#but i still harvested from public plants

[schistostegapennata]

can you talk about moss poaching i'm actually really curious

How can I refuse! Absolutely!!! It sounds kind of ridiculous, but it's actually very sad.

So, let's start off with some numbers. Every year, the moss black market is estimated to garner up to $165 million for trafficking approximately 82 million pounds of moss.

I cannot even wrap my mind around how much moss that is.

You might ask, why does moss poaching exist and why is it so lucrative? Well, the quality that has made mosses the prey of an illegal trade is simply their aesthetic appeal. Soft, velvety, and moist, mosses are extremely pleasant to the touch and calming to look at. Some people are willing to pay large amounts of money to collect them and put them in private gardens. However, most of the mosses that move in this underground black market are actually sold to companies/wholesalers for use in potting/gardening soil, plant nurseries, decor, and as craft materials. The majority of the preserved mosses in your run-of-the-mill chain craft store, planters, floral wreaths, or very-much-dead living wall decorations are gathered illegally, bleached to death, and then dyed green. This goes for a lot of prepackaged peat moss and soil mix blends as well.

Even though it is illegal to gather moss in public places (in the US, at least), people still harvest it. Why? Probably because there's a fair amount of money to be made and the consequences are very rarely enforced, and when they are, they are quite light--usually a $50 fine at worst if you're caught. Most of this black market moss is actually poached from the national park system, with Appalachia and the Pacific Northwest usually being the hardest hit regions.

Mosses play vital roles in many ecosystems, provide homes for threatened species, regulate water distribution in forests, and help with erosion, so their loss is a terrible blow. Additionally, moving such large quantities of mosses from one location to another may spread unwanted, invasive hitchhikers, like insects that lay their eggs in the plants, or even seeds and spores.

I'll end on this thought:

It can take 20 years for a small patch of moss removed from a fallen tree to grow back with the right moisture conditions.

How long would it take to regrow 82 million pounds?

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Sacrifice

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Back in the light world, Asgore is still dealing with the heartache of the sacrifice, even months later. Mayor Holiday is still set on moving ahead, though!

Yay, it's nice to finally get back to some light world characters here! More with the Dreemurr family will be coming along soon!

Alt text for these pages under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: a landscape shot of the Holiday house and surrounding garden, with Rudy and Asgore outside the fence and hollybush hedge. The Delta Rune is emblazoned over the door and spiky snowflakes decorate the roof and fence.  Asgore is walking by with a wheelbarrow. Rudy: “Asgore, you old goat! Been way too long!” 

Panel 2: A closer shot of the two men- Rudy is slim and dressed in a crisp tunic, Asgore larger and wearing slouchy overalls. Asgore: “Howdy Rudy. You’re looking well!” Rudy, hand on his knee, bends over to hack and cough. Rudy: “Oh y’know… well enough, I guess! How’s business?” 

Panel 3: Asgore looks down,ruefully scratching the back of his head. His wheelbarrow is full of droopy plants, ready for planting. “Could be better… Those soldiers hassle me almost daily. But, I’ve gotten used to it, so it’s all right.” 

Panel 4: Rudy puts a comforting hand on Asgore’s shoulder. “Aww hey, you can complain to me any time…” he says. Asgore doesn’t avoid the touch but he doesn’t seem comforted. 

Page 2 Panel 1: close up on Rudy, who jerks his head to look as far behind him the door of the Holiday house opens to show the silhouette of a woman in a long dress. 

Panel 2: Rudy: “But uhh, I’ll let Carol here say her piece first. See you, Asgore!” He waves and pushes the gate open to go back to the house. Asgore looks taken aback. 

Panel 3: A textless landscape shot of the front of the yard. Rudy, halfway back to the house, turns to look behind him as Carol comes out of the large Holiday gate to meet Asgore, who is hunched in a half-bow with his hand over his heart. 

Panel 4: Asgore: “Howdy, Mayor Holiday.” He doesn’t look up at her, and we see only the back of her head, not her face. Carol: “Good day, Asgore. I appreciate you stopping by, as I wanted to inform you personally.” 

Panel 5: Carol leans into Asgore’s space, and he leans away, cowed. Neither of their eyes are visible, but we see their mouths: hers stern, his distressed. Carol: “We will be conducting the Ritual again in three month’s time, at the harvest moon. You and Toriel’s presence is required.”

Panel 6: Bust shot of Asgore, dismayed. “A…Again? You’ve… found another one?” His hand is still protectively over his heart. 

Page 3:  Panel 1: We see Carol’s face for the first time: she is severe looking, with medium length hair, a stiff dress, and a choker necklace and ornate belt. Her hand is also over her heart, though more like a formal salute. “I have tasked QC with obtaining the child.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s speech bubble continues as narration. “She’s been quite diligent in her duties, and believes we now have one open to the concept of self sacrifice.” The scene shown is QC- a friendly, soft woman with wildly curly hair- appearing to be at a street market. She is speaking to a child with a bandana neck scarf (Clover, from UT Yellow), but there’s no dialogue. 

Panel 3: Another shot of Carol in profile, gaze fixed intensely ahead. “With the Ritual rites already perfected, this time we will be successful.” 

Panel 4: A wide shot of Asgore, hunched over his wheelbarrow of wilty plant starts and flowers. There’s no dialogue. His expression is despondent. 

Panel 5: Carol: “Is there something you’re withholding, Asgore?” Asgore: “No. We’ll be there.” We don’t see his expression. Her hands are folded sternly in front of her. 

Panel 6: She moves once again into his space, pushing past the wheelbarrow to lean in. “I know that you two have been avoiding us in public since the last Ritual.”  Asgore cringes away like a dog that’s been scolded. 

Page 4: Panel 1: Carol continues. “Toriel has hardly spoken a word to me since then. I trust there is an explanation?” 

Panel 2: Asgore wrings his hands in front of him. His speech bubble covers up his eyes, but his mouth is downturned. “Carol… Toriel avoids you so much because she respects you. She does not want a confrontation.”

Panel 3: Carol, her expression still severe, almost angry. “A confrontation?” 

Panel 4: Asgore, still cringing and looking down: “I don’t know.. if I can explain just how badly losing Kris hurt.” 

Panel 5: His narration continues from the previous panel. “She’d be so cross if I knew I said this, but…” We see the past, Toriel kneeling and clutching the blankets of an empty bed, crying hard. Asgore kneels beside her, holding her shoulders. He’s crying too, unable to comfort her. “The night of the sacrifice, when we got home… Toriel collapsed and wept so long and hard I was afraid her heart would simply stop.” 

Panel 6: Sill the past with present Asgore’s narration over the top. “And then, once Asriel left too… Both of our children were gone.” Left to right, in the interior of the Dreemur’s house, Asgore stands dismayed as an unhappy Toriel rushes after Asriel, who is walking out the door with a bag on his shoulder. He’s looking back but is clearly set on leaving. 

Page 5 Panel 1: Back in the present, Asgore is even more hunched in on himself, hugging his fists to his chest with his expression drawn tight and sad. “I know Toriel acts as though she is fine, but that’s simply because she is stronger than I am. The tension between us is so terrible that I’m afraid she’d leave me if she had somewhere to go!” 

Panel 2: Close on his distressed, panicky face, looking away from the confrontation. “And part of me can’t help wondering… w-what if we were…”

Panel 3: Carol jabs a finger in Asgore’s face. “We. WILL. Be rewarded for our sacrifices. Of this I am CERTAIN.” She’s stern, but her fists aren’t clenched- she’s controlled. Asgore shrinks under her words, looking up at her as he stammers “I-I know, but…”

Panel 4: Carol’s speech: “You talk of heartache. Kris was not even your child by blood.” Asgore looks down, ashamed. 

Panel 5: Carol continues, hand splayed over her chest. For the first time her expression is something other than stern, perhaps angry- still that, but pained. “Do you think your pain is greater than the one I feel, for December? Whom I gave away first?” 

Panel 6: Asgore plucks at his sleeve, looking away guiltily. “No, of course not-” 

Page 6 Panel 1: Carol’s brief moment of any other emotion is gone. She sweeps her arm to the side. “And yet I have put aside my grief for years, all for the sake of you, and everyone else, in this town. I will do whatever it takes to drive this invader from our doors, and restore this town to the peace it once had.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s face is almost a snarl. “All I require is that you, my oldest friends, trust me.” Asgore looks abashed. 

