local artisan

For the Love of My Life- Pt 2 (End)

Characters: reader x Bucky?, reader x Steve?, reader x Tony(but not really),     Wanda, Natasha, Sam (mentioned)

Summary: Modern AU. Reader is a young actress in her first big role when a man from her past offers a chance to fix her biggest regrets.

Song Inspiration: Cleopatra by The Lumineers

Warnings: sex mentions, fluff, heartbreak?, bit of angst.

Word Count: 4.6k (yeah, the splitting this to make it shorter thing didn’t work out so well. :D )

A/N: This story gripped me tight and wouldn’t let go from the instant I thought of the opening scene. It took on a life of its own and I’m kinda in love with how it’s turned out? I really hope you like it. Apologies that it took longer to post this part! Work and illness made it really difficult, but here it is! Please let me know what you think!! :)

Tags are at the bottom

<<<Part One


Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

Originally posted by caps-bucky


Steve paused before speaking, unsure how to proceed. “Y/N…is there any way…could I see you again before I leave?” he blurted the last part before he lost his nerve.

You smiled, “I’d like that.”

He sighed in relief, “Okay. I’ll be in touch. Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Steve,” you echoed as he pulled you into a lingering hug. He smelled amazing, like Old spice aftershave with an undertone of fresh linen. He watched you climb the stairs and step inside before walking away, your heart rate beginning to slow at last.  


You woke up the next morning alone, stretching spread-eagle across the full surface of the bed with a smile on your face. Last night was unexpected and while you still didn’t know what it all meant, you tried not to overthink things. Stepping out of the shower, you saw a few text notifications on your phone.

Bucky’s read:

Hey babe. Up for Ultimate Frisbee in the park and a few burgers?

then clicking over to Steve’s message:

Good morning, Y/N. Are you free this afternoon?

Keep reading

So I’m going to take my crack at some bios for these new Ken dolls.

First there’s Jayveon. His friends call him Jay. He’s a star forward on the high school basketball team and has a new girlfriend every week but there are rumors that he might be lowkey gay.

Then there’s Mark. Huge Bernie Bro. He frequents the local artisan free trade coffee shop and drinks French press while blogging on his MacBook Pro.

Next up is Carlos. His talents include playing soccer and picking up girls. He loves to say dumb things in Spanish because most girls think it’s the sexiest thing they’ve ever heard.

Then we have Justin, lifeguard at the local pool. Major tool but he does have a girlfriend named Stephanie and he likes to hang out at her dad’s Lakehouse.

Dontaveous is a real enterprising type. Wears dress shirts and ties to class and sometimes glasses even though people say he doesn’t really need them. He dates a white girl.

And finally, Chad. He’s the essence of the basic white boy. His dad’s a lawyer and his mom is a socialite. His parents frequently leave for the weekend and he throws parties at his house that are absolutely the place to be. He doesn’t hold his liquor as well as he thinks.

Fulani noblewoman with tattooed lips and gold earrings, from a large semi-nomadic pastoral settlement

Fulani (Peul, Fulbe, Fula) women of this region often tattoo their lips, gums and the area around the mouth before marriage, a painful aesthetic practice and rite of passage signifying marital status. The extravagant gold earrings or “kwottenai kanye” symbolize the wealth and prestige of a husband or family based largely on the ownership of cattle among the semi-nomadic pastoral Fulani of this region. The earrings are also an aesthetic symbol of cultural pride and identity. They are usually a gift from a husband to his wife or an heirloom passed on to a daughter on the death of her mother. The large earrings are made by local smiths or artisans concentrated mostly in the Mopti region of northern Mali. They are crafted from a 14-karat bar of gold that is first chiseled and heated over a fire, then hammered into thin blades and twisted into a four-lobe shape.

Location: Mopti, Mali

Photographer: David Schweitzer


Moni, belle aux lacs dormants

Angi nous accueille, au milieu des rizières de ses voisins. La vue est belle au petit matin. 4h30, nuit noire. Deux ojek nous font grimper le mont Kelimutu, l'un deux s'appelle Bernard. Il enseigne la religion aux enfants de Moni. On finit à pied le chemin jusqu'au sommet, juste à temps. Le voilà qui s'éveille. Il s'étire en bon empereur, se cache un peu, se découvre. Il tire en s'élevant le manteau gris de la nuit. Les voici : le vert des montagnes, le bleu du lac, le brun de la terre, et l'ocre de la pierre. L'aurore a mille couleurs.

Lorsque le jour illumine enfin les lacs, nous repartons vers Moni.

Nous traversons des cultures, croisons des hommes et des femmes les bras chargés d'eau et de nourriture. Le plus jeune a 4 ans, la plus veille 84. Les dents brunies par le gingembre rouge, la nuque cassée en deux.

