#south bay salt works

[nascent-anew]

#120mm #kodak portra 400 #film #medium format #pentax645nii #south bay salt works #chula vista #san diego #california

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

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#selkie #bucca #polyamory #polyamorous romance #poly story #o #historical fantasy #shifter romance #poly shifter romance #18th century romance #shapeshifter romance #m/m/f

[sycamorelibrary754]

Whoopie!

Summary: You decide to play baker while Yelena is at work and you’re stuck at home recovering from an injury. A fluffy sugar rush ensues. 

Pairings: Yelena Belova x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Angst

Word Count: 2k words

Warnings: A tiny bit of angst, but with a happy ending. Mentions of injury. 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! I took from my own experience as a dessert lover with a tendency for sugar rushes. Plus, I like the idea of Yelena saying whoopie lmao.

You were starting to go stir-crazy. You scrolled through the channels on the TV for the third time that morning; having watched every episode of Friends on Netflix. You were recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a few lacerations from a mission that went south last week. After surgery and a week in the Med Bay, Cho cleared you to continue recovering at home.

You felt like you were ready to get back to work in some fashion, but Yelena insisted that you still rest at home. This was her first day back at the compound since your surgery, so you knew she was going to call soon to make sure you were okay and not over-exerting yourself. You were about to give up on something to watch when you came across an episode of The Great British Bake Off. You have seen the show a couple of times. Wanda convinced you to watch it with her when you were on an undercover mission together. 

You had a major sweet tooth and everyone on the team knew it. You were the only one who had a penchant for hiding candy in your suit pockets. Nat was furious that one time you tossed her a gun during a fight, and instead, she caught a Twinkie. Subliminal messaging being a powerful tool, you were now craving something sweet. You get up carefully, mindful of your sling, and make your way to the kitchen. After unsuccessfully locating any candy, you grumble and start to walk back toward your bedroom when you remember The Great British Bake-Off.

You fancied yourself an accomplished baker. You made Christmas cookies for the team every year and pastry chef-quality cakes for birthdays. Thinking it over for a moment, you set about locating ingredients and the KitchenAid stand mixer. Your girlfriend couldn’t be mad at you for being up and about if the stand mixer was doing most of the work, right? 

You look up a couple of recipes on your phone and decide to go with red velvet whoopie pies. Not only would they be delicious, but you wanted to do something sweet for Yelena. She wouldn’t admit it, but you knew she had been terrified from the moment she heard the gunshot and found you on the ground clutching your shoulder. Yelena has done a brilliant job taking care of you over the past week. Helping you wash your hair in the shower and get dressed, both now a challenge with only one arm. You wanted to show her how much you appreciated it, and baking was one of your love languages. 

Flour, baking soda, vegetable oil, eggs, sugar, salt, buttermilk, and vinegar. The KitchenAid mixer blended the base, and then you added in the red food gel. As the batter started to turn red, you heard your phone ringing in your sweatpants pocket. You take out your phone and are greeted with your favorite picture of Yelena staring back at you. You smile and slide your finger across the screen. 

“Hi, Yelena,” you said, putting the phone on speaker. 

“Hi, detka. How are you feeling?” Yelena asked. 

“Alright”, you sighed. “Although, if I see that commercial for Rogers: The Musical one more time, I’m going to come down there and punch Cap in his stupid perfect face.” 

“Hmm, I’ll be sure to tell him how much you miss him”, Yelena said sarcastically. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I left some of the pain meds Cho prescribed for you on the counter if your shoulder starts getting cranky. I know it’s hard with only one arm, but have you checked your stitches today?” 

“I did, everything looks good.”

You turn the mixer on high to better incorporate the red food gel. 

“What’s that sound?” Yelena asked. 

“Oh… nothing. Just the TV, I’m watching the Food Network,” you fib. You wanted the whoopie pies to be a surprise. Plus, you knew your girlfriend would kick your ass for not resting if she found out you were currently playing baker. 

“I should be home in a couple of hours. Natasha is going to help me write my overdue mission report from the day you were injured so I can get out of here sooner” Yelena said hopefully. 

“Sounds great, I’ve missed you”, you admitted. 

“I’ve missed you too, malyshka. Get some rest, and I’ll be there soon to snuggle”.

“Looking forward to it! See you later, love.”

“Bye,” she replied

You put your phone back in your pocket and get back to baking. Once the batter is completely mixed, you use an ice cream scoop to transfer the batter to the trays and pop it in the oven. 

You then get to work on the filling. Butter, cream cheese, powdered sugar, marshmallow fluff, and vanilla extract. You give it a taste to make sure it’s right. You hum in delight, and have to stop yourself from eating the entire bowl of cream filling right then and there. As the round cakes are baking, you take a seat on the sofa. Fanny hops up next to you wanting you to pet her. Not caring that you only have one good arm. 

“I think your mom is going to love the surprise, what do you think?” 

Fanny tilts her head engagingly back at you. 

“Me too. Or she’s going to curse me out in Russian for not resting. Either way, we get dessert”, you say before kissing her on the top of the head. 

When the oven timer goes off you remove the pan from the oven and leave them to cool. You decide not to disobey Yelena completely and go change your bandages. Thankfully it was your non-dominant arm that took the bullet. By the time you’re done, the whoopie pies are cool and ready to be filled. You scoop the filling onto one cake and top it with the other; smiling to yourself when you finish assembling all of the whoopie pies. 

You put the eighteen whoopie pies in a Tupperware container in the refrigerator and take a seat at the counter. You glance at the clock and realize that time does fly when you’re having fun. Yelena is due home in 30 minutes. It’s then you notice the discomfort in your shoulder has grown into genuine pain. You pick up your prescription that she left out for you and a glass of water. You are about to take it when you notice the label on the pill bottle says they must be taken with food. 

You groan and slump down in your chair, not having the energy to go find something to eat. Maybe Yelena was right, you shouldn’t have over-exerted yourself. Then you remember the whoopie pies. Okay, so they weren’t exactly the healthiest partner for your pain meds, but they were fresh. You grab one of the confections from the refrigerator and a soda to drink. After you eat the whole thing, you wash down your painkillers with some soda. 

Hopefully, the meds would kick in before Yelena got home. It was true, you were an Avenger, but you were terrible at hiding things from your world-class spy girlfriend. You sit back down on the sofa and start scrolling through your phone. You can't help but look back up at the refrigerator. Maybe one more whoopie pie wouldn't hurt. After all, you did need to keep your strength up. You grab another one and another soda and walk back to the living room. Fanny watches you intensely as you enjoy the second dessert. 

“Fine, one little piece. Don't tell Mom” you relented, as you tear off a tiny piece of the red cake and give it to the dog. 

When you’re done, you sigh and drag your hand down your face. Your baking escapade was the most energy you had expended since your injury. Not wanting to head back to your bedroom yet, you make yourself comfortable on the sofa. You get settled with your favorite blanket as Fanny cuddles up at your feet. After about 20 minutes, you notice the pain in your shoulder has almost completely subsided. Pleased with yourself, you do a little happy dance while still seated. You turn on your favorite playlist and can’t help but stand up when the beat drops on your favorite song. That little happy dance soon turns into full-blown one-armed dancing and singing. All of that sugar finally going to your head. 

You’re so engrossed in your sugar rush, that you lose track of time. You don’t hear the jingle of keys or the opening of your front door. Yelena stands in the doorway watching you before finally interrupting and scaring the living shit out of you.

“This is what you call resting?” 

You jump three feet before you realize it’s not a threat. “Yelena, you’re home! Woohoo! Happy dance!!” you shouted as you start dancing around the room. 

“What is happening? Have you been sampling my vodka?” she asked, her eyes following you around the room.

“What? No, I just had a snack! Two snacks… Well, dessert. Oh, and sodas! See, I wanted to do something nice for you because I know you've been worried about me since my injury and I love you, so I made red velvet whoopie pies!” you ramble a mile a minute. 

“Calm down… you made what now?” Yelena asked with a furrowed brow.

Red velvet whoopie pies! Soft rounds of red velvet cake with cream filling in between!” You run over to the counter and pick one up to show her with a child-like grin on your face. 

Yelena stares at you with a blank expression for a few seconds before launching into her native tongue. 

Tebe polozheno otdykhat', a vmesto etogo ty provodish' ves' den', kricha! Vy s uma soshli? Vas zastrelili. Chto delat', yesli shvy razoshlis'? YA ne khochu snova okazat'sya s toboy v Med-Bey. YA znal, chto mne ne sledovalo ostavlyat' tebya odnu.

You are supposed to rest and instead, you spend all afternoon making whoopies! Are you crazy? You were shot. What if your stitches split open? I don't want to end up back in the Med Bay with you. I knew I should not have left you alone. 

“Does that mean wow, you’re amazing sweetheart I’d love to try one?” You questioned with a giggle from the sugar rush.

“No”, Yelena said softly as she walks over to you. Her eyes meeting yours with concern. “You should be in bed”.

“Just try one for me pleaseeeee”, you said with your best puppy dog eyes.

“If I try it, will you rest?”

“Absolutely, for sure, of course, affirmative, by all means, certainly, yep, very well, okey-dokey, yes.” Happily bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet.

You hand Yelena a whoopie pie. She eyes you up and down curiously before taking a bite. 

“Well?” You ask with a smile.

“It’s very good”, she said, wiping cream filling from the corner of her mouth. But you can see a smile pulling at her lips and you know she loves it. 

“I knew you'd love it!” You say doing a little dance and raising your good arm in the air in triumph. 

“Fine, it’s delicious. Sweet, just like you, malyshka”, she admitted.

“Whoopie!  It’s so cool, right?”

“Yes, your little American whoopie is so cool,” Yelena agreed patting your cheek lovingly to get you to focus on her. “I’m going to shower and get changed. Will you please go back to bed now, detka?”

“Yes, ma’am. I could do this all day!” You joked in your best Captain America voice. 

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Now I’m going to punch Cap”, Yelena grumbles before turning around and walking towards your bedroom.

You start to follow her before you pause to quietly reach for one more whoopie pie. 

“And no more whoopies!” She yelled without turning around. 

“Awww!” you whined.

You finally get back in bed, admittedly starting to crash from your sugar rush. Yelena joins you after showering and changing into sweatpants and one of your band T-shirts. She climbs into bed beside you and wraps her arms around you gently. 

“I’m the best baker on the team…,” you mumbled as you start to drift off. 

“Yes, deka, the best baker on the team”, Yelena agreed. “Get some sleep now, whoopie.” 

#mcu #yelena boleva x reader #yelena belova x female reader #the avengers #fluff #comfort #angst with a happy ending

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A large, shallow bowl filled with a bright yellow curd and golden brown pakora garnished with cilantro. A small bowl of jeera rice with green cardamom, cinnamon, bay leaf, and cilantro sits to the right. End ID.]

Vegan Punjabi kadhi pakora / ਪੰਜਾਬੀ ਕੜ੍ਹੀ ਪਕੌੜਾ 

Kadhi is a comfort food popular in north and central India and southeast Pakistan. The base of the dish is spiced curd or buttermilk, to which chickpea flour, vegetable fritters, and spiced tadkas (temperings) are sometimes added. Unlike the sweeter, thinner, and unadorned variations to the south, Punjabi kadhi is slowly reduced to a thick, creamy consistency and studded with onion pakoras.

Recipe under the cut!

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For the pyaaz ke pakore (onion fritters):

1 cup besan (chickpea flour)

2 medium yellow onions, thinly sliced

1/2 tsp table salt

1/2 tsp mirchi (ground red chilis)

1/2 tsp ajwain (carom seeds)

A couple cups of a neutral oil, for frying

For the curd:

1 cup (220g) unflavored vegan yoghurt

1/2 cup (60g) besan

1/2 tsp amchur (dried mango powder; optional)

4 cups water

In Punjab, kadhi is often made with full-fat buttermilk, and sometimes with yoghurt. Vegan yoghurt (I used oat) will provide a similarly smooth, fatty, slightly sour base.

Adding less water to the curd mixture will allow it to cook down faster if you’re short on time; but a long, slow simmer is more typical with this dish.

