#slice of life slice of bread. its all connected

[kira-dofc]

Rich Fanboy! Nanami x Cosplayer! Male Reader

Notes: I'VE BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG SO I HOPE THE WAIT IS NOT LONG ENOUGH!!! This was in my drafts but never really made anything new... I don't know what to write, any suggestions will be appreciated!!!!

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Smut! Size kink, unprotected sex, crossdressing, feminization, mirror sex, slight out of character (?) Nanami, Manipulation sex, breeding kink,

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Kento Nanami. A name known far and wide, especially among the wealthy. To most people, he seemed like the perfect man. He was mature, kind, and deeply respected. He had the kind of money others could only dream about. Everything about him seemed flawless, from the way he dressed to the calm way he spoke. People believed he had everything. Money, manners, and a quiet charm that made him very likable. Among the rich, he was the richest. His life was full of luxury, comfort, and things most people would never have.

He lived in a mansion that was the biggest and most beautiful in the whole area. It looked like something from a movie or a fairy tale. The garden around the house was full of flowers, trees, and perfectly trimmed bushes. Every flowerbed looked like it had been painted by a master artist. A team of gardeners worked every day to make sure everything looked perfect. Inside, his house was just as beautiful. Servants kept everything clean and running smoothly. They were always present but never in the way. Everything worked like clockwork.

But even with all of this, Nanami felt something was missing. He had no family. He had never fallen in love. Romance had never made its way into his life, even though people often tried to get close to him. He also had a hard time talking to children. Their loud voices and quick energy didn’t match his slow and thoughtful way of living. Because of this, he often felt alone. He lived in a house made for many people, yet he walked its halls by himself. He was surrounded by beauty, but his life lacked real connection.

Most people believed Nanami was perfect. They thought someone with his lifestyle couldn’t possibly have any problems. But that wasn’t true. Behind his calm face and perfect life was a secret. A secret so dark that if anyone found out, it would destroy the image the world had of him. It was something only he knew. It followed him wherever he went, like a shadow that never left his side. This secret made him feel trapped. He often stared out of his mansion windows, wondering how long he could keep living this lie.

Each day started exactly the same. At 8:00 a.m. sharp, Nanami would wake up. The sunlight came in softly through the tall windows of his bedroom, making the walls glow gold. He opened his eyes slowly, groaning quietly as he stretched his arms. His bedroom was clean and modern. Everything was black, grey, and white, creating a quiet, serious feel. His bed was large, with soft pillows and perfect sheets that looked untouched. Even in sleep, he stayed neat.

The room was silent. Not even the sound of birds could be heard through the thick windows. He got out of bed and walked across the cool marble floor. Each step made a soft sound that echoed through the quiet room. The floor was shiny and smooth, reflecting the morning light. He walked down the grand staircase with slow, even steps. Every part of his routine was carefully planned and followed.

He entered the kitchen, which was full of stainless steel counters and high-end appliances. It was spotless, like something out of a design magazine. Nanami cooked his own breakfast, as he liked the calm it brought. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air as he moved around the kitchen with ease. He toasted a slice of bread until it turned a perfect golden color. His breakfast was simple but delicious. Sitting alone at a long mahogany table, he ate slowly. The quietness around him made the meal feel peaceful but also a little sad.

After breakfast, he went back upstairs to shower. His bathroom looked like something from a luxury spa. The walls were marble, and the glass shower let warm water fall like rain. The hot water helped him feel more awake, washing away the last bits of sleep. He dried off and put on one of his many suits. Each one was tailored perfectly to fit him. He tied his silk tie and looked in the mirror. The man staring back looked strong and sure of himself. But even in the mirror, Nanami could see something missing in his eyes.

He left the mansion and went about his usual duties. Meetings, events, and quiet drives in the city filled the day. He moved through everything with a calm and steady presence. People nodded at him with respect. Some smiled in admiration. Others watched him with envy. But none of them really knew him.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with soft shades of orange and pink, Nanami returned home. His car, sleek and black, pulled up to the grand gates of his estate. The iron gates opened slowly, and the car rolled along the cobblestone driveway. The mansion stood tall at the end, glowing in the warm light of the evening.

He parked in front of the large entrance and stepped out. His suit still looked perfect, even after a long day. He walked into the house, and the quiet met him like an old friend. Servants greeted him with soft bows. He nodded back, barely noticing them. He was tired. All he wanted was to lie down and rest.

He walked up the stairs, each step echoing softly in the empty hall. When he reached his bedroom, he opened the door and was greeted by soft, golden lighting. The room looked just as he had left it. Calm and neat. He took off his shoes and slipped out of his blazer. Then he unbuttoned his shirt halfway, showing his chest. He dropped onto the bed, the soft mattress hugging him gently. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax.

Then, his phone pinged.

The screen lit up with a notification.

It was an Instagram Live.

He blinked, surprised. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was.

You.

One of the most famous cosplayers in the world. A person he admired for a long time. Nanami didn’t usually watch livestreams. But this time, he tapped the notification without a second thought. The screen loaded, and there you were.

You were wearing a costume. A pair of cat ears on your head. A cat tail. And, strangely enough, a maid outfit. You smiled brightly at the camera and waved. “Hi everyone!” you said in a cheerful voice.

Nanami stared.

Your smile lit up the screen. It felt warm and real. The kind of smile that could make anyone feel seen. It made his chest feel tight.

Your face was beautiful. Not in the usual, polished way celebrities looked. But in a softer, more honest way. Your eyes were bright and full of life. Your lips curled into a smile that made his heart race. Your cheeks had a soft pink glow. Your hair was dark and shiny, falling gently around your face.

Nanami felt himself blush. He knew he shouldn’t stare. But he couldn’t look away.

To him, you were perfect.

There was something about you that felt different from the people he usually met. Maybe it was how real you were. Or how your energy felt so alive, even through a screen. You weren’t rich like him. But you had something he didn’t. Joy. Passion. A connection to people.

He wanted to talk to you. To get to know you. To be near you. The thought was strange. Nanami had never felt this kind of interest in someone before. Not like this. Not so fast. But he couldn’t deny it.

He wanted you to be his.

He watched quietly as you laughed and answered comments. You seemed so happy. So full of light. As if the world had never hurt you. As if everything was still fresh and exciting. He envied that. But more than anything, he wanted to be part of it.

Even if just for a moment.

As the livestream continued, Nanami laid there, eyes locked on the screen. For the first time in a long time, his heart didn’t feel so heavy. Something inside him stirred. A tiny spark in the dark.  He didn’t know where it would lead. He didn’t know if he would ever meet you.But one thing was clear. His life of quiet routine and cold perfection had just been shaken by something simple. A smile. And it had changed everything. 

He then felt his shaft grew in length.It was tenting on his pants. It's his first time to feel this, especially because he felt this for you.  He was ecstatic to see this charming, boy wearing ridiculous costumes in front of a camera for views, maybe even money. This unnerving feeling made him want to do something, something he never knew he wanted; needed to do. "Shit, what is this..." some words slipped out of his mouth, breathing heavily as the dent grew larger, it became very uncomfortable at this point. He finally gave in, he released the zipper for a thick, long shaft to come out, twitching every time his heart skip a beat. He looked at it, tense whether he should do something about it or not. "Fuck it," He whispered to himself, soon warming his cock with his hands, and start to move up, then down repeatedly as you speak across the screen. To his eyes, it felt like he was facing you physically, something that he wanted, needed just for him to feed on. His continued motion caused him to finally finish, cum spurting to his face. 

He tensed up again, and sighed, not cause of relief, but because of something else. He thought of something, and that something included you. He wanted you. So after that very thought, he immediately picked up his phone again, and called some of his "friends". 

"Yes, sir?" the other guy on the line spoke, Nanami straightened his back, "This person named Y/n, search him up and find his details, call me immediately afterwards," he kindly spoke the the other, hinting something. "Noted, sir. I'll immediately report as soon as we find out." The line ended, Nanami sighed and leaned back to his chair, "I need you, Y/n" 

The very next day your information was given to him. Your phone number, full legal name, age, location, everything. He wanted to call you for a "business proposal" of some sorts. He held the paper your number was written on. He was very hesitant at first, thinking you would feel weird talking to him. But at the end of the day, he dialed in your number, and pressed the call button. The ringing tensed him up, the continuous ringing gave him an unsettling feeling. The ringing soon came to a stop, for a warm voice to come up after, "Hello?" You said, seemingly confused of a sudden call of an unknown number. "Greetings, my name is Nanami Kento," Nanami spoke up, "This talk should be conducted physically, though I do not have the power to do that. Anyway, I'm here to propose a business proposal." He waited for a response, you were shocked that you were talking to the most richest business man in all of Japan, but you were unsure as to why he would ask you, a cosplayer, for a business proposal? "I-i'm sorry sir, but i'm afraid i'll have to-" "300 million yen, nothing more, nothing less." You of course is shocked, what is this job that could pay you almost 2 million dollars? And why does it have to be you? You were pretty tight on the budget, considering you used all of your money for costumes, "O....k?" you muttered slowly, unsure of your answer, before you could talk back, "Good, then that is settled, I will provide you my location, make sure to be there at exactly 7 p.m." The call soon ended. You're still in shock, what the hell is this guy thinking? Well, at this point, you don't have any choice but to go... I guess.

