#farm houses for sale near me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voraciousvore · 6 months

Text

Giganterra (Chapter 3)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (2) | Next (4)

Word Count: 3k

------ Chapter 3: The Threads of Fate ------

Candy Caramello went to town to sell vegetables. Her mother was usually responsible for this task, but she was hungover, so she sent Candy to go, once she was finished milking the cows. Candy didn’t mind, though, as she liked to get away from her tedious routine of drudgery on the farm to enjoy the sights of the city.

In particular, she liked to admire all the cute boys. Candy was a hopeless romantic, and she dreamed about meeting a handsome man, getting married, and escaping her boring rural life. Maybe a knight in shining armor who could sweep her off her feet and gallop off into the sunset with her, riding a mighty steed with a flowing mane and tail. Candy was a sweet girl, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and big breasts, and she loved to flirt with all the men, but she was also a poor peasant girl of lowly station. She rarely got to meet any eligible men, isolated as she was in the rural countryside, so she wasn’t anticipating any serious marriage offers anytime soon. She was also exceedingly dimwitted and clumsy, traits that made her undesirable to the families of available suitors.

Her vegetables sold faster than she expected, so by midday most of her stock was gone. As she collected her things and her pouch full of coins from the sales, she felt the ground beneath her feet shake like an earthquake, accompanied by shouts and screams. She looked up to see what was causing the commotion, only to behold three colossal silhouettes on the horizon, flanked by the sun and stretching hundreds of feet into the sky. Her breath hitched in her throat at the monstrous sight. She couldn’t see their faces, only the sun on their backs, glinting off their weapons and chainmail. As their immense shadows engulfed the buildings around her, Candy was overcome with terror and fled like a mouse into the nearest entryway to hide, a tent that was set up in the market square near her stall.

Her heart pounded hard as she trembled in the darkness of the tent. Candy had, of course, heard the ghastly stories. Giant soldiers striding over the land, stomping on houses, destroying farmland, snatching up people with impunity. She was spooked by the tales, but had never encountered a giant herself up close, for real. She had only seen them from a distance and felt the tremors in the earth of their footsteps. She huddled in her indoor hiding place, too afraid to peek out as the rumbling steps waxed larger and closer.

“Come sit with me, child,” the voice of an ancient woman croaked from deeper within the dimly lit tent. Candy turned to face a hunched figure dressed in a midnight blue cloak embroidered with silver stars. She hesitantly walked over and sat down across the table from the old woman. There was a sizable spherical object on the table, concealed by a cloth. Upon closer inspection, she could just make out the woman’s face under the hood of her cloak, layered with heavy wrinkles. Her eyes were misty with cataracts, to the point where Candy wondered if she was blind.

Candy shivered as the giant feet clomped past, rattling the entire space. A few candles toppled off a nearby shelf. “No need to fear, child,” the old woman assured her. “The giants are not here to cause harm.” She tilted her head slightly, her cloudy eyes staring directly at Candy yet seeming to pierce straight through her. “I believe fortune has brought you here to me today.”

“Fortune?” Candy repeated, still flustered by the vibrations.

“Yes, fortune. I’m a fortune teller, darling. For a few measly coins, I will read your fortune. Usually I charge a higher price, but I sense you are special.”

“Wow, me? Special? But I’m just a peasant girl.” With her simple mind, Candy couldn’t possibly comprehend that she was being flattered for money. “O-okay.” She fished out a few coins from her pouch and gave them to the fortune teller, who greedily snapped them up with gleaming eyes.

“Excellent! Let’s begin!” the old woman proclaimed, tossing off the cloth on the table. Candy was amazed to behold a magical crystal ball, glowing brightly with flickering stars in the darkness. Swirls of pale fog glittering with an otherworldly light revolved below the slick glass surface among the sparkles. The fortune teller hovered her gnarled hands over the glass and muttered an indistinguishable incantation. Candy watched with wonder as the tendrils of fog swam faster and the stars luminesced even brighter, until they coalesced into a solid image. The fortune teller’s cataracts reflected the image in her eyes, along with the swirling magic dust.

“W-what is this?” Candy gasped with astonishment. She saw herself in the glass, yet she was different. She wore strange, foreign clothes, that seemed too short and skimpy for her voluptuous figure. She was running back and forth and pressing huge buttons on some gigantic device. Candy didn’t understand the image.

“This is you,” the woman explained, “but from a different reality.”

“A different reality?” Candy parroted back, bewildered.

“Yes. You see, the threads of fate pass through us all, like beads on a necklace, connecting us to different, inaccessible versions of ourselves from other realities. We are inextricably tied to our other selves, fated to follow similar paths.” She waved her hand over the crystal ball, and the image changed. Candy was stunned to see her alternate self sitting in a giant hand. A handsome giant face came into view, dwarfing her entire being.

“Oh no, a giant!” Candy cried. She was shocked to see the giant give her a tender kiss, and her other self blushing. “Wait… no…”

“This is the man you’re fated to fall in love with,” the fortune teller said matter-of-factly.

“What?! No! That can’t be possible. A giant?” Candy exclaimed incredulously.

“Yes. A giant,” the woman confirmed. “In multiple realities, as you can see.” She tapped her fingers on the translucent crystal, and the image morphed again, into a more familiar version of Candy, yet still slightly off. She was climbing a vine or something high into the sky. The same comely giant man appeared again, but in a different outfit. He held the other Candy, kissed her, and placed her on his chest.