For the kadhi:

2 Tbsp neutral oil

Pinch hing (asafoetida)

1 medium yellow onion, chopped

2-inch piece (20g) ginger, minced

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 green chilis, chopped

2 tsp cumin seeds (jeera)

1/4 tsp fenugreek seeds (methi)

1 tsp ground coriander

1/2 tsp mirchi (ground red chilis)

1/2 tsp ground turmeric

1/2 tsp garam masala

3/4 tsp table salt, or to taste

Mustard oil is typical, but any neutral oil (sunflower, canola, vegetable) will work.

For the tadka (optional):

1 Tbsp non-dairy margarine

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 dried red chili

1/2 tsp mirchi

Instructions:

1. Start the pakore. Cut onions in half through the root and lay cut-side down. Slice thinly vertically (perpendicular to the root) and then cut the root off. Whisk together other pakora ingredients (except for the oil) in a large bowl; add the onions and toss well to combine. Cover and set aside for 30 minutes to allow onions to release moisture.

2. Make the curd mixture. Whisk yoghurt and besan together in a large bowl. Add amchur (or substitute apple cider vinegar) if the yoghurt you are using is not particularly sour, to taste. Add water and whisk until a smooth mixture forms. Set aside.

3. Make the kadhi. Heat 2 Tbsp of a neutral oil in a large pot on medium-high. Fry fenugreek and cumin seeds for a few minutes until they are fragrant and popping into the air.

4. Add hing and cook for 30 seconds. Add onion, chili, and salt and saute for 3-4 minutes, until onion is translucent.

5. Add ginger and garlic and sauté for 30 seconds to a minute, until no longer raw-smelling. Add coriander, mirchi, and turmeric and sauté another 30 seconds.

6. Add the curd mixture and stir to combine. Allow to come to a boil, then lower the heat to low and allow it to cook, stirring occasionally, for 30-45 minutes, until thickened.

7. Meanwhile, finish the pakore. Stir the onion slices to distribute any moisture they may have released. Add just enough water to hydrate all the besan and allow the pakoras to hold together.

8. Heat about an inch of neutral oil on medium in a large pan. Once hot, drop small handfuls of pakora mixture into the oil. Fry, flipping once, until golden brown on both sides. Remove onto a paper-towel-lined plate or wire rack.

9. Add pakoras to the kadhi, along with garam masala, and allow to simmer for another 5-10 minutes until kadhi is very thick and creamy. Remove into a serving dish.

10. Make the tadka. Heat margarine in a small skillet until sizzling. Add cumin seeds, chili pepper, and mirchi and heat until fragrant. Pour the oil, seeds, and chili over the finished kadhi and serve immediately.

Serve with roti, paratha, rice, or jeera rice.

#recipes #vegan recipes #cooking #Indian recipes #Indian #Punjabi #yoghurt #yogurt #besan #chickpea flour #pakora

[mapping-elysium]

Coast Orb: Snow Shivers

WEST

More coast with abandoned buildings and piers

Pre-revolution effort to gentrify the coast

Coal city

Boom town from when revachol was powered mostly by coal

“in the shadow of Saint-Martin”

Supplanted by offshore petroleum and hydropower from Esperance

Infrastructure crumbled. Now a poor area “only the weakest remain”

Below the mines: L'Ossuaire Municipal, Revachol's underground cemetery

Les Petits rats attempt to to find Le Royaume (royal burial chambers)

EAST

Canal and Martinaise

[see PLAZA ORB] whitest part of town

Run-off point of a long forgotten canal

NORTH

Church

1 of 2 remaining stave churches

Originally of a set of 8 called Les Sept Souers “other six sisters were destroyed during the revolutions”

World’s end

Islets

Sea Fortress: The 114th Anti-Aircraft Division of the 4th Army of the Commune of Revachol

Résurrection: Popular spa for  Ozonne residents

A couple of other islets scattered and uninhabited

Martinaise Inlet

Bay of Revachol

1200 m depth

Ozonne

SOUTH

8/81 - raised motorway

Separates Martinaise from Jamrock

Buildings under the motorway (Labyrinthine alleyways)

The Pox

Once a park for the Old Military Hospital

In the 20s was a quarantine center during measles outbreak

Abandoned after the outbreak

Completely wild now, overrun by feral dogs and wolves

Police keep deepest corners cordoned off

Precinct 41

Line of motor garages 

Repurposed silk mill

Central Jamrock

Utility district - Library, florist, saramisizian restaurant

Brothels, drug dens and Zemlyaki(gang) chopshops

Built around lake formed by meteorite strike [Ship in the middle]

Below

sand poisoned with industrial run-off. The storm drainage. Hidden bunkers

NOTES: This is unfortunately the last of the notes I had written ahead of time so things may move slower. Hopefully I've made enough posts that you all can understand the format I'm going for. Joyce's Reality Lowdown is going to take a long time to work through

Shivers - Winter, slow to let go of Revachol, flecks some more wet snow from above...

You - Look around you.

Shivers - The snow falls lazily, making the beach sand paler still, mixing with the rust-coloured sewage run-off.

Shivers - And to think -- it seemed as though it were already spring.

You - How does it feel?

Shivers - Your teeth chatter as the snow melts on your exposed skin, running down your chest and your back in icy rivulets. To distract yourself, you look around...

Replaced with "Your teeth chatter as the snow melts on your exposed skin, running down your chest and your back in icy rivulets. The toes of your one bare foot are growing numb. To distract yourself, you look around..." if HasShoes() == false and (CheckEquipped("shoes_snakeskin_left") or CheckEquipped("shoes_snakeskin_right"))

Replaced with "Your teeth chatter as the snow melts on your exposed skin, running down your chest and your back in icy rivulets. Your bare feet are growing numb. To distract yourself, you look around..." if HasShoes() == false

You - What's in the west?

Shivers - More winding coastline lined with abandoned buildings. Crumbling piers, salt water lapping at their dark piles. Grey and red, forgotten city blocks. What remains of the pre-revolutionary effort to gentrify the coast.

You - And beyond that?

Shivers - The waters turn black. Coal City in the shadow of Saint-Martin, a boom town, back when coal extracted from countless shafts near the city was needed to power Revachol.

Shivers - No more. The coal was supplanted by petroleum from the ocean floor and hydropower from the Esperance. Everything crumbled. These days, only the weakest remain in Coal City. Their hopes of getting rich linger in the defunct shafts under their feet.

You - What is there?

Shivers - Below the old mines -- L'Ossuaire Municipal, Revachol's underground cemetery. *Les petits rats* brave the underground passageways, trying to get to Le Royaume...

You - Le Royaume...

Shivers - ...where the Filippian kings were interred, with their doctors and their admirals. Mausoleums, burial chambers, leaf gold still remains on the Double Door of the Morning.

You - That's where Cuno said he's gonna go...

Shivers - Yes. To peel the gold off with his fingernails.

You - Les *petits rats*...

Shivers - Children under 14. They go underground, looking for artefacts to sell to foreign museums -- and for fabled relics. Their parents let them. They go deeper...

You - Deeper...

Shivers - ...after rubies, melchiorite, lapis lazuli plundered from Safre and Seol during the time of the Suzerain. In the burial chambers of the kings: Grand Old Filippe, Guillaume II, and even in the mausoleum of Filippe the Opulent.

Shivers - Two kilometres underground, in a winding shaft along whose walls mirrors have been placed so that daylight may eternally fall upon the richest of all the kings.

Shivers - The mausoleum contains untold quantities of gold -- and that special, purest-of-the-pure magenta cocaine favoured by Revacholian royalty.

Electrochemistry - Did someone say *untold quantities of cocaine*? Drop everything immediately and go looking for this hoard!

Logic - How can it be pure if it's magenta?

You - Wipe the snow from your shoulder.

Shivers - Few *petits rats* return from the shafts -- and even fewer find what they're looking for. A small child steps out of a black tunnel, with silver trinkets in her pockets.

Shivers - All around her, white snow on the extinguished coke furnaces, and on the weather-worn shacks, where fathers beat their sons after drinking. The snow melts on your fingers, turning to water.

You - What's in the east?

Shivers - The canal you crossed to get here, and beyond it -- Martinaise proper, the district the police forgot to police. There is laughter, lights, attempts at entrepreneurial activity, cynicism.

Shivers - Someone is scraping snow off their windshield. At the roundabout, in the midst of which a statue of Filippe the III serves as a destination for grade-school field trips and a fine perch for winter birds.

You - And further...

Shivers - A fenced-off yard. There's a truck belonging to a logistics company parked next to the gate. Bright light from a building behind the fence reflects off its hood.

Replaced with "A fenced-off yard. There's a truck belonging to a logistics company parked next to the gate. You've seen it. Bright light from a building behind the fence reflects off its hood." if Variable["jam.dlc_truck_shivers_orb_done"]

Replaced with "A fenced-off yard. There's a truck belonging to a logistics company parked next to the gate. You've heard about it. Bright light from a building behind the fence reflects off its hood." if Variable["village.idiot_cocaine_dlc"]

Conceptualization - Clean white light, coming from the windows of a clean cube-shaped office building hidden amidst ruins. A secret...

You - What's in the north?

Shivers - The abandoned church. One of two remaining stave churches which were collectively called les Sept Soeurs. The other six sisters were destroyed during the Revolution.

You - And further north?

Shivers - A serpentine strip of land weaving its way into the Martinaise inlet. Unfortunates on the run -- from the law, from themselves -- sometimes hide out on nearby islets. Little dots in the ocean that are occasionally submerged when the tide is high and the weather foul.

You - And on the islets?

Shivers - The remains of a camp on a jagged piece of rock -- a tent, old dishes and cutlery. Long since abandoned. A hermit crab scuttles among the debris, looking for a new shell.

Shivers - Further out, the lights burn bright on Résurrection; way beyond Martinaise -- a popular spa destination for ample-bodied Ozonne kids with equally ample pockets.

You - And on the other side of the inlet?

Shivers - Then there's Ozonne... but the snow falls too thick. You cannot see that far.

You - Before that? Before the curtains are drawn...

Shivers - The Bay of Revachol, vastness, great depth -- over 1200 m at its deepest. Water, air brinier than here. It is crisscrossed by huge cargo ships bearing company logos: Wild Pines, ZAMM, Moriyn.

Shivers - And, at the farthest reaches of the Bay of Revachol -- the shadow of Coalition Warship Archer, on perpetual patrol duty, ready to unleash artillery fire if you were to rise up against the market. You shudder.

You - What's in the south?

Shivers - The raised motorway, 8/81, separating Martinaise from Jamrock. Vehicles whoosh past one another day and night, while those who reside in the labyrinthine alleyways beneath the motorway attempt to carry on with their lives in the snow and the slush. And south of the 8/81 is the Pox.

You - The Pox...

Shivers - ...was once a park, a place for reflection and recuperation for the patients of the Old Military Hospital. In the Twenties, it was used as a quarantine centre during a measles outbreak that killed many children. Most everyone has avoided the hospital and surrounding park ever since.

Shivers - The Pox is completely wild now. Evergreen thickets covered in snow and industrial dust. Feral dogs and even wolves roaming in packs. The police try to keep the deepest corners cordoned off.

You - But still...

Shivers - ...heavy drug users do slip through and hole up in the Old Military Hospital, hoping to find something to get high on among the hastily abandoned supplies. Or just to overdose in peace.

You - Further south...

Shivers - A line of motor garages with armoured carapaces, hunched in the cold. A mechanic is hard at work, patching up bullet holes in the side of a Coupris 40. These are the garages of Precinct 41. Snow settles on the roof of the re-purposed silk mill that serves as your station. Shivering RCM personnel hurry in and out of the main entrance.

Mack Torson - "Wonder if Vic's found his hetero-sexual life partner yet." The man in the fishnet wifebeater looks over at Chester McLaine.

Chester McLaine - "Damn, I don't know. Even a real *bröderbund* like that can't survive everything..."

Shivers - Around you, the snow continues to fall. To the west, the ocean swells.

You - No, it was home. I want more.

