#and a local farm

[tenrose]

Finally found a hairdresser that knows how to handle my hair 🙏

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[ireton]

The 4 Big Meat Packers In America Are Making A Move To Bankrupt Small Farms In America Starting In August

“This is a way that they're gonna be trying to force us out”

“The big 4 packers are killing the American cattle industry right now. Projected by August, each cattle rancher that is selling their animal is gonna be making $30 less per 100 pounds on that market ready animal.

- The American cattle rancher makes about 30% of every dollar earned on that animal - With this gonna be set in place, this is gonna take us down into the twenties.

This is gonna be a real scary place for the American cattle rancher. ‌ ‌If they can't make a profit or make a living off of what they're selling, their ranches are gonna be put up for sale.

This is a way that they're gonna be trying to force us out.

- And not only that, the corrupt thing is they're gonna be marking everything up $30 to every 100 pounds that they're making in return.

So with that being said, guys, we need to get back to buying local, supporting our local people. And as always, buy American and buy local.”

[kinokoshoujoart]

Marrying Carter in Harvest Moon DS Cute! (North American version)

oh… sorry no not the archaeologist, i mean Pastor Carter from Mineral Town!

(or is it Pastor Curdy….?)

teeechnically his descendant, and it causes a game over… but this is the only time we’ve been able to marry him right?

so in the girl version of HMDS, there’s two “secret” Mineral Town bachelors that you can marry by talking to them enough times on the phone. one is Mason, the guy who runs May’s Tailoring… but the second, Pastor Carter, is a bit more obscure…

i couldn’t find them uploaded anywhere so here are his 2nd* thru 10th conversations+his proposal+proposal rejection in english! if you want to see it on youtube instead here you go

*i failed to record the first conversation when it happened, and there’s no way in hell i’m resetting my whole game again (…yet), so…just know the first one was like “oh you want to talk? what should we talk about…….. …… ….. …. i can’t think of anything. well see ya………” extremely riveting stuff

he’s so obscure that i didn’t even realize that he was a bachelor until i found out about the mechanic from this japanese wiki!! (here’s an archive link to the page on him in case the page doesn’t work) all i did was test whether it worked in english since i couldn’t find any english info at all mentioning it. i’m sure others have found him… right……..

in case the links above don’t work, a small guide to holy matrimony below the cut since i can’t find one in english

it works essentially the same as the Mason marriage (so it’s just a game over, sadly…), and the steps are pretty tedious and counterintuitive, so you’re unlikely to just stumble across it… but you too can get a priest to break his vow of celibacy for you or whatever!

you will need:

at least 2,050,000 G

20 cursed tools/accessories

if you really don’t want to dig up 20 cursed things you can substitute 100x “remove a cursed tool/accessory” for blessing a cursed tool…

but, including all the cursed tools and accessories, there’s only 16… which means you will need to go dig up 4 duplicate cursed accessories using this method! yay!!! extremely pointless since you can’t sell blessed accessories until after marriage in DS for girl (at which point you can’t trigger pastor carter’s proposal)

you unlock a conversation with cardi when you spend at least 205,000 G. which means the quickest thing to do is to order removal of a cursed item five times, then bless 2 cursed items.

**be careful when blessing accessories to only equip one at a time!!! if you equip a stack of duplicate accessories, blessing that stack destroys the duplicates!!!! :( so just take 1 out of the stack and equip it!!!**

you also can’t unlock more conversations until you’ve seen the one you unlocked, so like even if you spend a million G you’ll just unlock one conversation, and you’ll need to finish that conversation and then spend 205,000 G to unlock the next one…yeah….

on the tenth conversation he abruptly reveals that he’s fallen in love with you and asks you to marry him! it ends your game, but….! on the bright side, it ends your game!!! you’re finally free from Hell Simulator!!!!

[miss-what-a-d0ll]

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ahedderick]

This apple tree was sold to me in 1999 as a semi-dwarf Stayman Winesap. It is not semi-dwarf; it is in fact gigantic by apple tree standards. It isn't Stayman Winesap, or even red at all. Because I planted it in the correct spacing for smaller trees, it has almost completely overshadowed its nearest neighbor, a rather nice Golden Delicious. It responds to pruning by aggressively getting Much Larger. The apples are divine. I love her; I'm vexed by her; I hope she lives forever. I'm deeply curious about what I'd get if I planted some of her seeds.

Strawberries, rhubarb, two small blueberry bushes, and Nanking cherry bushes that did, even though their blooming time was cold, set fruit. I will continue to try to acidify the blueberries; maybe add some acid once a week until the soil tests around 5 pH.

[pyjamacryptid]

little girl, a patient: can I have a lollipop

doctor merlin in the 21st century: can you have— I have created butterflies from nothing and horses from smoke. I have seen empires rise, fall, crumble, and start from nothing but a fish in a poor man’s hand. I’ve fought witches and failed them too. I’ve laid waste to armies and blessed nations of people with health that will never make up for it. I have pantsed Kings and kissed Queens. I have stood upon the precipice of this world and called forth the ocean only for time to swallow me whole and spit me back out. And I would do it all again if I could grant you, dear Matilda, a lollipop.

little girl: strawberry?

merlin: say no more, Tilda, this should clear up the taste of that cold medicine right away

[archangeldyke-all]

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

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

men and minors dni

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"so?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"fuck off." she grunts. you laugh.

