#over fertilized tree

[strawbebyjam]

(,:

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[reasonsforhope]

"During an archaeological dig in a desert area north of Jerusalem 40 years ago, a seed was discovered which was determined to be in pristine condition but had obviously seen many a year.

Now, despite falling from its parent 1,000 years ago, it has grown into a mature tree, and botanists examining it believe it may be an extinct species that was used for medicinal purposes for thousands of years—even receiving a nod in the Bible.

Neither Israeli botanists, nor Dr. Sarah Sallon, a physician who founded the Louis L. Borick Natural Medicine Research Center at Hadassah University Medical Center in Jerusalem, could determine what species it was from simply from the seed covering. So they did what nature intended—they planted it.

Using a well-documented technique that saw 2,000-year-old date palm fruit pits germinate, Dr. Sallon soaked the seed in hormones, liquid fertilizer, and water, and then planted it in a pot of sterile seed; then waited.

Despite its genetic code being exposed to environmental stressors for over 1,000 years, the seed sprouted after 5 weeks. The shoot was protected by a caplike feature called an operculum. As the shoot grew, the operculum was shed—leaving something for the team to radiocarbon date. It narrowed down the age of the almost 10-centuries-old seed to between the years 993 an 1202.

Fast forward 14 years and the plant has become a 10-foot-tall tree. Dr. Sallon shared images of the tree, its bark, and its leaves with botanists around the world. One expert suggested it belonged to the genus Commiphora, found across the Arabian Peninsula and parts of Africa. A genetic analysis subsequently revealed this was the case, but a perfect match was lacking.

Pictured: The tree, now 14 years old.

Dr. Sallon and her team thought it was an extinct species known from history as Judean Balsam, but the best way to confirm that suspicion would be to have some aromatic traces similar to the resins of the myrrh tree to which it is related. However, no such fragrant compounds were detected.

Instead, the chemical analysis of the leaves identified a group of phytochemicals known as guggulterols which have been observed in a related species called Commiphora wightii that’s known to possess certain cancer-fighting properties in its resin.

A medicinal balm, the origin of which is not known, is mentioned in multiple historical texts including the Bible as ‘tsori,’ and rather than the fragrant Judean Balsam, it’s this tsori that Dr. Sallon and her team believe they have found.

They must wait until the tree, now 14 years old, produces flower or fruit to know for sure if it’s an extinct species, and if so, how to perhaps keep it alive.

Dr. Louise Colville, senior research leader in seed and stress biology at Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, in London who wasn’t involved in the research, told CNN that it was a major accomplishment to grow a seed that old and possibly lead to a resurrection of this Biblical botanical.

“What’s surprising in this story is it was just a single seed and to be able to have one chance for that to germinate is extremely lucky,” she said.

“Working in a seed bank, seeing the potential for that extreme longevity gives us hope that banking and storing seeds that some at least will survive for very long periods of time.”"

-via Good News Network, October 8, 2024

--

Note: This is such a good demonstration of why seed banks are so important!! They give us such real and massive hope for deextinction and the revival of endangered species.

[carolkeiter]

Soul of Soil | A Living, Breathing Entity

it was first at environmental awareness several day exhibitions at the University of Arizona in Tucson that I learned about the qualities of soil. Prior to that, i had never thought about it. It is what is in the soil that provides nutrients to the food that grows from it. This article, The Soul of Soil reminds me of this.  Screenshot “Recognizing soil as a form of life reframes our perception…

[dionysianivy]

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐞

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What is Beltane?

Beltane is a fire festival celebrated on the night of April 30th into May 1st in the Northern Hemisphere, and around October 31st into November 1st in the Southern Hemisphere. It marks the midpoint between the spring equinox and the summer solstice, honoring fertility, passion, and the sacred union between the divine feminine and masculine. Traditionally, it signals the beginning of the light half of the year, a time of growth, abundance, warmth, and blooming life. Beltane celebrates freedom, love, lust, creativity, and the return of life to the natural world, bringing with it new, flourishing beginnings. May 1st is a day of joy and play. After a harsh winter, it becomes a celebration of renewal, of aliveness, and of nature’s wild rebirth.

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The History of Beltane

The name Beltane comes from Old Irish Beltene, meaning "bright fire" or "The fires of Bel". Some people link it to the Celtic god Belenus, a solar and healing deity, while others have drawn comparisons to Baal, a fertility god, though that idea is debated and not widely accepted.

Historically, Beltane was celebrated in Celtic regions, most notably Ireland and Scotland, as a pastoral festival. Bonfires were lit on hilltops, and cattle were driven between two of them to protect them from disease and ensure fertility. People would jump over the flames, not just for luck, but as a way to connect with sacred fire and invoke fertility, health, and courage for the coming summer season.

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Beltane and the Fairy Realm

Beltane is a liminal time, one of the two key points in the year (along with Samhain) when the veil between our world and the Otherworld grows thin. While Samhain leans into the realm of spirits and ancestors, Beltane belongs to the fae.

It is said that on the eve of Beltane, the Fair Folk wander freely, drawn to laughter, music, and offerings left with care. In many old traditions, people avoided disturbing fairy mounds or sacred groves during this time, choosing instead to leave gifts like milk, honey, or sweet bread beneath hawthorn trees. These offerings were meant to honor the fae, invite blessings, and protect against mischief.

Wearing a crown of bluebells on Beltane Eve is said to help one see the faeries, as bluebells are sacred to them. A ring of blooming bluebells is also believed to be a favorite gathering spot for garden faeries.

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Beltane and the Hawthorn Tree

Few trees are more sacred to Beltane than the hawthorn. Often called the “fairy tree” in Irish and Scottish folklore, it is said to guard the entrances to the Otherworld. Blooming right around May 1st, its soft white-pink blossoms carry the energy of protection, love, and the unseen.

In Celtic tradition, hawthorn trees were deeply respected as portals to the realm of the fae. During Beltane, it was common to tie ribbons or small offerings to the branches while making heartfelt wishes, not demands, but gentle hopes whispered like prayers. Damaging or cutting a hawthorn tree, especially during this sacred time, was believed to bring terrible luck or stir the wrath of the Fair Folk.

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The Sacred Fire

Fire is the central symbol of Beltane. The festival’s original name literally refers to Bel’s fires, honoring the sun and invoking purification and fertility.

Traditionally, two large bonfires were lit at Beltane, and people, along with their animals, would walk, dance, or even leap between them for blessings, healing, and protection. In some regions, ashes from the sacred fire were scattered over fields to encourage fertility. Couples, especially newlyweds, often passed hand-in-hand through the smoke as a symbol of unity and renewal.

The fire wasn’t just a ritual, it was a living spirit. Lighting it the old way, through friction rather than matches or lighters, was seen as a sacred act, calling upon the raw elemental force of nature itself.

Even today, many Beltane celebrations honor this ancient custom through bonfires, candle magic, and fire rituals. You don’t need a blaze on a hilltop, even a single flame, lit with intention, can carry the sacred spark of Beltane into your home and heart. :D

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The Maypole

The maypole is one of the most central symbols of modern Beltane celebrations. Though it has roots in English May Day traditions, it’s been beautifully woven into Beltane for its rich symbolism of life, fertility, and union.

The tall, phallic pole rising from the earth represents the God, masculine energy, vitality, and the spark of creation. The colorful ribbons and flowers spiraling around it, often held by dancers weaving in circles, represent the Goddess, the womb, fertility, and abundant life. Together, they form a sacred spiral: a dance of harmony between the masculine and feminine, of earth and sky, movement and stillness.

As dancers move around the maypole, their steps create a living mandala, a spell in motion, tied with laughter and bright ribbons.

The dance itself is a celebration of harmony between forces, of weaving ourselves back into the rhythm of the land.

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Beltane x Handfasting

Beltane is also a favored time for handfasting, a traditional pagan betrothal or wedding ritual where a couple’s hands are bound together with ribbons, cords, or braided threads to symbolize their union. In ancient times, a handfasting ceremony could last for a year and a day, after which the couple had the choice to stay together or part ways. Today, many modern pagans choose Beltane as a powerful and romantic time to make such commitments, drawn to the fertile energy of the season. Handfastings are often held outdoors, in nature, near fire, under blooming trees, or surrounded by loved ones in sacred space. The vows exchanged during these rituals can be traditional or deeply personal, as the magic of the ceremony lies in the heart connection and the intention to walk beside each other, bound by love and commitment.

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Magic Correspondences

Planets: Venus

Season: Midpoint between spring and summer

Element: Fire

Time of the Day: Noon

Tarot Cards: The Strength, The Lovers, The Sun, Three of Cups

Colors: Green, Red, Pink, Yellow, Purple, White, Sky Blue, All Pastel Colors

Herbs: Mint, Rosemary, Thyme, Ivy, Nettle, Sage, Basil, Juniper, Clover, Mugwort

Fruits: Strawberries, Blueberries, Raspberries, Bananas, Lemon, Cherries

Vegetables: Cucumbers, Carrots, Garlic, Lettuce, New Potatoes

Crystals: Emerald, Bloodstone, Rose Quartz, Carnelian, Red Jasper, Green Aventurine, Moonstone, Fire Agate

Runes: Kenaz, Wunjo, Ingwaz

Trees: Hawthorn, Elder, Willow, Birch

Goddesses: Artemis, Diana, Brigid, Aphrodite, Flora, Gaia, Hera, Astarte, Venus, Juno, Freyja, Epona, Bastet

Gods: Pan, Cernunnos, Belenus, Dionysus, The Green Man, Bacchus, Priapus, Faunus, Eros, Ra

Dragons: Sairys, Fafnir

Flowers: Lilac, Bluebells, Daisy, Lilies, Foxglove, Lily of the Valley, Marigold, Tulips, Violets, Primrose, Peony, Poppy, Honeysuckle

Animals: Frogs, Swans, Cows, Deer, Squirrels, Sheep, Ducks, Cats, Bees, Rabbits, Swallows, Leopards, Lynx, Hares

Magical Powers: Love, Sex, Fertility, Protection, Cleansing, Transformation

Symbols: Maypole, Ribbons, Phallus, Bonfire, Flowers, Faeries, Sex, Floral Crowns, Frogs, Celtic Knots

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Activities to do:

🌸 Make flower-shaped biscuits

🌸 Do candle magick

🌸 Find a local hawthorn tree and make a wish to the faeries

🌸 Wear flowers in your clothes, hair, or as bracelets

🌸 Leave offerings for faeries, as this is the season when they’re most present, you can leave them honey, milk, or biscuits

🌸 Go out for a walk in nature and feel the arrival of summer

🌸 Make a fire in the yard and dance around it (only in safe circumstances, of course); if you don’t have resources, you can light candles in your room (again, be careful)

🌸 Eat anything with oats, as it’s associated with Beltane, such as oatmeal, oatcakes, or other oat-based foods

🌸 Do a tarot or rune reading in the morning of Beltane

🌸 Take care of the trees in your yard or nearby by watering them

🌸 Honor all deities associated with fertility

🌸 Practice faerie magick

🌸 On the morning of Beltane, open your windows or door to warmly welcome the energy of the sabbat.

🌸 Make a Beltane magick jar

🌸 Water your flowers

🌸 Listen to music and dance :D

🌸 Celebrate life, fertility, love, and union

🌸 Take care of your garden, plant seeds, clean dried leaves, and prepare for summer

🌸 Make special Beltane treats

🌸 Casting your circles with oats around this time of year is also a good idea, as oats are a traditional Beltane grain for good luck

🌸 Have a picnic with your loved ones, or organize a gathering with food and grilling

🌸 Honor your ancestors

🌸 Place decorations in your garden

🌸 Plant a tree with any intention you want and take care of it

🌸 Draw runes and specific symbols on paper and burn them

🌸 Do self-love activities

🌸 Practice sex or love magick

🌸 Look for hawthorns in your area and honor them with water and offerings for faeries

🌸 Make a maypole

🌸 Collect flowers

🌸 On the morning of May 1st, wash your face with May Dew or natural spring water

🌸 Connect with the fire element

🌸 Read about the fair folk

🌸 Have a bonfire with your loved ones

🌸 Place ribbons or colored thread in trees with intentions for each, you can use color magick to attract what you need in your life right now (pink for love,

🌸 Meditate

🌸 Make flower crowns and wreaths

🌸 Perform spells for fertility, purification, and love

🌸 As this is a day of love, if you are of an appropriate age, comfortable, being sexually active is part of the celebration

🌸 Buy seeds and plant them in your garden, welcoming the growth of new life

🌸 Create a Beltane altar

🌸 If you don't have a maypole you can dance around your favorite tree <3

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Food and Drinks:

Oats in all forms (oatmeal, oat cookies, oat bread, oatcakes, bannock), strawberries, blueberries, honey, whipped cream with oats, strawberry biscuits, oat and honey bread, blackberry pie, lavender cake, cheese (including Swiss), seasonal potato dishes, fresh fruit salads, tomato and cucumber salads, dairy or plant-based milks, vanilla-flavoured foods, ice cream, grilled food, BBQ, spicy dishes to honor the fire element, May Day wine, white wine, regular wine (with a strawberry placed at the bottom of the glass if you wish), tarts with cheese, mayonnaise.