“This can’t be real,” Candy uttered flatly. She was dumbfounded. There was no way she could ever even meet a giant, much less fall in love with one, as dashing as the man in the crystal appeared. Her heart sank as she felt her hopes slipping away from her. It was simply impossible. She would never find her dream man. She’d probably end up an old maid, or be married off by her parents for higher social status to some distant stranger who didn’t care about her, and only wanted her for her looks or body. She felt like crying.

The image shifted again, and Candy saw a different giant in the crystal. He was an older man, perhaps in his 50s, with silvery hair and pale blue eyes. He would be handsome, if not for the lascivious leer on his features that made Candy’s skin crawl. He, too, was holding her alternate self in his hands, but the other Candy looked panicked this time. She was desperately trying to escape as the giant toyed with her in his fingers, licking his lips with avaricious anticipation. Candy was repulsed and a little alarmed by the disturbing scene playing out before her.

“This giant... if you find him, you must avoid him at all costs,” the fortune teller said. “Although, you may be unable to escape your destiny either way. I can only wish you luck in your endeavors.” Candy nodded as she fixated on the lecherous old man behind the glass, tormenting the tiny human—the other Candy—in his beastly hands. Her stomach did a flip as he pinched her between his fingers and gave her a sloppy, sensual lick, slobbering all over her with his fat tongue.

“I’ll... keep that in mind,” she mumbled, averting her eyes from the odious sight. The window into other worlds faded until the ethereal light was extinguished. The fortune teller replaced the cloth over the crystal ball and thanked Candy for coming in. Candy left, covering her eyes as the natural sunlight momentarily blinded her after being in the dim tent. She trudged out of the human city back towards her home, deep in thought.

She could hardly believe her own eyes, with what she had seen. None of it seemed like it could be real, or even possible. And if it was, how was she supposed to meet the man she was fated to be with, her true love? She didn’t know any giants, and she wasn’t planning on introducing herself to one anytime soon. The whole concept was ludicrous. She dismissed it from her mind as melancholy seeped into her core. She would never find love.

While Candy was following the dirt path back home to the farm, Leon, Martin, and Joey were leaving the castle and treading back to the border between the kingdoms. Joey was simmering with anger, struggling to hold back his true feelings. Finally, when they reached the outskirts of the city and he knew there were fewer ears to overhear his speech, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“THIS is why we came? To—to enslave humans for the king?” he spat. “What we’re doing—it’s horribly repulsive and unethical! How are you two complicit in this? I respected and looked up to you! This is unforgivable!” Leon wilted as he absorbed Joey’s scathing criticisms.

“Joey, keep your voice down,” Sir Maneater rebuked sharply. “It’s not as simple as it seems.” Leon averted his eyes to the side and scrutinized the scenery, unable to look either man in the face with his unbearable burden of shame.

“Well, how then? Please, explain so that I can understand,” Joey said in a more subdued tone. He listened attentively to his mentor.

“We are servants to the king, enacting his will, whether we agree with it or not. As a knight, I have taken an oath to serve,” Martin explained. “And when you become a knight, Joey, you shall do the same.”

“If this is what it means to be a knight, then I quit,” Joey proclaimed.

“Please, Joey, I’m not finished.” The knight shook his head. “If not us, then somebody else would do his bidding, and nothing would change. In exchange for our loyalty, we have influence at court. Leon, as an advisor, has access to the king’s ear, an unparalleled privilege. Even if the king does not listen to everything he says, he will at least consider his advice and temper his decisions accordingly. Why do you think he hasn’t outright conquered Minimaterra, and still allows the humans limited autonomy?”

“It’s the best I can do,” Leon mumbled sadly.

“As for me, I provide fencing lessons to Crown Prince Ronny. Do you not see the value in such a position, to be able to shape the future ruler of the kingdom? If we rejected the commands of the king, not only would we lose our influence, but also our heads. King Richard is not known for his clemency.”

As Martin expounded to Joey his reasoning, he became so engrossed in the conversation that he neglected to watch where he was stepping. As fate would have it, the giants were heading straight for Candy, easily overtaking her comparatively miniscule strides. Candy, deep in her own cognitive machinations, noticed too late the seismic rumbles of the earth beneath her feet and the booming voices. She looked back to see several pairs of gigantic boots rapidly stomping towards her, threatening to crush her. The giants, with their unfathomably long strides, crossed huge swathes of land in seconds.

Candy, in a panic, turned to run and ended up tripping on a pebble that caught her toe. Her pouch spilled open, scattering her valuable coins all over the dirt. Her moment of indecision, on whether to scoop up the coins or get back to her feet and sprint, cost her valuable time. The giants progressed to her position much faster than she foresaw. A vast boot slammed down inches from her, knocking her down in a cloud of dust, and an involuntary piercing shriek escaped her lips. The giant stopped.

Candy froze out of instinct, terror rocketing through her nerves. She could sense the presence of the gigantic men looming over her as their forms blocked out the sun, draping her in shadow. Time stopped as her heart hammered in her chest. The silence felt as if it stretched into eternity with the tension. The dust settled around her, and she held in a cough. She couldn’t see them with her face turned down, but she could feel the weight of their eyes pressing her into the dirt like solid lead, to the point where her lungs wouldn’t function under the heavy burden.