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

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

taglist!

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

[annapolisrose]

[manygeese]

this is going to be embarrassing if this gets no notes but WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY VALGRACE SMALL TOWN AU.

[seagull-scribbles]

Happy valentines! what says ‘love’ like two smelly, unwashed teen boys?

Drew this after a lovely convo with @less-depresso-more-espresso, who also gave me this song to listen to 💕 so this one’s for you bestie aha

[ireton]

THE GERMAN FARMERS WON

After Bringing Berlin to a complete halt, the Government have backed down on several ludicrous taxation & net zero policy impacting food production. Of course you won’t see this on fake news MSM as they don’t wish you to know the wider narrative and/or implications of. This however is just the battle & not the war.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Farmers Market

Bill Weasley x Reader

((Can be read as platonic because there needs to be more platonic fics :>))

Summary: You wanted to go to your local farmers market. Get some fresh foods, see interesting things, just have a nice day. That’s when you see a new stand pop up. How could you resist? Not every day you see a gaggle of red heads

You just LOVED visiting the farmers market. Once a week, you would visit. Given it was in such a close walking distance, it made life easier. Fresh food for good prices. How could anyone refuse such a thing? A favorite routine to enjoy.

With your basket on your arm, and outfit dusted off, you were off to the little slice of heaven. Just walking down the street. Giving a wave hello to your neighbors, and having pep. Was always so nice to just get some fresh air. Was a perfect day. Just the right amount of sun, and just enough breeze to keep the heat low. You just adored it.

When you arrived you visited your favorite farmers. Saying hi to them, and picking out your favorites. With how often you visited, they always made sure to set aside the best for you. Supporting local farmers is the best, and it’s appreciated after all.

As you did your routine, you noticed a new stand. The little pop up was quite eye catching. Bright colors that catch attention easy. Said bright colors being brilliant red hair on each person there. You had never seen hair of such a shade like that, unless dye counts. Can’t be dye, since the smallest of the children had that same wild shade. Had you invested quickly, and you were soon walking over.

“Well hey there-!” You assumed the oldest said, as he was having a little girl on his hip. Cute little pig tails, and snuggling her tightly. Protective of him, and clearly defensive of anyone who got too close. Must be the youngest, and the baby girl.

“Hey. I haven’t seen this little stand before. You knew here?” You asked, as you looked around. It just had so many things. Hand made paper, soaps, fruits and veggies, meats, and many different types of hand made things. Plenty being sweets.

“Yep. Names Bill. Bill Weasley. That guy over there is Charlie, that guy with the book is Percy, those two trouble makers are Fred and George, the one talking to mum is Ron, and this little girl is Ginny. Yeah uh. Mum has a lot of kids.” He chuckled, as the baby sister kept playing with his ponytail. Had you giggle, as she yanked on it. Making him squeak, and her giggle.

“What can we do ya for?” He asked, as he tickled his baby sister’s tummy. Made her squeal in delight, as she kicked her little bare feet. You adored how sweet he was to the little girl. So full of love.

“I was actually interested in those tins. With the sweets-“ You asked. That seemed to catch the twins attention, and they weee quick to be side by side with their eldest brother. Big, proud, smiles on their freckled cheeks.

“Those sweets were hand made by these two. Don’t worry, I made sure none of them will turn you into a newt.” He teases, as the twins have a pout. Regardless, they were quick to pick the tins up. Excited to share.

“This one tastes like grape! Grapes my favorite-!” “And this one tastes like oranges! Oranges are MY favorite-!” The twins would echo each other, as they explained what those candy’s were. The hard candy, the chewy kind, just such confidence.

“Percy is the one to make the hand made paper. He’s pretty proud of that. Ron and Ginny help with the soaps. That leather-? Me and Charlie. Charlie and I would hunt for a bit, and turn the leftovers into soaps and leather. No waste in this family.” Bill would explain, as he would hand Ginny off to Charlie. She gave a huff, but that second sibling was quick to entertain her.

“You are all quite talented. It’s admirable.” You would admit, as you were in awe that people so young were able to create candy. GOOD candy no less, as you were offered a sample. It was like heaven. You couldn’t compare it to any other candy you’ve had before. It was beyond words.

“We all have a talent for something in this family.” Bill would shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. You thought it was. You found your new favorite table now. You just had to. These kids deserved to know their hard work wasn’t for nothing.

“I’ll have this, and that, and that-“ You would pick out. Sure it was going to be a bit pricey, but this was your spending money for a reason. Besides, it went to a clearly well deserving family. The way those twins were beaming was just to much to handle.

