#winecup

[faguscarolinensis]

Callirhoe involucrata / Winecup Mallow at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[gillianthecat]

[harrycollins]

I was watching a video of Karlach siding with Gortash and betraying him and I-

[emmabeme]

Wine cup pic #fyp #followtrain #winecup #aesthetic #art #love #aesthetics #photography #explorepage #christmas2023 #christmasphoto #santa

[crudlynaturephotos]

[juletheghoul]

Unbroken

AN: I have been toying around with this idea for a couple of years at this point-the idea of being Elia's lady in waiting, and being aggressively pursued by her brother, Oberyn. I imagine him to be younger, wilder, but just as passionate. There is no Ellaria yet, there is no betrayal, just two people who cannot get enough of each other and Oberyn using his position for nothing but mischief. This is quite obviously before the nastiness that we all know befalls House Martell, lets live in it a while! I have a whole drama planned out for them in my head so I might actually write it all out - lets see if I can find the time lol. (in the moodboard above, the face you see is how I imagine Elia to be, reader is still completely nondescript!) This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine- hope you enjoy! 🧡

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Pairing: Oberyn x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk **pregnancy**

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

Her skirts swirl in the wind, whipping around her legs like sand. They were the colour of dusk, burnt oranges and yellows, favouring her golden skin, and her dark eyes. Elia Martell–all the Martells–looked best in these colours. You smile at her as you pour her a cup of wine, indulging her despite her delicate constitution. 

“This is the last of it my Princess,” you fill the cup halfway, “You know it does not sit well.”

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes, sipping at the wine, “you are worse than Doran.” 

You sigh, goodnaturedly, until one of the guards of Sunspear comes, interrupting the Princess enjoying the non-existent breeze.  

“My princess, my lady,” He speaks, addressing you respectively, “The Prince, Oberyn requests your company-”

“Oh what could my brother possibly want from me right now?” She huffs out a breath, her winecup getting the brunt of her annoyance. 

“My apologies Princess, it is not your company he asks for.” He bows his head in deference, his gaze then moving to you. “My lady, Prince Oberyn awaits.” 

Your heart races to hear him calling for you, despite it not being the first time. Elia laughs, and dismisses you graciously. “Go then, my lady. You cannot keep The Red Viper waiting for long, he is prone to sulk, or fight.” Her tinkling laugh follows you where the guard leads, ringing out as you make your way towards his chambers. 

You smile to yourself as you walk the halls of Sunspear, the sound of your soft steps ringing out, bouncing off the tiles and the high, arched ceilings. Your heart feels like a bird in the cage of your ribs, fluttering wildly as you finally make it to the giant door leading to him. 

You meet the solid wall of his back when the guard opens his chamber door, he is sitting at his desk by the window, head down and quill scratching across a piece of parchment. His head turns at the sound of the door, and the quill is discarded. His eyes are lively when they meet yours, full of mischief and devilment. 

“You called for me, my Prince?” You try, genuinely, try to keep the smile off your face. “Is there something you desire of me?” He narrows his eyes, rising and slinking over like some big, predatory cat. He is so tall, his shoulders so broad and the cut of his robes only serves to highlight his best features. The breadth of him, the trim waist, the enchanting vision of his throat and chest on display. All of it conspiring to make you ache to touch him. He laughs low, the sound hardening your nipples. 

“Just you, my flower.” He doesn’t so much reach for you, as strike, like his namesake. His arms wrapping around your waist quick enough to pull a gasp from you. His lips descend quickly, pressing against your neck, his tongue following closely behind and all you can do for a moment is gasp in delight, gathered up in his arms with your hands pressed against his chest.

“This is why you pull me away from the Princess? Because you cannot contain your passion for a few hours my Prince?” His hands travel, landing heavy on your backside, while his mouth travels from your shoulder, up to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, a kiss that pushes everything but him from your mind.

“Yes, my love, I cannot contain my passion for you for even a heartbeat.” He speaks the words, turning your heart, and your cunt to liquid for him, before his deft hands pull at the laces and fastenings of your dress. 

“My Prince, I am to serve-” He pulls the dress up and off, leaving you in your small clothes, “Your sister, I am to serve–” He cuts off the words with another kiss and this time you moan into his mouth, heart pounding between your legs, knowing even now as you protest that you will let him do whatever he wants, that you need him to.

“My sister is too greedy with you, too selfish.” He undoes his robe, slipping it off to fall at his feet as he herds you towards his bed. 

