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rookthorne · 10 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Slow mornings were the best on your farm — the sounds and smells and sights of the early hours painted a picture for how the day to come would no doubt pan out. It also helped having an insatiable husband, you supposed.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☼ Farmer!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☼ 2.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☼ Fluff, Bucky is a horn dog and a menace ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected piv, outdoor sex ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, CMNF

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☼ I don't know, I just... don't know. He's a weakness, sue me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☼ Hey, Gringo by KALEO

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☼ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 3 — Bent Over — Masterlist

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The stirring of the farm was always a symphony of sounds that filled your heart with joy: the clucking of the chickens and morning crow of the roosters, the loud calls and brays of the horses and cows, not to mention the dogs snuffling around the yard for the fresh tracks of wild rabbits and stray foxes. It was a sight both you and Bucky had worked so hard to achieve, and for the rest of your days, you would treasure it, protect it.

The smell of hearty pancake batter wafted from the mixing bowl in your hand as you worked, preparing for the feast that Bucky would inevitably be starving for once he woke with the sun that had started to peak over the horizon.

Farm life always started early, and for a change, you had beaten Bucky in rising and beginning the day, but not without good reason – the silk chemise flowing and brushing your thighs would be a welcome sight for your husband, that you could guarantee.

You started to hum quietly, swaying your hips to the rhythm in your mind as you placed the bowl on the counter to ready the pan, when you heard the loud trill of the alarm clock and an even louder groan of protest.

“Coffee,” you muttered, grabbing Bucky’s favourite mug from the cupboard just as you heard shuffling footsteps down the hall, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Well,” Bucky rasped, and you turned to smile at your groggy and sleepy husband, who was eyeing you with a brewing hunger. “Ain’t you an angel, huh?” The kettle whistled, and you shrugged, determinedly getting back on task when strong arms suddenly wrapped around your middle, a warm weight enveloping your back and pushing you against the counter. “Good mornin’, Peach.”

“Morning, babe,” you whispered back, turning your head to kiss him on the lips softly. “How’d you sleep?”

Bucky shrugged. “Jus’ fine, darlin’,” he yawned, pulling away to start making his coffee – strong and black, no cream or sugar. “Woulda been better if I got to wake up with my girl in my arms– better yet, wrapped around her.”

“You horn dog,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Later. Let’s eat breakfast first.”

Plates of pancakes, bacon, and fruit vanished faster than you could refill them. Bucky was sweeping the dirty dishes from the table quicker than you could even offer to help clean up – not that you’d complain, there was a lot to take care of today.

The first order of business, though? Taking Bucky up on his offer.

“Alright,” Bucky said from the kitchen, the clatter of plates in the dish drainer making you smile – one less job for you to take care of; bless him. “I’m goin’ to get dressed. Get this day started so I can come home to my Peach, huh?”

“‘Kay,” you called back, stretching in your chair before standing. The wooden floor was cool under your feet as you padded to the front door to take in the morning air, a happy sigh leaving your lips as you opened the screen door, allowing the nicer smells of the countryside to fill your senses; morning dew, fresh hay, and the faint scent of cedar.

Mac and Lilo were bounding in the yard with loud yips and barks, chasing their tails with the excitement of work to do.

The porch was glowing in the morning rays, the timber planks painted with yellow sunlight, while the plants that were placed by the porch steps swayed ever so softly in the warm breeze. It was a beautiful morning, the epitome of tranquillity.

Boot falls sounded behind you, and the door creaked open. Then, everything came to a halt – the sounds of the morning dulled and became distant as you felt eyes roving your figure, a promise for what was to come.

“Goddamn, Peach, baby,” Bucky whistled, and before you could turn to face him, your front was crowded against the railing. His frame overpowered you, his very presence was demanding, and the hunger in his touch made you shiver. “How’s a fella meant to get any work done ‘round here when you’re walkin’ ‘round like this?”

“You didn’t seem to mind it in the kitchen,” you replied, smirking and looking over your shoulder at his face to see a brow raised incredulously.

“My wife was also in the safety of our home.” Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, the fabric of your chemise riding further up your thigh. “Who knows, sweetheart,” he continued in a low voice, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he moved to palm your hips with his callused hands. “One might think you wanna get caught out here–bein’ fucked by your husband as he claims what’s his.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “Buck-”

A squeak of shock left your lips when Bucky suddenly pulled you closer, his hands holding your hips tightly so your ass was against his crotch – his cock was straining at the fly of his jeans. “Y’see what you do to me, Peach?” he breathed, voice husky with need. “Walkin’ round here like this–fuck, I’m a lucky man.”

Heat settled in your cunt with a dull throb, and you moaned, pitch high and wanton. “Fuck me,” you rushed, and he chuckled. “Bucky, please, hurry up–need you.”

The sound of Bucky’s belt buckle undoing echoed so loudly through the morning air you heard it over the roar of blood in your ears. “So sweet for me, Peach,” he drawled, his hand running up your back and pulling the chemise with it. “Don’t need this anymore, do we?”

Fabric flew over your vision – you were bare and gripping the rail for dear life. “Bucky.”

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, his fingers dancing across your skin until he cupped your bare ass in his hands. “Ain’t wearin’ anythin’ under- Wow.” Whistling appreciatively – much like the one he let loose in the kitchen, he stepped closer, his proximity forcing you to bend at the hip as he crowded you again. “If I knew that, sweetheart, I woulda fucked you in the kitchen, on the counter-” A kiss to your shoulder whilst his hand moved to spread your thighs, a quiet whimper leaving your lips. “In the dining room, on the fuckin’ table-” Another kiss to your shoulder, followed by a bite. “And against the damn front door.”

“You can–you can, just fuck me, please,” you mewled, your whole body tensing when his right hand circled your hip to cup your sex, his deft fingers playing your clit in the way that made you sing. “Fuck, fuck–c’mon, Bucky.”

“Who am I to deny my Peach,” Bucky chuckled. “Not when she’s asking so sweetly.”

The brush from the head of Bucky’s cock made your breath hitch. “Yesyes, oh fuck, yes,” you moaned, grinning when you felt him drive forward with a low groan, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades. Laughing breathily, you widened your stance, your feet spreading further apart.

“Always take me so well, baby,” Bucky huffed, his breath hot against your skin. “Jus’ like you were made for me–so fuckin’ hot and tight f’me.”

“Uh-huh,” you giggled, edging forward and slamming back into his hips to hear him cry out, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Want you to move, babe, fuck me.”

“A-Alright,” Bucky stuttered, slightly breathless, and you grinned wickedly. His hands rubbed up and down your sides, finally coming to settle on your hips. “I’ll fuck you, Peach. Don’t keep quiet on me, now–lemme hear you.”

You nodded and braced.

The pace started slow – long, deep thrusts that morphed into brutal pumps of his cock, each thrust punctuated with a loud grunt of pleasure from Bucky, a high moan from your own lips, and the wet sounds of him fucking you in earnest. “Bucky! Fuck, yes–ohmygod, don’t stop!”

