#make my crops thrive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshifighting · 1 month

Note

lyla I love what you write!!! I spend most of my nights diving into your tumblr and i never get tired of it!! <33

now im putting my shyness aside but still hiding on anonymous lol to request a yoga/pilates princess reader × seventeen gym lime pls?? how they would take advantage of it 😮‍💨

thank uuu love u

seventeen gym rat line x pilates princess reader

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of toned body, dirty talk, flexibility and strength

seungcheol “fuck, how are you so damn flexible?” seungcheol mutters, watching you bend in ways that make his thighs burn just from looking. pilates isn’t his thing; give him weights any day, but the way you move? he’s obsessed. he loves how you can effortlessly hold a position, legs stretched out, hips open—shit that drives him crazy. every time you strut out of the studio in those tight leggings, he’s already planning how he’s gonna have you later. “c’mere,” he pulls you close, hands sliding down to your hips, his lips brushing against your ear. “gonna bend you just like that, baby, but you’ll be screaming my name this time.” later, when he’s got you pinned beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, he’s using all that strength to make you tremble. “this what you wanted, huh? my strong arms holding you down while you can’t even think straight?” he’s panting, half from exertion, half from the way you’re squeezing around him.

joshua tries to join you in pilates once, thinking it’s all easy stretches—wrong. the burn in his abs makes him regret every gym session where he skipped core. but watching you? the way your body moves with such grace, he’s a goner. he can’t stop thinking about how it’d feel to have you on top, moving with that same fluidity, every roll of your hips calculated, perfect. “you really have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, pulling you into his lap after your session, his hands sliding up your thighs. “seeing you like that.. it’s fucking hot. now let me show you what it does to me.” he’s not shy about letting you know how you drive him horny, his hands moves to grind your hips on his boner, your legging a thin layer that makes you feel his hard cock.

woozi’s always been focused, disciplined, but pilates tests his patience in a whole new way. “how is this harder than deadlifting twice my body weight?” he grumbles, struggling to hold a boat pose while you casually chat, barely breaking a sweat. afterward, when he’s got you in a deep arch on the bed, your back nearly bending in half as he thrusts into you, he finally understands the appeal. “this… shit, you look so good like this,” he breathes, eyes locked on your body. the way you stretch to take all of him “all that fucking pilates… worth it just to see you like this.” he grips your hips, pulling you even closer, rolling his hips inside you.

mingyu’s the type who thrives on challenges, so when pilates kicks his ass, he’s frustrated. but seeing you in action? it’s like watching a masterpiece. every stretch, every controlled breath, it’s got him all kinds of turned on. especially when you’re wearing those cropped tops that show off your toned body, and your boobs—he’s obsessed. “you’re gonna kill me with those damn leggings,” he groans, pulling you into his arms the moment you step out of the studio, sweaty and glowing. “can’t stop thinking about how those legs would feel wrapped around my head.” so when he finally gets you in bed, he’s eager to try out all the positions you’ve perfected in pilates, his hands roaming your body like he’s trying to memorize every muscle, every curve. “show me what else you can do, princess.”

hoshi “how do you make it look so easy?” hoshi grumbles, trying to hold a plank while you’re effortlessly transitioning into some advanced move. he’s competitive, hates losing, but damn, pilates humbles him. every time he struggles, you flash him that teasing smile, and it’s game over. he’s down bad, not just for how you move, but for the confidence you exude. when you’re in those tight shorts, showing off every line of muscle, he’s barely keeping it together. “you know what i’m thinking, right?” he asks, grabbing you the second you finish your session. “thinking of how good you’d look under me, legs wrapped around my waist, using all that strength to hold on tight. let’s see if you can stay in control when i’m the one making you feel good.” he whispers in your ear, knowing the effect his dirty talk will cause.

chan, when you drag him to pilates, he’s game—until he realizes just how much core strength it actually takes. but damn, does he love watching you. the way you move, the control you have over your body, it’s enough to drive him crazy. and when you’re wearing those tiny shorts, showing off your toned legs? he’s struggling to keep his mind out of the gutter. “how do you make everything look so fucking hot?” he mutters, following you into the locker room after your session, his hands already sliding up your thighs. “you have no idea how hard it is to focus when you’re looking like that.” later, when you’re tangled up in his sheets, he’s determined to see if all that pilates training has paid off, “let’s see how flexible you really are.” he mumbles to himself.

wonwoo can’t deny the way his pulse races when he watches you in pilates, all hot and firm. he’d never admit it, but the thought of you being able to move so fluidly, so powerfully, has him imagining all kinds of things. especially when you’re in those high-waisted leggings, the fabric hugging your curves in a way that leaves little to the imagination. “you know, you could teach me some moves,” he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out rougher than he intended. “like how you can stay so damn composed even when you’re about to fall apart.” when you’re in bed, he can’t help but test that theory, his hands guiding you into a position that leaves you breathless. “let’s see how long you can hold this one, babe.”

