#I found a brand I love (wandering bear) but it is $$$$

[deadlifts-and-deadlines]

I ordered the little Ninja 16 oz smoothie blender last night. I absolutely need to work more fruits and veggies into my diet, and I’m somewhat limited in how I can consume them. I can’t eat veggies raw; I won’t digest them at all; they need to be very soft - so steaming them, cooking them in like a soup or stew, and sometimes roasting is okay. Corn and green veggies are generally a hard no. Nothing with seeds or skins, either. I’m going to try really hard to stay away from more inflammatory foods.

For breakfasts and lunches and I’m going to try and lean into sourdough toast with eggs and avocado and smoothies.

Lunches and dinners will be more rice bowls and meats like ground chicken and salmon (I got the “chicken ick” a week ago and can’t bring myself to eat normal chicken right now so I’m gonna try ground chicken for a bit to see if that helps. I should also try ground turkey, but I hate ground turkey, so if anyone has any bomb seasoning recommendations I’m all ears. As for sides, I can generally do peeled potatoes, peeled carrots, white rice and pasta, so those are options as well. I wish I liked sweet potatoes and cucumbers more because those are also good anti inflammatory foods. Think I’m gonna make salmon and rice bowls for dinner tonight. I can eat the same thing over and over again, it doesn’t bother me, so I just need to get a couple easy meals figured out so I can run with it.

[cherievol6]

in love in italy

hey!!! long time no see…sorry i’ve been off the grid - i’ve been working loads. i just randomly wrote this (I was feeling very poetic after reading Sally Rooney lmfao) hope you enjoy!

being with harry in Italy brings on some intense feelings that you just need to confess.

warnings: very brief mentions of sex, other than that it’s absolutely heart wrenching fluff.

word count: ~1k

.

You’ve never felt like this before.

At least, not when you're in the middle of having sex with someone.

This wasn't just someone though, it was Harry.

Sweet and gentle Harry, whom had made everything feel a little bit lighter for you since the moment you met. Here he was, skin so close to yours it felt like he was trying to meld you both together like clay. His head was dipped into your shoulder, his breaths heaving but blissful. You felt like a pot of boiling sugar bubbling up to a gooey caramel and oozing into the bed below you. He made you feel as though one look from him or one kiss from him would make you shed every negative piece of your mind.

"You okay? You're awfully quiet after that." He half laughs, referring to the intense scene of love that was just displayed in the early hours of the morning, in a random villa in Italy. You’d woken up to get a glass of water and returned to bed to find Harry awake. A quick good night kiss turned into wandering hands and clothes being stripped to the floor. It wasn't quick, or impatient, the way you'd held eachother. It was intense, and thick and heavy — like there was something lingering for the two of you. You feel a few tears slip to yours ears and on to the pillows. Harry still hasn't noticed, gently stroking the leg around his waist. You scratch your fingers in his hair and let out a shaky breath.

You always found it hard to hold in your cries, since you were small. They swelled your chest like a balloon, and with a sharp gasp of breath the balloon pops and Harry's snapping his head up quickly and brushing your hair out of your face.

"Woah, woah. What's wrong?" His voice is panicked and you don't find yourself trying to avoid his gaze, which is strange. You don't feel upset, you feel overwhelmed. Harry always said it scared him how every time you looked at him it felt like you were reading his mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow, the warm room making you feel flushed. Or was it this nagging urge to tell Harry something you’d kept to yourself for so long, out of fear of scaring him off so early in your relationship.

You smile, and he must think you look manic, grin growing the more you look at him, his constant over concern for you, like he couldn’t bear to think of anything bad happening to you.

“I feel good.” You say quietly, running your thumb over his mole next to his mouth.

“Yeah? That’s good.” He kisses you softly.

“Do you feel good?” He nods at your question without hesitation.

His eyes seem to gloss over akin to yours, and the words are literally behind your teeth when he says, “Always when I’m with you. You make me feel so safe. I can’t describe it-”

“I love you so much, Harry.” The tears are no longer tears, rather streams of saltiness that saturate your hair and Harry’s hands. He seems to deposit the last of the air in his lungs before he can speak again. Like your words winded him.

“You love me?” His voice is timid, and his hand is now shaking.

“You know that thing, where people paint in acrylic on a canvas, and it looks good, but kind of dull? A bit moody?” Harry nods, with a small smile creeping up his face. You always were one for the metaphor, “and then they paint it with that shimmery gloss and it makes the painting look so different. Like it’s brand new, and you’re finally seeing it in its best form? That’s how you make me feel. I wasn’t bad before, I just needed something…or someone to make me more vibrant. You do that for me. And I love you for it.”

He laughs, and the movement makes his tears fall out of his eyes and on to your cheeks. You are the most emotionally intelligent person he’s ever met in his life and he can’t believe that you’re in love with him.

“You always come up with the most beautiful metaphors...” he kisses you again, like staring at your face for too long brings on the urge to just devour you whole. “I genuinely think my entire life was created to coexist with yours, and just hear every piece of your mind that you’ll let me.”

You pull him down again and kiss him again. You were insatiable for his kisses, they were like oxygen for you. He’s still crying, and you’re still crying, and all you can hear around you is his heavy heartbeat and the owls in the trees around you. Your favourite place to be with Harry was in his Italian house. It felt like no one in the world existed or cared about the two of you when you were within these walls.

“I love you. I have done for months and I will do for a lifetime. Okay?” His brows are pinched together, in a sincere and reassuring way. Like he needs you to know that he’s not going anywhere.

“Okay.” You smile widely, until your cheeks hurt and your eyes wrinkle. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Now that it’s out in the air it feels like the only form of communication between you both in this moment. Harry rocks against your hips and kisses your neck, and you begin to breathe shallow. You whine when he connects your lips again.

“Show me how much you love me, H.”

.

[goqmir]

in my dream i imagined a world in which the most popular tv show in america was a drama/dark comedy about several neighborly families now vying for scraps of sustenance in a bloodborne-esque apocalyptic city where they have all died and gone to a torturous underworld. and the main character is the dork nobody really liked in any family who arbitrarily escaped death by hiding his soul in that of an automaton.

this tv show was the result of a brand deal where the artist Drake got really into painting somewhat gothic portraits of imagined characters during the 2020 lockdown. Wal-Mart offered Drake an exclusivity deal to sell prints of these paintings that included a personal studio, and Drake requested for his studio a hole so deep in the earth that they can use magnets to make the canvasses have zero gravity. americans lapped that shit up and Wal-Mart began releasing ads of Drake in his dark and cavernous underground warehouselike studio where he would paint mildly gothic portraits on floating canvasses held down to the floor and walls by a series of trusses from Roblox and cables from Teardown. these portraits were astoundingly popular and a similarly successful TV show was produced by Wal-Mart using the characters Drake would paint.

during the dream, I lived this TV show through the eyes of the twink main character. I escaped from the underworld pits by hiding in the body of a Wizard101 wooden automaton, and began wandering the streets of the gothic city it took place in, meeting still-alive members of the group of families the portraits depicted. A little before my death, tragedy struck the families and they had a falling out. During my dreams i had to watch all of these tragedies in grim detail, which I depicted as fairly funny in my head to the average american but like. i never really found death or suffering that funny even if a character dies by a series of slapstick events. so it kind of just sucked for me to have to bear witness to it.

every time a new character would appear, the original Drake portrait depicting them would be shown on screen. every character had the name of a Universes Beyond Magic: the Gathering card-- Graham O'Brien, Rosie Cotton, that sort of thing, even though they weren't related to the characters.

there was a segment where i could choose to revive anyone from the underworld that wanted to leave, and I saw the cartoon shadow of a cute babe from behind a boat winking at me and flirting with me. I chose her cuz i was like woahhh i love women but when I revived her I realized it was actually Evie Frye, my rival in life who was close to me as a child but drifted apart from me after witnessing the comedically gruesome death of her father. the dream then played out that death in a flashback sequence, which was sickening enough to me that it woke me up. and then I spent 30 minutes writing this post and that's been my morning so far.

[happyhauntt]

garnet & silver — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── requested: "⇴ person b is putting their necklace on person a, and stares at them for a hot minute after it's put on. then person b starts leaning into person a and pressing kisses onto their neck. with nikolai & anya" from this prompt list. ─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.) ─── warnings & notes: the fluffiest fluff. thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write!!! ─── word count: 0.9k.

     Nikolai had sidled up behind her with a lazy smile curling at his lips, and she'd known it was him before looking in the mirror, known it from the way her skin had prickled at the mere proximity of him.

     He'd come to a stop just a hair away from her, and she cannot stop herself now, reacting entirely on instinct as she takes that half-step backward into his embrace. Every place where he's touching her scorches like brand, even through her clothes.

     When he produces the necklace from a pocket inside his coat, Anya watches their reflection in the floor-length mirror, her head tilting a little as a confused divot appears between her brows. His hands are warm and calloused against her skin. The tips of his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary once he's secured the clasp at the back of her neck, and the weight of the necklace rests comfortably in the hollow of Anya's throat.

     She leans back against his chest, into the security of him as he winds his free arm tight around her waist. Nikolai's other hand remains resting near the curve of her neck, tracing abstract shapes along the column of her throat in a way that makes her shiver.

     "You know I'm not one to complain about receiving gifts," Anya murmurs, a smile toying at her lips, "but what's the occasion?"

     Nikolai gives a playful sigh, trailing his finger along the chain until it brushes gently against Anya's collarbone. "Do I need an occasion to give presents to the woman I love?"

     "No," Anya admits. "But I suspect you've got one."

     The sliver of orange garnet nestled at her throat is small, no larger than her thumbnail, and wrapped in threads of silver wire. Anya reaches up to cup Nikolai's hand, entangling their fingers together as their hands settle on her shoulder.

     Their eyes meet in the mirror, and though their relationship isn't new, though it has been so long since they were children running ragged through the palace halls, so long since they were adolescents in the army bearing the weight of each other's secrets, Anya's stomach still erupts in a flurry of butterflies.

     He has eyes that could swallow her whole. Eyes like a forest, of oak trees mottled with moss and autumn leaves blanketing summer-green grass, and every part of her wants to wander into those woods and disappear forever.

    "I bought the stone from a marketplace on the Wandering Isle years ago." Nikolai's voice is rough when he finally speaks, and his grip on Anya's waist tightens. Heat blossoms beneath the press of his fingers and settles low in Anya's belly. "Back when I first left you, when Sturmhond was still a figment of my imagination and I hadn't found my sea legs yet."

     Anya smiles, soft at the edges. Sometimes she wishes she'd gone with him when he asked, wishes she'd been there to watch him grow from boy to man, but neither of them would be the same people now if she had.

     Though Anya regrets ━ Saints, she is full to the brim with regret, the kind that will spill all over the floor instead of blood if she cuts herself open, little more than a mess of regret bound up in human skin ━ she cannot ever quite bring herself to regret that.

     "I can't explain why, but when I saw it, I thought of you." He leans down and presses featherlight kisses against Anya's neck, one after another. "I was out in the world and free for the first time in my life, but I missed you as if someone had stolen my heart out of my chest, and when I saw it, all I could think of was you. So I bought it and I kept it in my pocket, right by my heart, so I knew you'd be with me in some small way."

     Nikolai is handsome and suave and brilliant, but there are some parts of him that she knows are reserved just for her.

     That sleepy groan first thing in the morning, the one that rumbles out of his throat when he rolls over and buries his face into Anya's collarbone, grumbling something about five more minutes against her skin.

     The gentle brush of his thumb over the inside of her wrist when they're in public, and they're trapped in an absolutely mindnumbing conversation about trade policy, and she knows he can feel the light flutter of her pulse and he starts to smirk, just slightly, because nobody else can make her heart race like that.

