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loxare · 4 months

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A game I've been playing in early access for the past half year, Immortal Life, came out fully wednesday, and I love it so much and think that everyone should play it. Anyways I wrote a thing

Mu Xia hummed as she carefully placed the plate of dumplings in her basket. They were a new recipe, pork and chive, and she really hoped her shijie liked them.

Carefully balancing her basket on her arm, pushing aside the kitchen curtain with the ease of long practice, she nearly dropped everything when Ji Yaohua’s voice called out, “Mu-shimei! I was just speaking to your mother about importing things for the inn. She told me to ask you about anything you needed for the kitchen.”

Basket balanced once again, Mu Xia smiled. “Oh course, Ji-shijie, thank you. It will be our usual list, but could you see if you can get more of the chives? If these turn out, I think they’ll be a hit with the customers.”

Yaohua leaned in, curious. “What are they? They smell good.”

“Pork and chive dumplings! I have some extra in the back if you want, but these are for Shijie!” In this context, there could only be one Shijie. The farmer of the Misty Valley was the reason she was even a part of Guiyun Sect after all.

Li Mengqing appeared from around the corner, summoned by the call of a new food to try. “I’ll get them! Just on the serving table?” Not waiting for an answer, she slipped into the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” Yaohua’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If it’s her birthday you have to tell me. She refuses to say.”

That sounded like Shijie. “No, not at all. I just haven’t seen her in a few days, so I wanted to check on her and make sure she was eating well.”

A strange look crossed Yaohua’s face. It looked pained, but also glum and mischievous for some reason. “I see. I think she’ll enjoy those a lot. Say hi for me.”

“I will!” Ji Yaohua’s strange moods wouldn’t deter Mu Xia. “See you later Ji-shijie, Li-shimei!”

After Mu Xia was gone, Mengqing came out and passed Yaohua a dumpling. “Ji-shijie. If Shijie hasn’t been seen in a few days...”

“Yes.” Yaohua took a bite of the dumpling. It was very good indeed. She’d have to research where to obtain chive seeds. The Misty Valley could support nearly any kind of plant in its soil, so it was just a matter of sourcing. And having Shijie grow them would be much cheaper in the long run than importing chives. As for Mu Xia... “She’d have to find out sometime. Besides, if it’s been a few days, Shijie could probably use the food.”

“Hm. True.” Mengqing ate another dumpling. “Hey, do you think it’s possible to make a red bean dumpling?”

She’d never had a sweet dumpling before. “I’m sure you can convince Mu-shimei to try.”

The walk to the Misty Valley was pleasant. The weather was warm, and a bit breezy. There was rain on the horizon, but it wouldn’t hit until tonight. She spoke briefly to Zhou Qian’er about the day’s catch, and to Chen Yuanzhou about fishing her up a few puffer fish for an upcoming banquet.

The Misty Valley hummed with power as it always did. She could almost see the crops growing as they absorbed the spiritual energy, cycling it and sending it back into the earth, stronger. That was one of the things that had surprised her, after she’d started cultivating. Mu Xia had been to the Misty Valley before, usually on her way to the Sunset Forest to pick scarlet sage, but never before had she been able to see the energy she had always felt in the place. It had always felt alive to her, vibrant in ways that she hadn’t been able to comprehend. It was no wonder that Shijie was so strong, if this was where she lived, worked, cultivated.

Speaking of. “Shijie? Are you here?” She checked both fields, poked her head into the Blessed Land, knocked on the door of the freshly renovated house. But she was nowhere to be seen.

Then, suddenly, a flash of light. The same as the others when they teleported somewhere else. Mu Xia couldn’t wait to learn that technique. “Shijie, you’re home! I brought- ” She stopped short.

It... was Shijie. She could tell. But the usual flowing robes and perfectly styled hair were in horrible disarray, and covered in... substances. Mud was the least egregious of the substances, but Mu Xia could also see some sort of green-grey plant sap that smelled horrible, more green goop, and blood (?!) in various shades and consistencies. “Shijie?!”

Instead of asking for help or something, Shijie wobbled and mumbled, “whatimezit?”

“I...” Mu Xia checked the position of the sun. “Almost dusk.”

“Mmm,” Shijie nodded. “Worms.”

And she teetered off, in the direction of her silkworm hut. Mu Xia followed helplessly. As Shijie pulled a large bundle of mulberry leaves from her storage ring, Mu Xia asked, “Shijie, are you alright?”

Shijie nodded again. “Jss tired. Still got,” she paused, trying to visibly count up her remaining tasks.

That wouldn’t do at all! “No, you’ve got nothing to do until you’re cleaned up and rested!” Mu Xia spread the rest of the leaves over the worms, grabbing Shijie’s arm and pulling her towards the house.

Shijie pulled away before they could enter, detouring to the waterfall. To Mu Xia’s shock, she stood under it for a few minutes, allowing the water to wash away the substances. Then she stripped her clothes off, replacing them with a clean, dry set from her ring, while Mu Xia went “Eep!” and turned around.

Finally, Shijie sat down at her table, Mu Xia across from her. The waterfall had woken her up enough to speak in full sentences, so when Mu Xia set down the basket and opened the lid, her eyes lit up and she said, “Dumplings! Thank you Mu-shimei, I was starting to get hungry.”

“Aren’t you capable of inedia?” It wasn’t healthy, to survive on inedia for too long, but at the very least it prevented the feeling of hunger. Shijie didn't usually rely on it, but it was useful when she went to the secret realms and didn't want to fill up her storage rings with food.

Shijie made a noise of affirmation and swallowed her dumpling. “Yeah, but not for more than a few days. Maybe once I hit Core, but not yet.”

Mu Xia subtly pushed the plate closer. “What were you doing anyways?”

“I needed more golden disks. I used them all up learning spells, which means I don’t have enough for research and development, or to upgrade my axe.” Shijie ate another dumpling. Jin Li crept off of his nest and sniffed at one, then wrinkled his nose. “If I can do that, I can get past those ironwood tree roots that are blocking the path to the eastern forest, see if I can find out what’s in there. Maybe there’s a great treasure that we can use to rebuild the sect.” She looked critically at the half of a dumpling she was holding. “Do you think I can get seeds for chives? I’d like some more aromatics to work with, and these are good. Do you have the recipe?”

Mu Xia nodded. “I finished developing it today. If you liked them, I was going to introduce them to the inn menu.” Shijie had very good taste. If she liked something, odds were it would do well with many customers.

“The usual arrangement then.” Ingredients, to repay the time Mu Xia spent developing her recipe, and to thank her for her generosity. “Assuming I can get chive seeds in.”

“If you can, I’ll see about getting more recipes with them in.” Mu Xia fidgeted with her sleeve. “Shijie, is that. Is that how you usually look when you leave town for a few days?”

Shijie huffed, offended. “I wasn’t gone for a few days, I have to be back every day to feed the worms. They’re very important Mu-shimei.”

“Of course,” she said, conciliatory. “But why didn’t I see you yesterday then?”

A long moment of silence. Shijie was more awake, but still not to her usual calibre, it seemed, as it was taking her a minute to think that through. “Oh, I guess I did feed them at 3 in the morning yesterday. And the day before. And then it was straight back to the desert.”

“Shijie! How long has it been since you slept?” Another long pause, that Mu Xia didn’t let her finish. “Go to bed! Right now!”

“But I have to sweep the forest for flowers, and then I have to schedule some classes for tomorrow, and I need more krill so I have to fish some of those up tonight, and having more pearl dust is always useful and -”

“Go to bed!”

It took another few minutes of corralling her, but eventually Shijie was laying in her bed, Jin Li curled smugly on her chest, preventing her form moving. In just a few seconds, she was asleep.

Mu Xia breathed a sigh of relief. Then she got out her paper crane talisman. Shijie did so much for them. They could do a few things for her, at least for tonight.

#immortal Life #Mu Xia #Ji Yaohua #Li Mengqing #Did I intend the entire cast to be the girls? No #that's just kinda how it worked out when I was planning this out while walking six blocks in ten minutes to get to my next class #Based on various Elder Farmer discussions we've had on the discord #where Elder Farmer emerges from the mines after a week with a heart rending cry of 'MY WORMS!!!!'#or Elder Farmer mediates an argument between townspeople (because Elder Farmer is an Elder now and supposedly has the authority to do that)#and instead of offering advice just puts the two arguers to work on the potatoes #Elder Farmer is a Mess #is how most of us play I think #Terrible sleep schedule because there's no enforced bed time #staying in the realms for days on end #only emerging to Feed the Worms and harvest crops I guess #Chives sadly aren't available in game. Neither western chives nor Chinese chives (which these are supposed to be)#I guess green onions are but also. Not the same #there's also no garlic which I Suffer about daily #anyways play Immortal Life #it's a really cute farming game about rebuilding a cultivation sect after FIRE RAINS DOWN FROM THE SKY and destroys it #and there's an overarching plot of trying to find out why the fire rained down from the sky and destroyed the sect #and all the characters are so well written and unique and they all have strengths and flaws and they're so good and I love them all #Mu Xia got the spotlight here but I may do things with the others later #uh in case it wasn't clear don't be like Elder Farmer. Eat well. Sleep well. Don't forget to feed your worms.#Loxie's fics

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july-19th-club · 2 years

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aw damn must be time to prepare my famous chicken dish

#the best part of every fall is a) when the asters and the goldenrod are in bloom at the same time #b) when the leaves turn #c) when the deadly nightshade that i let grow in the woodshed all summer needs to be pulled and i get a bunch of berries #what do i do with them? absolutely nothing lmao i dry 'em and put 'em in a little jar and feel so super satisfied that i have nightshade #and a pavlovian switch in my brain flicks and reminds me of forty garlic chicken #also right at this very moment there is a guy coming down MY treeline and he appears to be foraging for MY mushrooms #but im not going to stop him bc a) i have never harvested them i dont know which kinds are safe to eat b) hate confrontation

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steddieasitgoes · 3 months

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written for @steddielovemonth Day 7 prompt: Love is: Silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favorite. Rating: T (for suggestive language) | no cw

Eddie wouldn’t call Steve a push over, he’s witnessed him annihilate the kids with a bitchy retort and a pointed stare too many times for it to be true, but there are times when Steve’s soft center oozes out, allowing the ones he loves to walk all over him.

Like when it comes to food.

Eddie’s always known Steve’s willing to share his food with his friends. He witnessed it enough times in the Hawkins High cafeteria — Steve wordlessly passing Tommy his unopened applesauce seconds after he finished his own or scooting his tray closer to Carol when she opted for a salad and looked at her choice with regret.

It’s only gotten worse though.

Now, Steve’s plate barely gets set in front of him before there are hands making passes at it. Dustin’s grubby paws snatching the pickle spear from the plate, Max and Erica harvesting his fries until all that’s left are the burnt and wonky ones, Mike and Lucas occasionally shoveling spoonfuls of Mac and cheese into their mouths before it’s even had a chance to cool. Even Robin gets in on it, swiping a slice of garlic toast from his plate like some feral bird.

And Steve never says anything.

Well, most of the time.

If anyone ever takes something he really wants — like the time Dustin tried to get a sip of his Neapolitan shakes a few weeks back — bitchy Steve comes out in force, defending his food with the same ferocity he used to rip a demobat apart with his bare hands in the Upside Down.

With that knowledge in mind, Eddie comes to the conclusion that pickles, fries, Mac and cheese, and occasionally thick slices of garlic toast are low on Steve’s favorite food list.

So, one can imagine Eddie’s surprise when he excuses himself from the movie marathon going on in the living room of Steve’s place in search of a beer refill to find Steve chomping on a pickle spear in the bright light of the fridge.

The sight is something, sure. Especially the way Steve’s sweatpants strain against his ass as he squats to put the jar back. But Eddie doesn’t want to get caught intruding on Steve’s secret pickle whims so he quietly retreats to the living room — beerless, sure, but with a lot on his mind that he doesn’t even care.

If Steve liked pickles all this time, why hasn’t he told Dustin off for always stealing his? And if he’s secretly harboring a love of pickles, what else is he selflessly giving up without anyone knowing? Does Robin know about his pickle love affair?

Eddie spends the rest of the night rethinking everything he’s thought he’s ever known about Steve until he’s so worked up he makes up some lame excuse about needing to help Wayne with some yard work in the morning and leaves right in the middle of the third movie of the night.

On his drive home, he comes to the conclusion that he’s not going to let Steve miss out on pickles anymore. Not if he can help it.

Operation Save Steve’s Pickle gets put in motion the following day when Eddie is summoned via Dustin’s booming voice over the walkie-talkie to lunch to make up for his abrupt departure last night.

It’s business as usual so far in the diner, just with fewer faces. Steve, Robin, and Dustin are the only ones in attendance today, making the corner booth more spacious than it has ever been.

Eddie feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as the waiter approaches with their food. He might not be running for his life this time around, but his heart sure hasn’t gotten the memo practically beating out of his chest in anticipation of what he’s about to do.

Like clockwork, Steve’s plate is set in front of him and Dustin’s hand snatches the pickle without a second thought. The little shit even has the audacity to take a bite, juices pouring down his chin, as he lets them all know that it’s the best pickle yet.

Eddie wants to strangle him, but he refrains and sticks to the plan. When Steve’s preoccupied lathering his burger in more ketchup than one person should consume, he picks up his untouched pickle spear and slides it onto Steve’s plate.

“Are you giving Steve your pickle right now?” Dustin screeches, drawing the attention of everyone in the crowded diner.

“Maybe don’t phrase it like that, please,” Robin chimes in, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

Eddie can’t help but bark out a laugh before glancing at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with the pickle on his plate. He’s pretty sure he sees the smallest twitch of his lips, threatening to pull into a real smile but gets interrupted from watching the sight by Dustin’s hand. Eddie swats it away.

“What the hell!” Dustin groans, massaging the back of his reddening hand. “If you’re going to share your pickle, you should give it to me, not Steve. He doesn’t even like them”

“Except he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Steve,” Eddie huffs, turning in the booth to face him. “Can you please tell this insufferable know-it-all that you do like pickles? Like them so much you have a secret jar in your fridge?”

“I mean, yeah I do—wait how do you know about the secret jar?”

