#narrative quilts

[adventuresofchick]

Chick has been loving getting to work with the exhibition Stephen Towns: Declaration & Resistance with paintings and quilts by Stephen Towns and curated by Kilolo Luckett. Reynolda House is hosting the exhibition through May 14, 2023 - come see it if you are in or near North Carolina!

Chick is here with some of her favorites:

1️⃣ Ona Judge Escapes, 2021. Natural and synthetic fabric, polyester and cotton thread, crystal glass beads, resin buttons. Read Never Caught, by @ericaarmstrongdunbar to learn more about the fascinating story of Ona Judge and her self-emancipation (I read the young readers edition she wrote with Kathleen Van Cleve)

2️⃣ Built of Rich Earth, 2020. oil, acrylic, fabric, buttons, Bristol paper, mica flakes, graphite, glitter, and charcoal on panel

3️⃣ Flora and Lillie, 2022. Acrylic, oil, metal leaf on panel

[longlistshort]

I was very sad to hear the news of artist and activist Faith Ringgold’s recent passing. Throughout her incredible career she created work in a variety of mediums including painting, sculpture, and narrative quilts. She also wrote and illustrated several children’s books- including the wonderful Tar Beach, based on one of the quilts, which won several awards.

Pictured above is American People Series #20: Die, 1967, currently on view at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

From the museum about the work-

Recalling her motivation for making this work, Ringgold has explained, “I became fascinated with the ability of art to document the time, place, and cultural identity of the artist. How could l, as an African American woman artist, document what was happening around me?” Ringgold’s American People Series confronts race relations in the United States in the 1960s. This mural-sized painting evokes the civil uprisings erupting around the country at the time. On the canvas, blood spatters evenly across an interracial group of men, women, and children, suggesting that no one is free from this struggle.

[mylordshesacactus]

Today on Posts That Will Serve As A Blocklist but whatever:

It's genuinely at the point where people who act all dismissive and superior about the Star Wars animated series, and ESPECIALLY of Ahsoka specifically as a character--snidely dismissing anything that involves TCW-original characters or arcs--are just. Objectively hysterically wrong.

Like.

Phantom Menace released in 1999.

Revenge of the Sith was six years later, in 2005.

TCW started airing in 2008. Ahsoka started existing in the narrative literally three years after RotS dropped.

Even if you start counting as far back as you possibly can, back in TPM (wherein Anakin was an actual baby), the prequel era only existed at all without her for nine years.

Ahsoka Tano has been a narratively significant, load-bearing major protagonist of the Star Wars franchise for, as of this post, sixteen (16) years. Very nearly twice as long as her era ever existed without her! At this point, if you are determined to act like she's some handwavey 'new' star war idea whose impact on the living tapestry of the GFFA can be easily dismissed, that's...

...like, full offense but that's kind of on you, man.

[imflyingfish]

working in an art gallery and talking to a lot of full time artists has given me CRAZY imposter syndrome btw lmao

[cctinsleybaxter]

I'm actually glad I listened to the first season of shelved by genre earlier this summer because learning about how people on 90s forums transmogrified 'sevarian is an unreliable narrator' into 'sevarian is lying and every microscopic detail must now be analyzed and Solved' is really hitting with regard to some of the whale meta I'm finding lol

[leenfiend]

slides this fic across the table to you all - this just delighted me to my core these are the lance and keith that live in my head ok it’s unfinished but it doesn’t matter it was worth it 

[quilt-giving]

Over the years, I've crafted more than 60 quilts, with a particular affinity for incorporating themes inspired by the captivating universe of Star Trek. While my passion extends to various science fiction narratives, Star Trek holds a special place in my heart. Enclosed, you'll find a collection showcasing some of the quilts I've meticulously created, each reflecting my deep admiration for this iconic franchise.

[rumade]

Echoes of the Ocean by Chitra Mandanna, 142cm tall by 128cm wide

Why I like it: apart from just being an insane show of technical skill in the realm of quilting, this quilt is captivating in person. There is something crammed into every corner, and the colours, while starkly bold, work together so well. The negative space in the background where the fabric has been cut away brings to mind comic book panels, further bringing a narrative quality.

This one was a Judges' Pick.

[circe69]

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 (FEM!READER X SIMON RILEY)

wc: 1.7 - genre: suggestive fluff - narrative: you get snowed in with ghost and a none-working heater. GASP. whatever shall you do to stay warm? muahahah. - warnings: makeout at the end, again, suggestive, other than that nothing.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Ghost, Ghost do you copy? Over."

A male's voice booms through your partner's radio, cutting through the loud silence of the blizzard blowing your ears out.

Ghost pressed down on a button after muttering not-so-quiet curses, "Yeah, copy, out." His voice was angry, like it always was, probably upset at the fact that he was stuck with one of the newest trainees, a woman who knew how to shoot but not necessarily where to aim.

"Y/N, you coming?" He demanded over his shoulder. "Yeah, right behind you Lieutenant."

You were slightly terrified, Ghost was the one you didn't want to be stuck with ever, especially stuck with in a snowstorm. The two of you trekked up a giant hill and awaited Captain Price's further instructions, if the signal would even allow.

"Good. There's a safe house up over the hill. It's a log cabin, not in perfect condition by any means, but it'll keep you warm. Over." Price's voice came through staticky, barely comprehensive, but Ghost understood every word.

He sighed, "Roger that." He stayed quiet for a while before asking you, without even turning around, "You hear all that?" You had to swallow to moisten your dry throat before speaking up. "Yes sir." Snow was stuck in your boots, making you yearn for any sort of warm comfort. The weather was unpredictable, meaning neither of you were prepared to be snowed on. You prayed the cabin had hot water and a large supply of soft blankets.

As you neared the house, it was almost pretty. Despite the water damage and evasive vines covering the sides, the snow almost made it seem fairytale-like, from a movie or something. Ghost shook the snow off his boots on the last step and you did the same, trying to act like you knew what you were doing, but you ended up stubbing your toe and silently groaning under your breath.

Entering the cabin, it wasn't any warmer than it was outside. You started to interject but Ghost stopped you mid-sentence, "Don't get your panties in a twist, I need to turn on the AC."