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[merpancake]

SDV feels like it could so easily become a fairy story.

You move to a little coastal town where you begin recovering a plot of land, some of the locals take a shine to you and you to them. It's nice, homey. Everyone is welcoming except for the established town grumps.

Suddenly you realize you never leave town. Everything you want is obtainable at the little mom'n'pop general store, or from some of the locals themselves. You never go into the city to sell goods because the mayor does it for you- right? You never really see him do it. You just lie down in bed and wake up in the morning. When was the last time you dreamed?

You need new shoes and the adventurers club sells you handmade leather boots that fit perfectly despite never asking for a shoe size. Your clothes sew themselves when you lay a bolt of fabric and a random item onto the sewing machine- you blink and it's done.

The general store sells fertilizers that turn your garden plot into a verdant field. You spend all day harvesting crops with tools that gleam silver, gold, purple. Saplings grow over a month into fully productive fruit trees, your beehives drop jars of honey into your hands.

The blacksmith cracks open geodes full of polished gemstones. There's a man in the woods who says he found you in the mines but you were 80 levels deep. The elevator works but the minecarts don't. You gave a diamond to a local girl and she ate it like a plum.

And suddenly everyone is drinking mayonnaise.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Something very strange happened, and I think we need to have a talk about the way some people who don't know about Catalan culture misrepresent the Tió (our pre-Christian Christmas present-bringer, a log who poops presents 🪵🎁).

I have a relative who is a teacher in an adult school, she teaches Catalan language (mostly to immigrants). Some days ago, they were doing an activity about Catalan holidays, and two of her students said that Tió should be banned and that it's the worst thing they have ever heard. My relative was very shocked and asked why they could say such a thing (imagine, it's like saying Santa Claus should be banned in the USA). Their reasoning was that they completely misunderstood everything about it. These people are native Spanish speakers and assumed that the Catalan word "tió" (meaning "log" 🪵) means the same as the Spanish word "tío" (meaning "uncle"), even though both words are pronounced differently. They believed that the Tió represents a man and that we tell children to beat people up, so much until they poop themselves, threatening them to give us things. They said it promotes violence to children and that it's disgusting. Nothing further from the truth.

This is not an isolated incident because a few days ago I saw a post on Tumblr repeating this same mistake. I texted the person who posted it saying that it's not called "Poop Uncle" but "Christmas Log" and they said that this was what they were taught by their teacher (this person is from a different continent), and haven't taken down the post. I have also seen comments on Instagram repeating the same and making fun of how gross and violent it is.

The real meaning of Tió

The Log is a way of symbolically passing down our relation with nature. This is how the tradition works:

In early December, we get a log and bring him home. We take care of him: we keep him in a warm place, with a blanket over him, and we feed him things like orange/clementine peels and walnut shells. On Christmas day, all the family comes together. Children get wooden sticks and go get ready in another room, meanwhile adults place presents under the Log's blanket. Children come back and hit the Log while singing a song. There are many local variants of the song but they all come down to asking the Log to poop us good food. When they have finished singing the song, the children remove the blanket and discover the presents that the Log has pooped. Years ago (now this is only done by some farmer families in rural areas, but back in the day this was generalized), the Log was burned in the house's fireplace and its ashes were spread on the fields, believed to act as a magical fertilizer.

Notice what this whole "ritual" has been about: we take care of nature, nature takes care of us, we are part of a whole and there's no real difference between "nature" and "us" because we all give life to each other. After the winter rest, we wake up nature (the Tió) so it will bring fruits and light again.

We take a log from the forest and bring it home. We do this for the Winter Solstice because it's the time of the return of light and the rebirth of nature after the winter sleep, and wood symbolizes the most important things for human life: food, warmth and light. It's difficult for us to imagine nowadays because we are used to electricity, but for our ancestors who only had oil lamps, fire and candles, darkness was almost absolute for many hours in winter, and that's why the Winter Solstice was very important because it meant that light is coming back. We want something from the Log, his fire will allow us to cook, it will give us light, and keep us warm. So we offer him the same: we feed him (notice what we feed it, too: a kind of compost, which is complimentary to human food), we keep him warm, and we love him. Then, we hit him with sticks (mimicking the motion of cutting down a tree) and ask him to give us food, and he does. Then, our ancestors used to burn him for warmth and light, and then take him back to plants spreading his ashes so it will give life to the fields. Which in turn will give us food again, which we will poop and it will fertilize plants again. And it's a cycle that never ends, we're all part of a whole.

We give to the forests, the forests can grow with the remains that all living creatures leave on its ground: leafs, excrements, the remains of parts of our food like nuts and fruit peels. These things give life to the forest. And the forest gives life to us: gives us fruits and wood (=light and warmth). We take these things, and in return we give to forests once again.

Nowadays, the part about warmth and light is often lost to kids, but the part about food is still obvious, even if subconsciously. This is why the Log is not the horrible barbaric tradition that the "haha poop and violence" crowd would make you believe.

And don't get me wrong, it can still be funny! We're the first ones to make jokes about it. And you can, too! But don't spread false ideas: the Spanish word "uncle" appears nowhere near this tradition because it doesn't have anything to do with uncles nor with Spanish-speaking cultures. It's called the Christmas Log (Tió de Nadal, Soca de Nadal, Tronca de Nadal, Tizón de Nadal, etc depending on the area, all meaning "Christmas Log") and it's celebrated by the Catalan people and a part of the Occitan and Pyrenean Aragonese people. The word "poop" (as an imperative verb, as in "please poop for us") appears in the song, but not in the name.

I know that, now that misinformation has gone viral, a post won't stop it. But I hope at least people with a genuine interest can learn some more. By all means, keep laughing! Make all the memes you want! But knowing the whole story will give you understanding. And, please, don't argue in favour of banning our cultural practises, we've had enough of that for centuries.

[zunibugsiren]

Uprising

18+ ONLY!!!

Hello beauties! The long-awaited one chapter smut for Annie and Smoke is here, this is a chapter from my longer fanfic. The one that has elements of Lovecraft Country. Let me know if you like! Muah, love y'all!

October 15, 1932

The car chugged steadily down an obscure road in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Smoke’s hand gripped the steering wheel firmly as he turned left, into a more shaded area. Trees provided much-needed shade in the heat, and soon pops of blue joined the scene. The blue bottles delicately hanging on the trees provided some comfort. He was home now. It had been years since he left Clarksdale, leaving his daughter’s burial site. Years since he left Annie. But he was back now. 

His head was filled with what the world had imprinted on him, and bags full of cash he killed to get. Now all he needed was his woman.

Smoke turned right, into a secluded road, and gathered the baby’s breath bouquet seated on the passenger's seat. He stopped the car, removed the keys, and stared at his trembling hands before gathering the bouquet and swiftly exiting the car.

The fertile soil smoothed under his shoes as he walked off right into a cleared-off plot of land, right in front of the faded blue cabin. He stopped and knelt down in front of the stone, the red impression of a small child’s hand haunting him as he laid down the flowers delicately in front of the grave. His hands shook.

“Daddy’s here now, baby girl. Daddy’s here,” he muttered. Tears stung his eyes as he gazed at his daughter’s grave. She didn’t even make it a year before dying.

He heard movement behind him and slowly got up and turned to see Annie.

Annie stood still, staring at him. A flicker of disbelief, grief, and longing flashed quickly in her eyes before all he could see was indifference. Annie slowly walked over to Smoke, her full figure covered by her blue tweed patterned dress. Her dress blew softly in the wind caressing her ankles, tendrils of her curls kissing her face right underneath her high cheekbones. She raised her head in defiance. Her rich ebony skin glistened from the day’s work.

Years had passed, and she was still so painfully beautiful.

“Whatcha’ wan with me, Smoke?” her husky voice uttered. It sent a shiver down the soldier’s spine.

“Me’n Stack comin’ back home for good now. Wantin’ to build us a juke joint.”

Annie turned without a word into her cabin. Smoke followed suit.

As Smoke entered her cabin, he was once again struck by the charms and amulets strung up. Herbs and elixirs filled the shelves as he scanned the room, his eyes eventually fell on Annie’s.

Lord, was she so beautiful. Years of being without a woman’s touch were catching up to him and quickly. He clenched his jaw before uttering, “Me and Stack havin’ the openin’ tomorrow and wan’ you to cook for us.”

“Why are you here? I thought y’all hit it big in Chicago.”

He slowly walked up to her, “I done seen so many things, seen so many things. There’s so much power in the world, me and Stack decided to get some of our own. We killed.”

He walked around the table to her. “ We done seen men pass in ways we never thought possible. We came back to bring some of that power here.”

He spoke more intensely now whilst staring into her eyes.

“Annie, I wan’ to come back ‘ere to share that with you.” He stopped walking and stood right in front of her. 

“True power. Money.”

Her face contorted in disgust and disbelief. 

“You fool!”

She walked over to the counter and grabbed a small leather bag. She held it up and shook it in his face. “You think you traveled all ‘cross the world and you come back here talkin’ to me fully bodied and think it’s luck?!”

He clenched his mouth. The mojo bag she created years ago still hung on his neck, and not once did he take it off.

“I know you wearin’ it, Smoke, I can sense it.”

His eyes met hers again and filled with grief.

“If it worked, why didn’t it work for Tiwa?”

Hurt, Annie pulled out her blade and placed it under his neck.

“You don’t get to walk back in here and talk about her,” she stated. Her voice and hand shook with emotion. Tears stung her eyes as she looked up at the man.

Smoke’s eyes softened, and he easily took the blade from her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. At his words, a sob escaped Annie as she looked down and cried.

Smoke quickly gathered her in his arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Please,” he whispered as he tried to get her to look at him.

Annie resisted and struggled out of his embrace. Quickly wiping her eyes, she moved to the entrance of her cabin and out into the early afternoon, gazing at her daughter’s grave. Moments passed in silence, only the sound of rustling trees and whistling wind took up the space. Gathering herself, she looked back at Smoke, staring deep into his eyes.

Smoke stared at Annie as if she held the stars and moon for him. That was his woman, his equal, his soulmate.

Annie saw something in his eyes, and her eyes softened. Again, she asked, only this time softly, “Why you here, Smoke?”

Unable to resist her, Smoke took off his hat, holding it in his right hand and placing it on his chest, and slowly walked up to her.

Standing less than a foot away from her, he looked down and said softly, “I love you and I miss you. I came back for you.”

Heat rushed into her eyes as she pulled him down by his tie. He was closer to her face. Her eyes searched his, and her husky voice said, “Say it again.”

He lowered his face even more, landing a soft kiss on her lips once, then twice.

Still on her lips, he uttered in a deeper voice, “I love you. I miss you. I came back for you.”

Annie yanked on his tie and closed her eyes. His lips captured hers passionately, melding it before dipping his tongue into hers.

He grunted, dropping his hat, and grabbing her ass with both hands roughly. He smacked each cheek twice as he sucked on her tongue.

Annie gasped, eyes opened, giving him the opportunity to delve his tongue deeper before sucking on her tongue.

Annie groaned, her cooze weeping wet, in complete shock.

The many times they made love in the past Smoke was so…restrained. He controlled his roughness with her, but it seemed that Chicago changed a couple of things.

Unbeknownst to Annie, the man had not had any sexual contact with women since her. 

7 years and 293 days without a woman can do that to a man. Seeing her dark, big, beautiful figure had him on the verge of losing his mind.

Annie pulled back from the kiss, panting, a string of saliva connecting the two.

Smoke followed her mouth as she pulled back, intent on getting back inside her.

“W-Wait, we can’t do this here, anybody can come in.” 

“Well, come on,” he gruffly replied.

Annie grabbed his hand, leading him to her home a couple of yards away from her cabin.

As they walked hand in hand, Annie felt him gaining on her, getting closer and closer until they found themselves at her front door, Smoke practically on top of her. Annie dropped her hand to place it on the door knob.

Annie hesitated, unfamiliar with the sexual energy Smoke was exuding.

It felt primal…and desperate. She was no blushing virgin, Smoke having taken care of that, but this was uncharted territory.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered in her right ear as he placed his right hand on hers.

He pressed himself on her, and Annie gasped. 

It had been years since she had taken him, and even then, sex was always a struggle with his size. Her cooze clenched repeatedly.

