#lots of citrus thingies

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic dec 15 (only 8 days late lol) - game - 1.8k words - cw: heavy making out, sweat licking lol (they're animals)

pt3 of the charmed mistletoe thingy <3 (part 1, part 2 exclusively on ao3)

this is Not proofread *summersaults away*

After those first two times it seems to evolve into a bit of a game for James. 

It’s late in the afternoon as Regulus is walking back to the dorms from Runes by himself. 

Barty had disappeared as soon as young, mellow-minded Babbling had opened her mouth to announce the end of today’s lesson to do whatever it is he does in his freetime away from his friends—write essays for Seven Years in exchange for Firewhisky, plot the downfall of the Ministry, probably. 

Meanwhile Pandora and Evan should just be done with their last period too right now—Care of Magical Creatures over by the Greenhouses this semester. Something about Kettleburn having them tend to the Niffler eggs. Regulus doesn’t even want to know.

Coming out of the Middle Tower, instead of taking a left and heading straight for the way leading to the dungeons, he keeps walking into the Middle Courtyard.

He already sees a free window alcove he can settle himself down in to wait for his friends to arrive when he rounds the old stone archway and collides with someone.

Regulus grunts and there’s only a moment of irritation before it’s washed away by the next ghust of air carrying citrus, spice and an obscene amount of broom polish, wood, leather and sweat.

“Oh, you’re fucking ki—”

“Oops,” James says, where he’s got his arms wrapped around Regulus, sounding not very sorry at all.

“You–” Regulus rears back, as far as the magic sticking his feet to the ground allows him to, and pulls back to hit James in the chest—which doesn’t do a lot at the moment, sadly, given James’ Quidditch padding under the uniform, “foul, loathsome, evil little—”

“Now, now,” James chuckles. His brown skin is tinted scarlet on the cheeks and nose from the cold and exertion of practice and still gleaming with drying sweat.

Regulus does not think about licking him. “I despise you.”

“Sure,” James nods, tone sarcastically affirmative, moving in, “Pucker up, baby. I gotta hit the showers and then subject myself to the horrors of writing two feet of an at least Exceeds Expectations worthy essay for Sluggy.”

Regulus gives him a practised sneer, “You must’ve been hit in practice one too many times if you think you will get a kiss from me like this.”

James’ lips twitch, “And why’s that, love?”

“You reek,” Regulus scolds. Lies. 

Like a liar. 

A dirty, rotten liar, who lies.

James shrugs one shoulder, “And your breath still smells like lunch.”

Regulus’ heart stops beating. He’s pretty sure if you’re watching closely enough you were just able to see his soul leave his body for a second, warp outside, make his edges blurry. Regulus might be sick.

“What?”

“Great, now that we’ve both said something untrue, why don’t we move ommpf–”

“Fuck you,” Regulus spits, shaking his hand where his knuckles are starting to throb from the repeated hitting.

 “Y’know,” James stops rubbing his side and promptly reels Regulus in by his wrist. “With the way your eyes are blitzing this is kind of getting me going.”

With the close proximity it’s a little harder to think clearly now. Regulus feels his brows knit deeper, feels his body unclench when one of James’ palms finds the small of his back. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Wanna find out how much?” James rasps, licking his lips. His eyes are lidded, dark lashes long behind his wire framed glasses. His hair is even more of an atrocity than usual thanks to the helmet he wore, standing in all kinds of directions or plastered to his skull and forehead in some places. 

It’s annoyingly similar to the way James had looked after Regulus had unthinkingly tousled it their previous time under a mistletoe.

As if James knows the turn his thoughts have taken he squeezes slightly at Regulus’ hand, murmuring, “Remember last time? How good it felt? Because I do.”

James’ eyes are boring so hard into Regulus he feels like being lit on fire from the inside.

“And I know you did, love–Don’t even try to deny it.”

Regulus still slowly shakes his head, even as his fingers curl in the harness straps of James’ chest padding.

“Come get another taste, Regs.” James nudges their noses together, “I’m all yours.”

Those three words do something a little unhinged to Regulus. 

It makes him want to take a bite out of James. Get a taste of the consistency of him between his teeth and then feel him slide down his oesophagus in a gooey, wet pile. Dig claws in, break the skin and make him bleed. Mark him up. 

It’s truly wondrous that Regulus is able to get anything out other than a feral, hungry snarl.

He doesn’t know what ethereal might overcomes him when he mutters, with the steadfastness of a shaky leaf in a tornado, “Only the cheek.”

A dark brow rises over the rim of James’ glasses, “Only the cheek, huh?”

Regulus manages a nod, a shaky breath leaving him on the exhale.

“Fine then,” James whispers, leaning in.

He does it just like the first time.

His thumb on the underside of Regulus’ chin, other fingers splayed over his jawbone and guiding him to the side. Warm breath, then even warmer lips pressing right forth.

Not shy at all. Going right after what he wants.

Lips lifting and there’s only a single second of immobility before there’s a second kiss. And a third.

Steadily moving lower, growing a little bolder, more open mouthed. Less of that barely there stubble, more of the slick satiny inside of James’ mouth.

And with the skin to skin contact Regulus has apparently been completely abandoned by this higher force because his traitorous body leans into the delicious treatment. Head tilting to the side accommodatingly, lids fluttering and own lips parting around a quiet groan.

The hinge of Regulus’ jaw is being explored, a small detour to nip at his earlobe and then James sets his lips down over the patch of skin behind and latches on.

Regulus makes a sound he didn’t know he was capable of, clutching harder at James.

Who responds with a rough hum of his own, pulling them closer together with his strong arm around Regulus’ waist.

“James,” Regulus breathes, one hand coming up to his neck. “James.”

The older boy makes a noise to show either his attention or his displeasure at being disrupted, Regulus isn’t really sure.

And then James lays his tongue out flat and licks a stripe up the side of Regulus’ throat.

The absolute animal. Disgusting, heinous, damning, irritatingly sexy, stupid man. 

Somebody call the Ministry and tell them Santa is real because it must be a miracle that Regulus doesn’t pass out from that on the fucking spot.

He does however let yet another moan slip he cannot help and then tries tugging James back. “Ok, ok, James. That– that’s enough.”

This seems not to fit into James’ aka Mister Eager and Enthusiastuc’s agenda going off of the pained noise he lets out against Regulus’ throat.

That is until Regulus speaks again.

Because he’s reached some kind of epiphany or maybe a deja vu of sorts because the second James’ tongue had made contact with Regulus’ skin all he could think was, “My turn.”

James stills against him, draws back, wide eyed and hazy looking with his stupid big baby cow brown eyes and Regulus doesn’t let himself think about it but instead moves right in.

Doesn’t really bother with niceties as he immediately presses his lips to the edge of James’ jaw. The stubble prickles slightly and James makes a wheezing noise, head rolling to the side.

Regulus’ lips lift into a smile, chest burning and an excited shiver whacking through him at James’ reaction.

He smells spicy and musky and salty so Regulus mimics the path down.

Until he can’t help himself anymore and open his mouth to finally taste. 

It’s glorious, sweat and citrus and James, the boy over him moaning at an indecent volume.

James curses, sounding breathless, “Regs.”

Regulus responds by sucking at the patch of skin again,

“Fuck, please– Yes, so good.” James babbles, “You’re so good, so sweet. So good to me.”

Then there’s fingers driving through the short curls at the back of Regulus’ head and he pants against James before leaning in and letting himself use his teeth.

Just graze but James makes another one of those obscene noises, half moan half curse and then the fingers in his hair are clenching.

Keeping Regulus in place for James to chase his mouth again. Fed up, seemingly, with having to stay still. Or too overwhelmed, Regulus doesn’t care because James is pressing their lips together again and it’s heaven.

Regulus hears the angels sing, the bells jingle. Christmas magic.

He lets out a satisfied noise, arching closer and then, because James is rude and always ruins it, he moves back.

“Wait, wai–” cuts off when Regulus steals another kiss, grip iron on James’ neck, “Reg, love.”

Regulus lifts down from the balls of his feet with an incredulous noise, raising his brows impatiently at James.

This one’s eyes flit all over his face for a moment and Regulus instantly becomes hyper aware of the way his cheeks feel warm and his lips swollen.

“Come to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday,” James mutters.

“No,” Regulus answers reflexively. And moves in to get another kiss.

Which James breaks again. 

Regulus huffs. He’s starting to get irritated.

James takes his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Go on a date with me,” he starts, a tone in his voice before he licks into Regulus mouth again. For just a moment before he adds, “Or you’ll have to wait for another mistletoe to catch us to kiss me.”

And– hold on a second.

“Pardon?” Regulus inquires, trying to blink the haze out of his head.

James gives another quick kiss to Regulus’ slack mouth, smiling faintly, “You heard me.”

“You actually think you can blackmail me this way?”

“Christmas season is only for another few days, love,” James counters. “The mistletoes will be gone before you can say Chinese Chomping Cabbage.��

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek for a moment. 

“What if I say yes?”

There’s a flash of teeth with James’ lips curling up at the corner and then he’s moving in again, tilting back Regulus’ head.

Regulus gasps into the kiss, with the way James is brushing their still spit slick lips together.

James hums when Regulus fingers find their way onto the front of James’ practice long sleeve. It’s low and rumbly, and Regulus feels it where their chests are pressed together, prompting him to make a high pitched noise of his own.

James draws it out this time with a few more slower sweet kisses, leaving Regulus all jittery.

“This has happened for the third time now,” James says conspiratorially, toying with a curl at Regulus’ ear.

“So?” Regulus huffs.

James hums, “You know what they say, Regs.”

Regulus shudders, making James lips lift.

“Once is happenstance, twice is barely a coincidence and trice is fa—”

Regulus is already rounding the corner, fleeing, as his ears gleam crimson.

