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#reading spring trees and sunset clouds
auberginenikki · 23 days
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Food as a love language is always a favorite ❤️❤️❤️
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wantmangojuice · 3 months
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Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds - finished - 54 ch
Premise: MC transmigrates into a the body of a prince and does everything in his power to put his younger brother into the throne, only to be repaid by betrayal and torture and near-death--and finds himself in a peaceful village run by a humble civil servant ML. He gets to start over in his new place, living day by day and rediscovering the joys of simple life. But perhaps there's something more to this village and to the ML than what first meets the eye.
Quite an interesting book! On one hand it's like a slice-of-life novel where the MC gets to heal in a tranquil neighborhood. On the other hand, there's quite a bit of disturbing things happening in the background, actually :D
That is a happy ending for the couple, but not for the world, it looks like! :D
Or is it even really a happy ending for the couple?
The ML is very sweet and also, as it turns out, quite a sociopath (if that's the right term) and their MC-ML romance dynamic in the end is, ah, interesting.
Criticism which I don't even know how to articulate: I...don't really buy the setting? A secret super-special country-thingamajig which can control the rest of the world, but from everyday life doesn't seem to be any particularly more technologically-advanced than any of the outside countries (aside from medicine I guess), and I'm like. Hmmm. Not really convinced.
Not sure how to categorize this book, really. Do I mark it as "recommended"? I'm not sure if I'll re-read this. But it certainly went into directions I didn't expect, and I'm not sure if that's for the better or for the worse.
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assortedseaglass · 7 months
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We Have This Hope - III
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Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting
[Masterlist]
Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut
Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x
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Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors. 
Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…
The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables. 
Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward. 
At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky. 
The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him. 
“Forgive me, Sir-” 
“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips. 
“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.” 
Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.” 
“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.
Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.
“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them. 
How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it. 
“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm. 
“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”
“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.
“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.
Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.
“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. “We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.
The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone. 
“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.
“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival. 
Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.
“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet. 
“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge. 
Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head. 
Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael. 
Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him. 
Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him. 
Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.
“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose. 
“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.” 
Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness. 
He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near. 
In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.
Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance. 
The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters. 
That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired. 
Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why. 
“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.” 
“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”
“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”
When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.
Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether. 
“Osferth?” 
So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother. 
He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern. 
“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.  
“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.
“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.” 
“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”
Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.
“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little. 
“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word. 
In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed. 
“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”
“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”
“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.
“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.” 
Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.
“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,” 
“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.” 
“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently. 
Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate. 
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Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children. 
Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.
“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”
“There’s something about his eyes,”
“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!” 
Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft. 
“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.
“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.
“Not even a man so beautiful?”
Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance. 
When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter. 
“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.
Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her. 
Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked. 
Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered. 
“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now. 
“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath. 
“Are you sure?” 
“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead. 
Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training- 
I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel. 
Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated. 
“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”
“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.
“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy. 
“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.
“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.
Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy. 
“The yarrow worked-”
“How is your practice-”
Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands. 
“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.
Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”
“Come on, Osferth!” 
Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked. 
“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”
“That he is.” 
Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered. 
Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter. 
No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek. 
“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.
Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.
Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.
When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.
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Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.
Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.
Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.
The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.
“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.
“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Aethelflaed with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.
When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm.
When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.
“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”
He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Aethelflaed was for Uhtred?
“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”
“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”
The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”
He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.
“Are you a monk anymore?” She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”
He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.
“You are Osferth.”
“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She.
“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.
“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”
He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.
“Will you pray with me?”
Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”
Aefry knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were beautifully distracting, so he settled on watching her pray instead.
She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the abbot did it to scare the oblates into servitude.
He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them, she was there beside him, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.
“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.
“My mother.”
“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.
“I shall try, my lady.”
She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”
His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”
Aefry nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”
“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.
“Psalm sixty-three.”
“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. Aefry watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his so as to feel close to him.
“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.
“Yes, you must,”
Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek.
Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.
In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.
“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.
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Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!
Tags: @arcielee @babyblue711 @elizarbell @chilling-in-my-head @skikikikiikhhjuuh @fan-goddess @sylas-the-grim @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @doomwhathouwilt @gemini-mama @myfandomprompts @bcon24 @humanpurposes @wise-owl @bookwyrmsblog @yentroucnagol @allthefandomtherapy @hightowhxre @elizarbell
167 notes · View notes
shoshiwrites · 2 months
Note
Orange sunsets for Jo & Egan? 💚
Friend, this prompt would not exist without you and your Gale senses, @mercurygray's military vehicle expertise, and @junojelli, because I have never driven stick in my entire life, much less a 1940s jeep. Prompt list here.
Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3!
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Somewhere between writing up her latest story and the blue censor’s slashes that render it half as long, she runs out of typewriter ribbon.
She thought she’d been careful — both in the writing and in the paying close attention to her supplies. Jo — reporter Jo, Your Trusty Correspondent Jo, she figures out her own shit. Doesn’t ask for even so much as a pencil. 
She’d thought it was a good piece, too. 
The things she does have to ask about — meals, jeep rides up to Norwich to report on the bombing runs there, woven through with conversations with the civil defense men, almost all of them veterans of the last war — those are careful things, done in uniform and with something in her voice that approximates flattery. Apologies without apologizing. It’s a relief when a Red Cross girl or two offers to go with her, the way they can talk without minding themselves.
Longhand’ll be fine, for a bit.
It’s warm enough to sit outside, in the grass, in the shadow of a Nissen hut. Overcast, as usual, an early summer day. The air smells like pollen, half like the promise of rain. 
“Hey, I know we’re short a few things up here but I think a chair might not be too big an ask.”
She squints up at him in the brightness from behind the clouds. “Major.”
“Seriously, you need a chair?”
“I’m alright, thank you.” It’s not the mud of spring anymore, at least. “Ground’s nice, on a day like this.”
The look that crosses his face seems to be considering a joke. “Where’s the machine?” He means her typewriter, the Underwood portable. Sitting inside.
She makes a noncommittal wave. 
“I’m sure we could figure you one of those too,” he says, even though they both know full well that hot commodities like typewriters aren’t just growing out in the grass. “Sticky keys? Bad spring? Screw loose? Space bar not doing its job? I mean, I’d still read it, but-”
“Nah, just the ribbon.”
“You need a ribbon?”
God, he’s worse than the boys at the office. She laughs, just a little. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a great copyboy?”
If he were chewing gum right now, it’d be a lazy clack on his back teeth. “Well, not too different than what they’ve got me doing now, if I’m honest.”
“If you’re honest.”
“Jeep’s right there,” he says, even though it’s not. “I mean-”
She weighs her options. Jeep ride. Typewriter ribbon. Maybe even one for Kay or to squirrel away for later. She wonders about ration books and cigarettes, not that she bothers much with anything besides Luckies these days. Small bars of wartime soap, small, pretty tins of hard candy, boiled sweets, they call them here.
On the other hand. No ride. No ribbon. No sweets. The air’s gotten thicker as she’s been sitting here. It sounds nice — careening through the greenery with the wind on her arms. 
And he’d talk the whole time, she knows he will. 
“What’s your afternoon look like?”
“Wide open.”
She highly suspects it’s not. 
“Just the ribbon,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She’s glad she’s wearing trousers in the passenger seat, the open vehicle, the way she has to hold on to stay in. He’s used to the thing by now, he says, the way it handles, the good noises, the bad ones, the bite of the clutch. The road to Norwich is a straight line, and long, and he shouts over the wind, “oldest Roman road around! ‘S what I heard, at least.”
“And here we are, driving on it!” 
“Yeah!”
The fields run by, the rows of trees, wagons, the Queen Anne’s lace, cow parsley, clusters of daisies. 
“So, what’re you working on?”
She tells him, out here where it feels like they’re the only ones around, in the middle of the afternoon, even if they’re not. And he knows, of course, exactly what she’s talking about, the major who drinks among locals, the ones who tell stories and the ones who don’t. 
He waits outside while she makes her purchase, and then ducks into another store to buy that tin of candy, slipped into her pocket. A magazine too, a small, short thing printed on rough paper. She ought to get him something, for the favor. A beer or a meal would be the real thing, if this wasn’t just an errand. 
They walk back around the corner to where the jeep is parked, and he makes to toss her the keys. “Spin for the lady?”
She looks at him, unable to hide the confusion on her face. 
Even if they let her have a jeep, she couldn’t drive it.
“Would if I could,” she says. “Though I hate to make you take the wheel all the way back, too.”
“Hey, it’s fine, I like this thing. But seriously, you never-?”
She looks at him, maybe a little too long, trying to figure out who he thinks she is. “City girls don’t get a lot of lessons in motoring.” Like it’s 1922 and she’s got a parasol and a skirt that doesn’t let her move. Steelworkers who drink away good wages don’t usually go for nice cars, either. William’s family had cars, plural. The two of them went for drives sometimes, out to the quieter, greener spots around the city. She always felt like she was going to do something wrong, smudge something that had just been polished or cleaned.
“Why don’t you hop in, I’ll show you.”
She looks at him again. “I’m sure the last thing anyone needs is an accident that puts a major out of commission.” And she’s pretty sure her on a ship home would be a welcome relief for at least as many people as she can count on her hands.
He makes a noise of dismissal, good-humored. Kind of a snort. “You’ll be fine.”
“You can tell that to the MPs.”
“Hey, would I tell you that if I didn’t think it was true?”
No, you wouldn’t.
“If I can park a plane, you can drive a jeep.”
She gets in the driver’s seat.
“So right here’s the steering wheel-”
She’s quick enough to bite it back. You know I got to England all by myself, right?
He sees the look on her face, puts his hand up. “Just covering all the bases, Brandt.”
“Steering wheel, roger.”
“Steering wheel-” he points, “shifter. This thing-” he points to the long handle protruding from the dashboard, “parking brake. Don’t worry about that one yet.”
He reaches an arm over, down to the well where her legs are. “Left is the clutch. That’s important. Right foot’s the brake. Also important. Long pedal’s the gas, you guessed it, important, if you wanna get back to base before chow or there’s someone chasin’ you.”
“Who’s chasing me?”
“I don’t know, somebody.” 
“I’ll think something up.”
“You’re the writer, right? Now, you’re gonna start this baby up.” He hands her the keys, fingertips brushing her palm. "First turn that ignition, press the starter-” she does as she’s told, “and give it a little gas.”
It starts, mercifully, with a noise that he doesn’t wince at. “Now, if you wanna go faster than a farm wagon you’re gonna need to switch to second. But, can’t do that without gettin’ to first first.”
She’s fairly certain every window along the lane has someone looking at them, but she can’t worry about that right now. 
“So, shifter’s in neutral, keep your foot on that brake- and the clutch, yep- just like dancin’-” he sees her face, “ok, maybe harder than dancin’, unless it’s a fast song playin’-” The clasp of her watch digs into her wrist against the wheel. “Doin’ great- now, I shoulda had you look at these before we started so I’ll just tell you- you’re gonna push down good on that clutch pedal, take the shifter, like this-” 
She does, rewarded by an ungodly metallic noise and a corresponding smell. Her stomach wobbles. Nothing about his manner changes, except a handwave to get the smell away from his nose. This must be what’s he’s like up there. She’s surprised there hasn’t been a baseball metaphor yet. “You’re fine, just didn’t press hard enough is all. Need to get you some good boots like mine-”
She tries again, and the whole vehicle seems to take a cue from her stomach. “I hope you didn’t have anywhere you needed to be this afternoon.”
“Nope.” It’s clear she doesn’t quite believe that. A beat passes. “...you let me worry about that. Now-”
She reaches for the shifter again, just as he does the same, the tiniest spark of static. How, in this weather? If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she heard something in his throat. “So I’ll handle this part now, you just focus on the clutch.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll tell you when.”
She nods, tries to look decisive about it.
“Alright- right- now-”
It bites, just like he said it would. 
“BEAUTIFUL!”
It’s almost a laugh, the breath that escape her.
“Now, we’ll try second.”
She doesn’t get too excited, because it stalls out again. But she gets it going out of neutral, to first. He looks proud.
And second gear- the second time- it works.
“Hey, see, you’ve got this!”
“I think steering might also come in handy.”
“You may be right.”
She’s not very graceful about it, but she doesn’t land them in a ditch as she slowly maneuvers onto the main road. “I think you ought to take us back if you want to get there before dark.”
He looks like he’s thinking about it. “Ah, alright. But this ain’t over.”
“Part two?”
“Third gear. On the strip. When we get back.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Kind of a requirement.”
She gets it back down from second, stops it, hands him the keys. She’s shivering a little, back in the passenger seat, from the nerves, energy. He looks over at her and smiles. “Passed part one.”
“How do I stack up?”
“Well, Buck still has me drivin’ him around so, I’d say you’re the top of the class.”
She laughs, from relief, from the fact that it’s still not raining, from the fact that she’s forgotten the typewriter ribbon in the little box in her pocket, from his smile.
“I expect you to keep this thing running while I’m up there,” he says.
She wants to laugh, but the unspoken if hangs heavy, like clouds pregnant with rain. 
“I don’t think that’s allowed,” she says. 
He glances over at her, East Anglia passing them on both sides once again. “Well, I’ll get you permission.”
It’s not even your jeep, she wants to say. It puckers on her tongue, like the cherry-flavored sweets in her other pocket. None of this belongs to us.
