#Wagner Cove

[weddingcentralpark]

Amanda and Luke's Vow Renewal at Wagner Cove

Amanda and Luke renewed their marriage vows with us in Wagner Cove in August with their eight-year-old daughter in attendance.  They were visiting from their home in Yorkshire, England. They had been married for ten years when they renewed their vows and Luke was 39 and Amanda was 35.  They had met while they were living in Vietnam, both teaching in an international school.  They got engaged in…

[normanblogs]

Miss Earth 2022: Final Predictions

Miss Earth 2022: Final Predictions

Tomorrow evening, Miss Earth 2022 is set to crown its new winner after two years of conducting its Finals virtually. This year, part of the preliminaries were done digitally. But for the most part of the edition, a return to physical pageantry was successfully organized by Carousel Productions here in Manila and around the Philippines. Eighty-seven (87) ladies are aspiring to become the successor…

[injaws]

d'pharaoh woon-a-tai, twenty-three, he/they   ⟡   —   is that BRIAR SUTTON i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for TWENTY-ONE YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE BOARDWALK. at face value, they’re said to be CHARMING and PLAYFUL, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite IMMATURE and AIMLESS. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them! 

BASICS:

full name: briar sutton nickname(s): bri, b  age: twenty-three  gender: non-binary pronouns: he/they  sexuality: slut date & place of birth: december 04 in toronto, canada  occupation: piercing apprentice at eternal ink & part-time student at makah community college  faceclaim: d'pharaoh woon-a-tai notable characteristics: shaggy hair down to his shoulders, baggy shirts and even baggier jeans, a plethora of piercings (his ears, their tongue, his eyebrow, their bottom lip), a helluva puppy dog face, skin that's way too clear for the amount of junk he eats, constant need for movement (drumming on desks, tapping his foot -- shoutout adhd) traits: charming, juvenile, mischievous, playful, so unserious holy shit, aimless similar to: rodrick heffley (diary of a wimpy kid), percy jackson (percy jackson & the olympians), yu nishinoya (haikyuu), kurt wagner (x-men), naruto uzumaki (naruto) aesthetics: skateboarding down the beach boardwalk, a bag full of spray paint, grinning after you've gotten a bloody nose, torn up vans, high-top converse

BULLET POINTS — TW POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION, DRUG USE, DEALING, & GENERALLY ROUGH FAMILY DYNAMICS

– born to a single mother in toronto, canada, briar never knew his father. he was the product of a frat-party-fueled one night stand months before, and their mother wanted nothing to do with the man after that. a woman who believed she could take on the world, she thought she could handle a baby, too – even at the ripe age of 20. – what she couldn't have expected was the postpartum depression that would wrack her body when briar was born. she managed to push through, but it wasn't easy. he was colicky, then he was needy, then so hyperactive she couldn't catch up with them. this was around the first time she'd realized she'd bitten off more than she could chew (and around the time briar would tell you she began to resent them, if you asked) – constantly exhausted and barely out of the throes of mental illness, briar's mother knew she couldn't do this alone anymore. finally, she took up her family's offer to help raise briar, and moved them both to kilmer at age two – and god, did it take a village to raise them. briar never did particularly well in school; not for lack of smarts, because he had plenty. but he didn't learn the way other kids did, and no one was willing to stop and figure out why. they fell behind quickly, and in order to keep him from falling through the cracks, constant tutoring sessions began to replace the sports he'd liked to do, all for what he deemed useless because he just didn't get it.  – briar became kind of a "lost cause" to schools quickly, but never to his mother. she moved him from school to school, whenever he'd get in trouble at one – he'll tell you this only made the resentment worse. – briar falls into the wrong crowd fast. feeling outcast by the authority figures at his school, he finds his own community. late nights skating, tagging, and doing some type of drug are frequent. so are the pained looks from their mother when they come home as the sun rises once again. – they move out of their mother's house at age 17 after a blowout fight. they were going nowhere fast, she worked so hard for him and he's throwing it away. his grandparents, his aunts & uncles all tried to get him to stay, but he couldn't do it. – briar couch surfs for a while before crashing with his older cousin & their boyfriend, two of his best friends. he had no clue what he was going to do, but the couple struck a deal; he stays in school and actually tries to do the work, and he can stay with them. so, he finished up high school (c's get degrees – or diplomas – friends!). now, he's got a job at the skate shop on the boardwalk and is part-time in school...doing something. 

HEADCANONS:

– part time weed dealer, too but it’s to raise money ‼️‼️ at the end of the day, briar tells himself he can't keep disappointing everyone in their life. even if they dig their hole deeper. – kind of Known throughout the town as a “mina's burnout kid”, a “lost cause”, or “misunderstood”, depending on who you ask – also known as a sweet kid, because they were still helping little old ladies cross the street and carry in their groceries even though he was probably high while doing it – he's a ridiculous flirt. owns several pieces of merchandise with "i <3 milfs" on it. really annoying. – WHACKED with a case of severe adhd that does in fact affect every area of their life. diagnosed like as of four years ago. don't talk to them. they're medicated. (muns interpretation of this is based off of my own but pls let me know if anything i'm saying sounds wrong or fucked up etc etc)  – loves spray-painting & tagging. adrenaline junkie. his tag is "makwa", which means bear (specifically the black bear) in the ojibwe language. it was the nickname his mother and relatives called them growing up. tags rich houses and big company buildings often -- "eat the rich" in a person – always doing something with their limbs; tapping their fingers, bouncing their leg, fiddling with their hair. like the energizer bunny on crack – practices "california sobriety". is high often, says it calms him (someone take that shit away from him thanks) – doesn't really like alcohol, though, because he "doesn't like how it makes him feel" – will drink ten virgin pina coladas in one sitting, though – doesn't drive, prefers to just skate everywhere or take the bus. economic king – will never cut his hair beyond a trim. either wears it down or up in some kind of ponytail/bun combo. braids are rare; he enjoys wearing them, but doesn't love the work of doing them – very close with his grandparents (especially his grandmother) still. calls her at least three or four times a week. many of his fondest memories are connected to her. – talks to his mom maybe once a month. neither of them want to unpack what happened. – almost always able to talk his way out of anything. boyishly charming to an annoying degree. – enjoys an occasional crop top.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