Shivers - The stairs descend -- to Central Jamrock. A man named Kuklov has a snow-covered stall there, in the market across the bridge. He sells kebab infested with fly larvae to your colleagues who believe eating it will make them immune to food poisoning.

Shivers - Snow falls on the utility district: the library, the florist, the Saramirizian restaurant that offers homemade wine. And also on the brothels and drug dens, and the chop shops of the zemlyaki.

Shivers - All of this built around a lake that formed in a meteorite strike. At the centre of this lake, there is a little ship. There are lights at the bottom of its hull. They are lights directed toward the sea floor, looking for something, like whiskers...

You - For what?

Shivers - A chill comes over you, crawling down your back. The sand under your feet is wet. Somewhere in the south, tarpaulin flap in the wind.

You - What's below me?

Shivers - Layer upon layer of sand poisoned with industrial run-off. The storm drainage. Hidden bunkers. Rats scuttle...

You - Tell me a secret of the sands, wind.

Shivers - Someone's stuffed a big old polar anorak into a concrete pipe under the boardwalk. It would keep you warm. You will probably never happen across it, but who knows.

You - Stomp your feet for warmth, brushing off the snow. [Finish thought.]

Kim Kitsuragi - "We should keep moving. Who knows when this snow will let up?"

#disco elysium #map project #revachol #jamrock #coal city #martinaise #saint-martin

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 4.1k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I literally got the inspo to write this chapter from a TikTok I once saw like, 2 months ago. and I was like, huh- that'd actually make a good fic idea!! 💀 anyways, stream skz's lola performance tmrw!!! 🫣 also, thanks to @cb97breathing for literally being my biggest cheerleader with this fic lmao, you ROCK bby and ilysm!!! 😭🥹💙 ALSO YES I JUST CHANGED MY ENTIRE TUMBLR THEME YESTERDAY SO IF YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE MY NEW LOOK IM SO SORRY- 🤡

🌊 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

Every day leading up to the party at Jeongin’s, you met Felix outside early in the morning. At first, it just started as you waking up before the sun rose to catch a glimpse of him wading into the ocean waters. 

 But then, things steadily turned into you sitting outside on your parent’s porch, just like you had on his second day back at Bridgeport Bay. And each time he acknowledged your presence there in the wicker chair, he’d come over after his swim, trickling with cerulean teardrops from the sea and smelling of warm salt and sand. 

 The two of you got to talking, as the mornings passed. And the later in the week it grew, the more you realized how much Felix hadn’t changed. He was still the taekwondo prodigy from elementary school, who had risen to fame amongst his university classmates in South Korea. He was still the goofy kid from your childhood, the middle schooler who had grown up to play weird pranks on his friends in university. He was still the kid from high school who hated tomatoes, and always asked for them on the side when his university’s canteen had ‘burger night.’

 He was everything you had known him for, but so much more too. 

 He was a grown adult, who had foraged a life of his own in a country thousands of miles away from Bridgeport Bay. He was a fully-fledged man - who had a degree in Performing Dance Arts and hoped to become a dance instructor after his summer break. 

 Not to mention, he looked very different from how you used to know him.

 Every day that passed, with him standing there in front of you, drenched in seawater, you were reminded of this fact. 

 From the chiseled abs and sculpted arms and sharp, pointed jaw. 

 When the sight of that side of him became too much, you usually called it quits - claiming that you had to get ready for the day. In reality, you just had to make a hasty escape. 

 So that you could sink to the floor in your bedroom after you had said your goodbyes. 

 So that you could listen to the raging clang of your heartbeat against your ribcage in the quietness of your room. 

 So that your mind could play that version of him over and over again in the forefront of your mind. 

 And then before you knew it, it was the day of the party and you and Yeji were driving over to Jeongin’s house in her car. Chris lived close to Jeongin’s place, so he was going to meet you guys there.

 “This party is gonna be so fucking good,” she was saying, just as she pulled up to his place. Already, there were loads of cars lining either side of the residential street. And just as you had remembered it, his quaint house was tucked right next to the beautiful mountainside of Bridgeport Bay that you had always glimpsed from your bedroom window growing up. “Like, I’ve been wanting to go to one for a while now… thanks so much for inviting me, babe.” 

 As you stepped out of her cherry-red Corolla, you flashed her an easy smile. “Yeah, no problem, I thought it’d be fun to have you tag along…” Plus, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t know many of the people at the party besides your immediate friends. And Chris, of course.  

 The two of you began to make your way over to Jeongin’s front door. You noticed the large number of people who were lingering outside, with adults who looked around your age holding bottles of beer, and couples making out while sitting on the front lawn. So basically, the usual that happened at such parties. The bass of the music vibrated through your heels and into your spine as you finally stepped through the threshold of the house. 

 Everything was dark, save for the few lanterns and candles that were lit throughout the place. Party-goers were everywhere, only getting rowdier as the minutes ticked by and the alcohol flowed through bloodlines. There was a makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room, which was almost unrecognizable from how many wriggling bodies were crammed into the small carpeted space. Men and women alike rubbed up on each other, and you quickly averted your eyes as soon as you saw a few begin to move like fucking pole dancers. 

 “I need a drink,” you said, massaging the back of your neck in awkwardness as you and Yeji flooded through the cramped hallway. It had been so long since you had been inside Jeongin’s house, but walking between the dark sage-colored walls brought you back to your teenage years when you used to come over on occasion to hang out with Felix and Jeongin and the rest of their friend group. 

 The kitchen wasn’t bustling with as many people as the rest of the ranch-style house, meaning that you could catch your breath for a few seconds. As you stood there, off to the sidelines, you watched as Yeji fetched you a beer - she was going to be the designated driver for the night, so no alcohol for her. The few guys that stood near the countertop that was overflowing with bags of chips and candy gave her silent looks of interest. 

 Your best friend had always been rather gorgeous, even at the tender age of nine, when you had initially met her. Her long, raven-black hair was silky and seemed to shine under the lights of the kitchen, and she had a perpetual smile plastered onto her face. For the party, she was dressed in a show-stopping black mini-dress that brought out the milky tone of her skin and clashed perfectly with her dark eyes and red-tinted lips. 

 On the other hand, there you were - in a simple pair of light-washed shorts and a pastel blue tank that had a small daisy print on it. Your outfit was nothing fancy, and nothing compared to the glamorous aesthetic of your best friend. But it was comfortable and you liked being comfortable. 

 Just then, you felt warm fingers thread through your own, pulling you back. You peered up to see a smirking Chris. “Hi, there, beautiful… mind if I get your name?” He asked in a low voice that was hard to hear over the blaring EDM music that was pulsing throughout the entire house. 

 Already feeling the smile brighten your entire being, you leaned up into him and gave his lips a sweet kiss. “Hi, babe- did you just get here?” Yeji stepped in front of you then, pushing a red solo cup of beer into your free hand that wasn’t currently threading through your boyfriend’s dark tresses. 

 “Nah, I’ve been here for a while- it's been nice catching up with some old friends.” Chris reached forward, grabbing the cup out of your hands and taking a big swig of the liquor. As he pulled the rim of the cup away from his mouth, he frowned slowly. “Ugh- this tastes like shit. I need to give Jeongin some pointers next time he buys the alcohol.” 

 “Hey Y/N, do you mind if I leave you here? I’m pretty sure I just saw one of my old friends from high school and I-”

 Chris was already waving a nonchalant hand in the air, pulling you a little closer to his side as he said, “Don’t worry about it, Yeji, she’s in good hands.” You drew your gaze away from your boyfriend’s chiseled jaw and offered your friend a delicate nod. 

 “Seriously, don’t worry about me and go out there and have some fun… you deserve it.” Yeji squealed at your approval, wrapping one of her arms around you and giving your side a tight squeeze before she was flitting out of the kitchen altogether. 

 Just then your boyfriend was tugging on your hand, pulling you through the threshold of the kitchen and out into the throng of people again. “C’mon, I want you to see some of the guys from high school.” By ‘guys,’ he meant his best friends from the soccer team that he had played on throughout high school. He still kept in touch with them regularly, but you didn’t hang out with them that much, so it had been quite some time since you had seen their faces. 

 “But I hate big crowds,” you whined at him as he tugged you through the bodies that were smashed together in the dining room. Felix had said that it would be a small party with just some close friends, but obviously, he had only said that to get you to come. You’d need a lot more than just one beer if you were going to get through the night unscathed and still standing. Chris pulled you out to the back patio area, passing the pool that was full of shouting drunks. “And I don’t really-”

 Your voice caught in your throat as your boyfriend finally stopped in front of the fire pit that was tucked away into the corner of the backyard. You had sat around the raging fire and had roasted marshmallows one time before, back when you were a junior in high school and it was winter out. 

 There, sitting around the fire, were a handful of Chris’ former teammates from high school. And also, some of Felix’s groupies. 

 And then, there was… 

 Felix, too. 

 He was sitting in a lawn chair that was pulled up close to the fire. He was tipping his head back as he took a long draw from his glass that looked full of coke. He had never been a big alcohol drinker. Similar to you, he was dressed down - in tight black jeans and a baggy graphic tee. A single thin silver chain hung around his neck, drawing attention to his exposed clavicle. 

 It took him a moment to notice you, but as soon as he did, he was rising from his seat and darting over to your side. “Y/N- hi, happy you could make it!” He exclaimed cheerfully, as he gave you a quick side hug. 

 Almost instantly, Chris was pulling away from your form and finding a seat near his friends, seemingly forgetting about your presence right then and there and instead focusing on his old friends. 

 You gave Chris a glare from the way that he was practically abandoning you around a bunch of near-strangers. But you managed to flash Felix a faint smile, “Yeah, thanks for inviting me. Although, I didn’t think there’d be this many people here…” Your voice trailed off, as your eyes followed the line of people that were spaced around the pool’s edge, jumping into the blue-tinted water or chatting with alcohol in hand. 

 Felix ran a nervous hand through his blonde locks, grimacing quietly, “Jeongin said it was just gonna be a quiet thing. But, obviously, he invited more than just a few people.” Rolling his eyes at that, he motioned with a tilt of his head to the two empty chairs that were nearby. “Wanna roast a couple of marshmallows with me?” 

 “I’d love to.” You said with a grin, as you took a seat beside the fire. Immediately, the warmth enveloped you, calming your racing heart and forcing you to relax in your chair. 

 Your anxiety was just from the large party. 

 You had never been a big fan of immense crowds. 

 Yeah, it was definitely from that. 

Felix kept his gaze on you as he slid two fluffy white marshmallows onto separate roasting sticks. “I thought you were bringing Yeji tonight.” He gave you one of the sticks, and you soon leaned forward and slowly began to roast your marshmallow. 

 “She’s here- just off catching up with some of her old friends from high school,” you began, as you watched the flames lick around the whiteness, biting into the gooey skin and toasting it a beautiful brown colour. “You know how it can be sometimes… time slips past you when you meet friends from the past.” 

 Your eyes flitted over to his form then, and he caught your stare. The air seemed to halt around you, the tension snapping between you as his face darkened somewhat. The starry-night sky did little to brighten the atmosphere, the waning crescent moon shining high above your head and casting a light glow across his freckled cheeks. 

 Like the fucking elephant in the room, you both knew that your words were meant for more than just Yeji and her friends. 

 “Mhm- it can be a lot to deal with when you see old friends again.” He mused in a low voice, one that you knew was only meant for you to hear. His gaze slid away from you then, as he focused all his energy on smushing his browned marshmallow between two pieces of cinnamon graham crackers and a slab of milk chocolate. “Here,” he moved towards you, offering up the s’more with delicate fingers. 

 You snorted incredulously, pushing his hand away from your face, “That’s yours, Felix.” 

 “Well, I want you to have it.” 

 And before you could offer up any more protests, he was shifting against your side, shoving the sweet thing into your open hand. Fingers brushed across fingers, and you were jolted backward from the contact. From the softness of it all. From the feeling of his palm swiping against your knuckles. 

 “Besides, I’ve already had like, five tonight. I don’t need any more marshmallows for a while.” 