     And this, now. The way his eyes are soft and hungry all at once, and the line of open-mouthed kisses dips lower. When he pauses and hums, right against Anya's pulse point, the brush of his lips is just enough to make her tremble.

      "Why are you giving it to me if it's so important to you?" Her words slip out on a breathless whisper.

     She feels his lips as they bend into a grin. "You're with me now. I'm here, and you're here, and there's not a force in this world that could compel me to leave you again. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

     "What a dreadful prospect."

     She squeaks as he spins her in his grip a moment later, and then they're pressed chest-to-chest, and he's kissing her, swallowing the laughter as it spills past her lips, and Anya swears that not even the Saints could drag her away from Nikolai again.

     Not while she's still breathing.

[ransprang]

ASTARION FOR WEREWOLF AU?? plEASE i am on my knees barking like a dog for him

Kinktober 2023

Astarion x Werewolf AU

“If I sent you to the moon, would you be a werewolf forever?” - Astarion said in a low voice smiling.

-“Maybe up there all alone, I’ll finally be free” you said looking up at the bright glow of the moon behind the clouds in the night sky.

Astorian kept his hand on yours “easier for you than me, I cannot bear to be alone, where will I drink blood from?” He said with an eyebrow raised.

-“when I go, I can take you with me. You will only have to go one day every month without blood…” you chuckled.

Astorian used his hand to softly remove the strand of hair that had slipped onto your face and tuck it behind your ear, he leaned in closer to your ear and whispered “y/n but can I have some tonight?”

A shiver went down your spine, you could feel goosebumps from his raspy voice. There was something calming about it. You were falling for his charm once again, about to get down on your knees forgetting your honour for Astorian. Again.

Your hands tightened into a fist in an attempt to resist the vampire, you were betraying your clan in secret. If your pack leader found out, you’d be branded a traitor and shunned in seconds, perhaps you deserved it. You thought this to yourself as Astorian disrobed his tunic, his toned chest exposed to you. Your eyes wandered down to his waistline, his muscles outlining his crotch, you desperately wanted to pull down his pants. The animal within you was howling.

You bit your lower lip hard, you were about to feed the vampire just to feel him against your body. Your knees trembled as you gave in and fell in front of Astorian. You looked up at him, desperation in your eyes, hands gnawing at his waistline begging him to let you pleasure him.

-“There there don’t pant too much, the moon isn’t even visible yet my love. We can take it slow, feel each other…” Astorian said slowly kneeling down to your level as he began kissing your lips. You melted into him as he deepened his smooches, the sounds echoed throughout the walls of his chamber. His chest against yours, as he worked up his hands to open your blouse, making your breasts fall out. Your nipples brushing against his soft chest as he pushed himself closer, covering the distance between you two.

Astorian soon pushed you back, as you both lay on the floor in a mess of clothes. He finally opened his pants, taking them off. As you worked to take off yours. He smiled at the beauty before him. As he entered you, slowly pumping himself starting slow with just the tip. You moved your hips to Astorian’s rhythm as you felt a warm feeling rise, both your chests rubbing against each other as Astorian sucked on your neck. He groaned in pleasure, as he swallowed your thick blood, his dick itched to release inside of you. He began pumping fast, as he tightened his mouth for a final suck he released his cum.

Just then the light of the moon flooded through the room. In a flash he was on top of a wolf, your little beady eyes still shocked by the timing of transformation. Astorian gasped “oh my, looks like you had your treat a little too early my fluffy friend.” You howled as you stood on all fours. He rolled off and sat up “why don’t you introduce me to your pack? I have treats for all of them.” You snarled at him, he hit a soft spot, knowing you were doing all this behind their back.

“There, there, no need to be angry.” Astorian said with a smirk, as he ruffled your hair. “Could I atleast have some cuddles now?” You seemed to have calmed down as you wagged your tail and slowly pattered to sit beside him. He brushed your fur with his fingers for a bit before laying down and hugging you. You wiggled your ears out of contentment, Astorian was warm and even as you both drifted to sleep his hand passively patted your head.

In the morning you had turned back to your human form sleeping next to Astorian. You opened your eyes and found him lightly tapping your head while still deep in slumber. You smiled as you lightly adjusted yourself keeping your head on his soft chest and falling back asleep. Life on the moon together with this man may truly be freedom.

your wolf,

admin sav

[circulinho]

Restless

"The circles under your eyes are getting darker each time we meet"

Were the words that came out of his mouth the moment he got close enough to talk to me.  A few months ago and I would've found his choice of words rude, offensive even. However experience has taught me to look beyond his sharp remarks, he's not trying to offend me, this is his strange way of asking 'is everything alright?'.

Whilst he may not be the most skilled conversationalist there is, Levi is probably the most caring individual I've ever met. I know he's worried, his dark circles trigger the same feeling in me.

"I could say the same to you"

Levi is a fine man, in pretty much all aspects: he's knowledgeable, honest, calm, handsome... One could argue that the scars and the blinded eye make him unfit for the word 'handsome', but I couldn't disagree more.

The way his pale skin reflects the morning rays of the sun is ethereal, when directly receiving the radiation his skin glows like a mother-of-pearl. The greyish eye that stares at me reminds me faintly of stormy skies, so much so that I can almost smell petrichor. His ravenette strands, forever kept in an undercut, contrast perfectly with his fair skin in a way that feels almost poetic, like Yin and Yang in perfect harmony, complementing each other effortlessly.

I'm convinced  that this man is nature's masterpiece, and it takes great self control on my part not to slip into a trance and marvel at him for the rest of the day.

"Well, yeah I haven't had a decent night of sleep since I was 8 years old, but that's not the case for you. So what's been keeping you awake?"

You! Levi Ackerman, you've been keeping me awake! Although I don't think it's fair to put the blame on you, after all you don't steal my sleep on purpose.

One week- that's how long I've been depriving myself of a good night of sleep. Last week I figured out a bunch of 'whys': why I always turned so fast after hearing the doorbell of the bakery ring, why I'm so eager to be the one serving you, why whenever I went out shopping my eyes would linger on the teacups and I'd wonder if you would like them, why I started buying more brands of teas for you to try, why I stopped adding so much sugar to my infusions, why I always found the day to be gloomy when you didn't show up, why bought a book about tea brewing so I wouldn't serve you a 'shitty cup of tea' anymore, why your dirty mouth never bothered me, why I never seem to notice how much time we spent talking until you pointed it out, why my blood boiled that one day you showed up with a pretty woman by your side, why I found the darkest days so easy to go through after talking to you.

The why is: Love.

Levi you stole my heart, and took my sleep along with you. When night comes and I'm waiting for the slumber to catch me, your face appears in my mind, our conversations replay in my head like a loop, my imagination wanders freely with tooth achingly sweet thoughts...

But then anxiety comes, and what was once sweet turns bitter, 'he doesn't like you that way', 'the age gap would mine the relationship', 'you're a coward that can't even ask him out'.

But of course I'm not telling you that.

"Tea. I've been training my brewing skills so I can please my favorite customer"

SNK does not belong to me.

This is a sample of a story I've been thinking about writing. Please feel free to give your critics, I'd like to evolve my writing abilities and there's nothing better than good feedback.

This is my first time posting a story, please bear my lack of skills in pampering the post.

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[23.49]

― pairing : Wonwoo x fem! reader ― content warnings : fluff, wolf au, wonwoo is a witch, reader is a wolf, medieval settings ― word count : 2.800 ― notes : ⚠️ this fic doesn not mean I will start writing series for seventeen as well! I love them a lot but my brain wouldn’t handle writing for 13 people… But Wonwoo lives in my life rent free although he’s not even my bias so here goes nothing⚠️   

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

It happened on the third day you had silently returned to your house right next to the woods; you were hunting for something to eat, when all of a sudden, in the distance, you saw him. 

Wonwoo was lazily walking around while the dark green cloak he was wearing was obediently following his movements, his eyes analysing the grass while looking from some kind of herb, and you guessed that he must have embraced his warlock side; unlike him, you knew he could use magic – when you were kids he loved to show you all the spells he learnt, but Wonwoo didn’t know about you being a wolf. 

Since you were both very young when you left your village, sometimes you wondered what he would have done if he ever found out that you could shift into another creature, but you felt like laughing at yourself for your own naive thoughts. After all, Wonwoo had always made you feel at ease, and he had always made you feel safe; you were certain that he would have accepted it easily. Would he?

Among the things you absolutely hated the most, hunters were definitely on top of the list, especially because they always found creative ways to camouflage their traps.

Despite it’s been more than ten long years since the first time you learnt how to properly shift into a wolf, and despite the fact you had always been careful while wandering through the woods, you had to admit to yourself that you have been an absolute idiot.

Probably, you were just genuinely happy to have returned to your village after such a long absence imposed by your mother, who was both extremely happy because in your family, only women were able to shift into wolves, but also extremely worried since she didn’t want you to hurt anyone on accident before you were completely sure to be able to tame your wolf side.  Probably, you have been genuinely taken aback from the sight of your long time crush wandering in the woods as if he was walking in starlight.

Although you wanted to remain where you were – strategically hidden behind an oak tree, and enjoy the sight of Wonwoo strolling through the woods, you realized that your priority, at the moment, was to head back home and tend your wounds; even though your reflexes prevented your foreleg to completely be stuck into the iron toothed trap, you had been roughly scratched by it, and leaving traces of fresh blood all around the place definitely was not a wise option.

On his behalf, Wonwoo definitely was not naive; he had been walking through the woods for years, and he quickly realized that he was not alone. Unbeknownst to you, the warlock kept his attention focused on the general direction where you were, and therefore, he easily noticed when you decided to head the opposite way.  

«Hey, wait.» you heard Wonwoo’s deep voice gently call for you; instinctively, you stopped in your tracks, wincing in pain as you slightly lifted your right foreleg, hoping in vain for the latter not to notice that you were hurt. 

«It’s okay,» he called out again, easily closing the distance between the two of you, walking around your frame and crouching down in front of you – almost purposely making himself smaller and an easy target, just to make you feel less threatened; the warlock’s dark green cape was now crumpled on the ground, and the small basket full of herbs he was carrying with himself was right next to his left knee, «I won’t hurt you, I promise.» he kept talking with a gentle voice, as if he already knew that wolves understood human language, since part of them could shift into a human form, while the ones who couldn’t shift, simply got used to constantly hear human language.

Eventually, you walked closer to him, trying not to push too much of your weight on your injured limb as best as you could; for whatever reason, you were almost shy to meet his eyes, as if you were embarrassed about tripping directly into a hunter’s cage because you were secretly happy to see him. 

Wonwoo carefully followed your moves with a small frown, which immediately turned into a gentle expression as soon as your nose was few inches from his. 

«You must be a new one, I haven’t seen you around before.» he spoke balancing his elbows on his knees, and carefully studying your frame; again, you avoided meeting his gaze. In your human form, you had a scar on your left cheek; a permanent reminder of that day when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with Wonwoo as the two of you decided to adventure in the woods. A scar that of course was meant to show on your wolf form as well, in an ugly line of missing fur right under your left eye. 

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on that small scar, but your brain was still processing a particular sentence he had just spoke; were there other wolves around? By all meant you were trespassing someone’s territory. 

“This is definitely not good.” you thought, the last thing you wanted was to challenge some alpha over a territory. But, however, if there was really a pack of wolves around, why didn’t you felt anything? Usually, an uneasy feeling would spread in your stomach, almost as you felt anxious about intruding someone’s home without authorization.

«Can I see that wound?» Wonwoo asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and stupidly enough, you instinctively met his gaze. Although the warlock had definitely grown into a handsome young man, you noticed that one thing had remained just as when the two of you were kids: his glasses seemed to continuously threaten to fall off his nose, which made him appear extremely cute and adorable, despite his sharp features. 

