#i have never forgotten and i never will i want my plums

[gladiatorcunt]

- APOLLO REACHES FOR THE SEA | V.

under my skin’s an intrinsic shrine

cw: kinktober prompt (s) - scent & food play, canon typical obsessive behavior, anankin & reader are both 20, reader has a pussy, more suggestive, friends to lovers, drunk-ish sex, unprotected sex, implied angst of the series’s canon events, aotc!era but pre actual aotc events, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Ani, watch out! You’re going to spill the plums!” You giggle, ushering him in the quarters you share with your Master Shaak Ti.

It’s late at night, a rare day without missions as you both get closer to knighthood. So Anakin had casually suggested swiping some food from the food stalls in the city and having a sleepover, just like old times. You’d known each other since he had come to the temple 12 years ago, and you can admit that you’ve been missing the hours you used to waste away laughing and dreaming of your futures as Jedi Masters. You had bonded over wanting to help people and become powerful enough to stop tragedy from happening, he’s whispered things to you that he fears Obi-Wan Kenobi would flay him alive for.

He’s the only one that knows anything about your family, what you ran to the Jedi Order from. You’re not allowed to have personal belongings from that time of your life, but you slipped a good luck charm in the folds of Anakin’s tunic on your 14th birthday and pecked his lips before darting off to your sparring session with your Master.

Perhaps it’s a panic response, clinging to these brief silver linings when you can sense his force signature darkening. Anakin does what you wish you could, deep down, how can you judge his heart when it’s other half aches in your chest?

“You think too little of me, Scyva.” Ani grins, balancing the tray in the crook of his arm as he follows you to your room.

Scyva, because that’s what an edgy prepubescent you had insisted on if he was going to call you a name derived from the Old Gods. In truth, it made you terribly shy that he wanted to call you Aivela, that he still does after he gives you the bare minimum of saying the name you wanted first.

“Well,” he had ‘hmph’ed back then, “Then I’ll be Izax, because that’s Scyva’s husband.”

So simple, so assured, like it was the most obvious declaration in the world to make. Playing house with forces beyond your understanding in their clothes.

Your cheeks warm as you recall the memory, you close your door hoping that Masters Shaak Ti and Obi-Wan will be delayed more than you thought.

Anakin had also managed to finesse a couple of cups of Jawa Juice from Dex’s Diner, “Master’s a good friend of his, but he won’t rat us out.”

Both of those cups are gone and empty within minutes, the pair of you doped up on the sizzling connection between you. This unbreakable bond that formed all those years ago, it’s like all your pains and troubles fade away when you’re near Anakin. He’s told you the same, with an imploring look in his doe eyes, begging you without words to understand what that must mean. Why you two are so clearly meant for each other.

He’s the chosen one, he teased you when you were 15 and had lost round after round to him in training, the force wouldn’t want it’s son to be without a chosen one of his own.

You were 16 and learning how to swim together, you had forgotten how but Anakin held you up in the water like he had been doing it all his life. You pecked his lips again then too, that’s all you ever did, the farthest you went. To do more would be to open up durasteel gates that would flood Coruscant in sparks and wet wires.

You shrug off the outer layers of your tunic, plopping down on your bed and sighing, “I could never think more of you if I tried, Ani.”

Give Anakin Skywalker a pearl and he’ll turn it into a Greater Krayt Dragon.

His seemingly stuck grin widens and he clamors onto the bed to lie right beside you, “Yeah? Typical of my biggest fan.”

Your arms brush together and a sudden jolt of fire burns down your throat.

You roll your eyes, picking up a plum and biting into it, ignoring the bob of Anakin’s adam’s apple and the flash of arousal in the force.

You don’t know why, but you make eye contact as you finish the piece of fruit, making an extra effort to lick some of the purplish-red juice off your bottom lip.

Anakin shuffles closer and reaches out to rub away what you missed with his thumb. Your breath hitches, the air in the room is shifting to something you can’t even say you didn’t anticipate or secretly wish for. Ani’s always so warm, every part of him, and the comfort his coarse finger tip brings to your often bitten lip lights a candle in your soul.

Neither of you say anything as he brings his other closer to your hip, his fingers ghosting along the curve like he’s afraid to touch you, that you’ll disappear if he lets himself buy into the delusion that he can have something so sacred. Anakin Skywalker doesn’t buy, he gets bought, but every teasing moment over the years does some serious damage to a 20 year old guy’s psyche. Maybe you should think of it like sparring, you can’t improve without throwing yourself into the fray.

The kiss he plants on you isn’t anywhere close to one of your previous “friendly” pecks, it’s ravenous. He’s enthusiastic, moving to sink his thumbs into the divots under your jaw so he can tilt your head up. He moans into it too, heady and smug with every caress of your lips and every wet pop signaling you pulling away to breathe or change your position.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Aivela.” Anakin hisses, eagerly yanking the rest of your robes off in between more kisses and briefly separating to toss them unceremoniously on the floor.

You moan, sliding your hands up his bare back and pulling at hair that’s not quite long enough to tug like you want to, “So do you, Ani, force-”

He cuts you off by snaking his tongue in your mouth, cleaning your teeth from the dark mess of the plum juice, which only stains you both even further. His arousal in the force grows and you can feel his dick twitch against your hip, the bond tells you that he loves being messy with you, that it feels right to be this real and uninhibited with each other. To be this raw.

“You ruin me, you know that? I’m trying so hard to be perfect. For you, for Obi-Wan, for the council, for my mom.”

It’s easy at this moment, with this boy, to be damningly honest. “ You’re already perfect to me, Ani, there’s nothing about you I would change.”

You’ll always love the 9 year old boy who became your first friend, and you became his, every version of him after that only fleshes him out and waters the underestimated sapling into a massive tree with nonflammable roots.

Anakin shudders when you say he’s perfect, the feeling of being indulged and complimented by a friend who he’s spent countless nights jerking off to, muffling his whines and groans into his pillow so Obi-Wan doesn’t suspect anything. But knowing his master, he probably already knows and is discussing it with your master right now.

You pick up on his train of thought, “You don’t have to be so paranoid, Ani. You don’t know for sure that anything bad is going to happen.”

He nods and shrugs it off, storing that opportunity to spiral away for later. You exclaim in surprise as he dives in to kiss you again. The kisses are hotter now, heavy and sloppy with intention. Anakin waves a hand around trying to find the tray of plums without breaking away from you, he eventually fumbles onto it and yanks it to push into your hip.

You pull back in confusion, but Anakin smiles and pushes you to fall on your back with his hand splayed out across your chest.

He takes a plum and bites off half of it, leaning down to share it with you as he crushes the other half above your body, honing in on the squelching sound and passing you bits of the plum from his tongue to yours.

“I’ve had dreams of a goddess of love on a lonely planet in the future, a god too, and they look just. like. you.” He draws back and punctuates each word with a swipe of his tongue through the plum juice on your ribs.

You hear more than see the sniff he takes of your skin, deep lung fulls of the fruity hints in your natural musk. He humps into the mattress and his cock twitches, your belly clenches when he flicks droplets of sweat off of you, the pink in his bunny tongue winking up at you in the low light.

You relax against your pillows and run a hand over his hair as he busies himself with drinking the plum juice off your body like body shots. You bask in his pulsing force signature and the tantalizing sight of your best friend Ani humping his gorgeous cock on the chub gathered on your lower stomach.

You feed him more plums, moaning as he slurps at your fingers and sucks them clean, wrapping his lips around them down to the knuckle. A bright yellow thank you rings out in the force. He’s messy on purpose, letting bits fall out of his mouth onto your tummy, just so he can take another hit off your skin and clean the juice up. He licks long flat stripes up your soft stomach, making sure you're watching as he moans and swallows down every drop.

Anakin’s pupils are twin black holes, and he actually smiles when the teasing gets to be too much to handle and you send out your desire for him to move downwards into the force. His teeth are almost sharp in this lightning, your breaths are shallow and he scrapes them over the top of your mound.

“Smells amazing.” He moans and tries to press a kiss to each little hair he finds. “ ‘s gonna be way better than some fuckin’ plums. Love you so much, Scyva, Nahut..”

Goddess of sorrow, you don’t know how you bring him to his knees.

God of apathy, hated by all but the other part of you, there’s something dark unfurling in you too.

Your half heart skips a beat. It’s probably just the Jawa Juice, you reason, even though Anakin jumps out of speeders more often than not and is so damn reckless he can handle a cup of fermented grains. You yourself feel buzzed, pleasantly tipsy in a way that only enhances the sensation of physical touch.

“You trust me?” Ani asks, long fingers poised to slip into your hole, he won’t give in until you learn to use your words.

No more beating around bush, instead more busting the fuck through that thing.

“You’re the only one I trust.”

The force flares around you, endlessly pleased.

He returns to sucking the juice off your skin as he dips two of his fingers inside at once. Sue him for being impatient, but he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted right now. By what the force is telling him, so are you. You gasp at the little sting, but you let your legs go lax against the sheets, spreading yourself wider for him.

Anakin takes a second to gawk in awe at the view, your wet hole clinging to his fingers as he slowly pumps them deeper into you. You’re both so glad he didn’t beg Dex for more Jawa Juice, there’s no way you can run from this memory forever. He picks up his dry humping, whimpering as his precum falls on your favorite blanket.

He tosses his head back to stare into your eyes and grinds against your tummy like his dick is where his fingers are. You’re nodding, making the cutest little hiccups and tensing your thighs, resisting the urge to squeeze them around his arm. Anakin chuckles as he feeds you the other two fingers, imagine how wide your entrance would stretch around his entire fist.

Your pussy flutters around his fingers and he hunches his back to be able to kiss your clit hello, taking a whiff of that too before suckling. You keen and he takes his mouth off of you, massaging your slick into his golden skin.

He moans and drives his tip further into your plush curves, circling his thumb on your clit until you both tumble over the edge. It’s not a mind shattering orgasm for either of you, too little stimulation and too pliant from the booze, but that’s okay. That won’t be the only time you’ll cum tonight, and this time it’ll feel so good the force rebuilds itself around the two of you, Anakin will do his very best to blame going in raw on intoxication.

That’s what you’ll blame for clawing at his ass and hooking your heels into his back to keep all of him inside of you, like the force itself won’t let him pull out to sleep. You’ll figure out what to do in the morning. But for now, Anakin is grabbing your hand and leading you into the fresher.

The plum tray clatters to the floor.

[percervall]

till morning comes, let's tessellate

Pairing: Mark Webber x fem!reader Words: 1219 Warnings: flirting, dirty talk, bratty behaviour, cockwarming

In which you're willing to play with fire

---

It’s far too hot, is the only way you can describe the weather. Having grown up in Europe, it always messes with your brain a little whenever you and your husband spend the better part of January in his home country of Australia, where it’s very much summer instead of winter. Mark doesn’t mind; he will happily work out in the garden while you prefer to remain in the shade of the plum trees as you read a book in the hammock Mark had hung for you. Which is what you had been doing until watching your husband doing manual labour proved too much of a distraction. You can’t help but clench your thighs together as he walks back towards the house, wiping his brow with the shirt he had taken off already. There is no way you can continue reading now, not when Mark lifts one of the logs of a fallen tree up onto his shoulder to carry it into the shade. The threadbare fabric of the oversized t-shirt you found in the back of his closet rubs over your nipples and you can’t help but bite back the whimper that’s threatening to come out at the feeling. Fuck, you are so turned on already and all he’s done is carry wood. Mark looks up at you, giving you a knowing smirk.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get her husband to give her attention?” you pout, e-reader now forgotten in your lap. 

