#faith seed core

[inafieldofdaisies]

[skoll-sun-eater]

Faith Seed cosplay while out camping. ^__^ It was incredibly hot out, heat wave ripping thru. But I think we got a couple okay shots and video. The video is still being edited lol. I'm sooo afraid to do anything in these white dresses. XD I like test running the hell outta things before fully committing to some costume alterations.

Photo credit goes to @alexeicosplay

Anywho, Walk the path. Also if you don't choose, he'll be right. ^.^

[afarcryfrommymain]

Turning Faith's story about killing the old Faith into a transgender allegory and then it turns out she just actually shoved someone off a fucking statue. Tragedy.

[fishfission-dc]

Something about how Jason Todd’s core character trait is how he lost faith. He lost faith in Shiela, in Bruce, in the entire concept that someone else can care about him and actually have his best interests at heart.

Something about how Catholic priest Flashpoint Jason Todd is someone who has such intense faith, who trust so heavily in someone basically unprovable. Something about how without Bruce, without being Robin, it was his faith that was his core character trait.

Something about how being Robin and the life he was led into changed him in such a tragic and deep seeded way. I don’t know

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

[adviceformefromme]

YOUR RE-SET

So your life isn’t looking and feeling how you envisioned. You see the TikTok and IG girlies living that life. You dream about luxury travel, pilates on a Saturday morning, drinking overpriced green smoothies, driving a sexy car, and living your fullest most authentic life…But in comparison, you’ve grown to mostly hate spending time with your friends, you’ve out grown them and notice how much they complain about life and generally are low vibes, you’ve spent all of this months wages already, and still have 2 weeks left until payday so your bank balance is no way supporting the life you dream of, to add, your dating life is a mess not consisting of your dream guy that provides for you. No, instead it seems too much effort for him to message back, let alone take you to that sexy spa you’re dying to visit. So in short your life is a far cry from what you want. The life you’ve created right now is absolutely not what you would want for yourself for the next year, or even five years. So in order to completely shift from where you are to where you want to be. You need a fucking RE-SET. 

The re-set is basically your metamorphosis. Think of being the caterpillar, heavy, slow sluggish (currently you right now). In order to become a beautiful butterfly you need to completely transform, undo, take time to reorganise so you can re-emerge as nature intended. 

The Re-set might look slightly different for everyone so take what you need from this: 

2-3 months stepping back from the people around you. 

THE CORE ESSENTIALS FOR YOUR RESET - A DAILY PRACTISE  

Meditating daily to clear you mind so you can hear yourself, your own voice and drown out any external noise. (I recommend insight timer app, or mind app both for meditations)

A journal, to document your feelings and emotions, empty your thoughts, and a space where you can become your own best friend and create a connection with yourself. 

Movement. - you need to move your body this is KEY, you might pick up running, stretching at home, pilates, yoga, HIT, whatever it is just fucking do it. Your body needs the movement to replenish its energy and move you out of stagnation. 

Healthy diet. Less alcohol more greens. If it’s processed, if its fizzy, if its sugar, if its cake, if its chocolate, if its ice cream (you get the picture), cut that shit OUT. You need food that supports you, cleanses you, energises you in order to thrive and clear your energy. 

FAITH in something bigger than yourself. If you’re religious, great lean into your faith with prayer, scripture, faith music. If you’re not religious maybe you believe in the universe, the love all around you, faith in something unknown, something guiding you, protecting you, even if you believe this is part of your own psyche - lean into this. Your faith is your support system. Your faith is the unseen that will guide and protect you on this journey. 

The above might seem overwhelming, and it will be if you don’t already incorporate those things into your day already. The worst thing you want to do is try and do everything at once and feel disappointed when you don’t succeed. So start with one thing if that’s all you can manage and focus on doing that one thing consistently and then add from that. 

The purpose of the first 2-3 months is the cleansing. You want to start slowly removing what doesn’t serve you, and start creating space for yourself, your thoughts and visions so you have space to start planting new seeds of the life you want to live. 

What your first steps in your journey might look like: 

Saying no to going out for drinks with friends, instead you go for a long walks in nature listening to an empowering podcast, go home journal and meditate. 

Weekends might look like not seeing friends, maybe even family. Doing exercise, making healthy food, researching recipes, creating a vision board on Pinterest and doing a guiding meditation, affirmations and mirror work. 

Having a prayer practise, reading books/ passages that support you in your journey 

Deleting your social medias or even doing a detox day / weekend so you have a break 

PART 2 - COMING NEXT….(Here)

[devilmademewriteit]

Joel Miller & Javier Peña Headcanons (Drabbles?) Part 3!

another smutty edition<3

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [both receiving], fem penetration, masturbation) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of hair pulling; bratty!reader; violence (slapping, choking, threats); mentions of pornography; description of a panic attack; step-cest; pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, darlin, hermosa, cariño) dubcon/non-con (age gap, power dynamics, coercion, just a bunch o’ shady shit in general imsosorry)

No use of y/n.

Hello! In honour of 2K followers (woot woot!!!) here is yet another work of absolute FILTH. These just get more and more insane idk what to do w myself. Your requests r gonna send me straight to hell. Anyways, I love u all so much. Don’t forget to join the taglist, you can find the other drabbles on my masterlist, & part 3 of Salvatore coming soon!

-em<3

—

Javi loves when you take charge—God, it just makes him laugh. He watches you, faithful that you’re in control while you ride him, fingers coiling weakly around his neck. “Gonna come for me, Peña?” He lets your imagination run wild until he grows impatient, sitting up to crush you between his arms, fucking up into you at his signature brutal pace. “Where’s all that tough talk now, hermosa?” He sounds so soft, so gentle compared to the thrust of his hips—snapping to bruise against the supple skin of your thighs. You never know how he manages to last so long, only that by the time his hot seed is leaking down between your legs, you’re barely conscious, barely human, and squirming away from those fingers—that cock—stealing non-stop orgasms from your core. He’s only satisfied once you’re reduced to his personal little plaything.

“Where you goin’, baby? I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

Stepdad!Joel catching you and your boyfriend messing around in your bedroom; “Get out,” he growls, holding the door open as the young man scurries out, averting Miller’s violent gaze with his own downcast, darting eyes, hurriedly tucking himself back into his pants. Shame spreads like the wings of a Monarch across your heating cheeks. “Joel—I—” but he’s already too close, shaking his head in disappointment as he unhooks the buckle of his belt. “Didn’ think you were like that, baby…” and he’s pinning your shoulders down, covering your mouth with his calloused hand, muffling your protests to keep your little lesson private. “Pay attention, angel. F’you’re gonna act like a slut, you’re gonna get used like one, too.” Joel is huge, he stretches you far, far wider than your boyfriend ever could. When he bottoms out between your tight, silken walls, you can’t help your cry of surprise, of pain—of reluctant ecstasy. “Sshh, baby—don’t scream, don’t scream.”