However, what made your heart race was a very definite feeling within your soul; Wonwoo met your gaze and your soul felt calm, as if you were howling at the moon in a summer night.

“He’s my soulmate.” you thought.  Wonwoo extended his hand towards you, and you sat on the ground, placing your injured paw on the palm of his hand; he carefully analysed it, his fingertips gently moving around the fur over the wound, before eventually, you saw his eyes flashing a bright golden colour. The warlock quietly mumbled few words which you couldn’t understand, and before you realized it, the pain you had felt had completely stopped. 

«All done, make sure to pay attention around here.» he gently commented, and you immediately ran home with a racing heart. 

Whether that night you laid in bed in your human form, staring at your right hand without managing to fall asleep, that’s a secret for only you to know.

Within the following days you had met Wonwoo almost on a daily basis, although – when you were by yourself, you kept avoiding walking too close to the village while being in your human form; sometimes, you had the feeling that Wonwoo suspected something, but how could he? He couldn’t read your mind, could he?

“I wonder if he feels different, if he missed me,” you silently questioned yourself as your thoughts wandered on dangerous territories, “I wonder if he will accept me as his mate.”

A month later, Wonwoo had basically turned you into his familiar; it wasn’t rare for you to spend your days in his garden as he was either busy creating some strange looking potion or doing the laundry, but nevertheless, anytime he asked you whether you wanted to go to the village with him, you always refused, immediately going back home. “It’s not my territory.” you reminded yourself every time.

Spring afternoons were extremely relaxing, and strangely enough, the small section of grass in Wonwoo’s little garden seemed to be more comfortable than all the wild grass which covered the woods. The warlock was on his knees, palatially leaned over a wide wooden basin filled with warm water, as he was patiently washing his sheets; you were laying on your side, casually glancing at him – wondering why he wasn’t using magic in the first place, while fighting the urge to drift off to sleep.

As you were about to fall into the temptation of losing yourself into slumber’s embrace, you felt few droplets of water land on your nose; your eyes curiously opened, and Wonwoo sprinkled some water towards you once again, using his fingertips. Instinctively wrinkling your nose, you squeezed your eyes, placing your left paw on his thigh and pushing forward – trying to ignore how firm his thighs actually were, with the secret goal to make him fall on the ground for interrupting your nap time; Wonwoo laughed softly, adjusting his glasses while using his wrist, and you felt your heart swell. You loved being around Wonwoo, especially as a wolf; actually, you were certain that you would have loved being around him even as a human, but you still didn’t gather enough courage to tell him that you had came back.

Few hours later, the warlock was sitting next to you, leaning back so that his weight was placed on his left hand, while he was gently brushing your soft fur with his right hand; however, his fingertips dangerously lingered over the scar on your face, and you kept your eyes tightly closed. 

Wonwoo used to caress it when you were kids, a tender brush of his fingertips which you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t looking at him anytime he did that; the warlock had just did the same thing, and your heart immediately picked up pace.

Wonwoo knew it was you.

«You are a wolf,» you spoke, your index finger pointed to your own reflection in the mirror in a threatening way, «you could literally eat him in one – two bites!» you steadily went on with your rambling, asking yourself why were you supposed to be scared of telling Wonwoo that you were mates, and not finding an answer to your own cowardice. 

Since the afternoon the warlock had caressed your scar, you had carefully avoided to go in the places he usually roamed in, and therefore, you haven’t seen Wonwoo for more than a week; you wondered if the longing feeling which almost completely filled your soul was completely due to the soulmate bond, and moreover, you wondered if he missed you as well.

«Maybe he has someone?» you questioned yourself, before immediately shaking your head with a frown; you’ve spent enough time at Wonwoo’s house to knew that he didn’t have a partner, «and moreover, he’s meant with me.»  Basically, you spent the morning acting like a flustered teenager, despite the fact that you were a full grown adult.

Hesitantly, you knocked on Wonwoo’s front door, still pondering to just turn around and leave; it was late afternoon, and you had finally made up your mind, walking all the way to the warlock’s house. However, the more you waited, the more you realized that he wasn’t going to open the door anytime soon – he probably wasn’t home, fortuity which gave you the opportunity to flee; as you were stepping down the last step of Wonwoo’s porch, you heard the familiar creak of the wooden front door being open.

«You sure had some nerve making me wait for this long.» Wonwoo’s voice was groggy, and you figured out he was probably just taking a nap; you immediately spun on your heels, your gown obediently twirling around your legs as you stood facing him, your fingers nervously picking at each other in short and nervous movements.

«Well, I – »you started, now knowing what you wanted to say; although you wanted to apologize, every word you knew seemed to have vanished for your brain. 

«Come here, you idiot.» Wonwoo smiled at you, and in the same moment you saw his arms widening into an obvious offer of a hug, you skipped back on the steps of his porch, almost throwing yourself in his arms. 

«You can’t walk around with a scar on your cheek and not expect me to connect the dots,» he mumbled, resting his chin on the top of your head, as your face was basically buried in the crook of his neck, «I missed you.» he finally admitted the words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, and you instinctively hugged him a little tighter.

Wonwoo ended up convincing you to stay for dinner, and of course, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to say no; even if you still had to confess him about the soulmate bond connecting the two of you, you were happy to spend some time with him by simply staying in your human form.

The moon was shining in the sky as the two of you were sitting on the steps of his porch, enjoying the quiet night summer breeze.

«Were you actually certain that I was the wolf?» you questioned; Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, and simply shrugged.

«It was just a bold guess in the beginning, but Seungcheol kinda confirmed it,» the warlock took your bewildered expression to explain himself further, «I randomly walked into him the day after we met, and he seemed to be all excited about you having returned into town, as a wolf. He also said we had the same scent, so we were probably mates.»

«Wait,» few seconds of silence had passed, and you silently connected the dots, «Seungcheol is a wolf?» you questioned, dumbfounded, and Wonwoo simply nodded, quietly chuckling at your surprise, already knowing what you would have said next, «Seungcheol, “let me chase you real quick while holding this bee hive” Seungcheol?»

«In his defence, he grew into a reliable leader.» Wonwoo admitted, and a comfortable silence fell once again around the two of you. Of course, the fact that Seungcheol was the alpha of the territory was the main reason you didn’t feel threatened with the sudden instinct and need to leave; he might have accepted you as one of his pack before you even thought about asking him to become one.

«He also told you we’re soulmates,» you sighed, «I feel like I’ve been beating around the bushes for nothing.» you felt Wonwoo’s arm around your shoulder, before being gently pulled into his side; you immediately shifted closer, so that you could comfortably lean against him without the two of you being uncomfortable.

«You did, but it was cute,» Wonwoo admitted, and your shoulders lowered in defeat, making him chuckle at your behaviour, «I was honestly curious about how long it would have took you.»

«Can you blame me? I literally disappeared in the middle of the night, and showed up years later.» you immediately retorted, explaining that your mother didn’t exactly gave you time to warn him about the fact you were about to leave, and as soon as you reached your new house, your main thoughts were immediately focused on trying to tame yourself in order not to hurt other people by mistake.

«I was really angry back then,» Wonwoo confessed, «but eventually, other friends went through the shifting process, and when he came back, Seungcheol helped me actually understand that you would have come back, sooner or later. I just had to wait.»

«So… Does it mean you’re accepting the bond?» you timidly questioned, and you felt Wonwoo wordlessly nod against your forehead, «and does it mean you’re going to kiss your soulmate?» as you felt the warlock detaching himself from you with an overdramatic sigh you felt like you had screwed up but luckily, as you met his gaze, you could only find affection. 

«If I hadn’t had a crush on you since day one I would have said no, because your pickup lines are really awful.» hearing Wonwoo’s words was as if your neurons simultaneously caught fire; before you could actually question him about “what the hell do you mean you have a crush on me”, his lips captured yours in a soft, tentative first kiss. 

Wonwoo’s lips were gentle – just like his whole being, but the kiss feels like the rush of a high tide at noon; his right thumb and index finger were under your chin, while his left hand was lazily gripping your nape, as if to prevent you from run away when all you wanted was to taste more, to feel more, until the point where you can’t even quantify what could that “more” even stand for. 

«Don’t leave.» Wonwoo spoke, a faint murmur against your lips, and you instinctively smiled in return, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again, again and again.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

↳ BACK TO NAVIGATION 💫 ↳ BACK TO MASTERLIST 🔮

[classicanalyzer]

Rings of Power Season 2 - Eldest Thoughts

"We have tended this forest since before the mountains rose up and divided it. When the only sound here was the light upon the moss... And the breathing of the leaves. Yes. We know peace." Winterbloom.

"I think, um...Rorimas never found the Sûzat. And after a while...we just kept wanderin'. We don't have a home." Nori Brandyfoot

Tom Bombadil is such a noice ray of sunshine in such a dark season. He provides a wise whimsical charm and even his hut is an oasis in the desert. He also acts as a good guide for the Stranger and encourages him to face the two evils.

The Barrow Wights (they apparently appeared earlier than in the books) was pretty creepy and definitely a case of that big budget haha. It's also noice to see an Asian Elf (Rian) in the Middle-Earth universe.

The community spirit in the Southland people is wholesome to see after the division in S1. It was also nice to see the aqueduct fixed. We're slowly building this colony up to become the future Gondor. Also props to Arondir for catching onto Estrid for her brand. Idildur has a strong sense of trust and seeing someone abuse that is hard to see. I'm still not sure if Estrid is still playing a long game or if she genuinely reformed by the end of the episode.

Poppy and Merimac seem to be a wholesome romance in the works...and Nori is the third wheel lmao. Sadoc or rather Rorimas coming from the Stoors branch of the Harfoots is such a nice development and further explains the Wandering song since it's supposed to lead him back to his original home. Seeing Nori realize that Sadoc never found the homeland for both the Stoors and Harfoots was heartbreaking. It really sets the stone for the Shire being the ideal home for them all. Also, I love how the song Concerning Stoors is a reference to Concerning Hobbits.

Snaggleroot and Winterbloom grieving over the death of the forests is another instance of Adar's and Sauron's darkness spreading over Middle-Earth. I also like the parallels between their grief to Arondir's grief.

I love to see Arondir and Theo (The Lord of Pelargir) reconcile once again and now they accepted their roles in the upcoming conflict. I hope they reunite.

Elrond sees Galadriel for what she does. She does it for the Rings but she also does it to destroy Sauron. At what point will she lose her soul and become just as bad as Sauron? We also got a pretty badass entrance for Adar.

ALSO OLD TOM BOMBADIL SONG IN THE END CREDITS HAD ME OBSESSED EVER SINCE THE S2 OST CAME OUT.

[teleiapotami]

NaLu Day 1

Happy NaLu Week! I am super excited to take part in my first NaLu week! I hope you all enjoy! Day One. @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive

Anniversary

“Your anniversary with Lucy is coming up Natsu. Did you forget again this year?” Happy flew in circles above Natsu’s head. His tone was teasing, as though he already knew the answer to his question. Natsu chose not to answer, staring out at the quiet guildhall. It was a rainy day, so most people stayed home rather than hang out in the hall. The quiet atmosphere coupled with the grey skies had made his mood sour. Anniversary huh?

Natsu had not forgotten. In fact, he hadn’t forgotten any of the years that the others thought he had. He just didn’t understand anniversaries the way the others did. An anniversary is the celebration of the first time you did something, right? Why does only one first matter?

Looking around the guildhall he could see a hundred firsts as though they were printed into the wood grain of the walls and tables themselves. At the doorway, he could see the first time he brought Lucy to the guild. She had gaped at the sign with a look of such wonder and fulfillment that even then it made his pulse race.