“She keeps you to herself, when she knows of my desire for you.” you tumble into his linens, the smell of him surrounding you, spicy and sweet, like desert heat, fiery peppers, sweet and fragrant oranges. 

He slots his hips between your legs, and his cock is so hard it makes you gasp, the fabric of his breeches dampening when he grinds against the small clothes that cover your sex. 

“You are insatiable–Oberyn!” You gasp his name when he tears the small clothes from your body, his impatience to have you naked and open to him making him ravenous. He laughs, eyes like black diamonds as he practically kicks his breeches off in his haste to get his cock out. 

“I am unwell, my love, truly and deeply sick with want.” He moans the last word when he finally fits himself at the mouth of your cunt, slipping in with one brutal thrust. 

“Gods, yes my love, this is what I needed, to be buried up to my balls in this sweet little cunt.” He moans, his tone obscene as he rocks himself inside you. 

Your arousal is something as fierce as he, the fullness of him only further inflaming your passion. It is always like this with him, never dull, never calm, always an inferno in your veins and in your lungs. He passes it on to you, his fire catching on your skin and soon, you are clutching to him, begging him, your arousal coating him and dripping onto his bed. 

“Yes, yes–” You chant, in tune with every roll of his hips. The sun shining through the window paints everything in his colours. 

“Did you miss me, my love? Miss me here?” He punctuates the word with a hard snap of his hips, it makes your breasts bounce, makes you let out a whine. 

“Yes my Prince, yes, always miss you–” You open your legs wider, giving him more room to get deeper, to fuck you harder, “Oberyn, you’re splitting me open.” You pull him forward, the temptation of his neck is too great, you suck a mark into it, relishing the way he groans. His hand pulls yours up and over your head, making your chest jut out for his tongue. He teases at your sensitive nipples as his cock strokes, and strokes, and strokes until you are on the precipice, on the dagger's edge of pleasure. 

“I can feel it, ready to burst for me–” He smiles, drunk on the pleasure and when he lets go of your hands and presses his thumb to your clit you unravel, clenching and soaking him in your release. “There it is, that’s it-” He speeds up, burying his face into your neck while you take what he gives, his chest pressed up against yours, sweat slicked and warm. 

His pace falters and you feel the hot jet of his seed inside, he groans, changing to a dirty grind as he comes deep. 

He collapses once he’s milked himself dry, his comforting weight pressing you to his feather bed. Your legs settle around his waist, ankles locking on the swell of his ass and your arms wind around his neck to play with his sweat-soaked hair. He hums as you trail your nails down, tickling at the smooth skin of his back. Your lips press kisses against his shoulder where it rests under your chin. This is your favourite part, being full of him, surrounded by him, loved by him, and pouring all of your affection and love back into him in return. 

“Are you quite comfortable, my Prince?” You scratch at his scalp as he takes deep breaths, his softening cock still buried deep. 

“Oh yes,” He huffs the words into your neck, his tongue licking a stripe up to your ear, “I could spend the rest of my life here, cock inside you, my body on yours.” 

You laugh, full throated. 

“Oh I bet you could, rutting away until I’m raw.” You bring your hands to his face, making him face you and you are once again struck by his beauty, no matter how many times you find yourself in his bed, he still makes your heart race. You swipe your thumb across his plump lower lip, and fix the unruly state of his hair. “I could stay here too, Oberyn. I could be here, under you, with you, beside you always. I love you.” You press your mouth to his, and he deepens the kiss, his ardour burning just as brightly. 

“I love you, my flower, and what we’ve created. I cannot wait to meet my son.” He brings his hand down, to the little swell of your belly, the one that's barely showing yet. You laugh again, and he smiles, his hand warm against your womb. 

“A boy is it? How would you divine that? I am barely showing–”

“I know it is a boy, I can feel it. He will be my little viper, a menace to his instructors, he will have the sweet face of his mother, and the fierce hunger of his father.” He removes himself with a hiss, pulling out and lowering himself until he presses kiss after kiss to the little bump. “Won’t you my boy? You will be the terror and delight of my life.”

He smiles up at you, bright eyed, with all of the love you feel for him shining back at you. 

“You, my love, will give birth to princes and princesses, the most beautiful children in all of the world.” He always got like this after, sentimental and romantic and it always made you happy enough to cry. 

“Yes my love, he will be all that and more.” You pull him up, wrapping his arms around you to lay your head on his chest. “You know I must go soon, I cannot stay in bed with you, despite my wish to.” He sighs, resigned. 