By the time they make it back to Thorpe Abbotts, the sky has miraculously cleared, soft and blue, the other side of the afternoon.
“Now, we can just call this practice,” he says. “For the gear shifts.”
Gamely she gets in the driver’s seat again, bolstered by his confidence.
Another stall, again, this time from first to second, but she handles it. No one’s ever accused me of having a bad memory. Quite the opposite, sometimes. 
The sensation of it runs through her arms, her legs. Something new, something she’d learned, something that might actually serve her, and not just what lipsticks to wear and how to dress for the season. Something he’d shared with her.
“I’m glad we’re not in Pittsburgh,” she says. “All the hills.”
“Hey, you’d handle them too. You’re a pro now. More practice than some of us got.” She’s a little afraid of what this looks like, although it’s not like discipline’s been the letter of the day at Thorpe Abbotts. Hardly something she’d write home about, aside from the swagger, the boldness. It meant something to her, though. Professionalism. William never thinks about any of it, she’s sure. “How about trying that third gear?”
“I hope whatever you’re missing right now isn’t too important.”
“Thought I told you to let me worry about that.”
“After dinner,” she says, unsure if she means it.
The next voice belonging to neither of them, low and a little amused, approaching. “Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”
“Just taking Josephine here for a little spin. Driving lesson.”
She shoots him a look. “An errand. I ran out of ribbon.”
“How was it?” Gale still looks faintly amused. “The lesson.”
“I told her if I can park a plane, she can drive a jeep.”
“Your ability to park a plane is questionable at best.” He smiles, just a little, before his expression is measured again. “John, Huglin wants to see you.” He can’t say what about in front of her, obviously. Jo hopes it isn’t about this. Something about what she knows of the colonel might tell her it’s not. Still, she feels guilty.
He leans over conspiratorially. “Jo, I won’t mind too much if you run him over.”
“Nice thing to say about your best friend,” Gale says.
“You’d be walking everywhere if it weren’t for me. Jeeps, bikes-”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’ll let you bring this back where you got it,” she says. “Better than me taking an hour to do the same.”
“After dinner, though?” Her mouth twitches a little. 
“Come on, you’ll be thankin’ me one day.”
“He likes to say that,” says Gale.
If the sky stays clear, it’ll be beautiful. Clear blue until late, and then pink, orange, lemon yellow. Red streaks like the sweets in her pocket, dusted with powdered sugar.
How many sunsets like that could you hope for?
“Alright,” she says. “Keep the keys ready.”
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hugsandchaos · 1 month
Text
Full Moon Curse
Summary: Every full moon night, since Arthur was young, was spent in self isolation, often outside. It was a routine everyone who’s spent at least one full month in the castle knew. Yet very, very few knew the reason why. Arthur often wished that even fewer knew, but little does he know, this evening is going to go the opposite of how he wanted. Is the moonlight night really going to end as badly as he fears?
Notes: Arthadow Club, I’ve read y’all’s fanfics and seen your fanart and it’s amazing, but you seem to have forgotten a little concept. Eat up. Oh, and here’s your tag, @teamxdark! I hope you all like it!
Word count: 4,525
With the last bit of the sun’s comforting and powerful light gone, Arthur was left in complete darkness. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him at all, being all alone in the dark, but he’d spent too many nights like this to be so fearful as to turn around and walk back to the castle. His crown had been left behind, along with much of his armor. He felt a little undressed without them, despite still wearing clothes. They were left behind for a good reason when he left just before sunset, though.
Arthur tilted his head up and searched the sky. Any minute now, the full moon would appear through the rolling clouds.
Before he left, the king made sure that every worker there knew he was not to be followed tonight. The newest knight had asked why, but luckily, Gwaine was there to tell him that it was a routine that had gone on for a long time and was simply not to be questioned. The badger seemed a little flustered and apologized. Arthur accepted it easily. Being worried about the king was practically part of the job, so it was reasonable a seemingly risky decision would raise questions.
An owl hooted somewhere to the right. Without thinking, Arthur turned to where it came from, only to relax his shoulders just as quickly as they raised up. The warm summer nights were more teeming with life now that the snow was gone and the animals had returned in the spring. Soon, fireflies started flickering their lights to the world and crickets began to sing and chirp. Combined with the pleasantly cool wind blowing through the trees, it was all a sort of quiet melody that soothed his mind when he paid attention to it, even if just for a while.
His emerald eyes found the moon when its light finally shined through the clouds. In the past, he would’ve looked at it and dreaded what would follow. Now, Arthur looked at with both a resigned sadness and some remaining fear for the painful transformation.
It started in his chest. It always started in his chest. Arthur gasped and brought a hand up to clutch the shirt he was wearing. His heart slowly, but surely began to beat almost painfully fast in his chest. Like it was knocking on it from inside. His ribcage felt as if it was starting to expand underneath his skin. At the same time, the flesh around began to grow to keep up with it. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and started panting. He released his grip on his shirt, only to try to grip at his chest.
The pain only grew worse as it spread to his arms and legs. Arthur cried in intense agony as his leg bones began to change and shift, unable to handle it while they supported his weight at the same time, no matter how many time he’s gone through it. It always hurt too much for him to keep standing. Arthur used his aching arms to catch himself on the ground, which shot a spark of pain through them. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, which sounded a lot like a hiss.
Knowing how the next few seconds would go, the king grunted and laid onto his side on the grass. He hated it. It was his own body, and yet the best Arthur could do for himself right now was to just lay there and let it happen. His face scrunched up in extreme discomfort as he grew too big for the clothes he was wearing until they tore apart. At the same time, he had to remove his hand from his chest because of the claws starting to grow. It hadn’t exactly brought him any comfort, but not doing it somehow felt worse than doing it.
‘It’ll be over soon.’ Arthur told himself.
He gritted his teeth as they started to ache and felt them starting to grow sharper. His tail stretched and grew blue fur out of it, the same blue fur that started spreading all over his body until it was longer than his quills. He cried out as his arms and legs grew bigger, his ankles shifting and readjusting to take on a different shape. Everything suddenly seemed much louder, much brighter, and his nose stung a little as Arthur became more aware of the different scents in the air.
Every muscle was tense and his fingers that now ended with sharp claws flexed as if to grab something. Everything hurt, everything ached, it was all so bad that he wanted to rip off his own skin to make it stop.
Then, almost as fast as it came, it stopped. The king breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. The pain would fade away soon enough, but now, the transformation was done. He began taking deep breaths to try to even out his breathing and calm his heartbeat. Arthur didn’t bother getting back up yet and simply laid there, listening to the sounds of the forest surrounding the clearing he frequented for the transformation. His head was spinning a little, but he knew that would fade as well.
Slowly, but surely, the pain subsided. When Arthur opened his eyes again and looked up at the sky, the moon had barely moved an inch from the position he’d first seen it in. He put his now furry arms on the ground and began to stand up. He moved slowly, not because of balancing issues, but because his legs often suddenly ached when he stood on them after and made it harder to stay up. Luckily, this wasn’t one of those times and the king was able to properly look around, the shreds of the clothes he’d been wearing now discarded onto the grass.
The fireflies were still there, but not as many remained. The crickets had sensed the new presence of a predator in the area and gone quiet, but Arthur’s now advanced senses hadn’t yet detected anything that could be a threat. That meant it was him that startled them. Arthur despised this form, along with the urges that came with it. The hunger for raw meat, for example.
Most of his mind was disgusted by it, but the rest that felt as if it belonged to the beast he’d turn into every month salivated at the mere thought of it. Another example is that on the rare occasion he was happy during these nights, he’d catch his tail wagging. The cursed king would also eventually come to the realization that when he thought of something that made him happy enough to make his tail wag, he’d feel more excited about whatever it was than when he was back in his much more comfortable and normal hedgehog body.
However, that small boost of happiness did next to nothing for Arthur when he remembered his circumstances. It was like trying to put out a large fire with only one bucket of water. He took in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Now he had to figure out what he could do next for the remainder of the night, because no matter how exhausted he might’ve been the day before, the beast was wide awake more often than not. One thing was for sure, though; Arthur had to stay away from civilization and the people who lived there.
“This is unexpected.”
Arthur’s ears and tail perked up hearing the voice, and upon realizing who it was, he was briefly overcome with nothing but sheer excitement at the thought of his beloved being there. He felt his now longer and fluffier tail move side to side rapidly, and for a few seconds, he didn’t care at all. Then that beautiful feeling was crushed by a sense of dread.
Shadow was there, and judging by his words, he was looking right at him. He saw Arthur. He could see him right now, as this... this beast.
Arthur turned to where the voice came from and his heart sank to his stomach. Shadow’s glowing red stripes and eyes, familiar and mysterious at the same time, cut through the darkness from where he was standing amongst the trees. As he walked into the clearing, the glow disappeared and the moonlight was granted permission to shine on him. The king’s beloved looked undeniably gorgeous under the soft, pale light, but he (unfortunately) couldn’t focus on that at the moment.
“What are you doing out here?! It’s late!” Arthur asked. He hadn’t meant to sound so surprised and fearful, but it was already out before he knew it. For some reason, Shadow had yet to show any signs of fear. Arthur knew how fearless he could be, but wasn’t he at least a little disgusted right now?
“Well, I was going to find a good place for stargazing, but who would’ve thought that I’d find you out here too.” Shadow replied. He shrugged his shoulders.”I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He added.
Arthur hardly processed the explanation. His mind was busy trying to prepare itself for the inevitable disaster that would be Shadow, the one who lit up his day just by being there and filled a place in his heart he didn’t even know was empty, was about to leave him. Arthur should’ve told him sooner. Maybe the heartbreak wouldn’t have been this awful. He could feel the tears starting to form behind his eyes and his throat begin to tighten already. He fought the urge to start crying down as far as he could so he could speak.
Arthur took in a deep breath.”Yes, it is... a curse I’ve had for a very long time now.” He said. He wanted to turn around and run so badly. Run from his home, run from his curse, and run from his beloved’s rejection.”I... suppose that you no longer want to be with me now that you know?” Arthur asked, fighting to keep his words above a whisper.
Shadow blinked and tilted his head slightly.“What are you talking about?” He asked. He started to come closer, but Arthur took a step back.
“Look at me! I look like a beast! A monster! I’m the very thing young children would run from in terror!” Arthur exclaimed. His voice strained a little as he spoke.”I’m the creature that hunters would go after to mount my head on their wall, believing that they’re protecting their loved ones!” He said. The dam holding his cries back was starting to break, a single tear was already rolling down his face. It almost hurt to speak.
He hung his head down and looked at the grass. He didn’t want to meet his lover’s eyes, which were probably full of hate by now.“I look like... like a demon, don’t I?” Arthur asked, sadness dripping from his words. He bit the inside of his lip to prevent it from quivering like he was a child.
A few minutes of heavy silence followed. Arthur didn’t see it, but Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.”Does me being only part hedgehog make me disgusting?” He asked. Arthur briefly forgot all about the circumstances and snapped his head up to look at Shadow.
“What?! No!” He exclaimed. He was shocked that his beloved would even suggest such a thing. Shadow’s tail may be far too long and easily manipulated for a hedgehog’s, and both of his sets of retractable teeth and forked tongue would startle many people, and of course the fact that he could make his red stripes glow was a surprise, but Arthur could only see them as what they are. An important part of Shadow that made him who he is.
He was hardly ever scared of his alien features, and even when he was, it was short lived and replaced with fascination. The lungs of a scorpion to hold his breath for seven days, the ability to find his way through sound alone like a bat, the eyes of a cat’s or reptile’s to see in the dark, and more! Every bit of Shadow’s biological and genetic makeup, as the hybrid himself called it, that Arthur learned about seemed to further prove his self proclaimed title as the ultimate life form and leave the king wondering why and how he was created in such a way.
It was simply amazing how he always seemed to have a way to handle situations. Why — No, how would someone look at him and be disgusted by the simple fact that he wasn’t a “proper” hedgehog?
Shadow tried again to walk closer, and this time, Arthur let him.“There’s your answer. You don’t look much like a beast to me anyways.” Shadow said as he took Arthur’s clawed hand into his own. It was a little surprising how much easier Shadow’s hand was to hold now, but Arthur hardly processed it. He was busy hearing his beloved’s words repeat in his mind over and over.
It was something that he wanted to hear the moment he first wondered what would happen if Shadow learned of his curse. He needed to hear it. He just didn’t think it was very likely. In fact, it was one of the reasons he gave up seeking a lover long ago. And now, after hearing those words, it felt like a weight he’d been carrying for so long that he often didn’t notice its heaviness anymore was starting to lift off his shoulders. Arthur could feel the tears that were ready to be released start to vanish, and his throat began to open up again.
“You... You do not see me as a monster? You are not worried about what I could do if I’m not in control?” He asked. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried since even now, there were times he’d acted on the beast’s instincts instead of his own.
Shadow gave a small shake of his head.“No. If anything...” The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small smile, ”I’m actually a little relieved now that I’ve figured out what’s been causing you to feel weak for so long.” He said.