The request board, though a completely different one now after so many years, held the memory of the first job they took together. Everlue’s mansion seemed like such a lifetime ago, and yet the lessons he learned about his partner were still at the forefront of his mind. It was there that he learned of her strong sense of justice, her compassion, and her uncompromising ideals.

In the corner of the room sat a large box full of iron scraps, Gajeel’s snack box. The smell of the iron always reminded him of the day Phantom Lord had attacked them and kidnapped Lucy. That was the first time he realized that she meant much more to him than just a teammate. The battle against Gajeel had taught him that Lucy was loyal, brave, trusting, and above all, she was his. He hadn’t known at the time why he felt that way, but it would always be a memory that resonated within him.

Hanging on the wall, a painting Reedus did of the Tenrou Team held the first time he realized that Lucy loved him. She hadn’t said it, and still wouldn’t for a long time after that moment, but he understood it all the same. In her fight with Kain Hikaru of Grimoire Heart, he found himself trapped in rubble and begged her to run and save herself, but she refused. The massive man had lifted her by the head to face Natsu. Expecting her to be afraid or resigned, instead her face wore the largest smile he had ever seen. Her words echoed in his mind: It’s always more fun when we are together. It was a mantra he carried with him every day.

The shelf behind the bar houses a large silver trophy bearing an engraved Fairy Tail emblem. Emblazoned on the base are the words ‘X791 Grand Magic Games – Fiore’s Greatest Guild – Fairy Tail’. In this relic rests many memories of firsts. The most significant was the moment he watched as Lucy died. In that moment he found himself facing the concept of a world without her and found it unbearable. That horrific moment was branded into his mind as the same moment that he realized he was in love with Lucy. He swore to save and protect her future, a vow he maintains even now.

Hanging from the rafters is a tattered flag with the guild emblem on it. The same one he pulled from the rubble just before the war against Alvarez. The bittersweet feeling matches the tattered remains perfectly, as this is the memory of the first (and last) time he left Lucy behind. A year in seclusion, training to become strong enough to protect Lucy’s future forever. But for her, it was a year of seclusion without him or any of their friends. Looking back at the training time now, Natsu can see that the most valuable lesson learned in that year was how much he wanted to be by her side, always.

“I’m going for a walk Happy; I’ll see you back home.” He wanders absently out into the drizzling rain. Even the weather held an anniversary for him. It was raining like this the day he first kissed her.

A picnic in South Gate turned into a mad dash for cover from the sudden downpour. The sound of her giggles and squeals still rang in his ears, bringing a smile to his lips. Hiding under a small awning, they watched the rain fall from the sunny sky. His arm was around her shoulders, drying the wetness from her clothes with his warmth. She told him of Sunbursts, a kind of rain shower that bursts forth from a sunny sky, just like the one that day. He’d watched her face as she spoke of how her mother told her that Sunbursts always preempted some of the most beautiful moments in life because they guaranteed a rainbow at the end. When she turned and smiled up at him he captured her lips with his own, leaving both of them glassy-eyed and panting gently. “I guess your mom was right…” he’d murmured to her. She had thrown her arms around his neck, attaching the memory of their second kiss to the sound of rain on the pavement as well.

Passing by the apartment on Strawberry Street was always full of memories. Glancing up at the window made him grin at the number of times he’d broken into her home to wait for her. His favorite anniversary held there was the night they had slept together. A long mission surrounded by their team, with no time to themselves, ended with the couple tangled together in Lucy’s bed. Exploring each other’s bodies had been the sweetest adventure, and it was one Natsu enjoyed embarking on as often as she would let him.

Ahead and to the left stood the trinket store where he purchased the small ring that changed their world in a big way. He’d never dreamt of being married, but when a glint in the window caught his eye, he couldn’t look away. A braided silver band with a golden strand twined through it supported twelve small diamonds surrounding a star-shaped opal. He had begged a loan from the only man he knew could keep a secret to buy it. How could he work extra to save for it quickly when Lucy went with him on every job? Gray had agreed, only after Natsu showed him the ring. It was perfect for Lucy, and there would never be a better one.

Looking up he realized he had almost made it to their house. Quickening his pace he crossed the remaining distance and slipped inside. His clothes steamed dry as he made his way to the kitchen where he could hear Lucy singing to herself. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he planted his chin on her shoulder. She turned in his arms and kissed him softly, studying his face.

“Hey, what’s up? You look like something is bothering you.”

He smiled slightly and brushed his nose against hers. “Nah, I was just thinking about our anniversary.”

She pressed another gentle kiss against his lips. “Which one?” The question made Natsu grin. He didn’t know why he let the others get to him. He may not celebrate anniversaries the way others expected him to, but his Lucy understood him. Moreover, she accepted his way of thinking and loved him for it. “All of them.” He buried his face into her neck, inhaling his favorite scent in the world. “I love you, Luce.”

Find this and more of my work on AO3!

[jellymaple]

Idk what to name this and this isn't finished yet

In a kingdom wrapped in velvet night,

Where moonlight danced on blades of might,

A girl was born with eyes so bright,

A princess bound by crown and rite.

She wandered free within the halls,

A spirit wild within stone walls,

Until one day, by fate’s cruel hand,

She met a man, a foreign brand.

His voice, a song, his eyes, a flame,

She loved him fiercely, none to blame,

For in his heart, she found her own,

A love forbidden, yet fully grown.

But whispers crawled beneath the throne,

The king, her father, cold as stone,

He learned of love he could not claim,

And saw it as a mark of shame.

With wrathful words, he gave the call:

“End this man, lest kingdoms fall.

Your duty lies within the crown,

Do what is right, or burn it down.”

She wept beneath her lover's gaze,

Her heart torn in a twisted maze,

And with trembling hands, she drew the blade,

A promise kept, a price once paid.

In silence deep, his breath was stilled,

Her love, her soul, forever killed.

And though her father’s will was done,

The war within had just begun.

For now she walks, a hollow queen,

Her heart a ghost, her hands unclean,

And in the night, she hears his call,

A love once risen, doomed to fall.

The night was thick with bitter pain,

A crown of thorns, a lover slain.

The queen, now cold, her heart betrayed,

With every breath, a price she paid.

The father, seated on his throne,

Looked down at what his power had grown

A daughter, broken, bound by grief,

Her heart now sharp beyond belief.

He spoke in tones of steely pride,

“Your duty done, let tears subside.

The kingdom stands, the threat removed,

You’ve shown your strength, your loyalty proved.”

But in her eyes, the storm grew wild,

No longer was she just his child.

Her love lay dead, by royal decree,

A shattered heart, no king could see.

“You made me choose, you made me bleed,

For your crown and twisted greed.

The love I held is now a ghost,

And I, your puppet, bear the cost.”

With poisoned words, she drew her sword,

The queen no more, a vengeful lord.

Her father’s eyes grew wide with fear,

For now the end was drawing near.

“For what is left, when love is gone?

A hollow queen on a shattered throne.

You took my soul, you took my flame,

And now I’ll take back my own name.”

The blade came down, swift as night,

A king who ruled by cruel might,

Now lay beneath his daughter’s hand,

The bloodied crown fell with the land.

And as the throne room drowned in red,

The ghosts of love whispered instead,

A broken queen, with nothing gained,

Just endless grief, and a heart unchained.

Now shadows dance where light once lay,

For kingdoms rise and fall this way

But no throne, no crown can mend the scars

Of a queen who reached too far for stars.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Just A crush?

Director Keller x Reader

Chapter 1

Keller was never one for interfering with his employees’ lives, he rarely disrupted their working lives unless it was absolutely necessary. So, when Fury had recommended you as a new combat instructor, he didn’t blink. If Fury thought you’d be a good fit, Keller trusted him. The only thing he hadn’t counted on, was his immediate and instant feelings of attraction towards you.

Keller wasn’t stupid, he’d had crushes before, mostly he pushed them to one side or did something about it if it was safe enough to do so. One night stands weren’t his thing anymore, he’d prefer a relationship if he was going to get involved. If he’d been younger and still a field agent, he may not have thought too much about trying his luck. But that wasn’t an option for so many reasons.

Over the years, Keller had found less satisfaction in sleeping around and more in deeper connections. The problem, of course, was his job didn’t allow for much connection to anyone. Keller had realised how lonely he’d become, but did everything to stay distracted from that fact.

You were nice to him, introducing yourself in a professional manner, even making him laugh with a witty one liner when you talked for the brief moments here and there. Keller liked you a lot.

Part of your duties was to make sure everyone passed their physical tests every six months, even the Director wasn’t exempt from them. He both dreaded and loved the one on one sessions you’d have together, you were funny and never judgemental of his slowing skillset, instead you helped him find new ways to focus and train his body.

Keller had been more and more self-conscious since you came around, his instinct was to try and impress you in some way so that you would notice him, but the reality was that during these sessions, your attention wasn’t anywhere else. In the moments he remembered that, he felt his loneliness far deeper than anything else.

‘Come on, Director.’ You encouraged as he ran on the treadmill. ‘Keep pushing, you’ve only got another two minutes.’

Keller breathed deep, the burn in his legs was already agony, but he didn’t want you to think he couldn’t complete a simple cardio session. He couldn’t help but want you to think he was in the best shape of his life, seeing you in your tight leggings and vest ignited something inside him that pushed him on.

‘That’s it, nearly there.’ You had your eyes on the stopwatch and Keller couldn’t take his away from your expression. ‘One more minute, just keep going.’

Keller prayed for the end to come, he wasn’t sure if he could get his body to keep going like this.

‘Thirty seconds, we’re in the final lap now, just a little further.’ Somehow if you had asked him to go another five minutes, he didn’t think his ego would give him a choice, he just couldn’t bear disappointing you. ‘Ten seconds.’

Keller breathed in another few times just relaxing into the final ten seconds of agony he had to endure before finally being able to stop.

‘That’s it, slow it down.’ You cheered, automatically reaching to slow the pace down to a walk. ‘Here.’ You handed him some water and it was only then he realised how sweaty he’d gotten, again he somehow felt awkward and embarrassed by himself.

‘Thank you.’ He panted, but waited until you were wandering over to your clipboard to actually gulp down half the bottle, anything to cool himself down. ‘How’d I do?’ He called, immediately regretting the use of energy.

‘Really good.’ You smiled broadly. ‘Yeah, to be honest, you exceeded my expectations.’

‘You sound surprised?’ Keller frowned playfully.

‘Not surprised, just… impressed.’ There was something really rather sweet about the way you spoke to him, looking down at your clipboard and making notes. ‘You’ll pass the physical, no question.’

‘Good to know. You need anything else from me?’

Keller watched your expression change from playful to your own brand of awkwardness, had he said something wrong? Was his tone off?

‘Er, no, just keep your pace for another three minutes before stretching off.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m just going to grab some more water. I’ll be back.’

Keller watched you leave the gym and he was more confused than before. He went over in his mind the encounter, but couldn’t quite place his finger on why your whole demeanour had changed all of a sudden.

You were gone for nearly five minutes, Keller had already decided to start stretching off when you returned.

‘How you getting on?’ You asked, back to your sweet demeanour.

‘Good, little sore in my knee, but I imagine it’s that old injury catching up to me again.’ He tried to laugh it off, tried to make you smile at his expense, which you did, but still a small layer of concern washed over your face.

‘Why don’t you hop on the bed and I’ll take a look?’

Keller was momentarily dazed, everything about that idea was appealing in ways he was ashamed to think about, but when he glanced in your direction he realised you meant the physio table behind you. Disappointment sat gently in his chest.

‘Sure.’ He swallowed. ‘Can’t hurt.’

