#any where the wind blows fanart

[burstfoot]

In the Legend of Chongyue animation whoever did the models for it (doesn't look like HG's typical modelers, probably the person they contracted to make the animation) decided to give Jieyun like VERY visible freckles and oh my god they are so cute

They're really subtle in her E0 art (you can like BARELY see them iF you squint) and they're much more visible in her E2 art but its so zoomed out that you can't make them out at a glance.

(2p zoomed in version)

ANYWAYS this whole appreciation post is just to say that if you're drawing Jieyun PLEAAAASE keep her freckles theyre so cute and really help her design come together imo (not biased)

[hugsandchaos]

Full Moon Curse

Summary: Every full moon night, since Arthur was young, was spent in self isolation, often outside. It was a routine everyone who’s spent at least one full month in the castle knew. Yet very, very few knew the reason why. Arthur often wished that even fewer knew, but little does he know, this evening is going to go the opposite of how he wanted. Is the moonlight night really going to end as badly as he fears?

Notes: Arthadow Club, I’ve read y’all’s fanfics and seen your fanart and it’s amazing, but you seem to have forgotten a little concept. Eat up. Oh, and here’s your tag, @teamxdark! I hope you all like it!

Word count: 4,525

With the last bit of the sun’s comforting and powerful light gone, Arthur was left in complete darkness. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him at all, being all alone in the dark, but he’d spent too many nights like this to be so fearful as to turn around and walk back to the castle. His crown had been left behind, along with much of his armor. He felt a little undressed without them, despite still wearing clothes. They were left behind for a good reason when he left just before sunset, though.

Arthur tilted his head up and searched the sky. Any minute now, the full moon would appear through the rolling clouds.

Before he left, the king made sure that every worker there knew he was not to be followed tonight. The newest knight had asked why, but luckily, Gwaine was there to tell him that it was a routine that had gone on for a long time and was simply not to be questioned. The badger seemed a little flustered and apologized. Arthur accepted it easily. Being worried about the king was practically part of the job, so it was reasonable a seemingly risky decision would raise questions.

An owl hooted somewhere to the right. Without thinking, Arthur turned to where it came from, only to relax his shoulders just as quickly as they raised up. The warm summer nights were more teeming with life now that the snow was gone and the animals had returned in the spring. Soon, fireflies started flickering their lights to the world and crickets began to sing and chirp. Combined with the pleasantly cool wind blowing through the trees, it was all a sort of quiet melody that soothed his mind when he paid attention to it, even if just for a while.

His emerald eyes found the moon when its light finally shined through the clouds. In the past, he would’ve looked at it and dreaded what would follow. Now, Arthur looked at with both a resigned sadness and some remaining fear for the painful transformation.

It started in his chest. It always started in his chest. Arthur gasped and brought a hand up to clutch the shirt he was wearing. His heart slowly, but surely began to beat almost painfully fast in his chest. Like it was knocking on it from inside. His ribcage felt as if it was starting to expand underneath his skin. At the same time, the flesh around began to grow to keep up with it. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and started panting. He released his grip on his shirt, only to try to grip at his chest.

The pain only grew worse as it spread to his arms and legs. Arthur cried in intense agony as his leg bones began to change and shift, unable to handle it while they supported his weight at the same time, no matter how many time he’s gone through it. It always hurt too much for him to keep standing. Arthur used his aching arms to catch himself on the ground, which shot a spark of pain through them. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, which sounded a lot like a hiss.

Knowing how the next few seconds would go, the king grunted and laid onto his side on the grass. He hated it. It was his own body, and yet the best Arthur could do for himself right now was to just lay there and let it happen. His face scrunched up in extreme discomfort as he grew too big for the clothes he was wearing until they tore apart. At the same time, he had to remove his hand from his chest because of the claws starting to grow. It hadn’t exactly brought him any comfort, but not doing it somehow felt worse than doing it.

‘It’ll be over soon.’ Arthur told himself.

He gritted his teeth as they started to ache and felt them starting to grow sharper. His tail stretched and grew blue fur out of it, the same blue fur that started spreading all over his body until it was longer than his quills. He cried out as his arms and legs grew bigger, his ankles shifting and readjusting to take on a different shape. Everything suddenly seemed much louder, much brighter, and his nose stung a little as Arthur became more aware of the different scents in the air.

Every muscle was tense and his fingers that now ended with sharp claws flexed as if to grab something. Everything hurt, everything ached, it was all so bad that he wanted to rip off his own skin to make it stop.

Then, almost as fast as it came, it stopped. The king breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. The pain would fade away soon enough, but now, the transformation was done. He began taking deep breaths to try to even out his breathing and calm his heartbeat. Arthur didn’t bother getting back up yet and simply laid there, listening to the sounds of the forest surrounding the clearing he frequented for the transformation. His head was spinning a little, but he knew that would fade as well.

Slowly, but surely, the pain subsided. When Arthur opened his eyes again and looked up at the sky, the moon had barely moved an inch from the position he’d first seen it in. He put his now furry arms on the ground and began to stand up. He moved slowly, not because of balancing issues, but because his legs often suddenly ached when he stood on them after and made it harder to stay up. Luckily, this wasn’t one of those times and the king was able to properly look around, the shreds of the clothes he’d been wearing now discarded onto the grass.

The fireflies were still there, but not as many remained. The crickets had sensed the new presence of a predator in the area and gone quiet, but Arthur’s now advanced senses hadn’t yet detected anything that could be a threat. That meant it was him that startled them. Arthur despised this form, along with the urges that came with it. The hunger for raw meat, for example.

Most of his mind was disgusted by it, but the rest that felt as if it belonged to the beast he’d turn into every month salivated at the mere thought of it. Another example is that on the rare occasion he was happy during these nights, he’d catch his tail wagging. The cursed king would also eventually come to the realization that when he thought of something that made him happy enough to make his tail wag, he’d feel more excited about whatever it was than when he was back in his much more comfortable and normal hedgehog body.

However, that small boost of happiness did next to nothing for Arthur when he remembered his circumstances. It was like trying to put out a large fire with only one bucket of water. He took in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Now he had to figure out what he could do next for the remainder of the night, because no matter how exhausted he might’ve been the day before, the beast was wide awake more often than not. One thing was for sure, though; Arthur had to stay away from civilization and the people who lived there.

“This is unexpected.”

Arthur’s ears and tail perked up hearing the voice, and upon realizing who it was, he was briefly overcome with nothing but sheer excitement at the thought of his beloved being there. He felt his now longer and fluffier tail move side to side rapidly, and for a few seconds, he didn’t care at all. Then that beautiful feeling was crushed by a sense of dread.

Shadow was there, and judging by his words, he was looking right at him. He saw Arthur. He could see him right now, as this... this beast.

Arthur turned to where the voice came from and his heart sank to his stomach. Shadow’s glowing red stripes and eyes, familiar and mysterious at the same time, cut through the darkness from where he was standing amongst the trees. As he walked into the clearing, the glow disappeared and the moonlight was granted permission to shine on him. The king’s beloved looked undeniably gorgeous under the soft, pale light, but he (unfortunately) couldn’t focus on that at the moment.

“What are you doing out here?! It’s late!” Arthur asked. He hadn’t meant to sound so surprised and fearful, but it was already out before he knew it. For some reason, Shadow had yet to show any signs of fear. Arthur knew how fearless he could be, but wasn’t he at least a little disgusted right now?

“Well, I was going to find a good place for stargazing, but who would’ve thought that I’d find you out here too.” Shadow replied. He shrugged his shoulders.”I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He added.

Arthur hardly processed the explanation. His mind was busy trying to prepare itself for the inevitable disaster that would be Shadow, the one who lit up his day just by being there and filled a place in his heart he didn’t even know was empty, was about to leave him. Arthur should’ve told him sooner. Maybe the heartbreak wouldn’t have been this awful. He could feel the tears starting to form behind his eyes and his throat begin to tighten already. He fought the urge to start crying down as far as he could so he could speak.

Arthur took in a deep breath.”Yes, it is... a curse I’ve had for a very long time now.” He said. He wanted to turn around and run so badly. Run from his home, run from his curse, and run from his beloved’s rejection.”I... suppose that you no longer want to be with me now that you know?” Arthur asked, fighting to keep his words above a whisper.

Shadow blinked and tilted his head slightly.“What are you talking about?” He asked. He started to come closer, but Arthur took a step back.

“Look at me! I look like a beast! A monster! I’m the very thing young children would run from in terror!” Arthur exclaimed. His voice strained a little as he spoke.”I’m the creature that hunters would go after to mount my head on their wall, believing that they’re protecting their loved ones!” He said. The dam holding his cries back was starting to break, a single tear was already rolling down his face. It almost hurt to speak.

He hung his head down and looked at the grass. He didn’t want to meet his lover’s eyes, which were probably full of hate by now.“I look like... like a demon, don’t I?” Arthur asked, sadness dripping from his words. He bit the inside of his lip to prevent it from quivering like he was a child.

A few minutes of heavy silence followed. Arthur didn’t see it, but Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.”Does me being only part hedgehog make me disgusting?” He asked. Arthur briefly forgot all about the circumstances and snapped his head up to look at Shadow.

“What?! No!” He exclaimed. He was shocked that his beloved would even suggest such a thing. Shadow’s tail may be far too long and easily manipulated for a hedgehog’s, and both of his sets of retractable teeth and forked tongue would startle many people, and of course the fact that he could make his red stripes glow was a surprise, but Arthur could only see them as what they are. An important part of Shadow that made him who he is.

He was hardly ever scared of his alien features, and even when he was, it was short lived and replaced with fascination. The lungs of a scorpion to hold his breath for seven days, the ability to find his way through sound alone like a bat, the eyes of a cat’s or reptile’s to see in the dark, and more! Every bit of Shadow’s biological and genetic makeup, as the hybrid himself called it, that Arthur learned about seemed to further prove his self proclaimed title as the ultimate life form and leave the king wondering why and how he was created in such a way.

It was simply amazing how he always seemed to have a way to handle situations. Why — No, how would someone look at him and be disgusted by the simple fact that he wasn’t a “proper” hedgehog?

Shadow tried again to walk closer, and this time, Arthur let him.“There’s your answer. You don’t look much like a beast to me anyways.” Shadow said as he took Arthur’s clawed hand into his own. It was a little surprising how much easier Shadow’s hand was to hold now, but Arthur hardly processed it. He was busy hearing his beloved’s words repeat in his mind over and over.