“M’doin’ you a favour, see? Think you don’t fuckin’ deserve this?”

It had been ages since you’d last seen him. He’d gotten himself disciplinary leave—some shady business with an anti-Escobar group of vigilantes. But he’s back now (as your boss, no less) and so is that stupid-old-crush. And God, does he ever look good, sulking around in those navy fitted suits. Your heart had lurched when he’d recognized you—“Nice seeing a familiar face around here, ‘specially a pretty one like yours”—but working late tonight, finally on your way out the door, he commands it to a full stop when a worn-down, stressed-out Javier Peña calls you back into his office. “I-I don’t have a ride home, sir—I can’t miss the last bus,” as he dips down to brush kisses to the side of your throat, as his hands caress the valley of your waist, as he lifts you onto his desk, carelessly scattering confidential affidavits, narco-profiles, ball-point pens. “Oh, but you won’t last long, cariño—I promise,” and you believe him, because his thumb on that delicate, throbbing bud already beckons, pulls, drags you towards oblivion. Sooner or later, he would’ve had you like this—spread open on lacquered oak; thighs trembling in the cradle of his grip; fingers, helpless, tugging at his collar as his own curl inside you. You’re learning a new language: Javier’s native tongue.

“Not gonna say ‘no’ to your boss, now, are you, sweetheart?”

Slapping brat-tamer!Joel across the face after he spends hours teasing your dripping cunt; feeling him ripple with lust-soaked aggression when he finally pulls his damp cock from its drag-and-circle strokes against your clit. “Joel—fuck me, already,” and he claps the back of his hand across your cheekbone, yanks you down the mattress, settles himself to tower, cock in hand, right above your face. He wrenches your lips apart, slaps his length against your awaiting tongue—“Watch your mouth”—eyes alight with caution, irritation, warning. So, you respond, “Fuck you.” A big ol’ fist yanks you up by your hair—you know you’re being punished when he stuffs your filthy mouth oh-so-full with his length. “Yeah, fuck you too.” Every pained choke, the pressure of your hands pushing against the merciless, quick snaps of his thighs—it’s Joel Miller’s favourite kind of apology. He’s nonchalant, deceptively casual when he says it: “Nah, you don’t needa breathe—”

“—You’re gonna stop bein’ such a brat, or you’re gonna gag on an old man’s cock ‘til it fuckin’ kills y’a… whichever comes first, angel.”

On those rare nights he found himself alone, Javi liked to jack off, a glass of whiskey in his free hand. Sometimes with porn, most often without. When he did use the tapes, however, his go-to featured a dark haired man brutally fucking a girl into the dented pillows of a worn-in couch—God, she looked just like you. The real ‘you’ that was tough, incorruptible, a bit high-strung, and completely self-denying becomes a needy, cock-drunk mess at 6:12. Split wide open, taking it so rough, she whines, “You’re g’na m-make me come all—all over your c-cock.” If Javi doesn’t finish right then, he always does around the eleven minute mark, when her cheeks puff up around his fat tip, glassy eyes coming alive with that familiar, feminine devotion to male pleasure. When a forceful hand drags her lips down a long length of cock, that’s when Javi doesn’t stand a chance; he hangs off her every muffled, desperate word (and Christ, does her voice ever sound like yours): “Use me—please—use me, use me, use me.” In his twisted, sex-addled mind, he’s answering you, warm spend dripping onto thick, coiled fingers:

“I want to—fuck, wanna use every square inch of you, baby.”

The Jackson commune required all adults to take shifts patrolling the community; you’d been paired up with a far older, far more experienced, and far more… volatile partner. He rarely made conversation, but he got on with your dad, so it seemed like a good pairing, one that might teach you a thing or two—a rational decision. It wasn’t. Very quickly, you’d noticed his near tangible stares of hunger, the way his fingers clenched into white-knuckle-fists every time the weather warmed and your clothing got shorter—tighter. Soon, you’d made up your mind: you needed Joel. “Stop fuckin’ teasin’” he’d growled under the blood-orange glow of the southern sunset, grasping your flattened palm and moving it from its suggestive position on his chest, “M’not givin’ it to you.” Creeping in close, running your thumb across the sparse, silver-flecked hairs peppering his rigid jaw: “But I’ll be so good, Miller—I’ll listen, I can beg for it, too—please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“S’exactly the problem, darlin’. Jus’ one touch n’ I’d have you doin the dirtiest things for me… Fuck, wouldn’t be able to look your old man in the eye for months.”

Bonus Fluff:

Thank God they’d managed to stop the outbreak. It had felt like the end, at first, with the government-mandated lockdowns, people hoarding toilet paper and Lysol, going stir-crazy behind closed doors. And thank God for your neighbour, Joel Miller, who’d become something like your rock throughout those terrifying weeks. He’d never been close with your emotionally distant parents (really, who was?) but you were friends with his daughter, so he’d always treated you like one of his own. Until one Friday night, when you’d fallen asleep watching TV with Sarah and woken up to the thrum of your heart pounding against your ribs, beige walls closing in tight, the beginnings of a panic attack cresting throughout your shaking body. “S’okay, s’okay,” and he’d been there, cradling you in those blue-collar arms, cooing wispy, gentle comforts into the crook of your neck. The memory was mostly haze—but you kept the ghostly caresses of his finger tips smoothing the tense muscles beneath your skin, the near-kisses he’d brushed to your forehead, throat, and cheeks, and especially his look of restraint as he’d replaced your restrictive clothes with his own oversized tee. The next morning, you’d come to in his bed, nose nestled into the crumpled folds of his black t-shirt. Heat blossomed across your cheeks as the sunrise brought realization’s dawn upon you. “You jus’ wouldn’ calm down—” Joel’s concern had overwhelmed his tone as his thumb traced the apex of your cheekbone.

“Jus’ couldn’t stand to see you so… upset, sweetheart. Holdin’ you’s the only thing that seemed to do you any good.”