“You can't run from it, Reg! Tis the season of love!” James calls after him, cackling. “See you Saturday morning!”

[citrusfruitbat]

(Super disorganised?) intro post thingy!!!

(Edited: 04/06/2024)

Hi, call me Citrus or Sylvie! My sense of identity is suuuuper unstable so this could be subject to change but this is it for now.

I’m a transmasc boyfailure artist and writer.

I have diagnosed chronic health issues I’d rather not specify for my own sake which makes me super fatigued 90% of the time + BPD that I’m dealing with thanks to a PD service. I’m borderline for autism though so keep that in mind too I guess.

I hyperfixate a lot and jump from interests every so often! Currently my fixations are a few gacha games (not specifying it’s a trigger to my partner sadly) as well as Overwatch. Please please talk to me about them.

I can’t guarantee I’ll post too often and I’m a bit shy when it comes to interaction/reblogging/commenting but I’m trying to come out of my shell more. I’d rather be approached and stuff but who knows,,,

Usual DNI criteria. Includes pr0shippers too.

Uhh will probably tag posts/art with #citruposts …yeah.

I hope to make friends with people that I share interests with :>

[zacharybosch]

Tasseomancy inspo part 2: Clothes and stuff

Part two of my post detailing the inspiration behind my Ed/Stede sugar daddy AU fic Tasseomancy. Part one (covering the setting) is here.

This part covers all the clothes, accessories, tea, and other stuff that Ed and Stede wear/buy/consume in the fic. Like Stede, I am unfortunately a bit of a clothes horse, so gird your loins for some over-enthusiastic gushing about fabrics.

☕

Teas

Ed and Stede enjoy a few different tea blends in this fic, and it’s where the title comes from - tasseomancy (aka tasseography, tasseology) is the practice of reading fortunes in tea leaves.

Blue Lady is the first tea they share together. I picked it because 1. it’s really yummy, and 2. it’s a little bit floral and a little bit citrus-y and I think that suits Ed and Stede nicely :) I first started drinking this tea about a year ago and it’s so fucking delicious. My favourite variety comes from HR Higgins, but it’s pretty pricey so I try to drink it sparingly. This tea is also incredible as a cold brew - the flavour is more delicate, but it also makes it a lot easier to taste all the subtle little notes in there.

The three teas that Ed brings to Stede during his formal seduction are all from Bird & Blend. Tea Wells is an interesting one, sometimes if I drink it too quickly it makes me feel a little bit drunk?? which is very weird, but I have also had this experience with other green teas in the past. If you drink it at a normal pace though it’s a nice little pick-me-up, and the flowers and fruit pieces cancel out any bitterness that can sometimes develop in green teas.

Also it is very pretty, look at it:

Mint Choc Rooibos is the next tea that Ed brings, at lunch time. I’m actually not particularly keen on this one, but my boyfriend is obsessed with it and it’s the blend that managed to convert him into a tea-drinker. It’s sweet and creamy and even has cocoa shells in it, although when I had a little sippy I couldn’t really taste any chocolate coming through.

Finally, Ed brings a cup of Lady Lavender for Stede at the end of his work day. This is just a traditional Earl Grey blend with lavender added in. I drank a lot of this while writing the fic :)

Recipes

Ed makes boil up for his and Stede’s date night. The recipe I referenced is by Maori chef Cameron Petley, from his book ‘Hunter from the Heartland’. Boil up is a traditional Maori dish, basically a broth or soup with dumplings, and I haven’t made it myself but it sounds yummy as fuck. I love stewy soupy things, and I especially love dumplings. 

It’s around the middle of October when Ed cooks this for Stede, so it’s perfect for a chilly night. It also represents home, comfort, and love for Ed, so of course he wants to give those things to Stede as well :)

Ed also makes some Sidecar mocktails. When I saw that the recipe called for both tea and marmalade, I couldn’t not include it in the fic. I haven’t tried making this either - I’m not 100% sure if I’d like it tbh, since the one time I tried lapsang souchong tea I just found it way too smoky for my tastes.

Clothes and thingies~

I’m going to do the rest of these by chapter, since there’s quite a lot :’)

Chapter 3 - the trip to the department store

Stede is, of course, wearing this AU’s version of the pink bird robe. I picked a camp collar (or cuban collar) shirt as it’s a bit more casual, and because Stede wears suits all the time it can be very easy to fall into the trap of looking like he’s always on his way to a formal event or something. 

I knew I wanted the shirt to be silk, but since it’s already quite loud with the bright pink and all the birds and flowers, I didn’t want it to also be shiny in the way that a silk satin or charmeuse are. So I picked a sandwashed silk instead - it has all the gorgeous drape and delicate fluidity of a charmeuse, but its sheen is much more subtle.

And then I decided his suit should be a kind of bronzey-brown, since in the episode where we first see Stede in the robe, the suit he (briefly) wears after taking the robe off is kinda bronze.

Ed wears a pair of Dickie’s overalls for the shopping trip, similar to the pic below but a bit more shapely and sexy since this is my fantasy world and I can do whatever I want. 

I specifically wanted Ed to wear and look good in something that he already owned in order to try and avoid Pretty Woman-ing him, implying that he doesn’t look good until his clothes are completely swapped out for a load of expensive designer stuff. I also wanted to show that his natural personal style is already solid, and Stede isn’t there to change it, just to help him nurture and develop it.

Then of course we also have the Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses, which Ed very quickly decided belonged to him forever. If you want to buy these, they will set you back a cool £335!

Ed buys several things for himself from the department store, but the only things I properly envisioned were the cashmere-silk blend crop t-shirt, and the medusa belt.

The t-shirt is just this AU’s version of his sexy pirate crop top, obviously, but the belt is a Versace belt. The medusa is a recurring symbol in a lot of Versace’s stuff and they’ve made tonnes of belts over the years, mostly with a less-detailed cast of their medusa symbol, but I found this more detailed one on an auction site which I thought was very cool. And snakes, because of course.

The silk scarves that Ed bought for Stede (and which Stede then wears constantly forever because he and Ed are such good buddies 😇) aren’t based on any scarves in particular, but I was thinking about Liberty, their lovely illustrative silk scarf designs, and also their extensive archive of heritage fabric patterns for their haberdashery.

Chapter 7 - the trip to the Old Quarter

The perfume that Ed buys for Stede from the fancy shampoo shop is Decadence & Debauchery, made by the perfume house For Strange Women. Please believe me when I tell you that this. Perfume. Smells. So. Fucking. Good. I got a bottle of it a few years ago and I just. Hhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s very deep and sexy and a bit masc and I just. Get feelings when I wear it. So I had to include it in the fic, because Reasons 🥴

For Ed’s purple suit, I was thinking about that peachy-coloured suit that Taika wore, and more specifically I was thinking about the cute little crossover element. The peach suit looks like it’s made of a cotton-linen blend or something else fairly structured, but for the purple suit I picked a light wool crepe so it would be softer and more fluid and drape really nicely. I ditched the three-piece and kept it to just trousers and a jacket, and chose a shawl collar instead of the classic notched lapel to keep up the soft vibes.

I KNOW I don’t need to put a pic here of Taika in the peach suit because we are all well aware what it looks like...... but I’m going to anyway because he is very sexy and I enjoy looking at him.

And here’s some purple wool crepe fabric, see how the folds here are soft and rounded, while in the pic above the folds are much sharper? Fabric 👌

Chapter 8 - date night at Ed’s house

The boys are both wearing Bottega Veneta for their date.

Stede is in this gorgeous light wool pistachio green suit that I am very much in love with. The colour, the lines, the cute breast pocket flap, I am honestly just enchanted and I think Stede would look lovely in it. I thought it would look nice with a lilac t-shirt just because I’ve been really digging pale green and lilac together lately and I reckon it’d look great with Stede’s colouring, and also because if I put Stede in a shirt-shirt then he’s going to look too formal and this is a cosy and relaxed date night :)

If you want to buy it, the jacket alone costs almost £2000!!! Can you believe that Stede jerked off in this??!

For Ed’s look, I wanted something that was a bit cosy, a bit comfy, a bit cheeky and sexy - he’s at home and having fun and feeling himself, and also planning on absolutely boning down with Stede. I actually couldn’t find a product listing for this sweater on the Bottega Veneta website, it’s just worn by this model in a product listing for some (rather questionable) leather shorts. I didn’t have anything specific in mind for his jeans - they’re probably just a pair he’s had forever and that are perfectly moulded to hug all his good bits.

Chapter 9 - egg-smashing breakfast

I didn’t have a specific brand in mind for the jewellery that Stede buys with Ed’s credit card, but I was thinking along the lines of Alighieri, Ottoman Hands, and Schiaparelli - they all make beautiful, interesting stuff with that molten gold texture. To be honest, Schiaparelli is probably a little bit too out there for Stede, but I can totally see Ed wearing some of their huge weird earrings.

[cygnusdoesthings]

January 25th: Lime (tilia x europaea), Linden Tree (tilia)

(Takes a deep-ass breath) (Takes a long swig of my chai latte and a massive exhale) Mhmkay. Let's do this. Linden, lime. Oh, frick frack, frockin fuck, it's got Lore. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Alright.

Alright. Alright, okay. Under both air and fire, ooh, these plant thingies are under Sun and Jupiter (planetary rules), and is a plant of Taurus. Linden, in particular, is sacred to Venus (Greco-Roman), Odin Freya, Frigg (Asatro), Arianrhod (Celtic), Ostara (Germanic) and Lada (Slavic).

It's said that carrying tilia leaves in your pocket can help prevent intoxication, and that good luck charms can be carved from tilia wood.

Let's, uh, do the Lore First. There's multiple mythological stuff that goes on with this one, but we'll, uh, do only the One One because it's the one that's listed on this little piece'a paper.