“Don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” Bucky panted, his lips finding the spot on your neck with ease, and he began to suck harshly – the contrast of the sting of his lips and the all-encompassing brush of his cock made you cry out, gripping him and the porch rail like a vice. Slick started to run down your thighs, and you whimpered as Bucky moved one hand back to your clit. “You’re squeezin’ me, darlin’, fuck–you close already?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as Bucky worked your clit in fast, tight circles. “Yeah!”

A pleased hum rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and he stepped impossibly closer – almost becoming one with your trembling form. "Feel s'good around my cock, Peach, fuck.” The pace changed to be frantic, his hips pistoning in and out with unmatched desperation. “You ain’t allowed to wear anything under that pretty workin’ dress a’yours, baby. I want my cum dripping down your thighs all day–a reminder of just what I wanna do to you tonight."

“Oh!” Your voice could have carried out past the hills of your farm for all you cared if Bucky kept up this pace while promising more – you wouldn’t last. “Please! I won’t, I won’t, fuck-”

“Tha’s it, darlin’,” Bucky purred, his voice deep and alluring over your keening moan. “Lemme hear you, c’mon–cum for me, let go.”

“Bucky, Buck- ‘M close, don’t–”

“Fuckin’ let go for me, darlin’,” Bucky growled, and you whined loudly as your toes curled. “Good girl, gimme it; I need to feel you cum on my cock. C’mon.” His voice was wrecked, a low moan building in his throat as you seized in his grip.

“‘M coming! Bucky, fuck!”

Bucky choked on a gasp, his hips faltering as you fluttered and pulsed through your high. “Good god, baby,” he gritted out through his teeth, his grip on you becoming bruising as he pulled you back against his chest. The brush of fabric against your back startled you – he was still clothed? “Fuck, you feel s’good, I’m gonna cum, and you’re gonna take it–yeah, you’ll fuckin’ take it.”

“Cum for me, wanna feel it,” you cried, gripping his arm and meeting his thrusts. “Bucky, please, please, gimme it.”

“Ah–ah, shit, darlin’,” Bucky moaned. There was a sudden jolt of heat in your cunt, and Bucky bit your shoulder to muffle a shout as he came, pulling off only to whine as his cock twitched, emptying completely in your heat.

You shuddered in Bucky’s embrace through aftershocks, both of you gasping to catch your breath.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky panted, squeezing you tight against his chest, and you sighed happily. “Y’alright, sweetheart? I wasn’t too rough?”

“Nah,” you answered, leaning into his clothed chest. “Wait-” You looked over your shoulder properly, down his shoulders and chest, to find Bucky still fully clothed – a plaid shirt and tank top covering his muscled chest, and the feel of the crotch of his jeans soaked with the mess of your coupling. “You’re gonna have to change, babe.”

Bucky only grinned.

You lost a moment gazing into his face, studying the way his eyes flickered around your face. “See somethin’ you like, Peach?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you whispered, wincing as Bucky pulled out slowly and helped you stand upright. “The oaf and horn dog that I married all those years ago.”

Laughter filled the air, and Bucky shook his head, his eyes sparkling in the rays of the sun. “And I’m the luckiest fella for being able to call you mine.”

“Such a sap.” Carefully, you bent to pick up the chemise from the decking, the fabric cold between your fingers. “Alright, mister,” you pointed towards the door of your home. “Get changed, then get outta here. You promised me, and you damn sure are gonna keep it.”

“Only if you hold up your end of the bargain,” Bucky quipped, a brow raised at you as he opened the front door, gesturing you inside. “After all, darlin’,” he drawled as he closed the door behind him, his tone sultry. “What kinda husband would I be if I didn’t fuck my beautiful wife at every damn possible opportunity I could get?”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works #PFM

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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When you hear "fintech," think "unlicensed bank"

Tomorrow (May 2) I’ll be in Portland at the Cedar Hills Powell’s with Andy Baio for my new novel, Red Team Blues.

In theory, patents are for novel, useful inventions that aren’t obvious “to a skilled practitioner of the art.” But as computers ate our society, grifters began to receive patents for “doing something we’ve done for centuries…with a computer.” “With a computer”: those three words had the power to cloud patent examiners’ minds.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Patent trolls — who secure “with a computer” patents and then extract ransoms from people doing normal things on threat of a lawsuit — are an underappreciated form of “tech exceptionalism.” Normally, “tech exceptionalism” refers to bros who wave away things like privacy invasions by arguing that “with a computer” makes it all different.

These tech exceptionalists are the legit face of tech exceptionalism, the Forbes 30 Under 30 set. They’re grifters, but they’re celebrated grifters. There’s a whole bottom-feeding sludge of tech exceptionalists that don’t get the same kind of attention, like patent trolls.

Oh, and the fintech industry.

As Riley Quinn says, “when you hear ‘fintech,’ think: ‘unlicensed bank.’” The majority of fintech “innovation” consists of adding “with a computer” to highly regulated activities and declaring them to be unregulated (and, in the case of crypto, unregulatable).

There are a lot of heavily regulated financial activities, like dealing in securities (something the crypto industry is definitely doing and claims it isn’t). Most people don’t buy or sell securities regularly — indeed, most Americans own little or no stocks.

But you know what regulated financial activity a lot of Americans participate in?

Going into debt.

As wages stagnate and the price of housing, medical care, childcare, transportation and education soar, Americans fund their consumption with debt. Trillions of dollars’ worth of debt. Many of us are privileged to borrow money by walking into a bank and asking for a loan, but millions of Americans are denied that genteel experience.

Instead, working Americans increasingly rely on payday lenders and other usurers who charge sky-high interest rates, on top of penalties and fees, trapping borrowers in an endless cycle of indebtedness. This is an historical sign of a civilization in decline: productive workers require loans to engage in useful activities. Normally, the activity pans out — the crop comes in, say — and the debt is repaid.

But eventually, you’ll get a bad beat. The crop fails, the workshop burns down, a pandemic shuts down production. Instead of paying off your debt, you have to roll it over. Now, you’re in an even worse situation, and the next time you catch a bad break, you go further into debt. Over time, all production comes under the control of creditors.

The historical answer to this is jubilee: a regular wiping-away of all debt. While this was often dressed up in moral language, there was an absolutely practical rationale for it. Without jubilee, eventually, all the farmers stop growing food so that they can grow ornamental flowers for their creditors’ tables. Then, as starvation sets in, civilization collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

As the debt historian Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid.” Without jubilee, indebtedness becomes a chronic and inescapable condition. As more and more creditors attach their claims to debtors’ assets, they have to compete with one another to terrorize the debtor into paying them off, first. One creditor might threaten to garnish your paycheck. Another, to repossess your car. Another, to evict you from your home. Another, to break your arm. Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid — but when you have a choice between a broken arm and stealing from your kid’s college fund or the cash-register, maybe the debt can be paid…a little. Of course, digital tools offer all kinds of exciting new tools for arm-breakers — immobilizing your car, say, or deleting the apps on your phone, starting with the ones you use most often:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Under Trump, payday lenders romped through America. A lobbyist for the payday lenders became a top Trump lawyer:

https://theintercept.com/2017/11/27/white-house-memo-justifying-cfpb-takeover-was-written-by-payday-lender-attorney/

This lobbyist then oversaw Trump’s appointment of a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau boss who deregulated payday lenders, opening the door to triple digit interest rates:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-cfpb-payday-lenders-20180119-story.html

To justify this, the payday loan industry found corruptible academics and paid them to write papers defending payday loans as “inclusive.” These papers were secretly co-authored by payday loan industry lobbyists:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/02/25/how-payday-lending-industry-insider-tilted-academic-research-its-favor/

Of course, Trump doesn’t read academic papers, so the payday lenders also moved their annual conference to a Trump resort, writing the President a check for $1m:

https://www.propublica.org/article/trump-inc-podcast-payday-lenders-spent-1-million-at-a-trump-resort-and-cashed-in

Biden plugged many of the cracks that Trump created in the firewalls that guard against predatory lenders. Most significantly, he moved Rohit Chopra from the FTC to the CFPB, where, as director, he has overseen a determined effort to rein in the sector. As the CFPB re-establishes regulation, the fintech industry has moved in to add “with a computer” to many regulated activities and so declare them beyond regulation.