“You always have my attention, sweetheart,” Mark responds, dropping another log next to the ones already there. 

“Besides, you were reading,” he adds, an eyebrow raised. He has you there; the world could go up in flames without you even realising whenever you’re engrossed in a book. Whatever witty retort you might have come up with dies on your lips as he swings the axe and chops the fire wood for the pizza oven you had surprised him with for your anniversary. Your breath catches in your lungs and your clit throbs as you watch the muscles in his back move under his bronzed skin. 

“I’m sure Fernando would’ve,” you say instead once you’ve found your tongue. Mark just hums, amused at your sudden brattiness. 

“I wouldn’t bet on that, but sure darling,” he says, raising the axe again. Mark’s got a point, even if it pains you to admit that.

“Jenson definitely would,” you counter instead. At this point you might as well fully commit to riling him up.

“Sweetheart, you work with him and know just as well as I do, he would not give you the attention you need,” Mark replies. Damn this man, you think as you grow hot all over at the implication of his words. Jenson is just as much a tease as you can be, and while this makes for great TV as you wind each other up, you need a man who-.. Well, frankly you need a man who can put you in your place, sometimes literally. Just the memory of Mark throwing you onto the bed as if you weigh nothing has you clenching your thighs to alleviate the ache you feel. 

“That’s what I thought,” he muses as he watches you. You huff, folding your arms over your chest which causes the shirt to bunch up a little higher up your thighs. Mark’s eyes catch the way it shows off your legs, lust quickly replacing the bemusement in his eyes. Oh, you’ve got this man right where you want him. Trying not to show just how smug you’re feeling, you place your e-reader on the little side table as you sit up on your knees –which, given the fact that you’re in a hammock, is easier said than done.

“Maybe I should give Sebby a call. If all you’re gonna do is talk, I might as well have a little fun,” you taunt, shrugging a shoulder as you give him your most innocent look. You know you’re playing a dangerous game, bringing up his last teammate. Mark and Sebastian were competitive to a fault, and while you never even considered giving in to Sebastian’s advances on you, you know the fact they vied for your attention always brings out this possessive streak in your husband.

Mark drops the axe and saunters over to you.

“Is that so, sweetheart? What exactly do you think Seb can give you? Hm? Bees?” 

“Among other things,” you quip, anticipation swirling low in your belly as he towers over you. One hand comes to rest on your chin, lifting your face up so he can look you in the eyes. His thumb drags on your bottom lip, making your eyes flutter closed, and for a brief moment you think he will make you suck on it. Your eyes snap open as soon as you hear his chuckle.

“You always talk such a big game, but as soon as there’s even a possibility of me giving what you want, you fold so quickly. What happened to using your words, darling?” 

“‘S more fun this way,” you mumble, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Getting punished for being a brat is your idea of fun?” Mark asks, eyebrow raised. You shrug once more. 

“You know how much I love it when you spank me,” you say as plainly as you can while you need to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs shut. One of Mark’s hands drags up your thigh and under the t-shirt. Biting your lip, you look at him waiting for the moment he will realise this t-shirt is the only thing you’re wearing. 

“You are incorrigible.” “Mm, that’s a big word for you, baby.” 

“It’s not the only thing that’s big, sweetheart,” Mark says with a grin that has your heart beat stuttering. His hands move to your ass and you have just enough awareness to wrap your arms around his neck before he lifts you up. In hindsight, it’s quite impressive how he manages to get in the hammock with you. 

“Wha- what are you doing?” you ask as he moves you into his lap, both your knees bracketing his hips.

“Oh sweetheart, wasn’t this your plan all along? So desperate for my cock that she forgot all her manners,” he coos, pulling his shorts down just far enough to free himself. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper as he drags it along your slit, rubbing over your clit with each pass. 

“Mm, thought so,” Mark muses, lifting you up slightly so he can align himself with your entrance. He slowly sinks you down onto him, and you can’t help but pant at the stretch when he bottoms out. 

“Mmhmm, that’s right sweetheart. You just wanted to be full, didn’t you?” 

“Uhu..” you whisper, unable to come up with any sort of comeback or sassy remark. Placing your hands on his pecs, you try to roll your hips to get some friction, but Mark halts your movements. 

“Mark,” you whine, “please, need you..” 

“Oh but you have me, sweetheart. Only good girls get fucked. Naughty girls will just have to make do with cockwarming.” 

“So mean,” you pout, earning you a kiss.

“Make you a deal, read your book like the good little girl I know you can be, and maybe I’ll let you come.” 

written as part of @footballffbarbiex's kink bingo challenge

Well. There you have it. My descend into madness has lead me down a semi-smutty path. Y'all have @norrisleclercf1 to blame for the existence of this fic

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me 💜

[ragingbookdragon]

There Is Always A Reason

Lindir of Rivendell x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Nothing, except sappiness maybe

Author's Note: Oh hey, I made a gay elf :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Relationships of the same sex amongst elves wasn’t uncommon, but it also wasn’t as occurring as the opposite sex ones. The elves had noticed with more or less speculation that it was the humans who had a lack of more understanding when it came to relationships, but then again, if humans didn’t marry and produce heirs, their race would die out—for elves, copulation wasn’t necessarily a major issue as most only ever had two or three heirs. That being said, the elves welcomed love amongst their race, never shied away from the men and women amongst themselves having relationships or attraction to the same sex.

It was, exactly that that brought him to Rivendell from Lórien. A chance at seeing the attendant of Lord Elrond while he was on guard duty for Lady Galadriel, had set his soul aflame with desire. Of course, he had to get leave from the Lady of Light herself, who saw right through his excuses with a hidden, amused smile, knowing he was a youngling, trying to impress a new love.

I just think, perhaps having a messenger between Mirkwood to Rivendell to Lórien is a thoughtful idea, My Lady.

Yes, like the messenger we already have…doing the exact description you have described.

Oh…right…yes, that messenger. I had forgotten that we already had a messenger. You know, Lady Galadriel, perhaps it would be—oh who am I trying to fib? My Lady, I want to see Lindir. That’s why I want to go. I just…want to see him again.

I know.

You know?

I know.

Right…I often forget you can see far beyond our eyes.

I do need a message taken to Rivendell. This, to my dearest Arwen, a letter for only her eyes. And this one for Elrond. Make sure they get them.

I—yes, My Lady! Thank you, My Lady!

And that was how he’d managed to get back to Rivendell, somehow ending up training some of Elrond’s soldiers as well—he hadn’t become part of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn’s personal guard without skill. It was thorough and hard work, the elves of Rivendell hadn’t seen training like this for decades, perhaps centuries at least. With the threat of Sauron gone (mostly), what battle was there to fight except for the rare orc skirmish? He knew that Lord Elrond’s men enjoyed the challenge, he also knew they absolutely hated how ragged he ran them, pushing them to even the most extremes that their race could handle. It was only three days before half the group was begging for a day of relief, and he, seeing a chance at even speaking to Lindir, agreed.

He found Lindir underneath a plum tree, singing quietly to himself as he scribbled in his notebook. It was…a breathtaking sight, to see the beams of the evening sun haloing around Lindir’s crown, the soft look on his face half shadowed, brown eyes a stunning copper, gold flecks reflecting orange in the rays. He looked beautiful. And it was the weight of his stare that caught Lindir’s attention, hair standing on the back of his neck as startled and embarrassed eyes meet lovesick ones; Lindir, in a rush, snapped the notebook shut, snapping his mouth closed and stared at him while his cheeks turned crimson.

He fumbled with the words to come out of his mouth before he settled on, “I sincerely apologize, Lindir. I meant not to disturb you.”

Lindir swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, I was not aware that someone was here. Forgive me for not noticing your presence before, my Lord.”

“Don’t call me ‘Lord’.” He laughed, walking over to take a seat on the bench a few feet from him. “I’m simply a soldier.”

“Of high regard,” Lindir retorted. “Your father was Lord Celeborn’s right hand. You were raised in fashion similar to them.”

“Perhaps,” he said, shrugging his soldiers. “But I am no one’s lord. I am simply a soldier, as I said.”

“A good one.”

“Oh? You think so?”

Lindir cleared his throat, face hot. “I mean that I have simply seen your training as of late.”

“So, you’ve been watching?”

“Observing.”

“You could do more than observe, Lindir.”

At that, Lindir laughed in a rather surprised fashion. “I am not a fighter.”

“Oh, everyone is a fighter for something,” he replied, taking the chance to get closer to him by shifting from the bench to sit next to Lindir under the tree. “There is always something that will drive a person to pick up a weapon. Love, greed, pride, rage, grief. There is always a reason.”

“What of you?” he asked, tipping his head to the side. “What do you fight for?”

He paused, thinking deeply about Lindir’s question before he murmured, “Being a soldier is all I have ever known. It is what my father did, and it is what I was raised to do.”

“Haven’t you ever wished to do something else?”

His gaze met Lindir’s, and he said softly, “I have always wished to be someone’s one and only.”

Lindir’s cheeks tinged red again, but a rather enchanted look came over his face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. I sometimes think about laying down my duty and going with my lover across the land. Just the two of us. Traveling, experiencing things we have never seen or done before.” He smiled. “I eventually want to settle down by the water. A small cabin. Just big enough for us. With everything we need.”

“And your one and only…” Lindir started. “Has she decided to go with you?”

He blinked, looked over at Lindir, saw the hesitation in the elf’s gaze before he chuckled under his breath and replied, “Actually, he has yet to decide anything.” Lindir’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. “Most likely because I have yet to court him,” he added, scratching his jaw.

“This elf…at least an elf, I assume? Where is he?”

“Oh, he is in Rivendell. I managed to get leave from Lórien to come here just to see him.”

“Truly?”

“Well, Lady Galadriel sent me with messages for her family, but in all, I am here to court him.”

“Who is it?” Lindir asked. “Is it one of the soldiers you are training?” he seemed to think to himself. “That would make much sense if it were.”

He sighed fondly at the melodist before he rose and plucked a soft, pink, plum blossom from the branch of the tree, bent down and gently placed it behind Lindir’s ear, unable to help but trace the elf’s soft cheek as he pulled back.

“It is, in fact, not one of the soldiers I am training, but someone of much more esteemed company.” He smiled warmly at the look of pure shock on Lindir’s face that quickly changed into a giddy, almost flustered look. “I should retire for the evening though. I know training tomorrow will be much more difficult.” As he walked off, he paused, turned, and asked, “Lindir, would you like to accompany me on a ride tomorrow evening? Just the two of us?”

Lindir’s heart pounded in his chest, and he nodded his head, the corners of his lips rising into a smile. “Yes, I—I would love to.”

He smiled, nodded once, and replied, “Then I shall find you tomorrow evening. Until then, Lindir.”

[prettyrealm]

Long rant ahead! Watch out!

When will people realize that at the end of the day, men WILL ALWAYS be men. Obviously not all men are the same...but A LOT of them are.

Giiiirrrrl honestly, don't these kpop fans and stans feel embarrassed? Personally as I'm losing ALL interest in celebrities and I'm just starting to see them as people who have more money and fame than me, the way these fans and stans be acting is honestly concerning. Korean celebrities especially idols have said time and time again how their companies will literally assign them roles to play in their groups. Do y'all really believe that most of these idols -especially the male ones- are completely genuine? Have y'all forgotten that South Korea is a conservative, homogeneous AND misogynistic country?