Mm.

s t att ic r§§´ØǶ¶ atic ´¶ invaeø m¥nð

WEEEEEEE.

Mki. Let's do this.

The reason that this tree is symbolic of conjugal love is the story of Philemon and Baucis. The couple lived together happily to an old age. It's ye old poor people are kind story, but I'm telling it anyway, because it's sweet.

One day, Jupiter (Zeus) and Mercury (Hermes) descended upon the land. They needed shelter and sustenance- and while all in the town refused them, there was one little hut, made by humble hands and lively love.

Philemon and Baucis were the poorest couple in that part of the country, yet they gave the gods what they wanted. The couple realised (after they fed the gods) that they were, indeed, gods. The gods then took them to a tall hill nearby- and then a flood wiped out everything except for their hut, which turned into a temple.

Jupi-Zeus then promised to grant them whatever they wanted for their kindness- but the couple refused, only wishing to serve him in his temple.

One day (sorry, had to add it), while talking near the edge of the temple grounds, Philemon observed that Baucis was gradually changing into a linden tree, and Baucis observed that Philemon was changing into an oak tree.

Not one to let strange events get in the way, they calmly continued their conversation for as long as they could still see one another, and then they said their sweet goodbyes.

As trees, they stood before the temple and were veneration objects for a long, long time.

Then there's the tale in the modern days that further supports the reasoning. ~1790, there was a pair who were profusely in love with each other, and they were engaged, soon to be married.

The bride, however, suddenly fell sick, and she died soon after. In a very Romeo and Juliet-esque situation, the groom died at the unexpected loss, from the grief.

On the very same day that they were to be married, they both died, and were buried in the one grave.

After some time had passed, over their heads grew two linden trees- from one root. The trees intertwined with each other, and grew up, and every year the fragrant blooms fall upon the lovers' graves.

Hence! Conjugal love.

Linden trees are listed as one of the greatest aged trees, next to oak. In Wirtemberg, there's a GIANT linden tree, which has pillars supporting it's shade and branches bc it's so weighty. This one is aged at least 600 years, a lot more since the source text was cited.

Another linden tree resides in Annaberg, Saxony, in a cemetery. It's a very old tree, which's roots grow over the cemetery. The planter also left some money, which according to his will, helped the hospital greatly.

Linden Tree's fundamental meaning is conjugal love.

Other little meanings are; peace, sweetness (ironic, because of citrus sour type taste), beauty, grace, restoration, happiness, wisdom, warmth, expansion, openness, release emotional blocks. These are very easily explainable, if you've read the tales above.

^Also, take some nutrional facts bc im too tired ot type them out and add shit.

I have a floriography blog! @bloomsong-from-a-swans-breath! :]

[bloomsong-from-a-swans-breath]

January 25th: Lime (tilia x europaea), Linden Tree (tilia)

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has survived the fall! COWPER

(Takes a deep-ass breath) (Takes a long swig of my chai latte and a massive exhale) Mhmkay. Let's do this. Linden, lime. Oh, frick frack, frockin fuck, it's got Lore. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Alright.

Alright. Alright, okay. Under both air and fire, ooh, these plant thingies are under Sun and Jupiter (planetary rules), and is a plant of Taurus. Linden, in particular, is sacred to Venus (Greco-Roman), Odin Freya, Frigg (Asatro), Arianrhod (Celtic), Ostara (Germanic) and Lada (Slavic).

It's said that carrying tilia leaves in your pocket can help prevent intoxication, and that good luck charms can be carved from tilia wood.

Let's, uh, do the Lore First. There's multiple mythological stuff that goes on with this one, but we'll, uh, do only the One One because it's the one that's listed on this little piece'a paper.

Mm.

s t att ic r§§´ØǶ¶ atic ´¶ invaeø m¥nð

WEEEEEEE.

Mki. Let's do this.

The reason that this tree is symbolic of conjugal love is the story of Philemon and Baucis. The couple lived together happily to an old age. It's ye old poor people are kind story, but I'm telling it anyway, because it's sweet.

One day, Jupiter (Zeus) and Mercury (Hermes) descended upon the land. They needed shelter and sustenance- and while all in the town refused them, there was one little hut, made by humble hands and lively love.

Philemon and Baucis were the poorest couple in that part of the country, yet they gave the gods what they wanted. The couple realised (after they fed the gods) that they were, indeed, gods. The gods then took them to a tall hill nearby- and then a flood wiped out everything except for their hut, which turned into a temple.

Jupi-Zeus then promised to grant them whatever they wanted for their kindness- but the couple refused, only wishing to serve him in his temple.

One day (sorry, had to add it), while talking near the edge of the temple grounds, Philemon observed that Baucis was gradually changing into a linden tree, and Baucis observed that Philemon was changing into an oak tree.

Not one to let strange events get in the way, they calmly continued their conversation for as long as they could still see one another, and then they said their sweet goodbyes.

As trees, they stood before the temple and were veneration objects for a long, long time.

Then there's the tale in the modern days that further supports the reasoning. ~1790, there was a pair who were profusely in love with each other, and they were engaged, soon to be married.

The bride, however, suddenly fell sick, and she died soon after. In a very Romeo and Juliet-esque situation, the groom died at the unexpected loss, from the grief.

On the very same day that they were to be married, they both died, and were buried in the one grave.

After some time had passed, over their heads grew two linden trees- from one root. The trees intertwined with each other, and grew up, and every year the fragrant blooms fall upon the lovers' graves.

Hence! Conjugal love.

Linden trees are listed as one of the greatest aged trees, next to oak. In Wirtemberg, there's a GIANT linden tree, which has pillars supporting it's shade and branches bc it's so weighty. This one is aged at least 600 years, a lot more since the source text was cited.

Another linden tree resides in Annaberg, Saxony, in a cemetery. It's a very old tree, which's roots grow over the cemetery. The planter also left some money, which according to his will, helped the hospital greatly.

Linden Tree's fundamental meaning is conjugal love.

Other little meanings are; peace, sweetness (ironic, because of citrus sour type taste), beauty, grace, restoration, happiness, wisdom, warmth, expansion, openness, release emotional blocks. These are very easily explainable, if you've read the tales above.

^Also, take some nutrional facts bc im too tired ot type them out and add shit.

First || Previous || Next

[virulent-scum]

Here’s a *throws an entire pile of sequins in the air* fucking writing little blurb thingy at 12:06 am Yee haw motherfuckers it’s time to have some damn fun

It’s just better this way

She sank into the hot water, shuttered eyes trained on the rounded curve of her abdomen as fat and muscle descended into a softly curled inky mons pubis.

She tried to focus on her body in the moment, the feeling of vertebrate pressing against the warm, wet ceramic of the bottom of the tub.

But even with a massive citrus candle burning in the corner, and her hot skin softened by the epsom-salt water, she was on fire with agitation.

There was this tugging. This weird tightness that felt a hell of a lot like pain-in her chest, of all places.

Sometimes it was gas, and sometimes it was melancholy. It’s a mixed bag when it comes to chest pain.

But this time, she recognized the familiar pang of an old friend of hers’. Loneliness knocked against her rib cage and scraped against her sternum. It whined at her with every breath she drew in.

Her mind flitted back to her meeting with her TA in The Psychology Building of her college a few days prior. She hadn’t been able to rip him from her mind. Images of soft blonde waves and steely blue eyes were mashed against the walls of her mind like old gum.

Academic superiors-they just didn’t give a shit about the personal feelings of students. They just didn’t. It wasn’t in their nature. Her experiences had been limited to professors who’s provided feedback on papers was: ‘good,’ and dispositions reminded her of the police officer from Terminator.

But this meeting had been different. It had felt different. He had relayed his interest in her worry over her academics. Surely this wasn’t a rarity for him to see? He had other students, right?

So, why had he held her gaze steadily as he reassured her that her work was of high quality? That she was too self-critical. That he was sure her academic career would be successful. Did he realize what high praise he had foisted upon her?

Was he aware of his effect at all? She didn’t know.

Shifting in the warmth of the fragrant bath water, she sighed through her nose, pursing her lips just to feel them move against each other. She wondered how his lips would feel on hers’.

Fuck. He was just being nice and considerate. He was. Just a good person. And here she was, toes curling as she basked in the validation of a male authority figure.

Some critical part of her hissed that this was all related to her attraction to authority figures. Thanks, dad.

It didn’t matter in the end. This was simply something not to be borne. A thread that would never be tugged at. An email not sent, a smile not given.

Her phone quietly shifted from its orchestral rendition of Chopin to Once Upon a December

Humming softly, she drifted away to a pillowy place in-between all the longing and rumination and loneliness

Perhaps not tonight, but his eyes would leave her head sometime soon enough.

She trailed a wet finger along the rim of the tub towards the weak flicker emanating from a small candle perched along the side.

Soon enough.

[enchantales]

Fine Hours

a sunflies au

It was drizzling at noon that day. I found this little eatery for a shelter across the roadway. Perhaps a cup of coffee wouldn't be too bad until the rain stopped. The bell was jingling whilst I came in. Warm, cozy, and has lots of rustic ornaments. Fervent orange sweet-scented passed my nose. Nobody was there, I was alone inside.

At once, someone showed up. Asking me what would I like to order and I replied a hot latte, politely with the word please. He's the waiter and the only one, I reckoned. But he didn't seem like a waiter at all knowing there's no apron, no formal uniform, and no menu book carried around his hands. He simply wore a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket to cover it. And in all honesty, I fancied the sound of his shiny boots clucking on the kindling floor.

"The coffee is on me." The latte was served. The steam was floating in the air as I desired. But I frowned at what he just said.

"Uh ... I don't understand. Why?" I looked upon him. He had little moles that I counted on his face, they were three. And he smiled, a winsome smile.

"It's Friday." Then he walked away. I remained bewildered in my sit.