Your jaw still agape at his comment, you watched him throw off his backpack and gear on the nearest couch and storm back outside. While he hopefully fixed the air conditioning, you took it upon yourself to check the place, opening and closing doors, cabinets, turning on the water and smiling at how hot it was. Opening a closet close to the kitchen, you found it to be stocked with pillows and fuzzy duvets, quilts, and towels. You'd never been so excited to see sheets.

Ghost opened the screen door and slammed it, maybe he thought it was easier than just getting your attention by saying your name, "Bad news."

Oh great. "What?"

He sighed before continuing, "AC won't work. Stupid Price must be having himself a ball back at headquarters, laughing with Soap about how bloody freezing we'll be." His sentences turned into mumbles as he walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. He almost groaned at the feeling, and you felt your cheeks flush at the sound.

You said nothing in response but looked back to the closet and chose which blanket, or blankets, you'd wrap around yourself. You reached up to grab a quilt from the top shelf, but when you pulled on it, maybe 5 more came down with it. A few fast footsteps came up behind you, and you felt a presence behind you as they fell on top of you.

You screamed in surprise and turned around to see Ghost was standing with his arms up, trying to support the 20 pounds in blankets. It looked like maybe he tried to catch them, but it didn't work.

Ghost had essentially created a giant tent for you. His body towered over you, and his arms outstretched almost reached the ceiling. You started to belly laugh at the circumstances, but you quieted down when Ghost stayed frustratingly quiet. "What're you laughing about? It's not funny." His statement just made you laugh more, now you were clenching your stomach and bent over, laughing your head off. Ghost's accent was always increasingly stronger when he was angry. You absolutely loved it.

He almost started to smile; you swear you saw it, but before you got a glimpse of his teeth, he got out from under the blankets and left you alone, the weight almost knocking you to the floor. You heard a snicker as he left.

"I'm gonna take a shower, Y/N, feel free to do whatever." You hummed in response, exhausted from folding and putting the blankets back up on the top shelf.

As you heard the water run, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. Sure, I mean, this wasn't the best circumstance you could be in, but maybe Ghost wasn't as awful as you thought. He was definitely attractive and had a sense of humor that he just didn't know how to use, but it was perfect. As you almost smiled to yourself just thinking about it, you heard a banging on the wall, coming from the shower. You jumped in your seat at the noise, and didn't even stand up before you heard Ghost yell, "Hey, get me a towel would ya?" Goodness, he was loud. You could visibly see birds fly away at his screaming.

"Yeah, yeah!" You yelled back, returning to the closet and prepared yourself to open it. Grabbing a white, scratchy towel, you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom, you had to walk through a bedroom to get there. Stepping over Ghost's clothes made your breath accelerate, he'd just left them scattered across the floor.

You knocked on the bathroom door, "Come in," was the only response you got. It was gruff, demanding. You'd be scared not to. Steam poured out as you opened the door, not sure where to look and where not to.

"Here," you said quietly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the thought of Ghost in the shower. You saw his arm outstretch from behind the curtain, wet fingers ready to grip the towel. You stared at them for a minute before his hand flexed, signaling you to give it to him. After handing him the towel, "Thanks," was all he said.

You didn't know what to say, so you stumbled on your words as you spoke, "Is the water hot at least?"

Ghost laughed deeply, making your stomach churn, "Smoking." You chuckled awkwardly before bolting out of the bathroom, unable to make any more small talk that close to his naked body. How could anyone?

You heard the water turn off and climbed under your covers on the rickety couch, if Ghost were to come out, you'd pretend you were asleep and had been for a while. You could hear his bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, his clothes being slid on and all the yawns and quiet groans escaping his mouth.

He opened the bedroom door and your eyes slammed shut. "Oi."

You said nothing, but you could sense him getting closer to the couch. "I know you're not asleep, there's no way anyone could on that thing."

One eye blinked open to find Ghost's face hovering over yours from behind the couch. His wet hair dripped onto your face, and he hesitatingly wiped it off with his fingers. "Sorry 'bout that," he whispered.

"S' fine," you whispered back, shamelessly staring at every part of his face.

"Let me sleep here. You already complain about your back all the time. Don't need anymore."

You rolled your eyes and closed them again before turning over on your pillow, your back now facing him. "No way, I was here first."

He scoffed, "Unbelievable. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Ghost started to walk away before you rolled your eyes once more and jumped up from the couch, making a run for the bedroom with a pillow under your arm. "What the-," Ghost said as you ran past him. You jumped on the bed and immediately sighed when you pulled the covers up, "It's freezing, it'd be stupid not take advantage of human warmth. It's like, the only thing we're good for."

Ghost cocked an eyebrow and slowly walked to the other side of the bed with his arms crossed over his huge chest. "The only thing, huh?" He got underneath the covers carefully after shutting the last lamp off, and you shivered as his skin brushed against yours.

"Ghost, you're freezing!" Your teeth chattered for dramatic effect, and he placed a hand on the back of your neck just to make you squeal. You did just that, giggling and trying to peel his freezing hand away but it was no use; he plastered his other hand on the other side of your head to hold himself up as his hand warmed up from your skin.

"I guess you're right, warmth is the only thing you got going f' ya, isn't it?" He teased, and you slapped his arm. "How dare you." You whispered.

His arm rested on your bare waist, even though it took a long time for it to get there. Ghost was never good with women, touch, admiration of any kind, but he'd be willing to embarrass himself for you. You squirmed slightly at the feeling, but allowed yourself to scooch closer to him, taking his touch as words in and of itself. Come closer. Touch me back.

Your hand slowly made its way up his bicep, squeezing every so often at the muscle. His eyes were low and hooded as they watched you watch him, feel him. Once you looked up at him, your arms now wrapped around his neck, you could feel his breath on your mouth; that's how close your faces were. You watched his lips, open and close, his tongue licked his bottom one, and that was all you needed.

You took ahold of him, putting your lips on his. It was slow at first, careful, gentle. Until your hands drifted up his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly, and it elicited a soft groan from him. You opened your mouth, and Ghost followed after you. Now he was greedy, hungry, starving. His tongue swept across your lips first before making contact with your own tongue. You broke from the kiss, slightly panting and lips swollen. You suddenly realized how hot it had gotten, and so had Ghost.