It took months of dating before Javi had been willing to surrender any personal information, any vulnerable thoughts to you. Christ, just learning his father’s name had felt like cracking the Da Vinci code. Instead of talking, whenever he got sad, angry, or upset, he soothed himself by stripping you down, shoving you onto all fours or holding your mouth open between his thumb and index—either one worked just as well. Somewhere down the line, you’d learnt that splitting you open left him more inclined to open up, himself. “Why is it always rough when you’re… unhappy?” It’s a timid question, posed with your cheek laid against his shoulder. First, he asks if you really want to hear the answer. Then, he responds with his eyes closed, shy strokes up and down the length of your spine. “Guess I like the control—feel so fuckin’ out of it when shit gets to me.” You go silent, startled by his honesty. “Does it bother you?” and he sounds nervous, concerned. “No,” you say passionately, ardently. “I like knowing I can help.” Smooth and quick, Javi cups your cheeks, pulling you up to straddle him and laying a fierce kiss at the altar of your swollen lips.

“You single-handedly brought me back to life, baby. Got no fuckin’ clue how much you do for me, every damn day.”

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @sallymilkweed @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @ayehomo

(The rest of the tags will be in a reblog—I don’t want this post to crash b/c of the amount of tags lol).

[weirdducky17]

⛧ Shepherd Leading The Blind ⛧

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As his vision darkened around its edges and sockets ached in a dull repetition, he could not help himself from silently cursing at his elder brother from whence his eyes were gouged out. The phantom pain of feeling them being pried out of his skull haunted him day by day, the culprit slept not too far from his own tent in this damned cult.

He could only mourn the sensation of being able to properly see, his crown only being able to suppress his agony and delay his visual impairment. Now his crown replaced by cotton felt bandages to merely hide his disfigurement, his green envy barely showed on his expression. His godhood lingering in how he must carry himself, head high with no weaknesses visible to exploit.

He was the God of Chaos.

Now rendered as the blind and weak bishop, the first to fall from the Lamb's blade.

Yet even as his gaze was muddled by blurry images of followers meandering around his form, his other senses were sharpened. His hearing, sense of smell and taste seemingly enhanced to make up for his lack of vision. He could recognize the scents of every follower that carried delicious meals to and from the kitchen , the heavy footfalls of the workers constructing the newest lamp posts people kept chiming about.

Everything was clear to him.

Everything was something familiar.

Comforting. Peaceful. Quiet.

... Safe.

Was that something he can even indulge in? Was he allowed to bask in such undeserved tranquility that was reserved to the ones with such a pure faith in their own God? He's lived for many millennia, even as their reality as other worldly beings weighed heavy as the crown that once sat atop their heads.

He used to be happy once.

A Monster like him.

Can he experience that happiness once more?

The scent of blessed pine and the subtle hint of death overpowered the masses that surrounded him. Other scents dulled to make way for this special one. His branches twitched at the soft footfalls of hooves crunching against the cobblestone path, heading in his direction. The soft jingle of a bell rang out. The gentle yet firm touch of a hoof rested upon his clawed hand that held crushed seeds within his fingers. Their mere godly presence dulling the ache of his sockets.

"Lovely morning, Leshy. Has my radiance blessed this day of a bountiful harvest?" A teasing tone yet held an air of reverence in every word they spoke.

". . . And may your brilliance nourish our crops to provide an abundance of fresh produce to further our flock's survival." A soft giggle left them.

"I'm glad someone can match my energy on such a peaceful day."

"Do not get ahead of yourself, Little Lamb..."

"No need to worry thyself about how I may casually address you. After all you are my follower, I am your Leader. I am a person you can rely on, dear Leshy."

"Anyway! The camellias I managed to harvest from Darkwood are growing nicely in my personal garden and I just happened to prepare some tea for two, would you be a dear and join me to 'Smell the Roses'?"

"Do I have a choice in the matter, My Leader?"

"Nope!"

"I see..."

Even has his vision darkens and warps to incomprehensible shapes only he could bear witness too, he could only mentally scold himself as his clawed hands clasped around the Lamb's dainty arm. The pads of his fingers grazing across the many scars and mangled skin left by the many foes they threw at this determined creature, a testament to their strength and courage.

Soft. Gentle. Kind.

So Kind to the very core, even if the way they held themselves were the exact opposite.

He could not help himself from feeling that green envy once more, gnawing at his mortal soul. It was not a surprise that the red crown got so attached to this Little Lamb.

He could feel a sharpened dagger like gaze directed at his back, it was not any jealous loyalists that revered the Lamb with the utmost respect. Nor was it that damned spider, Webber, that was highly favored in the cult grounds. This was much different, familiar even. The same gaze that cursed him to death.

Narinder.

... pfftt—

He could eat his heart out. The Little Lamb chose Him to accompany them after all, not phased by his elder brother's poisonous glares.

The smallest bit of happiness bloomed in Leshy's repulsive, mortal soul.

[fornasedensgudar]

A while back ago I had a lil rant about the pagan/heathen/witch community and made this list with my friend about some problematic aspects about our craft/faith/practise or what ever you call it to help pepole who are new to it.

Idk if it any of worth or if anyone will bother to read all this but I hope its somehow helpfull for you new ones to this path.

(Pardon my 🇬🇧, im a 🇸🇪)

1. Not every polytheist does magic or has an intrest in it and thats ok.

2. Not every norse heathen knows runes or has to know every Rune and meanings to have a meaningfull relation to the gods and nature.

3. Not every raven is a sign of Odin, sometimes it just means you saw a raven and thats just as good if not better if you ask me.

4. Being able to quote havamal in old norse or know every myth and kenning of the gods is good. But does not mean you have a stronger spirital connection the land and the gods then those who dont know it all. It just means you are good at reading. And that in it self is something you should take pride in.

5. A good acorn and some dirt is just as good if not better than any long ritual with ancient chantings sourounded by a collection of crystals.

6. The pebble you find on a walk can shine just as fine on your altar, as the amethyst that was mined and payed for.

7. Your altar dont have to look Nice, it just need to feel Nice.

8. An offering dont have to be big to work. It just have to mean something.

9. Offering one loaf of bread you baked with your own two hands, is worth more than five loafs you payed somone to bake.

10. Just because a pebble dont have a story, does not mean it never had one. And just because a star has a story, does not mean its a good one.

11. If all nature is holy, that includes the parts you dont like or find nasty. Yes even ticks and spiders, mud and horrnets. No one said you had to like holy things.

12. Your body is a temple yes, but you and only you decides what rites and offerings are right the god within said temple.