One bright flash of light and surprisingly brief dizzy headache later, Arthur was in a dark room, but the two windows up ahead made him guess that this was Shadow’s cabin. Shadow’s eyes and quills glowed in the dark with bits of lightning flickering between his red quills, something that the dark hybrid seemed to be able to control for the most part. He brought his other hand up and pressed it against Arthur’s chest. He carefully guided him backwards a few steps and lightly pulled down on his hand. Shadow wanted him to sit down, and Arthur did just that.
He reached an arm behind himself and patted the air as he slowly knelt down until he found the cushion of a couch. Arthur sat down, but Shadow remained standing. The dark hybrid leaned closer and gave Arthur a light kiss on the cheek. The soft peck made his cheeks heat up. It felt like just what the king needed right now.”Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a while.” Shadow said. He turned around and walked to the other side of the room. He knelt down in front of something and picked up two sharp objects.
Three sharp strikes of stones against each other and a few blows from Shadow, and the fireplace was lit. He waited a little to make sure that it would stay, then walked into the kitchen that was right on the other side of the right wall when he was satisfied.
Arthur couldn’t help but smile at him, even when he left. He heard a light thumping and turned to his right to see his tail wagging against the couch. Arthur’s face felt hotter and he quickly grabbed it, but not too harshly, just to make it stop. Thank goodness Shadow hadn’t seen that. Once the tail stopped moving between his paws, Arthur released it and looked around.
A few steps in front of the couch was a rectangular carpet with a simple striped design and different shades of grays, reds, and browns.
The flames eating away at the replaced firewood sent a warm, orange light dancing across the floor, walls, and ceiling. It chased away the darkness and was slowly heating up Arthur’s front body. The wooden floors looked very clean, which wasn’t much of a surprise since Shadow had an affinity for clean and tidy spaces.
Shadow really valued having his privacy, so much so that he apparently built a cabin not too long after he appeared in Camelot. Arthur wasn’t exactly sure just how far away from the kingdom the cabin was, but Shadow told him that he ran for about three hours before stopping in the general area around the house to search for a good place to start building. Given his incredible speed, Arthur could get a good idea of how far they were.
The isolation ensured the couple’s privacy and brought relief to Arthur. No one else would see him like this. He took this moment to think.
He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten cursed, only what happened after. His mother was the first he told. She was horrified and tried to find a way to reserve or heal it, but unfortunately, it was permanent. His mother would bear the brunt of his actions during the first year. Arthur would wake up the next day with no recollection of the night before and his mother would reassure him that nothing bad happened. She often laughed and told him that he acted like a pup wanting his mother.
There were so many embarrassing stories from that first year that Arthur would often rather forget. Over the next few years, he’d slowly gotten better at regaining control over himself. Now, it was near perfect, but there were still moments that the king would not remember the next day. The lack of recollection often meant that he wasn’t in control. There were so many times in the past where he’d nearly gotten caught by either knights, villagers, or hunters. Those moments taught Arthur what fearing for your life meant.
The king wasn’t sure how long he’d been deep in his own thoughts, staring blankly at the fireplace across the room until he finally noticed something. Something that smelled amazing, coming from the kitchen. He turned to look at the doorway just as Shadow came in holding a plate and fork. As he came closer, Arthur could see that it was a piece of cut up meat on the plate, cooked and seasoned. Shadow held the plate out for Arthur.
“Eat this. It’s cooked rare.” He said. Arthur glanced between the plate and Shadow for a second, then accepted. It was a pleasant surprise when he first learned that Shadow could cook, especially when he tasted it and thought for a minute that his beloved might’ve been a famous chef he’d somehow never heard of. Shadow denied it, but Arthur still had his suspicions. Shadow sat down and stretched his arms up.
The fork was a little harder to hold, but the first bite was amazing. The meat was oddly juice and less tough on the inside, but Arthur wasn’t complaining about it. If anything, it made it even better. Besides, Shadow rarely made mistakes when it came to cooking food. Surely this was how “rare cooked” meat tasted.“This is delicious! But if I may ask, how do you think this will help me?” Arthur asked. He brought another piece into his mouth.
“If your sharper features are any indication, then the diet you should’ve been eating requires a bit more meat. Raw meat, that is.” Shadow started explaining. Arthur very briefly paused eating before swallowing the piece of meat in his mouth.“However, I also worry that too much raw meat would make you sick. Plus, you’re still technically an omnivore. I don’t have the right equipment to get the information I need, so to be on the safe side, I cooked it rare.” Shadow finished.
Arthur glanced at the dark hybrid making himself comfortable on the couch. The fork made a clink sound as he let it rest on the plate.“So all this time, my constant fatigue was a result of my meals lacking the proper meat?” He asked. The thought of hunting and eating raw meat had plagued his mind so many times that he believed it to be from the beast simply wanting to enjoy the bloody act, and not for the food itself.
Not only that, but he always felt especially tired after that night. Arthur always believed that was from the transformation, or perhaps a side effect of the curse.
When he was younger, he was so disgusted by the constant thoughts of eating raw meat, especially if it was from something or someone he killed, he’d go into episodes of sorts where he’d avoid meat all together for days at a time. That would make him feel even worse, and slipping back into eating the meat that was in his meals again would help. Was he so repulsed by his own mind that it did it not occur to him that this was the solution?
“I can’t say for sure, but it’s pretty likely. I wouldn’t have even started cooking if I thought that wasn’t what it was.” Shadow replied. He adjusted his position and turned his body so his back face Arthur’s side. He leaned back and turned his head to the side against Arthur.“Finish up and we can head to bed if you’re tired.” He said.
“Surprisingly, most nights when the moon is full, I am not tired. Rather, I am possibly more awake than before, but that sounds lovely. Thank you, Shadow.” Arthur said. He returned to his meal and the two sat not in silence, but close enough.
Once he was done, Shadow insisted on taking the plate and fork to the kitchen. He won, of course. Then, he blew out the fireplace and plunged them both into near complete darkness, the only light being from the moon shining through the windows and Shadow’s glow.“I suggest we have a sort of trial.” Shadow said. He took Arthur’s hand into his own and began walking into the next room.
Arthur was glad this part of the house was more open to make room for the stairs on the other side of the room, leading up to a small pathway suspended above a vacant doorway to another room. He could walk a little without worrying about having to duck his head any to fit. Shadow led him up the stairs.“Every weekend, I want to bring you over here for dinner, and we’ll see if this change will actually work. Does that sound like a good idea to you?” He asked. Arthur had to be careful in the dark, but Shadow leading him and moving at a slower pace than usual made him feel at ease.
The suggestion sounded like a great idea to him. Even if it didn’t actually help, it would at least ensure him having a planned date night with his beloved every month.“Yes. I’d really like that.” Arthur said. The two walked into Shadow’s bedroom, which was one of the few rooms with a door. Arthur had to duck his head and turn sideways to fit through, but at least the bed was large enough for them as Arthur sat down. He’d much rather not use blankets tonight.
Shadow began to remove his shoes and gloves, but the rings were only off for a very brief time. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what their purpose was, but the hybrid telling him that they only come off in the most dire circumstances told him all he needed to know about their importance. Shadow placed them neatly beside his bed and the gloves went on the night stand.
He sat down next to Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder. He brushed that hand through his quills and fur.“You know, this form of yours might not be all that bad. Surely you’ve noticed how easier it is to stay warm in the winter?” Shadow asked. Arthur had to prevent his tail from wagging and reached a hand back to rub his neck a little.
“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve often looked forward to the transformation so I wouldn’t be so cold when I was younger.” He replied. He reached his other arm around Shadow and pulled him closer. The form also came with a lot more strength, which Arthur had practiced controlling in the past. Still, even now, he was worried about accidentally crushing his beloved.
Shadow had no such fear and made himself comfortable leaning against his side.“And since your tail is longer now, I can do this.” He said as he closed his eyes.
Before Arthur could ask what he meant, he felt something wrap around his tail. He jolted a little feeling the furs on his tail moved and turned around to see Shadow’s tail hooked around his own. It was a small gesture, not too different from the times Shadow used his tail to hold onto Arthur’s hand or arm, but seeing it made the king’s heart swell up. He turned back at Shadow and smiled.”Let us stay like this for a while, my beloved?” Arthur asked.
Shadow turned his head and nuzzled against Arthur.”For as long as we can.” He said.
Arthur wrapped his arm around him and slowly, trying to be mindful of his size, leaned back until he and Shadow were both laying down on the bed. Surprisingly, it held both of their weight with no problem. Both of their tails moved so they wouldn’t be crushed, but Shadow kept his hold on Arthur’s tail even as it wagged. Arthur lowered his head to touch the top of Shadow’s as the dark hybrid curled up a little. His dark quills and red stripes smelled of lavender, something Arthur could now look at and be instantly reminded of his lover.
A small smile made its way across Arthur’s tan muzzle. If this was how Shadow was reacting to his curse, he regretted not telling him sooner. It eased the king’s worries and warmed his heart to know that Shadow hadn’t been disgusted or disturbed by this form. He wasn’t scared one bit of his sharp teeth and large claws, and he hadn’t found all of the blue fur Arthur would probably get on his bed gross. The only thing he seemed to care about was the fact that he believed to have found a solution for Arthur’s constant fatigue. He didn’t seem to find a need to mention his tail wagging, either.
Shadow accepted it all without a second thought, and now, Arthur would always have a nice weekend dinner to look forward to. Not only that, but something told him that this wouldn’t be the only time he’d spend the full moon in the cabin his beloved built.
(I honestly meant this to be a one-and-done-for-now type of thing, but now I’ve got a few ideas that are admittedly Shadow-centric and focus more on how they could’ve met. Trust me, I think they’re pretty good concepts. Next one (after I finish a WIP from another fandom) will be simply titled “Stars”, and honestly, I meant to finish it last summer. On the bright side, my writing’s better than it was a year ago, so it should be pretty good. I blame the Arthadow Club for this/j . Also, I’m not immune to “werewolf character being overexcited to see their partner”, so I wonder how embarrassing it would be for Arthur to wake up the next morning and ask Shadow if he was okay because he knows that not remembering what happened means he wasn’t in control, and Shadow tells him how he couldn’t even go into the next room without Arthur following him.)
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littlestpersimmon · 10 months
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Obscure danmei rec, Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds. Xianxia, follows a Disabled Chronically ill MC who was betrayed by his prince brother and is left for dead. He washes up on the shores of a mysterious village, the entire story follows him finding the will to live and making a life for himself in this village. The love interest is a treat who, as a disabled person, I found to be doting without placating to the MC’s disability, but knew when to assist the MC. It’s very beautiful and I feel like most people don’t know about it :)
that sounds gorgeous!! can I find a translation easily just by Googling? still at work atm but I'm excited to read
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eddie-sweetheart · 2 years
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Autumn Sunset
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Once, Eddie helped Steve with unrequested but much-needed love advice. Now, as the sun sets in the countryside surrounding Hawkins, it's time for Steve to return the favor.
Tropes: Eddie x female reader, body positivity, fluff and a very sweet love confession.
Warnings: Drug use, light swearing, physical insecurities.
Word count: 6.5k
Author’s notes: This work has been adapted from a commission for a very sweet and lovely mutual of mine. If you're reading this, thank you for asking me to write something for you: it was an honor! 🤍
🌹 Masterlist 🌹
You’ve never seen a sunset as perfect as this. As the van runs along the empty road, the trees a green blur outside the windows and the words Leaving Hawkins - Come again soon getting smaller and far away in the rearview mirror, you can’t take your eyes off the gold and fire that’s striping the blue Indiana sky. 
It’s not the first sunset you’ve witnessed on the road, but this one feels special. The mesmerizing colors, broken up here and there by pink fluffy clouds, are not simply beautiful: they look properly glorious, as if they’re carrying a beautiful secret that they can’t wait to share with you - as if something good is laying there, just past the line of the horizon.
It’s a peaceful sight, one that perfectly matches the wide, silent fields of the countryside - a tranquil sea of green just outside the city lines, still dewy from the morning rain and apparently untouched by the horror and devastation that plagued Hawkins two seasons ago. 
It was spring, and it was terrifying, and as the memories start echoing at the very edge of your mind you push them away, focusing on the falling leaves that are scattered on the dark concrete like orange, brown and red confetti. It’s over, for now, and you’re all okay: that’s what matters. The present moment, the beauty and warmth of autumn, the company of your friends.
Your friends. You move your gaze away from the window and the flowing road, and glance at the six of them with a soft smile. As the sky is starting to get darker outside, they seem to light up the interior of the live-in van with their laughter, jokes, and affectionate bickering. 
“Guys, come on” Robin is groaning, slumped in front of you across the small foldable table as she turns around to look behind her, at the back of the van. “Can’t you at least wait until we get there?”
“We’re not smoking it yet, we’re just getting it ready” Jonathan explains, glancing up at her from under his fringe with a tilted smile before getting back to what has been his occupation for the past few minutes. That is, rolling a joint with the help of Argyle, who’s methodically grinding weed, and Eddie, who’s selecting the buds from his infamous lunchbox. 
The three of them are sitting at the back of the van, pressed together in the same long, sofa-like seat that saw some of you ready for a final battle just a few months ago - but there are no spears or spiky shields today; only three six-packs and a bag full of snacks. 
Robin lifts her eyebrows up, unconvinced. “Steeeeve” she exclaims, turning back around before getting up from her seat and taking a few, wavering steps towards the front of the van, grabbing your headrest for balance as the vehicle swerves slightly. “How long?”