Panel 3: Close on Asgore’s downturned mouth, so none of the rest of his expression is visible. “Of course. Of course we do.” 

Panel 4: Carol draws away, her face returned to calm sternness. “That’s good to hear. Our children don’t need our tears.” 

Panel 5: Carol turns to go back into her gate, dismissing Asgore with a wave. “But our town does need our efforts.”  Asgore watches her go, putting his hands back to his wheelbarrow. 

Page 7 Panel 1: Another wide shot of the Holiday house and gardens, with Carol walking back to the house and Asgore outside the gate. Carol: “So I’ll see you both at the next gathering.” 

Panel 2: Asgore looks down at his wheelbarrow, despondently. His plants are all notably wilted. “Good day, Mayor.” The sky behind him darkens. 

[obsessed-with-stardew]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[ghostlygraphist]

ai generated mushroom guides could get people killed

'i'm not going to link any of them here, for a variety of reasons, but please be aware of what is probably the deadliest AI scam i've ever heard of: plant and fungi foraging guide books. the authors are invented, their credentials are invented, and their species IDs will kill you"

"update: i keep getting annoyed that the QTs are like "if this is true, it's horrifying" ..but you're right, you don't know me from a hole in the ground and you SHOULD worry about the veracity of anything you find online."

thread source

so i went looking

the full description:

How to quickly become a confident mushroom forager without fear of misidentifying poisonous lookalikes!

Have you dreamt about becoming more self-sufficient and sourcing your own fresh, local ingredients?

Do you want to start sustainably foraging so you can become healthier and happier?

Have you thought about harvesting wild mushrooms but afraid you won’t be able to tell the edible and poisonous species apart?

Then this book is for you!

Save money and enjoy the delicacies that nature has to offer. Mushroom hunting is easier than you think, and less dangerous than everyone assumes.

Wild plant foraging is increasing in popularity with celebrity chefs and small cafes jumping on the bandwagon and using locally foraged produce in their food.

There are so many benefits of foraging to your health (physical and mental) and even the environment!

In Fearless Foraging in the Rocky Mountains, you’ll discover:

Over 40 species of mushroom you can harvest all year round

Complimentary access to the mobile-friendly Digital Field Guide that includes high-resolution photos and descriptions of all edible mushrooms and any toxic lookalikes so you don’t have to worry about misidentifying species

How to correctly create (and use) spore prints to help you figure out what’s what

An annual mushroom calendar so you can keep track of the mushrooms by season and make the most of each foraging season

Detailed descriptions of the anatomical properties of fungi - gain the essential knowledge you need to correctly identify species

Tips on sustainable foraging - and ways to increase the natural mushroom count for next time you visit!

And much more!

Foraging is a tradition upheld for centuries by indigenous people who used ancient, respectful principles to live off the land. Connect with that history by embracing the artful skills and knowledge to confidently collect food for your meals.

Even if you're still worried about toxic mushrooms, let this guide reassure you. Included are incredibly high-level descriptions and details to use so you don’t get it wrong. NOTE: To keep it economically prices, our paperback version is printed in black and white. Premium color is available in our hardcover version. Both will provide the quality necessary to identify wild mushrooms and plants and both come with access to the full color, high-resolution Digital Field Guide.

If you want to learn the skillful art of foraging mushrooms and enjoy nature's nutritious bounties then scroll up and click the “Add to Cart” button now.

end description

wild harvest publications... no named author? i n t e r e s t i n g

"To keep it economically prices" hmm *the design is very human meme*

this book that promises highly detailed descriptions doesn't even have color images unless you pay a premium

"Mushroom hunting is easier than you think, and less dangerous than everyone assumes." hmm. hmmmmm. yeah the government definitely put out those 'if you don't know what it is don't put it in your mouth' PSAs for no reason

tldr don't buy foraging guides off amazon if you can't locate a human author and verify their credentials yourself

[missredherring]

Petrichor

Logan Howlett x Fat F!Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1k

Contents: Fluff. Flirting.

Summary: A florist turns to the last local cut flower farmer available for help. No Powers AU.

A/N: I saw some pics of Hugh picking flowers and came up with this fluffy little idea of Flower Farmer Logan Howlett.

Thank you @moonlitbirdie for listening to the idea. 🩷

Thanks to @sp00kymulderr @ghotifishreads @covetyou @schnarfer @ozarkthedog for the moodboard feedback and general support. 🩷

Not beta'd.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The zinnia he’s harvesting from dances in the breeze that rolls through and he glances up at the gray clouds building overhead. Hopefully the humidity with finally break and they’ll get some much needed rain. 

The stem feels a little too dry for his liking as he holds it steady to cut at the right angle deep into the plant with his garden shears. He’d rather wait to cut after a good rain, but today’s the last day to harvest the zinnias and dahlias before they’re too far gone for for a good selling price. The soil under his feet is hard and unyielding when he shifts his weight to deposit the bloom into the waiting bucket with its fellows. There hasn’t been enough rain all season. 

The crunch of tires on gravel breaks into the ambiance of rustling leaves mixed with chirps and trills of insects. Logan frowns and straightens up, tipping his hat back and squinting to see who’s making their way towards him. You take a while, unable to keep from stopping along the rows to admire the zinnias and celosias.

Pride swells in his chest as he watches you admire them with careful fingers. Desire heats up his gut each time you bend over to get a closer look. A pretty lady for sure, plumper than a peony, and he just knows those curves would fill his hands better than any flower. You’re still craning your neck to see the dahlias in the next row over when you finally reach him, offering him a hand and your name.

“I called earlier this morning about available flowers?” you prompt him when he just shakes your hand in silence. 

“Right. Last minute demand from the mother of the bride.” 

A heavy gush of wind blows into the two of them and you glance up at the darkening sky. 

“Yea, well,” you sigh, “since the weather isn’t cooperating, she’s decided to compensate with more flowers that I need to somehow acquire.” The look you give him says volumes and Logan huffs out a laugh as his decision to not work with the general public is validated by the dark circles he clocks under your eyes. You’ve probably been run off your feet in the last few days to meet all the new requests. “Most of the other locals farms are out and you’re my last hope.”

The soft, distant plip plip plip in the trees, and a single drop on the brim of his hat is all the warning they get before the sky opens and the rain pours down. 

“Oh, shit,” is all you get out before Logan’s big hand is cupping your elbow and urging you to follow him. 

“‘Grab that bucket, will ya?” he asks you over his shoulder, not stopping his long strides as he scoops up the handle to another bucket. You hustle behind him and he doesn’t even have the privilege of watching you jiggle with the effort. It’s a crying shame, but you don’t know where the work shed is so he has to lead the way.

The rain is loud on the metal roof of the shed, so if Logan leans down to speak closer to your ear it’s so you can hear him better and not to look at your tits in your wet shirt. 

“I’ve got a couple dozen of last weeks cuttings in the fridge here. If you can use any, you’re welcome to them.”

He trades you a relatively clean hand towel for the bucket and nods his head towards the large refrigerator against the opposite wall. Instead of watching you dab at the water on your face, neck, and arms, he busies himself with what he’s managed to harvest so far, pulling out handfuls of stems, shaking off the excess water from the bucket, and dumping them on the workbench.

It’s quick, familiar work: checking for stray insects and clipping leaves to clean up the stem while inspecting for any other damage. Dozens are counted out and wrapped in butcher paper to go in the fridge until they’re sent out for delivery to various local vendors and florists he does business with. 

Logan usually prefers to work by himself and only hires extra hands when needed, but he doesn’t mind the additional sound of rustling paper and your pleased hums as you do your own inspection behind him. 

“These are just what I need, Logan. You’re a life-saver. Are you sure I can take all of these?”

He turns around to see a hopeful look on your face and your arms full of bouquets; it must be every one in there. Instead of annoyance at the possibility of being unable to fill any orders right away, there’s just a shy shred of happiness that he can do this for you. 

“Here,” he says, reaching over to grab two buckets from the stack by the door and helping you deposit the bouquets in them. “‘Like I said: you’re welcome to them.” 

“How much do I owe you? I’m sure this is more than we talked about over the phone.”

“Nah. That’s still fine,” he holds his hand up to stop your protest. “You can let me take you out on a date and we can call it even.”

A satisfied little smirk curls up in the corner of his mouth as your face runs through several emotions before settling. 

“Are you trying to get me to go out with you by giving me a discount?” 

