#especially in the central/southern us

[lobautumny]

I'm so goddamn tired of seeing people make fun of adults wearing diapers, especially when those people are otherwise anti-ableism, kink-positive, etc.

Beyond the surface-level (and far less important) issue that kinkshaming is stupid and you shouldn't do it, there's also the matter that, y'know, a lot of disabled people need them. And not just, like, ghoulish 80+ year old politicians and racist grandpas. Incontinence is just a thing that some people need to deal with, and most of them are perfectly fine people. On top of that, a lot of trans people (especially trans women because spironolactone, the most-prescribed T-blocker, is a diuretic) use them to avoid having to worry about needing to use public bathrooms, which may be extremely unsafe for them, especially in places like Florida. (As an aside, I know that there's also a contingent of trans women who have the secondary reason of wearing diapers to combat gender dysphoria, because tucking can be very uncomfortable and if you're wearing a diaper, there's a lot less of a notable bulge even if you're not tucking.) There's also a lot of people, such as fursuiters going to cons, who use diapers for simple convenience. And also, like, why should they not just be considered a normal underwear option that people can use for any reason they want? How are we not at that point yet?

But yeah, making fun of/insulting adults who wear diapers is, in fact, being mean to a lot of disabled and trans people, and it's really shitty that doing so is so normalized, even outside of the context of kinkshaming. Like, a lot of the time, it's just socially-acceptable ableist remarks. I grow so weary of it all.

Normalize adult diapers, even if for no other reason than the fact that disabled people should never be made to feel ashamed over their disability.

[sleepynegress]

Okay... So I'm in a way right now with the red tide and hormones..... But I did want to say some things about SINNERS while I have a little bit of mental energy.

Stack and Smoke are two sides of the same coin, yin and yang, red and blue, Italian and Irish gang clothing style... etc.

Some people are getting carried away with analysis and it's giving more projection of what you want it to be vs. what is.... Coogler himself has cited great fun tropey horror films and pop culture touchstones like Salem's Lot (the book not the movie) and Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (which I love that that's a reference) he has said his most important takeaway is "ownership of art."

The act structure that gave us that classic "caper" set-up of all kinds of characters listening to the plan and then going "you sonavabitch, I'm in." for the juke joint was my favorite part of this TBH.

It is NOT a Christian "Come to Jesus" movie and I LOVE that about it. In fact, it's the opposite.

It's a "be true to self and your gifts in the face of any god or devil", movie.

BOTH women love interests (white presenting and full-figured and unambiguously Black ,--back to that yin and yang of the twins) were beloved by a twin, both fit the elemental nature of said twin, and both had to traverse death to be with their love.

As an aside.... loved hearing a southern accent from our Asian cousins, seeing the "not my problem" energy from the Choctaw hunters, and the reminder that there was actual ancestral cultural community before "whiteness" for white people too, and why many no longer have it...

LOVED LOVED LOVED the cultural details in the character work, setting, energy, etc.... ESPECIALLY Delroy Lindo's vocal cadence.

I loved what Coogler chose to NOT show to make the energy more impactful and palpable in both sensuality and scares.

I'll be the weirdo who prefers the pure blues vs. the remix but I LOVED seeing all the ancestors and descendents come and vibe with the music...I used to have recurring dreams of a multicultural ancestral world jam session, so "that scene" hit me hard.

Remmick just follows in the tradition of Coogler villains being compelling af, but ultimately WRONG because of an essential flaw in their logic (i.e. Killmonger's misogynoir and colonizing techniques and funnily enough Remmick's colonizing techniques, klan and black using vampire telepathy for a faux community peace)

I have seen no one else mention this, but I chuckled at Saul "List of Demands" Williams playing the preacher, aka Sammie's dad

the vampire nerd part of me absolutely rejoiced at all the "traditional" vampire warding aspects, ESPECIALLY the silver, something that is often wrongly asserted as being just for werewolves

loved how filthy and raunchy the language was when it came to desire... because that's real (and I hate purity culture which is very much now tied to the alt-right white Christo-fascist pipeline right now) AND centering women's pleasure and, in many cases audacious initiative. (ahem, I see you Ryan and I see how Zinzi's in the current state she's in, congrats!! *cough* this is the healthiest type of straight man sexual energy BTW)

BE WARY of the takes out there that are overly-projecting. It's neither religious nor hotepy. It's a Southern Gothic fable/folktale about a musician with a gift surviving a magical night....

YES it's full of ancestral energy, but ultimately the central message is about being true to self when it comes to ancestral gifts and community

[serpentface]

A Korya man astride a camelops, both wearing their winter coats. [redo of an old post]

The camelops is part of a widespread genera of large ungulates that are native to the temperate, subarctic, and arctic regions across the northern hemisphere. Camelops used to have a near-ubiquitous geographic range, but the last equatorial and southern species went extinct long prior to the behavioral modernity of any sophonts.

There are several domesticated strains of camelops (stemming from a few different species), and they are the (very distant) second most common riding animal used by humans and elowey. They have advantages over khait in regions that see significant yearly snowfall, being superbly adapted to the cold and having broad feet that effectively distribute their weight in snow, and are especially valuable in dry tundra and grassland due to their resistance to dehydration.

The Korya peoples are located in the central-north of the landmass above the Inner Seaway. Their lands are temperate and encompass prairie, woodland, and forested regions.

This man belongs to the nomadic plains Korya, who subsist primarily on herding camelops and secondarily on seasonal hunts of large wild ungulates (bison, aurochs, and deer most notably). Their camelops are rarely slaughtered for food and leather, as the living animals are key to subsistence. They are invaluable for survival in the short but often harsh and snowy winters in open grassland, carrying their riders over deep snow, supplying wool for clothing and milk and blood for consumption. Most hunting of large ungulates is performed astride the camelops, allowing for close approaches to prey and quick responses to the movement of fleeing herds. Plains Korya are also noted as formidable in combat as mounted archers and spearmen.

While a primarily nomadic people, the plains Korya have several permanent settlements across their lands that function as neutral meeting spaces between clans and hubs for trade and artistry. The Korya peoples at large have shared traditions of silverworking, and plains Korya specialize in elaborate silver pieces worn as jewelry and for ornamentation on tack.

TANGENT:

The Korya peoples are part of a cultural-linguistic complex spread throughout the far east of the supercontinent. In the contemporary, this complex can be roughly divided into the Keppeji, Korya, and Finnic sub-groups (each of which can be substantially further divided)

This map attempts to illustrate the spread of these languages (over the course of centuries) and the people that carried them. Note that the lands marked as contemporary settlements do not represent countries/discrete regions/singular peoples, rather just the lands PRIMARILY inhabited by the various descendant peoples of a distant shared common ancestor.

[herpsandbirds]

I just wanted to say that I adore your posts, and that I am astounded by the sheer variety, especially with the birds. I'm getting a bit better at recognizing some of the birds too, which is fun. And my goodness have I developed a love for woodcocks! Their pattern reminds me of that method of repairing cracks with gold. They're elegant and silly at the same time which brightens my day. So thank you. You're a wonderful ray of warmth in a stressful time.

Thank you so much.

Here are 3 species of woodcock for you...

American Woodcock (Scolopax minor), family Scolopacidae, order Charadriiformes, found in and near woodlands in the Eastern and central US and southern Canada

photographs by Louis Brodieur & Bill Byrne

Eurasian Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola), family Scolopacidae, order Charadriiformes, Darjeeling, WB, India

photograph by Satadal Ghosh

Amami Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola), family Scolopacidae, order Charadriiformes, Amami Island, Kagoshima, Japan

photo by Wich’yanan (Jay) Limparungpatthanakij

[roboticchibitan]

Please tell me about the bees

Oh no you have activated my trap card

Honeybee facts:

Honeybees are native to Eurasia and are not naturally found in North America. There are stingless bees in south America and Mexico that produce honey but they are a different taxonomic class than honeybees

The way you check for varroa mites (a parasite common with honeybees) is absolutely hilarious to me. You take a half a cup of bees (scooped with a measuring cup, which is hilarious) and put them in a jar. Then dump a bunch of powdered sugar in the jar. Then you cover the jar with a screen. And then. You just. Shake the jar a bunch until the bees are covered in powdered sugar. Then you turn the jar upside down and shake out the powdered sugar and look for mites in it. If you have more than 5 you have and infestation. Bees. Shaken, not stirred. It doesn't hurt the bees and you just put them back in the hive and the other bees eat the sugar on them. They're fine. But the mental image of shaking a jar full of bees and powdered sugar is just so funny.

Importing honeybees into the US is illegal so a while back researchers at WSUs bee lab went overseas to collect bee semen so they can breed calmer more disease resistant honeybees. I desperately wish I could find the article I read about it because the photo in it of a tiny vial of bee semen was also hilarious

Honeybees can get jet lag. They ran an experiment where they flew European bees to north America and the bees woke up for the day on European time

Cursed honeybee facts

Bees have hair growing out of their eyes

When a male bee mates his testicles explode and he dies. He came and went

In preparation for winter the worker bees kick all the drones out of the hive and then seal up the hive with propolis and leave the drones to die in the cold

Bumblebee facts

You can teach bumblebees to do tricks. They did a study in the UK where they rewarded bees for pushing a ball into a hole and then tested to see if the bees could teach other bees and they could! (You can download videos of bees doing tricks from that link btw. You're welcome)

There are no bumblebees south of the Sahara or in Australia because it's too hot for them. The only bumblebees native to the southern hemisphere are in south America.

They think bumblebees evolved in the mountains of central Asia and that's where the biggest diversity of bumblebee species is

There was a bumblebee native to where I was born called Franklin's Bumblebee that is thought to be extinct, but people still go up into the mountains looking for them and they are my favorite bee and I have a tattoo of one because I think that says a lot about humanity's capacity for hope. And they COULD still be out there. We've found "extinct" bees out there living their best little bee lived before!! (Here's the tattoo)

Random other bee facts

There's a bee native to the southwestern US and northern Mexico called the sunflower chimney bee and they're called that because they feed off composite flowers like sunflowers and build little mud tunnels as entrances to their nests in the ground. No one knows why they do that! But I think they're neat!!!

There's bees native to the southwestern US desert that have evolved to have body temps of 103°F/39°C

Most bees do not live in social colonies like honeybees do. Most bees are solitary, meaning each female makes her own nest and lays her own eggs. Tho some solitary bees will nest very near each other

We are learning that bees native to north America like blue orchard bees and blueberry Mason bees are more effective crop pollinators than honeybees, especially for early spring crops when it's still too cold for honeybees to be out and about.