“Buckle up, Robin” Steve replies, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, “if you don’t want me to get arrested for speeding, it’s going to be another half hour”.
Beside him, Nancy turns around in the passenger seat to face Robin. “We can put on some music, if you want”.
“Great idea, Nance” Robin exclaims, lowering her voice immediately after. “Anything but Metallica, please” she whispers to Nancy with a pleading look. “It’s triggering”.
Nancy smiles and nods, understandingly. “Deal. What about some Madonna?”
“Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you” Robin replies before getting back to her seat with a sigh, literally throwing herself on the flowery chintz of the lining. It’s a hideous print, you think to yourself, but you wouldn’t change it.
“Hey, y/n”
A soft tap on your foot, and your eyes shoot up to meet Robin’s. 
“You okay?” She asks you, leaning forward on the small foldable table. “You haven’t said anything in, like, half an hour. I’m getting worried over here, you know”.
“I was just admiring the sunset” you reply, giving her a small, reassuring smile, “it’s just… I don’t know, it’s different today”. 
Behind Robin, Argyle turns his gaze away from the grinder in his lap to look outside. 
“Woah, dude, she’s right” he exclaims, mouth agape as he stares in stupor at the flashes of color that are getting lower and more intense as you drive. “It looks like strawberry and peach soft serve with cherry syrup on top. So sick”. 
“That was weirdly specific” Eddie observes as both he and Jonathan follow Argyle’s eyes and turn around to look at the sky. The warm light plays glittering games with their features, drawing golden stripes on Jonathan’s hair and getting caught on the shiny surface of Eddie’s rings, the reflection hypnotizing as you get caught in it. 
Your eyes follow the soft lines of Eddie’s fingers, which are still expertly clutching the thin paper he was rolling, and go up to the arches of his wrist. Unexpectedly, as your gaze travels back to his face, your eyes stumble into Eddie’s and you’re met by one of his signature tilted smirks. 
“Earth to y/n” Robin suddenly says, snapping her fingers in front of you and making your head turn back to her. You don’t realize it, and if Robin notices she doesn’t let you know, but there’s a hint of blushing on your cheeks. 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks you, her eyes narrowing as she inspects your face for your reaction, nose scrunching up and eyebrows furrowing.
“Robin” you firmly state, your smile now wider, “I promise. I need this today as much as you guys do, but I’m okay, really. So,” you expertly divert the topic, “what’s on the menu tonight?”.
You already know Robin’s answer: the usual, duh, and she’s right - and it’s perfect. Sandwiches, popcorn and chocolate brownies have turned into a stabilizing, comforting routine meal every time you and the others take off to spend some time outside of Hawkins. After the earthquake, even if the imminent danger of Vecna’s evil plans seems vanished for now, life in town has taken a toll on you all, especially for you and the rest of the older gang. With Max in the hospital with no signs of recovery so far, Lucas by her side day and night, Hopper’s return and Eddie’s difficult name-clearing process, Will’s recurring headaches and shivering spells, and all the other side effects of your latest close encounter with the Upside Down, it’s no wonder that sometimes you really feel the need to just go away. Not forever, of course, not even for long - but an evening outside the living hell Hawkins is turning into is what helps you all relax, somehow, and take the weight of being responsible for a group of very strong and determined but still fragile and young kids off your shoulders. Protecting them is your priority, and you do it gladly - but, sometimes, you need to take care of your own selves, too.
The first time was your idea. It happened after one of Eddie’s breakdowns, a panic attack that woke him up during an older-gang-only sleepover at Steve’s. He couldn’t breathe, and for a few minutes he kept yelling about the demobats, swearing that they were outside and they were looking for him, following his scent. Of course, there was no trace of those evil creatures (you all made sure to check just in case), but nothing seemed to convince Eddie. When he miraculously calmed down, an idea popped up in your head and you suggested going for a drive - and everyone agreed.
Of course, you took the van - but not Eddie’s old one. That was sadly gone, along with the trailer, because of the earthquake. Eddie and his uncle had hence moved into Hopper’s cabin, forever grateful for Jim’s offer to help them out until things got quiet again (if they ever will, you all thought). And, since no one had come to reclaim it, Eddie had also been able to keep the van you’d stolen from his neighbors to reach The War Zone before going to the Upside Down to face Vecna one last time. And it quickly became your vehicle of choice to run away. 
Despite its first stolen trip, the van became a lifeboat that night, as it led you from the Harrington’s big, empty house to the countryside outside Hawkins, a peaceful haven where you were able to forget everything about what lies beneath your hometown for a couple of hours.
And it’s towards that same countryside that you’re headed right now, as the sun sets in the autumn landscape. It’s not a long drive, really: it’s been less than thirty minutes since you’ve crossed the city limit when the van slows down into a gravel road on the left. A wide field opens up in front of you, a sparse cluster of trees to the right marking what’s lately become “your spot”. 
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen” Steve announces, slowing the van to a halt once you reach the tree line and killing the engine, “here we go”. 
“Finally” Robin sighs as she grabs the bag of snacks and as soon as Nancy opens the door she climbs down the two steps that lead outside the van. After putting one six pack in the minifridge, you grab the other two and hold them close to your chest, following the girls into the fresh autumn air. 
The sun is now lower on the horizon and its colors are warmer than ever in the dark blue sky - and your place looks as beautiful as always. You take a deep breath, inhaling the clean air of the countryside and all its nuances - from the scent of dewy grass to the earthy smell of the ground and surrounding grove, it’s all so familiar that you almost feel at home. 
An intruding whiff of cheap cologne and weed makes you turn around, just to find Eddie leaning against the open van door, the unlit joint he rolled dangling between his lips as Jonathan and Argyle make their way outside and towards the others, holding a few picnic blankets in their arms. 
“Need a hand with those?” Eddie asks you, nodding at the beers as he lifts a lighter to his mouth. The brief flicker of the flame warms up his eyes for a second, and it’s soon followed by a thin sliver of greenish smoke reaching up into the sky.
“I’m good, thanks” you reply, trying not to let your eyes linger too much on his hands, or on his lips - which are so close to you now, but not close enough. Something twitches in your chest, but you shrug it away with one of your bright smiles. “I’m a big girl, you know. But thanks for offering, though”.
Eddie playfully smirks, taking a step towards you. “Do you want some, then, big girl?” He asks you, lifting the joint between the two of you. 
“Yeah, why not” you reply, smiling as he gets closer, but you soon realize that you can’t take the joint without dropping the beers. You move to place them down on the ground, but Eddie stops you.
“Here” he says, and suddenly his fingers are very, very close to your lips as he offers you the joint to take a drag. 
Your heart starts beating a little bit faster as you inhale. You can almost feel his skin on your lips, and the idea sends shivers down your spine, making your mind race as you try not to get too caught up in the fact that Eddie is just so close. 
It’s hard not to think about it, though - just the sight of the moles you’re spotting on his neck, of his dark hair curling up beside his lightly blushing cheeks and the chocolate shade in his eyes are making your head spin. Is it possible that you’re high already? 
“Hey, you two!” Jonathan’s voice makes you suddenly turn around. One side of you is relieved, because you’re blushing already and there’s no way Eddie isn’t going to notice that - but another, tiny part of you is annoyed that your friend has unconsciously broken whatever spell you and Eddie were under.
“Come make yourself useful for once” Jonathan says, “And don’t smoke that all on your own, please”.
You and Eddie look away from each other, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips, and you finally make your way towards the others. 
Steve and Jonathan are setting up a small circle of stones, in the middle of which Argyle is throwing some dry branches and sticks he’s collected among the trees in order to light up a fire - which, even if it’s not big at all, has become a necessity with the chilling breeze of autumn. In the meantime, next to the improvised fireplace, Robin and Nancy have set up the blankets under a big oak at the edge of the tree line. The snacks have been unpacked and laid out like a proper picnic setup. As you drop the six packs on the checkered wool, the dry, fallen leaves scattered on the ground beneath the blanket make a crunchy sound, and you remember something.
“Wait a second” you say, and as the first flames of the fire start crackling and everyone else sits down, you walk back to the van to turn on the radio. 
The first few notes of Wild Heart by Stevie Nicks seep through the open doors of the vehicle as you come back to your friends with an innocent smile. The quick beat of the cymbals makes Robin’s head turn and her eyes open wide in surprise.
“No way, y/n!” She says as she looks at you with her mouth open, clutching an open can of beer close to her chest, “I love this song! Actually, this whole album, it’s- it’s the best album ever!”
You giggle as you sit down next to her and Nancy in front of the fire, opening a beer for yourself and clinking it against hers. “I know” you reply, taking a sip, “That’s the first thing I thought when I found it in one of my drawers at home. That’s why I picked it for tonight’s soundtrack - I know how much you love our Stevie”.
“What was that?” Steve asks, plopping down by your side, soon followed by Eddie.
You, Nancy and Robin look at each other and burst out into a fit of laughter, causing an expression of utter confusion to appear on Steve’s face and a knowing, restrained smirk on Eddie’s lips.
“Oh, don’t worry, Stevie” Robin says, taking a deep breath between a giggle and the other and throwing an arm across your shoulders, “all you need to know is that our y/n has the best taste in music”. 
Steve looks at Eddie, trying to find some answers to whatever joke you’re going on about.
“Don’t look at me, Harrington” Eddie observes, smirking as he takes a drag from the joint before passing it to Argyle. “I told you you should stop listening to Elvis Presley and start broadening your musical horizons”.
“Yeah, dude” Argyle confirms, coughing a little smoke, “This music right here is actually not bad”.
“Not bad?” You exclaim, almost offended, as you take another sip from your beer. “Stevie Nicks is a literal goddess. You can dance and sing, cry and laugh to any of her songs - I’m ready to fight you on this”.
While you talk, Eddie keeps his eyes on you, silent as you giggle and jokingly argue with everyone about music. Every now and then, you throw a glance at him, too. The fire reflected on his rings, the first stars in the still blue sky glittering in his eyes, the flash of his grin make him sparkle like Christmas lights - and your eyes are fireflies, constantly drawn to him, whether you like it or not. But you do like it. A lot.
As the songs go on and change, you keep drinking and chatting with Robin and Nancy, and a pleasurable dizziness starts clouding your mind in a very good way. You feel lighter, more carefree, even happier than usual - here, surrounded by your friends, snacking on the food you prepared together and drinking until your legs are pervaded with the right amount of numbness, you feel like there’s nothing you have to worry about.
You take a look around you, and you’re glad to see that everyone’s having a good time. Eddie and Argyle are smoking, Robin and Steve are affectionately bickering about Robin’s latest crush, Nancy and Jonathan are settled into a loving hug beside you. It feels perfect, and just as you’re thinking that it couldn’t get any better, the first notes of Stand Back start playing. 
“Oh, y/n” Robin says, immediately interrupting her conversation with Steve and looking at you with an excited glint in her eyes. “I looove this one!”
“Me too”  you reply, your voice a little higher than usual as you sway your head lightly, getting lost in the rhythm. “God, I want to dance to it so bad” you suddenly exclaim, “will you be my partner?”
Robin nods enthusiastically. “Always! Come on” she says, and as you two start getting up, Argyle follows your move.
“You want to dance, too?” You ask him with a huge smile, surprised at the idea of Argyle dancing.
“Oh no, thank you, y/n” he smiles back, “I just need to go pee. Maybe later?”.
You and Robin exchange an amused smirk as Argyle disappears in the woods. Then, without a second thought, you get off the blankets, take each other’s hand and start dancing, Stevie Nicks’ voice guiding your moves.
As you spin and twirl, Robin’s arms linked with yours, Eddie’s eyes linger on you. He doesn’t notice it, but a smile is blooming on his lips as he looks at the way your hair moves in the air, how your face lights up as you sing along and how ethereal and lighthearted you look in the rising moonlight. He’s not just looking, he’s admiring the way in which, for a few minutes, you seem happy and serene, and he’s beyond grateful that there’s something in the world capable of giving your beautiful mind some rest - even if that’s just a song. Maybe, Eddie thinks, one day it might be one of my own songs.
Eddie’s not the only one watching, though. Steve’s eyes have been moving back and forth between Eddie and you for a while - but now, he’s decided that he’s done with it.
“Come on, man” he says with a sigh, making Eddie turn around towards him, “don’t you think it’s time for you to talk to her?”
Eddie frowns, lowering his gaze as a soft shade of red starts spreading on his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrington”.
“Maybe you don’t” Steve talks back, scoffing, “but the way you’re visibly pining after y/n has been loud enough for everyone to notice by now. Except her, of course, but that’s how it always goes, doesn’t it?”.
Eddie doesn’t reply, but Steve can almost hear his thoughts spinning under his curly, messy hair. 
“Look” Steve tries again, scooting closer to him and lowering his voice. “You once told me that I had to do whatever it took to get Nancy back, because to your - and I quote - cynical eyes, the way she jumped into Lover’s Lake after me was a sign of true love. I did try, and it didn’t go well, as I honestly kind of suspected, deep down. She’s moved forward, just as I have, and right now Jonathan is what she needs - it stings a little, but I’m happy if she’s happy” he calmly says, throwing a glance behind his shoulder at Nancy and Jonathan, snuggled up one against the other and chatting quietly next to the fire. “But even if it all went to hell, you were right” he continues, finally finding Eddie’s eyes as he looks back at him, “You were so right, and I’m glad that I tried, because I gave myself a chance. And I’m not saying this to build your hopes up or whatever, but something tells me that it might go differently for you if you tried”.