13. You can still be a drunk horny ape and be spiritual.

14. No illustration of the gods is more corect or more true to their form.

But then there is no garantee everyone will see who its meant to be. And thats ok.

15. Doing spirtual junk and practise magic or healing does not make you more enlightened...

16. Just because you wrote a book about magic, healing and spiritual matters, does not make it a good book or you a good author.

17. Just because someone you look up to said it, does not make it more right. It just means they said it.

18. Making this list to remind the pagan/witch/heathen community to hummble them selfs does not make me better. Im also doing this to just remind myself. Im not better or wiser than any of you lot.

19. Dont ever expect to have your craft respected if you dont give that same respect back to others.

20. It does not matter how old or big your coven or group is. If it has toxic and harmfull parts that clearly hurt and or make pepole unhappy. Then its ok to criticize it. Age or size does not make it untuchble.

21. If a craft or faith says its all about nature but cant change its ways, then it has clearly missed a very important thing about how nature works.

22. Every rock is an altar and every forest is a temple.

23. For every horn of mead you offer to the gods, you should plant at least one seed.

24. If all in this world has a spirit and is alive, does not mean you cant take space and exist and live in it.

25. Its not about beliving. Its about to experience and to perceive. That if you ask me, is the core of animism and polytheism.

[justarandomuserbnamiguess]

The "Rules" to Targaryen Dragon Blood, Dragon Riding and Dragon Taming Explained ! SPOILERS!

The Velaryons have been intermarrying with the Targaryens prior to Aegons Conquest. Aegon's mother was a Velaryon who in turn was half Targaryen; their continued condition to marry the Velaryons after the conquest further affirms this. The Velaryons at this point have a little "dragon riding blood" within them, whatever the amount in Addam allowed him to tame the Seasmoke without issue. I'm primarily a book reader. Moreover, generally, the "blood of the dragon riders" is a hand wavy concept in the books itself. It functions as George wants it to function. The function of the dragon seeds narratively is to pointedly undermine the Targaryen doctrine of exceptionalism. They were given said exceptionalism by the High Septon because they had to intergrate with Westerosi Feudalism that strictly follows the faith of the seven (incest =bad but ok for the targs), but moreover, it is a concept by which George can critique those with perceived absolute power being the same as everyone else in reality.

On the topic of dragon taming/riding, there is no clear or even definitive answer to this; the entire narrative point of the Dragonseeds (Bastards with a trace of Targaryen blood; Addam, Hugh, Ulf etc) is to highlight said point - what we can come to generally agree upon is that anyone with a smidge of Targaryen blood increases the chance of taming a dragon but does not guarantee it's assurance. In the show, we have both Rhaena and Steffon Darklyn - Rhaena was noted to almost have lost her life in several attempt's and we see Steffon lose his to Seasmoke. Dragon's are capricious creature's thus there can not be any true way to know what actually goes into taming a dragon. Intriguingly, in his most recent blog post, he dove into the subject of dragons which contained potentially massive revelation for the widely accepted Targaryen (Valyrian Dragon Lord) blood = necessary to tame a dragon belief;

If dragons were nomadic, they would have overrun half of Essos, and the Doom would only have killed a few of them.   Similarly, the dragons of Westeros seldom wander far from Dragonstone.  Elsewise, after three hundred years, we would have dragons all over the realm and every noble house would have a few. 

George is a very deliberate and pointed writer - he says, "every" noble house in Westeros would have a few. If this very specific ascertain is true, it could be interpreted to totally shatters the aforementioned belief that Valryian Dragon blood was necessary to tame a dragon. It's incredibly huge. We will find out the exact specificities later as quoted below;

They bond with men… some men… and the why and how of that, and how it came to be, will eventually be revealed in more detail in THE WINDS OF WINTER and A DREAM OF SPRING and some in BLOOD & FIRE.  (Septon Barth got much of it right). 

At this point, we can only really wait for winds and speculate but the new information provided has somewhat shaken the idea of Valryian Supremacy to it's core, which ironically seems to be inline with his message to start. Only the release of the THE WINDS OF WINTER can provide the answers we really want.

[fazedlight]

Why am I obsessed with the rift?

From my first fic to the many many many many season 5 fics I've written, to the fic where the whole thing could've been averted in season 2, to my no-villain-era-for-Lena in season 3 (twice) and season 4 fics......... I seem to have developed a bit of a rift pattern.

A reasonable person might ask: Why?

There's something that itches in my mind: I think either woman would've been fully justified in walking away from their friendship, and yet they ultimately didn't.

It starts with Kara, who is ultimately a fractured person. She deeply values the truth, and yet she's forced to live with various lies, unable to be her full self.

Her identity is in the in-betweens. She feels adrift between two cultures, she knows her alien state while reaping the privilege of passing, she hides core aspects of herself on a daily basis. I'm sucked into the rift, in part, because of who she is and how she struggles to put it all together. I think her frustration will resonate with anyone who's stuck in the in-betweens.

Kara's struggle for identity plants the seed for the rift. The bigotry of society meant she had to have a secret identity in the first place, and keeping the secret from Lena was certainly reasonable for a time.

We can debate endlessly about when Kara should've told Lena - I think it's really hard to find the line between "too soon" and "too late" - but it ultimately doesn't matter. Because it's Kara's kneejerk reaction to Lena's kryptonite that forms the first sort of betrayal, not the secret itself.

Kara screws up - she says something she regrets, she doubles down when threatened and scared. These are common mistakes... but we have super-level circumstances, so we get super-level consequences. And the engine she has inside her that fears loss (which she's suffered to a level that is unimaginable to anyone on Earth) kicks in. She can't lose another person she loves.

But who is she holding onto?

In the series, and in flashbacks, we watch Lena's progression from idealistic techie to cynical recluse. While she's experienced loss and isolation, that's not the cause of her shift.

It's in experiencing her idol and protector become the madman who kidnaps her. It's in realizing her best friend has betrayed her by taking the one thing that could've saved her brother. It's in moving to a new city to start over, and meeting a mentor who uses her to start a global invasion. It's in her partner in scientific discovery being a pawn to her brother, colluding behind her back.

And then there's the final downfall. Her new best friend - her trusted confidant, her hero, the one who made her feel not so alone anymore - is the super who denigrated her, maligned her, spied on her. Lena had two important people in her life at that point, and she sacrificed one for the other... only to find out the other was a lie.