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machveil · 8 days

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Reading glasses Simon.

fluff and nsfw (my first crack at nsfw ever so pray for me). dividers from @gild-ui! CW: fem!reader, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving)

Simon doesn’t need glasses for day to day life - his vision doesn’t impair his job. but, when it’s getting dark out and he’s picked up a book he’s been meaning to read? he’ll break out a pair of reading glasses

he doesn’t wear them around you for a while, not out of shame or embarrassment. when he first started dating you he simply forgot about the book sitting on his dresser, he was too busy with you to pick up that dusty, thick book

but once you’ve settled into your relationship? you come across him one night after a shower, a sleek, black pair of reading glasses resting over the bridge of his crooked nose. they aren’t fancy, just something to get the job done

but they’re so charming against his scarred face, a perfect match with his stubble and short-cropped hair. and when dark irises, nearly black in the dim lighting of the bedroom, look up at you behind those lenses? it’s enough to make your knees go weak

Simon insists that he only uses them for reading, he can see your pretty face just fine. he’s got a roughed up, black case for them - neatly tucked into his bedside table. he wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loves seeing you walk around with his glasses on. he doesn’t care if you nab them from his bedside, he’s too busy admiring you

he’s had the same pair for three years, lost the last pair on a deployment - he doesn’t bring them with anymore. he smiles when you offer to buy him a new pair, but he shrugs it off, “S’fine, don’t have a reason to get new ones, love.”

at night, when the stars and city are closed out by thick curtains, Simon loves settling down with you in bed. after a life of not receiving love, these little intimate nights make his heart squeeze with adoration for you

while you’re unwinding, phone in hand, Simon has his book. reading glasses idly resting on his nose, he can’t help but glance your way - eyebrows slightly knit as he studies you. taking in your relaxed shoulders, steady breathing, the slight upturn to your lips as you smile at your phone

he can’t help it when he moves his hand under the covers, eyes going back to the page he was reading. rough hand settling on your thigh, he gives it a small squeeze - innocent

but when his hand shifts down towards your core, pointer and middle finger grazing the edge of your underwear, his loving touch becomes a little more intimate

thumb smoothing over the skin between your hip and thigh, his fingers dip past the thin material - all the while he’s still reading

just when you’re about to question him, playful smile tugging at your lips, his middle finger dips down - touch light as he rubs at your clit. any words that you had die on your tongue as you shift your hips

“Don’t let me distract you, lovie.”, he hums, voice gravely as he flips a page, “Go on, keep lookin’ at y’phone.”. he cracks a small smile when he hears a little whine from you, finger pressing a little harder, tight little circles against you as he keeps his gaze down - he’s read the same line about three times

he doesn’t care when you set your phone down instead, canting your hips up slightly to meet his touch. he can’t help it, soon enough his hand is dipping past your underwear - the heel of his palm pressed to your little pearl, his ring and middle finger simply smoothing over your lips

he has to bite his tongue, cheeks heating up a little when he feels your slick - as much as you feel good, Simon’s getting off on just feeling you, his pretty little thing that loves him unconditionally

and, as a man that thrives off acts of service, he can’t help himself when he dips his middle finger into you. the soft gasp that leaves you falls on deaf ears, his own groan rumbling in his throat as his eyes flutter shut

he’s holding back a little, gripping his book a little too hard while you squirm - as much as he loves making you feel good, he’s a little selfish. he’s a little greedy, doing this more so for himself. and if greed is a sin, then he’ll atone by worshipping your body

bending the top corner of the page he’s on, Simon’s quick to close his book. halfheartedly shoved onto his bedside table, he turns his focus to you - your legs a little twitchy and lips parted as he dips a second finger in, “Look at you, doing so good f’me.”. low, murmured words as he leans over, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. a small, gruff chuckle leaves him when he pulls his hand away, hearing you huff out a complaint. he’s quick though, one last kiss to your jaw before he’s pulling the covers back, “Don’t worry, love. I’m not done.”

moving to sit between your legs, he brings his fingers up to his mouth - a low moan rumbling in his chest when he tastes you on his digits

true to his word, Simon’s not done with you. reading glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose, he shifts to lay down against the sheets. moving your legs so your calves rest over his shoulders, he looks up at you, “Gonna be good, doll?”. a genuine smile on his lips when he hears you plead for him, and who’s he to deny his darling?

pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt, he pulls your underwear to the side - left hand holding your thigh while his right holds the thin fabric to the side. he loves this - the sight of you flushed and pretty for him, looking down at him. it makes his stomach twist with need, a warmth settling in his gut as he leans down

“Course you’ll be good f’me—“, he hums, lips pressing to your clit as he closes his eyes, “Always such a good girl f’me, aren’t you?”, he mumbles against you, deep voice dripping with love. eyebrows pinched as he groans, gently lapping at you as he presses his hips to the mattress. “Pretty little thing, always treatin’ me right.”, holding you a little closer to him as he grinds down against the bed

hearing your sweet gasps and moans sets a fire in him, and when your hands find their way to his hair and tug? sparks fly, a whine of his own resonating in his throat. despite his quiet demeanor, his reserved nature and curt sentences in public, Simon finds his voice in bed

grip firm on your thigh, his mouth settles against your cunt - thumb moving to your clit again, “Wanna see you cum, lovie—“, he murmurs, drowning against you as his hips writhe

you’re not faring any better, hands rooted in his dirty blond hair. between his hold on you and his mouth - his thumb making quick circles, it’s all too much. and when he glances up at you from between your slick thighs, reading glasses fogged up and slanted? the tight, drawstring tension in your stomach is close to snapping - Simon’s not letting up as he moves his left hand under your shirt

can you blame him? sweet moans tumbling from your lips and thighs squeezing around his head, his hand settles over your tummy - gentle, careful pressure as he holds you down. Simon would have a pillow under your hips if he hadn’t been in such a needy rush, but he’ll just do that next time

eyes half lidded as he presses a kiss your thigh, he’s diving in again - lips and chin soaked. he knows you’re close, so is he, the fabric of his sweatpants and the friction from grinding against the mattress pushing him to the edge. but when you give a sharp tug of his hair, thighs pressing against him a little too tight, he feels the temple of his readers snap