 Quietly, you took a tiny bite out of the warm dessert. The sugar burst across your tongue, and you were brought back to your childhood, during the days when you and Felix used to roast marshmallows on your parent’s porch deep into the summer months. 

 The melty center of the marshmallow reminded you of him. 

 The saccharine taste of it all remained you of him. 

 And suddenly, you no longer felt hungry for another s’more. 

 Eyes scanning over the fire pit, you caught sight of Chris. He was sprawled out in his chair, chuckling over something stupid that his friend was telling him with animated gestures. You could tell that the liquor was going straight to his head, making him dizzy and irrational. You always hated when he drank. He turned into a different person whenever he did. 

 Just as you were about to tell Felix that you didn’t want another s’more, a voice rang out from across your side. “Ayo- you made it Y/N… good to see you!” You peered up from your seat to see a beaming Jeongin. He reached out to you, rustling your hair playfully as he drew closer to the bonfire. 

 “It’s a bigger turnout than I thought it would be, that’s for sure.” You said, but you couldn’t help the smile that erupted across your face at the sight of your old acquaintance. It was good to meet up with the people from your childhood. It felt like you were taking a trip down memory lane, one which was endearing and peaceful, and full of happiness. 

 At least, most of the feelings you felt right then were joyful ones. 

 “I bring offerings,” Jeongin announced to the entire ground that sat around the fire pit, holding up the plethora of green beer bottles that he had clasped in either hand. “We’re about to play a lit game of truth or dare!” 

 Seungmin, one of Felix’s friends from high school, grumbled out from across the roaring flames. “Can you please stop using the word lit? It’s really fucking annoying and super outdated.” 

 Jeongin rolled his eyes dramatically, sticking out his tongue in defiance. “Get used to it bro- it’s my new favorite word.” 

 “You guys are so fucking ridiculous…” You heard Felix say under his breath from beside you. Nonetheless, you saw the fondness that crossed his face at the sight of his friends bickering together. Just like old times, it would seem. 

“The rules are, if you can’t tell the truth or do the dare, you have to take a shot,” Jeongin explained, as he picked a few empty solo cups off of the ground and began to fill them up with beer. “We’ll go clockwise, so… Jason, you start.” 

 The first player up was one of Chris’ friends, and he chose one of the girls that you didn’t know to pick truth or dare. She chose a dare and was forced to jump into the nearby pool fully clothed. Everyone around the campfire clapped in delight at how daring she was, and the game steadily continued from them. 

 Halfway through the first round, Yeji appeared from the backyard porch. “What’d I miss?” She asked, as he leaned over your shoulder and peered into the fire. 

 You shrugged, giving her arm a fond squeeze, “Nothing much, we’re just playing a few rounds of truth or dare. You wanna join in?” You watched as she found a lone chair somewhere off into the distance, dragging it towards the fire and plopping into it right beside you. And just like that, Yeji joined in on the fun. 

 The first three rounds passed in a blur of shots being thrown back and confessions being thrown around. You had avoided playing wholeheartedly, instead opting to take a few drinks in the wake of avoiding pressing truths or a crazy dare. 

 As the night passed on, the crowd of people around the pool seemed to grow, the music from inside the house getting louder and spilling out into the backyard. A few more people joined in on the game as time slipped by, and soon, you had a large group participating in the fun. The entire time, Felix hadn’t taken a sip of alcohol, instead opting to nurse his cherry coke. You guessed he must’ve been the assigned designated driver for the night for some of his friends. 

 Yeji lost her rights to drive by her third shot, and since everyone else was pretty shit-faced, that left only Felix as the completely sober one. The idea of having him drive you home sent a pang of hurt to course through your veins. You didn’t want to be a nuisance or bother him in the least bit. 

 “I choose… Chris!” Changbin, one of Felix’s older friends, shouted over the loudness of the party. It was his turn to pick his victim and you could tell his ideas were going to be bad - if his wide smirk was anything to go off of. “Truth or dare?” 

 Chris’ eyes were so glazed over, the red flames from the fire reflected off of his irises in an eery kind of way. His cheeks were dusted with a crimson flush from the liquor, a deep, toothy scowl permanently etched onto his lips. At that moment, you didn’t even want the others to know that he was your boyfriend. His drunkenness was too embarrassing. Albeit, a lot of the others were nearly blacked-out too, but something about Chris slurring his words and yelling loudly did something funny to your heart. Made it trip over itself and forced a lump to form in your throat.

 “I- choose… dare.” He mumbled elatedly, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. But he seemed rather pleased to still be playing, to be given a dare that was cutthroat. He had always loved drinking games. 

 Changbin rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously, “Alright… I dare you to… kiss the hottest girl here.” 

 You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t expected the dare to turn out in that kind of sense. The others around the campfire let out dark chuckles, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Chris shakily rose from his seat. 

 “Not even a fucking debate-” He started in a scratchy voice. As he neared you, you could feel your eyes widen painfully. 

 No, no, no, please don’t- 

But then just as you thought he was going to dip into your form, he was turning to your side, eyeing Yeji like she was a piece of meat. She was pretty shit-faced, but still had enough sense in her to blush profusely. 

 And just as Chris was about to lean into her for a drunken kiss, you found yourself shooting up from your spot, palms landing on his rigid chest as you pushed him back so hard he bumbled around the lawn like a complete drunk. 

 “What the fuck, Chris?!” You screamed, the tears already beginning to prick at the corners of your vision. Your boyfriend gave you a deep frown, the light in his eyes dimming to annoyance. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you guys, and the sounds of the party seemed to dim in the background, as you stared at your boyfriend with the hurt already beginning to bloom in your chest. “Why would you-”

 “I wasn’t actually going to kiss her, stupid!” He retorted back, chuckling at how stupid you had been. 

 And maybe you were being stupid. 

 Maybe you were overreacting. 

 After all, it was just some dumb drinking game. 

 It wasn’t that serious- 

 “Don’t call her stupid.” 

 Felix’s voice seemed to ring out across the entire yard, dancing around your ears and making your cheeks heat up in a peachy-pink colour. You turned to him, noticing the way he was scowling Chris’ way. He was up from his chair, fists clenched at his sides. It was hard to see through the tears that were steadily flowing down your cheeks, but you could faintly make out the taut line of his lips that were pressed into a displeased line. 

 “Felix, I-”

 But then you had no time to react, as one of his hands was clamping down around your forearm, yanking you backward and to his form. “Let’s get out of here.” He said in a low voice, as his hand trailed down your bare arm and his fingers threaded through your own. 

 Just as you were getting dragged away from the scene, Yeji stumbled out of her chair, calling out to you in a desperate plea, “Y/N, wait!” 

 Felix offered her no time to explain, as he pushed you through the crowd of people and into the house. He lead your wobbly legs the entire way, holding onto your hand firmly as it was hard to see through the mistiness of your vision. Finally, when you arrived at his car, he opened the passenger door and helped you into the seat. 

 When he had buckled himself into the driver’s seat and the ignition was roaring to life, Felix finally turned to face you. Reaching over the center consul of his car, he gave your hand a tight squeeze. 

 “Forget about him, yeah? He’s not worth your energy right now.” He said in a faint voice, one that graced over your ears and was a nice respite from the booming sounds of the party. 

 You roughly scrubbed at your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop. You were feeling so many emotions all at once… embarrassment, betrayal, but also… relief, to be taken out of such a situation so quickly. 

 “Where do you wanna go?” Felix asked upon your silence, and just then you managed to peel your eyes open, taking a glance at the clock on the dashboard and reading that it was well after midnight. “Home?” 

 You leaned your head against the black leather seat. It felt cold under your skin. Comforting, almost, to have something chilled touch your feverish cheeks. “No, I don’t want to sit alone in my room, not yet…” His face became clearer in your mind then, and you saw the way his mouth ticked up in a faint smile from your vulnerable admission that you didn’t want him to leave your side so soon.

 “Then I know just the place.” Felix mused in that silky, deep voice of his. And soon, he was pulling away from the curb of Jeongin’s home, merging onto the street and taking you to his mysterious location that would seemingly make everything better. The entire time he drove, his palm stayed pressed against yours, fingers threaded through yours. “You just focus on my hand, yeah? Don’t think about anything else…”

 Just like that, his soothing voice was lulling you into a mindless kind of stupor. With the bright town lights flashing around you as he drove steadily down the highway, you were brought into a listless state of limbo. 

 And he was right. 

 Focusing on him, and his touch was helping tremendously. 

 Helped take your mind off of everything, and all of your warring feelings. 

 And instead, all you could focus on was the way that his palm felt so soft pressed against yours. 

 The way his fingers fit so perfectly between yours. 

 Almost like, you had been destined to hold onto each other’s hands. 

To be continued...

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[greenpanda-basicfakewitch]

Witch Tools | Herbs Used In Wicca

Like Herbal tea/Baths or would then later become smudge sticks. List Of Herbs: Sage. Rosemary. Ginger. Garlic. Chilli Nutmeg. Cloves. Bok Choy. Cinnamon. Capers  Pepper. Dill Banishing. Bay Leaf. Thyme Dill. Allspice. Vanilla. Cardamon. Chives Mint. Rocket arugula. Sage. Bay Leaf. Basil Chamomile. Vervain. Lemon Balm. Mugwort Wolfsbane. Rowan.

*Authors Note: Take this post with a grain of salt/most sources came from pinterest/internet. And nothing goes into detail about flowers/Herbs and the difference between the two.

Herbs Used In Wicca

Four Corner Home Blessing. Four clear Glass Vessels, For North, south, east and west.  Lavender: For peace.  Sage: For good vibes.  White Rice: For Abundance.

How to dry Herbs:

Air-drying works best for low-moisture herbs like marjoram, oregano, rosemary and dill. Trim fresh herbs at an angle to protect the rest of the plant. Gather 5-10 branches together and tie with string or a rubber band. The smaller the bundle, the easier and faster they will dry.

Put the bundle of herbs, stem side up. Hang over a week ideally in a cool dark place.

Herbs are best stored in airtight glass containers, they’re uses range from cooking, tea, tincture, even decoration.

What herbs can you think of to use in your craft?

Tea Magick

[Reminder that Alastar Crowley added a K to Magic to differentiate between the craft or magician parlour tricks]

Green: Energy immunity cleanse. Peppermint: Decongest, clarity, tummy ache.

Chamomile: Anxiety, stress, sleep. Hibiscus: Blood pressure. Love, Harmony.

Black: Strength. Repel negative energy. Ginger: Nausea. Menstrual pain, tummy ache.

White: Cleansing, protection, antioxidant.   Cinnamon: Cold relief, anti inflammatory, metabolism

Matcha: Mental clarity, tasty af detox. Chai: Calming, energy, digestion.

-> Flowers Page

#dry herbs #Wiccan #Witchblr #Witchtok #witchcraft #witch community #babywitch #paganism #wicca #witch #witches of tumblr #beginner witch #Herbs #Witch Herbs #Wiccan Herbs #Herb Magic #Herb Magick

[kopfkino-o]

Daughter of the Summer Sea: Chapter One

Summary: They call them the Spear-Daughters of Summer and they are the fierce female warriors of the Summer Court known for their unshakeable bravery and the wicked three-pronged spears with which they fight. Having finally left the Library and more dedicated to her Valkyrie unit than ever, Gwyn finds herself charged with heading south to Adriata to learn from these infamous Spear-Daughters to expand both her fight knowledge and battle strategy, but to also seek out other Low Fae females interested in reclaiming their own power and fates by joining the Valkyrie ranks. But there is more than just sun and surf waiting for her amongst the bone-white streets of Adriata and, soon, Gwyn must ask herself: who does she want to be and where does her heart truly lay.

Pairing: Gwyn x Tarquin

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 1628

Author’s Note: TARGWYN FIC LET’S GOOO! This is probably one of my most favorite crackships of all time and Adriata/Summer Court is probably my favorite Prythian setting outside of Velaris. I started working on this as a one-shot for @sjmcrackshipmonth​ but I have no self control and the story has since spiraled into something bigger. 