6:30, you arrived early before the expected time. You waited outside a grand, luxurious looking hotel. Was it a hotel, or one of his buildings? You shrugged off the question and waited. your peac was soon interrupted by two men in black, shades planted to their face. "Are you, Y/n L/n? Please come with us." The one spoke, you silently followed them across the wide lobby to an elevator. The ride was taking too long, "wait is this a penthouse?" you thought to yourself. And yes it was, what did you expect from the richest man to have? a rented motel? The elevators shifted open to reveal a modern looking room. A piano to the side, a fountain, and the biggest windows you have ever seen. Your eyes glowed with the sight you were seeing. Your sight seeing was soon cut off short by a tall man walking towards you, "Ah, your here. You two, leave." His voice was commanding, he sounded chilling. He patted you back, seemingly acted out to follow him. 

He led you to a room, the smell of sandarwood filled your lungs. But what caught your eye was a costume, a bikini along with a semi-transparent babydoll dress. You didn't question it, but just decided to still follow him inside. He soon walked up to a piece of paper, along with a pen, "Just sign this contract, don't mind reading it all," You obliged and followed, signing it; what's there to lose? He then spoke up again, "I never told you this "business proposal", but it'll pay you a lot, doubt that you'll decline at this point," he muttered, slowly taking off his watch, walked near you and leaned in, "I want to fuck you." The words slipped out his voice made you flinch. Why would he want that? Would you just sell your body for money? "I-I..." you stuttered, "You have no choice anyway, you signed the contract." You sighed, but you also wanted it at this time. You blushed, and gave him a silent nod. That nod meant a lot to him, he chuckled caressing your jawline slowly. "I gave you a gift," He looked over to the lingerie, "Wear it for me," He whispered closely to your ears, this sent a shiver down your spine, but it made you crave him even more. You went up to it and walked towards the bathroom. Nanami sat down on a chair, "No, strip in front of me." You noticed the large mirror covering the entire wall behind Nanami. You followed, and took of your clothes piece by piece, and showed your hard dick. It was small, but Nanami liked that even more. Your blush made him feel a lot more tense. 

A lot more hungry.

As soon you wore it, he rushed into you and kissed you. It wasn't soft, it was rough, leaving you no space and time to breath. He held your face, and you held his hand. This intense kissing session made you fall to the bed, with his arms grazing your figure. He kissed your neck to your collarbone. He took off the dress along with the bra, playing with your nipples as he kissed your body. Your moans made him become hard even more. You touched his hair, it was hard with the gel still intact and the sharp loose ends at every side of his head. You never knew you would end up this way, slutting over a rich man that's happening to be fucking you this very moment. His groan vibrated to your body. 

His kissing soon came to a stop, and reached up to you, "Suck me" He commanded, his hand over your head. His musky scent made you fall into a trance-like state, something you must follow, something you cannot control. So you fully gave in, pusehd him down the bed, and zipped down his pants. You saw his enlarged dick spring out, precum spilling, matching the beat to his heavy breathing. You leaned in, and sucked. Your tongue was a professional at this, you never knew you could do such acts. You sucked in and out, circling around dick as the musk scent of his pubes covering his penis. You rammed your face to his dick, you don't care if you looked like a whore at this state, all you wanted was to taste him fully. 

He held your head tightly, "Stop, I want to save my babies for your pussy," He smirked, lifting your head to face him. He carried you up, off the bed as you two stood in front of the massive mirror. He took off the rest of his clothes, touching your body like pottery, following your shape, your size, your curves, you. "You look so beautiful, darling," He continued touching you. Without any hesitation, he came inside of you. It was slow, but it felt painful to you. You didn't flinch, you wanted to feel him fully. You held in your pain, holding his chin down for him to look at you. Every thrust made you feel different, with his face looking at you every thrust. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked in deeply to your eyes, you looked different, you don't look the same. You wanted him, but do you really want this?

Thrusts soon turn into pushes, you leaned in to the mirror as Nanami held your body close to him. Hi thrusts grew stronger, more than you could handle. Your moans turned into screams, yells, but you liked it either way. Each thrust made you feel different emotions, sadness, happiness, anything. One last thrust, you felt something warm and wet come inside you. Your eyes felt like popping out. His chin rested against your bare shoulders, "You'l be living with me from now on. Don't worry about your life, I'll make it better, if you give in to me." You faced him, and rested your arms to his shoulders, "One question though,"

"Why me?"

[nerdishpursuits]

It's rather obvious the lavender marriage will, eventually, happen. And I'm not against it, given it's 1958. In fact, I think it can lead to interesting storylines if handled smartly (I know, I know ... smart isn't really the MO here) However? I have some gripes with the way they're introducing this scenario. Gripes which by no means lessen my enjoyment of the show. Like I keep saying, this is a novela de sobremesa and, thus, subject to the whims of its genre: nonsensical timelines, plot-points that don't quite connect, pacing issues etc. Nonetheless, it doesn't deter my amused nitpicking nor my eyebrow-rising routine.

Marta & Pelayo have known each other for 2.5 seconds.

There's currently no threat in sight that would merit Marta & Fina considering this suggestion (S. is in jail; the people who know them, and support them in their own way, wish them no harm; Marta is a wealthy widow, has a surname that carries weight, a social standing and, momentarily, needs no protection - if anything, it's Fina being perpetually single that would raise/raises most eyebrows; Marta & Fina have their own life and rhythm that requires no upgrade; Marta's business deal is going swimmingly etc.)

The one who stands to profit the most from this is Pelayo himself, who keeps repeating he has no interest in anything sentimental, unlike Marta & Fina who have been fortunate enough to win the sapphic lottery. This is a business decision for him, of course, yet he also confesses he envies their relationship. Pelayo then tries to sell this idea of a sudden epiphany he’s had? One he tries to wrap up in a neat little bow and market as the best thing since sliced bread? Ultimately, it involves invading the sanctuary he’d just praised for reasons that, at present, are largely selfish (befitting his character as a ruthless businessman and the show’s timeline). I will say I love the fact that in the preview for the next episode Marta goes “WE have a reply”, ergo. Fina and Marta herself.

Most of Marta & Fina's circle of family and friends are aware of their relationship and Pelayo would only expose himself (I assume most of the Mafin friends and allies would piece it all together and Jesús wouldn't hesitate to use this information to his own gain)

Even if this is a lavender-marriage, Marta would lose her freedom: socially and financially. She’d have to attend all kinds of functions and play the dutiful wife. Is it manageable? Eventually. And a lot of the conflict will derive from it, I think. At the same time, do I think a more solid reason is needed for Marta to take this step and for Fina to agree with it? Yes. But who knows. Maybe Marta’s own ambition will end up playing a part? More information is needed here. I will say, I hope they refuse at first.

Commendation to Marta's before and after reaction … hahaha, you’re kidding me … you’re kidding me, right?

I find myself pondering if, at first, they only want to test the waters with this idea. Introduce it as a possible option these characters can fall back on. To me it would make sense for Marta & Fina to initially refuse Pelayo's proposal. Their friendship can then continue to grow and when their backs are against the wall, which will inevitably happen, the lavender marriage-card can be pulled out of the sleeve. Ergo, Pelayo might be in danger and they decide to help him, Marta might be in jeopardy herself etc. As it comes across right now? They’re racing downhill without breaks. I suppose we'll see what they have in store for them, won't we? I have to say it was lovely to see Marta & Fina behave like a couple while in company. I don't think they've ever acted as relaxed in front of anyone, not even Carmen. Which is why I'd love to see their friendship with Pelayo continue to mature in a way that brings the three of them closer, making joint decisions. For now, I'd say more time is needed to grow a true sense of camaraderie. But hey: we're on novelita time and it has its own quirks. Other than that? Carmen inadvertently running her mouth in front of Tasio? Drop the ball she did. At least, she vehemently pressed hubby dearest to promise he'd hold his tongue. A tall order indeed, because knowing Tasio and his chronic foot-in-moth syndrome? It's only a matter of time before he shits the bed. Granted, he didn’t react as badly as I thought he would, but it’s obvious he considers Marta and Fina’s relationship an aberration, something laughable and ridiculous. Let’s hope he fully comes around and becomes the brother Marta deserves. And speaking of Carmen: she really needs to loosen up with Marta who's done nothing but bow her head, plead guilty and ask for forgiveness. I still think Carmen should have understood Marta’s position and anguish and shown more empathy. If not as a friend and Fina’s partner, at least as a fellow woman? It’s still unclear to me if she learned the extent of Santiago’s abuse? But given her attitude, I gather she’s still clueless.