Kpop fans/stans will use the excuse of these idols being from a conservative country to excuse their racism, colorism, homophobia etc but at the same time will deny the possibilities of these idols being misogynistic? Shit babe just like how majority of these idols are most likely racist, colorist, and homophobic...they're most likely misogynistic as well. It is what it is. Y'all will watch vids of Korean women themselves telling y'all the truth about living as a woman in South Korea and y'all will agree yet at the same time say "bUt NoT mY bIaS/iDoL" but I'm never surprised because I also believe that most of these fans have internalized misogyny as well. Just because you're a girl/woman doesn't mean that you can't be misogynistic OR have internalized misogyny.

Also have you not seen the OBSESSION with these idols "future spouse/twin flames" or whether or not they'll date "foreigners?" there's nothing wrong with being curious about celebrities but whew! 😭😭😭 a lot of fans are just too fucking obsessed. Why are you more concerned about someone else's future spouse/twin flame when you have your own? I could NEVER be 20+ years old and worried about JK or V future spouse/twin flame, I'd be worried about my own future spouse/twin flame. TF!

Also I definitely agree about the racist part too! There's a lot of infantilization going on as well. The way these kpop stans/fans baby these idols especially the adult ones, is just weird. Imagine "western" fanbases doing that shit. Imagine the beyhive calling Beyonce "baby bee😙😙" or some shit the way armies be calling JK "banana bunny cookie milk" or whatever tf they be calling him. Calling Suga, a grown ass man mind you, "Meowmeow"....WTF????😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😂😂😂💀💀💀💀 The way that K-pop stans and fans go out of their way to defend these idols and excuse them for literally everything that they do whether it be racism, colorism, homophobia makes me believe that they really do view them as Godly beings that can absolutely do no wrong. Y'all DO NOT have the same energy for western celebrities- especially the black, white ones! Don't you realize that they're human just like you...damn...para-social relationships will have people going absolutely crazy over people that shit and piss just like every other human on earth. Luckily there are some kpop fans and stans that are completely sane and normal! Kudos to y'all! 💗💕💖

They’ll never apply “men will be men” to kpop boys because they don’t see them that way. These are not ordinary men, these are imaginary boyfriends. They’ll never be able to get that they can be just as bad as any other guy in their life. You said it perfectly, celebrities are normal people with way more money, fame & power than you and it’s crazy how people want to assume that somehow makes them better people instead of worse…& yeah i think a lot of that infantilization stuff mostly just come back to not seeing them as humans or normal people because no matter how fine my friends think a guy or a celeb is they’re not about to be calling no grown man no sugar plum or gumdrop idk..

I agree Internalized misogyny 100% plays apart as well, like the fact that I, a woman, receive hate from what would mostly be other women & girls for saying a man has misogynistic tendencies says A LOT.

People will make the argument that these idols are humans and you shouldn’t even entertain the possibility of them being misogynistic/racist/homophobic or whatever & I feel like that’s not only illogical, but dehumanizing in itself because like you said, we never see this grace being extended to non Asians or people outside of that industry. No matter how much these stans wanna yell “my idol is human” they don’t actually mean it or view them that way. They mean their idol is the PERFECT human that can do no wrong.

& that’s what really blows me is how OBVIOUS they make it that this is a racial thing. I didn’t have people sending me hate when I said Matty Healy, Timothee Chalamet & Blueface had issues w misogyny. Didn’t get hate when I said Pinkpantheress has problems with women either. Seems you just aren’t allowed to say it about Asian men 🤔🤫

But yes, luckily they’ll always be people like you and a few others who are actually able to see understand that these idols are just as human & flawed as your brother, sister, neighbor or coworker! Thank you so much for your support and taking the time to reach out! 🩷🩷🩷

[pantsaretherealheroes]

sorry i'm sick and didn't add the first bit! I was tagged in this "get to know you" meme by @village-skeptic thank you!!

last song: someTIMES i feel i've got to BOM BOM RUN AWAY this came on my shower playlist before. also before that i listened to sophie ellis-bextor's murder on the dancefloor which I have personally never forgotten but has gotten a boost from it being in a certain popular film recently

currently reading: A Good Girl's Guide To Murder by Holly Jackson, which i know has a terrible focus group-y title, but is actually very interesting and involves a teenage girl solving a mystery in her town (which is very much my thing) and has been nice for me easing back into properly reading again

last film: Anyone But You i think? it's silly but i had a great time, altho very weird to see a very american romcom take place in australia. and also why the fuck did they not advertise this as an adaptation of much ado about nothing, my favourite shakespeare??

currently watching: Nancy Drew which is fun although not really a Nancy Drew kind of thing it's more like teen supernatural investigations in a small town. not that i'm not into that! And also Percy Jackson and the Olympians, in which I have adopted three children and am about to wage war on two of their godly parents

three ships: well. if you've followed me from anywhere from the last 5 seconds to that last two and bit years, i'm sorry, and it's definitely buck/eddie from 911. also i am similarly insane about syd/carmy from the bear (the 'person you work with who you have an intense and close dynamic with and trust them with the most important thing in your life after not really knowing them all that long' ship dynamic is strong with me) and also lets say percy/annabeth from pjo because it is only the beginning but i know they're gonna fall in love so much!!

favorite color: turquoise or teal blue? or plum.

currently consuming: not much i have covid and also not many groceries until later today

first ship: hmmmmmmm probably something harry potter honestly i do not remember

currently working on: getting better from the ol covid. and writing a little bit :)

tagging if you want @cal-daisies-and-briars @jellicle-ball @rabbimilligan and @manycoloureddays :)

[blizzardstarx]

THINKIJG. OF CASSIDY IN SERVSNT OF EVIL. AJD IN MY YARD FIRE AU UHM.

“I ran into a fair maiden with a hair of deep green. Her smile and her voice, to me, were sent from up above. Something moved in my chest; you might even call it love. / But we know all good things must come to an end, it is my queen's orders, that girl must repent. I will grant your wishes, if that's all I live for, so then tell me, my sun, just what causes these rains to pour?”

The fic I wrote of my au, had Garrett be in the placement of Micheala(the whole "plum hair" I gave him, etc etc. visiting the kingdom of the Aftons) & Banica(Gluttony side/the main part for Garrett). And in Evillious Chronicles lore, Allen (I bet) got that "love at first sight" stuff.

The base for Cassidy in Yard Fire is Allen/Nemesis (Vanessa is small half of Rillian & very much more Nemesis).

So, yeah. Ik bit weird. But ages are 👍 (Cassidy is like round 15 or smth. Same with Garrett. Evillious Chronicles has Rillian be QUEEN at 14. So like. Yeah).

Tbh I kinda make memes inside of my head about this yk? "Cassidy's crush was his rebellious stage too"(e.i: going back to the fact that Garreth (his name in the au), basically disabled William?? He ate his hand,, just the fingers but yk. <- where his whole Banica era started👍💥). Cassidy was there for the meeting between William & Garreth, and just.

For most of his years, he's believed that his father can do no harm and nothing bad. Tho, yes he was suspicious about him. But he never asked, and never thought about it again. He's always forgotten (middle child along with CC). So he doesn't think his questions are important.

If he is ever remembered by his father, he's more like a servant then a son. Which he got used to. So seeing his father being accused and then fucking BITTEN, by like. Another boy his age, HIS AGE.

Garreth about to rule his family kingdom, but his wish that he wanted to fulfill was to destroy evil by all means(and I mean that: he is like. In his Banica era- so. Yeag 👍💥).

It's not rlly like..a love at first sight or a crush now that I'm thinking of it. It's more like. Admiration, and wanting to be like Garreth yk?

He does also like. Plan the execution when William gets well (Cassidy is mad about it. Hoped his father got sick. Never Happened. He Angy). But it doesn't really happen as intended??? Garreth gets lured into the kingdom again, and just gets. Slaughtered/stabbed like Ceaser.

And then when Mike gets word of it, it's already days later of the "execution" (William still calls that an execution) of his brother (-figure. Just thought I'd say, that in Yard Fire; Mike & Garrett are related but very much see each other as siblings.. Abby was 1 when this was happening). And Vanessa already ran away, with Cassidy also running away(he ran away the moment he just did what he did. Vanessa was already planning to leave and decided to do it at the same time Garreth died so that was suspicious to Mike).

One post I did say, was on how when Mike first meets Vanessa he tries to kill her..but yk. She lives another day; cuz Mike saw himself in her. A lonely girl, with no one else (or so they thought. Cassidy is trying to find Vanessa. But like. Kinda short story; he gets mistaken for a bear (by a delusional person) when he was so close to reaching the Schmidts & Simmons (Vanessa)'s house. But. Yeah- bro gets mistaken for a bear and then just fucking. Killed)

Ough sorry for talking about this au outta the blue- and having it be. Like. So long I just. 👍 Yard Fire <3 (if you haven't seen the drawings I can tag you in it! It's also basically the 'masterpost' of Yard Fire!)

GARRETH WHAT. DID WHAT TO WILLIAM??? HOLY SHIT

And omg your Yard Fire AU is so interesting!!! I've seen a few drawings but feel free to tag me in them!!

[rainbowsuitcase]

Fanfic Rec Friday #9

Finding the Forgotten by thestarskeepfalling - Seokjin x Yoongi, 80 486 words, E - Unhealthy Relationship With OC, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love

It took Seokjin a long time to realize he was lost. With millions of adoring fans, a wildly successful soloist career, and a long-term boyfriend, it was easy for him to mistake crowds for friendship and convenience for love.

Then, a surprise visit from his brother and a heart wrenching realization push him to run away from it all. He follows his brother back home, finding the family, and the happiness, he was looking for all along.

Operation: Yoonkook by thesameflatfish - Hoseok x Jimin, 9 105 words, G - College AU

Jimin wants to avoid falling in love in college, but a plan to set Yoongi and Jungkook up puts him in close proximity with Jung Hoseok, who Jimin can’t seem to stop having feelings for.

when poppies bloom by @floweringash - Seokjin x Jungkook, 15 302 words, M - Pistil Verse, Injury Recovery, Sharing a Bed

It’s not every day that Seokjin returns from hunting to find a corpse on his way.

Or rather, an unconscious, injured Stamen who takes up too much space in his house.

(Never) Call Me Baepsae by mangust_d - Jimin x Jungkook, 13 742 words, E - Office AU, Enemies to Lovers, Dom/Sub

Jimin has given everything to the corporate life – his passions, his sanity, even the active sex life he once possessed. To make matters worse, the company’s golden rookie Jungkook tramples all of his hard work and sacrifices under toothy grins and effortless excellence.

Where He Belongs by ArianneMaya - Hoseok x Namjoon, 7 597 words, E - Alpha x Beta, First Time Knotting

Beta Hoseok's body isn't made to take an alpha's knot, and Namjoon is too much of a gentlewolf to pressure him on the matter.

Why is it, then, that Hoseok can't stop thinking about it?

Wanna bet? by Nisaki - Seokjin x Taehyung, 5 735 words, E - Porn With Plot, Lingerie, Feminization

In which Taehyung has to play Seokjin's wife for a bet and they both like it way too much.

say my name (lock it with your lips) by dagusts - Namjoon x Taehyung, 17 596 words, E - Arranged Marriage, Major Character Injury, Angst, idiots in Love

A season between war and love is all it takes for Taehyung to realize some things. Realize that love cannot be requited if it is not spoken.

plum blossoms in the snow by ladypajara - Namjoon x Jimin, 63K, E - Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut

Perpetually disillusioned with love Jimin is roped into helping Namjoon — his romance novel editor and very much straight friend — launch a new LGBT+ focused imprint at his publishing house after a misunderstanding leads Namjoon’s boss to believe they are boyfriends.