“Mister Mister ! Coffee ?” Alfelinus nous invite. Nous présente sa fille, Erylin. Nous sert de son café local, artisanal. Celui qu'il a récolté aux champs, séché, moulu. Il nous habille d'ikat, de sarong. Rigole en nous déguisant. Ses mains tremblent, il a 50 ans, et son corps est épuisé par sa vie de paysan. Des touristes, il en croise de temps en temps. Il leur demande d'écrire quelques mots sur un bout de papier, d'envoyer les photos. Pour remplir sa boîte à trésors. 2014, 2010, 2008. On remonte avec lui le temps, on revit ses rencontres. On lui demande son adresse, et à notre tour, on lui fait des promesses.

“Mister Mister ! Visit the school !” Le professeur nous ouvre les portes de son école. Une vingtaine d'enfants, entre 7 et 10 ans, chemise blanche, bermuda et jupe jaune. 20 sourires timides. Ils entament une chanson, on danse ensemble au rythme des battements de leur pieds. Et c'est mon coeur qui bat avec celui de l'humanité. On prend des claques aujourd'hui. On voit l'effort, la pauvreté, la beauté, la bonté, la générosité, la curiosité. On partage, des regards, des sourires, des pensées. Le temps s'arrête, parmi ces gens qui n'ont rien et qui donnent tout.

MAR ADENTRO:  Located in San José del Cabo on the outer rim of Baja California Sur, built by the skilled hands of local artisans, Mar Adentro forms part of the Mexican desert where physically and psychologically, water is our most precious natural resource. An architecture of sumptuous austerity boasts features that coexist harmoniously with nature. Designed on a human scale, this resort privileges two elements above all else: the horizon and the ocean.  - photography: ©Joe Fletcher

architects: Miguel Angel Aragonés - location: San José del Cabo, Baja California Sur, Mexico - project year: 2016

Fuck coworkers- //inhales
This is like 95% me venting my frustrations and probably overreacting buT

I work at a local tea store that sells loose leaf teas, honey, and a bunch of stuff from local artisans, super cute place, and the owner is neurodivergent and it’s really cool that her Lil business is doing so amazing and people adore it 💞💞💞
I’m the opener so my shift is from 9:30a to 3:30p, we’re understaffed so we don’t have a midshift (12p to 5p) person, so I’m here until the closer gets here, their shift is 3:30p until 9p (plus time for cleaning and closing stuff)
But she doesn’t do any of that as soon as nine hits she’s gone so I come in I’m the morning and have to take the trash out, sweep and swiffer, wipe down all the counters, tidy everything, straightening and organizing the products, filling the water heater, cleaning the French presses, on top of my morning tasks of cleaning the tea sample dispensers, brewing the tea and everything else
And it’s a super lowkey place so she brings her kid with her until her boyfriend can pick him up (it’s been cleared with management and the owner and all that)
And she doesn’t even clean up after him at least
I come in and I find that bits and pieces of his snack foods are everywhere and regularly
And she’s pretty much always an hour or two late to her shift
Any tasks she’s assigned to do doesn’t happen
I came in to do some stuff in the back for a few hours cuz I could and she just sat on her phone watching Netflix while the store is a total disaster and the work she’s been assigned just sits there not being done
So I’m pretty frustrated
The icing on the cake tho is I had brought some cookies and was snacking on them and I forgot to put them in my backpack when I left and she ate all but two of them (I’d never given her permission to have one either so like //inhales)
She texted me and told me she’d be two and a half hours late to her shift the day I’m writing this

And lowkey it’s hilarious that oh hey the shift manager was making the schedule and only scheduled her for weekends and she begged to be rescheduled for more days and so the shift manager did and I get stuck cover half her shift p much daily


   In a city filled with cold, harsh stone, one section offers stark contrast to the rest of the prison many called home. Filled with trees and foliage, it is beautiful in it’s nature and serenity. In a clearing on the edge of sector six, among all the trees, is a tall structures that do not belong. Mushrooms, hundred times their normal height, tower tall over all those who are brave enough to venture close. There are many of them, all of them meeting in a broken circle. The gap between two rather large mushrooms however isn’t a failed design or empty placeholder for more shrubbery, but an entranceway. A large wooden sign welcomes many others who freely walk into the fairy ring, embraced by the sounds of laughter, wonderful smells, and the colors of spring…

             Welcome to the Flower Festival

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Magnus and Taako: Gifts

Any time Magnus travels without Taako, he brings back a figurine of a rabbit that a local artisan made.  He says the ears remind him of Taako.  Some of them are cute, some of them are hilariously hideous.

Taako says he hates them, but all of them are on his dresser, carefully displayed and organized, and they never gather any dust.  He puts the cute ones in the front, but there’s one super creepy one that somehow made the cut as well.  It’s eyes are just a little too big and it’s smiling, which rabbits just shouldn’t do.  Taako likes that one the best.

When Taako travels without Magnus, he brings him back a novelty mug.  The less relevant it is, the better.  He’s got dozens that say things like “All I need is COFFEE AND A CUTE PAIR OF SHOES” or “Born to Golf, Forced to Work!”