It was something that he wanted to hear the moment he first wondered what would happen if Shadow learned of his curse. He needed to hear it. He just didn’t think it was very likely. In fact, it was one of the reasons he gave up seeking a lover long ago. And now, after hearing those words, it felt like a weight he’d been carrying for so long that he often didn’t notice its heaviness anymore was starting to lift off his shoulders. Arthur could feel the tears that were ready to be released start to vanish, and his throat began to open up again.

“You... You do not see me as a monster? You are not worried about what I could do if I’m not in control?” He asked. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried since even now, there were times he’d acted on the beast’s instincts instead of his own.

Shadow gave a small shake of his head.“No. If anything...” The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small smile, ”I’m actually a little relieved now that I’ve figured out what’s been causing you to feel weak for so long.��� He said.

One bright flash of light and surprisingly brief dizzy headache later, Arthur was in a dark room, but the two windows up ahead made him guess that this was Shadow’s cabin. Shadow’s eyes and quills glowed in the dark with bits of lightning flickering between his red quills, something that the dark hybrid seemed to be able to control for the most part. He brought his other hand up and pressed it against Arthur’s chest. He carefully guided him backwards a few steps and lightly pulled down on his hand. Shadow wanted him to sit down, and Arthur did just that.

He reached an arm behind himself and patted the air as he slowly knelt down until he found the cushion of a couch. Arthur sat down, but Shadow remained standing. The dark hybrid leaned closer and gave Arthur a light kiss on the cheek. The soft peck made his cheeks heat up. It felt like just what the king needed right now.”Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a while.” Shadow said. He turned around and walked to the other side of the room. He knelt down in front of something and picked up two sharp objects.

Three sharp strikes of stones against each other and a few blows from Shadow, and the fireplace was lit. He waited a little to make sure that it would stay, then walked into the kitchen that was right on the other side of the right wall when he was satisfied.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at him, even when he left. He heard a light thumping and turned to his right to see his tail wagging against the couch. Arthur’s face felt hotter and he quickly grabbed it, but not too harshly, just to make it stop. Thank goodness Shadow hadn’t seen that. Once the tail stopped moving between his paws, Arthur released it and looked around.

A few steps in front of the couch was a rectangular carpet with a simple striped design and different shades of grays, reds, and browns.

The flames eating away at the replaced firewood sent a warm, orange light dancing across the floor, walls, and ceiling. It chased away the darkness and was slowly heating up Arthur’s front body. The wooden floors looked very clean, which wasn’t much of a surprise since Shadow had an affinity for clean and tidy spaces.

Shadow really valued having his privacy, so much so that he apparently built a cabin not too long after he appeared in Camelot. Arthur wasn’t exactly sure just how far away from the kingdom the cabin was, but Shadow told him that he ran for about three hours before stopping in the general area around the house to search for a good place to start building. Given his incredible speed, Arthur could get a good idea of how far they were.

The isolation ensured the couple’s privacy and brought relief to Arthur. No one else would see him like this. He took this moment to think.

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten cursed, only what happened after. His mother was the first he told. She was horrified and tried to find a way to reserve or heal it, but unfortunately, it was permanent. His mother would bear the brunt of his actions during the first year. Arthur would wake up the next day with no recollection of the night before and his mother would reassure him that nothing bad happened. She often laughed and told him that he acted like a pup wanting his mother.

There were so many embarrassing stories from that first year that Arthur would often rather forget. Over the next few years, he’d slowly gotten better at regaining control over himself. Now, it was near perfect, but there were still moments that the king would not remember the next day. The lack of recollection often meant that he wasn’t in control. There were so many times in the past where he’d nearly gotten caught by either knights, villagers, or hunters. Those moments taught Arthur what fearing for your life meant.

The king wasn’t sure how long he’d been deep in his own thoughts, staring blankly at the fireplace across the room until he finally noticed something. Something that smelled amazing, coming from the kitchen. He turned to look at the doorway just as Shadow came in holding a plate and fork. As he came closer, Arthur could see that it was a piece of cut up meat on the plate, cooked and seasoned. Shadow held the plate out for Arthur.

“Eat this. It’s cooked rare.” He said. Arthur glanced between the plate and Shadow for a second, then accepted. It was a pleasant surprise when he first learned that Shadow could cook, especially when he tasted it and thought for a minute that his beloved might’ve been a famous chef he’d somehow never heard of. Shadow denied it, but Arthur still had his suspicions. Shadow sat down and stretched his arms up.

The fork was a little harder to hold, but the first bite was amazing. The meat was oddly juice and less tough on the inside, but Arthur wasn’t complaining about it. If anything, it made it even better. Besides, Shadow rarely made mistakes when it came to cooking food. Surely this was how “rare cooked” meat tasted.“This is delicious! But if I may ask, how do you think this will help me?” Arthur asked. He brought another piece into his mouth.

“If your sharper features are any indication, then the diet you should’ve been eating requires a bit more meat. Raw meat, that is.” Shadow started explaining. Arthur very briefly paused eating before swallowing the piece of meat in his mouth.“However, I also worry that too much raw meat would make you sick. Plus, you’re still technically an omnivore. I don’t have the right equipment to get the information I need, so to be on the safe side, I cooked it rare.” Shadow finished.

Arthur glanced at the dark hybrid making himself comfortable on the couch. The fork made a clink sound as he let it rest on the plate.“So all this time, my constant fatigue was a result of my meals lacking the proper meat?” He asked. The thought of hunting and eating raw meat had plagued his mind so many times that he believed it to be from the beast simply wanting to enjoy the bloody act, and not for the food itself.

Not only that, but he always felt especially tired after that night. Arthur always believed that was from the transformation, or perhaps a side effect of the curse.

When he was younger, he was so disgusted by the constant thoughts of eating raw meat, especially if it was from something or someone he killed, he’d go into episodes of sorts where he’d avoid meat all together for days at a time. That would make him feel even worse, and slipping back into eating the meat that was in his meals again would help. Was he so repulsed by his own mind that it did it not occur to him that this was the solution?

“I can’t say for sure, but it’s pretty likely. I wouldn’t have even started cooking if I thought that wasn’t what it was.” Shadow replied. He adjusted his position and turned his body so his back face Arthur’s side. He leaned back and turned his head to the side against Arthur.“Finish up and we can head to bed if you’re tired.” He said.

“Surprisingly, most nights when the moon is full, I am not tired. Rather, I am possibly more awake than before, but that sounds lovely. Thank you, Shadow.” Arthur said. He returned to his meal and the two sat not in silence, but close enough.

Once he was done, Shadow insisted on taking the plate and fork to the kitchen. He won, of course. Then, he blew out the fireplace and plunged them both into near complete darkness, the only light being from the moon shining through the windows and Shadow’s glow.“I suggest we have a sort of trial.” Shadow said. He took Arthur’s hand into his own and began walking into the next room.

Arthur was glad this part of the house was more open to make room for the stairs on the other side of the room, leading up to a small pathway suspended above a vacant doorway to another room. He could walk a little without worrying about having to duck his head any to fit. Shadow led him up the stairs.“Every weekend, I want to bring you over here for dinner, and we’ll see if this change will actually work. Does that sound like a good idea to you?” He asked. Arthur had to be careful in the dark, but Shadow leading him and moving at a slower pace than usual made him feel at ease.

The suggestion sounded like a great idea to him. Even if it didn’t actually help, it would at least ensure him having a planned date night with his beloved every month.“Yes. I’d really like that.” Arthur said. The two walked into Shadow’s bedroom, which was one of the few rooms with a door. Arthur had to duck his head and turn sideways to fit through, but at least the bed was large enough for them as Arthur sat down. He’d much rather not use blankets tonight.

Shadow began to remove his shoes and gloves, but the rings were only off for a very brief time. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what their purpose was, but the hybrid telling him that they only come off in the most dire circumstances told him all he needed to know about their importance. Shadow placed them neatly beside his bed and the gloves went on the night stand.

He sat down next to Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder. He brushed that hand through his quills and fur.“You know, this form of yours might not be all that bad. Surely you’ve noticed how easier it is to stay warm in the winter?” Shadow asked. Arthur had to prevent his tail from wagging and reached a hand back to rub his neck a little.

“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve often looked forward to the transformation so I wouldn’t be so cold when I was younger.” He replied. He reached his other arm around Shadow and pulled him closer. The form also came with a lot more strength, which Arthur had practiced controlling in the past. Still, even now, he was worried about accidentally crushing his beloved.

Shadow had no such fear and made himself comfortable leaning against his side.“And since your tail is longer now, I can do this.” He said as he closed his eyes.

Before Arthur could ask what he meant, he felt something wrap around his tail. He jolted a little feeling the furs on his tail moved and turned around to see Shadow’s tail hooked around his own. It was a small gesture, not too different from the times Shadow used his tail to hold onto Arthur’s hand or arm, but seeing it made the king’s heart swell up. He turned back at Shadow and smiled.”Let us stay like this for a while, my beloved?” Arthur asked.

Shadow turned his head and nuzzled against Arthur.”For as long as we can.” He said.

Arthur wrapped his arm around him and slowly, trying to be mindful of his size, leaned back until he and Shadow were both laying down on the bed. Surprisingly, it held both of their weight with no problem. Both of their tails moved so they wouldn’t be crushed, but Shadow kept his hold on Arthur’s tail even as it wagged. Arthur lowered his head to touch the top of Shadow’s as the dark hybrid curled up a little. His dark quills and red stripes smelled of lavender, something Arthur could now look at and be instantly reminded of his lover.

A small smile made its way across Arthur’s tan muzzle. If this was how Shadow was reacting to his curse, he regretted not telling him sooner. It eased the king’s worries and warmed his heart to know that Shadow hadn’t been disgusted or disturbed by this form. He wasn’t scared one bit of his sharp teeth and large claws, and he hadn’t found all of the blue fur Arthur would probably get on his bed gross. The only thing he seemed to care about was the fact that he believed to have found a solution for Arthur’s constant fatigue. He didn’t seem to find a need to mention his tail wagging, either.

Shadow accepted it all without a second thought, and now, Arthur would always have a nice weekend dinner to look forward to. Not only that, but something told him that this wouldn’t be the only time he’d spend the full moon in the cabin his beloved built.