This has been bee info dump time with V. Tune in next time and I'll talk about blue bees!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Black

beautiful words with "black" to try to include in your poem/story

Blackberry - the usually black or dark purple juicy but seedy edible aggregate fruit of various brambles (genus Rubus) of the rose family

Blackbody - an ideal body or surface that completely absorbs all radiant energy falling upon it with no reflection and that radiates at all frequencies with a spectral energy distribution dependent on its absolute temperature

Black flower - a bunchflower (Melanthium virginicum) of the eastern and southern U.S.

Blackfly - any of various small dark-colored insects

Black frost - frost or cold so intense as to blacken vegetation and usually unaccompanied by hoarfrost

Blackguard - obsolete: the kitchen servants of a household; a person who uses foul or abusive language

Blackheart - a plant disease in which the central tissues blacken

Blacklead - graphite (i.e., a soft black lustrous form of carbon that conducts electricity and is used in lead pencils and electrolytic anodes, as a lubricant, and as a moderator in nuclear reactors)

Blackseed - black medic i.e., a prostrate herb (Medicago lupulina) with heads of small yellow flowers and curved black pods

Blackshop - the part of an electrotyping plant where blackleading is done

Blacksmith - a smith who forges iron

Blacksnake - any of several snakes that are largely black or very dark in color

Blackstick - quinoidine molded into sticks

Blacktail - mule deer i.e., a long-eared deer (Odocoileus hemionus) of western North America that is larger and more heavily built than the white-tailed deer

Blackthorn - a European spiny plum (Prunus spinosa) with hard wood and small white flowers

Blacktop - a bituminous material used especially for surfacing roads

Blackwater - any of several diseases (such as blackwater fever) characterized by dark-colored urine

Blackwood - any of several hardwood trees (such as Acacia melanoxylon) or their dark-colored wood

Bootblack - one who shines shoes

Lampblack - a finely powdered black soot deposited in incomplete combustion of carbonaceous materials and used chiefly as a pigment (as in paints, enamels, and printing inks)

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Ride ‘Em, Cowgirl! (Ace x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Cowboy!Ace D. Portgas x Writer!Reader (Strangers to FWBs to Lovers)

Synopsis: As the author of some famous smutty romance novels, you decide to take a vacation in the countryside for a while to get over your breakup and work on your new book but you suffer from writer’s block. However, a meet-cute situation with a sexy farmhand who lives next door might be able to help you kill two birds with one stone.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; Sexual Tension; Highkey Flirting; Tongue Kissing; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Clit Stimulation; Doggystyle; Nipple Piercings; Cowgirl/Riding; Ace Puts His Hat on Your Head While You Take His Big D*ck; Dom!Ace/sub!Reader; Reader Cums 2x; Creampie; Strangers to FWBs to Lovers; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had a MAJOR cowboy brain rot all summer & decided to write something as the season is ending. I love me some Ace 🥺🥺 him & his big, silly, sexy ass…I miss him. He didn’t d*e in my universe. ENJOY LOVELIES!! 💋💋🫶🏾🫶🏾 -Jazz

**********

While the countryside is beautiful, the absence of reception is not.

You sit in the driver’s seat of your rental, the AC cranked up high though you’re still sweating from anxiety and panic. Your pits are perspiring despite the cute little sundress you threw on to match your sunhat and sunglasses. You felt like a movie star boarding the train here, but now, all of that feeling of glamor is gone.

A thrush forest and fields of land surround you on the dirt road you’ve been driving down for over fifteen minutes now since you got off the train that put you in the countryside. You had originally come out here to indulge in nature, thinking it would help clear your head for your new book and heal your heart over your recent breakup that caused your writer’s block.

You’re a city girl, born and raised miles away from here. Despite your cute little one-bedroom-one-bathroom studio apartment, you get tired of being surrounded by skyrise buildings and smoggy streets when you write. You thought a change of scenery would do you some good, especially to distract you from the sight of the same couch and bed where your ex used to make love to you on.

But now, after seeing nothing but trees, grass, and cows for the past five minutes since you got lost, you’re becoming sick of it. You haven’t seen a single person or building since the train station!

“Dammit,” you huff, begrudgingly tossing your phone into the passenger’s seat with your laptop case and suitcase. You hate getting lost! You must’ve taken a left instead of a right and then steered off the trail your GPS set for you.

You keep the AC and gas running as you get out of the car. The heat immediately slaps you in the face and the sun glares at you, causing you to slide your sunglasses on top of your head used to hold your braids back onto your eyes. You shield the hot rays with your hand and look down the road. Nothing. Not even a barn. You’re completely stranded.

No people. No reception. You were never going to make it to that sweet, quaint little Airbnb you rented. You were scrolling on Booking.com you’ve seen so many commercials for three weeks ago when you came across the little cabin with central air, a wine cellar, and a back patio overlooking a lake. It is only ten miles from town and near some hiking trails for running.

You booked it immediately and spoke to the owner, a sweet Southern widow who let you rent it for the entire week for a cut because of your books. “I love your work!” she gushed over the phone. “I’m so honored you’re choosin’ my little home to help you write a new book! I’ll stack more wine in the cellar just for you!”

You may never get to enjoy that wine, the lake, or some sunbathing on the patio. You lean against your carhood, hopeless and exhausted. Maybe this will be a good inspiration for your book: a city girl gets lost in the countryside and realizes that a change of scenery can’t fix heartbreak. Then she dies of a broken heart (and starvation) in her rental and when someone finally finds her, she’ll be nothing but bones because the cows ate her.

There your whacked-out mind goes. You tilt your head to the sunny, blue sky, hoping God can see you and have mercy on your soul. “God,” you groan. “Please just send me someone.”

“Hey, there!” a sudden cheery, male voice chirps from behind you. You shriek and jump, turning around to face the stranger. “Shit!” you gasp, putting a hand on your jumping heart. “You scared the hell outta me!”

When your heart finally settles down, you realize just how cute the stranger is. He is tall and fit judging by how tight his black V-neck is under his flannel. A cowboy hat hits low on his nest of black curls and an adorable smattering of freckles adorn his cheeks. His jeans are just as tight with a large belt buckle on the front of his leather belt and his cowboy boots are scuffed.

It’s like he stepped out of a girl’s wettest Western dream, especially with the dog tags hanging from his thick neck and the leather bracelet on his wrist. He is hotter than the sun you’re standing in.

“Apologies,” he says, stifling a chuckle with his hands up. “I promise I don’t mean no farm. I just happened to see you just sittin’ here on the road and couldn’t help but wonder if you’re stealin’ my job.” His brown eyes are filled with humor and playfulness.

“Job?” you parrot, confused. “What are you—“

Suddenly, the hot stranger places two fingers on each hand in his mouth and blows a loud, shrill whistle. Immediately, each of the cows grazing in the grass and wandering in the road gather together near him. “C’mon, y’all!” he shouts. “Over here by the pretty truck! Out of the pretty lady’s way!”

You flush at his compliment but don’t focus too much on it. You’re too busy focusing on the cherry red pickup truck with the muddy wheels that you now see some yards behind your rental. How did you not hear him drive up?

The cows follow the cowboy and surround his truck, mooing and chewing. He leaves them there and comes running back to you, panting. “Sorry ‘bout that. Them cows ain’t too bright sometimes. One left the farm down the road and all of ‘em followed, so I got sent out to get ‘em.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, that takes care of one problem. Thanks.”

He raises one eyebrow, curious. “One problem?” he ponders aloud. “Anything I can help you with, miss? Tell me if I’m wrong but ya look kinda…” He pauses, looking for the right word.

“Lost?” you sigh. He sniggers, shaking his head. “Distressed.” You take a moment to think about this. You really shouldn’t tell him since he’s a total stranger despite his cute freckles and eyes that remind you of a puppy’s. “Well, I am,” you sigh. “But nothing I can’t handle. Thank you again, Mr. uh….”

The cowboy smiles brightly at you and it’s like a punch in the face. He is quite handsome. “Ace,” he replies. “Ace D. Portgas. No, ‘Mr’, please. Just Ace.”

He puts out one of his big ringed hands for a shake. You slowly take it in your smaller one, noticing how calloused and rough his palm is…and how warm and strong it is. “Ace then,” you say, quickly pulling away. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Ace’s eyes fill with recognition immediately at the sound of your name. “The writer?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. You immediately break out into a smile, happy with the recognition. “So you’ve heard of me.”

He nods, shoving a hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, your stuff is pretty popular with the female population over here. I’ve seen some of your books in the town’s local bookstore before. Where ya from?”

“[City Name],” you reply, beaming from the newfound information You always love to hear about people loving and reading your work. Ace hums, nodding in understanding. “Ah, so you’re a city girl,” he draws, his Southern accent making a big appearance here. It makes something in your stomach grow warm.

You place your hands on your hips, pursing your lips. “Are you about to give me that ‘the country is better than the city’ crap?” you playfully scoff.

Ace gapes at you, playing into your mock disagreement. “What?! No way….except we’ve got better people.” You laugh, giving him that one. “Oh, that I agree with! Everyone here is so nice!”

Literally everyone. The train conductor, the workers at the train station, the nice man who held the door for you…maybe even this sexy cowboy. It must be the clean air and environment without the buildings, hustle, and crowds of people. “So what’s a talented gal like you doin’ all the way down here?” He curiously asks. “Ya got family here?”

Despite your situation, you find yourself enjoying conversing with Ace. It’s easy, unlike with your ex. “I’m writing a new book at the Airbnb I rented…which I’m no closer to getting to ‘cause I can’t follow directions.”

Ace’s smile fades. “Really? Where’s it at? Maybe I can help ya get there.” Your blood pressure rises as your brain begins to go through every possible reason to not give this man the address to your weekend home. “Um….”

Realization flickers in Ace’s eyes and he nods in understanding. “I get it: stranger danger. If ya want, I can tell you the directions and let ya drive off. Promise.” He puts his right hand up as if he’s on the stand at a trial. “I only wanna help a celebrity out.”

His friendly smile and nature seem genuine despite that twist in your stomach telling you differently. However, you don’t hear any warning signs blaring in your head and your gut isn’t giving you that kick of intuition. Throwing caution to the wind, you tell him: “It’s on 21 North Oakwood Lane.”

You watch as Ace’s eyes widen in excitement like a kid on Christmas. “Forreal?! That’s where my farm is at! I bet my neighbor is the one you’re rentin’ from! Mable Chestnut ring any bells?”

Your brain immediately reacts to the Airbnb owner’s name. “Yeah, that’s her!” you exclaim. “You live there too?” He nods, beaming brightly at you. “Yes, ma’am, and you’re a long way away from that, honey. You must’ve taken a wrong turn completely.”