Magnus doesn’t get it, but they always have a good laugh when he brings one home.  Taako doesn’t explain it, but Magnus gets the impression that Taako just likes the irony of it.  The mugs are dumb, but Magnus uses a new one ever day with pride.  Taako always grins when he sees it.

Sao Miguel dos Milagres - Brazil

This small municipality is located in the Brazilian state of Alagoas, and covers an area of 65km². The area is best known for its pristine beaches, and warm, emerald waters. Beautiful coral reefs can be found just off shore, and kayaks can be hired to paddle out and explore. Boat tours also take visitors further out to explore the marine life in the deeper parts of the ocean. 

The areas small villages, that have stood for generations, are best explored by bicycle. The people are very friendly, and it is a great opportunity to visit local artisan stores and appreciate the art and craft on offer.

vl-main  asked:

Hey there! I was wondering if you would mind asking your followers what ways we (white people) can do to help make a difference today (National Aboriginal Day). Like donating to certain charities, learning first Nations languages, supporting local artisans and activists, education, etc. but is there anything else missing Canadian First Nations people would like us to do or put resources towards?


Happy National Aboriginal Day!

Make sure you support your local indigenous artisans, businesses, and activists during today’s festivities. Educate yourself on indigenous culture, struggles and remedy, anything to come even a bit closer to the community as an ally. Learn how to say “Hello” or “I love you” in an indigenous language and say it to everyone you love today and explain why you learned it (indigenous languages are fading, keep them alive)! Consider donating to a charity for indigenous people in need such as Water First (which brings Canadian First Nations communities clean drinking water) or Canadian Feed The Children First Nations Nutrition Program (which helps feed First Nations children in areas that have poor food security or experience poverty). So many things you can do as a Canadian citizen (especially if you’re a white one) to make life better for the people who were so egregiously harmed/murdered/raped/beaten/had their identity and culture stripped from them by forced colonization.

Also if I’m missing any obvious ways to make a difference (I most likely am) feel free to add them in!

Educate, Empathize, Reach Out, and Act today. Whatever way is within your means ✌🏽🍁❤️

I want to open a stationery store. Where you can buy cool writing paper by the sheet, and mix and match individual envelopes, and there are racks of pens to try out, and cool stamps, and stickers divided by type (kawaii, glitter, puffy, sarcastic, etc.) and you can get custom designed return labels. And I will contract with local artisans to teach classes on hand lettering and calligraphy and graphic designers can sell their cards in my store and it will be lovely and everything will smell like ink and paper.

Pacific Northwest Gothic II

- You are sitting in your Subaru Outback, stuck in traffic on the rain-blackened I-5. There has been an accident. The concrete curves of the Tacoma Dome rise up before you like the dismembered breast of a cancer-stricken earth-goddess. You turn on the radio. Magic’s “Rude” is playing on repeat, on every station. Eventually, traffic begins to move. As you slowly pull past the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, you cannot help but stare at the offending blockage, a twisted hunk of metal and fiberglass, dragged to the side of the road to bleed out and die. It is also a Subaru Outback. From between the folds of the crushed, crumpled chassis, you swear you can hear Magic’s “Rude”. You turn off the radio.

- The darkness of your locally brewed artisan stout calls to the darkness inside you. You cannot help but bring them together.

- The ironic piece of driftwood and seashell kitsch you brought back from that sad little shop in that one dying seaside town on the peninsula was funny, until you started waking up every night with lungs full of seawater.

- When nobody is looking, the deer in the field behind your house walk on their hind legs. It would be funny, like the Far Side, except those deer didn’t have needle teeth, or pearly, luminescent eyes that peer through the blinds of the nursery while you are at work.

- You are sitting on a bench by the the pier, watching the tide come in. Two seagulls on the sidewalk are fighting over a human finger. You look down at your gluten-free scone, licking your lips nervously as your stomach growls. You’re trying to cut back, eat right, but some days are harder than others.   

I really want to convince more people to check out indie video games, especially when I see them caught in a loop of complaining about how so many video games are boring or samey or refuse to take any risks, but still buy only triple-A titles from big publishers

BUT I’m 100% certain that every time I open my mouth to speak on the subject I sound like “I only buy certified organic, locally sourced, artisanal video games, not that mass produced junk like Call of War or Mr. Evil’s House like the rest of you plebeians play” and I can feel my soul wither at the thought

wattaabunkamamuti replied to your post “When people complain about cultural appropriation, do they ever factor…”

Insinuating that for it to survive that it needs white people. As if the cultures are incapable of supporting themselves from within.

As countries become more developed and globalized, traditional practices tend to fall by the wayside as younger generations lose interest or migrate to other countries. It’s not as if I’m saying tourism is the only thing protecting world heritage, but does it play a role in keeping some traditional practices alive? Yes, I think it does- although my post was not really about that and more about how the neuroticism about cultural appropriation hurts local artisans and doesn’t actually help anyone in any way.