One fintech “innovation” is the creation of a “direct to consumer Earned Wage Access” product. Earned Wage Access is just a fancy term for a program some employers offer whereby workers can get paid ahead of payday for the hours they’ve already worked. The direct-to-consumer EWA offers loans without verifying that the borrower has money coming in. Companies like Earnin claim that their faux EWA services are free, but in practice, everyone who uses the service pays for the “Lightning Speed” upsell.

Of course they do. Earnin charges sky-high interest rates and twists borrowers’ arms into leaving a “tip” for the service (yes, they expect you to tip your loan-shark!). Anyone desperate enough to pay triple-digit interest rates and tip the service for originating their loan is desperate and needs to the money now:

https://prospect.org/power/05-01-2023-fintech-ewa-payday-loan-scam/

EWA annual interest rates sit around 300%. The average EWA borrower uses the service two or three times every month. EWA CEOs and lobbyists claim that they’re banking the unbanked — but the reality is that they’re acting as sticky-fingered brokers between banks and young, poor workers, marking up traditional bank services.

This fact is rarely mentioned when EWA companies lobby state legislatures seeking to be exempted from usury rules that are supposed to curb predatory lenders. In Vermont, Earnin wants an exemption from the state’s 18% interest rate cap — remember, the true APR for EWA loans is about 300%.

In Texas, payday lenders are classed as loan brokers, not loan originators and are thus able to avoid the state’s usury caps. EWAs are lobbying the Texas legislature for further exemptions from state money-transmitter and usury limit laws, principally on the strength of the “it’s different: we do it with a computer” logic.

But as Jarod Facundo writes for The American Prospect, quoting Monica Burks from the Center for Responsible Lending, a loan is a loan even if it’s with a computer: “The industry is trying to create a new definition for what a loan is in order to exempt themselves from existing consumer protection laws… When you offer someone a portion of money on the promise that they will repay it, and often that repayment will be accompanied with fees or charges or interest, that’s what a loan is.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Mountain View, Berkeley, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A stately, columnated bank building, bedecked in garish payday lender signs.]

Image: Andre Carrotflower (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:30_North_%28former_Pontiac_Commercial_%26_Savings_Bank_Building%29,_Pontiac,_Michigan_-_entrance_and_Chief_Pontiac_relief_sculpture_-_20201213.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #cfpb #earned wage access #digital armbreakers #loansharks #payday lenders #tech exceptionalism #jubilee #debt #fintech #usury #michael hudson #graeber #debts that can't be paid wont be paid

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thewitcheslibrary · 18 days

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Beltane

The date of the holiday: 1st may

History: Beltane is derived from the Celtic term Baal or Bel, which meaning "Bright One." As farmers prepared to shift their livestock from winter pastures to summer grazing in the hills, they sought protection and abundance from the gods by starting fires and herding cattle through the flames to the summer grazing fields. This was thought to protect the herd from attack while also increasing fertility.

In more practical terms, these bonfires were most likely used to burn brush heaps and clear space for planting and pastureland. In the home, hearth fires were extinguished and replaced with flames from Beltane bonfires. People often walked the perimeters of their properties or towns to evoke additional protection for the next year. Yellow flowers were used to decorate doorways, windows, and even cattle during Beltane.

Like all of the Wheel of Year sabbat celebrations, Beltane was a time for merry making and feasting. People would write a wish upon a ribbon and tie it a to a tree, in the hopes that the gods would grant them. Hawthorn, ash, thorn and sycamore trees were believed to be the best trees for making wishes.

Dew gathered on Beltane was thought to have special properties for increased beauty and youthfulness.

Beltane and sexuality- SLIGHT NSFW WARNING!

Part of Celtic Beltane beliefs revolved around the holy union of the God and Goddess, which people celebrated by having sex on Beltane. Usually outside, to further connect with nature. Children conceived at Beltane (and hence born at Imbolc) were regarded to belong to the Goddess, and were commonly referred to as'merry-be-gots', with a particular tie to the faerie world. Beltane, like Samhain, was a period when the curtain between the worlds became thinner, allowing ghosts to pass through. Unlike Samhain, the visiting ghosts were not looking for a feast or a quick chat with relatives. The spirits of Beltane were considered to be seeking reincarnation or sexual intercourse.

The topic of sexuality runs throughout Beltane. The Maypole, which maidens usually adorn and celebrate, is a phallic emblem signifying masculine strength, whereas the cauldron represents female power. Women who desired to produce a child would start a small fire, place the cauldron on it, and then leap over it.

To go Maying, or picking flowers and other flora in adjacent woodlands, was associated with casual sex in the woods. There was no stigma connected with out-of-wedlock marriage, and hand-fasting was prevalent, in which two individuals bonded together for a year and a day. Beltane activities such as the Maypole were forbidden by the Puritans in parts of Great Britain in the 17th century, owing in part to their overt sexuality.

END OF THE NSFW -

Symbols of beltane-

Colors: White, dark green, red

Foods: Dairy foods, honey, oats, mead, lamb

Stones: Sapphire, blood stone, emerald, orange carnelian, rose quartz

Symbols: Goat, honeybee, cown, fairies, pegasus, rabbits, flower crown, maypole, basket

Flowers & Plants: Primrose, lilac, hawthorn, birch, Rosemary, Ivy, woodruff, rowan, violet, alfalfa, cedar, peppermint lavendar

Deities: Aphrodite, Artemis, Freya, Rhiannon, Apollo, Bel/Belnos, The Great Horned God, BÓand/Boann

Setting intentions during this time-

Beltane has traditionally been a fertility celebration. However, if you don't have infants in mind, that's OK! Beltane is an excellent opportunity to reflect on creativity and success. Beltane is the moment to follow through on your objectives from Imbolc and Ostara. Perhaps you've been thinking about launching a company; Beltane is the time to set an appointment with the bank and inquire about finance. Perhaps you've been writing a book and now it's time to contact publishers or locate an agent. Beltane, with its promise of harvest and fruitfulness, is a time to take inspired action and be confident.