You smiled again as Keller tried to brace himself, but nothing would ready him for the feel of your soft hands against his skin. He lay back and allowed you to work on his knee, testing mobility, flexibility and strength. It wasn’t anything intrusive, but he couldn’t help but feel warm under his skin.

‘You can jump down whenever you’re ready.’ You said, wandering back to your desk.

It was only when you were walking away that Keller realised his eyes were closed. He snapped them open and took a deep steady breath.

‘I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.’ You concluded. ‘If it starts to get painful, let me know and I’ll have another look. For the time being, stick to your recommended plan and I’ll find a time that suits for your tests.’

‘Perfect.’ Keller smiled, something in him was crying out to ask if you wanted to get a coffee with him, but he didn’t ask, he just let his mouth open and close before leaving.

He stood in the shower, letting the water run over his face and tracing over every part of the encounter you’d had. Why did he feel such a fool when you were around? Why did he never say the right thing?

Keller stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and trying to ignore the burn still coursing through his legs. As the Director of SHIELD, having his own locker room was a perk he enjoyed to no end, but it did allow for moments of quiet that he sometimes wished he didn’t have.

He took his time in putting his navy suit back on. His mind kept drifting back to seeing your demeanour change when he asked if there was anything else he could do for you. The way you looked down at the floor and broke the gaze shared between you, broke him in a small way.

Keller wondered if he should have asked you to get coffee regardless of any awkwardness, he was the Director for goodness sake, he shouldn’t have felt so tense about anything he felt. And yet, you disarmed him.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

Story

[anitosoul]

tripreport.009: White Velvet

absolute zero ❄️

White Velvet Key Inspirations:

Mazzy Star (Music Artist)

Roy Orbison (Music Artist)

The Microphones (Music Artist)

David Lynch – Blue Velvet (Film)

Radiohead (Music Artist)

Steven Hyden – This Isn’t Happening (Book)

Pedal Steel Guitar (Instrument)

Cassette Tapes (Media)

Daylight Donuts (Restaurant)

Electronica (Music Genre)

Snow (Weather)

Alejandro González Iñárritu – The Revenant (Film)

Polartec (Clothing)

Gorpcore (Clothing/Aesthetic)

And Wander (Clothing Brand)

Arc’Teryx (Clothing Brand)

Balaclavas (Clothing)

Foamular XPS Insulation (Construction Material)

White (Color)

White Velvet Tracklist A-Side: Snowfall

Lana Del Rey – Blue Velvet (2012)

Roy Orbison – In Dreams (1963)

Chris Isaak – Wicked Game (1989)

Kanye West – Say You Will (feat. Caroline Shaw) (2015)

Kate Bush – Under Ice (1985)

SASAMI – At Hollywood (2019)

Julia Jacklin – to Perth, before the border closes (2020)

Haruomi Hosono – Close to You (2013)

King Krule – Slush Puppy (2017)

Beach House – I Do Not Care for the Winter Sun (2017)

Frank Ocean – Impietas + Deathwish (2016)

Sampha – Reverse Faults (2017)

Moses Sumney – Self-Help Tape (2017)

The Antlers – In the Snow (2007)

White Velvet Tracklist B-Side: Permafrost

The Avalanches – Ghost Story Pt. 2 (2020)

Radiohead – Hunting Bears (2001)

Grouper – I’m Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill (2008)

Neutral Milk Hotel – Snow Song Pt. 1 (1996)

Deerhunter – Cover Me Slowly (2008)

Volcano Choir – Dote (2009)

Ryuichi Sakamoto, alva noto – The Revenant Theme 2 (2015)

The Avalanches, Karen O – Dial D for Devotion (2020)

Karen O, Danger Mouse – Reveries (2019)

The Microphones – I Want to be Cold (Acoustic) (2001)

Kurt Cobain – And I Love Her (2015)

J Mascis – Fade Into You (2014)

Angel Olsen – Waving, Smiling (2020)

Mazzy Star – Quiet, The Winter Harbor (2018)

Radiohead – Motion Picture Soundtrack (2000)

Bon Iver – Woods (2009)

White Velvet was inspired by a very specific weekend I spent working on the cabin with my dad. It was Valentine’s Day weekend, and there was a serious snow storm that was supposed to hit. My dad asked if I wanted to try roughing it and staying out at the cabin as a masochistic challenge. I figured I’d give it a shot. Since I was living at home and working remotely, I was spending a lot of money on various gorpcore pieces. For the uninitiated, this Grailed article provides the following definition: “Gorpcore—named after the colloquial term for trail mix (“Good Ol’ Raisins and Peanuts”)—is a style focused around wearing utilitarian, functional, outdoors-inspired gear.” I’d be lying if I denied that part of my motivation for working on the cabin in a snowstorm was to give me gorp credibility (I’ve worn my Arc’Teryx x Beams jacket in a snowstorm, I have the right to wear it walking around Soho!). That being said, the gear itself actually did protect me from the subzero wind chill as my dad and I hauled giant panels of plywood to close up the roof/walls of the cabin.

We closed in most of the cabin and covered any openings with foam insulation and tarp. Building a shelter and sleeping in it to protect from the elements was a special experience. Inside the cabin, it was still (literally) freezing; icicles formed on my eyelashes and my breath turned to ice on the walls of the tent, but we survived. As we drove home, everything was covered in white. It all looked so blank; the mountains that were typically shades of green or brown were completely devoid of color. The music I was listening to matched these feelings: the sounds are similar to Pinecore, but more abstract, more soft. Mazzy Star, The Microphones, and early Radiohead albums like Amnesiac were in constant rotation.

Around this time, I found my dad’s old cassettes. With nowhere to go and a lot of time at home, I often looked through and catalogued random old things I would find around the house. I was fascinated by cassettes as I was listening to a lot of ’80’s/’90’s music, and one of the most distinct memories I have was popping in a random tape of my dad’s and hearing R.E.M., Chris Isaak, even random old techno tracks. My dad never really talked about music, so finding a relic mixtape he made was special. Even more interesting, though, was finding my dad’s old answering machine tapes. Playing a mystery tape and hearing snippets of my dad’s friends, family, and previous partners’ messages from when he was my age was surreal, but connected me to him in a new way. I realized my dad really was my age once, with his own set of problems and relationships. In the same way my dad’s cassettes were so evocative of a specific point in his life, I hope this mix and all of the videos and photos I took during this period will be frozen in time too.

[manwalksintobar]

In Memoriam  // Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,    Whom we, that have not seen thy face,    By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;

 Thine are these orbs of light and shade;    Thou madest Life in man and brute;    Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just.

 Thou seemest human and divine,    The highest, holiest manhood, thou.    Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;    They have their day and cease to be:    They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;    For knowledge is of things we see    And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,    But more of reverence in us dwell;    That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;    We mock thee when we do not fear:    But help thy foolish ones to bear; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem'd my sin in me;    What seem'd my worth since I began;    For merit lives from man to man, And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,    Thy creature, whom I found so fair.    I trust he lives in thee, and there I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,    Confusions of a wasted youth;    Forgive them where they fail in truth, And in thy wisdom make me wise.

I

I held it truth, with him who sings    To one clear harp in divers tones,    That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.

But who shall so forecast the years    And find in loss a gain to match?    Or reach a hand thro' time to catch The far-off interest of tears?

Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd,

   Let darkness keep her raven gloss:

   Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss,

To dance with death, to beat the ground,

 Than that the victor Hours should scorn

   The long result of love, and boast,

   `Behold the man that loved and lost,

But all he was is overworn.'

 II

Old Yew, which graspest at the stones

   That name the under-lying dead,

   Thy fibres net the dreamless head,

Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

 The seasons bring the flower again,

   And bring the firstling to the flock;

   And in the dusk of thee, the clock

Beats out the little lives of men.

 O, not for thee the glow, the bloom,

   Who changest not in any gale,

   Nor branding summer suns avail

To touch thy thousand years of gloom:

 And gazing on thee, sullen tree,

   Sick for thy stubborn hardihood,

   I seem to fail from out my blood

And grow incorporate into thee.

 III

O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,

   O Priestess in the vaults of Death,

   O sweet and bitter in a breath,

What whispers from thy lying lip?

 'The stars,' she whispers, `blindly run;

   A web is wov'n across the sky;

   From out waste places comes a cry,

And murmurs from the dying sun:

 'And all the phantom, Nature, stands—

   With all the music in her tone,

   A hollow echo of my own,—

A hollow form with empty hands.'

 And shall I take a thing so blind,

   Embrace her as my natural good;

   Or crush her, like a vice of blood,

Upon the threshold of the mind?

 IV

To Sleep I give my powers away;

   My will is bondsman to the dark;

   I sit within a helmless bark,

And with my heart I muse and say:

 O heart, how fares it with thee now,

   That thou should'st fail from thy desire,

   Who scarcely darest to inquire,

'What is it makes me beat so low?'

 Something it is which thou hast lost,

   Some pleasure from thine early years.

   Break, thou deep vase of chilling tears,

That grief hath shaken into frost!

 Such clouds of nameless trouble cross

   All night below the darken'd eyes;

   With morning wakes the will, and cries, 

'Thou shalt not be the fool of loss.'

 V

I sometimes hold it half a sin

   To put in words the grief I feel;

   For words, like Nature, half reveal

And half conceal the Soul within.

 But, for the unquiet heart and brain,

   A use in measured language lies;

   The sad mechanic exercise,

Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.

 In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,

   Like coarsest clothes against the cold:

   But that large grief which these enfold

Is given in outline and no more.

 VI

One writes, that `Other friends remain,'

   That `Loss is common to the race'—

   And common is the commonplace,

And vacant chaff well meant for grain.

 That loss is common would not make

   My own less bitter, rather more:

   Too common! Never morning wore

To evening, but some heart did break.

 O father, wheresoe'er thou be,

   Who pledgest now thy gallant son;

   A shot, ere half thy draught be done,

Hath still'd the life that beat from thee.

 O mother, praying God will save

   Thy sailor,—while thy head is bow'd,

   His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud

Drops in his vast and wandering grave.

 Ye know no more than I who wrought

   At that last hour to please him well;

   Who mused on all I had to tell,

And something written, something thought;

 Expecting still his advent home;

   And ever met him on his way

   With wishes, thinking, `here to-day,'

Or `here to-morrow will he come.'

 O somewhere, meek, unconscious dove,

   That sittest ranging golden hair;

   And glad to find thyself so fair,

Poor child, that waitest for thy love!

 For now her father's chimney glows

   In expectation of a guest;

   And thinking `this will please him best,'

She takes a riband or a rose;

 For he will see them on to-night;

   And with the thought her colour burns;

   And, having left the glass, she turns

Once more to set a ringlet right;

 And, even when she turn'd, the curse

   Had fallen, and her future Lord

   Was drown'd in passing thro' the ford,

Or kill'd in falling from his horse.

 O what to her shall be the end?

   And what to me remains of good?

   To her, perpetual maidenhood,

And unto me no second friend.

 VII

Dark house, by which once more I stand

   Here in the long unlovely street,

   Doors, where my heart was used to beat

So quickly, waiting for a hand,

 A hand that can be clasp'd no more—

   Behold me, for I cannot sleep,

   And like a guilty thing I creep

At earliest morning to the door.

 He is not here; but far away

   The noise of life begins again,

   And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain

On the bald street breaks the blank day.

 VIII

A happy lover who has come

   To look on her that loves him well,

   Who 'lights and rings the gateway bell,

And learns her gone and far from home;

 He saddens, all the magic light

   Dies off at once from bower and hall,

   And all the place is dark, and all

The chambers emptied of delight:

 So find I every pleasant spot

   In which we two were wont to meet,

   The field, the chamber, and the street,

For all is dark where thou art not.

