Wen pulled at the round thing. Nothing happened.

Wendy turned the round thing, then pulled. A door opened in the air in front of her, a bright hallway behind it. She ran through it and down the hall.

The witch, Fika turned to face Wendy. Wen stopped running and shrank back in fear. Wendy saw the bright orange stone around Pacifica's neck. Pacifica would never wear orange because orange, especially that close to her face, made her look sickly. Behind the witch stood Dipper, his face blank.

"There's nothing you can do, peasant," spat the witch, raising her hand.

"Maybe there's nothing the peasant can do," said Wendy, stepping forward and reaching out, "but there still plenty the lumberjack can do!"

Wendy grabbed the stone from around the witch's neck, dropped it to the floor, and stomped as hard as she could.

Pacifica fell forward and collapsed into Wendy's arms. She buried her face deep into Wendy's flannel and sobbed, "I thought it would bring me a happy ending. I just wanted a happy ending."

"I know," said Wendy, running her fingers through the girl's blonde hair. "I know."

[snidgetsafan]

The Summer Solstice

Rating: T

Summary: After everyone has settled into their happy beginnings, Mary Margaret decides to rekindle the traditions of the Summer Solstice in Storybrooke. Despite her earlier reservations, Emma is surprised to find it's not that bad (but don't tell her mother)

And of course, her husband sees this as an opportunity to woo her. What kind of wife would she be if she denied him this pleasure?

On AO3

It all started one week before Valentine’s Day. During their weekly Sunday dinner at her parents’. Their discussion of the meaning of Valentine’s Day over the pot roast evolved into a comparison of the holidays in the Land Without Magic and the Enchanted Forest while they ate their slices of pie. Emma listened curiously, taking advantage of this glimpse into more pleasant aspects of the realm of her birth.

“And of course, one of the highlights of the year in my village was the Summer Solstice,” said David, his gaze lost in reminiscence.

“The bonfires,” remembered Mary Margaret.

“The free feast lasting all day,” added Killian.

“But it was nothing without the hunt for the Ludus flower,” interjected David, as if he were saying something obvious. It seemed to Emma as if only her mom understood the reference. She locked eyes with Killian, who seemed as puzzled as her.

“The Ludus flower? What are you talking about, mate? You don’t pick flowers for the Summer Solstice.”

“Of course you do! How could you find your sweetheart without looking for the Ludus flower?”

“Yes, David, how could you find them?” asked Mary Margaret, a sugary sweet smile on her face. While watching her father get out of memory lane and right into a tight spot, Emma decided to intervene.

“I don’t understand, what is this Lupus flower, and what has it got to do with the Summer Solstice, and finding a sweetheart?”

“It’s not Lupus, but Ludus, Emma,” corrected her mother. “And it used to be a big tradition in some parts of the Enchanted Forest: after night had fallen on the Summer Solstice, all the young girls and young men who were single went into the forest looking for the Ludus flower. There, if they found it, they shared it with a member of the opposite sex, who became their sweetheart for the duration of the Solstice.”

“So, like a Valentine?” Emma wanted to clarify.

“You could say that, although finding a sweetheart was only ever for the duration of the Solstice. After, if a maiden wanted her young man to continue wooing her, she gave him some flowers from her flower crown, as a symbol of her interest.”

“This seems mightily complicated, milady. All this ritual of having to find a certain flower, then having to traipse through the forest in the night in search of one specific person… We didn’t have to do that when I was a lad, you just went to the lass you wanted to court and asked her to dance with you at the bonfires.” Killian furrowed his brow, and added, “Also, I’ve never heard of the Ludus flower.”

Mary Margaret and David exchanged a mischievous look, and David turned towards his daughter and his son-in-law, “Well, that’s because you’ve never looked for it, have you?”

And that had been that for the evening. The conversation had turned towards other holidays, and Emma had pushed this conversation to the back of her mind the next day.

That is until three weeks later, when Snow had come unannounced to their house on a Saturday morning, knocking on the door and interrupting Killian and Emma’s breakfast. Killian went to open the door, while Emma tidied up in the kitchen. As her mother walked into the kitchen, a heavy yellow binder in her arms and an excited smile on her face, Emma got a sense of déjà-vu.

“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but it’s important.”

“You were not interrupting, Mom”, answered Emma, ignoring Killian’s expression in the background. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve been thinking, since our conversation a few weeks ago, about the Summer Solstice. It used to be such a big celebration back home, why don’t we organize it here, in Storybrooke?” said Mary Margaret, putting her binder on the table, and looking expectantly at her daughter and her husband.

“I - don’t know Mom, I don’t know anything about the festival, even less about how to organize it-”

“Oh but that’s alright! I already did a little research, and prepared a to-do list for you and Killian, and -”

“Whoa, Mom, wait a minute,” interrupted Emma, glancing at Killian, who raised an eyebrow at her. “We haven’t even agreed to help, this isn’t something that can be decided on the spot like this.”

“You must also remember, Milady, that, as the law enforcement of this town, we have our own responsibilities towards the community,” added Killian, coming to stand next to his wife.

Mary Margaret looked crushed by their lack of enthusiasm, and kept switching her gaze from one to the other. Emma started to feel a little sorry for her, but she didn’t waver in her decision. Her mother needed to learn she could not make decisions for them without asking first.

Then she gave the fatal blow, looking down at her binder. “I’m sorry, I thought this was something we could do as a family, a project where no one’s life is at stake, for once. Oh well, Henry will be so disappointed,” she sighed.

Emma stiffened. Oh no, she didn’t. “Henry? What has Henry got to do with this?” It was her son’s week at Regina’s, she had seen him the previous evening for dinner at Granny’s, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about a festival.

“Well, before doing anything, I had to get the Mayor’s agreement, so I went to see Regina yesterday, and Henry overheard our conversation. He seemed pretty excited to learn more about the customs of what should have been his home. Well, if you two do not want to get involved, I guess he’ll have to make do with reading about it. But it would have been so much better for him to experience it first hand,” she finished, still looking down and shrugging her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant.

While she had been speaking, Emma and Killian had locked eyes, which were growing in size by the second as they realized they had been played. Until suddenly, Killian had frowned, and looked back at his mother-in-law.

“Wait, I don’t understand why the fact we don’t help you organize the Solstice has to mean it should be canceled. I’m sure if you ask around, many citizens will wish to help you.”

“But it’s as you said, Killian. You are the law enforcement. And on a project of such a scale, what can we do if we do not have the support of the Sheriff’s Station?” Snow’s eyes were too wide to be earnest innocence, but she had a point. When husband and wife looked at each other again, they knew they had been defeated. Scratching behind his ear then rubbing his mouth with his hand, Killian said “Well, I’ll make some more coffee, shall I?”

On the day of the festival, Emma walked through the park just before sunset, checking everything was in place, as she reflected on the past three months. Her mother’s assumption that this project would be trouble-free had been a little hasty. While almost the whole town had loved the idea when it had been presented at a town hall meeting in March, squabbles had erupted here and there over various details. The most spectacular had been between Granny and Tony over who would be the official provider for the feast. The two restaurant owners had gotten pretty intense over it, making Emma glad Granny’s crossbow wasn’t anywhere near. Surprisingly, it had been Leroy who came up with the solution of organizing a potluck, thus preventing a feud between the two main food providers of the town.

Belle had fully embraced the project, and had scoured her library for all the information she could find on the history and traditions of the festival, teaming up with Killian and Snow to ensure that the festivities included all the communities present in Storybrooke. They had managed to synthesize all the traditions into one global event, that lasted from sunrise to sunrise. Thankfully, this year the Solstice had fallen on a Saturday, so almost everyone could attend without work or school getting in the way.

When he was not doing research in the library or accomplishing his deputy duties, Killian was also part of the committee auditioning and selecting the musicians who would play during the festival. Music and dancing were apparently a big part of the celebrations, so they needed to find bands or musicians to play around the bonfires. Henry and Regina were also part of this committee, and they had spent a few Sunday meals recounting the most disastrous auditions, the most trying being the one of a blonde former bard who refused to leave the room until he had played and sung his retelling of Hercules’ tasks - all twelve of them. The jury had valiantly gritted their teeth through his performance, but Regina had snapped when he had started screeching about Midas’ stables while plucking the cords of his out of tune lyre, and she had had to threaten him with a fireball for him to finally leave the stage, in a huff. Henry had told Emma while they were going home that apparently, the bard’s decision to rhyme “Hercules” with “feces” had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Snow had done an incredible job at the school, transforming the festival into a learning opportunity for all classes. She and her colleagues had organized school trips to her and David’s farm so the youngest pupils could learn more about farming, and she had teamed up with Belle to share all the legends and stories surrounding the festival with children and adults alike. They had enjoyed this project so much they were thinking about proposing an elective the next year on the history and lore of the Enchanted Forest. The children had also occupied their end of the school year by crafting paper and papier mâché décorations for Main Street, which was now cheerfully bedecked in yellow, green and blue.

Emma was also quite proud of her role, even if it was not the most glamorous, or the most obvious. She had been tasked with the more practical aspects of the organization, namely coordinating with the town’s fire department and the town hall. She had been surprised to enjoy working with the Storybrooke firemen so much. Their Captain, Elliott Fafner, while a little clumsy at times, was a kind and competent man, who had helped her determine where to organize the bonfires, and had proposed the help of his team to help relieve Emma and Killian’s patrols after sunset.