Annie pressed back and replied in Creole, “Your body remembers mine.”

He grabbed her by the waist and groaned.

Annie opened the door, and Smoke lost it.

Immediately, he slammed the door closed, the open windows providing him enough light as he stalked Annie to her bedroom.

Unable to remove herself from his eye contact, Annie backed into her room as she watched him strip his clothes. 

His suit jacket, his vest, his gun holsters.

Each item dropped with a soft thud, and with each thud, Annie’s heart raced.

As he started to unbuckle his belt, Annie’s ankles hit the back of her bed, causing her to fall onto it.

He finished unbuckling his belt as he entered the room.

He slammed the door closed.

He unzipped his pants, yanked down his drawers, and dragged them down his legs before removing it.

Annie’s eyes were locked on his dick, years later and it still caused her to be nervous.

Unconsciously, she closed her legs in nervousness.

He saw it and took a deep breath, calming himself a bit.

He climbed into the bed, eased her dress up to her stomach, took her legs, and slowly dragged her down to him. He separated her legs slowly and gently. He languidly kissed her left leg from her ankles to her thigh, then her stomach.

He did the same thing to her right leg, making sure both legs were as separated as possible.

He scooted down, placing his hands on her pussy lips and spreading them as wide as possible. His fingers passed through her wet pussy and he grunted, “Fuck, give me that. Give me that sweet pussy.”

Annie’s face contorted in pleasure as her legs shook.

“Such a pretty pussy. This my pretty pussy? This my pussy?,” he asked breathing heavily as he toyed with the inside of her pussy with his fingers, rubbing back and forth.

Annie cried out, almost choking on her saliva as she cried out, “Yes! Yes, it’s yours.”

He pulled his fingers from her and sucked on them hard.

Annie couldn’t help but stare as he sucked his fingers dry.

“You so fucking sweet. I need that from the source.”

Before she could speak, he was between her legs. She pulled herself up just in time to watch him place his tongue on her. Annie made eye contact with Smoke.

Eye contact maintained, tongue flat, he licked her pussy entrance to her clit before enveloping his mouth on it and sucking intensely.

Annie’s body dropped down in pleasure, a groan deep from within her emerged.

“Oh baby, oh fuck me yes!”

Annie started grinding her face on him, her meaty thighs trying to come together, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He gripped her ass cheeks firmly as he dug in.

He stuck his tongue deep in her and sucked, causing her eyes to start to cross.

Her face started to contort in pleasure and pain as an intense orgasm was ripped from her.

Annie moaned, the sound being deep and prolonged, as Smoke licked her to completion.

Overstimulated Annie pushed on Smoke’s head as he continued to lick.

Voice croaky and throat parched, Annie feebly pushed on his shoulders and head, “W-wait, y-you ‘ave to g-ugh-give me a break.”

Smoke gave her one last suck, a string of saliva connecting his lips to her puffy wet pussy as he looked up. He licked his lips as he panted, staring at Annie

Chest heaving, he leaned over to her lips and slowly and sensually kissed her, allowing her to taste herself.

Continuing to kiss her, he pulled down the top of her dress, allowing one big titty to pop out. He fondled her titty before grabbing a handful and sucking on her nipple. He alternated between kissing her and sucking on her breast. He completely pulled down her top, giving both breasts attention.

He lowered himself, putting part of his weight onto her chest as their tongues danced, allowing his hand to go back to her pussy. He pulled back from kissing to stare into her eyes as he slowly placed one finger inside her.

He felt Annie clench and quickly responded, “It’s not going to hurt, nice and slow with you baby. Remember what you said? I remember you. And your body will remember me.”

He stated his as he gently pushed into the hilt.

Annie felt herself relax, and one finger turned to two, then to three.

By the time Smoke had all three fingers in her, her pussy was gushing. Lewd sounds came from where they were joined, causing Annie’s face to heat up.

He removed his fingers, sucking on them, before allowing Annie to suck on them. He pulled them back as he leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.

“The only woman I’ve ever been with is you baby. Now you know I love you right?”, he stated gently. 

His hand sneaked down to play with his dick. The purple head was leaking as he fisted it.

Annie nodded, mouth slightly agape. He nodded with her.

His voiced dropped.

“Because I’m going to fuck you real rough baby.”

Smoke leaned down to kiss her as he eased his dick into her. Her wet tight pussy parted, allowing his girthy head to pop in.

Annie groaned, but Smoke slowly rocked in and out of her until he was completely in.

Seeing that she took him, he started pounding into her.

In and out, throughout Annie’s home all you could hear were the obscene noises of his thighs impacting with hers and the sloshing of her wet pussy.

Annie's voice started to pitch really high. She started crying.

“Ugh!”

“Ugh!”

“Ugh!”

Each thrust caused her to cry out keenly. 

Annie’s body started to do something it hadn’t done in years.

“Ughhhh!Ughhh!”

Wetness began to seep out of her like a hose, more wetness than ever before.

She started becoming worried when it continued at an increased rate. She put a hand on Smoke’s pecs.

“Ugh, baby, I-It’s real intense. I feel ugh!”

Smoke still churning inside of her, started grinding his hips down and in a circle. His face contorting in pleasure. He groaned into her ear, “It’s ok, baby, I need you to feel it. Feel me, baby.”

At the end of her orgasm, Smoke heaved into her one, two, three times. He dug in too deep the third time, causing Annie to let out a low yelp. 

He groaned and shuddered as he came deep inside her pussy. Spurt after spurt, he continued to come for a long time. Annie started to feel him leak around where they were joined, and couldn’t help but moan,  her pussy not having enough room for it all.

Still coming, he pulled out, painting her mons a white pearly color, groaning as he did. He put his dick back in her, thrust deep, and as if pulled deep from within him, spurt a couple of more times inside her before taking a deep breath and collapsing on her hefty bosom.

The entire time Annie lay still, staring at the usually calm and level-headed man.

She attempted to move to clean up, but Smoke, still inside her, plugging her up, quickly but gently grabbed the side of her head and stated, “Stay with me, Annie.”

“Let’s rest. We have a lot to talk about later.”

He lifted his head, still inside her, kissed her gently as they both fell asleep.

[youryurigoddess]

Hungry for Good Omens 3 crumbs of information? Let’s see what I’ve found and speculate a bit about cast members, filming locations, and… trees! As always, please tag accordingly, share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers, and get yourself something to drink since it’s going to be a longer read.

News flash: both Ned Dennehy (well-known to Good Omens fans as Hastur) and Sean Pertwee (recently revealed to star in the Finale as Brian Cameron) admitted to have been working on location in Tenerife during the film’s production time slot (January and early February, respectively). In Dennehy’s case, even providing a rather intimately close look at his character.

The location alone isn’t particularly surprising, as the Canary Islands and Tenerife in particular are currently experiencing an influx of international productions, including several TV shows by global streamers, making use of the favourable weather and prices. But Dennehy’s post, additionally liked by a Good Omens crew member, seems somewhat suggestive.

In the Instagram story above, Sean Pertwee called 14 January 2025 his last day on the shoot in Tenerife and subsequently traveled to London and Edinburgh, from where he shared another video three weeks later.

Now, technically the Tenerife film set could be a part of Pertwee’s NCIS: Tony & Ziva job he started last autumn. However, that would imply that he plays a greater role in the upcoming production than the currently available promotional materials imply, and the location stamp in the bottom right corner, Drago Milenario, is too deliciously Good Omens coded to overlook it.

It isn’t even a place, really, but a living organism. A plant. A tree.

Meet Drago Milenario, also know as El Drago, a natural monument and symbol of Tenerife. The oldest and largest living specimen of the endemic Dracaena draco (dragon tree), it is said to be a thousand years old and stand at 18 metres high with a 20-metre perimeter. “Great big bugger,” as Aziraphale would say.

There has been much debate over the age of the tree, and some even say that it may be over 5000 years old; more recent estimates seem more conservative and suggest that El Drago is no more than 800 to 1000 years old. It is difficult to say unambiguously, because the traditional method of counting rings is not applicable in this case — dracaena has no rings.

Its home, the Millennial Dragon Tree Park, or Parque del Drago, in Icod de los Vinos, is a sacred place and a burial zone of Tenerife’s original inhabitants, the Guanches. Members of the Guanche people venerated El Drago as a divine tree; a symbol of wisdom and fertility, believed to have magical powers, granting longevity and warding off evil spirits. Its blood-red oil or sap is called dragon's blood and historically used to treat wounds and embalm corpses. According to local legends, that’s because slain dragons don’t actually die, but rather turn into dragon trees like this one.

The dragon part of the story sounds objectively cool, but if we overlook it for a second, we might notice why the connection to Good Omens is so strong here. When asked about trees in the show’s context, one’s first point of reference is quite naturally the Garden of Eden scene and the shot above featuring the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The thing is, it wasn’t the only one.

According to the Bible, the very reason why Aziraphale was even stationed in Eden (possibly with a few other armed angels) was to protect the Garden from the newly exiled humans. More specifically, his “apple duty” meant that he was supposed to guard a very particular and yet unseen tree:

“The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God said, ‘The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of lifeand eat, and live forever.’ So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the Tree of Life.” (Genesis 3:21-24)

In the apocryphal Apocalypse of Moses, the tree of life is also called the Tree of Mercy. Adam, the first human, famously sent his son Seth and wife Eve back to the gates of the Garden to beg God and His angels for some oil of the Tree of Life to save him from his deathbed by granting either full immortality or longer lifespan. They were obviously denied, but in another part of the Bible — the Book of Revelation, on which most of the official Good Omens plot is based, Jesus announces the details of His Second Coming, including who and when will get the right to enjoy this forbidden fruit:

“Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to reward each one as his work deserves. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life, and may enter the city by the gates. (Revelation 22:12-14)

The Catholic Church in particular believes that the Tree of Life mentioned above is the Eucharist and often combines the image of the Tree with the Cross of Christ, both literally and figuratively (see above: The Tree of Life printed by John Hagerty, 1791) granting the immortal life to His Chosen Ones:

And he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illuminate them; and they will reign forever and ever. (Revelation 1-5)

In his Roll Play BAFTA interview published on 10 February 2025, while talking about his work for the Good Omens Finale, David Tennant himself has specifically referred to the possibility of Aziraphale and Crowley spending eternity together. But where? Well.

The visual symbolism of an apple tree seems so important for the Good Omens 3 plot that it’s even represented on the exclusive mug design shared on 30 April by one of everyone’s favourite production crew spouses, Carla Scott Fullerton (fullercoaching on Instagram):

For those who missed the original discussion, the reverse side of the complimentary mug gifted to Good Omens 3 crew members and depicted above contains a photo of slate number 100, scene 59 of the production with a quote “We’ve come to a decision…”. A typical feature film of this length consists of around 60 scenes, so it’s definitely the ending or one of the scenes directly preceding it.

Which means that the story ends, as it began, in a garden. And with a very specific apple tree, adorned with initials AZ and CR in two little hearts as hinted by the drawing in the background.

There’s a specific crew member though — one of the firsts to be confirmed for the upcoming production, actually — that has shared a Good Omens themed work with an apple tree a whole year earlier.

Here you can see Michael Ralph’s (i.e., Good Omens production designer’s) concept art depicting Neil Gaiman’s version of heaven on earth – “Heaven is a Library” – at LA music venue, The Wiltern, for The Art of Elysium’s Heaven 2024 charity gala. It’s got Va Va Voom yellow walls, red carpet, spiral stairs, a centrally located oculus, and lots of plants with an apple tree with a swing in the middle. In case this image wasn’t suggestive enough, it’s worth to focus on the twin display tables with Cupid statues on top, direct copies of the one from A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop in Soho.

It’s not even subtle — and wasn’t meant to be, considering how Event Eleven, the creative agency behind the gala, typically organises high budget premiere events and promotional campaigns for Amazon Prime TV shows, and to this day it’s the closest we’ve got to a Good Omens 3 public celebration.

While this one was for charity and officially not affiliated with the studio, it took place only three weeks after the official announcement of Good Omens 3 and involved not only this curious simulacrum of Aziraphale’s bookshop as a setting, but also Jon Hamm on stage as the guest of honour, referencing the co-leads of the TV series and reciting an excerpt from the 1990 novel in an approximation of their characters’ voices, and the Ukrainian artist Katya Zvereva was commissioned to make an installation for the gala called literally “Tree of Life” (above).

If you remember my bookshop meta, you will probably find the official explanation of the event’s theme particularly interesting:

“Heaven is two things that are, perhaps, the same thing. Heaven is both a library, the place where we go for knowledge, wisdom, advice and for stories, and heaven is also a refuge, somewhere that we can go, whoever we are, for safety and protection. Heaven contains librarians and refugees, shelters the helpless, and gives them — us — somewhere quiet to sit and read or listen.”