Updates will come as I finish each chapter. Like my other fic, I’ll be posting this to my AO3 account for those who want to follow the story over there! You can find me at @courtwritesalot 💙

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading!

- Court

The bone-white walls of Adriata snaked along the rocky sea cliffs like the spine of a great slumbering beast. 

High seashell towers and turquoise-capped parapets and buildings hewn from glimmering coral and pearl adorned the foreign city set against the backdrop of an azure sea, the sheer beauty of the Summer Court's capital evident even at this distance. Even the crowded port bustling with trading galleys from every court and continent was beautiful in its own chaotic way, the rainbow of many colored sails sliding in on the evening tide a mesmerizing sight to behold.

It was, undeniably, unlike anything Gwyneth Berdara had ever seen.

Her chest was alive with fluttering nerves, her arrival on the white sand beaches of the Summer Court long since anticipated, her journey here having been planned months ago, and yet the sight before her somehow surpassed all expectations.

Gwyn had read countless books on the Summer Court and its capital city's splendor, had studied reports and travel logs and cultural assessments until her eyes bled, but nothing could have prepared her for this. The sun and sand, the sheer size of the Summerstone Palace on its high sea cliff, the sight of the Summer Court's gold and teal banners waving lazily in the sea-salt breeze. It was almost as if the Mother herself had bestowed these lands with a kernel of her own ethereal grace.

This is what you've been missing, a familiar voice murmured in the back of her mind, as it so often did. 

A stray tear slipped down Gwyn’s cheek, the lingering memory of her sister’s voice breaking the dam of emotions she’d been fighting to keep back all day. 

"Forgive me," She said, blinking away the tears and wiping her eyes dry before her High Lady could see. "I never expected to feel so overwhelmed by the sight of another city."

Feyre Archeron merely smiled, understanding filling the High Lady of the Night Court’s eyes, and gently patted Gwyn’s hand, her touch warm and steadying.

"I felt the same way the first time I saw the city, too," The High Lady said softly, blue eyes drifting out across the half-moon bay. "There is nowhere else in the world quite like Adriata. And no one half as kind as Cressida and Tarquin. They'll treat you like a treasured guest throughout your entire stay."

Gwyn could only manage a nod. There was so much to be grateful for on this day. Her freedom from the Library, the weight of her sword down her back, the gesture of friendship Feyre had shown her by taking the time to winnow her all the way here. And her closest friend by her side, here to see her off.

Her eyes slid sideways, daring to tear her gaze away from the sparkling city just long enough to study Nesta’s silent form. 

The General of the Valkyries had been quiet ever since Gwyn had arrived on the steps of the Riverhouse so Feyre might winnow her south. She was distant, contemplative, like there was something she wanted to say but didn’t know how.

But Gwyn didn’t need her friend to speak the words aloud for her to understand: it pained Nesta to see Gwyn go. It pained Gwyn too. 

The idea of leaving Velaris had been enough to nearly cripple her and keep her locked deep beneath the House of Wind amongst the dusty shelves and quiet serenity of the Library, but every night she lay down to sleep, every night she considered abandoning the journey altogether, she could hear her sister's voice softly urging her to go.

To the sea, sister, the ghost of Catrin’s voice would whisper, You must make it to the sea.

And so, if only for the honor of her memory, if only because Catrin would never get to see these azure waters, this bone-white city, Gwyn had gone. 

Feyre cleared her throat and toed the pristine white sand with the tip of a black leather boot. “There are some... friends I need to say hello to,” The High Lady said, eyes snagging on the surf crashing against the beach below. She gave Gwyn a parting smile before turning to Nesta and gently squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “Come find me when you’re ready, Nes.”

A heavy silence settled between Gwyn and Nesta as they watched the High Lady climb down the rocky face of the sea cliff, the soft murmur of the sea breeze and the distant cry of ship bells filling the space between them.

Gwyn closed her eyes and let the uncertain mix of emotions wash over her, a bittersweet taste of uncertainty and anticipation, fear and curious excitement. She would be gone from Velaris for three months, the longest stretch of time she’d ever been away from the Night Court. The only time she’d ever been away. 

It unsteadied her, the thought of the great distance and long stretch between her and her home, and yet,it set something strange inside her to shimmering too. 

“I’m going to miss you.” 

Gwyn turned sharply towards Nesta at the sound of the softly spoken words. Her friend, her sister, was still staring out across the sea, gaze fixed on the horizon as if she might find some sort of answer hidden within its vast expanse.

"I'm going to miss you too, Nesta." Gwyn replied softly, fighting the urge to let her voice break. “And Emerie. And Azriel and Cassian, and Deirdre and Rosalin too. Mother's blessing, but I think I might even miss Merrill."

Nesta chuckled, but the lightness of the sound did not quite reach her face. "I fear they're going to fall apart without your leadership." She said, still refusing to meet Gwyn’s eye.

"I'm sure Mor will keep them in line. She’s proving to be quite the addition to our ranks. The girls will listen to her council just fine.”

"But not as well as they’d listen to you."

Gwyn's heart swelled with pride and humility at Nesta's words. The Valkyries had grown exponentially this last year under the leadership they shared with Emerie. Not solely because of them, of course, but also because of the sheer grit and determination of the women who joined in their ranks each and every day. It was half the reason why she was here, so very far from home, in the first place.

"It's only three months," Gwyn said, reaching for Nesta's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “That's hardly even a blink over the course of our immortal lives. I'll be back in Velaris before you even know to miss me. Plus, the recruiting efforts here will be good for us. We need a unit of spears if we want to truly make the Illyrians blanche.”

Nesta's warm fingers squeezed her own, so tight Gwyn nearly saw stars. "Three months," She echoed then held up her free hand, the charm on the friendship bracelet she still wore even after all these months catching in the sunlight. "No matter how far the distance, no matter how great the cost."

Gwyn's heart strained at the word of the Valkyries’ official creed.

"No matter how far the distance, no matter how great the cost," She echoed, then added the final line of their creed. “We face the mountain together, for as long as I have my sisters, no battle shall be lost.”

Then Nesta embraced her and hugged Gwyn so tight she swore she could hear her bones sing. But she didn’t care. She hugged Nesta back, breathing in the winter mourning and steel scent of her and memorizing the feel of her sister’s arms around her as their sacred words settled in her chest like an ember.

When Nesta finally pulled away, Gwyn could have sworn silver lined her friend’s blue eyes but just as quickly as it appeared the softness was replaced with the hard determination of a warrior. 

A general. 

“You go out there and learn and show them how a Valkyrie wields a spear,” Nesta said, command and authority filling her voice. “Show them what we are building, what we have made ourselves into. Show them what they too could be.”

Gwyn lifted three fingers to her brow in salute. “On your orders, Lady General.” 

Nesta returned the gesture. “Mother guide you, Berdara.” 

“And you, Archeron.” 

Gwyn scooped up her pack and left her friend there on the sea cliff,  fighting the tears stinging in her eyes and the urge to look back at her friend one last time as she scrambled up the rocky terrain to the road that would lead her to the gates of Adriana. 

The tears came nonetheless, emotions flooding through her as she began to walk, and Gwyn began to curse herself for her insecurities one moment, then slid back into the pit of her old anxieties the next.

She had three months to learn the art of the three-pronged spear well enough to teach it to an entire unit of women. Three months to win over the Princess and Prince, bolstering not only further confidence in the fragile alliance between them and the Night Court, but also earning their permission to gather women from their court to bring into the Valkyrie ranks. The worries flowed and ebbed. She wasn’t sure she could do it. Wasn’t sure she was strong enough, wise enough, brave enough. She was one woman and a woman who’d spent most of her life hidden away from the world at that.

Then Gwyn rounded a soft bend on the Summer Road and all those worries, all those fears and uncertainties, died in her chest, a single thread unspooling as she beheld the massive golden gates of the city and Adriata waiting beyond.

To the sea, sister. 

#Daughter of the Summer Sea fic #DOTSS fic #targwyn #targwyn fanfic #gwyn x tarquin #gwyneth berdara #tarquin #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar crackship month #acotar crackship #gwyn acotar #tarquin acotar #summer court #adriata #gwyn berdara

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Chaldean Oracle Verse 147, Gate of Man and Gate of Immortals, Cancer/Capricorn, and Daniel.

If you speak to me often, you will perceive everything in lion-form. For neither does the curved mass of heaven appear then nor do the stars shine. The light of the moon is hidden, and the earth is not firmly secured, but everything is seen by flashes of lightning.

If you often invoke me all things will appear to you to be a lion. For neither will the convex bulk of heaven then be visible; the stars will not shine; the light of the moon will be concealed; the earth will not stand firm; but all things will be seen in thunder.

Disclaimer: This post is part of my original line of posts of my own blog where I...you guessed I ramble about stuff even if I am wrong because why not. Take it with a grain of salt AND if you actually know what the verse actually mean and want to correct me please go ahead.

In the sixth hour you have the form of a lion; your name is ΒΑΙ ΣΟΛΒΑΙ (BAI SOLBAI), the ruler of time.

"the light of the moon is hidden" reference to Cancer.

Summer tropic is in Cancer, and the winter tropic in Capricorn. And since Cancer is nearest to us, it is very properly attributed to the Moon, which is the nearest of all the heavenly bodies to the earth. But as the southern pole, by its great distance, is invisible to us, hence Capricorn is attributed to Kronos (Saturn)

in On the Cave of the Nymphs by Porphyry:

Homer was not satisfied with saying that it had two gates, but adds that one of the gates was turned towards the north, but the other which was more divine, to the south. He also says that the northern gate was pervious to descent, but does not indicate whether this was also the case with the southern gate. For of this, he only says, "It is inaccessible to men, but it is the path of the immortals

You can kinda see the similar gnosis/insight people have to associate Helios with Hecate in that sense if you attribute this oracle line to Hecate like Psellus did.

Porphyry clearly states that the signs from Cancer to Capricorn, which constitute the descent of a soul into a body, are situated in the following order: and the first of these is Leo, which is the house of Helios (the Sun); afterwards Virgo, which is the house of Hermes (Mercury); Libra, the house of Aphrodite (Venus); Scorpius, of Ares (Mars); Sagittarius, of Zeus (Jupiter); and Capricornus, of Kronos (Saturn). “But from Capricorn,” he adds, the ascent is naturally “in an inverse order.” That is, in an inverse order on the opposing curve of the wheel of the zodiac. Aquarius is attributed to Kronos; Pisces, to Zeus; Aries, to Ares; Taurus, to Aphrodite; Gemini, to Hermes; and in the last place Cancer to the Selene (the Moon), only upon the soul’s descent into a body is the sun’s sign (Leo) encountered. This is basically the whole dichotomy of Metatron and Sandalphon, because you get that similar connection between Malkuth/Kether and Enoch/Elijah, what I see personally is this hinting toward merkavah and Hekhalot literature where you descened to the chariot/merkavah. In a way I can definitely say the hints are astrologically coded but the practice itself isn't astrological strictly.

the whole descent into mysteries is in that verse, the curved mass of heaven nor do star shine IS THE LITERAL HEAVEN if you scry them or work through the gates of merkavah. The light of the moon is hidden and earth is not secured because you're reaching a place that's not "here" in the objective sense of the world, everything is seen by flashes of lighting is very apt way to describe how you actually see stuff there! almost very reminiscent of dreamy visions where everything is remembered haphazardly !

In summary the astrological hints are just symbolic not practically invalid but not restrictive into it, since the sun/lion-form is the first thing that come after Saturn in descent and last thing before Moon then you can see the hint THERE. It's not lion, but the sun which when it shine so brightly it will hide the rays of the moon, you can see that the sun is both what we can fall into and we can rise through.

I definitely felt very excited to share my hot take about this oracle line, because it is rather very related to some other blogs that I did work with. Now...dare I say that these lion forms is what Daniel saw in the pit when he got thrown? notice how Daniel immediately start having visions after the lion pits from Daniel 6 to 7, it is an immediate jump.