David, between taking care of Neal and his farm, had temporarily resumed his role as Deputy in order to help her with the paperwork while Killian was otherwise occupied. She had enjoyed these moments with her father, as they rarely had the chance to spend time alone together since they had moved to the farm. Filing sessions had turned into long conversations between the two of them, and Emma was quite sorry to see these opportunities end.

The morning had been busy with mothers and daughters working on the girls’ flower crowns, either by picking wildflowers in the woods, or going to Games of Thorns to pick flowers or pre-woven crowns. As the day wore on, more and more girls and young women paraded in the streets, wearing colorful crowns and showing them off to friends and potential sweethearts alike.

Main Street had been closed off to traffic, and tables had been set up in the middle of the road. Almost the whole town had turned up at one point or another, Mary Margaret and David flitting from group to group, like the benevolent rulers they used to be.

Killian and Emma had been able to sit down for a while with their family and friends, and she had to admit, it had been nice to share this moment with the townspeople. Everywhere she turned, people were talking, laughing and sharing stories of Summer Solstices past.

But now it was the main event: when the sun set down, the hunt for the Ludus flower would begin, with the girls heading in the woods first, followed by the boys ten minutes later. The adults would gather around the several bonfires which would also be lit at sun down, and the revelries would begin. Killian and Emma would alternate patrolling to ensure no unapproved bonfire was lit anywhere in the city, and would keep contact with the firefighters monitoring the bonfires in the park, the woods and on the beach. The festivities would go on until sunrise, but Emma and Killian would retire to their home at midnight, remaining on call in case David needed reinforcement. She couldn’t wait to be alone with her pirate, they had barely seen each other all day, and they had been kept so busy all week that the only moments they had shared were their bedtime, where they were too tired to do anymore than fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Emma parked her Bug right behind Killian’s police cruiser, killing the engine and sinking back into the seat, sighing in exhaustion. This had been a long day, following a long week. She couldn’t wait to snuggle in bed next to Killian and be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat.

As she got out of the car, she couldn’t help but notice no light was switched on in the house. Was Killian already in bed? This was unlike him, he usually waited for her on nights she finished later than him. Then she saw that a soft light was coming from the living room’s window. Had he lit a fire in the chimney,despite the heat? Intrigued, Emma headed up the steps, and opened the door.

“Killian?” she called out, softly closing the door behind her. “Where are you?” She got no answer, but, as she stepped into the living room, she noticed the door to the porch was opened, and more soft light was spilling in from outside. Curious, Emma went to the door. A line of small candles lined the banister, leading towards the back of the house. What was her pirate up to? She followed the trail he had left for her, and as she rounded the corner, she gasped as she saw dozens of candles of all sizes illuminating the backyard, with Killian standing in the middle of the circle of light, looking at her expectantly with his arm behind his back.

Slowly going down the steps towards him, she looked him over, noticing he had taken off his jacket and vest, and stood in his shirt sleeves. Looking at her from under his lashes, he gestured towards the sea of candles. “Do you like it, Swan?”

“It’s beautiful. But… how? And why?” Tearing her gaze from him with difficulty, she gazed around the garden again. How had he found the time to prepare all this? He had been either with her or working all day long.

“Dave and the lad gave me a hand in setting everything up. And why? This is your first Summer Solstice, love,  I wanted you to remember it.”

Emma felt her heart swell. Her husband had managed to surprise her, and had involved her father and her son. Stepping closer to him, she put her hand on his chest, stroking the material of his shirt and gazing into his eyes.

“This is perfect, thank you.”

Killian laughed softly, leaning into her. “This is hardly all of it. According to my research, a good Summer Solstice needs a bonfire, music and dancing. Since I couldn’t light a bonfire in the garden, for fear of Fafner ruining the moment, I decided, candles it is.” As he took his arm from behind his back, Emma saw a small, simple crown of forget-me-nots gently swaying on his hook. “And apparently, flower crowns are a must for fair maidens in search of their sweethearts.” he finished, wagging his eyebrows.

Emma laughed, marveling at how much of a dork her husband was. “I’m hardly a maiden, as you can personally attest,” she said, raising her eyebrows and making him snort.

“As true as that may be, humor me, my love?”

“As you wish.”

Killian placed the crown delicately on her head, making sure it was secure, before stroking her hair and placing his hand and hook on her hips, softly kissing her cheek. Taking his hand from her hip, he rummaged in his pocket, and took out his phone, tapping until the first strings of one of their favorite songs played. Holding his hook to her, he bowed, never taking his eyes off her face. “May I have this dance, Swan?”

Smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, Emma took his hand wordlessly, and let him pull her in the circle of his arms. As they began to sway, she reflected on her day. While it had been arduous and sometimes frustrating work, the festival had gone without a hitch, and there was already talk of doing it again the following year. The search for the Ludus flower had been particularly entertaining, parents and friends speculating on who would exit the woods with whom. While some of the results had been obvious, it had been jarring for Emma to see Henry emerge from the woods with one of his friends from school, and join a group of teenagers by the bonfire. While she knew her son was growing up, and was far from the little boy who had knocked on her door all those years ago, it was still bittersweet to be reminded that he didn’t need her as much as he used to.

Killian twirling her away from him and back startled her from her thoughts. She raised her eyes to his and got lost in his gaze, the same color as her flower crown, until the end of the song. As the music came to an end, so did their dance. Reluctant to leave her husband’s embrace, Emma did not move away. Killian tilted his head, his smile seemingly permanently etched onto his face, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Stroking her jaw with his thumb, he slowly leaned down until their lips met in a gentle kiss full of affection.

When they separated, Emma fluttered her eyes open, not remembering closing them. She leaned her forehead against his, stroking the hair at the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” she said. “Although you did not have to go to this much effort to woo me. You know you won my heart a long time ago.”

Killian chuckled. “Can you blame a man for trying to keep the flame alive in his marriage?”

Emma laughed. “You’re right, you won’t always be able to rely on your dashing good looks, better to start preparing for the future.”

“Oi! After all the trouble I’ve gone through, this is how you thank me?” Killian said, faking outrage. “And I’ll have you know, whatever my age, I will always be dashing.”

Emma didn’t say anything, preferring to look at him mischievously. While she privately agreed with him, she didn’t want to stroke his ego. He knew he was gorgeous, and she couldn’t wait to see how he would age. She’d bet anything he would be the hottest silver fox in town.

The need to yawn broke through her musings. Her husband’s face softened, and he stroked her cheek. “Go to bed, love, I’ll put everything to rights here and join you soon.”

Not wanting to be separated from him, and to break this moment, Emma put out all the candles with a wave of her hand. She took Killian’s hand and started to pull him towards the house. “Done. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

Emma did get her earlier wish of cuddling with her pirate, listening to his slowing heartbeat before succumbing to sleep. When she woke up the next morning, she took the flower crown Killian had given her and took it down to the living room, where she pressed it between the pages of an atlas. In the following years, her collection would grow to include all kinds of crowns, from the simplest to the most elaborate. However, her favorite always remained the first one, which never failed to remind her of a slow dance in a sea of candlelight, and of the color of Killian’s eyes as he smiled down at her.

[theurbanologist]

When Summer Gets Windy

Good morning. 

Out the window, grey abides. It’s pasty, punctuated by a green foliage that remind me of my childhood in Seattle. In November, the grey came to the Emerald City, opened up an ample steamer trunk and said “Thanks for having me. I'll be staying until May, maybe June, with a few side trips to Grays Harbor County”. 

My mother grew up in Grays Harbor County on the Washington coast and she remembers it as an active, bustling place with the timber and fishing industries providing an abundance of employment to people in Hoquiam, Aberdeen, and other hamlets. I knew it a different way. That's another story. I don’t mind the grey, though growing up I found it grating by April. Even they I knew we had two months to go, and sometimes there would be guest appearances in July or August, as if somehow Seattleites might have forgotten this so-called “neutral” color. Maybe it is neutral amidst the color wheel. In my heart and head it is not an emotional Switzerland. 

Summer in Chicago is a vastly different experience than a Seattle summer. A Venn diagram of the two would reveal shared contours, such as ice cream, the appeal of water (saltier out West), and more time outdoors, at least given the possibility of reasonable temperatures. 

I will let you decide how to define reasonable temperatures.

With all of that in mind, I’ve asked some Chicago friends, writers, and other characters for their thoughts on what makes a Chicago summer compelling. 

 1. Happy Village. I try to make at least one annual summer pilgrimage to Happy Village, where I drink High Lifes in the twinkle-lit beer garden and relive my early 2's when I first moved to Chicago and lived in the Ukrainian Village. Of course, I go far earlier these days because I'm old. My companions and I take breaks from the stickiness by ducking inside for a quick round of Ping-Pong.  

2. Water taxi to Chinatown. I haven't done this yet, which makes this second activity aspirationally fraudulent. But my goal this year is to grab an early Sunday AM water taxi from Michigan Ave. to Chinatown where I will promptly stuff my face with dim sum at Phoenix.   

3. Cubs game/two Chicago doggies. Despite Wrigleyville's disconcerting transition into Rosemont, absolutely nothing beats a summer day at Wrigley Field. This is baseball for the baseball lover—minimal gimmicks and visual distractions—just timeless organ jams, manual scorekeeping on the ole' green board, snappy Chicago doggies and ice-cold Old Styles (now only securable at a few kiosks—our preferred being on the 500 level behind home plate). Not to mention a lot more hits by the Lovable ... Winners. 