Not incidentally, the only iteration of the Tree of Life in the actual show so far has been built into the layout of Aziraphale’s bookshop (left). Its Kabbalah depiction (right) is a representation of the entirety of creation, composed of ten spheres — referred to as the Sephiroth/Sefirot as a whole — each denoting a universal quality, such as wisdom or beauty. To quote The Golden Dawn: The Original Account of the Teachings, Rites, and Ceremonies of the Hermetic Order by Israel Regardie:

This altar diagram shows the Ten Sephiroth with all the connecting Paths numbered and lettered, and the Serpent winding over each Path. Around each Sephirah are written the Names of the Deity, Archangel and Angelic Host attributed to it. The Twenty Two Paths are bound together by the Serpent of Wisdom. It unites the Paths but does not touch any of the Sephiroth, which are linked by the Flaming Sword. The Flaming Sword is formed by the natural order of the Tree of Life. It resembles a flash of Lightning. Together the Sephiroth and the Twenty Two Paths form the 32 Paths of the Sepher Yetzirah or Book of Formation. The Two pillars on either side of the Altar represent:

1. Active: The White Pillar on the South Side. Male. Adam. Pillar of Light and Fire. Right Kerub. Metatron.

2. Passive: The Black Pillar on the North Side. Female. Eve. Pillar of Cloud. Left Kerub. Sandalphon.

[thecupidwitch]

Herb's Properties part 2

Apple: Garden magic, love, healing and wisdom, vanity, marriage and beauty.

Agrimony: Shielding and hex-breaking, aids sleep, brings luck towards you and is powerful in spell reversal.

Allspice: Money, luck, healing, love

Benzoin: Purification, prosperity, helps to soothe tension by dispelling anger and lessening irritability, de stressing, helps with depression, concentration, astral projection

Catnip: love, luck, happiness, beauty.

Cardamom: Lust, love, and fidelity. Sweetens the personality

Cumin: Fidelity, protection, exorcism.

Damiana: Love, lust, lucid dreaming, astral projection

Elder Tree: Sleep, releasing enchantments, protection against negativity, banishing.

Ginseng: Love, beauty, healing and lust.

Hibiscus: Love, lust, dreams, divination.

Hawthorn: Change, rebirth, protection, emotional healing, and happiness in relationships

Lemon Balm: Love, fertility, anti-depressant, and soothing emotional pain

Mandrake: Strengthens spells, protection, fertility, and courage

Nettle: Courage, breaking curses, healing, protection, crossing thresholds, and renewal

Patchouli: Connecting with spirits, attracting money, increasing fertility, love, and seduction

Rue: Protection, health, clarity, and purification

Sage: Longevity, wisdom, protection, dispels negative energy

St. John’s Wort: Preventing colds and fevers, banishing, protecting against hexes, prophetic dreams, and increasing courage

Witch Hazel: Protection, chastity, easing grief over a lost love, and warding off evil[

Yarrow: Healing, divination, love, promotes courage and confidence

Tip jar Herb's Properties Part1

[wachinyeya]

When Stockholm’s Traffic Office conducted a general assessment of street traffic in the Swedish capital in 2001, it came to the shocking conclusion that two-thirds of all trees in the city center were dead or dying.

City authorities agreed that an urgent response was needed to nurse these leafy urban ecosystem pillars back to health.

Enter Björn Embrén, Stockholm’s first “tree officer.”

Under his leadership, various technologies and materials were tested in an attempt to create a more suitable living space for trees in the urban environment.

“I knew that they could grow if the circumstances were right,” says Embrén, a former professional gardener.

“It’s like putting a plastic bag over your head and tightening it over your neck,” says Embrén. “That’s what happened to the trees in Stockholm. They were dying.”

Eventually, inspired by railroad embankments — which require only a small amount of organic matter for healthy trees to grow — Embrén concocted what was to become known as the “Stockholm tree pit” model.

By 2002, Embrén had drawn up designs. And by 2003, they were already building.

The design involves digging a pit and constructing a frame underground around the tree’s roots, and then filling said pit with a mixture of soil and stone, sometimes including biochar, to both aerate and fertilize the soil. These permeable layers are very strong and physically adaptable but also allow stormwater to flow in, meaning the trees are provided with sufficient air and water naturally. They also allow rainwater to be soaked up — a necessity amid more extreme weather brought on by climate change.

“We found that the more breathable the materials we used, the happier the trees were,” adds Embrén.

Proponents say the method has a number of benefits, including the fact that pits can be installed around existing trees, they can bear the weight of heavy-vehicle traffic, they require little topsoil — a resource that is becoming scarce — and they need less watering than traditionally-planted trees.

This approach, which allows tree roots to thrive beneath hard surfacing, ergo allowing healthy trees to grow within the modern built environment, is particularly relevant as cities attempt to re-green and reforest in the face of climate change.

According to the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe, urban forests can help “future-proof” cities, which are responsible for about 75 percent of global CO2 emissions. Sustainable urban forestry, it says, can bring multiple benefits, such as lowering temperatures, improving public health, creating habitats for biodiversity, sequestering carbon, generating green jobs, and mitigating risks of floods and landslides.

“It’s more important now than ever before,” says Ryan Klein, an assistant professor in the Department of Environmental Horticulture at the University of Florida. “We have these massive populations in urban areas. And we’re seeing more extreme weather like hurricanes, wildfires and prolonged droughts. Trees can help to offset some of these negative effects.”

However, amid the rush to rapidly reforest cities, experts like Klein warn that due to ineffective methods and techniques being used, it’s common to see urban trees in poor health, and trees planted in cities often have very high mortality rates.

“We have the understanding of how to grow healthier, more sustainable and resilient forests,” says Klein. “The research backs it. Unfortunately, we don’t always invest the time, money or internal know-how on implementing this.”

A review of 16 scientific studies on urban tree mortality, published in 2019, found that in the first five years after planting, 6.6 to 7 percent of trees died annually.

“Urban soils are not very tree-friendly currently,” says Rik De Vreese, leader of the Urban Forestry Team at the European Forestry Institute. “It’s quite a serious threat.”

When trees aren’t properly anchored, De Vreese adds, it can also lead to other issues, such as trunks falling over and causing damage or roots warping sidewalks.

However, the Stockholm Tree Pit method — and the way that it’s been implemented in Sweden — is helping urban forests genuinely take root.

One of the first locations where Embrén introduced a tree pit was Erik Dahlbergsallén street in Stockholm, not far from the popular Swedish Museum of Natural History.

There, according to research by the municipality, the circumference of a selection of those planted trees increased from 30 to 35 centimeters to 70 to 83 centimeters between 2004 and 2013, even surpassing that of trees without the tree pits that have been there for more than 80 years. The latest figures from 2024 saw them reach between 100 and 136 centimeters.

“It’s easy to see how effective the pits have been,” says Embrén.

The municipality estimates that 2.3 million liters of rainwater are managed by the trees per year, and consequently, 4,600 square meters of roofs and sidewalks have been disconnected from the sewage system, reducing the burden on water treatment services.

This technique has proven so successful that it has become the standard for all other development projects in the public spaces of Stockholm. Embrén says he has been directly involved in constructing more than 3,000 tree pits, and while he has since retired, there are now three “tree officers” who have taken on the expanding role. 

Britt-Marie Alvem, one of the current tree officers, estimates that the city now builds between 500 and 1,000 tree pits a year.

These days, the tree pits are also in almost every Swedish city — with a few variations.

“Some have copied and changed a little bit, like adding pumice to the stone mix,” says Embrén.

Stockholm’s tree pits are now spreading across Europe, too. In Budapest, Hungary’s capital, the tree pits can be found all over Bartók Béla Boulevard and Arany János Street. Embrén says the Spanish city of Madrid has implemented the method using local materials. And it’s become increasingly popular in the U.K.

Ben Rose, the principal arboricultural consultant at U.K. tree service Bosky Trees and the founder of Stockholm Tree Pits, a U.K.-based company that produces the equipment required to make tree pits, says that he has planted about 500 trees using the Stockholm model in the U.K. since he began in 2019, mostly as part of small-scale pilot projects.

“The approach is very suitable for use in urban situations, particularly in car parks, in plazas, and beside walkways or cycle paths,” says Rose.

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Yet there are some drawbacks to the system. Installation costs can be high, the pits can require a large amount of space to install, and it is impossible to reuse existing soil. In addition, for now there is a relative dearth of professionals who know how to construct tree pits.

“Our main concern is the price,” says De Vreese, whose team is currently studying the importance of “structural soils” like those deployed by the tree pits. “Excavating the soil surrounding the tree and refilling it is no small job.”

And while Professor Klein praises the Stockholm Tree Pit’s use of structural soil and how effective it’s proven to be, he notes that the long-term success of urban forestry also relies on other factors such as the supply of high quality nursery stock and proactive tree management such as routine pruning by municipalities.

“If we don’t have these we are setting ourselves up for failure,” he says. “Some cities do the bare minimum. In the U.S.A., it’s the wild west. But others, like Stockholm, are proactive, and they have public officials seriously behind it. That’s what we need.”

By: Peter Yeung, March 4, 2025

[jezebelblues]

(𝟏) 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆𐙚₊˚

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲? 𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬.

𝐂𝐖: 18+ SERIES! age gap unspecified but everyone is legal, allusions to smut (in this part), fem!reader, innocent!reader, slight angst, not proof read.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8.7k

❏ this is kinda just an introductory to this 🤨 but this also me testing the waters to see what kind of response it gets. i tried to give it a little more substance instead of just making it controversially young gf smut. but lmk if u only care for the smut fr. aiming for this to be a 3 parter possibly if anyone actually reads. okay bye love u

(be patient with me i do not have a writing schedule D: it’s just vibes over here)

there were things in life that demanded to be named. not as a matter of understanding, but as an act of survival. temptation. desire. guilt. words so small they barely held the weight of the emotions they described. words that felt inadequate against the reality of their presence, sharp-edged and infinite. harry had spent years pretending these things were separate—different flavors, distinct experiences—but now, in the quiet spaces between reason and instinct, he realized they were one and the same.

desire wasn’t the sweet fruit hanging low on the tree, waiting for him to pluck it. it was a persistent root that had grown into his bones, twisting through his ribs, wrapping around his heart. temptation wasn’t the serpent in the garden; it was the soil itself, fertile and dark, daring him to plant something reckless.

thou mayest. the illusion of freedom wrapped in the guise of agency. it was a promise of autonomy that demanded surrender. harry turned the phrase over in his mind like a stone, rough against his palm, smooth on the other side. it sounded noble, to choose. to be good, even when depravity tasted sweeter. but to choose implied that choice was ever truly his.

the idea unsettled him. if the end was written, if he was meant to fall, then what purpose was there in resisting? if the flame was always there, waiting for the moth, could he be blamed for burning?

but harry frowned at the notion, rejecting it like the apple beginning to rot. to believe it was inevitable was to strip himself of accountability. it was to call it fate instead of what it really was—a weakness he didn’t want to name aloud.

yet even as he denied inevitability, he could feel it breathing down his neck. the soft pull of gravity every time her eyes met his, wide and unguarded. her sweetness wasn’t like the syrupy fiction he had always known, too thick to be real. it was raw, unpolished, pure in its lack of pretense. he wanted to protect it, to shelter it, but how could he when his hands itched to touch it, to ruin it, to mark it as his?

guilt and desire were two sides of the same coin he couldn’t stop flipping. the choices felt infinite and yet singular, converging on her—the catalyst, the temptation, the embodiment of his undoing.

he tried not to touch her, not to look too long, but the world conspired against him. his name on her lips sounded like an offering. her laughter felt like a secret. the way she walked, talked, breathed—it all felt intentional, even though he knew it wasn’t. she was innocent of his thoughts. she had no idea the storm she brought to life in him.

and maybe that’s what made her so dangerous. because he had spent years building walls, convincing himself that control was his greatest virtue. but her presence felt like water—slowly eroding the stone, finding its way into the cracks he didn’t know existed.

he wanted to believe he had a choice. that he could walk away, untouched, untempted. but every step closer to her felt like destiny disguised as coincidence. her smile was a trap, but it was one he wanted to fall into, knowing full well there would be no escape.

harry thought of the apple in the garden. the lie it told about choice. the way it beckoned, its skin gleaming with the promise of sweetness. but the truth was, it wasn’t the apple that made him fall. it was the hunger that had always lived inside him.

thou mayest. the words tasted bitter now. because in the end, he knew he wouldn’t choose. he would only follow.

and maybe, he thought, that was its own kind of freedom.