“I caught you eating one last night.”

“You have a secret jar of pickles in your fridge that you’ve never told me about?”

“That is what secret means,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes. “You get my pickle every time we come here. Why should I share them at home too?”

“This is a betrayal of epic proportions!” Dustin whines.

“Oh can it, Henderson. Go back to eating your lunch and let Stevie here enjoy a pickle from Sue’s for once in his life!”

Surprisingly, the kid actually listens to Eddie and the table launches into silence except for the crunching of fries and pickles in Dustin’s case because Steve still hasn’t touched his.

Eddie nudges Steve’s forearm, “Better get to it before Henderson makes another pass for it.”

“We could share?”

“No need. This one’s all you.”

Steve gives Eddie one of his uncharacteristically soft smiles before taking a heaping bite out of the pickle. Juice dribbles down Steve’s chin but he doesn’t seem to mind judging by the pure bliss on his face. Eyes closed and head tipped back as if he…

Jesus H. Christ

Maybe giving Steve his pickle wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Holy shit,” Steve moans, taking another bite. “This is the best pickle I’ve ever tasted. Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie's stunned for a moment, eyes locked on Steve's throat, watching as he swallows before he comes to his senses.

“You can have my pickle anytime, Stevie,” he says without thinking, high off Steve's pickle-drunk expression.

It is not until Robin groans and they all erupt into a fit of laughter does the euphemism lands on Eddie. He didn’t mean it like that, not in the slightest. But hey, if Steve wants that pickle too, Eddie’s sure as hell not going to say no.

#steddielovemonth #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie pov #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

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samwisethewitch · 4 months

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How I Get the Most Out of Meat When Cooking

As someone who 1.) was 100% vegetarian for ethical/religious reasons until very recently, and 2.) recently had to reintroduce meat for vitamin deficiency reasons, limiting waste as much as possible when I cook with meat is really important to me. For one thing, I feel like I owe it to the animal that died to get as much use as possible out of its body as a way of honoring its death. For another, meat is expensive (ethically raised meat even more so) and I want to get my money's worth.

I recently bought a bunch of lamb for my family's holiday dinner, so I wanted to share my attempt to practice the Honorable Harvest in my meat consumption. This is new to me, but I wanted to document the attempt because it's been a fun learning process for me! If you want to actually learn about honorable consumption I encourage you to read the works of Robin Wall Kimmerer and other indigenous ecologists, since the Honorable Harvest is based on indigenous North American practices. (Though there are other cultural practices all over the world.)

Step One: Sourcing the Meat

I am very fortunate to have enough disposable income to buy ethically raised meat, which tends to be more expensive. This is a privilege. Other people are not able to spend this extra money on their meat, and that doesn't make me better than them. Feeding yourself is morally neutral, and a tight budget is not a moral failing. Most meat alternative products (Beyond Beef, Impossible, etc.) are also pretty expensive. If the factory-farmed meat at the supermarket is the only thing in your budget, use that.

If you DO have some extra funds, local farms are a great place to source meat. The reason we had lamb for the holidays is because a local farm recently culled their herd and had lamb on sale. In the past we've gotten beef from a relative who raises cattle. I encourage you to learn about farms in your area and what they have to offer. CSAs and farmers' markets are great places to start. You can also ask around at local restaurants about where they source their ingredients.

When I say "ethically raised meat," what I'm really talking about is pasture-raised animals. Cage-free animals may not live in cages, but they can still be kept in cramped, dirty, inhumane conditions and be sold as "cage free." Pasture-raised animals are able to graze and forage and generally wander around within a paddock. For some animals like chickens you can also look for "free range," which means the animals are unfenced and are able to wander freely. Since I don't cook meat often, I try to get free range or pasture-raised meat when I do buy it.

In some areas, you may also be able to find certified ethically slaughtered meat, which means the slaughtering process has been designed to cause as little suffering to the animal as possible. That kind of certification isn't really available where I live, but it might be for you!

And of course, hunting or fishing yourself is also an option. If you kill the animal yourself, you know exactly how it died and can take steps to limit suffering as much as possible. Hunting isn't a skillset I have, but if you do more power to you!

Step Two: Cooking the Meat

This is the easy part. Depending on the cut of meat you got and the dish you are cooking, you may need to remove bones or trim fat, but aside from that it's just following a recipe.

For our holiday lamb stew, I used this recipe. I have Celiac disease, so I subbed gluten-free flour and replaced the beer with red wine. I also added rosemary and garlic for a more Mediterranean flavor to compliment the wine.

Step Three: Organs and Bones

This is where the breakdown is for a lot of Americans. We don't cook with bones or organs very often, and we tend to throw away whatever parts of the animal we don't want. That is not honorable consumption. Part of the Honorable Harvest is using every part of the being that died to feed you.

Most organs make great stew meat. My favorite Nicaraguan beef stew is made with tongue, and my indigenous Hawaiian relatives make stew with pig feet. And while I don't like them, lots of my Southern family members love chitlins (pickled pig intestines). Lots of cultures eat organs, and you'll find plenty of delicious recipes if you look!

Bones are typically used to make stock, which can be used as a base for future soups and stews. There are lots of recipes for DIY stocks and broths, but I usually fry some onions and/or garlic, deglaze with wine, and then add the meat/bones and the water, plus salt, pepper, and herbs for flavor. Most animal bones can produce two batches of stock before they lose flavor. (For really flavorful stock, leave some meat on the bones.)

Once the stock is done, you'll still have bones to deal with. Contrary to popular belief, cooked bones are not safe for dogs to chew on. (But raw bones usually are!) Instead, I strip any remaining meat and gristle from the stock bones, give those scraps to my pups as a treat, and then use the stripped bones for something else. With a little extra processing, the bones can be used as a fertilizer in a garden, a calcium supplement for chickens, or a safe treat for dogs and/or cats.

This was my first time processing bones, but after boiling them for, like, 12 hours in water with salt and vinegar, they were soft enough to break apart with my hands. I'm going to grind them to make bone meal.

#long post #cooking #the honorable harvest #robin wall kimmerer #sustainable cooking #sustainable #sustainability #animism #kitchen witch #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witchery #green witch #green witchery #solarpunk #cottagecore #food waste #mine #my writing

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sinkovia · 2 months

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Black Market: III

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of sexual assault, mention of Simon Riley's canon backstory, light angst.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

A few weeks passed and with thousands of dollars now sitting in your bank account, you began to reassess the deal you had made with Simon, realizing that it wasn't as terrible as you had initially thought. Slowly, you found yourself lowering your defenses and growing more at ease in his presence and the space around you.

Simon respected your wish to not accompany him on contracts, so you found yourself reluctantly harvesting organs from someone he had killed just minutes ago. It was a grim task, but you saw it as the least you could do for him being so cooperative with your demands.

As you worked, Simon leaned against the counter, watching you tear apart the insides of the man and carefully placing his organs into iced containers. "Thought you wanted to save lives? Here you are tearing into a man I only killed minutes ago," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"You offered me twenty thousand knowing I'm in desperate need of money. You're a sick man, Simon," you retorted, continuing your work without missing a beat. Simon simply smiled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He looked at the dead man split in half on the table and then to you, marveling at your focused precision and fast hands as you expertly took him apart.

"You think you could've brought him back?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. You smiled as you took out the last part, carefully placing his heart in the ice chest and sealing the container shut. Then, you turned to Simon, your smile lingering.

"I know I could have," you replied confidently. "But he would have been brain dead."

With that, you took off your gloves and sighed before heading up the steps to your bedroom for a much-needed shower. Simon remained in the basement, his mind swirling with questions about you. He had never cared for anyone before; his life had revolved around accepting contracts and killing people for money.

No socializing, no interests, no curiosity for other people. But you were different. There was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to peel back the layers and uncover your past.

Simon formed a plan in his head to extract any sliver of information from you that would allow him to delve into your history. He needed to know what made you such a skilled doctor at such a young age, considering that medical school takes years of study and experience to achieve the level of proficiency you display.

You were lying in bed, engrossed in the book that Simon had so graciously bought for you when the savory aroma of garlic and herbs wafted into the room.

Your stomach grumbled in response, prompting you to abandon your reading and make your way to the kitchen. Simon looked up as he set two plates down on the dining table.

"Made you dinner to make up for earlier,"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow as you surveyed the meal before you, but your doubts vanished the moment you took the first bite. "Holy shit, I didn't think you knew how to cook like this," genuine surprise evident in your tone.

A smile tugged at Simon's lips at your reaction. "Wanted to be a cook when I was younger," he admitted casually.

Which hadn’t been a lie, when he was younger he dreamed of opening his own restaurant.

Your eyebrows raised at his revelation. You hadn't expected him to be so open about himself. Relaxing into your chair, you took a sip of wine before sharing a bit of your own past. "I wanted to be a florist."

Simon's interest was piqued, finally getting a glimpse into your backstory. "Florist to surgeon? Pretty different occupations," he remarked, taking a sip of his own wine.

You laughed as you finished your glass and reached for the bottle to pour yourself more. "From a cook to a hitman?" you teased lightly.

Simon grinned in response. "Fair enough.”

Curious about what had steered him away from his childhood dream, you prodded gently, "What steered you away?"

Simon's expression shifted briefly, a flicker of memories passing through his eyes as he glanced down at his plate. "Different circumstances,"

Reflecting on your own past, you nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me too," you murmured, the weight of shared experiences hanging in the air between you.

As the evening wore on and a few more glasses of wine were shared between you and Simon, you found yourself loosening up. Eventually, you began to vent about your past jobs, particularly about a hospital where the nurses were brain dead fucks. You launched into a rant about all of them, each one seemingly worse than the last.

Simon listened intently, his grin widening as he realized the wealth of information you were unwittingly providing him. With each complaint, he mentally cataloged the names and details, knowing that he now had enough clues to get a glimpse into your past.

That night as you slept upstairs, Simon delved into the depths of the internet, scouring through various websites until he stumbled upon a list of old employers associated with your previous job. It didn't take long for him to piece together the missing parts of your identity, and soon enough, he discovered your last name.

Simon navigated through the dark web, his fingers typing in your name with a mixture of curiosity. What he found made his stomach clench.

Before him lay a website, one he was all too familiar with, an organization specializing in sex work. As he scrolled through, he saw old listings featuring you, offering your services for hire. He glanced away when he clicked on a link and saw pictures of you dressed in scant clothing, your eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

You were only a teenager, no older than seventeen.

His eyes read over an old listing offering a hefty reward for anyone who could locate and return you to them.

It didn't even cross his mind to entertain the idea of betraying you. In his eyes, you were worth infinitely more than any sum of money or reward. As he sat there, reflecting on your past and the horrors you endured, he couldn't fathom the thought of dragging you back into that nightmarish world.

Your value to him went beyond any material gain, your skill as a doctor made you irreplaceable. And as someone who understood the pain of being used, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting you to that kind of life again.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair, everything suddenly made sense, your reluctance to work for him, your aversion to joining him on contracts.

He hadn't expected you to be remotely tied to the black market, let alone be a victim of it. He had unknowingly brought you back to a world you were desperately trying to escape.

You find yourself unable to sleep, plagued by a throbbing headache that refuses to go away. Desperate for relief, you make your way down to the basement in search of Advil, hoping it will alleviate the pounding in your head. As you reach the last step of the basement you see simon at his desk with his back turned toward you.

Your eyes glance at the computer screen and your heart plummets.

Images of your younger self, captured and exploited, sold into a life of servitude and suffering. The shock of seeing your own face reflected back at you in such a vulnerable state leaves you reeling, the pain in your head momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unwelcome intrusion into your past.

"Happy with what you found?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, your voice tinged with bitterness. Simon's startled expression told you he hadn't anticipated your arrival, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and guilt.

"Just wanted to know who you were… wanted to know why you didn’t want to work for me," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the screen, the images of your younger self serving as a painful reminder of the horrors you endured.

"Sometimes people want their lives and past to be private," you murmured, your words heavy with the weight of years of suffering and trauma.

Simon knew that feeling better than anyone.

"I'm sorry," Simon offered, his apology hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

"No, you're not," you muttered bitterly, turning away and ascending the steps. As you disappeared from view, he sighed heavily, sinking back into his chair.

“Fuckin hell.”

The next morning, you found Simon waiting for you with breakfast prepared, a silent acknowledgment of his attempt to bridge the gap between you. Awkwardly, you took your seat at the table, the tension between you thick as you both ate in silence. The weight of his invasion of your privacy hung heavily in the air.

But then, as if unable to bear the tension any longer, Simon spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of his own past.

"The reason I didn't pursue my dream as a kid was because I enlisted in the military… my captain sold me out and I was captured, tortured, and used... anything to break my will and force me into blind obedience to their commands."

"I escaped," he continued, "After being buried alive and digging my way out with the jaw of the rotting corpse I was buried with. I made it home, went to therapy, and fixed my family troubles."

As he spoke, you could feel the weight of his trauma, the scars etched into his very being. "My teammates were also captured, but they were brainwashed. When I returned home one night, I found my family dead, my former team being responsible for their deaths. I hunted them down with the help of the black market and killed them. Since then, I've remained in this line of work.."

You sat there in stunned silence, his words sinking in like heavy stones in a pond. Simon continued to eat as if what he had just revealed was just another fact of life.

In that moment, you realized he already knew so much about your past; perhaps it was time to lay it all bare. With a heavy heart, you met his gaze, finding a shared understanding in the depths of his eyes.

“I was seventeen when a few men broke into my house one night, dragged me and my parents into the living room, and made me watch as they tortured my dad and had their way with my mom before killing the both of them.”

Your focus shifted to the small droplets of water falling against the side of your cup, each one mirroring the weight of the memories you carried.

“I was sold around before I made my way to the organization you were looking at last night. There was a group of us, we were sold to different men for our services.” The room fell silent as you paused, your gaze dropping to your lap for a few moments.

Simon, ever perceptive, sensed your discomfort in revisiting those painful moments from your past. “You don't have to talk about it, love,” he said gently, his voice carrying an understanding tone. “I understand—”

“A lot of the girls were rebellious, so they would get taught lessons,” you cut him off, your voice carrying the weight of each painful memory.