Case in point? Carmen is pulling at this thread with Marta so hard it'll end up snapping and hitting her square in the face. And I do confess I'd like to see Marta finally bite back. Carmen is treating Tasio as if he doesn't have two brain-cells to rub together, incapable of making his own decisions and subject to the most devious manipulations. Not to mention Marta has never treated any of them as if the class divide mattered. And now Carmen heaps that reproach onto Marta's overflowing plate as well. Might be Carmen needs a healthy dose of Fina's volcanic temper. Front-row seats to that, please and thank you. If Carmen can go full-blown unreasonable over her troglodyte husband? Then Fina can go full-blown reality check over her fiercely protective wife.

Ahoy!!! Onto next week’s drama.

[juliussilver25]

The Silver Collective

In a small, quaint town nestled in the hills, lived a man named Roxas. His ginger hair and beard often caught the attention of passersby, but it was his heart full of love and compassion that truly defined him.

Roxas' days were often filled with acts of kindness, his smile brightening the days of those around him. He would spend hours helping out in the community garden, lending a hand to anyone in need, and always ready with a listening ear. Yet, for reasons unknown to him, the townsfolk kept their distance. They whispered behind his back, casting sideways glances, and treating him like an outsider. Roxas felt a growing ache in his heart, a longing to be understood and accepted.

One crisp autumn morning, Roxas decided to host a small gathering in his modest home. He invited everyone in the town, hoping to bridge the gap and share his love for spirals. Roxas had a unique fascination with spirals—a seemingly simple shape that held profound meaning for him. To most, it was just a quirky obsession, but to Roxas, the spiral represented growth, continuity, and the interconnectedness of all things. In moments of solitude, he would sketch spirals, finding solace and peace in their endless curves.

He decorated his walls with his intricate spiral sketches, filled the room with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread, and adorned the table with vibrant, spiraled flower arrangements.

As the townsfolk arrived, they cautiously entered his home, their eyes darting around in curiosity. Roxas greeted each guest warmly, offering them a slice of bread and a cup of tea. He shared stories of how the spiral had always been a symbol of hope and resilience in his life, explaining how he saw it as a reminder that life's journey was full of twists and turns, but always moving forward.

Despite his heartfelt explanations, many of the guests struggled to see beyond their preconceived notions. They viewed his fascination with spirals as an oddity, a peculiar quirk that set him apart. Some even found it unsettling, unable to grasp the depth of its meaning to Roxas. As the evening drew to a close, the guests bid their farewells, leaving Roxas alone in his spiraled sanctuary.

Feeling disheartened, Roxas retreated to his small studio. While surfing the web, Roxas stumbled upon an image that captured his heart—a unique silver spiral that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Unlike anything he had seen before, the spiral radiated a sense of tranquility and peace. Roxas felt an inexplicable connection to the spiral, as if it understood the depths of his soul.

In that moment, he resolved not to let the misunderstanding and ostracism define him. Roxas decided it was time to share this sense of serenity with others. He would spread the message of love and unity. He envisioned a space on the internet where anyone seeking brotherhood, safety, and love could come together and feel valued. Inspired by the newfound peace the silver spiral brought him, the idea of the Silver Collective was born.

With unwavering determination, Roxas set out to create this digital haven. He designed an online platform that radiated warmth and welcoming energy. He posted positive images of unity and diversity with silver as a commonality while incorporating his other love for baseball.

Each post symbolizing the unique journeys of those who joined the collective. Word of the Silver Collective spread, attracting individuals from all corners of the globe—Japan, the Middle East, Europe, and America. People who had felt isolated, misunderstood, or lost found a sense of belonging within its virtual walls. The allure of the silver elements created an atmosphere of peace and unity, drawing people in with its calming glow.

Roxas, with his compassionate heart and understanding nature, became the guiding light for the collective, offering support and love to all who sought it. The silver spiral that had once brought peace to Roxas now radiated its tranquility to countless others, weaving a tapestry of connected lives and shared stories.

Over time, the Silver Collective became more than just a virtual space; it evolved into a symbol of unity and resilience. The shimmering silver drew people together, fostering a global community where men felt safe, cared for, and loved like family.

And so, the Silver Collective thrived, a testament to Roxas' unwavering belief in the power of love and compassion.

Join the Silver Collective! Reach out to @morphmastersilver !

[adarssuggestionbox]

Dearest Adar,

Thank you so much for the generous gifts of the honeycomb, the orange seeds, and the beautiful flowers. The honeycomb is absolutely divine! Your bees must be very happy to produce such an exquisite delight. I have only tried it in some vanilla ice cream so far. (Please do not tell @askereiniongilgalad that I tried some while he was asleep; it was just to make sure it paired well with the ice cream, you see.) I will be sure to let you know when we have tried some of the other suggestions you so thoughtfully provided.

Thank you also for the gift of the citrus seeds. The care with which you saved that which so many would simply throw away, shows that you are an Uruk of great resourcefulness and conservation. If it is not too forward to say, I think it also demonstrates your care for that which is precious despite its modest appearance, and the potential for hope, new life, and growth contained within.

I must apologize for anything I may have done to make you feel uncomfortable when we last spoke; it was certainly not my intent! I sometimes get lonely when @askereiniongilgalad is busy with his myriad responsibilities, and I may have been overly excited over the prospect of a potential new friend. I hope you can forgive me.

I came across a few items I thought you might enjoy. There is no need for reciprocation. I simply saw them, and thought you might enjoy them.

I hope you have a beautiful day,

Mari

Glûg- *He hauls a large box into my office * Pardon the intrusion Lord Father, but this was addressed to you. *He sets the box on the cleared side of my desk*

Adar- *I open the box with a gasp and my stoic face melts into something sweeter. My cheeks feel warm. The lovely things inside catch me off guard. I still am getting used to such lovely gifts. To me all of these things feel so extravagant.*

Glûg- *He looks quite confused* Um...Sir?

Adar- *I don't notice his sentiment as I begin to pull out each item from the wooden box. I set the loaf of fancy kitty bread on one of my new bee plates. I gasp in awe at the entire set that I unload onto my desk. However, I blush even harder once I come to the stuffed toy at the bottom of the crate. I've always wanted one... But I figured I was far too old and soft things of that nature were likely not meant for the likes of me.*

*My heart grows happier that someone would think I deserve to have such a thing. However, I don't take that out in front of my son. But my yearning to cuddle such a sweet little kitty bee grows stronger. But I do pull out a letter*

*after reading your lovely words I feel connection and deeper appreciation grow*

Thank you Mari, that was so kind of you *I mutter to myself. I tuck your letter away in the beautiful journal on my desk*

Glûg- * He looks astounded by the adorable dishes on the desk as well as the kitty bread. My boy can't seem to speak a word*

Adar- Why don't we take a break together. We can share this bread and some honey. *I pull up a jar of my own honey on to the desk. Then I set a plate in front of him.*

Glûg- *His face lights up* Yes, please sir! *He sits down eager evoking a smile and chuckle from me as I cut him some slices.*

-Our relaxed recharging purs fill the office as it is that time of night. Several in the community are catching their break at this hour. Once the bread is deliciously shared and the plates rinsed, I rush back to my office.-

Adar- *I pull out the kitty bee and rush to my hut. Once there I burrow under the soft mound of weighted blankets on my bed, cuddling the stuffed toy to my face and nuzzle him to my nose. A loud relaxed pur emits from my hut*

[marvelishmanda]

Hi, I’m Amanda

Though my poems might slice like old bread knives—unexpectedly sharp at the heel—the person behind them is built of blanket forts and mismatched mugs. I try to carry calm like a cat on a radiator: heat-soaked but easily startled, open to curling around sorrow as much as around laughter. I want my blog to be the spare room where both love and loss can leave their slippers by the door; tenderness isn’t an accessory here, it’s wallpaper—patterned with paradox. Some days I reach out with hands full of sunlight; some days I offer only shade.

This space is one that moves irregularly between a queer joy that bubbles over the rim of chipped teacups, to honest sorrow that sometimes sours the milk before morning. You’ll find frank talk about cancer diagnoses scrawled beside post-it reminders for groceries; child loss sitting across from half-eaten birthday cake; grief dust settling on every surface, yet still enough room to set down your own story if you need it. Please take what fits—skip anything that stings too sharply today or any day after; absence here isn’t exile but evidence you know how to tend yourself first.