– guh. check back l8r  

[havenarthur]

desde que vi ARTHUR BELLUCCI nos arredores de MISTY HILL, soube que estava na presença de um abençoado pelos espíritos da floresta! aos 48 ANOS, talvez seja sua PACIÊNCIA que o torna tão radiante, mas é sua AUTOSSUFICIÊNCIA que o mantém único… além, é claro, de seu gosto peculiar: fiquei sabendo que ele ama LIVROS, ANDAR DESCALÇO E DAR CONSELHOS  e odeia GROSSERIA, PEDIR AJUDA E RITMO DE TRABALHO ACELERADO, não é especial? espero vê-lo mais por ai, mesmo que esteja ocupado sendo um excelente LIVREIRO na LIVRARIA HAVEN.   𓇢𓆸   (  wagner moura ◦ cis masculino ◦ ele/dele )

solitude sets us free, just as loneliness brings depth to our lives.

nascido em nova iorque, arthur sempre foi acostumado com o ritmo acelerado de uma cidade grande. seus pais, imigrantes, tinham grandes sonhos, mas nenhuma possibilidade de realizá-los. portanto, o único filho foi criado com grandes expectativas e um futuro brilhante pela frente, desde que trabalhasse duro para consegui-lo.

desde cedo, almejava a perfeição. tinha as melhores notas, créditos extras de sobra e um histórico impecável. ser aceito em uma das melhores universidades do país foi uma grande realização. também na universidade, conheceu sua futura esposa, annie haven, natural de apple cove e futura herdeira da Haven, única e mais antiga livraria da cidadezinha.

arthur se apaixonou por apple cove desde que visitou a cidade pela primeira vez, para conhecer os pais da então namorada. porém, como sempre tinha se definido como um "homem moderno da cidade", sabia que a calmaria da cidade seria reservada apenas para as breves visitas familiares.

tanto arthur como annie saíram da faculdade já empregados, inclusive na mesma empresa. com a estabilidade na carreira e promoções sempre à vista, os planos de se casarem e formarem uma família foram rápidos. os três filhos (duas meninas e um menino) vieram com poucos anos de diferença um para o outro, já que annie também desejava focar na própria carreira.

os dois chegaram em cargos altíssimos em suas respectivas carrreiras. em tempo recorde, arthur se tornou um grande homem de negócios. e apenas isso. não era mais um pai extraordinário, um marido incrível ou um filho atencioso. mas era um grande homem de negócios. até que todos os sacrifícios, de tantos anos, se voltaram contra ele.

arthur passou por dois grandes episódios de burnout antes de cair em si e tomar uma iniciativa. assinou sua demissão uma semana depois de ser apontado como o possível novo CEO, e na mesma semana também assinou os papéis de divórcio, já que há muitos anos o casamento com annie era apenas uma conveniência.

virou-se, então, para o lugar e as pessoas que sempre lhe acolheram: apple cove. a família da ex-mulher o acolheu de braços abertos, com uma proposta: um acordo para a compra da livraria, que vinha passando por anos difíceis e já ficara fechada por alguns períodos.

arthur mora e trabalha em apple cove há oito anos. apesar de ainda gerir um negócio, ele mudou totalmente sua forma de pensar e lidar com as coisas. com a mente reprogramada e tranquila, muito por influência do ritmo diferente da cidade, tem, finalmente, uma relação saudável com seu trabalho.

a livraria haven

o pequeno estabelecimento localizado em misty hill é conhecido por apple cove desde os anos 40 e, junto com a biblioteca municipal, por décadas foi o refúgio e a janela para o mundo dos residentes da cidade.

a família Haven sempre foi muito dedicada ao local, cuja administração era passada de geração em geração. a curadoria de livros é cuidadosa, certeira e necessária. muitos clientes fiéis dizem que a livraria Haven não te dá apenas os livros que você quer, mas também os que você precisa, mas nem sabe.

com a internet, a popularização e disseminação das compras online e o desinteresse dos atuais herdeiros pelo negócio da família, a pequena livraria passou a ter anos difíceis. mesmo com a saída da joja corporation da cidade e a valorização do comércio local, as vendas de livro online ainda eram uma competição injusta.

há oito anos, os Haven viram no ex-genro uma salvação. a livraria estaria nas mãos de alguém conhecido, querido por todos os membros da família e que amava aquele lugar tanto quanto eles.

arthur não quis mudar a essência da livraria, mas, ao longo dos anos, implementou ideias que ajudaram a renovar a presença da Haven na cidade e at�� mesmo nas redes sociais.

a principal mudança implementada foi uma pequena prateleira no fundo das estantes de livros, que vende cidra de maçã (com e sem álcool). o produto é artesanal, produzido por arthur e pela família haven, e em pequena escala. a venda é realizada uma vez por semana, por encomendas e reservas, com poucas unidades extras disponíveis aos primeiros que conseguirem comprar.

além disso, eventos estão sempre acontecendo na livraria: lançamentos de autores locais, grupos de conversa, e até mesmo um clube do livro sob leve influência de álcool (com open de cidra!).

[iobartach]

@therapardalis // *checks the date*...

He had kept at a reasonable distance, for the majority of the morning, ascertaining from the barest of greetings received a particular kind of picture regarding what the day held in store. It hadn't arrived without warning, for in fairness to Thera, she had given him a considerable amount of advanced notice. Attempted to put into words why, on a particular day in the clutches of Fall, that she was prone to her own form of non-function. Unrousable to any summons made to call her to breakfast or dinner.

But he hadn't given up-- supper was still on the cards. And although their own experiences with grief weren't necessarily comparable, he had recognised her want to retreat, and left her be... until the approach of evening, at least. Where, with the retreat of the sun, Miguel, through a combination of kind words and assuring shoulder rubs, had eventually extracted Thera from bed, arms folding around her limp and lethargic form the instant she had stepped into the kitchen.