(I honestly meant this to be a one-and-done-for-now type of thing, but now I’ve got a few ideas that are admittedly Shadow-centric and focus more on how they could’ve met. Trust me, I think they’re pretty good concepts. Next one (after I finish a WIP from another fandom) will be simply titled “Stars”, and honestly, I meant to finish it last summer. On the bright side, my writing’s better than it was a year ago, so it should be pretty good. I blame the Arthadow Club for this/j . Also, I’m not immune to “werewolf character being overexcited to see their partner”, so I wonder how embarrassing it would be for Arthur to wake up the next morning and ask Shadow if he was okay because he knows that not remembering what happened means he wasn’t in control, and Shadow tells him how he couldn’t even go into the next room without Arthur following him.)

[wispforever]

naruto 6 and 13 pls!

Hi, cowboy :) thanks for the ask

6. Which ship fans are the most annoying?

I block anyone I find annoying, so the fact that I'm actually able to think of several groups of people kind of blows my mind lol. First would be the fans who take shipping way too seriously. They hate on other people for deviating from their version of canon, start insane discourse, sometimes even harass creators of the show, etc. Idk if I even have to explain why that pisses me off. It's just in really bad taste. Quit bothering people. Fandom is for enjoyment, don't spend your fandom time telling people how much you hate them or why they're wrong. Chill tf out

Then are the fans who don't participate in shipping (this is the okay part) and THEN talk about how stupid shipping is and how inherently annoying it is. People are entitled to their opinions obviously. I understand (especially as an aroace person) how shipping can be reductive and how people get obsessed. But at some point you have to take responsibility for curating your own experience. Don't like shipping? That's great. Block everyone who posts ship and only follow people who don't. Problem solved. Don't whine about how annoying shipping is IN THE SHIPPING TAG. Just fucking braindead, I can't

In the naruto fandom specifically, I think the shipping that pisses me off the most are the above types of bloggers, as well as people who ship things I find personally repulsive. Like *nc*st or p*do shit. Lots of that in the naruto fandom unfortunately.

13. Worst blorboficiation?

The most impossible naruto question challenge LMAO where do I even fucking start. This fandom beats the absolute shit out of good characters at the drop of a hat. Some of it is fine, I get it, I'm guilty of it, but other times it's hugely reductive. If character assassination were a crime punishable by death, I fear we tumblrinas would be having this conversation while we waited in line for the electric chair.

There are lots of characters I see blorbofied beyond recognition: Madara, Hashirama, Kakashi, Gai, Lee, Tsunade, Obito, literally anyone in the Akatsuki- I could go on and on. I think though, the one who sticks out to me is definitely Itachi. I see SOOOO many depictions of wet, crying, pitiful Itachi when he gives absolutely no hint of any of that on screen. Am I saying he doesn't cry? Doesn't feel? Absolutely not. But there's a thousand different ways to make a character emotional. I barely ever see in character portrayals of Itachi, in my opinion, especially when delving into who he is behind closed doors, what he thinks about his clan/upbringing, how he feels about Sasuke and the massacre he committed. I could mop the floor with him he is so sopping wet in all of this fanart. It drives me up the fucking wall. I've written a lot of detailed notes analyzing his character, and I myself appreciate how he was a victim (along with many other things), but most of the time I feel people stop at just the victim part. Idk why they want him to cry so bad. Idk what makes them think HE would think he deserves to grieve or be forgiven. Idk why they oversimplify his motives or make him out like he doesn't understand what he did and why. makes me actually insane. ffs there are beautiful flawed characters here with winding, painful, morally grey journeys. appreciate the nuance jesussss if i see one more big doe-eyed teared up itachi sniveling to kisame i'm going to be on the news

[griefabyss69]

Grief's Big LARP AU Post

Bonjoureee, here is my on-going list of installments for my LARP AU!

Titles are tumblr links and AO3 links are beside them. Start with the first fic! This is all one story.

» Last Man Standing - 15.6K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: N/A Tags: Eddie Teaches Steve D&D, Blowjobs, LARPing, Sexual Roleplay, Tattoos, Fanart

I drew fanart for this one <3

Steve asks Eddie to teach him how to play D&D.

Eddie has no idea what’s in store for him as Steve throws him for a loop, making the game into something that changes Eddie on a molecular level, if his dick is to believed. Excerpt:

Steve puts up a good fight, and Eddie puts up a fight that would make a wet sock look heroic in comparison. Eddie's only got five HP left when he changes tactics, not ready for his character to be dead already.

"Blood running down from under his hat, his gasping to catch his breath, winded from this battle, my character holds up a hand. He implores of you, 'Please, have mercy and spare me from death, let me continue on my journey and I shall give you my mace.', what do you do?"

Steve blinks at him, surprise ebbing away as he mulls it over, pencil tapping against his chin.

Eddie gets up to refill his glass with water, taking the time to stretch a bit as he waits.

"I hold the tip of my sword at his throat, looking him over," Steve says, catching his attention. He gives Eddie a little smirk, one that's barely there but is somehow way sexier than any other expression he's made before. "And I tell him, 'I'll spare your life under one condition'."

» Interlude - 6K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: Semi-public sex Tags: Pre-Relationship, Car Sex, Oral Sex, Humiliation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, In Public

Eddie and Steve do it again, this time without any roleplaying, and in Steve's car instead.

Excerpt: "Do you want to pull over so I can blow you or should we wait until after you take me to the diner?" He asks, allowing himself to be presumptuous about a few things.

Steve's mouth opens and closes a few times before he looks around, using his turn signal even though the road is empty and has been empty for a while, pulling over to the side of the road.

"Guess that's your answer," he says, putting the car in park and shutting it off. "Crack your window."

They roll the windows down an inch and Eddie gets Steve's dick out before he's even unbuckled his seat belt, not caring that it hits him in the face when he does get it undone. Any injuries that occur here are a badge of honor and something to poke at while jerking off, no matter how stupid they are.

» Stargasm - 11K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: None Tags: LARPing, Bondage, Nipple Play, Sexual Roleplay, Anal Fingering, Cum Slut Eddie Munson, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Humiliation

After they recover from their interesting night in Steve's car, Eddie and Steve get up to some more LARPing, this time with Steve as the Demon King who bests Sir Eddie the Banished Knight.

Eddie's still not sure where they stand in their relationship, but it feels good to be with him, and the time they spend after the hot sex is really nice.

Excerpt:

"Also," Steve's saying, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts about what Steve would look like with a real demon tail. "Since you liked it so much in the car, I was wondering that if I defeat you... could I tie you up?"

He winces a little, not like he's nervous, but more like he's expecting Eddie to be.

Eddie pulls the helmet off so Steve can absolutely hear him clearly, looking him in the eye.

"Only if you get really mean about it," he says, watching Steve's eyebrows raise.

» so take a bite of me, just once - 10.3K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: None Tags: Biting, Sexual Roleplay, LARPing, Vampire Roleplay, Teeth, Blindfolds, Cum Play

(Tie in with the Paraphilia series) Odaxelagnia is a kink where individuals experience sexual arousal from biting or being bitten.

Excerpt:

The door creaks open slowly, the dim lighting from the hall spilling blue tinted into Eddie's lair, a gentle haze of back-light against the warm illumination of the most delicious human he's ever seen.

So obedient, carrying out everything he's asked of him around his Castle, even blindfolding himself just so he's stuck under Eddie's command around others who could break it.

"Give me your hands," he says, a soft order.

Steve lifts his arms, hands palm up for him. Openness and truth, manufactured, but still appreciated.

» Intermission - 7.7K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: Chronic Illness Tags: Pining, Pre-Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Non sex tags are: Overstimulation, Chronic Illness, Grounding, Memory Issues, Cooking, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Maybe Eddie should've said no when Steve asked to come over, but he wasn't thinking too hard - his brain wasn't working too hard on anything but the urge to scream.

So when Steve does come over and sees that Eddie is having a really bad time, he takes care of him.

And when Eddie is feeling much better later, Steve takes care of him.

Excerpt:

Even the experience of Steve guiding him to his own bedroom and directing him to lay down on his bed as he starts stripping off layers – jacket and shoes and sweater and jeans and shirt – can't shake how Eddie's brain might be setting off someone's seismic activity detector somewhere in town.

It's a shame. Laying back on his bed, usually a hobby he's great at, ruined by the way he's almost shaking with how he just can't fucking relax, how he can feel every bump and lump and wrinkle in his clothes and the bedding and the mattress and his pillows. From the outside perspective it looks like the beginning to many of his wet dreams, but right now he's got Steve's beautiful, glorious body all half naked and the threat of a good time hanging in the air and he doesn't want to have sex with him.

» Swallow Me Leaden Sky - 40.7K - Rated: E - [ AO3 ] - CW: None Tags: Friends With Benefits, LARPing, Sexual Roleplay, Porn Watching, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Forniphilia, Human Furniture, Bookstores, Service Submission, Light flirting with OMC, Self-Discovery, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Rockstar & Bodyguard roleplay, Eddie Munson's Guitar, Nude Photos, Exhibitionism, Verbal Humiliation, Service Kink, Biting, Prank Calls, Sixty-Nining, slow burn but they're fucking the whole time, Two insatiable men get in a fight against time itself

Steve likes little trips into the city with Robin, he likes the deep driving well in his gut, and he likes laying on Eddie's bed, watching him get ready for the day.

He doesn't always have the words for any of it, and he takes a while to catch up to his own feelings, but he thinks he's starting to get there.

Excerpt:

Eddie slides out of his chair, unable to keep his energy contained to two square feet of space, walking around and really getting into the dramatic part of playing a guitar—he's gone from figuring out random melodies to playing songs he knows, and he looks good doing it. Steve's hopes are sky high, but he’s confident that if he just tries hard enough he can fulfill this nebulous craving of his.

[eurydice-week]

EURYDICE WEEK!!!!

Hey everyone! As we're getting closer to Eva Noblezada's last performance as Eurydice, this blog will dedicate the next week to celebrating her work with Hadestown, with eight full days of prompts for you guys to make content from.

You can create any work you'd like for this project, from fanart to fanfic to cosplay to covers to gifs to whatever else your heart desires. We're here to celebrate Eva and Eurydice through any means possible!

That being said, here are the prompts for next week!

August 6th - Anyway The Wind Blows - A focus on Eurydice during Act I, as well as her past. This covers her time spent as a traveler to meeting Orpheus and a possible place to stay.

August 7th - All I've Ever Known - Eurydice's star-crossed relationship with Orpheus, with all its ups and downs.