You huff, feeling the stress return. Of course, you took a wrong turn. Unbeknownst to you, Ace feels bad for the pretty woman standing in front of him and instantly wants to make her feel better. So he clears his throat, gaining your attention. “I’ll tell ya what: if you want, I can hop in my pickup truck and lead you to your place. I know these trails like the back of my hand.”

“I’m sure you do,” you reply, laughing slightly. “You’re a cowboy, aren’t you?” His lips twist in a lopsided smirk that makes your insides curl. “Yes, ma’am. That and a farmhand. I wrangle horses, cows, bulls, anythin’ you can think of. My job requires that I know the ins and outs of my town.”

You can tell he’s telling the truth, but the logical part of you is still wary. “I dunno,” you admit, awkwardly playing with the hem of our dress. “I mean, you seem sweet and legit, but I barely know you and—“

“Oh, you found ‘em!” a voice rings out. You turn, seeing a blue truck with a wooden crate stopping next to Ace’s truck. An older couple with silver-white hair and matching boots come sliding out of the front, looking relieved to see their cows. The wife, in her flowery skirt, whistles at the cows. “My precious babies! Get y’all asses on that damn truck!”

She begins berating them as the animals climb up the wooden ramp to the cart, piling in one after the other. Her husband, wearing jeans, flannel, and a cowboy hat, helps her by whistling to them. Once they’re all in, he locks the crate and walks up to Ace with his wife, giving you a hello as they do. “Oh, Ace, what would I do without you?” The wife sighs, taking the young cowboy’s hand in her wrinkled ones. “I’ll have to bake you more of that apple pie to thank you.”

Ace smiles, tipping his hat at them. “It’s no problem, Mr. And Mrs. Phelps. Just doin’ my job.” Mr. Phelps pats him on the back, laughing. “Well, you prove to be fit for your job every time, young man.”

“I’ll deliver the pie tomorrow,” Mrs. Phelps says with a wink. “You still live at 20 Oakwood Lane?” Ace nods and thanks them before the old couple walk back to their truck, get in, and go driving off with their cows in the back.

He turns back to you, a smug smile on his face. With defeat, you give in to his proposal. “Okay, fine,” you sigh. “We’ll try it your way.”

He grins, bowing slightly in thanks, grateful for you putting your trust in him. But it ain’t like you’ve got a choice at this point. But if you had said no, maybe he would’ve called the cops or something to help you. He seems like a genuine, sweet type of man…but then again, you thought the same about your ex before he cheated. “I won’t letcha down, missy. Now let’s getcha to your luxury suite!”

He turns and races off to his truck. As he does, the back of his flannel floats up, giving you a peek of his backside. Your mouth waters at the sight of his plump, firm ass in those jeans. Maybe you will have a nice time here after all.

After getting in your car and following Ace’s truck down the road, he takes you in the right direction that your GPS states. You decided to turn it on just to make sure Ace wasn’t taking you somewhere else. The drive is only eight minutes and finally, trees fall away to a beautiful clearing of brick homes and farms down a dirt road.

You finally come to your Airbnb and it’s just as cute in real life as it was in its photos. The white tiled roof and window outline combined with the buttery yellow color of the outside of the house reminds you of a frosted cake as you park your car in front of it. The house is located on ten acres of land that the owner owns and tends to, including a fruit orchard that you most definitely will enjoy tomorrow.

You go up to the azalea bushes planted at the white picket fence surrounding the cobbled stone walkway and steps. Bending down, you move one of the stones–a gray one shaped like a heart–and take the house key from under it. Ms. Chestnut made sure to tell you where to find it before she left.

Clutching the key to your chest, you turn and find Ace lugging your bags out of the backseat of your car, including your laptop case. As he does, you watch as his arms flex enticingly so. He has taken off his flannel, probably too hot in the afternoon heat to wear even the lightest of long-sleeved tops.

“Aaaand here we are,” he announces, bringing the luggage up to you. You go to take your suitcase, feeling bad for his work. “Oh, you don’t have to—“

“Nonsense! It’s barely heavy for me.” He gives you a wink before nodding at the locked door, looking just as excited as you.

You snort and unlock the door, giving way to a gorgeous living room with hardwood floors and a sunroom that meets an expensive-looking dining room filled with fine China dishes. On the left is an older-looking kitchen with a cartoon cat cuckoo clock and an adorable fruit-shaped cooking set and a washroom that leads outside to the back patio.

Ace whistles approvingly, looking around the house. “Beautiful place. I can see why ya rented here to write your new book. What’s it about, if I may ask?” He runs his boots on the ‘Welcome’ rug at the door before coming in with your luggage. He hands you your laptop before placing your suitcase and bag down gently on the floor.

You don’t know why you tell him, but something inside you tells you that it’s okay to do so: “Heartbreak.”

You watch as the cowboy pauses and then slowly turns to stare at you. You clear your throat to appear neutral and blasè like your past relationship and how it ended don’t still sting. “I didn’t just come here to write,” you explain. “I also came here to clear my head over my recent breakup. Working helps.”

Ace’s expression is unreadable. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his jaw working slightly. You now can see that he’s chewing gum. “Long term?” he asks. You nod, fighting back tears. “Three years.”

Three years of what you thought was the beginning of forever for you. You had met his parents; took trips with him; moved him into your apartment a year after you started dating. It was so nice when he came home to you after his shifts as a lawyer, the both of you snuggling with takeout and puffing on some weed to calm the nerves. You loved those nights with him.

But then those nights became ones of loneliness and suspicion when he wouldn’t come home till the AM. You started fighting and growing more apart until one day, while he was showering, you answered his phone on a call meant for him. Clearly, because the girl on the other line was asking you if you were still on for her place that night thinking you were your man…who apparently wasn’t just your man.

After denying it, he admitted to sleeping with his coworker for two months. “You were so busy with your books!” he had argued. “I needed you too, Y/N!”

Of course, that didn’t fly with you. As a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of communicating with you and never did. So, after three years, you ended your relationship and he moved out within a week. Learning to live without him is more than hard, but you’re learning with every step.

Ace whistles as if winded by your answer. “I’m very sorry to hear that, but one thing I know is that you won’t get no clearin’ your head out in the city. No offense.” He gives you a joking smile that brightens the room. “None taken,” you giggle. “That’s why I came out here.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “That was a good idea. You may never wanna go home though.” He stands there like a tall, sexy tree you’d like to climb. His personality and energy only make your attraction to him much worse.

You don’t know if he feels the tension in the air too, but his smile fades and his eyes fill with a spark you think you just imagine. Finally, he clears his throat and plasters on a smile. “Well, I’ll leave ya to it then. If you ever need anythin’, just gimme a knock across the way.”

You walk him to the door and he points down the road at a small ranch with a red barn where you hear distant neighing horses. “That little ranch next to the red barn is me,” he explains. You could walk there with how close he is. Knowing that makes your stomach twirl.

All you can do is nod and he bids you farewell before walking down the steps in his boots. You watch him, eyeing his flexing back muscles, suntanned shoulders, and the dusting of freckles on his skin like star constellations. He is almost down the road when you give in to your urges.

“Ace, wait!” you call. He stops, turning to face you. “Do you have a CashApp? Or I can pay you in cash.”

But the cowboy shakes his head, smiling at you. “Keep it,” he says. “Just lookin’ out for a pretty woman.” He tips his hat at you, that spark returning in his eyes. “Enjoy your stay, Y/N.”

Then he turns and walks off, taking that beautiful back and juicy ass with him. You decide right then that you’ll definitely enjoy your stay here with that cowboy being just one knock away.

*********

“Fuck, Y/N, you are soooo lucky!” Nami whines into your ear. “I wish I was laying out in the sun by the wate with my tits out too!”

“My tits aren’t out,” you snort. “I’m just in a bikini top.” You take a sip of your Moscato chilling in a glass of ice cubes and sliced oranges, sighing peacefully at the crisp, fruity taste.

Placing it back on the small table with your laptop, you look down at your phone screen where your beautiful, redheaded friend’s face is. It is the next day of your writer’s vacay and you’re spending it stretched out on the back patio in your bikini and sunglasses, lounging on a beach chair near the lake that sparkles and shimmers in the summer sun.

“That still counts!” Nanami argues. “You’ll get a tan for days! Why couldn’t you take me with you?” You scoff, rolling your eyes behind your ray bans. “Girl, aren’t you on an anniversary trip up in the mountains with your woman? Your Airbnb is just as beautiful as mine, plus you got a great view!”

Nami, your best friend and soulmate, is out in the mountains with her long-term girlfriend and soon-to-be-fiance, Robin who is so beautiful that you swore you had a crush on her when you first met her.

Both, along with a couple of other friends you’ve made over the years, surrounded you with love and support during your breakup. Zoro and Sanji, the married couple you’ve been tight with since you moved into your complex, even told you they’d beat your ex up if you asked them to. Of course, you said no, but you fantasize about it to make you laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s raining here,” Nami sighs, laying back on a pillow. “We’ve been cooped up in the house all day, but we do have a dinner reservation at a five-star restaurant tonight that’ll make up for it. She knows how to make me happy.” She breaks out into a dreamy smile you know all too well about.

“You’re so lucky,” you sigh, envious of your friend’s love. “You guys have been together for a long time though. Five years! That’s crazy!”

Nami nods, still looking in love and happy. “And it takes a lot of work, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You’ll find that again, too Y/N…with the right person, of course. That scummy ex of yours was just a closed door.”

You peer out over the water, seeing a sliver of Ace’s farm through the thrush, green forest. From this angle, you can see the wagging tails of horses in their shed and hear the crowing of roosters. “I guess,” you sigh.

As if reading your mind, Nami discusses the man who has been on your mind since yesterday. “Well, how ‘bout you do some practice on that cute cowboy you told me about?” she suggestively purrs. “You are there for a week. Why not use it to dust off that–”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you cut her off, putting up a hand. “I’m not having any kind of sex with a stranger, no matter how cute or sweet he is. Besides, I don’t even know how old he is! He could be a fuckin’ teenager for all I know.”

Despite you making logical excuses for not going over to his house and hopping on that man’s dick right now, you still can’t stop yourself from thinking about him. Yeste​​rday afternoon, you went out into town to shop for some cute dresses and groceries for meals (including the wine), thinking this would help distract you from nasty thoughts of him.

But alas, when night fell and you finished your glass of wine and your much-needed blunt to end the evening, you​​r dreams were all about him whispering dirty, sweet nothings to you in his Southern drawl while he bounced you on his cock. You were so pent up that you had to relieve yourself with the toy you packed and then take a cold shower…both did NOTHING to tame you.