Shifting Business by mangust_d - Seokjin x Yoongi, 8K, M - Cat Yoongi, Bickering, Sexual Tension

Seokjin is sure that Min Yoongi is harbouring an illicit cat in his home. Only the truth is much more magical than that.

You Wished, I Waited by Hpgirl4ever - Yoongi x Taehyung, 56K, E - Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Courting, Angst with a Happy Ending

It's uncommon for betas to court omegas, and even more uncommon for omegas to court anyone at all. Yoongi and Taehyung were never the biggest fans of tradition.

[sim-ply-lilacs]

Tired from the hard work on the farm, Josef slept on as Bea readied herself for bed. It seemed as though the fact that Josef was sleeping in his clothes on top of the bed didn't disturb his rest at all, if his soft snores were anything to go by.

Well, such things might not matter to him, but they certainly mattered to Bea. It was a cold night. Their relationship may have been frigid in some matters, but an icicle for a husband certainly wouldn't do.

...besides, with her mother already a-bed, Bea wanted help with the laces of her corset.

"Josef," she whispered, her breath fogging before her in the pale light of the bedroom. The fire flagged and flickered like a waning ghost, the stoking of it having been forgotten during the buzz of the day. She'd have to build it up before they slept, she thought.

"Josef," she repeated, raising her voice so that she might be heard through layers of dreams. "Dear, you have to wake up. It's too cold to sleep atop the bed tonight. Come and help me with my laces, and then let's go to bed, properly."

Josef rose with a start. Running a hand through his hair, he blinked the sleep from his eyes with rapid, fluttering eyelashes. "Bea?" he asked, "Have I been asleep long?"

"Not too long. Less than an hour or so," she said with a small smile. "I'd have let you sleep, but I was afraid you'd wake up without a few toes."

"Ah, we would not want that, would we?" Josef chuckled. He rose to his feet and crossed over to Bea.

"Thank you for waking me, my dear," he said with a kiss to her cheek. "If I had known having a wife would mean also having someone to remind me to not be foolish, I would have married long ago. You spoil me, you know."

Bea pulled back. Her hand dropped to her side. "Is-is that the only reason you wanted me to be your wife? To-to kiss sometimes, and to live together, and to lecture you sweetly about keeping your shoes off the bed? Because I can do that, I can, it's only...oh, I'm afraid I'm making quite the fool of myself!"

"Bea," Josef intoned in a soft, sad little voice, "do not call yourself a fool. You are so very intelligent and do not deserve these words you speak over yourself. Tell me, what is the matter?"

She hemmed and hawed for a moment, worried about what Josef might say. He might think her coarse or immodest, might realize he'd made a great mistake in marrying her. But if she never spoke up, if she never had the courage to speak, how could she go on? "Screw my courage to the sticking place," Bea thought.

All at once, she blurted out, "Do you not wish to be with me? As husband and wife?"

"What?" he sputtered.

Bea was sure she was blushing as dark red as a plum, "If you don't want to, please, let us never speak of this again, but if you do, then, well, why haven't you?"

"Oh, Bea, of course I want to," Josef stepped forward to reassure her. "I-I only wanted to be sure that you wanted to before I, ahem, broached the subject. I have heard tell that most young ladies are not instructed as to what marriage will bring and, well...I had no wish to 'frighten you off', so to say. But that," he swore, meaning and desire intermingled in his eyes, "is the only reason why."

"Bea, when I asked to be your husband," Josef caressed Bea's cheek, "I meant in every way that you will have me."

Beatrice leaned into his touch, eyelids fluttering. Oh, to be assured of a lover's affections! To be wanted! Bea knew in her heart that she couldn't be happier anywhere. Not in a grand mansion married to a railroad magnate on West 57th Street in New York or as the countess of some grand estate in England, but here, looking silly in her corset and shift on a hardscrabble piece of land in Brindleton Bay opposite the poor Prussian father she'd married.

She couldn't help it, she grasped her hands in his. "You should know," Bea began, "that we ladies know a lot more than you think. And we are not so afraid of our husbands. Otherwise, I would not feel so free to do this." With that, Bea gripped her husband in a searing kiss. One of his hands went around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The other tangled in her hair. This was unlike any kiss the young couple had ever shared before; this was the type of kiss meant to be shared behind closed doors in the honeysuckle sweetness of a blooming marriage. Bea thought these might be one of her favorite kinds of kisses there were. Especially if they always precipitated what came after.

For propriety's sake, no more can be said about that night other than this: Bea and Josef never did get around to tending to the fire that evening, but neither were they cold when, in the wee hours of the morning, they finally drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning

[purplebass]

This is a Valentine's Day story, even though I never mention that it's VD, so you can completely think it's any other day of the year. I just wanted to post this today :)

Lucie craves ice cream in the middle of the night.

Rating: T Words: 1,700

Lucie opened her eyes to the dark room. She wasn’t sure of the time, but it must have been late, or at least later than the last time she had checked the grandfather clock on the mantel. She turned to the other side and sighed. 

“Lucie,” said her husband.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she wondered quietly.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Jesse muttered. “You’ve been tossing and turning ever since we retired for the night. Is everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep, but this you already know,” she replied. “And I’m fine, don’t you worry,” she searched for his hand under the sheet, and squeezed it. 

“Then what is it? Are you worried?”

Lucie grinned in the dark, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m just famished.”

“Ah,” he replied in acknowledgement. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and it wouldn’t be the last for a while. “Do you crave something in particular?”

“Ice cream,” she confessed. “With chocolate and honey. And vanilla?”

“Yes?”

“No, wait. No vanilla. Chocolate and honey will do,” she decided, and without further ado, she got off the bed and put her slippers on. 

Jesse turned on the lamp on his side, and she heard the shuffling of the quilt behind her. “Wouldn't it be better if I got it for you?” he tilted his head to the side, “in bed?”

“I need to stretch my legs. I haven’t moved much this week,” she glared at him as she put on her nightgown.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he protested. “It was Brother Enoch’s advice.”

“Advice means that it’s my choice whether to follow it or not,” she shrugged. “Ah, my back hurts from sitting too long. And my legs too.”

“I know, but it’s for your own good,” he put her arm under his and they exited their room. “You said that you were exhausted and a little out of breath. You need to take it easy.”

“It’s awful,” she sighed. “Thank the angel I can still write in this condition! Though I’m slower and likely behind on my deadline.”

“The deadline is not important right now,” Jesse said. “Your health is.”

“And ice cream with chocolate and honey,” she added. “If there’s any left from dinner.”

“Ice cream definitely helps,” he giggled. “I asked Bridget to ward off your father from eating a second cup. She assured me she would guard the refrigerator if need be.”

“You are an angel,” she squeezed his arm. “And quite thoughtful. Am I starting to get predictable? I only asked for ice cream once. What if I wanted something that it’s hard to find in the winter season like plums?”

“If it ever comes to that, I’ll see what I can do.”

And Lucie believed him. 

Throughout the last eight months, she had the weirdest cravings. Some things she desired were easy to find in London. It was a big city, after all, with numerous markets. It was a crossroads for products from different parts of the globe. You could find just anything if you knew where to look – or that was what Jesse told her. 

They sat down at the kitchen table and Lucie was eager to find that Bridget had kept her promise. Not only had she left ice cream, she had left enough for two. 

“You should grab a spoon, Jesse,” she encouraged him. “Help yourself.”

“No, thanks,” he said. “You know that I can’t eat before bed because I get heartburn.”

“I thought the herbal tea you started drinking after dinner was helping, though,” she said. “At least that’s what you told me.”

“Did I? I must have forgotten,” he nodded and crossed his arms on his chest. 

She raised an eyebrow and finished the last of her ice cream. “Ah! This was delicious,” she looked upwards in awe. “Too bad you didn’t want it. You don’t know what you’ve missed.”

“Feeling better?”

“I’m –” she closed her eyes briefly, and suppressed a shudder as she felt the pressure under her stomach. “By the angel, this was intense.”

Jesse had already scooted closer to her, his hand pressed gently behind her back. “A contraction?” he asked calmly, but she saw his eyes widen in alert. 

“Alas. I’m fine,” she sighed, and touched her belly instinctively. “But now I need to run to the bathroom.”

Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle.

In the end, Jesse had to use the restroom as well, and Lucie told him she would try to sleep because exhaustion was finally getting to her. She assured him she didn’t need help walking back to their room, and he went about his business. 

She yawned on her way back, the only thing she wanted to see was her bed. She knew that eating ice cream would probably help her sleep. But then, once she entered her room and her glance fell on the writing machine on the desk, she remembered something important.

Her back still hurt, and she needed to sit down. Instead of sitting down on the mattress, though, she sat on the chair behind her desk, and started to type. 

“Lucie,” she heard a voice calling her, a light touch on her shoulders. “Lucie.”

She raised her head from the typewriter. “Uhm?”

“You fell asleep on the machine.”

“Did I?” wiping drool off her mouth. She had written a few sentences, the last one behind made only of g’s. “I hadn’t realized it.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he whispered, and Lucie let him help her this time.

Lucie sat at her desk the following morning, with two pillows propped behind her aching back. She felt energized and had a goal in mind. She wasn’t sure she would make it, but she could try. 

Eating ice cream in the middle of the night had helped her get a good night’s sleep, at least. Once she settled into bed in a comforting position – lying on her side, a fluffy cushion under her arm – and her husband kissed her cheek, everything dulled out in a matter of minutes.

When she woke up, someone had already opened the curtains, and light shined through the high windows. She found the other side of the bed empty. Unlike her, who was forced to rest most of the days because her due date was approaching, Jesse had matters to attend to with her papa. 

Soon, Jesse himself would become a dad, and she would become a mom. Sometimes she had to see her big belly to remind herself that there was a little life growing inside of her. Or glance at her hand to see the Blackthorn family ring that Jesse had given to her few years prior. 

Her vision became blurry and she had to stop typing. 

“Lucie,” a sweet voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“I thought you were out,” she said, blinking her tears away.

“I was out,” he came closer and leaned on the side of the desk next to her. “Your father canceled this afternoon’s appointments, which means I don’t have any more work to do.”  

“He probably just wanted to spend the day with mam,” she chuckled. 

“Well, can you blame a man who wants to have lunch with his wife?”

“Not at all, no,” she grinned. “So, you want to have lunch with me, huh? I’m afraid I can’t go out, darling.”

“That’s why we are staying in. Would you do me the honor?” 

“Yes, but first –” she paused, and gave him a couple of pages. “This is for you.”

Jesse frowned at the sheets of paper. “Something new you’ve written?”

She nodded eagerly. “It doesn’t have an ending, but it’s intentional.”

“How so?”

“Read it and you’ll find out.”

“Now?”

“Not now, silly,” she chuckled. “Your pregnant wife is famished and she’s waiting for you to take her to lunch or she’s going to be really annoying and emotional.”

He rolled his eyes at her with a smile. “Come on, love.”

They ate in the drawing room, which Jesse, with Tessa’s help, turned into a dining room for the occasion. Bridget usually followed a schedule when it came to lunch and dinner, but today she made an exception for them. She prepared one of Lucie’s favorites for dessert, bread and butter pudding. Jesse also gifted her a box of chocolate and it made her happy.  