Daniel in the Lion's Den c1615 Peter Paul Rubens

#occult #witchblr #invocation #prayer #ritual #magic #theurgy #Chaldean oracle #theurgist #neoplatonism #kabbalah #merkava #judaism #magick #meditation #spirituality #prophet #astrology #angels #archangels #PGM

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Since Paranormal stuff(like Ghosts and like the Dunwich "gods", etc etc) canonly exist in fallout, does that mean, there many is like demons then to?

Now imagine if The Sole Survivor got possessed by a demon. What would the companions do?

Cait:

• Extremely against this whole experience. She had never been the religious type but right about now..this is the time she may start considering some kind of intervention.

•Kind of also the the type to just throw stuff at the demon..works with other things!

Curie:

•Doesn’t believe at all that sole is possessed. If it gets too extreme, Curie will implement the help of some settlers to restrain sole and sedate them for their own good. Now..if sole is granted supernatural powers because of their demonic passenger, Curie will-oh who am I kidding? You could float and she’d still write it off as some peculiar yet totally natural phenomena. She is a synthetic lady of science.

Danse:

•Much like Curie in this respect. When you start showing signs of possession his first instinct is to admit you to the med bay, chalking it up to severe ptsd. When things inevitably go south though..pants are shitted.

Deacon:

•Honestly believes that you are pulling a fast one on him. Maybe it’s payback for all the bull crap lies he has told you? Bottom line though, once he realizes what’s going on he more or less traps your ass in the church until he can scrounge up someone to help get your “buddy” out. Regardless, he WILL help.

Gage:

• Absolutely having none of this. Will smack the demon out of you if he must or will die trying.

Hancock:

•Saw it from a mile away and being a rather superstitious ghoul, he had the essentials. Salt, jet, and an odd priest from Diamond city all within a hot moment.

Macready:

•Beyond terrified. It isn’t even funny though, he is frozen in place and seconds away from a full blown heart attack. He won’t know what to do and hopes desperately that you’ll forgive him for that.

Maxson:

•Depends a lot on your relationship with him. If you’re a soldier or even a friend, his answer will be to turn you to scribes to see what the fuck was happening. However when you are a romantic partner, he’s quite a bit more torn up.

Nick:

•skeptical but open to believing just about anything given all the things he has seen. When it comes down to it, he’ll do everything in his power to get YOU back and make sure your demon friend stays away.

Piper:

• She feels so bad for it but be it self preservation or the fact that she knows she has to stay alive for Nat, she chooses to distance herself from you. It eats her alive but it’s all she can think to do.

Preston:

•Will call upon everyone he can, even those he doesn’t particularly care for but are friends of your’s, to try to rally and bring you back.

X6-88:

•To the institute with your demon infested ass.

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 companions #paladin danse #fallout companions #danse #curie #elder maxson #porter gage #fallout shitpost

[kermit-p-hob-brainrot]

Ok y'all I have promised my beloved mutual @pop-squeak that I would write a post on my most beloved invasive marsh plant, Phragmites australis also known as the common reed. This thing is so invasive that it is considered a model for invasive plants as a whole.

Some things before we start

Most of this is focused on Virginia since that's where a lot of the research on this bad boy is being done but it does exist elsewhere

I will have citations at the end if you want some more reading

This is based on research I did for a paper like a year ago so there might be new research I am unaware of due to having other classes to do

Please brush off your shoes when you enter/ leave a park so you don't bring stuff places it shouldn't be

Please read I promise it is really really interesting and important to the resilience of out coasts in North America especially in the mid Atlantic to the south :)

If you have questions don't be scared to drop them in the replies/ reblogs

I am an undergrad!!!!! I am generally new at this but I am fairly familiar with this specific subject and trust that everything in this post is accurate, but in general with invasive species it is a heavily nuanced topic that can be very complex. This is my best attempt to simplify this species for general consumption since I think its just really cool and important to coastal botany rn.

This thing lives in the marsh which is the area often between forest and the ocean/ body of water of varying salinity. This thing loves moderate salinity marshes since it can somewhat resist salt water intrusion. This is a part of what makes it so invasive especially in this era of severe sea level rise. Many coastal forests are dying as sea level is rising pushing the marsh farther inland. Part of the problem is that many native species can not move as colonize the new land as fast as the common reed can.

Phragmites as is incredibly good at reproducing and growing so close together that nothing else can live even close to it. It makes clonal offshoots of itself (THEY CREATE CLONES OF THEMSELVES?!?!?!?!?) and creates networks for communication. this dense packing leads to a monoculture where for miles in the strip of marsh 95% of what you see is phragmites. It is a magnificent and horrifying sight as you see the dead trees in the middle of these fields of phragmites knowing it was only 5-10 years ago that that was where the forest line was. It is the beautiful horror about being slowly consumed by the ocean. This monoculture does not only apply to flora but also fauna.

Farmers often actually welcome phragmites to their land and are resistant to get rid of it. This is because as native species have died off, phragmites has been able to colonize these areas fast enough to help resist further salt inundation and prevent flooding. This unfortunately is only a band-aid solution, especially in southern Virginia near the Chesapeake bay which has some of the highest rate of sea level rise in the country, since native plants and diverse marshes make them more resistant to flooding. It is better than nothing though, so we must keep in mind transition plans for farmland when trying to manage phragmites. We practice science to help every day people, not in spite of every day people. They should be included in all management decision making. We work for them not the other way around.

Competition is the name of the game for Phragmites. It beats is competition not only with its cloning abilities (there's a lot more to this but i had to read like 7 different papers to figures out wtf anybody was talking about so I'm not going into it) and sheer density, but it can also just poison the other plants around it. It can release a toxin that inhibits growth and seed sprouting in other species. It is also resistant to flooding and drought and it has been found that ground disturbance can make it spread faster. This makes it highly resistant to most disturbances that occur in marsh and wetland habitats.

Because it is resistant to like everything it is so hard to kill. To the point where some of the people who management have told me that eradicating it for an area is near impossible and an unreasonable expectation. Reduction has become the best case scenario. This makes early identification important. You can try to kill it by herbicides, mowing, fire, smothering with a plastic tarp, throwing a bunch of salt on top of it, and flooding with fresh or salt water.

The common reed is an interesting mix of being both a native and invasive plant. Phragmites australis has a subspecies native to North America, but this subspecies has been largely replaced by a more aggressive non-native European subspecies. Phragmites can grow from three to thirteen feet with broad sheath like leaves. Its considered one of the most invasive plants in the worlds having a broad geographic range. It exists on every continent except Antarctica.

As someone who has been in a field of them you can not pull these out of the ground. The tops break off but you have to dig them out of the ground if you wan them out. Also just a pain to walk through.

Here's a pic: (Yes that a person, yes they can be that tall)

Works Cited

Langston, A. K., D. J. Coleman, N. W. Jung, J. L. Shawler, A. J. Smith, B. L. Williams, S. S. Wittyngham, R. M. Chambers, J. E. Perry, and M. L. Kirwan. 2022. The effect of marsh age on ecosystem function in a rapidly transgressing marsh. Ecosystems 25: 252-264.

Humpherys, A., A. L. Gorsky, D. M. Bilkovic, and R.M. Chambers. 2021. Changes in plant communities of low-salinity tidal marshes in response to sea-level rise. Ecosphere 12.

Accessed 9 December 2022. Invasive alien plant species of Virgina: common reed (Phragmites australis). Department of Conservation and Recreation, Virgina Native Plant Society. https://www.dcr.virginia.gov/natural-heritage/document/fsphau.pdf

Accessed 9 December 2022. Common reed (Phragmites australis). Virgina Institute of Marine Science. https://www.vims.edu/ccrm/outreach/teaching_marsh/native_plants/salt_marsh/phragmites_facts.pdf

Theuerkauf, S. J., B. J. Puckett, K. W. Theuerkauf, E. J. Theuerkauf, and D. B. Eggleston. 2017. Density-dependent role of an invasive marsh grass, Phragmites australis, on ecosystem service provision. PLoS ONE 12.

Accessed 9 December 2020. Phragmites: considerations for management in the critical area. Critical Area Commission for the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Coastal Bays. https://dnr.maryland.gov/criticalarea/Documents/Phragmites-Fact-Sheet-Final.pdf

Uddin, M. N., and R. W. Robinson. 2017. Allelopathy and resource competition: the effects of phragmites australis invasion in plant communities. Botanical Studies 58: 29.

Meyerson, L. A., J. T. Cronin, and P. Pysek. 2016. Phragmites australis as a model organism for studying plant invasions. Biological Invasions 18: 2421-2431.

#im having a lot of fun #This is another one of those things i had a very fun time making but will get 2 notes #and thats ok #this is what i want to get my phd in..... hopefully #ecology #biology #coastal biology #coastal botany #botany #phragmites australis #invasive species

[conjuremanj]

How To Stop A Boo Hag From Riding You Or Your Family. Hoodoo Working.

In this post I'll be talking on Boo Hags and giving a working to capture one from writing you are a family member.

But before I do let's talk on what they actually are.

Where Did The Story Come From? Boo Hag is rooted in African American folklore, mostly by the Gullah-Geechee communities along low country. Now one origin of the Boo Hag is traced back to West African folklore and there is a creature known as the “Adze” or “Ade” a Adze.

What Are They? Boo hags are spirits, their similar to vampires that may be undead beings or spirits that feed off of living humans by sitting on their victims chest and sucking the energy or life sustenance from a person's breath, instead of their blood. I think their spirits of dead witches who continue to do bad after death, over time they change into this enity. Boo Hags can also give a person the medical condition known as "Sleep Paralysis"

You may wake up with strange scratches, recurring nightmares, exhaustion and illness as a result. All together, these symptoms will lead to mental illness or death

How To They Get In My House? They can easily enter your house through very small openings like a window, or a crack in a wall, key holes etc.

Fortunately, there are some warning signs that a Boo Hag may be close by. Some dogs are able to sense their presence and will start howling or barking. Crows will also recognize them. The air will be hot and damp, smell of rot and decay can happen. Now I never experienced one my self but if you have these signs then It could be a hag.

How Can One Hope To Stop Such Evil? For all of the Boo Hag’s power, there are a number of ways to keep her at bay.

Story goes that they obsessive-compulsive disorder and feels compelled to count the actions any small objects. Scattering sesame seeds around the bed will accomplish this as well can help you escape.

Who knows how fast they count but they do like to count. Sun light can destroy her.

Fake Hoodoo. I see this a lot, Boo Hag, hates the smell of asafoetida. This plaint is native to places like Turkmenistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Uzbekistan so understand how did the African Americans use this in the south. DON'T BYE.

WORKING: To Catch a Boo Hags.

Get yourself a blue bottle. Haunt blue and a plain white candle. (You can bye these bottles cheap online or use a bud platinum bottle or a milk of magnesia bottle)

Clean the bottle out. Then turn the bottle on its side and place it by the door of the room or where you believe the hag might be coming in at.

Next place mustered seeds under the bed making a line from the bed all the way to the bottle, then around the bottle. (You can add a pinch of salt to it a well.

Light your white candle in the back behind the bottle. Pray the 23rd Psalms.

If and when the candle start making hussing or crackling sounds you have it trapped in the bottle. Take your cap and close the bottle up take it out side and dispose of it. The sun will destroy it.

#Boo Hags #african hoodoo #african spirituality #african practices #hoodoo ritual #hoodoo practitioner #traditional hoodoo #southern hoodoo #like and/or reblog! #spiritual #google search #rootwork #follow my blog #southern conjure #southern magic #traditional rootwork #rootwork questions #ask me anything #Hoodoo working.

[bikepackinguk]

Day Sixty-eight

Out from the woods after breakfasting, it's back to the road once more.

Barrow-in-Furness is fortunately well supplied with some good cycle paths so it's a nice ride in the sun down into town to take in some of the sights, before heading across the bridge to see the pretty little island of Walney.

Back again through Barrow and following the cycle route, I have a few redirections as the ride along the quayside is locked off, but eventually make my way south from the town for a great ride in the sun around some lovely salt marshes rife with wildlife.

The ride hits the coast once more by Rampside with a truly beautiful view across Morecambe Bay, with thebroad running right up along the coastline.