Therefore, I approached him who was reading a vest-pocket book behind the bar. It's impulsive, I didn't even think it was necessary but I had to.

"You're the owner?"

His eyes diverted from the book, got distracted for a moment. "Sorry?"

"This place. Do you own it?" I resolved.

He straightened his back a little. "Yes ... but no, actually. It's my father's ... well, my big family also have run this place. It's just my turn to finally be able for once to set myself in this weird, old diner. Which I suppose it's not even a diner because it only sells coffee here."

I recognized the board on the outside was titled James' Diner. "So, it's a coffee bar?"

"Precisely. Wait ... why are you asking?"

Forsooth, how he nattered seconds ago was sort of staggering me. I didn't expect him to be this chatty. "I was wondering about the Friday thingy you've mentioned." I sat in front of him and watched him stacking up several washed clothes.

"Oh, it's a tradition here."

"Tradition?"

"Yeah, again it's from my family. They decided to make everything free only on Friday."

"Why is it?"

"Because it's a holy day."

I raised one of my brows as a sign of my puzzlement.

"Get it?"

"No." I shook my head and disfavored it. "Are you close with your family?"

Maybe it's nosy of me to instantly ask a stranger about their family's relationship. Still and all, I heard a lot of the word family, so I was guessing that he is possibly close with them.

He hummed. "Big family? Not that much. It's just me and my dad at home. My mom died of cancer when I was five, have never known her enough hitherto."

"I'm sorry ...." It did surprise me that he looked calm to express those words that I discovered were a bit harrowing to hear.

"Don't be."

Moreover, we went through long-drawn-out conversations. Strangely, we had a lot of things in common as many topics were covered. Not too personal, merely about our favorites; we both enjoyed some of Wes Anderson and Nolan's works, we admired Pollock's abstract paintings, we adored Plath's neurotic poems, we liked nuances smell of citrus, and we favored cinnamon rolls. He also told me about his family's pedigree and how they established the bar. And I unconsciously studied the way he was talking owing to his amusing tone. He was such a comic and silly. He slicked his hair to the back every so often and I noticed it as his appealing charm. In all honesty, he was good-looking with his yellow complexion skin.

The blast of the rain faded away. Simply the drips on top of the roof tile were trickling one by one. I finished my latte yet there was no one other than us. He suggested that we should take a stroll in the town, maybe went to the flea market which was settled five blocks from his bar, it was out of the blue. He assured me that it was no big deal if he closed the bar just for one day. I absolutely had no idea of what he intended although I went along with him at last. Since I didn't know where to go this day besides.

We rode on his motorcycle. I observed the roadway was quite vacant due to the locals being used to filling the pavement rather than having themselves ride vehicles. I didn't bring a helmet so I let my golden hair fluttering here and there. The mood was blue after the rain, and I could still sniff the residual petrichor along the way vividly.

We scooted towards an alley between indistinguishable designed houses. We flumped on a wooden box and a folding chair that were already there. They were damp but we felt insensible about it. I dug into my eastern rice platter while he devoured his oriental noodle salad which we bought in the market earlier. Our dialogue ran on thus far. We were chatting from a to z doubtlessly up till we polished off our foods. Up till we reached a discussion that lead to our individual matters.

"To tell the truth, I'm running away from home." I brought up my legs so that I could hug them intently as I spoke.

"You are?"

"Yeah ... it's too loud inside my house. More so inside my head as well."

"Having a hard time?"

I exhaled deeply. "I currently am ... I don't know. I feel many emotions struck me as I get older. I lost interest in what I'm used to doing. Particularly, I stopped drawing a few months ago, I'm sluggish with my college assignments, and frequently procastinate at almost everything ... and it's all because of my turbulent, out-of-control feelings. No one can ever hate me more except myself.

"What is wrong with me? And how perplexing it is when I knew there is a faulty in me but I couldn't comprehend the problems and I was mad about it. I became rage, furious, and reckless. Then I could wail approximately every day.

"The environment in my house is not helpful and obliging me to heal at all nowadays; ergo, I run away." My voice was tender just as soon as I confided because I ardently held back my tears. There was a scant blur in my eyes though I knew he noticed such.

"I feel the very same, you know."

I turned to him, seeing his head resting on the pale sandy fawn-colored wall. I detected an existence of hollow in his gaze, staring at the grayish-blue sky. "Really?"

"What age are you?"

"Twenty."

"We're not that far. I'm twenty-five."

"Are you okay?"

"At this moment? Yes. Back in the day or yesterdays? Certainly, no. I have lots of anxiety just like you. And who knows what will happen in my life to come."

"Do you ever solve it swiftly?"

"Never. Well, I don't know ... you'll only get dross lessons if you ask me, but ... I think as I, too, become an adult, I value my life gradually. I acknowledged my sorrows but I wasn't drowning in them too much because I trust good stuffs be along with me even in the smallest thing that could happen. For instance, I was happy when I spent my day trying some new coffee recipes. I was delight when I spotted an old couple sitting on the berches and talking like they were in love for the first time. Or I joyed when I caught my nephew giggling because I tickled him. Just busying myself with happy thoughts, happy head.

"We're human after all, we're deficient. We could still be blissful regardless of the raging moments ago. We're going to be all right at the end of the day and begin again tomorrow.

"Life is a blessing. Life's too short to be bitter at oneself. And most importantly, we should forgive ourselves." His utterance was low but vehement. I listened to him attentively.

"Then I'll do the same."

He glanced at me and breathed, "you'll bear it better than me."

"Of course, both of us," I twinkled, "it'll be better for us soon, step by step. I believe that."

"Growing up is hard."

I scoffed. "Indeed. Maturing is enigmatic."

"Wanna go to the beach?"

Good things come in small packages. I sensed the warmth of his words while I discerned, and thence I consented. "Beach would be great."

It was afternoon heretofore, nearly dusk. The cloud saturated the sky and we could barely see the sun that was about to set. The radiance did beam on the surface of the sea, signs of afterglow approaching to cease the daylight. We sat down on the sand without a lining, neglecting how the light yellowish brown granural stuck to our garments. The wild wind was enduring so I cuddled myself tightly with the blue cardigan glued to my body. We eyed the seascape and panorama of the beach; a few toddlers were building sand castles, couples were playing around on the seashore endlessly, and seagulls were landing.

Silence dominated us. However, I love this kind of tranquility. It was the type of quietness that wanted me to stay forever, and just with him explicitly.

"Have you ever been in love?" I cracked our silence. He laid his hands a little to the back to support his body tilting.

"Various times. But, it never worked the way I wanted it to be. I ended up being the one who got turned down over and over ... thus, I'm taking a break to be in a romantic relationship, I'm sorta sick of it."

"You've been heartbroken, then?"

"Oh, clearly, I did. And I hated that feeling. The feeling when it seemed I was the one who did the effort in the relationship, the feeling when I discovered they cheated on me, the feeling when they left me without saying goodbye, or when they said they were falling out of love and I deserved better .... Well, I do want every single thing to be better."

His whole countenance was a little pissed. And I admitted what a rugged tragic love story he had. "Yeah, you look deserving of something better."

"What about you?"

"Me? Uhm ... I had a first love. And similar to you, I've been heartbroken by it."

"Can I ask why?"

"He ... he died because of a motorcycle accident." I paused, distinct memories swarming in my head all at once. "It happened a few years ago."

He apologized and yet I cleared that it was tolerable. "He's the one who comforted me in my rough times. And I lost him too early before I could recover. And I loved him too much to be heartsick like this."

He checked out on me in melancholy. "How does it feel to lose someone you love?"

I sighed. "It ... it was miserable, devastated. Like, I was with him in the morning and the latter at night he was gone. I've never been so depressed in my life but the day when he passed away."

"Do you miss him?"

"I'm longing for him every day."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah ... it must be very heart-wretching I also miss someone who doesn't even have the memories that I could ever remember. I pity myself." It's his mom.

We were locking our eyes on each other, a gloomy atmosphere surrounded us whilst we proceeded to send an imperceptible signal to hang on.

"I should've run away a long time ago."

"And the reason?"

"To meet you. I wish I met you sooner."

He let out a laugh, and I was stunned by it. "The same goes with me," he responded.

Night arrived. It was a fair 8 o'clock after we parked in front of his bar. I questioned his phone number prior to myself went home. He asked me again if I wanted to be accompanied, but I refused it kindly. I stressed that I don't want my family to see I was with someone else, a stranger especially.

Subsequently, I asked myself, how come I can be so comfortable and close to a stranger that I could easily open up to him? I even put my hands around his waist and lounged my head behind his back on our way off. I didn't become a forlorn person anymore. And by means of that, I implored to be by his side for a very long time. It was all thanks to those hours before, thanks to him I felt secure, at peace, and unusually fine.

"I'll see you around." I didn't want to say goodbye, I wanted to meet him again.

"See, ya." He somewhat waved.

And without me knowing, he looked back at me as I strode, left him alone. He caught sight of my messy golden hairdo, the long cardigan that I wore, and how fast I moved until I was far, small, and no longer in his view. I like to feel his eyes on me when I look away. Lastly, without him knowing as well, he smiled, wholeheartedly.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Of needles and thread

Happy Birthday @linasofia 🎂

Here's the winner of the pick-a-fic...

Words: 4,3 k

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, unprotected intercourse, oral sex

You were about to close shop – the elderly dwarrow who was your colleague and boss having left almost an hour ago already – when the door swung open in a gust of cold wind that sent the swatches you had left on the counter flying into different directions.

“Mahal have mercy,” you muttered under your breath and came up from behind said counter to check who dared bother you this late.

“My king,” you gasped upon seeing Thorin II, standing tall and slightly sheepish on the threshold, tugging at his coat that had caught on a beam just outside the door where you usually hung freshly washed linens to dry.