— BOSTON

there were a thousand ways to love someone.

it wasn’t a single language. it was a mosaic of dialects, some of which he spoke fluently, others he fumbled through, and some he would never master. it came to him in whispers, in roaring applause, in soft apologies spoken under foreign moons. love, in its rawest forms, could be a sonnet sung aloud or the silence between breaths. it could bloom in the mundane, sprouting like ivy through the cracks of familiarity. but it could also unravel—untethered and wild—until it swallowed everything else whole.

now, though, it felt like a question he didn't know how to answer.

he had known it to be beautiful once, grand and uncompromising, like a symphony crashing through the walls of his chest. but now? now it felt softer, quieter. less a roar and more a whisper in the back of his mind, laced with something he couldn’t quite place.

april on the east coast was no season for romance. it was damp with promise, hesitant in its thaw. the skies hung low with slate-colored clouds, heavy but refusing rain, and the mornings were gray and cold enough to bite. it wasn’t exactly the kind of spring that painted postcards, but it had its own charm—the kind of charm that settled not in sight, but in sound. in the low hum of city life, the rush of trains cutting through tunnels, the steady rhythm of days repeating themselves.

this time, though, harry was restless.

juniper had left with a kiss on his cheek and a laugh in her voice, her belly round with new beginnings, her flight booked to london. “don’t let it go to your head,” she’d teased, pointing a playful finger at him. “just because you’re losing me doesn’t mean you’ll fall apart.”

he hadn’t fallen apart. not exactly.

but the void she left behind was wide, even if temporary, and it was her replacement who filled it.

YN arrived on a wednesday.

he had two days before the show. no real obligations until then, aside from this—meeting his new hair and makeup artist, seeing if she knew what she was doing before she had to work on him before a live performance.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pushed open the door to his dressing room.

she was already there.

he paused for a fraction of a second, not expecting to see her yet. she stood near the vanity, back straight, hands clasped together in front of her, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. on the counter beside her was a cup—one of those paper to-go cups, the kind that came from some overpriced café.

she turned when he entered, eyes widening slightly before she offered a small, polite smile.

“hi.” her voice was soft, a little hesitant. “i’m YN.”

he took a few steps inside, nodding once. “harry.”

she nodded back, exhaling quickly, like she was trying to steady herself. then, she gestured toward the cup.

“i got you a latte,” she started. “i—i wasn’t sure what you usually drink, but i thought it might be nice. to—y’know. start off on the right foot.”

he glanced at the cup, then at her.

she was nervous. he could see it in the way she shifted her weight slightly, in the way she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

it was a nice thought.

but he hadn’t touched dairy in years.

he didn’t say that, though. didn’t want to embarrass her. instead, he just gave her a small, appreciative nod.

he reached for it, offering a gentle smile. “thanks.”

she looked relieved when he took it, her smile relaxing a little.

harry held the cup, feeling the warmth of it against his palm. he could smell it, the sweetness of whatever syrup she’d probably had them put in. vanilla, maybe. something soft.

he set it down on the vanity without taking a sip.

YN didn’t seem to notice, already turning to grab her kit.

“so,” she breathed, glancing at him as she unzipped it, “juniper gave me some notes on what you like. she said you prefer a really natural look.”

harry nodded, lowering himself into the chair. “yeah. don’t like when it feels too heavy.”

“got it,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, before pulling out a few brushes.

he watched her in the mirror as she worked, as she moved with careful, practiced hands.

she was quiet at first, focused. then, after a minute, she glanced at him.

“have you always done your own hair?”

he blinked, caught slightly off guard. “what?”

“your hair,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly through the strands. “juniper said you’re pretty particular about it. that you usually style it yourself.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “yeah.”

she smiled a little, just a flicker, before returning her focus to her work.

harry swallowed.

this was fine.

just a job.

just another day before a show.

but the latte sat untouched on the counter, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

harry had a feeling she’d linger with it.

there was just something about her, something that felt unguarded. almost naive.

she wasn’t, not entirely—he learned that quickly. she had edges, sharp ones when needed, but she wielded them sparingly. the rest of the time, she was all soft hands and big eyes, a honeyed warmth that seeped into everything she touched.

and harry?

harry was careful not to touch her at all.

there was a distance he liked to keep, a careful line between himself and everyone else. not because he didn’t care—he cared more than he’d admit—but because he knew what could happen when he let someone too close.

still, she had a way of leaning past those lines. not intentionally, but like ivy, like roots. like something that simply grew.

by the time april had given way to may, harry found himself watching her more than he should.

she hummed when she worked, soft melodies that floated through the room like ghosts of songs she couldn’t name. she wrote everything down in a little notebook, scribbling furiously with a pen that always seemed to run out of ink at the worst times.

he’d caught her once, shaking it with a frustrated pout, her lips pressed together in concentration.

“you alright there?” he’d asked, the words slipping out before he could think better of it.

she’d blinked up at him, startled, and then laughed, “another losing battle with this pen.”

“you have t’tap it against your forehead twice.” he’d replied, biting back a smile.

her eyebrows furrowed, but she did it anyway—lightly tapping the clicky part against her head, glancing at harry before trying to write again.

of course it didn’t work. he was just messing with her—wanted to see if she fell for it, wanted to see if she’d listen.

it was easy to fall into moments like that with her.

too easy.

thou mayest. a soft hand offering an apple, a question left unanswered. but he had his own questions, ones that wrapped themselves around his throat and refused to let go.

there were a thousand ways to love someone, and harry had spent his life learning only a fraction of them. though sometimes he wondered if he’d been learning them for her.

— EDINBURGH

he had always thought of temptation as a slow build, like the simmering heat of a kettle left on the stove, a soft whistle at first that could grow into a shrieking insistence if ignored too long. but that night, in the quiet sprawl of his hotel suite, it didn’t simmer. it coiled.

the city welcomed them with a gray drizzle and jet lag that stuck to the skin like damp clothes. the flight over had been long, hours stretched taut over time zones and turbulence, and by the time he made it to the room, he wanted nothing more than to shed the weight of travel.

his suitcase lay half-open on the floor, a quiet surrender to the fatigue he couldn’t shake. a glass of water sat on the bedside table, untouched, condensation pooling beneath it. harry stretched out on the mattress, arms behind his head, eyes closed but nowhere near sleep. the city murmured beyond the window—a muted symphony of car horns and distant voices—and he let it play in the background.

his phone buzzed.

yn: did you get back to the hotel okay?

he smiled faintly at the screen, her name like a flame too warm to look at directly. his fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he responded.

harry: all 10 fingers and toes. safe and sound.

harry: you get back okay?

the reply came almost instantly, her eagerness spilling into the space between them.

yn: mhmmm. i’m just brainstorming a few ideas for upcoming shows :) if you give me a penny, i’ll give you my thoughts.

a laugh huffed through his nose.

harry: consider a penny given, then.

he settled deeper into the bed, phone balanced in his hand as he waited. the seconds stretched into minutes, the screen dimming twice before the vibration returned. when it did, it wasn’t just one text, but a cascade—a waterfall of thoughts so uniquely hers that he could almost hear her voice speaking them aloud.

it was color theory, ideas layered with excitement, messily typed but earnest. how the blues of certain lighting might dull the warmth of his skin, or how curls framing his face might draw more focus to his eyes.

yn: does that make sense?

he hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

harry: absolutely. honored to work with such talent.

her suggestions were good—better than good, really. but it wasn’t the content that had his heart pacing against the walls of his chest. it was the way she thought of him in terms of details. the curve of his hair, the way light caught in his eyes. how she looked at him as if he were something to be fine-tuned, polished, perfected.

he set the phone down, staring at the darkened ceiling.

it wasn’t the first time he’d felt it, the pull of her presence. she had a way of moving through spaces as though she belonged in all of them. she was sharp where it mattered and soft everywhere else, a tangle of contradictions that didn’t feel contradictory at all.

he wasn’t blind to it, either—the closeness, the fleeting touches she didn’t seem to think twice about, the way her laughter lingered in rooms after she left them.

and yet, he couldn’t let himself fall. not into this.

his hand twitched toward the phone again. temptation was a voice now, low and insistent, curling in his gut. he thought of her in her room, probably cross-legged on the bed with her notebook splayed open and a pencil tucked behind her ear, her face alight with whatever new idea had struck her.

she was likely still wearing the hoodie from the plane, the one she had pulled over her knees to keep warm. she had smiled at him through the terminal, soft and shy, a blush touching her cheeks as she said goodnight.

his phone buzzed again.

yn: i think the messy curls could make your eyes look softer. i’m rambling, sorry! just a thought :)

it wasn’t fair, really. the way she existed so effortlessly, the way she lingered in his mind long after she’d left the room.

but temptation had a thousand faces, and tonight, it wore hers.

harry: never stop rambling.

— GLASGOW

it felt colder than it should have for may. the overcast sky hung low, gray and swollen, threatening rain that would inevitably come. harry didn’t mind it, though—he liked how the cold made his skin prickle, how it made the air feel cleaner when he breathed it in. but more than that, he liked how it kept everyone huddled indoors, tucked into the warmth of the stadium where soundchecks were already underway.

YN was perched on a stool near the mirrors, her knees pulled up just enough to keep her feet from dangling. she had been quiet all morning, focused, her delicate fingers meticulously painting tiny daisies onto the nail of his pinky.

“some steady hands there.”

she glanced up at him, and for a moment, her cheeks burned pink. “i have to. can’t mess up, right?”

“you could,” he mumbled, leaning forward slightly, his tone teasing. “might not mind.”

her lips twitched, barely concealing a smile, but she quickly ducked her head back down, letting her hair fall into her face like a curtain. it was something she did often, he noticed, as if she were hiding—not just from him but from something bigger.

he didn’t press. not yet.

“what color’s next?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the neat little bottles lined up on the counter.

“yellow,” she replied softly. “you said you wanted bright.”

“a sunshine yellow, then.” he watched her carefully as she reached for the polish, her fingers trembling ever so slightly before she steadied them again. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

her hand froze midair, and he swore he saw her breath hitch. she looked up at him then, her wide eyes meeting his, and he felt it again—that pull.

“what?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“you’re sweet,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smirks. “makes me wonder if anyone’s ever told you that before.”

she blinked, her lashes fluttering like the wings of a moth caught too close to a flame. “i–i don’t know.”

his smile deepened, but there was no malice in it, only warmth. “well, you are. just thought you should know.”

YN turned her attention back to his nails, her head bowed so low now he could only see the crown of it. the pink flush on her cheeks had deepened, spreading to the tips of her ears.

he liked that. he liked how easily she reacted to him, how her softness made him feel like he could step closer without shattering her completely. but he also hated it, hated how it clawed at his resolve, making him forget all the reasons he’d told himself to stay away.

when she finished the daisies, she leaned back, examining her work with a satisfied little nod. “done.”

“you’re sure?” he asked, lifting his hand and turning it this way and that, letting the light catch the glossy polish.

“positive.”

“looks perfect,” he said, though this time he wasn’t teasing. “thank you.”

her lips parted, just slightly, like she wasn’t sure what to say.

before she could speak, the sharp click of the dressing room door broke the moment, and jeff stuck his head inside.

“five minutes, harry,” he called, already looking at his phone as he spoke. “got people waiting.”

he nodded, his expression unchanged, though the moment felt heavier now, disrupted by the intrusion. “right. cheers.”

jeff disappeared again, the door clicking shut behind him.

he stood, stretching his arms above his head, and caught the way YN watched him out of the corner of her eye before quickly looking away.

“i’ll get you something from the vending machine.” he mentioned casually, already fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

her head snapped up. “you don’t have to—”

“hush,” he interrupted, grinning now. he stepped closer, reaching for her hand, and put four quarters into her palm. “you’ll need this. unless y’plan on charming the machine into spitting one out for free.”

her fingers curled around the coins, and she blinked up at him, her lips parting as if to argue. but she didn’t. instead, she offered him a soft, grateful smile.

“thank you.”

he only hummed as she slipped the quarters into her pocket and hopped off the stool, glancing at him one last time before heading for the door. when she was gone, the room felt too still, the faint trace of her perfume lingering like an echo.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. his nails gleamed in the fluorescent light, the little daisies smiling up at him like they knew something he didn’t.

meanwhile, the vending machines would glow faintly at the far end of the hallway, their soft hum breaking the quiet. YN shuffled closer, her shoes padding lightly against the concrete floor.

but the faint creak of a door opening behind her made her pause, her head turning toward the sound.

he was there again, stepping into the hallway and heading the opposite direction.

harry moved with the kind of unhurried confidence that made it seem like the space around him belonged to him and him alone. his legs carried him in long strides, the sharp crimson of his trousers catching the dull overhead lights with every step. the matching red suspenders hung loose, swinging lazily at his sides, as though he’d been interrupted mid-motion while shrugging them up.

his shirt was unassuming—blue and striped, halfheartedly buttoned. the fabric clung to the broad line of his shoulders before softening at his waist, tucked neatly into his trousers. the buttons stopped low, of course, just enough to reveal the sharp dip of his collarbones and a teasing stretch of bare skin below.