Logan tilts his head to the side and takes a few steps towards you. The rain has eased but the air in the shed is still warm and close and starting to smell of fresh flowers and green things. 

“I’m helping you out in your time of need. Something I’d like to do again, maybe after a few drinks.”

You smile at him and he wants to kiss you for it. When you get a grip on the buckets and walk past him he’s so close that you brush up against him, all soft curves and damp clothes. You tilt your head towards him and lean in just enough to press your chest into him and kiss his whiskered cheek, saying “Thank you, Logan. I’ll give you a call this weekend.” 

He admires the way you use your hip to bump the door open wider after opening it, stepping out into the rain still lighting falling outside without missing a step.

[bobbydagen24]

about the Headcannon/Fan Theory that Branch is Autistic.

I first started thinking it a few years ago after I watched TBGO for the first time I didn't used to interact much with the fandom online back then.

but after I started doing so I was kinda pleasantly surprised to find out there were other people who thought the same I mainly have the HC about Tv show Branch.

due to certain behaviours and Traits specific to the shows but there are still signs for the movie version as well someone even did multiple youtube videos pointing the signs out.

anyway I figured the easiest way to talk about this is to go over the most common signs of Autism as is stated by NHS on their websites that could apply to him.

tho obviously everyone's different someone not having a few of these signs doesn't mean they aren't autistic. Getting Anxious in social situations and finding it hard to make friends or preferring to be on your own plenty of examples sure its also in large part due to the amount of time he spent avoiding people in his youth but it easily can be taken as an A sign as well. in the episode "" Mr Glittercakes "" he invents a fake person just so he can have an excuse to blow off multiple social events and we see he tires of being social pretty quickly and easily. in "" Fun Branch "" hanging out with the snack pack in his Home proves to be too tiring and stressful not to mention him stressfully micro managing everyone at his party at the start of "" Bye Bye Bunker "" also in "" Two's a Cloud "" he was shown being pretty overwhelmed by spending too much time with people and also due to "" too much affection ""

I swear I will never get tired of that clip 😂😂😂😂 anyway it also ties in to the next common sign. Aversion to Physical Contact. again not every person on the spectrum has it but it is fairly common Branch improves after the first film.

but during the first film he'd literally Rather go to Bergen town with Poppy and Risk being eaten than stay in his safe Bunker and have to put up with Hug times from the other Villagers 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

and in TBGO he's still fairly averse to them when they travel the multiple dimensions the others are all Horrified when they come across the universe where no one knows what a Hug is.

but Branch smugly suggests he's fine with the thought of them staying in that universe before the others drag him away lol.

also in the clip above he seems to have a mini freak out over too much Hugging and even stims a little from the looks of things.

Liking to plan things carefully before doing them.

bit fat yes in "" Peril Patch "" when playing Golf he planned out every minor detail obsessively before taking a single shot. in "" Branch Bum "" he carefully planned out every detail of their Trip and was only actually concerned with the journey there and the journey back lol.

Not understanding Various social Cues.

this one kinda depends since Pop Troll society is so different from our own but given how in that world its Technically the Norm it does make Branch's lack of understanding a social failing on his part.

such as suggesting cutting the Twins Hair when they were having a Disagreement and Poppy stating that was a Social Cue most people would know.

plus in "" Eye'll Be Watching You "" when Poppy said she needed to think about it first before he could put his safety plants around the village.

Branch mistook that to mean she would just think about it for a few seconds then and there and proceeded to stare at her with an adorable smile lol.

also just him doing generally odd stuff in public like screaming about how they will all die when the water dries up in "" Laugh Out Cloud "" and ya know Harvesting Baby Tears 😂😂😂😂😂😂

in "" The Makeunder "" where Branch Teaches Lownote how to act more like him so he can be less social and cool at Guy Diamond's party.

the things Branch tells him to do includes 1. avoiding eye contact during conversation and then overcompensating with an uncomfortable amount of intense eye contact. 2. talking on and on about your own interests not paying any mind to how Bored the other people who your talking to may be. 3. and doing things things such as laughing at inappropriate times when people are talking aka showing the wrong emotional responses to specific situations and interactions. all of which are things which could be signs in certain individuals.

having a very fixated keen interest in a certain subject and area of expertise.

I'd consider his whole love of safety and traps aka engineering as well given he also builds other stuff such as helping build the Train the "" Cakes on a Train "" episode of Trollstopia.

and various devices such as the machine to pick what their new Holiday will be all of his various complex traps and of course Gary.

Poppy literally Refers to him as a safety nerd in the Birthday episode where she throws him a party where he gets to be the lifeguard its so friggin cute 💖💖💖💖

sure in large part its also due to his past Trauma but it kinda works as both imo he deffo takes a keen interest in this stuff beyond just feeling the need to do it for safety given he actively enjoys it. also Trouble getting your tone of voice to match what your trying to say can be a sign. which we see in one of my favourite moments ever from the first episode of Trollstopia where he tries to be genuine and supportive only to sound like he's being Rude and Sarcastic. anyway those are some reasons and also moments that made me HC him as Autistic I'm not saying it was the writers intent or anything.

I think its more likely just a happy accident that he was written in such a way that some of the fandom interpreted him as having Autism.

anyway thanks for reading if your a fellow fan who has this HC I'd be curious to hear what it was about Branch or what specific moments made you start Head cannoning him as such?

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: woodlands made by man

Forests are for the most part, the realm of nature. But what about those with a less than natural origin? Here are some woodlands that are shaped artificially.

Parks and gardens- Trees look nice, there’s no denying it. As long as there have been people who admire trees, there have been gardens and parks. Grassy meadows, neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds may get all the attention, but an accenting grove, or a rambling woodland always adds to the aesthetic. Wealthy aristocrats would import trees from far away places, while more modest landowners and public spaces grow native species. Though the results do look quite natural, they are nonetheless human creations.

Orchard- Fruit and nut bearing trees have always been favored as a reliable source of food. And so people since nearly the beginning of agriculture have been planting orchards to provide for them. Trees are planted in rows, evenly spaced apart for the ease of harvesting. Smaller orchards, those catering to families who pick their own fruit, and those that grow fairly delicate fruits still do the harvesting by hand, while many more rely on machines to do the heavy lifting.

Tree farm/ plantation- Many trees types cultivated are deciduous species, but there are some instances when conifers are preferred. Being relatively fast growing, and usually possessing a single, straight trunk, they are the ideal tree type for use as lumber and paper products. Of course, one cannot forget the need every November and December for Christmas trees.

Palm plantation- The tropics are ideal for growing oil palms. Thousands of acres are devoted to the tree, as so much of our food and other products these days relies on palm oil. This is not a good thing as the demand means that vast areas of rainforest have had to be cleared. In Indonesia, the problem is particularly evident, as the growth of palm plantations is one of the main factors behind the decline of orangutan numbers.

Coconut grove- Almost anywhere you go in the tropics will have coconut palms. Buoyant, the nut floats easily on the currents, and where it is too isolated for a coconut to reach naturally (such as Hawaii), people have brought it with them. As well as the coconuts, the palms themsevles are also used; palm fronds can be used for roofing, and the fibers are used in weaving.

Bonsai forest- The art of growing miniature trees has been practiced for centuries. Some trees are collected in the wild, harsh natural conditions causing the trees to grow slowly and stay small, but many more are shaped over many years. While many bonsai are grown singularly, groves and forests are also popular choices. These can be either monospecific, or mixed, and can be part of a larger landscape creation that includes rocks, water, and figures.

There are plenty of examples of forest areas that are man-made. Don’t feel like you have to confine your story to a natural woodland. Use what you find around you to inspire the setting and drive your characters and the plot. What happens on the earth can easily be applied to science fiction or fantasy. Put your own spin on it (maybe your characters are small and live in a bonsai forest…of course they could also be normal sized people who happen to be in a giant sized bonsai planting).

Edit: As pointed out in the comments/reblogs, I seemed to have forgotten woodlots, so I am going to include those.

Woodlot- Common areas open to members of the community include a mixture of open pastureland and forested areas. People would have their flocks and herds forage here in spring and summer, whilst they managed and harvested the trees. Trees in woodlots would not be felled, instead the branches would be cut back and allowed to regrow. The resulting growth produces straight branches that are used in constructing walls, fences, as well as firewood and charcoal. (Communal pastures and woodlots are not really thought of these days, as many areas were lost over the years due to industrialization, urbanization, and the enclosure of land by the aristocracy)

[pudding-parade]

I think I'm in trouble...