I write because the world too often mistakes silence for safety—I’d rather risk cracked porcelain than starve compassion under lock and key. I’m looking for other life-livers who treat gentleness like an anchor dropped into wild water: not something designed to halt all movement, but enough to keep us moored together when wind kicks up regret, or longing, or both at once.

If you craft things—sentences or stew—or simply nurse stories inside your own ribcage until they thrum, you already have a seat at this patchwork table. Let’s trade blueprints for hope alongside admissions of failure; let’s toast our unfinished projects as warmly as our completed ones; let’s swap burnt toast confessions for honeyed truths without embarrassment.

And if you ever find that following feels more burden than balm—or if absence is the only comfort you can carry—I wish you soft landings wherever else you roam online. If there are content warnings I should fold in more carefully or ways this space could better cradle its visitors: please let me know. My best intent is always learning—a mixing bowl never quite empty. Please note with the below categories that there may be overlap. To illustrate: divorce involves love, marriage, and grief, after all.

📬Conversations & Connection

🫧My Replies 🫂Community 📫Asks and Responses (none yet!)

✍️Writing & Reflection

🍞Original poetry 📚Book reviews

💌Love & Living

🩷Love 👩‍❤️‍👩Marriage

✡︎ Jewish Life & Practice

✡︎ Judaism

🌱 The Tender/Raw Stuff

💊Cancer 🌧️Grief 💔️Divorce

🗺️ Languages & Belonging

��Language Learning 🇨🇿 Czech 🇳🇱 Dutch 🇫🇷 French

⚡Change & Justice

✊Politics 🏳️‍🌈Pride Lastly, my personal website: https://marvelish.me

Last updated: 11.05.2025

[pumpkinsy0]

Headconnons about....

Buck, Dally, Darry and Tim (in Buck's bar) Buck is serving them the beers [since he owns the bar] hanging out, playing pool and getting drunk.

THANK YOU 🙏🏻

•first off it started as tim and darry drinking while buck is just making comments here n there tending to the bar

•talking about life, maybe how pony n curly gettin they smooch on 2gether maybe not, point is they r connecting over how fucked up their lives r, poor sad old men

•but then dallys ass alllways has to ruin shit ohhh boy🙄🙄

•tims just like “dude u look like shit” and its bc for the 100th time that weak him and sylvia broke up awwww</3333

•darry thinks dally rlly shouldnt b drinking especially w his track record of how aggressive he gets but its dallas tf he gonna do????listen??????

•quick context but a while ago i said that tim and buck r kinda like business partners cause tim still has family from haiti so yada yada buck has rum imported from haiti and tims like “give us that rn”

•imagine that whole drunk scene from that spongebob movie and thats exactly how they (rlly mostly tim and dally, darrys still a single mom who works 2 jobs who loves her kids n never stops) got drunk, darrys like on the brink of tipsy but not rlly he still needs a few drinks to get there

•at first everything was generally fine, dallys hitting on guys n gals cause whatever, tims actually dancing konpa which is rare to see him do cause hes not much of a dancer, darrys awkwardly in a corner cause he dont do to well in situations like these poor old man </33

•at least once tim went back to the bar for water but then a song started playing and he went “OH FUCK THIS MY SHIT🗣️🗣️”

•BUT OF COURSE somethings always ruined and tim and dally start getting competitive, drinking games, getting them even drunker and playing pool of course

•TOTALLY unrelated but darry and tim were watching each other playing pool and were like “aye he kinda has a nice ass no homo tho”

•now it WAS a battle between tim and dally but darry was secretly joining in a bit and won everything so take that how u will, nobody but him n buck know bout that one

•buck is maybe a BIT tipsy bc he was drinking w them a bit cause theyre all his buddy in some way shape or form, but he can pull himself together just fine after working at a bar for over 6 years he seems pretty sober

•at some point tim and dally start almost getting into it but darry picks them up by the collar of their jackets n just goes “stop” n they do cause darry can b rlly scary when he wants

•eventually its gettin a lil too late and so darry goes home and picks tim up and leaves dally there cause dally already has a room there he’ll b aight

•tims just mumbling random shit in creole and darrys goin “yea its alright man” and maybe took a slice of bread n some water for tim on the ride home

•dally passed out and its not until like 1 am that buck kicks the guy awake n says “cmon man i wanna hit the bed and need to close up” hes groggy but whateva

and that was the end of that🫶🏽🫶🏽

[inflexiblle]

é𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 "𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲" 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭

❝ Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. ❞

B A S I C S –

Name: Édouard Lyam Daucourt. Nicknames: Teddy (most commonly known as), Ed-weird (throughout middle school). Birthday: July 4, 1988. Pronouns: He/him. Gender/Sex: Cisgender/male. Sexuality: Bisexual. Occupation: Oceania Bookstore Owner ("temporary"), adjunct Art History professor at a nearby university.

P E R S O N A L I T Y —

+ Disciplined, analytical, sensitive. - Inflexible, insecure, tense. Quite withdrawn. So much of his world happens internally, and he likes it that way. He's very particular about the people he surrounds himself with, though his closest of close friends tend to be a lot wilder and more outspoken than he. He has a weird sense of humor and if you're close enough to hear him tell a joke, there's a chance you won't understand it anyway. He is, though, quite severely a lover, even if he's bland as a board at showing it. This man? Autistic.

A R R I V A L — ( 2007/2015 )

Officially moved here with his parents when he was fifteen but only stayed until he graduated high school, when he jetted off to the East Coast again to get his studies in. He'd come home for breaks but is a big homebody; his re-arrival in 2015 is when he would've made more of an impact.

E X T R A B I T S —

– Huge bird watcher. He's very good at keeping perfectly still, so it's an ideal hobby. He inherited the love of it from his parents, and is insanely jealous that they're spending the next few years visiting all the peak bird-watching spots because um, hello? He wants to see an African blue flycatcher too, mom. – Huge into bread baking. Nothing fancy and artful - no canvas of sourdough to paint with olives and peppers - just plain old sandwich bread. Rosemary, thyme, a cracked pepper loaf that made amazing grilled cheeses, you name it. During midterms and finals, he brings in enough fresh bread for every student to have a slice. – Loves to go antiquing. It's one of his favorite hobbies, and he often drives 2-3 hours out of town to go and visit shops around there. His entire house is filled with vintage furniture and gold accents. – Can play viola, piano, and clarinet, as well as speak fluent French, German, and Hebrew due to many many lessons imposed by his parents as a child/teenager.

C O N N E C T I O N S —

Finn Brooks: history nerd buds. Met in the bookstore and connected over their love of history (even though Teddy skews more heavily into the art spectrum). Samuel Kane: burgeoning garden friends. Met when Teddy low-key trespassed and they watched the birds together. Emerson Cassidy: co-workers & siblings by choice. Teddy's mother has taken special care of Emerson ever since they were both kids, and while Teddy's been gone for much of Emerson's time at the shop, they still found solidarity together.

B A C K G R O U N D —

written bio coming soon... tw: death of a child, bullying

- teddy's parents had a son two years old who died in his sleep due to unknown heart issues, which means when teddy was born, his parents considered him a miracle and poured a lot of love and time into him. they disciplined him how they needed to, but they've always been very supportive and sought the best education/path for him no matter how much it cost - moved around a lot as a young child: he was born in france but lived there only two years before spending another three in germany, then two in switzerland. eventually, when he was seven, his parents moved to new york so his mother could continue with her bird research at the center for avian population studies at cornell. when he was fifteen, the family moved again: this time to aurora bay california, where his mother could write her academic papers from home, and his father could preach at temples all around the socal area - eventually bored with her easy, stay-at-home life, claire daucourt decided to buy oceania bookstore from its previous owner as a way to connect with the community as well as do something she loved: surround herself with books. - for two years, teddy helped around the shop, but the moment he graduated he was off like a rocket to college, flying all the way back to connecticut to study art history at harvard. another few years went to getting his masters at nyu, another few back at harvard for a phd, and then, filled up on education, he made his way back to aurora bay where he's lived (separately from his parents but still close enough) for 10 years. - being so quiet as a kid led to a lot of bullying in middle school especially. he often had the shit kicked out of him and would sport huge shiners in his music lessons. this, of course, only made him quieter - weirder. some dedicated oceania patrons may remember a scrawny teenager with fading bruises reading in the back corner of the shop and avoiding any attempt at socialization. - despite being deeply interested in art his whole life, he's always been bad at executing it. lucky for him he loves history and the why/how more than making art anyway, so he fell into art history studies quite easily. - he loves to share his knowledge with the world, and teaching in some capacity feels natural in a way he's never quite felt with anything else in his life. he's been teaching a single course at a nearby college for almost 7 years now, and he loves it. even with the shitheads who only take his class for a credit and fall asleep in the back row. - teddy's been running the bookstore for about eight months now because his parents have gone on their retirement journey. he's not actually a huge reader unless the book is non-fiction and has something to do with what he's interested in, so he feels a little lost running the store currently. - he's been in two long term relationships. one was with a woman in college who he met freshman year and then dated until halfway through his phd program at harvard (6 years). she wanted to get married, and he still considered them to be casual. ouch. the other was a brief, heated, six month romance with another professor when he first started at aurora bay college that fizzled out because said professor was married. yikes!