The cycle route diverts more inland after a ways, but I opt to stick with the main road to keep on taking in the views. A few hills start to cause a bit of work to be needed, but eventually I make my way over and in to Ulverstone, with a striking view of the Sir John Barrow Monument on the hill above.

With the A590 looking particularly busy here, I opt to take the cycle route leading a little inland to avoid it. Whilst it's some nice country lanes, it also goes straight up and over the hills, meaning a very sweaty section of the journey.

Finally the hills are crested and I roll down to Greenodd, where a bridge offers a shortcut over the River Leven and a nice little ride through the nature reserve.

After a break for lunch, it's time to strike south on the B5278, which leads through some nice tunnels of trees down to Cark, before some more slogging through repeated climbs until arriving round at Grand-over-Sands.

There's a great stretch of promenade to ride along here, with some more beautiful views across the bay.

Out from Grange, it's more cycle route following in order to navigate around the busy A road, which offers a combination of nice long flat stretches along with repeated climbs up and out to the other side of Levens, where we head south once again.

Past Levens Hall, we hit the coastline once more west of Heversham, with the wind beginning to make its appearance blowing up from the bay.

The ride along past Sandside continues to be very pretty, though the strong winds are making progress more of a chore, and after reaching Arnside we're up some steep ascents to get across to the south stretch of the AONB.

The area here is very beautiful with a combination of lush forested areas and beautiful sea views, but it's also very hilly and a lot of work to keep going.

Around a corner as I approach Silverdale and there's a sign welcoming me to Lancashire! Progress!

With the evening wearing on and the legs having earned a break, it's not too much trouble to find a spot of trees here where I shouldn't be disturbed for the night. It's curious how attitudes change - on the ride up the east coast, I was very conscious about getting the tent up before Scotland and spent almost every night in my bivvy bag. After weeks of use, I'm happy to use it whenever I can now!

TTFN!

#bikepacking #bicycle touring #wild camping

[justformyself2]

It all came down to her. (18+)

Hey you guys. Hello especially to the anon that especifically asked for this story, like, a thousand years ago lol. I'm sorry for the delay and i hope you all enjoy this story that i rewrited a thousand times.

BEFORE YOU JUMP IN:

. Jack Ryan x Reader

. Angst, graphic sex, some fluff.

. tired/weird writing.

. but made with love.

1.364 words.

(Y/N) POV The waiter serves the coffee and walks away after smiling at you; a bell rings, and it's Greer coming through the door. Your impulse is to grab the mug taking a sip at the hot drink as if that was enough to give the impression of being casual, but it wasn't. You didn't know Greer that well. He randomly would appear at Jack's door; his calls would be a sign that your boyfriend had to leave suddenly. He wasn't a chatty man, and that for the first time bothered you. All the pieces of information you had about him were fragmented because he belonged to the fragmented side of Jack's life you tried to poke through.

"Thanks for meeting me here (Y/N)." He says, approaching the table and taking a sit. He signs at the waiter.

Jack's POV "There has to be another way." Greer reclines on the brown leather chair, avoiding meeting my eyes, something that deeply concerns me. "I'm telling you, as long as the operation is in process, both of you, but mostly her, are in danger. I can offer her protection. I don't know for how long, but you must make a decision soon. Santiago is on the move to South America. I need you to be there." I get up from the chair, trying to expel the energy running through my body. I go towards the open bay window as if the air filling the room wasn't enough to fill my desperate lungs. "I'm not telling you something you didn't know already, Jack. He will use everything he had against us, not only you but any of us." "It doesn't matter; nothing will matter. Santiago will go after her even if I don't accept the offer." "What are you talking about, Ryan? You can't back out now!" "We talked about this, Greer." He gets up from the chair, walking towards me like a mad man. "This is not an OFFER, Ryan. It will affect millions of lives if we don't do something about it NOW. It is a duty, our duty." "This is somebody's duty Greer, is way above my paygrade, and you know it." "Jack-" "I'M NOT leaving her." My throat burns, and my hands, closed fists, are hidden inside the pockets of my trousers. Greer doesn't blink or move an inch away; he stares at me as if I just entered the room unannounced, surprised for a couple of seconds. "Then I assume it will be easy for you to live on if something happens to her. Did you at least let the poor girl know about that? It is her life on the line too." He examines me like he is used to while we are in the field. He never really leaves the character, like everything is a bottom line all or nothing, everyone is a potential weapon to be used, every word and thought, but above everything, I knew he was right. Avoiding prolonging the exchange, I exit the room without giving him a proper answer.

(Y/N) POV It was past midnight and you were worried although he told you he would come late. Greer's speech was sprinkled in your thoughts like salt in an open wound, making you twist and turn on the bed, trying to resist the impulse of leaving it and going after him, but somehow the idea seemed worse. You didn't want to act desperate. There was nothing indicating something out of the ordinary. He was just late. A chill in your stomach took place while your brain worked its torture scenarios. Jack would do anything to protect you. It was something he said to you multiple times, and you believe it with all of your heart and soul at any time or day you were ready to do the same, but when Greer said he wanted to quit his career, everything he believed to fulfill his word and keep you safe something snapped inside of you. You didn't want to be the reason he would give up anything. Minutes after, you hear the sound of the door closing, and footsteps, his footsteps, calming the beats of your heart coming closer to the bed. The sound of his zipper and the bump his shoes made when hitting the carpet enticed your ears and closed your mouth. All the sounds he makes, the smell of his body, the heat irradiating from it when you felt his weight moving on the bed coming closer to you, all of him was something you couldn't imagine yourself living without it. He breaths out on your neck, wrapping his arm around you. You couldn't take it. "Jack." You almost whispered. His lips meet your skin, and he starts kissing all the length of your neck to your shoulder. "Jack." You called again. "I know. Let's just not talk about it tonight; leave it for tomorrow. Can we do that? Please, let us have tonight." You consent silently as he pulls your body closer to his.

Jack's POV.

I pull her body closer, feeling her warmth, wanting all of her. All she could give I wanted, and all I could give I would give it to her tonight. She turns her body towards mine, and there is no time wasted. She meets me halfway, taking my lips, melting into my arms. I wanted time to stop completely, freeze and rewind, only to be played back to the exact minute when I first met her at that party, and she smiled at me from the other side of the room, as if she knew. Exactly when I started living and not waiting for another day to pass me by. "I love you, Jack." She says it after we broke apart, gasping for air. "I love you too, always." "Then make love to me." I attack her lips once again, bringing her under my body as I lift myself to be over hers with care. Her hands lift the shirt I left on rapidly, and I help her in the process. "Turn up the lampshade. I want to see you." She asks, and I comply, inclining my body to reach the bedside. "Better?" I ask when the room was partially lightened, giving me the view of the most gorgeous eyes. "Yes, much better." Her hands pull me by the waist, and in no time we are tangled in each other, barely giving rest to catch a breath. I almost rip the white satin babydoll she wore, desperate to have her in my mouth, driven by her moans and pleads. "God, Jack. I need you right now." Her hands reach my erection, electrifying my body, blurring my vision with the purest mix of love and lust, with which I was highly drunk off. She removes her underwear, releasing and guiding me towards her entrance. "Christ." I let it escape from my lips from her, trying as hard I could to keep my eyes open towards her so I could witness the first wave of pleasure taking over her as well. Her body arches, meeting my pelvis. Her legs wrapped around my waist. I began the movements slowly, watching every inch of her face, every squirm, every reaction of her as my hips moved back and forth against hers. "Open your eyes, baby. I need you to look at me." She does as asked as I intensify the movements. (Y/N) hand's travels my thorax towards the navel, not breaking eye contact even when I grabbed both of her legs, putting them over my shoulders and going deeper inside of her. "Jack." She calls. "I know baby. Do you want to touch yourself for me?" She wastes no time in complying while I mercilessly hit her sweet spot, giving to her just the way she deserved it. Her body responds quickly to the stimulations as well as mine; controlled and over the edge just by visualizing and giving her pleasure, like it was built just for this. "Fuck… Jack.." Her legs started shaking, she was losing control and so did I, feeling the intense wave of pleasure consume me, feeling her consume me because it all came down to her.

Therefore it was impossible to imagine any scenario where we wouldn't be living, being, making love to each other like we are supossed to. Therefore nothing else mattered.

#johnkrasinski #fanfiction #imagine #john krasinskixreader #story #mine #fanfic #john krasinski imagine #john krasinski #jack ryan #jack ryan x reader

[seabreeze2022]

2023 Bahama Cruise, Part 13, March 30 Long Island.

.

Nancy makes a fine “Figurehead” for our sailboat. Good thing the autopilot doesn’t get distracted with her on the bow, like I do.

Before I forget it, must say I am just in awe of the early sailors who navigated these islands before GPS exact positioning. When out of sight of land this looks all the same. When sailing, sometimes you can go in a straight line making navigation easier. Even then over a longer passage, the boat speed changes all the time. When you are tacking back and forth into a wind and the speed is constantly changing, no way to guess your position, course or destination.

There were several Bahamian fishermen baseing out of Water Cay. Some had bigger boats and anchored off of the island. Those are the motherships and tow several powerboats for the guys to cover more territory during the day. One guy decked over the front of a small skiff and made a cuddy cabin. He has a homemade grill on shore. Plus he sets up a generator on shore to keep some large freezers cold. He may stay out here a week or two before he goes to town. These guys work all day every day, no matter what the wind is doing. Tough people.

The Chef on board uses what ever is available to whip up something new and exciting for every meal. Our first night at Long Island, Nancy pan seared lobster and fresh fish that “Cheval” had given us. No green flash in this anchorage but we still get a fantastic sun set. The Chef sounds the Conch horn as the sun settles into the west.

Just as we were anchoring several boats were commenting on the mosquito issue. Oops, turn around and get a little further in the bay for the night. We can always move closer for the protection from the up coming winds. Good holding in silty sand.

We woke up to the sounds of Roosters crowing on shore. That makes Nancys day. No mosquitoes, but we closed the boat early and went to bed, so we never gave them a chance to invade. In the morning when Nancy went up to do her yoga on the bow. We had been swarmed by termites during the night. Apparently they are attracted to our lights on deck. Only about 20 boats all spread out in the anchorage, so maybe I will turn off some lights tonight. After morning chores of cleaning the cabin, checking the engine, cleaning the bilge and topping off the Starting Battery. Nathalie swings by on her paddleboard. She and Nancy paddle to shore. Nancy carries a VHF handheld and can call for help if needed.

In the afternoon we made a quick run to Long Island Petroleum dock. They sell gas to cars out front, or gas /diesel to boats pulling up to the dock. Super nice sisters born on the island. After buying 4 gallons of diesel at $6.12 a gallon we dinghied back to the boat. While making water for an hour. Nancy could hear water running in the bilge. I can’t hear things well anymore. After poking around we realized the brine overflow line had come lose from the water maker. Super briney water had been poring all over the water maker. Turned it off and poured a gallon of fresh water over the whole thing. I will work on it tomorrow.

A weak cold front is moving south to hit us tonight. Should stall over the Bahamas later. No rain just nice blowing wind.

We are anchored in Thompson Bay north of Salt Pond.

Nathalie, Nancy and I went in to Basil’s dock. This gentleman allows the cruisers to tie their dinghies to his dock and walk into town. Unfortunately, several cruisers don’t know the simple rules at his dock. The water is not for cruisers, it cost him money. Please don’t lock your dinghy to the one ladder blocking it. The Blue Barrel that says “No Boater trash” is not for boaters trash.

We checked out the grocery store and had a long talk with the owner, Mr. William Miller. Then we walked to St. Joseph’s Church. There were some huge Lignumvitae trees in the church yard. This island has many growing in the wild.

The large tree on the left is a lignumvitae tree. Lignum Vitae, means “tree of life” and is the national tree of the Bahamas. Some interesting facts about the wood. It is one of the heavier woods in the world and sinks in water. It is very oily and has been used for centuries in ships. The first three chronometers on ships used bearings and gears made of this wood due to the oil factor. Later, propeller shaft bearings were made out of it. Including the shaft bearing of the WWII submarine USS Pampanito. To bring the history of ships and Lignum Vitae full circle, the first nuclear powered sub, USS Nautilus, had an aft main shaft bearing composed of this wood.