There would be plenty more of that to come, but, intent on following through with his plan, he'd take hold of his other half's hand, veering towards the door and passing through it before any protests could be considered. His other hand clutched a picnic basket, that he had manage to acquire from an unmanned market stand, when gathering together items for their pending excursion earlier in the day. Vowing to return the pinched carrier, such a theft takes a backseat as soon as he manages to coax Thera out of the building's front entrance, and on to the streets of a Manhattan that grew colder and quieter with each passing minute.

From the steps outside, it was all of a stone's throw away from venturing into Central Park, and towards a place, yet to be announced, that he had scoped out on his last patrol. What he hadn't taken into consideration was the added amount of time required to reach their destination by foot, as opposed to flinging himself through the air in costume, hopping from perch to perch.

All the same, eventually they reach the spot he had selected, rolling up to the shores of Wagner Cove under the cover of a blacked out sky. "We're almost there," comes the first bite of conversation heard since leaving the apartment, an update given to inform her as he steers them both off of the narrow path, away from the cove's iconic shelter and towards another section of the lake, where, upon crossing over Bow Bridge, they'll find the island.

"Hang on, for a moment." Securing an arm around her waist, a minute or two is given as he waits for her permission, and, once received, a crouching of feet turns quickly into a jump that takes them across the water with ease, landing gently on the other side. Keeping his hold loose in case she wished to step away, garnet hues glance back the way they came, scanning for any signs of trouble before determining that the coast was clear.

That they had arrived at a location sheltered by trees and set far enough apart from the rest of the park to make it seem as if they had the place to themselves. Before thinking of asking what Thera thought of this spot, though, he was already stooping to rummage in the basket, announcing, in a stern but caring tone;

"Let's fix you something to eat, first."

[ffxivtribehydrae]

5 Character Associations: Khu

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS

Worry for other's wellbeing

Joy from the love he found

Anxiety due to pressure to succeed

Excitement to return to Eorzea

Longing for what once was and a future that might be

COLORS

Moss green

Slate grey

Rich browns

Crystal white

Midnight blue

SCENTS

Humid earth

Leather and fur

Artificial fumes from concoctions

Fresh brewed coffee

Pine and bark

OBJECTS

Ink and quill

Scythe of mysterious origin

A staff of intricate design

Worn leatherbound journal

A small, locked case

BODY LANGUAGE

Tall and proud

Restrained excitement

Arms reaching for affection

Never turn his back

Friendly smiles

AESTHETICS

Misty ruins deep in the woods

Bizarre flora growing in the shade

Books, piles of tomes and worn leather

A map of the stars, their constellations and magical flows

Vials, pipes and bubbling concoctions

SONGS

Waves - Imagine Dragons

Suffocate - Nathan Wagner

The Past Still Lives On - Falconer

Letting Go - Hollow Coves

Always Gold - Radical Face

Tagged by: @avampyone

Tagging: Any and all who feel like they have time now that expack is ready!

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil’s Den

Chapter 4: In Which Beginnings Are Endings, Or Endings Beginnings?

You can read this also on Ao3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

Her strong arms enfolded you from behind. One secured around your waist, the other snuck up under an arm, over your chest, holding securely to your shoulder. Your lungs, assaulted by the sensual scent that was everything her. Her breath was warm next to your ear, those kisses feather soft.

You'd have all but moaned at the feeling of being back in her arms but a soft gasp snatched you up instead.

Those lips were again on your neck.

Where her teeth had taken purchase before.

You needed that feeling again.

You needed to feel the pain, the catch, the lightheaded fade. You needed to be at her mercy; all control taken from you, trusting solely that she would take care of you. No matter what she did.

The shiver that overwhelmed your body was actually painful. Your skin felt like burnt leather left out in the sun for an eternity, but it relented and you went weak once more.

Your hands clasped tightly to her arms that enveloped you, collapsing into her, relishing the softness of her, the strength and the prowess.

How you wanted to see her; look upon that face again, dive into the pools of grey and gold, reach out to caress the façade you'd pondered on for so long.

'Please...' with a hush you whispered, 'let me see you.'

Nothing.

No reply. No change in the firmness of her grasp.

Her lips treaded lightly along the column of your throat, a hiss of a breath now at your earlobe, teeth taking a short nip before they pulled away completely.

This time you did whine as the absence of her warmth left you feeling empty. Abandoned. Tension of tears began behind your eyes.

'Please,' you whispered again, harsher this time, 'look at me.'

Her arms hadn't left you, those long digits clawing into your clothes, and then you could feel her nose nuzzling the base of your neck.

Hot breath. A growl rumbling through your spine.

You tried to turn, you wanted, no, you needed to look at her - you had to see her one more time.

It was of little use. She was far too strong.

The growl increased in ferocity.

In a last attempt to free yourself -

*buzz buzz - buzz buzz - buzz buzz*

Fucking alarm.

You felt like there had been a cat and mouse game happening for a week now.

You could feel her every night.

Could undeniably smell that perfume.

But she was never visible. Never close enough.

But you could sense her in nearly every breath you took as soon as the sun vanished past the earth.

You were frustrated beyond comprehension.

Work had thoroughly drudged on this week. God, you just wanted to scream. You grabbed your things and ditched out the door before 5 and didn't give one shit.

You were tired. You were annoyed. And you still had no answers. No absolution.

You were living with a ghost.

Haunting you with ever fiber of it's invisible existence.

You can't quite recall getting home but somehow you were back at your apartment and restless as hell. You really didn't feel like eating. Didn't feel like reading. Didn't feel like watching tv. You needed to move, needed to get out of this flat, out of your mind, out of the tailspin.

Opting out of the transit you set out on foot. Where were you going? Who knew.

Who cared.

By the time you made it to Central park, passed the zoo, through Sheep Meadow and to Cherry Hill, your legs should have been burning and complaining. Oddly enough they weren't. At least not yet. But to true you, you meandered passed Wagner Cove and sat on your usual bench bordering the walking path overlooking the lake.

It was a beautiful evening. Oddly calm, hardly a breeze, and very few people wandering about.

Oh yes, it was a rare night indeed.

You finally began to feel like you had returned to your body. Perhaps the complaints from your achy legs were finally tugging you back in. You took a deep breath and for the first time in a while your mind was silent. What a relief.