You want him bad. You’ve never felt such an attraction to someone before. Not since your ​​ex, anyway. It’s exciting but also alarming. ​​Your plan wasn’t to use a man to get over your breakup or writer’s block. Speaking of which, you haven’t written much of a first draft for your book yet. You most that you’ve gotten is a plot outline and you feel even that is lackluster.

“Well, who is he?” Nami pushes. “You didn’t even tell me his name!” You once again roll your eyes and lower your voice as if the cowboy can hear you over the lake: “It’s Ace D. Portgas.”

Nami’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. “Omigod!” she squeals into your ears, making you jump. “Y/N, I know him! You remember my friend Luffy’s adopted older brother? The one who owns his own farm?”

Your mind traces back to the moment any of this was revealed to you and you realize that it was a year ago during a trip to the zoo where Luffy gushed over the horses and said his brother trains them. “Oh, my God, that’s him?!” you gasp, laughing in disbelief. “The wealthy one? What a small world!”

“Now you have a reason to talk to him, girl!” Nami encourages you. You go over to his place, ask him for a drink, and spend the rest of your trip in his bed…and then you’ll take me on a cruise when he cuffs you.” She winks at you, but you know she’s serious.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you chuckle. “He’s a nice guy, but I didn’t come here to hook up with no cowboy. I came here to relax and write my book.” The redhead pulls a look, rolling her eyes. “And what better way to do all of that than get with a country boy? Besides, that would make for a great story.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Whatever,” you scoff as she giggles. “Just go and tell Robin I said hi. And if I do happen to build a relationship with the cowboy, she’ll be the one I take on a cruise.” Nami, with her dramatic ass, gapes at you. “Take that back!”

“Love you, byeeee!” You blow her a kiss before ending the FaceTime call and lowering it facedown on the table to avoid the sun burning the screen. You take another sip of your wine and then hunker back down to your book that you’re no closer to outlining.

So far in the plot, a woman named Suzi has received notice of a house she has inherited from her deceased grandmother whom she realizes has many secrets, including setting her up to marry Johnson, a wealthy owner of a wine garden that her grandma somehow knows.

But all those ideas go down the drain when you happen to look up and see the man who has been haunting your frequent dreams. And he’s shirtless. Though his back is to you, that doesn’t mean Ace’s back doesn’t make your stomach flutter like it’s filled with butterflies. He is busy tending to his horses, filling their drinking station with fresh water and cleaning out bails of old hay. His arm and back muscles flex in the sun that glints off of the sweat dripping off of his tanned skin. “Oh, fuck,” you exhale.

He’s a beautiful, beautiful man. You can almost taste the sweat off of his skin as you lick up his skin and neck. His back is tatted with a purple skull with a bone caught between his teeth. Your body reacts just as your mind does, arousal making you throb. “Dammit,” you sigh, slamming your laptop closed. You definitely can’t write in this condition. This man is making everything too damn hard for you!

Now you know another distraction won’t do anything for you. You need to just swallow your pride and fear of rejection, and just go over there!

To not make it seem like you just came straight out the house to see him, you go inside to strip off your bikini and change into some sneakers, running shorts, and a sports bra that holds up your girls. You take your phone and house key with you before cutting through the woods for a short time towards Ace’s place, lightly jogging as you do. The sun glints through the trees and sweat begins to gather on your forehead and under your boobs.

Finally, you cut th​​rough the woods to the front of Ace’s house and nearly scream at the sudden sight of a caramel-colored horse galloping in front of you, nearly knocking you over. “Suzi!” Ace calls. “Dammit, don’t run in the street!” He whistles, causing the horse to stop before she gets any farther away and flips her tail.

You turn, finding the shirtless cowboy standing behind you. You nearly combust at the sight of his cut abs, the silver bars in his pink nipples, and the scattering of tattoos on his skin. One is of a skull engulfed in flames on his shoulder and the others are two names inked across his wrists.

“Oh, hey!” he chirps, looking happy to see you despite your short-circuiting brain. “What a surprise. You decided to take a break to come see little ol’ me?”

He puts his hands on his hips, drawing your eyes to his V-line. “I-I was just takin’ a jog,” you stammer. “And I just wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday. Sorry I was so hesitant.” Ace looks happy nonetheless and you think you even see his eyes quickly trace over ​​your outfit. “Don’t even apologize. You enjoyin’ yourself so far?”

He snaps at Suzi who comes tottering up to him, her hooves clicking. You nod, admiring the pretty steed. “Yeah, you’ve got a nice little home here. Went out shopping yesterday and did some writing today.”

The cowboy nods, petting Suzi’s side. “Uh-huh, I saw you soakin’ up those rays earlier…n-not that I was starin’ at you! I just happened to look over and see you.” His face grows adorably red at his jumbled words. It only makes him more endearing to you.

“I get it,” you giggle. “I came over to pay you for yesterday, but if you still aren’t gonna take my money, maybe I can pay you back with lunch or a drink?”

The words just slip out, possibly because of how confident you feel over Ace’s blush and nervous blunder. You don’t know what you expect, but definitely not what he says next:

“Oh,” is all he replies with.

The silence that follows makes you want to die. “O-Or not if you’re busy,” you quickly add. “Or if you don’t want to! I just wanted to repay you.” You bite your lip to shut yourself up, feeling as if you never should’ve said anything. That damn Nami! Why did she have to encourage you to do this?

But as luck would have it, Ace agrees. “I was gonna say yes to lunch, but I’m a little booked right now with the farm. I’ve got people tourin’ my place tomorrow, so I need to make sure it sparkles. Does dinner work better for ya?”

The horse’s tail flips as if to say, ‘Say yes, stupid!’ and you nod, speechless. “Dinner ​​sounds great,” you reply, doing your best to not break out into a big, goofy smile. The caramel horse softly winnies and Ace snorts, patting the horse’s behind. “This is Suzi,” he chuckles. “She’s extremely dramatic. I got two other ones at the stable.”

You smile at the horse, admiring the way her blonde mane looks in the sun. “She’s beautiful.” Unbeknownst to you, Ace admires you admiring the horse. “You like horses?” You nod, gently patting Suzi’s soft fur. “Love ‘em. I wanted to be a cowgirl every Halloween.”

“You wanna see the others? I can give ya a tour of the farm, if ya want.”

“Alright, alright, we’re comin’!” he calls. “And these are my Stallions, Sam and Sabo, named after one of my brothers. He lives all the way in London workin’ as an actor.”

“That’s amazing.” “They look like they need a brush, poor things.”

“It’s the heat. They shed a lot in the summer.” “Why don’t you let me?” you ask. “You seem so tired. Don’t worry, I pick up fast.”

“Just slowly brush their sides,” he explains, motioning his hands as an example. “It relaxes them. And don’t worry about scarin’ em; they’re well-behaved and they love attention.” “Hey, there, boy,” you coo. “I’m just gonna brush you.”

“Not bad for a city girl,” he whispers in your ear. “Oh, so you got jokes now,” you scoff. “Well, your horses seem to like me more than their owner. I think that proves I’d make a great cowgirl.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “You ever ridden one before?” “Uh…no,” you hesitantly answer. “Not since I was six at a petting zoo.”

Ace gives you a smile full of mirth and trust. “You wanna try now?”

You have no idea what propels you to say yes, but suddenly find yourself standing beside Sabo in the open field while Ace straps a leather saddle on his back. He then turns to you and opens his arms. “I’ll help ya up,” he says, flashing you a smile. “And if ya ever feel uncomfortable, I promise you we’ll cut the ride short.”

“There we go,” he huffs. “Now up I go.” With a grunt, he carefully hoists himself up on Sabo’s back and straddles the seat behind you. You bite your lip at the throb you feel between your thighs at the feeling of his strong arms coming around you to hold onto the reins with you. His thighs and chest brush against your back, the scent of sweat and pine rolling off of him.

“Now, gently tug on the reins twice and click your tongue,” he instructs. Nervously, you do as he says, his presence a comfort for you. You wouldn’t know what to do with this big-ass horse alone. Sabo slowly begins to walk in the field, taking a languid pace that is relaxing and not at all as scary​​ as you thought.

“See?” Ace laughs. “Not bad, right? You can use the reins to steer him or go faster, just like a car. If ya want him to stop, just tug on the reins once. If ya wanna go a little faster, just snap the reins so he’ll totter, like this.”

He helps you give them a slight snap and Sabo picks up the pace. You gasp as you feel his back jump with you and Ace on top, your body instantly tensing.

“Hang on,” he chuckles. “It’ll get a little bumpy.” You side-eye him, your heart about to explode out of your chest. “A little?” you scoff and that makes him laugh even harder.

His thumbs begin to stroke your knuckles, trying to calm you down. “You’re so sense, sweetie,” he coos. “I promise you’re okay. Just enjoy the ride.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only arousing you more.

However, despite the images of him fucking you stupid in your mind, you fight against your visceral reaction to change and relax. “Good, good!” he praises. “You really are a fast learner! Good boy, Sabo! Take us home!”

Sabo turns around and totters back to the farm, bouncing you on top. You giggle, feeling free with the sun and wind in your hair. When Sabo comes to a stop, Ace jumps off first.

He holds out his arms for you and you reach down, clinging yourself to him as he takes you off of the horse. Once your feet are on the ground, you sigh, relieved, but an underwhelming feeling descends upon you at ground level again. It was exciting being on Sabo’s back above ground, but you think most of the thrilling, excited feeling you got was from Ace being so close to you.

“Nicely done, city girl. I knew ya had it in ya to ride a horse.” “Well, it helps when I’ve got a great teacher, country boy,” you giggle, but it comes out way more seductive than you meant it to.

Thank goodness the splashing sounds of the horses slurping down their water stops you because who knows what would’ve happened? “Uh…drink?” he sheepishly asks. “I’ve got fresh lemonade in the fridge.”

But as soon as you’re in the house, Ace suddenly whirls you around to face him and grabs you before his lips finally mesh with yours. You make a small noise of surprise as he twirls you around, but it quickly melts into a soft moan as his soft, juicy lips press against yours. They are just as heavenly as you thought they’d be. The kiss is tentative and careful at first, but the more you press into him, the more passionate and open Ace becomes.

His tongue slowly licks your bottom lip and you part your lips, granting him access. The taste of whiskey on his tongue and the wet, sucking sounds of your heavy makeout make your shorts feel tighter and your nipples hard under your bra. Ace’s hands caress your back while your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until you’re sharing the same air.

When he pulls away, he is softly panting and his eyes are ablaze. “Sorry,” he pants. “I just couldn’t resist. I’ve been wantin’ to do that since yesterday.”

You smile, leaning in to peck his lips again. You can’t get enough of him now that you’ve had him. “Don’t apologize,” you whisper. “I have, too.” Oh, and have you!