 Yet as that other, wandering there

   In those deserted walks, may find

   A flower beat with rain and wind,

Which once she foster'd up with care;

 So seems it in my deep regret,

   O my forsaken heart, with thee

   And this poor flower of poesy

Which little cared for fades not yet.

 But since it pleased a vanish'd eye,

   I go to plant it on his tomb,

   That if it can it there may bloom,

Or, dying, there at least may die.

 IX

Fair ship, that from the Italian shore

   Sailest the placid ocean-plains

   With my lost Arthur's loved remains,

Spread thy full wings, and waft him o'er.

 So draw him home to those that mourn

   In vain; a favourable speed

   Ruffle thy mirror'd mast, and lead

Thro' prosperous floods his holy urn.

 All night no ruder air perplex

   Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright

   As our pure love, thro' early light

Shall glimmer on the dewy decks.

 Sphere all your lights around, above;

   Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow;

   Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now,

My friend, the brother of my love;

 My Arthur, whom I shall not see

   Till all my widow'd race be run;

   Dear as the mother to the son,

More than my brothers are to me.

 X

I hear the noise about thy keel;

   I hear the bell struck in the night:

   I see the cabin-window bright;

I see the sailor at the wheel.

 Thou bring'st the sailor to his wife,

   And travell'd men from foreign lands;

   And letters unto trembling hands;

And, thy dark freight, a vanish'd life.

 So bring him; we have idle dreams:

   This look of quiet flatters thus

   Our home-bred fancies. O to us,

The fools of habit, sweeter seems

 To rest beneath the clover sod,

   That takes the sunshine and the rains,

   Or where the kneeling hamlet drains

The chalice of the grapes of God;

 Than if with thee the roaring wells

   Should gulf him fathom-deep in brine;

   And hands so often clasp'd in mine,

Should toss with tangle and with shells.

 XI

Calm is the morn without a sound,

   Calm as to suit a calmer grief,

   And only thro' the faded leaf

The chestnut pattering to the ground:

 Calm and deep peace on this high world,

   And on these dews that drench the furze,

   And all the silvery gossamers

That twinkle into green and gold:

 Calm and still light on yon great plain

   That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,

   And crowded farms and lessening towers,

To mingle with the bounding main:

 Calm and deep peace in this wide air,

   These leaves that redden to the fall;

   And in my heart, if calm at all,

If any calm, a calm despair:

 Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,

   And waves that sway themselves in rest,

   And dead calm in that noble breast

Which heaves but with the heaving deep.

 XII

Lo, as a dove when up she springs

   To bear thro' Heaven a tale of woe,

   Some dolorous message knit below

The wild pulsation of her wings;

 Like her I go; I cannot stay;

   I leave this mortal ark behind,

   A weight of nerves without a mind,

And leave the cliffs, and haste away

 O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large,

   And reach the glow of southern skies,

   And see the sails at distance rise,

And linger weeping on the marge,

 And saying; `Comes he thus, my friend?

   Is this the end of all my care?'

   And circle moaning in the air:

'Is this the end? Is this the end?'

 And forward dart again, and play

   About the prow, and back return

   To where the body sits, and learn

That I have been an hour away.

 XIII

Tears of the widower, when he sees

   A late-lost form that sleep reveals,

   And moves his doubtful arms, and feels

Her place is empty, fall like these;

 Which weep a loss for ever new,

   A void where heart on heart reposed;

   And, where warm hands have prest and closed,

Silence, till I be silent too.

 Which weep the comrade of my choice,

   An awful thought, a life removed,

   The human-hearted man I loved,

A Spirit, not a breathing voice.

 Come, Time, and teach me, many years,

   I do not suffer in a dream;

   For now so strange do these things seem,

Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;

 My fancies time to rise on wing,

   And glance about the approaching sails,

   As tho' they brought but merchants' bales,

And not the burthen that they bring.

 XIV

If one should bring me this report,

   That thou hadst touch'd the land to-day,

   And I went down unto the quay,

And found thee lying in the port;

 And standing, muffled round with woe,

   Should see thy passengers in rank

   Come stepping lightly down the plank,

And beckoning unto those they know;

 And if along with these should come

   The man I held as half-divine;

   Should strike a sudden hand in mine,

And ask a thousand things of home;

 And I should tell him all my pain,

   And how my life had droop'd of late,

   And he should sorrow o'er my state

And marvel what possess'd my brain;

 And I perceived no touch of change,

   No hint of death in all his frame,

   But found him all in all the same,

I should not feel it to be strange.

 XV

To-night the winds begin to rise

   And roar from yonder dropping day:

   The last red leaf is whirl'd away,

The rooks are blown about the skies;

 The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,

   The cattle huddled on the lea;

   And wildly dash'd on tower and tree

The sunbeam strikes along the world:

 And but for fancies, which aver

   That all thy motions gently pass

   Athwart a plane of molten glass,

I scarce could brook the strain and stir

 That makes the barren branches loud;

   And but for fear it is not so,

   The wild unrest that lives in woe

Would dote and pore on yonder cloud

 That rises upward always higher,

   And onward drags a labouring breast,

   And topples round the dreary west,

A looming bastion fringed with fire.

 XVI

What words are these have falle'n from me?

   Can calm despair and wild unrest

   Be tenants of a single breast,

Or sorrow such a changeling be?

 Or cloth she only seem to take

   The touch of change in calm or storm;

   But knows no more of transient form

In her deep self, than some dead lake

 That holds the shadow of a lark

   Hung in the shadow of a heaven?

   Or has the shock, so harshly given,

Confused me like the unhappy bark

 That strikes by night a craggy shelf,

   And staggers blindly ere she sink?

   And stunn'd me from my power to think

And all my knowledge of myself;

 And made me that delirious man

   Whose fancy fuses old and new,

   And flashes into false and true,

And mingles all without a plan?

 XVII

Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze

   Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer

   Was as the whisper of an air

To breathe thee over lonely seas.

 For I in spirit saw thee move

   Thro' circles of the bounding sky,

   Week after week: the days go by:

Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

 Henceforth, wherever thou may'st roam,

   My blessing, like a line of light,

   Is on the waters day and night,

And like a beacon guards thee home.

 So may whatever tempest mars

   Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark;

   And balmy drops in summer dark

Slide from the bosom of the stars.

 So kind an office hath been done,

   Such precious relics brought by thee;

   The dust of him I shall not see

Till all my widow'd race be run.

 XVIII

'Tis well; 'tis something; we may stand

   Where he in English earth is laid,

   And from his ashes may be made

The violet of his native land.

 'Tis little; but it looks in truth

   As if the quiet bones were blest

   Among familiar names to rest

And in the places of his youth.

 Come then, pure hands, and bear the head

   That sleeps or wears the mask of sleep,

   And come, whatever loves to weep,

And hear the ritual of the dead.

 Ah yet, ev'n yet, if this might be,

   I, falling on his faithful heart,

   Would breathing thro' his lips impart

The life that almost dies in me;

 That dies not, but endures with pain,

   And slowly forms the firmer mind,

   Treasuring the look it cannot find,

The words that are not heard again.

 XIX

The Danube to the Severn gave

   The darken'd heart that beat no more;

   They laid him by the pleasant shore,

And in the hearing of the wave.

 There twice a day the Severn fills;

   The salt sea-water passes by,

   And hushes half the babbling Wye,

And makes a silence in the hills.

 The Wye is hush'd nor moved along,

   And hush'd my deepest grief of all,

   When fill'd with tears that cannot fall,

I brim with sorrow drowning song.

 The tide flows down, the wave again

   Is vocal in its wooded walls;

   My deeper anguish also falls,

And I can speak a little then.

 XX

The lesser griefs that may be said,

   That breathe a thousand tender vows,

   Are but as servants in a house

Where lies the master newly dead;

 Who speak their feeling as it is,

   And weep the fulness from the mind:

   `It will be hard,' they say, `to find

Another service such as this.'

 My lighter moods are like to these,

   That out of words a comfort win;

   But there are other griefs within,

And tears that at their fountain freeze;

 For by the hearth the children sit

   Cold in that atmosphere of Death,

   And scarce endure to draw the breath,

Or like to noiseless phantoms flit;

 But open converse is there none,

   So much the vital spirits sink

   To see the vacant chair, and think,

'How good! how kind! and he is gone.'

 XXI

I sing to him that rests below,

   And, since the grasses round me wave,

   I take the grasses of the grave,

And make them pipes whereon to blow.

 The traveller hears me now and then,

   And sometimes harshly will he speak:

   `This fellow would make weakness weak,

And melt the waxen hearts of men.'

 Another answers, `Let him be,

   He loves to make parade of pain

   That with his piping he may gain

The praise that comes to constancy.'

 A third is wroth: `Is this an hour

   For private sorrow's barren song,

   When more and more the people throng

The chairs and thrones of civil power?

 'A time to sicken and to swoon,

   When Science reaches forth her arms

   To feel from world to world, and charms

Her secret from the latest moon?'

 Behold, ye speak an idle thing:

   Ye never knew the sacred dust:

   I do but sing because I must,

And pipe but as the linnets sing:

 And one is glad; her note is gay,

   For now her little ones have ranged;

   And one is sad; her note is changed,

Because her brood is stol'n away.

 XXII

The path by which we twain did go,

   Which led by tracts that pleased us well,

   Thro' four sweet years arose and fell,

From flower to flower, from snow to snow:

 And we with singing cheer'd the way,

   And, crown'd with all the season lent,

   From April on to April went,

And glad at heart from May to May:

 But where the path we walk'd began

   To slant the fifth autumnal slope,

   As we descended following Hope,

There sat the Shadow fear'd of man;

 Who broke our fair companionship,

   And spread his mantle dark and cold,

   And wrapt thee formless in the fold,

And dull'd the murmur on thy lip,

 And bore thee where I could not see

   Nor follow, tho' I walk in haste,

   And think, that somewhere in the waste

The Shadow sits and waits for me.

 XXIII

Now, sometimes in my sorrow shut,

   Or breaking into song by fits,

   Alone, alone, to where he sits,

The Shadow cloak'd from head to foot,

 Who keeps the keys of all the creeds,

   I wander, often falling lame,

   And looking back to whence I came,

Or on to where the pathway leads;

 And crying, How changed from where it ran

   Thro' lands where not a leaf was dumb;

   But all the lavish hills would hum

The murmur of a happy Pan:

 When each by turns was guide to each,

   And Fancy light from Fancy caught,

   And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought

Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech;

 And all we met was fair and good,

   And all was good that Time could bring,

   And all the secret of the Spring

Moved in the chambers of the blood;

 And many an old philosophy

   On Argive heights divinely sang,

   And round us all the thicket rang

To many a flute of Arcady.

 XXIV

And was the day of my delight

   As pure and perfect as I say?

   The very source and fount of Day

Is dash'd with wandering isles of night.

 If all was good and fair we met,

   This earth had been the Paradise

   It never look'd to human eyes

Since our first Sun arose and set.

 And is it that the haze of grief

   Makes former gladness loom so great?

   The lowness of the present state,

That sets the past in this relief?

 Or that the past will always win

   A glory from its being far;

   And orb into the perfect star

We saw not, when we moved therein?

 XXV

I know that this was Life,—the track

   Whereon with equal feet we fared;

   And then, as now, the day prepared

The daily burden for the back.

 But this it was that made me move

   As light as carrier-birds in air;

   I loved the weight I had to bear,

Because it needed help of Love:

 Nor could I weary, heart or limb,

   When mighty Love would cleave in twain

   The lading of a single pain,

And part it, giving half to him.

 XXVI

Still onward winds the dreary way;

   I with it; for I long to prove

   No lapse of moons can canker Love,

Whatever fickle tongues may say.