“MUM MUM-! WE SOLD OUR CANDY-!” They were cheering, as Bill would chuckle. Hardly could count the change, as the twins were jumping for joy to their mother. The woman giving them a tired, but proud, smile.

“Means more than you know. Mum is uh….Complicated about the twins wanting to grow up to be inventors. Like I get it, but exactly a job that can be successful.” Bill would whisper to you, as he would place the items in your bag. You gave a nod, as you watched them bounce in pure joy. So proud, and happy. They deserved the support.

“Will you be here next week?” You asked, as he smirked. With a nod. “Yeah, for sure.” He winked, as you chuckled at the banter you shared.

“Hypothetically-“ “That’s a really bug word-“ “Yeah. Anyway, what would happen to be your favorite flavor?” The twins would ask you, with those big doe eyes. How could you resist? You told them, and they were quick to huddle to a corner to brain storm.

“Be careful. If they like you too much, you’ll be pranked to hell and back.” He warned you, as you brushed it off. What’s the worse they could do?

“Can’t wait to see you again. Those two are going to never shut up about you now. Their ‘first customer ever-!’ They’ll cheer.” He was sounding more proud than the twins were. You admired that greatly. He clearly wanted the twins to succeed at their dreams. Made your heart warm.

“See you soon-!” Ginny would wave, as Charlie would mimic her tiny wave. You would return the gesture, before taking your leave. Still able to hear those twins cheering and bragging to their siblings.

When you finally returned home, and unloaded your things, you noticed something odd with your items. Made you think.

For starters, you swore the candy you had bought had changed color. Somehow brighter than it originally was. The paper you got as well was off. You swore the black specks on it were moving. Made you worry they were bugs, but you touched it to feel nothing. Another odd trait was there was a little note.

“Come to Ottery St. Catchpole sometime. You can’t miss us. Hope to see you sometime. William.”

Suppose you made a bigger impression than you thought. Had you giggling with excitement, that you completely missed the fact that a runt of a gnome had climbed out of your still packed bag. Quick to make itself cozy in your backyard.

Guess that’s what you get for talking to strangers.

[mcromwell]

toikeys

[ival-eon]

BARNYARD CUTIES NOW LIVE ON KOFI !!!!

cuties include yellow cow, brown cow, ghost bunny, quail, toasted bunny, bunny pile, and brown bunny loaf. available in HOLO or MATTE !! water resistant !

pick em up separately or as a set and populate your own barnyard of cuties :)

-> AVAILABLE HERE !!! <-

[shappospica]

Happy holidays, @sola-nine!! I had the pleasure of being your secret santa for this year’s @natsume-ss exchange. Since your likes included nyanko-sensei and found family, I made you a winter-themed felted nyanko figurine + a microfic (below the cut) to go along with it!

I’m sorry your gift took so long to post, but hopefully you find it worth the wait! I’ll mail him out soon, and I hope he makes his way to you safe and sound ♥️🧣

——— Takashi stared down at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Touko’s eyes as he showed her the once-lovely muffler she’d knit for him, ruined now with snags and holes.

“Oh dear,” Touko said, fingers fluttering over the frayed yarn, “How did this happen?”

“I… I didn’t…” Takashi flushed. He couldn’t tell her about the many-eyed spirit that chased him deep into the woods, or the plunge he’d taken down a hillside. He shouldn’t cause trouble for someone so kind.

He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” 

Takashi glanced up in surprise. Touko was frowning, but she didn’t look angry or disappointed about the mess he’d made of her hard work. She looked… worried. 

“I’m fine!” Takashi hurried to say. His elbows and knees prickled under his winter clothes, but surely they weren’t worth Touko’s attention. He tried to retreat towards the stairs as politely as he could, but Nyanko-sensei headbutted his leg and Takashi stumbled, hissing in pain despite himself. 

“Takashi-kun!” exclaimed Touko, a new steel to her voice, and there were no more chances for escape.

The muffler went to the kitchen table and Takashi went to the nearest chair. The first-aid kit came out from the cupboard and trouser legs were carefully rolled up.

Touko tutted at the sight of Takashi’s skinned knees and set to work, dousing cotton balls in antiseptic and dabbing away at the raw red scrapes. The muffler was the last thing on her mind, but Takashi could only stare at it while Touko fussed over him. He hoped she would let him keep it, precious to him even in tatters.

———

Late in the evening, while the rest of the house was asleep, a light burned on in the kitchen. Yarn and shears and needles were strewn about on the table, and Touko was fiddling with something in its midst.

“Hmm… Some of it was too torn to mend, but it would be a shame to throw the whole thing away, don’t you think?”

She stepped back to admire her handiwork. Nyanko-sensei sat on the tabletop, a familiar red muffler wrapped around his neck. With worst of the damage frogged and the smaller holes darned, the muffler was too short for a boy to wear, but perfectly long enough for a cat.

“This will have to do while I make a new one.” Touko smiled down at Nyanko. “You’ll keep him warm until then, won’t you?”

A meow was all the reply she got, but Touko thought it rather sounded like a promise.