“Yes, Elia awaits, just another moment, and I will let you go.” You laugh, and bury your face into his neck. 

- Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[jiubilant]

Some people, once they're old and frail and flubbing half their chords, can feel impending weather in their bones. Inge Six-Fingers, Dean of Lute, can feel impending foolishness. She scowls and rubs her knee. A laugh like a bear being baited echoes from the headmaster's office, sure enough.

“Stop him,” groans Giraud through his hands when she stumps in. “Oh, stop him.”

The tableau's familiar, thinks Inge, already cross. Viarmo's pacing behind his desk, bright-eyed, ablaze with some new notion like Olaf in effigy. The desk is strewn with papers, winecups, tented books. Giraud's slumped in the good chair. A stranger, the only surprise, sits on the stool: a woman in hunter's furs, young, with a wolf's long smile.

“It’s only just, Giraud,” says Viarmo, spreading his huge hands in supplication. He grins at Inge. It's the same grin, she thinks, that he'd flashed at her fifty years ago before breaking another master's nose. “A king can sever our lutestrings, our purse-strings, our heads—”

“You’ve lost yours already—”

“—but who, in the end, sings the king’s deeds,” Viarmo declaims, undaunted, “when king and crown are dust indeed?”

“Too many syllables,” says the wolf-woman at once.

“You’re right," Viarmo concedes after a moment's sober thought. "Were we flyting, I’d be laughed out of court. Once more unto the breach.” He clears his throat. “But who, in sooth, sings the—”

“You,” snaps Inge, rounding on him, “you old ruffian, and you”—she jabs a finger at Giraud, who starts to attention like a flogged legionary—“tell me what you're up to, and who that—is that," she says in a different voice, staring at the bottle on the desk, "the Surilie?”

For several frightful years old Bendt, who captains the College's kitchen like a galley, has hoarded the Surilie. No one else dares enter the buttery; the door-key, on its length of dirty string, glints around Bendt's neck like a dire talisman. The masters joke that he mutters to it. The apprentices joke that a third-year who broke into the buttery for mead was walled up there alive.

"The Surilie," Viarmo announces with a grand sweep of his arm, as if heralding the arrival of some prince. He reaches for the bottle. "Let me pour you some."

Inge watches him with fascination. "Gone mad, have you?"

"And while I'm at it," the madman continues, splashing two fingers of Bendt's best wine into the nearest cup, "may I introduce you to Lydia Lítli, fosterling of Whiterun's jarl?" His grin broadens, if such a thing is possible. Inge's leg twinges. "She's brought us Svaknir's lost verse."

Inge looks hard at him. Then she looks hard at Giraud, the little weed, who wilts. Lydia Lítli, when the hard eyes flick to her, scrapes a stiff and well-trained bow.

"No, you haven't," Inge says, staring at her. "No, she hasn't. It's—you lug," she goes on with some asperity, turning back to Viarmo, "it's lost."

Giraud's voice is muffled by his hands. "I wish it were lost."

Viarmo gestures operatically with the cup. "I have transcribed it—"

Giraud sits up. An outraged flush suffuses his peaky face. "Despoiled it—"

"—restored, with Lydia's helpful erudition and the invaluable expertise of our own Master Gemane, those portions that weathered the years poorly—"

"Filled the gaps with utter tripe, is what he means—"

"—and have prepared it for recitation on the morrow," Viarmo concludes with good cheer, "at court, where it will pay your salaries." He raises the cup in toast—then blinks at it, no doubt recalling that he'd meant it for Inge, and passes it to her. "Santé."

Kyne's bloody beak, she thinks, staring at him. "You've forged Svaknir's lost verse."

"Please, Inge." Viarmo looks down at her with eyes wide and ears flat—astonished, she thinks, as a cat tapped on the nose. Scoundrel. She can tell by his mouth that he's trying not to laugh. "Skalds have collaborated on their compositions since the first lute was strung."

"You've gotten drunk on Bendt's prize vintage," Inge retorts, not to be gainsaid, "all three of you, and forged—"

"Reconstructed—"

"Collaborated on," Giraud puts in nastily, "I thought—"

A polite throat clears. When Inge looks up, Lydia meets her eyes as only wolves will do.

"Try the wine," she says—this Hviting horse-breaker, this shield-thane in her skins. "It's good."

It's Giraud's face that finally does Inge in. She turns from them all, her scowl contorting, and drowns a laugh in the cup.