"See? Human warmth." You said into Ghost's neck after burying yourself into him. You felt his jaw flex, most likely from a smirk, and he pulled the covers up over both of you. "Whatever."

[adachimoe]

2009 Persona Club P4 Profiles

I've posted Adachi and Yukiko's before, but this is a collection of all their "YHVH" (Yasogami High Visual H) social media profiles.

The protagonist doesn't have a profile due to him being the silent protagonist.

Yosuke

Nickname: Isn't "Prince Walking Disappointment" kinda mean?

Greeting: Yo!-Sup? This is Yo!-Su?-Ke's room (... I tried ...)

Favorite music: Something you can listen to and play. Guitar owns!

Favorite Food: Fruit flavored throat drops cause they're good for karaoke (Yosuke can give the protagonist a Fruity Fruity Throat Lozenge in dungeon chats; also in the evening hangouts during Golden)

Least Favorite Food: Tofu - sorry Rise!

Dislikes: Cockroaches they're black and rustle around and move so quickly ugh

Clubs: People who commute on bikes, Wanna go to Junes?, Delicious Homemade Food, Trial of the Dragon

Inbox: "DVD!!! DVD!!!" (from Chie)

Parting words: Saving up for a scooter (these profiles are before Golden came out)

Chie

Nickname: Kung Fu Girl

Greeting: Check this! Hyah!

Gender: Girl!!!

Favorite food: Meat

Favorite animals: Hamsters, bunnies, and other tiny animals

Dislikes: Math, insects - the enemy of all mankind

Favorite movies: Kung fu

Clubs: Trial of the Dragon, Burning Dragon, Fans of Animals w/Tiny Eyes, Meat Lovers

Inbox: "Return my world history notebook" (from Yukiko)

Yukiko

Nickname: Yukiko, the lady of the house... Sigh...

Greeting: Hello~ Chie invited me

Likes: Japanese food, dogs (you see, one fateful day on the Samegawa... [omitted]) (Talking about her and Chie meeting due to a dog from Chie's SLink and the Golden audio drama)

Dislikes: Nothing in particular, but I don't take well to sex jokes / dirty talk

Special skills: Kimono dressing and table / place setting

Clubs: Japanese clothing fans, the Go Home club (for people who aren't in clubs), Let's visit the dam, Fans of Showa Era music

Inbox: "Lemme bathe in the hot springs again" (from Yosuke)

Kanji

Nickname: If you call me bald, imma punch you in the face

Greeting: I'm Inaba's Runaway Train

Likes: Ototo (animal crackers), Homerun Bars (topsicles)

Hobbies: Sewing, knitting, peeling the wrappers off of Homerun Bars

Clubs: Let's Sew, Knitting Cafe, Delicious Shops in the Central Shopping District, Hawaiian Quilt Enjoyers

Ideal fight: One without rules

Inbox: "Hey, I got the rare submarine!" (from Yosuke; this was "rare penguin animal cracker" in English)

Rise

Nickname: Risechi / Risette, duh!

Greeting: Where a young maiden's secrets get revealed

Likes: Hagakure special from Hagakure Ramen

Hates: Japanese ginger and royal fern

Favorite people: Senpai / the protagonist, grandma

Least favorite people: Indecisive and unreliable people

Clubs: Cafes and Sweets of Okina city, Tofu Lovers, How about Kanami Mashita?, Fans of Animals w/Tiny Eyes

Inbox: "The best sweets around are..." (from Teddie)

Naoto

Nickname: The detective prince

Greeting: Hi there, my upperclassmen invited me

Gender: No comment (As in, Naoto wrote "no comment")

Favorite book genre: Detective novels due to work

Likes: Putting myself in danger (longer explanation of what it says in Japanese)

Dislikes: Women's clothing - especially anything revealing

Specialty: Working with machines, been doing it since I was young

Clubs: Linux Fans, DIY PC Builders, Fans of Mystery Novel Narrative Tricks, Beginners Fashion

Inbox: "Let's get a bucket ice cream parfait tomorrow" (from Rise)

Lastly, Nanako, Dojima, and Adachi don't have the high school social media profiles, but they still have regular profiles nonetheless.

Nanako

Likes: Dad, big brother, Risechi / Risette, everyone else in the Investigation Team, Junes

Dislikes: Fighting, shiokara (fermented fish guts; it seems that Dojima keeps these in the fridge in P4 lol. She uses some of them to make the Slime chocolate in Golden.)

Specialty: Singing the Junes theme

Dojima

Likes: Nanako, beer

Dislikes: Working, physical tasks that require attention to detail (I'm clumsy)

Specialty: Judo, reading one's character

Adachi

Likes: Sushi (especially uni), beef, cabbage dishes

Dislikes: Paperwork, cleaning his room

Specialty: Revolver maintenance

Here's the full post of Adachi's profile w/the fanart pages too

Teddie's is. Uh. An experience. I'll post his sometime else cause I think I'm not 100% sure how it should be handled. Like he fills out [gender/sex] (they're the same character in JP) as an emoji of a woman and the words "I live for love". Which I feel like is best interpreted as, "Sex: Yes please". But hmmmMMMmmm.

[dalishious]

Veilguard Companion First Impressions

So, I’ve finally recruited all the companions for the Veilguard! And as such, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on them each.

Please keep in mind that as the title says, these are just my first impressions. I am nowhere near finishing the game yet. My thoughts very well may change after getting to know the characters more as the story progresses. Also, please do not take any opinions you do not share as a personal attack against you.

Bellara

Bellara might be my #1 favourite.

I’ve seen some people just say Bellara is “a Merrill rip-off” but I don’t think that’s fair at all. If all it took was a few similarities to say a character is a rip-off of another character, than I can think of so many boring white cishet male characters who would be guilty of that. But heaven forbid we get more than one elven woman who is passionate about her people’s culture and history!

Frankly, I think Bellara is a breath of fresh air in terms of Dalish characters specifically. Finally, a Dalish elf who isn’t punished for being proudly Dalish by the narrative.

I also really appreciate that so much of her can be easily understood by her backstory, too. Like, her feelings of never being good enough is reflective of the very realistic grief she is experiencing.

Lucanis

If Bellara isn’t my #1 favourite, then Lucanis is. They really both dominate that spot neck in neck. I can’t decide if I want to put him in a jar and shake it to see what happens, or wrap him up tight in a quilt and give him some good coffee.