So there's this world I want to use for Purposes™. (Yoder's Glen, if anyone cares.) It's a small world, and it's nice and rural because it's supposed to be an "Amish" world, and it's pre-populated by "Amish" families whom I will mercilessly annihilate and also bulldoze the pre-built lots because I'mma do my own thing. But, it has a shiiiiiiiit-ton of "wild" not-on-a-playable-lot harvestable plants in it everywhere, and aside from the fact that a shit-ton of harvestable plants can cause a shit-ton of lag, I just don't want them there. For Reasons™. But, you can't remove them with Edit Town, for reasons I have never been able to understand. But I want to use this world. For Reasons™. So, CAW is needed. Problem: I have never used CAW. I was never able to get it running with my Origin install, probably because I used a non-standard install path for the game.

So I decided to see if could get CAW to work with my current arrrr'ed game install, which has a standard install path. And lo and behold, it worked. And then I did some Googling and miraculously (because my Google skills are shit) found out how to import downloaded worlds for which you do not have CAW files into CAW. So I did the thing and, holy shit it worked. So now I can remove all the wild harvestables in this world. And remove all the seed spawners that I also don't want. And add/remove/rearrange lots much more easily, which I also want to do.

However, I would also like the world to be a liiiiiiiitle larger. So now I'm thinking, "How hard could it really be to make a world instead of editing this one?" But I don't want to make worlds, for the same Reasons™ that I really don't want to learn how to generally make shit for TS3. But still. There's this whispering in my brain. "How hard could it be?"

So, someone please tell me that it's really, really, really hard and that I really, really, really shouldn't bother and that I really ought to just stay in my damn lane and stick to editing this one. While you're at it, tell me if it's possible to make the CAW window larger. Because this 1024x768 shit has to go...

(Also, hi. Sorry that I haven't been in much of a Tumblring mood. I have been playing TS3, though! Just, you know, saves that aren't fit for public consumption, as usual. I'm kinda feeling like building some shit, though, so maybe I'll have pictures of that at some point. Maybe. Or maybe I'll continue to be a hermit. Who knows?)

[ribesaureum]

Making cordage from milkweed Part I

Milkweed is my favorite plant to make fiber from (second favorite is dogbane). Milkweed creates an absolutely beautiful pearly white cord with a gorgeous luster, and a tensile strength that is incredibly impressible

There are many species of milkweed, and each plays an oversized role as habitat for a plethora of insects. If you can do but one thing, plant native milkweed in your area.

Alas, milkweed does not always grow where you want ki* to- mine colonized the corn plot

Apparently I'm growing milkweed this year, not corn.

Because milkweed is such a critical habitat for so many endangered insect species, it is really important to be mindful of the ethics of using milkweed to make cordage, and that includes when and where and how much to harvest

WHEN

The best time to harvest milkweed is in the early fall, when the leaves on the stalk are turning yellow, and the seedpods have opened, but the skin on the stalk is still green. Any earlier and you risk harming the plant (ki is a perennial) and depriving insects of important food. You can wait until the stalk is dried, and then pound the fibers out, but I find the quality of the fibers from this method significantly deteriorated.

WHERE

Make sure to be respectful of private property, and of public parks and gardens. I strongly advise against collecting in either of these areas as it is both illegal, oftentimes, and can encourage bad collecting behavior. Milkweed loves ditches and hedgerows, and of course, the best place to harvest is from your own patch you are growing and encouraging.

HOW MUCH

The foraging rule of no more than 10% is a good starting point, but I encourage you to look deeper. Is this the only stand of milkweed around? Maybe leave kin as undisturbed habitat. Does there seem to be a lot of insects using the stems as overwintering homes? Maybe don't pick those. Are there eggs on the underside of leaves? Don't disturb. Ask the plot if kin can spare a couple stalks and listen to the answer.

Here, I have a very robust patch, and I needed to cut just a few of kin that had grown into the path in my meadow.

Step one: Curing

The stalk, when ki is freshly cut, oozes a milky sap that will get over everything and is very sticky. You want to let the stalk cure for somewhere between one and 3 days, to let this sap dry.

Here you can see the smallest amount of sap oozing from where I broke off a leaf. Ideally, I would have let the stalk cure one more day, but I got an ask and here I am.

Remove all the leaves and seed pods once the stalk is cured. Return the leaves to the earth, so their atoms are not locked up in a landfill.

Step two: peeling

Next, you are going to start peeling the green skin from the stalk, trying to get as wide and as long a peel as possible

(part II link I have to break up the videos)

Part iii link

*ki/kin are pronouns to signify a being of the living earth

[sunevial]

Reasons Why You Should Move To The Torn Veil

It's a night market

It's a giant, sprawling, night market full of people from a million worlds who have come to trade and to live and to rest and to find themselves

There's boats with people on them and the people on the boats in the river can sell you things

GOOD

PUBLIC

TRANSIT

A dragon runs the city

Specifically, an undead dragon, who turned her body into ice and now possesses both a giant dragon-sized suit of armor and a smaller humanoid shaped construct, runs the city guard

She gives paladins sworn to the city cool dragon weapons

And she's very excitable

YOU DON'T NEED A CAR. THE STREETCARS MIGHT BE HAUNTED, BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO PAY FOR CAR INSURANCE

There's good liches

Well, morally complex and slightly scary liches, but good liches

One of them runs a library. My friends think the lich that runs the library is hot (not wrong)

Vampire blood bars

Or blood in juice boxes if you prefer that

And art deco vampire speakeasies

These posts about the wildest oneshot I've ever ran will make more sense because I ran that oneshot in the Torn Veil

(i said more sense, not complete sense, the math my friends did still breaks my brain)

STREETCARS, NARROW ROADS THAT DON'T REALLY FIT HUGE CARS, GONDOLAS, FLYING CARRIAGES DRIVEN BY LICENSED PROFESSIONALS

Corner stores and restaurants from every culture, real or otherwise, serving foods that have existed forever and do not exist anymore

Memory river that lets you travel to a million different afterlives

Fishing in the memory river for memories

Slime Carriage Driver

ACCESSIBLE

DENSE

URBAN

HOUSING

I'm queer and mixed SEAsian and this is what happens when I'm allowed to be incredibly self indulgant

The answer is Haunted Spooky Less Fucked Up Sigil, apparently

The massive park full of nature spirits born from plants left at people's gravesites

Necrodancer rave clubs with ghosts playing EDM and power metal

Specifically made constructs that can house ghosts and other spirits, giving them back a semblance of agency after being violently separated from their bodies

Or cause they want a ghost mech

Pop off

CATACOMBS HOUSING SKELETONS FOR THE SKELETON WAR

THE CITY IS FIRMLY ON THE SIDE OF THE SKELETONS

BY THE WAY

IF THAT WASN'T ABUNDANTLY CLEAR

They're used for the defense of the city and are largely controlled by said necrodancers playing the EDM and power metal

It's always dusk

And a little chilly but in a nice way

Well, sometimes it's warmer, the dragon in charge of the city guard can also control the weather

She does that so the farmers can get rain

The skeletons also pick fruit on the farms btw

There's many uses for a skeleton and sometimes those uses are animating it so the skeleton can pick delicate fruit that has to be harvested by hand

A friend of mine loved this place so much that there was a real timeline where he ran a oneshot in the setting before I was able to run a oneshot in the setting

The oneshot took place in a place called the Dead n' Breakfast

It's run by a skeleton who's also a vampire

Her name is Constance

I love her

NO RENT

WHY IS THERE NO RENT YOU MAY ASK

WELL BECAUSE THE CITY JUST MAKES BUILDINGS AND NEW FLOORS TO APARTMENT BUILDINGS APPEAR OUT OF THIN AIR

(you do need to pay a little bit of tax though)

(because while the city has figured out how to make modern buildings, it has not figured out electricity or plumbing or streetcar rails)

btw the city is alive

kinda

sorta

hard to explain

Street Food

Every Street Food Ever

Like if you want some, it's there, and it's real nice and real cheap and sometimes people will just give you food for free

Sometimes a nice ghost makes it for you

Sometimes it's a skeleton babushka

The knowledge that there's other people caught between life and death, that there is a place for the lost and the wandering, that there is a place where life and death have different meanings and that complicated relationships with life and death can be a little less so, that families can reunite long, long after they were supposed to, that there is a place that calls the lost and calls them home and calls them somewhere that is safe, it is a place you can be finally safe

Ghost Macy's

[happyk44]

This is the incoherent flow of my thoughts.