August 8th - Hey, Little Songbird - Eurydice's complex relationships with both Hades and Persephone. You can focus on both gods with Eurydice, or just one.

August 9th - When The Chips Are Down - A focus on Eurydice and the women who follow her wherever she goes: The Fates.

August 10th - I Don't Know Where This Road Will Go - A middle of the week AU day! Fix-its, modern AU's, and any other retelling can work for this day.

August 11th - If I Raise My Head - Eurydice's relationship with the workers. Friends, enemies, allies, lovers, anything works for this day.

August 12th - And Then I Turned Away - A focus on Eurydice during Act II or anything after. This covers her descent to Hadestown and her existence post-turn.

August 13th - Hungry Young Girl - A free day to do anything you please! A major focus on Eva this day!

Here's an FAQ in case you have questions!

Do I have to abide by the prompts to participate?

Nope! If you tag this blog in anything or use the tag #eurydiceweek in a post, I'll rb it to this blog. The prompts are just useful in case you don't know what to make!

Can I rb anything I made in the past if I think it fits?

Go ahead! I'll definitely be doing that with some of my stuff.

Does the focus have to be specifically Eva's Eurydice on Broadway, or can I make stuff about London Eurydice as well?

London Eurydice is greatly appreciated as well! Eva's journey didn't begin on Broadway after all! (Plus op will be eternally grateful if you make London content.)

What if I wanted to make something based on a non-Eva Eurydice? (i.e. NYTW, Edmonton, Concept Album, Tour, Bway understudy, etc) AND what if I wanted to make something based on a non-Eurydice Eva role? (i.e. Miss Saigon, Les Mis, Luck, etc)

All Eurydice's and Eva's are welcome on this week!

Who's running this blog?

@arniesmarmy!

[foolofabookwyrm-activated]

Any Way The Exchange Blows 2023 Masterpost!

Hello hello my friends! Now that all gift works for the exchange event on the discord server in honor of the 2nd anniversary of the Any Way the Wind Blows release anniversary have been completed, I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who participated and share their works with you all! A special shoutout and thanks to @prettylightsbigcity and @stardustasincocaine who helped run the event with me! (And a second thanks for Tessa for pinch hitting at the very last moment)

(NSFW content below the cut)

ART (SFW)

@werezolft Created this fanart for @martsonmars' fic "Something Witty"

@cats-and-jam created this fanart for @facewithoutheart's fic "If There's Anything You Want"

@ic3-que3n created this fanart of a sweet and domestic married Snowbaz for @cats-and-jam

@katatsumuli created this fic fanart for @onepintobean of their collab fic "Don't Speak, I know just what you're saying" (Original fic collab with @ileadacharmedlife)

@mercy-upon-me created this fanart of our fave midwestern boy Shep for @werezolft

FIC (SFW)

"by moon and sunrise" by @trenchcoat-moth for @mercy-upon-me Rated Teen, 1.2K words Summary: Baz is away visiting family. Simon is still home at their flat. Neither likes the arrangement. Baz sets to rectify that.

"Breakable" by @sillyunicorn for @aristocratic-otter Rated Teen, 1K words, includes recorded original song and lyrics Summary: He wouldn’t have dropped out. He wouldn’t miss this last year to torment me. He wouldn’t leave me to wonder what’s happened to him — unless that’s his plan. Drive me mad with worry — no, not worry. I’m not worried for Baz. I’m worried about Baz. About what he’s doing. I’m worried for Watford. And when I put it that way… well, I have to do something, don’t I? I have to find him. I have to save Watford from whatever he and his family are plotting.

"An Act of Kindness" by @facewithoutheart for @prettylightsbigcity Rated Teen, 9.8K words, 4/4 chapters (complete) Summary: Baz joins Fiona on a continent-wide chase of the Chosen-One-Gone-Nuclear, leading to a Hyde Park stand-off that’ll force Baz to choose once and for all where his loyalty lies: with his heritage, or with his heart.

"endless skies and blazing sun" by @martsonmars for @trenchcoat-moth Rated General, ~1K words Summary: Baz knows he shouldn't have come to America, but how could he say no to watching Simon smile and laugh under a bright, never-ending sky? Baz knows he shouldn't have come, but what if it's exactly the right place to be to feel something new?

"The Real Thing" by @onepintobean for @thewriterxj Rated Teen, ~1K words Summary: Simon Snow’s favourite hobby is creating outfits for his paper doll Baz. He’s so normal about it. I mean, a man’s gotta have a hobby, and where would world-famous models be without their adoring fans, anyway?

"Home To Me" by @prettylightsbigcity for @sillyunicorn Rated Teen, 1.5K words Summary: Life is busy, but Simon and Baz are determined to get away and celebrate their anniversary. Travel rarely goes exactly as planned, but sometimes just being with the person you love is enough.

NSFW Contributions below the cut!

NSFW ART (will include work tags here relevant to possible CW/TW, please remember you're responsible for curating your own experience. Read tags as necessary.)

@krisrix created this piece titled "Good Boy" for @fatalfangirl Tags include: Anal Sex, Dom/Sub play, Collars, Leashes Artist Summary: Illustration of Simon wearing a collar and mounting Baz

@stardustasincocaine created this piece titled "Tie Me Up in Knots" for @ic3-que3n Tags include: Shibari, rope bondage, japanese rope bondage, implied sexual content Artist Summary: Simon in shibari ropes. That’s the thing. @stardustasincocaine is an absolutely chaotic angel who volunteered to pinch hit at the end of the event. They created this art piece lovingly titled "Few Positions Work When You Have Fuck Off Wings" for @theearlgreymage Tags Include: Anal sex, lingerie, partially drawn penises, body hair, lube, kissing, Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, and Emotional Porn Artist Summary: Simon and Baz doing the do but this time there’s lingerie

NSFW FICS (work tags included here relevant to possible CW/TW, please remember you're responsible for curating your own experience. Read tags as necessary.)

"Tickle The Dragon's Tail" by @aristocratic-otter for @katatsumuli Rated Explicit, ~3k words, Part 2 of The Dragonverse Tags: monsterfucking, kinky sex, tail sex, sex accidents, sex toys, sex toy accidents, anal sex, oral sex, sixty-nine, medical trauma, spadey having a mind of its own, mpreg, very much mpreg Writer Summary: Simon and Baz are having trouble finding a sex position that's comfortable, given the bulk of Simon's pregnant belly. Spadey has an idea. Niamh has to help save our heroes from Spadey's idea.

"Nothing to See Here" by @theearlgreymage for @krisrix Rated Explicit, 11.6K words Tags: Blow jobs, public blow jobs, semi-public sex, anal fingering, finger sucking, anal sex, sex magic, magic sharing, dom/sub, dom/sub undertones, mildly dubious consent, cock slut, miscommunication, pwp, overstimulation, multiple orgasms Writer Summary: When I glance up at him, he has his free hand in front of his mouth. I’m positive that he’s biting his thumb to keep himself from making any more noises. The weight of him on my tongue is delicious. And this close I can smell, taste, all of him. Green smoke, burnt buttery popcorn, and a heavy musk that can only be described as Simon. It’s my favorite thing, satisfying my taste buds more than any meal or rat ever will. I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t manage to catch the noises coming from me until I hear another voice. “The fuck was that?” Someone a row in front of where Snow sits whispers. I can’t help but wonder how they’d respond if they knew the truth of the matter. It’s Basilton Grimm-Pitch, moaning beneath a desk as he practically chokes on Simon Snow’s cock.

"Jaguar" by @fatalfangirl for @stardustasincocaine Rated Explicit, 2.5K words Tags: coffin trauma, comfort sex, non-defined dom/sub dynamics, blindfolds, emotional porn, emotions including those related to trauma such as fear and panic, Writer Summary: Baz still struggles with the dark. Simon offers sexy exposure therapy. Enter "stay" commands and overstimulation.

[j-morgan-fly]

Hello there

Just wanted to ask what happened to your fanfic named ' White Winds Blow'?

I found it on Instagram and wanted to read and found you but it is saying that it doesn't exist anymore.

Is there any other way I can read it anywhere?

Sorry for the trouble.

Oh my gosh, I thought about this story the other day. Honestly couldn't remember what I had called it though and I had to type in White Winds Blow into my Google Docs to find it!

I am curious where you found it on Instagram. I don't recall posting anything except I think on deviant art some of my own fanart for it.

I can't recall why I took it down or stopped writing. But just for you, I published what I had wrote of it so far to the web for you.

It was no trouble at all. You just made my day actually.

[fai1bel]

I cannot be the only one still obsessed with Any Way the Wind Blows and the whole Simon Snow series in general. I just keep re-reading it and listening to 'A Case of You' by James Blake.

Thanks @rainbowrowell for giving us such amazing characters.

[artandmartini]

If we had figured it out sooner

I can't get over how close their beds areeeee

[letraspal]

Domestic Snowbaz: a telling with insta-stories

Vol. 1 | Vol. 2 | Vol. 3 Payback | Vol.4 | Vol.5

[sebbyisland]

wellbelove my beloved,,,,

[papercut271]

Carry On Countdown 2021 Day 07: Any Way The Wind Blows

[silver--linings]

Reborn (A Journey’s Terminus)

[Crossposted on AO3]

Word Count: 3122

Characters: Akari/Rei (Player), Hisuian Zorua, Zorua, Haunter, Samurott, Kamado, Irida, Adaman, Volo (last three briefly)

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Based on Fanart (Will Be Linked in Replies), Character Death, AU: Volo Never Finds The Player Character, this one’s kinda fucked folks, Blood, Blood and Injury, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Dark, Sorry :(, I teared up while writing this but im proud of it, bad at titles and also summaries, its good just trust me, Not Beta Read

Summary: “...the Zorua perished, unable to survive the harsh Hisuian environment and strife with other pokemon. Their lingering souls were reborn in this Ghost-type...”

“I must ask you to leave.”

Crunch. Crunch.

“You are no longer welcome in the Galaxy Team.”

A heavy breath, two, three, clouds of steam emitting from their mouth.

“Consider yourself banished from the village until you can explain why these calamities keep befalling our good people.”

A shiver, a shudder, stiff arms moving to try and get any semblance of warmth. Their hands were ever so slightly turning from red to blue. They couldn’t take out their pokemon.

None of them remained except for one.

“No – until you’ve restored our world to its rightful state and proven your innocence beyond doubt!”