Ace smiles, looking pleased to hear this. You’re just as happy to know that he’s been sweating over you the way you have been for him since yesterday. “You’re here for a week, right?” he huskily asks and you nod, too afraid to speak. You don’t want to ruin this.

His big hands slide down lower and lower until they meet your ass. Finally. “Then if it’s alright with you, darlin’, I’d like to make your first time out in the country one you’ll never forget. If this is just a summer fling to you then that’s cool. I just wanna make you feel good and make ya forget all about that asshole ex of yours back home.”

The passionate promise burning in his eyes is too tempting to resist. You run your hands down his chest, feeling him up and letting him know just how much you want this. “I’d love that,” you purr. “Now kiss me again, cowboy.”

Ace doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, his lips sweep yours up again as he grips you to him, his hands caressing your thighs. You’re so deep in his kiss that you barely feel the wall suddenly pressing against your back. You moan as Ace presses himself into you, his hard body like another wall squeezing you between the one behind you. He takes your arms and pins them over your head, stealing the air from your lungs.

He chuckles, smiling against your desperate lips. His hands move unde your thighs and he scoops you up with ease, making you feel oh-so little. He laughs at your little gasp as you find yourself hovering off of the floor in his arms. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he says. “You’ll enjoy this ride. Bedroom?” You nod, wrapping your limbs around him like a koala bear, and away he goes with you in tow, thunking around in his cowboy boots and hat.

You get a tiny tour of his place when he goes upstairs and finally makes it to his bedroom that is filled with sunlight pouring in through the window. “Don’t close the blinds,” you purr as he kicks the door shut with his foot. “I wanna see you in the light.”

He smirks, loving your freakiness. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, tasting your lips once more. “Now if it’s alright with you, I’d like to get these clothes off ya.”

You giggle as he sets you down on the bed before joining you. “The feelin’ is mutual, cowboy,” you sexily reply. “Just leave the hat and boots on…please.” You feel your face grow hot as Ace laughs at your request, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re a freaky one,” he purrs, biting his bottom lip. “I like that. You’re a woman who knows what she wants.”

Of course, you are! Any girl alone with a sexy cowboy would know what they want and right now, you want this man naked and to fuck you dumb. As you share heated, sloppy kisses, you help Ace strip off your bra, kicks, socks, and shorts, leaving you in on your panties. He takes a moment to ogle your body as you stand between his thighs.

“Fuck,” he huffs and you grow hot, realizing that this is the first time you’ve heard him cuss. “You’re a work of art, babydoll…is it okay if I call you that?” If it ain’t your hard nipples that give him a yes, it’s the kiss you give him. “Yes,” you whisper. Yes to everything. Ace grabs you and begins to kiss up your body, gently sucking on your nipples and licking your neck.

“I’m all sweaty,” you whine, slightly self-conscious. The cowboy raises a brow at you as if to say, ‘And?’ before scooping you up into his arms and tossing you onto the bed.

Now on your stomach, Ace takes advantage by bending your knees and hiking your ass up for him. “Stop,” he chortles. “I’m from the South, darlin’. A little sweat don’t mean nothin’ to me…now pipe down and let me enjoy you.”

You’ve never been with a man who loves eating pussy. You’ve never been with a man that eats pussy quite like Ace. But you should’ve known when he finally got your panties down and finally saw your exposed, glistening pussy all for him. “Goddamn,” he exhaled before spreading your asscheeks and giving right into the depths of your cunt.

His first few licks are gentle and slow as he gets to know your body. He asks you what you like and what you dislike. What makes you tick. The fact that he’s so interested in what you want and like makes you even wetter. Once you tell him and he gets right to work, it doesn’t take long for you to melt into the bed as his mouth works your pussy.

You grip the pillow now, your moans, whimpers, and whines falling onto Ace’s ears like a sweet symphony of music. “Ohhh, fuck, Ace!” you sing into the pillow, pushing your ass back into his face. He welcomes you, his hands gripping and smacking each cheek in time with his magical tongue lashes against your clit.

“That’s it, sing for me, darlin’,” he coos into your pussy, his words slightly muffled. “You sound so fuckin’ good.” He then pulls away from your pussy to slide his tongue up to your ass, much to your enjoyment. While he does this, he takes one finger and lightly glides it up and down your slit, sending shivers and sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

“Your ex ever do this for you?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your lowerback. “Did he ever take care of you like this?” He moves down to give an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy, emitting a loud moan from you. “Or this gorgeous girl?” he purrs against your clit. “Tell me.” Gently, his finger begins to prope your hole, sinking into your folds.

You gasp, gripping the pillow. “N-No,” you stammer. Ace makes a noise of approval. “I knew it. This cunt of yers is just too damn wet for me…not that I’m complainin’. You taste so, so good, little darlin’!” His tongue slides down your asscrack to your clit again, sucking on it while he fingers you.

You are a writhing, squirming mess, grinding your hips back into him, riding that wave of pleasure. The more he licks, sucks, and strokes, the more that knot in your core tightens, threatening to snap and cause you to spill all over his tongue. But his ministrations also cause something else: need. A desperate, blinding, unbridled need for him inside of you. “Stop, Ace!” you beg and he does, immediately. “I need you to fuck me. Please! I wanna cum around your ​​cock!”

Ace pauses, taken aback by your request. But then you hear the joyous, thrilling sound of his belt buckle jingling and his zipper coming down. “So naughty,” he chuckles. “How’d you know I like naughty girls? You must’ve come outta my wettest dreams, babydoll.” You feel his cock slide against your slit, warm, hard, and thick.

You both moan as he taps it against your clit, his head nudging against the little bundle of nerves. “And per your request,” he says, laughter in his voice, “I’ll keep the hat and boots on for ya. But I want ya to look at me while I’m inside you, okay?”

Slowly, you turn your head and behold your eyes to the sexy man sporting his cowboy hat, boots, and nipple piercings behind you, his eyes burning with want. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his thick cock and heavy balls that are begging to be tasted. But later. Right now, you need him in you. “Yes, sir,” you purr. “Now please: fuck me.”

Wordlessly, Ace grasps your hip with one hand and fulfills your request by taking his cock and sinking himself inside of you. His head sinking between your soft, wet folds cause you both to gasp, the contact explosively pleasurable. Ace goes slow, filling you to the brim with every slow thrust of his hips. It’s unbearable, almost agonizing how slow he’s moving.

Ace senses your change in demeanor and gently pulls out, leaving only his cockhead in you. “You alright?” he whispers, worried. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf. Do you want me to stop?”

The very thought of losing this feeling makes you desperate. You turn to him, your hair a sexed-out mess and your eyes lidded. “No,” you exhale, giving him a smile. “You’re just goin’ too slow.”

Instantly, all of the worry and uncertainty in Ace’s eyes disappear, replaced with only lust. A slow smirk stretches across his lips at your naughty request. “Well, why didn’t ya say so, darlin’?”

He pushes himself back in and grips your hips before pistoning into you, giving you the deep dick that you’ve been craving for months. A loud whine leaves your lips as he fucks you like you belong to him, causing your body to shake even more and that arch in your back to wobble. “Fuck me back,” he demands, his voice rough and raspy. “Don’t make me do all the work here. Take what you want from me, baby, c’mon.”

You push yourself up on your forearms and push back into him, tossing your ass back into his mind-blowing, bed-shaking, orgasmic thrusts that make you see stars behind your eyelids. Ace’s dick strokes every part of your insides while his hands grip your hip and one of your tits, molding the globe of flesh and teasing the tight nipple between his fingers. “O-Oh, my God!” you moan, your voice bouncing off of the walls. “Yes, Ace, just like that! Fuck me just like that!”

“Like what?” Ace asks, a smile evident in his voice. “Like…this?” He rolls his hips in a way that glides against your G-spot, causing you to damn near scream in pleasure. You just about hit high notes that would put Mariah Carey’s career in the dirt as Ace loops a hand between your thighs to rub your clit. You keep grinding back into him, much to his enjoyment.

He loves watching you move, your body so enticing while you squeeze around him. “God, darlin’,” he groans. “I can’t get enough of these hips. You ride me so well. Can’t wait to see how you ride my cock.”

He leans down to whisper into your ear, still pounding your pussy like it’s his profession. “I bet you’d be so good at it. I bet you’d be my good little cowgirl, wouldn’t cha? Bet you’d make me cum deep inside this pussy.”

His tongue slips against your earlobe as he begins to suck on it. You loop an arm around his neck to bring him close to you, his sweat-sticky body pressed against yours as he ruts into you from behind.

When your orgasm begins to peak, you can’t stop it and you don’t want to. This feels too good.

“F-Fuck, Ace!” you gasp. “I’m gonna…gonna cum!” Ace hums in approval, moving harder and faster, frantically rubbing your clit with his thick fingers. “Do it,” he practically begs. “Cum for me. Give me what I need.”

When you cum, you cum hard. It is so intense that it takes you a minute to make any noise as the rush of pleasure hits you, but once it does, you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard yourself make as you gush all around Ace’s cock. He grunts as your pussy hugs him, squeezing him like a vice as you coat his shaft in your cum.

“Thatta girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You softly whimper in acknowledgment, gripping the sheets as you ride your orgasm wave.

Once your high fades, Ace quickly pulls out as if you’ve burned him with your pussy, desperate to not cum yet. “Shit,” he hisses. “Look at how messy you made me, baby. You’ve gotta clean it up now.” He sticks his cock, shining in your juices, in your face, a lust-filled expression on his face.

The orgasm has done something to you, turning you into an insatiable, needy little slut. Suddenly feral and in need of him, you swallow his cock and slurp up all of your cum, even taking his balls in your mouth when you can. But when you’re too busy gagging all over his dick, you massage them in one hand with the other plays with his pierced nipples. Ace is enjoying himself immensely. He can’t believe his luck having such a beautiful woman in his bed, let alone a celebrity, sucking him off and teasing his overly-sensitive nipples.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he moans, tilting his head back at the feeling. “You keep doin’ all of that and I’ll cum. I still need more of ya.”

You hum in agreement, slipping off of his cock with a soft pop that your wet lips make. You look up at him through hooded eyes, making him so hard that it becomes painful. “If ya still want another round, I want you to ride me,” he huskily requests. “I wanna see this body bounce on top of me while I finally bust inside of you.”

You shiver, immediately soaked from the idea. Wordlessly, you stand on your knees and brace your hands on his chest before shoving him down onto the bed. He laughs, the sound making your heart melt, but it’s quickly replaced with a desperate moan as you climb on top of him, mounting him like he’s your own personal Stallion…or dildo. He doesn’t seem like he’d protest either.