I’m just a sucker for Lucanis’s character archetype, is the thing. I love taking him out simply because he’s so much fun to have around. And in terms of companion arcs, his is the one I am most intrigued to see where it goes.

Taash

(While I haven’t personally gotten to Taash’s non-binary plot yet, I am aware Taash switches to they/them pronouns, so that’s what I’ll be using.)

The moment I met Taash felt my heart skip a beat. The only thing hotter than their appearance is their voice. I know BioWare probably left Taash out of a lot of the advertising because they wanted to keep Taash’s gender stuff a surprise, but oh my god, because of this I was taken by quite the surprise. And so far Taash seems to be the type to keep a hard outer shell to protect a much softer side, and that is yet another character archetype I really love.

Davrin

My initial gripe about Davrin’s writing being so exclusively about Assan rather than Davrin himself is slowly peeling away, I hope. While I still think its bullshit that you can welcome Assan into the Veilgaurd but not Davrin, at least I’ve finally gotten a few bits of dialogue to get to know more about him finally. I just want to keep this momentum! Because Davrin as a concept has so much potential, in my opinion, and what little bits I have gotten from him have captivated me. But I can’t tell yet if it’s intentionally part of his character that maybe he’s just a closed off person who takes a while to trust others, (a little like Taash?) Or if the writer just cared more about griffons than the actual guy. I’m really, really holding out hope for the former.

Emmrich

Emmrich is so much more charming than I expected, and I found him instantly endearing the moment we met him. I also really like that we’re finally hearing some different stances and insight on death and necromancy than we ever had before from a companion! It makes him feel so fresh and completely new!

Harding

I’ll be real with you: I was not anticipating caring about Harding so much. She was who I was originally least interested in, when the companion line-up was announced. But the direction they’re taking her in has me questioning so much about bigger lore questions.

Unfortunately, I still don’t see much in her except being a vessel for those bigger lore questions, though. Like, Harding as a person has me mildly curious at best.

Neve

I’m really sorry Neve fans, but I just find her really boring so far, in comparison to everyone else. She doesn’t have a lot going on, and what she does have going on, doesn’t really captivate me much. Maybe I was just hoping she’d have stronger stances on things than she does? I don’t know.

It could be that I just really fucked up with Neve, and it won’t be until another playthrough that I’ll get to experience more that will change my mind. Because I will admit I am very good at picking choices she disapproves of, with my first Rook.

[jbaileyfansite]

The finale of Fellow Travelersis now streaming, ahead of its Sunday night airing on Showtime—a conclusion to one of the year’s best series that is gorgeous, devastating, and cathartic in equal measure.

The story of a tortured-yet-beautiful romance between two men over decades, the show waltzed through those emotions throughout the entire season, as Matt Bomer’s Hawk and Jonathan Bailey’s Tim weather the historical circumstances that prevented their deserved happily ever after. Bomer’s nuanced performance as an infatuated, conflicted man is the best work of his career, and, in the emotion-packed finale, Bailey is a revelation. Across multiple timelines, he showcases how intertwined grit, defiance, and joy in spite of darkness are for gay men determined to make their lives mean something in a world that actively works to strip them of dignity.

The series spans Hawk and Tim’s meet-cute during the Lavender Scare and McCarthyism-led panic of the 1950s through the AIDS crisis of the 1980s. The final scene, set at the unveiling of the AIDS Memorial Quilt at the National Mall in D.C. that might as well have been an anvil plummeting straight onto my heart, it shattered me so much.

There are two images in the final episode that have seared into my brain since I first watched, tableaus charting the arc of a doomed, yet life-changing relationship. First is Hawk and Tim slow dancing naked in the privacy of a secret apartment and, later, Tim’s head nestled on Hawk’s chest as they take a post-coital nap—moments of bliss stolen in a society that won’t allow them that pleasure. Then there’s a mirror of that position decades later, when Hawk climbs into Tim’s hospital bed to cradle him, as Tim struggles through a rough night during his last days battling AIDS.

The power of those moments is amplified by Bailey’s performance. In the earlier timeline, his wide, giddy eyes betray a man fully aware of his good fortune to be so madly in love, cognizant of how precarious and fleeting the feeling could be and determined to live in the splendor of it. Later, as he faces death, his resignation to fate is not one of defeat, but a catalyst for clarity.

So much of his life was impacted—some might say ruined—by his inability to move on from his connection to Hawk. But in a sensational monologue delivered after Hawk questions how much pain he’s caused Tim, Tim corrects the narrative: “I spent most of my life waiting for God to love me. And then I realized the only thing that matters is that I loved God. It’s the same with you. I’ve never loved anyone but you. You were my great, consuming love. Most people don’t get one of those. I do. I have no regrets.”

Bailey’s performance of this monologue stunned me. It is spoken with such certainty, an outpouring of a lifetime of emotion funneled into a searing, pointed declaration. He’s speaking to not only a complicated romance with his lover, but also on behalf of generations of gay men whose great loves were colored and, it often seemed, marred by the misfortune of the times in which they were kindled. That’s the revelation that Tim, through Bailey’s delivery, speaks to: There’s no misfortune when it comes to love; we may now be aware of the hideousness with which society treated (and still treats) the gay community, but how dare we assume that the love found was any kind of misfortune.

I’ll be thinking about this episode, that monologue, and Bailey’s performance for a long time. Do yourself a favor and watch it.

Source

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 鬓边不是海棠红/Winter Begonia

Winter Begonia is the tale of the intertwined lives of a wealthy, westernized businessman and a bratty, dramatic Peking Opera performer as they navigate the historical landscape of 1930s China.

It is a slow historical ramble of a show, to the point where I couldn't really say it has a single plot. Events just happen in their lives, and the show follows them with a pleasant steadiness. Characters go away, and sometimes they come back. Interpersonal conflicts rise and then get resolved. Sometimes you just get to sit and watch part of an opera happen. The last third of the show develops a slightly more cohesive narrative, but even then, it's still mostly a loose constellation of events related to larger goings-on in the culture.

So if you're looking for tight plots and fast-paced action, you'll want to look somewhere else. But if you're the kind of person who likes to wrap up sometimes in a gentle warm blanket of a beautiful show, I have five reasons you should give this one a try.