“That's where I learned how to patch up the girls with very little supplies. The man in charge noticed, so he made me start patching up the men who worked for him.” You picked at the skin around your nails as you furrowed your brows. Simon’s gaze never left you, his eyes bouncing over your facial expressions.

“Their injuries weren’t just simple scratches and cuts. They would get stabbed, or shot, and when I failed to save one of them, he made me watch as he tortured one of the girls, killing her slowly as my punishment… It happened two more times after that. I wasn't a fucking surgeon, I didn't know what I was doing.” you recounted, your now fingers picking at the hem of the place mat, the memories still haunting you.

“My lack of skill resulted in the deaths of three girls. I spent five years there, playing doctor for him when he needed it and earning him money with my services. During one of my transports for a service, the car was attacked by one of their rivals, which allowed me to escape. Now I'm here.”

The weight of those years is heavy in your voice. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a shared understanding of the pain and suffering you both carried within you.

"I became skilled out of necessity; failure meant the death of innocent girls."

You took a deep breath before locking eyes with him. “I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. You didn't deserve that."

You paused for a second before continuing, "I wish you never enlisted.” His brows furrowed as he studied your expression. “Why?”

“Because you’d be working at some restaurant, and I would have never met you or been dragged back into this business.” Simon exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair.

“You're safe here. We're nowhere near Russia, and if someone tried to fulfill the contract, I’d be here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows, your voice tinged with confusion. “What contract?”

“There’s an eight hundred thousand dollar contract open to whoever can deliver you back to Finn.” Your expression twisted with disgust at the mention of his name, recalling the fear he instilled in you for years.

“When was the contract posted?” Simon shook his head. “Years ago.” You nodded slowly as you picked at your food with your fork.

“I'm sorry, for digging into your past and dragging you back into this, you didn’t deserve that. If you want to leave you can.” You smiled and scoffed, “And pass up a free bodyguard, free five-star meals, and easy money? Yeah right.” Simon laughed and you smiled.

“Resourceful girl.”

“What can I say.”

You finished off your breakfast with a comfortable silence and some light back and forth about a new contract Simon was thinking about accepting. Simon picked up both plates and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher.

“A colleague of mine is coming in two weeks or so, he’s going to help me with a contract.”

You hummed and nodded your head, “Where is he going to stay?”

Simon grabbed a bowl of fruit out of the fridge and started picking at it. “He’s staying here.” You furrowed your brows and leaned against the counter next to Simon, your arm grazing his slightly as you reached for a strawberry in the bowl.

He watched as you brought the plump strawberry to your lips, looking away before you glanced back up at him. “What’s he like?”

“Don’t worry, you're safe around him, he is Scottish though.” You lifted your brow as you looked up at him, “Is being Scottish bad?”

“Bastard will talk your ear off.”

Black market tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla @lieutenantlashfaz @neothewitch @birdienotting @jupiternighties @samiiii333 @silverianni @elowynnlane @lotionlamp @ssc7514 @iloveloveeducks @rejectedbytheempty

If you want to be added or removed from the main tag list or the Black market tag list just lmk!

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

Outlaw cowboy sevika who fell in love with a good woman or a woman she is partner in crimes with?

i'm done writing the big fic, so i can finally start doing requests again!! starting with this GENIUS idea tysm anon <333

men and minors dni

the parlor doors swing open, and a shadowy figure wanders into the tavern. behind the bar, you bite your lip, watching patrons scatter as the cloaked figure struts over to the bar, a jingle decorating every one of their footsteps as their spurs twirl on their boots.

they knock on the bar top to get your attention, like you haven't had your eyes trained on them since they strolled in. you grin.

"how can i help ya?" you ask, already reaching under the counter to pull out a glass and bottle of whiskey. you pour them a big glass and slide it across the bar, not moving your hand when they reach forward to grab it.

when your fingers meet, you gently brush yours against theirs, then slowly, slowly trail your fingers up their arm, before grabbing the rim of their hat and flicking it up.

there she is, you think as sevika's face is finally revealed to you. she's smiling just as wide as you are.

"got any vacancies?" she asks. you chuckle.

"fully booked, sorry miss." you tease. she snorts. "but maybe if you work for it i can arrange a place for you to sleep." you add on. sevika rolls her eyes as you grab two buckets and gesture for her to follow you. she does. she always does.

you wander out of the tavern and into the small side garden you tend to in your free time. shoving a bucket into her arms, you gesture at the well. she meanders over to it and begins pumping the spout until water comes spurting out. you watch in amusement as she gets sprayed and curses.

you walk through your rows of crops, harvesting a few ears of corn, a couple of potatoes, a handful of carrots.

your tavern/inn is located on the main street of a small shanty town in the middle of nowhere. the only people who travel through these parts are up to no good, so when you came to own the place after the previous owner died and left it in your name, you made a few policy changes.

for one thing, you don't ask questions. patrons can come in riddled with shrapnel and bleeding, their faces identical to the 'wanted' sketches that are plastered around town, and you simply turn a blind eye and serve them a hearty bowl of stew, fill 'em up with liquor, patch their wounds, and give them a bed. in exchange for your discretion, you've made plenty of shady friends, who often pay for their time spent in the tavern with stolen and smuggled goods like pretty jewelry, gold bars, or premium cuts of meats or cheeses.

the locals don't give you much trouble, too scared to piss off any of your friends, too happy with the imported rare goods they bring to town with them to complain about the occasional stand off or shootout.

you wander out of the garden, stopping by the small stables and greeting sevika's trusty mare shimmer. the horse whinnies at your appearance, tail swinging happily as you scratch her ears.

"hey, shimmer." you whisper to the horse. "here, baby." you say, hand feeding her a few carrots. "how much trouble'd she get you in this time?" you ask the horse. shimmer doesn't respond, too busy crunching on her treats.

behind you, sevika's hand wraps around your waist. you smile as she presses a kiss against your head.

"missed you." she mumbles against your temple. you laugh and gesture to the tavern.

"c'mon." you say. "i'll canoodle with you once these chores are done."

you and sevika spend the afternoon tending to the tavern. she distributes the water evenly among bedrooms, filling the wash bowls and pitchers patrons can use to hydrate and clean themselves.

you tend to the stew, chopping and stirring in your vegetables, adding a few pinches of dried garlic and onion powder to the bubbling pot of perpetual stew, stirring and tasting and adjusting until you're happy with how it tastes.

it's the slow season. travelers are rare in these parts, but even more so during the scalding hot summer. a few neighbors wander in for a quick drink, and the few patrons you have retire to their rooms once sevika's done refreshing them.

once the sun sets, the tavern is empty, except for you and sevika.

she's staring at you adoringly from across the bar, her chin propped up in her hand as she watches you sweep. you scoff at her expression.

"what kinda trouble'd you get yourself into this time, huh?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"you didn't see it in the papers?" she asks.

"that train robbery?" you ask. sevika shrugs with a smile. you laugh. "you're gonna get caught up one of these days." you say as you begin wiping down the bar top. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you got no faith in me, darlin', it breaks my heart." she says. you laugh and turn off the oil lamps, before starting up the stairs. sevika follows behind you.

the second floor is where your patrons sleep, but you get the whole attic/third floor to yourself. it's a nice little studio space, two windows on either side, big enough to hold a double mattress and two sets of drawers, a few chests stuffed full with treasures and valuables sevika's brought back to you.

sevika sighs as she enters the space, hanging her hat and poncho up on two nails you'd slammed into the walls for her years ago, shoving off her boots and stripping down to her undergarments. you sit at your desk and watch her strip with scruitny, making sure she doesn't have any new wounds or scars. she washes herself down with a wet rag, sighing as the grime and dirt of her travels slowly washes away. once your sure she's not injured, you allow your gaze to become appreciative, taking in her muscular back and arms as they scrub her body down.

you rise from your seat and approach her, slinging your hands around her waist and tucking your chin over her shoulder. she sighs and leans back against you.

"three weeks is too long." you mumble against your lover. sevika hums.

"i know, darlin'." she says. you take the washcloth from her and begin to scrub her back for her, occasionally kneading and massaging at the knots and tension that riddles her muscles. she melts. "i missed you." she sighs. you kiss the nape of her neck.

"i missed you too. had me worried, you know." you mumble against her. she turns in your arms to wrap her own around your waist, gently swaying the two of you back and forth as she soaks in your features.

"i've been yours for how long?" she teases. you roll your eyes. "five years now?" she asks. you smile and nod. "and you're still worried about me? you know i always come back to you darlin'." she says. you sigh and roll your eyes. "gonna give yourself an ulcer at this rate." she teases. you chuckle.

"wouldn't have to worry if you stuck around." you say.

you and sevika have had this conversation a thousand times now. she's made more than enough in her time as a bandit for the two of you to live comfortably together until the end of time.

still, she always leaves. you don't blame her, before she met you sevika spent her entire life wandering the west, all alone, never staying in one place for longer than a week.

but then, one fateful night all those years ago, she stumbled into your tavern bloodied and battered, staring at you with a sparkle in her eyes as you patched her up. and since then, she's been circling back to you after each and every one of her jobs.

the longer she's had you, the more time she puts between her heists. you'll get her to stay eventually, you just have to be patient. but patience is hard when the love of your life has such a dangerous occupation.

sevika swoops in to kiss the frown off your lips. you sigh against her and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she slowly uncinches your corset and helps you out of your layers.

when you're both naked, you guide her to the bed, plastering yourself to her side as you continue to kiss her. tears well up in your eyes as you get your hand in her hair, and she notices, pulling away with a frown.

"'s wrong darlin'?" she asks. you hide your face against her shoulder.

"what if you die out there, sev? a hundred miles away all alone in the desert... nobody'd find you until you were just bones and dust. and i'd be here waitin' for you to come home for the rest of my life." you say, your voice wobbly. sevika wraps you up in her arms and sighs against you. you reach up to gently trace the scars littering her left cheek.

"fuckin' ruining the surprise." she grumbles against you. you blink.

"what surprise?" you ask. sevika rolls her eyes and darts forward to kiss your forehead.

"the train... it was a cargo train. one of the cars was headed to a bank, padded wall to wall with cash 'n gold. enough for a hundred people." she says. you gulp and blink at her, hesitant to assume lest you get your heart broken.

"so?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"so, i'm retiring." she says simply. "fuck do i need to keep robbin' and lootin' for if i'm already filthy rich?" she asks. you blink at her, your heart swelling, tears falling down your cheeks as you soak in her words. "plus... i met a girl i'm hopin' to settle down with." she says, smiling shyly at you.

you let out a shaky breath then launch forward, pinning sevika to the bed as she laughs and gathers you in her arms.

"are you serious?" you ask against her. she chuckles and kisses your head.

"deadly." she responds. you melt against her, clinging to her like your life depends on it. "you think you might need a new employee here?" she asks. you snort against her.

"i can figure somethin' out." you say. "gotta work on your people skills, though." you tease her through your tears. sevika laughs and smacks your ass.

"y'know..." she starts. you pick your head up from her shoulder to look at her, and she looks away, nervous. you kiss her lips and she sighs, her anxiety melting away under your touch. "i met a pastor while i was out wanderin'." she says. "said he wouldn't be opposed to marryin' two women if someone were to give his chapel some donation money." she whispers.

you study sevika for a moment as she anxiously nibbles on her lip. "you askin' me to marry you?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"i mean... i've already given you hundreds of rings." she says. you smile.

"you have." you say. she smiles up at you.

"so?" she asks. "his chapel's a day's ride from here. figured we could go now during the slow season, make it a little vacation?" she asks. you grin and launch down to kiss her, and sevika sighs against your mouth.

"there's nothin' in this world that would make me happier, baby." you whisper against her lips. sevika grins.

"sure you won't mind bein' an outlaw's wife?" she asks. you laugh and smack her shoulder.

"a former outlaw." you correct her. she chuckles. "and no, i won't mind. 'specially when that outlaw's as handsome as you." you say. below you, sevika blushes.

"fuck off." she grunts. you laugh.

"that's no way to talk to your wife." you tease her. sevika grins.

"you're right. 'm sorry, darlin'."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666

#cowboy sevikaaaaaa #in case ur wondering... she gives up her life of crime to become a rancher on the local cattle farm so she can still ride and wander #but now she can come home to her wife at the tavern every single night :)#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #i'm so excited to be back to writing prompts i've missed this!!! eeeeek!!

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 1 month

Text

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer

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clangenrising · 6 months

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Month 9 - Leaffall

“What are we looking for again?” asked Aldertail.

Oddstripe smiled over his shoulder, happy to answer the question one more time, and said, “Wild Garlic. It’s got big, flat, green leaves and sparse white flowers. You should be able to smell it by the time we get close, it's fairly pungent.”

“Right,” Aldertail nodded several times. Oddstripe glanced down at her raw forelegs with the distinct feeling that if they hadn’t been walking, she would have paused to groom them again. It was strange, he thought, that she would continue to lick her skin even after it had gone red and raw. The fur was patchy and sparse, like she’d torn it all out, and he couldn’t understand what could compel her to do such a thing. Sagetooth had told him that it wasn’t unheard of, that some cats who were particularly nervous or depressed had been known to tear their own skin apart or rip out chunks of their fur. She said that there wasn’t a direct cure, that treatment consisted of tending the wounds and talking with someone to resolve the underlying cause.

Aldertail was looking at him again. The moment she realized he had seen her, she averted her gaze guiltily, and he flushed with embarrassment. In the time she’d been in camp, she spent a lot of time watching, but it felt to him like she watched him the most. He had the feeling it had to do with his being a tom and he had to wonder if he would have stared if there had been someone else like him in the Clan when he’d arrived. He wondered if she was staring out of recognition, if she saw herself in him even if she didn’t know it, or if she was staring because he was a strange oddity to her. Oddity, ha. He’d almost forgotten that most cats before RisingClan had found him odd.

But with Aldertail, he could tell he was odd in a way he hadn’t been before. Once, he had overheard her call him a ‘pretender’ while talking to Branchbark. A pretender. Was he just pretending? No, he thought, the joy he had felt every time his kits called him Papa wasn’t pretending. StarClan had even blessed him with a deeper voice and every time he heard it coming out of his mouth it made him smile. So why had Aldertail called him that? He wasn’t sure.