Darkness was creeping in slowly but surely and you ignored the drop in temperature. You watched the lights in the skyscraper windows light up the blackening sky, the building bases glowing like fire from the streetlamps hidden from view by the trees in the park.

You enjoyed this. Loved it, even. Observing silently in the middle of the night; unseen. Unobserved. Ignored.

And then it happened.

Your senses were suddenly very aware. On alert, but not frightened.

No, this presence you understood.

The pulse in your veins spurred through the gate. Anxiousness set in deep within your solar plexus. You could feel and hear your heartbeat so loudly in your ears the fading city sounds were gone into the abyss.

Was she right behind you?

Craning your neck slightly you allowed yourself an eager glance.

You were still very much alone.

No one was around that you could see, but goddammit you could feel her.

Returning your gaze back to the glassy lake you slowly stood and began to thoughtfully wring your hands near your heart. Protecting yourself. Keeping yourself grounded, needing to feel your bubble, unsure how to proceed.

"I... know you're there," your voice protested your wishes but spoke regardless, sounding a little broken. Slowly you turned and looked to the trees and gently sloping hill behind you. The shadows were thick. Darker than normal. But then that could have just been your blown pupils desperately seeking to see in the night.

Dropping your hands to your sides, finding more courage and strength, needing this to come to some kind of end, you stepped around the benches and stood solid on the grass.

"Please," you called, "who are you?"

Alcina felt pierced by a stake, as horrendously cliche as that sounded. This human knew she was there. That was impossible.

She stood silent as death and just as unmoved hidden behind the large trunk of a tree. How were you this aware, and dare she reveal herself?

Fuck.

She was in so deep.

"You shouldn't even be aware of my presence." Alcina drawled with a muted smirk, remaining hidden and quite pensive.

That. Voice.

My god it was melodious and gushing grandeur. But it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. What the hell? Another full shockwave of quivering shot through you. Your eager eyes scoured the scenery before you, slightly looking to your left and right, no, she had to be in front of you. You could feel it.

"I am painfully aware of you," you stated feeling more and more sure of yourself, the desperation filling and overflowing over your cup once more, "please, let me see you," you requested breathlessly.

Her stoicism was being challenged. She hated it. And she loved it. It had been so long since she had had any sort of challenge.

Alcina had watched over you for 6 days now. Every night slipping into the human city to seek you out, admire you, study you, driven by a wish to be close to you once more leaking from deep inside her stony undead heart. No. She should not be doing this.

She was already too far out of line.

A mind of their own overpowered Alcina's long legs and she stepped from behind the tree. Standing tall and unmovable, she looked like a brilliant statue of black and white.

Had it not been for the stark contrast of her white pearlescent face, deep red lips, and the flash of eclipsed golden moons in her eyes, you'd never have seen her step from behind the tree. She would have merely appeared to blend into the darkness as another shadow.

Your heart sputtered.

She was here.

She was real.

Seconds passed only briefly before your legs, shaky and uncertain, began to close the space between you. It seemed slow. Too fast all at once. Were you still breathing? This almost didn't feel real. Here she was, nearly a week after it all happened, only arms length from you. You could reach out and touch her.

Yes. This was the beauty that had haunted you. And she was more stumbling beautiful than your memory could have dared conjure. Her scent engulfed your lungs and you had to take a long hard blink. It made you feel famished, if that was a word to describe it.

Easily standing at 7 feet tall, raven hair framing her face perfectly, her black clad form, the dangerous curves you could make out even as she had her hands buried deep in the pockets of her trench coat... she was ethereal. A dangerous angel.

How could something so perfect be real?

Your brows furrowed carefully as you studied her harder, "Who are you?" you whispered, your slender hand carefully reaching out.

Alcina's own grabbed your wrist and held it taught, not too hard, but immobile. Touching you again electrified her senses and she sucked in a breath sharply. Even through her glove she could feel your pulse racing through the veins in your wrist and it made her teeth ache. Her lips parted breathing your scent in once again. You were so close. She didn't know if she could remain within her means of control.

Her voice was dangerously low, almost a crackled purr, and she swallowed, "Don't touch."

Her voice had a bite. You stared.

Really?

The fire in your stomach grew hotter and you felt more alive and like yourself, a snap of your own climbing from the depths, "Didn't you have your hands all over me a week ago?"

Whatever response Alcina was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. Icy eyes narrowed, her lips pursing ever so slightly, her grip finally releasing your wrist with a gentle shove, "You shouldn't be able to remember that night," her comment dripping with disbelief hidden under the sharpness.

"What do you mean I shouldn't remember?" You countered, soft scowl in tow, "I do, I do remember - I remember you, I haven't been able to get you off my mind," your voice was growing progressively distressed, "I see you every time I close my eyes, I can't expunge the smell of your perfume from my lungs - I - I feel like I've been losing my mind! Who are you? What are you?"

It was Alcina's turn to stare. You were truly becoming a larger, more complicated enigma. Her statuesque didn't budge at your questions. If anything it made her more still. She removed those memories, she knew she did. It was something she had perfected over the many, many years of her undead life. How were you immune?

Still, as painfully curious as she was, she shouldn't be entertaining this.

She could feel herself slipping.

Her visage softened as she considered you. What was she going to do with this, with you? These reawakened emotions were screaming and thrashing to be released. My god how her teeth were aching for you. How had she gotten in so deep so fast? Dropping her chin just a tad more she drove into your eyes feeling that ever present pull of you, that need, that knowing. She would never reveal her fear to you, to anyone, but it was beginning to burst in the pit of her being.

She. Couldn't. Be. Doing. This.

Alcina drank in the sight of you for only a moment longer and then vanished.

Your heart screamed. The silent moments were giving way to so many thoughts of your own you hadn't considered she'd run. But run she did. Well, she vanished. Into thin air. You violently looked about your surroundings - she had blurred towards the tree and that was all you had to work with. Stumbling back you huffed as the anger, distress, and desperation bowled you over.

"Goddammit," you cursed under your breath, hands diving into your hair with frustration, "no!"