The first Neptune [god of fresh water and rains] is the beloved son of Saturn and they have similar possessions - food and water.

Saturn is the one who gives food, Neptune is the one who gives water to drink. Saturn grew food, Neptune, with the help of rain, made sure that it grew healthy and nutritious. Rains are important for agriculture.

Their relationship, in my opinion, was somewhat similar to that of Demeter and Persephone :)

Ahhhhhhh, I love that idea. Which makes the whole thing between Percy and Kronos a little bittersweet. Oh man, it would've been so neat if that was used as a set up for the next series. Something triggering Kronos to do a mental switch to Saturn during the fight and he falters for a moment, because, yes, the son who brought forth rain to cultivate the fields may have changed into someone darker as the empire became mightier but that is still his son, and how could he fight his grandson for such a reason?

I think what fascinates me about the events of Saturn vs his kids and Kronos vs his kids is that the war doesn't seem to be as publicized in Roman mythology. I'm not as well-read on Roman myths tbh but from what I've been able to pull online, the general consensus is very much yeah, yeah, Jupiter overthrew his dad and expelled him to Latium (the future birth place of Rome), where he brought knowledge and agriculture, okay whatever let's move on, and that's it. Like it's not as detailed and if I do try to go into further, it will immediately shift to Greek names, or reiterate that the two are conflated

The general consensus does appear that separating Saturn's original iteration from his conflation with Kronos has been rather difficult for scholars. No matter what though Saturn is a very important figure. He is the ruler who human once thrived under during the Golden Age. His festival is major. He had a temple!

I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that unlike Kronos, Saturn never consumed his kids, and his being overthrown was merely representative of how children succeed their parents - as what I've gathered is that Roman mythology was more based in politics and government, essentially how people are, versus Greek myths which looked more to the ways of the natural world (seasons changing, how certain plants came into being, etc).

So him and Neptune being able to bond is very plausible under this theory, since, presumably, he would've raised all six kids before they (or at least Jupiter) kicked him out. It could be that Saturn, seen as a benevolent figure, was viewed as too kindhearted or something similar by his children, so they dethroned him, allowing orderly and rigid Jupiter to take his place.

(Saturn is not completely benevolent since he also killed his dad and had ten day gladiator combats held in his name, but like. Ten days of beating the shit out of each other in exchange for the rest of the year being peaceful and fruitful isn't the worst thing, ya know, lol)

I know that sacrifices made to Saturn were done in with their heads uncovered (Greek rite), where other Roman gods were worshipped while veiled - which kind of furthers that Saturn is more representative of the time before the Roman Empire came to fruition.

Given Jupiter's importance to the Roman people, it doesn't make a lot of sense for them to worship his father, if there was a huge blowout between the two the way it occurred in Greek mythology. Especially since he's not the only god of agriculture or harvest. Obviously a lot of people worship based on representation rather than mythology, and I don't know how ancient Greeks or Romans reconciled their worship of the gods with the stories told in their name, if the two were separate or done in tandem, but nonetheless, again, I wouldn't be too surprised if it's uncovered that, no, Saturn didn't eat his kids, he raised them until they decided his ways were archaic and outdated and booted him from both the throne and Greece.

And under that theory, a trigger in PJO to make him go from Kronos to Saturn would've been cool. Why is he fighting his grandson? His children dethroned him, yes, but he still loves them, wouldn't dare hurt their offspring. So he stops fighting and calls out to grandson with a gentleness that makes Percy stop, baffled, before Kronos kicks back in and the battle continues.

But whatever he says is just enough for Percy to dwell on it later, teasing the set up for the next series 👍

(Granted, in this sense I don't see the Titan Army fighting on the Roman end, because I feel Saturn wouldn't have any interest in battling the Roman camp/gods, and tbh I don't fully get why that happened in canon because it was Luke's beliefs that stemmed the resurrection of Kronos and the war and Luke didn't know about the Romans, so the whole thing should've been solely Greek but like, whatever, lol, Percy telling Jason about how he fought Kronos and Jason is just, "You fought grandpa??? Why would you do that, he's so chill.")

[samwisethewitch]

Aromatherapy for Processing Trauma

Aromatherapy uses scent, usually in the form of essential oils, for physical and emotional well-being. Our sense of smell is very closely connected to memory, and certain smells can have an effect on our emotions and mood.

Essential Oil Safety and Ethics

Because this is the Internet and because certain multi-level marketing corporations have intentionally spread misinformation about essential oil safety, let's talk about a couple of things real quick.

You should never, ever eat or drink essential oils. These are very concentrated extracts of the active compounds from plants, and just like you would never sit down and eat 200 pounds of lavender, you shouldn't eat lavender oil. Ingesting essential oils can have very serious side effects, up to and including organ failure and death. Just don't.

If you want to work with a liquid plant extract that you can take internally, I recommend trying a tincture or a tea.

Use caution when applying essential oils topically. Again, essential oils are very concentrated, so they can cause skin reactions even if you are not normally allergic to the plant they come from. Always do a patch test to check for an allergic reaction before applying an essential oil to your skin or putting it in a bath. Some, like cinnamon oil, should never be used topically.

Always dilute your oils. Whenever you put essential oils on your skin, mix them with a carrier oil (like olive oil or coconut oil). Typically for adults you want to only use two drops of essential oil for every teaspoon of carrier oil, but you might use a stronger or weaker concentration depending on your body and your needs. If you're adding essential oils to your bath, make sure you mix them into a bath salt (either Epsom salt or plain table salt) before adding them to the water.

When you diffuse essential oils, make sure you don't use too much. For a typical aromatherapy diffuser, you really only need 1-5 drops of oil.

Be careful using essential oils around children and pets. Contrary to what some MLMs say, essential oils may not be safe for your baby or your dog. If you have kids, make sure your oils are stored out of their reach. Don't diffuse essential oils around babies under 6 months old, and don't apply oils to the skin on children under 3 years old. If you use essential oils on your older child's skin, they should be TWICE as diluted as for an adult (so you would use HALF as much essential oil for the same amount of carrier oil). If you diffuse oils around your kids, don't run the diffuser for more than 60 minutes. Follow other essential oil safety rules.

If you have a pet in the house, only diffuse essential oils in open, well-ventilated rooms, never let the diffuser run for more than 60 minutes, and make sure your pet is able to leave the room if they want to. Never apply essential oils to a pet's skin. Research your oils to make sure they aren't toxic to your pets.

Moving from safety concerns to ethics concerns, don't use essential oils in public spaces. Many people don't tolerate these scents well because of health conditions, allergies, or chemical sensitivities. For this reason, you should only practice aromatherapy in your own private space.

Try to be an eco-conscious consumer. It takes a whole lot of plant material to make essential oils -- one pound of lavender oil requires 250 pounds of lavender buds! That's a lot of natural resources. Even "wildcrafted" or "wild harvested" products may still be contributing to overharvesting. Try to limit your environmental impact by using oils sparingly, avoiding oils made from endangered plants, buying from companies that use sustainable harvesting practices, and reusing or recycling the bottles.

Making Aromatherapy Trauma-Sensitive

Because scent is so strongly connected to memory, scents that remind us of a traumatic event can trigger anxiety or panic, or even make us physically ill. Before using aromatherapy, think carefully about the scents you feel drawn to and whether they may be triggering for you.

For example, if your abuser wore a floral perfume with rose and geranium notes, the scents of rose and geranium might activate your fight or flight response, even though those are usually considered calming scents. If your abuser wore a cologne or deodorant with a lot of woodsy notes, you might want to avoid woodsy essential oils like cedarwood.

If at any point you start to feel triggered or activated when using aromatherapy, stop using that scent until you can speak to a therapist or counselor about your experience.

Helpful Essential Oils for Trauma Survivors

Note: Much of the information in this section comes from Elizabeth Guthrie's book, The Trauma-Informed Herbalist.

Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia): The ultimate relaxing scent. Guthrie says that lavender "allows a person to completely relax. It is a wonderful tonic for a person who has been overthinking situations." Lavender is really helpful for anxiety and paranoia, especially if your anxiety takes the form of doom spiraling or thinking about worst case-scenarios.