1. Oh, they're in love

Perhaps the most notable thing about Cheng Fengtai and Shang Xirui is that they spend the entire show smiling at one another, staring longingly at one another, and/or making each other laugh.

A lot of danmei couples depend on having at least one partner who, if not outright tsundere, is at least stoically long-suffering -- which is romantic, sure, but also exhausting in real life. These two read about as married as any danmei pair I've ever seen because they make one another smile all the time. They're incredibly touchy and affectionate from basically the moment they meet. They're not just in love, they actually like one another.

Now, don't get me wrong: These two are both absolute exhausting gremlins who deserve one another so they don't have to be anyone else's problems. But they're good-natured enough about their respective gremlin natures that when one of them lets loose with his rascality, the other tends to think it's hilarious.

They don't even have the mandated danmei breakup! They're never mad at one another for more than the length of an episode. Most of the time they're just refreshingly normal about one another (or, you know, about as normal as two drama queens can be). And when they're being not normal about one another, it's because the circumstances they are currently enduring are not normal either.

They're so in love that by the time you get to the last episode, everyone in their lives is like, gee, those two sure are in love. For the main couple in a Chinese-censored BL adaptation? That's pretty darn in love.

2. The costumes!!!

Of course I have to gush over the costumes. Several major characters are professional opera performers, and their wardrobes are just stunning in complexity and detail -- and accuracy, apparently.

But they're not even where all of the wardrobe budget went! Everyone looks great, from the dapper upper class to the household servants to the street performers.

I also can't get over how everyone looks so cozy in their winter outfits. The show really wants to hammer home how cold Beijing is, and so most non-opera clothes are either heavily quilted or furry. Not a single outfit in this show is slimming (except maybe for some of the gorgeous gowns Cheng Meixin wears). It's all about conserving body heat, which means a lot of people walk around basically wearing mildly tailored quilts all the time. I love it. I envy it.

3. Oops! All bottoms!

This is a show of very soft men. It helps that very many of them have spent their whole lives playing female roles, but even those that haven't tend to be pretty darn soft.

(And I'm not even talking about the way people keep handing Cheng Fengtai babies and he loves it.)

Du Luocheng and Shang Xirui are absolutely what happens when you get two soft gay guys who are kinda into one another, but they're both too lazy to top, so they just become best friends instead.

Fan Lian stands as a testament to how you can be the only heterosexual in the show and still be soft as hell.

The old married gays. Softness level: off the charts.

Chen Renxiang's role is that of the opera frenemy, and he's incredibly soft about it. (This actor is also apparently in the Sha Po Lang live-action adaptation! Maybe someday it will be released...)

Opera underling La Yuehong hardens up later in the show, but even when he does, there's still a tragic softness to it.

Even the baddies are soft! Pretty much all the rival opera bitches fall into the "love to hate" category -- and nearly all of them win at least some sympathy from you before they leave the story for good.

There's one more soft boy whose presence surprised me, and that is Xue Zhicheng/Kujo Kazuma, a sympathetic Japanese character. Every other Japanese character in the show is sinister somehow -- not surprising, considering the drama is set during the brutal Japanese occupation of Beiping/Beijing.

But this little guy is a gentle, well-meaning opera fan who just wants to watch his favorite performers! When his actions cause trouble, it's only because he's so well-meaning that he couldn't see how anyone could disapprove of his attempts at cross-cultural undertanding. He even comes to the rescue a few times, at significant personal cost!

Moreover, the show uses him to make it clear that there's a difference between the Japanese occupying force and Japanese people and culture. In fact, the show is pretty critical of people who conflate the two and use interest in the latter as evidence of support of the former. That is not a level of nuance I've seen from other dramas set in this time period, and I was pleased to see it.

In conclusion, the critial war shortage in 1930s Beijing was not food or medicine or ammunition, but tops.

4. A whole lotta ladies

Again, not even counting the fact that one of the two main guys, many of his buddies, all of his heroes, and several of the antagonists professionally dress as women.

The most notable of them is Cheng Fengtai’s wife, Fan Xiang'er. They've been married for years by the time the show starts, and they have a son together. Theirs is an arranged marriage that they've managed to make work so well that they've actually wound up liking one another ... most of the time. Remember what I said earlier about his being exhausting? She knows that better than anyone.

(Sidebar: If you are uncomfortable with a love story where one of the participants is canonically married to someone else, this may be one you want to skip. That said, there are several male characters in this show who have multiple wives and/or mistresses, so the metric of what counts as infidelity in this setting is ... loose.)

Beyond her, though, there are many more female supporting characters in this show, from all different socioeconomic levels, in all different kinds of situations.

A caveat: Some of the women (one in particular) are at times frustrating as hell because they're too often written as jealous shrews who believe all the terrible gossip they hear and act on it without having actual adult conversations with anyone first. I dislike this trope, mostly because it relies on making some smart women artificially very stupid for the sake of forwarding the plot. I have little patience for situations that could have been solved five episodes ago if somebody had just been willing to ask clarifying questions.

That said, I can't be too mad about that, because there are many, many more women who are not written like that. Some of them are good and loyal! Some are sneaky and self-interested! Some are callous and manipulative! Some are meek and traumatized! Some make terrible decisions! Some make terrible decisions but, like, you get it! You know, just like in real life?

The answer to better representation is almost always more representation. When a character is the only one of whatever they are, everything they do is kind of an indictment of that category, especially when that category has a history of stereotypical negative representation. When there are several others, the characters stop being representatives of that category and start being just plain characters.

5. It just feels good to watch

Don't misunderstand: This is not a happy fun time show where everything in sunshine and roses all the way down. There are plenty of tense and emotional parts. Not everyone we like makes it out of the drama alive. Not all love stories get a happily ever after. People disappoint one another all the time. Awful things happen when soldiers occupy civilian populations. Poverty is a bitch.

But the show itself remains a nice viewing experience. It's absolutely a feast for the senses, what with all the music and costumes and sets and props and old-fashioned cars and everything.

The story is very straightforward. It's never trying to do any complex schemes or mislead you before some big reveal. I imagine this could be a good show to put on in the background while you're doing something else. You're never going to be too desperately confused about what's going on if you zone out for a minute -- and if you are, just hang on for a bit, because by next episode, it'll probably be onto whatever storyline comes next.