disconnected from the hinge, the right side of his glasses break and so does Simon - sweatpants ruined as he pushes two digits into you, loud moans tumbling from him as tries to push you over too

it’s not long before you’re following after him, your heels digging against his back as you ride out your orgasm. Simon doesn’t quit though, not yet - lets you ride it out against him, grinding your hips against his mouth, not that he minds

breathing steadying as a moment goes by, Simon gently moves out from between your thighs, a kiss pressed to each knee before he’s moving to the bathroom. a warm, wet towel in hand he walks back, leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, “Did so well for me.”, he hums, a soft smile on his lips as he gently cleans your thighs. the mattress dips with his weight as he settles back into bed, towel dropped to the floor - he’d get it in the morning

broken readers left in your shared bathroom as Simon holds you close

#I’ve never written this before so I hope it’s good lol #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #hit post

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evilminji · 7 months

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You know what I would kill to see?

Nedzu, in the Zone.

He IS a registered Hero, after all. He probably gets calls for missions. Failing that, he's still legal allowed to intervene. Like, say, if some poor four year old were losing their shit? Got separated from their mommy, their headache, which has been getting Ochier ALL DAY has finally gotten Really REALLY bad... and they... they just CAN'T! So they melt down.

Whoops. Four year old with portals.

In a crowd.

Luckily he, Mr. Principle, is a "cute" looking sort of Hero. And as an educator, well trained in de-escala-*CRASH!* Some jackass glory chasing young thing, with no care for innocent lives around them, smashes onto the scene. Terrifying the poor child. Which obviously makes their non-existent control WORSE.

Starts throwing the word "villian" around.

Nedzu is going to EAT his license in front of him.

The poor thing is hyperventilating, crying, clinging desperately to Nedzus suit. Things are being flung from portals. Sucked into portals. He's seen no less then 53 SEPERATE dimensions on the other side of those rifts. At least two were to the open void of space.

He narrowly dodges a portal straight into the heart of a volcano. Can feel the blistering heat singe his fur. Alumni from HIS school, at least, have arrived to actually SAVE people. Get the crowd away from the danger zone.

And to think, all he wanted was some tea.

How this MORON doesn't recognize him, he has no idea. His graduates are actively SHOUTING his identity, for heavens sake. Yet the glory hound continues to chase his so called "villians" at the expense of everyone around him.

He's about to throw the boy to a near by police officer, to get to safety, when the worst occurs. The tract of land he was about to push off of disappears beneath them. The boy's mother screams. He activates High Specs, world slowing as his mind rushs. Twisting, he throws the boy high.

The portal closes before he can see if it is Eraserhead or Cementoss who will be the one to catch him. The odds were 68.3% in Eraserhead's favor. He hopes... Aizawa, does so take these things quite hard, he hope he will not blame himself.

There was no way to catch him in time.

He was already gone.

Gravity arrests, slowing to a drifting meander. The air thick with something the burns his sensitive nose. Green. Everything is a very peculiar green. This is not a planets or if it is, it is countless times larger then Earth. A gas giant of some sort? There does not appear to be a horizon.

In the distance, an almost stereotypical spaceship changes destinations. Now aiming right for him. It seems aid might be on the way. With nothing better to do, he waits. They slow to a stop, a hatch opens, and... oh? A young Hero student! Hello there young man! I am Mr. Principle of the illustrious UA!

And just? Danny? Trying to return this small furry alien guy back to his alien hero school? Getting the run around and "hmmmm, let me look that uuuup *takes forever* yeeeeah, soooorry. You're in the wrong department. You'll have to fly like three days to this OTHER department, fill out 260 forms, and dance for our amusement. Byeeeee~"

Like? He just wants to get this guy HOME! Why are you all LIKE THIS!?

All while Nedzu is " :) My, this is FASCINATING. I am learning new things, battling wits, learning new languages, AND guiding a promising young mind towards a future of Better Heroics? Delightful! This is practically a vacation!"

He even stops by the Fentons for dinner. Some fudge. A little light destruction of Goverment branches on the side. Just? A Grand ol adventure of Nedzu.

Danny suffers through bureaucratic hell. But Nedzu? The most mentally stimulated he's been in years. His crops are watered and his fur is groomed. Thriving! New toys!

Then?? He just... shows back up to work.

How did he return? Where has he been?? Who is this glowing green Hero Child groaning face down on his very expensive carpet? *sips tea* wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy! *maniacal Nedzu laughter*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @spidori

#dp x bnha #dp x mha #minji's writing #nedzus adventure au

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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I have an essay brewing in my head constantly about lawns. Which, well, unsurprising, since I post about how I hate lawns all the time, but I think the "lawn" and "landscaping" centered way of thinking about Places Outside is a Bigger Thing that Connects to Other Things

(What isn't? Having ideas about concepts is always like this.)

I will introduce my ideas by a situation where they apply: Sometimes life-forms mimic other life forms. One form of mimicry is called Vavilovian mimicry, where weed species in crops grown by humans evolve over time to be more similar to the crops.

Vavilovian mimicry basically helps weeds survive because the weeds are adapted to the care-taking regimen of the crops, and because the human caretakers of the crop can have a hard time telling them apart, which means they might say "Ehh...I'll wait until it grows up so I can be sure I'm not pulling up my crop."

I think there's something similar at work among flower gardens and landscaping...but it's different.

Regular people don't know the name of every plant that might possibly grow in their flower beds, and they often pull up plants they don't know just because they don't know them. They sometimes say they pull up a plant that "looks weedy" or "looks like a weed."