Eddie doesn’t really know what to say. His mouth twitches slightly as he tries to find the right words and build up the courage to finally let his guard down and open up. A few months ago, if someone had told him that he would confess his feelings about you to Steve The Hair Harrington, he would have told them to fuck right off; but right now, after everything he’s gone through - after everything you’ve gone through together, he doesn’t see the point in hiding behind his armor anymore.
“What if she doesn’t… you know” Eddie finally says, gesturing wildly with his hands as he tries to find the right words, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. She’s too… she’s too fucking special, Steve”.
Steve smiles. “I know” he says, patting the denim vest on Eddie’s back, “I know. But Nancy and I are still here, aren’t we? And I’m sure if that was the case, y/n would never want to lose you as a friend. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. Talk to her first, trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t”.
“And what the hell should I say?” Eddie sighs, thrusting his fingers in his hair, “I write songs and D&D campaigns every fucking day, but it all goes to shit when it comes to this. ’Hey y/n, I think I’ve been in love with you since the day you saved me from a swarm of raging demobats and I can’t stop thinking about you, every fucking song reminds me of you and please tell me that you feel the same because otherwise I’ll have to jump into one of the earthquake cracks and die of shame in the Upside Down?’ She’d kick me in the face if she heard that”.
“No, she won’t” Steve replies, trying to hide his slightly amused grimace, “but maybe you should leave the Upside Down bit out of it”.
Eddie groans in defeat, dropping his forehead on top of his knees.
“Look” Steve concludes, his gaze lingering back on the fire, moving a stray branch into the flames with the tip of his Nikes, “the words will come. Just find the right timing and you’ll be good”. 
Eddie sighs, looking up to take another look at you and Robin, who are totally out of breath and hugging in a final spin as the last few words of the song fade out into the autumn air. He nervously scratches his cheek as you two come back to him and Steve, plopping down in front of them with your empty beer cans swinging in your hands. 
“God, that was fun” Robin exclaims, her grin beaming almost as much as yours. 
“We need to do that more often” you agree, your eyes meeting Eddie’s for a second before you look away, “turn this into a dance party or something, I mean”. 
“Yeah, but that has to count as a workout, because I’m exhausted. And, I think I need another drink” Robin says as she looks around on the blanket, only to find out that the first two six packs are already gone.
“Nooo” she complains, throwing her head back to face the sky with her eyes closed in disappointment, “I’ve just sat down”. 
You’re quick to pat her on the leg, before getting back to your feet. 
“No worries, friend” you say with a grin, “I’ll go get us some fresh beer. There should be one last six pack left in the van”.
“You’re too good for this world, y/n” Robin sighs, throwing you a theatrical kiss with her hand. You catch it and pretend to store it safely in your back pocket with a laugh before walking back towards the van. 
Eddie sighs. Steve looks at him. Eddie looks back, and Steve nods. Robin frowns, suspiciously looking back and forth between the two of them, until Eddie finally slaps his palms on the denim covering his thighs and starts getting up, too. 
“Well, shit” he exclaims, making even Jonathan and Nancy turn towards him with a curious look, “no time like the fucking present”.
As he makes his way towards the trailer, everyone looks at Steve. 
“What?” He replies, trying to casually hide is proud smile, “the guy’s finally getting a grip”. 
🍂🤎🍂
The van is actually very close to the grove, but the tipsiness and the weed you’ve had are making each step feel incredibly slow and heavy to take. You really wish you could just lie down on the blankets, staring at the sky and at the first few stars that are blinking in the blue above, getting them mixed up with Eddie’s glinting, beautiful eyes as you lay your head in his lap, the cold of his rings a refreshing feeling on the skin of your cheeks…
You shake away the thought as you take the few steps that lead inside the vehicle. No use wondering about that - it’s just wishful thinking. 
The inside of the van is dark, but the light from the rising moon and the fire is strong enough for you to see quite clearly and immediately locate the mini-fridge. 
You open the small door and grab the beers, thinking to yourself that the tape will be over in a few songs and will need a proper replacement - but your thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the van door that makes you almost jump around.  
“Jesus, Eddie” you exclaim as soon as you recognize his messy hair and Metallica shirt, “you almost gave me a heart attack”
Eddie lifts his hands up to apologize, his rings glinting in the electric light he has just switched on. “Sorry, y/n” he says, his eyes shyly lifting up to yours. 
You shrug, lifting the beers up and placing them on the table before closing the fridge. “You’re okay” you reply, “Did you need anything?”
“No, no” Eddie stutters, almost tripping on his own feet as he climbs up the steps. You tilt your head, confusedly looking at him until he lets out a sigh and walks inside. “Well, uhm, actually yes. I need to tell you something. Can I…?”
You nod, maybe just a little too quickly. “Yeah, of course” you say, leaning back against the counter, the six-pack now forgotten. 
“So, uhm” Eddie begins, “Do you remember the first time we came here? You suggested it after…”
“Yeah” you nod, your shoulders relaxing a bit. “Yeah, I remember”
Eddie smiles softly. “Good, okay. So, we were on the road and Harrington was driving, of course - I still don’t get why you guys won’t let me drive my van” he adds, shaking his head. 
You try not to laugh. “Because you have a tendency not to respect speed limits, Eddie” you suggest. 
“Yeah, ‘kay, you got me there” Eddie sighs, and you both let out a small giggle before he gets all serious again. “So, anyways, Steve was driving and all of a sudden you made him turn and we found this place - you ran outside and you looked at the trees. It was at sunset, just like today. And the sun was, like, surrounding you, surrounding us, and you said…” he hesitates, feeling as if he’s at the edge of a cliff with nothing but air and void beneath him. No turning back, now. 
“…that it looked perfect” you say, finishing the sentence as you picture the moment in your head. 
“Yeah. You said that” Eddie nods. “And I thought that it wasn’t the place that looked perfect. I actually realized… as I saw you there, still smiling that smile of yours in spite of it all… I knew then that you were the one who did. Look perfect, I mean”.
Too stunned to speak, you stare at him as he walks up to you. 
“And it’s not just that. You don’t just look perfect, y/n, you are perfect. And not in the ‘there’s nothing wrong with me’ way - but just in the way you are, good things and bad things and everything. It’s your brightness, the way you light up the room when you walk in, the way you always have a nice thing to say to us, to me, when things go wrong. I know better than anyone that perfection doesn’t exist - I’m a reject, a freak, I‘ve always been nothing but fucking imperfect. But that day, when we got here and I saw you - really saw you, I realized that you’re perfect for me”. 
“Eddie…” you tentatively say, still flabbergasted at his words, “you can’t mean that. I’m not perfect, I’m definitely not. Why do you… I mean, I don’t even think I’m your… type?”
“Jesus H. Christ, y/n” he laughs, “I’m here risking a fucking stroke, trying to declare my love for you and you think you’re not my type?”
You stay silent, trying to look anywhere but at him. But he speaks again, and this time he’s right there in front of you.
“I’ll tell you what my type is, then” he says, the tip of his index finger suddenly lingering over the collar of your shirt, sending sparks through you as his touch travels across the exposed skin of your neck. 
“My type is a woman who’s passionate about the things she likes” he almost whispers, his breath tickling your cheek as he leans forward. “She sees the people around her, listens to them, cares about them. She somehow always finds the strength to smile, even in the darkest of times, and when she does it’s impossible not to smile back. She also makes me think of music, even artists I’ve never listened to - she makes me want to know more about the world, to live more. And live better” he continues, his hand now tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“My type” Eddie goes on, his lips dangerously close to yours now, “has a beautiful, beautiful name. She’s called y/n. Did you know that?”
You find the courage to look up at him and to finally say something. 
“No, I… I didn’t”, you reply. It sounds such a silly thing to say if you think about it, but Eddie doesn’t mind - he smiles, giving you one of his blinding, wide and slightly upside-down grins. And he finally kisses you. 
You don’t know what you expected his lips to feel like. Not that you haven’t thought about it every now and then - but knowing that the chances of you two actually kissing totally belonged to another universe (maybe), you always prevented your thoughts from wandering in that dangerous territory. But now that your most secret and very well-hidden wish has materialized, you’re blown away by the mixed feelings that you’re experiencing all at once. 
Eddie’s lips are surprisingly soft, but they’re firm and deliberate about each movement they make, gently but passionately pushing and pulling yours in a dance that makes your head spin and your breath quicken. It feels as if he’s desperate to deepen the kiss, to taste every inch of you, but also as if he’s somehow holding himself back in order to savor each second of it. It feels surreal to admit this to yourself, but you feel seen and wanted, and it’s amazing because this time you know it’s true without any shadow of a doubt. 
Eddie’s hands wander along your face, cupping your cheeks and stroking your hair, loving you with his touch wherever his lips cannot be. His ringed fingers travel down your body, finding your waist and pulling you closer to him against his chest - and when his arms tighten around you, you unconsciously wince a little. 
If it was anyone else, this tiny movement would go unnoticed - but Eddie is too focused on you and he cares too much not to feel it. So, not without a lot of effort, he stops the kiss - and to you, it feels like the floor has suddenly disappeared beneath your feet. 
“What’s wrong, y/n?” He asks you, his hands back on your cheeks as his eyes stare deeply into yours. 
You shake your head in dismissal. “Nothing, I’m good - very good, actually” you try, blushing. 
Eddie smiles, but he keeps studying you. It’s the swift downward glance that you automatically take that tells him everything he needs to know. 
He sighs. “Will you close your eyes for me, please?” He finally says, “Just for a second”. 
You don’t really know what to reply, so you follow his lead and suddenly it’s all dark. 
“Come here” he says softly, taking your hand and making you take a few steps away from the counter. “Now stand still and don’t look until I tell you to”. 
You wait patiently. A door opens, lightly creaking on its hinges, and then you feel Eddie moving right behind you. His arms unexpectedly slide up to your shoulders, moving your hair all to one side of your face. His lips flutter on the exposed skin on the back on your neck - just a soft peck, and then he speaks again. 
“Open your eyes and tell me what you see”
You do as he says and you find yourself in front of a narrow mirror, glued to the inside of a tall cabinet door. 
“So?” Eddie encourages you, his eyes looking straight into the reflection of your own. 
“I see myself” you tentatively say, not sure where the conversation is going. 
“That’s it?” Eddie inquires, his gaze still up and his face next to yours, his chin resting on your shoulder. 
“Yeah” you reply, trying to understand. “The usual me - nothing special, really”
Eddie smiles. “The usual you” he echoes, agreeing but not completely. “Well, let me show you what I see. But I promise you, it is special”. 
Eddie proceeds to spread your hair across your shoulders. “First, I see your hair, and it’s fucking amazing. What shampoo do you even use?” he asks, causing you to giggle. “See how that smile lights up your face? God, I love that shit. You look like the sun. And your eyes? I could get lost in them any day. If you look at me like that any longer I swear to Jesus I might melt” he continues, making your heart warmer and warmer with each word. 
“Eddie…” you whisper, not even knowing what you’re trying to say.
“I’m not finished, sweetheart” he gently replies, “can I go on?”
The loving look in his eyes is your defeat, and you nod without another word.
“Good” he says, his hands now caressing your arms. “Then, after that beautiful face of yours, I see your arms, and I remember how peaceful they felt when you held me back in the Upside Down. I was an inch away from death, and you were the lifeline that kept me here with just a hug. You were yelling something at the others, but I couldn’t hear you because I was too caught up in how comfortable I felt in your arms - something that seemed impossible in that hell of a place”.
You blush, and something in the mirror starts to change as you understand what he means.
“Then I see the rest of you, your shapes, your whole body, and I love it” Eddie continues, a hint of hesitation as he opens up to you. “I love everything about it, y/n. Every inch of skin, every soft corner, every muscle and every bone in your body - I want you to know that it deserves love, because it makes you you. It allows you to breathe, to run, to live. To be here, with me. How could I not love it when it allows me to touch you, to hold you?”
You’re left speechless as you stare at the reflection in the mirror, watching Eddie touch you in a way no one has ever touched you before - not merely looking at you, but seeing you, making you feel his appreciation for you, his hair now mixed with yours as he fondly kisses your neck while his hands wander under your flannel to hold you close.
When he looks up again, a hint of worry flashes across his face as he notices a lonely tear running down your cheek.
“Oh, no no no” he says, rushing in front of you to hold your face in his hands once again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, is it something I said?”
Unexpectedly, as he dries the tear with his thumb, you let out a short, gleeful laugh. “It’s everything you said” you admit, holding his piercing gaze, “I’ve never thought about it this way, and… it’s beautiful, Eddie. I’m not sure I deserve all of that, but thank you. It means more than you can imagine”.
“You do deserve it, y/n - you deserve the whole world” he says, leaning closer to you with a smile, “And don’t even get me started on how sexy you look all the time”.
“Oh, shut up” you giggle, and he finds the best way to do as you say - that is, kissing you.
🍂🤎🍂
“What did I miss?” Argyle says, as he appears from beyond the tree line and gets back to the others by the fire. “Are we not dancing anymore?”