I have not read the novel, and I cannot judge anything against its standards. However, my friend who has read parts of the novel tells me that the adaptation is much preferable, because in the novel, you get to hear everyone's internal narration -- and everyone's internal narration makes it clear they're all bratty, insufferable assholes. That is not the case here! Or, rather, they are often bratty and/or insufferable, but from outside their heads, it's a lot more charming.

Finally, it's legitimately a very good love story. Shang Xirui is the only person in Cheng Fengtai's life who loves him for who he is, not what someone else needs him to be. Cheng Fengtai goes from being enraptured by this beautiful little weirdo to basically wanting to wife him. They spend a lot of time taking care of one another, sometimes in the only ways they know how. They're capable of operating independently -- there are several episodes where their storylines diverge completely -- but they'd prefer not to. They've just each found their soulmate, and that's all there is to it. (The red thumbprint in the palm is about the most romantic thing I've ever seen.)

I'm a little surprised by how little I hear English-speaking fandom talk about this one, especially since (see below) it's a widely available, high-budget show that even has a Shang Xirui figurine, and there's no question about how in gay love these two are. But if you hop over to AO3, there's only 257 works total in the Winter Begonia tag, a scant 57 of which are in English, and if you've tried looking into the Winter Begonia tag on Tumblr, you know it's pretty quiet 'round here.

I can't be sure, but I'd assume that's partly because this is both a) a relatively low-stakes drama, and b) so enmeshed with actual historical events and concepts that you'd have to do at least a baseline amount of research before making any fan media. I would imagine that for some folk, this is a barrier to entry.

And it is 49 slow, gentle episodes long. I saw Tumblr posts asking which episodes are important, because the posters don't want to or can't commit to watching the whole thing. But the answer is ... all of them? none of them? There's no plot you'd be getting or missing with specific episodes. There are very few things I can think of that would even qualify as spoilers. It's just a walk through a couple very eventful years in the main pair's lives. I understand if folk aren't up for that, but if you are, this is really a gem.

Have I convinced you to give it a try?

I would say that Winter Begonia is perhaps the most easily watchable of any c-drama I've come across. Here's where you can find it:

iQiyi

Viki

Amazon Prime

YouTube

We watched most of it on YouTube, where the subs were perfectly fine. However, there was one episode where we had to switch platforms because the English subs were all out of synch, so we went to Amazon and they were fine there too. Other than that, I don't really have a sense of which translation experience is the best. Try them all!

(PS: If you feel like putting on a tinfoil hat, I'm just going to say, they look at one another like that in real life, too.)

[chargoeson]

Hello! Writeblr re-Introduction

hiiiii pals! I made my writeblr introduction last year and it was such a good intro to the community! but as time goes on and organizations fall i want to re-introduce myself and my writing without any associations.

my name is Charlotte, but you can call me Char as well. She/Her, I'm 25, queer, and live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.

I write literary fiction with a special affection for surrealism and dream-like vibes. I do have a couple soft fantasy and short story projects that I've made posts for, but I'll stick to my litfic on this pinned post as they are my passion projects!

themes I often explore in these books are: isolation, anxiety, complex relationships between mothers and daughters, bisexuality, winter, dissociation, and overall rural misery!

I have a bachelor's degree in English Language and Literature and paid special attention to Gothic and Romantic movements.

on top of writing, I also love quilting/sewing, collage making, playing Stardew Valley and Baldur's Gate 3, and doing DIY home renovations.

Reading is my passion, even more so than writing! My favorite authors are Murakami, Mieko Kawakami, the Bronte sisters, Iain Reid, Han Kang, and Ottessa Moshfegh.

my three main WIPS can stand alone but are technically a trilogy. read about them after the cut!

The Ballad of a Blue Whale-- This novella was written in November, 2023. It follows Maren Hara, a recent college graduate who has to move back in with her father, a rigid and unfeeling doctor. To cope with the emotional distance of her father and the slow dissolution of her relationships she begins walking through the night. Both to be away from home and removed from her current life. It’s during these walks she finds a jazz bar in an adjoining city. The patrons, and especially the owner of this bar, captivate her. At the core of the narrative is her inability to open herself to others, and how attempts to do so are physically and mentally cataclysmic, although necessary. As she finds herself, she loses both her old life and this interim space. 

I Want to Build a Home with You-- This novel is in the first draft/development stage. I began in December, 2023. Its events follow Leonie Richards as she walks her grandmother, famed novelist Hellen Barnaby, through the final weeks of her life then inherits her home. Leonie, once an infamous performance artist, decides to settle into a life of portrait painting for a small but wealthy pool of clients left to her by her grandmother. Her old peers. After Hellen’s death, Leonie’s final connections to the outside world are her strange clients, the art store clerk, and her uncle Ox who is embittered by his lack of inheritance. The longer she stays in the home, the stranger things seem to be. She wakes up ragged, dirt under her fingernails with memories of a rock formation in the forest she has never seen. Forest spirits or generational curse, there is a limerence threatening her life. 

No Glory-- Special Agent Seth Barnaby has been tasked with investigating the mysterious, possibly cult-associated murders of young women across the state, but this one could be the key. To decode the newest set of clues he teams up with Director of Anthropology Dr. Miel Noh and they get into the field. The small town misleads them at every turn, from an odd boy named Calf to the corpse of a girl who was staying in his family’s motel. With Seth’s checkered past he recognizes the patterns, but time is of the essence and if they don’t find answers another woman could die. With no way out, they return to the only lead Seth knows: an institutionalized man who confessed to the first murder that brought Seth to the FBI years ago.

and that's a wrap! thank you for reading, would love to reconnect with writers from last year as well as new friends. feel free to slide into my asks, follow, or join the tag list.

tags: @annlillyjose @coffeeandcalligraphy @subtlefires @belovedviolence @onomatopiya @thelaughingstag

[mtaartsdesign]

We mourn the loss and celebrate the life of Faith Ringgold (1930-2024). A painter, mixed media sculptor, performance artist, activist, writer, teacher and lecturer, Ringgold’s impact on American art cannot be understated, and her legacy is especially felt in New York City. Born in Harlem, Ringgold attended City College for both her B.S. and M.A. degrees in visual art before travelling the world, which would inform the rich narratives in her work and the development of her iconic story quilts. She revolutionized notions of craft in fine art with her unique style of narrative quilt paintings while centering African American and feminist voices. The distinguished artist received more than 80 awards and 23 Honorary Doctorates throughout her prolific career. Ringgold’s work has been exhibited internationally and belongs in the collections of numerous institutions including the Brooklyn Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the High Museum of Art, the Studio Museum in Harlem, and the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.