With betrayal after betrayal - Lex and Andrea and Rhea and Eve and Kara - she loses faith that anyone is above their worst impulses.

So she falls to her own.

How can good people do bad things?

There's a saying I heard around MIT sometimes: there are no technical solutions to social problems. It's easy to forget - when you're surrounded by people seeking to improve the world via science and engineering - that you can't solve humanity via technology or logic or rules. Lena forgot this.

Myriad marks a shift in the rift. Kara lied to Lena, antagonized her, spied on her - but her wrongs were directed towards Lena. Lena's initial response - the petty manipulation and the plan to out Kara - were directed back at Kara.

But then the rift fundamentally shifts.

At this point, Lena's wrongs are no longer just about Kara - she's trying to brainwash the world. She mindcontrolled Malefic and enslaved Eve. This went beyond the fallout between two friends.

It's clear that her intentions are still good here. She's not a megalomaniac like her brother, she's not forming an us-vs-them mentality like her stepmother. She's an anti-villain at this point in the story - desperate to find what's true, in a world full of lies.

It's a hard line to walk, acknowledging Lena's trauma and well-intentioned motivations while realizing she's still ultimately culpable for her own actions. But it's important to try to balance, because Lena is still redeemable.

But getting back to the relationship itself - Kara played a large role in pushing Lena to the edge of her trauma, which was entirely motivated by Kara's own trauma.

You hide things so you don’t lose people. I run from people who hide things. I guess we were bound to explode.

Lena says this in my first fic mentioned earlier, and it summarizes the rift as succinctly as I can put it. Their traumas were incompatible, and their relationship should've failed.

And yet.

Delving into how the CW screwed up the rift could be its own essay. They gave us a complex and layered situation, only to gut it with It's a Super Life (beloved/beloathed), the narrative retroactively justifying Kara instead of examining her foils, glossing over Lena instead of delving into her ethical blindspots. The rift was cancelled.

What does that leave us with?

Well, I guess it left me seeking the rift, over and over again. I'm certainly not the first author to do a rift fic, and I doubt I'll be the last. There seem to be a few different approaches:

Some authors delve into the nuance, having the two characters hash out what they've been through in a way that feels balanced and real. In particular, I love the @searidings fic with the birds i'll share this lonely view. I don't think I have the skill to pull off that type of story.

Some writers lean heavily on one "side" or the other, often with lots of grovelling. This never resonates with me, because at some point in a relationship there has to be the realization that it's "us vs. the problem", rather than "you vs. me". In my mind, these fics miss the layers of trauma that led to the rift.

Some authors make the rift not matter. If you put the characters through hell and back, the anger will lose its thrust, and they'll be left wanting to heal.

I fall into the last category.

There's a moment from permanence by @itllsetyoufree that I especially love, where - in the aftermath of season 6 - Eliza asks Lena why she forgave Kara. Lena can't answer.

We like to think we're logically driven. But in my experience, forgiveness - and a host of other emotions - never work that way. Sometimes "sorry" cuts it, sometimes it doesn't. A lot of times, forgiveness comes from the realization that someone genuinely wants to connect, and that the fallout was relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, when your fallout includes extra levels of gaslighting and a bit of global brainwashing, making it relatively unimportant requires something drastic.

That's where I end up landing. Putting my blorbos in Situations helps them see the other in a new light - see the other's genuineness, the other's fears, the other's love. Often times, this comes with the simultaneous threat to someone's life (though that's not necessary, especially if it's earlier in Lena's breaking point cutoff).

I do assume - and sometimes imply - that they're also having those discussions, working things out in the background. Because of what I put them through in my fics, I don't think those end up being explosive discussions. It's about figuring out the practical aftermath of what the heart already knows at that point.

Whether I deliver on that is ultimately up to the reader, but that's my approach. Because at the end of the day, love is about cherishing and understanding the person in front of you - flaws and and traumas in all. These stories are driven by loving both characters, and trying to see them the way they see each other.

The rift is a story about love and connection - how those things can't happen without embracing someone else's trauma and without understanding one's own imperfection. Because that's what's at the root of all of us.

And that's why I write the rift.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Kristine Froseth for American Eagle’s Live Your Life

[templeof-demeter]

Demeter: Beneath the Earth Part 2, Dionysus

Demeter can often be seen as one dimensional when looking at a “modern re-telling” version of her Homeric Hymn. I’ve encountered many people outside the faith who, if they even know of her, know of her as a strict and prudish mother.

We know that is far from the truth, from her holidays and hymn encouraging crude jokes and language, to her affair with mortal man, her lack of being married in it all (though debated), and her cults likely uses of hallucinogenic drugs, she is far from prudish.

Come in Dionysus, one who is seen as perhaps her polar opposite in modern interpretation. Many see him as a God of pure ecstasy, of partying of lively drinking, and of being a bit lazy in other fields. This also is far from true- friend of the Temple @thedansemacabres made a post about a year ago about Dionysus Hestios, an obscure epithet of Dionysus that shows us his association with home and hearth. And while this may be more presumptive, I also believe that he has a “cozy” side because of the connections to wine and relaxation. Either way, he has many traits that are not well known too modern media.

They both, like all of the Gods, have many aspects to acknowledge and personality to spare. We see duality in many of them; Apollo with plague and medicine being a great example. I believe this is because nature is full of oppositional forces, and the Gods exemplify and guide nature. Nature allows for wind to calm us, or to destroy cities, for example. This is just like the Gods, who in mythology aided us, but also could destroy us.

Demeter and Dionysus are, in my perspective, heavily intertwined. We can see in agricultural holidays that they are both worshipped together- Demeter receiving the first crops, first vegetables, and Dionysus receiving the first grapes or first fruits. In conjunction with their agricultural associations, they both are deities of fertility.

The pairing of Dionysus and Demeter is not uncommon, given the agricultural connections to both deities, a point reinforced by the title Karpios (deriving from karpos ‘fruit’) given o Dionysus. The cult of both deities, it is often states, was very popular in Thessaly..

Religion and Society in Ancient Thessaly by Maria Mili

At their cores, Dionysus and Demeter are both deities of agriculture, and have been connected by this string since this beginning. This is what ties them together the most, and Dionysus’s worship in agriculture is often overlooked in favor of his place in society and culture as the God of Wine and Ecstasy- and please do not misunderstand, these are vital parts of him and are deserving of all their celebrations. I believe that the specific ties to agriculture deserve just as much recognition, he is not just the God of consuming wine, but the God of its creation from grape to wine.