PENNED BY MIGZ. ( @aurorabayaesthetic )

[sapphobolide]

FFXIVWrite Day 27 — "Memory"

In her memory, it is always sunset. In her memory, the sky is stained with blood.

Her childhood home is nearly vertical. A thin slice of building, sandy timber and terracotta stone—three narrow floors above a small shopfront, each connected by ladder-like stairs. Fit only for mountain goats, her mother says, which must be the kind of kid she’s raising. They keep all the windows open in summer, or else the smell of varnish and glue and sawdust chokes the hot air. Dust from the city gets in instead. On every ledge, table, windowsill, lies her father’s unfinished work—lutes and fiddles, flutes and leather drumheads, half-strung mandolins. Completed instruments go in the shop downstairs, lined with pride along the wall, though no one hardly buys them. People come in, angry, frightened people, to talk to her father or her mother or sometimes just each other. To talk of revolution.

Just often enough, however, someone will bring in an instrument, for tuning or repair or for trade. On those days, music drifts up from below like the scent of baking bread, and fills her whole home.

In her memory, there is always music.

Later, when she is no more than an orphan gelding scrambling across the rooftops of an occupied city, she’ll hear the song. The Garlean Territorial Anthem for Gyr Abania and Surrounding States, they’ll call it. A new name, new words, new meaning. But the song had a life before that—in the endless golden hour of her memory, beneath the peaked roof of that narrow home’s highest floor, its ghost lingers still. There her mother’s father, stoop-backed and broken-handed from a life in the quarry, sits by her baby brother’s crib in a time before the pneumonia took them both away. Music, always music, rises from below. And in a strained, breaking voice, her memory sings.

O come ye wayward brothers, Bereft of hearth and home, Beneath yon burning star there lies A haven for the bold.

Raise up your hands and voices, Let fill your hearts with pride, Above the churning waters we Stand strong and unified.

[cadmar]

Depth of Meaning

What do we mean by "meaning"? What is "meaning". We use a dictionary to find simpler words to give us a better "understanding" of that word. What is actually going on inside our brain? What is happening?

To find a meaning, we usually first search our memories. In a school exam to answer a question, we rely on our memories from our studying and memorization. We have a neural pattern and we connect that pattern to another pattern stored in our memories. This then is our answer to the exam's question.

Scientists in their discoveries use the same process. They search previous experiments, results, and theories. They call it, "standing on shoulders of others before them". Their discoveries are connected to previous discoveries which is having one neural pattern and connecting it to other patterns.

We think this is meaning. But it is not. Only connections. Artificial intelligence is only doing this!

To come up with an entirely new neural pattern leads to "meaning". "Meaning" is not the neural pattern. The neural patterns reflect the "meaning" already experienced and understood.

"Meaning" has depth. Connections of neural patterns are just words connected to other words. The words can describe the characteristic of a fresh slice of bread: its color, its smell, its texture, and its chemical composition, but these are just descriptions to that already having a deeper experience.

"Meaning" is depth. Words are descriptions. Words are dead. Lifeless, like a typed word on a page. No depth to the words. The words are just words until you have the depth of the "meaning"!

Now, to say all life is an illusion, or all is mind, are just words. No depth to them. Depth has power! Words are powerless! Until to the end of eternity one can continuously repeat "all is mind", or, "all is an illusion", just a waste of effort and time! There is no power as these are just words, hopes, beliefs, and wishes. Power is in the actual depth! Depth only comes from "meaning"!

[neep-neep-neep]

Ngozi's symbolism in Check Please!

it's been boiling inside me too long so i have to let this out now. Too many people don't understand Ngozi's symbolism in Check Please! and to increase your enjoyment of the series and her clever writing (honestly, I've seen the worst takes from people about her writing somehow being subpar because of the ending or Parse not getting a happy ever after ugh). Listen to the woman when she says "the pie is Bitty"!

Part I: Pie

Bitty brings a pecan pie to SMH to introduce his Southern identity to a Yankee university and sports team. He brings another four pies to the family skate with Jack and agonizes when a slice is about to be left over. He drops a pie when overwhelmed by Shitty and Nursey's discussion of the rumors about Jack and the secrets he has to keep.

The fruit filling is Bitty's sweet, warm, and tender inner self and the crust is, well, his formal, people-pleasing, selfless outer shell.

A fruit pie is either fully obscured or latticed, both being some sort of cover for the filling.

Bitty is making an intricate lattice on a pie and stopping halfway through to break down while on the phone with his mom. He isn't ready to tell her, even though she does inform him her pie (Bitty) is 'almost ready to come out'.

II: Jam

After "Me & Jack", Bitty goes on a jam making spree. The jam is a similar fruity sweet substance, but it is in clear jars because Jack and Bitty's truth is out, and may even be open to some sympathetic players on other NHL teams (he mentions in a tweet that he owes someone on the Schooners squad a jar of jam, as the preserve is becoming a hit through Jack's generous gifting). He also informs Jack "it's gonna be two trips", foreshadowing the fact they'll have to come out a second, more emotionally wracking time.

Jam also represents Bitty's connection with his aunt Judy, a nonconformist in the family who as Ngozi has explained encouraged him to seek a higher educational option where he could be himself. He has loyalty to Judy above his mother, a secret that eventually and humorously blows up in his face.

III: Bread and toast

Jack tells his entire NHL team about Bitty while they're eating a lopsided (but delicious) loaf of bread and the aforementioned jam, both homemade by the diminutive southerner. Bitty makes sandwiches for Jack as loving gestures, giving him support during his toughest days on the ice. At his worst, Jack sees himself as broken or incapable of moving past the substance abuse and mental health issues he struggled with under an unbearable spotlight as the hockey prince.

Jack is the bread. The same warm and supportive oven that bakes Bitty's pies also allows bread to rise. Samwell helped Jack just as it helped Bitty, but more important, Bitty was a huge part of why Samwell helped Jack.

It's also why two identical slices of toast pop into frame when Whiskey brushes Bitty off when the latter tries to talk to him in the cafeteria.

Whiskey is or at least wants to be seen as masculine through and through, his interests and future as regimented and compartmentalized as a TV dinner. He sees only weakness in Bitty's soft, sweet personality, and feels they don't have anything (else) in common. He rejects not just pies but Bitty's other offers of kindness and help, because he sees Bitty like he's afraid other people will see him if the truth ever gets out.

He represents the awkward, self-denying phase of coming to terms with your queerness later in life.

The story does, however, leave the question open whether Samwell helps Whiskey the way it helped Jack and Bitty and countless others. Whiskey will have Bitty's dibs as well as his support, as Bitty has done important work in college sports, setting a precedent that will even help people as different to him as Whiskey.

All of this to say some of you need to reread the comic again in its entirety and please annotate in the margins and have a 5 paragraph essay on Ngozi's epicness on my desk by monday class disMISSED

[avirael]

(above screenshot taken by Khian)

The Mother Tree

Rael had grown accustomed to the Forest Sanctuary very quickly. No, in fact it had felt familiar from the first second. They had never seen this place before and yet it felt like home. The sanctuary was a vast area filled with lots of different places connected by serpentine, hidden paths, and yet Rael had no issue whatsoever to find their way in this maze. The place still filled them with endless wonder but at the same time it was as if they had walked these pathways a million times before.

Their training with the oracle had so far not consisted of any powerful magic spells like Rael had expected, but instead of a variation of different meditation techniques as well as training their awareness of their surrounding, the animals and plants, Golmore itself. The raven Frelsi had been Rael’s constant companion and training partner these last few weeks, always somewhere close or hopping back and forth between the oracle and Rael.

So it had been that morning too. As Rael had left the small room they had been given - a tiny wodden cabin that seemed partially grown and partially built with a translucent green roof on top - Frelsi had already perched on one of the branches nearby and fluttered over with a happy caw. Rael had raised and arm for the raven to land on and had obediently scratched the birds head with a smile.

One of the guardians had left breakfast in front of Rael’s door - clear water, some fruits as well as a piece of bread and some honey. As usual the benefactor wasn’t visible, just like the guardians were rarely to be seen at all. Rael would have liked to thank them and wondered if one of them was watching right now. “Thank you.”, they said gratefully, sat down in the grass in front of their cabin and ate while Frelsi curiously observed them. Once again Rael wondered what the raven was thinking and tried to feel it’s intentions just as the oracle had tried to teach them the other day.