Ringgold’s mosaic artwork “Flying Home: Harlem Heroes and Heroines (Downtown and Uptown)” (1996) at 125 St (2,3) station honors Harlem notables and makes them fly. Ringgold has said of the work: "I love every one of these people. I wanted to share those memories, to give the community - and others just passing through - a glimpse of all the wonderful people who were part of Harlem. I wanted them to realize what Harlem has produced and inspired." Faith Ringgold herself is certainly a Harlem heroine who has inspired and will inspire many for years to come.

📸1: MTA A&D/Cheryl Hageman, 2: Trent Reeves

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (23)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.5k

“C-commander, you’re going to make me c-come.” You warned for the last time before letting yourself go. Where? Well, that was for him to decide, because your legs had stopped responding a long time ago. But you didn’t need them anyway; with his nails buried in your back and his dick, deep between your legs, you weren’t going anywhere. At least not anywhere he didn’t decide.

Like a starved soul waiting to be spoon-fed, you opened your mouth wide, a silent moan escaping your lips as you were about to taste the sweet orgasm he had so prettily gift-wrapped for you. Indulgent like thick cocoa in oversized cups, comforting like cinnamon upon custard, forbidden like molasses at midnight, or messy like melting ice cream dripping down your fingers. What would he taste like today?

You would’ve found out, if only he had stayed.

Because, without allowing time for confusion or emptiness to happen, he pulled out, slipped his arm under your waist, and turned you around, making you sit back up on the desk, where you finally came eye to eye with him, and the sweaty streaks of sunshine sticking to his forehead despite the unforgiving temperatures lurking outside your window.

His breathing was labored and ragged, like an elaborate quilt. Warm. Homelike. Handmade. But that was something you both had in common. Your chests, rising and falling against each other; your faces, so close you were stealing each other’s oxygen; his lips, hovering over yours, reminding you of butterflies fluttering around a marigold garden; making you realize how long it had been since the last time you kissed; and your folds, desperately dripping and clenching around the overwhelming emptiness, reminding you of how ready you were for that to change.

You lifted a hand up to his face, pulling him closer; your eyes staring into his, blue like the sky after a storm.

Or perhaps, the storm was just on its way.

Strong arm still wrapped around your waist, he smoothly glided back into you; his lush eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, and his mouth hanging slightly open, as your walls squeezed his swollen member. Suffocating him. Just the way he liked it.

Feeble, sheepish whimpers escaped your lips at the gentle intrusion. As gentle as the raindrops now tapping on the window, announcing the last rainfall of the winter.

Or maybe, the first one of the spring.

“I’m sorry.” He grunted against your lips, before finally closing the distance between you.

And even if he hadn’t spelled out the words for you, you could taste them in his kiss. You could taste it all, even though the tea you had prepared for him remained untouched at the other end of the desk. You could taste the lemon, bitter like regret, yet also fresh like new beginnings. And there was also the honeycomb, nostalgic like a sunset, yet sweet like the waltz your tongues were dancing inside your mouth. A slow, gentle waltz under the rain. His tongue, in perfect synchrony with whatever magic his dick was performing inside you, making you moan against his lips, just in case he didn’t know how good he was making you feel.

And the sensation of your mouth stuffed with his tongue and your pussy, with his cock, quickly became too overwhelming for your poor body to bear; your insides crumbling like sand as a sinking feeling took over. Not the type that precedes a bad day however, but the floaty, funny type you always experienced when jumping from treetops during ODM practice. And even though you were perfectly safe there, held in place by his arm around your waist, and your legs around his hips, you felt like you were free-falling, plummeting down into something unknown. And like so, you pulled away, deciding to wrap your arms around his neck instead, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder, where you felt the safest.

“Me too.” You whispered against the damp collar of his shirt. “I promise there’s no one else, Erwin.” Finally able to lay your worries down on his chest, as you let your weight fall against him. “Only you.” And you felt his grip tighten at your words, bringing you impossibly closer to him. “Yes, I’m yours. Only yours. A-always yours.” You repeated over an over, answering the question his cock was relentlessly asking, as it stabbed you repeatedly. “I belong to you and no- no one else mmmhh~ I don’t want anyone else inside me but you.” You closed your eyes, now saturated with tears, not knowing if it was because of how much you missed him, or because of how big he was.

But whatever the reason, your words caused his thrusts to hasten, and his nails to bury even deeper in the thick flesh around your hips, burning your skin like the hot iron they use to mark animals. And you called his name for good measure, just in case he needed further confirmation that you were his. You called his name as repeatedly as the drops falling from the sky outside. You called his name as fireworks exploded all over your body; your back arching against the muscular arm he kept around you, your head thrown all the way back, and your breasts in full display, like a ceremonial feast offered to a king.

And when your muscles stopped spasming, you collapsed on him, desperately gasping for air against his neck, as if you had just come back to life after almost drowning. And you honestly didn’t know if the moisture on his shirt was coming from his skin or your eyes.

While your forehead took a much needed rest against his shoulder, you looked down to find him still buried into you, your sweet nectar spilling out of your hole, dripping down his thighs like honey, messily sliding down the glossy wood of his desk.

And you looked up at him through heavy eyelids, a fucked out smile on your lips, silently asking if he too found it beautiful, the mess you had created. And this time, for the first time in days, he smiled too. His hand temporarily leaving the abused skin of your hips to tuck sweaty strands behind you ear.

Please fuck me again.

“Please stay.” You requested softly, clenching around him, hoping he wouldn’t pull out. Hoping things would stay as they were right now. Between the two of you. Trapped in your little bubble. His eyes like the clear sky reflected in a stream, like gentle sun rays tickling your skin, on a Sunday morning, just a little before noon.