Afterward, they lounged on the couch by the fire. Lucie enjoyed the warmth of the room and Jesse’s company as he read the pages she gave him a few hours ago.  

“Thank you for today,” Lucie said suddenly. 

“Wait,” he demanded. “I still haven’t finished.”

Lucie put her hands on her stomach and waited, a small grin on her face. “Sure.”

“This story feels autobiographical,” he glanced at her. “Is it?”

She blushed. “It is. I just found myself thinking about the future, and it scared me. This new phase of my life makes me anxious. At the same time, I’m really excited about it.”

“It is normal, being scared,” he grinned. “We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but that’s how life works. It makes sense that the ending of this story is open. It isn’t done, and we are going to write the rest together. And we’ll have to face new challenges we haven’t experienced before. We may trip and fall, but no one is born a master. Making mistakes will be part of the journey and it will strengthen us.”

“You totally get it,” she nodded, feeling the tears ready to fall again. “That’s what I was aiming for, trying to give myself strength and not letting my fears get a hold on me.”

“Oh, Lucie,” he cupped her face. “I’m also scared, but I know we will support each other and we will make it.”

“Hearing you say it makes me feel better,” she said. “There’s something I want to happen in the story right now. To continue the story with a playful memory.” 

“Are you going to let me try one of the pralines I gave to you?”

“Later,” she said. “Can you kiss me? You know, in exchange for the chocolate.”

Jesse sighed. “I was going to kiss you anyway,” he muttered.

Lucie kissed him first. 

[nutty1005]

Ask not where he came from, ask not where he belonged. For where his heart desires, he will be there regardless

Original Article: https://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404914117688558033 Original Author: 夏威夷美令达人秀

If I had to use a word to describe him, I would not be able to think of it, but I could think of two poems.

“The pine has ambitions without disdain; the bamboo has principles that does not bend; the plum has a fragrance that is not arrogant.”

“One’s ambitions should become even more firm as one grows older, one’s will should become even more steadfast in the face of adversity.”

Looking at the entire situation from the beginning till the end, this was the quality he made me feel throughout.

He is not an otherworldly sage, nor is he a worldly commoner. The things he did for his friends were things he deemed as reasonable.

Willing to pay any price for a friend, willing to give it all for love, and later on he was even willing to do so for people unrelated to him.

I really wanted to ask a question, what were you thinking when you called home to your family to ask for money for her mother’s medical fees, was it more painful than losing your legs?

What is light – it is something that could nourish anyone, and shine into all the unreachable dark corners. But light is also something that everyone habitually takes for granted everyday after sunrise.

People would think of him in the dark endless rain, so he was always the person who would be injured, he was the one who faced the mines, he was the one handled the stolen hat, he was the one who rushed to block the robbers while yelling for the others to escape, he was the one who sat and watched as someone else stole his life, he was the one who was tossed from his wheelchair – it seemed like everything was him.

Halfway through watching, questions flashed through my mind more than once – was it really necessary to do this for them? It seemed that everyone gave him very little in return. He was physical injured from his back to his legs, to his heart, but he would still comfort others with a smile on his face.

He might have forgotten his pain after comforting others, but the news of not being able to serve as a soldier would be the place where he left tears of his lifetime at. His father’s death, teammates, friends, lovers, it was hard to believe that after suffering so many blows, he still had not turned to the dark side, he still insisted on himself and insisted on his inner thoughts, he adapted to everything by being deeply loyal and knowing how to distinguish the right from wrong.

He lived in the compound like his buddies, his living conditions were just as difficult as ordinary people at that time, he was also influenced by society, but in the end only Chunsheng remained unchanged. Everything else had changed, Hongjun’s desires had grown little by little, and Guohua’s personality had also began to change because of love and the social changes.

Sometimes when I thought about their names, Chen Hongjun (TN: Hong = grand, Jun = soldier), I would think his family wanted him to take the hard and simple road, but he ended up arrogant from his selfishness and over sensitivity, and every step he took was wrong starting from the first. Such a path probably meant that he had never realized the true meaning of his name and went astray.

Ye Guohua (TN: Guo = country, Hua = gorgeous) was such a grand name but his youth was only obsessed about small love and romance, immersed in the comfortable life given by his family. As he became 30 or 40 years old and recalled his past when he was young, he might realize that he never had any lofty aspirations, with an innocence born from stubbornness and cowardliness because of a wealthy family. Such a wealthy environment gave birth the innocence and straightforwardness in the siblings’ personality, which made them incompatible with common life.

Chunsheng (TN: Chun = spring, Sheng = growth), what is Chunsheng, “the wild fires could not burn it all, they would grow again as spring breeze blows”.

He had experienced many joys and sorrows in his life, and he had suffered many blows, shedding a lifetime of tears. There might never be a time more desperate than losing everything when he is in his early twenties. The dream of his lifetime, a past lover, brothers who he grew up with, and a confused future.

But after these tears had finished flowing, he would still chose to start from the beginning as before. In the few decades of time, no matter what happened to his future business, the first thing that comes to his mind was always to stand from the perspective of others, and to take responsibility and comfort them. Even when he heard that he might be permanently disabled, he was only in a daze for a short time, and then he told Xiaomei that he had heard it. To be honest, Xiao Zhan’s acting skills at the doorway is one of the most brilliant in my opinion. Not only It was in line with Chunsheng’s personality, and one could see his attitude when he knew the result for the first time.

Chunsheng was not a person who constantly accumulates all the negative emotions, and he would not talk about the same thing repeatedly. It felt too painful when he rode the train as he retired from the army, when he saw his sister, and when he saw his dead father’s photographs. But people are forward looking, and so was he. He was a little shocked at the doorway, and then he was dazed for a while, calmed down, and stopped feeling sad for himself.

So when he was faced with the teasing from few friends about him as a “disabled person” looking for a job, he just laughed at himself, and I could understand his heart immediately.

Xiao Zhan’s acting skills were also really amazing. He was being ridiculed by others, and yet he was still the big brother who protected everyone since he was a child. If he displayed any unhappiness, it would not fit Chunsheng’s personality; if he looked happy, he would seem mindless.

Hence with a little self-deprecating embarrassment, audiences can sympathize with his situation immediately, and the inconsiderate ridicule between buddies and the insult of an enemy also made him determined to fight against his fate.

Later on, as life got on track, and he continued living bit by bit in gains and losses. The perfect, imperfect, sad and excited, every bit and drop was the crystallization of his own work.

I saw someone asking why the Xiao Chunsheng and his sister were still able to maintain their marriages. Even if Chunsheng’s father is suffering from mental illness, he still taught the two of them to be bold, to place the country first, to always look at the overall situation, to be responsible, and to be loyal. Audiences could see the quality of the these two siblings at a glance and know that they could maintain their marriages very well.

Both Qi Tian and Hongling told Chunsheng, you are very idealistic, you are too idealistic, there is no one like you in the world.

However, I had always felt that Chunsheng was the most practical person, being able to do things that met his inner standards in reality was his idealism.

For a childhood friend who had been together almost every day, if there was a person who would be hurt in Hongjun’s conflict with the others, his thought was very direct, that person would be himself.

And when Guohua was about to be injured by a landmine, he knew Guohua’s character too realistically, Guohua’s weakness and helplessness would even cause him to do some other things that may cause him to lose his life, if it was his other friends who stepped on the landmine, he might have done back to seek help, but he knew that unrealistic fantasies will cost both their lives.

When Qi Tian injured others because of the medical equipment, he knew that avoidance and sophistry would not be a solution, so the first thing he did was to take responsibility immediately, so that the harm to others and himself could be minimized.

Chunsheng is idealistic, but that is an idealism built on realistic actions.

As a fan for so many years, I feel that Xiao Zhan is also an idealist who is shaped by real actions. Yes, every character will have its own quality in it, but most people are either idealistic or practical. In entertainment circle, people who are too realistic can make people intuitively feel that they are too eager for quick success, while people who are too idealistic cannot survive and blend in with the general pan-entertainment.

After four years, I could feel that his reality was not unrealistic or a fantasy throughout. This might be much clearer to me than other fans. He probably would still reply to everyone’s work before the end of each night. But no matter what happens, he would always be positive and encouraging optimism. In the past few years of the pandemic, who could encourage themselves, those around them, and everyone every day?

Slowly watching until the end of Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories, it reminded me of the first time I saw Xiao Zhan’s works. At that time, I was not familiar with him, but his whole person exuded a personable temperament. Under his still very inexperienced acting skills, I could not take my eyes away from that face and demeanor. At that time, he had a very handsome face. Perhaps he had not figured out what his acting career would look like in the future. At that time, he was still a very inconspicuous new star, maybe I paid attention to him because of his face or for other reasons.

But no matter under what circumstances, I never thought that after so many years, in the present, suddenly after so many years, I went from going crazy while working new fan to an anything-goes relaxed old fan.

My footsteps were to follow him and look forward bit by bit, never wanting to stay in the past, and my Weibo also rarely recalled the past. He had not gone to the point of recounting the past and recalling the glorious years. He is still pondering, discovering, and exploring the most suitable way of his own style while at the peak, and he will change to someone different from last year and the year before.

A few days ago Xiao Zhan was asked a question himself, about what had changed in the past few years, he smiled and said that his age had changed.

In the four or five years since he became famous, it can be said that he had always been one of the most talked about artist in China, and even “one of” is not necessary. Looking at his choices at each stage and the situation of each drama, those of us of the same age should have one of the same feelings, when seeking enjoyment, we would feel anxious, we would think about the future, we would recall our youth, and we would occasionally feel emotional late at night, but these depended on our ordinary and simple emotions when we were not clear about our lives.

He is already in a state where he could choose anything freely for his future, and he could even choose to not do anything. There would not be anxiety like ours at all, but instead he seemed to be more elusive and diligent than before. I could see his changes every time and I believe that he is more strict with himself than anyone else, even for after many years, I have never seen him complacent. Every time we meet on screen, it would be like seeing him for the first time. He managed his physique very strictly, he handles lines with ease within one or two years, and almost no one has mentioned the matter of lines anymore.

Most of the superficial acting skills that Chinese people like to judge are smoothly and silently performing micro-expressions + crying scenes. Watching his crying scenes for so many years change bit by bit, starting from taking on the burden of “The Untamed”, and then broadcasting of “Ace Troops”, the enigmatic Gu Yiye, to Xiao Chunsheng’s ups and downs in the decades of changing times.

They were all about the pain of losing a family member, when it was his Shijie he would cry out in pain, when his mother left him in Douluo Continent he would cry bitterly, and when Chunsheng knowing his father had left he would cry silently.

From the beginning when the three of them ate together as teenagers, to the recent reunion of the three of them as middle aged men eating hot pot, he no longer had the urge to be their big brother, the unfamiliar and subtle embarrassment of mature friends who have not seen each other for a long time, the natural acting skills, the movement of the wine glass, he had been completely reborn.

The sense of justice he portrayed when he was in customs in his early twenties was completely different from the sense of justice during equipment incident in the later period. He had captured the ability to cross time and space in his portrayal, and the ability to change the characteristics of age and location of his character at the fastest speed.

I could not evaluate how much he had improved, but at least I know I had almost changed nothing from the time I first met him to now. The pandemic has affected me for three years, and it seems that I had excusably stopped moving forward for three years. Xiao Zhan had stopped nothing in these three years, when in fact, he had more reasons to relax and stop himself than anyone else.