Steve, Robin, Jonathan and Nancy smile, their suspects now confirmed by the unnecessarily long time it’s taking you and Eddie to get some beers.
“No worries, man” Steve says, as Argyle plops back down next to him. “We can dance later”.
Argyle looks around, then at the van. Nancy will later tell you that she could almost literally see the little gears in his brain spin as he tried to connect the dots. But then, he suddenly realizes.
“Ooooh, I see” he says, nodding energetically, “well, about daaamn time”.
“Yeah” Robin smiles, the soft autumn breeze rustling her hair. “You’re totally right. About time”.
🍂🤎🍂
Hope you enjoyed this one shot :) Feedback is always welcome!
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bizarrequazar · 8 months
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Cnovels I've Read
I'm in the mood for making a list and @danmeiljie's danmei list has inspired me, so ~enjoy~ if you care. I'm classifying "cnovels" in the broad literal sense of novels written in Chinese by Chinese authors, so this is not limited to just webnovels.
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★s are my personal rating, ❤ denote favourites. I'm aware that there's zero consistency in this list between use of Chinese vs English titles, I'm just going by what I usually refer to them as.
Finished
Danmei
Advance Bravely by Chai Jidan ★★ Read Sept-Oct 2022 Comment: Is it good? No, absolutely not. Is it AMUSING? Yes.
Beijing Comrades by Bei Tong ★★★★ Read July 2023
The Easter Egg Game by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★ Read Dec 2020-May 2021
The Easter Egg Game II by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★ Read July-Sept 2021
The Easter Egg Game III by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★★ Read Sept-Oct 2021
Fantasy Farm by Xi Zixu ★★★ Read Dec 2019-Feb 2022
Guardian by Priest ★★★★ Read July 2019-March 2020
The Husky and His White Cat Shizun by Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat ★★★★★❤ Read Aug-Dec 2019; currently rereading via Seven Seas tl
Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu ★★★★❤ Read June-Nov 2019
Mo Dao Zu Shi by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ★★★★★❤ Read Aug 2018-Feb 2019; currently rereading via Seven Seas tl
Mo Du by Priest ★★★ Read Jan-Nov 2020 Comment: Really liked the first two books, after that I kind of lost interest tbh.
Qi Ye by Priest ★★★❤ Read June 2021
Saye by Wu Zhe ★★★★★ Read Nov 2019-Aug 2020
The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ★★★ Read Nov 2018-May 2019; Jan-Dec 2022
Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds by Wei Liang ★★★ Read Dec 2019
Tian Guan Ci Fu by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ★★★★★❤ Read Nov 2018-Mar 2019; currently rereading via Seven Seas tl
Tian Ya Ke by Priest ★★★❤ Read June 2021; currently rereading
The Way of Evil by Priest ★ Read Mar 2020-May 2021 Comment: Very interesting if you look at this as an earlier draft of Mo Du.
Welcome to the Nightmare Game by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★★★❤ Read July 2019-Nov 2020; Nov 2020-Apr 2021
Welcome to the Nightmare Game II by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★★★★❤ Read Nov 2020-Apr 2021 Comment: Easily one of the most devastating endings I've ever read (compliment).
Welcome to the Nightmare Game III by Bo Mu Bing Lun ★★★ Read Aug 2021-Jan 2022 Comment: Would be 4 stars if BMBL hadn't split it into two, ie. it doesn't have a proper ending since it's continued in IV.
Yuwu by Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat ★★★★ Read Dec 2019-June 2022 Comment: My own enjoyment suffered greatly from the long break I took from it. I'm planning to reread it altogether once the Seven Seas tl is complete.
Baihe
Didn't Know the General was Female by Rong Qing ★★ Read July 2020
Female General and Eldest Princess by Please Don't Laugh ★★★★❤ Read Sept 2019-Jan 2020
The General's Manor Young Concubine Survival Report by Wind's Little Bell ★★ Read August 2019
I'm More Dangerous Than You by Ande ★★ Read May 2023
Jing Wei Qing Shang by Please Don't Laugh ★★★★ Read July 2020-June 2021 Comment: Should have been at least fifty chapters shorter imho.
General
The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin ★★★★★ Read April-May 2023
Current / On Hold
Antidote by Wu Zhe
The Dark Forest by Liu Cixin
Di Huang Shu by Xing Ling
Golden Terrace by Cang Wu Bin Bai
Legend of the Condor Heroes by Jin Yong
Little Mushroom by Yi Shi Si Zhou
Ruzhui by Please Don't Laugh
Dropped
Sha Po Lang by Priest Comment: Planning to try again at some point. The yifu thing turned me off, but I think I wouldn't be bothered by that now.
The Universe Jumper by Hao Jingfang Comment: Fuck her. 🖕🖕
The Villain's White Lotus Halo by A Big Roll of Toilet Paper
High Priority
In the Dark by Jin Shisi Chai
Welcome to the Nightmare Game IV by Bo Mu Bing Lun
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ek-ranjhaan · 4 months
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100 reasons to stay alive:
1. to make your parents proud
2. to conquer your fears
3. to see your family again
4. to see your favourite artist live
5. to listen to music again
6. to experience your culture to the fullest
7. to make new friends
8. to inspire
9. to have your own children
10. to adopt your own pet
11. to make yourself proud
12. to visit the seashore and feel the waves kissing your feet
13. to laugh until you cry
14. to feel tears of happiness
15. to eat your favourite food
16. to see your siblings grow
17. to pass school
18. to read millions of deserving, unread books and novels waiting for you
19. to smile until your cheeks hurt
20. To be accepted and welcomed by your loved one(s) as you are.
21. to find someone who loves you like you deserve
22. to eat ice cream on a hot day
23. to drink hot chocolate on a cold day
24. to see untouched snow in the morning
25. to see a sunset that sets the sky on fire
26. to see stars light up the sky
27. to read a book that changes your life
28. to see the flowers in the spring
29. to see the leaves change from green to brown
30. to travel abroad
31. to learn new languages
32. to learn to draw
33. to tell others your story in the hopes of helping them
34. Puppy kisses.
35. Baby kisses (the open mouthed kind when they smack their lips on your cheek).
36. Swear words and the release you feel when you say them.
37. Trampolines.
38. To have the most peaceful comforting sleep at nights.
39. Stargazing.
40. Cloud watching.
41. Taking a shower and then sleeping in clean sheets.
42. Receiving thoughtful gifts.
43. “I saw this and thought of you."
44. The feeling you get when someone you love says, “I love you."
45. The relief you feel after crying.
46. Sunshine.
47. The feeling you get when someone is listening to you/giving you their full attention.
48. Your future wedding.
49. Your favorite candy bar.
50. To feel the chlorophyllic scent of trees in the deep elms
51. Witty puns.
52. Really good bread.
53. Holding your child in your arms for the first time.
54. Completing a milestone (aka going to college, graduating college, getting married, getting your dream job.)
55. The kind of dreams where you wake up and can’t stop smiling.
56. The smell before and after it rains
57. The sound of rain against a rooftop.
58. The feeling you get when you’re dancing.
59. The person (or people) that mean the most to you. Stay alive for them.
60. Trying out new recipes.
61. The feeling you get when your favorite song comes on the radio.
62. The rush you get when you step onto a stage.
63. You have to share your voice and talents and knowledge with the world because they are so valuable.
64. To dance in the rain in a romance with self or with your lover
65. To visit Nordic countries and take in their beauty with mesmerized tears in eyes
66. Breakfast for dinner (because it’s so much better at night than in the morning).
67. Pray
68. Forgiveness.
69. Water balloon fights.
70. To write more and more, better and better, and to publish your own book(s) someday.
71. Fireflies.
72. Birthdays.
73. Realizing that someone loves you.
74. Spending the day with someone you love
85. Being wrapped up in a warm bed.
86. Someone’s skin against yours.
87. Holding hands.
88. The kind of hugs when you can feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. The kind of hug where your breath syncs with the other person’s, and you feel like the only two people in the world.
89. Singing off key with your best friends.
90. Road trips.
91. Spontaneous adventures.
92. The feeling of sand beneath your toes.
93. The feeling when the first ocean wave rolls up and envelops your toes and ankles and knees.
94. Thunderstorms.
95. Your first (or hundredth) trip to Disneyland.
96. The taste of your favorite food.
97. The child-like feeling you get on Christmas morning.
98. The day when everything finally goes your way.
99. Compliments and praise.
100. To feel the mountains beneath your feet, to see the most beautiful dawn and dusk in the moments of a new day.
+
101. to look on this moment in the future, when life is happier and be grateful to yourself for not giving up, for staying alive, for choosing to live.
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to-my-luna · 3 months
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a playlist with what scene i thought of in each song.
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wherever u r - umi, v
slow mornings. hiding under sheets. walking in our garden. basking in sunlight. sharing coffee. see-you-later kisses before work. i-missed-you kisses after work. cooking dinner together. holding each other before falling asleep.
it's you - max, keshi
good morning kisses. sleeping in. going out to visit our favorite cafe. buying each other flowers. a picnic. cool breeze. eating sweets in the afternoon. golden hour. painting the sky and the clouds at sunset.
love. - wave to earth
long cold days apart. video calls every free time. wearing each other's hoodies. watching anime and movies together through gmeet. sleepy i love yous. hugging stuff toys to sleep. looking forward to being together again.
ligaya - mrld
stay at home dates. baking cookies. whipped cream at each other's faces. kissing on the kitchen countertop. building a fort in the living room. cuddling while watching tv.
you'll be safe here - adie
waking up after a nightmare. one waking up to the other sniffling. tight hugs. forehead kisses. gentle caresses. talking under the moonlight. quiet i love yous. humming a lullaby. falling asleep in each other's arms.
off my face - justin bieber
reading books together. stealing glances at each other. discarding them anyways to kiss and kiss and kiss. listening to music while napping on the couch. one waking up first and staring at the other, admiring.
urs - john-robert
coming home to find petals scattered on the floor. dim lighting. a table with candles lit and our favorite meals. early evening with indigo skies and city lights. cold wind. warm lips.
bloom - the paper kites
weekends and early mornings. birds chirping. sun peeking through curtains. pancakes for breakfast. watering plants. soaking in the warmth of sun and coolness of the air. sketching. painting. writing.
everlasting summer - seycara orchestral, hikaru station
a hot morning. popsicles. colorful wind chimes. taking a bite from the other's ice cream. sharing a milkshake. watering plants turns to water fights. sprinklers. hose. water balloons. laying down on the grass in the afternoon.
my love mine all mine - mitski
winding down in the evening. white bath robes and wine. facials. masks. bubble baths together. slow dancing under dim lights. midnight snacks. matching silk pajamas. cuddling in bed.
you'll be in my heart - niki
a week before parting. staying in all day. cooking. taking polaroid pictures. playing guitar and singing together. making bracelets. late night talks. breakdowns. promises. "i'll be back before you know it."
v - razz t, thomas rydell
seeing each other again. tight and long hugs. out all day eating everywhere and talking about anything under the sun. feeding each other. updating each other about everything they missed. holding hands and reassuring squeezes.
afterglow - leila milki
slow and intimate moments. undressing each other, taking our time. feather kisses. soft touches. quiet moans. silk sheets. pink cheeks. rose-colored marks. making love.
love wins all - IU
a bouquet. walking down the aisle. two long white wedding dresses. veils. exchanging vows. two rings.
easily - bruno major
honeymoon. drinking wine. house by the beach. night swimming. coconut trees. cocktails. drinking together and getting drunk. laughing, dancing, singing at the top of our lungs. messy makeouts.
naturally - sydney maxine
cold, strong winds blowing our hair everywhere. the beach at night. a bonfire. walking by the shore, hand in hand. hanging out watching the waves. sharing a tent. stargazing.
tingin - cup of joe, janine
spring in japan. strolls in the park. long coats and foggy air from our mouths. hot chocolate and coffee. taking the train. sharing earphones. eating local snacks from stalls. vintage cameras. cherry blossoms.
it could only be us - beyond the sun
roadtrips. singing with the speakers blasting. sun in our veins. shades, shorts, summer outfits. floaties. mango shakes. playing in swimming pools and splashing water at each other. funny inflatables.
nahuhulog na sa'yo - noah alejandre
getting ready for date nights. doing each other's makeup. going out later than planned because we looked too good, iykyk. arcades. window shopping. just walking, letting our feet take us wherever. ramen for dinner.
every summertime - niki
getting our own place. moving in. working. grinding. saving up to open a bakery, cafe, bookstore, flowershop, or whatever we want. vacations and trips. pets. our dream life
?
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auberginenikki · 2 months
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Feeling possessive over Nan ge er already uh~?
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lukas-crowsong · 2 years
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there was no thought process behind this other than da kids go camping
i hope you enjoy if you read :)
Walking on clouds became more and more plausible as the ground fell away from sight, the path ahead declining steeply and disappearing over the ridge. There is nothing like rising over the crest of a hill and seeing the entire landscape splayed out before you like a drawn map come to life. Windmills and farms dotted the countryside, hazy specks against lush pale fields. Over distant Epona -- a rocky splotch against the ocean -- sunset was just fading, casting a rosey shadow over the island of Jorvik.
Evergreen branches of pine trees laden with snow were packed thickly on either side of the trail, casting long shadows against the light. The first flowers of spring were just beginning to sprout on either verge: snowdrops and daffodils and witch hazels amongst the snow.