Their partner’s ball rattled, sensing something wrong. They ignored it. The cold winds made their eyes tear up, and their body was subjected to another aggressive bout of trembling. Their next breath came up short, making them let out a series of wracking coughs. The pokeball at their hip shook harder.

Our good people…

They never were one of them, were they? Never one of their people. Nothing else explained why they’d be thrown out like this, forced to survive off of scraps and try to solve… whatever this was. They didn’t know how. It didn’t matter.

Blowing into their hands did nothing. Their breath was hardly warmer than the chilled flesh. The crunching of their footsteps was loud, and they knew that the Icelands were probably one of the worst places to allow caution to slip.

It was too cold for them to care.

It was a mixture of the cold and the fatigue that got them caught unawares.

There was a mighty hiss behind them, followed by a strange, unnatural sound. Teleportation, their mind told them, but they were too slow. Their sluggish turn only got them a slash from a furious Haunter, searing across their side like it was nothing more than butter. It knocked the breath out of them, and they fell backwards into the snow.

A trembling hand came to hold their side, where the gash had opened and begun to bleed. They couldn’t feel their hand or the gash.

Adrenaline washed through their veins, and they tried to back away, to run.

The Haunter was quicker.

It shot them in the back with a weaker pulse, knocking them back into the ground they’d tried to scramble up from just seconds before. Their pokeball rattled violently, but… she couldn’t help them. Not now. It was best to leave her in her pokeball, where she was safe.

They rose again, struggling, their back and side burning and their whole body shaking. They can’t die here, they can’t. They aren’t done!

A few more staggering steps away from the Haunter rewarded them with a scratch – a Shadow Claw, their mind supplied uselessly – across the full of their back. It slid deep. Their whole body stuttered, finally collapsing as the Haunter gave another attack to their weak legs.

On the ground, they stared up at the Haunter, its red eyes appearing hazy in their delirium. Ah… they thought, mind moving slowly, this is it, isn’t it?

They felt their side shake as the lone pokeball on their waist burst open, a shadow appearing over them with a snarl that only registered seconds after the fact. They blinked, static creeping towards the edges of their vision. Samurott gave a yell towards them, but they knew that she would be better off without them.

As their pokemon leapt at the Haunter, both of their shapes turning into colors, they felt… they felt anger.

Our people. Our people. Our. Our. Our.

Not you.

Never you.

White on blue on purple began to fade to black. The red in the snow began to freeze.

As the faint breaths exhaled from their mouth slowed, they found themself feeling only the cold fury of unjust hate accompanying them.

Why? What did I do to deserve this? Why? Why? W…h…y…    w…

— x — x — 

Samurott leapt over her trainer’s prone form, a protective growl over their behalf hardly even phasing the Haunter. This… the Samurott felt a sudden pit in her stomach, this Haunter is strong.

Its eyes gleamed with malice, and it did not speak to her. The blood on its spectral claws dripped into the disrupted snow, and Samurott had never before been consumed with such fury. Her trainer was hurt, and it was because of this. This beast.

She launched at it with a roar, claws and horn trained on the Haunter. It was a stupid attack, she knew, fueled by emotion over logic, but… but… her trainer could not command her. Samurott could fight on her own, yes, but it wasn’t nearly the same as fighting in tandem with her partner.

It easily dodged to the side, launching a Shadow Ball at her as she passed it. It connected, sending her careening with a pained shout. She blinked, and it was close to her, and it was only by the grace of Sinnoh that she narrowly dodged, the following attack grazing her flank and sending static bolts of pain along her spine.

Samurott turned quickly, conjuring one of her Dark blades. Without letting the Haunter get too far from its position, she darted forward with a Ceaseless Edge attack. It gave an enraged cry, flinging her away from it with a weak, reflexive Thunder Punch. Still, she gave an answering cry of pain, shivering at the feeling of electricity arcing through her veins.

As they both shook off their respective super-effective aches, Samurott looked to her trainer to check on them.

The otter pokemon stopped short.

They weren’t breathing.

The world’s turn ceased for her, at that moment. This… no, no, it couldn’t be real. They’d come this far. They’d crossed the lands on foot, they’d been through the literal end of the world together, they’d, they’d…

They… they were… dead. Their partner, their trainer, at her side since she was an Oshawott… dead. Dead in the snow. Alone. Exiled. A l o n e.

For Samurott, it was like her heart had stopped beating alongside theirs.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned to the Haunter.

And she charged.

The two exchanged blow after blow, Dark blades cutting deep into spectral essence and Electric punches charring blue skin to black and red. A few Shadow Claws here, cutting deep in the way that only fiercely strong pokemon could, a few Aqua Tails in return there.

By the third Thunder Punch she received, Samurott knew that she would not be leaving this fight alive.

By the fourth, she’d resolved to take the Haunter with her. She was already dead. How could she live without her partner? The least she could do was avenge them.

It was a final Ceaseless Edge that had done the Haunter in, the look of shock in its red eyes as it faded into dust satiating the rage in her soul.

All at once, her ambition leaked out of her, and she swayed, falling to the side before catching herself with a stagger. Oh… she blinked, her vision swimming, I’m dying.

The pokemon’s legs gave out, and she fell hard onto her chest and chin. A pained keen left her, but… no. Not yet. She… she had to…

Slowly, painstakingly, Samurott dragged herself across the ground. Behind her, splotches and streaks of red blanketed the ground, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. No, what mattered most was getting to that blurry blot of red and blue she knew was closer than it felt.

Samurott only allowed herself to rest when she’d reached her trainer, her hind legs no longer moving to help drag her heavy body. Every movement increased the weight, but she forced her forelimbs to give her one last push.

As she laid her head on her trainer’s still chest, the snow around them an abstract painting of red and white, she let her eyes close. It’s okay, she told them in her head.

I’m here now.

— x — x — 

“Where. Are. They?” Irida hissed, staring Volo down. She was easily much shorter than him, but he felt intimidated all the same.

“I told you, I don’t know! They weren’t in the Fieldlands, nor were they in the Coastlands or the Mirelands. They can’t have gone to the Highlands, and the Icelands have been weathering a snowstorm for over a week!” Volo snapped back, frustrated. Everything was going wrong. The kid was nowhere to be found, and the Red Chain couldn’t be completed without them. The situation hadn’t worsened, not yet, at least, but no one knew how long it would last.

“They are a child, one who is alone in the wilderness!” Irida yelled, exasperated and incredulous in equal measure. “Every second we aren’t looking for them could be a second closer to their death, Volo. We’re failing them.”

“You think I don’t know that, Lady Irida?”

“Okay, enough.” Adaman stepped between the two. “Look, if we’re going to find them, we can’t be arguing. We don’t have time for that. Kamado is already onto us as is, and we’re lucky he hasn’t intervened.” Certain he had their attention, he continued. “Volo. You said you had combed the Fieldlands, the Mirelands, and the Coastlands in their entirety, right?”

“Correct,” the merchant exhaled, “the only places we haven’t been able to search up and down have been the Highlands, due to their proximity to the anomaly, and the Icelands, due to the snowstorm.”

“Irida.” She looked up from where she’d been taking a few, deep, steadying breaths. “Would they have gone to the Icelands?”

“I…” The fellow clan leader stopped, thinking for a long moment. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. There are hot springs there that they could have tried, and it’s possible they had thought to shelter in one of the ice caves.”

“Okay. Okay.” Adaman rubbed his eyes. “...Okay. We’ll go to the Icelands. Irida, I know we have our differences, but would you allow me into your domain to help search? I want them found just as much as you do.”

Irida blinked at him. “Of course. This takes priority, no matter whatever strife we have or have had. The storm should be letting up, so–”

“And what, exactly, are the three of you planning to do?” Irida and Adaman flinched at Kamado’s angry tone, but Volo just leveled him with a glare. “Retrieving the child, the fugitive, with some futile attempt at subtlety?”

Irida was the first to speak. “The. Child.” She enunciated each word, “the child that you sent into the fucking wilds to die. You expect any sane, rational person to stand idly by while you’re responsible for their death?”

Adaman followed shortly after. “Irida is right. You sentenced them to death. There is little time to debate, here. We need to find them.”

Kamado stared at them for a good, long moment. His hands clenched and unclenched, suppressed rage clearly indicated through the action. He looked as if he were deciding whether to punch them or to let them go.

“I admit I acted somewhat rashly.” Volo waited for the ‘but’. “However–” ah, there it was, “– I retain the opinion that they are in no way innocent in this endeavor. They’re an outsider, and…” the Commander weighed his words, before deciding that they needed to be said. “Perhaps it would be best if they perished out there. Maybe that would fix it.”

Volo had hardly blinked, but Kamado had somehow ended up on the ground holding his nose and Adaman was now standing above him, shaking his hand as if it hurt. Ah, well. Volo could hardly blame Adaman. Irida looked seconds away from doing the same herself, even.

“Do not ever–” Adaman began, his tone clipped, “insinuate that someone’s time should be cut short before it is due. I have let many things slide on your end, Commander Kamado, but I will not be so lenient this time. Are we clear?”

As Kamado stood, still holding his nose, something like begrudging respect flickered in his eyes. Arceus above, Volo thought, does this man only respond to violence?

“We are clear,” Kamado responded, and Volo had to hold back a laugh at how nasally it was compared to his normal voice. Definitely broken, then. “I will not stop you, but there is one condition to my approval of this fool’s errand.”

“State your terms,” Irida folded her arms, the sleeves of her robe swishing with the movement.

“I must accompany you on this search. If the child has not solved this on their own by now, clearly they can’t do it alone. As much as I distrust them, the longer the situation goes on the more risk we take onto ourselves. I do not want to risk my people any more than I already have.”

Both parties stared at each other for a long, long moment. Volo felt almost as if he could see electricity between Adaman, Irida, and Kamado, neither party wanting to budge.

“We’re wasting time,” Adaman finally said with a frown. “Fine. Get your nose splinted and meet us at the gate.”

Volo had to bite his tongue to not outwardly smile at Kamado’s expression, clearly miffed at being ordered around like a grunt.

— x — x — 

The creation of Rei was slow.

It started with an absence of pain.

Something told them that they should feel hurt, that they should be in agony, but it was all muted. They felt only the whispers of wind gliding across their being.

They next started to develop sight.

Around them was nothing but a white landscape, although red glinted in the sun when they looked at the right angle. Below them, they thought they could see blue, but they could not move to check what it was.

Next came the sensation of hearing.