YN’s eyes lingered longer than they should have, tracing the slope of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin, the way the fabric shifted across his back when he moved. it was unfair, really, how tall he seemed here, how he could fill even the emptiest hallway with his presence.

he hadn’t noticed her yet. his head was down, focused, his mouth pressed into a line of mild concentration. whatever jeff had needed him for was probably important, judging by the speed of his stride.

but then, as though he’d sensed it, he looked up.

their eyes met briefly—just a flicker, but it was enough.

harry’s pace slowed for a fraction of a second, his brows lifting in faint recognition as his gaze settled on her. he didn’t smile, not fully, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he might’ve.

YN felt her stomach twist, that now-familiar warmth creeping up her neck and blooming across her cheeks. she wasn’t sure why she felt caught, like she’d been caught looking when she hadn’t meant to.

“get your cola yet?” his voice carried down the hall.

she managed to shake her head, “not yet.”

“better hurry, then,” he nodded toward her, resuming his stride. “press’ll be crawling through soon.”

he didn’t wait for her response, his figure already retreating, his strides long and effortless as he disappeared around the corner.

YN let out a slow, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers unclenching one by one. she glanced down at the quarters in her palm, their edges pressing faint imprints into her skin.

when she turned back to the vending machines, the glow seemed a little brighter, the hum a little louder, but the air in the hallway still felt heavy. she slid the coins into the slot one at a time, their metallic clinks echoing in her ears, and pressed the button for a coke.

her fingers closed around the bottle, and for a moment, she stood there, staring at the blurred reflection of herself in the machine’s plexiglass. her cheeks were still flushed, her heartbeat uneven—only harry could manage such a reaction without even doing anything.

he wasn’t even looking, she thought, shaking her head as she straightened up. he wasn’t even looking anymore. but it didn’t matter, not really. her stomach still fluttered like it always did.

she kept herself busy while harry was off handling whatever jeff had thrown his way. it was easy, most days—finding small things to do in the dressing room, small tasks that helped settle the nervous energy she always seemed to carry.

she tucked loose bits of makeup back into their designated compartments, straightened the mess of brushes and bottles that had accumulated along the counters. the quiet helped, too, though she occasionally paused, distracted by the faint voices coming from the small television mounted on the wall.

the scottish accents were thick and lilting, pulling her attention away entirely when she let herself linger too long. she’d tilt her head toward the screen, catching snippets of an old comedy show she didn’t recognize, before shaking herself out of it and returning to her task.

her coke was still cold against her palm, condensation slicking the skin of her fingers as she took small, absentminded sips. but when she ran out of things to tidy, out of ways to fill the silence, she left the dressing room, wandering through the backstage halls.

this was a habit of hers, especially in new places. she liked exploring, even if the halls all tended to look the same—narrow and gray, the faint hum of activity reverberating off the walls.

voices carried from somewhere distant, bouncing in ways that made it impossible to pinpoint their origin. she walked slowly, her free arm occasionally brushing against the rough cinderblock walls.

then she stopped.

her eyes caught on something hung up on the wall—a plaque with a faded photo and an inscription below it. she stepped closer, squinting to make out the worn text, her head tilting slightly as she read. it must’ve been a gift to the stadium years ago, a relic from a time before she was even born.

the faint hum of voices seemed to grow louder as she stared, but she didn’t move. her thoughts wandered as she read the plaque’s history, the drink cool in her hand, her sneakers shifting on concrete like she couldn’t bear to stand still.

but after a beat, she decided she’d seen enough.

she spun on her heel, ready to continue her aimless walk, but she bumped into something solid before she even realized she wasn’t alone.

“oh!” she gasped softly, jerking back slightly, enough to regain balance.

it wasn’t just something solid—it was someone.

harry.

his hand brushed against her shoulder instinctively, steadying her with a light touch that felt more deliberate than it probably was. he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced down at her.

“didn’t see y’there, sweetheart.”

the word hit her square in the chest—not the casual murmur of her name he usually used but something gentler, more pointed. he rarely called her that, maybe once every few days at most, and it always left her struggling to figure out if he meant anything by it.

she blinked up at him, still flustered, her heart kicking up in her ribs as she took a step back. he towered over her, as always, broad and imposing in such a narrow place. the suspenders she’d seen earlier were in place now, stretched over his shoulders, accentuating the sharp lines of his frame. and even though she’d only finished fixing his hair a short while ago, it already looked tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it more than once.

her cheeks heated, but she smiled anyway, nodding toward the plaque on the wall in an effort to distract herself. “was lookin’ at this.”

he followed her line of sight, the faint curve of his mouth lingering as he took a moment to glance it over. “from the old firm game,” he muttered, “back in ‘39.”

“oh.” she breathed, her eyes darting between him and the plaque.

“not to be confused with the old firm of ‘71,” he added, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at her fully.

YN’s eyebrows furrowed as she tilted her head, trying to place the significance.

he leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing hers lightly as he continued, “–where a bunch of people died.”

the words were said so casually that it took a second for them to register, and by the time they did, he was already walking off.

she gasped, following after him, “what do you mean?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “people died here?”

he glanced back at her briefly, his expression unreadable, though his lips still carried the faintest hint of amusement. “mm-hmm.”

“well…what happened?” she pressed, quickening her pace to match his.

instead of answering, he slowed just enough to turn toward her, his hand reaching out with an ease that made her breath catch. without a word, he plucked the coke from her hand, his fingers brushing hers for the tiniest moment before he raised it to his lips.

“stadium disaster,” he said finally, his voice calm, ending with the quietest of sighs from his swallow.

he handed the bottle back to her with the same ease, his fingers grazing hers again as the cool glass settled back into her hand.

“that’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “just stadium disaster? that’s all you’re giving me?”

he glanced down at her, “you’ve got a phone, haven’t you?”

“well…” she paused, the faintest of frowns on her lips, “you can’t just drop a bomb on me ‘nd walk away.”

he chuckled, pushing open the door leading back toward another corridor. “can’t i?”

YN opened her mouth to argue, but the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her standing there in the middle of the hallway.

she frowned further, tipping the bottle back to finish the last swallow before tossing it into the recycling bin with a soft clink. without much thought, her feet carried her toward the door he had disappeared through, her curiosity prickling like static under her skin.

it wasn’t that the news upset her, though the thought of people dying here was unsettling, sure. it was more that this stadium—the one they were standing in right now, bustling with life and noise—had that kind of history to it. stadium disaster. how vague. it wasn’t much to go on, and her mind raced with questions she couldn’t quite tamp down.

was it safe for harry to perform here? was it haunted, for god’s sake? and how did he know about it so casually, like it was the kind of trivia everyone carried around in their back pocket? was it some bit of history he’d picked up while preparing for the tour? or—she glanced down the hall, chewing her lip—was he just messing with her?

she pushed through another set of doors, the muffled hum of activity on the other side growing louder as it swung shut behind her. the hallway was wider here, brighter, with distant voices overlapping in a way that made it hard to pinpoint where they came from.

her eyes scanned the space ahead, searching for that familiar figure. he wasn’t hard to spot—tall and broad, the opposite of waldo.

“harry! wait, please!”

he slowed, turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. he smiled when he saw her, but he didn’t stop walking.

she huffed, her stride quickening against the floor as she caught up to him.

“s’not fair to tell me something crazy like that and leave me behind.”she mumbled, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“like what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he glanced down at her.

“stadium disaster,” she repeated, rolling the words on her tongue like they didn’t make sense. “what does that even mean?”

he shrugged, his steps slowing slightly to match hers. “means what it sounds like, doesn’t it?”

“but thats not really an answer, though.”

he stopped then, turning to face her fully, and the sudden weight of his attention made her heart stutter.

“happened after a football match,” he said, his tone even, almost conversational. “old firm derby. too many people trying to leave at once—crush at the exit. sixty-six dead.”

“sixty-six.” she echoed.

he nodded, his expression steady, though his eyes softened slightly when they met hers.

“and…they still use the stadium?”

“course they do.” he shrugged again, slipping his hands into his pockets. “was decades ago. fixed it up after.”

“but how do you know all that?”

his lips twitched, just slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost sheepish. “read about it some time ago. thought it was interesting.”

“interesting.” she mocked, shaking her head, though her lips curved faintly into a smile.

“don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “you asked.”

she let out a soft huff, though the faint smile still tugging at her lips betrayed her. before she could think of a retort, harry turned and began walking again, and she followed, of course.

his casual indifference to the conversation left her buzzing with curiosity. she hesitated for a moment before blurting, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“ghosts?”

“yeah,” she nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “you said all those people died here. i don’t know—places like that feel like they’d…hold on to something, don’t you think?”

his lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, something thoughtful. “you think this place is haunted?”

she shrugged, looking ahead instead of at him. “maybe. you don’t?”

“not really.” he said simply, his tone light but firm. “don’t reckon i’ve seen enough to believe in all that.”

she frowned, glancing up at him again. “you’ve never had anything weird happen? not even on tour?”

“plenty of weird happens on tour,” he said with a low chuckle, his hand briefly brushing the suspenders at his chest as though adjusting them. “but nothing spooky. unless you count jeff turning into a ghost every time i ask him to sort something out.”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. “that doesn’t count, harry.”

“then no,” he replied, his voice calm but edged with amusement. “can’t say i’ve had the pleasure of being haunted. you?”

her smile faltered, her gaze dipping to the ground for a moment. “no, but…i don’t know. places like this make me wonder.”

he hummed low in his throat, tilting his head as if considering her words. “like we’re all just leaving little bits of ourselves behind.”

“yeah,” she said softly, nodding. “something like that.”

they lingered in the doorway, YN a bit unsure whether to turn back toward the dressing rooms or find something else to preoccupy herself with. this was where harry was supposed to disappear, where their brief exchange would end, and where she’d return to her usual wandering.

but he didn’t move just yet. instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. the motion was slow, his rings glinting faintly beneath the fluorescents.

“you haven’t eaten today?” he asked, though the tone of his voice wasn’t really a question. it was low and steady, more like a statement.

her lips pursed slightly as she tilted her head, giving the question more thought than she probably needed to.

“mm,” she hummed, narrowing her eyes playfully as if she were weighing the truth. “no—yes!” she corrected herself quickly, a sheepish smile breaking across her face. “yes. i had breakfast and a snack earlier.”

his lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he were fighting the urge to smile. he didn’t say anything right away, just kept his eyes on her.

then, without a word, he pulled two twenties from his wallet, “here.”

YN blinked again, her eyes flicking between the money and his face, confusion blooming across her features. “what? no, harry, i can’t—”

“take it,” he interrupted gently, his voice soft but firm. “go get something decent. don’t let mitch con you into eating crisps f’dinner again.”

she hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“seriously,” he added, a faint smile tugging at his mouth now. “you’ll be doing me a favor. don’t want you passing out on me, yeah?”

her cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but after another beat of hesitation, she finally reached out and took the money, her fingers brushing against his briefly as she did.

“thank you…again.”

he only hummed, shrugging his shoulders casually—as if he didn’t just hand her forty bucks for a measly lunch.

and then, just as she thought he might disappear into the room ahead, he glanced at her again, his green eyes steady and bright under the harsh lights.

“don’t wander too far.”

she smiled faintly, her fingers tightening around the money. “i won’t.”