But as you wrap a hand around his cock and bring it to meet your pussy, he stops you. “Wait, wait,” he protests. You stop, confused, until he takes his hat off and places it on your head. “Now ya look the part,” he comments, making you giggle. “Now ride me like a good little cowgirl.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You come down to take his cock inside of you, drawing a moan out of both of you once your tight, wet walls squeeze around him. Bracing your feet on the bed as you straddle Ace, you place one hand on his chest and slowly begin bouncing, becoming used to how he feels in this position. He is so deep, touching every single part of you, stretching you out more than he did in doggy.

“O-Oh, my Go-o-od!” you gasp, each word punctuated by your bouncing. You tilt your head up to the ceiling as you roll your hips, grinding your clit against Ace’s pelvis. The pleasure makes you throw your head back and your eyes flutter closed, each delicious burst of pleasure taking you on a ride.

Ace is enjoying his ride as well, watching you bounce that perfect pussy and body on his cock. “That’s it, babydoll,” he groans, gripping your hips. Y

ou ride him like he’s stolen, your gorgeous titties jiggling in his face. His hat perched on top of your pretty head is just as yummy–it’s the cherry on top for him. Watching you makes him want to make you yours; make it so no man, whether in the country or city, can ever have you again.

“How’s it feel?” he asks, staring up at your pretty face. All you let out is a pathetic whimper that gives him the urge to burst inside of you. “I know it feels good, darlin’, but I need your words. Tell me how that dick feels.” He begins to rub your clit with his thumb, causing you to let out a loud whine.

“S-so…so good!” you gasp, alternating between bouncing and rolling your hips, giving him more and more of that pussy every single time. “You feel so good, Ace!”

Suddenly feral, the cowboy leans up and swoops you into his arms, pistoning his hips up into yours from below. “Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he pants in your ear, his voice low and tantalizing. “Tell me you love it.”

You’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear if it means he’ll keep doing this to you. “You’re the best, Ace!” you sob, gripping his shoulders. “You’re the fucking best I’ve ever had! I love the way you fuck me!”

That’s all it takes for the cowboy to keep fucking you stupid as you grind into him from above. The both of you fuck each other like you need it, the bed shaking and your moans echoing throughout the room. You kiss sloppily and messily, your tongues swirling with one another as your pussy squelches and gushes around his cock.

When your second orgasm comes, all you can do is let out a sob, your nails skating down Ace’s back and skull tattoo. He gets his nut just after you, letting out a loud “Oh, fuck!” along with a series of porn-worthy moans as he explodes inside of you. You gasp, feeling a gush of warmth flow into you as you cream all over his cock, your cum sliding down his balls that have completely emptied themselves inside of you.

The high is just as intense and as blissful as the first time, especially since Ace is joining you on this ride this time. You both share an exhausted, messy kiss before he exhaustedly falls back against the pillows, breathing heavily. You roll off him and fall beside him on the bed, his hat still on your head.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, panting heavily from the activity. The only sounds in the room are the birds chirping and the horses neighing outside, giving a very peaceful atmosphere after some good sex. Finally, Ace turns over to look at you. “So how ‘bout that dinner date?” he asks.

You burst into laughter and he follows, the both of you in a fit of giggles that feels just as freeing as the sex. “I could use a steak,” you reply once you calm yourself. “My treat.” Ace makes a face like he’s offended by the very idea. “My treat,” he corrects you. “You deserve it for that ride ya just gave me. You certainly knocked my boots.”

He wraps those big arms around you that you happily snuggle into, wrapping your own around him too. You feel so content and safe despite only knowing the man for two days. Maybe this is a sign. “Mine too,” you sigh. “Oh, and just so you know, I’m familiar with one of the names tatted on your wrists: Luffy. I know him.”

You watch as realization dawns in Ace’s eyes at the mention of his brother. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, excited. “You know my kid brother?” You nod, giggling. “He’s told me about you. Said your the brother that’s a cowboy, but I just forgot.”

He lets out a loud, belly laugh that makes you laugh with him, adoring his childlike personality. “Wow, what a small world!” he chuckles. “I guess in a way, maybe we were meant to meet each other.”

Though you wouldn’t have admitted it first, you think the same thing. If this blooms into something more, it could work. You could take the train to see him and vice versa…if he is interested. It isn’t just the sex you enjoy. You also enjoy talking to Ace. You love how he pushes you to try new things and is so in tune with your feelings. Most men aren’t, so whoever raised him did it well.

You also think about how great of a plot this would be in a book…and just like that, you have the sudden inspiration to write a new series filled with action, mystery, thrills, romance, and a lot of steamy sex with a cowboy who may or may not be inspired by the one you’re currently curled up with.

You look up at Ace, your muse, dreamboat, and possible summer-fling-to-not, with the same adoring, satisfied smile he gazes down at you with. “So steak dinner it is then?” he murmurs into your neck.

You nod, snuggling into his shoulder. “After round two,” you purr. “And a snuggle and shower….in either order.” You beam up at him, a hunger for him rising in the pit of your stomach. You don’t want to waste a minute of this week out in the countryside.

Evidently, neither does Ace judging by his hardening dick against your thigh. He takes your wrist and kisses it before rolling on top of you and grinding himself against your core.

“I can do all of that, little darlin’,” he murmurs. “You can even wear my boots this time.”

THE END.

[sporesgalaxy]

we need more bug wikipedia pages

i said this as a joke but i should actually do it sometime that would be kind of hilarious and also epic

[coochiequeens]

“If women weren’t losing access to farmlands, they would dare to leave their husbands earlier.” - Milla Nemoudji

By  ROBERT BOCIAGA, August 28, 2024

BINMAR, Chad (AP) — When Milla Nemoudji, a 28-year-old from a village in southern Chad, divorced her husband following years of physical abuse, she found herself without means for survival. Though raised in a farming family, she struggled to get by in a community where access to land is customarily controlled by men.

With little support for women in her situation, divorce being relatively rare in Chad, she fought for economic independence. She sold fruits and other goods. During the rainy season, she plowed fields as a laborer. Last year, however, a women’s collective arrived in her village and she decided to join, finally gaining access to land and a say over its use. She farmed cotton, peanuts and sesame, making enough money to cover basic needs.

The village, Binmar, is on the outskirts of Chad’s second-largest city, Moundou, in the densely populated Logone Occidental region. Thatched-roof homes stand amid fields where women traditionally harvest the land but, like Nemoudji, have little or no say over it.

In Chad, land access is often controlled by village chiefs who require annual payments. Women are often excluded from land ownership and inheritance, leaving them dependent on male relatives and reinforcing their secondary status in society.

The struggle for land rights is compounded by the dual legal system in Chad where customary law often supersedes statutory law, especially in rural areas. While recent legal reforms mean laws recognize the right of any citizen to own land, application of those laws is inconsistent.

For women like Nemoudji who seek to assert their rights, the response can be hostile.

“There’s no one to come to your aid, although everyone knows that you are suffering,” Nemoudji told The Associated Press, criticizing the traditional system of land rights and urging local leaders to take domestic violence seriously. “If women weren’t losing access to farmlands, they would dare to leave their husbands earlier.”

see rest of article

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine annoying the shit outta the red hair pirates

I can't believe I'm doing a stupider one piece version of the Who's on first bit

Shanks: okay, are you listening?

You: *looks him dead in the eye, hearing him just fine*, huh?

Shanks: *lets out a tired sigh* very well there are five marine outposts on this island, they're in the shape of the world government's symbol. I'm talking the center building, which is the unit's headquarters, where most of the ranked marines reside. Benn will take the southern outpost. Lucky Roux will take the western outpost and then Yassop will take the eastern one, and you will take the northern base with most of the crew.

You: Okay

Yassop: *not convinced you were listening* who's taking the eastern outpost?

You: Roux's taking the western outpost.

Yassop: WHO not Roux!

You: here? *Points at the map*

Shanks: Yes, up here

You: But you said Yassop over here at the Eastern outpost?

Shanks: *presses his forehead against the table and gently bangs his head on it.* Yes, I did. Fine, then what about here then? *points at the northern outpost.

You: Benn's at the southern outpost.

Shanks: *groans* can you even hear me?

You: *laughs* yes, you take the central base, Roux takes the western out post, Yassop takes the eastern, Benn attacks the southern one, and I attack the northern with the crew.

Yassop: You actually were listening

You: I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.

Shanks: because you act and look like you're not listening.

You: I know, I do it mostly for my own amusement.

Yassop: *puts you in headlock and gives you a noogie* You're lucky you're cute.

At port

Benn: *finalizing the list of supplies needed, and who is getting them*

You: *singing an onomatopoeia of the instrumentals of topic by the champs* wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah *hip checks Benn into the water* tequila wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah *dances in place*

Benn: God damn it (y/n)! *Climbs back on the dock* You're gonna be paired with me and the boss.

You: Noo!

Benn: Yes! And in the meantime you get to assist me our supplies. *hooks his hands under your armpits and picks you up and deposits you on a chair next to him.*

You: *whines*

Benn: do you know why I do this, managing the cargo? So we don't starve.

You: And because your needs were never met when you were a child, and so now you go out of your way to take care of the needs of others while actively neglecting yourself?

Benn: ... Okay look, besides all of that, it needs to get done.

You: What ever lets you sleep at night, sweetheart.

Benn: I loathe you sometimes.

You: *winks and smooches at him*

The Crew: *just finished doing maintenance after a storm damaged the ship and are packing up their supplies*

You: *Hiding in a cabinet and makes the water drop noise with your mouth*

The Crew: *freezes*

Shanks: *dangerously close to yelling*

Yassop: God damn it, I don't have the energy to look around for some stray leak tonight.

Hongo: suck it up, we gotta find it before it leads to flooding.

You: *makes the noise twice again*

Lucky Roux: Especially considering the pantry is below this.

You: *makes the noise again, and tries not to laugh*

Benn: It sounds like it's coming from in here *opens the cabinet you're hiding in* .... (y/n) why are you up here? Y'know what, I don't wanna know, do you see the leak?

You: No *makes the noise while looking him dead in the eyes*

Benn: You little! *grabs you by your ankle, pulls you out, and lifts you by off the ground.*

You: *can't stop laughing*

Benn: I found the leak.

Shanks: what? No.

Benn: *shakes you* make the noise brat, or I'll spank you.

You: Promise?

Benn: Do it again.

You: *tries several times, but fails because you can't stop smiling and has to compose yourself before you can make the noise again.*

Yassop, and Lucky Roux: Can we throw them in the brig for the night.

Shanks: You may not, but we can make them do an idiot check to see if we missed any leaks while the rest of us go to bed.

You: That's fair.

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[mosswiind]

"We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own."