Lukas pointed into the trees. "There's a clearing through there. Campsite?"
Judging her map, Lily gave her affirmative. Without much need for prompting, the two horses turned away from the ridge and plodded off the path, heads low to avoid hanging branches. Lukas and Lily ducked under those same branches and let the horses pick their way through the shrubbery.
Emerging into the clearing was like taking a breath of fresh air; sharp in the ice of shade, pine filled Lukas' lungs. The open space was perfectly sized for a campfire and a collection of tents. Young saplings had been planted in the previous places of felled trees now used for seating. The only sign of the campsite being used recently was the ring of grass devoid of snow around the firepit.
Lily stretched luxuriously in the saddle, arms over her head. "This feels like a good place to make camp." She yawned in sync with Milkbread.
Lukas nodded and slipped off Moose's back. Dismounting from the tall Andalusian was no easy feat; the distance to the ground was almost equal to that of Lukas' own height. Only horse riders can truly appreciate the feeling of sitting astride a beast at a point where your eyeline, when stood upright on the ground, would barely graze. It opened so much of the world to your sight. It was jarring to re-adjust to his usual view.
Ankles aching upon impact with packed snow on top of frozen earth after hours spent suspended, Lukas steadied themself by gripping the seat of his saddle. Despite thick boots and thicker socks, the ice beneath their feet was biting. They'd ridden for much of the day to get up here before nightfall; setting out at dawn, riding through a snowstorm and stopping only to rest the horses at thawed streams. Even for a pair of Druids, this was not something they had time to make a habit out of.
Moose snorted and shook like a dog after Lukas stepped away, and Lukas couldn't blame him. Confident that the horse whose thoughts he could hear wouldn't wander off, he untacked Moose entirely then threw on his rug. In expression of his gratefulness, Moose nuzzled their shoulder. Telepathy or not, sometimes words were unnecessary.
Unpacking saddlebags, the two riders found a suitably firm patch of grass on which to pitch their tent, clearing snow while the horses identified the sweetest patch of grass. Some hellish time later, the damned tent was as stable as they could hope for. Lukas was warmer for the activity, at least. Lily rolled out her sleeping bag and nodded appreciatively.
When Lukas yawned, she poked them playfully. "No falling asleep yet. We have traditions in which to undertake!" She took his arm and lead them out to the clearing, where the dormant firepit awaited them.
"We should really get some sleep. Our mission isn't done yet."
"No exceptions," Lily said, and rolled up the sleeves of her thick winter coat to strike a match. The appeal of a warm fire and warm food dissolved any protest in Lukas' mind.
Shadows layered on moon-shadow, surrounding sentinel trees were distorted dark shapes looming at the border of the clearing. Distinction between ground and sky blurred, firelight only deepening cloying darkness beyond its reach. Anything could be lurking just outside the light, drawn by the appetising smells of their cooking... Lukas shuffled closer to Lily on the felled log they shared; she didn't seem to mind as leaves rustled behind them like a thing possessed.
"How about a ghost story?"
Lily shuddered. "I really don't need to be any more creeped out right now."
Lukas tilted their head. "Where's that loyalty to your traditions?"
She glared at them. "There's a time and a place and a mood. This is not it." Lukas shrugged and blew on his burning marshmallow to extinguish the flame.
Soon after filling up on s'mores, they doused the fire and retreated inside the tent out of the cold, leaving the horses in their rugs to stand guard. Moose wickered softly and stepped closer to Milkbread as they were left with only the wind for company.
Before stars had faded from the Jorvegian sky, the rising sun just beginning to warm the island, both riders were in hurriedly buckled saddles. Lighter for the lack of ridiculous quantities of marshmallows, the horses stepped eagerly as they navigated a slim path along the ridge that would lead them down to moonlit Valedale.
Thank Aideen for civilisation, Lukas thought, watching thin tendrils of smoke curl into the frigid air from cheery chimneys below.
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dreamingmappist · 1 year
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My Year in Danmei
Just finished my 101st read for the year (22 of which are danmei) and feeling the need for an end of year review. Danmei are mlm Chinese novels and they span a variety of genres and subgenres with specific sets of tropes and story beats. Most of them are in serialized form so they can get pretty long and they rarely get explicit. I got into them last year but really started reading more this year. (Links are to English translations.) These are my top seven danmei I’ve read in 2023:
1. My Husband Is Suffering from a Terminal Illness - Probably reread this 4 or 5x this year alone. I wouldn’t call it the best, but it’s quite satisfying, both in terms of the main character dealing with obstacles in his career and in terms of how their relationship progressed (slow burn!). Main character is reborn from the apocalypse into a dog-blood novel as a throwaway character. This is also a celebrity novel.
2. Rebirth of a Movie Star - Actor reborn to earlier life. Pros: cute kid and found family feels, fleshed out characters, my kind of love story where it’s sex first then feelings follow, villains get their just desserts. Cons: maybe too much revenge for some characters and too little/too ambiguous for others.
3. Pastoral Daily Life (Rebirth) - The title doesn’t do this eco-utopic novel justice. Rebirth of a sad character with a plant-based reward system. There’s some family drama in the background but the focus here is on the environment and various adventures with their too-smart animal friends. The romance is a bit one-note though.
4. The Interstellar’s Expert Plant Tamer - This novel has everything. Sci fi setting, rebirth from apocalypse into a novel, plant-based system, smart animals, yummy food, broadcasting theme, family drama, interstellar adventures, pretty decent friendships and slightly unhinged/unhealthy romance. It’s my top all-arounder. (And the novel I most wanted to emulate)
5. Good Luck in the Year of the Pig - Sweet and not too long, this is set in modern day but there’s a supernatural element. Otherwise typical (?) abandoned lover trope with some fun family feels.
6. Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds - Probably the shortest of this list. Rebirth of a modern day person in some form of Ancient China but while there’s court drama, it’s all in the past and this is a slice of life story of a person finding a place to belong and healing—with some surprises…
7. Fanservice Paradox - Read this for two months and just finished it today. Idol story of two people in a boyband. Simple enough. But this novel filled me with butterflies and made me look up philosophers and also look up their songs and is just so damn sweet.
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I posted 2,036 times in 2022
206 posts created (10%)
1,830 posts reblogged (90%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@aintmyjewelry
@zalrb
@layla-el-faouly
@ilovefandoms
@stilldancewithyou
I tagged 1,672 of my posts in 2022
Only 18% of my posts had no tags
#stranger things - 361 posts
#hsmtmts - 260 posts
#stancy - 184 posts
#insert witty queue tag here - 173 posts
#portwell - 142 posts
#marvel - 138 posts
#yes - 116 posts
#grishaverse - 113 posts
#stranger things 4 spoilers - 108 posts
#taylor swift - 87 posts
Longest Tag: 138 characters
#also it's just wack to see how quickly people start to hate steve for liking a person they don't want him to. like i have never been a fan
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
tag yourself: types of people as seasons
winter: buying gifts for friends. soup in the crockpot. sitting by the fireplace. ice skating. fluffy mittens. baking cookies. dressing up snowmen. catching snowflakes on tongue. flushed cheeks. red nose. collection of mugs. snowflakes on their lashes. thick sweaters. sleeping in. warm hugs. hot chocolate. snow angels. peppermints. evergreen scent. vanilla candles. knitting scarves for friends. fuzzy socks. doc martens. cold hands. always has chapstick. smells snow coming. shows their friends the constellations. pine trees. good advice. nostalgic. always has something to look forward to. sleeping next to friends. snuggling. holding hands under a blanket. friends with the barista. long novels. watching breath fog in the air and pretending to smoke. dressing dogs in sweaters. skipping school. dinner parties. buying chocolate to share with friends. sledding. dead plants. hallmark movies. decorating cookies. believes in ordinary magic. toasted marshmallows. window shopping. fun pajamas. hates goodbyes. neutral colours. celebrating the small things. 
spring: writing platonic love letters. countryside picnics. tire swing into a river. flowy dresses. flowers in hair. gardening. wishing on dandelions. pastel colours. dancing in a meadow. daydreaming.
freckled cheeks. strawberry picking. soft indie music. rose perfume. daisy chains. tree climbing. cloud watching. hiking in the mountains. caring for ducklings. embroidery hoops. glossy pink lips. tea parties. farmers markets. butterfly gardens. handkerchiefs in hair. mushroom hunting. believing in fairytales. cleaning their room for fun. looking for fairies. rescuing animals. jane austen. pressing flowers. braiding their friend's hair. reading under an apple tree. light rain showers. smiling at strangers. giving everyone compliments. novelty. baking pies. floral print. thrifting. gazebos in the woods. living life slow. messy braids. holding hands. falling asleep on other people's shoulders. kind heart. flowers in overall pockets. early bird. laying in the grass with a friend. encouraging notes on the bathroom mirror. journals full of cursive. music festivals.
summer: vibrant colours. sea salt. coconut shampoo. messy waves. running around barefoot. sunkissed cheeks. melting ice cream. driving around with the roof down. denim shorts. strawberry lemonade. sandy floors. fresh-cut grass. sparklers. swinging at the park late at night. sunset walks on the beach. hysterical laughter. 3 am conversations. unplanned sleepovers. swimsuit under clothes. truth or dare. dancing in the rain. backyard picnics. crop tops. driving through the city at night. childhood nostalgia. music on full blast. dirty converse. drive in movies. sleeping with a stuffed animal. fun stickers. scavenger hunts. spontaneous road trips. stargazing. sneaking out the window. sidewalk chalk art. cherry slushies. travel backpack in the trunk of car. chipped yellow nail polish. chasing bubbles. friendship bracelets. disposable cameras. riding in the shopping cart. collecting seashells. dog walking. confessions at the top of the ferris wheel. chasing fireflies. the smell of sunscreen.
autumn: closets full of sweaters. messy buns. worn brown boots. hiking through the woods. crunching leaves. writing in a coffee shop. acoustic guitar. bonfires. painting pumpkins. getting lost in a corn maze. reading by a window while it storms. caffeine addiction. adopting the cat that lives outside the old bookstore. long scarves. salted caramel. tea collection. movie marathons. cozy blankets. exploring the world. maps pinned to the wall. drawing their friends. museums. turtlenecks. classic literature. dressing as ghosts with their friends. spooky stories. coffee shop concerts. book signings. cooking dinner for friends. discount tuesdays at the cinema. string lights. sunflowers on the windowsill. baking pumpkin bread. flea markets. hot apple cider. whispered secrets. sarcastic quips. old architecture. driving for hours. smells like cinnamon. flannel collection. costume parties. candles. phases of the moon. pine trees. foggy mornings. good storyteller. polaroid pictures of trees. loves change. walking through the city. gives their friends their favourite books. record stores. dancing in the kitchen. pillow forts. brown backpack. staying at the library till it closes. white button-downs. apple picking. staring out the window.
139 notes - Posted January 30, 2022
#4
If Portwell gets broken up in the next episode (or the last) over two weeks and extenuating circumstances, that’s bad writing. If season 3 had been a whole semester season (or half a semester, however long the last 2 have been) like the others and we saw the gradual deterioration of their relationship in a way that made sense, then I could roll with it. I don’t think they would break up in those circumstances, because I think they work really well together, but it would be better than breaking them up because EJ can’t spend time with Gina while directing an entire musical in 2 weeks that’s going on a major streaming service for the world to see. You can’t even say this shows how their relationship would go in other stressful circumstances, because first of all from what we saw of them last season the behaviour they’ve shown this season doesn’t even match, but second, they will never be in circumstances like these again. And it certainly won’t be the norm for them. 
Are we forgetting that EJ went to this camp specifically wanting to enjoy it with Gina? He’s not choosing this. If he were to say screw it all and hang out with Gina, everything would fall apart. Literally everything. Of course Ricky can afford to be there for Gina and hang out with her because he has significantly less responsibility. It’s not fair to say he’s the better person for Gina when you look at the reason EJ isn’t the one spending all this time with her.
Also, all the people who are making these comments about how they’ll laugh if Portwell breaks up, how Portwells are idiots and “delusional,” etc., why? Why do you feel the need to be so rude about a ship that isn’t even unhealthy? I may not ship R*na, but I don’t think it’s toxic by any means. I have my reasons for not shipping it. I could see it, if the show was giving me better reasons to ship them than him being able to support her at a time when if EJ wasn’t forced into sucky circumstances, he would have been there supporting her and having fun with her the whole season. If Portwell gets broken up, okay. You don’t have to rub it in our faces or be rude about it. 
I still have hope, and I’m going to say that knowing people might later make fun of me for it because they have nothing better to do. I have hope because I love Portwell, and some of their scenes together have been the best I’ve seen from romances in general. They’ve had amazing build-up, and I will always cherish my experience with this fandom and the excitement we all had last season as we saw them get together. It’s been a fun time. 
175 notes - Posted September 6, 2022
#3
I don’t understand why they couldn’t have left Portwell as a cute high school relationship where they're unfortunately going two different directions, realize that together, communicate about their future, and come to a respectful breakup where they’ll have their good memories, and they’ll always care about each other in some way. That’s more consistent with these characters, it respects the shippers and the characters, and it’s something that happens in real life. I still think with the Portwell we saw in season 2 they could have worked out (like, they’ve always been in somewhat different places, like him having his future planned out and hers always being up in the air as discussed in the couch scene, but they still understood each other and connected, that’s part of why they work so well), but if the writers needed to break them up, that would at least be better than destroying them and making them out of character. 