But no matter those who pay attention to him or not, they all like to look at this mountain and its height, wondering what is on the other side of the mountain, and they all think it is the Himalayas. When he was not famous, people would want him to be famous and have more choices. After he had become popular, people would want him to be more popular than others. Even if he had become the most popular, he would be given endless demands. I think even if he reached the even higher requirements again, there will be more waiting for him, not to mention he stayed four years at the top, maybe he would be expected to stay there for eight years, ten years, or even ten thousand years. If Qin Shihuang debuted, people would expect him to write a hundred improvement measures, and they would beat down his invasion tactics of the Six Kingdoms as worthless and nonsense.

As a person who started to get in touch with this profession without a professional background, not even in his youth, no one could perform and think for him, he could only explore and change himself bit by bit, and for him, he had never stopped changing for a single moment, more than 70 performances of stage plays, filming dramas for several months at a time. We never had to worry about whether he was coasting along, no need to worry about his physical status he would show when he appears on screen, he would always be doing his favorite job with a high degree of professionalism in every moment. In fact, he could even not fumble or change and do absolutely nothing, and no one would dare to say that he is unsuccessful.

He knows what he wants, what to do, and what he should do, better than anyone else.

In the past few years, he gradually calmed down more than anyone else. I thought of the 19th episode where Chunsheng’s legs were injured, when the patient next to him told him that Guohua had stolen his military achievements. I sighed when I watched it and that hurt a little.

All of his glorious colors had been stolen, possessed, and damaged, and that was by someone as close as a brother, plus the pain of physical ruin, what kind of expression should he have when he heard the news?

Chunsheng is bright, open-minded and loyal, should he smile indifferently like his usual personality, and show that he did not care at all, or pile up all of his grievances and burst into tears?

What I saw was that he was slightly stunned in disbelief at first, then with a little bit of shock, then he lowered his head and pondered for a while, and quickly returned to the original expression of pretending to be indifferent. After everyone dispersed, he was alone in tears and pain, thinking about his experiences, thinking that he might not be able to do what he loved most in the future, thinking that even if Guohua apologized to him, he had to comfort him instead, and let him live a good life as a soldier.

This was one of my favorite performances in all of Xiao Zhan’s dramas. He did not need words, exaggerated gestures and expressions, or any narration to express his sadness and sorrow.

After that, he still had to reopen his own wounds to comfort those who never empathized with him. It was the biggest change in life, yet afterwards everyone seemed to forget about it, and only he remembered it, and therefore his career choice was related to this experience, affecting him to want to help more people instead.

Oh Chunsheng, oh Xiao Zhan!

Who else would remember it except you, remembering the way you came here, remembering the pain you suffered, and when your legs are healed, you still needed to be successful, to start a business and to have even greater achievements.

But I still remember it.

Using a paragraph.

“We chased the dreams in our hearts together. We tried to hold the sun in the palm of our hands. I can’t remember how many winds and waves we have crossed. I am your oars and you are my wings. We remember each other’s youthful appearance, our faces full of pride. It’s you, and the youth behind you is all you.”

[ekwallace]

I post a lot about my novel, though I don't want to actually post the text, because it's with an agent for consideration. But I do have a prequel story!

Galena and the Northern Hunter ~2200 words CW: Fantasy-typical violence; references to a past massacre.

***

He leaves as soon as he can walk more than five paces without gasping for breath. He cannot stay--every time he ventures from his house, the sight of the destruction and the carnage threatens to choke him until all he can do is scream, or weep, and he is weary of both. His physical wounds are healing. The others may never heal. Yet he must go on, even if he does not know how or why.

Those shadow creatures... they are still out there, and he does not know what they will, or can, do, but it cannot be good. He must find them--and find some way to destroy or contain them--but how? He can barely remember what he did before, and trying to push through the fog that surrounds the memory hurts almost as much as his wounds did when they were fresh. If only he knew what drew them in the first place.

He goes back to the house of healing for supplies, and notices the sunstones. They are a treasure he could not bear to leave forgotten and decaying, their little lights dimming until they die. But when he reaches to pluck one from the scatter on the ground, it is too hot to hold, like a coal from a stove. After a moment, he takes a spare tunic from his pack, that he might carry them without being burned. A problem far more easily solved than the mystery of why they should scorch him now, when they never did before.

As he leaves the borderlands, he cannot help but look to see if the destroyers lie in wait for him, after all this uncounted, uncountable time--absurd as it is, he cannot shake the thought.

But there is no one, and nothing to mark the passage out of his world and into theirs, save a faint feeling of difference in the air, some foreign scent or breeze.

***

He heads southeast for the simple reason that it is the easiest path down from the mountains at the top of the world, into the Jardisar Empire.

He soon grows grateful for the numbness that seems to hold him coldly apart from everything, even his own feelings, for the times when it shatters and leaves him flayed and open to every stray memory are much, much worse.

He does not even like plums, yet the scent of the fruit hanging heavy and ripe on a tree he passes, so like the tree by the fortune-teller’s house when he would pick one to bring in to her--she and that tree alike burnt and ash now--brings him to his knees in tears.

He learns to hold distance about him like armor, and hopes he can forget, someday, why he needs such a shield.

He finds the world that was made for humans not so different after all from his people’s. Many give him wary looks, as if not quite certain what he is. But perhaps that is only because he is a stranger everywhere he goes. If the destroyers still seek him, he either never sees them, or they are not certain enough of him to act.

Indeed, the open hostility he thought he would find is rare. More often, he meets with small kindnesses, an offered ride, a shared meal, a smile and few minutes’ talk that leave him feeling somehow lighter.

But still he feels wrong, in a way separate and different from the wrongness he carries with him always. A way that grows as he travels father along his chance-chosen path.

***

He comes to a narrow mountain pass, and the feeling rises, a revulsion and pull together. There is something here that is not right, yet it calls to me. He touches the spot where the wrapped sunstones are tucked into his traveling pack, for courage or for luck, and the dagger in his belt for more solid reassurance, and goes on, alert for anything out of the ordinary.

A scream shatters the tense silence, and he is running toward the sound before he can think twice.

A young woman cowers against the rocky face of the steeply sided path, and standing before her, blocking her way and holding a mace poised ready to strike, is a creature out of nightmares.

Its skin is red as clay, and though its armor is finely detailed and moves as if it were chain and leather, it is of the same red and seems all of a piece with the creature’s body. Its eyes and lips are black with shadow, not like war-paint, but like oil oozing from what passes for its skin.

“Get behind me!”

The young woman scrambles to do so.

He is sure now that this demon is what he’s being called toward: the very air between it and him tugs heavy and painful at him, as if it strives to pull his heart from his body. But how is he to fight it, with nothing but the dagger and what nerve he can summon?

“Leave this place,” he calls to it.

It takes a step toward them, and the ground shakes with its tread. “No.” Its voice is deep and slow, like the patience of mountains. “You leave.”

It swings the mace close enough that the breeze of its passing stirs his hair, and he tugs the young woman along with him in a hasty retreat to the mouth of the pass. The demon does not follow, but he hears--and feels--it pacing across the path, acting as sentry where they left it.

“Are you all right?” he says.

The young woman nods.

“What is your name?”

“Galena.” She gives him a shaky but bright smile. She has dark skin and eyes a light brown, nearly hazel or gold. He cannot tell, now that he has a moment to look at her, if she really is all that young, or if he just feels far older than he is. “What’s yours?”

The pull has receded for now into an ache, as if he strains against a weight, but with the promise of worse to come. “I must banish that demon.”

Her eyes widen. “The neean? It’s an old, old demon from deep in the mountains.”

“It is something else as well.”

“What do you mean? What else is it?”

“It is touched by a shadow that I-- That I have seen before.”

She clearly catches his stumble, but does not press him for an explanation. “Is that why you came here?”

He nods. “To fight it.” Even though the first and only time I tried to fight, I nearly died... might have actually died, until...

But he cannot think about that yet, though the memory is as viscerally sharp as all his others are distant and blurred--a flood into him, not filling but emptying, until his chest and throat felt hollow and his vision sang with shadow.

“No one from my village has dared face it,” Galena says.

“Except you,” he points out. “What were you doing, taking a path guarded by a demon?”

She crosses her arms and looks away, but he waits, and after a moment, she turns back to face him. “My sister lives in the village down the mountain. She’s with child, and her time is soon. And...” More hesitant now, but there is definitely more annoyance than fear in her tone. “I didn’t really believe the stories. Why do you have to fight it?”

“I am called to.”

“Let me help you. I can fight, too.” As if to prove it, or show him her skills right this moment, she pulls a curved knife from a sheath at her calf.

“I am not sure blades will help us against it.”

“Then how are you going to kill it?”

I do not know. I only know I must face it.

She gives him a narrow look as he lets the silence stretch without answering her. “You’re not a warrior.”

He gives a bitter laugh. “No. I’m a scholar. Or I was.”

“What--” She cuts herself off. “You won’t tell me what happened, will you?”

Whatever she sees when he meets her eyes makes her flush and look away again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean--”

“You could not have known.”

He hisses in a breath as the pull grows sharper, and he fights to keep from stumbling back into the pass before he is ready.

He will never be any more ready than he is now. He grips the dagger more tightly. “Wait here.”

“I don’t think so, scholar.” Galena has her blade ready as well.

“You must.”

She shakes her head. “I know you do not fight for my sake--how could you? But it’s my safe passage you’ll win. I’m going to help you.”

“You are as fierce as the women of my people.” His approval is obvious in his voice. He does not mind.

Neither does she; she gives a grin that bares her teeth.

The shadow has taken over more of the demon, spreading like a gorget down over its neck and shoulders. Small rocks tumble from the cliff face as it plods heavily toward them.

He braces himself for the tearing pain of before, and reaches for the shadows with his mind.

They laugh.

That trick won’t work again, hunter. The last word is a curse in their hissing mutter. We can learn just as well as you.

The demon raises its mace and attacks.

He learned, as all his people do--as all his people did--enough of combat to defend himself. This is nothing like that.

I shall have to let my hair grow... if I survive so long, he thinks, with grim humor, and then he has no thought to spare for anything but the fight.

He’s dimly aware of Galena beside him, swifter and more skilled, but without his reach, and he cannot forget that she is human. They are forced, slowly, fighting for every inch, but forced nonetheless, back against the rock face.

Galena cries out as the demon narrowly misses her, and the hunter darts between her and it.

“What more do you know of it?” he cries. “Anything!”

“I don’t-- Wait! It hates people coming here enough to venture into the light. But it hates the light, too.”

That is the answer.

With no time to lose, he simply cuts through pack and enwrapping shirt alike, and the light of the sunstones pours out.

The demon staggers back, shielding its eyes. It teems with shadow now, its limbs coursing with it like ripples on a pond.

The hunter pulls the sunstones free of his pack, ignoring their burn, and thrusts them at the shadow.

Which screams, furious and defeated. It shatters into pieces, like dust motes, and the hunter, his hand a blaze of pain and light, his grip failing, sweeps them away with a desperate swing of his arm.

The sunstones tumble to the ground, and he to his knees, landing hard.

***

“Hey! Come on, wake up!”

Galena shakes him from his daze. How long he was insensible, he does not know, but it sounds like she has been calling him for some moments.

He pushes himself to sit up with his good hand. “Are you hurt?” he asks her.

“No. It missed me.”

“Where are the shadow creatures?” He cannot feel them now, but must be certain.

“Gone. You saved me.”

Galena does not let go of his shoulders, and for one weak, lovely moment, he lets himself sag against her and hold her as tightly. “No. You saved both of us.”

He moves to stand, and she lets him go.