 And if that eye which watches guilt

   And goodness, and hath power to see

   Within the green the moulder'd tree,

And towers fall'n as soon as built—

 Oh, if indeed that eye foresee

   Or see (in Him is no before)

   In more of life true life no more

And Love the indifference to be,

 Then might I find, ere yet the morn

   Breaks hither over Indian seas,

   That Shadow waiting with the keys,

To shroud me from my proper scorn.

 XXVII

I envy not in any moods

   The captive void of noble rage,

   The linnet born within the cage,

That never knew the summer woods:

 I envy not the beast that takes

   His license in the field of time,

   Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,

To whom a conscience never wakes;

 Nor, what may count itself as blest,

   The heart that never plighted troth

   But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;

Nor any want-begotten rest.

 I hold it true, whate'er befall;

   I feel it, when I sorrow most;

   'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

[doingthedirtydishes]

Trading in the rocky shoreline of Maine for the granite faces of New Hampshire; Live Free or Die!: My adventure to the White Mountains and Lakes Region.

As it was appearing my stay in Maine would be extended into autumn, due to the ever-continued international Covid-19 health and economic crisis, remaining here for yet another season, and possibly winter too, it was time to venture out-and-about further into the region to see what New England had to offer. Fall in New England, as the expression goes, is spectacular – an explosive vivid symphony of lucid supernatural wonder and beauty on display, nature’s finest fireworks.

A few months prior, while on the patio at my hotel, I met a nice Polish lady from upstate New York, Zuza. She is an interior designer for Hilton corporate brand. She also is an artist who creates the most stunning mosaics. At first, she thought I was a bit strange; not uncommon for people to think such at first. But after some time she and I became able friends. A few weeks later she rang me on my mobile to ask me if I would join her on a trip to New Hampshire.

It only took but a few seconds to figure a decision. “A trip to the Live Free or Die state, I am an emphatic yes,” I told her, as a massive smile grew on my face – my eyes swiftly welling with excitement. The time to get out of dodge had arrived, and with my new friend from New York, we were planning our White Mountains adventure.  She told me, “Steven, it will be a fun quest. We are both in need of some stress relief.” “Oh,” she said, as she was hanging up the call, “I hope you don’t mind my pup joining us.” “No, I love dogs – the more the merrier,” I stated.

Perhaps I should have taken some pause before responding in agreement. As it turns out, her “pup” is more like a small Siberian bear than a dog. Rowan is his name – a 140lb Leonberger show dog, a one-year-old puppy. She tells me, “He is well behaved and loves road trips. He is a rock-star everywhere I take him. You will see.” “Sure Zuza, it sounds as if soon Rowan and I will become good friends.” It was with frightful anticipation I expected meeting the “pup.”

As a few weeks remained before our trip, it was time to plan our mountain exploration. We planned to visit two regions of New Hampshire: Lakes Region in central and White Mountains in the north. As we would also be visiting an old classmate from my school days at BGU in Israel, Matthew, presently the owner of an outdoor style clothing company founded in NH, Lake Life Brand, for a photo shoot in the Lakes Region, our time and schedule were quickly filling up. As stated in my book, Unbreakable Mind: Life is meant to be lived, so go live it – Teeth to the wind!

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.”

— Mark Twain

Itinerary set, Zuza was to arrive on the following Wednesday, at my hotel in Portland, Maine, to commence our trip with Rowan. About noon, with clear blue azure skies, wispy clouds abound, a black extended Jeep wrangler pulled up in front of the hotel. Hanging out of the window was this over-sized hirsute ball of irascible beauty and beastly allure. He might be the size of a small bear but he has the heart of one too – it was obvious, “Ro” is a big love-bug-bear. Kisses all-round.

In a matter of minutes, bags packed into the back of the Jeep, wheelchair neatly stored away, and Rowan’s spot (substantial, I might add) clearly demarcated – we were finally off on our road trip. “Where shall we go, Steven?” Zuza, like me, loves getting into the car and just driving, driving with no destination in mind. “Ok, sounds fine to me. But please first tell me where we are sleeping tonight so I can plan our day.” Zuza reserved the same Hilton hotel Vernon, my hotel manager, recommended we stay, a sister Giri property where we would be well taken care of.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” 

— J.R.R. Tolkien

It was a bit out of the way but we decided to cross over into New Hampshire from Maine further north and immediately drive the famous Kancamagus Scenic Byway. But first we decided to stop off for lunch at the 302 West Smokehouse & Tavern in Fryeburg, with wondrous scenic views of nearby rolling farm pastures and vistas of the White Mountains far off in the background. After two hours in the sun, a few local delish IPAs consumed, it was time to venture to the mountains.

Once we passed over the line into the state of NH, it was only a short fifteen minute drive to the entrance of “The Kanc” – a 55 km scenic drive, climbing almost 1000 meters in elevation, along New Hampshire’s Rout 112, a carved path that winds itself through the White Mountain National Forest, with endless hairpin turns alongside the Swift River, with breathtaking views of the Sabbaday Falls, Lower Falls and Rocky Gorge. NH fall foliage was absolutely brilliant.

At one point on the drive we could see that the top twenty percent of Mount Washington was snow-covered. The cold arctic winds that blow in from Canada were already making their presence felt, if only atop high peaks. But it was still fall, with all its innocent aesthetic beauty at play in God’s cathedral. At the end of the drive we came into a small town with only two choices to eat. We chose to eat Mexican. Afterward, we both agreed to never again eat tacos in NH.

Late into the evening we had a long cold drive to our hotel in the Lakes Region of NH, two hours further south than us. With fall foliage in New England in full bloom, and Covid-19 travel and social distancing measures in place, there were more than the usual amounts of day or weekend trippers in that area. The next morning we were going to meet Matthew and Stacy for a photo shoot for his clothing company at a few local lakes: Silver, Winnisquam and Winnipesaukee.

The morning of my debut as a sexy wheelchair model was one of overcast skies with rain in the forecast – great muted colors for a successful photo shoot, and start to my GQ career. Stacy was a consummate professional; Matt a consummate goofball. It was splendid fun for all involved. Zuza and Rowan even got swept up into the fall photography shoot extravaganza, posing by the lake. Photos of NH and other travels can be seen on my website, Doing The Dirty Dishes.

With the photo shoot behind us, my fifteen minutes of fame fading fast, no longer puparazzi in tow, it was time to explore the Lakes Region. For the next three hours we drove aimlessly and endlessly down any roadway, paved or dirt, that we could enter with a 4×4 Jeep. We ended up in a small, quaint charming town, Meredith. We decided to stop for lunch at Twin Barns Brewing Company. There we would meet three retired professionals from Baston, MA. Never was more fun and laughter had on a brisk Saturday evening in fall than with Sheehan, McGuirk and GG. 

Craig AKA GG is a retired dentist with a penchant for being a considerate guy. He and his close friends all bought mountain homes in nearby Meredith – which has more of a village ambiance than small city. It is the entrance town for tourists wishing to enter the Lakes Region of NH. The town has an intimate and restful feel to it, the perfect place some R&R, especially during a pandemic. On our way of town we stopped at Kellerhaus for some German chocolate decadence.  

“Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world. “

— Gustave Flaubert

After three days of epic excitement in the lakes and mountains regions it was time to migrate more toward the ocean, where New Hampshire owns an immense sliver of beachfront real estate. The Atlantic Ocean coastline of NH is a whopping 28.9 km, the shortest of any state. We were not so interested in the over-stimulating rocky seacoast beaches as much as the port city on the Piscataqua River, Portsmouth. It is a historic seaport and popular summer tourist destination.

Portsmouth, with it noted 17th and 18th–century colorfully painted homes, delicious local seafood restaurants, astounding art and architecture, winding town roads and ways replete with a plethora of parks and outdoor recreation areas, is a romantic town surely worthy of a weekend trip. Since “Chowda” is a staple of New England, each state having their own version (clam, seafood or fish), it was time to sample some local fare. Sanders Fish Market has the best chowder soup and lobster roll in NH. Though the lobster roll was incredibly delicious, Maine still wins the award.    

When Zuza said that Rowan was a rock-star, she was not kidding. Literally everywhere we went with him people stopped to ask about, pet and photograph him. If we were in the car, even at a red light, it made no difference – the “Ro-Bear” was a dog in high demand –people everywhere flocked to him like a reincarnated neon Elvis in Memphis. After my first and only model photo shoot and ethereal fifteen minutes of fame, I was more than willing to give up my throne to my new Ursidae Canis lupis familiaris friend. Thank you Zuza and Rowan for a memorable trip! 

Photo credit: Stacy Cusack Photography

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher. 

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Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.  

Thank you for your love and support.

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[16.02]

― pairing : Seungmin x fem! reader ― content warnings : fluff, smut, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 2.310

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🕺 GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin

«You should come home with me after school.» Seungmin smirked at you, pining you against your locker. 

«Honestly, I should go home and study history, after school.» you lightly tapped on his left arm, which was blocking your way and partially – but not unpleasantly, caging you. «Since I’m failing the class.» you added, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

«You’re failing history class?» Seungmin asked, dumbfounded, every hint and intention of flirting now forgotten. «How can anyone fail history class?» his eyes quickly darted from your lips to your eyes, his knee brushing against yours due to how close you were.

«All those dates to remember…» you sighed, «And the professor has this lousy and monotonous tone of voice that basically lulls me to sleep and I literally can’t pay attention.» you ignored Seungmin’s soft chuckles at your complaints, and he gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

«Let me rephrase that, then.» Seungmin’s face inched towards yours, «You should come home with me after school,» your eyes widened slightly, as he tilted his head on the side, «so I can tutor you.» Mischief was all you could see in Seungmin’s eyes, his face now so close to you that your noses were almost touching. As you were about to answer, the bell rang loudly once again, urging everyone towards your next class. 

«See you later, Sweetie.» Seungmin detached from your frame, taking a step back while offering you a confident wink. 

«Let’s see what you can do.» you answered, taking a step closer to him before re-adjusting your Pink jacket and heading towards your class.

«I honestly can’t understand how could you mix up these things.» Seungmin scoffed while browsing through the pages of your exam sheets. You were both comfortably sitting on his bed; your Pink jacket draped on his desk chair right under his black, leather jacket. 

«The House of Lancaster, represented by a white rose, and the House of York, represented by a red rose.» Seungmin stopped reading, and looked at you, which were already staring at him with your arms crossed and a frown. «Sweetie, that’s literally the opposite.» With a loud groan, you plopped back, fully lying on the bed. «Stop mocking me.»

Seungmin chuckled, placing your exams sheets on the side and pulling on your arms to make you sit up once again; you complied, noticing with the corner of your eyes how his biceps flexed due to the action, your salivation slightly increasing since you loved both your boyfriend both his body so much.

«Don’t be like that,» he cooed, as he hugged your groaning frame. «I’ll help you out, okay?»

Seungmin patiently tutored you for a week, even if sometimes you’d blankly stared at him, your mind zoning off into space.

 Seungmin’s lips moved, explaining you the final part of the lesson, your mind wandered to the first time you met him, finding it hard to believe that a so innocent-looking and shy boy could look so incredibly hot with a leather jacket and a cigarette hanging from his lips. You decided to become his Pink Lady few weeks after you met him, at one of Jisung’s parties, in the exact moment when he had pinned you against a wall, with one of his legs between yours and his right hand placed on the wall right next to your head, while the left one was effortlessly balancing the cigarette between his fingers as your lips passionately moulded together.

Needless to say, he spent the night at your place, and you gladly found out that the innocent-looking and shy boy had a dominant and ruthless side, sinfully ordering against your lips to refer to him as “Sir” while his fingers worked miracles inside you. That night, you lost count on how many times he made you come. You also learnt the harsh way that you had better listen to Seungmin, or he simply would not let you come. He asked you to become his girlfriend few days after you hooked up the first time, and the two of you quickly fell in love. 