Ah, the life of a draper, you thought, even though you liked to think of yourself as a designer and excellent seamstress beyond the mundane task of providing the dwarves of Erebor with their sturdy but boring tunics.

“Mistress…Dori said I could come anytime I cared to, but I see now that he has retreated to his own chambers already. I shall disturb you no further, please forgive me for the intrusion," the king spoke in a calm, perfectly paced flow of carefully articulated words.

Even his speech was regal, you realised with a hint of envy; from his deportment to the tips of his boots, he radiated self-possessed elegance while – by this time – there was more of your hair out of its bun than in it which made you look like a demented bird with part of its nest carried on its head.

“No,” you exclaimed hastily, “no, come in, your Highness. What can our humble shop do for you?”

“Well,” the king started, audibly scratching his beard with the short the nails of his index and middle finger pensively, “Nori told Dwalin – you know Dwalin? Big fellow, taciturn, and quite annoying if truth be told – during one of their…meetings that his brother, Nori’s brother not Dwalin’s, made much more interesting tunics than any we owned…”

Thorin fell silent as if he had exhausted himself by giving you this very detailed but utterly confusing explanation.

“Either way, Dwalin has decided to order some and my sister – Dís, do you know her? – thought I should have new tunics as well.”

You didn’t have it in you to tell your king that you had no idea who he was talking about as you had only just started working in this shop over a year ago and had not yet had the opportunity to meet many high dignitaries.

“Come through, Your Majesty,” you bid him humbly.

“Thorin will do, just Thorin, I am not a number!” he smiled smoothly and walked towards the back of the shop with careless grace.

With a small shake of the head, you locked the door, drew the blinds, and turned off the main lights before following him; it felt illicit and exciting to be alone in this small space with the most handsome male dwarf you could even think of.

Trying hard not to fall over your own feet, you unrolled the measuring tape and – holding one end in your fingers – wrapped that hand around his sturdy wrist while letting the other slide along the thick sleeve of the coat he was wearing.

“I am ever so sorry my…Thorin,” you could have kicked yourself for the way your mind and mouth derailed in his presence, “but if you could please take off the coat…”

With an easy shrug of his shoulders, Thorin discarded the said garment and threw it over a low chair on which more swatches were piled high.

A knowing half-smile blossomed on his features as he saw you bite your lip upon repeating the measuring-procedure with meticulous care.

“Hmmm,” you hummed and made a show of jotting down the numbers on a little notepad as if you would not remember them by heart from this day forward.

Measuring out the width of his shoulders was a forbidden pleasure, your fingertips grazing along the strong muscles rolling like waves under his thin – and honestly indeed rather worn – light blue tunic.

“Hold still,” you grunted out of habit, distracted by your work.

“Sorry, Milady,” he chuckled, and you groaned under your breath. Of course, he was not a random customer, how could you dare chide him like that?

“How long do you want this tunic to be?” you asked politely as you walked around the little pedestal on which he was standing, surrounded by a three-sided mirror that you polished every morning and every evening devotedly.

“I think…here,” his broad but surprisingly elegant hand – priceless rings glistening in the overhead light – came to rest, palm up, on his thigh, his fingers pointing right at his crotch.

Oh Mahal, you did not really think that, did you?

“Alright,” you tried to sound cheery and light-hearted as you measured the distance between the centre of his shoulder and that tantalising point where the edge of his hand met his strong thigh.

“Curse the waters that made all the others grow,” you muttered under your breath as you realised that you’d have to practically hug him diagonally to get the measurement.

“I can hold this for you, Mistress,” Thorin chuckled and – before you could refuse or accept – his other hand slid over yours and clasped the measuring tape in place on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Your…Thorin,” you babbled and frowned when he laughed mirthfully.

“No, Mistress, I have no problem with being your Thorin, but I am most certainly not mine,” he mocked you gently, tilting his head the fraction of an inch to make sure that you realised that he had not meant it in an offensive way.

“Don’t shift, please,” you immediately reproved him, and his head snapped up with military precision. Staring straight ahead and looking dignified was a skill he had acquired early in his life it seemed and perfected since.

Bending over to read the tiny numbers on your tape just inches away from those enticing fingertips pointing at his loins shamelessly, you tried hard to ignore the indecent position in which you found yourself and to disregard what the two of you might have looked like to anyone who happened to enter.

No, the door was locked, and it felt as if you were alone in the world.

“Quite enthralling…do you ever stand here, Mistress, and admire yourself in the mirrors?”

For a moment, you were not sure if you had merely imagined his words, but when you rolled the tape up again, his eyes twinkled mischievously as he nodded at the mirror right in front of him.

“No, Thorin, I have too much work and too little vanity for such things,” you spoke decisively; in your mind, you were already drawing up patterns and decorations for the deep, dark blue tunic you had in mind.

A garment fit for a king.

“Humour me,” he murmured seductively, pulling you by the hand up on the pedestal while he stepped down from it and making you swirl slowly.

You felt silly; you knew that the lights and the angling of the mirrors were carefully arranged so as to maximise the beautifying effect on your customers, but you had not been lying when you had said that you’d never tried it yourself.

A gasp escaped you as his hands undid the disintegrating bun and let your long, stubborn hair cascade around your aching shoulders.

“You’re quite a sight, Mistress,” he praised you in a low, velvety tone that caressed your senses like the fabric made your fingers tingle whenever you worked with it.

“Oh, stop it,” you tried to deflect, but his fingers had slid inside your collar, rubbing the thin linen slowly as if to test the thread-count.

As your gaze flew back to your reflection, you discovered that your eyes seemed darker and somehow more intense as the nightly darkness pressed in – only kept at bay by the pale cone of flatteringly soft light raining down on you from above.

“Are ladies’ garments much more complex than men’s?” he asked, still pretending that this was a normal business interaction even while his fingers skimmed down your spine.

From your vantage point, you could only see his broad shoulders peeking out on either side of your back while his amused voice seemed to float – disembodied – around you until it filled the whole room as well as every nook and cranny of your befuddled mind.

His presence was like the incense your grandmother had used on special days, intoxicating and dizzying in its intensity that made your thoughts blur and drift.

Heat swirled in heavy, snaking tendrils through your body as his hands slipped around your waist and started tracing the gentle slope ever so slowly.

“Did you make this bodice?” he asked in a low, guttural voice while your whole conscience seemed to be drawn to the areas where his palms seemed to singe the fabric covering your smouldering skin.

“I did,” you stammered, your own voice a mere breathy whisper suspended in the semi-darkness of the workshop.

“I might have to inspect that garment…just to get a feeling for your talent and craftsmanship,” he chuckled, one finger slipping easily under the strings of said bodice and undoing the tight knots with dizzying rapidity and ease.

As it fell – as if undone by mischievous ghosts – at your feet, you could see the outline of your bare breasts through the worn tunic; you had neither the time, the money, nor the inclination to fashion clothes for your own enjoyment.

There was something strangely arousing about seeing yourself exposed in this way though and as his hands appeared again from behind, cupping those barely clothed mounds of flesh teasingly, your head dropped back to rest on his shoulder.

“No, Mistress,” he hummed, “lift your head and look at yourself! See how beautiful you are!”

Oh, but it was so heavy, filled with indecent thoughts while your body was abuzz with the tingling sensation of his broad thumbs being dragged across the oversensitive buds pressing eagerly against the thin fabric.

Within a second or two, your heavy skirt was undone as well and pooled like a lake of wool around your ankles.

You had strong legs that shone white in the soft light wavering and flickering, or maybe it was just your own mind that was vibrating and vacillating with illicit desire and the light was as constant as the moon itself.

“You are beautiful,” he repeated as his hand slipped underneath the tunic, rubbing the fabric for a moment as if he really was inspecting its quality before his palm came – burning as hot iron – to rest against your somersaulting stomach.

“Look at yourself,” he repeated authoritatively as he pushed the flimsy garment up and tugged it over your head, laying your upper body bare.

“My king,” you sighed, half-frightened and half-frantic with lust already.

“No doubt, you want to keep yourself pure for your husband,” he hummed, “but there are things we can do in the meantime.”

Your body was burning for him and – of that much you were sure – nobody could have faulted you for giving in to your king; it was your duty as a good subject, was it not?

“Let me touch you, Mistress…Will you?” he asked, his breath hot and humid against your upper back which made you jerk forward, pressing your breasts eagerly into his questing palms.

“Whatever you want, my king,” you replied breathlessly.

“Call me Thorin,” he whispered, “and tell me that you want this!”

So honourable, you thought with a pang of bad conscience, for this meant that you would have to give voice to your most indecent needs and desires.

“I want this, I want you,” you moaned, arching into his seeking, almost tender touch, your eyes riveted on his massive hands curled around those virginal breasts no man had ever touched before.

“Will you look at yourself for me?” he inquired on, his thumbs now hooked into the waistband of your drawers, tugging at them playfully.

“I shall do whatever you want me to do,” you answered in a shivering sigh.

“I am not your king now,” Thorin growled, “and I am as much at your mercy than the other way around.”

He gave your undergarment another tentative tug, “May I?”

You merely nodded, making the haze in your mind swirl and billow like silk in the wind, eager to see where he would lead you.

Naked and trembling with anticipation, you stared at your own reflection just a heartbeat later.

Had you ever looked quite as beautiful in the pale, grey morning light or in the golden rays of the midday sun? You could not remember but you surely could perceive it now – late at night in a closed room – as his hands slid over your skin like Dori’s caressed the expensive silk brought in from faraway lands.

Appreciative and careful, Thorin seemed to map out every dip and curve of your silhouette with his fingers and – from time to time – you caught a flash of his bright blue eyes in the mirror as he peeked over your shoulder to watch himself explore your body and tease shivering sighs and surprised moans out of you.