You paced haphazardly before tears began to fill the brims of your eyes, "Please don't leave..." you chewed on your bottom lip as you stood still, accepting the defeat, the abandonment, "fuck!" you cried out, balling your fists and clenching your teeth.

How could she just leave you like this?

No. She owed you nothing.

Right?

Fuck that.

Through no fault of your own you somehow ended up in a freaky ass club with freaky ass vampires a week ago. How? You didn't know. What you did know is that you likely would have faced your death that night. But instead you ended up in her arms, in her clutches, under her fangs. She bit you, she drank from you. And it changed your whole fucking life.

This was no longer a far fetched hallucination.

You saw her. You spoke to her, she spoke back.

She touched you.

Flustered by absolutely everything you walked slowly all the way back home to 9th Avenue, Chelsea. Climbed every stair instead of taking the elevator, and slammed the door on entry.

How could she just leave you.

As you sat and ruminated you felt the pangs of your past tap at your brain.

You had abandonment issues.

Duh.

But why was this so bad?

Attachments were always hard for you, when humans were involved at least. They let you down the best. Always had, always would, right?

What was so imbuing about this woman that you could not shake her for a fucking sane second?

Why did she feel like home?

You'd never had a home. Not a real one. You'd lived in many places, you'd met myriads of people, you'd had many a roommate; why was she, what might as well be a figment of your imagination, something you suddenly couldn't live without?

You shook your head.

She's a fucking vampire.

What fucking reality were you living in? Had you finally snapped?

Downing the last drops of your wine you shoved yourself from the couch, entered the kitchen, washed out the glass, placed it back in the cupboard and leaned on the counter. You stared at the beat to hell spackled countertop; salt and pepper with flecks of cornflower blue. You felt like you were looking at a pool of your thoughts.

What a mess.

Your eyes trailed over to the notepad by the wall and suddenly you grabbed a pen and hastily began to write.

Lying down with a threat of a headache you pulled the covers to your chin and scrunched your pillow around your head. You couldn't sense her now. Your heart fell.

Tomorrow was another day. You had to at least pretend to be normal.

Sleep was glacially slow to find you.

Taped on the outside of the glass sliding door of the balcony was a piece of paper that read:

"You're invited.

Come in.

Please."

Whether or not legends or myths were true, you assumed she'd be back. If she wasn't just as unadmittedly caught up in you as you were her, she'd never have bothered to follow you for a week straight. If she needed to be invited inside your home, fine. There it was. Invitation open.

You had questions. So many questions. But even if you could sit in proximity in utter silence of her, that would suffice too.

[beardedhandstoadshark]

hey hey hit me up with some songs that start with h ✌️ thank you!

Hi Hi! Here’s some songs with h!

I dont know what kind of music you like (also I wanted to know how many actually start with h) so I just combed though my entire "every piece of music I’ve ever looked at regardless of if I actually still vibe with it or ever did to begin with“ 1.2k playlist lol. Hopefully there’s bound to be something here that’s at least not utterly horrible with all those clashing genres :9

Hummingbird- Alex Clare

Homecoming Heroes - The Head and The Start

Healing Termina which is not a song but a rearrangement? Reimagining? Of the Majoras Mask Termina Field theme by Theophany and this guy. THIS GUY. These aren’t music these are experiences, genuinely, so it’s going on here because I WILL grab any mere wisp of an opportunity to share them

Hope - Nathan Wagner

Heroes - Måns Zelmerlöw

Human - Rag‘n‘Bone Man (was that song everywhere else when it came out too or did that only happen here?)

Helena but the dj-jo remix

How long - Charlie Puth

Hit me Baby One More Time (epic cove lmao. It’s so edgy)

Hit the Road jack but both a cover AND a remix of that cover

Handclap - Fitz and the Tantrums

HUMANLIKE acoustic and og version - Tatsuya Kitani (?)

HIDE AND SEEK - same guy/s as above

Happy Song - Bring me the Horizon

Human Lips - OUR PROMISE

Help me lose my mind (mazde Remix)

Hot tea- half alive

Heart Afire - Defqwop feat. Strix

Heart Skips a Beat - Olly Murs ft. Rizzle Kicks

Heavy Cross - Gossip

Hands - …I can’t write Japanese letters and it won’t let me copy them. But apparently it’s a cover of a Touhou track..?

Holy Ground - Aviators (despite what the name suggests, this is actually just a single guy making all that music!)

Hate to be Lame - Lizzy McAlpine ft. FINNEAS (apparently that’s the brother of Billie Eilish?)

Heavy Metal - BMTH feat. Rahzel

High Hopes but a Frank Sinatra Style Cover - PostmodernJokebox lol

Healing Dance - Swingrovers

How to eat life by Eve but it’s an English cover - Trickle

Heaven in Hiding - Imminence

Habit - SEKAI NO OWARI

…Harvester‘s Dance - Ganemes ITS GOOD FOR ONE VERY SPECIFIC KIND OF DAYDREAMING OK

Hello World - Nhato

+ 2 Zelda songs by Natewantstobattle/Nathan Sharp/I thought this guy quit making covers years ago but was still recommended one for fnaf security breach? - that I didn’t add cuz they need a level of "cringe is dead“ that’s only there if you like the source material-

it’s a total of…34. Huh.

[applecovehq]

🍎 Fazendeiros ou não, a verdade é que em Apple Cove todos tem um lugarzinho especial! Desejamos que os novos moradores tenham uma estadia cheia de carambola, vinho de pêssego e geleia de figo, só o melhor que a cidade tem a oferecer.