“What do you want? Food?”, Rael asked none the wiser after a moment and first offered the raven a small slice of apple before trying a crumb of bread instead as the bird tilted its head with a clicking sound. But that didn’t seem to be right either. Instead it fluttered up to Rael‘s shoulder and snuggled up to the side of their head. “You know, I have more important things to do than cuddle you all day, right?”

The raven protested loudly and proceeded to make itself comfortable on Rael’s shoulder as the Viera finished their breakfast. Absentmindedly Rael ate the last slice of apple while raising their face to the sun shining down onto the small clearing from above. With closed eyes they breathed deeply. The air here was wonderfully fresh and clear while at other places in the sanctuary it could be heavier, with more mossy or floral scents.

Rael tried to let their mind wander, focusing on their surroundings, just as the oracle had instructed. Slowly they began to feel the warmth beneath the grass that tickled at Rael’s palms and bare feet. With every day they got better at feeling the energy flow through the forest, from the ground, through the tree trunks and branches up to the highest leaves of the jungle. It felt like a network of glimmering golden streams that connected all life to one another. Peaceful yet lively, in perfect harmony. Rael tried to feel where the flow was directed and find the biggest vein in this spiderweb of energy.

Slowly they stood up, curled their toes into the grass and hesitantly turned this way and that before finally deciding on a path. With slow careful steps they started walking, leaving the clearing behind and following the golden streams to where the energy seemed strongest. It was not a straight path but instead lead them in turns and loops through different areas. Quite some time Rael wandered through the forest, seemingly without aim, wondering if this idea was going to lead them anywhere at all, when suddenly they emerged from a thick layer of trees and found themself standing in a familiar place.

It was the big circular glade surrounded by ancient looking trees with white bark and colorful leaves, where Rael had met the oracle for the first time. The pavilion at the small pond in the middle of the meadow lay empty this time, the oracle nowhere to be seen. This place already had an aura of great importance the first time they had been here but now Rael could feel that all the energy streams seemed to lead to this place.

Rael was not sure if they were allowed to be here at all but nonetheless stepped onto the glade and followed the golden streams to the opposite side. There all of the energy lines met at a point where a particular tall tree stood. The white tree was covered in heartshaped leaves in all hues of gold and amber and its trunk was so wide that it would probably take at least a dozen people to surround it once. Its massive roots peaked out of the ground in uneven curves and stretched out in all directions. It looked incredibly old and powerful.

Frelsi, who had so far preferred to be carried around, cawed and took flight. In wide circles the raven ascended around the tree and Rael followed it with their eyes and watched it land on a strong branch far far upwards. In awe Rael stared at the wide canopy and listened to the rustling of the leaves. Suddenly it seemed like hundreds of voices were whispering in their ears at once and Rael felt the urge to reach out and put a hand on the colourless bark.

When they did the pure amount of magic they felt made Rael gasp and shiver at first. Then however they realised that the tree with all the life running through it actually felt warm beneath their fingertips. It was a strangely calming and familiar feeling. Slowly Rael closed their eyes and focused once again on the energy cursing back and forth and suddenly it was as if they were elsewhere entirely.

One moment they flew through the forest on large wings looking down at a band of Wood-Warders, the next they stalked through the thicket hungrily observing through slitted pupils a bunch of soldiers clad in metal armors.

What was this? Different places in Golmore? How did it work?

Rael wondered if they could willingly see whatever place they wanted and tried to focus on a thought. After a moment it was a if they blinked and suddenly crouched in the corner of a tidy wodden house, feeling incredibly small in comparison to the furniture. With surprise Rael squeaked as they in fact recognised the room and more importantly the woman standing by the fireplace. It seemed impossible but this was without doubt their mother.

Abruptly the scene changed again as Rael felt a presence approaching them in the corner of their mind. At once they looked down from a tall tree of white and gold over a shiny black beak and saw themself standing between the tree roots. They were too transfixed by the strangeness of seeing themself from outside their body that they didn’t realise there was a person approaching them until a voice spoke behind them.

“Now focus your mind on the future instead of the present.”

Shocked Rael whirled around, the connection instantly lost. Somewhat dizzy they stared at the small viera in front of them and suddenly felt caught. Their milky white eyes looked eerie and expressionless and Rael was never quite sure if they looked at them or were focused on something else entirely.

“Hello Rael.”, the viera spoke softly.

For a few more seconds Rael just stared, finding it strangely difficult to form thoughts and to speak them out loud.

“Hello Green Oracle.”, they said unsure how to properly address them and found their own voice sounding weirdly unsteady. “I am sorry... I don’t know if I should be here…”

But instead of scolding them the oracle smiled gently. “Where else should you be? And please, call me Kelta.”

“What did I just see?”, Rael suddenly blurted out and hesitantly looked over their shoulder.

“Come, child. Let us sit down and I will answer your questions.”, the oracle offered and led Rael to the pavilion, before beginning to explain. “This is the Mother Tree. It is the oldest tree in this forest and the heart of Golmore itself. It also provided the nectar you drank that day you arrived here.”

Rael understood the words but it did little to explain to them what they had just seen. Almost like asking a question they said, “I was in different places just now…”

The oracle nodded. “At least your mind was, yes.”

“How is that possible?!”, Rael didn’t intend to sound upset but suddenly their heart was racing in their chest. As if it felt Rael’s nervousness Frelsi swooped down from the giant tree, landed on the floorboards of the small pavilion and hopped onto Rael’s lap. As the raven made itself comfortable and Rael visibly relaxed too, the oracle smiled.

“Let me answer with another question. Why did you touch the tree?”

Slowly Rael explained how they had noticed the energy streams in front of their cabin and had followed them all the way here. How the tree had whispered to them and the things they had seen as they had touched it.

“You were talented before but now that you have chosen your path you are even closer connected to the forest and every living thing in it. Golmore’s energy enhances your abilities. It can guide you, if you let it. Just as you now looked at different places, with a bit of practice you will be able to catch glimpses of the future. The magic of the forest can boost your vision but soon you will be able to use your talent without the help of the Mother Tree.”

The whispers of the forest had been nothing new to Rael but in this intensity and with the visions added to them it still felt a bit much. Rael didn’t know what they had expected but it occurred to them that with such skills as the oracle suggested there was no need for powerful spells if you could foresee any trouble stirring in the jungle before it even appeared and prepare counter-measures accordingly.

But why were they still struggling to keep out the invaders then? Or was this the only thing that allowed the Rava and Golmore to fight back so efficiently and slow down the attempts to conquer the forest?

“But how can I learn to use these powers willingly?”, Rael asked instead, eager to learn and take part in keeping their home safe.

“Patience and practice.”, the oracle explained. “First you need to learn calming your mind. The fact that you were able to follow the energy here without help is a good first step. But focus will also help you control your visions. As long as there are other things occupying your thoughts, it will be difficult to unfold your full potential and control your powers.”

Rael understood what the oracle said but wasn’t their mind already fully focused on their task and their training? There had to be more to it than this…

The confusion must have been visible on Rael’s face or maybe the oracle had simply read their thoughts. Somehow Rael suddenly thought that this was not impossible.

“What I am trying to say is this: You are still only seeing with your eyes and hearing with your ears most of the time. But there is so much more… For example: Tell me, how many people or animals are nearby at the moment?”

Rael was aware this had to be a trick questions. With a bit of uncertainty they scanned the glade for animals, the treeline for Rava and the branches for birds, without seeing any. “Just the raven and us?”

A little smile appeared on the oracle’s face.

“Now try again. Close your eyes like you did earlier but instead of only focusing on the energy lines take a look at how me and the raven look to you in this network. And then try to find similar appearances in the surrounding.”

Rael did as they were told. Seeing the energy streams was easy enough here since there was so much of it in this place. With the massive glow of the giant tree outshining anything else, focusing on people and animals was harder. There was something for sure but it seemed less solid, somehow fleeting like fog. Colorful swirls of energy, in the oracle’s case a powerful glow of the same golden shine as the energy lines and for Frelsi a weaker and more bluish aura.

Slowly Rael tried to extend their awareness to a wider area and at first there was nothing but the bright golden spiderweb of trees. But then in one tree to their left they noticed another bluish swirl not much different from the raven’s. Eyes still closed their raised one arm and pointed towards it, “I think there is another bird over there.”

“Mhm, a few actually… what else?…”, the oracle’s voice encouraged them to continue.

After a moment Rael felt something else at the other side of the glade. “There’s something a bit taller and more greenish over there…”

Without looking to where Rael was pointing the oracle replied, “This one is a deer. Any more Viera except us?”

With this Rael struggled for a few moments and in the end it was only a guess based on size alone. Their colors were different from the oracle and also from each other but Rael could not think of any other creature of this size. “Three ones? Spread out in different directions.”

“Four. You’ve probably missed the yellow aura to the north.”, the oracle corrected. “And also a badger to the east, the more brownish one.”