“Oh, sorry, little human. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” a bass voice reverberated through the air from far above. Candy was too petrified to answer, or even move. She stayed facedown in the middle of the pathway.

When she didn’t respond, Sir Maneater, the giant who had nearly trampled her, grew concerned. “Oh no, I didn’t hurt the poor thing, did I?” he verbalized as he crouched down over her. Candy heard his enormous boots shuffling in the earth around her and felt the pressure of the air shifting as he lowered himself closer to her level. She didn’t dare turn her head to glance up, or even breathe, stubbornly keeping her face hidden.

To her horror, a set of fingers thicker than tree trunks wrapped around her and lifted her up from the ground. She desperately wanted to scream, but she was paralyzed as she watched the ground plummet away before her eyes, too far for her to jump. She was trapped in this huge man’s hand, helpless to do anything if he desired to harm her. Yet, she couldn’t help but notice how gentle his touch was, how careful he was trying to be with the fragile being in his grasp. With a single finger on his free hand, he carefully rolled Candy into his palm, so she was lying on her back. She could feel the rough ridges of his skin on hers, and the mounds of callouses on her back, as his fingers towered above her, each one taller and thicker than her entire being. Her heart was racing so fast, she felt ill.

“Hey there, are you okay?” he asked again, softly. He brought his head down close to examine her. Candy experienced a jolt through her body as she stared wide-eyed up at his massive face. She recognized him. He was the very same giant whom she had seen in the crystal ball, in various forms. The features were unmistakable: the sculpted jawline, peppered over with stubble; the dark, thick eyebrows; the large, masculine nose; the short, dark hair sweeping across his forehead; the stormy gray eyes. Yet, to see those characteristics brought to life, blown up to an impossible size, so striking and so close, was… breathtaking. Mesmerizing. Candy was overwhelmed, almost wondering if she was dreaming, yet the physical sensations of his all-encompassing warmth, the gentleness of his touch, the soft cushion of his palm supporting her miniscule body, the feeling of his breath washing over her, was all too real.

His brow furrowed slightly when she still didn’t answer, and just gaped up at him in stupefied awe. He touched her in the side with his finger, as gently as possible, in an attempt to get some sort of reaction out of her. He was relieved to see she was breathing, and he could feel her tiny heart thrumming against the pad of his finger. She seemed to be unharmed, just afraid—an understandable response. He let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t accidentally crush her under his boot.

As his exhalation tousled her hair, he saw her face turn red as a cherry with a hot blush. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, as he suddenly became self-conscious about just how close he was to her. Yet, he couldn’t seem to pull himself away, as his eyes drank in all the fascinating little details of her form that he wouldn’t otherwise be able to see. She was like a tiny doll, with her lustrous golden hair, her cornflower blue eyes, and her perfect little figure, including a buxom chest. However, unlike a doll, she was vibrant and full of life. Her little limbs tickled his palm with every subtle shift, her eyes sparkled like sapphires, and her vitals pulsed against his skin. He was himself awestruck as he felt pink creep across his own cheeks, mirroring her blush.

“Sir Maneater, is the human alright?” Joey asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Y-yes, I believe so,” the knight answered, not tearing his eyes away from her. Candy managed a small nod to indicate she wasn’t hurt. Reluctantly, Martin forced himself to lower his hand to the ground, so she could go back to her natural habitat. She slid down his fingers, returning her feet to solid ground, and looked up at him, keeping her hands on the tip of his finger, as if begging for him not to go. He lingered before slowly retracting his hand and standing up to his full height.

Though only a moment passed, the two felt as if they were frozen in time, gazing at each other. Their hearts had connected, stitched together by a golden thread of fate. As Leon and Joey turned to leave, Martin did as well, glancing back at the tiny woman who stood in place and continued to gape up at him, spellbound. He kept looking over his shoulder even as she morphed into nothing more than a speck on the horizon, then disappeared from view.

Chapter 4

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #size difference #g/t fluff #g/t story #gt fluff #gt story #gt writing #gentle giant #giant men #gianttiny

22 notes · View notes

othernotebooksareavailable · 3 months

Text

I found a house for sale with a lot wrong with it (level 3 mould and woodworm and parts of the baby poo coloured rendering falling off the kitchen is bare bones and for some reason on the upper floor) but. It's cheap, in a beautiful area near the sea and a stream and has a huge garden and was built in the 1700s. I'm hoping to go and see it soon for the mouldering farm cottage of my dreams to meet the reality of decades of owners Ignoring The Problem. Wish me luck!

9 notes · View notes

leanleather · 2 years

Text

Peach Whiskey, Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a saloon owner. On what should be a typical shift, a group of cowboys wander in. The leader of said group is Elvis Presley, a man with a reputation for his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger. Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: I was deeply inspired by A Whole Man is Hard to Find, an absolutely gorgeous peace by my now favorite author, @aconflagrationofmyown. That being said, my knowlegde of the time period is nowhere near as good as Marina’s in that fic. I will be doing more and more research as this fic goes on, but for now I am relying on memory, movies, and Red Dead Redemption (hey, I love cowboys, ok?). This takes place in like the early 1800′s in a little made up town, but I picture it being like Rhodes from RDR2, so we’ll just say it’s in Georgia (my apologies to any from Georgia because I feel like I’m gonna butcher my knowledge of the state). Also I couldn’t find like an actual word for the leader of a cowboy posse? The only one I saw was sheriff so we will roll with it. I haven’t written a series in a LONG time, so bear with me please.