“You’re hurt. Let me help.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s the least I can do.” She is already taking bandages from her pack.

She’s gentle as she wraps his hand, but does not let her touch linger, though he thinks she would like to. In another life, he might like it as well. In this one, he has far too much to think about. The same pull he felt before has not yet returned in force, but he feels the first ache of it, distantly. What have I become, that such monsters call to me?

“What were those things?”

“The motes of shadow... I don’t know, but I have fought them before. I think I am the only person still alive who has. They’re...” Mine. And I am theirs. He sighs. “It’s my battle to fight.”

“All alone?” Galena says.

She would come with him, if he asked, once she saw her sister safely brought to childbed. He sees it in her eyes, feels it in how she leans slightly closer to him.

He cannot ask.

“Yes. Alone. And I must go where they call me.”

“I wish--”

He closes his eyes, for if he looks at her, if he lets her finish, he will ask. “I know.”

“At least tell me your name.”

Whatever I am now, however these creatures and I are bound together, I am not who, or what, I was. And I cannot carry all I was with me if I am to give myself to righting this wrong, as I must. “I am a hunter from the north. No more.”

“Very well, then.” She smiles, though her eyes are sad. “Go with all my fondest wishes... northern hunter.”

[perexcri]

Aaaa yay!! They’re going to go together!! They’re getting so good at communicating with each other! (Also I remember you talking about drinking that plum wine!! :O I now understand!)

“His breath snares in his throat as he takes in the sight of his love: sweat makes his bangs curl and bend in all directions and his shirt stick against his shoulders; his mouth is pulled into an affable grin, and a fistful of flowers blossom out of his hand, stalks of lavender, creamy dahlias, twilight purple orchids, carmine and honey blanket flowers. There’s just enough shadow from the roof’s overhang that they pulse faintly with light, their colors dancing against Mike’s irises.” Got me Screaming into my pillow at this, rhdjeidj they’re so In Love and you continue w the magic words!

Also! Matching necklaces!!!! Love that for them!! It’s lovely of Will to make sure it’s the same kind of charm that he uses. They’re just. Aaaa I’m running out of words with which to express how much I love this story and these characters and just!

I’m so glad they’re gonna get their happy life of freedom together, even if it took them a few more years than they expected when they were 12.

I hope u are having a very lovely day and your week is going good so far:)

YESSSS they're finally getting their runaway arc!! i told you i'm committed to a happy ending, and i mean it :]

and yes - the plum wine i briefly mentioned was an actual plot point in this thing aldfjasklf i'd had plum wine once or twice before, but i couldn't quite remember how it tasted and wanted to make sure i'd described it correctly in the chapter. i'd mainly just forgotten that it's a little on the tangy side, so i'm glad i decide to refresh myself on how it tastes haha

they are!! so in love!! almost unbearably so i swear. perexcri's finally beating the "why do they never kiss" allegations with this one, folks.

yeah the matching necklaces has me 🫠 i've loved writing this fic and i'm very proud of it, but also it's the one that if anybody i know irl who isn't a close friend of mine found it i'd have to drop off the face of the earth and resurface in like,,,Norway under a different name. i love it but damn, i am not beating the sentimental allegations. i want to be so cool and cold and emo, but i'm really just a big sap at heart i guess 😩

i am too!! i really liked the idea of this fic of them trying to find healing for themselves rather than trying to take on the world and save the day. maybe it's selfish, but i feel like the show deals with similar contradictory themes (i'm mainly thinking of the idea of running away - Will running away in the upside down and from the mind flayer was always kinda framed as him doing the correct thing, whereas Eddie facing the bats - while noble - resulted in his death. something something there is no shame in running??)

i am wishing you a lovely day (well,,,night now lol) too, Vee!! i hope you're having a good week :] i know mine's been made better by being able to post these chapters and getting to talk with you 💜💜💜

[dionysiospsychas-photography]

DOWNTOWN ALLEYS PHOTO WALK

… Hello photogs and photography admirers, and a good midsummer to you. Here in Vancouver, the spring blooms of the cherry, plum, and magnolias trees have been bursting and some are still flashing. And we've had nice breezes, so it's been pleasant, so far. That is until the burning lamp in the sky has its season and bores a hole in our foreheads. But, that's just my feeling. I do have a ball cap, a high SPF sunscreen for my delicate skin, and a water bottle to fill with ice, so that should be adequate. However, I haven't read the latest in climate apocalypse tips and tricks.

Still, it will be nice to siesta under the shade of a tree, with the sunbeams filtering thru the ample leaves and marking the grass and pavement with swaying dapples of light. Yeah, that's pretty cool.

Okay, let's get to something grittier and cooler. This photo walk was part of the Capture Photography Festival 2024 events; my third time participating. And this year, I wanted to lead photogs thru some of my favourite alleys in Downtown Vancouver.

I decided on this route for a couple of reasons. Firstly, experiencing and sharing photography as a group was apt for the festival. Photography is an extraordinary way to view the world about us — to observe it, examine it, appreciate it — and share our point of views with others. Secondly, alleys really are cool! Alleys are great subjects for photography, because — unlike the "public", alluring street side — they are public spaces where we can view the "private" side of houses and shops, which are practical, unpretentious, and style is secondary. These rear spaces can be coolly disorganized, patched up, and justifiably messy. Altho they don't include "beautiful" things, they offer interesting things and scenes to capture with our cameras. So, I expected that we would converse, share what we see and find, and show each other something we've never seen before.

And our photo walk was all that and a lot of fun. Well… the sky was clear blue and so the Sun beamed down on us, but it was a breezy, pleasant morning. Never mind me and my clear-sky phobia. And you'll see in the photos below, there was cool shadow play and glinting surfaces.

The photogs were enthusiastic, positive, and enjoyed exploring the built-up, canyon-like alleys. And they were clean too! Revisiting these alleys for the nth time was still photographically fun for me. And it felt that the photo-cats found them fascinating. Some went ahead and explored around corners or lingered behind I bet because of some curious object, as photo-cats do. They also shared about the things they found interesting like neatly organized piping, overlapping building facades, multi-layered paint, vegetation growing out of surprising spots, hilarious signs, colour fields, decades of bricklaying, and satisfactorily weathered and grimy surfaces. And that was intriguing to others who then attempted to make their own photo.

There were also alluring people for those who liked to photograph seemingly interesting-looking people. Anyway…

It was inspiring to see the photogs go at it. That's why it's good to go out exploring and photographing with friends. I totally recommend it. And I think that the photos below show their particular perspective and distinctive styling of wonderful things and scenes un-noticed or forgotten. And… that's why photography is so cool.

We caught up with our regulars and got to know newcomers, their motivations for photographing, and their art projects.

Above, the second attempt at a group photo with the fun cats. Thank you much again to (back row, L to R) Anne, John, Don, Colin, Brooke, Diane, Chris, James, Carol, (front row, L to R) Jaiden, Sharon, and Grace for joining our walk and a fun morning photographing. So reader, view their cool photos below, and click on the pic to see a larger version.

Photo by Brooke McAllister @brookabrooke

Photo by Brooke McAllister @brookabrooke

Photos (left) Ice Castles and (right) Urban Blend by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Urban Legends by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Graffiti Wall by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photo Girl, Walking by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photos (left) Quadrant by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography and (right) The 515 by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Forbidden Places by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Yes, That Would Be a Hard NO by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photos by your photo walk host Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by your photo walk host again Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo Urban Windows by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo Pop Goes the Color by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo The Secret Life of Pungence by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photos by Jaiden Su @kinnieey

Photos by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts

Photos (left) by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts and (right) by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photos by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Lastly, the first attempt at a group photo with some lost photo cats.

Play closing theme song...

There is pleasure in photographing with others, as we converse about this, that and photography, share about the interesting things we observe, and inspire each other. So, to join us on our fun photo walks, please subscribe to my newsletter to receive the event announcements.

It is my hope that these photo walk experiences will inspire you to keep exploring your city and natural locales. So, from your friendly photo walk guide, thank you for reading, et à la prochaine!

So, how about you; do you like to explore alleys? Send me an email and tell me what you think.

DP, 2024-05-05

Are you getting value out of the photo walks and the blog? If so, you can help support these by telling your friends or thru Buy Me a Coffee. Think of it as a tip jar and an easy way to say thanks. Thank you for your support, I sincerely appreciate it! Merci beacoup!

[talesofealdancynedom]

Tales of Ealden Cynedom: 24. The Small Apothocary (4/5)

Tale 43:The Small Apothecary (chapter 4 - The Plum Trees 4/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams

The next day, Qilin sleep; unable to adjust to the time-zone change. He reluctantly got up, to start his work. Firstly, he asked various people what elixirs they might need. Qilin knew the local doctor required remedies to naga venom, flu symptoms, and bone repair; And others wanted light viles and water clensing; Things the traditional village lacked. So, next it was time to gather. Even if no recipe called for it, Qilin looked for specialties. Some mid-day golden dew, from the ruffled Dok Cahmpa was right there; beaming light the light of dawn. Good for pain, and only found in Doi Veng. These were the yellow flowers he dreamed of. But for the final request, he was comissioned sugar plum jam for sleep.

Qilin walked to the ever blossoming orchard; Various cherry, plum, and orange fruit fey, were planted neatly together; A fluffy arching crown of plush purple and pink. They sweetly whispered above a pool of lucky carp. But the enchanted fish no gave scales of fortune; they rejected every coin. Even the frosted plums forbid Qilin from having a single pome. With a despondent sigh, and empty basket, Qilin realized he needed a witch. For his recipes, the fey had to consent to being picked. Their gifts have different properties if taken without asking. Qilin preferred asking. He considered it violent, to steal pieces of fey.

Having lost, Qilin’s left the orchard in search of Aurum. It was his lucky day; He saw golden silks glow from the corner of his eye. Aurum was riding his familiar off the butte top. Qilin gasped, and ran after him. He had completely forgotten Aurum was showing him the water temple today.

The walk was silent between Qilin and Aurum. Qilin’s thoughts were busied by finally being able to perform traditions from his people. Also, the consuming frustration at current barriers to his craft. Meanwhile, Aurum shuddered at the thought of his neglectful mother being there; He was equally irational in the moment. Ironically, Aurum’s mother came to Doi Veng for the same reason as Qilin. However, money had corrupted her, and she succumb to depression while destroying Doi Veng. She was the very reason they fey acted so cold. For this reason, she now tended the temple and retired from magic.

At the temple, the walls crumbled as nature grew through them. But inside, there was a hall with carved jade walls. There was a set of bells, large gong, and trough of chalk, before a powdery wood floor. Light shone through the gaps of the pillars, and holes above the red beams. Pixies were sleeping about the ledges, that wafted of rose and sandalwood. Their honey would be perfect for making hex incense. Qilin was overwhelmed as he looked above, and walked closer to the chalk.

“How does this work?” Qilin inquired. He bumped into Aurm who was kneeling. Qilin decided to join him. The sound of a steam silently echoed, and Qilin felt himself merge with the moment. His previous thoughts now smothered. His face bright. Then, Aurum’s deep breaths ceased. He had never met someone of the Eastlands, who didn’t know how to give gratitude.

“Well?” Qilin smiled.

“Um, you grab the chalk in your palms, then slam your hands while bowing, and gently interlace your fingers behind your neck. Then reflect on what satisfies your being in that moment,” Aurum said, his head tilted. “Then meditate on the phrase ‘I am greatful for...” He demonstrated. The thud of the bow, and puff of chalk, nearly made Qilin second guess the ritual. He performed it perfectly, powdering white into his black hair. Soon, a singing bowl rang through the room. They sat up as one, in a state of serenity.