Maggie Hennessy writes about food and other matters for TimeOut Chicago and other outlets. 

Be a salmon in any Chicago summer: that is, swim upstream against the current.  Avoid the Lakefront and its crowds—bike the Boulevard system and check out the inland parks from Jackson Park all the way up to Logan Boulevard.  

Before or after a Sox game (you can ALWAYS get a ticket, just go on spur of the moment) go to Palmisano Park (the former Stearns Quarry)on a field trip to Bridgeport, where you can also get the best hot dog or mother-in law sandwich at Johnny O’s at 35th and Morgan, before quenching your thirst at either Maria’s Community Bar or Bernice’s. 

Go to Ping Tom Park and then get dim sum any Sunday morning in Chinatown—be sure to dig the Confucius statue on 22nd Place and the Chinese-American Veteran’s Memorial on the SW corner of the intersection of Archer, Cermak, and Princeton.  

Go to Humboldt Park and experience our one inland beach, as well as the endless selection of comida boricua in Chicago’s Puerto Rican heartland. Don’t ride the Lakefront Path, go hit the path along the North Branch/canal, all the way to Wilmette from K-town.  

Summer is made for biking, do it. 

Bill Savage teaches at Northwestern University, among other pursuits.

Sipping a Negroni while thumbing through a book in the Chicago Athletic Hotel's Drawing Room Eating Quartino's pizza and discussing the hot Chicago topics of the day at Tweed Thorton's Four Star Lunch Moseying over to Old Fashioned Donuts with my mom in our neighborhood (Roseland on 112th/Michigan) 

Any trip to my alma mater includes mandatory stops at Two Asian Brothers and Hot”G”Dog (vegetarian Chicago Style hot dogs)  Grabbing a Chicago Mix at the Garrett Popcorn Shop in O'Hare for my co-workers in the HBS Initiatives.

Rayshauna Gray is a writer currently working on a book about her family’s history.  She is an honorary Boscagoan. 

I spend much of the summer looking up. Walking east along Lake Street in the morning, I like to look up and watch El trains chug east with the morning sun behind them. In the evenings, I'm on my back in Millennium Park listening to the Grant Park Orchestra. But in the middle of the day, I make time to look down. I sit on the steps along the Chicago River, just north of Michigan Avenue, and look down at the water at the boats, kayakers, ducks and critters that might float by. I bring my lunch, often with friends and can't believe this bit of nature is in the middle of the city. 

Shia Kapos is a journalist based in Chicago who writes for a number of outlets. 

Ride one of the CTA train lines all the way to the end and then see how far from there you can walk back toward where you started from.

That kind of drifting walk is magical, revelatory, entertaining and free. 

Kathleen Rooney is a poet and writer.

Fellow flaneurs will enjoy her latest book immensely.

My favorite thing to do, hands down, is to be near or on the water. Whether it’s on one of my friend’s boats or in my kayak, being on the water is cathartic for me.   

Being near the water does the same. Being active along the lakefront (although not on those god forsaken bike paths, more like beach volleyball) is key. But then again, so is just sitting on my ass at a lakefront of riverside bar throwing back a Chicago made pint of beer or a non Chicago made glass of rosé. Every year I very much look forward to neighborhood street fairs.

I grew up in old town so the Old Town art fair is near and dear to my heart. Nothing beats grilling out with friends on a blissful, firefly ridden summer night.

And last but not least, Cubs games. Duh. Although if I have to be 100% honest, I prefer watching those in October ;) 

Liz Garibay is a Chicago historian, beer expert, and an honorary Boscagoan.

In early August, a few weeks before summer winds to a close, just when I’m starting to panic about Labor Day looming and school supplies lining the shelves at Target, my son’s flag football season begins.

The teams play on Friday nights at Sheridan Park in Little Italy, a stone’s throw from Mario’s Italian Lemonade. Siblings flood the playground to the south. Parents stake out spots with blankets and lawn chairs and coolers filled with beverages to share. (It’s where I first experienced wine in a can. You drink it with a straw.) 

Dusk starts to set in around half-time. The park lights go on. The Willis Tower looms to the east, catching and reflecting the last glimmers of the August sun. It’s a lovely little square of chaos and joy and diversity --- kids come from Bridgeport and Logan Square and Bronzeville and the South Loop and Lincoln Park to play in the league. 

After the games, we congratulate our kids on their successes (or dry the tears from their losses) and head to Taylor Street for Italian lemonade. Then we head home and start counting the hours until next Friday night. 

Heidi Stevens writes the “Balancing Act” column for the Chicago Tribune.

There’s a pretty on-the-nose trope that we put up with the indignities of Chicago winter just to experience the few, fleeting months of summer. Chicago’s summertimes feel earned in the way a warm day in Los Angeles never could (it’s also why some of us scoff at snowbirds who decamp to Florida to wait out the winter). 

Two of my favorite activities in the city that really only happen in the summer take place on or near the water. After early memories of enviously watching scullers on the river near Lincoln Park and downtown, I eventually picked up a practical and portable inflatable kayak. I sneak into undisclosed put-in points around the north branch of the river and slide into the water (usually with a buddy and a small cooler of drinks in tow). 

There’s a fascinating river culture that, if you walked by the very same houses from the sidewalk, you’d miss entirely. The ecosystem feels richer, but you never forget you’re in a city. Hawks and night herons and turtles co-mingle with groaning steel bridges, train tracks and graffiti. 

When I want less isolation, I ride the southern part of the Lakefront Trail and stop off at the 63rd St. Beach. There could be an impromptu gig, pre-planned live music on the lawn and a water playground that I can run through with my summer clothes on (I’ve never been a fan of the beach proper).

If I’m feeling especially motivated, I’ll keep going south until I hit Calumet Fisheries. My reward for a long ride with be a sack of smoked shrimp and salmon that I can eat in the grassy embankment outside that little shrimp and fish shack or on the rickety picnic table that overlooks the 95th St. bridge -- and the lazy barges that float by. 

Kim Bellware is a Chicago journalist whose work has appeared most recently in Rolling Stone, Chicago Magazine, and Teen Vogue.

Though I ride my bike year-round, there is something particularly magical about riding my bike during summertime in Chicago. All the cold days fall away and you are left with sunshine and the warm breeze along the lakefront trail and city streets. It is a beautiful feeling that always makes me fall in love with Chicago again. 

There are very few things comparable to the energy of summer street festivals in Chicago when all your friends come together to enjoy music, food, or a movie. 

For that period of time, the streets become ours. 

Lynda Lopez is a reporter for StreetsBlog Chicago and she recently appeared on TV to talk about dockless bicycle initiatives. 

What's my favorite Chicago summer activity? This.

[allofbeercom]

The final bar? How gentrification threatens America’s music cities

Austin, Nashville and New Orleans have thrived on the success of vibrant music scenes. But as rents rise and noise complaints become more common, do they risk ruining what made them famous in the first place?

At a Sixth Street bar in the heart of Austin, Texas a pop up version of Sebs jazz club from the Hollywood hit film La La Land is being set up its blue letters yet to be switched on. Nearby, a replica of Breaking Bads Los Pollos Hermanos fast food restaurant has appeared, causing a minor Twitter frenzy.

These are just two of the attractions materialising in the city in time for the music and media festival South by Southwest (SXSW), and throughout the 10 days of the event it is hard to find someone who isnt wearing an official SXSW wristband worth $1,000.

What started 30 years ago as a celebration of Austins local music scene, though, is now in danger of harming the very thing that made it unique. SXSW brings in hundreds of artists from around the world, 200,000 visitors and $325.3m (250m) to the citys economy. Its success has helped Austin establish music as a fundamental part of its development, but at the same time, as many as 20% of musicians in this self-appointed live music capital of the world survive below the federal poverty line.

According to a recent study by the Urban Land Institute, the city is in the effective 11th hour of the endangerment of the live music scene, brought on by Austins rapid growth it is now the fastest growing city in the US in terms of population, jobs and economy.

A downtown wall mural in the shadow of new high-rise construction in Austin. Photograph: George Rose/Getty Images

Its a difficult reality for the city to confront. Austin is one of the three major US music cities, alongside New Orleans and Nashville, that have capitalised on this local culture at the risk of ruining the scenes that made them famous in the first place. In Austin, the local live music scene is now paying the price for its success. Brian Block, of the citys economic development office, says despite an apparent city-wide financial boom, local musicians income is at best stagnating, and possibly declining.

Hayes Carll, a 41-year-old Grammy-nominated artist who recently won Austins Musician of the Year, says that for most Texans, Austin is the mecca of music cities. It was where it all came together: the songs, the record stores, the community, the identity. It was the first place I went where I could say Im a singer-songwriter and they didnt ask me what my real job was.

Music lives throughout Austins 200 or so venues, the annual music awards and festivals, and the many brilliant artists including Townes Van Zandt and Janis Joplin who have called it home. It was where Willie Nelson allegedly reunited the hippies and rednecks when he first went on stage at the Armadillo World Headquarters in August 1972. Today, Austins love of local creativity is immortalised in folk singer Daniel Johnstons Hi, how are you? mural, depicting his iconic alien frog near the citys university.