Ways to celebrate-

Chose one of the deities listed above and honour them in some way, yes even if you dont work with them. You can still celebrate them and wear or do things associated with them, just do so respectfully! Eat some of the foods associated with beltane! Even if you just eat a bowl of oats with honey for breakfast, its a good and simple way to celebrate. And its perfect if you can't openly celebrate, it just looks like your enjoying some food. You could also drink peppermint tea!

Wear some of the colours and carry the stones and gems around with you during this day. You can incorporate both colour magic and crystal magic by doing this and is also just easy to hide and do subtly! - everyone wears clothes (hopefully) and you can just say you are collecting rocks and crystals because you find them cool! - Flower crowns can be incorporated into outfits too.

Buy flowers or make a bouquet with the flowers associated with the holiday! They will make your space or altar look colourful, and flowers are pretty. This isnt as easy to hide, but if people do ask you can tell them you just liked them and treated yourself!

Set aside time for some self care - treat yourself to a special meal, music, aromas - whatever make you feel special!- with this you could use the plants, herbs, crystals, candles in the colours associated with them and some drawn symbols and put together a ritual bath! - bit of a clean up after but again its somewhat easy to hide

some less subtle way to celebrate.

Hold a bonfire for family and friends

Take action on a project you’ve been working on

Decorate a tree with colorful ribbons that represent your wishes for the coming year

Make flower crowns

Walk your property and give thanks and ask for protection in the coming year

Decorate your home yellow flower wreaths, bouquets or garlands

#pagan witch #witch #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #beltane #wheel of the year #witchy stuff

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moonlightleafs · 7 months

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Introducing Spathi Eleftheriou (spah-th-ee eh-leh-f-theh-ree-oo), a Fire Emblem Three Houses OC for @fe-oc-week! It's been a hot minute since I tried to design an OC, and this is my first time for a Fire Emblem game (pls be nice im bby) (pls clap). It's been a lot of fun! They're def not a self-insert by any means, but they do share some aspects of my personality and ethnic background.

I know I'm super late to this, I felt so inspired by everyone's wonderful characters this year (esp @peachiehambo's Yoona and @wild-moss-art's Moss). Couldn't resist!!

More about Spathi after the cut!

Spathi hails from the seaside city of Alatisitou (ah-lah-tee-see-too) in southwestern Almyra, on windswept plains where wheat flows in golden waves, and scents of sage and marjoram carry forever on the wind.

They're the only child of a warm, close-knit family of farmers situated on the city outskirts, among the tumbling cliffs and endless highland valleys that eventually cascade down to the ocean. It's a fitting home for a kid born with dreams in their feet and salt spray in their hair; infinite possibilities and a wide, sun-soaked sky always offering new opportunities.

Growing up, they'd often be found spending their free time exploring the arcadian landscape, climbing through old ruins and cyprus groves, and occasionally ambling around the city proper to watch the sleek trading ships ply wares from far-flung lands.

They tend to be quiet and observant in public, but are extremely energetic, talkative, and personable with their friends, who would readily attest that Spathi is an indispensable one-person hype squad. You couldn't ask for someone better to gas you up when you're feeling down.

Their family grows wheat and olives in their humble fields and orchards for export and local sale. Spathi devotes themself to their family's well-being and works hard to ensure good harvests.

That's kinda all I've got so far, lol. Might add more to this later as other ideas come to mind! Some other broad stats for Spathi, in no particular order:

Their name translates to 'Sword of Freedom'

They're non-binary, their preferred pronouns are they/them and sometimes she/they

They're 19 years old when they enroll at Garreg Mach

They're 6'2" tall and are somewhat clumsy

They're passionate about breadmaking and all things bread-related

Their favorite flower is marigold

Their favorite spice is basil

Their favorite treat is mastic, a chewable resin from native trees with a bitter flavor that gives way to refreshing notes of pine and cedar (also delicious steeping into a cup of cool water!)

Their favorite tea is chamomile with a splash of wild honey and vanilla

They love to play the mandolin and pan flute, and they love to sing

They have a soft and sometimes raspy voice

They're a good sailor, though the family could never afford a ship larger than a catboat.

They fucking love boardgames dude!!!

At the academy, they have strong proficiencies with Sword, Faith, and Reason, and weak proficiency with Authority.

Anyway hope you like them!!

#no clue how they end up at the Academy so if anyone has ideas please lmk lolll #my art #my oc art #moonlightleafs art #fire emblem oc #fe3h oc #fe oc week #fire emblem 3 houses #fe3h #fe3h spathi

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tvstvnvkke · 2 months

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White sage

Contrary to popular belief, white sage, or even sage in general, was not used by every tribe. White sage has developed into the go-to "smoke cleansing" plant. However, this has led to a number of problems.

For the Muscogee tribe Sage as a plant was not commonly used. Cedar, Tobacco, and Ginseng were more commonly smoke cleansing plants. The word for Sage that I was told was "Vpvketv" which also means to add something. White sage would be "Vpvketv hvtke".

Today, white sage is commonly used to smudge. Packages can be purchased with a shell, feather, and a sage bundle to burn. Smudging, in the sense of using a shell to burn in and a feather to guide the smoke, was mostly a Dakota and Ho-chunk practice from what I know. With white sage specifically being native to lower modern-day California. The Cahuilla and Kumeyaay tribes are two who often use this plant. Smudging and white sage have both been taken up as practices among modern witches, pagan, Wiccan, and other spiritual groups. However, to anyone doing the practice, I highly recommend caution in continuing.

The modern practices of white sage harvesting are often harmful. The practices often leave the local environment poorly cared for. The plant is overly harvested by people generally paid very little and often with no consideration to the local communities that normally use the plant. The over harvesting has led to fears that the plant may go extinct if proper growing and harvesting techniques are not taken into consideration.

Another important aspect to consider is the spiritual aspect as well. If you are using white sage to purify the air, I would assume the hope is to clear away negative spirits or energies. I can not speak for all communities that smoke cleanse, but when smoke cleansing, you should use plants you were gifted or gather yourself. The intention when the plant is harvested affects whether or not it will clear away bad things. If you harvest it yourself thinking of how grateful you are for the plant, it will clean. If your friend harvests it thinking of how this will hopefully help someone, it will clean. If the person harvesting your plant is mistreated, in bad conditions, over harvesting a plant just to be underpaid. I feel like that may do the opposite of cleanse.

All around, it's just not a good idea. Be very mindful of who your practices come from and who your items come from. Look for answers online as to whether those communities welcome outside practicer or if your version of their practice is actually harming their ability to continue it.

I've heard debate on whether it's okay to purchase white sage from indigenous farmers. I would say if you're going to purchase it, that would be the best. I'm sure there are many indigenous people who sell it.

Be mindful of your practices. They could be harming you and other people.