“What are you grateful for, Lin?” Aurum grinned. His own father would always ask the same. You can tell a lot about a person from what they appriciate.

“Having the opportunity to live here with my family. You?” Qilin smirked. Aurum stalled, and looked into the brushed bell brass before him.

“To see the colour yellow.” He said calmly. He gently got up, and left to the courtyard. Qilin tip-toes in suit. They sat in the shade of the clensing gingko, growing into the a wall. Crossed legs, well poised, silent, and resting.

The novelty of meditation, wore off quickly for Qilin. His mind wondered back to the rejection of the plums. He fidgeted with the urge to ask Aurum for aid, while unsure if disturbing meditation was allowed. He had meditated little in his life, aside from breathing exercises in school programs. Despite reading the teachings within the poetry of water. Qilin opened his eyes, and turned to Aurum. Tears were streaming down Aurum’s face, as his steady breath trembled. It came from the chest, no matter how hard he tried to use his stomach.

“Why are you crying?” Qilin whispered.

“It does not matter why I am sad. I get sad sometimes, then it goes away. I concentrate only on emptiness.” Aurum sighed, melting into his posture.

“Then how do you process emptiness? How do you let go?”

“Maybe I cry, because I am sad that I have let go. Purhaps right now, it is time to greave.” Aurum said, opening his eyes. His mother was adjacent, and smiling slightly. She wore orchid, with shimmering lotus trim.

“I’m bad at letting go.” Qilin shrugged. “Like, I can’t let go of those stupid sugar plums. This place was supposed to be....perfect.” He petered out. Aurum nodded, having already assumed as much. Aurum’s mother readjusted.

“I’m going now. Those are great thoughts to practice sitting with, Lin. Thoughts that when overcome, make you one with nothingness. Letting go, requires wisdom of what we cannot control. The world will not end because the fey are hesitant, and we feel strongly.” Aurum said, walking away. He seldom took his own medicine, despite his effort. To Qilin, those words made him go red from frustration.

Aurum didn’t fully embrace a single thing he touted most days. He had only been practising for a few years. It can take a lifetime to act on such beliefs. Aurum may need two lifetimes; He had a lot of issues: Feeling incompetent for being coddled, traumatized for being imprisoned, and hard feelings towards his parents for their mistakes. He knew being in the moment would prevent looking back, and alternatively the now is not always pleasant. Like Qilin, Aurum also struggled to sustain his meditation. Aurum radiated a dark presence as he rode back to the village. Like he would block out the sun for anything that dared to near him. That stupid boy was summoning Aurum’s pain with all those questions. Testing his ability to remain present. The flaw of the ways of water, is that human hearts are responsive, thus creating desire and hate. People seek opposites, and fulfillment. They are not like fey. The flow of all things, is inconsistent with humanity’s stubbornness.

Aurum spent three hours coaxing the trees to give up a few plums to help Qilin.

“I don’t believe he is a greedy wizard. He is not from my family. I think he is like our village’s people. He wants simplicity, and your charity, to aid us all. What If I ask you for plums? As your mage who adores you, am I worthy? Am I able to receive your gifts to help the forest?”

“We will trust you for now, mage. But if this boy misuses our gifts, we will gladly have the more mobile fey scare him off.” The orchard threatened. It was so unlike them. Fey catastrophizing? Often, the childlike neutral nature of fey, made them the best teachers of embracing each moment’s wonder and joy. But like people, they know fear and desire. Nothing is immune. Aurum was only able to procure half the ingredients Qilin needed.

“Can you give him more? I want to sleep.” A familiar voice called into the trees. Kugu was feeding rice cakes to the lucky carp, while listlessly humming a lullaby to endear them. She wore her same printed pastel clothes. The trees dropped more flowers and fruit. Aurum’s gaze lingered on Kugu’s forlorn face. He snapped out of it when she thanked them.

Aurum walked over to crouch next to Kugu; The garden was empty in the afternoon. All they heard was birds and fey whipers.

“Thanks.” Aurum smiled.

“I just want a regular sleep cycle.”

“No, I mean for going outside so we can smile with you. You even helped Qilin,” Aurum said, looking at his reflection in the pool. “Honestly I’m sick of only seeing you stare at the wall, each time I sneak in to rid the goblins from your yard.”

“I don’t need pity.” Kugu scoffed.

“Maybe you need tea? I’ve heard good things about tea. I’d love to make some for you some time.” Aurum tensed. Kugu laughed a little. The carp gave them scales.

“Maybe after you give that apothecary his ingredients, and my father overcomes his worry. He should go to the temple too,” Kugu growled. “I like to think it’s working for me. I hope magic can cure me. I should’ve never studied in the city.”

“Should is a toxic word. Like always and never. Best advice my nanny ever gave me.” Aurum said, examining the orange scales. He got up to leave, and waved goodbye. Kugu tried to smile back. Even lost in his glow, she couldn’t do it quite yet.

Qilin nearly feinted at the basket of goods; He could start brewing this very night. There was an encouraging note from his mother. Qilin read it while setting up. The plum jam needed to be brewed under a full moon, all night; Qilin would need to multitask to stay awake. As the sun set, he got to work cutting and grinding. Sugar plum, frosted orange peel, and starlit sugar cane. He had brewing flasks, vials of every material, and all the tools and stoves he needed; Including a pot to make smoked fish rice, as he missed dinner.

After a night’s work, the jam had turned white. To test, he put a spoonful on a plate; It froze the entire table. The plums hadn’t fully consented to sharing their gifts. The elixir could be used in small does to cool food or make ice, so it wasn’t a full loss. But Qilin was deeply disappointed. Not only did he fail brewing for the first time in a year, but the fey didn’t like him. As dawn came, Qilin staggered back to the temple, and feel asleep while meditating until midday; When he could make the golden dew. He was given a singing bowl for the very task. If had a fierly lusture from the dragon forged bell brass. However, Qilin’s confidence was shattered. He lost his posture. Having awoken, his breathing was uneven, but still deep. Like a gasping fish.

“Why are you crying?” Kugu asked. Silence.

“Well, I cry for failing to get a degree, and believing for a moment such things mattered when places like this exist.” She continued. Qilin looked up to see her undone hair and calm face. She wore a silver satin sabok skirt, that glimmered like the moon. She looked nice today. Their eyes met. Qilin’s tears soaked his dirty emerald wrapped pants and sash; He wore only the pants of his dirty wizarding robes.

“You don’t have to share.” Kugu shrugged.

“I cry, because today my mind reminds me I can fail.” Qilin admitted.

“The plums hate everyone. You’re not special,” Kugu snorted. “Well, they like me I guess; Enough to give the other half of your ingredients when I requested your potion.”

“Thanks. Now tell me your secrets. The fey here are resistant to friendship.” Qilin grined.

“I would have ascended to the next spiritual plane, if I knew the ways of fey.” Kugu rolled her eyes.

“Well, me and Aurum know the ways of fey, and I assure you we’re both currently incompetent.”

“He offered to let me watch him burn himself on a stove; To make tea to warm me. Something about it having special properties.”

“Probably something my mom said.”

“I think I said yes, even though I have trouble bonding with people. But with that workaholic, whose smile and misguided mind; He makes me weak. It feels like he’s always there for me. But I can’t get myself to-”

“bonding and getting attention? Just crawl into his window uninvited! I got a week’s detention for that, and I wasn’t even the one naked. The guy didn’t return my textbook, and I had a test the next day. You’ll never forget a moment like that. That’s the secret to bonding with someone.” Quilin suggested. Kugu finally managed a smile.

<---PREVIOUS

NEXT --->

[howyouloveyourdragon]

babe get up, arcielee posted

tldr; besties, read this fic because this is genuinely one of the most well-thought and set up fics i have ever read. sit down, get some hot coco, pomegranates whatever your heart desires and have a good curl up with this

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.” This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his. 

oh god i'm already excited, i was such a mythology nerd when i was younger so these aus are always a favourite

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in.

i can just imagine him trying to be all intimidating and her just tilting her head like "hm, what's that?"

it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around.

oooo i like that it's not just 'oh evil so dark', there's thought into it

For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips.

oh i love that simile so much

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey. 

i'm loving these descriptions

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

HERE WE GO BABYY

“I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?” 

oh?

this is gonna be good

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them;

tension tension tension

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment.

AYY HE CARES

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.” 

why do i feel like he actually just wants to see her again

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one. 

CALLED IT, YES

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm.

oh that's cute it's like he's her ever watching shadow

He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

awwwwww

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.  

stop because it probably means so much to him that she says his name so freely

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced. "As you wish, Kore.”

He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement.

BAES HE WHISKED

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits. 

the fact that this probably means so much to him because of how long he is alone and how many people fear him UGH i love it

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.” 

this back and forth is so fluid, with every new paragraph i have a new favourite bit i swear

She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples!

who knows the last time he laughed and she is gushing over it i love- okay i'll stop doing that now

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

i love the parts that tell what he's probably noticing about her

the thrum of her ichor

'ichor' BAE KNOWS WHAT THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them.

SHE'S ADAPTING HIS DARKNESS TO SUNLIGHT IM GOING TO SCREAM

There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone. 

they are two sides of the same coin

“You smell of death.”

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?” 

oh sweet girl

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again. There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He, of course, obliged her. 

he's so smitten, bless

“I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.” 

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?” I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head. 

afterthoughts:

WHAT THE HELL PLEASE CONTINUE THIS SERIES I SWEAR IF YOU ARE READING THIS AUTHOR, YOU ARE SO TALENTED

She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest.   Author’s Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you)  Series:  Act I -  Act II - Act III

Keep reading

[ericfuentes]

BREAKFAST

Each morning as a child, after brushing my teeth and combing my hair, I would be received at our kitchen table by a plate of beautifully arranged fruit: cantaloupe, honeydew, plums, nectarines, bananas, apples, oranges & sometimes grapefruit. On a side plate rested a bed of cottage cheese which topped two slices of tomato, perfectly seasoned with salt & pepper. To drink, a cup of OJ next to a cup of oatmeal, next to a cup of buttermilk. Never forgotten was the side dish of buttered wheat toast. Not white toast. Wheat. While I ate this, always starting with the toast, my mom leaned against the oven and asked what I wanted for breakfast.

That would be story enough but then you’d miss out on the daily menu: cream of wheat without the clumps, mexican pizza (which was fried tortilla bits mixed in scrambled egg), scrambled eggs with golden potatoes medallions, breakfast burritos with fresh salsa, toasted PB&J (if you’ve never had a PBJ toasted, you’re missing out).

My mom didn’t just loved being my mom, she relished in it. And she taught all those around her how to be with me. She convinced my father to join her in a year long cleansing, a break from their party lifestyle, in order to purify her body, to be a vessel worthy of carrying life. My life. I’m in great pain right now. This grief is real. I have to ask myself how much of this is self-pity and how much is actual grief and it gets so convoluted. I want the world to stop. I want the world to ache as I do. I want the world to stop and recognize what sacrifices my mother made for me. How above and beyond she went and did so happily. With broken English, through racists policies, in a country different than where she started, away from her own parents to mother a gay boy & become his best friend.

I don’t know how else to do this y‘all. In my heart, you’ll never understand, but my mind is telling me to have faith in you and your ability to understand through these memories that I share with you. So I do, and I will. What else have I got?