“Do you smell that?” Aldertail asked suddenly as she stopped in her tracks. Oddstripe blinked and opened his mouth to scent for the garlic. Had they really walked to the patch already? It wasn’t garlic that hit his tongue though, it was a cat smell, and a familiar one.

“Oh!” he smiled, looking around. “That’s Stormwhisper! What is he doing here?”

“Stormwhisper?” Aldertail repeated in confusion.

The scent was close and Oddstripe bounded to the top of the hill to see if he could spot him. A few fox lengths a way, through the grass, he spotted the grey-furred tom and his grin widened.

“Stormwhisper! Hey!” he called, waving his tail. Aldertail crept up behind him, tail twitching nervously. Stormwhisper twisted around, ears pressed back instinctively, before he spotted Oddstripe.

“Oh, hey, Oddstripe,” he called back, sounding like a kitten caught in the honey stores.

“What are you doing out here?” asked Oddstripe, tilting his head as he closed the distance to the other Healer. Sagetooth had told him that Healers were permitted to cross the borders with good reason, to ask for help or bring news to other Clans, but Stormwhisper hadn’t been heading towards the camp at all and as far as Oddstripe was aware, Healers weren’t supposed to just go off and harvest other Clans’ herbs on their own.

Stormwhisper shifted awkwardly and softly said, “I’m, uh… going on a journey. Out of the territories.”

“Really?” Oddstripe gasped. “What for?”

“I’m… following a dream I had,” he admitted. Oddstripe couldn’t help but feel like he was still holding back, though.

“A dream,” he breathed in awe, “like from StarClan?”

“Yeah,” Stormwhisper nodded. “I think. It wasn’t very specific but… I have to check it out.”

“Oh, okay,” Oddstripe nodded. He had a feeling that Stormwhisper was done elaborating. Oh well, his curiosity would just have to wait. “Well, safe travels. May StarClan light your path.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, a month at most. Hopefully Sagetooth won’t make too much of a fuss when I miss the gathering.”

Oddstripe winced sympathetically, “Yeah, let’s hope.” Stormwhisper nodded and turned to continue walking through the territory, heading East, towards the forests where Oddstripe had once lived. He wondered what StarClan needed Stormwhisper to do - if Sagetooth would know or if asking her would just cause trouble. Beside him, Aldertail shifted from her crouch to peer after Stormwhisper and Oddstripe realized with a pang of guilt that the two of them had entirely ignored her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t even introduce you!”

“That’s alright,” Aldertail ducked her head in apology, “I didn’t expect you to.”

“Well, I should have,” Oddstripe said with a smile.

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

Oddstripe winced, not exactly sure what he could have done better but wishing that he had. “Well, either way, let’s keep looking for that garlic.”

“Of course!” Aldertail nodded hurriedly, licking her forelegs twice. “I should have been looking this whole time!”

“Oh, no, no, you’re alright,” he assured her with an uneasy laugh. “We’re not in any rush, you don’t have to worry. Besides, I’d love to get to know you better.”

“Me?” she asked, looking around as if there were someone else he might have been speaking to.

“Oh, yes,” Oddstripe purred as he started walking again. “I’d love to hear about you!”

“W-what about me?” Aldertail asked, slinking along behind.

“Anything,” shrugged Oddstripe, “your favorite food, what you do for fun, a favorite memory… anything!”

“Oh, uh…” Aldertail chewed her lip in thought. “I- I don’t know, sorry. I’m not very interesting.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Oddstripe smiled. Then, opening his mouth to scent the air, he said, “Oh, there it is! Look, you can smell the garlic up ahead!” Aldertail opened her mouth too, took a deep breath, and then grimaced at the smell.

“Eugh, that’s garlic?”

Oddstripe laughed. “Yeah. Not a great smell, is it? Come on, the patch is just up ahead.” He led the way through the tall grass, bouncing brightly with each step. His enthusiasm faded, however, when he came into the patch to find the grass had been torn up and eaten.

“Oh, no!” he cried, searching around for any sign of an intact bulb. “Curse those ground squirrels!”

“It’s all gone?” Aldertail asked. She pawed at some of the flowers that had been scattered about, frowning.

“Looks like it,” sighed Oddstripe. “Damn it!”

“What do you need this garlic for, anyway?” asked Aldertail. Oddstripe sighed again. He knew that most of the warriors didn’t care about herbs in the slightest but he wished they would. It was so tiring to have to defend his interests, even if the other cat wasn’t actually trying to disparage them.

“It’s good for infections,” he said, “we chew it up and put it on wounds.”

“And that… stops infections?” she frowned.

“Yeah, it does. That and a few other herbs, like horsetail.”

“That’s amazing,” said Aldertail, and Oddstripe blinked in surprise.

“You think so?”

“Of course!” Aldertail nodded, smiling for perhaps the first time he had ever seen. “Your spells can save lives!”

“They’re not spells,” Oddstripe laughed. “It’s called medicine. The herbs already have the natural properties to cure diseases and ease pain, we just learn them and apply them as needed.”

“That's amazing,” Aldertail said again. “I thought only humans had that kind of power.”

“Oh, they do?” asked Oddstripe and Aldertail nodded. “I had no idea! I’ve never met a human.”

“I have,” Aldertail nodded. “I mostly avoid them now that I’ve been notched, but sometimes they leave out food for us.”

“Huh,” Oddstripe said to himself. “Do they ever give you herbs or anything?”

“No,” Aldertail shook her head. “Not me at least. They only grace their chosen companions with such mercies. I’m just chaff.”

“Chaff?” Oddstripe tilted his head.

“Mhm,” she nodded, looking down at her paws. “Chaff is like… the bits of grain that have no use. We’re the cats the humans didn’t want around. They judged us and found us unworthy, that’s why we have our ears notched.” She gestured to her cut ear in shame and then gave the leg a few rough strokes with her tongue, wincing at the tug.

“Oh, honey, don’t hurt yourself,” Oddstripe frowned.

“Huh?” Aldertail looked up, confused.

“Your legs! They must be so raw. Why do you keep licking at them like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aldertail said with a shrug. “It makes my brain quieter.”

“Huh. Well, let me see if I can make your legs feel better.” He gave the patch one more disappointed glance and then started back towards camp. “I’ve got some herbs that should be able to soothe the skin a little.”

“A-alright,” nodded Aldertail, falling obediently into step behind him. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

He hitched his step to fall back into pace beside her. “No trouble at all. I love mixing poultices.” He saw confusion on her face and added, “That’s an herb mixture.”

“Oh. Okay,” she smiled slightly although her ears pressed back with nerves.

“It’ll be great,” he grinned, bumping gently against her. “Maybe I can show you the herbs I’ll use to do it! That way you can help me gather them in the future.”

“Okay,” blushed Aldertail shyly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he purred. “I’m glad to help.”

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warrior cats oc #warriors #warriors oc #clangen oc #Aldertail #Oddstripe #Stormwhisper #Leaffall #clangenrising

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esoteric-chaos · 11 months

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Lughnasadh Masterpost - Spoonie Witch Friendly

Lughnasadh, this holiday typically lands on August 1st in the Northern Hemisphere (February 1st in the Southern Hemisphere).

Lughnasadh celebrates the arrival of the late summer season and the abundance of the first harvest.

Usually it a harvest of grain and corn, but in other areas it’s a fruit and vegetables for harvest. You’ll see the days begin to shorten from here.

This is a holiday that is more easy to feel disconnect from as most aren’t out there Stardew Valley style on their grandfathers farm. We either have a small garden of our own or everything is store bought. Or those who are gluten intolerant they also may find it harder to connect.

Celebrating and honoring the harvest is important. Even if we are not personally gardening we are offering thanks for natures prosperity in keeping us fed and healthy with each bountiful harvest.

But after this correspondence list I will give you a list of ideas of how everyone can celebrate.

Correspondences

Colours

Yellow

Orange

Gold

Green

Light Brown

Dark Purple

Tan

Herbal

Rosemary

Cinnamon

Mint

Basil

Garlic

Flowers

Sunflowers

Marigolds

Hydrangeas

Daisy

Dahlia

Zinnias

Yarrow

Roses

Honeysuckle

Oaktree

Apple tree

Edibles

(Anything within season)

Wheat, grains, bread

Corn

Apples

Berries

Peaches

Pears

Squash & zucchini

Tomatoes

Mead

Animals

Calves

Crow

Pig

Rooster

Salmon

Eagle

Lion

Squirrel

Stag

Lamb/ Sheep

Crystals

Citrine

Quartz

Amber

Malachite

Carnelian

Aventurine

Garnet

Tiger’s Eye

Metals

Symbols

The Sun

Wine & mead

Pentagram

Sunflowers

Corn

Wheat

Berries

Spiritual meanings & intentions

Prosperity

Success

Gathering, harvesting

Giving, donating, sharing, charity

Thankful & grateful

Ancestors & heritage

Offerings

Blessings

The folk

Health

Career

Scents

Rose

Apple

Lavender

Cinnamon

Mint

Frankincense

Sandalwood

Coconut

Patchouli

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Demeter – (Greek)

Ceres – (Roman)

Isis – (Egyptian)

Luna – (Roman)

Dana – (Celtic)

Tailtiu – (Celtic)

Cerridwen – (Celtic)

Parvati (Hindu)

Pomona (Roman)

Lugh – (Celtic)

Taranis – (Celtic)

Adonis (Assyrian/Greek)

Attis (Phrygian)

Mercury (Roman)

Osiris (Egyptian)

And many other harvest Gods/Goddesses

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations

Abundance rituals

Visit a harvest festival

Harvest your garden

Bake bread

Baking pastries

Make jam or preserves

Visit a farmer’s market

Create a large meal for the folk

Deity offerings

Create a money bowl (try rice in it just trust me)

Low energy celebrations

Healing bath ritual

Light a candle in honor

Prayer to Gods/Goddesses

Journal

Eat some fresh vegetables

No spoons celebrations

Create a digital manifestation board (Try Pinterest)

Eating fall themed pastries

Drinking apple juice or cider

Thank the harvest when you are able to fuel your body for taking care of you

Remember that it’s okay if you cant do much while you are unwell. That you come first and you simply existing is a blessing.

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

#chronic illness #chronic illness magic #spoonie #spoonie magic #spoonie witch #Lughnasadh #lammas #lughnasadh masterpost #lughnasadh magic #lughnasadh correspondences #witch #witchcraft #wheel of the year #sabbat

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fordragonfliesandme · 11 months

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Gardening 101~How to Grow Perfect Garlic: Understanding Garlic Scapes and How to Use Them

“You know, when you get your first asparagus, or your first acorn squash, or your first really good tomato of the season, those are the moments that define the cook’s year. I get more excited by that than anything else.” ― Mario Batali Garlic is one of my favorite things to cook with, as it is a staple ingredient in almost every kitchen. It’s such a versatile ingredient and adds a unique flavor…

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#best garlic recipes #best tips for growing large garlic #easy recipes #Gardening #how do I grow garlic scapes?#how do I grow large garlic bulbs?#how do I grow large garlic?#how do I use the garlic scape?#organic gardening #Recipes #tips and tricks for growing garlic #what is a garlic scape?#what is a garlic seed?#when do I harvest the garlic scape?#when do I plant garlic?#why are my garlic bulbs so small?

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cloudcountry · 1 year

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the harveston sledathon event: jade leech's "incantation"

i'm not sure if everyone has gotten to this part in the new english server event yet, but this part when they were at the market got me curious. so, in typical me fashion, i committed a day of research to figure out what the hell jade was talking about.

first i would like to say that this was put together with A DAYS WORTH OF RESEARCH so if you know more about these plants/mushrooms and would like to add information or correct me please do so in the replies!! i'm not an expert by any means LMAO

with that said, onto the first plant!! i will list the scientific name that jade uses first and then the common name in parentheses. each plant/mushroom will have a picture after the short description for reference!!

i got all these images from google obv

~~~~~

Urtica dioica (Stinging Nettle) - A perennial herb that grows best in moist areas. Grows in late fall to early spring. Fall sun, partial shade. Used as an herbal remedy for sore muscles and seasonal allergies.

Aegopodium podagraria (Ground Elder) - Marked as an invasive species in some of the eastern states of the US (Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New Jersey, Vermont, Michigan, and Wiscousin.) Thrives in moist soil and grows during the summer. It’s commonly used in soup and as a remedy for gouts.

Polypodiopsida (Ferns!!!) - Thrives in moist soil and grows near rivers and creeks. Grows in shady locations in early spring. They reproduce with spores. Fiddlehead ferns are the curled up fronds of a young fern that can be cooked and eaten in various ways (steamed, fried & stored, roasted, pickled, etc.) They can also be used as fertilizer and for landscaping.

Chamaenerion angustifolium (Fireweed) - A perennial herb that flowers in June to September. Grows in full sun to partial shade and moist, well drained soil. Its primary use is medicine but it’s also used in tea, which in turn can be used to treat migraines, infections, and colds. Young fireweed shoots can be cooked and eaten (apparently, they taste like asparagus and should be cooked like them, too.)

Allium ursinum (Wild Garlic or Cowleek) - Thrives in slightly acidic soil & moist conditions. Prefers shady conditions and grows around winter to spring, with a peak season of February to April. You can eat basically the whole plant, but if you eat the bulb the plant obviously won’t grow back. It’s been used as a medical plant and in cooking.

Sorbus (Mountain Ash or Rowan) - A bush that produces edible berries in late summer into early fall, and they stay on the tree into winter. The berries should not be eaten raw, but should be cooked because they contain parasorbic acid. The cooking process converts the parasorbic acid into a preservative sorbic acid. Their astringent taste is made sweeter by the frost. They grow best in full sun to partial shade and moist, well drained soil. They usually grow up to 15 meters tall.

Plantago major (Broadleaf Plantain) - A perennial herb that grows in late spring to summer (and sometimes in autumn.) They prefer moist soil but are very adaptable. Grows in moderate shade to full sun. The entire plant is edible, but apparently the flower shoots are especially delicious. They naturally grow in very dense populations and are easy to harvest. Works as a medicinal herb to treat inflammation and boost the immune system.

Equisetum arvense (Field horsetail) - Another perennial herb that grows from summer to the first frost. Grows in moist soil with full to partial sun. Can be used in tea and benefits the urinary system. Their root systems can grow as deep as six feet.

Craterellus tubaeformis (Winter mushroom, or funnel chanterelle) - Our first mushroom!! They are featured in a lot of recipes and are fairly common. They’re ready to harvest in mid-winter to mid-spring. They can be found in mossy areas with well decayed wood, and grow in loose clusters. They apparently have an earthy/fruity taste, and should be cooked so they don’t taste unbearably peppery.

Boletus edulis (Penny Bun) - Another mushroom with a dark brown cap. Spores grow more mushrooms in summer and autumn. Thrives in moist soil and can be harvested a few days after summer rain. They’re around 25cm tall on average and can weigh a kilo (which made me yell out loud, mind you. That's a big mushroom!!) They have a slightly nutty flavor.

Craterellus lutescens (Yellow Foot) - The last item on this list is another mushroom. It thrives in moist soil and they grow from 2-7 cm in length. They apparently have a peppery flavor when raw, but taste earthy when cooked. They typically grow around moss in loose clusters. They’re pretty similar to the craterellus tubaeformis, as one would expect from their shared genus, “craterellus.”