[gardenvarietygay]

Here’s your reminder to be patient both with your garden and with others. My grandma sent me this photo of a garden I put in at her house. She called me in a panic because “I’m going to rip those black-eyed susans out. They’re killing everything!” I had to explain to her that actually the black-eyed susans are just growing where I planted them and everything else is still in place, growing extremely well. I planted this garden last fall from plugs, only the very fastest things can bloom the summer following an autumn planting.

For anyone wondering, it’s a small symmetrical planting next to a driveway on the south side of her house in full sun. On each end are winecups (Callirhoe involucrata), aromatic asters (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium), and black eyed Susan’s (Rudbeckia hirta), in the middle are blacksamson coneflowers (Echinacea angustifolia) in front of anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum).

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

WIP Wednesday + Writing Share + Out Of Context Line Tag Game

WIP Wed + Out Of Context Line tag: @holy3cake

Writing Share tag: @aintgonnatakethis

No Pressure Tags: If you tagged me, you're tagged to do the other one/s + Open Tag

Rules: WIP Wed/Writing Share: Share any snippet of your writing, often the last thing you've written. Out Of Context Line: Share any line, but give no context.

The fatigue is high today so I'm gonna post these all here, open tag!

Something new today, snippets from a Gwayne Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen (Gwaenyra? Gwanyra?) House of the Dragon "oneshot" since the idea of this pairing ruined me. (I am very much team Black, this is from Gwayne's POV!)

Late WIP Wed/Writing Share;

"Who's this?" The Lady spoke, gentle voice clear and commanding, it echoed through the room. If there was any doubt in his mind as to who this woman was, then the Whitecloak's immediate response confirmed it.

"My Queen," The Whitecloak said, bowing quickly, "We believe it to be Ser Gwayne Hightower, brother to the Dowager Queen Alicent."

The Lady Rhaenyra Targaryen herself, Pretender-to-the-throne, once-heir, enemy of his kin. Whore of Dragonstone, Cole called her. Her violet eyes fixed upon him, doe like in evident suprise.

"Is it true? You are Ser Gwayne Hightower?"

"If you believe you can ransom me, My Lady, you are sorely mistaken." Gwayne told her, dipping his head briefly to make at least some effort to be courteous.

"You will refer to Her Grace with her proper title!" The Whitecloak at his side snapped, to which he scoffed. Lady Rhaenyra held up a hand, waved the man away.

"I do not wish to ransom you, Ser. I want what I am owed, and I want peace. Too much blood has been spilt already." Lady Rhaenyra spoke calmly, but Gwayne could hear the demanding petulance clear as day.

"I'm flattered, Your Grace, that you think of me so highly," Gwayne cared not to hide the sarcastic emphasis he placed upon the false title, smirking up at the Lady of Dragonstone before he continued; "Perhaps once my good sister would have harkened your words, sued for peace for mine safety. Alas I fear those days are long gone."

Her silvery brows knitted into a frown, as she appeared to deliberate what he'd said. The room was silent in anticipation of her response, and Gwayne suddenly found his throat dry, eying the winecup atop the table with a wanting envy.

"Your own sister cares not if you live or die?" She eventually replied. Gwayne wasn't sure he'd been expecting that as a response. Gwayne realised it unsettled him that she hadn't risen to his disrespect, had he spoken to his dear nephew King Aegon that way, he was liable to have his guts strung up with the damned ratcatchers. Not that his dear sister would allow that, but threats would surely have been made.

This though... He knew well enough no matter her standing that Alicent wouldn't be able to do a damned thing amongst the posturing fools that sat at her side, and if Cole had his way, Gwayne would probably be left to rot.

"Oh I'm quite sure she cares, in her own way. But none else share the sentiment, I fear I am quite expendable."

"What of your father? You are his only son- his firstborn. Surely he has a care for you?"

"My Father..." Gwayne paused then, gave an emotionless laugh, "I'm sure it would please him to see you try to use me for political gain."

He had spoken true, Gwayne knew well enough if his father, Otto Hightower, the great Hand-of-the-King could see him now... then the man would be disgusted. Gwayne had ever been the family disappointment to Lord Hightower, his "only son a damned disgrace", and now? Bitterness welled up within him at the thought.

The False Queen had grown silent again at his words, appearing to ponder them. The way she had spoken reeked of desperation. Surely he could exploit that somehow, prove that the lessons his father had taught him were not lost on him entirely...

"No matter. Queen Alicent will still desire to see you returned unharmed. We may yet come to some accord with her."

Queen Alicent. And quite suddenly the contrast between how the Lady before him spoke, and how she was spoken of intruiged him. No matter who said it, her name was spat with venom, if there wasn't an outright insult used in place of it instead. Yet Lady Rhaenyra spoke of Alicent with a quiet dignity, no insults hurled. At least not yet. That earned her a modicum of respect, he supposed.

Out-Of-Context Line:

"Your Grace," He kneeled, unwilling or just unable to meet her gaze now, "Please, I-I humbly beg of you, show him the mercy that they denied to you."

[exposingmyveins]

a letter to a lover who doesn’t exist

August 10th, 2021

My Darling,

I miss you desperately, like always. I went to the park today. The weather was most ideal for a walk. I wish I could’ve held your hand and watched how your hair blows in the subtle wind. How beautiful you would be, soft in the sunshine peaking through the clouds, simply perfect.

There were so many wildflowers my dear… Bluebonnets and Queen Anne’s lace, Daisies and Pinkladies, Winecups and Coneflowers… I’m sure you would’ve smiled at the colors.

Indian paintbrushes have always been one of your favorites, I know you love that fiery red-orange.

I saved one for you. I’ve pressed it onto this page. I hope you cherish it. Hang this on your wall if you’d like. Imagine this flower one hundred times over because someday… I’ll grow a field of them for you.

I absolutely adore you. My heart belongs to you. I only ask that you take care of it. For a heart is fragile but strong like ceramic. Hold it softly. Keep it safe. Be the tissue paper that is wrapped around my clay heart. You make each of my long days worth living. You bring joy to my life.

Yours always,

V

[faguscarolinensis]

Callirhoe involucrata / Winecup Mallow at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[persephonaae]

New in bloom! Today I bring you butterfly mariposa lily, ruby chalice clarkia, and winecup clarkia!

[hollers-and-holmes]

Just wanted to say that you are on a ROLL with these unpopular opinions! I’ve never seen this much well-articulated, orthodox theology on my dash at the same time before!

So on that note:

🔥 on homosexuality?

😂 I’ve been waiting for this one to pop up. Thank you for the encouraging word and for promptly slapping me with a difficult topic! 🤣

🫙 First, to the text!

“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.

For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened….they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.

For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error. And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭1:18-21, 23, 26-28‬ ‭ESV‬‬ (emphasis added)

God makes it inescapably clear that homosexuality is sinful. Not only is it sinful, but its widespread accepted practice is a symptom of a culture that has collectively rebelled against God’s good authority and seeks to throw off His rule.

🫙 God is also inescapably clear that it is possible to be delivered from this, and that becoming a Christian means you no longer practice it.

“Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭6:9-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬ (emphasis added)

🫙 Much of the current discourse around homosexuality has to do with matters of identity. What Paul is saying here is that if the Lord Jesus claims you, you have a new identity and it’s no longer that of homosexual. You are in Christ. You are a new creation.

🫙 This does not necessarily mean immediate deliverance from the temptation of the former lusts. Sanctification is a process.

🫙 It does mean your opinion of those lusts has now changed. Becoming a Christian means you now love what God’s loves and hate what He hates.

🫙 Believing what He has said regarding sin of any sort—that it is what broke the world to a smoking ruin, that it desires to have you like a ravening wolf, that its wages is death and that for some of us that meant the unimaginably torturous murder of the innocent Lord of Glory in our place—is the first step to gaining victory over it. Our view of sin should not be softer than God’s.

🫙 If anyone happens to read this who does battle in this area, dear one, listen to me. Why do you spend your money on that which will not satisfy you? These cisterns are broken and they can hold no water. There is not life for you here. There is not healing for your ruptured heart. The sweetness of it is a poison sweetness and it will someday crumble to ash in your mouth. It will fester your wounds instead of repair them.

But the Lord Jesus is King of the winecup and of the feasting table. Come and drink. Taste and see that He is good. That His ways lead to life, to sweet green meadows, to the sun warm on your face, to the perfect law of liberty. To salve and binding that will soothe and someday close your wounds forever. To a family of people who get it.

He is not offering you the shackles of a pleasureless life. He is offering to kick down the door of your cell.

[a-modernmajorgeneral]

獨奏：謝從馨 Solo: HSIEH Tsung-Hsin 指揮：任燕平 Conductor: JEN Yen-Ping 錫穗國樂團 Xisui Chinese Orchestra   / xsco2012   《錫穗風采》2020-08-13 於臺北市國家音樂廳

打擊樂協奏曲《商銅》王辰威 作曲 Concerto for Chinese Percussion «Bronze Age of Shang» Composed by Wang Chenwei https://wangchenwei.wordpress.com/

Three thousand years ago, the Shāng Dynasty bequeathed two cultural treasures to China: the oracle bone script and Chinese bronzeware. The exquisite craftsmanship and design of Shāng bronzeware bear witness to the illustrious history of ancient China. Inspired by an exhibition of Shāng Dynasty ritual objects and musical instruments at the National Palace Museum in Taipei, this concerto exclusively features Chinese percussion instruments. It evokes the grandeur of the Shāng Dynasty through three movements, each themed after a type of bronzeware.

First Movement: Yuè – Battle Axe of Kings

The Yuè was a weapon that doubled as a ceremonial object, symbolising a king’s military command. This movement depicts King Tāng of Shāng rallying his vast army to campaign against the ruthless King Jié of Xià in 1600 BCE.

The soloist performs on the Jiàngǔ (mounted drum) and Páigǔ (arrayed drums) while the wind instruments carry the melody. To evoke the clash of weaponry, the orchestra musicians strike with wooden sticks and stomp their feet to portray infantry drills.

Second Movement: Jué – Wine Vessel of Aristocrats

The Jué was a wine vessel used by rulers and aristocrats on occasions such as forging alliances, going out to war and celebrating victories. This elegant and relaxed movement conjures images of a palace banquet with intermingling winecups and graceful dancers.

The soloist plays rhythmic figures with relative pitches on suspended Chinese cymbals and gongs. Bamboo clappers are used in the middle section. At the beginning and end, the soloist presses a cymbal on a gong while playing tremolo on the gong to imitate the sound of pouring wine. Plucked string instruments are featured for the melody, incorporating techniques like slides, pitch bends and harmonics.

Third Movement: Dǐng – Ritual Cauldron of Sovereignty

The Dǐng, a cooking vessel, became a ritual and ceremonial object symbolising a country’s sovereignty and was adorned with ancient Chinese characters engraved in the bronze script. The movement’s main motif, “D-G-A”, comprises three notes separated by the musical interval of fourths, symbolising the ancient three-legged and four-legged Dǐng.

The soloist plays the Biānzhōng (pitched bells), Yúnluó (pitched gongs), Huāpéngǔ (low drum), Xiǎochǎ (small cymbals) and Fēngluó (thin gong). Some segments involve one hand playing pitched notes on the Yúnluó and the other hand simultaneously playing unpitched rhythmic accompaniment on the drum. The main theme, presented by the bowed string instruments, is stately and dignified, portraying the vast and prosperous lands of the Shāng dynasty.

A highlight of this movement is the recitation by the orchestra of a verse from the poem The Swallow from Poetry Classics: Shāng Odes using Old Chinese pronunciation (a scholars’ reconstruction of Chinese pronunciation two millennia ago). The meaning of the verse is as follows:

Heaven mandated the swallow, To descend and give birth to the Shāng, Dwelling in Yīn, a vast state. God appointed the martial Tāng, To secure the kingdom great.

Commissioned and premiered by the Taipei Chinese Orchestra in 2019, this piece has since been performed by several other orchestras, including the Taoyuan Chinese Orchestra, Kaohsiung City Chinese Orchestra, and Beijing Chinese Orchestra.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I'm having a shockingly hard time finding nurseries with seeds I need to rehabilitate the park. I've made my little seed bomb recipe for the location and it should do really nicely in rehabilitating the soil and creating a livea le park again, but I can't find hardly any of the seeds I need which is annoying as all hell. Anyone have good sourcing on seeds for the following?

Creeping Phlox Flowers

Blue Grama grass

Wild Strawberry

Fennel

Dill

Dahlias

Pussytoes

Appalachian Sedge Grass

Winecups

Groundnuts

[xplant-co-kr]

우산을 꼭 닮은🍷🍵☂️ #크라슐라 엄벨라 와인컵 #Crassula umbella winecup #다육이 #다육식물 #식집사 #선인장 #다육키우기 #다육스타그램 #희귀다육 #succulents #sukkulenten #pflanzen #cactus #succulent #koreasucculents #plantshop #raresucculents #아프리카식물 #꽃 #たにく #ハオルチア #カクタス #多肉 #多肉植物 #植物 #суккуленты #суккулент #кактус #кактусы #растения https://www.instagram.com/p/CpcB8nzL9HW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=