Cedarwood (Cedrus virginiana): An excellent grounding scent. Guthrie says that cedarwood "is loved for its ability to help people reconnect to themselves." Be aware that Atlas Cedarwood (Cedrus atlantica) is endangered due to overharvesting -- try to use more sustainable varieties.

Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis): Great for mental clarity. Rosemary strengthens memory, and it can be useful for people who struggle with short-term memory or who are dealing with brain fog or gaps in memory as a product of trauma. Rosemary promotes alertness.

Clary Sage (Salvia sclarea): Promotes a sense of well-being and helps decrease feelings of stress.

Sweet Marjoram (Origanum majorana): Brings balance to the body and mind. Marjoram has a relaxing effect and can help release tension.

Geranium (Pelargonium graveolens): Another relaxing scent. Guthrie says that geranium "can also help a person who is feeling jumpy, as if they're living in a horror movie and a jump scare is just around the corner."

Chamomile (Anthemis nobilis): Reduces anxiety and relieves feelings of depression. Chamomile also famously helps with sleep issues such as insomnia.

Patchouli (Pogostemon cablin): Very strong grounding. Guthrie recommends patchouli to help reset the sleep-wake cycle for people struggling with insomnia and/or fatigue.

Bergamot (Citrus bergamia): Balances emotional energy and uplifts the mood. Guthrie recommends it for brain fog from exhaustion and for aid in letting go of anger.

Eucalyptus (Eucalyptus globulus): A superstar for healing, whether physical, mental, emotional, or even spiritual. Guthrie recommends eucalyptus "to jumpstart the emotional healing process" and "to release the feeling that their trauma is part of their identity."

Sweet Orange (Citrus sinensis): An uplifting and energizing scent. Great for bringing up the mood, promoting happiness, and helping with burnout.

Aromatherapy on a Budget

Listen, y'all. Essential oils are expensive. Ethically sourced essential oils are even more expensive. I save some money by 1.) using essential oils sparingly, and 2.) buying pre-mixed blends. I'll typically look for a blend that contains several oils that I want to work with instead of buying each oil individually. Right now I'm working with the "Harmony" synergy blend from Eden's Garden, which contains lavender, cedarwood, rosemary, clary sage, sweet marjoram, geranium, and chamomile.

If you can't find a blend that has all the qualities you want, you can still save money by buying a blend with most of the qualities you're looking for, then adding one or two low-cost oils. For example, I wanted a slightly more grounding effect than the blend I'm using has, so I add a little bit of patchouli oil to bring in that earthy, grounding quality.

Sources:

The Trauma-Informed Herbalist by Elizabeth Guthrie

"5 Benefits of Clary Sage Oil" by Corey Whelan

"Marjoram Essential Oil" on AromaWeb

"The 8 Proven Benefits of Chamomile Oil and How to Use It" by Jill Seladi-Schulman, Ph.D.

"Essential Oils & Pets" on Saje

"Are Essential Oils Safe for Kids?" by Teresa Carr

[keepsmyheartawake]

After winning the GOP primary, North Carolina lieutenant governor Mark Robinson now has a very real chance of being elected governor of the state next November. What should voters know about Robinson before then? Well, for starters, that he’d like to go back to a time in American history when half of the population didn’t have the constitutional right to cast a ballot.

Yes, as HuffPost reports, a recently unearthed video from 2020 shows Robinson publicly declaring, “I absolutely want to go back to the America where women couldn’t vote.”

While this is obviously shocking, it’s merely a drop in the bucket of the completely wild comments Robinson has made over the years. (Neither Robinson’s campaign nor his government office responded to HuffPost’s requests for comment.) As my colleague Abigail Tracy reported last July, the amount of disturbing remarks that have come out of Robinson’s mouth—on everything from women to LGBTQ+ people to Jews to feminism—could fill entire volumes. A mere sampling of that commentary includes:

•A 2017 Facebook post trivializing domestic violence, in which Robinson wrote, “So if someone beats the bird dog hell of their spouse at the mall….is it still ‘Domestic Violence?’”

•A 2018 Facebook post in which he wrote, “So if a woman who ‘transitioned’ into a ‘man’ marries and abuses a man who ‘transitioned’ into a ‘woman’ is it still ‘violence against a woman?’ Will the feminist raise hell over it? I’m asking for a British Cigarette.”

•Memes Robinson shared mocking the victims of Harvey Weinstein and Bill O’Reilly.

•A post in which Robinson claimed that “feminism was planted in the ‘Garden,’ watered by the devil, and is harvested and sold by his minions”; one in which he wrote that “lesbianism and feminism” are destroying the family; another saying feminists are “as bad, if not worse, than racist[s]”; and one declaring that any man who refers to himself as a feminist is “about as MANLY as a pair of lace panties.”

•The declaration that people who support equal rights for women are “sexist, hairy armpit having, poo-poo hat wearing pinkos.”

•A series of remarks in which Robinson called women “whores,” “witches,” and “rejected drag queens,” and women who breastfeed in public “shameless attention hogs.”

•Equating the LGBTQ+ community with “filth.”

•Quoting Hitler and basically telling people to get over the Holocaust.

•Saying he doesn’t trust Muslims.

Oh, and Robinson is a conspiracy theorist to boot, saying, among other things, that he “wouldn’t be surprised” if 9/11 turned out to be an inside job or if the 1969 moon landing had been faked; that he’s “SERIOUSLY skeptical” JFK was assassinated; and that Parkland shooting survivor David Hogg was a paid actor.

Trump, of course, wants Robinson to be the next governor of North Carolina, endorsing the guy for the job and absurdly calling him “Martin Luther King on steroids.”

[source]

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Margaret Renkl Op-Ed from the New York Times:

Until last fall, when PBS screened “The American Buffalo,” a documentary by Ken Burns, I had no idea bison were native to Middle Tennessee, where I have lived for 37 years. I just assumed that Nashville was part of the great temperate deciduous forests that once covered much of the eastern half of the United States.

I should’ve guessed that the picture was more complicated. When I went looking for the once-endangered Tennessee coneflower in 2019, I found them in a rocky glade surrounded by grasslands blooming with wildflowers. And if there are grasslands here now, surely there must have been grasslands here in the past.

Before the European settlers arrived in North America, the region we know today as the American South was home to seven to 10 million acres of prairie, according to Dwayne Estes, a botanist, professor of biology at Austin Peay State University in Clarksville, Tenn., and executive director of the Southeastern Grasslands Institute, which works to research, preserve and restore native grasslands across the South. Today nearly all those Southern prairies — along with nearly all the other types of Southern grassland ecosystems, and nearly all the plants and animals they supported — are gone.

The scope of this loss of is enormous. Until the early 18th century, the South had up to 120 million acres of grasslands — prairies, savannas, wet meadows, barrens, glades, fens, marshes, coastal dunes, balds and riverscour that collectively supported a truly breathtaking array of plants and animals. In a study published in 2021, a team of scientists including Dr. Estes identified 118 major types of grassland ecosystems in the South. Some are close to extinction.

The most widespread were the savannas, grasslands characterized by scattered trees and a wildflower-rich soil. Historically, what kept young trees from filling the grasslands and turning them into dense, closed-canopy forests were two things: fire and bison (or both). “If you take fire and bison off savanna grasslands, which we did for the first time in world history, they will naturally grow up into trees,” Dr. Estes said in an interview. “They will become what we call artificial forests.” By the end of the 19th century, both bison and fire had been largely eliminated from the Southern landscape.

We know the European settlers chopped down much of the Eastern hardwood forests to harvest timber, but the ecological devastation wrought by a belief in Manifest Destiny didn’t stop with deforestation. The grasslands began to disappear, too, as trappers and settlers slaughtered the bison and suppressed the fire and turned the rich soil into farms.

Between row-crop agriculture, urban sprawl, and the transformation of open woodlands into closed-canopy forests, among other human encroachments, there is almost nothing left of the original grassland ecosystems that once sustained the immense biodiversity of the American South, from tiny insects to grasslands birds to the great buffalo itself. The grassy places we still have — pastures, public parks, highway medians and the like — don’t serve the same ecological function that our native grasslands did. These days, “grass” means species imported from Europe and Asia, monocultures that don’t support diverse plant species or native wildlife.

Today, according to calculations by the Southeastern Grasslands Institute, less than 5 percent of our original grasslands still exist. “Yet the remaining scraps include more grassland plants and animals than the Great Plains and Midwest combined,” notes Janet Marinelli in the publication Yale Environment 360. Preserving these remnants is vital, and not just for the biodiversity they sustain. Grassland remnants tell ecologists what a nearby grasslands-restoration project should look like, and they can serve as seed stock for propagation fields that will in turn provide the seeds needed to return the landscape to itself.