SXSW brings $325m to the Austin economy each year. Photograph: Larry W Smith/EPA

But despite this rich history, long-standing venues in Austins downtown Red River District are being forced to adjust to an influx of new neighbours mostly expensive condos or hotels. Rising rents have forced venues like Holy Mountain and Red 7 to close, while noise complaints are an ongoing problem hotels offer earplugs for a better nights sleep.

Therere some less than wonderful aspects to the growth process, and I know a lot of friends who have had to leave Austin, says Carll, a Texan who has lived here for 12 years. Austin is going to have to fight to keep some of the things that made it special like the affordability and how you could be yourself and do whatever you wanted. When you become the hot cool city that everybodys moving to, some of that freedom can get pushed out.

The city government is keen to stress that theyre working to preserve the live music scene. In 2013 the Red River District was given its cultural title to highlight its local significance. Block says they are now implementing a Red River extended hours pilot programme in the hope that an extra hour of live music on the weekend will bring increased revenues to help cope with rising costs, and more paid work for the musicians.

Willie Nelson performs in his annual 4th of July Picnic at the Austin360 Amphitheater. Photograph: Gary Miller/Getty Images

The city is also revising its land development codes for the first time in 30 years in an effort to raise the profile of entertainment districts. There are other support systems that come from outside government too, such as Haam which provides access to affordable healthcare for low-income musicians. Music is very important to the culture, to the local economy and I think it will remain so. Hopefully we can get ahead of the issues we know are coming, Block says.

But some feel its too late. Im worried Austin will change negatively, says Carll. Its great that Austins identity revolves around music, and that the city government is trying to do things to correct it. But none of that will matter if musicians cant afford to live there, or the venues are shut down because of noise complaints, or you cant get to the venue because youre stuck in traffic on the highway.

New Orleans: music from cradle to grave

Louis Armstrong and his All Stars in a still from director Arthur Lubins musical New Orleans. Photograph: Frank Driggs Collection/Getty Images

Across the state border in Louisiana, New Orleans is facing similar problems as it develops and gentrifies. There are fears that without local government actively supporting musicians, the scenes survival could be at risk.

How do you keep a [music scene] real and authentic and yet encourage people to get involved? Its a paradox, says Jan Ramsey, editor of local magazine OffBeat. Theres an authenticity to the music and the people who make it, and the integration of black and white culture here we never want to lose that.

John Swenson, journalist and author of New Atlantis, Musicians Battle for the Survival of New Orleans says the music accompanies you from the cradle to the grave; its born out of the neighbourhoods and permeates all levels of society. Jazz was born here, tracing back to the mixture of African drums and European horns played by slaves in the late 19th century; and part of its musical heritage is a long list of prodigious artists, from Louis Armstrong to James Booker.

The Spotted Cat. Photograph: Alamy

This culture attracts some 10 million tourists to the city each year. But what is unique about it and gives the scene greater strength is how it has become an invaluable lifeline for the citys regeneration after the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

In the Spotted Cat, one of the long-standing venues on Frenchmen Street, manager Cheryl Abana talks quietly as a jazz singer performs to a crowded room. For a couple of years [after Katrina] it was pretty sad here and the music scene really helped out with trying to get everyones spirits up. It really helped build the city up again, she says.

One of the most successful programmes to support the creative community following Katrina was Musicians Village, devised by Harry Connick Jr and Branford Marsalis alongside Habitat for Humanity. Situated in the Upper Ninth ward one of the places hardest hit by the hurricane it is a community of homes built by volunteers to support displaced musicians. Its a symbol to musicians that my community will be there when I get back; were going to keep that tradition alive, says Jim Pate, executive director of the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity.

A decade on, and artists of all genres and ages live in the village, including some of the godfathers of New Orleans heritage like Little Freddie King. The musicians came back to New Orleans because music lived here, says Swenson.

People listen to music at a home in Musicians Village. Photograph: Mario Tama/Getty Images

Nashville: the original music city

In Nashville, Tennessee, just a few blocks away from the famous honky tonk highway of Broadway, mayor Megan Barry sits in her office overlooking the state capitol. She is surrounded by motifs of Nashvilles music history: theres a framed photograph of DeFord Bailey sitting on the steps of the Ryman auditorium, the first African American to perform at the Grand Ole Opry; and in the foyer hangs a painting by Chris Coleman of Kings of Leon. He gave it to Barry as a gift.

Music is everywhere. Although it has a heritage as influential as New Orleans, here it spreads further: from inside the mayors office and the governments music council, to pretty much everyone you meet in the city who either plays it, writes it or listens to it (every taxi driver I meet is a musician; my Airbnb host is a songwriter).

As soon as I mention the phrase music cities, Barry interrupts jovially: Well, I think theres only one! Music has been part of Nashvilles foundations since the 1800s when it established itself as a centre for music publishing. Its heritage goes back to the Fisk Jubilee Singers who were based here the African American a cappella band who were the first musical group to tour the world, raising money for freed slaves. Upon hearing them, Queen Victoria allegedly coined Nashvilles title as a music city, which is now plastered across Tennessee billboards.

Bars and honky-tonks line Broadway in Nashville. Photograph: Brian Jannsen/Alamy

In 1925, WSM radio station was founded, which went on to broadcast the Grand Ole Opry now the longest running radio show in the US that gave rise to some of the greatest names in country music. Music Row, the 200-acre area near downtown at its peak housed 270 music publishers, 120 record production agencies, 80 record manufacturing companies, 80 booking agencies and more. Elvis Heartbreak Hotel was recorded here at RCA in 1956; Bob Dylans Blonde on Blonde was recorded nearby at Columbia Recording studios 10 years later.

Now, the $10bn industry music industry provides 56,000 jobs, supporting more than $3.2bn of labour income annually. We cant undersell its importance to our overall economic viability and continued growth and prosperity, says Barry.

Nashville is projected to grow by 186,000 residents and 326,000 jobs in the next 25 years, and like Austin, has to confront uncomfortable growing pains in the form of gentrification. But music is firmly intertwined with the citys municipal plans for how it will develop in the future.

DeFord Bailey was the first African American to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. Photograph: GAB Archive/Redferns

The city provides affordable housing for musicians, and music programmes for school children, as we know our graduation rates go up when kids are involved in music, says Barry. They go on and they have a career in music and then it feeds the job creation. Its about feeding that pipeline.

I think that although music evolves and changes, the ability for Nashville to grow and change with it has been part of our success.

At Dinos bar in east Nashville, 26-year-old musician Cale Tyson is sipping on a beer. He is one of thousands of artists who moved here because of its history. I feel like Nashvilles a town where musicians are treated really well. I dont think anythings closed off here, says the Texan singer-songwriter. In Nashville the competition and being around so many good artists forces you to work a lot harder.

People continue to migrate to Nashville because of this (about 100 a day), and this influx has inevitably changed the music scene for better or worse. The country music capital of the world which ignited the careers of Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn and Kitty Wells to name just a few is now home to a burgeoning hip hop scene in the citys so-called DIY clubs. Jack White moved in and set up a branch of Third Man records in 2009, while bands like Paramore, Kings of Leon and the Black Keys have all migrated here.

Nashville has even spawned a genre called bro country, where burly men sing about chewing tobacco and celebrate being a redneck (with lyrics that repeat red red red red redneck), their odd rap verses a world away from the original country music that formed the soul of this city.

But the commercialisation of Nashville has led to accusations that country music is dead. A few years ago US country singer Collin Raye made a heartfelt plea for the city to get back to its roots and remember the musicians who built and sustained the Nashville industry and truly made country music an American art form, he said. It needs to be that way once again. God Bless Hank Williams. God Bless George Jones.

And people are still trying to keep this alive. I dont think traditional country went away, says Brendan Malone who runs a traditional honky tonk an event celebrating country music in the east of the city. The fire was still kindling. It just needed to have some gasoline poured on it.

At Malones Honky Tonk Tuesdays, a man in a check shirt is barbecuing some ribs in the car park of the US army veterans club. Inside, ageing regulars sit at the bar nursing whiskeys to the sound of Hank Williams on the juke box.

In the main room, men and women of all ages wearing Stetsons and western shirts take turns two-stepping with each other as the band covers songs of Ernest Tubb and Red Foley. They perform against a backdrop of the US flag laid out in fairy lights.

Theres a sincere sense of pride in Nashvilles history here, despite how far the city and its culture has changed. With support from the mayors office to the local community, it seems Nashville took a bet on music and it paid off.

Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook to join the discussion, and explore our archive here

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/the-final-bar-how-gentrification-threatens-americas-music-cities/

[1ovefoo1]

The Secret Gems of Italy: Alessandria and Asti

However, the most well-known baby of Alessandria is not a soldier, a businessman or an aristocrat. It's a hat.  Remodelling jewellery The maximum well-known hat in the complete global: Borsalino. The very first Borsalino turned into created by way of Giuseppe Borsalino in 1865. Since then, it turned into the fave accent of Napoleon and additionally Humphrey Bogart. If you're curious to discover extra about this stunning hat, visit Museo del Capello, the Hat Museum, in Alessandria, or pick out up a duplicate of my new ebook, Chique Secrets of Dolce Vita. Or honestly visit Milan and buy your very own, superb Borsalino within the little Borsalino save in Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle.

When all of the records and hats make you tired, you may have lunch at La Fermata. It offers the great food and wine of Piedmont, and it is a totally fashionable and very Italian eating place.