#native blogs #indigenous blog #indigenous #native american #native girls #witchcraft #witch community #wiccan #wiccablr #pagan wicca #wicca #pagan #smudge #smudging #smoke cleansing #white sage #sage

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falconcoast · 1 year

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genshin characters as things i vividly remember |part ii

a/n: rehash of this post.

warnings: none xo

characters: scaramouche, ayaka, miko, ei, tighnari, kaveh, cyno, baizhu, al-haitham.

scaramouche;

rina sawayama songs (specifically dynasty and hold the girl). cellos. inciting chaos for the thrill of it. clenching and unclenching a fist. loosening a jaw you didn’t know was tightened. traveling somewhere new. arguments that you know you can win. orchid flowers. when a bird passes by you really quickly and rustles at your hair. letting go of old grudges.

ayaka;

december snow. smoothing down a bird’s feathers. when water is almost frozen. pulling your hair into a tight up-do. silver mirrors and jewelry. soft pink lipstick. people-watching. when you walk out of a party to go somewhere quiet. suit-skirt combos. fixing your posture before going on stage. the color of the sky during early winter mornings.

miko;

velvet pillows. roses. new books and bending the back of its spine to break it in. honoring traditions. bouquets and letters from suitors. the feeling of someone’s lips against your ear when they whisper to you. middle spring. afternoon classes. when a pet walks up to you and rests in your lap. moonlight shining in someone’s eyes. soft hair. delicately-done nails that make pleasing clicks.

ei;

golden thunder. rain so heavy it creates a stream down a road. the phrase “suffer the pain of discipline, or suffer the pain of regret.” absolute, midnight silence. gritted teeth. pure confidence. straightened shoulders. lilacs. softening when seeing your beloved. marble walls. letting a little one braid your hair.

tighnari;

freshly picked flowers. muddy boots. hikes. when an animal hops into your hand naturally. calloused hands. scars from running and tripping or climbing a tree and falling. superblooms. the scent of grass after it rains. pollen season. errand days. bickering with a younger sibling. the chirps of birds in the early morning. cedar trees. scolding someone while patching them up.

kaveh;

college students. meticulously doing your hair. pouting. putting your all into something you love. finishing a project and being happy with the result. daytime. chapstick kisses. hands-on learning. sunshine after the rain. kinetic sand. picnics. brushing your hair to one side. cold tea. daffodil blooms. birch trees.

cyno;

the cold shouldered friend warming up to you. busted knuckles. standing tall. eyes open wide. scorching heat. running on sand. blistering wind. watching from afar. warmth of the sun on skin. lightning hitting water. the hiss of an insect in the night. ink and parchment. tenderly sweeping someone’s hair out of their eyes.

baizhu;

well-cut lawns. letting your glasses hang low on your nose. humming. pilates. kissing a loved one when they’ve fallen asleep. the sterile scent of a doctor’s office. running water. dried flower leaves for tea. picking herbs at the farmer’s market. feeling of your toes in the grass. soft, west winds.

al-haitham;

scoffing at your enemies. the illiad and the oddessy. stationary. ap literature summer reading lists. burning the midnight oil. holding your hand over someone else’s when you’re teaching them how to do something. texas instrument calculators, not casio. study sessions where you get nothing done. the dad friend. looking to someone to only see them look at you already.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #ayaka x reader #miko x reader #ei x reader

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tristikov · 3 months

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My dad passed away recently after a nearly year-long battle with cancer. He was 65. His wife took this photo a number of years back, and it sublimely captures so much about who he was, while instilling a mystique that I think is also fitting. I wrote the following to read at his funeral:

---

If you’ve ever seen my father in a crowd, you’d know he wasn’t hard to spot… Though his clothing tended to be modest, and his manner gentle, his 6’6” stature meant he usually stood head—and often shoulders—above those around him. That isn’t to suggest he wasn’t a down-to-earth individual, and I’m sure most anyone who knew him could attest to his kindness and can-do desire to help others.

Physical height runs in his side of the family, but even as a full-grown adult I’ve continued to look up to him in more ways than one (…an appreciation of wordplay also seems to be in our genes, but I shouldn’t jump the pun). As a kid I remember riding with him in “the Chev,” a woods vehicle he built himself, collecting, splitting, and stacking firewood for the winter. Through him I learned to appreciate the simple pleasure of working outdoors, roaming the quiet woods, and being considerate of the land.

As I grew older, I also worked with him on his cranberry bogs for a number of years. I learned much in that time, and though I chose to pursue a different career path, I have always looked back fondly on the time I spent working with my dad… Installing sprinkler heads in the busy thaw of Spring, battling weeds and fixing irrigation lines in the blazing Summer sun, setting up the berry pump, corralling the cranberries, and harvesting the crop under the brilliant skies of Autumn, then driving his hand-built ice sanders over the frozen bogs in the chill of Winter. Thanks to him I also have an undying appreciation for the local pizzeria, iced coffee in every season, and taking a nap after lunch (at least when time permits).

A farmer’s life is a demanding one, and each morning, fueled only by a cup of Lipton tea, my father rose to the thorny challenges of every season: Watching over the crop on little sleep through Spring and Fall frosts, maintaining our vehicles and the myriad of farm equipment, or building whatever was needed with the resources at hand—often sawing a few 2-by-4s, welding some angle iron, and bolting on an old motor… Sometimes all three.

Though my father designed and built the house I grew up in, the shop barn we relaxed and did projects in, the shed he kept his dirt bike and later ATV in, the horse barn, the camp in Maine, and at least half a dozen other sheds and outdoor constructions, his most recent endeavor—a new cedar log house--was his masterpiece… Thanks in no small part to the hard work and dedication of his dear wife, the two of them built a lovely home together overlooking the very bogs he had spent so many years tending to.

She also helped him to complete the camp in Maine which he had begun all the way back when I was a child. I took many winter trips there with my father over the years, to relax, ride the snowmobile trails, and to break fresh snow searching for elusive moose antlers. My dad loved the north woods, moose, and a day of both hard work and leisurely puttering… Maine’s state slogan is “the way life should be,” and I think my dad agreed.

I’ll miss greatly those trips with my father, more so even than working with him on the bogs. I treasured the time to connect and learn from him. I’m probably not the only guy to think highly of their dad, but with the wide breadth of skills, depth of knowledge, and social presence he possessed, it was, and still is hard to not be in awe of him. I am a father myself now, and as I remember the impressive size of the trusty old snow boots my dad wore every winter, I feel that his shoes are going to be very large ones to fill.

While my dad no doubt lived a full life, it was far too short, and I weep for the time he cannot spend with his loving wife, his young grandson, and all of his family and friends, with joy and warmth in his newly built home. He was a great father, role model, and mentor. He was one-of-a-kind, and made an indelible impression on those who met him. He will be missed by all, but when the warm late-summer nights give way to cool early-autumn evenings and the cranberries ripen scarlet under a clear blue sky, that is when I will miss him most.

#eulogy #father #dad #tribute #cranberries

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dekarios · 2 months

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#fray.txt #i think this would be better with some INFO...!!!

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subiysu-chan · 3 months

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Dark Fantasy

I decided to add to my main capital a good production of fungiculture, (because it cannot otherwise sustain a 600 000 urbain population with only 11 farming villages surrounding of 920 total). Probably Paris mushrooms, although it's not necessarely consistant with the tech level (although, it was already a year-round crop for Paris in the XVIIIth century). I think the simpliest way to solve this issue is to add domesticated cattails to their typical crops, and add add 9 more villages, which would still have a rather unsustainable farmer to non-farmer ratio, but because of imports, it would even out the amount of food the capital is getting. The eastern side of the province have some good wetlands, which tend to have demographic blackholes prior to modern medicine and a food production.