Haloa is a festival that honors Demeter and Dionysus as gods of harvest and fertility. This festival ties them by fertility- the event was celebrated with a feast, genitalia shaped cakes, dancing, and ritual obscenity. This ties into the “fun” side of Demeter that also deserves it’s recognition, her duality is just as important as any others and it is very prevalent in history and mythology. And as a fertility rite, it was likely not just of the human fertility- but of the lands fertility.

While it is heavily debated, in UPG and in many academic texts and research, Demeter tends to have an association with some hallucinogenic and of course the poppy flower- and thus poppy seeds that produce opium. This connects them to not just the serious nature of agriculture, but to the enlightening or jovial nature of drug use. They also could have connections in wrath or reaction, or at the very least intertwined enough to be mentioned together in this way;

“For whatsoever things vex Demeter, vex also Dionysos; for Dionysos shares the anger of Demeter.”

Callimachus, Hymn 6 to Demeter 65 ff (trans. Mair)

Lastly, I'd like to briefly touch on the idea that Demeter is a parent of Dionsyus. This comes from Bibliotheca Historica. There are varying ways to interpret this possibility- for one, we can take it literally, that there were/are worshippers who believe that Zeus and Demeter are the parents of Dionsyus. Another interpretation could be more metaphorical, Demeter is the Goddess of the Harvest- of all harvest, so a God that is in that category, as Dionsyus is, is a metaphorical child or continuation of Demeter and her work.

The deities are capable of much more than we will ever know, and they have much more mythology and history than we will ever recover. So, we may never know the specifics of what we desire, but we can make educated guesses, work towards divination, and on a grander scale keep up with new archeological finds. Ultimately, it’s important as a worshipper to research and understand how multifaceted every being we encounter is, including and especially the Gods.

[skoll-sun-eater]

Faith Seed core. Just playing around in the yard today. Happy Halloween. Legit, when it's October it's Halloween ev'ry day.

[seaofthesoul]

🪷 The Lotus Flower in Mysterious Lotus Casebook 🪷

i. Growing Deep Roots

As noted by difeisheng, Li Xiangyi is an image more than he is a person. He’s the “symbol” and “beating heart” of the Sigu sect; “he embodies everything [the sect] stands for” and “has become one with every person he represents” in his role as a leader. As such, one might say he doesn’t exist as an individual who’s allowed the luxury of flawed, fluid humanity. Rather, he’s fixed into an object: a shield protecting those under his care, a mirror reflecting those he’s taken upon himself to be the champion for.  

While a heavy burden to carry, this identity as image is also shown to be brittle, hollow, like a hazy mirage which is more dazzling appearance than substance. Even Fang Duobing introduces Li Xiangyi to Li Lianhua by showing him a painting of his shifu — ink on a page, a person turned into a hero to be worshipped and idolated. 

Li Lianhua, over the ten years that pass after the Great Battle of the East Sea, works to plant and cultivate a new identity in the same way one might grow flowers. Li Lianhua forms deep roots and grows out of the mythical hero’s shell he’d been carrying as Li Xiangyi, thus developing an identity which is solid and grounding in contrast — an identity which involves “walk[ing] within a crowd instead of [soaring] above it.”

This shift from image to person is itself rooted in the lotus mantra (written by Buddhist Layman Pang during the Tang Dynasty) which Li Xiangyi first encounters after monk Wu Liao rescues him:

一念心清净 莲花处处开

The heart attains peace with a single thought; Lotus flowers bloom all around.

Although the exact timeline is left to interpretation, it’s implied that the lotus mantra operates as a catalyst of change for Li Xiangyi and that he changes his name to Li Lianhua after reading it. Now what is it about it that speaks to Li Xiangyi so deeply in that moment? As noted in 《 ���間福報 》, the lotus mantra teaches us that a pure heart will result in an open and enlightened mind. One subtle, profound thought rife with compassion is enough for a person to glimpse Buddha in a flower, a leaf, a grain of sand or a speck of dust. In short, “if you can find peace within yourself, then you will find peace everywhere.” Perhaps Li Xiangyi, at his lowest point, finds solace in the prospect of stripping his life down to its very core and searching for purity, wisdom and peace within his troubled heart.    

By renaming himself 莲花/liánhuā lotus flower, Li Lianhua takes his destiny into his own hands; he empowers himself into reshaping his identity and laying down the foundations for the person he wants to become. Similarly to The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity which tells us that “names are the shortest spells in the world,” Li Lianhua’s new name functions as a spell which speaks a new him into existence. It’s a deliberate choice, a conscious attempt at breaking free from the suffocating shell Li Xiangyi was trapped in and become a person of his own choosing. 

The act of (re)naming notably also extends to Li Lianhua’s abode which he dubs 莲花楼 “Lotus Tower.” In addition to this significant choice of name, it’s interesting to note that Li Lianhua starts growing vegetables inside Lotus Tower when he’s left with nothing after his demise at the East Sea and is facing starvation. As such, his home is quite literally a site not only of self-sustenance and survival, but also of growth — a growth which requires hard work, patience and faith and nearly brings Li Lianhua to tears when his hopes are finally rewarded and the seeds he planted begin sprouting. The act of physically planting vegetables and learning to cook those vegetables speaks of a refreshing and grounding simplicity — of something disarmingly vulnerable and human after playing the role of a god-like figure. Li Lianhua has sweat on his brow and hope in his heart; he plants seeds, watches them grow and keeps himself alive by his own hands.

It seems it’s not only Li Lianhus’a home, but also his very person, which steadily grow into a lotus flower. Li Lianhua wears a variety of hairpins directly linked to the lotus, and the colour coding of his garments moves from the red he used to wear as Li Xiangyi to a lighter palette filled with greens and blues — colours which are more obviously linked to nature.

ii. Life Borrowed and Given Away

The lotus, both traditionally and within the drama itself, is closely connected to the theme of rebirth. On a literal level, the exotic lotus flowers of Cai Lian Manor grow directly from the corpses of the victims drowned in the pond, thus embodying life born from death. thawrecka writes in their story that Li Lianhua is “nothing but a lotus nurtured by a walking corpse, a body that doesn’t realise it should already be dead.” On a figurative level, the lotus grows in muddy water but blooms unsullied every morning, thus symbolising rising from a dark place and growing into something beautiful and colourful despite all the odds. The different stages of the lotus’ blooming can be taken to represent the beginning, middle and end of a spiritual path in Buddhism — a parallel to the theme of 趟/tāng taking a journey which underscores the drama in various ways.