I think to myself...what does "weedy" look like?

This question collided unexpectedly in my brain with an insight I had about invasive species that I could not explain.

I have to get rid of a lot of Callery pear, wintercreeper, honeysuckle, burningbush, privet, English ivy, and other plants that are invasive where I live. And strangely- many invasive plants look similar in ways they don't share with very many native species. They tend to have small, round or squat, glossy leaves, and they tend to have a very dense growth habit.

I can think of several possible explanations: Maybe these species thrive in North America today because of the loss of controlled burning, but their characteristics look so distinct next to native species because they relate to things that would make a species fire-intolerant? This doesn't seem quite right, since it doesn't predict level of fire-adaptedness in native species.

Another explanation is better: they were selected for these traits by humans for their usefulness in landscaping. Dense growth habit would be useful for creating hedges or ground covers. This is why many invasives were originally planted, right? And small leaves might feel or be perceived as less "messy" when they fall.

But I think this is a clue to something else going on. What does "weedy" look like?

Some plants go on one side of "weeds vs. flowers" and some on the other, and it's almost totally arbitrary...so how do gardeners make the call so decisively?

I think about the commonest "landscaping" plants- Knock Out roses, hostas, petunias, begonias, boxwoods and so on- they share a lot of the characteristics mentioned above. Shiny or at least smooth, typically small and squat leaves, dense and compact growth habit.

Then I think about some of the commonest and most important "weedy" native wildflowers, such as goldenrods, asters, milkweeds, Joe-Pye weed, ironweed, sunflower. They all differ from the above in at least one striking way. Mostly, they have hairy leaves and stems, long and thin leaves, and a tendency to grow up tall before blooming. Milkweed has smooth leaves, but its leaves are long and very big. Hmm...

And I think I can guess where this is coming from.

Landscaping and garden designs often look like this

See how the plants are drawn and arranged to cover a space in two dimensions, mostly not overlapping with each other? This is very easy to plan and design. And those common landscaping plants I mentioned—hostas, Knock Out roses, boxwoods, and so on—are very good at acting just like a two-dimensional representation of them does. Just look, you can see them:

Now look at those important native wildflowers I mentioned:

Goldenrod

Ironweed

Milkweed

These guys don't fill much space in a horizontal plane, they go straight up. They don't exclude other plants from very much space either. Plants could grow under them and among them. So they're not very good for "filling up" space, and their opener, lankier, less dense shape doesn't do a good job at blocking other plants from growing.

In a garden of North American prairie- or meadow-adapted plants, the plants wouldn't exclude each other and stay within their designated spots because they're evolved to intermix with a great variety of plants.

"Separateness" is a big part of the typical "landscape" aesthetic. These plants are very neatly separate from each other. This is what looks "neat" and well-kept to us...the opposite of "weedy."

This could mean our garden and flower beds are affected by a selective pressure a lot like the Vavilovian mimicry situation. But instead of weeds being selected to look like intentionally grown plants, the intentionally grown plants are being selected to look different from weeds.

The subtle difference makes perfect sense. In a field, the rule is "leave the plant there if you're unsure" because that's your food. In a flower bed, the rule is "get rid of the plant if you're unsure" because having weeds is more aesthetically unacceptable than having blank space.

The point is: Ecology needs to be a big part of gardening and landscaping, because you are DOING ecology. Even if you don't know the evolutionary principles, you're acting them out.

Just like the ineffable preferences of female birds give the males weird elaborate display structures, ineffable aesthetic "senses" that govern our "built" world slowly turn it into something weird.

#ecology #landscaping #gardening #plants #native plant gardening

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afloweroutofstone · 16 days

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New job reveal: I'm doing economic and climate policy with the Quakers, both national and international. In this role I'll be writing fewer investigative reports, but more policy explainers.

For example, here's my latest piece on why you (yes, you, dear reader), should care about the debate over agriculture going on right now in congress.

Everyone should have the food and nutrition they need to thrive. But today, people around the world face hunger in their daily lives, including 47 million in the United States alone. As prices at the grocery store have increased and COVID-era benefits have expired over the last two years, the number of people facing food insecurity has only grown. The climate crisis threatens to make this problem even worse. Droughts and floods damage crops, natural disasters like wildfires and hurricanes disrupt harvests, and severe heat threatens the safety of those who grow our food. To ensure that everyone has the ability to feed their families, we must adopt an approach to farming that promotes sustainable agriculture, protects farmworkers and family farmers, and ensures that no one goes hungry. This is what makes the Farm Bill so important. This massive piece of legislation has a wide-reaching impact on our food system. It includes agricultural subsidies, nutrition assistance, climate resiliency programs, and more. While it is traditionally passed every five years, the 2018 Farm Bill was extended to last until September 2024. As Congress debates the newest version of this law, it is vital that they pass a just Farm Bill that provides for everyone’s basic needs and promotes sustainable agriculture to ensure food justice for future generations. Here’s what you need to know.

Click through for more!

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

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In Love and War Pt II

Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape

Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence

Part I

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We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right.

By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.

Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead.

I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.

Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts.

My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size.

“Don’t try and run,” he warns.

I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”

One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood.

Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.

No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.

My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water.

Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.

“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.

He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”

“Bite me,” I snarl.

His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”

I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.

On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.

I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.

“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand.

My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”

“You can’t ride into camp with them.”

“Great, then you can just leave me here.”

It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening.

“Give that back!”

“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child.

He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his.

Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood.

“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”

I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.

Or at least, that was the plan.

“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.

The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.