I think that, with four harvests per year plus the mushroom growing, plus imports, would allow the capital city to have all the food it needs.

The province of Penbre has a surface area of about 110 , 344 km from bird's eye view, which is on the smaller side, but it doesn't take the difference of elevation and the various hypothenuses this creates. I changed it to have 20 farming villages, creating a population of very roughly 601 000 individuals, a denity of around 5.4 inhabitents per square kilometer, most concentrated around the rivers with an almost empty back country. The region is well-known for it's production of clay, salt and wool. Because it is a capital, it's upper class creates a demand for the most beautiful pottery and tablewear the world has to offer in a booming bone porcelaine, earthwork and faïence artisanal production. Most houses are built out of stone with terracotta flooring in the city, but some walls of the particularly wealthy prefering brick and plaster, and out of wood and beaten earth in the country side, although some are made out of brick.

Being a capital city near the coast line, it benefits from many imports that trickle down to the villages.

The mountain with the square has an undergrowd Drow and fay city, and the lake houses also a fay population.

The local cuisine is comprised of soft-tasting bread with a nutty or sour undertone, birch-sap products of various kinds, butter, broths, broth-based sauces, stews, freshwater vegetables, cheeses, nuts (cedar and hazel) and cranberry wine. Because of the mer population off the coast, access to many sea-products is more diffecult, but freshwater mussles, crayfishes and carps are an important part of the diet, as well as some salt-water fishes, crabs and oysters. However, the most frequent meats are pork and pigeon. A particular cultivar of domesticated cattails and humidity-tolerant peas are cultivated locally, as well as small radishes. Shallots and rowan are the main condiments.

In the capital, due to the amount of imports, they add buckwheat, honey, wheat, rye, apples, grapes, blueberries, tea and coffee to their diet.

The province of Penbre would be surrounded by those of : Yaune to the East, Aulbec to the South and Lanye to the North. Lanye is the Northern Limit fo the country, but further east is the province of Lennes and further south is the province of Avalbre. Those compromise the entirety of the North-West region.

#dark fantasy #worldbuilding

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bakuliwrites · 1 year

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Love Letters- Elliott x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Relationship: Elliott x Reader

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Oral S*x, PIV, Overstimulation, Elliott being corny and romantic, Outdoor S*x

Summary: My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement.

Elliott returns home from his book tour and the Farmer has a sultry surprise for him.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

The pages of Elliott’s letters crinkle quietly in your hands as you leaf through them for what must be the thousandth time this week. Each one is so lovingly written, his messy script scrawled across every inch of paper. He’s even put little notes in the margins, snippets of poetry, and romantic little musings. The scent of his cologne lingers from the spritz he gave each envelope, tiny puffs of cedar and amber gracing your nose with each turn of the page.

The majority of the content of each letter is Elliott’s very detailed account of his latest book tour: all the quaint bookstores he’s gotten to visit, the delectable delicacies he’s tried, the wonderful people he’s met. Elliott is a skilled storyteller, so even these parts are quite entertaining to you. However, it’s the sultry bits of prose that you’ve found yourself re-reading over and over again these last several weeks. Though a lot of it is cloaked in flowery imagery and grand proclamations of love, you’ve discovered your beloved writer has quite the filthy mouth when he puts his mind to it.

My darling, I stopped in at a historical bookstore yesterday: mahogany shelves from floor-to-ceiling, teeming with greenery in various pots and windowsills. A veritable atrium of knowledge and serenity. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass above me, painting the floor in vivid colors. I longed to peruse every ornate volume I passed. Yet, as I dragged my fingertips along the spines, all I could really think about is how desperately I wished you were at my side. Oh, what this bookstore inspired in me! Such sensual thoughts distracted me throughout the entire event I had there. I could hardly keep focused. I kept picturing us, intertwined amongst piles of novels. You, pressed up against the shelves, your gentle sighs filling me with vigor.

The first time you read this, you had to pause tending to your crops and sit down for a while. You wrote back as soon as you could that evening, filling the page with every sultry daydream that had popped into your head as you went about your chores that day. You decided to include a little snapshot, something a bit naughty to keep Elliott company on his travels. Elliott’s response was even more detailed.

My darling, your last letter to me had me positively reeling. I should think your letter would have combusted as you wrote, the heat of your passionate words too much for such fragile paper to handle. And yet, it has managed to survive (I keep it in my breast pocket, pull it out when I have a moment of privacy. And the picture you sent! You’re a cheeky thing, my darling. And I, a lucky man).

All I can think of is you, my star. When I sleep, I imagine us, picnicking under the shade of the willow on our farm. Long abandoned is our luncheon. When I am with you, I want for nothing. Nothing compares to my head buried in your supple thighs, breathing in your intoxicating perfume, my lips on yours. The taste of your sweet succor on my tongue. No food or drink is as satiating as you, my darling.

Weekly, and without fail, you have received letters from Elliott. It seems there hasn’t been a moment that has passed that he hasn’t been thinking of you. His final letter came just under a week ago, and he sounded more than eager to return.

My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement.

Normally, you’d give Elliott a moment to breathe before pouncing on him. But he’s made it quite clear about what he’s been missing on his book tour. So you’ve asked him to meet you under the willow in the far corner of your farm, out of sight of anyone who might accidentally wander onto your property. In this secluded area, you’ve set out a blue and white gingham blanket topped with a wicker basket filled with Elliott’s favorites: crisp starfruit wine, glistening red pomegranates, and homemade crab cakes.

You’re expecting him home around lunchtime, so you’ve made sure to get all of your morning chores finished, before hopping in the shower, and prepping your afternoon picnic. While you wait, you prop yourself up against the trunk of the willow and go over Elliott’s letters once more, grateful for the shade on this sunny Spring day. You inspect your reflection in a nearby pond. Elliott loves you in all forms, in all appearances, but he does so love to go on and on about your natural beauty. So you've opted to greet him unabashed, unadulterated by any lingerie or make-up. You’ve chosen to wear a simple cotton dress, one he bought for you on his travels. Though you’re not ashamed to say you’ve got nothing on underneath.

Lost in thought as you browse Elliott’s letters once again, you almost miss the sound of your beloved’s voice calling out to you. You perk up, setting your book to the side and smoothing out some invisible wrinkles in your dress. Just as you’re lifting yourself from the solid ground, the swaying branches of the willow part and you’re greeted by a gently beaming Elliott.

“My darling!” he cries, dumping his rucksack rather unceremoniously to the ground and dashing towards you.

“Welcome home!” you return, equally as exuberant, rushing towards him. He scoops you up into his arms, breathlessly gushing about how much he’s missed you between peppering your face with kisses.

“You’ve no idea how happy I am to be reunited with you,” he breathes, cupping your face in his warm hands and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I’ve missed you,” you exhale, softly nuzzling his nose with yours.

“And I, you,” he chuckles, unable to tear his hands away from you. They slide over your hips, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his desperate grasp. He practically has to wrench himself from you when he notices the picnic blanket behind you. His emerald eyes light up with joy.

“What’s all this?” he exclaims, pulling himself from you to examine the basket full of goodies.