Wind roared in their ears, and the distant sound of pokemon could occasionally join their new auditory senses. For some reason, they knew they did not like one of the cries in particular.

After they could hear, they found they could move.

They could not travel far, yet, their legs far too weak, but they could move their head and their limbs around for small periods. The blue they had seen was some four legged pokemon – why did their chest hurt looking at it? – and a bipedal shape that made them nauseous to behold.

They didn’t look at either shape for long.

The culmination of the being known as Rei was the return of their rage.

All at once, they felt an all-encompassing hatred, though they knew not what for. It overwhelmed them, filling their small body and overflowing into the snow. What had caused such rage? Why did they feel so much spite? They could hardly move from the shapes they existed close to, so how could they feel this angry?

Rei did not know how long it took to calm themself down, but they managed to force the anger to the back of their mind, a simmer instead of a rolling boil.

Their relative peace did not last long.

“&@%#?!” A voice in a garbled language cried out in the distance. It was… familiar.

Two more voices, both equally familiar, joined the call. They repeated the same thing, over and over. Was it a chant? A name?

Rei next noticed that there were four sets of footsteps but only three voices.

Behind them, unrecognizable but understandable voices chirped up.

“Friend?”

“Sibling?”

“New.”

They turned, seeing three creatures behind them. They were taller than the creatures, but the three of them didn’t seem surprised. Perhaps it was common to be different sizes.

“You.” The third one, who had stepped forth, addressed them. “Zorua. We, Zorua. Still look like old self, a bit. Will fade with time.”

The other two… Zoruas, she’d said, had approached. They looked at the bodies next to Rei. “Are sorry,” the first frowned, “becoming… never happy affair.”

The second nodded, “is sad. But family, we are,” she smiled at them. “Alone once, not longer. But… people come. Danger.”

Rei looked at their… claws? Hands? They were white, tipped with black, and it almost reminded them of frostbite. Rei did not think about how they shouldn’t know what frostbite was. “Hear them.” They said, voice rough, “familiar.”

The third, which seemed the oldest, came up next to them. “Want to see?” She asked, although it did not feel entirely like a question. Rei nodded, the wisps of their body flickering slightly. “You cannot meet them. Cannot move. But we… we lead. They come. Meet you.”

Rei looked at her, long and steady. “Thank you.” All three nodded, and scampered off together.

— x — x — 

The Zoruas did not take long, Rei noted. The people must not have been far.

As they flanked the new Ghost’s body, the oldest Zorua came to rest in a defensive position next to them. The other two watched, wary, but did not move to an aggressive posture yet.

The first person Rei spotted was pink.

She wore a pink and white attush robe, a flute on her hip and a red hairpin in her blonde hair. She had bracelets, they saw, but they then registered that the woman looked… devastated. Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes welled with tears, and her legs shook as if they’d give out.

Next to her, a man in blue had a bandaged arm held to his face. His eyes were wide, and he looked as if he’d be sick. Clear despair swam in his eyes, already full of tears, but the rest of his expression was blank with utter shock. He, too, looked as if he could fall over at any moment. The pink woman collapsed into his side, and he held her shoulders fiercely just as she held his side.

Something told Rei that they held no anger towards these two. All three – four? – Zoruas turned, then, to the man clad in black.

Rei felt their wisps flare, glowing red with their rage, and their claws of frostbite clenched into fists. Him.

The eldest Zorua bared her teeth at him, and the other two rose to all fours. Rei felt flashes of memory, all of them only serving to madden them more, their fury once again overflowing from their short body.

Our people…

Never should have trusted them…

Banished…

Your fault…

Could die…

Knew they were…

The two younger Zorua darted around the man – Kamado, their mind hissed – and tugged on the other humans’ robes. Even the Zoruas knew their brethren did not want innocents hurt. They did not know why they knew. They did not care to find out.

Revenge was important to their species.

Family was even more important.

Rei and the elder Zorua stared at Kamado.

“…  &@%#?” He asked, faintly, in foreign syllables.

Rei lunged.

[seijorhi]

Final Girl

Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

And please check out the incredible fanart @lausterdomyamong created for this fic here 💕💕💕

TW blood, gore, violence, minor character death, implied non-con, pregnancy mentions, nsfw

Your lungs are burning. 

You haven’t run like this in years, your thighs are screaming at you for a reprieve. With every step it feels like the soles of your bare feet are splitting open but you can’t stop, not for a single second.

You can’t stop. You can’t stop. 

Keep running.

It’s dark, and you can barely see.

Stumbling like newborn foal through the thick undergrowth, tripping over the roots that catch at your feet. Your legs are scratched and bleeding, and there’s a nasty scrape along your arm from where you’d fallen and tried to cushion the blow, but you shove it all down and you keep running.

You can’t hear much over the sounds of your laboured breaths and your own heartbeat hammering away inside of your ears, but you know you must be making a racket. Branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot as you clumsily dash through the woods - keep running, keep going.

Being quiet won’t save you if they catch up.

The loud whoops and the hyena like laughter that echo out through the trees behind you spur you onwards. Faster, you have to run faster.

This is nothing but a game to them. 

“Wait- wait, just stop for a sec… do you hear that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to his bedroll, “Really, babe? The campfire stories weren’t enough for you? Do you not want me to sleep at all on this trip?”

There’s a teasing little grin on your face, not that your boyfriend can see it in the darkness of your tent. You expect him to laugh, grab you by the waist and pull you under him - make some quip about his wicked intentions of not letting you sleep a wink, but he doesn’t.

He stiffens, pushing himself back upright onto his palms, head cocked to the side like a dog listening for the faintest hint whisper of a sound.

“Babe-”

“Shh!” he hisses, and it’s more shock than anything else that has your mouth falling shut. His hand reaches across to grab yours in the darkness and he squeezes it just once. An apology maybe, or a reassurance that you’re still there with him. “Can you hear that? I think… I think there’s someone out there.”

You swallow uneasily, goosebumps prickling at your skin. If this is part of some stupid joke, you’re gonna kick him out of this tent and make him bunk with his friends for the rest of the trip. He’s never been one for mean spirited pranks, but this is freaking you out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys-” or an animal, or the wind, or his own overactive imagination. You guys are out in the middle of the woods after all. 

“I’m gonna go out and check,” he whispers, pulling his hand from yours and pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. “Stay here.”

There’s a road, a long stretch of winding highway that you’d driven along for what felt like hours when you’d first arrived with your friends. There’s no possible way for you to know if you’re going in the right direction, but if you can just make it there, then-

The thick scent of smoke invades your nose and for you falter - just for a split second - searching for the source. There, maybe two hundred yards away to your left, you spot the orange glow flickering between the trees and your stomach lurches.

Dark figures flit through the clearing, maybe a dozen of them, half illuminated by the bonfire. You can hear their laughter, the shouts and drunken revelry as they party the night away. They don’t have a care in the world, and why should they? Real monsters belong in horror movies and scary stories, not lurking in the shadows of the woods. 

Leave them.

The vicious thought takes you by surprise, but for one awful moment, you consider it. The promise of fresh new toys to rip apart and break, drunk and blissfully unaware, surely that would be enough to tempt them away. You’re just one girl… 

(The truth, the one that sits heavy in your stomach, whispers that you know better than to believe they’ll ever let you get away.)

Your heart pounds against your ribs, your legs unwittingly slowing down. You don’t have time for indecision; it’s them or you.

If leaving them to the wolves meant that you walked away from this, if you could make it back home-

There’s a shout, a scream that rips through the crisp autumn night before it cuts off with an abrupt gurgle. A loud thud followed by a laugh you don’t recognise - one that sends a chill running down your spine. More voices, more screams. Footsteps and a splatter of something dark and viscous against the side of your tent.

There’s a hoot and a chuckle, closer this time, and you hear a sob that’s all too familiar. Pleading. 

Your friend begging for her life.

“Shh, shh, shhh. Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Another hiccuping sob. “Please… p-please I don’t wanna die…”

“Kuroo-”

There’s a petulant huff, a loud voice interjecting, “s’no fun when they’re just sitting there.”

Kneeling frozen in your tent with one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle your own terrified cries, you squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to draw breath. 

Somebody sighs - the first one, you think. “Y’know, I think Bokuto has a point… Do you like games, sweetheart?”

There’s no response - at least not one that you can hear - but she must have nodded, because the voice continues, “Glad to hear it! Tell you what, we’re gonna play a little game, and if you win, we’ll let you go! Sounds fair, right?”

“We’ll even give you a headstart, just cause we’re nice guys! Whad'ya reckon ‘Kaashi? A minute? Two?”

There’s a short silence, filled only by the sounds of her ragged whimpering. “Two,” the second one - ‘Kaashi - decides. His voice is deadpan, smooth, cold and blunt, but there’s an underlying current of something excitable - the barest hint that he’s not quite as disinterested as he sounds. “She won’t get away.”

No.

You veer, sprinting towards the camp. 

The others died while you hid like a fucking coward, too scared to do anything to help them (it wouldn’t have made a difference, but you should have tried) you can’t do this again. 

You can only imagine how you must look, a strange woman sprinting out of the woods, barefoot, your nightgown torn and filthy, blood streaking your skin. You can pinpoint the moment that they catch sight of you, one of the guys doing a double take and jerking so badly he almost falls off the log he’s perched on. “What the fuck?!”

Another turns, eyes wide and gaping, “Dude, she’s fucking pre-”

“RUN!” you bellow, just in time to see an axe arc through the air beside you and embed itself smack bang in the centre of his skull with a sickening thud.

“Now that’s a bullseye!” Bokuto hollers, maybe thirty feet behind you and gaining quickly. “Didja see that, Akaashi?”

Screams erupt from the other campers, scrambling frantically to their feet as their friend collapses lifelessly to the ground, blood still spurting gruesomely from his wound. 

“Don’t go gettin’ cocky now, the night’s still young,” Kuroo drawls, swinging his baseball bat - the dark wood flecked with dried blood, rusted nails crudely hammered through the barrel - experimentally through the air a few times. “And last I counted, I was still two up on you.”

There’s no time to humour the fear that rips through you like wildfire. You grab the nearest camper - a girl not much older than yourself, staring wide eyed and trembling at the body in front of her - and yank her forward with you. “Run,” you hiss again.

The others scatter, drunk and clumsy - a split second too slow. 