Rael had missed them since their colors blended in easily with the golden energy lines but now that they knew they could distinguish them clearly. “Yes, I see them…”

Pleased the oracle nodded. “This was very good for a first attempt. I think it took me at least a few months to learn this.”

Surprised Rael opened their eyes and looked at the other Viera’s face. The oracle seemed so omniscient and powerful, it was hard to imagine that they had needed to learn all of this too at some point.

To be honest Rael had spent quite a while thinking about how old and powerful the oracle might be, how long it would take to reach their level and how it was possible that the two of them were here at the same time. They certainly looked similar and it also felt somehow like they had always known each other, so much was hard to deny. But it seemed impossible for Rael to be a reincarnation of someone who was still alive.

“If you have any questions, feel free to just ask.”, the oracle offered, apparently sensing Rael’s curiousity.

As if they had just waited for such an invitation, Rael asked the first thing that came to their mind. “I am supposed to take your place, right?”

The oracle shuckled. “Yes, but don’t worry. I am not going to drop dead any time soon. At least not before I‘ve made sure you are ready to take my place.”

Rael’s brows furrowed. Something about this seemed wrong.

“And the oracle gets reborn among the Viera time over time again, right? But how can both of us be here at the same time then?”

“Ah, I was wondering when you would notice…”, the oracle said and paused for a moment. “The truth is that there is not one but two of us.”

“Two oracles? Why?”, Rael asked. Maybe it was a silly question but it somehow seemed to them like it would make their existence less unique, less special, if there were more than one of their kind.

“There has always been two of us.”, the oracle simply replied unbothered by such doubts. “If one dies, the other waits for their reincarnation to appear and teaches the new oracle how to use their powers, so that one day the student might do the same in return.”

“Do you remember the oracles before you?”, Rael asked wondering how they were different from each other. Kelta and Rael looked almost identical, Kelta’s hair was longer and maybe they even looked slightly younger than Rael, but their characters seemed different enough.

“Only the one who trained me.”, the oracle explained and almost grinned. “You remind me quite a lot of them. Always so serious…”

“I‘m not--…”, Rael wanted to protest but felt that it might be disrespectful to disagree. Instead they embarrassedly looked down remaining silent and scratched Frelsi’s head.

“I apologise, this was not nice. I realise we barely know each other…”, the oracle admitted and put on a friendly but more distanced face again.

It made Rael feel bad to have discouraged them just as they were beginning to speak more openly, not just in their role as oracle but more like an individual person for themself. Rael also still had so many questions, so they tried to keep the conversation going. “Is it okay if I ask what happened to your teacher?”

The Oracle nodded.

“Mjara died I think around eighty or ninety years after they started training me. Yes, I’m sorry that’s about as long as you will have to listen to my instructions…”, the oracle - Kelta - joked with a dark sense of humor. “Now they rest below the roots of the Mother Tree, as most of the former oracles do.”

Rael had not expected this. As if there would be anything to see, they glanced over their shoulder at the large roots of the white tree and tried to imagine how many viera might lie buried there. It still looked exactly the same as before and yet suddenly Rael felt like staring at their own grave.

“Most of the former oracles? What about the rest?”

“For you this may feel new and special but you are not the first one to leave the forest. We watch over this forest since thousands and thousands of years and cases like this happened a few times already…”, Kelta explained.

“And not all of them returned?…”, Rael added to the sentence and wondered if this fact was a bad omen for their own journey, which still lay ahead of them.

“No… I assume some simply failed at their tasks and were killed. Who knows, maybe some didn’t dare to return with the shame of failure or decided that the outside world was more to their liking…”, Kelta pondered for a moment before their gaze returned to the massive tree. “But every oracle for whom this was possible was laid to rest right here. Their souls returned to the circle of rebirth and their bodies nurturing the Mother Tree, who in return will forever grant us access to our full powers, so that we might protect Golmore from all harm.”

In a way all this information was a bit much at once and at the same time Rael’s mind swirled with more and more questions. It would take a while to answer all of them and let it all sink in.

Disillusioned Rael understood that while they always had thought themself so smart, talented and special, in reality they had barely scratched the surface of everything that was still to learn and to know.

They had come here as a selfish child, looking for answers. Trying to find the place where they belong, trying to find out who they truly are. Slowly Rael realised that the path they had chosen put a heavy responsabilty on their shoulders. This was more than a prophecy, more than a riddle they needed to solve. This was about who they would need to become.

More than a magic-gifted child, more even than a powerful seer.

A protector.

Lifes would depend on it.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb:

"The most delicious mix of chilling haunts and sweetened kisses to perk you right up...a spirited, sexy read!”—Ashley Poston, New York Times bestselling author of A Novel Love Story It's love at first haunting in a seaside town that raises everyone’s spirits from USA Today bestselling author Jen DeLuca.

Small Florida coastal towns often find themselves scrambling for the tourism dollars that the Orlando theme parks leave behind. And within the town limits of Boneyard Key, the residents decided long ago to lean into its ghostliness. Nick Royer, owner of the Hallowed Grounds coffee shop, embraces the ghost tourism that keeps the local economy afloat, as well as his spectral roommate. At least he doesn’t have to run air-conditioning. 

Cassie Rutherford possibly overreacted to all her friends getting married and having kids by leaving Orlando and buying a flipped historic cottage in Boneyard Key. Though there’s something unusual with her new home (her laptop won’t charge in any outlets, and the poetry magnets on her fridge definitely didn’t read “WRONG” and “MY HOUSE” when she put them up), she’s charmed by the colorful history surrounding her. And she's catching a certain vibe from the grumpy coffee shop owner whenever he slips her a free slice of banana bread along with her coffee order.

As Nick takes her on a ghost tour, sharing town gossip that tourists don't get to hear, and they spend nights side-by-side looking into the former owners of her haunted cottage, their connection solidifies into something very real and enticing. But Cassie's worried she’s in too deep with this whole (haunted) home ownership thing…and Nick's afraid to get too close in case Cassie gets scared away for good.

Review:

When moving to a coastal town in Florida, Cassie Rutherford never expected to find ghosts in her new home or starting a romance with the cute grumpy cafe owner Nick Royer. Cassie Rutherford needed a change, especially since all her friends are getting married and having kids... so she does what any sensible person does, she buys a house in Florida and decides to flip it. Yet from the moment she steps into her house she notices something unusual... it's haunted. Then she meets Nick Royer, owner of the Hollowed Grounds coffee shop who also happens to have a spectral roommate. With a ghost of her own haunting her new home, Cassie is determined to help her ghost, deal with her new feelings for a certain coffee shop owner, and embrace the change in her life. This was a cute cozy spooky season romance perfect for autumn/october! Its a cute rom com with ghosts, a seaside coastal town, cute coffee shop owner, and heart. It's a sweet read and I had fun with it. It's definitely a great one to add to your autumnal reads list! The ghosts were fun and the romance was sweet. I just felt like it was such a cute cozy coffee shop read and I would absolutely recommend it.

Release Date: August 13,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Berkley Publishing Group | Berkley for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[lebanesecuisine2]

The Soul of Lebanese Cuisine Lives in This Lebanese Restaurant

Step inside and immediately you’re embraced by the aroma of spices, freshly baked bread, and the warmth of a place that feels like home. A lebanese restaurant is not just about food—it’s a celebration of heritage, hospitality, and heart.

Every corner of this space whispers tradition. Ornate tiles underfoot, copper lanterns casting golden light, and the gentle background hum of Arabic melodies all set the stage for something extraordinary. But beyond aesthetics, it’s what arrives at your table that steals your attention.

Start with the mezze—this is how any proper Lebanese meal begins. Smooth, creamy hummus drizzled with olive oil. Tabouleh so fresh it sparkles with chopped parsley and lemon. Baba ghanoush infused with smoke and garlic. These are the foundational flavors of a cuisine loved across the globe.

And then there’s the bread. Always warm, always soft, and perfect for scooping up dips or wrapping around slices of falafel or grilled meat. In a lebanese restaurant, bread isn’t a side—it’s a tool, a companion, and a symbol of sharing.

The mains speak of history. Recipes passed down from grandmothers, refined by chefs, and perfected over generations. Grilled meats are expertly marinated in garlic, lemon, and a blend of spices unique to this cuisine. Whether it’s shish taouk, lamb kofta, or kafta meshwi, you can taste the time and care in every bite.

Vegetarian dishes are equally powerful. Mujaddara—a lentil and rice pilaf with crispy onions—offers comfort and depth. Stuffed zucchini and eggplant provide balance and subtlety. Each dish feels intentional, crafted with love, and rooted in centuries of culinary storytelling.