[summer-in-florence]

Laurent's Relationship with Akielos

by Summer in Florence

Originally a threadfic on twitter! Pair: Lamen / Laurent x Damen Tags: AU where Auguste lives and Laurent is just one happy prince consort of King Damianos

Laurent is never one without a running mind. He thinks like he's marathoning the globe—nonstop, neverending. His defining nature, of sorts, perhaps even force of habit. A schemer by word of mouth, scatterbrained by truth.

Akielos learns to understand that that is why their Exalted's dearest consort is in said particular shape. Many moons after his arrival on a ship, guarded by King Auguste's men, and received personally by Damianos, everyone gains a new perspective of Laurent.

That he was once just a 'pompous lover that doesn't deserve our Exalted', but after so long watching Laurent's movements, thoughts, conversations with their King, speeches and behaviours, the Akielons came to know intimately that he's merely someone rich in the mind.

Damianos is another kind, one that becomes prideful if his points are proven to be correct. He loathed the way early gossips talked about Laurent behind his back, spouting lies about how their betrothal were only political, and that Laurent seduced him for power.

For years he wanted to show people, his people, of the wonders that is his consort. Several balls, banquets, festivities—Damen allowed Laurent to be first in charge of it all, making a subtle, public statement of 'my lover is not as you think'. And nobles, they were easy to win. Citizens and those outside the palace walls are less so. 'Aristocracy tell-tales' they deemed it, worse, 'political sham'. Damen tries again for the Harvest festival this solstice; Laurent manages every detail of it all. And yet, he can't help but to be stressed about his lover.

"You're as tense as a stick in deep mud," Laurent says. The festival is right in motion, just at the peak of it all. They are watching from a platform, watching the evening light in festive joy. Damen purses his lips.

"Do they not want to acknowledge your hard work?"

"I did work hard for this." The Veretian admires his results; hundreds, even thousands of Akielons flooding the streets, chanting gratefulness of the crops they have planted and reaped for the season.

"Yes. And I have yet to hear a single person say your name."

Laurent laughs, openly and heartily. If it were any other day, Damen surely would have been too occupied listening to the sound of his consort's joyful self than wallow like this. He only spares Laurent a concerned glance, slouching so much that his cape makes a show of weighing the large man down.

Through his glee, Laurent snorts. "Oh, Damianos, lover," he cackles, "your desire to be right is overwhelming you!"

And maybe it is the positioning, maybe it's because they linger upon the raised floors where the dais were placed, because several of the onlookers sitting on the cavea begins to turn their heads around, wanting to know the insolence that has insulted their King on his merry way.

"Laurent, I spent years trying to change their mind about you. Yet I still can't squash the rumours that you are only here for my power, that you do not have value in my court more than a... a glorified pet!" Damen bursts, uncaring of the ogling men below them. Let winds blast his voice all over the country, he won't care. "Are you not bothered, Laurent? Do you not care about me?"

Fragipani and incense-smoke blow against their sandals. Laurent's chiton flowy as the breeze find the fold of his hemline. For a moment, even if the music soars from beneath them, they are quiet.

Laurent captures Damen's hands. "I am more bothered by your fear of free-thinking, because genuinely, as your lover of your estate, you have been listening to too much scullions gossip as they dilly-dally in the utilities," Laurent scoffs. "I have heard worse things, Damianos. Your people just know me from my façade, as everyone does."

Damen nearly stumbles when Laurent digs his hands around his wrists, pulling the brute to a little dance that resembles the Veretian kind; the one Laurent knows all his life.

He glows incandescently, a fresh expression unknown outside chamber doors. Laurent laughs like a youth, truly one of his age, being so young married off to a gentle, foreign King.

Damen begins to follow along. "Laurent!" He shouts, a smile blossoming in his cheeks.

"My façade, Damen! You're stressing over a façade!" He squeals when Damen spins him around, nimble to the tune.

It's silly. It is. Bringing their honest selves into view, fished out by Damen's curious frustration for the span of two years. It's unbecoming for Kings to let his inhibitions down, freely dancing with a consort during an event where he's supposed to observe, but Laurent's whirlwind seems to evaporate his stresses down—and if anything, just goes to show the grandeur of Laurent's managerial skills. It's not easy to make up space for them to wind down on an event this large.

Until, the crowd of Akielons below them, sing Laurent's name.

"Laurent, Laurent, Laurent!" They praise. Voices soar to the dais, stopping two men amidst their jolly dance together. Damen nudges his lover.

"Go, let them see you," he says, trying to hold himself from the pride that swells in his chest.

When Laurent kneels over the edge, waving a shy hello for Damen's people, the whole country cheers. Their shouts akin to a lion's roar, clapping and singing. Flowers are thrown, bouquets passed between people in the cavea for Laurent to hold. Damen achieves his job well-done.

Akielons knew Laurent then as just a cunning schemer, disbelieving of Damen's intentions to choose him as consort as they thought he had seduced the Exalted for power. That Laurent is null in real value, that his talents were a sham.

And today, they know Laurent as something else entirely. One with a mind so brilliant, it is mind-boggling to imagine him managing to pulling all the strings—even if such is the reality. One that puts up faces of professionalism, only to falter in the arms of Damen, his lover.

Turns out, it wasn't difficult to change a nation's mind. All Damen needed was Laurent's smile, and the sincerities that bubble in between them.

END!

[nine-of-words]

(Demon + King of Pentacles)

NB Demon x M Reader

Wordcount: 2398

Content Warnings: Plant Tentacles/Bondage, Overstimulation, Anal Sex (Reader Bottoms)

This one turned out a lot better than I thought it would. I’d really like to do a continuation of this one in the future, but I have a feeling that’s going to be the case with all of them.

Your father was an awful man, and an even worse king.

Hateful. Bellicose. Tyrannical.

To say that you suffered under his thumb is to put it lightly, but you adapted. There are others who had it much worse than you did.

Your mother took the brunt of it for years, until the poison eventually ate her from the inside out.

Your people also languished in his iron grip, each ill-planned and shortsighted grab at power, resources or expansion of territory costing more and more- not just coin, but blood- and the funds needed to be wrung from somewhere.

Years seem to stretch longer and longer, with no end in sight.

While you loathe to admit it, the day that he was struck down in an unfortunate and completely unpredictable accident was perhaps the most fortunate day of his reign, not just for you on a personal level, but for your kingdom as a whole. His funeral festival was a massive, joyous occasion, with any lack of grief only subtly disguised behind excitement for your expedited coronation.

It opened a path of healing that simply did not exist while he still drew breath.

But healing, as you had learned, never seems to come easy.

The economy had been razed by years of abuse, your people destitute and hungry, and the infrastructure keeping the kingdom running crumbling around itself, barely functioning.

You struggled for years, fighting an uphill battle of restoration with near empty coffers and few remaining allies. You realigned your kingdom’s priorities from conflict and battle to making better use of the fertile valley in the middle of your territory for agriculture and trade. Through those endeavors, you managed to gather trade partners and then over time make them into allies, soothing some of the damage your father had left as his bloody legacy. 

You sacrificed a lot yourself; having to take out loans and make steep diplomatic promises, as well as entering into a loveless political marriage with the youngest daughter of your father’s most contentious rival to heal old wounds, despite your own personal preferences.

Things were actually heading towards improvement after years of hard work, your efforts finally starting to look as if they’d bear fruit; the new age of peace and prosperity that you envisioned for your kingdom was on the horizon.

That is, until that year’s grape harvest completely failed due to a blight. Your kingdom’s chief export, and a momentous amount of gold you could not afford to lose in your reformation plans, all gone in an instant due to the simplest whim of nature. 

You were devastated. While you kept a strong, enduring facade in public, you were despondent and inconsolable in private.

At your darkest hour, as you sat with the debts and the threat of being absorbed by your new wife’s neighboring country, a viper slithered into your private garden. Before you could grab your personal dagger and dispatch the threat, the creature spoke to you, not aloud, but inside your mind.

I come with an offer for you, little king.

The viper went on to explain the terms: constant prosperity ensured for your kingdom; for only the price of a single night out of your year, from sundown to sunrise.