Warnings: Period typical violence, swearing, guns, death threats (not directed toward Y/N), unwanted and uncomfortable flirting, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW), use of the word “daddy” (in reference to an actual father, this is the old south y’all), cowboys, mentions of robbery & murder, jeez this isn’t looking good for just the first chapter, mentions of prostitution, family issues, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread lol

Your daddy had shook his head when you asked to work a couple of hours at The Silver Spur. It had been nearly a fortnight since the incident that made him remove you in the first place. Piggish men deep in their glass just couldn’t keep their tongue still, you had learned. Luckily your daddy had stepped in and escorted the man out, effectively suspending you in the process.

Yet here you stood, leaning against the wooden bar, diligently cleaning a glass with a well-worn cloth. It was a slow night--the occasional customer wandering in and sitting down to get piss fucking drunk--but you didn’t mind. Any citizen of Lynnburn or wandering stranger could plant their soul in the saloon.

Lynnburn wasn’t a big town, housing no more than five-thousand and seven hundred residents. To any stranger it would have seemed nothing more than a dusty place with poor folks. That was the facade the town was lucky to have, keeping lush farmland hidden within the woods nearby. Corn was what kept the people fed and paid along with the yearly cattle sale. Horse shows had begun to turn a profit in the confines of the town’s stables, but it had only just started to gain the attention of outsiders. It both excited and worried Lynnburn natives. The Silver Spur drew in wanderers from all over the wooded state of Georgia. Your father’s well-known peach whiskey attracted all sorts of folks--most of which being shady business men looking to snatch farming land, or men passing through on their way to the big city.

One of those shady business men was sat at the end of the bar, nursing a drink in his sweaty palms, his eyes baring directly at your body. You paid him no mind as you continued your work. The consistent hum of patrons suddenly hushed, a rhythmic k'duh sound slicing through. Your eyes shifted as the glass was quickly abandoned beneath the counter of the bar. Plastering on a smile, your voice came out soaked in honey. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Finally the men came into view, and by god, the middle man was so pretty.

He had what could only be described as the face of a young adonis. A fine beau with soft, tanned skin covering a toned but equally soft body. The raven black hair pulled the focus to his eyes, bluer than the sky on an autumn day. But you recognized his face for another reason, one that made your hands tremble a bit.

The man and his companions filled the remaining seats at the bar. He pulled the hat off of his head and rested it on the counter. “Hi, honey. We’ll all just be havin’ whiskey, on me.” You gave a nod in response and started pouring the spirit. A few drops slid down the side of the glass, a soft apology leaving your lips.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Presley.” You sat the glass in front of him. Elvis Presley was sitting in your father’s saloon. The same man who had a hand in removing a whole gang from Lynnburn and stolen their loots, blood staining his hands and perhaps his soul, was now asking you for a drink. The cowboy let out a soft chuckle, his calloused hands wrapping around your own.

“You’re alright, darlin’. Ain’t none of us degenerates gon’ hurt you.” Elvis cooed. The skin on your face felt so hot, whether it was out of fear, embarrassment, or flattery, you weren’t sure. His friends gave agreeing nods or laughs of their own, the other patrons in the saloon melting back into their own conversations. “In fact, as long as we’re drinkin’ here, your safety is our priority.” He smiled at you--a big, toothy grin--and you could feel your stomach twist.

It wasn’t long before you had given out the rest of the drinks to his buddies--who you had learned were named Jerry, Sonny, Robert (who they called Red), and Scotty. They had been gentlemanly to you as soon as Elvis gave the word. For a moment, you were sure that the night would go on and end normally.

But that business man could only hold his tongue for so long. He was near red in the face when you approached to take his empty glass. “Sweet thing, how much would a man need to offer to get a night with you?” He rasped. You had to stop yourself from boiling over, instead choosing to stiffen and move away.

“I never.” You practically hissed. Before the man could part his lips to retort, another voice cut through.

“That’s enough. Leave the lady alone.” Elvis sneered. He was standing now, moved closer to the business man with his hands curled down by his sides. The gaggle of men he’d arrived with also focused on the situation with fierce snarls. “Why don’t you just pay your tab n’ go on home, huh?” The distinct click of a revolver hammer followed. A ghostly hue washed over the now disgruntled patron as he dug in his pockets, producing some silver coins and hastily setting them on the counter before rising and hurriedly shuffling out of your father’s business.

Your eyebrows remained raised in surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Presley, but you didn’t have to do that. Usually they take the hint after the first couple times.” You snatched the glass left by the offending male, cleaning it and shoving it below the counter. It was a lie. They didn’t stop, only kept perusing until they lost interest and paid a prostitute, or your father made an appearance and forced them to leave. You were silently thankful that a man with a violent reputation had chosen to have mercy on you that night. Though, you had never heard such things about the Presley gang--who you had heard called the Mephis Mafia by town-goers, on according that the men involved had moved from Memphis, in whispers at the general store or in the corner of the saloon--ever doing anything like that to a woman. But just because nobody thought a person could do something didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. It was a hard truth your mother had sowed in your brain. Love few, and trust even less.