~~~~~

Overall Plant Conditions (AKA patterns I noticed while researching):

Practically all of these plants love moist & well drained soil. A lot of these plants grow in the summertime and like full/partial sun, but there’s a few exceptions of course. There’s a lot of herbs and perennial greenery that have medicinal properties. Many plants on this list grow well in disturbed soil or near water and roadways. All of them are edible (but beware of dangerous lookalikes!)

anyways < jade leech 3 i hope you found this somewhat interesting because i sure did!! (which is why i spent all my free time today researching it sigh the things i do for mermen)

#auburn's rambles <3 #gonna make that a tag #jade leech #twst jade leech #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #the harveston sledathon #auburn's fungi time <3

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hexonthepeach · 6 months

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a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 22: sated

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [21: confrontation]

wc: 8.4k

warnings: cousin incest, explicit m/f smut (rut sex, breast worship, omega locking) between omega/alpha-passing!omega (trans 2nd gender, use of Alpha as affirmation), switching, a little breeding kink, pet name: baby

recommended listening: i'd pick something sweet from shalala like ruby but let's be real all i've been listening to is wayv's rodeo

You'd woken to a new day well after dawn, clouded by winter snow, watching the swirls of white this far up recede into an unknowable horizon. It's dark outside, but you begin your work to make this space your own bright refuge, your own hospitality in the smallest of measures taught to you by your former servants.

Candles lit, ambient music played once you'd found an appropriate channel. You'd attended to yourself the same, donning another of the traditional robes from Taeyong's closet, hem pinned to keep it from dragging, tied back carefully.

And then, finally, you get to work on your meal. It might be for others, but it’s for your benefit most of all, a gift and a blessing.

Doyoung had delivered on his promise to have everything you needed brought up before you woke. He'd quietly come in to sleep beside you and Taeyong last night after you’d fallen asleep talking, but you never expected him to stay. Today is not much different.

Back when you'd been training you'd been given carte blanche access to one of the many Imperial kitchens servicing your household, after rigorous instruction in much smaller spaces.

What would you do if your mate demanded you bring him his mother's hangover soup after a late night business meeting? What would you make to show another pack's Alpha you respected his tastes in Renaissance Shanghai cuisine?

Traditional Goryeo cooking still eluded you with the new overwhelmingness of garlic on your fingers or onion in your eyes but you had a mastery of technique. It was better to make this, you think, than any of the European dishes you'd grown sick of.

You attack your project within the hours given you, pulling out every ingredient and lining them up like soldiers on the spotless countertops, next to crates of freshly harvested vegetables and a beautiful array of crocks, an entire pallet of eggs awaiting your destruction of them.

You imagine chickens clucking and pecking away deep in the belly of NeoTech HQ and have a laugh at that. You hope they are warm and safe and happy, their little bird bellies full.

Your first guest is, of course, your fellow residents. Doyoung enters, smelling vaguely of snow, as if he's been outside. Trailing him, shyly, is your guest of honor.

"No waiting," you say, pushing plates in front of Taeyong the moment he's near the low island. "You have to tell me if this is edible."

The other fox hesitates, removing his suit jacket, sniffing the air. He looks flushed but relatively healthier, eyes bright as he sniffs at the banchan.

"Do you need help?" his eyes go even more round at the sight of the kitchen. You've managed to keep everything orderly but there is more than enough going on, all 6 ranges and both ovens on for warming.

"I need you to eat," you remark, turning back to your work. "Is there a dish you're craving?"

You empty a bowl of eggs into a pan of sauteed tomato, ears backwards for a response from him as you watch the whites congeal.

"Anything you make," he says, softly.

"Try the jeon," you say. "I understand we both like sweet potatoes?"

You peer over your shoulder to find him eating the last fried slice, crumbs and oil glistening on his mouth.

"It tastes like my sister's." Taeyong sniffs, tears pouring from his eyes.

"Thank you," Doyoung concedes, tying his apron. "He's never had that reaction when I've made it."

Together you fall into a steady routine, Doyoung darting out of the way to allow you to work, managing dishwashing when you begin handing him your used utensils and pans. You don't realize you have a second set of hands at your disposal until the steam from an opened cookpot of radish stew burns you, and your hands are enveloped in long fingers.

"Are you hurt?"

You look up to see Jungwoo's watery gaze.

"No," you say, fighting the urge to pull back. "Can you finish the–"

"Allow me." Taeil fights his way between the other two, already fixated on the next round of jeon in the pan. "Run cold water over it. No ice. Taeyong has an aloe plant somewhere, get a cutting."

It's directed at Jungwoo, who flees just as quickly as the thought is put into his mind.

"Thank you," you murmur, moving to the sink.

"You've done a lot more in this kitchen than Taeyong ever aspired to. Is that fresh crab?" Taeil says.

You preen a bit, remembering how much work it had taken to pick it free of the shell after boiling it.

"I wanted to use it for stew but I ran out of burners. Should we make it now? The chrysanthemum greens are over there."

Taeil laughs a little, adding green onion to the pot that burned you.

"There's more than enough with what's on the table." He looks up at your first glimmer of disappointment, cued to your response in a way that has you back under the tap, fingers shaking.

"Do you mind if I add it to the fried rice? I think we'll have more than enough, then," he says. Quietly, for you–"Thank you. Sorry for oversleeping."

You shake your head, smiling.

"You're just in time. I couldn't do this without you," you say, appreciating the way he takes over for you now.

Your eyes drift over the occupants. The long unloved dinner table you'd cleaned of dust last night is the center of chaos with Doyoung managing the hotplates and the central pot, swatting Taeyong's hand as he steals radish and kimchi to shove into his mouth. You sight Haechan arranging plates, immediately turning away before his gaze can lift past the rice he's diligently doling out.

"Is he coming?" You ask, tail smashed against the cupboards.

"He'll be here," Taeil answers. "They just needed time to arrange everything."

"Is it too early to drink?" you ask, earning a dark look.

"After tonight, I owe you one." he says.

Now that you're unoccupied you hear the door open, are ready for a new intruder. You're not prepared for the silence that takes over–the shock on the other's face as they rush to help the person who came in.

"Found him stuck on the stairwell," Jungwoo says. "___, I think you should come here."

You turn off the water, breathing deeply, rounding the corner to the living space to set eyes on your first real challenge.

Wrapped around Jungwoo is a person you are wholly unprepared to witness, clad in much more comfortable athletics clothing under his sling, his face drawn with effort.

"Mark," you breathe.

Tears make your vision swim as you move to support him–embracing him more, arms encircling his solid chest. After a few moments, his free arm twines around you to pat your back.

"Might be the drugs but I'm kind of . . . Well, no. I'm really glad you're alive," he says, voice husky.

"Because of you," you say, so only he can hear, nose in his ribcage and ear against his chest, lulled back into peace by his steady heartbeat. "I didn't know you'd be able to make it. I hope I made something you like: meat, eggs–"

"Who doesn't like that?" He extricates himself, slowly, more agile than you expected after what he'd been through.

There's something else in his scent–a new bitter melon green that has you holding on even as he hobbles away.

"Let me get you some water," you say, fighting back tears. You're denied entrance to the kitchen by someone already carrying two full pitchers. It's nice to see your needs answered so quickly but you look up into bottomless eyes and drown, smile fading.

"Here."

You try to take Jaehyun's offering, realizing too late he's just telling you that he's taking care of this for you.

"Are you . . .?"

He leans down, lips ghosting your forehead. "Thank you."

Then he's past, bringing Mark his water. You watch them for friction, for a flinch, only to find the younger man nod his head in thanks, your new mate moving counterclockwise around the table to fill each glass.

You feel utterly unnecessary in this moment, picking up the abandoned piece of aloe on the island to rub against your scalded red skin.

"Relax," Taeil says, handing you a plate. "He's coming."

"I feel like I need to do a headcount," you joke. "I need some air."

"Do me a favor–take a walk and try some pranayama," Taeil says. “Breathe through your nose for four seconds, hold the breath for 7 seconds, exhale through your mouth for 8 more. And take your time."

You slip out without protest, heading down to the next level with anxiety clinging to each hair raised on your body. Your rounds of breaths are only a few when you're startled by Yuta at the end of the hallway.

"Princess."

"I burnt myself," you say, lifting up your palm. "Taeil told me to get something for it."

Yuta looks at your hand, then up to you, stony face unbreakable as a smile tugs on his lips.

"Looks like you already found it." He pulls something out from behind his back, the bag heavy and redolent with blood. "I heard we needed beef?"

"Yes. Thank you." You feel nauseated by the sight of so much marbled flesh.

"Have you seen Johnny?" You ask, hyper aware of your last guest.

"I'm here."

You don't turn. At least, not quickly. When you finally do your eyes remain on his chest, the peek of gold skin above a thin shirt, leather jacket padding his shoulders.

"Can we talk?" You ask for him, feeling the question between you.

Yuta leaves without another word, feet pounding on the stairs, clearly wanting no part of this.

"Here?" he asks, quietly.

"Where else." You say, exhausted already. "I have nothing to say others can't hear."

"Fine," he says. "Here."

Something is thrust under your nose, the scent overwhelming enough you immediately begin to sneeze, eyes watering beyond tears.

"Oh," you say, watching him pull back the offering and reaching out to snatch it before he can take it back. You're in a tug-of-war for a moment, your hands brushing against the wide splay of his knuckles around a bouquet of golden flowers, wrapped in paper.

Dedication, you think, though you doubt he brought them to you with any intended meaning.

"Are these from–?"

He sneezes, too, turning away. You have a momentary impulse to place your hand between his shoulder blades, snuffing it out in favor of inspecting the blooms.

"I had them delivered from a place I know in Six. Hothouses, obviously."

"Sunflowers in winter," you say, quietly, sniffing the blooms, sneezing again. Their scent is waxy and slightly artificial but you appreciate the color–the way red and orange hues dance down the petals from purplish-red centers. "They’re beautiful."

"Here," he says, pulling a bag from his jacket. "You can plant them if you want. Or eat them, I don't care. They said they won't grow until they know the time is right, but they gave me the instructions if you want to simulate the light and heat cycles–"

"Johnny." You stop his rambling, heart aching in your chest. "Why did you come back that night?"

"For you," he says.

"For Taeyong," you correct.

He sighs, boots creaking as he moves away.

"If nothing had happened, if Taeyong could have been cured, would you still be here?" You ask even if the answer is clear in his irritation.

"I wanted . . ." He ends his statement before he even begins. "No. I would have left as soon as I knew you were back where you belonged."

"Where I belonged?" You finally look up, meeting his steady gaze. "Where was that exactly?"

"Doyoung is–was–working on a solution to transfer you abroad," he says, leveling you with how sure he is in his answer. “One of the EEC countries accepting designated refugees.”

"Even if I wanted to go North to find my–"

"Don't give me that line about going back into that hell. You were a target there when you were a kid, even more now. That will never be your home."

He realizes his mistake, wiping at his face and his cold-reddened nose and cheeks.

"You would have shipped me off to another country, rather than help me?" You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. "I see."

"No, you don't," he argues. "Everything I've ever done, always, since the first time I dragged you out of that godforsaken pit, was to make sure you were safe. It's not my fault you chose to run headfirst into danger at every opportunity."

"No," you counter, paper crinkling as you hold on to your first offering, fighting the urge to toss it in his face. "Don't twist history to make it seem as if you're prioritizing my needs. You had a decade. Ten years to do something that mattered. Spying on me in my own home doesn't count."

"Right," he says. "Did Jungwoo show you that before or after you fucked him in my bed?"

You slap him. He's too tall to get a good hit but your nails are long and sharp, red scores rising on his jaw. Immediately you've plummeted into regret, feeling the hurt you've caused magnified in the echo in your own, burning face. But you hold fast against it.

"You don't get to make accusations like that without asking me first, directly. Do you understand?"

You watch him battle through the rage, nostrils flaring. It so easily disappears when you're back to hyperventilating, remembering the sting when you'd cut through the back of your own ankle on the floor of his room, unable to see how deep. No you'd just felt it–felt it again when Taeil had been forced to cut you open to restitch the nerves and tendons back together so they could finally heal.

"___," he says, but you're not there anymore. You're underwater. Counting seconds between breaths.

"I'm sorry," he says, forgetting your unspoken directive not to touch you, shaking you.

When you don't respond he crushes you against his chest, flowers mangled, face in your hair.

"Please. No. I'm sorry. I fucked this up–I have so much I want to say and I just didn't–"

"Let her go."

You expect someone who can feel you to intervene, one of the Canids–maybe even Doyoung. But the person who pulls you away one-handed, the other leveling his gun, is your most unlikely of saviors.

"You have a choice to make right now, Suh, so I'll keep talking to you like I don't know you're thinking about ripping my arm off." Yuta's voice is level, posture expectant.

"You're going to take a minute and think about what you owe us as Prime. I'm going to take her back upstairs and let her recover. And then you are going back into that room together, as one. Got it?"