A boot lands on the fallen tree stump, its owner springing gracefully over it. Akaashi’s machete gleams in the moonlight, sweeping gracefully like an extension of his arm as he slices downwards. Blood sprays, drenching his front, and another body falls to the ground - this one missing half a face. 

It’s brutal. Chaotic. 

Ruthless. 

You can’t look back, you can’t help them. The girl is screaming at you, yelling words you can’t hear, trying fruitlessly to tug her wrist out of your grip, but you don’t relent. You don’t slow down, not even as dread fills your stomach and tears burn unshed in your eyes. You can’t help the others - not as Kuroo’s bat comes swinging out of the darkness, tearing flesh and muscle from bone, not when Bo yanks his axe from his victim’s head with a foot planted on his chest, immediately giving chase to another with a wild grin, not when Akaashi’s machete, slick with blood, cuts through her friends like butter - but you can save her.

Just one person- 

“Kitten, come back and play!” Kuroo shouts after you with a sickeningly fond chuckle.

- so long as you don’t stop running.

The camp is eerily quiet, even the crickets have stopped. You have no idea how long ago they left to hunt down your friend, how long you’ve sat, sobbing in silence, too scared to breathe, waiting to see if they’d come back. 

Your friends are dead. Your boyfriend is dead. 

You don’t realise how badly you’re shaking until you try and move - almost falling flat on your face when your arms give out. They’re gone, but every noise, no matter how muted, feels deafening and you try not to flinch as you drag yourself towards the mouth of the tent. You don’t have time to prepare yourself for the carnage waiting for you across the camp ground, you can’t think about the fact that people you love have been torn apart and murdered while you cowered away frozen in fear.

The grip you have on your emotions, your sanity, is fragile, but in your terrified hysteria, you understand one very important thing - they could come back at any moment, and you cannot be here when that happens. 

You cannot stop and cry for your friends, you cannot afford to break down when you see their bodies hacked up and scattered around you - you won’t even look - you just have to take the car keys fisted in your right hand, get to your boyfriend’s truck and get the fuck away from this nightmare as quickly as those wheels can take you. 

Crawling on your hands and knees you slowly pry open the tent flap, biting your lip and wincing at the quiet hiss of the zipper. 

The cold night air hits you like a slap in the face, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming coppery tang of blood that settles on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it in. You bite down on your whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your leaden limbs to move - you can’t afford to stop now, you have to get away.

You won’t look, you won’t look, you won’t-

“I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.”

Ice douses your system, your heart lurching. Your eyes shoot open, darting towards the source of the voice - there, leaning calmly against the thick trunk of a tree only a few feet away from you is a man. Tall and slender, with dark hair and delicate features, you’d probably go so far as to call him pretty if it wasn’t for the blood splattered garishly across his pale skin and the teasing grin tugging at his lips. 

Absolute terror renders you helpless as he pushes away from the tree and takes a single, calculated step towards you. “Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be long, they’re just finishing up with your friend.” His pretty smirk widens as your eyes well up with tears and a gasping sob finally rips its way free from your chest, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if we get started without them.”

You’re following the well trodden path, praying to god that it’ll lead you back to the road, to any kind of safety. The shouts and screams behind you died out a few minutes ago, but you can’t let yourself think about what that means - it’ll only slow you down and you’re so close.

“Wait, wait, stop! We ha-have to go back!” the girl cries, trying once again to pull you to a stop. “My friends-”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, glancing across at her - and you are. Her eyes are wide and terrified, swimming in a pain you know all too well. It’s selfish and cruel, and it’ll tear her apart just like it has you, but if you let her go now… “It’s too late for them, we need to keep-”

“Baby, you know you can’t hide from us!”

Bokuto. Your heart seizes just as the girl shrieks, and you risk a glance over your shoulder, slowing just a faction. 

They’re closing in, all three of them, less than twenty yards away.

Panic and desperation bite at your nerves - you can’t let them catch you, not now, not when you’re almost free. But your body is aching, your muscles on fire and your stamina is shot to pieces. You’re on your last legs and they know it. They don’t even have to run anymore, they’ve worn you down completely - it’s a miracle you’re still standing.

And it’s childish and petulant, but you just want to scream and cry and yell and beat your fists against the ground because it’s not fucking fair!

You were so close.

Your grip around her wrist slackens just a touch, and the girl takes the opportunity to rip her hand free from yours. You expect her to run, to flee like a bat out of hell and leave you crumpled in the dust, but instead she turns to you with a withering glare, “This is all your fault. You brought them here. You did this.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, but before you can even open your mouth to protest (she’s not wrong, you know she’s not wrong) she grabs you by the shoulders and with all the strength she has left, shoves you back in the path of your pursuers. You stumble from the force of the blow, not expecting it, and for a moment you feel yourself start to fall, instinctively curling in on yourself to protect your belly-

Strong arms catch you before you can hit the ground, pulling you against a warm, muscular chest. “Gotcha,” Kuroo breathes, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood splattered across your cheek.

Vaguely, you register Bokuto’s low, furious growl as he launches forward, his axe raised high. The sharp, piercing screams are cut off quickly - violently - as he buries it in her neck with a snarl. He swings again and her head tumbles clean off to bounce across the forest floor, but he keeps going, swinging again and again and again until her body is nothing but a bloody, mangled mess for the animals to scavenge. 

Your vision blurs, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s tears welling up in your eyes as Kuroo’s hands run up and down your sides, drifting protectively across the gentle swell of your stomach. “You did good, kitten,” he coos, Akaashi and Bokuto coming up either side of you. “But it’s time to come home now, don’tcha think?”

A hand cups your cheek, drawing you to meet Akaashi’s twisted, lovesick expression, “Gotta reward our pretty little girl for playing her role so well,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin. 

“Maybe we can fuck another kid into her,” Bokuto adds with a grin, his previous rage all but forgotten, sated along with his bloodlust thanks to the butchered corpse lying a few yard away. His golden eyes, half lidded and burning with lust, flicker across your face for just a moment, drinking in every last drop of crushing defeat and despair before his lips crash down on yours in a savage, bloody kiss.

This was nothing but a game to them - one you never had a chance in hell of winning. 

[leiawritesstories]

crack theory

Aidas belongs to the Ashryver line

Hear me out--there are crumbs and little bits that line up and honestly, that’s all that is needed to form a crack theory. 

1) The name: “Aidas” definitely 100% lines up with the Ashryver family names--it’s the “A-I” syllable, which is probably pronounced with a long A (meaning it sounds like it’s an A-E), that matches up. We have Ae-lin, Ae-dion, Ga-lan, also with that long-A pronunciation. Plus, just say “Aidas Ashryver” aloud a few times and say it doesn’t sound like a family name. 

2) Physical appearance: Aidas is described as blonde and blue-eyed, two traits that run dominant in the Ashryver line. Many (Evalin, Aelin, Aedion, some of Aelin and Rowan’s children according to Rowan’s dream in KofA) are blonde-haired, and we know that there are Ashryvers with blue eyes. Furthermore, there are quite a number of fanarts of Aidas depicting him with an eye colour closer to turquoise, which as we all know is the distinctive Ashryver eye colour that spurs the realization at the end of CofM that Celaena Sardothien is, in fact, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Of course, these aren’t certainties, but the parallels do seem to line up. If Aidas is indeed an Ashryver, it would make perfect sense that he inherited the dominant family traits. 

3) His cat form: Okay this is a little bit far-fetched, but it’s only a crack theory. If Aidas is an Ashryver, perhaps he could be directly descended from Aedion and Lysandra? Aidas’s animal form is a white cat. Lysandra, the shape-shifter, was often seen as a ghost leopard, which is a large white cat. Perhaps Aidas could have inherited her shifting abilities--if he’s far enough down the line, that power could be only enough for him to shift into one animal form, rather than any form he wished. Furthermore, it’s basically general fantasy canon that if the mother is a shifter and spends too much time in one form or another during pregnancy, her child is likely to be born able to shift into the form she wore during pregnancy, with varying degrees of mastery over this shifting ability. 

So where does being the Prince of the Chasm fit into all this? Well. The Chasm is the fifth level of Hel, and we’re all pretty sure by this point that Hel is another world. But the levels? Could each level be another world? Or open into another world? Perhaps “the Chasm” is the level that links into Erilea. Aidas does bring a powerful sense of cold with him when he visits Bryce, and Terrasen, the home of the Ashryvers, is known for its mountains and harsh winters--powerful cold. Could he be coming from the Staghorn Mountains? That would offer an explanation of the coldness, since the portal is likely open-ended and therefore the winds and/or winter storm would be able to blow in through Aidas’s entry point and into Bryce’s apartment, freezing everything. 

So could Aidas be an Ashryver? Maybe. There are definitely bits and pieces that parallel the Ashryvers, from his appearance to potentially where he comes from. Or maybe we’ll all be smacked with a surprise and he’ll turn out to be some other family’s descendant. Or no one’s at all. 

this has been today’s crack theory

[fwoopersongs]

满庭芳·小阁藏春 - Garden Full of Flowers · The Little Courtyard Hides Spring

by 李清照 (Li Qingzhao, 1084 - 1155)

小阁藏春， xiǎo gé cáng chūn, A lady's little courtyard hides Spring;

闲窗锁昼，画堂无限深幽。 xián chuāng suǒ zhòu, huà táng wú xiàn shēn yōu the latticed window locks in the day, and the painting hall is deeply, infinitely silent.

篆香烧尽，日影下帘钩。 zhuàn xiāng shāo jǐn, rì yǐng xià lián gōu Seal incense has burned to its end, daylight’s shadows shifted down to touch the curtain hook.

手种江梅更好， shǒu zhǒng jiāng méi gèng hǎo, Hand planted river-plums are yet finer,

又何必、临水登楼。 yòu hébì, línshuǐ dēng lóu so how could there be any need for a trip to the river, to climb a tower?

无人到，寂寥浑似，何逊在扬州。 wú rén dào, jì liáo hún sì, hé xùn zài yáng zhōu No one has come; this isolation is just like that which He Xun felt in Yangzhou.

从来知韵胜， cóng lái zhī yùn shèng, It has always been known, their ethereal grace -

难堪雨藉，不耐风揉。 nán kān yǔ jí, bù nài fēng róu can bear neither the assail of rain nor the abrasiveness of wind.

更谁家横笛，吹动浓愁。 gèng shuí jiā héngdí, chuī dòng nóng chóu And who is that on the flute, blowing a melody that stirs sorrow.