What makes Vivienne de Fer’s perspective on the Circle interesting to me is that she seems to be one of the only characters in a position of power to realize that while revolution is necessary, change is imperative, and the situation is awful for a lot of people, there can’t be Nothing. 

"In my own experience, nothing is more deadly to a young mage than a lack of knowledge."

After growing up in a circle herself (specifically Ostwick), she has seen the great need for burgeoning mages to have someplace to go where they can’t, you know, kill their whole family by accident if they have a bad dream, which is how a lot of young mages find out they are, in fact, mages. 

"Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned."

The reason her perspective tastes sour for a lot of people is because of the narrative role mages fill as the oppressed other. This has the same problem as the Xmen problem - actual, real life people who are oppressed for something beyond their control are not dangerous, and especially are not Going To Literally Explode By Accident. The metaphor gets muddy because instead of being an innocent “other,” mages can shoot lightning bolts out of their fingers by accident. 

The thing that makes her perspective interesting is that it is an extremely logical response to the worldbuilding put in place. In Thedas, mages are an objectively dangerous group of people, regardless of intention. If you were, for the sake of argument, a person who could unintentionally kill your whole family that you love, and there was a place you could go called You Can't Accidentally Kill Everyone You Love Tower, you would probably be like, hell yeah, that is a thing that should exist for me and people like me.

"I never worry, darling. A leash can be pulled from either end."

Vivienne has gotten to the level of skill and notoriety she has specifically because she was a Circle Mage. She had teachers, knowledgeable support, and a safe place to exist. While this was not universal (obviously), she had an overall positive experience, and as Grand Enchanter she was privy to hundreds of stories of people coming to Circles due to tragedy. 

Vivienne trained at the Ostwick Circle, ostensibly a well-run and relatively uncorrupted version of the Circles we see in game. The reason we don’t see well run circles is not because they don’t exist, but because there would be no demons to fight in this Combat Game we are all playing. Yes, roleplay is an important and central part of Dragon Age, but at the end of the day it is a game where you Fight Things. The story is not going to take us where there is nothing to fight/problem solve.

She does acknowledge that abuses of power are common - they are pretty undeniable. But a Dalish Inquisitor can suggest that more people use the Dalish method of magical control: a finite number of mages per clan (count ‘em, two), no templars required. Her counterargument is summed up in the character of Minaeve: a Dalish mage who developed her abilities after the slot of apprentice mage in her clan had been filled, and was left to find another clan. Not left to find another clan, was left. She was not successful, and was brought to a Circle before she starved alone in the woods due to the lack of available clan slots. 

ALSO, and this is important: she is pro-Circle, but pretty ambivalent on templars. Templars do not a Circle make. They are a pretty central pillar of the way Southern Circles are run, but I feel like if there was a way to neutralize magic safely without templar involvement, she would be able to get on board with that as an alternative. Like...her main things are education, and having a way to neutralize magical threats/accidents readily available.

The first people to be irreparably harmed by the charge of revolution will always be the most vulnerable. Vivienne believes that while the Circle needs overhauling, there needs to be Something. More people will be hurt by Nothing than Something. And as demonstrated by the clusterfuck the Mage Rebellion became, she was fucking right. 

In the context of the game, this is presented as a very right wing viewpoint - that mages are something to be controlled, muzzled, tied down. Characters like Lavellan (represented as a deer) are understandably horrified by this. 

Vivienne however, does not see herself or her peers as prey, and rightfully so. The games tell us over and over again that mages are objectively capable of incredible quantities of damage (she herself is a Knight Enchanter, a fuckshit powerful subclass of mage).

"Kirkwall gave the world a reason to remember its fear of magic. A mage killed hundreds with a snap of their fingers. Across Thedas, a new tangible fear of magic grew. Commoners and nobles alike called out to the Chantry for protection. But the malcontents in the towers thought nothing of this."

Her perspective is ultimately one of harm reduction. A place for mages to learn to control their abilities, in a place where they can do the smallest amount of harm if someone says “I don’t care how big the room is, I cast fireball.”

It absolutely makes sense to buck at the idea of anyone being Controlled in this way, and the Circle definitely takes it way overboard. BUT. It also serves the purpose of keeping a lot of vulnerable people way safer than they would be in a different environment. 

Believing there must be Something instead of Nothing means that the smallest number of people will fall through the cracks. The most vulnerable people will not have to forage their own food, or go without medication, or mobility aids. Something instead of Nothing means that there is a safety net until things can become Different. 

That’s what Vivienne is fighting for. A safer world the only way she knows usually works.

[homunculus-argument]

You ever have those random little epiphanies that are just stuff that's obvious in hindsight, but you never thought of that before? Like today I was doing my favourite internet activity - lurking other peoples' conversations online - and came by a discussion about some guy who's finnish, and another finn helpfully translated an observation about him to the english-speakers in the audience: that he talks finnish in an extremely distinct southern dialect.

And someone, clearly not finnish, commented to this, going "hold on isn't this guy like Has Never Seen A Cow In Real Life-levels of urban?"

Some other finns came in to explain the matter - something I already knew of course, but would never have crossed my mind is something that'd require explaining: Finland is structured differently than the US, with the most southern areas being the most urban and densely populated, going more rural and sparsely inhabited the further up north you go. The closest equivalent to the US kind of cows-and-tractors "redneck" (affectionate) area is central Finland. In finnish, a southern dialect - especially this one in particular - is peak Soft-Handed City Boy -talk.

And it had somehow never really consciously crossed my mind that every country and culture has their own urban-and-rural division, whether it's north/south, east/west, etc, with their broad-stroked stereotypes of the people on the other side. Like maps of places I've never been to, that on their own say nothing to me, have their own imaginary lines drawn somewhere in there, and people from one side of the line will point at the other side and say "this is the region where drunk driving a tractor is a considered a competitive sport", and the people from the other side say "people from this area have never been outdoors and will squeal in terror if they see a live chicken."

[velvetvexations]

It's frustrating when any radical feminism is called out in trans circles, the whole thing is "well since I'm trans I can't be a TERF"!!! Like, transmisogyny is not the only thing TERFS and radical feminists preach?? Like if you're anti sex work, anti kink, anti bodily autonomy for any kind of transition or sex, think men (whoever the individual bigot defines as such) are genetically predisposed to evil, think women (whoever the individual bigot defines as such) are predisposed to good, and anti-ace/aro people, like one or two differences in opinion will not preclude you from radical feminism. Idk, out of the "trans inclusionary" radical feminists, I feel as though you either fall hard into transmisogyny or transandrophobia.

But a lot of the people who believe in all the same things as the normal strain of radical feminism but support trans women just,, only seem to think that transmisogyny is what TERFs preach?

Also like lowkey I never understood the Shinigami eyes extension because TERF dogwhistles are kinda easy to spot and easy to check. Like, overly judgmental of a random woman? Overly judgmental of a random man? Seems to think x kink is evil? Implying porn is disgusting and evil (without any actual criticisms of the industry, just talking about it inherently)? Weird about ace/aro people and their attraction or lack thereof? Wow! Probably a terf.

I think there is some issue with "OP is a TERF" that made shinigami eyes appealing for a lot of people. I once saw someone make a really good point about how a theater production that sexualizes nuns is not progressive for sexualizing women who don't want to be sexualized, but whoops, OP was a TERF. Often moral rationality is not an issue of logical reasoning as it is motivation. For instance, I also saw a tankie shitheel give a pretty good rundown of Chiquita's bullshit in Central and Southern America. In both cases, Bad Group A was opposed to Bad Group B, whether that be imperialism or the patriarchy, so they can call out legitimate issues when they want to before going right back to complete bullshit and supporting their own evil shit.

But absolutely no one actually knows what TERFs are anymore because they do think it's literally all just hating trans women and are incapable of connecting the dots between TERFs and second-wave feminism, and realizing that they have a whole suite of beliefs that goes beyond that. It's partly obscured nowadays for exactly the reason that they'll often be aimed at cis men, which TRFs simply don't count as evidence of them hating men because of course you should be against like, Cis Male Celebrity Getting #MeToo'd, as though the issue with TERFs isn't that they see that and trans people as being products of the same patriarchal system because their view of the entire world is warped.

Especially funny is the claim that you can't call TRFs TRFs because they don't self-identify as TRFs. I mean, even putting aside Talia Bhatt's book, we have a very famous meme of Sonic the Hedgehog telling TERFs to fuck off for using that exact same "that's just a slur to silence me" argument. Like, no! You may not recognize what you're saying is nearly identical to everything TERFs say just because you add "trans" behind "women," but that's a you problem!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

words to use instead of air/wind?

Air—the mixture of invisible odorless tasteless gases (such as nitrogen and oxygen) that surrounds the earth

Wind—a natural movement of air of any velocity

Airflow - a flow of air; especially: the motion of air (as around parts of an airplane in flight) relative to the surface of a body immersed in it

Airstream - a current of air

Billow - to bulge or swell out (as through action of the wind)

Blast - a violent gust of wind

Blow - an instance of air moving with speed or force; a blowing of wind especially when strong or violent

Bluster - a violent boisterous blowing

Breath - a slight breeze; air inhaled and exhaled in breathing

Breeze - a light gentle wind

Buran - a northeasterly wind of gale force in Russia and central Asia usually identified with sandstorms in summer and blizzards in winter

Chinook - a warm moist southwest wind of the coast from Oregon northward; a warm dry wind that descends the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains

Current - the part of a fluid body (such as air or water) moving continuously in a certain direction

Cyclone - a storm or system of winds that rotates about a center of low atmospheric pressure, advances at a speed of 20 to 30 miles (about 30 to 50 kilometers) an hour, and often brings heavy rain

Draft - a current of air in a closed-in space

Eddy - a current of water or air running contrary to the main current; especially: a circular current

Flatus - gas generated in the stomach or bowels

Flurry - a gust of wind

Gale - a strong current of air

Gas - a fluid (such as air) that has neither independent shape nor volume but tends to expand indefinitely

Gust - a sudden brief rush of wind

Headwind - a wind having the opposite general direction to a course of movement (as of an aircraft)

Mistral - a strong cold dry northerly wind of southern France

Northeaster - a strong northeast wind

Norther - a strong north wind

Northwester - a strong northwest wind

Puff - an act or instance of puffing; whiff

Respiration - the movement of air or dissolved gases into and out of the lungs

Scud - a gust of wind

Sigh - the sound of gently moving or escaping air

Slipstream - a stream of fluid (such as air or water) driven aft by a propeller

Southeaster - a strong southeast wind

Southwester - a strong southwest wind

Squall - a sudden violent wind often with rain or snow

Storm - wind having a speed of 64 to 72 miles (103 to 117 kilometers) per hour

Stream - any body of flowing fluid (such as water or gas)

Tailwind - a wind having the same general direction as a course of movement (as of an aircraft)

Tempest - a violent storm; a disturbance of the atmosphere accompanied by wind and often by precipitation (as rain or snow)

Tornado - a violent destructive whirling wind accompanied by a funnel-shaped cloud that progresses in a narrow path over the land

Updraft - an upward movement of gas (such as air)

Uprush - an upward rush (as of gas or liquid)

Vapor - a substance in the gaseous state as distinguished from the liquid or solid state

Ventilation - circulation of air

Waft - a slight breeze; puff

Westerly - a wind from the west

Whiff - a quick puff or slight gust especially of air, odor, gas, smoke, or spray

Whirlwind - a small rotating windstorm of limited extent

Williwaw - a sudden violent wind

Windblast - a gust of wind

Windflaw - a gust of wind

Windstorm - a storm marked by high wind with little or no precipitation

Zephyr - a breeze from the west

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[demaparbat-hp]

I didn't know Katara also had silver marks on the Kintsugi AU. How did you come up with that idea? Is it an in-universe cultural thing? If it is, is it exactly the same as Zuko's or does the Water Tribe have their own beliefs around it?