Desde que vi EELIS 'BUGGY' SELÄNNE nos arredores de OLD HOLLOW, soube que estava na presença de um abençoado pelos espíritos da floresta! Aos 35 ANOS, talvez seja seu AMOR PRÓPRIO que o torna tão radiante, mas é sua COMPETITIVIDADE que o mantém único… Além, é claro, de seu gosto peculiar: fiquei sabendo que ele ama TIRAR FOTOS SUAS, COSTURAR E ESTAR SOB O HOLOFOTE e odeia SER IGNORADO, INSETOS E PASSAR VERGONHA, não é especial? Espero vê-lo mais por ai, mesmo que esteja ocupado sendo um excelente AJUDANTE/INSTRUTOR DE TEATRO/DRAG QUEEN em KINGSGATE/CENTRO COMUNITÁRIO/TIKTOK.   𓇢𓆸   (  sam reid ◦ não-binário/queer ◦ ele/elu  )

Desde que vi ARTHUR BELLUCCI nos arredores de MISTY HILL, soube que estava na presença de um abençoado pelos espíritos da floresta! Aos 48 ANOS, talvez seja sua PACIÊNCIA que o torna tão radiante, mas é sua AUTOSSUFICIÊNCIA que o mantém único… Além, é claro, de seu gosto peculiar: fiquei sabendo que ele ama LIVROS, ANDAR DESCALÇO E DAR CONSELHOS  e odeia GROSSERIA, PEDIR AJUDA E RITMO DE TRABALHO ACELERADO, não é especial? Espero vê-lo mais por ai, mesmo que esteja ocupado sendo um excelente LIVREIRO na livraria HAVEN.   𓇢𓆸   (  wagner moura ◦ cis masculino ◦ ele/dele  )

Desde que vi ELLIE PARK nos arredores de GREEN PRAIRIE, soube que estava na presença de uma abençoada pelos espíritos da floresta! Aos 34 ANOS, talvez seja sua CORAGEM que a torna tão radiante, mas é sua TEIMOSIA que a mantém única… Além, é claro, de seu gosto peculiar: fiquei sabendo que ela ama TODO TIPO DE CHÁ, TEXTURA DA GRAMA SOB SEUS PÉS E OUTONO e odeia AGROTÓXICOS, CANELA E QUEM NÃO ACREDITA NAS LENDAS DA CIDADE não é especial? Espero vê-la mais por ai, mesmo que esteja ocupada sendo uma excelente FAZENDEIRA na DRAGON CAVE.   𓇢𓆸   (  jung somin ◦ cis feminino ◦ ela/dela )

[charisjcarmichaelbraun]

The Body Politic: Long Island Biennial 2024

In 2024—a year of global elections, as some 60 countries representing half of the world’s populations hold regional and national leadership votes—The Heckscher Museum of Art invited Long Island artists to submit work which engages with contemporary social, cultural, or political issues. The Museum received 762 artwork submissions from 313 artists, and the result, The Body Politic: Long Island Biennial 2024 features exceptional art from contemporary artists in a compelling museum-wide exhibition that features 79 works of art accepted from 60 artists. 

The jurors for the 2024 Long Island Biennial were Ian Alteveer, Beal Family Chair of the Department of Contemporary Art, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; Patricia Cronin, sculptor, Artistic Director of the LGBTQ+ VR Museum and Distinguished Professor of Art, Brooklyn College; and Grace Hong, Assistant Director, Galerie Lelong & Co.

The artists chosen represent the breadth of communities across Suffolk and Nassau counties and the exhibition encompasses a remarkable variety of media with styles spanning abstraction to hyperrealism. “We remain committed to sharing inspiring and thought-provoking new art with our visitors.” said Heather Arnet, Executive Director & CEO. The 8th edition of the Long Island Biennial “will resonate with the entire community given the diversity in artists and the universality of the important themes in their work.”

Long Island Biennial  2024 Exhibiting Artists

Edward Acosta, Commack Kelynn Zena Alder, Saint James Herold Alexis, Medford Andrea Baatz, Bohemia Monica Banks, East Hampton Dasha Bazanova, Greenvale Karl Bourke, Huntington Station Nancy Bueti-Randall, Stony Brook Charis J. Carmichael Braun, Northport Fernando Carpaneda, Freeport Hwa Young Caruso, East Meadow Jennifer Lewis, Seaford John Cino, Patchogue Angela Classi, Manhasset Teresa Cromwell, West Sayville Madeline Daversa, S. Jamesport Riccarda de Eccher, Oyster Bay Cove Ruth Douzinas, Lloyd Harbor Sally B. Edelstein, Huntington Kailee S. Finn, Valley Stream Julie Flores, Great Neck Jeremy Grand, Bellport Justin Greenwald, Bay Shore Robert V. Guido, Halesite Glen Hansen, South Jamesport RJT Haynes, East Hampton Jeffrey Herschenhous, Merrick Lori Horowitz, Dix Hills Anna Jurinich, Wading River Joan Kim Suzuki, Jericho Jane Kirkwood, Riverhead Karen L. Kirshner, East Meadow Sheryl Ruth Kolitsopoulos, Port Washington Jenny Patten La Monica, Massapequa Park Emily Rose Larsen, Ridge Neil Leinwohl, Rockville Centre Barbara Ludwig, Port Jefferson Station Alisa M. Shea, Northport Manuel Alejandro Macarrulla, Carle Place Lili Nickolina Maglione, Cold Spring Harbor Paul Mele, Island Park Julia Jane Moore, Poquott Kenny Ng, Huntington Jessica Penagos, Seaford Gail Postal, Montauk Melissa Pressler, Southold James E. Rice, Floral Park Lauren Ruiz, Bellport Blue Ruthen, Plainview Nathaniel Schindler, Rocky Point Laura Siegelman, Plainview Susan Kozodoy Silkowitz, Lynbrook Lauren Skelly Bailey, Hicksville Maria Spector, Babylon Lisa Stanko, Ronkonkoma Adam L. Straus, Riverhead Ezra Thompson, Port Jefferson Station Pinky Urmaza, Huntington Mark W. Van Wagner, East Patchogue Christian Wilbur, Huntington

[weddingcentralpark]

Ashleigh and Joe's Destination Wedding in Cop Cot in August

Ashleigh and Joe came over to New York from their home in Yorkshire, England to get married in Central Park in August.  They were both 24 when they got married.  Ashleigh’s lovely mom and dad renewed their vows with us in Wagner Cove in April two years ago so I think I have them to thank for this referral! They met when they were just ten years old, at middle school.  They have been best friends…

[elizabeaufort]

⸻ She gave him a sympathetic smile when he spoke about how there are no big adventures anymore. There is part of her that does not go clubbing that much because it used to be the area where she worked. After all, it is only 3 months since she retired from stripping. ⎯ Her dimples show on her cheeks as a fondly smile appeared on her delicate features to think of her babies. They're a handful, but she loves them dearly. ❛ Wagner Cove? ❜ Trying to make a mental note to put on her list of places to go with the twins. As she heard Nick explaining the location, and how it is. She definitely, doesn't think she can go there alone but if she finds a companion ( her father or even Alex if he manages to show up ), she will go. ⎯ Lakes? She didn't go to many lakes, normally she goes to the sea. Anywhere there is water, she enjoys it. ❛ My boyfriend doesn't like the ocean either. Well, not much. He is always on the sand when I adventure on the tides. ❜ She recalls the time they had a picnic, he stayed in the sand, making a castle sand with their daughter Lilou, and Beau joined her to enjoy the water.