Elvis nodded his head slightly, scooting the coins down to you and moving back to his seat. “I only regret that men speak to you that way. ‘Specially pigs like that, though that’s a dishonor to the swine.” Scotty laughed, swallowing down the last of his drink. “But like I said, nobody’s gon’ talk to ya like that when we’re here. Swear it.” The man looked back to his friends and received grumbled agreeances. “And please, call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my daddy.” That boyish smile made a reappearance, as if he hadn’t just threatened to paint the walls with the blood of another human being. It was sickening in a way--but, it had been in your favor. Elvis looked to the swinging doors, shaking his head softly and stretching. “Well honey, we best be goin’. Never did get yer name though.” It wasn’t a question. Not a ‘could I know your name’? It was almost a demand, but delivered much more gently. “It’s Y/N McCane, sir.” You returned his smile. You swiftly collected the empty glasses together. “Though I suspect you may know my brother, Teddy. He’s always runnin’ around town helpin’ folks with something.” Knowingly, Elvis leaned in.

“I do, actually. Good kid. Tried to recruit him a couple ‘a times, but he said your daddy wouldn’t want our blood money.” The blood running through you froze. The cowboy had been such a gentlemen before, but you couldn’t help the suspicion rising in you that it may have been a threat. “Relax, honey. Told ya. We ain’t that bad. Tell ya what,” Elvis leaned back to look at Jerry and cocked an eyebrow, the other man shrugging, “why don’t you come out to our ranch tomorrow? You can see what we’re really about.“ Shit. There’s no way your family would let you go out there. But, what harm could it do? “It will have to be after church, Mr. Pre- Elvis. Just...just meet me there.” You breathed quietly. The man across from you took your hand again, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Great. We’ll see you then. Come on boys, we got chores to wrap up!” Elvis reached into his pocket, pulling out what you quickly noticed was far too much money and setting it down. He left you no time to object before he ushered his posse out. Your elbows lifted to rest on the counter, your head landing in your hands with a sigh.

Once you’d closed The Silver Spur for the night, you hobbled up the stairs to your family’s abode, your stomach rumbling as you caught the smell of your momma’s cooking. You made no attempt to do anything but sit in the chair at the dining table. As you sat and locked hands with your family, your mother said grace and that was that. Not a word was spoken between mouthfuls. That was, until your father spoke. “How was work, Y/N?” It had startled you, nearly making you choke on the roasted chicken in your mouth.

“Mm, it was fine.” You replied as you wiped your face. The fork in your hand jabbed at the food on the plate. Your mind was at war with your mouth and it was unsure which would win. “Oh, uhm, Elvis Presley stopped in. Wanted me to visit his ranch.” The words spilled out of you so fast you’d barely avoided cutting yourself off with another mouthful of food.

Your father, however, became downright stiff. His utensils were abandoned on the table. “You let Elvis Presley convince you to visit his home? Good god...” Fingers grasped at the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fucking kidnap you now that he knows where to find you. What were you thinking?” He chastised. You dared not look at him, instead meeting the eyes of Teddy. His expression was sympathetic. He knew they weren’t completely awful, but his lips remained tight.

“Daddy, he ain’t that bad. Defended my damn honor and paid me more than enough for his buddies’ drinks.” You retorted, finishing your food. Long ago had you tired of his over-protectiveness. “I am grown. I can go where I please, when I please. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but just this once, please trust me.” It was pleading. Even a man as stoic as your father couldn’t resist giving in.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But please, take your gun? And at the first sign of anything going down, get the fuck outta there. Hear me?” You nodded excitedly. That was your cue to retire for the night, saying your goodnights to the family before heading to the room you and your brother shared. Laying in bed, you could not still your thoughts. Maybe you would ride along side the gang, hooves thundering beneath you, free as the hawks that soared the farmland looking for mice. Or maybe your father would be right, maybe you’d end up in a room in the middle of nowhere, praying for the same mercy shown to you tonight. All you could do was wait, hope, and make sure your gun was tucked into the garter on your thigh.

#elvis x reader #elvis imagine #cowboy!elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #cowboy elvis #Peach Whiskey fanfic #period piece #Peach Whiskey

149 notes · View notes

bomberqueen17 · 1 year

Text

car shopping part 1

ok i had capslock on when i started typing this and i startled myself, lol. i am. a bit tired and punchy. BUT. All hail my lovely middle-little sister, who volunteered to come take me to car dealerships last night.

Here are my extremely scientific notes on how that went, so that I can narrow down my car choices for definitely for sure:

1) Honda: we went to a Honda dealership, and my mom has a CR-V which I've driven and it's... fine, so I tried the HR-V, which is smaller. The sales guy immediately without asking was like "here you want this one" and had me test-drive a used 2020 model-- low mileage, nice car, but used. "Won't be here in a couple days tho, act fast," he said, and gave me his card. I'd told him this was the very first car of my search and I wasn't in a hurry. He didn't show me anything new, or tell me about anything new, but did say there were often quite long waits for new cars. Gotcha. Like, I'm not mad, but I'm also not going to pay $23,9 for a three-year old car when the current year's model is $24k. You know? I don't care how long the warranty is.