Sorry if I'm asking too many questions, I just really love how your mind works when it comes to these AUs 💖

Hello, and thanks for asking!

Initially, Kintsugi was a strictly Fire Nation tradition. Something to hold over the rest of the nations, and deepen their own belief of cultural superiority. Zuko hiding his scars played into that idea, since having gold inlaid in your body is a clear sign of Fire Nation blood—furthermore, High Fire Nation blood.

That being said, one lovely anon gave the suggestion that perhaps the other nations also have their own kinds of Kintsugi, and I fell in love with the idea. @ican-fixitbooks went even deeper into the particular philosophies of each nation regarding Kintsugi. I'll be using some quotes from them—watch for the italics.

It was during said brainstorming session that I thought of Katara having a silver Kintsugi scar, and how could it be used to enhance the themes of ATLA, Katara's arc, and this AU as a whole.

But a little background is necessary, I believe.

Kintsugi is a tradition practiced worldwide, with minor differences in philosophy/technique according to each nation.

The Earth Kingdom seal their scars with a substance that resembles bronze, as the mentality of breaking yourself down to build yourself back up better than you were is very central to their culture. It is used as a way to celebrate one's victories, made all the better if damage was taken to achieve it.

The elite have rather different views on this practice. They believe themselves to be above such things. That which is broken must be hidden away, which has interesting connotations when thinking about a certain blind earthbender.

The Air Nomad philosophy leans towards a naturalist approach. Anything natural doesn't need to be "improved" in their eyes. If a scar is there, it is there. Let it be there as a part of you, no different than any other, no need to be "made better", but in fact better to just "be".

Kintsugi is a cultural practice meant to celebrate making something beautiful out of something broken, arguably even making it better than it was. During Sozin's reign and forward, Kintsugi became a way to show the Fire Nation's superiority. Especially as that is essentially their philosophy for war: "Breaking the rest of the world so it can be reforged in fire, made a better, more perfect place."

As for the Water Tribes, there's the healing factor to take into account. The Northern Water Tribe isolated itself from the rest of the world once the war began, so they hold tight to their traditions and beliefs. If something is not broken, then why attempt to fix it? Kintsugi is scoffed at in the North—it is a foreign practice, one that is not necessary when all your wounds can be healed with bending.

However, the Southern Water Tribe has been exposed to the world. They have seen war. They have lived through it. They have suffered, but they are also free because of it, if only in spirit. The South is strong and proud and bold, so it comes as no surprise that silver Kintsugi becomes the mark of their warriors, their hunters, their people.

Katara was wounded during the last Southern Raid. After losing Kya in such a terrible way, Hakoda made sure to seal Katara's wound with the silver of their warriors, so that she would always remember that despite having been broken, she is still strong, beautiful, and proud.

The scar itself is long and thin, going from her right shoulder up to her jaw. It loosely resembles lightning.

And despite how she got it, despite all the things she lost on that day, despite it being a constant reminder of her mother's death—Katara loves her scar.

It grounds her. It pushes her forward. You are a warrior, it tells her. You are a survivor.

When Katara arrives at the North, her scar becomes yet another thing the Northerners hold against her. They use it to demean her, just as they do her gender and out-spoken personality.

The North believes a lot of things that Katara always considered natural to be a problem. What does it matter that she is a woman? What is wrong about being passionate? Why should having a scar mean she's broken?

This scar is something they cannot touch. The Northerners try to use it to demean her. To make her small. Self-conscious. Worthless.

They're scoffing at her mother's death.

Her strength.

Her beauty.

Her pride.

Her story.

And she will not allow it.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I think Arthur’s origins are just soooo interesting! Especially his mother’s ties to the land - and then passing along to him and his brothers. I wonder if Arthur was a surprise to her? She already had 3 children in that time, what could another mean for her? What would raising 4 immortal children be like whilst also fending off invaders?

The usual caveat when I'm this far back into history and have to use archaeology and just general story telling to fill in detail: this is not a history book but perhaps just better informed than average historical fantasy.

I think Arthur was a surprise! And he’s a very welcome one at first. Her first three children are columns holding up her power. Brigantia was either a confederation of tribes united under a more powerful ruler or a series of clans and septs that just spread really far and got really important with an unusual amount of centralization by the time of the Romans. We’re not exactly sure. But, the Celts both on the continent and in Britain and Ireland had a very long tradition of hostage taking as political control. Brigantia’s hold on eastern Ireland, southern Scotland, and a nebulous area of England and Wales could have been very artificial and based upon holding her children. And hostage taking need not have been the only form of this purposeful political organization of their family life. Welsh, Scottish and especially Irish writings detail fosterage to raise children in other’s households as a way to create otherwise very rare political stability amongst the numerous tribes and petty kingdoms that otherwise defined political life in Iron Age Europe.

When Arthur first comes into being, she could have easily interpreted his existence as a sign she would soon be able to exert more power and create more social control over the more fertile parts of the island she can feel. Perhaps the Roman conquest of Gaul and the subsequent refugees will destabilize Britain just enough for her to campaign into the south and bring more land into Brigantia. She’s probably having a torrid affair with her neighbors in Yorkshire when the Parisii appeared and have links to the same culture that will give Paris its name. We don’t know how accurate the Roman accusations of how the Iron Age Britons practiced human sacrifice actually were but nonetheless, sacrifice and worship is powerful and there are many more people in the south who’s belief and blood could flow into her as power. The channel protects her southern neighbors and Rome was defeated by the those same neighbors the one time they crossed. And she is far more fearsome than they are, surely.

Her three eldest children aren’t entirely sure what their original relationship to her may have been but its also not something that bothers them overly much. Mother was a Celt at least by the end of her life, they speak Celtic languages. The mechanics are complicated but the results, at least to them, were not. Brighid especially had more of a mentor/menteé relationship with Eirian but she has no real issue with it being a mother/daughter bond. Eirian could have just been young enough with her first child that they had a more equal dynamic. But regardless of the specific circumstance with she acquired her first three children, they were very purposeful acquisitions. The ancient world understood everything to have a spirit. In her mind it would make more sense to have a child for every field and tree and spring and tribe but I’ve gotta limit characters somewhere so its usually just easier to write leaving large gaps where the historical accuracy could actually be lmao.

At the advent of the Roman invasion, they are a family of the same structure as are found in a wide range of ritual deposits that contain human remains and I’ve kind of borrowed from the concept. We don’t know what this significance was to the people who practiced the religions that deposited these bodies and bones but there seems to have been some relationship to fertility. The pattern seems to be one older adult, one young adult, an adolescent, a child and an infant.

One older adult: Eirian has been chilling since the Bronze age and might have initially made a solid base for herself as the primary tin dealer on the island. One younger adult: Brighid is nearly grown in the 1st century as she pops up around when the Celtic cultures of Iron Age Ireland form as La Tène culture explodes into importance. One adolescent: Alasdair is 12-13 and the ancient version of a lego kid as dry stone building and new technology seem to coincide with La Tène culture as well but with somewhat later adoption of bronze and iron and the curving art so he gets a date a little more in line with the Pictish art style coming into being. One child: Rhys appears about 5-6. He comes into being as a geographic distinction centered around the mountains between Wales and the rest of the country that to develop some kind of distinction in the material culture. One infant: Arthur is born just before the Roman invasion, as a new identity culture in Britain seems to form around new developments like coins, a move towards proto-towns and a seeming intensity in the archaeological record of an obsession with heads perhaps in response to Roman religious practices or just general upheaval.

When she’s raising these children, one already grown, one mostly there, two quite young its really a demonstration of both her pride, some arrogance, a whole ocean of realpolitik and the ability of Rome to grind her down over time.

Not long after Arthur is born, Eirian and the personification of Parisii I have yet to name but who gets a summer home in Yorkshire in the Iron Age (the Parisii of Yorkshire seem to be an offshoot of the Paris-Parisii) are sucking and fucking. They are both new mothers, Parisii for the first and only time, Eirian for the 4th and last time. Parisii moves back across the channel to her native territory when the Romans win. Francis’ ‘actual’ father is less her speed and she takes the opportunity given to her by the Roman invasion of Gaul to strike a deal with Lucius. She becomes one of his favorite mistresses and her boy one of his favourite ward/pseudo-stepchildren. Parisii tells Eirian if she was smart she'd just take Lucius up on claiming legal paternity of her two youngest sons. After-all, nothing is permanent.

Eirian absolutely fucking refuses. Lucius is not overly frustrated by this at first and justifies himself as no good Roman would take a child from the breast of a she-wolf. He’s content with a pragmatic half-defeat in the beginning, leaving Brigantia and Eirian as a semi-independent client kingdom. She’s fairly adept at keeping that for a long time and Lucius is patient, not immediately forcing her to hand her children over even when she quietly supports the resistance in Wales. But when Wales is largely pacified and the power centers of the Druids are largely gone, she might have ultimately betrayed the father of her third son and sent him packing to Rome to preserve her and the children’s independence. But whatever happens, the direct invasion of her lands begins. She loses most of her autonomy and the Romans become invaders on her land rather than neighbors she can have her do her bidding. Hadrian's wall goes up. She is forced to cut a deal with Lucius that he can educate her two youngest sons as they get older with some kind of established legal relationship perhaps fostering or wardship. Soon he will set his sites on her firstborn.

And I'm going to stop there because I am about to speed run the entirety of Roman Britain and it is dinner time but she Boudicca on my destruction until I horizon.