❛ Oh, did she? She was the one to find that place Wagner Cove then? ❜ She refers to him and his wife that she was the one to find the place and bring him. Elizabeth enjoys nature, a lot. She always goes to a quiet place if she wants to recharge her energy. These places are in the 'nature'. Although, she is very comfortable with chaos. She was raised in one. ⎯ Upon his question… She pondered if she should tell her boyfriend's name. ❛ Alexander. ❜ She did not say his last name. What are the odds? It's not like Nick would know Alex… Right?! Although, she does know what her boyfriend does for a living. After an argument, he told her. ❛ It's not the first time we are together. I have known him for a while… I think, in part, our babies made her back together. ❜ And Alex finally stopped to push her away. They could have been together for a longer time if Alex hadn't stopped pushing her away. ❛ I'll keep it in mind. ❜ And both of them make an effort to see each other, even when the schedule is too tight. At the moment, they're seeing more often due to Elizabeth not working. She is taking a break. After years of not taking a break for herself, and working hard to being paid a misery. She hates doing nothing, but once she feels better she can't wait to back to work.

He smiled at her compliment towards his age. He certainly felt that old, as though his years were slipping through his fingers like fine sand. Time turning memories to dust, a life he desired rushing past him and still he stood. "I appreciate that, but I am just about that old. There's no big parties, clubs, or cliff diving anymore. " Well...maybe some parties from certain wealthy individuals that still held Nick in high regard but nothing like his youth. Long gone were the days of sneaking in to private clubs, schmoozing up to the wealthy, reckless and rash behaviour. Most of that had been tossed aside in the last decade, leaving it to the younger crowd that worked beneath him.

It sounded like an ideal little life. Kids, simplicity, picnics and movies. There had been a brief time Nick had considered stepping away from the Syndicate in order to pursue that life. Adelaide had been the one, surprisingly, to convince him to stay knowing full well he enjoyed his career path. Even if it wasn't ideal or conventional. "Sounds like a nice little life. I don't have any kids but sounds like you're taking care of them. Beach picnics, not really my thing. Hate the ocean...but if you want another waterside picnic place, Wagner Cove. Little place in Central Park. Doesn't get many visitors." Lakes, he didn't mind, and it was peaceful enough. No real upkeep like the rest of the park but that's what he enjoyed about it. Maybe the couple benches were run down there, some little gazebo-like area to sit under that looked like it might collapse. But it was as close to true nature as one might get in New York. "My wife and I, we used to have picnics there all the time." She liked the nature, he liked the peace that the area offered.

But now wasn't the time to bring his wife into it. "So, what's his name? No offense, but sounds like you guys are still in the early honeymoon days. So long as the commitment is right, well, it's only uphill from here. Even when you do settle down a bit, not as many days out, you don't mind it as much." Though he had tried often enough, he had the means to take them out and she had her own share of fortune. But, in the end, it was just the quality time spent together that mattered.

[mariacallous]

Russia arrests Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich

The Russian Federal Security Service announced Thursday that it has arrested U.S. citizen and Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich on suspicion of spying for the American government. According to the agency’s statement, Gershkovich, “acting on instructions from the American side, was collecting information that constitutes state secrets about the activity of one of the entities of the Russian military industrial complex.” Later on Thursday, Moscow’s Lefortovo District Court remanded Gershkovich in custody until May 29, at the FSB’s request.

Background about Evan: In October 2019, Gershkovich spoke to a Russian website about growing up in New Jersey, reconnecting with his Russian roots, learning the language of his parents, and once saying “aroused” when he meant “excited.”

Journalist Dmitry Kolezev, who spoke on background to Gershkovich before his trip to Yekaterinburg, says Evan hoped to intercept employees (literally in the street) leaving the UralVagonZavod plant in Nizhny Tagil or the NPO Novator missile factory in Yekaterinburg, planning to ask them how they feel about the invasion of Ukraine.

(Opinion) Andrey Zakharov speculates that the FSB arrested Gershkovich to exchange him for “Maria Mayer and Ludwig Gisch,” the deep-coved Russian agents apprehended in Slovenia last December

How Telegram’s z-bloggers initially responded to Gershkovich’s arrest

Several popular pro-invasion Telegram channels welcomed news on Thursday, March 30, that Russia’s Federal Security Service arrested Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich on espionage charges. Gershkovich was reportedly investigating the Wagner mercenary group’s current recruiting efforts among women prisoners in the Yekaterinburg area.

Z-bloggers have responded as they usually do whenever Russia’s domestic political repressions escalate — they argued that the crackdown is long overdue. Reactions also emphasize the supposed normalcy of Gershkovich’s arrest (though he is the first American journalist to be arrested in post-Soviet Russia), claiming that this is merely part of Moscow’s ongoing prisoner-exchange games with Washington.

Meanwhile, blogger Boris Rozhin (Colonelcassad: 828k subscribers) said Gershkovich’s arrest “replenishes [Russia’s] exchange fund,” meaning that Moscow now has another bargaining chip (or hostage, as it were) in its never-ending negotiations with Washington to return various Russian nationals apprehended in the West on various criminal charges. Rozhin insists on the normalcy of such actions, arguing that U.S. intelligence agencies often disguised their operatives as journalists during the Cold War. (Independent journalist Andrey Zakharov speculated on his own Telegram channel that Moscow maybe plans to offer Gershkovich in exchange for two deep-cover Russian agents apprehended in Slovenia last December.)