莫恨香消雪减， mò hèn xiāng xiāo xuě jiǎn, Do not regret their fading fragrance, the lessening snow;

须信道、扫迹情留。 xū xìn dào, sǎo jī qíng liú know, know that when all traces have been swept away, emotion remains.

难言处、良宵淡月，疏影尚风流 Nán yán chù, liángxiāo dàn yuè, shū yǐng shàng fēngliú It is difficult to explain, but in the good night, by the dim light of the moon, their distinct shadows remain untempered, elegant.

...................................................................................................

I saw this Nirvana in Fire fanart by @sometimesophie​ last month with the last line of the poem 满庭芳·小阁藏春 captioned down the side. And of course went OH. This really is a beautiful one. Li Qingzhao’s writing always is. I love how she borrows little snapshots of her life to colour in her works with rich emotion. There’s two parts in particular that I really appreciate. Looking forward to getting into that later!!!

The name of the tune pattern, the cipai, of her poem is 满庭芳 | Garden Full of Flowers, of which this one is the reference. This is a poem of praise for plum blossoms in the way 《山园小梅二首》 and  《梅》 are as well, although Li Qingzhao does not approach the topic nearly as directly.

At some point down the line, this poem was given the topic title of 残梅 | cán méi, fallen plum blossoms by an unknown person. So its alternate name is 满庭芳·残梅 Garden Full of Flowers · Fallen Blossoms.

Now to the poem! 

We shall start with the setting.

小阁藏春， xiǎo gé cáng chūn, A lady's little courtyard hides Spring;

A ‘小阁’ xiǎo gé, refers to the living space or quarters in a house which I translated as courtyard with reference to the layout of courtyard houses (siheyuan). For the larger, grander sort, there are sometimes smaller secondary courtyards aside from the main compound - a courtyard compound usually comprises one courtyard surrounded by single story rooms on three sides. Some interpretations of this poem suggest that 小阁 refers to 闺阁 | gūi gé, an unmarried girl’s or lady's rooms, though there have definitely been instances where it was just used to refer to the bedroom of a married woman.

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

Right, so at this point, I got curious about when exactly in her life this poem was written and went into a little tangent googling Li QIngzhao’s life. In conclusion, if you want to avoid the tl;dr, we STILL don’t know for sure, but it’s likely to be a work from her later years.

In the year 1084, Li Qingzhao was born in a literary family near the end of the Song Dynasty, to a scholar-official father, a student of Su Shi - better known these days as Su Dongpo - who held a high position in the Ministry of Rites. Her mother was also from a prominent family and was known for her poetry and writing. Li Qingzhao received a comprehensive education in her childhood. Her family possessed a large collection of books, and in that environment of love and appreciation of literature, she flourished. Before she got married, her poetry was already well known within elite circles.

She married Zhao Mingcheng at the age of eighteen in 1101. He was the younger son of the prime minister and a student in the Imperial Academy at the time. They had a shared interest in art collection and epigraphy, living very frugally to fund this hobby, and eventually amassed one of the most impressive collections of artifacts of their time. Zhao Mingcheng even began working on a book titled Record of Bronze and Stone to document all that they collected.

In 1126, the Jin invaded the Northern Song region of China, destroying homes and remnants of the Song. As the fighting reached the Shandong province, husband and wife were forced to flee their home, leaving behind a significant part of their large collection. Li Qingzhao would go on to lose both her husband and all of their property and books within the next five years. All she had left in the end when she finally settled down, almost eight years later, was her husband’s book, which she eventually completed.

I believe from the theme of this poem - admiration of the nobility of spirit plum blossoms embody and compassion for their fragility, the description of her room, surroundings and emotions, and the encouragement (we will see in a bit), that this poem was likely written in the last fifteen to twenty years of her life.

Once again, our little detour into history and speculation is only for context! For a more in-depth look into the events of her life, I would recommend this article as a fair summary, the excerpt from this book which has more detail about her youth and period of marriage up to the death of her husband, and if you have a little more curiosity and time, you can check out this translated collection of her writing (alongside the traditional Chinese characters, which I definitely appreciated and preferred).

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

闲窗锁昼，画堂无限深幽。 xián chuāng suǒ zhòu, huà táng wú xiàn shēn yōu the latticed window locks in the day, and the painting hall is deeply, infinitely silent.

I translated ‘闲窗’ as latticed window, taking the ‘railings’ sense of the word in an effort to keep things as neutral as possible because there are so many possibilities for the word 闲! The most obvious interpretation would be ‘idle’, a window rarely used or else ‘quiet’ as in a quiet window, quiet surroundings because it is still and silent all around. You can refer to page three of this article,  A Journey through Chinese Windows and Doors – an Introduction to Chinese Mathematical Art, for a brief introduction to the various designs of Chinese latticed windows across the dynasties.

画堂 | huà táng, I assume is a gallery-like room where paintings are stored and hung, purely from knowing the poet’s fondness for art and literature. The dictionary defines it as either a building in the palace with painted walls or an extravagant building or hall, and neither of those quite fit. As for the words 深幽 | shēn yōu, I chose to go quite literal with the translation, but just keep in mind that there may be an implied distance and loneliness.

The photo below is the closest I can find to the image that appears in my mind as i read this line. Note the angle of the sun’s rays shining in! This will be useful for imagining the next line.

Source

篆香烧尽，日影下帘钩。 zhuàn xiāng shāo jǐn, rì yǐng xià lián gōu Seal incense has burned to its end, daylight’s shadows shifted down to touch the curtain hook.

Source

Here we shift our sights to the passage of time, marked by the consumption of the powdered seal incense (a type of incense popular with the upper class that involves the use of moulds to shape powdered incense into standard seals, photo above) until it has all been burnt up. This is when the shadows cast by the sun shining through the window’s latticework move down the bed’s curtains as the sun begins to set. The shadows touch the 帘钩 | lián gōu, or the hook that holds the bed curtains out of the way. You can see an example in the photo below.

Source

At this point we know that the poet is in her room, where it is deeply quiet and probably located quite a distance from the bustle of human activity. In her living space, it seems like both the Spring season and the day have been locked in. She has been in here alone for perhaps the whole day, and does not intend to move because she is content to laze here. By the light of the setting sun, she turns her gaze to the plum blossom tree beyond her window.

手种江梅更好， shǒu zhǒng jiāng méi gèng hǎo, Hand planted river-plums are yet finer,

又何必、临水登楼。 yòu hébì, línshuǐ dēng lóu so how could there be any need for a trip to the river, to climb a tower?

“The plum blossom trees that I hand-planted are better (implied: better than the ones out in the wild), so is there really a need to go out by the waterside or climb up to the upper levels of a building to admire any others?”

江梅 | jiāng méi, river plums are a wild species that are sensitive to changes in temperature but resistant to cold. They prefer high humidity, bright sunlight and wind, and are not fussy about the soil quality. The blossoms of river plums come in white or pink, and the white ones are pictured below.

Source

无人到，寂寥浑似，何逊在扬州。 wú rén dào, jì liáo hún sì, hé xùn zài yáng zhōu No one has come; this isolation is just like that which He Xun felt in Yangzhou.

He Xun (466 to 519 AD) was a skilled poet of the Liang Dynasty from the Northern and Southern Dynasty period. His works were so exquisite and resonated so much with his readers that he had fans even centuries after his passing, among their number was Du Fu and the noted calligrapher Huang Tingjian. In fact, Du Fu held him in such high esteem that he wrote He Xun into a few of his of his poems. There was this one poem about plum blossoms that he composed while out with a friend, the second line of which was likely borrowed by Li Qingzhao for use in this poem. 

He Xun, with his wonderful ability to write of scenery to evoke feelings with such finesse, was rather absorbed with the care of his plum blossom tree(s) and grew ever more so as he faced great difficulty at court and gradually lost faith. I suppose his love for his flowering trees was real. But his loneliness must have been too.

从来知韵胜， cóng lái zhī yùn shèng, It has always been known, their ethereal grace -

难堪雨藉，不耐风揉。 nán kān yǔ jí, bù nài fēng róu can bear neither the assail of rain nor the abrasiveness of wind.

Plum blossoms had long been admired and praised for their endurance of the harsh Winter cold with resilience and grace. Their 韵 | yùn, a certain aura and beauty, comes from this image of elegance and unshakable goodness and virtue. And yes, that is widely acknowledged, Li Qingzhao agrees. But in the next line she writes of something people did not often consider in their celebration of the plum blossom - that they are flowers after all, and still fragile and vulnerable under the assault of wind and rain.

// The italics are there because I wanted to show the abrupt contrast from what we have ‘always known’ to what is also the Truth about the flowers... without putting in a but that isn’t in the text. This is the 1st line that I loved so much.

更谁家横笛，吹动浓愁。 gèng shuí jiā héngdí, chuī dòng nóng chóu And who is that on the flute, blowing a melody that stirs sorrow.

Source

This melody played on the flute was likely a reference to the yuefu melody that had existed since the Han dynasty, known as 梅花落 Plum Blossoms Fall, compiled and edited by Li Yannian (~90 BC).

莫恨香消雪减， mò hèn xiāng xiāo xuě jiǎn, Do not regret their fading fragrance, the lessening snow;

须信道、扫迹情留。 xū xìn dào, sǎo jī qíng liú know, know that when all traces have been swept away, emotion remains.

难言处、良宵淡月，疏影尚风流 nán yán chù, liángxiāo dàn yuè, shū yǐng shàng fēngliú It is difficult to explain, but in the good night, by the dim light of the moon, their distinct shadows remain untempered, elegant.

I think 恨 | hèn here refers more to regret than hate or begrudging - all valid readings of the word by iteslf though - because of the feeling of sadness/melancholy 浓愁 | nóng chóu from the imagined flute. Also, take note! Because I learnt something new here too... 须信道 is read as: 须 / 信道 (subject) must/know, rather than 须 / 信 / 道 (subject) must/believe/these words. This is because 信道 | xìn dào is a word by itself meaning ‘to know’. 

BTW, the ending of this poem was the 2nd part of it that I am in love with!

So the thought of the plum blossoms falling has beckoned sadness to the surface. Why sadness? Because of the feelings of regret that their traces, evidence that they were once here, would disappear once they are gone. But then she reassures us and herself, even should they all be swept away, their fragrance faded, the emotions we felt will remain. It’s hard to explain this feeling exactly, but the night is fine and the moonlight gentle, and do you see their shadows distinct on the ground? There they are untamed, untempered and elegant.