Step outside the food, and you’ll notice something just as important: the service. In any true lebanese restaurant, hospitality isn’t a transaction—it’s a way of life. Servers greet you like family, recommend dishes with pride, and ensure every guest feels seen and welcomed.

What truly defines this kind of dining experience is rhythm. The pace is slow, thoughtful. Meals are meant to linger. Dishes arrive as conversations build. Time stretches. That’s the beauty of Lebanese culture—it creates space for connection.

Look around and you’ll see it: couples on relaxed dates, families introducing their kids to traditional food, friends celebrating birthdays or reunions. The environment is one of shared joy, where food becomes the language everyone understands.

This isn’t fast dining. It’s fulfilling dining. It’s food that encourages you to sit back, breathe deep, and truly taste. There’s something spiritual in the simplicity of a well-prepared dish, especially when it’s rooted in culture and legacy.

At the end of your meal, dessert awaits. Whether it’s knafeh with its delicate orange blossom syrup or rice pudding topped with pistachios and rose water, every sweet bite feels like a closing chapter to a meaningful story.

Pair it with Arabic coffee or mint tea and the experience comes full circle—flavorful, warm, and deeply satisfying. That’s the lasting impression of a lebanese restaurant that understands not just how to cook, but how to nourish.

It’s no surprise these places are beloved by so many. They offer something rare in today’s world: authenticity without compromise. There’s no rush to innovate or modernize the tradition—only a commitment to preserving what has always worked.

Every detail matters. The hand-ground spices. The slow-cooked stews. The daily-fresh herbs. These are not shortcuts or trends. They’re choices that reflect values.

If you’ve never eaten in a Lebanese restaurant, you might wonder what sets it apart. The answer is everything. From the moment you sit down to the last sip of tea, you’re wrapped in a story far older than the building you’re sitting in.

And yet, it never feels dated. It feels timeless. That’s the genius of Lebanese cuisine—it evolves without losing its soul.

In a city full of dining options, what makes this restaurant unforgettable is its ability to remain rooted. It doesn’t chase fads. It focuses on excellence. And it delivers, plate after plate.

People return not because they have to, but because they want to. They crave the food. They appreciate the service. They feel the energy.

For many, it becomes a ritual—birthday dinners, Sunday lunches, casual midweek meals. The space adapts to all occasions while remaining constant in quality and heart.

This kind of consistency builds loyalty. And it earns the title of a true neighborhood staple.

So the next time you think about dining out, think beyond convenience. Think beyond hype. Think about connection, authenticity, and the power of tradition.

Think about what it means to be truly welcomed, well-fed, and remembered. Think about what makes a lebanese restaurant more than a place to eat. Think about what makes it a place to belong.

[httpsoftspace]

Flourish - My Word Of The Year

To flourish is to live so fully that even the air feels sweeter on my tongue, every breathe deep and deliberate, every moment laced with possibility. I see the year ahead of me as a garden waiting to be tilled, planted, and watered–its potential vast, its promise radiant. I step forward into this vision, experiencing it not as hope but as if I am living it now.

I open the door to my home, and the sound of my son's laughter echoes from the living room–a bright infectious sound that makes my heart swell. He's there, sitting on his playmat with the sunlight streaming through the windows. His blocks are scattered around him, and he claps his tiny hands together, proudly showing me the tower he's built. My husband is kneeling beside him, his head tilted in mock seriousness as he helps place another block on top. The tower wobbles, and when it falls, they both burst into uncontrollable giggles.

The house smells faintly of lavender and fresh bread. The entryway is clear and a single vase of white tulips sits on the console table by the door. As I step inside, my husband looks up and smiles, his eyes soft with affection. He stands, brushing his hands on his jeans, and walks over to kiss me–gentle, lingering, his hand brushing my cheek.

The kitchen is both alive and serene. I walk through the space, running my hand along the edge of the dining table, its surface smooth and unblemished. My son toddles behind me as I begin to prepare a meal, his tiny feet pattering on the floors. I hand him a slice of banana and he babbles happily, his chubby fingers grasping the life out of that banana. My husband leans against the counter, sipping coffee from his favorite mug and watching us with quiet contentment. We eat together at the dining table–my son in his high chair; his face smeared with avocado, giggling as I wipe it away. My husband tells me something funny he saw earlier that day, and we laugh together, our voices filling the space.

As the day unfolds, we move as a family, connected yet allowing space for ourselves. While my husband takes our son for a walk, I retreat to the living room, where sunlight streams onto the soft, cream-colored sofa. I curl up with a book, the pages smelling faintly of ink, and let my mind wander into the world that lie at my fingertips.

Later, we'll head to the park. My son toddles unsteadily over the grass, his hands outstretched to catch himself as he wobbles. My husband is chasing him close behind, pretending to be a monster, growling playfully as our son squeals and runs in circles. I watch them, feeling the cool breeze on my face and the deep, quiet gratitude of this moment.

As the day winds down, the house settles into a gentle rhythm. The kitchen is filled with the scent of a homecooked dinner–roasted vegetables, herb chicken, and freshly baked bread. My son sits in his high chair, happily munching on sweet potatoes, while my husband sets the table. We all eat together, savoring not just the food but the connection we share. After dinner, my husband washes the dishes while I sit with our son on the living room floor, helping him piece together a chunky wooden puzzle.

When bedtime comes, the house grows quieter. My husband and I work together to bathe our son, his laugher filling the bathroom as he splashes in the warm water. After drying him off, I hold him close, rocking him gently as I hum a soft melody. His tiny head rests on my shoulder, his breathing slowing as he drifts to sleep.

Once he's tucked into his crib, the evening becomes ours. My husband and I sit together on the couch, the room lit by the warm glow of a single lamp. A book lies forgotten on the table as we talk–I mean, really talk. About our day, our dreams, the little things that make us laugh. His hand rests on mine, our connection quiet and profound.

This vision is not just mine; it is ours. It is the life we create together, the love we nurture, the family we cherish. This is the year we all flourish.

[ukfoodstrret]

Recipes From Every Corner Of The World​

Recipes From Every Corner Of The World

Food is a universal language that connects people from all walks of life. Every culture has unique dishes that showcase its history, ingredients, and traditions. Exploring recipes from around the world allows us to experience diverse flavors and cooking techniques. Let’s take a culinary journey across different continents, highlighting some of the most beloved and iconic recipes.

Asia: Sushi (Japan) Sushi is one of Japan’s most famous culinary exports. It consists of vinegared rice paired with seafood, vegetables, or eggs, often wrapped in seaweed. The most popular types include nigiri (hand-pressed sushi with a slice of fish on top) and maki (rolled sushi with various fillings). Sushi showcases the Japanese philosophy of simplicity and balance in food.

Europe: Paella (Spain) Spain’s signature dish, paella, originates from Valencia and is a flavorful rice dish cooked with saffron, seafood, chicken, or rabbit. Traditional paella is made in a wide, shallow pan and simmered to perfection. The combination of spices, fresh ingredients, and slow cooking creates a dish that represents Spanish coastal life and culinary traditions.

Africa: Jollof Rice (West Africa) Jollof rice is a staple dish across West Africa, especially in Nigeria, Ghana, and Senegal. It is a vibrant, spicy one-pot rice dish cooked with tomatoes, onions, peppers, and various seasonings. Protein such as chicken, fish, or beef is often added. The rivalry between different countries regarding the best version of Jollof rice makes this dish even more exciting and beloved.

North America: Tacos (Mexico) Mexican tacos are one of the most famous street foods worldwide. They consist of soft or crispy tortillas filled with a variety of ingredients, such as grilled meats, fish, beans, and fresh vegetables. Topped with salsa, guacamole, or cheese, tacos showcase Mexico’s rich culinary heritage, blending indigenous and Spanish influences.

South America: Feijoada (Brazil) Feijoada is Brazil’s national dish, a hearty black bean stew cooked with pork, beef, and spices. The dish has roots in Portuguese cuisine and is typically served with rice, collard greens, and orange slices to balance the rich flavors. Feijoada is often enjoyed as a communal meal, bringing families and friends together.

Middle East: Hummus (Levant) Hummus is a beloved Middle Eastern dip made from blended chickpeas, tahini, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil. It is a versatile dish that can be eaten as a dip with pita bread, spread on sandwiches, or used as a side dish. Hummus embodies the simplicity and health benefits of Mediterranean cuisine.

Australia: Meat Pie A staple in Australian cuisine, the meat pie is a handheld pastry filled with minced meat, gravy, and seasonings. Often served with tomato sauce, it is a popular snack at sporting events and bakeries across the country. The Australian meat pie is a reflection of British culinary influence with a unique local twist.

From the fragrant spices of Asia to the hearty dishes of South America, every region has its own culinary gems. Trying these recipes at home not only expands our palate but also deepens our appreciation for different cultures and traditions. Cooking from every corner of the world brings us closer to global unity through the love of food.