Talking about meals and wine, in case you should flavor just one form of wine in the place, it need to be Gavi. Produced in the city of the identical name, Gavi is a well-known, light, straw-colored white wine. Make positive to visit Gavi in the course of grape harvest to enjoy the maximum lovely wine pageant in Italy.

And now it is time to buy groceries - for gold and jewellery. Walking via the streets of Valenza Po, you may cross blind from all of the shine and glitter that surrounds you. It is one of the maximum well-known towns of goldsmiths inside the global. More than 1300 workshops in Valenza Po create stunning jewellery and export it all around the world. The goldsmith culture of Valenza Po commenced at the cease of 19th century, whilst Vincenzo Melchiorre commenced to create first rate jewellery from eighteen-carat gold and treasured stones.

At the end of a long day, you deserve to relax. And there may be no higher region to do so than a Roman spa. Acqui Terme is an historical spa city with thermal recovery springs wealthy in bromine salts. One of them, Bollente, has its source inside the very heart of the city. Other hot springs, and also the only cold sulphur spring, may be determined on the opposite financial institution of the Bormida near the stays of the vintage Roman baths.

ASTI - DELICATE AND FUN The best time to go to Asti is without a doubt September. The weather is best and warm, but now not hot - best to admire Palio, a ancient horse race full of colors and neighborhood traditions. Also, it is the month when the city celebrates its wine by playing the wine festival of Douja d'Or.

Asti was founded with the aid of Romans who gave the metropolis the call of Colonia Hasti (High Rock), and it's full of palaces, squares and standard towers. The maximum famous baby of Asti is a poet of the Enlightenment, Vittorio Alfieri, born in 1749. Asti loves him, and a museum, theater and street have been named after him.

Asti is one of the bastions of winemaking, and license plates of nearby motors frequently say: Asti - Provincia di Vino (Asti, the Province of Wine).

Asti honestly is the metropolis of towers. In the beyond, the town had a hundred protective towers constructed by aristocrats in 13th century. Only a few of them were preserved till nowadays. Most of them are situated in a pleasant historic community that was once known as Recinto dei Nobili (the Quarter of Aristocrats). Make certain to discover Torre dei Guttuari on Piazza Statuto, Torre dei Comentini in Corso Alfieri, Torre dei Roero in Via Sella, and Torre Montafia in Via Natta. Torre Rossa in Corso Alfieri is the oldest constructing in town. It's decrease part goes lower back to Roman times, and the upper element is medieval.

Asti is a city where you cannot most effective explore records and local traditions, however also delicious neighborhood delicacies. Osteria Barolo in Via Cesare Battisti is located in a historical cellar, and its delicacies is some distance-famed. Try their special dessert - nutmeg sorbet.

If you find yourself in Asti in iciness months, have lunch at Gener Neuv and order a scrumptious neighborhood uniqueness, zuppa di baccalà, cod soup. Gener Neuv is one of the first-rate restaurants within the location.

THE SURROUNDINGS OF ASTI - LITTLE GEMS HIDDEN IN THE COUNTRYSIDE Do you want sparkling wine? Visit Canelli, an important middle of agriculture and the capital of Spumante. The first Spumante turned into produced in 1850 by way of Gancio whose historical wine cellars and museum are open to site visitors.

Do you long for a chunk of romance? Don't miss the sunset over Cocconato. Climb to the very top of this village, and watch the valley of Montferrato, the encircling towers, and the blush of sunset over the horizon, and you may understand why Cocconato is called the Balcony of Piedmont. It's call comes from the Latin phrase cum conato - with attempt. The place could be very far off and secluded, and it become very difficult for its inhabitants to do enterprise and maintain contact with the rest of the phrase. But way to its remoteness, the village has preserved its original face and atmosphere.

Cortazzone is a village of wine. Almost all of its seven-hundred inhabitants work in the wine industry, growing Freisa, a local vine range, that produces first-rate wine. If owning a vineyard has always been your dream, this is your opportunity to enjoy the tough, yet very rewarding, fact of winemaking.

Costigliole d'Asti is the living proof of the energy of girl appeal. Countess Di Castiglione e Costiglione was married to an influential aristocrat, and she became also a lover of Napoleon III. In 1854 she moved together with her husband to the castle of Costiglione and had it reconstructed, revamped, and modified so very well, that her beneficiant husband went bankrupt just in a couple of years. In 1859 he had to sell the fort to the Prince of Poniatow.

Moncalvo is a touch mountain village, however its reputation is massive way to its nice muffins. It's worth traveling if you're a connoisseur, but there are greater matters to explore. Especially its francia, one of the oldest pedestrian regions in Italy, with the fine stores in the entire town.

Did you realize that a dish may want to get so popular that it had its personal brotherhood? Well, the entirety's feasible in Italy. Nizza Montferrato, a touch city at the confluence of the Nizza and the Belvo, is the reputable seat of Confraternità della Bagna Cauda (Brotherhood of Bagna Cauda), a society dedicated the this neighborhood dish of Piedmont. Bagna Cauda is similar to fondue. It's a warm dip made with garlic, anchovies, olive oil, butter, and on occasion desserts. The dish is eaten with the aid of dipping uncooked, boiled or roasted veggies, particularly onions, artichokes, celery, cauliflower, fennel, carrot, peppers and cardoon. The dip is served in standard terracotta bowls.

[little-chimchim]

Roadside Adventures

Copy of ask: Hiiiii😊Can i request a shownu fluff？😚😚😚😝😝😝

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2210

Genre: Roadtrip au! Fluff!!

Pairing: Shownu x Reader

A/N: I love roadtrips so this was honestly really fun to write. It was also really cute because I’m in love with fluffy Shownu scenarios. So I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for requesting. Thank you all for the support, love ya - Kay

@callmeksey Thank you for the request!!

You had a knack for adventure. From hiking in the woods at night, from surfing on the waves on the most windy of days. You lived your life by one motto “Live your life to the fullest and never look back.” It seemed to work so far. You never went a day without feeling a rush of adrenaline or did you ever look back and think “What if?”

That is, until you reached your junior year of college. You were beyond stressed with your classes and tests that seemed to be stacked on you like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, seemingly seconds away from toppling over on top of you. You knew you needed a change of scenery, one that you had never seen before.

So what better than going on a roadtrip to satisfy your needs to be away from your cramped university? The only problem was that you didn’t have anyone to go with. All your friends were too busy with work and classes that they couldn’t even think about leaving the university for a week.

So, despite possibly being called dumb for doing so, your put up a note in the commons area of your dorm claiming that you needed “A roadtrip buddy that can supply some snacks and a little bit of gas money.” You didn’t think it was a bad idea, it was all about living for the adventure after all.

You had only gotten one text back about the trip. A man by the name of Son Hyunwoo, a senior in the arts department. You had only seen him a few times around campus, even though the two of your were studying in the same department. Everyone knew Hyunwoo. He was renowned within the department for his incredulous dance skills and positive support to all of the up-and-coming freshman dance majors.

You quickly texted him the details, telling him that the two of you would be leaving in the morning for a week to travel across the countryside. You told him to bring some food, money, and some good music. Those were your only requirements for becoming your friend.

And that was that. You didn’t know the man besides the reputation that floated around the halls. But by the end of this week with just the two of you, you knew that he might end up being your closest friend.

You waited outside the dorm rooms, sitting on the hood of your car, playing music from the inside. You waited for Hyunwoo to come out, bags in hand and the right mindset for an adventure.

Eventually, he came out of the dorm building, smiling wildly. He reached your car and instantly stuck out his hand for you to take. Your immediate thought was that you found his awkwardness to be kind of cute. A stark contrast from your own, bubbly and confident personality.

You took his hand and gestured for him to get into the car. He opened your back seat door and pushed his bags into the back. He got into the drivers side and waited for you to start the car. You pushed the key into the ignition and pulled away from your dreaded college, your new potential friend in tow.

The first hour or two were spent in silence. Besides the loud music that played through the vehicle, the two of you didn’t say a word to one another. ‘Alright, maybe he’s just shy.’  You thought to yourself. You glanced over to him, he rested his face on his arm and looked out the window.

You took a deep breath, you might as well get the awkward introductions done with. “So, what is your favorite number?” You asked him without thinking.

Hyunwoo looked to you, his brow raised slightly. “My favorite number?” He asked with a little bit of humor in his tone. He laughed breathlessly and shook his head. “I would say number fourteen I suppose. It’s a mix of two sevens so it’s extra lucky.”

This was good. The awkward and sudden conversations always led to good things. You nodded your head and looked out the window. You were nearing a smaller town right off the highway. You turned towards it, figuring the two of you could pick something up for dinner there.

“And what are your thoughts on climate change?” You asked him as you turned into the entrance of the small town. He laughed again, staring at you with interest. “Are you always this weird?” He asked.

You nodded your head and smiled brightly. “Of course I am, the weirdest people are always the best people,” You told him, and even he couldn’t disagree with you.

You spent the first night at an old campground, surrounded by the quiet woods. No one else was there besides a couple campers in the far distance, but you knew that they would not be coming out of their temporary homes for the time being.

You sat on the roof of your car, next to Hyunwoo, eating the bag of gummy worms that he brought with him. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never seen the Godfather?” He groaned, chucking a piece of candy at you.

You caught it in your mouth and shook your head. “It’s always been on my list but I’ve never gotten around to seeing it.” You admitted as you chucked a gummy worm towards his mouth.