The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it.

There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive.

“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.

“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”

Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal.

“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”

The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other.

“Home,” he replies.

I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”

“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.

I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was.

“Where were you headed?”

My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.

“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.

“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.

His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file.

“Was looking for food.”

The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.

Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.

I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.

The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.

“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included.

“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t?

“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”

Shit.

“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”

He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.

“So I will know you by association, is that it?”

I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.

It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.

Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.

My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter.

My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…

And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself.

As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive.

I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.

I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it.

“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”

He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.

“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.

I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us.

“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.

“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment.

“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.

Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”

Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.

“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”

“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense.

“How long have you been out here on your own?”

“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe.

He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.

“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”

I’m going to be sick! Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake.

Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.

Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.

“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.

“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley.

As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to.

When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs.

One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.

Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment.

He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”

That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.

I’m too scared to ask either.

Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.

Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.

Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.

The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.

We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.

Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it.

“You must be tired,” he says finally.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!

By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.

“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”

“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table.

My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.

I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.

He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles.

I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.

I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place.

“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”

Safe.

As if he could ever make me feel safe.

His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.

“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”

And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat.

His mark.

How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark?

I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.

---------------------------

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justpoliteconversations · 6 months

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Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 6)

Plans are being made. And Link is facing his demons as well as he can.

Still taking time to inch my way back to full speed. Things are getting better though and I can feel my fingers itching to write more and more. Still riding the joy of pure indulgence with a feel good favorite. I can never stop myself from rambling in this one.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

Finally back in Hateno after several weeks of long, uncomfortable (sand infested. lizalfos infested) travel along the coast (doing your standard business. gathering what supplies you could for Link), and you were ready to just slip into bed for the rest of your life. Maybe even retire early. Ensure you never have to see another damned lizalfos for as long as you live (you won't, but the thought is there).

But it was simply not to be. You'd barely crossed the gates into Hateno proper and already you were planning (reluctantly) an even longer trip into territories you'd never (well. not never. but not for long) thought to venture to. And honestly, you weren't looking forward to it.

And by the look on Skim's and Adino's faces, neither were they.

Not even a day after returning to your home village you'd broken the news to your guards that you were planning a trip towards Goron territory. Though, if you were lucky and utilized your resources wisely, you might never even have to set foot in that brimstone hellscape of a volcano (you hoped).

You'd thought once (some years ago), that maybe it would be a place you should visit. The Gorons were known to be friendly to travelers. The paths were littered with unclaimed mineral and gemstone deposits. And the infrastructure for travel was there thanks to the thriving tourism industry in the area.

It'd seemed like a wonderful idea when you'd started planning such a venture in your early days of merchanting. Back when you were still riding high from making your first small fortune and were still relatively unaware of the world at large. Of its challenges. Of its dangers.

That was until you started gathering information on the hazards in the area, and your opinion of the region took an immediate and drastic turn.

The high death rates associated with heatstroke, dehydration and smoke inhalation were concerning enough. But learning that the volcano occasionally erupted (killing dozens, even hundreds of travelers when it did), and was infested with talus' (over 40 confirmed sightings. nearly 20 unconfirmed). It was enough to put you off.

Skims and Adino knew this. You'd made it a point to explain to them why you wouldn't be heading that direction ever (but apparently not ever, because here you were. planning). No matter how much money could be made harvesting minerals or trading with the locals.

Not the produce trade though, despite what one would think coming from a land known for its lava lakes and frequent wildfires.

The volcanic soil was actually an excellent source of fertilizer (which you wanted. in bulk. as much as you could shove in your mindslate). Making the region around the volcano one of the more prosperous lands for growing crops and herbs. Even when compared to the more central settlements of Hyrule, right on the bread-belt of the land (if you were willing to risk the guardians, that is).

It was a region a farmer (and merchant) could make a fortune, if they were lucky enough to hit brown gold. And If one was willing to take staggering losses everytime the volcano blew its top. And there would be losses. There always was when mother nature got involved with the lives of mortals.

No. You had been eager to get into the fish and cloth (and sand) trade. So close to the volcano, magma deposits were unusually close to the surface in the surrounding lands. And while this created the most beautiful hotspring (entire lakes worth) tourist attractions, it also limited the amount of life-sustaining (and fish-sustaining) water sources in the area. Which, in turn, limited the number of local fisheries and livestock flocks the land could sustain.

The constant presence of ash and volcanic runoff also poisoned much of the water sources in the immediate areas around the mountian. Further adding to the lack of available water sources for fish and livestock (and people too, for that matter. Hence, the sand. A natural filtering agent for locals in the area) to live off of.

So. Fish and cloth (and sand). Those had been your plan a couple years ago. Until the reality of the territory's dangers made you reconsider. And later, dismiss the idea all together.

Knowing this, of course Skims questioned your sudden interest in the northeastern part of Hyrule. A territory you had said yourself was not worth the risk of death and revenue loss to expand your business ventures into.

You had been honest with them, of course (you were always honest with your most trusted guardsmen. when confronted, at least). Though not necessarily forthcoming with the details. Which, frankly, was par for the course as far as your more private dealings were concerned.

"I'm looking to acquire localized goods for an important client." You offered in way of an explanation, letting the things you hadn't said speak volumes. And, of course, Skims merely nodded. Still looking doubtful, but willing to accept your reasoning as your own without contest.

That was another thing you liked about him, other then his fierce loyalty and care. Easy going at the best of times, accepting at the worst. You never had to worry too much about Skims poking holes in your reasonings or explanations. You just needed to pay him, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to your eccentricities.