“In one of your letters you mentioned a lovely dream about picnicking under the willow,” you begin, smiling as you plop yourself down beside him on the blanket, “I thought it would be fun to re-enact it. But I thought that- perhaps you’d like dessert first?”

You say this last part slowly, flashing a coy gaze his way, letting one of the sleeves of your dress slip down your shoulder. Elliott immediately gets your drift, green eyes flicking up to meet yours, an impish smile dancing on his lips.

“I have been sorely missing your sweet delights,” he coos, leaning closer, his breath fanning gently against your lips.

“You’re so cheesy, El,” you giggle, before closing the distance and swallowing up Elliott’s laughter.

“You love it,” he manages, delighting in your twittering laughter as he slides one of his large hands up your dress and massages the tender flesh of your hip. Elliott presses feverish kiss after feverish kiss against your lips, making up for weeks of longing. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his copper hair. How you’ve missed the sensation of running your hands through his locks, letting each strand pool through your fingers like silk. Elliott hums quietly into you as he plucks you off the ground and sets you carefully onto his lap.

“You’re a vision, my darling,” he huffs, pulling back just long enough to catch his breath as he slips your other sleeve down your shoulder. Your dress pools around your waist while Elliott trails sloppy kisses down your neck, your collarbone, and finally the center of your chest.

“I can’t be the only one bare to the elements,” you complain, though without much conviction behind your words.

“Worry not, my star,” Elliott returns after a rumbling laugh, “I won’t make you face the elements alone.”

He tugs off his red coat while you make quick work of his bright green tie, casting it aside and letting it flutter to the grassy ground beside you. Hastily, Elliott slips off his trousers and undergarments while you do away with your dress entirely. As you turn back to him, you feel his erection graze your inner thigh.

“So eager, my love,” you purr, smoothing your hands over his chest, down his abdomen, and trailing the line of reddish hair that leads from his navel down to his groin.

“Can you blame me?” he returns, sucking in a sharp breath when you teasingly drag the tip of your finger along his hardened cock. You push him back gently, letting him lie down on the soft blanket beneath you.

“Hmm, what should we do about this?” you hum, giving him a few slow pumps. Elliott’s eyelids flutter shut and he can hardly help the moan that escapes his lips, chuckling ruefully at his reflexive response.

“I can think of a few things,” he returns, a sliver of green peeking out from underneath his lashes, “But first-”

He stays your hand, grasping the supple flesh of your thighs and pulling you closer towards his face.

“Will you permit me to indulge?” he beseeches, giving you the most pathetic, wanton look you’ve ever seen. You consider his request for a moment, though mostly for show. You’ve already decided you would love for him to “indulge,” as he puts it, but watching Elliott’s flushed face give you the most needy look in the world is your own form of indulgence.

“You may,” you finally grant, letting Elliott position you over his mouth.

“You’re too kind to me, my love,” he whispers, each puff of his breath against your heat sending delightful shivers through your body.

Before you can respond, Elliott yanks your hips down and presses his mouth against you. The wordsmith’s skilled tongue is good for all sorts of things, and not just storytelling. Slowly, Elliott circles your clit with the tip of his tongue while one of his hands grabs a fistful of your ass. The other makes its way up to your breast, thumb circling the sensitive bud of your nipple. You try your best not to grind too hard into him, but you can feel your legs quivering with the strain. Elliott’s nose bumps along the hood of your clit as he picks up his pace. He drags his tongue along the length of your heat, lapping you up like he’s been starved for months.

Your core tightens, burns hotter with every new sensation Elliott brings to the table. His tongue is darting in and out of your entrance, his hands squeezing and kneading. The next thing you know, you’re seeing stars and unraveling above your beloved writer. He grips your thighs tight, holding you in place as he finishes you off, his moans echoing through your own body.

“El!” you manage to squeak out as you ride him to completion. Your whole body is on fire, every nerve-ending alight with pleasure. When you’ve spent yourself, you slowly raise up and scoot back to give Elliott room to breathe again.

Elliott is sun dappled under the veil of willow leaves, his hair sparking copper in the afternoon light. His emerald eyes are filled with wonder, the corners crinkling as he smiles affectionately up at you. His lips glisten with your arousal and when you lean down to capture his lips with yours, he tastes of you. Elliott’s tongue traces the edges of your teeth and you find yourself getting worked up once again. When you manage to pull back, you feather kisses along Elliot’s freckled cheeks before impishly gazing back at his still hardened dick.

“I’d say it’s your turn, now, wouldn’t you?” you slyly suggest. For once, Elliott is lost for words, having to resort to vehemently nodding at your proposal. He tries to lift himself up, but you halt him with a deep, lingering kiss.

“Let me indulge, please?” you request, giving him a tender grin.

“Your wish is my command,” he speaks, voice crackly with a happy exhaustion, a joyous fatigue. You're delighted to do most of the work, especially given that he’s taken care of you so thoroughly and so well. You hover your entrance over his cock, steadying yourself by resting your hands on his abdomen before slowly lowering yourself onto him. The salacious groan Elliott lets out as you sheathe him inside you is enough to make you come again.

And then when you start to move- Oh, the sounds Elliott makes are just music to your ears. Every husky grunt, tiny mewl, or whimper sends electric tingles through your veins. Elliott’s hands are on your hips, helping you grind down into him as he pumps upwards. His green eyes are fixated on you, on every bounce of your breasts, every rolling motion of your hips.

“My darling! My Star!” he cries, his thumb pressing firmly to your clit before rotating it in quick motions. The double pleasure brings an unmitigated heat to your cheeks and the overstimulation after having just come down from your last orgasm is positively delicious. Elliott squeezes his eyes shut, his cheeks bright red. You can feel his cock twitching inside you. You’re not far behind him, your walls beginning to shudder. With a cry of your name, Elliott comes undone, threads of hot cum pouring into you. The coil in you breaks once again and all you can do is stifle your impassioned moans, head too foggy with pleasure for words.

The two of you remain unioned, unmoving for a bit, allowing yourselves to catch your breath and float back down from your glorious high. When you’re ready, Elliott helps you lift yourself off him before laying you down beside him and pulling you close. He wraps his arms around you, firmly pressing his lips to yours. You linger for a while like this, lazily pressing kiss after kiss to one another, enjoying the gentle breeze that’s picked up over the course of the afternoon. Birds chirp cheerfully in the nearby trees and the distant sound of the train echoes through the valley.

“Thank you for this most wonderful surprise,” Elliott finally speaks, his sparkling eyes searching yours, “It was a wonderful coming home present.”

“I had a lot of detailed and vivid inspiration,” you giggle.

“Well,” Elliott beams, “I have an excellent muse.”

“You know,” you go on slowly, tracing the freckles on his shoulder with the tip of your finger before shooting him a mischievous look, “You wrote down a lot of inspiring scenarios, not all of them about picnics.”

He smiles knowingly, “I think we’ve got plenty of material to work with before my next tour date.”