He caught it and lifted his finger. “You’re in luck, Y/N. I brought my digital DVD player and a bunch of movies for us to watch.” He grinned as he jumped down from the hood of your car. You jumped down to and followed him.

“You have to be kidding me...You still have one of those?”

“You don’t?”

He got out the DVD player and placed the first movie in the slot. He sat in the bag of the car and waved you over to sit by him. “Come on, you’re going to miss the beginning.” He said excitedly.

You rolled your eyes and sat next to him, bring the gummy worms along with you.

Day 2 went on without a hitch. You ran into a small beachside community that was in the middle of a flea market. Hyunwoo had convinced you to stop by, insisting that it would make both of you a little bit more cultured about small villages.

So that’s what you did.

He was right. From the beautiful seashell necklaces to the unique pieces of art that you saw. It was an amazing sight that you couldn’t pass up the chance to witness. The locals were some of the kindest people you had ever met. They had even offered you and Hyunwoo a chance to stay at their hot springs for the night.

“A gift for the newlywed couple,” The old lady who ran the spa cheered. You and Hyunwoo stood at the desk, receiving your room for the night. Hyunwoo chuckled nervously. “We’re not m-”

You covered his mouth and smiled kindly to the old woman. “We’re on our honeymoon and we thank you so much for the room here.” You told the woman. The woman smiled joyously and handed you the keys to your first floor room. She also handed you the keys to the spa, telling you that the hot springs would be ready in about an hour.

You took them and dragged Hyunwoo with you.

After a night of massages and hot spring baths, you and Hyunwoo called it a night. You slept facing away from each other, though you two were nowhere near comfortable to share a bed without it being awkward, you still felt a comforting aura about being with the man beside you.

Day 3 was spent on the road. You two sang to songs and talked about everything and nothing whatsoever. You learned more about Hyunwoo in and hour than you had ever been able to get to know your friends in a few years of knowing them.

“Don’t you ever regret running away from home?” He asked you somberly, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to live without his own parents.

You shook your head and drummed your fingers to the beat of the music against the steering wheel. “Not at all. If I stayed, I was going to be forced to go to military school. That’s where my father and my three older brother’s went. They wanted me to be in the military along with them.” You told him. You were a film major. You had earned your way to the finest art school in the country by working your thin in high school. You were able to gain scholarships for your hard work. So you used that to your advantage. You packed up your things and went directly to the school of your dreams.

You never looked back.

“What caused you to become a dancer?” You finally asked him.

Hyunwoo shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “It’s always been my biggest passion. After this year I’m going to Seoul and auditioning for a company. It’s always been my only dream.” He said happily. It didn’t sound like he had told many people this.

Your eyes widened “You’re going to Seoul too? I’m hoping to pick up an internship at a film company.”

The two of you continued on, talking about your hopes and dreams of the future, both realizing that you weren’t so different than one another after all.

Day 4 was hectic. The two of you stopped in the center of a larger town, one that had a beautiful vintage touch. A street festival was being thrown in the heart of the town. As the sun fell down below the sky, you and Hyunwoo walked through the busy streets, taking in all of the sights and smells.

You walked with arm looped through his. You felt safer in his presence. It seemed as if no one wanted to come up to you with Hyunwoo by your side. He pointed out a crown made of flowers and placed it carefully upon your head. He stood back, open mouthed. “You’re really pretty.” He said aloud. You couldn’t tell if he meant to say it out loud or just in his head. Though, you hear him loud and clear.

You blushed and handed a couple of dollars to the maker of the crown. Hyunwoo draped his arm around you as the two of you walked. Even though you had only known him for a few days, you never felt more comfortable being with someone.

The center of the festival held a large dance circle that hand couples dancing to the fast paced song that was playing from the speakers. Small, white, twinkling lights hung from the street signs and the buildings, causing the streets to be dim but calm.

Hyunwoo looked to you and grabbed your hands. He pulled you to the dance circle, smirking happily when he saw your look of disapproval. “Hyunwoo, I can’t dance.”

He shook his head and twirled you in his arms. He held you in his arms, swaying slowly to the fast paced song. “Everyone can dance if they wanted to,” He whispered in your ear. He spun you out and back in. He pressed his body close to yours and slowly led you to beat of the song.

Eventually, you were enjoying yourself far too much. You twirled and danced with Hyunwoo, who had the biggest smile you had ever seen. He danced with you until you were you both were tired.

Even after you stopped dancing, he hadn’t let go of your hand. Though, you didn’t really want him to let go.

Day 5 was the final day. The two of you were in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road, staring at the country nightscape. You pointed out various constellations to him, which you had learned on your previous trips.

It was getting very dark and you knew you both need to retire for the night soon. You look at Hyunwoo and smiled. “Thank you for coming on this crazy trip with me.” You said quietly. Your hands brushed up against his, but instead of ignoring it, Hyunwoo laced his fingers with yours, causing a small blush to creep to your cheeks.

“This is most fun I’ve had in a long time, Y/N. Honestly, I want to go on more of these with you. I want to have so many more adventures with you.”

Your eyes widened, surprised by his sudden boldness. “Are you saying something?” It was your turn to play dumb.

Hyunwoo nodded his head and smiled cheekily. “I’m telling you that I want to go on as many adventures as I can with you. Do you want to possibly go on a date when we get back home?”

You laughed and moved your forehead to touch his. “I thought most of this trip was one long date.” You joked, seeing now that his own blush was making its way to his tan cheeks. He chuckled and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

When you pulled away he wrapped you in his arms and continued to stare at the beautiful view from above, both of you smiling like two idiots.

[kingmaker-thac0hno]

The Kingdom of Thornvale: Brasse’s Brewery and Biergarten

The month of Calistril, 4711 Early in the month of Calistril, The Lords of Thornvale post their monthly edict for all to see, comiting to the construction of a brewery and mill along the banks of the Shrike river near Haven. Herr Brasse is clearly excited, and the other villagers are eager to have more of his tasty brews. Many are eager to focus on something other than their growling stomachs.

Shortly after hearing the petitions of their subjects, the Lords of Thornvale convene a meeting in Havenhall to discuss recent events. Evrin springs forward to give a rousing speech to the crowd on the noble principles the Kingdom was founded on, but it sounds more like a reprimand to the folk gathered. He then turns to the three accused militia and makes his ruling for punishment. The sharp intake of breath can be heard audibly from the crowd gathered, and the men's faces turn white. They're escorted outside, and their punishment meted out before the crowd.

Near the end of the punishment, a commotion from the gathered villagers arises, with many of the commoners trading harsh words. "Serve's em right!" shout some. "How they supposed to protect us on empty bellies?" yell others. "Take the justice from their hide!" and "You have what you hold!" echo in the streets.  It's clear that the village is split evenly, with many of the former brevic subjects favoring punishment, while many of the native riverlanders seeing nothing wrong with what had been done. [Persuasion: 7 vs. DC 20] The commotion nearly spills into an all-out brawl until Saryn speaks up.

His honeyed words soothes the gathered villagers, while the three ex-militiamen are taken away. Promises to deal with the cause of the recent slayings are met with nods of approval, though some in the back yell out "Oathbreakers Die!", a reference to the river freedom of the same name. Still, the crowd seems appeased, at least for a while. The mention of a council of commoners sets them chattering, and calls for individuals to be nominated nearly drown out Saryn himself. It is clear they will take some time deciding. [Persuasion: 20 vs. DC 20]

While Armauk leads Haven's collection of wild horses west, Karis and Saryn set off east, journeying at least part of the way together. While Karys continues on to Varnhold, Saryn stops to speak with the Sootscale Kobolds.  Chief Sootscale welcomes his old friend and recounts stories of the Seven Veils festival several months ago, smiling as he does so. He listens intently as Saryn articulates his proposal to join the Kingdom of Thornvale. The Chief takes his time in responding.

"The Sootscales owe you much, this is true. But If I bow to you, how will my clan still look up to me? Stronger together, this I know. But I will not give up my throne. Make me a Lord of Thornvale, and I can agree. As equals, you and me. " The Chief looks at Saryn, and for a moment the dragon nature of his kin shines in his eyes. "But I ask one thing in exchange. The purple shaman, who has caused me much shame. I want his head. Deliver it to me, and we will make our pact before Aspu and Dahak." [Persuasion: 11 vs. DC 10]

Meanwhile, Stone Walker and Evrin remain in Thornvale, each tending to little details of the kingdom. Nole, Revna, and Angus are grateful for some relief from their duties, taking time in Havenhall to share drinks with some of the loggers in town. Most of the villagers are starting to accept the little gnome as well, and see his services increasingly handy.

Armauk, having arrived at Bennet Plantation, has a good conversation with Periwimple about cattle and ranching, where the seasoned farmer lays out some facts. "I'm no rancher, Lord Priest. If you're asking me to look after a herd of cattle, I'll do my best, but me and the boys here can't cultivate these Fangberries and manage a free-range herd all at once. I certainly don't have any feed to keep them penned in. Plus, most of these boys are city boys from Restov and are just learnin' how to keep the dang bushes alive, so I'm spending much of my time now teaching them what I can so they're useful come spring. If you're going to go north for more folk and you want cattle, then I'd say look for a seasoned vaquero lookin to start his own ranch, then dangle him an offer he can't refuse."

The next few days, Armauk spends working with the horses, who appear much more receptive out away from the village, though it does appear that they would adapt better from longer, consistent training [Handle Animal: 16 vs DC 15]. One evening, after poking around in the woods, Armauk discovers the old Thylacine pacing the perimeter of the plantation, no doubt drawn by the smells of food. After a brief chat, and an offer of some jerky, the animal follows the half-orc back to the farm, and continues to follow him on his journey [Survival: 19 vs DC 10].

At some point early in the month, Saryn returns to Haven, passing through as he heads west. Stone Walker joins him on a trip out to the new Bennet Plantation, where they join up with Armauk and spend some time looking into the woods near the murder site.  Poking around, Saryn notices no sign of fey presence in this part of the wood [Perception: 21 vs. DC 10],  though Armauk does see old wolf tracks heading south from the body, which simply disappear after about a half mile [Survival: 24 vs. DC 10]. Stone Walker, snooping about, notices a few broken tree branches nearby, and some human footprints in the now-covered ground, heading east for a bit before they vanish among the windswept hilltops of the Kamelands. [Investigation: 12 vs. DC 10]

After many days of travel, Karis finally arrives in Varnhold. [Survival: 13 vs. DC 10] The trip, while easy, was cold and the mountain pass especially so. The warm fire of Varnhold's largest inn is a welcome sight, and Karis is able to wander though a thriving, bustling town. The town is well-fortified with palisades, towers, and a large wooden fort on the eastern side of the Kiravoy River, which the town straddles. A well-armed garrison defends the town, which seems to have built a fairly successful economy around mining in the nearby mountains. While it's not difficult to see that Varnhold's strength clearly outpaces Thornvale's, Karis is unsuccessful in identifying any potential targets in the chain of command, aside from a brief glimpse of Lord Varn himself, spotted on the battlements of the fort. [Investigation: 9 vs. DC 20]

After several days, Karis departs for Restov and returns under the disguise of a troubadour, revisiting the same inn. The proprietor of the inn is happy to have a new entertainer, and the crowd thoroughly enjoys his tales of Haven and Thornvale, of worgs and the Stag Lord. Most nights, he is able to sleep and eat his fill from the coin passed to his hat, with plenty extra for his pocket. [Performance 19 vs. DC 15]. Murmurs among the revelers seem to indicate a newfound interest in travelling west once the weather turns. After a few days of spreading the good word, Karis heads west to Haven, braving the cold and snow once again.

By mid-month, Armauk has set off north to Restov with a wagon and some villagers tired of the tensions in Haven. They take few provisions, but many furs, choosing to hunt as they head north [Survival 20 vs. DC 20].. After a brief stop near the site of Oleg's Trading post to plant a sign pointing south reading "KINGDOM OF THORNVALE, CITY OF HAVEN", the small group arrives in Restov near months' end, thankful for the comforts of a big city.

By now, Saryn has headed deep into the Narlmarches to visit his fey friends, who are receptive and attentive during his visit. While Tyg and Perlivash act their usual selves, he leaves the meeting feeling something amiss about the whole conversation - jovial words, but very little content. After leaving, Saryn discovers a small bundle tucked in his pocket that was not there before. Unwrapping the tiny leaves reveals several small pieces of bark carved to look like tiny eyes and ears. Turning to look back at the two faeries, they're nowhere to be found. The entire encounter weighs on the ranger's mind during the journey back to Haven as he hunts along the way. Distracted by the turn of events, the hunt does not fare well [Survival 13 vs. DC 20]

Returning to Haven, Stone Walker starts work on a true town clock, though the weather and lack of sufficient parts make his work difficult. By the end of the month, Stone Walker realizes he has made virtually no progress, and may have to scrap his prototype and start anew. [Intelligence: 5 vs. DC 15].

In Restov, Armauk visits the Temple of Erastil and his old friend Bolgar, seeking to gain the merchant's aid on a trip home. Bolger replies candidly. "It's mid-winter. Such a trip would be a loss for me, as the farmers out there have nothing to trade in return.  If you truly want my company, then I'd be happy to go along, but I cant afford to send a caravan out knowing it will lose money." Bolgar does help with some contacts in town and arranges for the sale of furs and ale.

By the end of the month, the militia shows some marginal improvement, though it is clear to Evrin that many more months of dedicated training needs done before these villagers could properly wield a sword. Notable, too, is the absence of the three men punished earlier in the month. It's clear that they've departed Haven, and a few others with them.

With construction of the brewery and mill, the village has a grand-opening celebration, and  Herr Brasse breaks out his final small cask of Moon Radish Beer ( stashed away for just such an occasion). The drink invigorates the crowd, helping them forget the struggles of recent months, and they all look forward to the coming of spring.

Turn 8; Pharast, 4711 AR

Petitions:

The villagers approach with their nominations for the Council of Commoners: Herr  Brasse, and Veshka Varnashu

Early in the Month of Pharast, Odis and several of his men from the bandit village arrive in Haven. They look around and eventually approach the Council of Lords with an inquiry. One of the children from their camp has gone missing, and they had hoped he was in Haven. They request that should news of his location arise, they would be grateful if it were passed along. They are curt, but polite, and leave quickly. 

Cedrin reminds the Lords that Pharast is an important month for farming and agriculture, and suggests it would be wise to allow their subjects plenty of time to prepare for planting week near the end of the month. 

Edicts:

You may issue one edict for the month of Pharast

[randomconnections]

Irish Music at Village Pizza

I had a very different post planned. I’ve actually got a draft entitled “I Hate Irish Music.” I was going to vent some of my frustrations with the music sessions I’ve attended up here, specifically the Irish sessions. However, I decided to give the genre one more shot, so I decided to try a different session at Village Pizza in Anacortes. My mood did a 180. This felt like the closest thing to the pubs I enjoyed so much while in Ireland.

Here’s how my opening paragraph started on that first draft…

I love Irish music. My favorite experience while in Ireland was hanging out in the pubs and listening to live music. The tunes are infectious and get into your soul. Especially with live music, there is an energy to the reels, jigs, hornpipes, etc., that’s hard to describe. However, I’ve found a problem. Irish musicians [or, more specifically, at least the ones up here] seem to have found a way to suck all of the fun out of it.

All (well, most) of the folks have been very friendly and accepting. However, the Irish musicians have some very specific rules about their sessions. No printed music is allowed – you have to have everything memorized. You don’t try to figure things out by ear in a session – you either know the tune or you don’t, and you don’t join in unless you do know it. You don’t join in a session until you’ve put in your time with a slower, learning group. You don’t improvise – everyone plays the same melody without harmonization, and disputes can break out as to which variation is being played (and there are LOTS of variations to tunes.) I was even taken to task for calling these “jam” sessions. You have to follow the session’s etiquette (whatever that might be.)

Lest any of my Irish music friends take me to task for being too harsh, I’ve heard these statements made in several Irish sessions and have seen words to this effect printed on websites describing the sessions. At one of the sessions I attended an audience member asked about the music and the answers were pretty much what I’ve written above.

With tunes numbering in the hundreds of thousands, plus all the variations and new tunes being written every day, the task of learning the repertoire is daunting. It doesn’t help that after awhile all of these start to sound the same. I can see why someone wanting to join in the fun might opt for an accompaniment instrument like a guitar or a rhythm instrument like the Bodhran. You don’t have to memorize the tunes.

My problem is that I don’t play an acceptable melodic instrument for Irish music. I don’t play fiddle, flute, or Uilleann pipes. I play keyboard and sight-read very well, so I could learn tunes that way. If you play an accompaniment instrument or the Bodhran, then you’re kind of stuck.

I guess my main gripe is that IT’S NOT A CONCERT, DAMMIT! It’s an informal group of somewhat random people getting together to play. I can understand having some guidelines, but unless you’re forming a band then there’s no need to be so uptight about how people join in.

OK, rant over…

So, I was about to give up Irish music entirely and just stick with the Scottish sessions. I knew there were other Irish session around. I’d found out about the one at Village Pizza in Anacortes quite awhile back from The Session website. While at the Bellingham Folk Festival several mentioned that they played at Village Pizza, and I had another fellow player bring it to my attention just recently. On The Session it lists this as a “slow session.” It might be doable.

The problem is that this session meets the exact same time as my Bring Your Own Guitar group, every other Wednesday from 6:00-8:00. I’ve made some good friends at BYOG and don’t want to abandon them. Last Wednesday it seemed that half the group was either sick or would be out of town, so when BYOG cancelled it seemed the perfect opportunity to check out Village Pizza. Sherry, one of my other BYOG friends, joined me for the adventure.

As usual I got to the venue early to scope out the situation. Village Pizza is located on the main drag of Anacortes, on Commercial Street.

Just inside the front door were a set of stairs. I knew they had a meeting space upstairs, so I headed that way. It was dark and definitely not set up for a session, so I headed back down, confused. I had planned to arrive in time to get a bite to eat before the session started. I ordered a pizza and asked about the setup. The group would be playing downstairs near the front windows. I grabbed a table and waited for my pizza.

Sherry and her sister-in-law Marlene soon arrived and joined me. They also ordered food, but it took a long time for it to arrive. Musicians started to arrive first and began claiming space in the appointed area. I still had no food, but moved to the end of one table at the outer edge of the circle.

There were several other people I’d met at various functions joining us. Dennis from Bellingham called me by name and said that he was glad I had made it. A Bodhran player named Laura who joins us regularly in Mount Vernon was there and also greeted me. Brad, who also plays guitar, had been at our last Scottish session. I recognized several others. I felt more at ease joining this group than any other Irish group.