Li Lianhua’s journey, more specifically, is that of a lotus being reborn. The soundtrack piece 《 一壶莲花醉 》 “A Pot of Lotus Wine” emphasises this connection in the following lines:

问一句莲花的悲喜 断一柄弃剑入青泥

I ask about the joys and sorrows of the lotus; A broken, abandoned sword is thrown into the mud.

Not only does Li Lianhua keep stressing at different points of the drama that Li Xiangyi is dead and all that is left behind is Li Lianhua; he even breaks his own sword Shaoshi at the end of the story, thereby physically reenacting a process of destruction—death—and rebirth. As Li Lianhua writes in his farewell letter: 

剑断人亡

My sword is broken, and I will be gone.

The significance of Li Lianhua’s action is further intensified here by the fact that the sword in the song is said to be thrown into 泥/ní mud, the site from which a lotus flower grows.

Considering that Shaoshi operates as a device embodying Li Lianhua’s character development throughout the drama, the fact that Li Lianhua decides to break it in the last episode should be taken as a key moment in which he chooses how his own narrative is going to end. Li Lianhua decides to kill for good the glorious image of Li Xiangyi which has become sullied with pain and regret in his heart, so that a simple, fragile peace can begin growing in its place like a lotus flower amidst the mud.

However, the tragedy of Li Lianhua’s narrative is that the rebirth he works to achieve for all these years is not his own to enjoy and never was intended to be. After the Great Battle of the East Sea, as Li Lianhua is reborn from Li Xiangyi and starts planting seeds all around him, he has already accepted that he’s nothing but a ghost, “wandering in the jianghu to close his loose ends and finally [...] vanish without a trace, not even a body left behind.” As mx-myth remarks, even the shift in his garment colours to an overwhelming amount of white as the story progresses makes it clear that he’s resigned to go and has “already started dressing for his own funeral.” 

The lotus flower symbolism permeating the narrative accentuates this bone-deep, unshakable resignation. While imprisoned by Jiao Liqiao, Li Lianhua is full of an aching, bittersweet fatalism when he recites a section of Guan Hanqing’s《 窦娥冤 》“The Injustice to Dou E”:

花有重开日 人无再少年 不须长富贵 安乐是神仙

Flowers will blossom again, But a man can never be young again. Seek not eternal wealth; You only need to be content.

Independently from the original meaning of the lines written by Guan Hanqing, the words seem to take on a sad, wistful quality when spoken with a bitter smile by Li Lianhua. In this scene, while the speaker reflects that rebirth occurs outside of themselves in flowers, they acknowledge that their own reality is one inevitably bound to end in old age and decay. Instead of looking forward to a bright future, the speaker doesn’t express any dreams nor ambitions and is only grateful that they’re alive this minute, this second, without any future prospects awaiting them. Perhaps a similar sentiment is reflected in the following lines from 《 一壶莲花醉 》 “A Pot of Lotus Wine”:

了了心事只 不负众生 而已

After settling my worries,  I just want to live up to all sentient beings.

Li Lianhua’s connection to the lotus flower, in fact, was always meant to be one of non-attachment. While Buddhism believes desire to be the root of all suffering, the lotus symbolises non-attachment due to being “rooted in mud (attachment and desire)” while “its flowers blossom on long stalks unsullied by the mud below.” This explains in part why the lotus is considered pure and noble. For Li Lianhua, this non-attachment takes on sorrowful connotations: it means that he stubbornly refuses to reap the seeds he sows and focuses his purest heart and will into ensuring those around him get to reap them instead. Non-attachment means allowing himself enough (a roof over his head, food on his plate) to survive, but rarely letting himself indulge in the precious luxuries of reciprocated love and care — of carefree joy and thirst for adventure.  

The ten years he lives after his first death at the East Sea are, for him, only borrowed time he didn’t deserve — borrowed time not dedicated to himself, but rather dedicated to others.

In many ways, Li Lianhua’s path effectively goes full-circle by the end of the narrative. When he and Di Feisheng reminisce about the moon they remember from ten years ago, they conclude that today’s moon isn’t any brighter than the one alive in their memory: rather, it remains constant, unchanged, as though the past ten years never existed as anything other than a short pause in the story, a coma, long enough for wrongs to be righted but not  for an already-dead person’s fate to be changed.

It’s interesting and particularly significant that the Styx flower (忘川花, from 忘川 “River of Forgetting” in the original Mandarin) is said throughout the drama to be the only thing capable of saving Li Lianhua’s life. In traditional Chinese culture, the Styx or River of Forgetting is part of the process of reincarnation; only by crossing it (and forgetting everything they’ve ever experienced and everyone they’ve ever loved) can a person finally reincarnate. For Li Lianhua, salvation through rebirth comes at a high cost — a price he’s evidently been ready to pay since the beginning, even if it means turning him into a ghost who must vanish from the story in order for those around him to grow and thrive further.

When Li Lianhua breaks his own sword to allow for rebirth, it’s not himself he’s saving. His sole purpose throughout his journey as Li Lianhua is to use whatever meagre strength he has left, whatever passion and drive are still alive in him, to save the world in any small ways that he can. He becomes a doctor who heals people; he looks for answers and solves mysteries to atone for the sins he thinks he has committed and rectify the mistakes he thinks he has made, so that those he has hurt can finally find peace and comfort.

The most powerful legacy Li Lianhua intends to leave behind by the end of the story has nothing to do with himself and everything to do with the people around him who he never truly admits he loves — the messy, imperfect world that’s caused him so much pain but that he nevertheless insists on saving with everything he has. 

Most strikingly, Li Lianhua chooses—whether consciously or not—to leave the life and future he’s renounced for himself to his companions Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng. The only traces he purposefully leaves behind live in them: in the Yangzhouman coursing through Fang Duobing’s body; the home, dog and recipe book he passes onto him; the worthy opponent he leaves for Di Feisheng to fight in his stead after he’s gone… 

Fang Duobing, by the end of the story, has grown into more than a disciple and a friend to Li Xiangyi/Li Lianhua: he himself has become the lotus flower bringing renewed life after Li Lianhua has left the narrative, thereby taking Li Lianhua’s legacy into a hopeful, vibrant future. As mx-myth mentions in their colour analysis, Fang Duobing notably wears bright pastel tones including a large amount of green/blue — a colour coding which emphasises Fang Duobing’s connection to spring and, by extension, new life and beginnings. “Life will always go on if there’s spring”; and so Fang Duobing’s youth, vitality and optimism can grow in the empty space left behind by Li Lianhua after he fades into the autumn of his life.