A/N: Make fun of me all you want, but I am a huge fan of cringey, cheesy, ridiculous foreplay banter. I just think it's good fun (and I think Elliott would be a pro at it). This was a super fun fic to write! I have been playing Stardew since it first came out and have loved Elliott throughout it all. He's such a sweetheart and so dramatic. I have been wanting to write a fic for him for a while! Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Lots of love 💜

#stardew valley #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #sdv fanfiction #dani writes #my writing #spicy #lemon

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myemuisemo · 2 months

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Gorgeous wilderness description opens "The Avenging Angels," part 12 of Letters from Watson. I wonder how much was inspired by Sir Richard Francis Burton's The City of Saints, recounting his travels in the west and visit to Brigham Young.

Our fleeing party is initially in the Oquirrh Mountains west of Salt Lake City.

The modern highway route skirts the Oquirrhs, in favor of a straight run across the salt flats.

If Ferrier, Lucy, and Jefferson Hope really made 30 miles in their first days, they reached the Cedar Mountains, which are less terrifyingly craggy but very much a desert. Deseret Peak is the pinnacle of this range, though any route across would look for a lower pass.

Were they to make it into what's now Nevada -- with Carson City clear the other side of the state -- there'd be a lot more of this. It's not hospitable country even today.

The big horn sheep is exotically western! And genuine! I am distracted from Jefferson Hope's wasting much of his kill by the discovery that the Sierra Nevada mountains (California - Nevada border, nowhere near our fleeing party yet, but important to me IRL) have their own genetically distinct big horn population.

Hope's slaughtered big horn is likely a Rocky Mountain big horn.

Of course, it's all a disaster. Everyone had to be doomed by the narrative in some way.

But we get an exact date: August 4, 1860.

Camp Floyd, the U.S. Army camp for the occupation of Utah following the Utah War of 1857-8, was right at the south end of the Oquirrh Mountains. Jefferson Hope had the option of hiding Ferrier and Lucy in the mountains and walking them right into the protection of the U.S. military. Maybe there were too many LDS settlers in the low spots in between (though I think Doyle didn't know or remember that the Utah War had happened).

Now comes the crucial moment that chafes me hard.

As the young fellow realized the certainty of her fate, and his own powerlessness to prevent it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the old farmer in his last silent resting-place. Again, however, his active spirit shook off the lethargy which springs from despair. If there was nothing else left to him, he could at least devote his life to revenge.

What about rescuing Lucy after she's married? Okay, Jefferson Hope can't get back to Salt Lake City in time to prevent a forced marriage. However, we're told later that she was a marriage prize primarily for control of her father's property. Once that's in the hands of her husband, would he bother pursuing her? In this period, marriage would make it his and eliminate her rights to it. (I'm assuming nobody is disputing the legality of polygamous marriages in this universe.)

Jefferson Hope really seems to buy in that once married (against her will), Lucy is legitimately another man's property. Admittedly, it's an era when pressuring an heiress into marriage was seen as fairly acceptable, if one's table manners were good. The burden was on the young woman to be too wise and firm to give in, and yet when Lucy shows fine judgment and takes action to avoid the match, she's taken by force. The system is so completely rigged against her; no wonder she can't find any hope to live for.

The schism that sends Drebber and Stangerson on their merry way appears to be fictional, as the Reorganized LDS under Joseph Smith III in the Midwest is too early (1861) and the Godbeites in SLC is too late (1869).

By the end of Jefferson Hope's epic pursuit from Russia to France to Denmark to England. we have now accounted for Drebber's existence in Cleveland, his employment of Stangerson, the gold ring, and the note about how Jefferson Hope is in Europe.

We have not accounted for why Drebber would go arm in arm with his enemy into a vacant house.

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes

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bonefall · 1 year

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What the heck are the humans doing in TNP

This will come up in the Bonefall TNP notes that are coming up, but it's worth a little preview since it's from the perspective of the cats who have NO IDEA that this means.

So here's what the humans are actually doing to the Forest Territory.

WindClan

-First territory to be destroyed; not actually part of the development

-the rabbit poisoning is noted by the cats to be unusual, rabbits near the farms are often poisoned but NEVER this far out

-they are able to figure out that their extermination is intentional. The humans weren't going after the rabbits; WindClan was their target all along

-What they DON'T know is that the human developers are working with sheep farmers nearby. It's going to be a BIG problem if the cats get in the way of development and they aren't aware Clan cats have factions.

-Moorland can be grazed by sheep, but the farmers don't want to risk their livestock near a feral cat colony, knowing rumors of the mountain cats further north which are suspected of killing sheep.

-Illegally poaching WindClan is the 'best' option for both parties

ThunderClan

-Simple enough: The area is being logged and clean cut.

-the first warning sign the cats notice is the Tallpines being clean cut; the land there was sold to the Developers

-The Development Company is building more suburban housing

-THIS WAS ACTUALLY VERY UNPOPULAR

-Druid's Leap was a popular hiking trail and the White Hart woods was a small, managed forest.

-Unbeknowst to the Clans, there was a massive pushback in the town, which was why the Development Company was ready to listen to the sheep farmers about dealing with the feral cat colony before it caused problems

-and then Speckletail Caused Problems

-THAT was when animal control came in, looking to humanely remove the feral cats. It's very likely they would have been relocated; but the Clan cats wouldn't know that

-a lot of the town was actually very sympathetic to the feral colony that lives out there. The Clans aren't famous like Cat Island, nor are they something you go to the woods to watch or anything, but they're Known by the locals.

-kinda hard to ignore the little patrols that run every dawn, noon, and dusk. Sometimes glimpses are caught of a warrior taking some garden catmint.

-it would actually make sense for the cats who escape that van to raise eyebrows in the Animal Control agents. "James did that cat just unlatch a cage? Bit odd innit?"

ShadowClan

-I keep trying to find resources on where to learn more about the life cycle of British Tips vs American Landfills but I can't find shit. You're all going to have to just bear with me on this lmao

-If you're a British Garbageperson... british rubbishman... idk what you call the dudes who take your trash... you can beat me to death if you want but I will explode in your compactor like a lithium battery, so just keep that in mind.

-I have more knowledge on conservation than urban planning OTL

-ANYWAY because the new housing is being built in the southernmost strip, it would get close to the Carrionplace (northallerton amenity tip)

-So the Dump is being sealed up and moved northeast.

-Assuming that Carrionplace is a landfill; it's sealed up with a layer of plastic, then clay, then topsoil.

-ShadowClan territory, a wetland, is going to get filled in. Suddenly it's incredibly hard to hunt, any trees will get felled.

-It's possible the south of the territory has more pine than marsh which means the bulldozing of the camp can stay.

-However it could also Animal Control, or just lumberjacks cleancutting the ShadowClan cedars.

RiverClan

The last ones to be affected.

-The construction disturbs a lot of the soil around the banks, and disturbs fish and wildlife.

-I may have the construction crew do some illegal dumping just for the dramatic effect of having the lake be visibly muddy instead of just unproductive

-I'll be honest, aside from the disturbance of fish and wildlife, realistically there wouldn't be much change to the river. I could get into the very specific way that England fucked their rivers in the Victorian era by trying to straighten them, but that wouldn't really apply to a suburban construction project.

-Damming the River could also make an interesting ecological impact.

#Bonefall TNP #Bonefall Rewrite

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