2) Subaru: we went because it was right there. Wandered around the parking lot. Crosstreks look... lower now?? somehow?? than mine? Much lower, don't know why. Specs said same ground clearance but. I'd have to look up what the specs were in 2014. Sales guy came out, asked if we wanted to see anything. M-L said I should try the Forester, so I was like sure, why not; one of the farm workers has a 2020 Outback I figured I'd ask his opinion on, and actually the part time veg helper guy has a recent Outback too, so there's no shortage of those around. So I test-drove a Forester. And like. I hadn't even got out of the parking lot and the guy was like, all casual, "so how's the visibility," and I really looked around and was like holy shit okay i can see through time so I really liked it. It was a higher-end package (had a huge sunroof, i actually really liked that, i'm a shallow bitch i guess) and kept trying to nanny me about leaving the lane on the winding back road but the guy reached over and pressed the button that disables that and it stopped yelling at me, which was great. Anyway. I did not expect that. M-L and I theorized about what kind of guy I'd be to be a Forester guy. "A middle-aged wealthy lesbian with a lot of large dogs," M-L said, and I was immediately depressed to realize that only one of those things is actually applicable. I have no wife and no large dogs. These are major failings of my life. But. I mean. We don't always end up the person we thought we'd be when we were nineteen.

3) Then we got to the Ford dealership, and a guy named Joey was like "ay what's up," and i listed the cars I was interested in and he was like "i can't get those or those but I got Broncos, let's go see one" and walked incredibly fast out into the parking lot without looking like he was hurrying, seriously it was eerie how fast he walked while looking like he was just ambling, and he led us to a "cactus gray" Bronco Sport, said "you wanna try this one? aight hang on" and went back into the building. I was like uh sure, we poked around the parking lot, and then he came back, handed me the key, was like "yah you two go for it, you know the roads around here? yah go see if you like it, I'll be here til eight." and off we went, slightly bemused. But yes, we were quite near M-L's house so she led us around a winding path. The Bronco's hood takes up rather a lot of the view out of the windshield. I raised my seat, which helped slightly. I could not find the right edge of the car and kept straying over into the shoulder. It was so boxy. The visibility out of the windows wasn't fantastic. But it had a lot of zoom and handled all right. Not terrible. I'm not a Ford Bronco guy I don't think, but I liked the Ford dealership folks, they were funny.

The sales manager came out and talked to me briefly and was like "well i mean how many cars are you looking for" and i was like "i have a spreadsheet" and he was like "a what now" and i got my phone out and showed him the spreadsheet Dude made and he was like "your guy is something else" and i was like "i mean, he sure is", and I did feel better about not being a wealthy middle-aged lesbian with large dogs if this is what I have instead but like. I mean. The road not taken etc.

"take notes," M-L said as we got home (after i bought her a sushi dinner bc there was a place right by the dealership and also i wanted sushi), and i was like "yah ok" but this is my notes. i'm sure i'll be able to make sense of them later.

#car shopping #about the author #real life

24 notes · View notes

blackswaneuroparedux · 2 years

Photo

The true love that has survived is mine for you and yours for me.

- Vita Sackville-West to Harold Nicolson

The writer Vita Sackville-West always felt she belonged at her lavish ancestral home: Knole, in Kent. She was distraught that as a woman, she couldn't inherit it. When she married the diplomat Harold Nicolson, though, they found another historic place in the weald of Kent: Sissinghurst Castle, a magnificent collection of Tudor buildings and a sprawling farm, all of which had long been neglected.

When Harold Nicolson and Vita Sackville-West first saw Sissinghurst, it was a ruin. The sprawling farm in Kent had been for sale for two years, its moated Tudor buildings were mostly derelict and the garden was a rubbish dump. Their teenage son Nigel told them the property was ‘quite impossible’. Nonetheless, Vita went ahead and bought it in 1930 for £12,000. Built on the site of a medieval manor, it is known as Sissinghurst Castle although there is no castle - the name comes from the 18th century French prisoners of war, held there in cramped, smelly conditions, who sarcastically dubbed it ‘le chateau’.

Vita, Harold and their sons spent their first night at Sissinghurst in one of the estate cottages, eating sardines and soup by candlelight. From these unpromising beginnings, Vita and Harold made Britain’s most revered garden. In the pantheon of British gardens, Sissinghurst is our equivalent of the Mona Lisa. Its extravagant loveliness and atmosphere of dreamy romance, as well as the famously unconventional love affair at the heart of its history, has made this a place which continues to fascinate. Vita and Harold transformed the grounds at Sissinghurst into the spectacular gardens which now attract thousands of visitors every year.

Vita and Harold formed a genuinely loving partnership and a marriage that lasted until Vita's death in 1962. Yet their letters and biographies reveal that both Vita and Harold had numerous same-sex relationships during their life together. On Vita’s part this included some very serious relationships - most famously, those with Violet Trefusis and Virginia Woolf. Their marriage was the foundation of their life together, offering both constancy and freedom for them both to pursue their same-sex desires and at the centre of which was Sissinghurst which was the bedrock of their marriage together.

The aristocratic Vita married Harold in 1913. They were a fashionable and popular couple - she a writer, he a diplomat - but although they were devoted to each other, they were both predominantly homosexual and had numerous affairs during their marriage. Vita, who dressed in pearls, a silk blouse, riding breeches and lace-up leather boots, was especially promiscuous. With Vita, it was not so much a matter of love triangles as love dodecahedrons. Vita pursued anyone who took her fancy at any given moment and several marriages were destroyed as a result.

One of the great dramas of the Nicolsons’ marriage was caused by her infatuation with Violet Trefusis, with whom she ‘eloped’ to France in 1920. Violet’s husband and Harold chartered a small plane and the two men set off together in pursuit of their wives, Harold eventually persuading Vita to return. His love affairs were much more low-key than hers. In one biography, Nigel Nicolson commented that for his father, ‘sex was as incidental, and about as pleasurable, as a quick visit to a picture gallery between trains’.