While Li Lianhua’s predominantly light colour palette might appear to align him with other characters in the drama who have left the past behind and are looking towards the future, Li Lianhua made peace long ago with the knowledge that he’s destined not to belong in that future. Just as the Lotus Sutra teaches us that “the inner determination of an individual has great transformative power” and “gives ultimate expression to the infinite potential and dignity inherent in each human life,” Li Lianhua focuses all his transformative efforts on creating a future which, despite having no place for him, will be fertile ground for the entire martial arts world to grow deep, healthy roots. In Li Lianhua’s own words:

幼芽生枝 新木长成 武林也一样 这未来如何 谁又能说得清楚呢

The young sprouts and the new trees grow. The martial arts world is the same. What does the future hold? Who can say clearly?

Should we say, then, that Li Lianhua’s story is one of sacrifice, self-renunciation and resignation — of drifting inevitably towards death as a flower carried by a stream? As he disappears on a boat and is asked where he’s going, Li Lianhua gives a response which echoes his first death at the East Sea in a way that feels entirely deliberate:

小舟从此逝， 江海寄余生

From now on I would vanish with my little boat; For the rest of my life on the sea I would float. 

How are we to understand a person being reborn simply so they can pass on that new life to others, and being convinced that their only true value lies in their death?

Perhaps, in spite of it all, we can find some small comfort in the knowledge that, no matter how sorrowful Li Lianhua’s fate, it’s at least one that he chooses — one that he has full control over, even poisoned and robbed of his life force as he is. As the lyrics of 《 一壶莲花醉 》 “A Pot of Lotus Wine” underline, “it’s just a matter of picking an ending that you like.” Perhaps that’s all that truly matters. 

wuxia-vanlifer makes an excellent point when asking: “What would be more tragic? That he never believed he was loved? Or that he did, but vanished anyway?” While I don’t have an answer to offer, there’s one thing I can say. Li Xiangyi, Li Lianhua — they live and die by love. They can’t conceive of themselves as anything other than a sacrificial tool because, for all that they pretend to be aloof and untethered, they actually love others—and the world—in a bone-deep, profound way they’ve never loved themselves. That love is not only the true driving force behind Li Lianhua’s character and the fate he chooses: it’s the beating heart of the entire drama.

“In this life, I have loved and I have been loved. That is enough.”

Shoutout to the following authors and bloggers whose brilliant words and ideas inspire me, as well as this gorgeous video 💖

ao3: @extraordinarilyextreme @thawrecka

tumblr: @difeisheng @extraordinarilyextreme @mx-myth @wuxia-vanlifer @xinyuehui

[lulu2992]

My beaded creations

Have I ever told you about my handcrafted beaded jewelry collection?

Don’t answer that, I know I haven’t.

Well, I’ve been making bracelets, necklaces, rings, and other stuff for years now, most of them inspired by things (such as games or movies) that I like, so I thought it would be nice to finally share and talk about my creations :)

Part 1: Seed beads

One of the first video game series I fell in love with, back when I was 14-15, was The Legend of Zelda. Of course, I had to make Zelda jewelry!

Hyrule Crest bracelet, made with gold and clear beads.

In 2011, I played Skyward Sword and became… a little obsessed with Ghirahim :’)

A bracelet inspired by Ghirahim’s final form, and another with his name (and a reference to his white outfit).

Rings inspired by Ghirahim’s final form (top) and cloak (bottom).

2011-2012 was also the time I fell in love with two pieces of media that are still very dear to my heart and that, in a way, almost changed my life: the movie Sucker Punch and the video game Far Cry 3. They inspired many creations.

BABYDOLL and VAAS sets of rings, made with seed and alphabet beads.

By the way, I made a lot of stuff using alphabet beads, but that will be in Part 2.

Bracelet with Babydoll’s “full” name, M.REEAS, and two orbitoclasts.

BABY and DOLL rings.

A VAAS ring.

Bracelet inspired by Far Cry 3 with the word INSANITY written in symmetry, in turquoise blue and iridescent grey.

In 2013, I played Tomb Raider, the first game of the “Reborn Trilogy”. Years later, I also played (and enjoyed) its two sequels.

Bracelet inspired by Lara Croft’s journey, with the words I SURVIVED and an arrow.

In 2013 and 2014, I discovered two other video game franchises I still love today: Hitman and BioShock. The first titles I played at the time were Hitman: Absolution and BioShock Infinite.

Two rings, one inspired by Agent 47’s iconic suit, and the other by the AD scar on Booker DeWitt’s hand.

A recreation of Elizabeth’s medallions: the cage and the bird.

Later in 2014, I played the rest of the BioShock series.

Bracelets inspired by the tattoos on Jack Ryan’s wrists, made with clear and black beads.

In 2015, I was introduced to the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII and specifically to Advent Children. I’ve never played the games but, to understand the movie, I watched all the Crisis Core cutscenes and read extensively about the story of FFVII and even Before Crisis. Many tears were shed for Zack and Aerith in the process.

Three rings inspired by the Remnants of Sephiroth, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo. The letters K, L, and Y are blue because of their eyes and the lifestream. The fourth ring simply has the letter S in clear silver beads surrounded in black for Sephiroth.

Rings for Zack and Aerith. The blue and silver ones were originally pink and blue but accidentally ended up in the washing machine. A “happy” accident, after all, because they look nice too and, considering what their story is, the absence of color creates a new symbolic meaning!

In 2018, Far Cry 5 came out, but I only created these recently:

Top: a ring with three J for the Seed brothers, John (blue), Joseph (yellow), and Jacob (red). On the other side, an attempt at the Eden’s Gate cross.

Bottom: a ring for Faith Seed, and what is supposed to be flowers on the other side (Bliss flower in the center and two pink ones like the ones on her dress). The letter F is green on a clear background, but if you look closely, you may notice three iridescent clear beads too. Combined with the F shape, they form the letter R, for Rachel.

This year, I also made sword bracelets inspired by The Legend of Zelda, Sucker Punch, and Mulan (1998):

The Master Sword, Babydoll’s katana, and Mulan’s sword.

And these are from a while ago, but here are game controllers. The Wiimote + Nunchuk can’t really be worn as jewelry; I just felt like making that.

To be continued in Part 2 :)