Adino, on the other hand.

"It's a waste of damned time no matter how important this so-called client of yours is. Just use the stable system instead of draggin' us along to that Goddess forsaken hellhole." Adino snapped, irritable still so soon after the previous trip (the bite a lizalfos nearly took out of his rear near Highland Stable not having helped his already sour attitude). Narrowing his eyes at you with suspicion.

Which was fair, honestly. In any other situation, letting the stable system deliver your desired product would have been the most efficient (and cheapest) way for such a limited and precise order. What would take several months of travel for a merchant (yourself included), the system could get delivered several weeks earlier. Maybe the same amount of time, or slightly longer than originally calculated, if the weather turned unfavorable or a blood moon cluttered up previously clear roads with monsters.

Without knowledge of your mindslate or the connection you have with Link (the previously mentioned client), it does sound like a bullshit reason to undertake such a dangerous journey out of the blue. Especially when there are safer and more cost efficient methods to achieve the same results (sort of). But the fact of the matter is that the system would not be quick enough to deliver your order before Link begun his journey towards Death Mountain.

(And it would be soon. Already there were rumors of the Zora Domain's endless rains easing at the boarders.)

Tally up the timeables, and getting the merchandise yourself was the only feasible way to get ahold of what you needed when you needed it. Where the stable system would require a two way trip to acquire your goods, you needed only one way to get it yourself (and add the slate's instant delivery to Link, and you're set). It was the only way to guarantee you'd meet the rapidly approaching deadline.

Also, you didn't trust the stable system to be as discerning as yourself when choosing suitable product. While you didn't doubt they would put forth their best efforts, you acknowledged that a delivery guild probably had limited knowledge of advanced spell craft and their associated counterfeits.

You couldn't afford to make any mistakes when it was The Hero of Hyrule's life you were working to secure.

Only the very best would do for Link, after all. Even if you had to put in the footwork to ensure it.

You smiled tiredly at Adino, noting how his thin brows were pulled into a deep frow. How his eyes flickered over your road-weary face and sagging posture with veiled intent. Searching and prying and worried. Lips pulled down in displeasure.

He was worried for you. Keeping secrets (something you'd seldom done so openly before. something you'd rarely done, period). Taking seemingly unnecessary risks (something you'd never done at all before this little proposal). All behaviors that were definite red flags. All behaviors that were concerning. Especially coming from someone like you (who you'd become).

And you loved that about Adino. How quietly observant and caring he was when he cared enough to try. Even if he acted like a prickly little cactus most of the time.

"Trust me. I wish I could just let the stables handle this." You'd begun, meeting Adino's (and Skims) gazes as you continued. Sighing. "But this is something I have to do myself. It's important to me."

Skims nodded, having already accepted your reasonings regardless. And slowly, reluctantly, Adino nodded too. Still looking as surly as ever, but willing to back down quietly so long as you were in possession enough of your thoughts to acknowledge the strangeness of your current plans.

"Thank you." And you meant that. Even as the next words hurt your very soul. Perhaps even more than the damned sand (yeah right). "I'll pay you triple if you agree to accompany me as my bodyguards." Skims' and Adino's eyes lit up at that, and you could practically see the rupee signs swimming within them. The bastards.

And somehow Red was suddenly there as well, looking just as bright-eyed and eager as she nodded along with the boys.

Your brow twitched. And Red grinned. Far too many teeth caged within blood red lips.

You sighed.

'Damnit, Link. Why do you cost me so much money.'

---

Sitting on the edge of the Zora Capital's Central Reservoir, Link held the slate in his cold-numbed hands. Looking out over the misty landscape laid out far below, cushioning the shining zora city in its translucent shroud.

The divine beast calmed at his back, as was the spirit still trapped within its confines (patient. kind. understanding. even in the face of death and heartbreak).

His fingers tightened on the slate's smooth edges at the reminder. Knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip. The chilled ache of his bones a painful burn against his exposed flesh and skin.

His shoulders begun to shake. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, with his own pillow and his own blankets. He wanted to bathe in his shiny round bowl of a bath with his nice smelling soaps and hair cleansers.

He wanted to go home.

He was afraid to go home.

But no. That wasn't true. Not really. It wasn't that he was afraid to go home (to his home. to your home).

It was that he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had lost. Ashamed of how he had failed.

Seeing Mipha's face (and that was her name. Mipha. the zora woman he may have once loved. not some nameless face peering out of her tomb with sad, accepting eyes) had finally made him understand the weight he carried upon his shoulders now. The burden of his past failings.

And he didn't know how to reconcile these feelings. Of who he was, and the pain he'd left in the wake of his death.

And who he was now, and his inability to grieve these people who had once meant so much to him. And who, in some ways, still did. Even if he couldn't remember why he felt as such. Even as the guilt tore him apart at the seams.

Far below, in the dark waters of the Domain's endless web of rivers. The flashing white of paper slips beneath a rising current. The ink fading into the darkness of the depths.

---

AM,

Thank you for everything you've done for me. Without you, I don't know if I'd have the strength to continue on. Knowing so much has been lost because of my failure.

I'm afraid of what I'll find if I remember who I used to be. I don't think I can be the man so many remember.

I don't want to be him. He's dead. I'm not him anymore. I'm me.

Is it selfish of me to just want to be the man I am now?

I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you and everyone who ever believed in me. I'm sorry I don't want to remember how to be strong.

I hope one day you can forgive me.

-Link

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

I forgot the tags before sleeping! Sorry Babies, I know you already found it, but I'll still tag you regardless!