Johnny may have nodded–you didn't see it before he turns and leaves–but immediately you feel the empty hallway grow wider, the space less constrictive.

"Thank you," you say, turning away from him as if an automaton. "You didn't have to."

"Technically speaking, I'm the one who fucked you on his bed," he says. "I'm just not apologizing for it."

You look back at his sly face, too astounded by his candor to feel anything other than morbid amusement.

"Yet," he adds. "Didn't want to ruin our first and last meal together."

"In the spirit of community, and to honor our coming together as a tribunal tonight, I would like to ask that we all hold hands and say a prayer."

Doyoung's voice breaks through the tense silence and the ringing of metal utensils on dishes. It takes a long time for the group to respond, eyes turning heavenward for other reasons.

"From youngest to oldest, please," Doyoung adds, looking directly at you at the head of the table.

You fold your hands in your lap, bowing your head slightly.

"Oṁ amṛta tejovati svāhā," you say.

You realize everyone is looking to you to continue, or for an explanation, but you nod your head instead towards the slack-jawed face of the second youngest, seated as far away as possible.

"Well, that's useful," Haechan says, the table shaking when Mark kicks it's leg instead of the one he'd been aiming for under the table. "Dear Heavenly father. Glad eomma and appa decided to stop fighting and fucking eachother long enough we could enjoy this home-cooked meal."

He looks up, smiling wider at the horror on everyone's faces. "Amen."

"Jesus Christ." Mark repeats, blinking slowly at his plate. "Thank you for this meal we're about to receive. Thank you for keeping me alive a little longer, I guess. Sorry for not having the words to say what I mean. Drugs are great, doctor."

He lifts his water like it's a toast in Taeil's direction as Doyoung sighs heavily beside you.

Jungwoo stands up, earning another, more quiet sigh.

"I would like to thank ____ for the meal." He's toasting you, too, but with what looks like a half-drunk glass of tea. He bows his head, mocking but somehow deferential. "God doesn't deserve the praise for whatever you added to the jjigae to make Haechan cry when he ate most of it earlier."

"It was too spicy–"

Jaehyun pulls him down by the shoulder. You meet his direct stare, unsure of what he's thinking. There's an icy wall between you now that you're bonded, but there's nothing malicious or frightened in his regard.

"Thanks," he says, quietly dipping his head in your direction. "For bringing us back together."

"It's been too long," Doyoung murmurs in agreement, hands folding in front of him. "Heavenly creator–"

He has to pause at Haechan's muffled laughter, sitting up to his full height.

"--we have not had an opportunity to be together in a long time. And though it comes with its trials we know that these moments of peace are more precious than we have any right to expect or ask for."

He grips your hand at the left side, making you only more aware of Taeyong's weak and sweaty hold in your right.

"Amen," Doyoung says, quietly staring daggers across the table.

"Amen." Yuta echoes. After a moment he looks up around him, confused. "That's it, right?"

"You're supposed to say something meaningful before it," Taeyong intervenes before Doyoung can explain.

"Oh," he nods, thoughtfully. "Amen."

"Alright well," Taeyong says, finger drifting on his agent. "I'm going to follow ____'s example and share another sutra."

Awkward silence follows his admission, but you squeeze his hand once it's back in yours. He clears his throat.

"’It is like a lighted torch whose flame can be distributed to ever so many other torches which people may bring along; and there– therewith they will cook food and dispel darkness, while the original torch itself remains burning ever the same.’"

The only sound is the bubbling of the stew, Jungwoo offering a solemn nod of understanding.

"Was that AI-generated–" Haechan is cut short by Johnny standing and slamming his palms on the table.

"Are you finished?"

Haechan mimes zipping his lips, but remains silent.

"Good," he says. "Sorry, Doyoung. I have something to say and if anyone interrupts me they can eat from the floor like the animal they are."

No one even breathes in his direction.

"____ is the newest person at our table, but she's also the reason some of us were able to cross paths in the first place."

He looks up, hands flexing on the edge of the table. "We wouldn't be a pack, and we certainly wouldn't be sitting here in the same capacity. For better or worse, we owe her that."

He sits down again, table vibrating with the quake.

"Thank you for that . . . Inspiring gesture," Doyoung murmurs.

"I guess that makes me the last to speak," Taeil says, crossing his arms and leaning back. "I also have known ____ for as long as Johnny. Incidentally, I think by practice amidst designated, we're now also common law married."

Johnny clears his throat, but he defers to the Doctor. You remain in horrified shock, baring your teeth in what you hope resembles a smile.

Taeil raises his glass between you both, and you get the impression from the viscosity of the liquid in it that it's not water.

"May we attend to each other's needs in a way that no longer leads to bodily injury, crisis, or divorce," he says, clearing the shot in one throw. "Let's eat."

The words are echoed–mumbled in Mark's case–the nine descending on the food like they've been starved for weeks. Meanwhile you sit staring at the man across from you, a new hunger manifesting where your appetite should be as you watch him in his element.

As upset as you know Johnny is, he's also content with the atmosphere of normalcy–relaxing into the conversation around the table, occasionally glancing up at you to hold you fixed in his steady gaze. It’s impossible to not feel sadness at being included in this scene, as more of a misfit and outlier than ever.

You don't know what to say, how to relax into it.

"Eat something for me," Doyoung says–not an order–as Jungwoo fishes out crab meat from his own bowl of fried rice to place upon your own and someone else passes down grilled meat.

You pick away at the meal, feeling a dreary sense of finality and the distant sense that, even with you all here, you don't belong. Every bite is flavorless. Taeyong looks just as miserable beside you, black-tipped ears in his pinkish hair pinned back.

"Suppressants?" you ask, leaning in so only he can hear, hyper-aware of the others' eyes on you.

"That. And painkillers. Stimulants, hormonal therapy," he says, swallowing saliva. "I ate a lot already, though–thank you–just trying to let it settle."

You move your chair closer to him, enveloping him with an arm around his quivering shoulders, rubbing his bicep through the layers of fine, loose clothing he'd dressed in for what should have been a more formal affair. He’s not in the state to be doing much, you know.

"Let's try to stomach a little more, and then we can go watch the snow together, maybe?"

He nods, sleepily. Your hand drifts to his head to scratch his scalp at the base of his fur, the sound he makes in his chest loud with the silence that immediately follows.

"Really? Some of us are still eating here," Haechan says across the table, chewing.

"Please, continue." There's a little bit of a snarl in your response, but you don't meet his glare for long, standing up and bowing.

"You'll excuse us," you say, giving Doyoung a measured look before attempting to lift your pack's leader from the table.

He helps you, the both of you navigating Taeyong awkwardly back to their quarters. Johnny moves to stand and you stop him with a flick of your head.

Doyoung tries to guide you to the bedroom but you rally your strength to veer a different direction with Taeyong's weight pressed into your side.

"I'll take care of him," you say, slinging his arm over you as you duck into the nest. "We just need sleep. We’re not going to be able to do this if he's not in the right state of mind."

You think the Lepid will give you a warning or a speech but he simply nods, bending down to make sure you're able to navigate the crowded space before closing the too-small door.

"You don't have to stay," Taeyong says, collapsing into what you hope is just a pile of pillows. Your eyes are adjusting now–seeing the space, finally. It's chaos, yes, but organized in a way you assume has less to do with his mates' concern than his own self-soothing.

Everything is clean and smells of a rich leather and woodspice, green rising up from unlit candles and plants illuminated by soft ultraviolet lamps. The floor is missing under a sea of rugs and blankets and pillows in different colors, shapes and sizes. Trophies of a life that you can only imagine litter ceiling-high shelves, between books and statues and even a little aquarium burbling in the dark.

On the ceiling are stars, of sorts–pinpricks of strung lights spider-webbed beyond a veil of curtains, glass lamps and paper lanterns dimly lit above.

"It's lovely," you say, looking down at his curled form. You make a decision then, shuffling out of your slippers and leaving on the heavy, embroidered robe you'd changed into for the meal.

It's warmer in here than outside, but you still feel a chill as you sink down beside him.

Taeyong's breathing evens out the moment you're in view again, his eyes open and watchful as you pluck a blanket to drape over you both, inching forwards to knock your knees against his.

"Is this going to be alright?" you ask, seeing the uncertainty in his dark gaze. The purplish light paints him almost two-dimensionally, his plush mouth set in a frown.

He nods after a time, radiating that sharp scent of clean musk you know so well.

"I can just hold you for now," you say–more a caution for your fox than his. His tail beats in answer, making you smile. "That helped last night, didn't it?"

"It did," he says. You'd fallen asleep in a similar fashion, fingers laced between each other as you spoke of your histories, your futures. You suspected he’d needed that time even more than you did to feel comfortable with what would happen today.

"We have a lot to work out later. My penance, first, for marking you without your consent," you say, voice cracking.

"Remember. No apologies," he whispers. "Promise me something, though?"

"Anything."

"Only stay if you want to." His words don't match the pleading in his expression, the distress transferred to you through the tenuous bond you share.

"Promise." You find his hands beneath the cover, cold and clammy, lifting them to your mouth to press kisses to his knuckles.

His exhale is a shudder of relief, turning around to press himself closer to you. You have to move a few velvety pillows and what looks suspiciously like a stuffed animal in order to find a comfortable spot behind him, wrapping around his taut back like a smaller, softer sleeve.

This, finally, feels like home.

There's something enrapturing about being so close to someone like you–with Wooyoung out in the Wilds it had been the necessity of shared body heat and the species familiarity that had you locked together at night, no sensuality whatsoever.

Here, pressing your nose into the hair at his nape, a different design is at hand. His heartbeat is loud and steady beneath the white noise of the water filter, slowing with yours. This is safety, you think.

Soon he begins to purr. The sound is too precious for your fox to ignore, finding yourself nuzzling at his bare skin in answer, brought back by the sharp swishing of his tail.

"Sorry," you murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to his spine. His tail swats you again before you can lock it under a leg thrown over his bony hip, hands kept at a safer distance beneath your chin.

"Sleep," you say. You feel languid, finally, tension easing from every muscle and joint and distant throb in the healing of both.

With the heat and the comfort you feel between you, you drift down with him.

"No!" You’re not drowning, now, you’re on fire. Green light arcs across your vision, bound for the valley beneath you. "NO!"

"Wake up," You recognize the command and pull yourself up and out of the abyss, throat ragged from screaming.

A door slams open, air rushing in cold and bitter burnt, and you hear Taeyong growl–loud–shifting over you.

You come back to consciousness with the other fox straddling your hips, strength incredible as he holds you down by your arms while twisted in aggression against the other men outside. It’s still daytime out there, grounding you more in the present.

"I have her. We're safe," he says. "Don't you dare let him in."

Words are spoken, anger pin-pricking at your mind until the door slams shut. The feeling recedes, leaving you panting as sweat breaks over your face and body.

"Shh," Taeyong says, dropping down to press his equally damp forehead to yours. "It was just a nightmare."

"I know, I know," you say, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry to bring them here."

He laughs a little, easing his hold. "You think I haven't had them? I grew up with the airstrikes, too–"

"What did you say?" You feel another wave of cold and pain begin to subsume you, grasping on to rational thought.

"I still dream about the bombings–" his dilated eyes widen, suddenly just as aware. "Wait. That was you. It was so intense. I felt like I was actually there–"

"No," you protest. "No, oh no."

"Shh," he says, eyes flicking over his shoulder, voice lowering. "We'll be alright. Just relax, please."

You begin to cry, prompting him to let you go, fingers soothing your wrists as if to make up for holding them so tightly.

"No, no, ____. It will be alright."

"I really didn't imagine I could ever have that kind of influence. I am a curse, aren't I–?"

Taeyong growls, fisting the pillows beside your head rather than pin you.

"With me," he orders. "Stay with me."

Surprisingly, your fox complies. You hiccup, meekly, watching his face for a sudden change or danger that never arrives. You only see his ears lower, eyebrows raising.

"Damn," he says, quietly, shifting back to take his weight off your thighs.

"What?" you ask, still drowsy, sitting up with your robe hanging from your shoulder.

"That–" he begins. "I think I need to–"

"Go?" you finish for him, followed up quickly by an urgent desire for the opposite. "Please don't go. I can leave if you prefer."

"You don't understand," he says, creeping back.

"Stay," you order.

He looks down at you with disappointment, sinking onto your legs until you can feel what he's so pointlessly tried to hide. He's erect in his loose pants, cock trapped against your robed thigh.

"Oh," you say, cheeks aflame. "Of course. Sorry."

"You always apologize for the wrong things." His eyes clench shut, hips involuntarily rocking into your thighs–just once before he pulls back. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You just . . . you feel so good. You have no idea."

But you do. Warmth spreads through your belly at the sound he makes in the back of his throat, choked and needy.

“I’m going to help you,” you say, rolling your hips up.

"I can't, though–we can wait until–" he's pleading more with himself than you, you think.

"We talked about this. Yes, you can." You grasp at his shoulders to pull him down. He flops down comically beside you, looking defeated. His head is buried in the bustle of pillows beside you, eyes losing focus as you pet him.

"I know I’m not myself, too, but I meant it when I said I wanted you first," you say, running a hand over his head, pushing back his fur to hold his ears down. "Let me fix what I started. Mate me.”

"But . . ." Taeyong's lip wobbles.

"Unless you don't want that? Do you need me to do something . . . Else?"

You're not entirely sure how this will work, but you know it's only fair that you help break his heat. Time was running out.

He pulls you into his arms, sharp chin atop your head.

"You're so precious," he murmurs.

"If you like I can be in control," you say. "I can take care of you. Taeil showed me."

He laughs into your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"Did Doyoung tell you I'm a pillow prince?"

"You do have a lot of them," you sniff.

That makes him laugh harder.

"I know it must be strange being in another person’s nest. If you . . . we'll help you build your own. Wherever you want it."

"Thank you." You try to keep your voice light but he's tuned into the sadness of realizing how useless it would be without your claims to share it. He clutches you so tightly you have to actively fight the claustrophobia.

"I really should have stayed here," he says. "As useless as I am when I'm in heat–rut–whatever this is, I think I could have taken care of you, too.”