— COVENTRY

her hands were slowly starting to become his favorite greeting.

the way they moved with a gentle rhythm, purposeful but soft, like they carried a melody he couldn’t quite place. it was the third week of the european leg, the air damp with the kind of lingering rain that clung to the skin and made hair curl at the edges. backstage was bustling, but in the quiet moments, when she flitted around him with a quiet focus, all harry could see were her hands.

small, unadorned, sweet.

she was touching up his face, her thumb dragging gently beneath his eye to smooth out a smudge. her breath smelled faintly of spearmint and the watermelon candy she had earlier. her eyes stayed fixed on the task, as if this moment was just another stitch in the fabric of her day. but for harry, it was a tear in the cloth.

she was too close. he could see the faintest sheen of her skin under the lights, the curve of her neck, the way her collarbones shifted as she moved.

lust wasn’t a stranger to him. it had been loud before, all-consuming. but this was different. this was quieter, heavier. something he was trying to smother, yet it refused to die.

he went cold that day. avoided her gaze, clenched his jaw, kept his hands tucked into his pockets like they might betray him.

but it only made her more thoughtful.

he saw her the next morning, her hair clipped loosely at the back of her head, strands falling lazily like they’d escaped on purpose. the change was subtle, but in the way she crafted herself into something sharper, more focused. the clipped hair gave him an undisturbed view of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the delicate slope of her shoulders.

he was undone.

a thousand images pressed against his mind, unwanted but insistent—his hands spanning the column of her throat, bruises painted like watercolored violets blooming along her collarbones—an evidence of his claim—the curve of her jaw tipped back as she let out a sound meant only for him.

harry forced himself to retreat again.

she thought it was her breath next.

he noticed how she chewed bright green gum in a way that drove him mad, like it was an absent habit, the piece of gum rolling in slow movements. sometimes her tongue would peek past her lips as though she were about to blow a bubble but stopped halfway through.

harry had to sit down once after that, shaking his head like he could dislodge the thoughts from his skull. he thought of how her pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock. he could almost feel it—the warmth, the wetness, the sound. he wondered if she’d be as quiet as she usually was, or if she’d scream his name loud enough for the entire stadium to be reminded of who they’re here to see.

and now, she was kneeling by his side backstage, her fingers curling into the hem of his trousers to fix the cuff.

she smiled softly as she worked, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest moment.

“you’ll trip over these on stage if they aren’t fixed.”

he swallowed thickly, nodding, unable to form words. the thought of her on her knees, innocent and sweet, flooded his mind like a storm surge.

“there.” she sat back on her heels, her hands brushing against his ankles as she admired her work.

he looked at her, bathed in the golden backstage light, her hair still clipped back, her lips parted slightly as if waiting for his approval.

he clenched his fists.

the flow of time bent around her, her presence a rippling disturbance in the current.

harry shifted abruptly, muttering something about needing to check on mitch, and left the room without looking back.

— MANCHESTER

the hotel was hushed, its grandeur dimmed by the evening hour. soft light spilled from sconces along the walls, pooling against polished floors, while the faint hum of distant conversation echoed through the lobby. most of the crew had disappeared within minutes, doors clicking shut as they vanished into their respective rooms, leaving the space cavernous and still.

but not harry. and not YN.

her room wasn’t ready yet—something about cleaning and turnaround, an oversight that had left her standing at the front desk with an apologetic smile and her suitcase at her side.

“shouldn’t be more than half an hour,” the clerk had assured her, but YN had waved it off, her soft it’s fine laced with the kind of understanding that always made harry’s chest tighten.

instead of heading to his own room, he had lingered. he didn’t know why, or perhaps he did and simply didn’t want to acknowledge it. either way, he found himself sitting in a low-slung armchair in the lounge just off the lobby, the soft leather cool beneath his hands as he leaned back and stretched his legs out.

she sat across from him, perched delicately on the edge of a matching chair, her fingers fidgeting idly with the zipper of her bag.

his eyes flicked to her now and then, his eyes catching on the faint curve of her profile, the way her shoulders lifted slightly when she let out a quiet sigh. she didn’t seem restless, exactly—just waiting.

the room was sparsely furnished, its decor understated but rich. in the far corners, small tables stood with chessboards carved into their surfaces, their pieces arranged neatly in expectation.

it was YN who noticed them first, her head tilting slightly as her gaze lingered on the nearest table. after a moment, she rose from her chair, her movements unhurried as she approached the board. her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of the table, tracing the grooves of the squares as if testing their texture.

harry watched her from his seat, his elbow resting on the armrest as his hand brushed over his jaw.

“do you play?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but carrying across the quiet room.

he smiled as he stood, unfolding himself from the chair with an ease that made the movement seem almost languid, and crossed the room to join her.

“a bit.”

“teach me?”

he nodded, pulling out a chair for her. “sit, then.”

he sat across from her after she settled, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table as she watched him reach for the pieces.

his hands moved with practiced ease, his rings catching the light as he adjusted the arrangement of the board. his fingers brushed against hers briefly when she leaned forward to help.

“these are pawns,” he said, his voice steady as he pointed to the row of small pieces. “move one square forward, except on the first turn—then it can be two.”

she nodded, her brows furrowing slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes following the path of his hand. his voice was calm, measured, and she found herself drawn to the rhythm of it, the way he spoke as if the game were a story he was unfolding just for her.

“bishops go diagonally,” he continued, sliding one across the board with a smooth motion. “rooks in straight lines. knights—well, they’re tricky. they move in an L shape.”

her lips curved into a small smile as she watched him demonstrate, the pieces clicking softly against the board.

“like this,” harry muttered, his fingers brushing against hers again as he nudged her hand toward the knight.

her breath caught faintly, though she didn’t pull away. instead, she let her fingers linger, her eyes flicking up to meet his for a brief, unguarded moment.

“got it?”

she nodded, her throat tightening as she swallowed the knot that had risen there.

“show me.” he encouraged, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze steady on her. “go ahead.”

she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the pawn in front of her as her concentration shifted onto harry—focusing on the way his hips bucked as he tried to get comfortable in his seat, the way his thighs spread apart, wide enough that his knees brushed against the legs of the table.

and it’s like he knew the reason why her cheeks flushed. he was still leaned back, his hands folded and resting against his belly as he watched her. just watched. his breathing was even, the tip of his tongue sliding between his lips as they part.

“you stuck?”

her eyes immediately snap back to the pawn. “no,” she murmured before she slid it forward.

the game moved slowly, each turn deliberate as he guided her through the motions. his voice stayed calm, patient, though the weight of his presence felt anything but.

she leaned forward more as the game progressed, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the board. harry mirrored her unconsciously, the space between them narrowing with every move.

her laughter broke the quiet at one point, soft and sweet, when her knight moved in the wrong direction and harry teased her gently about it. the sound lingered in the air, threading itself into the quiet like a melody, and harry found himself smiling despite the tension coiling in his chest.

she hesitated, her fingers hovering over a bishop as she tried to map out her next move. YN glanced up at him briefly, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and quickly looked away.

“what?”

“nothing.” harry replied easily, though his smirk deepened.

“you’re doing that thing,” she said, her lips curving into a small pout.

“what thing?”

“that thing,” she repeated, her hand gesturing vaguely toward him. “the… i-know-something-you-don’t thing.”

he huffed a low laugh, shaking his head slightly. “m’not doing anything.”

her pout deepened, but she turned her focus back to the board. she moved her bishop with careful precision, setting it in place with a soft click before leaning back slightly, a triumphant smile blooming on her face.

“checkmate!”

he didn’t move at first. he simply blinked at the board, his lips twitching faintly as he leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the table.

“is it now?”

YN’s smile faltered, her confidence wavering as she glanced back at the board, her eyes flicking over the pieces. she felt him lean closer, his presence warm and steady, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the space between them.

“you’ve got my king in a corner,” he muttered, his tone calm but edged with something almost teasing. “but…”

harry’s hand moved then, adjusting one of his knights. the piece landed with a firm click, the move clean and calculated.

“check.”

YN stared at the board, her lips parting slightly as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“but—” she started, her voice trailing off as her eyes darted between the pieces.

he leaned back again, his smirk returning as he watched her. “close, though.”

her cheeks flushed, the warmth spreading up her neck as she let out a soft huff, her gaze dropping to the table. “thought i had it.”

he shrugged, already starting to put the pieces in its original places. “almost, sweetheart.” he breathed, eyes fixed on checkerboards of black and white. “s’just a part of learning, hm?”

she glanced up at him then, her eyes wide and uncertain, and he held her gaze for a moment longer than he should have.

before she could respond, the faint hum of footsteps drew their attention toward the desk. the clerk from earlier stood there, holding out a small keycard.

"miss YN?"

she blinked, startled for a moment before realizing what it meant. her room was ready.

he stood first, his movements unhurried as he straightened, his presence still commanding even in the small act of standing. he turned toward her, his hand brushing briefly against the back of her chair as he gestured toward the desk.

"guess that's your cue.”

she hesitated, glancing back at the chessboard, its pieces nearly in their original places, before rising to her feet. she smoothed her hands over her pants, her eyes flicking to his.

"thanks for staying with me.”

he nodded toward her, a small smile on his lips. “anytime.”

too close to the sun, he thought.

but god, wouldn’t she be worth falling for?

[carbonfiction]

A little suprise

Summary: After another cosy Christmas morning shared together, it’s time for the gifts. Little things thoughtfully bought, wrapped and passed over. This year however, theres something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

Master list. Words: 1.2k

Warnings: tw mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy announcement. (Chosen to tw this simply bc im aware of how tough it can be for those struggling with conception/fertility ect, especially this time time of year. i want you to know my heart is with you, your time will come🫶) Lumberjack Logan is a sweetheart, mostly just a nice lil finding-out-he’s-gonna-be-a-dad Logan fluff with a smiiiiige of swearing. Lo calls reader “momma”

The parasites in me yearned for origins dad Logan, so I had to write origins dad Logan. Or in other words, its Christmas and I desperately can’t stop thinking about that large man with a teeeeny tiny baby.. Tadaaaaaa <33 merry Christmas loves!

Christmas morning was always peaceful in the howlett household. It would begin with sleep laced kisses, limbs tangled together as you hold each other close. It's hours before either of you actually leave the bed, too warm and content with eachothers presence to even consider it.

But when you do the first place you go, after the bathroom of course, is to the kitchen. Logan begins breakfast- or nearer brunch by then. While you make sure the coffee machine is switched on and freshly brewing the hot liquid into your usual cups- a cheesy wedding present from a friend, mugs that read 'Mr' and 'Mrs'.

Then, once dinner is roasting slowly in the oven for later, come the gifts. All soundtracked by a movie playing in the background. Little things wrapped and passed over- for you comes a cosy pair of pajamas with matching socks that you'd pointed out a while back, along with a little hamper full of your favorite treats; a perfect mix of sweet and savory to snack on when the mood takes you; or when wrapped up tighter watching a movie.

While you gift him a fresh collection of cigars and workboots that offer a little extra comfort to those long days he spends at the yard on his feet.

But.. Theres also something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

You steady yourself with an anxious exhale before you tap logan on the knee. "Theres one last one.." you say with a smile, quickly retreating to the bedroom and coming back to stand infront of him with a neatly wrapped box in hand.

Logans brow rises, a crease then wedging between them as he looks over the gift and its carefully tied bow. "Thought we agreed on a couple things each?" he murmers.

Hes right, you had agreed that, both having felt like each others company was all you really needed..

"Well, its a Surprise..” you trail, urging him to open it as nuterally as you could. Anxiety festering deep in your chest, part of you unsure just how this would go down.

Its silent as his fingers pluck and pull at the ribbon, deftly untieing it until its left in a pile besides him on the couch. Next is the lid, decorative tissue paper also following as his eyes rake over the unveiled contense.

"Sweetheart?.." logan questions in a whisper, fingers gently lifting out a pair of tiny booties and a matching flannel shirt; Both purposely mirroring items he owned. "what.. what’s all this?”

Logan feels his heart hammer in his chest, mouth going dry. are you telling him what he thinks you are?

“What’s it look like Logan?" you giggle softly, a hint of nerves in your eyes as you look down at him. You grasp an ultrasound photo and the positive test from the pocket of your sweats then, placing them in his hands over the little shirt.

You watch as his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, crease flying away from his brows as he takes in the words written on the test; illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. 'Positive'

“You-" he starts, words trembling dryly from his tongue. "you’re really pregnant?”

Tears begin to sting at your waterline as he looks up, your gazes meeting as you nod, bottom lip bitten tight between your teeth. "yeah, ‘m really pregnant.. gonna be a dad lo”

Sure, you'd had conversations in the past about this situation, had both agreed kids would be something you'd like to share one day, but you never actively began trying. Never fucked for the sake of conception. It had just.. happened.

A birthday celebration mixing with a slip up in taking your birth control- an accident you weren't sure you felt guilty for at this point, not with the look clouding over logans features.

Features soon shared by the little you or him growing inside you.

You wobble forward as Logans arms engulf your waist, pulling you toward him with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a toy they'd wanted forever.

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, landing wetly on your fingers as they find home in the soft tufts of his hair.

“I’m gonna be a dad.." he murmers incredulous and full of wonder as his forehead presses into the fabric of your shirt. You dont know if hes talking to you or himself, but its just quiet enough for you to hear it through your now hiccuped sobs.

“Are you happy?” you sniffle, still slightly unsure. He feels you pull at his hair until his gaze meets you, chin resting gently on your ribs.

“shit sweetheart, yeah" he smiles and its bright on his face as he stands to hold you properly. Logans lips press against yours, the kiss filled with unspoken emotions as the addictive taste of him hits your tongue.