This is Dorald Harding’s grave, born in 1910. He is literally buried between a rock and a hard place. Notice the spelling of his first name. Another unique spelling on a grave was, “Elthie Harding” 1919-1992.

Love the yard art of an old stern from a Bahama racing sloop “Beerly Legal”. Next door was a functional class C racer, “Beerly Legal”.

Basil’s dinghy dock, with instructions painted at the top of the ladder.

Here I am shredding a coconut by hand on the aft deck. Nancy made a wonderful Flan with shredded coconut in it for the nights dinner party aboard “Time Out”.

S/V Sea Breeze, Thompson Bay, Long Island, Bahamas

#Exuma #seabreeze2023 #seabreeze2022

[cynicalone94]

Overcrowded ER

The ED is flooded with people when Jay gets off the elevator.

So much for a quick chat with his brother while he waits for Erin to finish things up with their witness.

Doctors and nurses are scurrying back and forth between exam rooms and patients sitting in wheelchairs or lying on stretchers in the hallway.

“Food poisoning at a wedding.” Maggie says as he pauses by the desk, looking around.

“Anything I can do other than getting out of your way?” he asks.

“Not really.” she says, granting him a small smile.

He turns, about to head back upstairs and then he catches a glimpse of two men stepping into a treatment bay.

They aren’t doctors or nurses but in this environment, it’s not unrealistic for family members to be allowed to sit with a patient waiting for a doctor.

But something about them feels off to Jay and he alters course, following them into the exam room.

Where he finds his brother standing with his hands raised as a gun is pointed at him.

The second man whirls toward him, pointing a gun his direction.

“Who are you?” he snarls, angry exhalations ruffling his mustache.

“I’m a Detective with the Chicago Police Department.” he announces, wanting to hold off cluing them in to the relationship between their hostages. “I need you to put the weapons down.”

“Not going to happen.” Mustache says. “We’re going to get our drugs back. Once we have them, we’ll leave and the two of you can get on with your day.”

Jay glances over at the woman lying motionless on the bed. She’s hooked up to the monitors and he doesn’t know enough about medicine but the numbers seem reasonably okay.

“Drug mule.” Will fills in. “But they aren’t passing so they need someone to remove them. Gave an entire wedding food poisoning to get a window.”

“The doc is going to perform the surgery.” the other man, older with salt and pepper hair, informs them. “And you, Detective, are going to shut the hell up and do what you’re told. Starting with closing the door. Does it lock, doc?”

“No.” Will says. “There’s no reason the hospital would want it to.”

“Well now we want it to.” Mustache retorts as Jay slides it closed.

He grits his teeth for a moment before risking speaking up.

“There’s a spare IV pole in here that we could wedge through the door.” he offers. “It wouldn’t stop anyone who was determined to get in but nobody else will randomly walk in.”

“Told you to shut up.” Mustache snaps.

“But he has a point.” Salt and Pepper says. “Do it, Detective.”

Jay grabs the pole and slides it through the handles on the door to hold it closed.

“Now get on your knees.” Mustache orders.

Jay hesitates but when the gun is pointed directly at his face again, he reluctantly drops to his knees.

“And stay quiet.” Mustache adds.

He watches as Will sets up the equipment that he’ll need for the surgery.

Performing it in a trauma bay isn’t ideal but Will should have everything he needs to get the job done.

Except one thing.

“Dr. Halstead?” he says, keeping his head down.

“Detective.” Salt and Pepper snarls.

“I just want to be sure that he has enough Narcan to take care of her if the situation goes south.” Jay says.

“We had to use two of the three vials that are stocked in here on the last patient.” Will says, looking around. “And we weren’t able to restock it because the ED is on fire.”

“I don’t care.” Salt and Pepper says. “The doc will just have to be careful.”

“I have Narcan.” Jay says. “Please. Just let me give it to him.”

Salt and Pepper holds his gaze for a long moment and then nods. Jay fishes the pair of auto injectors that he carries out of his jacket and holds them out to his brother.

Will steps forward to take them.

“Thank you, Detective.” he says.

“Shut him up.” Salt and Pepper snaps.

Jay doesn’t move, doesn’t fight as Mustache forces a length of bandaging, knotted at the center into his mouth and ties it behind his head.

“Let the good doctor do his job.” Mustache snarls in his ear before stepping away.

Will makes the first cut, slowly working his way toward where he’d located the drugs using the ultrasound.

Eventually, he gets into the intestine and locates the drug baggies.

Requesting a tray, he starts removing them.

Just as he starts to think this might be almost over, that he and his brother might survive this, the last bag splits and white powder spills into the woman’s body.

“No, no, no, no, no.” he mutters, reaching for sponges.

Narcan won’t work if he lets all of this heroin be absorbed into her bloodstream.

“What are you doing?” the man behind him who’d introduced himself as Ed growls, grabbing his arm.

“I need to get this out of her system.” he insists.

“Can’t you do it in a way that doesn’t destroy the drugs?” Ed asks.

“There isn’t really -” Will starts.

The bang is near silent but it still startles him and he jumps out of his skin.

He looks over to see his brother slumped forward, clutching his left shoulder as blood oozes from it.

“You just… shot him.” he stammers.

“Yes.” Ed says cooley. “We shot your brother. Now save our drugs or we’ll do worse.”

Reeling from the knowledge that these men know enough to realize that they are brothers despite never hearing Jay’s name, Will nods toward a suction unit.

“Hand that to me.” he orders. “I should be able to salvage some of it. Though you’ll have a hell of a time sterilizing it.”

The unit is handed to him and he starts suctioning blood and heroin powder from the woman’s intestines.

Once he’s cleared everything he can see, he administers the Narcan injections and then starts closing up the incisions.

All the while he desperately ignores the stuttering breathing from his brother behind him. Jay is doing a remarkable job of suppressing it, but he’s in pain.

He finishes the sutures, glancing continually at the door leading back to the ED. The silencer had done it’s job. With the bedlam taking place outside, nobody even knows that someone has been shot in here.

“What now?” he asks as he smoothes the tape securing the bandages. “She needs further treatment. That Narcan won’t last forever.”

“She can stay here.” Ed says dismissively. “I don’t care.”

“You guys can just walk out of here.” Will says. “Nobody even knows something is happening in here.”

“Yes but the Detective is coming with us.” Ed says.

“No way.” Will argues. “Come on, you think nobody will notice all the blood? The gag? Take me.”

Jay mutters a protest into the gag, shaking his head furiously.

“You know it’s a better option.” Will says, ignoring his brother.

“The cop is pissing me off.” the other man growls. “I wanna take him with us.”

“Doc has a point.” Ed says. “We lose any chance of walking out clean if we take the cop.”

Someone pounds on the door.

“Halstead? You almost done in there? We could really use the room.” Ethan’s voice calls.

Ed points his gun directly at Jay, motioning for Will to answer him.

“Just wrapping up now.” he calls back. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Why’d you close the door?” Ethan asks.

“Wanted a little privacy from the chaos.” Will says. “It was stressing out my patient.”

“Okay –” Ethan starts, cutting off as Jay screams as loud as he can through the gag.

The man with the mustache shoves him to the floor, clamping a hand over his mouth but the damage is done.

“Will?” Ethan questions.

“It’s fine.” he tries to insist.

“I’m calling the police.” Ethan snaps and then they hear him moving away from the door.

“Well I guess we’re taking the fucking pig after all.” the mustache man growls.

“No!” Will begs. “Please. He’s hurt.”

Ed presses his gun into Will’s back as the other man wrenches Jay’s hands behind his back and binds them with roller gauze.

Jay screams again as the motion pulls on the bullet wound in his shoulder.

And then the man is pulling him to his feet and jerking the IV pole out of position securing the door.

Ed steps up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and then the two of them are pushing into the ED.

Will stands, watching helplessly as his brother, injured and bleeding, is drug away from him.

Voight rolls up behind the police barricades outside Med.

For once, all protocols had worked perfectly.

Hospital security and a few officers on scene, Erin included, had confronted the gunmen at the exit, managing to trap them between the double doors.

The glass is bullet proof and they’ve disabled the doors leading back into the hospital. The ED had been cleared is record time thanks to Ethan Choi who’d also been the one to shut the doors down.

Which leaves the two men standing between the doors with Jay held in front of them. His arms are behind him, presumably bound, and a length of bandaging is tied in his mouth.

But Voight’s attention is pulled directly to the blood soaking into the left side of his shirt and pants.

He’s already lost a lot of blood and if the way the pool under his feet is anything to go by, he’s still bleeding heavily.

And the pallor of his face, his unsteady wavering, tell an even clearer story.

They don’t have much time.

“Edward Jasper.” he shouts. “I’m Sergeant Voight.”

“What do you want, pig?” the man asks.

“I want to see if we can find a solution that works for all of us.” he says.

“I want you and the rest of the shitbags to get out of our way.” Edward demands.

“We can discuss that.” Voight answers. “You need to let Detective Halstead go.”

“He’s staying with us.” Edward replies. “Punk couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Even after we tied the gag on.”

“He is bleeding out.” Voight insists. “If you don’t let him go, he will be dead soon. And things get a lot worse for you if that happens.”

Edward rolls his eyes but Voight locks eyes with Jay who nods. Using blinks, he counts to three and then drops like a stone.

Voight brings his weapon up in the heartbeat, dropping both men with a single shot to the head.

All three men hit the ground and don’t move.

Leaving the other police on scene to handle the criminals, Voight rushes directly to Jay, rolling him onto his back.

Jay is breathing harshly around the gag and Voight wastes no time removing it.

“Hang on, kid.” he orders as he presses down on his detective’s bleeding shoulder.

The doors slide open behind him and he barely even glances up as Will and Ethan race out, joining him around Jay.

“He was lucid until he hit the deck to get me a shot.” Voight says. “Now he’s barely responding to me.”

“Looks like he might have hit his head when he hit the ground.” Ethan says, checking pupils which causes Jay to recoil with a strangled sound.

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” Will comments. “They must have torn something when they tied his hands.”

“Let’s get him back inside.” Ethan snaps.

Jay is bundled up onto a stretcher and an IV is started, flooding saline into his system to get his blood pressure up.

Voight follows as far as they let him before he falls back.

“Come on, kid.” he whispers. “Keep fighting.”

Will and Voight are showed into the ICU room.

Jay is motionless in the bed, an oxygen mask over his face. An IV is running out of each wrist.

The monitors are steadily tracking his vitals, showing that while weak, he’s on the right track.

“They’re working on getting his blood volume back up still.” Will says. “But he’s doing well. He’s stable.”

“What does he have against that shoulder?” Voight mutters.

“He’s not the one putting bullets in it.” Will says. “Should probably figure out if there’s some kind of ultraviolet target tattooed on it or something.”

Voight chuckles, motioning Will forward.

“I have to go. A lot of paperwork and interviews involved in killing two scumbags. Managed to delay it to make sure he was okay under the circumstances but the piper has to be paid.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Will says. “I’ll keep you posted.

Jay wakes up four hours later.

Will is dozing at his bedside when his brother’s fingers tighten around his.

“Jay?” he asks, leaning forward.

Jay groans, head rolling toward his brother.

“You’re alright, kiddo.” Will tells him. “You’re safe now.”

Blue-green eyes flicker open.

“Will?” his brother slurs.

“Hey buddy.”

“Happened?”

“You got shot. You’re going to be okay.” Will reassures him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Will says. “Thanks to your little stunt.”

The smallest of smirks appears on his brother’s lips.

“Surprised?”

“Not even a little.” Will says. “We got the right meds in you? Feeling okay?”

“Tired. But m’okay.”

“Yeah.” Will says, rubbing his arm. “You lost a lot of blood. Need another blanket?”

Jay shrugs and Will takes that as a yes, getting into the cabinets for one and tucking it over his brother.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” he suggests.

Jay nods.

#whumptober 2023 #overcrowded ER #Chicago PD #fic #hostage situation #Jay Halstead #no.8