You feel hot and itchy at the admission.

“Do you know, I couldn't stop thinking about you.” His voice is even lower now, nails soothing your spine. “What it would be like to be needed by someone like you.”

"Did you really want to?" you ask. "It's not just because I bit you? Or because of . . ."

There's so much in your mind to try and quiet, doubt ever present. You let his scent infuse you instead, playing with the strands of hair curling under his jaw.

He rubs his face against your hairline, pressing a dry, soft kiss to your forehead.

"I've never been with a girl before, much less another omega . . . Not that I'm not attracted, it was just too dangerous to be with anyone outside the pack. Do you understand?"

You nod.

"So in a way, I'll be your first?"

"You know you feel safe to me, too," Taeyong whispers.

It's a comfort to hear that, after everything. At least even if you feel estranged from them all he's still on your side. Perhaps it's just because you’re family, or shared species or birth designation, but you won't take it for granted.

"How does this work?" you ask. "What can I do for you?"

"We don't need to rush. Let's take it slow and see what we both like, yes?"

You enjoy the thought of exploring with him, even more when he moves lower to kiss your face, smooth lips tracing your features. Unlike Johnny's shyness you think he's trying to keep from appearing desperate, avoiding your mouth until you take it for yourself.

You kiss him, gently, teeth kept locked away as he licks into your lips. He's an incredible lover in this regard alone, stroking your tongue with his and swallowing your soft moans.

Soon you're entwined, your hips rocking together through your clothing, almost more sensual without bare skin. But you want it, stroking his belly beneath his thick shirt until he takes it off. You're immediately exploring the dark, winding pattern of a tattoo wrapped around his lean torso, distracted by how intricate it is.

"A dragon?" you ask, pressing your lips to the scales inked into his shoulder. It's a traditional, ancient design–greens and blues muddied by the magenta light. Like the old myths, you think–a fitting enemy for a tiger.

"Yes–" Taeyong gasps as you lick at his nipple, sucking the bud into your mouth. He seems to enjoy it, but pushes you down after a moment.

"May I?" he asks, waiting for your nod before his firm hands trail down your body, plucking at the sash of your robe.

He looks at you dangerously, eyelids lowered as he parts the clothing to reveal your thin underwear. Slick has already drenched your thighs, a little noise erupting in the back of your throat as he curls down, pulling aside your bra to taste you.

"You're so, so soft," he whispers, sucking gently on your breast, rolling the other beneath his thumb. Your hands bury in his thick hair as he pushes the meat of it upwards, exploring your shape. “And sweet.”

You're losing yourself already at the tender laps, sex throbbing as he teases you, ears brushing against your thighs when he goes lower and you shyly close your legs around his head.

"Open up for me, baby." His tone is deeper, a little more rasped with need.

"I should be pleasing you," you whisper, but he shushes you by flipping you onto your stomach. For a moment you're paralyzed by the memory of being face-first on a cold floor, and just as quickly he's recognized it and off of you, soothing your curled back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"No, no," you breathe, sitting up. "I'm not afraid. Just. Do you think I could be above you?"

You’d wanted to know what it was like to be with a less dominant mate, you think this might be your only chance.

"I don't think I could say no to that even if I wanted to." His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he lies back, pulling you on top of him as you try to strip down, distracted by the hands and mouth fighting to explore every inch of exposed skin. You feel as hazy as if you were sedated, too, moaning when he grabs your thighs to pull you down onto his face.

You fist the pile above his head as his breaths make you cool, his nose brushing against your heat as he laves carefully at the sensitive gland at your inner thigh. It's such a light touch but your body responds intensely, pleasure like butterfly wings brushing inside you as your nipples harden and your toes curl.

"Oh gods," he says, tongue darting out to collect drips of sweat and slick from your skin, dragging across your underwear. "It's better than I imagined. Kind of like ambrosia."

You whine in earnest now, back arched to present yourself for him from above. He licks into your folds, pulling aside your underwear to bury his tongue in your heat. Your hips move of their own accord and it makes him even more bold in fucking you with his mouth; the deeper he works the muscle into you the more you writhe, clamped down by his hands spreading your gap to expose you for him.

He pulls away the moment you feel like you're getting closer to your climax, breathing just as hard and glossy with your release.

"I don't want to breed you just yet," he murmurs, making you whine. "Can I just do this until your legs can't hold you up, anymore?"

"Please, Alph–" you stop, realizing your mistake, but he only laughs, thumbs kneading the fat at the crest of your thighs.

"You can call me that," he soothes.

"Do you like it?" you ask, cocking your head to look down at him. He's not capable of recognizing your question, it seems, as he buries his damp face in your tail, marking you with your own scent.

"Don't you want to breed me, Alpha?" you ask, experimentally.

"Fuck, don't stop," he says, finally shuffling free of his pants, almost making you collapse on him in his haste. You hold steady, moving down his body to take him in your mouth, grabbed loosely by the scalp to stop.

"Let me make you feel good," you say, already licking a stripe up his shaft and tasting salt and something sweeter. He's a solid weight in your hand–a little softer than you expected and lacking a significant knot but perfect, you think. Yours.

"Turn around, then," he says, rough. "I'm not finished."

You don't know what he means until you're dragged bodily back, underwear torn by what you think might be his teeth, unable to see with your face buried in the crook of his thigh as he devours you again. You struggle to wrap your lips around him, too lost in the scrape of canines on your inner thigh and your own muffled noises, feeling the tightness in your belly ebb whenever he pulls back just as you're close to sliding over into bliss.

"Please," you whimper, grip tightening on his cock to slow him down. "Please, Alpha."

"Not yet," he moans, muffling it with your sex. "Want to feel it."

You struggle out of his arms, settling down over his narrow hips to rub desperately against his length, coating him and your fur equally in slick and spit. He pulls you down, holding you tight to keep from riding him as he slides between your folds.

"I can't wait, ____, it hurts so bad not being in you," he groans in your ear. "Tell me you want it."

"Knot me, Alpha." You don't know if he's capable of it but you don't care, too hellbent on having him fill you. It was silly of you to think you could take your time, you know he needs this as much as you do.

"Want you so badly, Alpha," you say. "Breed me, please."

Desperation has you clawing the pillows beneath your legs, trying to angle yourself to guide him inside of you. He holds your hips, hoisting his own to catch you just right. The first slide into your heat is so much different than what you expected, the perfect fit in how easily he can move inside you, hitting the curve in that sensitive place just inside.

He doesn't pull out completely, instead rocking into you until he’s fully sheathed, dragging against muscles inside of you that tighten for you automatically, gripping him hard.

"That’s so good," he repeats, claws digging into your skin below your breasts as he pushes up into you fluidly. "So soft inside too, velvet."

Any concern about him not having a knot to ease your suffering is erased as you feel his thick base stretching you wide, fighting against the constriction that is utterly out of your control, like you can't and won't let him go now that you have him at your mercy.

You hold his head to you so he can lose himself in the pleasure of tonguing your shape, suckling and biting in a way that makes you flutter even more inside.

"You really like that, don't you baby–" He loses his words when you tense on him again, not sure if you're forcing him out or drawing him in deeper.

"Yes, Alpha." Your mind is obliterated, disappearing into the soft light and the ache of pulsating around him. You feel so good and warm and wanted. "Breed me, fill me with your pups."

When Taeyong comes it's with his teeth scraping the softness over your heart, tongue wrapped around your nipple. He jerks inside you as warmth surges in your belly, your voice's higher pitch mixing with his low growls and whines. He doesn't stop pumping into you, throbs of heat radiating between you as you finally can't hold yourself up anymore.

Artificial fur slides against your back, real fur under your stomach where your tail, or his, is trapped between you as he pulls you over. Now on top he fucks you into the pillows, rough but somehow tender, teeth closing on your neck to tug at the healed skin, not breaking it but bruising it deep enough to mark it. It makes you lose yourself, too, scratching his strong back until he bites you more, and harder.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," you cry out, finally feeling that dam break inside of pure euphoria, your own release a hot gush squeezed out of you around him. That tightness in your core doesn't let up even with the tics of pleasure around him softening inside you.

"Good omega, good baby," he says, finally able to make a word that isn't a grunt or moan of pleasure. "Can't stop, you're already making me hard again, I'm sorry–"

"What is happening . . . ?" You can't finish what you're murmuring either, gasping at the way each word makes you seize again, like you never finished in the first place. You expected him to slip out of you but that's not happening, nor is his spend coming out of you.

He picks you up, gently, rolling you both onto your side so you can breathe more deeply, pulling you against him.

"You locked me," He laughs softly, choking a bit as you try to squeeze the muscles inside you experimentally. "Never in a million years did I think . . ."

"Is that bad?" you ask, feeling vulnerable. Taeyong nibbles at your bottom lip, licking immediately after in case he's caused you pain.

"No. It's perfect. You're so perfect it's hard not to believe you weren't actually made just for me."

Your fox is in rapture, being told she's good enough–for once not empty praise but something to make you feel like you belong. You hold his head to yours, noses bumping. Rubbing his scarred ear between your thumb and index makes him pant a little as his fingers dip between your closed legs, buried in your fur.

"Relax for me," he says, "Now we can really take it slow."

"Yes, please, yes," you whimper, gripping his shoulders to push against him. "Yes, Alpha."

"I should be calling you that," he murmurs, licking at your jaw. "Since you claimed me."

"Oh," you say.

There's not very many thoughts in your head with adoration and joy circulating instead but you do remember the physiology of female Alphas being markedly different than yours. It was unfortunate that it was often spoken of in the context of failures of hybrid breeding programs, the unstated prejudice against them even more taboo than male omegas in an intolerant culture.

But you don't feel like a failure, or a mistake. Not now, not with being able to please your mate so thoroughly.

"You feel like both to me," you gasp out as his fingers lazily explore your sex, answered in the tensing of your walls around him. He's still only half-hard but you can feel him rousing for you, ready to give you more.

Taeyong grinds into you, leg twining over yours to deepen his thrusts. "You feel like both to me, too."

Kim Doyoung [Lepus europaeus α]

"This is bad."

Doyoung checks his agent again, the sky already darkening as mid-afternoon passes into evening. It's not just the deadline, or the weight of dread in his chest, but the fact that it's been an hour and a half since your screams turned into different sounds altogether, loud enough for his sensitive ears and unfortunately–everyone else in the vicinity.

"Make a call, then." Johnny says, a cold towel draped over his face. Like some of the other members of the pack he'd already taken it out on gym equipment, hands a little bloody despite healing from pummeling them raw. The others had evacuated to their own retreats not long after clean-up, Mark and Haechan heading down to the lower levels to check in with what little remained of their meal. From the distant sounds of gunfire below some of the others must be running CQD drills as their preferred form of distraction.

"I'll separate them," he sighs. "We shouldn't have left them alone in the first place."

"No, we shouldn't have. But here we are." The Felid is currently stretched out on his couch, having become a somewhat permanent fixture in his home. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand the desire to constantly be near one’s mate, certainly never able to travel far during ritual.

"Are you going to help me?" Doyoung sighs,

Johnny pulls down the cloth, cracking an eye open. "Why? Afraid she'll take a bite out of you, too?”

"It's not her I'm worried about." One of the many benefits of hybrid companionship, he thinks–was being intimately familiar with the mating habits of vulpes vulpes. He checks the syringe gun Taeil had left them–two just in case.

"How do you want to go about this?" he asks.

"I thought you were the planner here," Johnny remarks, tone acid.

"Oh for fucks sake, be an adult about this." Doyoung paces, loosening his tie. He's not sure if he should get fitted into gloves or body armor but he supposes it would only make things worse considering how tight the space is to navigate.

"I go in first and get her. You get Taeyong."

"Brave," Johnny says dryly.

"She can order you, jackass."

"Should I wear earplugs?"

Doyoung doesn't waste another second fielding the Alpha's snark, heading to the dreaded foxhole. Lord knows he's been in a similar position as you before, thankfully with the wherewithal and means to order Taeyong down. It didn't mean you couldn't do the same, just that if his hunch was correct, you lacked the mental capacity to do so.

"____," he asks, quietly, opening the door.

The room is positively drenched in the overripe fruit scent of sex, nothing unexpected considering it had been seeping through the cracks for a while. One of the requirements of any good nest design was ventilation, of course, that had been accounted for but two omegas-worth of perfume could not be contained that easily.

He hears a soft whine, and then a low growl–too deep and masculine to be yours. Of course, he thinks–he knew that burning sensation in the pit of his stomach wasn't imagined. It had been a long time since Taeyong slipped into rut behavior but it was always a strong possibility with the therapy he maintained.

"It's just me," he says, cautious as he slips in, eyes adjusting to the low light.

Thank god his species was nocturnal, although another reminder that it was to avoid being preyed upon by the creatures in the room. Another snarl startles him from behind, causing him to hit his head on the nearest shelf.

Immediately there's chaos as someone–something takes a swipe at him, claws snagging in his shirt. He's thrown back, syringe gun dropping from his startled grip as Johnny threads past him, mostly beast, pinning Taeyong with a massive paw.

Doyoung pulls back as he finally meets your wild, slitted gaze, teeth bared.

"Down," he says, sitting up and fumbling for the medication. As soon as you see it your tail curls, shoulders hunching into a shape best suited for a lunge.

"Get that thing away from me." Your voice is strained, overgrown canines making you lisp slightly. He fights the urge to laugh at your feral appearance, placing it on the shelf close enough to reach in a hurry before raising his hands.

"Do I need to order you, again, Princess?" he asks, keeping his tone neutral even though his heart is racing beyond his control. He's not immune to the instinct to avoid those orange-touched eyes looking at him like he's your next meal, choosing to lock eyes with you.

You know who's in charge, eyes sliding down submissively even as you snap your teeth.

"Don't order me." You shake your head, grimacing after a moment as you adjust under the robe you'd half-heartedly covered yourself with. Doyoung sits up, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. Immediately you're stilled, tail flopping fish-like behind you.

A cry bursts out of you as Taeyong chooses that moment to fight back, trying to reach up past Johnny to claw him off of you–Doyoung is prepared for his mate's betrayal but not your intervention.

"Sleep!" you bark, voice pained.