Besides extending a congratulatory hand to the FSB, the Telegram channel Separ13_13 (Тринадцатый: 104k subscribers) argues that all foreign journalists working in Russia must be “reviewed and filtered,” warning that Russia underappreciates the information front of the “ongoing war.” The channel also says Russia should invest more in “countering hostile mass media” and devote “entire departments” at “special education facilities” to its study.

[rabbitcruiser]

Central Park, Manhattan (No. 2)

Central Park is bordered by Central Park North at 110th Street; Central Park South at 59th Street; Central Park West at Eighth Avenue; and Fifth Avenue on the east. The park is adjacent to the neighborhoods of Harlem to the north, Midtown Manhattan to the south, the Upper West Side to the west, and the Upper East Side to the east. It measures 2.5 miles (4.0 km) from north to south and 0.5 miles (0.80 km) from west to east.

Central Park is divided into three sections: the "North End" extending above the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir; "Mid-Park", between the reservoir to the north and the Lake and Conservatory Water to the south; and "South End" below the Lake and Conservatory Water.The park has five visitor centers: Charles A. Dana Discovery Center, Belvedere Castle, Chess & Checkers House, the Dairy, and Columbus Circle. 

The park has natural-looking plantings and landforms, having been almost entirely landscaped when built in the 1850s and 1860s. It has eight lakes and ponds that were created artificially by damming natural seeps and flows. There are several wooded sections, lawns, meadows, and minor grassy areas. There are 21 children's playgrounds, and 6.1 miles (9.8 km) of drives. 

Central Park is the fifth-largest park in New York City, behind Pelham Bay Park, the Staten Island Greenbelt, Van Cortlandt Park, and Flushing Meadows–Corona Park, with an area of 843 acres (3.41 km2; 1.317 sq mi).Central Park constitutes its own United States census tract, numbered 143. According to American Community Survey five-year estimates, the park was home to four females with a median age of 19.8. Though the 2010 United States Census recorded 25 residents within the census tract, park officials have rejected the claim of anyone permanently living there.

Source: Wikipedia

[xxlittle0birdxx]

The young man behind the counter took the money, then his eyes widened. 'You look familiar,' he said, squinting at Sam.

'Just got one of those faces,' Sam replied with what he hoped was a friendly smile. The pimply kid stared at him for another few seconds before using a set of tongs to drop a large muffin into a paper bag.

'Coffee's at the end of the counter.' He held out the small paper bag.

Bucky grabbed it with a nod, then moved to the end of the counter. 'Enjoy this,' he muttered.

'What?' Sam picked up one of the cups and added a splash of cream. 'The coffee?'

Bucky pressed a lid on his cup, eschewing sweetener or milk, and motioned with his chin at the coffee shop. 'Your last moments of anonymity.'

Sam lifted his cup to his mouth, thinking of the all the people who couldn't quite place him before he accepted the mantle of Captain America. People who never for a millisecond thought he was, in fact, an Avenger. People who saw his Air Force uniform, but not the person inside it. People whose gaze slid past him, like he was part of the wallpaper. 'It's not gonna be like that.'

Bucky snorted. 'Says the guy who just spent over an hour signing shirts for kids.'

[precipitin]

some examples of what i mean from wikimedia bc i cannot be assed to spend a lot of time hunting for these. will contain nudity

The Siren, by John William Waterhouse (1900) x - i forgot about mermaid with tails that begin on their lower legs and/or are split into two tails so that they're basically just legs but fishy, but that also comes up a lot, as you will see. i'm gonna throw some of those types into the mix. JWW has painted a proper mermaid, though. also lamias but with a snakeskin on her rather than a snake body (1, 2)

The Knight and the Mermaid, by Isobel Lilian Gloag (1890) x

The Land Baby, by John Collier (1899) x

A Mermaid and a Goblin in Conversation, by Louis Moe (1932) x

Cover of La Vie Parisienne, by Georges Léonnec (1925) x

Wassernixen, by Joselg Wawra (1920) x

A Faun and a Mermaid, by Ferdinand Leeke (1909) x

Mermaids, by Ferdinand Leeke (1900) x

Mermaids, by Jean Francis Auburtin (1920) x

Three Mermaids, by Hans Thoma (1879) x

An Enchanted Cove, by Georg Janny x

Mermaids Bathing, by Georg Janny x

The Dance, by Wilhelm Kotarbiński (1848-1921) x

Blejski Zvon, by Peter Žmitek (1903) x

Meerjungfrau, by Max Klinger (1912) x

Mermaids Dancing, by Rupert Bunny (1896) x

Triton and Nereid, by Max Klinger (1895) x

Ein rätselhafter Fund, by Georg Schöbel (1860 - 1928) x

Mermaids Frolicking in the Sea, by Charles-Édouard Boutibonne (1883) x

De Figuris Veneris, by Édouard-Henri Avril (1906) x

Prácticas Sexuales Lésbicas (Lesbian Cunnilingus), by Édouard-Henri Avril x - you know what i'll give this one a pass. clearly, the mermaids are not the main focus in this one. yes, it's sappho.

Two Mermaids, by Gerda Wagner (1918) x

Mermaid illustration to Goethe's Der Fischer, by Erich Schütz x

Dilemma, by Alistair Kenneth MacDonald x - here's a mermaid by A.K. MacDonald that isn't showing ass also, for funsies.

Halb zog sie ihn, halb sank er hin, by Georg Papperitz (1895) x

Lorelei and Igorne, by Wilhelm Kray (1828-1889) x

Illustration for Harper's New Monthly Magazine, by Fred Nankivel (1904) x

Faun and Mermaid, by Franz Stuck (1918) x

The Lamia From Monster Musume That I Thought Would Be Kinda Funny To Just Throw In At The End Here x

The Mermaid, by Edvard Munch (1896) x

anyway i hit the image limit. had fun

i should start a collection of illustrations depicting (mostly female) nagas/mermaids/lamias/etc with their lower body beginning below their ass rather than at their waist. it's such a pet peeve of mine but it's been done for ages and i want to have something to point to when i talk about it lmao