I love you. Your lips quivered, tempted to let the words spill. I love you, Commander. But you didn’t want the bubble to burst. You wanted to stay forever trapped inside with him. Together. As one.

I love you, Erwin.

“Please keep making love to me.”

I love you so much.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips just as his hips started to move again. Unhurriedly, gently, indulgently. Like stirring thick cocoa together, by the kitchen window, on a snowy night.

You held his face as he sucked on your bottom lip, as his tongue savored all his favorite flavors on yours, as his lips condensed a million thoughts into a moment. And not long after, when the pace of his thrusts hastened again, you pulled away, not wanting to miss a second of his face when he came, something so captivating and artistic it belonged in a museum. Truly a masterpiece. His temples covered with salty dew as he panted for air, forehead resting against yours. And you had never been this grateful for the unforgiving training that scouts had to go through. You had never been this grateful for that early morning run he never skipped. Because there was no doubt in your mind that he could fuck you all night long. You had no stamina left, but he did, and that’s all that mattered. After all, his body was the one doing all the hard work, and yours just needed to bounce and react.

“Command-”

“I missed you.” As breathless as you currently were, your heart couldn’t afford the luxury of skipping a beat. Yet it did, your entire body choosing to stay silent, just in case he said it again. Because, the thing is, you really needed to hear those three words again. From those very lips that were now hovering over yours. “I missed you so bad.” He ran his thumb across your cheek, his touch as soothing as the gentle breeze from a faraway childhood summer. “Those days were the worst.” He paused, intently scanning your features as if carving them inside his memory. “Realizing I was no longer on the receiving end of that smile.” His thumb found your bottom lip, and caressed it gently. “Asking myself if I was losing you every time you closed the door behind you.”

“Erwin.” His sweet name on your lips, and salty droplets on your eyes. “I want to be with you.”

Forever. You added in your head, remembering the cabin in the woods. By the stream, a faraway windmill as your closest neighbor, the climbing hydrangea guarding the door, and the stepping stones leading up the hill, where the sycamore was always waiting, in front of the snow-capped mountains, the wooden swing below and its musical creak, its only company. Forwards, backwards, forwards and then backwards again. Never getting tired. And neither do you. But how could you? Waking up next to him every day, his bare back beneath the morning light; and making love, your only plan for the weekend. And if it only existed in a fantasy, why could you describe it in such detail? If it wasn’t in your future, then why could you see it all? Smell it all. Hear it all.

Feel it all.

“So do I.” He answered, his eyes like a sunlit lake, and his eyebrows like the evergreen foliage surrounding it.

“Erwin.” You used his name again, as if it was a promise; your voice impossibly breathy as his hips continued its satisfying dance, that by now had grown more and more erratic, telling you that it was near. You could tell, even if words didn’t forecast it: The cloudburst about to happen between your legs.

He buried his nails even deeper in the abused flesh of your hips, presumably looking for some form of stability as his movements became more and more unsteady. And he was so hard it must hurt. So hard you had to stare, not wanting to miss a second of that spectacular finale: his rich, indulgent cream, the sweet result of your lovemaking, a recipe you had created together, splattering everywhere like fresh paint once he pulled out.

But the thing is, he wasn’t pulling out. You looked back up at him, searching for an explanation, not wanting to get your hopes up, since you didn’t know how ephemeral his mistake would be. But it didn’t look like a mistake. Not when he was staring at you like that, so intently, as if he was fully aware of his actions.

You looked down again. He was going to come; there was no doubt. You felt it inside, and it would happen any time now.

“You look the prettiest when you’re happy.” He said all of a sudden, his voice a mixture of grunts and labored breaths, and his lips curving into the sweetest smile he had given you yet. And maybe it was that, or the window behind him, or the fact that it had also been raining back then, but your mind traveled to the very first day you met. So many nights ago. He had told you to come in, and then apologized for how boring and repetitive your days were about to get. All while smiling, just like today.

Oh, if only you knew back then.

“I want to make you happy.” He said, his eyes wrapping your naked body like the softest of silks, and his smile feeling like a promise, one you couldn’t wait to kiss.

“You already do.” You replied, voice filled with sweet adoration, just mere seconds before he collapsed on you, forehead resting against your shoulder, as you ran soothing fingers through his hair, completely drenched, almost as if he had been fucking you under the pouring rain instead.

I love you. “You did so well for me.” You whispered against his forehead, holding him like you wished you could for the rest of your days, and closed your eyes, enjoying the tickling of his breath against your neck, as well as that of his warm cream sliding down your belly. Someday, maybe in the not so distant future, it would be inside instead.

Or maybe not.

But you didn’t feel like entertaining uncertainty tonight. Not when you finally had him in your arms like this.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and the words tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. His fingertips were drawing soothing patterns on the tender flesh of your hips, but the tone of his voice told you that bruises and hickeys weren’t the only thing he was apologizing about.

“Erwin, I swear there’s nothing between him an-”

“Shhh.” He hushed you softly, leaving his comfortable spot on the crook of your neck so he could look into your eyes. His cheeks were so red, perhaps from being under the sun all day. But you liked to think it was from fucking you so hard just moments ago. “It was never your fault, yet I blamed you for it without even asking you first.”

“You can ask me now.”

“You already gave me your answer.” He smiled, and even though you still wondered what had led him to believe there was something between you and Leon, you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tight and pushing the question to the back of your mind. Your eyes closed, and your cheek resting against his shoulder. Maybe you could try asking him again some other time.

“I’m sorry too.” You said, and even though you were only wearing your underwear, in his embrace, you had no complaints about the cold. “For pulling away all of a sudden, for leaving you in the dark.”

“You can tell me now.”

“Not now.” But maybe some other time. Because, like you said, you didn’t feel like bursting the bubble with your explanations and concerns.

And maybe you were on the same page, because he didn’t pry any further. Instead, he silently caressed your bruised hips and thighs. “I promise I’ll be more gentle next time.”

Next time. You liked that. You liked how those words sounded on his lips.

You took a look at the red skin his fingertips were tracing, skin that would surely be turning purple in the coming days, and smiled teasingly, realizing you hadn’t felt playful in a long time, so the feeling was as foreign as it was welcome. “I guess someone did miss me, after all.”

“You have no idea.” He replied, wistfulness in his words, as you pulled him back to your chest.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando