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[mad-raptorzzz]

Mates. I just found a book that is functionally Jurassic Park but with dragons. As in the reference Jurassic Park. But the park has dragons instead. I’m only about 50 ish pages in. Trying to decide if these dragons truly are naturally occurring as the owners of the park state (claiming why’re related to Pterosaurs) or if there’s something more insidious at play.

it’s called The Great Zoo of China if anyone else is interested

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[madamlaydebug]

CRITICAL WARNING!!!! Radio talk show hostess, Kim Komando, did some digging about TEMU and this is what she found!

Seemingly overnight, everyone’s talking about Temu (pronounced “tee-moo”), an online shopping app that boasts deals that seem too good to be true, like $17 wireless earbuds, $1 “gold” necklaces and $23 wedding dresses.

Over 50 million Americans have downloaded Temu since it launched state-side in September 2022, after it gained traction with expensive Super Bowl ads promising to let you “shop like a billionaire.”

Today, Temu is the most popular shopping app in the U.S. behind Amazon. But most of us don’t know much about the app’s true origins. Reader Daniel Mayer asked an important question, “Is [Temu] something we should be concerned about?”

So, I did some digging. And as it turns out, yes, you absolutely should be. Here’s what I found:

Where did Temu come from?

This isn’t some fly-by-night operation. Temu is based in Boston, Massachusetts, by PDD Holdings Inc. (Nasdaq: PDD). PDD is headquartered in Shanghai, China.

PDD also owns the e-commerce platform Pinduoduo headquartered in — you guessed it — China. So, Temu is a Communist China-based app and site.

What you need to know before using Temu

First, you’re buying goods directly from manufacturers in China and other parts of the world. That’s why shipping times are often 12 days or longer. The prices are low because the goods are cheap. The pictures of what you see advertised may not be what you actually get.

Temu’s BBB rating is 2.21/5. Reviews at TrustPilot are interesting, with 38% 5-star reviews and 41% 1-star reviews.

But that’s not the worst of it.

Temu is downright dangerous.

The app is a clever, pervasive digital stalker. As you shop, Temu monitors your activity on other apps, tracks your notifications and location and changes settings.

🛑 It gets worse. Temu gains full access to all your contacts, calendars and photo albums, plus all your social media accounts, chats and texts. In other words, literally everything on your phone. This is scary

No shopping app needs this much control, especially one tied to Communist China. If you’re using Temu, delete the app from your phone ASAP.

On iPhone, Long-press an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App. Tap Delete to confirm.

On Android, touch and hold an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App > Delete.

Pro tip: If you downloaded Temu, to be safe from Chinese spies, you really need to do a full factory reset.

But wait, there’s more! Temu’s sister app was removed from Google Play because of malware.

Do not buy from this company, or use their app!

COPY AND PASTE PLEASE

[mywitchcultblr]

I'm done with your purity

I'm fucking done with all of you westerners fucks who take your freedom for granted. AO3 was banned in china because pissy fans reporting RPF TO THE GOVERNMENT UNDER FALSE REPORT OF PEDO OR WHATEVER thus making life a living hell for Chinese writers and fans. ALSO LET ME TELL YOU that fanfic and AO3 is a safe space for many oppressed LGBT people outside of the west

I can't fucking say that I'm trans and bi without having people beating the shit out of me, but I can fuckin' write that I'm gay as fuck in fanfic or writing gay shit about my fave with fanfic

Imagine some people defending state wide censorship over fanfic, because they don't like icky fanfic, that's a sign that either you are brainwashed or fucking privileged and taking your freedom for granted. You know why Asian and other non western USA-European are more chill with fanfic and fandom?

Why we are less prone to make some stupid callout over fanworks?

Because most of us doesn't have the same information and expression privilege like the west, we take any freedom that we can have

That's in 2017... There's probably more than one million websites being censored rn. I cannot even buy pride pin here because NO ONE outside of internet selling it! The censorship always begin from "banning information to protect children and moral from nsfw" down to censoring Spongebob Squarepants

You don't like something? Just don't fucking read it, it wouldn't stop the author to write and when they do stop writing usually after they are harassed so bad to the point of mental break down or suicide. What the actual fuck...

Defending and supporting state wide censorship because you want to feel superior on the internet is beyond stupid and it showing your privilege... Also yah fuck you who defend china aggressive state wide censorship because adult x adult RPF icky or whatever, I like reading Tom Hiddleston x Reader, because I'm lonely and it's fun. Don't lie that you never thinking of marrying your favorite celebrities or dreaming about dating Gerard Way.

What the fuck you gonna do about it? Crucify my ass? So long you are not shoving it to the person's face, who give a fuck? It's not a justifiable ground to cheer for government mandated national wide censorship. A lot of westerners are so privileged and terminally online to the point their mind revolve around online discourse 24/7 I'm not saying discourse has no damn merits but you get what I said...

Some people particularly white westerners are so privileged they have the chance to goes back 180° and agreeing with conservative mindset they claim to hate so much... Also your kink critical bullshit and your bullshit crusading over dark stories? Yeah. Heavily influenced by TERF and conservatism. Newsflash...

I'm not a person who agree with all ship or stories, i don't claim any moral high ground. I was so scared of getting cancelled due to the hostile neo puritan fandom culture, but seeing people defending China great firewall and aggressive censorship finally broke something inside of me and I cannot stay quiet

I don't give a fuck about your fanfic discourse, If i don't like something i just wouldn't fucking engage with it and wouldn't read...

I'm done, I'm tired. Fucking tagging this shit as anti vs pro because i need to get the message out there and LET THE CHAOS begin

( When you want to escape your country censorship to the internet but then you see the supposed liberated westerners people wanting censorship because they want to feel moral. Yes there are even westerners who don't want to see anything even remotely 'problematic' example: they will attack Zutara or fuckin' Reylo shipper whatever. See? You are terminally online and so privileged... Congratulations... Here's your fucking medal and gold star)

[katz-chow]

how time passes

a/n: domestic price is the only price i will take, thank you very much. my submission for @glitterypirateduck's christmas fics. song? "love to keep me warm” by dodie & laufey. why? you'll see :) merry christmas everyone 🎄

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, sfw, cold, snowy night, leading up to a smut ;)

For John, there’s a certain aspect of life that he isn’t all too familiar with. Domesticity seemed like a world away, hidden almost. Of course, he sees it all around him; in how young couples shop for decorations for their first Christmas, or how older couples shop for grandkid presents for their nth Christmas, how candles are rare to find nowadays, all the colorful ones taken by menorahs sitting on windowsills.

He remembers it clearly when he first realized how teasing a normal life can be. It was on the same cobblestone street that he finds himself on right now, right through the glass planes of a small cafe. In a way, domesticity found itself behind a China cabinet, displayed and just an inch away from his grasp, and yet the veil between them remained locked. The feeling of being a lover, a husband just right on the other side, staring back at him like window shopping. How frustratingly fleeting it is.

The wind blew a bit more wildly back then, snow caked upon the roofs of the many buildings that surrounded him, all occupied with families. He remembers the way his hands would go numb from the hours that he walked around the market square, just to avoid the rickety radiator in his flat.

But that was years ago and the heater of the cafe he’s sat in seems unbearably warm. John sat himself in the corner, two drinks on the table and a tiramisu that he knew he had to get as soon as he set his eyes on it. Unconsciously, he looked at the gold watch on his wrist, just to check the time instead of looking incredibly pitiful alone in a room of company. He cleared his throat, then looked around; a Christmas tree with paper ornaments of children’s drawings littered through its branches, the electric fireplace that changed colors, and the soft jazz that played through the speakers.

His phone buzzed next to him on the small round table. He looked at the notification with a dash of his brow, a storm’s approaching. More snow. A chuckle bubbles up in his throat as he thinks of the irony of his first Christmas back in town almost 5 years ago, the same cold but not the same emptiness.

Almost as if on cue, the jingle of the bell at the door rang out and there you were to greet him. Still in your work clothes but with a long overcoat and a much too big scarf around you. If John could say it to you, he would say you look swaddled up like a baby. But he’s a gentleman and he knew that if he did say that, you’d refuse to put on the much-needed layers and opt to freeze to death.

He waves you down when he sees the way you stand there, hands in your pockets as your eyes wander around. He sees your eyes land on him and you bright up as you waddle over in your snow boots. He stands to pull the chair out for you, scooting you in.

“You look toasty.” He compliments, sliding the warm mug of a mocha latte over to you. He smiles even more when he sees you take off your coat and scarf, quickly grabbing the mug and holding it close to your nose. “Don’t burn your nose off.”

You glare at him playfully as you take a whiff of the chocolate goodness presented to you. “Maybe then I don’t have to smell you and that detergent you accidentally bought.”

John throws his head back, exasperated. Did he buy the wrong detergent and does it smell so obnoxiously strong you have to dilute it with an unscented one? Yes. Will you let him love it down? No, unfortunately.

He watches as you take a sip, sinking your shoulders down as you let the warmth fill you up. “This is really good, I’m glad you picked this place.”

“Saw it a few years ago, thought it’d be nostalgic to be back.” He replies simply, taking a sip from his own.

You place the mug down and narrow your eyes at him, “Nostalgic? You took your ex here or something?” You say accusatively as you place your hand into his palm on the table.

He winces at how cold your hands are compared to him. “Something like that…”

The last time he was here, he ordered one tiramisu and one latte. He then stayed for hours, watching people walk in and out, taking advantage of the buy one get one half off promotion that the young cafe had to offer. He thought about how unfair it was that even drinks came in pairs during the holidays and he’s still painfully alone. So, something like an ex.

“Your hands are freezing, Baby. Where’d you put your mittens?” He asks as he holds your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb over your fingers.

You smile cheekily towards him, opting to stuff your mouth with a spoonful of tiramisu instead of answering. This caught his attention as he pressed on, a small chuckle following his words.

“I forgot them…” You mumbled, obviously, you did! You squeeze his hand back and look around the cafe, avoiding his gaze entirely.

You see him shake his head as he laughs, and you look back at him, laughing and smiling sheepishly along. The scene was unreal, music in the air, warmth filling every bone in your body, and your favorite person ever, holding your hand.

He lays out both his palms in front of you, signaling for you to take advantage and settle your own hands on his. You do and he cups them together, rubbing some heat into them. Softly as ever, his beard tickles your knuckles as he gives them a small kiss on his lips. You feel your cheeks heat up just a bit, stinging from the cold they were previously in. You slip your hands out from under him and place them on each side of his neck, he grumbles, annoyed.

“We’re so cringe…” You muttered quietly, now hyperaware of the public setting the two of you were seated in.

He grasps your hands again and holds them close. Deciding to completely ignore the comment you made, he switches over to pepper your knuckles in kisses instead. “Wanna get outta here then?”

You nod and he lets go off your cold hands, which you promptly stick in between your thighs to warm up. John waves to a barista, pointing out to the snowy scenery. She seems to understand as she gives the two of you two paper cups and a box for your cake.

The two of you link arms and he pulls you out of the cafe, bundled up even more than when you came in with his beanie on your head. His other hand holding the bag of your little treat.

Snowflakes gently and steadily fall on your shoulders and head as he leads you back to his car, you having taken a cab over from work. John looks around at the nearly empty streets, most people taking shelter within the shops or in the comfort of their homes. He looks at you, a content smile painted your face even if the tip of your nose was turning pink and your hands still cold in his coat pocket and in his own hands.

You didn’t seem to complain about the how Jack Frost nips at your cheeks. And even if you did, he knows it’s not all too serious as you still down the packed streets full of cars.

“You cold, Darling?” He leans down a bit to whisper in your ear.

You look at him, your eyebrows raises in the cutest way. You shake your head and continue to watch the way the two of you were headed.

John didn’t think much about anything else, just the way your thumb rubs over his hand in his pocket, the crunching of score under your boots. He didn’t even think about his movements as he turned and backed you into the nearest wall, his body shielding you away from the world as you felt his breath on the tip of your nose.

“You’re so beautiful…” He grins down at you. The to-go bag now hook onto your arm as your hands found solace in his pockets.

You giggle at him and kiss his nose, then both his cheeks. John’s hands find either sides of your face as he cups it. His thumbs rubs and pinches the apples of your flesh.

He leans down and gives you one good kiss on your lips, you quickly melt into it and your hands escape to wrap around his waist under his coat. The kiss rushes through your veins, your body not feeling so cold anymore.

He pushes your head back a bit more with the force of his kiss. Fingers sliding back into the locs of your hair and into the back of your head, cushioning it from the hard, cold bricks.

“I’m warm now…” You giggle as he pulls away from you. Your teeth makes in contact with your bottom lip and your eyes big and glossy to draw him in.

He laughs and gives you a kiss on your forehead for good measure. John gives out a shaky breath as he leans to the side of your face, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “How about we hurry home and I warm you up more effectively?”

A breath hitches in your throat as you nod just a bit. He chuckles and kisses your cheek, pulling you into a u-turn when he realized y’all meant to take a right at the cafe.

[loulouwrites]

HAUNTED . TOMMY SHELBY

summary: tommy's wife knows their stately home is haunted, he doesn't believe her. warnings: mdni, angst, depression, postnatal depression, psychosis, endangering a child, death, suicide, miscarriage, religion, infidelity, grace doesn't exist (yayy!) word count: 1.9k a/n: this deals with really heavy stuff so if you're sensitive to any of the warnings, please don't read this x

It had been a happy marriage.

They had met after Tommy had returned from France. She and her family had moved to Small Heath from a nearby town after her father had gotten a new job at the factory. They were not a well off family, and she had begun working at the Shelby bookmakers while the men were away fighting the Great War, and the women were in charge of the business.

Tommy had liked her the moment he met her, though there was little joy left since his return home, he found pockets of it whenever he was around the abrasive, loud-mouthed girl. It was easy to fall in love with her, and it was easy for her to fall in love with him - it was easy for any woman to fall in love with Thomas Shelby.

They hadn't married quickly, it was years of courtship - and breakups - before he proposed, though she would insist it was less of a proposal, and more a demand. He hadn't gotten down on one knee, nor had he expressed his undying love for her, because she already knew. He had simply informed her they would be married at Church the coming Sunday, and she had no need to worry about the details, he had sorted everything, because that's what he did - he planned, and she showed up, no questions asked.

The Shelby business grew quickly, quicker than it probably should have, and he was able to move her out of Small Heath for good, buying her the countryside estate he had always promised her, with land she could wander in barefoot, and a home she could get lost in.

"It's awfully big," is what she said when he removed his hands from her eyes, revealing the home he planned for them to grow old in. He let out a huff of laughter at the sight of her scrunched up face.

"I wanted a house big enough for all the children we're going to have," he placed a hand on her swollen stomach, their first child growing inside of her, ready to arrive any day now.

She had given birth one week after they had moved into their new home. Her screams echoed throughout the house, and Tommy had to stop himself from running up the stairs to their bedroom every time her pained cries reached his ears from his office.

Their daughter arrived in the early hours of the morning, her screams replacing her mother's, a joyous sound to those in the house. She had dark hair, smooth skin and eyes just like her father.

They named her Elsie.

Thomas loved his home. He saw it as a justification for every bad thing he had ever done. The dark wooden floors, and the walls adorned with gold frames, the French carpets and the china vases, they were all extensions of himself, every detail in the house was proof that he had succeeded.

His wife had loved the house too, at least at first. It had taken her all but one week to make it hers, to decorate the bedroom exactly how she wanted it, and to arrange the china in the dining room in a way that was sure to impress the guests they would have.

The change in her was small at first, as far as Tommy could recall. It had started in the eighth month of her second pregnancy - her second successful pregnancy, at least. He remembered waking in the middle of the night, the sheets beside him cold and crumpled, and he had shot out of bed before he had woken up properly.

The house was eerily still as he wandered, checking every room, but she was nowhere. He opened the door to his daughter's room, releasing a held breath when he saw her tucked away in her pink sheets, unaware of the world around her.

The panic didn't set in until he descended the stairs, and the cold breeze from the open front door hit his face, causing a shiver to run up his spine.

The nighttime air was bitter, the ground cold against his bare feet, but it didn't register to Tommy as he rushed around the grounds for his wife, with only the moonlight as his guide. He didn't know how long he had been searching when he finally saw her, her nightgown flowing in the wind as she stood beside the pond, her back to her husband.

He had called her name, but she didn't turn around, and he called it again, and again, approaching her the way he would a spooked horse.

"I don't know how you can sleep in that house, Thomas," she spoke when he was close enough to hear her whisper, and he stopped short of touching her, a frown on his face. "It's just so loud in there."

"What do you mean, love?" Tommy glanced back at the house, it's silence obvious even from outside.

"They're too loud, Tommy," her voice broke, and she turned around to face him, her hair tangled and her eyes teary.

He didn't question her, he didn't argue that the house was quiet and there was nobody there but them and their daughter, he just nodded, holding a hand out for her to take, pulling her to his chest when she finally gripped his hand in hers.

"I know, love."

She loved her children. Elsie was pretty like her, and stubborn like her father, and was able to make anybody smile. Her son, George, was quiet, and, though he was only a baby, she knew he'd be kind, a gentle soul in such a cruel world. She also loved the children she had lost, though she never named them. The ones that never made it out of her womb, sometimes she thought they knew what they would be born into, and maybe saved themselves from the cruelty, maybe God had saved them from it.

She was singing George a lullaby in his room when she heard them again.

The whispers.

She never knew where the noise was coming from, just that they were close. Close enough for her to hear them, but far away enough for it to sound like gibberish.

They always came when it was dark, when they knew she wouldn't be able to see them in the corners of the room, but she knew they were there, even if nobody else did.

She held her son close to her, leaving his room as quietly as possible, her bare feet pressing into the wooden floor caused it to creak as she moved, but she didn't stop.

Her husband sighed when she walked into the bedroom with their son held tightly against her chest. She had been doing this more frequently lately.

"George will be sleeping with us tonight."

She was telling him, not asking.

"I don't think there's any need for that," Tommy had sighed as he removed his cufflinks, throwing them on the dressing table harder then was necessary.

"It is," she stated, climbing into bed, her lips pressed to the head of the infant.

"He has a perfectly good room all for himself," Tommy tried to reason, but one look at his wife's face told him his arguing was in vain.

There was no reasoning with her anymore.

"It's not safe, Tommy." He rolled his eyes at her words, dragging his palms down his face in exasperation, and exhaustion. "You don't see it, but it's not,"

"You don't see it," Tommy hissed, pointing a finger at her. "You don't see it, you hear it, you hear things no one else does."

"I am not insane, if that's what you're implying," she regarded him cooly. "It's real, it's all real."

"I'm not implying anything," he sighed, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "I believe that you believe it's real-"

She was shaking her head and climbing out of the bed before he could finish the sentence, pacing the floor with a fussy George in her arms.

"It's real, Tommy," she walked to stand in front of him, looking down at him, her tears dripping onto his shirt.

There was no reasoning with her anymore.

"I know, love. I believe you."

It got worse as George grew.

She had been putting the six month old to bed when the whispers got closer, when she felt their breath against her ear, and heard their taunting laughter all around the room.

She had scooped up the baby and ran from the room, their laughter echoing through the halls.

Elsie had been sleeping when her mother burst into the room, with baby George held on her hip.

"We have to go, Elsie," her mother had whispered erratically. "We have to leave now."

She held a bruising grip on her sleepy daughter's arm as she dragged her down the stairs, tripping over the carpet as she rushed. She spared a glance at Tommy's closed office door, and considered running towards it, running to the man who wasn't afraid of anything, but she didn't.

He wouldn't understand.

Tommy shouldn't have indulged her as much as he did.

He should never have told her he believed the sick stories she had created in her mind. He should have thrown her in the car and sent her to the doctor the first time he found her standing by that pond.

He had heard the front door open, heard the protests of his daughter and the cries of his son, and he had thrown his cigarette to the floor and ran towards the noise, finding the front door open, and the cries of his children getting fainter as they left the house.

He knew where she was going, and he had ran faster than he thought he ever had before, finding her at the pond, her nightgown flapping in the breeze.

He called her name, and her head snapped towards him, and Elsie tried to wiggle out of her mother's grip at the sight of her father.

"Come back inside, love," he had said, his arms outstretched, but she shook her head erratically.

"No, no Tommy. That house is evil, why can't you see it?" He took a small step forward, his shoes sinking into the mud.

"I know, I know," he whispered. "We don't have to go back there, we can go somewhere else, anywhere you want."

"You're lying," she spat quietly.

"I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm not. You never have to go back there again, I'll burn it down if that's what you want. Just come here."

Her body relaxed slightly, as did her grip on Elsie, who managed to free her arm from her mother's hand and run to her father, tears soaking her cheeks.

"Come on, love," Tommy eyed George, who was leaning against his mother's chest. "Let's go now."

She took careful steps towards him, her bare feet digging into the soft ground. He had taken George from her arms as soon as she was close enough, and she looked at her family with an empty look in her eyes.

He handed George to Elsie, instructing the six year old to take him to the car, without breaking eye contact with the broken woman in front of him.

She was gone.

"Come on, love. We can fix it, I can fix it," his voice was pained as he reached for her, and for a second he saw the woman he married. He saw her in the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands dragging down his sides.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

He was helpless to stop it, really.

Too slow to realise her hand stopping at his holster.

Too slow to reach for when she stepped back from her with his gun in his hand.

Too weak to catch her before she fell back into the pond.

Too weak to stop his knees from giving in.

She was gone.

The house had won.

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Hey for LMK Mac master list can I request “you see him again” cause boy totally needs more love imo 🤌🏼 you’re writing style slaps btws!

You just gonna make me cry, thank you sm. I totally agree with you, he needs all love. Luckily for you, I was planning to post this today. ;3 Hope you enjoy!

_______

You didn't want to socialize or even leave the house, but one of your mortal friends needed you to go on a double date, which you didn't like but understood. Sisters took care of each other, and it was better to have backup to 'whoop ass', as Wukong often liked to say, than to be alone. You didn't completely pay much attention to the male you were basically on a blind date with. He was okay-looking and as interesting as any other tall and handsome foreigner. You couldn't remember much of what he told you… Like his name, how he knew your friend's date, where he was from and why he was visiting China.

You never expected they would take you both to a puppet show, though. It seemed childish and when you really looked at them, they acted the part a bit too well. He swore that it was the best show they'd seen, but you were only interested when you saw the flier your friend's date had. It was a shadow play… which was much different from a simple puppet show in your opinion. 

Ever since your meeting with the emo monkey man, you always thought of Macaque whenever you're in the dark, staring somewhere only to discover it was the shadow of something, or happened to see something that reminded you of him. Did you maybe need to see a doctor? Potentially. Regardless, it was safe to say he'd plagued your mind and, unbeknownst to you, it was just as much as you plagued his. 

Before the play started, you caved and decided to get a helping of popcorn and a drink, something your friend complained about since you'd refused when they were buying earlier. Your journey to and from the line and back was infected with Macaque and almost made you order a popcorn with Pepsi instead of popcorn and a Pepsi.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to today’s shadow play,” 

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling to yourself. You'd only heard it when you’d first met, but you knew that voice from anywhere. He seemed to be using a human disguise and since the boys liked the plays, you guessed that he did them often. 

“You like these too? You seem excited,” you didn't know if it was your date or your friend who spoke.

“You can say that,” you trailed off. 

It was a brief moment, but Macaque’s gold eyes locked onto your (e/c) ones and his smirk grew before he continued.

“For the new viewers, I will start with the tale of the Hero and the Warrior,” and he did. You were no fool. You could tell that the story was based on him and Wukong. A hero that left his friends behind after obtaining immense power… yeah, that sounded like Wukong, alright. You loved Wukong like a brother, but sometimes he got too caught up in himself that he frequently forgot about others, it was something you noticed in MK too.

“Now, I can tell you about the Goddess,” his voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you noticed he looked at you when he said goddess. 

Your heart was already beating quicker knowing he was there, but when you heard his new story of a goddess the Hero once served, and had both him and the Warrior smitten, you knew that you were the goddess reference. He didn't even try to hide that from you… your brain was then quick to notice something; Macaque insinuated that both he and Wukong were smitten with you the second you met.

“This one is so adorable and tragic at the same time,” your friend swooned, and you rolled your eyes at the hopeless romantic.

“It’s kinda boring…” Yeah, you sort of forgot he was there and his hate for romance? It was never gonna work out. Maybe you took it to heart most because it was about you… The thought almost made you want to laugh.

When the show was over, the few people that were there applauded, you included. You thought your friend’s standing ovation was a bit of an overdo, but eh, who were you to judge? You met eyes with Macaque once more before he turned and walked away. Not wanting to miss the chance, you stood up.

“Where you going?” your friend questioned you.

“I'll meet you guys outside, okay?” was all you said over your shoulder before you chased after the hooded figure,

“Wha-” you barely heard her. “Okay, then?”

When you walked behind the stage, you saw a door as it closed. You walked over to it and opened it to be met with an alley and the back of the hooded figure you knew was Macaque.

“Hey, puppeteer,” your voice stopped him in his tracks, but since his back was to you, you couldn't see his grin. He knew you'd follow him, and you proved him right… It made him oddly happy.

“Sorry, miss, but I’m not signing autographs right now,” he said as he turned toward you with a lazy smirk. You could barely see the rest of his face, only his mouth.

“You get people wanting your autograph?” you mused at the thought of him signing autographs.

“Indeed,” 

“I'd never taken you for the shadow play storyteller type, Macaque,” you said with a slight snicker, he playfully clicked his tongue at being caught.

“I never thought you'd be the type to come watch one, (Y/n),” he lifted his hood and looked down at you with a slight grin. “What gave me away, hm?”

“Your voice obviously gave you away, dude,” you folded your arms, and a small smile adorned your face.

“Obviously,” he chuckled, “wasn't that obvious to MK.”

“Yeah…” you trailed at the memory of MK explaining the time they went to one of Macaque’s shows and how it didn't go too well. “He’s kinda clueless sometimes.”

“Remind you of anyone?” he teased, which made you laugh a bit.

“Most definitely,”

“Did you like the tale?”

“I did,” you gave a nod. “I guess I sympathize with the warrior… being in the shadow of the hero is something I bet the Goddess can relate to.”

“I bet,” he chuckled softly. “Like what you see?” he asked as he noticed you kept looking over his features. 

“I like the real you better,” you confessed and cleared your throat, your words caught him off guard. “I guess 'cause I get used to seeing demons in their true form that seeing their human forms feel… wrong,”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he asked before he chuckled, shook his head and reverted to his true form. “How’s that?”

“Better,” you smiled at him before you looked away and cleared your throat again. “Ya know, since it’s the one I’m used to.”

“Got something in your throat there, (Y/n)? You seem to be clearing it a lot,” he teased. “Too much popcorn?”

“I just wanted to…” 

You didn't know what you wanted to do. Why’d you go after him again?

“There something you needed? I doubt you wanna leave your boyfriend hanging,” he tried to tease, but his cocky attitude had a change to it that you didn't quite pick up on.

“He isn't my boyfriend, and never will be either. Not with that attitude.”

Oh, the irony. 

“Your failed date, then?” he asked curiously. He didn't know why it bothered him that you were there with another human man, but it did. Regardless of the outcome of said date.

“We’ll leave it as that,” you sighed in exhaustion, he didn't need to know the details. He thought your reaction was kinda cute though… “What are you doing here?” you asked as you finally remembered why you went after him.

“Cause I wanna be,”

“Macaque,” you folded your arms, unconvinced.

“Unlike His Majesty, some of us need to make a living,”

“So you're doing shows for money?”

“Yep,” he said and looked over your features. 

“That’s shocking,”

“You work, don't you?”

“Touché,” you chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Not at the moment, though… I guess you can say I'm on vaca.”

“I never expected you to be a liar, ya know,”

“What did I lie about?”

“You told MK you’d visit, but every-” he cut himself off and continued, “he said you never showed,”

“Were you trying to see me again?” you raised a brow in amusement, but he couldn't deny that he was caught.

“What if I was?” he stepped closer to you till you were a breath away. “Why does my old pal Wukong get to be friends with you and I can't?” he asked softly.

“Hm,” you looked up at him. “You're in my personal space,”

“Does it bother you?”

“The alley is already small, it'd like as much space as I could get.”

“What if I don't wanna move?” he smirked a bit.

“Then I won't be your friend,” you shot back.

“Oh, playing dirty,” he chuckled but stepped back. “Does that save our potential friendship, plum?”

“You don't have the rank for nicknames,” you stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Yet,” he added.

“That might take a long… long time, ya know,”

“I have nothing but time, you know that,” he leaned close to your face. “See you soon, plum. Maybe without a boy toy.”

“Would you rather yourself as my boy toy?” you had no idea where that came from, but you were internally screaming at what had just come out your mouth. Where'd that confidence come from?!

“Definitely,” he leaned back and looked away as you did as you both blushed. “Later, goddess.” with that, he fell back into a portal before you could say anything else.

“Why are the cute ones always so irritating?” you said to yourself in annoyance, but your undeniable smile said you definitely weren't complaining.

Friends. Yeah, you could both work with that… For now.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

Okay this might be controversial but I do not believe anyone but Feanor and his sons have ANY claim to the Silmarils. This is coming from a person who’s family jewels have been stolen by colonizers and then sold on the market and when we asked for them back showing proof how it belonged to us, the buyer said no because, “I now own it since I paid for it from the money my daddy gave me”.

My family were landlords in feudal China. My great grandfather was a member of the Qing court and my family has done terrible things in history to those we viewed as “beneath us”. Yet the jewel that was an heirloom that got stolen when the eight nation alliance sacked Beijing still belonged to us. Not the person who stole it and then went on to sell it, and definitely not the person who bought it.

I remember when the sale of the necklace made the news and my grandmother broke down crying because she knew it. The same exact necklace sat upon the neck of the portrait of her grandfather in her house. My mother wrote to the new ‘owner’ asking if they’ll return it or if they’ll allow her to buy it off him since it belonged to us, and that person, who was Chinese as well, who knew also the pain of colonization, said no. All because in his eyes he paid for it through legitimate means therefore he owned it.

That piece of jewelry isn’t all that expensive bar the historical value of it since it was given to my ancestors by Qianlong but it was a religious piece as well as a sentimental one. It hold value do to its history not because of any value it holds as it was made from otherwise common materials. But still my family held to traditions, especially religious ones.

But if that piece of jewelry contained a piece of my ancestors soul within them I would definitely be more feral in my hatred towards those who kept it from us. There’s so few mementos left from my ancestors as we sold most of it to support the revolution in the early 20th century and the rest were lost during the middle of the century and those that we kept we coveted. But if any of the rest of the jade and gold I still hold were stolen from me and we’re known to contain a piece of my ancestors soul I would stop at nothing to get it back.

No one but Feanor and his direct descendants have ANY claim to the Silmarils. Just as no one but those who hold claim to stolen Jewish artworks hold any claim to them and none hold any claim to the stolen Buddhist statutes taken from my country but the temple the colonizers took it from. The kinslaying’s were objectively horrible. They were objectively wrong and the sons of Feanor should be punished because of their actions yet Varda had no right to judge who was more worthy of a gem she had no hand in creating. She had no right to declare that the Sins of Feanor were unholy and unworthy due to their deeds that came about due to her and her husbands unwillingness to do anything about her once suitor and his brother.

Thingol had no right in claiming the Silmarils as his own, Luthien stealing a stolen artifact does not make it hers by right. Just because the British stole the 12 zodiac heads does it make them there’s? Just because the person who now owns the dragon head bought it in an auction now ‘owns’ it because they paid out of pocket for it does it now make it there’s? Dior had no right to the jewel, nor did Elwing or Eärendil. The only argument you might make to make Elwings claim stronger is for the Silmaril to be a reparation for Doriath. But even then you have to weigh the cost that Doriath cost staying out of the war and the lives lost due to them raising the griddle and not aiding any of the Sindar that lived out of it.

Even if you believe that the Sons of Feanor had no right to the Silmarils than it should’ve gone to Feanors wife. The Valar had no right to declare any creation of the Children theirs. Havana’s two trees may have provided the light that was contained within the three jewels but would you consider the light that is caught in film the property of the sun? Can you claim that 静夜思-李白 (Quiet Night Thoughts - Li Bai) belongs to the moon goddess since she inspired his poem and her beauty is now held within his poem? Or that the Song of Songs belong to Solomon because it is also known as the Song of Solomon?

The Valar lost all ‘right’ they had to the gems Varda blessed when they decided that the Noldors rebellion hurt their pride and they would not do anything to aid them. And Thingol Dior and Luthein never had any right to them in the first place, just because you stole something that was stolen doesn’t make it yours(!!!!). The only one in that whole line that can claim any right to the gems are Elwing and even that is debatable due to how many people died due to Doriaths inactions.

It’s mainly white people I see defending that the gems no longer belong to Feanors kin and I don’t have to wonder about why that is. When most white people wouldn’t even admit to the fact that their museums would be empty without stolen Chinese artifacts or stolen artifacts. Most of the white people I see simping for Thingol and defending his actions and Diors actions and Beren’s actions have never had their homes ravaged by outside forces and have had their belongings stolen from them. They will never understand the hatred you’d feel when seeing your ancestors work displayed in glass when your family grieves because those should’ve been burned with them instead of being on display. The Silmarils do not belong to anyone but Feanors Kin and all of the Valar should literally die because they are egotistical assholes who only want to be worshipped and when they mess up they blame everyone but themselves.

[captaindibbzy]

The thing about England stealing tea from China is tea was a monopoly at the time. It was completely controlled by China, and China could charge what they wanted for it, and what they wanted was silver.

So litterally everyone on the planet had to buy their tea from China, and it was a state secret. It was punishable by death kind of state secret, the hack you in to little pieces and your family too kind of state secret: like silk worms (another cool spy story out of china). Cause this is what made the Chinese Government wealthy and powerful. China was completely self contained. It had its empire, it had more peasants than you could count, it had all the resources it needed, and it didn't need anything else, but you want something from them? Well then, what's it worth to you?

So the story of how England got tea out of China is actually really cool and it involves secret agents sailing up rivers, paying people, smuggling, but also these people did not know that green tea, black tea, white tea, all came from the same plant, so there's a point where there were reports coming back that they'd found the green tea plant and were still looking for the black tea (it's all in the processing). People risked their lives for this. This is "if you are caught you will be tortured for information" level of James Bond shit.

And they did it, you know? They did it and now tea worth so little it probably costs you more to heat the water. Tea still has to be harvested by hand if you want it to be any good. It's evergreen and it has a few harvests a year, but it's only the very top of the new growth that will do anything worth drinking.

Tea was worth more than gold. In Europe tea chests had locks and keys and the mistress of the house had that key and it was as valuable as jewellery. Like sugar, like salt, these are things that are so ubiquitous today that we don't understand how valuable it is. It was a health drink, because you had to boil the water so it killed the diseases in it. People didn't know that's what did it, so these people who drank tea got sick less often, got better quicker.

Tea was introduced to the UK by Portuguese nobility, I think? Cause they had shipping that went to the other end of the world. The story of tea involves the silk road, and how empires along that refused to sell in to Europe so they had to find other ways to get what they wanted, and it involves war and Empire, and it's so very interesting.

And did you know tea is drunk differently all over the world? Like there are so many tea ceremonies! And that's what the "British" way of drinking tea is, it's a kind of tea ceremony. Taking tea with people in a ritualised way, with a tea pot, with special snacks. It's as special to us as "the way of the tea" is in Japan.

And when you step away from Camellia sinensis which is the "tea" plant it gets so much wider! Like Rooibos and Yerba Mate are two that come to mind.

Humans be like "would you like some leaf with your hot water?" And then we made it a whole thing over and over and over and over again.

I'd write a god damn book on this if I could focus long enough.

[digitalguap]

China's Decision to Abandon the Dollar: A Worsening Blow to US Treasury

Welcome to our blog post discussing China’s recent decision to abandon the dollar, which poses a significant blow to the US Treasury. In this article, we will delve into the details of this decision and analyze its potential consequences on the global economic landscape. Join us as we explore China’s motivations, the potential impact on the US Treasury, and what this move means for the future of…

[faithisasuperstar]

delicate → lamina

lamina!tbosas x reader

notes → in which you get to live a soft, domestic life with lamina. cottagecore lesbians trope and not ashamed. feminine intended reader

warnings → short, but her tag is so bare i needed to do something about it. not edited & uploaded via iphone.

     lamina’s thick, red hair combed through your fingers as you parted it into three separate sections, beginning the works of a braid. both of your schedules had finally aligned, allowing you to spend your free time with the girl for the first time in a while. wind blew in from the open window, causing the dainty curtains to flutter, and the cool draft gave you goosebumps. lamina was humming a familiar tune, an old generational lullaby, as your finger got to work, expertly twisting her auburn hair into a simple but classy braid. these days were the ones you cherished the most. serene, intimate, nothing but tranquil as lamina and you simply focused on your eternal love for each other. 

     the two of you were patiently awaiting the baked goods lamina had made to finish cooking in the oven. it was rare that lamina and you ever got to enjoy sweets, as the ingredients were very hard to come by. knowing how much lamina loved to bake, though, you had saved up to buy everything she would need. lamina must have been keeping track of the time, because as soon as you finished with her hair, she sprung up, walking over to the oven. as she pulled the assortment of sweets out, carefully placing them on the countertop, the aroma filled the room. it was mouthwatering, sickeningly sweet, just like lamina. it wasn’t a bad thing, being overly sweet. if anything, it put you into even more of a sugar craze. you couldn’t get enough of her and her baking.

     in total, she had made three short of a dozen shortbread cookies, even though they may have been slightly out of season. you would eat anything she made, though, knowing she did it all with love. while she tended to her sweets, you snuck outside the back door, allowing your bare feet to connect with the grass. there was a patch of daisies out back. small, white flowers that you plucked individually, cradling them in your palm as you slipped back inside. lamina had displayed her cookies on an old, plate of china. the lone dish had been an anniversary gift to her parents. rimmed with gold paint, with small, orange flowers embroidered on it as well. lamina beckoned for you to sit, but you were on a mission, walking up behind her. the girl was confused, but trusted you enough that she wasn’t bothered. you took the daisies, weaving them into her braid as a final touch. you couldn’t help but smile at your handiwork. the white of the flower was a gorgeous juxtaposition against her auburn hair.

     “beautiful,” she grinned at your compliment, cupping your face with her hand. grabbing one of the cookies, lamina held it up for you to try. you didn’t hesitate in taking a bite, groaning in delectation as the flavor overwhelmed your senses. lamina never missed when baking. it was her passion, after all. and she was yours.

[workersolidarity]

Three, four years ago I could have told you, and did tell people, that inflation would start steadily going up, and I said even then that it would likely be stubborn, meaning it wasn't going to be an easy fix.

I knew this back then because it was obvious, even years ago, that the BRICS countries, along with many African and South Asian countries and elsewhere were looking for ways to get around using the US Dollar for trade.

They were making moves to expand trade relations outside US dollar transactions and were for many years planning and building the infrastructure for a future Multipolar world.

And that process began rapidly picking up pace three or four years ago.

I began to say then, what I'm still saying now, as that process goes on and trade outside the US Dollar system grows exponentially year-on-year, that's going to begin to have an effect on inflation.

Why? Well, Imperialism really. Because the US for decades has depended on the steady demand for US Dollars to hold down inflation, allowing the US to use debt spending to finance wars, military bases and imperialistic ventures like Syria.

Remember, it was the US in its massively dominant position after WWII that built the Bretton Woods System that made the US Dollar the world reserve currency pegged to gold, and it was the US that unilaterally abandoned Bretton Woods 1 and took the dollar off Gold, allowing for the US to finance wars through debt spending, and created the Petro-Dollar with Saudi Arabia in the 1970's.

This debt spending is essentially the surplus value from the Global South and other poorer countries that must buy US Dollars to fund infrastructure projects, energy consumption, food and medicine imports, etc since it's the world reserve currency and if you wish to use the US Financial System at all, such as the World Bank, or SWIFT messaging system, well you have to use US Dollars.

Basically, it's the sucking of the wealth out of poorer countries to finance their own economic oppression.

But as these countries catch on and with new rising global powers like Russia, China and Iran building the infrastructure for an alternative system, the US Dollar is being abandoned faster than ever.

In 2000, more than 70% of Foreign Exchange Reserves were held in US Dollars. By 2020, that figure had dropped considerably to 59%. And the rate at which it's dropping is only increasing.

Knowing this, I said back in 2019 and 2020 that inflation was likely to become a problem. And if it did become a problem, then we knew exactly what the Fed would do as a result: dramatically increase benchmark Interest rates.

This didn't take any particularly specialized or secretive sources to figure out. It's been obvious for years to anyone seriously interested in economics and geopolitics.

And what happens when interest rates go up? The value of the bonds bought under lower interest rates suddenly go way down, while debts become more expensive. It's like gravity in economics.

So with all that being said, why then did all these banks (Signature Bank, First Republic Bank, and Silicon Valley Bank) continue buying troubled assets and Treasury bonds if they're so smart and educated and knew all this?

I mean, these guys are supposed to be the best of the best corporate bankers, right? On the cutting edge of investment banking, right? That's what everyone said even just months before Silicon Valley Bank failed. (CNBC host and moron of the year Jim Cramer literally praised Silicon Valley Bank less than a month before its failure)

So one of two things must be true here and neither one is good for YOU the average worker.

Either these bankers are idiots; complete morons who have little to no understanding of basic economics, geopolitics, and monetary policy, something that should be of concern to all of us.

I mean, I'm just a dude working for a small retailer in New Orleans and even I knew this inflation and higher interest rates were coming.

So why exactly are these people paid such exorbitant salaries? If I can understand the basics of their job better than they can, why am I a retailer, and he, a millionaire banker???

So that's one possibility, one I'm virtually certain is actually true, that our ruling Elite isn't particularly smart or well educated in reality, anymore than ordinary people I meet everyday, and any one of us could easily do their jobs just as well or better than they do given the opportunities afforded to them.

But even if in this case, that's not what happened. That these weren't idiots. Well then the alternative is something that should also be deeply disturbing to you: that these bankers knew they would be facing this situation, that they were well aware of the coming inflationary pressures and equally aware what the Feds response would be, interest rate hikes.

And instead of using the last couple of years to shed possibly dangerous assets and shore up the money the banks kept on hand, they continued to do what was personally making them so much profit, at the expense of tax payers, because they were absolutely certain that the government these bankers spend so much money on campaigns for, would swoop in regardless of the recklessness of their behavior, and bail them out no matter what.

These are not the signs of a healthy political, economic or banking system.

[zhou-enlai-fanclub]

But sleep will not come. What is the cause of this cruelty, this stupidity? A million workmen come from Japan to kill or mutilate a million Chinese workmen. Why should the Japanese worker attack his brother worker, who is forced merely to defend himself. Will the Japanese worker benefit by the death of the Chinese? No, how can he gain? Then, in God's name, who will gain? Who is responsible for sending these Japanese workmen on this murderous mission? Who will profit from it? How was it possible to persuade the Japanese workmen to attack the Chinese Workman -- his brother in poverty; his companion in misery?

Is it possible that a few rich men, a small class of men, have persuaded a million men to attack, and attempt to destroy, another million men as poor as they? So that these rich may be richer still? Terrible thought! How did they persuade these poor men to come to China? By telling them the truth? No, they would never have cone if they had known the truth, Did they dare to tell these workmen that the rich only wanted cheaper raw materials, more markets and more profit? No, they told them that this brutal war was "The Destiny of the Race," it was for the "Glory of the Emperor," it was for the "Honour of the State," it was for their "King and Country."

False. False as hell!

The agents of a criminal war of aggression, such as this, must be looked for like the agents of other crimes, such as murder, among those who are likely to benefit from those crimes. Will the 80,000,000 workers of Japan, the poor farmers, the unemployed industrial workers -- will they gain? In the entire history of the wars of aggression, from the conquest of Mexico by Spain, the capture of India by England, the rape of Ethiopia by Italy, have the workers of those "victorious" countries ever been known to benefit? No, these never benefit by such wars. Does the Japanese workman benefit by the natural resources of even his own country, by the gold, the silver, the iron, the coal, the oil? Long ago he ceased to possess that natural wealth. It belongs to the rich, the ruling class. The millions who work those mines live in poverty. So how is he likely to benefit by the armed robbery of the gold, silver, iron, coal and oil from China? Will not the rich owners of the one retain for their own profit the wealth of the other? Have they not always done so?

It would seem inescapable that the militarists and the capitalists of Japan are the only class likely to gain by this mass murder, this authorized madness, this sanctified butchery. That ruling class, the true state, stands accused.

Are wars of aggression, wars for the conquest of colonies, then, just big business? Yes, it would seem so, however much the perpetrators of such national crimes seek to hide their true purpose under banners of high-sounding abstractions and ideals. They make war to capture markets by murder; raw materials by rape. They find it cheaper to steal than to exchange; easier to butcher than to buy. This is the secret of war. This is the secret of all wars. Profit. Business. Profit. Blood money.

Behind all stands that terrible, implacable God of Business and Blood, whose name is Profit. Money, like an insatiable Moloch, demands its interest, its return, and will stop at nothing, not even the murder of millions, to satisfy its greed. Behind the army stand the militarists. Behind the militarists stand finance capital and the capitalist. Brothers in blood; companions in crime.

What do these enemies of the human race look like? Do they wear on their foreheads a sign so that they may be told, shunned and condemned as criminals? No. On the contrary. they are the respectable ones. They are honoured. They call themselves, and are called, gentlemen. What a travesty on the name, Gentlemen! They are the pillars of the state, of the church, of society. They support private and public charity out of the excess of their wealth. they endow institutions. In their private lives they are kind and considerate. they obey the law, their law, the law of property. But there is one sign by which these gentle gunmen can be told. Threaten a reduction on the profit of their money and the beast in them awakes with a snarl. They become ruthless as savages, brutal as madmen, remorseless as executioners. Such men as these must perish if the human race is to continue. There can be no permanent peace in the world while they live. Such an organization of human society as permits them to exist must be abolished.

From "Wounds," by Norman Bethune, a Canadian Communist who died serving the Chinese Communist Revolution

[lilsunflower95]

Cruel Summer: Chapter 1 ~ Keep Running

Pairing: Taehyung x original female character

Genre: Fluff, angst

Rating: T-SFW

Word Count: 1,856

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimers: ©lilsunflower95 - As this is my original work, I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes YouTube, Tik Tok, Pinterest, and/or Wattpad.

Summary: Yoo Hyori is a successful actress and model who has a crush on Kim Taehyung. She learns she will soon team up with for a new television series being filmed in Mexico.

m.list (coming soon)

“She’s worth more than he is.”

Yoo Hyori’s manager was pacing in her living room, his slippers squeaking against the highly polished wood flooring, while she stood at the marble island of her gleaming kitchen scooping soy sauce braised chicken mixed with onions, mushrooms, peppers, and glass noodles into a large cream colored serving bowl. 

“Mr. Kang…, please?” She looked up at him with a hint of a smile playing on her ruby red lips to remind him to be kind as he ran a hand over his thinning black hair.

“She does deserve to get paid more than him. He’s just a singer. She does it all!” He held a hand out, palm up as he turned away from her and put a hand on his hip under his tightly tailored blue suit jacket. 

She looked over to the awards that glittered under the spotlight as they sat on her floating shelves with a sense of pride. 

They really were quite resplendent in all their different shapes and sizes as they sat beside the various potted plants she had arranged carefully, afraid that leaving gaps would eat at her whenever she didn’t win an award and drive her to self destructive competitive levels.

“She has awards from television, from movies… you name it, she’s got it.” He paused for a moment before shaking his head and walking towards the hallway slipping slightly on an over polished spot. He glowered down at his feet then continued on, his voice becoming softer as he left. “You’re just saying that because women are more likely to buy merchandise than men. She’s got plenty of fans and you know it. Besides, she can actually cook! He can’t do that. He’s said on more than one occasion how he despises the task.”

Hyori’s assistant, Mei Jiang, looked at her with a wry smile as she picked up her glass of red wine and swirled it in her glass. “Do you know what role that’s for?”

“No. This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Hyori shook her head as she carefully placed the dish on the center of her long oak table with criss-cross legs. She shifted the plate to center it and tipped her head to admire the pure white bone china that was adorned with Swarovski crystals and accented in 24K gold details.

It was a far cry from the banana leaves she’d grown up eating off of.

“I can give you a hint, but you can't get your hopes up in case it doesn't work out.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.” Hyori breezed back into the kitchen and leaned against the island, wincing against the sting of the peppers and onions that were simmering in a pot of pork dumplings. “What is it?”

Mei looked over her shoulder, using her long, sharp nails to move her waist length black hair. After making sure they were alone for the moment, she leaned in close to Hyori and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s a television series being filmed in Mexico. The stars will run a fully functioning restaurant for a week to give Korean cuisine exposure. I know the location scout and apparently, the city is….”

She pressed her fingers together before her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.

A week in Mexico? She blinked and inhaled slowly and deeply as she imagined dipping behind a waterfall while the others looked for her. She imagined what it would be like to be alone again as her heart throbbed and tears pricked her eyes. She fought to keep a smile from her face as a laugh bubbled in her chest.

The idea of finally being able to be safe made her mind reel.

She caught herself from going too far into her imagination and raised a brow while watching Mei light a pair of red candles on the table, shielding the flame with her cupped hand.

“It’s that nice, hmm?” Hyori looked from Mei’s nod to the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the ancient river and the glittering city beyond and sighed at the snow that was collecting in the corners. “It would be nice to be somewhere warm right now.”

“You want to know who he’s so mad about?” Mei leaned back in her seat to check the coast was clear again when the sound of shuffling footsteps filled the hallway. Hyori nodded and allowed Mei to pull her close by her arm so she could whisper in her ear. “Kim Taehyung.”

Hyori pulled away with wide eyes as her heart thumped in her chest painfully fast. “You’re kidding!”

Hyori’s mind immediately conjured the last time she’d seen Kim Taehyung. 

It had been on a photoshoot in Paris for… Vogue or Elle?… she couldn't quite remember which one. He had been dressed in a three piece black silk suit and was sitting at a small round table while fog was pumped on to the set to give the illusion of a smokey Parisian cafe. He had sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes seductively at her as she walked behind the cameras to go to her own set.

She knew from her own training that it was normal for sitters to find someone behind the scenes to flirt with to make the photos more realistic, but still… it made her shiver.

Why had he chosen me… of all people… to look at? There were plenty of beautiful women there! They were so elegant and fashionable. I look like an amateur compared to them! Could it be that he was intimidated by them?

Mei shook her head and took a long pull on her wine when Kang came back into the room with a sigh.

He threw his arms out to the side as Hyori hurried back into the kitchen and began to sprinkle sesame seeds over stir fried octopus. “Well, I did my best. I got higher than what they initially wanted to pay, but it’s still not where it should be, which is a shame.”

Hyori glanced at Mei who nodded as she brought the next dish to the table. “Mr. Kang, I am most appreciative of everything you do for me. I would have nothing if it weren’t for you always looking out for me. I am very proud of and grateful for your continued efforts on my behalf.”

He bowed his head with a small appreciative smile as he clasped his hands behind his back, his shoulder popping as he did. He watched her portion out the rice until the bowls were neatly rounded and shook his head. “You do deserve better.”

“Maybe one day the industry will agree with you.” Hyori offered a small smile and motioned to the table. “But nevermind, dinner is ready. Please come and eat.”

She went into the kitchen and took up the bottle of wine, cradling it like a kitten as she went back to the table where she filled Kang’s glass then refilled Mei’s before serving herself.

She finally sat and watched her guests begin to eat and smiled in gratitude at their small hums of delight, pleased they were eating well.

“Mmm!” Kang sat straight suddenly, dabbing the corners of his mouth with the silk napkin, staining it with the remnants of a red pepper sauce, drawing the wide-eyed looks from Mei and Hyori as he hurriedly finished chewing. “I must apologize! I focused more of my energy on the negative instead of the positive!”

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Kang. But, please, share your good news so that we can all celebrate.” Hyori laid her hands on her lap demurely. 

“You were selected to be one of the stars for a new series called ‘Donghae’s Seoul Bistro’.” He stopped when he saw Hyori and Mei exchange looks before pointing at Mei, his bushy black brows rising high on his narrow brow. “Did you already tell her?”

Mei held her slender hands up and averted her eyes to the meal before her. “No! Of course not!”

She kicked Hyori’s shin under the table and widened her eyes with a smile. Hyori looked from her to Kang, her mouth falling open as her mind reeled. “I… she…. Uh….”

“Miss Jiang.” Kang settled his narrowed eyes on Mei and heaved a sigh.

“You’re supposed to be an actress!” Mei leaned over her plate, careful to avoid getting her tight maroon turtleneck on her food.

“Acting and lying are very different!” Kang glowered then plucked up several peppers and laid them on a steamed dumpling before popping it into his mouth.

Hyori rubbed her arm and looked down at the floor to avoid Mei though she could still feel the heat of her weighty stare.

“Well, since there was no way Mei could have known you would be selected, there is still some good news I can share.” Kang dabbed his lips again. “You were selected. Filming starts next week, but they’d like for you to go out as soon as possible to drum up anticipation on social media. There will be a photoshoot or two as well.”

Hyori’s face brightened as she beamed at Kang, who couldn’t help but to return her smile. She gripped his arm in her long fingers and leaned towards him. “When am I leaving?”

“Tomorrow, provided there are no conflicts with your schedule.” 

“It’s a little short notice.” Mei sat her chopsticks down and pulled her phone from her pocket, scrolling quickly through her calendar. “But, this will take priority. I don’t see anything I can’t reschedule. Some feathers may get ruffled, but I know I can make it happen without prejudice.”

“You make magic happen, Mei.” Hyori smiled at her as her shoulders relaxed when she sighed and slouched a bit as though she were watching a dream unfold. “I can’t believe this is happening. Two weeks in Mexico!”

Mei chuckled and shook her head as she sat her phone in her lap. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I endeavor to do my best. What will actually be magic is getting your wardrobe arranged in time. De la Renta just released a new line and, naturally, it’s all gorgeous. I’d love to see you in a few pieces. I think it would help drive you towards another magazine shoot or even get you an invitation to fashion week this year.”

“Really?” Hyori’s eyes went wide at the prospects. “That would be amazing.”

Mei reached across the table and squeezed her hand before her smile faltered. “It would be. I don’t know why, but I feel like this is going to be a life changing experience. What a strange feeling. Don’t you think? Anyway, you should eat this delightful food you’ve made before it gets cold.”

Hyori shifted in her seat with a giggle as she took up her chopsticks and pinched a chicken wing, chewing on it as her mind reeled.

This is all happening so fast. Please ancestors, spirits, God, Buddha, whoever is out there watching over me… please let me be strong and courageous. Please help me to keep running.

It's a bit short, but I hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you for reading.

If you're interested in being added to the taglist, please let me know and I'll add you! 🌻💜

[rainbowmess823]

Was watching a bunch of videos of Disney actors in the Disney parks and I can just see the fruity four walking around causing chaos.

----

Flynn Ryder: I'm Flynn Ryder. *does the smoulder[tm]*

Robin: I'm gay.

---

Eddie: YOURE SO METAL!

Mulan: Metal?

Eddie: STICKING IT TO THE MAN! THATS LIKE THE EMBODIMENT OF METAL!!

Mulan: *grins* I did save all of China.

---

Stitch: *waving*

Steve: STITCH I LOVE YOU! MY OHANA!!! *cries*

---

Nancy: *glares*

Belle: ???

Nancy: Teach me your ways.

Belle: my what?

Nancy: How do you not punch Gaston on a daily basis??

---

Steve & Nancy: *having a pleasant conversation on the teacups*

Eddie & Robin: *Spinning as hard as humanly possible the tea cup and yelling*

---

Steve: We should ride that gold mine ride next!

Robin: YES WE SHOULD!

Nancy: Gold mine??

Robin: The one with the bear!!

Eddie: Why can't we just ride Space Mountain instead?

Nancy: You threw up la--

Steve: OH OR THE PIRATE BOAT RIDE AGAIN!

Robin: ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU JUMPED OFF THE BOAT BCOS ONE OF THE FIRGURES MOVED!

---

Nancy: *is buying ice cream*

Eddie: *taps her shoulder repeatedly* Wheeler. Wheeler. Wheeler.

Nancy: Hold on, Eddie. *trying to count her money for the frozen treat*

Eddie: *taps her more urgently* Wheeler!

Nancy: *sighs and turns to look at him* what is it Eddie?

Eddie: *puppy dog eyes* Can I have one too?

Nancy:...*sighs and turns back to the vendor* make it two sir.

---

Robin: *gasps* OHMYGOD STEVE LOOK!

Steve: *double gasp* OHMYGOD WE NEED TO TAKE A PICTURE!

Nancy & Eddie: *finds them with Eeyore, taking a photo but the both of them are crying*

---

Bonus:

Max: I can't believe you guys went to Disneyland without us.

Dustin: You can't just go to the happiest place on earth without your children.

Max: That's like a cardinal sin.

Robin: We brought back souvenirs from the gift shop.

Dustin: You can't just bribe us.

Steve: And Mickey hats.

Max: That means nothing.

Nancy: And signed swords from Captain Jack Sparrow.

Dustin: We can't be bought.

Eddie: Aaaaand these plushies, Sox for Dustin and the Jaguar plushies from Encanto for Max.

Dustin & Max: *Tears up* you're all forgiven.

----

Most of these prolly don't make sense but idk I see it :3

[mykingdomforapen]

Trading cards are the biggest fad amongst pop culture merch in China at the moment—you buy a single pack for 10 RMB and surprise yourself with which character you get! I got Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling 🥰

According to my cousin, Cheng Xiaoshi’s card is likely a rarer find because the gold accents on his card usually indicate a special card. If that’s so, I got so lucky! He’s my special angel 😇.

The cards also came with an extra little backing card. What a good way to pair up the characters with a delightful moment in the show—

Why would you hurt him like this