It seemed like a deal too good to be true. Deals with spirits were always dangerous, despite how simple and benign they seemed.

But, you were out of options.

So, like any benevolent and desperate soul with other people’s wellbeing riding on your shoulders, you took the deal in a heartbeat.

The first year is free- consider it a sample- but I will return in a year to take what is due.

And just like that, things seemed to improve overnight.

This year’s harvest was gone, but that very day, multiple veins of mineable, renewable sunlight mana were discovered in a remote mountainous corner of your kingdom. The following years’ harvests were robust and healthy. Trade flourished, and your people were happy and healthy. Your wife’s family ceased all subtle threats of a hostile takeover when you could no longer keep the kingdom afloat, instead made toothless and agreeable to all of your rulings.

Not only did new sources of wealth continue to crop up around your land, but you had a live line to otherworldly insight. All you had to do was ask about any decision that needed making, and you would be told the most fortuitous choice to make by a voice in your mind. You thought that you were talented at governing before, but now you were infallible.

Things were good. But, as you were aware- everything good comes with a price.

As the next summer season ended, a full year from the day you agreed to the deal- the pact- the voice in the back of your mind instructed you to build an altar and a summoning circle in your private chambers.

You complied, too afraid to refuse, lest you lose all the progress your kingdom had gained in the year. Even as your stomach churned when you cut the heel of your palm and spilled your royal blood on the circle, you continued.

You were not versed in dark magic, but you knew whatever followed would not be good.

And it was absolute torment.

That was several years ago, now. And every year since, the demon visits you like clockwork on the last night of summer to collect their payment.

Luckily for you, your wife always leaves earlier in the week to travel back to her father’s kingdom, to spend the back half of the year there. It’s easy enough to command all your other constituents to not come looking for you tonight.

Because tonight just so happens to be that night of the year.

You finish lighting the candles and double checking your chalk lines drawn on the floor- though you’ve memorized them by heart at this point.

You’re experienced enough with what happens next that your heart almost isn’t racing. Almost.

Storm winds whip around the inside of the room, scattering papers. The candles on the wall and on the altar flicker wildly. There’s the sound of thunder cracking and a lion’s roar, condensed into a warbling boom in a split second. The view outside your window becomes a black void, despite the sun only just sunk below the horizon.

Then, he appears in the middle of the circle, a tall man with dark skin and twisting horns. He has a vast bundle of golden dreadlocks flowing like a mane down his back, secured with vines, and piercing, predatory green eyes. He wears dark robes studded with gold, and he carries a snake wrapped about his shoulders.

“Lord Alisher,” You say, dropping to your knees and bowing your head in deference. That’s not his name, but it’s what he has you call him. You know enough about demons now to know that you would not have been given his real name. “Welcome.”

You can feel your crown start to slip forward, but before it falls off, it’s gone in a wave of his hand, instead appearing nestled between his dreads. He raises an arm, letting the snake on his shoulders glide up the post of your canopy bed, slithering who knows where.

When he speaks, you hear it with your mind and rumbling through your chest, rather than in your ears.

I am here to collect this year’s payment.

Not one for idle chatter, as usual. You probably would be too, if you only had until the sun rose to have your fun.

“Yes, my lord.” You say agreeably. “What would you have me do?”

Disrobe.

This part is the most difficult to endure. He could manipulate you into moving whatever way he’d liked in a variety of methods, but chooses to have you do it yourself. If he would only just get on with it, it might not be so anxiety-inducing- but there’s always a certain level of play, first, and the lack of knowing is what is so torturous. It’s never the exact same process from year to year, so you never know exactly what to expect.

You comply, slowly peeling out of the many layers of fabric that you usually have servants to help you remove. You somehow manage to wriggle out of them, staying planted on your knees the entire time.

Now, show me your desire.

You touch yourself as instructed. It’s not so difficult to get going, as you were already half-hard with expectation as soon as you started preparing the circle.

The brilliant green eyes on you only serve to heighten the experience. You rub yourself emphatically, until you’re dripping pre-cum onto the stone floor of your chambers.

You’ve nearly reached your limit, muscles in your pelvis twitching, when his boom of a voice cuts into your head again.

Halt.

No, why-

You obey, mere seconds from release, your mind and body aching in protest, hunching forward and pressing your palms flat on the floor to steady yourself.

But the pressure just keeps building, even though you’ve stopped any stimulation.

Breaths heaving, muscles shuddering, you manage to stay still, waiting to be released.

It keeps going, no end to the torturous feeling in sight. Sweat beads on your forehead.

“Nngh-”

Just as you feel like you’ll break, you’re finally allowed relief as the built up pressure breaks, streaks of cum shooting from you and splatter over some of the chalk symbols on the floor, as you’re milked with no direct contact.

Good.

With the simple praise, you’re teleported from your place on the floor to your bed in a blink, dropped onto the bedding from a low height. You catch yourself on your knees and elbows.

To your credit, the demon seems to have started to treat you with some level of care after multiple years- opting to put you on the soft surface of your bed, whereas the sessions of the initial years had no real regard for your comfort.

Without another word, vines erupt from the elegantly carved posts of your bed. Tendrils grow forth and wrap themselves around your wrists, elbows, knees and ankles, secure but not tight enough to cut off blood flow.

You can’t help but feel anxious, exposed with no way to watch what’s happening to you. At least when it’s visible, you can have some semblance of preparation…

Just as you're contemplating your helplessness, you feel something wet and slick glide up the back of your thigh, and you're unable to stop it as it burrows itself inside you.

All you can do is let out a choked back moan as the intrusion immediately begins to squirm and twist inside of you.

It quickly stretches you by plumping up and pressing around your inner walls 

A shadowy tentacle enters your vision from below, snaking up over the bed. The wet surface of it has a green-gold sheen, and the top of it resembles a man's stiff, uncut cock; veiny and dripping with arousal. In fact, it bears a striking resemblance to the dick of the demon's current form, at least when he's subjected you to it; just in a slightly different color palette.

It's not hard to put together that this is another copy of what's currently thrusting inside of you on the other end.

It lovingly snakes over the dip of your clavicle, leaving a wet trail up your neck and chin, before tracing a line from one edge of your mouth to the other.

"Nngh- Nngh-" You turn your head from side to side, trying to avoid having the slimy appendage squeeze into your mouth.

But the tentacle in your ass squishes flat your prostate, making your mouth hang open in a quivering groan.

Then, as you expected, the tentacle in front of you takes the opportunity to wriggle past your parted lips, and fill your mouth.

You gag at first, still not fully acclimated to the sensation of a cock in your mouth only after once yearly practice. But soon enough the lust takes over, and you suck greedily on the phallus as it thrusts and quivers into your mouth, eventually creeping its tip down your throat. 

You almost think you can handle this- almost basking in the dual sources of pleasure. Maybe you have grown accustomed to this sort of thing,  finally- but your hope is immediately dashed with terror as you feel yet another squirming, wet phallus press itself to the round of your ass.

More?!

You can hear the demon's warm but threatening laughter echoing in your brain.

The one inside you is already so thick, however will more manage to fit?

Let us find out.

The new tentacle's cockhead slips around the edge of your stretched ring, before finally finding a good spot to start pressing inside. It wriggles forcefully, making room for itself next to the first as it thrusts, joining it in an uneven rhythm of wet squelching.

Your loud groan of pleasure and alarm is muffled by the cockhead currently grinding against your tongue. As you suck harder it stiffens, then spurts cloying liquid down your throat.

Every time you think you can fit no more, another tentacle pries you farther apart and worms its way inside you- another in your throat, two, three more in your ass. Another wraps in coils around your aching, raw cock, pumping you to orgasm far past you having any seed left to give.

By the time daybreak approaches, you no longer even have the energy left to writhe, stretched to the limit and coated in fluid, tracks of tears from too much pleasure dried on your face.

Finally, the universe is merciful, and all of the invading probes and oppressive vines retract at once.

Such a wonderful little toy. It's a shame I'll have to wait a whole turn around the sun for another chance to play.

Lord Alisher retrieves his viper from your canopy, giving your thoroughly defiled body a wistful look.

Until next year, little king.

He steps onto the circle, and after a moment, disappears with a final crackle of demonic energy, just as sunlight begins to filter into your bedroom.

You let out a ragged sigh, rubbing out your wrists, your shoulder, your jaw- anywhere your sore arms can reach at the moment.

At least with that- another year of prosperity for your kingdom is ensured.

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