It was a strange game that made your knees quiver: those seemingly disembodied hands were coaxing the most outlandish sensations out of your body and soul while you could but watch and react.

You almost forgot that it was the king himself who was playing you as if you were that mystical harp people said he owned and mastered.

Tension rose inside of you until you felt like a piece of cloth yourself, torn and tattered, knotted and twisted to the point of tearing, and your jaw clenched around all the pleas you knew to be indecent to even voice in private.

“Say it!” he demanded as your thighs clenched helplessly around that ball of fire that had been hitherto so utterly unknown to you; it was as if he could read your need in the undulations of your tortured flesh.

“I want you to touch me,” you assured him in a single gust of hot breath that almost sounded like a sob.

His hand plunged between your legs and – automatically – you spread your thighs wider to accommodate the sheer width of it as his fingers ghosted ever so lightly over that fleshy seam that covered the hot, humid pocket of your core.

With a whine, you tilted your hips, urging him on, demanding more of something you didn’t even understand while never taking your eyes off the mirror in front of you.

You looked positively feral; your eyes were ablaze with a fire you had never known yourself to possess, and your skin seemed to glow golden with the beating, thrumming urgency that drowned out every sensible thought in your mind.

“Oh, Mistress,” he muttered, low in his chest, turning you around suddenly and pressing his hot lips onto yours.

His hands clamped around your waist again as his breath gusted into your mouth, making you dizzy with a need you could not fully understand.

“I need…” you whimpered, your thighs clenching and unclenching rhythmically as if to demand that his warm, teasing fingers return to that secret garden of yours.

With a slightly blurry smile, Thorin divested himself of his own tunic and slipped out of his trousers as if they were poison ivy.

“Oh Mahal,” you sighed upon discovering the bulge extending his undergarments almost grotesquely.

Before you could say anything more, he had stepped out of those as well and turned you back to the mirror, pressing his heat against you as his fingers slid through the damp curls of your mound.

A tiny cry fell from your lips like dew from a rose petal as he parted your flesh and lightly grazed the tip of his index over the pearl hidden within a shell that had been unbreeched before this day.

“More,” you demanded, twitching and jerking like a puppet on a string as his caresses became increasingly insistent, drumming up a storm within your skin.

Blinding light burst into flames behind your lids, and you felt as if you were pulled taut like a thread after the final stitch and melted like sealing wax over a candle at the same time.

“Look at yourself,” Thorin demanded again, and you lifted your head to stare blindly at the wild-eyed creature that wore your skin but looked nothing like you with its glowing halo of pure bliss and its feline grin.

You no longer wanted to see your own fall from grace and so, you moved to turn but his hands kept you in place; you knew what he’d ask of you.

Your lips felt numb and swollen from his kisses as you parted them slowly to moan his name, begging him to let you see him instead of that stranger in the mirror.

Mahal, he was glorious; whoever had fashioned that suit he had been born with was a dress maker whose talent and vision far surpassed your own: every rope of muscle, every stitch of hair, every embroidery of veins and tendons was utter perfection.

“You look weak, Mistress,” that voice – a blend of smooth silk and raspy velvet – purred into your ear, “why don’t you sit down?”

Vaguely nodding, you let him guide you down until the backsides of your legs touched the cold wood of the small dais.

For a moment, you thought that you could ground yourself but – as he knelt between your open thighs – the king started peppering nipping kisses along the curve of your hip, and your mind went blank.

What fabrics you had felt run like rivers between your fingertips and along your bare skin and yet, none compared to the feeling of his beard against the most delicate parts of your flesh as his tongue dove – pointed as a needle – into you, piercing your flesh without ever breaking your skin.

“My king,” you panted, the fire within you blazing with a ferocity that positively turned you into a hazard in a place such as this.

Colours and textures exploded behind your heavy lids, the wood supporting you melting like chocolate, until his hands on your waist were the only anchor tethering you to the real world.

“I am sorry,” he chuckled darkly against your skin, “but you looked so beautiful.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you sighed. This was a lie for Thorin II had ruined your marital prospects in ways he could not even fathom; you would never forget or be content with anything less than the level of devotion and passion he had just lavished on you.

“Well, did you get the measurements?” he asked while rising, a bit awkwardly, and scanning the room for his tunic that had been so cavalierly discarded before.

“Not yet,” you smiled, a surge of confidence driving you ever on.

Pushing yourself up quickly, you forced him down in the very spot you had been sitting in only a moment prior – as a treacherous wet mark on the worn wood betrayed – and got your measuring tape back out.

“Mistress?” Thorin asked breathlessly as you sank onto your own knees before him, “This seems hardly necessary for a tunic.”

When you dropped the tape and clawed your fingers into his thighs though, the soft joking tone drained out of his voice as rapidly as the iridescent water from the dying tubs.

“Oh,” he moaned, his hips bucking towards you, desperate for a relief his pride wouldn’t let him beg for.

Thankfully for him, you were a much less cruel and masterful person than him, so you bent your neck – a movement and position well known to you as you had spent many an hour hunched over finest needlework – and lapped up the single drop of clear fluid beading at the top of his cock like a pearl of dew clinging to a blossom.

His strangled, throaty cry was all the encouragement you needed to plunge forward and – while your fingers caressed him in carding, threading, teasing motions – you lapped and sucked at the engorged, angrily throbbing member in front of you shamelessly.

He was beautiful in ways that defied your very understanding of what the world was made of; you - who had thought that it was a badly stitched together construct of discarded linen - came to discover the finest materials imaginable as you tightened your grip ever further around his strong thighs.

His breathing became more laboured by the second, gusting like the bellows of the great forges down your neck as he bent over you to caress your back tenderly.

These fingers of yours that threaded needles as fine as hairs through the most delicate of fabrics were now in constant movement as you endeavoured to give your king as much pleasure as you could.

You had ever believed him to be a passionate man, but the way his thighs quivered and his teeth clamped around curses and words of endearment showed you that you didn’t even begin to fathom the depths of either the meaning of the word or the sensations themselves that swirled through Thorin like fire and smoke.

Nobody would ever compare to him, you thought once more - almost disgusted by that discovery - as his fingers dug deep into your hair to find purchase while the world around you fell away.

“Do you…” he moaned, “do you want me to finish like this?”

You were not entirely sure what he was talking about, but - just for good measure - you redoubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks further to create even more suction which made his words melt into a groan that could have expressed either deep delight or torturous pain.

“I guess,” he panted, “this would be better; you’d want to be married one day and that gift I’ve but tasted is your husband’s to win.”

He would not claim your virginity, but he had taken your innocence from you; the veil had lifted, and you could see the world as it was - in its monstruous, terrible glory - and nobody would ever manage to turn back time.

Suddenly, he arched – like the string of a bow being pulled back – and whatever intimate arrow had been nocked deep within him was let loose and hit the back of your throat in a stream of salty warmth.

The low, long-drawn, hoarse cry that seemed to both announce and applaud said explosion made your skin thrum with exaltation; you had done well and the prostrate body of your ruler - spread out like a sheet of the most exquisite satin - gave you a pleasure exceeding even the one you felt when looking upon a job well-finished.

“Oh Mistress,” he sighed before pressing a warm, affectionate kiss onto the crown of your head.

Somehow, that gesture of profound tenderness hit you harder than all the illicit, forbidden things you had shared in this forlorn room just moments ago; being the unwitting plaything of a royal was a fate that befell many a maiden all over the world, but to be treated lovingly came with risks of the heart and the soul far more dangerous for they could have much more grievous consequences.

“I shall have your tunic ready for a first fitting in a fortnight’s time,” you whispered, picking up your measuring tape to busy your hands lest they return to his warm skin like a dog ran back to its master.

“Shall I see you for the fitting?” the king asked in a slightly mischievous tone, “Royal business keeps me relatively busy, and I’d be ever so thankful if you could see me after hours?”

You understood only too well what he was saying - barely hidden beneath his seemingly nonchalant question - and you blushed; the fire between your legs had not simmered down yet and you knew that - had he asked you in this very second - you would have agreed to give him what he would not demand of you.

Maybe, you would never marry, and that sacrifice would be brought willingly if only you could have him; you desired him like a person underwater yearned for air, or like a starving wretch longed for a single morsel of breath.

He drove you not only to distraction but to despair; there was nary a thing you would not have forsaken in this very second to keep him by your side, to feel his massive weight pin you to the dais like an insect onto a piece of cork, and to have him conquer your body with that tempestuous ardour that would fan the embers into roaring flames.

“I’ll be here,” you whispered, “and I’ll be waiting for you.”

His index and thumb closed gently around your chin as he purred warningly: “This is dangerous, Mistress, and you stand to lose more than you realise now.”

“It won’t matter,” you replied calmly, “it will be worth it, Your Majesty.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but his eyes were alight in the shadow of the overhead light source as he shook his head darkly; he wanted you as well, you could smell it, you could taste it still on your tongue, and you could feel it in the way his fingers quirked on your skin even now.

“In a fortnight,” he repeated ominously before collecting and redonning his discarded clothes and leaving the shop without turning around.

“In a fortnight,” you sighed and started cleaning away every treacherous proof of what had transpired between you and your late-time customer.

The days couldn’t fly by fast enough, you thought, as you watched him go.

So, this was the smutty short :D

I hope you all enjoyed this, if so, do not hesitate to leave me a small comment :D

Thank you ❤️

Taglist :

@blairsanne

@narniaandthenorth

@fizzyxcustard

@laurfilijames

@myselfandfantasy

@legolasbadass

@linasofia

@lathalea

@midearthwritings

@guardianofrivendell

@mismaeve

@middleearthpixie

[caramelmillktea]

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

Pairing(s) : tattoo!artist!Vi x florist!fem!reader

proofread : Yes/no/semi

wordcount fic : 988 words

warnings : none

author's note : School has begun so that means It will take longer for me to write new chapters :((. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter

       previous part         masterlist          next part 

The front door opened revealing a tall, slim figure. Your boyfriend rushed to you. "(Bf/n) What a pleasant surprise!" You smiled. 