What bound the couple together, even more than their sons, was their five-acre garden at Sissinghurst. Its creation was more than just an artistic endeavour. The energy and time they poured into it also afforded them the privacy they needed to conceal the nature of their marriage from the world.

Vita and Harold had made their first garden at their house, Long Barn near Sevenoaks, where they lived between 1915 and 1930. This was where they developed their style and made most of their horticultural mistakes; by the time they moved to Sissinghurst, they were confident gardeners and within their first two years Harold and Vita had cleared decades’ worth of weeds and brambles, laid new paths, restored buildings and excavated a lake.

They were very much hands-on gardeners and did most of the work themselves, not least because in the early years they weren’t very well off, living on Harold’s salary and Vita’s earnings as a writer. They agreed on a strict division of labour: Harold worked out the ground plan - still regarded today as a masterpiece of ingenuity and subtlety - but was allowed to plant just two of the garden’s many ‘outdoor rooms’.

Vita ruled supreme when it came to the rest of the planting. Most of the large plants, the shrubs and trees - and her beloved roses - were bought in from nurseries. As the garden filled out she would propagate plants from seeds and cuttings and eventually had grown enough plants to sell to the garden’s paying visitors. Her mantra when it came to planting was ‘cram, cram, cram every chink and cranny’, and she filled the garden until it overflowed with flowers, something which occasionally caused fierce disagreement. In a diary entry for 1946, Harold complains that whereas he wants plants which add shape and perspective, ‘she wishes just to jab in the things which she has left over’. Vita, of course, won the argument. ‘In the end we part, not as friends,’ he records grumpily.

Rather endearingly, though, Vita was keenly aware of the gaps in her knowledge and regretted not being a trained horticulturist. Late in life, when the garden was already internationally famous, she enrolled on one of the Royal Horticultural Society’s training courses, even though she herself was a member of the RHS’s governing council. Roses were Vita’s particular passion. In the post-war period, when neat, shrubby hybrid tea and floribunda roses were all the rage, she championed old-fashioned roses such as the opulent damasks, gallicas and centifolias. As much as their colour and scent, she loved them for their historical associations, writing: ‘To me they recall the brocades of ecclesiastic vestments, the glow of mosaics, the textures of Oriental carpets.’

The roses are still one of the great glories of Sissinghurst.

The most famous area, imitated by countless gardeners across the world, is the magnificent White Garden. It was only planted in 1950, perhaps conceived as a reaction to the years of wartime drabness, the khaki uniforms and blackout curtains. The odd thing is that the White Garden is not really all that white. Vita called it ‘my grey, green and white garden’ and the artfully chosen foliage sets off the white flowers so that, at certain times of day and in the right light, they appear to float in mid-air. The effect is like being in that delicious halfway state between dreaming and waking.

Vita died in 1962. Shortly before her death she wrote to Harold that ‘the true love that has survived is mine for you and yours for me’. After her death, visitors to the garden would sometimes see Harold sitting there, tears streaming down his cheeks as he remembered his wife. He died in 1968, a year after the garden was handed over to the National Trust.

110 notes · View notes

odm10 · 2 years

Text

Buy residential plots in Hyderabad for a better future

We are the leading developers of residential plots in Hyderabad. We have a wide range of properties to offer you and are open to customizing your needs. We will help you with every step of the process to make sure your dream home is a reality.

A perfect lifestyle that is brimming with captivating landscapes and views that are relaxing and delightful. Mixing a stunning combination of traditional and contemporary design, with lush greenery. It will bring you closer to the natural world. An unforgettable experience and a getaway that lasts a lifetime, where you can unwind and relax with your loved ones and family.

About dreamscape

Dreamscape believes that taking care of the natural environment is vital to ensure a sustainable future for our planet. So, the green initiatives of the company include eco-friendly design to energy-efficient homes. Additionally, the designs are developed precisely to complement nature’s beauty in the surrounding landscape. with the above, all qualities of dreamscape offer farmhouse plots in Hyderabad.

Dreamscape since its inception in 2017 has come a long way in redefining the real estate landscape of Hyderabad by being the change-maker and a new-age pioneer in creating ecologically conscious and nature-friendly habitats.

Dreamscape is well experienced in all aspects of real estate acquisition, development, and subsequent sale to its valued customers. In associating with Dreamscape, stakeholders get a clear title, prime location, a nature-based accommodation, and a high-yielding return on property investment in addition to excellent customer experience.

At Dreamscape our mission is to contribute towards a healthy society and conserving nature by creating self-sustaining eco-conscious communities, that leverages modern architecture and technology.

Dreamscape offers innovative and eco-friendly projects like plots near pharma city, farmhouse plots, and other projects.