Seriously, why did the writers act like Portwell was bad and would never work? And now, acting like Gina didn’t have feelings for EJ. I feel like I’m being gaslit as a viewer. How can you spend all of season 2 making me not want to ship R*na, pouring everything into making Portwell one of the best relationships ever, give two characters incredible growth, and then try to backtrack and act like none of that happened. When I saw the way these characters looked at each other and acted around each other. This is bad writing, plain and simple. 
It’s not just a matter of liking one ship more than the other. If R*na was handled better, if they found a way to handle Portwell respectfully in a way that made sense, I could have been on board. Imagine if they had let Portwell unfold more like Jack and Gina’s airport episode, where they’re cute and fun but at the end of the day Ricky is the one she really feels things for. Because the way they wrote Portwell, it feels real and important and they’re so clearly in love and happy together. It’s not just this cute little midgame ship, they have a connection like I’ve never seen. They fake date, they scheme together, they do so much for each other and they have so much effort put into their relationship only to have it torn apart and treated like it was never important. 
Also, once again, EJ has fallen in love with a girl and she doesn’t love him back (Gina was definitely in love with him too but whatever the writers want to gaslight us into believing I guess. Which is so dumb because you can love more than one person in your life. Why did they feel the need to completely destroy every bit of Portwell after working so hard to make us ship them). Pointing this out isn’t prioritizing EJ in the relationship, it’s pointing out the crappy writing. Why are we doing this again. I think the writers must hate EJ or something because he never gets serious songs, of the main four he has the least time spent on him (other than this season with Nini being gone), and the writing this season for him was just awful. 
And this sucks for Gina because she’s having to put in the emotional work again with Ricky, which I discussed in this post so I won’t get into again. Do they hate Gina too? She wanted the guy who shows up, and Ricky hasn’t really done that yet, not in a meaningful way because it was just him hanging out with Gina because he didn’t have any responsibilities while the only reason EJ wasn’t “showing up” for her like normal this season was the pressure on him, and he still found ways to encourage her and make sweet gestures like picking her flowers. Ricky should be putting in so much more work. 
It’s sad for so many reasons but in large part because it’s going to be hard to watch the show from here with how all the relationships were handled. I wish I could love R*na and ignore the bad writing, but I can’t. And they could have been such a cute couple. 
293 notes - Posted September 14, 2022
#2
I don't want to hear people saying Ricky was the first one to really recognise Gina's accomplishment in getting the lead, and I definitely don't want to hear people saying EJ isn't being a good boyfriend or that he wasn't proud of her or any of the EJ slander I've been seeing.
EJ came to this camp wanting to enjoy one last summer of having fun and being a kid before going off to college and now he's being forced into directing an entire show in TWO WEEKS, a show that will be on Disney+ and therefore viewed by the entire world, and now he has to act in it, and he's been given no help. He doesn't even have directing experience. If he screws up it doesn't just reflect on him but all the people he cares about who are in the show with him. And it's IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WORLD. Not only that, EJ as a character has a drive to succeed and excell and be liked so this already stressful situation is going to be even more stressful (if you know about the enneagram and/or you're a type 3 you KNOW). That's not even mentioning the amount of pressure we know his dad already puts on him.
EJ has all of this pressure on his mind and obviously wants to talk to his girlfriend about it, someone who would understand because part of why they connected is their similar ambition and drive and desire to perform well (they're both type 3s), but he waits because his first priority is giving her flowers and letting her know he believed in her and that's she's a star and she looks so happy, she says "you have no idea how much that means to me." As she talks about her feelings about everything, you can see EJ actively listening, and when she talks about being worried about not being enough you see him nodding because that's something they can both relate to, but then when she starts talking about how many lines she has and the play at large you can see him struggling to stay focused because of COURSE that's going to remind him of the pressure on his back at the moment. EJ didn't waltz into the cabin talking about his issues and ignoring Gina's accomplishment in getting the lead, he didn't even bring up his stress until Gina asks.
I don't know about you guys, but if I was told I had two weeks to direct a show that would stream on Disney+, with my zero directing experience, and then I would be acting in it on top of that, I would be stressed out of my freaking mind. Most normal humans would. And EJ is 18 YEARS OLD. He's just a kid and now he has all this weight on him and people are mad that he's stressed? He's trying his best please leave him alone. He's obviously still trying to be a good boyfriend to Gina on top of everything. He took the time to handpick flowers for her and tell her she deserves the lead and listen to her even though he's stressed out of his mind. When Gina comes to ask him to explore the woods he's apologetic about not being able to go and you can tell he's sad because he came to this camp wanting those kinds of experiences with her and now he can't and he doesn't want to hurt Gina and stars I feel for him.
Anyways if you can't empathise with EJ's situation then please keep his name out of your mouth.
459 notes - Posted August 10, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
people are acting like stancy being endgame would be the end of the world. when j*ncy is a relationship that began with j*nathan taking pictures of nancy undressed, which he then went so far as to develop...it’s so nasty and I still can’t believe they got together anyway. all they have is “shared trauma.” That’s all that holds their ship together, and guess what? all of the characters have shared trauma. i could keep going about all the reasons i don’t ship j*ncy, but there are plenty of posts out there that do that for me, and i think the him-taking-pervy-pictures thing is really valid enough reason to be anti j*ncy. 
but stancy. they were both so young and dealing with a lot of fricked up crap. both of them made mistakes. but they’ve changed a lot, and they’ve grown and matured and figured themselves out. i think two people can be unfit for each other at a time in their life (especially if, you know, you’re in a love triangle where the other person you’re into is someone who you keep being forced to spend time with so you have “shared trauma” and creepy old men telling you that’s love) and maybe it’s the wrong time, then grow on their own and come back together when they’re both in a healthier place. i think that’s beautiful. 
i still think nancy and steve are the most supportive of each other. and i’m so done with people being like “oh poor j*nathan this will hurt him he deserves nancy” but like. what does nancy get out of this relationship??? 
also people being mad that the everyone is “shoving” stancy together...it’s better than some random creepy old man telling them to hook up in his bunker like freaking murray did to j*ncy. this is different because it’s their friends (PEOPLE THEIR AGE) being like “hey we have eyes something is going on here my dudes.”
steve and nancy spent a very long time apart, and they’ve both changed a lot...it’s not something that’s coming out of left field and being shoved on us lol. it actually makes sense. people are too butt-hurt about j*nathan and j*ncy to see that. it bothers me how angry people are getting about the POTENTIAL of stancy (and not tagging posts appropriately but whatever) when it’s like. we’ve had to deal with j*ncy for three seasons basically. three seasons of this unhealthy relationship that started with j*nathan violating her privacy and never offering a true apology. great. but stancy is so offensive. okay yeah sure. 
870 notes - Posted May 28, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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jsvjbmh · 8 months
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Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds
Started and finished this short-ish danmei ^^. It has 54 chapters, for me it is short, but maybe someone else would call this long, I don't know.
I liked this one, but I also have some questions I guess? I will be talking about spoilers, so... you have been warned? ^^'
The story is about about our MC who transmigrated after dying in a fire. In his new life, he starts as a newborn and lives the live of a prince. A prince who takes care of his brother only to be betrayed by him later on. Getting tortured for three years, eventually falling/thrown of a cliff and somehow drifting of on the water and ending up in a city that no one can reach normally. This all happened in the first chapter. The rest of the danmei is about how he's healing.
So.. The thing I'm kinda questioning is why there is the setting of him being transmigrated... It does get mentioned throughout the story, but I didn't feel like something was done with it? The other thing is about the last 1/3 of the story. It gets revealed that the ML can't stand outsiders and just kills them if they look the wrong way. Which scared the crap of out MC when he saw that. Can't blame him. But it gets forgiven a bit to easy? MC was a bit like: Well, I have nowhere to go I guess, so I'll accept it. Also, the ML never was hateful against MC even though he started as an outsider. I believe MC did mentioned a couple of times that he was an outsider and ML (and the others as well) pushed it of: Well, you can't go anywhere can you? You're not an outsider. But it was a bit weird that they were so sure of that from the beginning now that I think about it...
Anyways, I still liked the novel and it is sometime nice to read something different once in a while (Since I mostly read Unlimited Flow) ^^
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i fell for a poet, my mistake: a five point narrative
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CW: THEMES OF VIOLENCE, SUICIDE, AND ILLICIT DRUG USE
This is my account of my last teenaged heartbreak; a story arc of unrequited love and, naturally, all the clichés and angst of adolescence. These are five poems that I've left (mostly) untouched, as I want to preserve the rough edges of these works and meaningfully document my journey as an artist and human being. Please enjoy the final breaths of my unadulterated youth.
unholy sacrifices
“i’m going to write so many poems about this,” you said, your words falling into the open air and carried away by the unforgiving wind. i had to chuckle because you are so predictable yet impossible to read.
i wanted to throw myself into the fire behind your eyes, a sacrificial offering to a god who had taken everything from me.
i bowed before your altar, singing silent hymns because you dared me not to speak.
but your cathedral was built on shaky ground, posing a threat for all who dare visit.
still, i took each strike against my cheek as a soft caress that felt loving because loving always felt like pain.
i wanted you to hold me, but i settled for having the air taken out of my lungs, an embrace around my throat.
the universe, a sadist, had me swallow your communion wine; intoxicating and tinged with the taste of the blood i drew from your lips.
i yearn for anyone to get a taste of me without wanting to leave. i send these empty prayers to an indifferent god that maybe, one day, i will be worth staying around for.
a tab of acid at 3pm (p. I)
there are fleeting moments of euphoria, passing like streetlights streaming through a car window, fading in and out of visibility.
the truth is, you can stay in that beauty for as long as you wish. you are allowed to remain bathing in white hot serenity, and you can let yourself fall into the pieces of fragmented light.
here, i realize feeling is not as bad as i feared. it is a comfort to be okay with you shining your light within me. as i offer my lantern to you while we walk in the darkest shadows of your soul, you can bring your lighter to my lips, light what is in between my teeth, and i will let you enter my lungs and fill my mind. i will let you connect the firing synapses in my brain into a pattern that will make delight dance in the sparkle of your eyes.
maybe i am ready to stand in prismatic light, joined with a soul craving illumination with the same ferocity as me. too long have i resigned myself to a life of avoiding light due to my fear of losing it.
it is okay to want, and it is okay to want more than a gray-scale world cast in a cloud of fog. there is beauty and familiarity in the dark passages of those streets, but there is so much more to see. there are painted sunsets and quivering trees of green, and there is light.
and there is you.
the comedown (p. II)
i hate that you are made of stones: impenetrable, impossible, impatient in all the wrong ways.
i hate that i am made of bones, with a skeleton that wounds dictate will never heal in the way it used to be.
i wish your walls had ears that could hear my fondness for you, which could let you give into the inevitable decomposition that nature purports as law. i wish there was some other way to get through to you than to break you down.
i itch again for your skin on mine, i want to feel holy rivers come from your eyes and observe its glisten on the valley of my chest. i want to envelop you in the warmth of my arms, and i want to shape your plaster into the mold of the person that i know you are, but that you cannot seem to see.
i want you to want me to help you see the beauty in letting your defenses cease.
persephone’s annual gift
i long for the elusive winds of perfumed Spring air. the cold permeates my aching soul, leaves me numb, and my tears fall as frozen fractals, crystallized with the shielding strength i wish i could use to protect my heart.
lover, you feel like ice but i am colder when you leave. i am filled to the brim of you when we share toxic smoke, but you leave me writhing in withdrawal because i can never seem to get enough.
but Spring is coming, and the sparse patches of soil on these soul-sucking streets will give way to color-saturated blossoms. Persephone always comes home to induce the labor of her mother’s creations.
maybe you can learn to love me when your jaded heart thaws, or maybe you already do and the fates have maliciously kept us apart for reasons we are not privy to. you are right here, but god damn it, so far away.
maybe, one day, you will see my hair as beautiful daisy chains that enchant you. maybe, one day, you will see delicate blooms in my eyes and be eternally hypnotized. maybe, one day, you will see my limbs as roots that you can ground yourself with. maybe, one day, you will see that i can breathe life back into you.
maybe, maybe not.
i am not a girl of glass
time and time again, in a deceitful cycle that spins me, I have proven to be stupid in yearning and have broken my own heart once more.
it is better this way, taking the dagger into your own hands and plunging it deep within, casting waves of pain which dissipate from the wound’s epicenter.
it is better to die than to be known, because when people leave, it will not be because they saw the real you; a dripping wax candle eaten away by flame and insidiously combustible.
i want someone to love me, but not in the way that one would admire a sculpture of glass, beautiful in how she catches the light but too fragile to touch. i want ugly, unapologetic, unrelenting love that does not see me to be a celestial, ethereal entity that cannot be loved because the observer believes that they are a threat to the castle of her mind.
but look where we are now, tears flowing around the castle like a moat which, with enough water, will serve as a defense against anyone with the tenacity to try and infiltrate this fortress. i am not made of glass but of stone, and you will need more than sweet verses to maintain that bridge you have attempted to build. the anger within my heart will have to do with keeping my bed warm in the reclusive hours of the night.
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