"Hey babe." He turned his attention to Vi who was sitting with her sketchbook out. "Vi"

"Hello to you too (bf/n), we meet again, ey?." Vi gave him a faux smile. Your boyfriend nodded before shifting his attention to you.

"So babe." Your boyfriend began. "I wanted to borrow one of your books, It's kind of urgent" Your boyfriend grabbed the edge of the counter to support him.

"Sure! Which one?" 

"Uhh…" your boyfriend thought before speaking up again "The one about flowers?" Vi snored at his pathetic attemped to describe a book.

"C'mon babe, you need to be more specific. I have a lot of books about flowers." You giggled.

"Uhh.. I don't remember what it was called. It was like an encyclopedia about flowers."

"Do you mean 'The plant encyclopedia'?" You thought out loud.

"No! Not that one." Your boyfriend thought for a few seconds before speaking again. "The one with the flower symbol thingy on the cover."

"You mean the book called 'the language of flowers'?" Vi said not looking up from her sketchbook.

"Yeah that one!" Your boyfriend exclaimed.

"Oh! That's one! It's one of my favorite books!" You exclaimed. " Wait here! I'll go grab it for you" You flashed a smile at him before disappearing into the back room.

“How did you know that was the book I was looking for?” Your boyfriend asked, looking at Vi.

“Simple, I borrow that bookit a lot. It is a great way to study how to draw plants.” 

Your boyfriend hummed. He kept glancing at Vi’s face tattoo as he tapped his fingers on the counter. Waiting for you to come back.

“Y’know, the offer still stands.” Vi spoke up.

“What offer?” Vi looked at him.  “About the tattoo discount of course.” Vi smoothly replied. “If you want I can tattoo your initials on your cheekbone just like mine.”

“And what makes you think I want that?” 

“You keep glancing at mine,” Vi sighed and started sketching again. “I assumed you were interested.”

“Well… Guess you assumed wrong.” Your boyfriend sneered at her.

“No need to get so worked up, I was just asking” Vi replied nonchalantly as she erased something on her paper. She always liked it to get under the skin of that pathetic excuse of a boyfriend.

“I’m not getting worked up-” Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by a hiss. He looked down and saw Whiskers looking up at him and she didn’t seem happy.

“Whiskers!” You gasped as you walked into the room. You went towards your cat to calm her down but she ran away.

“I don’t know why your cat always hates me!” Your boyfriend huffed. 

“I think it is because of your cologne, you know how Whiskers can be when she smells citrus.” You giggled and handed the book to him. “So… Why did you want to borrow it?” 

“O-oh” He stumbled. “I-it’s a surprise.”

You face lit up at the thought of it. “Alright! It better be a good one.” You teased.

“Just you wait.” He smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Anyhow, I have to get going. I’ll be working till late.”

“Again!?! I thought tonight was going to be just the two of us!” You pout.

“I know babe but my boss can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” Your boyfriend gave you a goodbye kiss before leaving the shop “Good luck at work!” You called after him. Your smile was slowly replaced with a frown, you really hoped he was free tonight so the two of you could do a movie night. It has been ages since the two of you had a movie night. In the past the two of you would have movie nights every night but ever since your boyfriend got a new boss and a promotion, he has been absent quite frequently.

“Are you ok?” Vi finally asked, breaking the silence that once lingered in The Florish Gardens 

“Yeah…" you paused. "I’m alright.” You went back to her bouquet. “It’s just that…. he has been really busy lately, hell I sometimes don't get to see him for weeks.” You frowned a bit.

“Yeah… I know that feeling.” Vi said in a knowing way. “Wait… did you say you don't get to see him in weeks?”

“Yeah? Why?” you asked confused

“Do you know where he is when you haven't seen him in weeks?” Vi ignored your question.

“He is normally busy with work.” You say.

“I see…” Vi finally said. "Hey, do you want to do something fun tonight?" 

"Oh? Are you asking me out for a date?" You joked. "How bold of you, especially since I have a boyfriend!"

"I've never said it would be a date, but if you want to call it a date I wont mind." Vi gave you a smug smirk.

"Ok, fair enough" You giggled.

"But all jokes aside, what do ya say cupcake?" 

"Yeah! Maybe we can have dinner together and do something after that" you smiled. "Do you have any suggestions on what we can do?"

"I do but I prefer to keep it a surprise for now." Vi gave you a mischievous smile.

You looked at the red-haired girl and raised a brow at her.

"You don't have to worry your little head about it. I'll take care of everything, sound good?"

"Sure!"

"Alright then" Vi stood up and packed her sketchbook, pencil and eraser. "I'll pick you up at eight then." Vi winked at you. On her way out, she stopped and turned to you.

"Hey cupcake?"

"Hm?"

"Wear something comfortable, ok?"

"Why?"

Vi grinned mischievously before saying.

"You'll see~"

(If you want to be in the taglist, comment and i'll be sure to add you to the list;))

taglist:

@bigboobslilheart​

@dianaelena15

[legendofzoodles]

Cute LU Headcanons

Wind has the largest sweet tooth of the chain thanks to all his Grandmother’s baking. After hearing this, Wild made it a point to bake treats for him regularly. Wind’s favourite is sugar cookies

Speaking of sweet treats: 

Time, for some reason, likes sweets that have spices/herbs in them, like ginger, cinnamon and mint

To I, Warriors is a citrus kind of guy, having a preference for desserts like lemon meringue pie. Or a cheeky key lime pie

Legend’s delicate palette has a fondness for unnecessarily luxurious desserts. Too much so for me to risk elaborating further...other than to say he likes chewy textures

Four adores it when desserts have fruit in them, not that preserved stuff though, the fresh stuff that grows on trees. I would tell you more, but I’ve only ever been raspberry picking

Twilight takes the ‘sweet’ out of ‘sweet treats’. My man over here prefers coffee, dark chocolate and only the saltiest of salted caramels. Bitter is better

Hyrule is nutty about nuts. Whether it’s walnuts or almonds, as long as it provides that cronch™️, he’s here for it. He likes honeycomb too for the same reason

Sky likes fluffy light sweets. The kind that are verging on sickly and melt effortlessly in your mouth, like cotton candy. If you took the ‘meringue’ out of ‘lemon meringue pie’ that’d be another favourite of his

You know the drill by now when it comes to Wild and food, he eats everything. Although if he had a preference, it would definitely be anything dairy based, like clotted cream and milkshakes

Warrior, Legend and Time are the spearheads when it comes to interacting with high society: 

Warrior knows all the rules and how to navigate the world of the rich. On the surface, it appears like he’s in his element when conversing with them fancy folk 

Legend’s sister is literally the princess (yup, over here Fable and Legend are half siblings), so he’s got the chops

Time is aware of the certain manners that are expected, due to etiquette he had to learn when he was in the Hyrulean army and as always just years of life experience

Wild, although rigorously trained in the past, has unfortunately forgotten a lot of it. But the learned manners quickly become second nature to him with practice

So, when speaking with rich nobles, royalty or attending balls, those three take the lead. Though, most of the time Warrior is alone in this. Because Legend would rather just not thanks and Time will willfully ignore the rules and purposefully annoy the nobles. Because life is short and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass

Although when Warriors is left to his own devices he’ll often string along a clueless and awkward Twilight, so he can suffer with him for the funnsies!

Four adores reading. While he loves the way hardback books look on shelves, he prefers paperbacks when on the road because they’re lighter and more practical 

Wind doesn’t like reading. He’s fine with maps and navigation charts, but if you remove pictures from the equation and replaced it with a long story, he’ll lose interest. To him it’s pointless. Why read about an adventure when you can go out and experience it yourself? On the flip side, he’s always liked being read to

Time can’t read. Well he can, but very slowly and with a lot of pausing. He’s too stubborn to let Four or Sky teach him directly, but they have subtle ways of getting him to practice and improve

Warrior needs reading glasses. They’re thin gold rimmed with oval lenses and that chain thingy old people have

Wild doesn’t sleep enough so he’s prone to napping in unusual places. As an experienced survivalist, he’s guarded, even in sleep. It’s an impossible task covering him up with a blanket without trying to dodge a flying right hook or stray kick. But sometimes he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t move for hours and the chain have to check up on him

Whenever Wild is asleep at camp, the chain suddenly become uncharacteristically quiet

[sarpedon]

♡ ENGLISH TEASHOP ADVENTCALENDA REVIEW ♡

day 12

tea: lemongrass& citrus & ginger

mug: (new thingie): a bear hugging a snowman, uhh Christmas trees without decoration in the back and snow, quite cute

expectations: so first explanation: I accidentally gifted myself Legends of Zelda Botw and have been playing like 35 hours since 24th so Im like in a very different state of mind. making tea takes a lot of energy for a fragile girly girl boy girl cat girl so yuh.... anyways my expectations are like... idk bestie

review: smell: team... actually a note of lemon wowie... wow this seems to actually taste like what it says but in this case it's actually bad bc the taste sucks

overall: 4/10, 4 for being what it claims to be

tomorrow: beautiful me 😳😍💕

tea girl?: failing...

taglist not voluntary: @cry4judas @bgf @recapitulation @catsnivel @eyecharvist @ondineswife @a-feral-bastard @wanderingtundra @krakaslaug

(pls don't block me) <3

tea girl era over. gamer girly girl boy girl cat girl era is upon us!!!!

[starberry-cupcake]

Bored ask thingy: 1,14, 45 :) have a good night!

1. if you have a lighter, what color is it?