There was another bonus. This group allowed music stands and music. There is no set list as with the “Tartan Top Twenty” but you could refer to any resource or tune book you might have. My stand was in the car and space was at a premium, but I had my iPad. I could (and did) look up tunes when I had the chance.

The music got underway and I still had no food. I should have allowed more time if I was going to eat first. I should have known better – pizza places (good ones, anyway) take awhile to make pies to order. I wasn’t upset about how long it was taking, but when the pizza arrived it was a bit awkward. I would pause to take a bite between tunes, trying to make sure I didn’t get grease on my nice guitar. Sherry had the same problem with her order. The pizza was excellent, but it wasn’t the best of circumstances.

The other awkward bit was that I was seated right in the main thoroughfare. I had to twist and move out of the way so that folks could get in and out of the restaurant. It was a problem.

As for playing the music, it was a blast, but challenging. This was Sherry’s first Irish gig, and she was struggling. At least I knew a bit about the chord progressions and could fake it. Sherry was seated so that she couldn’t see the chords I was making, so she had to wing it occasionally. Brad sat across from her with his guitar, but he was improvising all over the place and difficult to follow. In an e-mail to my BYOG friends I paraphrased Douglas Adams, “…they use some strange definition of ‘slow’ of which I was previously unaware.”

We played until 7:30 when the folks from Village Pizza brought out two large pies for the performers. If I’d known about that I wouldn’t have ordered ahead of time. I had a chance to chat with Bill C., the founder of the session. He had moved to the area from Southern California in 1996 and had started this group some years back. Bill played percussion, and was playing the spoons with vigor this evening. He was an interesting character, and we got along great.

During the break Sherry and Marlene decided to head out, so we were able to close up ranks and continue afterwards. Folks walking down the street would pause in front of the windows to watch and listen. Some even came in for pizza, which is why the place didn’t mind making an investment in pies for us. We got applause after each set of tunes, and it felt great.

Here are a couple of sound clips from the evening. You will hear the typical clatter and noise from the restaurant interspersed with the music. I had my recorder on the table behind me, so it picked up my guitar clearly You’ll also hear Bill playing spoons and occasionally banging out a rhythm on the table.

The first is Swallow-Tail Fly, which I actually know fairly well, followed by another tune I don’t know as well. You’ll hear me pause as I figure out what’s going on. At the end we start to sing and play Happy Birthday for a group coming downstairs from a birthday party held up there.

If you can not see this chirbit, listen to it here https://chirb.it/cnxg6H

Check this out on Chirbit

I don’t know the names of the tunes in this next set. Bill really started knocking on the table at the end of this one.

If you can not see this chirbit, listen to it here https://chirb.it/9eIzzI

Check this out on Chirbit

It was a great evening and it restored my faith in Irish music, so much so that I made some plans and arrangements, but that’s for another post. The folks were warm and welcoming, and I bet we sounded just as good as those other groups that are such sticklers for their rules. At least it was more fun.

I will mention this again in a later post, but I started tin whistle lessons this week so that I could learn more Irish tunes and participate in the melodies. Wouldn’t you know it? One of the first things the instructor talked about was…session etiquette. Oh well.

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[toffeebuzz]

The Secret Gems of Italy: Alessandria and Asti

However, the maximum well-known baby of Alessandria isn't a soldier, a businessman or an aristocrat. It's a hat. The maximum famous hat inside the entire international: Borsalino. The very first Borsalino changed into created by Giuseppe Borsalino in 1865. Since then, it changed into the favorite accent of Napoleon and also Humphrey Bogart. If you are curious to find out greater approximately this beautiful hat, go to Museo del Capello, the Hat Museum, in Alessandria, or pick up a copy of my new book, Chique Secrets of Dolce Vita. Or clearly go to Milan and buy your very very own, tremendous Borsalino within the little Borsalino store in Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle.

When all the history and hats make you tired, you can have lunch at La Fermata. It offers the satisfactory meals and wine of Piedmont, and it's a totally stylish and really Italian restaurant.

Talking approximately food and wine, if you should taste simply one kind of wine inside the area, it should be Gavi Remodelling jewellery. Produced within the metropolis of the identical call, Gavi is a well-known, mild, straw-colored white wine. Make sure to visit Gavi in the course of grape harvest to experience the maximum beautiful wine festival in Italy.

And now it's time to buy groceries - for gold and jewelry. Walking through the streets of Valenza Po, you could go blind from all of the shine and glitter that surrounds you. It is one of the most well-known towns of goldsmiths inside the international. More than 1300 workshops in Valenza Po create stunning jewelry and export it all around the global. The goldsmith way of life of Valenza Po started on the stop of 19th century, when Vincenzo Melchiorre started out to create remarkable jewellery from eighteen-carat gold and precious stones.

At the end of an extended day, you deserve to loosen up. And there may be no higher location to achieve this than a Roman spa. Acqui Terme is an ancient spa metropolis with thermal recuperation springs rich in bromine salts. One of them, Bollente, has its source in the very heart of the town. Other hot springs, and additionally the most effective bloodless sulphur spring, may be found on the opposite bank of the Bormida near the stays of the old Roman baths.

ASTI - DELICATE AND FUN The nice time to visit Asti is without a doubt September. The climate is best and warm, but not hot - perfect to recognize Palio, a historical horse race full of colours and neighborhood traditions. Also, it is the month while the metropolis celebrates its wine through enjoying the wine pageant of Douja d'Or.

Asti turned into based by means of Romans who gave the metropolis the name of Colonia Hasti (High Rock), and it is complete of palaces, squares and usual towers. The maximum famous infant of Asti is a poet of the Enlightenment, Vittorio Alfieri, born in 1749. Asti loves him, and a museum, theater and road were named after him.

Asti is one of the bastions of winemaking, and license plates of nearby motors often say: Asti - Provincia di Vino (Asti, the Province of Wine).

Asti definitely is the town of towers. In the past, the city had a hundred protecting towers built with the aid of aristocrats in thirteenth century. Only some of them had been preserved till nowadays. Most of them are situated in a nice historical community that was once referred to as Recinto dei Nobili (the Quarter of Aristocrats). Make certain to explore Torre dei Guttuari on Piazza Statuto, Torre dei Comentini in Corso Alfieri, Torre dei Roero in Via Sella, and Torre Montafia in Via Natta. Torre Rossa in Corso Alfieri is the oldest constructing on the town. It's lower component goes returned to Roman instances, and the upper element is medieval.

Asti is a metropolis wherein you can't simplest explore records and nearby traditions, but additionally scrumptious nearby cuisine. Osteria Barolo in Via Cesare Battisti is situated in a historical cellar, and its cuisine is a long way-famed. Try their special dessert - nutmeg sorbet.

If you locate your self in Asti in winter months, have lunch at Gener Neuv and order a scrumptious local area of expertise, zuppa di baccalà, cod soup. Gener Neuv is one of the first-class eating places in the area.

THE SURROUNDINGS OF ASTI - LITTLE GEMS HIDDEN IN THE COUNTRYSIDE Do you like sparkling wine? Visit Canelli, an critical middle of agriculture and the capital of Spumante. The first Spumante turned into produced in 1850 by means of Gancio whose historic wine cellars and museum are open to visitors.

Do you long for a piece of romance? Don't omit the sundown over Cocconato. Climb to the very pinnacle of this village, and watch the valley of Montferrato, the encompassing towers, and the blush of sunset over the horizon, and you will apprehend why Cocconato is called the Balcony of Piedmont. It's name comes from the Latin word cum conato - with effort. The place may be very far flung and secluded, and it was very tough for its inhabitants to do business and hold contact with the relaxation of the phrase. But way to its remoteness, the village has preserved its unique face and atmosphere.

Cortazzone is a village of wine. Almost all of its seven hundred inhabitants work within the wine industry, growing Freisa, a neighborhood vine range, that produces tremendous wine. If proudly owning a winery has constantly been your dream, that is your opportunity to revel in the hard, but very worthwhile, fact of winemaking.

Costigliole d'Asti is the living proof of the power of female attraction. Countess Di Castiglione e Costiglione turned into married to an influential aristocrat, and she or he became also a lover of Napoleon III. In 1854 she moved together with her husband to the fortress of Costiglione and had it reconstructed, remodeled, and modified so very well, that her generous husband went bankrupt just in a couple of years. In 1859 he needed to promote the fort to the Prince of Poniatow.

Moncalvo is a bit mountain village, however its repute is massive way to its nice truffles. It's well worth travelling if you're a gourmand, but there are more things to explore. Especially its francia, one of the oldest pedestrian areas in Italy, with the great shops inside the complete town.

Did you already know that a dish should get so famous that it had its personal brotherhood? Well, the entirety's possible in Italy. Nizza Montferrato, a bit metropolis on the confluence of the Nizza and the Belvo, is the authentic seat of Confraternità della Bagna Cauda (Brotherhood of Bagna Cauda), a society devoted the this local dish of Piedmont. Bagna Cauda is similar to fondue. It's a warm dip made with garlic, anchovies, olive oil, butter, and now and again desserts. The dish is eaten by using dipping raw, boiled or roasted greens, in particular onions, artichokes, celery, cauliflower, fennel, carrot, peppers and cardoon. The dip is served in typical terracotta bowls.