Tagging: @littlepanda7 @2000babies

#botw x reader #link x reader #botw link #isekai reader #link x you

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turtlesandfrogs · 2 years

Text

I made this Pre-pandemic for a "Starting plants from the grocery store" class I was teaching, here it is edited down for anyone interested.

For saving seeds, the fruit should be fully mature for the seeds to be fully mature. Therefore, you can use seeds from a winter squash but not a baby zucchini, and the likelihood that the seeds of a tomato (or red bell pepper) will grow are much higher than for a green bell pepper. Unfortunately, many are either going to be poorly suited for your conditions, or hybrid, which we'll touch on later.

Stem cuttings are a great way to start many common culinary herbs! Especially basil!

Some tubers to consider starting from are sweet potatoes and actual potatoes.

And then of course, the bulbs! Green onions and garlic are your best bets!

These are outdoor plants and thus are Somewhat Fussy if you're going to grow indoors. Do not overwater them (eg, letting them sit in a tray of water for days) nor let them dry out completely. Try to keep them evenly moist, with thorough waterings that then pour out the bottom of the pot unimpeded.

Given that they are outdoor plants, a south-facing window (assuming you’re in the northern hemisphere) or grow lights are your best bet. If they don’t get enough light, they will turn pale and stretch towards their light source. They won’t grow as quickly or as healthfully as they would with sufficient light.

Examples:

Tomatoes & peppers! Tomatoes are the one that actually inspired me to make this because I saw this clip on starting plants from kitchen scraps, and they buried the whole dang half of a tomato! Don’t do that! What a waste of a tomato half! EAT your tomato! Take the seeds out!

If you’re intending to grow these outdoors, start them about 6 weeks before your last frost. If you have not grown plants from seed before, here’s some information from another class I taught: https://tinyurl.com/seedstarting2020

If you’re intending to grow them indoors the whole time, you will likely need grow lights for both tomatoes and peppers, and they like it if you keep your house on the warm side. I would suggest growing them outdoors and buying seeds for a dwarf tomato if you really want to grow indoors.

The down side is that most are hybrid, so when you grow out the seed, it's not necessarily going to grow well, be productive, or taste good. Even if it is open pollinated, it's probably been bred to thrive in conditions unlike those you can provide. If you need a successful crop, I highly suggest buying seed, or swapping with a reputable source. Although if you like and can find yellow pear tomatoes, those are an exception to this entire paragraph.

Basil! Basil is a great one to do stem cuttings of, get it started indoors, and then plant out once night time temperatures stay above 50f (10c). I prefer to start them straight into soil, and seem to have a higher success rate this way. To do this, remove all leaves except the top bud, and bury the stem in soil up to just beneath that bud and firm gently. Keep the soil moist and the pot above 60f, and you should have a good success rate. This method works for mint, lemon balm, rosemary, sage, etc, as well.

Green onions- really easy, put the bottom inch or so in soil and they’ll grow very well for you. I prefer soil over water because a) the water gets stinky, and b) they grow better and stronger in soil.

AND MORE:

Sage, rosemary, and thyme (also any stemmed herb): just like basil

Lettuce, carrots, beets: you get the tops, but usually they’ll try to bolt. Easier just to buy seeds. If you want, I usually start in shallow water and then plant as soon as I see roots growing. Again, keep the soil moist, and for these ones, keep them in a cooler part of your house. But really, they almost always bolt in my experience.

Sweet potatoes: Get them in the fall, it takes months for them to start growing (unless you're somewhere warm apparently? ). They will sprout, grow roots, take slips to plant outdoors once night time temperatures study above 50f (10c)

Garlic, just grab a clove and plant in the fall. Boom. GARLIC.

Squash- you don’t know what you’ll get, because they might be cross pollinated with another variety or hybrids. If you do grow it out and it’s bitter, don’t eat it, it’s poisonous. If you want to know more, search “toxic squash syndrome”

Ginger: Plant the rhizome in summer, harvest before frost, or overwinter indoors with a lot of light.

Pineapple: Doable, but it takes three years to get a harvest. Plant in well draining soil, and give it as much heat and light as you can.

Just for fun: (Unless you’re in the tropics or have a lot of patience.)

Mango, avocado, citrus. Take years, and a different climate than I have to fruit. If you’re in the tropics, go for it, but know that avocado pollination can apparently be tricky. I am not in the tropics, so I do not have direct experience with this. Citrus I think I've read also don't come true from seed.

Apples, pears: take years, and don’t come true to type. You do not know what you’ll get, and you’ll probably get something that is not worth eating (but would work for cider). These do need a cold dormancy period in the winter to do well. Of course, you could plant them and then top graft if it does turn out they don’t taste good.

Plums, peaches, apricots: take years, often do come true from seed, but peaches and nectarines are very susceptible to peach leaf curl, so may just die depending on where you are.

#gardening #vegetable gardening #yes that post made me remember but i did already have it written up #regrowing vegetables #pirating vegetables

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corruptedcaps · 1 year

Text

Possessive

Oh, quiet your whining. I'll give this body back to your girlfriend when I've completed my unfinished business or whatever. You think I want to possess your Rebecca’s body? It's so dorky and unathletic. Don't forget that I used to be head cheerleader before I died, so this is a huge step down in my eyes. It's not my fault her body is the only one I could possess.

But let me tell you something, I won't waste this opportunity. Being stuck as a ghost as so dull, and now I get to experience the living again. Sure, her body might not be perfect, but I'll make it work. And hey, I'll even bring some of that cheerleading spirit into her life. She'll thank me later when she's the most popular girl in school. So, quit complaining and let me do my thing. I promise you, I'll give her body back in top-notch condition. Besides, it's not like you have any other options. You want me gone? Help me finish my business, and then I'll leave you all alone. Deal?