#one acre land for sale #home resort in kadthal #residential plots for sale in hyderabad #residential plots in hyderabad #farm houses for sale near me #farm plots for sale #agriculture plot for sale #brindavanam city near kadthal #eco friendly villas near kadthal

1 note · View note

antishaman · 1 month

Text

more self indulgent headcanons featuring a harvest moon/story of seasons/farming sim era because it makes me happy

so curses are still a thing but so are spirits. there's good and bad ones, the good ones being: the harvest sprites (that help out with the farms), the harvest goddess (who blesses or curses the seasons), and kappa (the river spirit), plus many more that i'll come up with later. having a great connection with these spirits is dire for safe and bountiful harvests

each of these spirits accept gifts in the forms of full baskets of crops, platter of delicious, home cooked meals and desserts, or dedicating various weeks throughout the year to these spirits. in return, the harvest sprites help out with the farm labor, kappa ensures that lots of fish are able to be caught around the villages, and the harvest goddess remains happy

ghosts and curses start to play into this by trying to stir up negative commotions within the small community. luring ferocious animals near the land not only to ravage the crops and livestock, but to attack the townsfolk too. curses would trick people to venture out into the surrounding woods and kill them, generating new curses out of the fear and spite of being killed which would in turn continue to haunt the surrounding area

the community is spread out but tightknit. everyone knows each others' families, their pasts, goals, and the history of their farms. some inherited through family lineage, but most of the homes out there have been abandoned, and people wanting to escape the city life would move in and take up the cheap homes. when repairs and bad irrigation was too much, these homes and farms would go back up for sale (i have suguru's house posted at the end). his gardening fields are near by, and the livestock that he has are chickens

there's various benign, curious spirits that live in the surrounding forests, and are generally shy to make an appearance to the locals. suguru has his technique still, but he can only eat curses, not spirits. i'm still going back and forth whether or not suguru is still in his murder phase or not for this, so i'll prolly just branch to two different paths: the guy who kills his neighbors (loose term), and the guy who just farms

#character study #hc #harvest moon is a dear game to me #and i have lots of feels of farming sim sugu jhigjhigjhf #i'll prolly add to this later #just wanted to put this out there

2 notes · View notes

so-low-solo · 4 months

Text

So indecisive and being swayed a lot.. looking up anti-squat houses to live in for cheap. Suddenly the boss says becoming a digital nomad would be fine ( he's making weird moves ofcourse because of the near bankruptcy).

Still want to travel south america. SOON. But maybe need to learn horse riding or getting a motorcycle license before going there.

Or maybe I need to get my money right first. Save up to a big amount. Before jumping in the wild. Eventually buy a big farm or factory in Africa. Passive income after spending 200K... maybe I need to look more into african companies for sale. All because of a conversation with an african 23 y/o girl while climbing in the playground together. Last weekend.

My mind. I am not rooted. I don't feel attachment from friends or family. I could do anything but this immobilizes me.

#me #i should also stop work and create art ans illustrations

2 notes · View notes

nonbinary-octopus · 6 months

Text

my internet went out last night so instead of getting liveblogged rimworld stuff you get all of it in one post

first off: had some visitors with a nice matched pair of names

next: there was a warg that kept eating my small animals, so I had Val, Nostil, and Gransier go kill it. Nostil sustained a few injuries, including one of his toes being ripped off entirely.

I thought this would be a good opportunity to give him a body mod as he has been pleading for, so after he was patched up I asked Dr. P to give him a peg leg

she. failed.

Somehow, despite being a very skilled professional doctor, instead of amputating his leg, she stabbed him in the torso and destroyed a lung.

Doctor Pugoik, what the fuck.

also how is that a minor failure. the lungs are nowhere near his leg and the boy is now bad at breathing, which lowers his consciousness, which has a bunch of other bad effects on him.

around this time I sent our new guy, Christian, off to do some peace talks near where we rescued Dr. P, and on the way back he stopped at those same two towns again, and bought some medicine because we ran out. He also saw that one of those places had an anti-toxin lung for sale, though we can't afford it, so once we have enough money, we can buy one of those to give to Nos, which will have dual benefits of being able to breathe and since he's a body modder, he'll be pleased to have another artificial part.

another, because when Chris got back with the medicine, I had Dr. P try again, and this time she gave Nos a peg leg successfully. That bumped his mood up eight points, from a -4 debuff to a +4 buff.

The peace talks went well, also.

And finally! Baby Gransier!

She's three now! I had not been keeping track of her age, and this surprised me.

Fortunately although we are pretty low on materials for clothing, Val did make some kid clothes (possibly because they require the smallest amount of material and he was able to skip to those tasks first), so she's dressed at least.

She then decided to go draw on the floor in the freezer.

Child why

She's cold sensitive due to being an impid, and doesn't have a parka. She was complaining that the main house (60ish degrees at the time) was too cold, and she decided to play in the -2°F freezer.

No.

I made her come out and play in the all-purpose room instead.

Also, not screenshotted, but Dr. P has been making good headway in taming all the wild animals. Nos and Xasalt are helping (and Xasalt has a higher animal skill actually), but I've been having Xasalt sleep during the day as much as possible since, as a dirtmole, she hates being under direct sunlight. So most of the time that she's outdoors the animals are asleep, and she can't tame them then.

We've got a decent number of farm animals now! A couple muffalos, some ibex, two turkeys, one mare (they're trying to get the other horses but no luck so far), and a yak we bought from some traders so we could have yak milk

and several squirrels and rats and guinea pigs. I have those set in the autoslaughter to just keep one male and one female (non pregnant) adult, because I don't want them to increase in number to the extent that keeping them tamed is a full time job. They're mostly for a meat supplement anyway.

Unfortunately they've only been successful in taming the male turkeys, and the singular female turkey either wandered off the map or got eaten by a predator, so no eggs for us yet.

the muffalos and ibex tho we've got both male and female, and most of the females are pregnant

#original #rimworld #gamer octopus #world 3

4 notes · View notes