The only lighter I have, I don't use as a lighter lol it's a silver Vivienne Westwood orb lighter necklace that was released as NANA merchandise Back In The Day. It's silver with colored gem imitations. I extended the necklace part because the original was too short for such a bulky thing and wearing it wasn't comfortable (the one from the manga also had a longer extension, it was Shin's). Here's a photo, it came with an authenticity card:

14. do you admire the clouds and color of the sky?

The moon more so than the clouds, unless there's a storm, in which case I'd be admiring the clouds for sure.

45. favorite tea?

Funny story, tea isn't on the top of my infusion list tbqh but, for some reason only they know, some people gifted me tea and tea-related things for years. I think one person started when I was trying to cut down on coffee for anxiety reasons, and the others saw I had a lot of tea (not because I wanted to, but because that person gifted them and I'm not much of a drinker so, when guests came, I offered tea from a big selection), and they assumed I really like tea and I feel bad contradicting them.

From all that tea I've tried and been gifted with, my favorite was a citrus blend that also had tiny pieces of nougat in it, from a store that sells specialized blends. I used to be more of an Earl Grey person but now I'm more of a citrus person, I guess. Unless there's coffee or hot chocolate (or mate cocido, sometimes).

Thanks anon! Sorry I answered it the following morning, have a good day! ♥

[dvlboy]

try putting 'ajsbehab' around tags, apparently thats a way through. Tumblr staff can't even fuck up properly smh. A lot of people are using the citrus scale thingy again as well. Why are tumblr staff so- hm. 👾

I’m saving this

bro this update has me shook asf it’s making me question the future of this blog lol

do I put it before or after??

[sailfish-serum]

Pink and bones

Here is a random image I have saved on my phone

Oh my,, whhdbrbre i mean i drink mostly just water and citrus drinks,, although the little collection bit is kinda true!! I have all sorts of stuff i just pick up off the side of the road or i find while noodling through the forest nearby OH FUNFACT that forest is named greenhills which really makes the happy juices go brrrr but back on topic i have sooooo many car parts that i probably shouldnt, mutliple of those tiny doors over the gas cap, some pieces of breaks and car rims, 3 whole head lights, like half of a mangled front bumper, etc etc and i thank that random speed bump the town slapped on our little outskirts road without telling anyone (every so often we hear a big ol clatter n it's very clear that someone forgot about the bump again) N IT'S NOT EVEN SMALL THE BASTARD IS ABOUT THE SIZE OF ONE OF THOSE THINGIES IN PARKING LOTS???? except kinda smooth BUT IF YOU DONT SLOW DOWN AT ALL YOU'RE GONNA F L Y AHSHHSNAANhsnbsbs

The lobster n 80s thing isnt too far off either pahahah! (bitchin sauce is the supreme dippin sauce due to the name alone i dont make the rules)

[livinginfictions]

Tag/Ask Game

This is a sort of Check-in Tag game thing? I was tagged by @vikingstrash, so thank you dear!

1. Why did you choose your url?

I used to have a different tumblr, and then my sister saw me on it and literally took the mouse and made me follow her own tumblr, and it made me So Immensely uncomfortable, I immediately went and made a whole new blog, and messaged all my mutuals privately to tell them I was moving so my sister wouldn't find out. As I struggled to come up with something more creative than 'time-lady," I remembered one of my mom's favorite sayings, "Reality sucks, live in fiction" and since livinginfiction was taken, my friend (who was helping with the crisis) and I added an 's.' Voila. Seven years later, it's the only username i have online. XD

2. Any side blog?

Three, actually. We've got @merthurismycrack where I reblog Merthur shit, @samspsychicpowers for some SPN stuff, and the side blog that's basically my main blog at this point: @asterekmess which is where all my Teen Wolf and Sterek stuff goes.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

Uhhh, I've been on this blog since August of 2014, but my old blog was started in....March 2013. I've been around a fucking while.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

HA. Fuck no. Do I look that organized? Y'all get three hours of spam reblogs, and then I disappear into the aether. How it should be. XD

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

This is essentially the same as I said for question one. Sister found the old blog, and I needed a new one. I tend to make my side blogs for more pointed material, so that my main blog can have like...the amalgamation of general stuff i like, and then I can keep the fandomy content more concentrated into the side blogs.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Originally, I did not have this icon. I had this pic I found online with these Beautiful bronze wings against a black background. But then, around the time I decided I wanted to sort of...simplify things and make my username for my online stuff all the same, with all the same pfp's so that I was easily recognized, etc, I realized that....that picture was not mine. I didn't design it or anything. And i couldn't find its source to ask for permission to use it. And it started making me feel shitty for using it in the first place. So I spent like an hour and a half trying to make my Own Wing pic to use, and failed miserably. As a last ditch effort, i went through my 'artistic' photos on my phone and found this one. I adore sky pics, and cloud pics, etc, so it was super my thing, and I just slapped it on there. Still not sick of it. XD I also went to my side blogs and changed out the pfp's for photos that I'd taken, except the sterek blog, because that one is literally just a black triskelion on a white background, and it's a pretty non-specific thing. I would have used a picture of my Own Tattoo, but it's very hard to get a picture of my back that doesn't have weird lighting, and I'm just too lazy.

7. Why did you choose your header?

All my headers are also photos that I've taken or art pieces that I've made. In the case of this blog, it's a picture I made with a 'galaxy maker' online thingy. I love green. I love blue. Ta dah. In general i just try to find something that gives me the right vibes or has the right color palette to match what it's for. (orange and blue for sterek, trees for merlin, and wings for spn)

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

On this blog? I.....just spent two hours digging through all my posts tagged 'personal' bc i wanted the post that I MADE with the most notes...and i have no idea. I mostly respond to other posts, rather than making my own. The highest note count i can find is a post i made abt having friends that aren't in your fandom, which means you can use inspirational quotes to help them through tough times without them realizing ur quoting doctor who or something. 22 notes. *fingerguns* I'm famous, i know.

9. How many mutuals do you have ?

Is...is that a thing i can check?? or do you expect me to hand count??

10. How many followers do you have right now?

Uhghhghghgh, this blog has 439 at the moment, and i'm pretty sure not a lot of those are porn bots, bc i usually screen new followers for it. a lot of them have come over from my sterek blog though.

11. How many people do you follow?

hehe....uh...36.....one of which is my husband....

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

I don't even know what the requirements for something being a 'shitpost' are....but i think no?

EDIT: I Take it Back, I just found a post I made with "Hot Take: PIneapples are an honorary citrus fruit" and I believe that counts? So YES.

13. How often do you use tumblr?

Uh, nearly every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes i forget it exists for a couple days, though. It's my only social media. I dont use twitter or facebook or instagram. I Have Accounts, but I literally dont open those apps more than once a month.

14. Did you have a fight /argument with another  blog ? Who won?

My sterek blog gets in fights more often than it should. XD I'm feisty. And I dunno who wins, i think no one. it's tumblr. there's no real winning or losing.

15. How do feel about “ you need to reblog  this” post?

Oh 90% of the time I'll fucking ignore it on principle. I come to tumblr to enjoy myself and escape. I refuse to guilt the shit out of myself and my followers for not reblogging something deemed Essential. I don't care how deep the topic is or how heavy. Sometimes that's WHY I'm not reblogging it, because I don't want that shit on my blog. The other 10% of the time, I'll go to most recent reblog that Doesn't have the guilty shit on it, and then reblog that.

16. Do you like tag games?

It sounds narcissistic, but I like being tagged in them and doing them. I just Really Really Really hate tagging anyone else.

17. Do you like ask games?

Yup, I think they're fun, though I really don't think anyone wants to know this much about me.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Uhhh...I have no clue. I think...I think I might be the tumblr famous mutual, or at least my sterek blog is....

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Yup. My husband.

20. Tagged?

Uh, no one. makes me anxious. XD If someone wants to do it, go ahead and claim i tagged you, i promise no one'll call ur bluff.

[balkanradfem]

Alright so this is going to be the most awkward first time doing a thing, because I don't know if I'm doing it right, I have very vague instructions, this entire thing is completely against my instincts and sounds fake, but heavens, I gotta try.

I'm going to try to make miraculous enzyme.

The instructions I got from the internet and plant lady are: save vegetable and fruit peels and kitchen scraps, put them all in a big bottle, add sugar, add water so it's 30% scraps 60% water and 10% sugar, then close it and let it ferment in a dark place for 3 months. The result should be this incredibly strong natural vinegar, that can be used for strong cleaning on absolutely everything, people even swear it's good to add it to clothing detergent, shampoo, or use it as fertilizer. It has to be heavily diluted tho, like 1 part enzyme 1000 part water, it could only be used in pure form for cleaning the toilet.

This is my year when I learn to ferment stuff; I made my own yeast, my sour cherry juice got fermented by accident and tastes like alcohol thingy now and it's really not bad, I'm planning to ferment cabbage into sauerkraut, so might as well ferment the vinegar too. I could use free cleaning supplies.

So I've collected some kitchen scraps, lots of peels and greens, and now I'm going to push them inside of this big plastic bottle. It's anti-intuitive because I will not be able to pull these out after I do this. Apparently thats okay because they'll just turn into a pulp? We shall see.

I kept all of my orange peels safe for this! It will smell bad if it doesn't have a lot of citrus so I made sure to have some citrus, but after it's over I'm still going to infuse it with citrus peels because I discovered I love citrus-infused vinegar as a cleaner. I also saved some sugar that accidentally got wet and wasn't really great for using in kitchen, it will be perfect for this, and I added some more after this to make sure there's enough.

So that's it. It's all in there. All that's left is to run it to the bathroom and get it filled with water. I'm leaving space for air because it will be creating a lot of gas if done right.

It actually looks pretty, floating like that. I think it's over when citruses sink to the bottom, and the liquid on top is clear. I'm going to put it down in the basement, and this post will be my reminder I put it there on 18th of July. Should be done just in time for Halloween!