How am I supposed to find out my unfinished business if I have to be stuck in your girlfriend’s clothes? That's why I went shopping for clothes more my style. It's not like I can roam around in those frumpy outfits of hers. I need something more alluring and fabulous. More my liking. Her body actually isn’t as bad as I thought. Especially after I hit the gym with it. Only a week in and it’s already more flexible.

So, I hit the stores and picked out some seriously sexy clothes that will make her old wardrobe look like a joke. Picture this: a sleek, black leather mini-skirt that shows off her now toned legs. I paired it with a low-cut, crimson crop top that accentuates her nearly perfect curves. Oh, and let's not forget the stilettos that add a touch of sophistication and make me feel powerful.

But the real showstopper is the crimson lace lingerie set I bought. What a peek? Of course you do. It's daring, it's fierce, and it's exactly what I need to remind myself that I'm still desirable in this world. It may be Rebecca's body, but I'm the one wearing it, and I'm determined to make the most of it.

So, here I am, looking fabulous, ready to take on the world. This unfinished business won't know what hit it once I get started. Oh, and don't worry, I'll return all of Rebecca's clothes to their boring place in the closet when I'm done. But until then, this body is all mine, and I'm going to make the most of it.

I was finding it hard and frankly boring trying to figure out what unfinished business I had so I recruited my old friends to help. I must say, it's been quite entertaining to see how easily I've manipulated them into following me, all without them knowing it's me inside Rebecca's body. It turns out that all she ever needed was a strong personality at the wheel.

My old clique fell right into line, just like the good old days. They can't resist being around the "it" girl that I’ve made Rebecca into. It's amusing to watch them compete for my attention, trying to be the one closest to the new popular girl. It’s kind of hawt making them bend to my will as Rebecca, when only a few weeks ago they were her bullies.

They listen to my every word, take my suggestions as law, and treat me like a queen bee as they should. I've perfected the art of a withering stare and a cutting remark that leaves them quivering in their boots. They want to be me, to be close to me, and they're falling over themselves to earn my approval.

I know you're mad that I've been taking so long, but you can't deny the improvements I've made to Rebecca's life, her body, her social status. Look at how she's thriving now, thanks to me! Besides, it's not every day your girlfriend becomes the center of attention and the most sought-after girl in town, you should be happy.

I get it, you miss the girl you knew, but let's be real, she was never this captivating. With me in control, she's more confident, more assertive, and more irresistible. I may be in her body, but I've taken it to heights she never dreamed of reaching. Never in a million years would she had tried out for the cheerleading team let alone run it like I do now.

Plus you can’t say you’re not happy with how hot I’ve made her. Weeks in the gym has given her an even better body than I had before. Her naturally slender frame was crying out to be whipped into shape. Plus look at the added effect it’s had on these tits, aren’t they glorious?

Tell you what, why don’t you touch them? Hell, give them a good squeeze. Oh fuuuuck yessss just like that. Bet Rebecca didn’t let you do this. You’re getting horny for bitchy little Rebecca aren’t you? Go on big boy, show me how much you love what I’ve done to her by taking out your dick and stroking it for me. Oh my, that’s certainly bigger than I expected from you. Yes stroke it for me baby, stroke it for baddie Becky. Oh you like that don’t you? Becky is a much better name don’t you think. Cum for me baby, cum for Becky.

You can’t be mad at me for making you cum every day this week, I’m just doing what comes natural to me, which is being a hawt piece of ass. Plus I’m not forcing you to do anything. I know you’ve been looking up ways to exercise me from Rebecca’s body to try and soothe your guilty conscience but I’m sorry to tell you babe, I’m never leaving. It’s my body now.

I’ve realized my unfinished business is to live a long and full life as Becky, the ultimate bitch. Come closer, darling. Look into my eyes and see the fire that burns within me. I’m more alive now then she ever was and even more than I had ever been in my own body. Being Becky has been the best thing to ever happen to me and soon it will be for you too.

You see, while you were busy searching for ways to banish me, I was doing my own research. Those books you've been reading, the ones on magic and exorcism, well, they caught my interest too. And I've delved into the dark arts, learning things that would make your skin crawl.

I now possess power beyond your wildest imagination, and I must say, it's quite liberating. I've discovered spells that can bend the very fabric of reality, including one that allows me to remove someone's morals. It's a fascinating little trick, and I believe you'll find it quite enlightening.

Like right now I’m sure you’re feeling all urges to purge me from this gorgeous body I’ve perfected just evaporate from your mind. In fact you feel a deep devotion to me, Becky, your gorgeous girlfriend. As much as I love that dick of yours i need a man to match it but don’t worry, I’ve got that all worked out. I’m a matter of moments you’ll be my handsome, strong and arrogant boyfriend who loves to bully as much as I do. You’ll have no memory of Rebecca or the loser that she was. All that you’ll remember is Becky.

Oh, darling, you know how much it excites me to see you bullying others. It's hard to keep my hands off you when you're radiating that aura of arrogance and charm. Who would have thought that beneath that sexy exterior, there was a deliciously dark and handsome bully? The way you sneer at those lesser souls, mock them, and make them tremble in fear—it's a work of art. Ugh I can’t stand it anymore, let’s get back to your car and fuck, it’s so hawt to hear you yell out Becky!

#f2f #bitchification #evil bitch #female possession #corrupted pov #cc2023

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