Seungmin was passionate, clever, funny… He was a perfect mix of awesome qualities you loved, and you never got tired of spending time with him.

Luckily, by now Seungmin knew you well enough, and he’d playfully flicker on your forehead in order to snap you out of your thoughts – which were about to completely become kinky fantasies about Seungmin, in order to make you listen to him again.

But truthfully, you couldn’t help it: Seungmin’s shirt would cling so perfectly to his chest and his high-waisted, tight jeans would hug his waist and his thighs so perfectly that you-

«Okay, let’s play a game.» Seungmin interrupted your fantasies once again, by tightening his grip on your knee. You were once again sitting on his bed, history books in front of you. You met his mischievous gaze, with confused eyes. «Anytime you’ll get something right, I’ll give you a reward.»

Seungmin waited for you to nod, and leaned in to peck your lips, before proceeding: «So, what was the cause of this war?»

«Henry VI and his inability to produce heirs with his wife.» you answered immediately, not paying attention at first at Seungmin’s hand, which had inched slightly higher from your knee towards your thigh. However, in the back of your mind you could not help but notice that, anytime your answer was correct, Seungmin’s hand would imperceptibly draw a little higher on the skin of your thigh.

Even if you sent him some confused looks, he simply shrugged, a mischievous smile plastered on his lips as he kept asking questions. Seungmin’s large hand was now comfortably resting on your inner thigh, waiting for you to answer. You thought about his hand being so close to where you needed him, wondering how far he was determined to go with this game.

«1460. The Lancastrian army released Henry VI at the Second Battle of St Albans in 1460.» you mumbled, your eyes locked on Seungmin’s hand which brushed your clothed core for a second, before completely detaching from you.

Seungmin easily lifted himself off the bed, collecting your books from your bed and placing them on his desk. «See, Sweetie? It wasn’t that hard.» Dumbfounded, you stared at your boyfriend, which was looking at you from the feet of his bed, motioning to come closer with his index finger. You complied, once again, crawling towards him, until you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

«Off.» Seungmin simply said, gesturing towards your jeans. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head on the side. «Did we-Did we stop studying?»

«You wish.» Seungmin scoffed, «Now behave, and take your jeans off.» As you complied once again, Seungmin walked away from you only to lock his bedroom’s door, before returning to stand in front of you. He offered you a gentle smile, before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, his right hand holding your nape and his left one holding your waist. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck, as you felt Seungmin starting to manoeuvre the both of you until you were laying on the bed, lips still tightly locked with each other as your kiss grew more and more passionate.

Your boyfriend hovered above your frame as he kissed you with fervour, his teeth nibbling on your lower lip as he effortlessly pinned your hands above your head under one of his large hands, while the other was busy widening the collar of your shirt to leave a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as far as he could reach.

Learning history became your last thought, as you felt Seungmin firmly separating your thighs using his knee, placing it flush against your already wet core. You arched your back with a whine at the sudden pressure, unsuccessfully trying to pull at the hand that was restraining yours. You unconsciously grinded on his leg, craving for more friction. Seungmin’s hold tightened, and you could feel him smirk against your jaw. Seungmin had always made sure to tell you how much he loved how responsive and sensitive your body was, and neither this time he spared himself from praising you.

He let go of your hands only to start travelling downwards with his lips, worshipping your body with his lips and praising you along the way. Seungmin was now kneeling on the floor between your parted thighs, holding them wide open with his hands as he left open-mouthed trails on your skin, along with gentle nibbles and a little harsher bites. You breathed out a loud sigh as Seungmin quickly got rid of your panties, too, shivering in anticipation to feel his mouth against your core.

«In what year the Lancastrian revolts in the north were suppressed?» Seungmin suddenly asked, resting his head on your inner right thigh.

«What?» you asked, confused, aware of your sudden surprised high pitched tone.

Seungmin chuckled again, and you propped on your elbows to meet his gaze. Once again, behind his pupils blown with lust you could only see mischief.

«1465?» you asked, and he shook his head, soft hair brushing your inner thigh. «1464.» Seungmin nodded, and his gaze shifted from your face to your core, where you instantly felt a finger brushing between your folds.

«Listen, sweetie. I’m going to give you one rule.» Seungmin smirked at you, raising his index finger, which was now coated with your wetness. «Repeat everything correctly, and I’ll make you come. This means that if you get anything wrong, I’ll stop.»

«Yes.» you mumbled, but Seungmin limited to stare at you, expectantly. «Yes, Sir.»

Seungmin gave you a wide and encouraging smile, followed by a «Good girl.» and lifted his head from your inner thigh, ready to return to his ministrations. On the other hand, you plopped back on the bed, as you stared at the ceiling, trying to recall what Seungmin had taught you for basically a week.

«After the riot were suppressed, Henry VI was-he was kept prisoner in the tower of-» your breath hitched at the feeling of Seungmin’s fingers separating your wet folds and blowing a soft whiff of air on your sensitive clit. «London, and-» Seungmin was attentively listening to your voice, stopping his movements anytime you stopped talking, or eagerly moving his tongue and his fingers at a rhythmic pace as you tried to recall anything that Seungmin had explained to you.

Seungmin was having his fun with you, purposely moving his fingers faster in order to make you stutter on your words, and moaning loudly as he sucked on your clit in order to make you whimper loudly and make you forget what you were about to say.

«Henry Tudor defeated Richard III in 1485-Seungmin!» your back instinctively arched as you felt his teeth grazing against your clit.

«I’m afraid my name is still not in history.» he detached his fingers from inside you, as his raspy voice whispered against your core, his lips brushing your wetness while speaking made your head spin for a moment. «Go on, Sweetie. You were doing good.»

You complied, and started talking once again; you kept inevitably interrupting your sentences with loud moans or needy whines, Seungmin’s tongue was meticulously alternating between licking your folds, and sucking on your clit. He still obediently followed your pace, even as he re-inserted his fingers inside your wetness, and your hand flew in his hair out of instinct.

«Rebellions continued until 1497, when Perkin Warbeck was imprisoned and later executed.» you whined the last part of the sentence, as the hand which wasn’t trapped in Seungmin’s hair tightly gripped the sheets. You were close to your orgasm, you could feel the sensation increasingly pooling in your abdomen as you shifted on your bed in the desperate attempt not to come without permission, even if technically, you already said anything that you needed to know.

«And who was he?» Seungmin asked, softly biting on your clit again, knowing by your body language that you were close but still, refusing to stop or to slow down his movements.

«Seungmin, please-» you whimpered, tightening your grip on his hair. «I need to come, let me come, please-» your legs instinctively tried to close as you felt your orgasm approaching and already partially clouding your senses, but Seungmin used the hand that was not buried inside you to grab under your knee and widen your leg, preventing you to close them again.

«I know, but I asked you a question.» Seungmin’s stern, raspy voice harshly answered.

«He claimed he- to be the younger brother of Edward V.» You panted, feeling the blissful sensation approach even more.

«Come for me, sweetheart.» Seungmin scissored his fingers inside you, angling them to brush against your sweet spot, and you finally came with a loud moan, instinctively relaxing your muscles. You closed your eyes in bliss, as the orgasm sensation spreaded through your body, and Seungmin obediently kept lapping on your folds, collecting your release on his tongue before swallowing.

Seungmin never stopped to move his fingers inside you, but manoeuvred himself to hover above you once again as you started to shudder from oversensivity; you weakly placed your hand around his wrist, without any conviction or intention to stop him, since the initially annoying feeling had already started to turn into pleasure and once again, needy whimpers started to escape your lips.

«Seungmin, I literally just came.» you giggled, smiling as he captured your lips in a kiss and you could taste yourself on his tongue, both his lips and his chin still glistening with your wetness.

«I know, sweetie. You can’t stop clenching and writhing.» Seungmin mumbled against your lips, «It’s my favourite moment to fuck you.»

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[thus-spoke-lo]

You fell asleep—again.

Toshinori was beginning to wonder who exactly the old man was in this relationship, as he watched you lose yet another fight to stay awake—sleep, as it were, seemed to have a mean right hook. You started subtly, as usual, crossing your arms over your chest, your head lolling back slightly as sleep began to take you, then suddenly snapping forward every now and again, your eyes growing comically wide, like you were suddenly aware of your surroundings for the first time in your life.

“You’re missing your show,” he said, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m just resting my eyes,” you said as your chin started to dip towards your chest, and your grainy eyes fluttered shut.

“Of course you are,” he said, smiling as he looked over to see you starting to list sideways. It wouldn’t be long at this point, he mused, before you were fully horizontal.

Now here you were, hours later, fully curled up on the couch, snoring softly. Your feet, clad in plush socks (the gaudy All Might branded ones you were ashamed to wear around him at first, lest you seem like some megafan), pressed up against his hip, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down your legs while he finished his book. He certainly never minded the company—his forced retirement gave him many unexpected gifts, insomnia being one of them, and despite early mornings at UA, he still found it hard chase the never-ending stream of worries away long enough to sleep. So he’d stay up and read, or watch some mindless reality television or procedural drama—anything that kept his mind from wandering off into the darkness that awaited him—and listen to you breathe beside him.

He wondered if tonight would end like most nights, having to practically drag you off the couch and into bed as you bargained for a just a little longer, just a bit more time. You’d cutely grumble through your haze of sleep that you didn’t want to go to bed, you just wanted to have a “couch nap” with him, swearing up and down you’d get plenty of sleep after he left for work, he had nothing to worry about. You broke his heart every time as you pleaded with him—you were so warm and lovely and god did he want to keep you next to him every waking moment, but he could see no reason why you had to suffer for him, why your slumber had to be disrupted because he couldn’t manage to sleep at a reasonable hour, because he couldn’t keep himself from drifting off into the black void in his head.

He wasn’t the man he once was, but he could still muster up the strength for a few moments to pick you up off the couch and carry you to the bedroom, cradling you in his arms as you sweetly insisted you were awake, you’d been awake the whole time. He’d plop you onto the bed, undress you, tuck you in, kiss your darling forehead, all the while laughing softly at your murmured protests. It was for your own good, he’d tell himself as he said goodnight and shut the bedroom door behind him; his neuroses were his own burden to bear, and you deserved your rest.

Tonight, he watched you as you slept, his thoughts slowing down as he focused on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle rhythm of your breath. He wished he could bottle this feeling, keep it in his pocket, drink it in when he felt his worst.

“Pumpkin, why don’t you go to bed?” he said after a moment, gripping your thigh with his wide hand and giving you a gentle shake.

“Mm, don’t need to,” you mumbled. “Sleepin’ here.”

“You’ll hurt your neck if you sleep out here,” he said, stroking your leg.

“Neck always hurts,” you groused, adjusting the throw pillow that was carefully scrunched up under your neck

“Well, you’ll make it worse,” he chided.

“Just lemme sleep, Toshi,” you whined.

“Oh sweetheart, why do you do this to yourself?”

“Because you stay up so late.”

He sighed, grabbing ahold of your hand and squeezing it. “Well if I can’t sleep, I don’t want to keep you awake. So you go to bed, and I’ll stay out here. Okay?”

“Yeah, but I can’t sleep without you. Need you here with me.”

 “Yeah?” he asked tentatively after a beat.

“Of course,” you said with a shrug, as though this was no revelation, just the most obvious thing in the world. “Always need you, Toshi.”

Always.

The way you said that always made his heart thrum a little faster. He turned to say something else—he wasn’t sure what just yet—perhaps that he needed you more than you needed him, that you were one of the only things in this world that made him feel whole again—but you were already snoring, smiling in your sleep.

He took off his sweatshirt and draped it carefully over you, patting your hip gently and turning his attention back to his book.

He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let you stay a little longer.