It works like a charm–he's never seen Taeyong respond to a command that quickly or effectively, perhaps aided by the exhaustion so clearly lining his face. You look terrible, as well, drenched in sweat, hair tangled around your ears so even their movements are obscured, flattened in pain and anxiety.

It’s not what he expected to find after that prolonged session but he suspects from the minor wounds you both bear your animals had taken over in more than just behavior. You're probably sore.

"Thank you for obeying," he murmurs, stroking your neck. “Let’s get you out of here and bathed–”

"We have a problem." Johnny is human again, thank goodness, already attempting to lift the unconscious Vulpine from the wreckage of unstuffed pillows and torn clothing.

"We do," you whine, hunching down over Taeyong protectively.

"We're stuck."

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#agtbtb #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct fanfic #nct omegaverse au #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you #taeyong smut

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breelandwalker · 17 days

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hi, i'm currently potted plant witching as well (just planted my first crop of veggie/herb/flower seeds & got some more containers & soil today for more planting this weekend) and i would love to know more about your garden this year; would you be willing to outline your plans? any special herbs or projects? Thanks!! <3 love your blog!

🌿🌿🌿 HYPERFIXATION ACTIVATED. 🌿🌿🌿

OH I HAVE SO MANY PLANS, LET ME TELL YOU.

This is the first year that Ragnar and I are doing actual work and sweat equity with the yard at our new place. Last year things were just too chaotic and we didn't have the time or the energy to do much of anything. We trimmed occasionally and I harvest some wild plants, but that was about it.

This year, it's Go Time.

Last weekend, I finally busted out the gorgeous barrel pots we got for Christmas and spent my April market earnings on potting soil, garden tools, and seedlings. When we lived in the apartment, I had a pretty hefty window garden with herbs and flowers and a few vegetables, so I'm eager to recreate that in an outdoor space where the plants can really thrive. (I mean, I grew cherry tomatoes and three kinds of peppers in 10" pots indoors and they got pretty big, so I can only imagine being outdoors will go even better with fresh air and rain and pollinators.)

The potted garden has Napoli tomatoes, poblano and cayenne peppers, green sage, and rosemary, along with something I've never tried growing before - blueberries! I'm planning to add additional pots and more herbs later on, but I felt like this was a really good start. If I can manage it, I want to grow a huge planter of nothing but spinach and sweet basil so I can make pesto this summer.

We've also started clearing and tilling a space out in the yard proper for a raised-bed garden. Nothing too big or ambitious, just something we can try some larger veggies in. We're hoping to try the Three Sisters model with hybrid corn, snap peas, green beans, and kabocha pumpkins. I was also hoping to put in napa cabbage, but there are quite a lot of slugs in the yard when it rains, so perhaps not. I'm toying with the idea of planting some late crops for fall and winter harvests as well. I have sugarplum visions of strings of peppers and braids of garlic hanging in our kitchen with many jars of preserves and sauce in the pantry.

We might also try some other fruits if things go well, maybe raspberries or grapes, but that's more of a Next Summer project. The fence and the ground around it needs some work first and we don't want to overdo things the first year. (I'd really love to put in a little serviceberry tree, but that might be pushing things a bit with regard to space.)

There's also a side garden that's in need of some TLC where I'm vaguely tossing around the idea of climbing flower vines (clematis or morning glory or trumpet flower maybe? something local) and maybe some ground cover in the form of periwinkle. There's also a downspout that really needs a rain barrel, so that's next on the list.

There are sections of the yard that we've deliberately left wild as well, hoping to encourage native plants and pollinators. The clover patches are massive and produce lots of four-leafers and blossoms, so the bees are having a field day. There's also wild dogbane sprouting up now that the vetchweed is cleared and wild plantain (aka white man's foot) starting to come in along the walkway. If I have my druthers, I'll be planting more wildflowers this summer.

Have some pictures and tell me about your garden!

#girlhalfburning #gardens #gardening #plants #green witchcraft #wildcrafting #Bree answers your inquiries #life and times of a cottage witch

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balkanradfem · 2 years

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If you’re new in planting a garden, and you want to grow as big volume of food as possible, in as little space as possible, the plants that will give you the biggest harvests are: Tomatoes, Summer squash, Peppers, Green beans. Potatoes, onions and garlic are also good because they can be planted around tomatoes and other stuff too, but the biggest producers are tomatoes, squash, peppers and green beans! These plants, after they’re established, can go on to give out almost unlimited amount of food, for as long as the weather allows them to continue producing.

I believe I managed to store enough food for the winter solely thanks to tomatoes, peppers, and squash. Not only zuchinni can also make a winter squash in an emergency, but it can be dried and added to preserves, and frozen and made into zuchinni bread! Tomatoes are the easiest food to preserve because they’re so acidic, they can even help you preserve other food, by having it submerged in tomato sauce and closed into jars!

Green beans, other than being a great and plentiful summer crop, can be dried and canned and frozen, they also keep producing for as long as the plants are alive.

Other crops like, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, onion greens, potatoes, lettuce, dry beans, peas, carrots, leeks, celery, they’re awesome to have, but when they give you produce, they’re likely to do it once, or twice, and that is the maximum you can get out of that space where you plant them. They’re a life saver during the time summer crops wont grow! But the big producers will continue giving you harvests over and over again, as long as they stay healthy and undamaged by weather.

Greens like kale, swiss chard, chives, spinach, can also give you multiple harvests, and they’re great to grow in the colder months, but you still get nowhere near the volume of food that you can get from the summer crops. And there’s also big summer producers like cucumbers, watermelons, cantaloupes, eggplants, that can give you loads of produce, but these also take a LOT of space.

Tomatoes, squash, peppers and green beans are, I think, the absolute essential garden crops to grow. Also potatoes if you have the extra space to plant them.

#gardening #growing food #gardening tips #self sustainable food #garden spaces #growing a garden

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here222lurk · 1 year

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Toji Fushiguro Vs. The Plushies

Will Toji win the IDGAF war?

Part 2

Warnings: 18+ only, fem!reader, fingering, tit worship, sex, breeding, and this is my first fic in a hot second (8 years)

3 months have passed since you put a label on your relationship. It's been 3 months since Toji started introducing you as his girlfriend, but you still feel giddy every time. You spend your weekends together sometimes in his apartment, but most times outside trying to see the city in a new lens that only you two share. It feels like the right thing to do after having endured the work week.

But today, you decided to cook for him in your apartment. You saw this pasta recipe on TikTok that you think he’d like so you decided to make it for him today.

The night before, he made sure to ask if you had all the ingredients you needed on hand, knowing damn well a minor inconvenience can send you spiraling. He made sure to pass by the weekend market to get fresh pasta and tomatoes on the way to your place.

Toji was eager to help and even volunteered to be your sous chef. You weren’t too excited about this. You never really liked when other people were in your way in the kitchen, but to your surprise, he was actually not bad in the kitchen. He knows how to hold a knife and clean as he goes.

It was nice seeing him harvesting herbs by your kitchen window while you prepare the garlic bread. He’s focused and looking so pensive hunched over a pot of basil, the warm sun shining over his face. He just looked so… beautiful wearing the same skin tight black shirt that hugs his chest in a way that’ll never fail to make your heart beat harder than usual.

“Hey y/n eyes up here,” walking towards you.

You snapped out of the trance he put you in and blushed, “I’m sorry! It’s hard to concentrate when there’s a giant whore hunkered over my herb garden.”

You both laughed at how absurd your brain fart reply was.

“What?! I’m not…” he paused, “Well maybe for you I am,” he replied while flashing the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“Oh I will,” you feel him hugging you from behind with his hard dick pressed against you.

“After lunch maybe? I’m starving….”

“Yes, chef!” he says sardonically.

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“That was really good. Thank you,” Toji says while he trails to the kitchen holding used plates and utensils.

“Don’t start bullshitting me” You stay seated at the dining table but your gaze follows him.

“I’m not! Oh how can I ever repay you, my culinary princess?”

“Simple. 25 bucks for the pasta plus 5 for the bread.”

“That’s too much for me, you brat… Will this do?” his voice gets more audible as he walks back to you.

You feel him guiding your shoulders to make you face him. Toji towers over you on your left side. The impression of his hard dick clearly visible underneath his pants.

You feel your cheeks getting hotter, but try to play it cool looking displeased “Maaaybe…”

“Then let’s find out,” Toji holds your hand as you head towards your bed.

Your room is a bit messy with your office clothes still on your mattress from all those nights you came home from work feeling too tired to grab a clean shirt to sleep in. You push them off the bed, careful not to send your plushies plummeting to their death along with your clothes. You managed to save them all except for a fluffy pink cow plushie.

The crystal ball you hanged on your window catches the bright afternoon sun and illuminates specks of color around your room. You sit on your bed watching the specks move slowly on Toji as he undresses. You’re unsure if you’ve seen a view prettier than this. He takes his shirt off first, revealing the familiar scars on his body. His pants follow, falling to the floor.

“What’s the matter? Hmm?” he whispers onto your neck. Feeling his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. He kisses you softly behind your ear, his hand making its way inside your underwear.

His fingers feel cold against your clit. You push your thighs together as a reflex.

“If you’re not gonna talk to me can you at least keep this warm for me?” you feel his finger sliding further into your folds. You stifle a moan trying to come up with a reply to humble his smug ass but you lose to his gentle touch and his quickening pace. His movement is encouraged by your wetness. Two fingers begin to slide inside, stretching your entrance. He rests his fingers in the spot you like best and glides over it repeatedly. You feel yourself tightening around his fingers

Tojiiii

You like that, brat?

Mmmmh

He pulls you in for a kiss and you reach for his dick. Starting your grip from his base to his tip. You feel him already wet with pre-cum and it makes you smile.

“Already?” you tease.

He begins to undo your buttons and take off your bra. Exposing your chest he palms your hard nipples. “Already?” he teases back. He looks so smug the scar on his lip inches upward.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you in that apron” Toji is a boob guy degenerate who heads straight to lick around your nipples. You feel your nub get harder as he wraps his mouth around your left nipple to suck on it. He sucks harder and harder and the volume of your moans follow suit.

His idle hand alternates between rubbing your right nipple and pawing on your boob. He groans as he buries his face into your flesh. You can feel his dick grinding on your bare thigh unsure when you took your bottoms off.

The two of you close the distance between each other. You make out like it’s your last and he opens your legs up for him to hold your knees in place. He moans while putting the tip of his penis in and stays there, waiting for you to settle. You grow impatient and scoot your hips to push him further inside. He meets your pace and pretty soon the room is filled with the sound of you and Toji.

His crotch lands on your clit with every grind, making you wetter than you already are. You're too occupied with pleasure that the only coherent thing you could say is “Please.”

You feel his square jaw touch your neck as he starts moaning in your ear. “You look so fucking hot when youre begging for my dick, my princess” he whispers in your ear. And you’re done for. You feel yourself cumming around his hard dick. Your pussy twitching, trying to milk his dick for everything he has. “‘M cumminggg,” as your nails dig into his shoulders. You let yourself loose grinding against him.

Your legs feel like mush but your core keeps its tight grip around him. Toji pumps into you at a faster, frenzied pace. He looks so desperate for relief it’s adorable. He stares at you wondering how you’re the same person who used to find him so insufferable before. Your usually uptight face is replaced with a lewd look that tears him up inside. You find yourself close to cumming again. But before you could share this with Toji, you hear him say “Be my cumslut, baby.” You feel him shooting warm squirts of his thick cum inside you as you pulsate around him. It feels unreal cumming at the same time. It makes you wish you weren’t wearing an implant so he can ruin your life plans and give Megumi a sibling.

He gets his weight off of you and you start to notice the sun beaming across your bedroom, giving the space an orange tone. You didn’t realize how late in the afternoon it already is.

Your head rests on Toji’s chest as he wraps his arm around you. You watch him breathe heavily as he comes down from rearranging your guts. It’s getting a bit toasty in your pile of limbs, but it feels nice in the February chill. You stay like this, just quiet for a minute before you feel your eyelids get heavier and heavier. The last thing you remember is him kissing your forehead whispering “I love you, y/n” so quietly that you’re not sure if what you heard was a dream or not. You drift off to sleep.

You wake up suddenly feeling like you were falling from a cliff for a second, but you were caught by Toji’s big arms reminding you that you’re safe and he’s here. You wrap your arm around him, pulling him closer. His hand is placed on your back tracing soft random lines that comfort you for whatever reason.

“Babe? Can I ask you something?” Toji asks you in a low voice.

“Yeah sure. Always.” You prop yourself up to face him instinctively tilting your head ever so slightly to the side.

He cups your cheek and looks you in the eyes. “How many of these bed hogging plushies are from your dumbass ex?”

You laugh but this question took you aback a bit since you haven’t really decluttered recently. It’s not like the old stuff you received from past relationships still means anything. They just kind of faded in the background and you never really gave them a second thought.

You point to 4 out of 7 plushies on your bed and count simultaneously. “So, four. Oh and that cow on the floor.” Answering made you feel a little embarrassed not realizing how much of the plushies you own came from previous partners. You and Toji only started dating officially only a few months ago. Making him feel uncomfortable is not in the list of things you want to do.

He follows your index finger and studies the plushies. “Are you into the super soft ones or fluffy ones?” he asks.

“Hm… I have no preference, really… Just anything that you think I’ll like is great.”

So the next time you meet Toji in the train station, he’ll be picking you up from work and you’ll see a soft green unit big enough to be your pillow. It’s a lot to hold but it looks small when Toji carries it by his side.

“No way. Is this for me?”

“It’s for my side chick actually.”

You give him a side eye. One pout and he back tracks in record time.

“It’s for my favorite brat, obviously.” he hands the frog plushie to you and gives you a tender kiss.

You bury your face in the soft plush and it instantly reminds you of the stuffed toy that never left your side when you were a kid. It smells just like Toji.

“Oh he’s so grumpy,” you can’t help but let out a high pitched adoration for the frog.

His brows furrow upwards, “You don’t like it?”

“He’s perfect. He looks just like you,” you reply, tears forming in your eyes. “I’ll never sleep without Jiji again,” you named the frog.

“Oh you better.” he smirks.

The frog plushie in question

Part 2 soon????

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