He holds you tightly at the waist for a few moments and its with trembling fingers he pulls back. His head dipping to look you in the eyes, touch twice as gentle when his hands come up from your sides to gently cup your cheeks. Calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that still fall "course I'm happy, are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah Im happy" you assure, teary eyes brightening. "beyond happy even"

A grin lights logans expression as he looks down, glittering as bright as the Christmas lights surrounding you.

"You know, I was.." he starts, clearing his throat as it crackles with emotion. "God i was just thinkin what a pretty momma you’ll make but.. you already are a momma huh.." one of his hands move again, deft fingers creeping under your shirt now until his large palm sits gently against the small swell of your stomach. Your heart skipping at the feel of the cool metal of his wedding band. "growing our kid in there..”

“Well, it’s technically sill early d-“ you go to say, but he cuts you off. “Your glowing already you know that sweetheart?"

His lips find yours again, fingers still cupping your jaw as his next words press against your mouth in a soft coo. "My beautiful girl.. Our baby's gorgeous momma"

Your arms wrap around his neck, swaying gently as love drunk grins adorn both your faces. The room filled with a new kind of excitement. A memory made you know both of you will remember forever. “i Love you Logan...” you affirm, hushed.

"Love you more sweetheart, like you wouldnt believe." he honeys back softly, stroking his thumb over your belly again "Giving me the damn world here"

Its silent then for a while after, appart from the crackle of the fire. Post dinner you both rest full, wrapped up in each others arms on the couch. you lying curled onto his chest.

Your fingers alternate drawing shapes and drumming on his left pectoral, wide grins still adorning your faces as you peek over at the test, photo, boots and flannel still sitting on the coffee table.

You hum softly then, breaking the silence with a simple whisper of his name. "Logan?"

He responds just as quiet, hand still not having left its new home on your tummy. "Yeah sweet girl?"

"Once i get huge.." you start with a teasing glint making logan cock a brow as he listens. "Im reserving the right to be carried around the house.."

That makes Logan chuckle, the louder rumble shaking beneath where you lay as you too break into a fit of giggles.

He shakes his head, lips kissing your hair softly as he speaks, still deeply amused. “Whatever you want momma, whatever you want."

Is this my best work? Fuck no, fluff is my kryptonite. But Was it a sweet thought? Yeaaa..

[latenightdaydreams]

Monster König finds a willing partner for his breeding season.....and maybe found his future wife.

Yesssss💗

Monster!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, monster, oral, p in v

1.7k word count

.

.

You took a short vacation from work, deciding to go into the wilderness to disconnect from civilization for a bit. Having recently ended a six-year relationship, this feels like the start of a new chapter. An independent life free of love or men.

Hours from home you pull up to the camping grounds a few hours before sunset. It’s autumn so there aren’t many people here, thankfully. Once you park, you gather your camping gear, and set off on your journey. The area you’ll be in is isolated clearing deep into the woods.

The leaves crunch under every step you take, your eyes following every small creature you see scurrying past you. You're able to set up your tent before you lose natural light and you make a small fire. For some odd reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. From what you know, there are no dangerous animals in the area so you try to relax.

With a pullover on and leggings, you sit near the fire eating and roasting the occasional marshmallow. There are no sounds, not even a cricket in the night. It seems odd, but you’ve never been in this situation before so you once again ignore that gut feeling.

König watches from the shadow of the dark, his glowing blue eyes tracking your every move. You smell exquisite and look like a precious doll. It’s mating season for his kind, and his kind are dying out. Finding a mate is usually futile and ends in him missing the season. Yet, you’re right here. Almost as if you fell into his lap; a fertile female of the human species.

There is a heavy tension in the air as you hear a twig snap. Your eyes dart around in the darkness, unable to see anything. For a moment you hold your breath, trying to listen as closely as you can to make sure some random human wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Then it happened again. You drop the stick with roasted marshmallows on it and jump up.

“Hello? Who's there?” Your hand reaches for the can of pepper spray on your hip.

There is no response. Only a loud silence and a tension that vibrates through your whole body. You can hear your heart beating but you attempt to appear stoic. There is a small rustling of the leaves before a low growl is heard.

“H- hello?” Fear washes over you as you gaze into the darkness.

“Hallo, Liebling.”

A raspy voice comes from the trees. Heavy footsteps get closer as you slowly back away. With a shaking arm you hold out the pepper spray. Your voice cracks as you attempt to appear stronger than you are.

“I have pepper spray! Don’t come any closer!”

Silence. You don’t move, barely even breathing as you look around. After a few minutes, you begin to think that you’re going crazy, maybe being alone out here isn’t for you after all. Just as you were going to put your pepper spray away, you see glowing blue eyes gazing at you.

König walks out from the darkness, exposing himself to you. The giant creature stands at 8-feet with pale glowing eyes from behind its mask. He walks forward to you with a slow and steady speed as if to not startle you.

For some odd reason, you don’t scream or run away. Your eyes drift up and down the monster’s body, taking note of how muscular it is. A small gasp leaves your lips when you notice he has an erection; his giant cock bouncing off his thigh with each step forward.

The way you’re checking him out doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He’s pleasantly surprised to see how fascinated you appear to be, the fear in your eyes melting away. As he gets closer to you, he realizes how truly tiny you are. You’re nearly half his height; he’s never been with a human before and he’s curious to know what you could feel like wrapped around him.

“König.” His voice sent chills over your whole body.

“König?” You were confused at first until you realized that was his name. “I- I’m y/n.”

“My mate.”

Mate? You don’t respond, just gaze up at him. He lowers himself, kneeling before you. His hands caress your whole body; one of his hands nearly wrapping around your soft stomach. Small hums of satisfaction leaving his lips as he feels your warm body. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck and takes in a deep breath of your scent.

You melt like butter in his arms. All rational thought gone; this odd creature seems to have possessed you into submission. His strong musk consuming your nostrils, but it isn’t unpleasant. He slowly begins to pull up your pullover, exposing your breasts pooling in your bra.

König pulls his mask back, revealing the lower part of his face; his long slimy tongue creeps out and licks along your cleavage. You tremble, letting out a small whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours as he pulls your bra off and licks over your hard nipples.

This feels like a fever dream, monsters aren’t real; this can’t be real. It feels so real though, you can feel your pussy getting wet as his warm body mixes with the odd sensation of his tongue. When he pulls away, he looks at you, standing back up to his full height as he looks around.

“Undress.”

You do what he says, undressing before him and exposing your full body to him. The tip of his cock begins to drip with precum as he thinks of actually being able to breed, to fuck. He walks forward and grabs you, lifting you up into his arms. A small surprised gasp leaves your lips, a rush of excitement consumes you thinking about what is about to happen.

König nuzzles his masked face into yours in an almost affectionate manner. You boldly grab his mask and lift it to see a face almost human like. He pauses for a moment, wondering if you’ll reject him when you see how hideous he is. For a moment you linger saying and doing nothing causing his heart beat to pick up, but then you kiss the side of his face. Your kiss travels over him, down his neck as he kneels again, placing you closer to the fire to keep your small hairless body warm.

You look so tiny underneath him; he could crush you if he wanted to. Such a delicate beautiful human, all for himself. He leaves sloppy kisses over your abdomen, squeezing your thighs as he continues down. Finally, he reaches what he’s desiring most. His hand’s part your legs as he takes time to look at your beautiful pussy. It looks like a flower in bloom, sweet aromas emanating from the nectar glistening in the fire light.

König sticks his tongue out, swiping across your folds and tasting you. A deep growl leaves his throat, you taste like nothing he’s ever had before. The feeling of your trembling legs mixed with your small moans cause his cock to throb. His tongue pushes into your, swirling around as he attempts to get as deep as he can.

His claws dig into your skin as your eyes close letting the pleasure take over your whole body. You grab at the leaves and grass around you as your back arches. This is a new level of pleasure you’ve never felt before. When he pulls his face away you almost whine, desperate for more.

A smile crosses his lips when your gaze is full of desire. You desire him. He moves his body between your legs, kneeling. With one hand he grasps his cock and slaps his heavy cock against your pussy. The size difference is jarring but also exciting. Your tiny body will look beautiful with a full stomach carrying his seed.

“Oh fuck!” You hiss as his cock slowly slips into your cunt.

König presses in slowly to not hurt you. He knew that you’d be tight, but he didn’t know you’d be this tight. A shaky moan leaves him as he watches the way your lips spread to accommodate him. His eyes move to your face as he continues to push himself in, trying to get as much of his fat 14-inch cock into you as he can.

Your pussy feels as if it's about to tear. A stinging pain pulses as he sinks in as much as he possibly can. You look into his eyes with pinched eyebrows as you take deep breaths. His hips slowly begin to rock in and out, he can’t fight the feeling even though he knows it hurts. It will get better.

“Relax.” He whispers as he leans in to kiss your neck.

Your hands caress his body, tracing the contours of his muscles as his pace picks up. The feeling of your welcoming warm cunt consumes König; you’re perfect for him. Every thrust sends a tingle of ecstasy to build up from your cunt and burst throughout your body.

König’s hands caress your sides, wrapping around underneath your body. His hands rest on your ass, cupping the supple flesh as his hips slam harder against your delicate frame. The only objective in his mind is to cum, to get you pregnant. He begins to breathe harder as he feels himself approaching his orgasm.

He whimpers, becoming merciless in his rhythm. You moan out his name, praising him for how amazing he feels inside of you. His kind is usually never this affectionate, simply a season to pair and breed. Yet you’re under him, thanking him for fucking you. How beautiful.

“Y/n…” König moans as his hips slow to a stop.

He pulls out and looks down at you, breathing heavily as he looks at your body. For a moment he considers leaving and just coming back tomorrow night, but you look so vulnerable laying there. There is a deep desire to protect you.

König lays on the ground next to you, pulling your tiny worn-out body to his. One hand caresses your face gently as he kisses the top of your head. His massive body cocoons around you to keep you warm. You turn to König, nuzzling your face into his chest; your hand petting him as you begin to fall asleep.

[inky-duchess]

World-Building Guide to Deserts

A desert is a vast biome that is known for its extreme temperature. Deserts can either run hot or cold and are usually difficult to inhabit. But deserts are harsh places but they are visually stunning and make for an impressive backdrop to any story.

What is it like in the Desert?

Like I said, deserts are hot or cold. The temperatures are extreme which limits the amount of vegetation which in turn limits the coverage one can get in a desert, leaving the area very exposed to the elements. Rainfall is limited, well below average which means only very durable vegetation and wildlife can survive. It is a harsh landscape but it has its own beauty. The desert can often be very quiet with the limited wildlife and people around.

Hot Deserts

Features of Hot Deserts

Sand Dunes: These are hills made of sand, shaped by the extreme winds.

Plateaus: These are flat areas, usually of rock that have very little vegetation or cover.

Salt Flats: Large areas of salt deposits

Playa Lakes: Temporary lakes that appear during heavy rainfall

Oases: Small areas within the desert that have fertile soil and flourish with vegetation due to a water source.

Canyons: Are deep valleys of rock formed from rivers long dried up or greatly reduced.

Sedimentary Layering: Striped rock that shows off the different layers of rock giving the desert a striped appearance.

Mesas: A mesa is flat elevation of steep sides.

Inselbergs: Isolated rock formations that jut up from the desert floor, formed out of soft rock.

Yardangs: Ridges of rock formed by wind erosion

Mushroom Rocks: Pillars of rock formed over time with bigger heads than their bases

Rocks Commonly Found in Hot Deserts

Quartz: Clear/white/pink and usually smoky or clouded. Quartz feels very smooth like glass and may look like crystal.

Sandstone: Tan/red/yellow/brown-ish in colour. Made of compacted sand, it feels very coarse.

Limestone: Grey/white. Rough to touch and often featuring fossils.

Gypsum: White/Clear/Pink/Grey. Soft with chalk-like texture.

Salt Crystals: White/Clear. Crystal-like.

Meteorites: Often found in deserts. Usually black/grey. Can be both rough or smooth to touch.

Common Plants in Deserts

Prickly Pear Cactus: Greed, waxy pad-like cacti with spins. They grow red/yellow fruit that are edible.

Mesquite Trees: Small twisting trees. The pods are edible.

Agave: A thick-leafed succulent, shaped like a rose full of nectar and water.

Oleander: A shrub with pink or white flowers. Not edible, poisonous.

Chia Seeds: Tiny seeds that are edible.

Date Palms: Tall with long sweeping fronds. The dates are edible.

Jojoba: A shrub that's seeds are edible.

Desert Mallow: Flowering plant of pink blossoms. The leaves and flowers are edible.

Peyote: Small round cactus. Do not eat.

Creosote Bush: A shrub with waxy leaves that can be eaten.

Common Wildlife in a Hot Desert

Snakes

Small rodents

Foxes

Raptors (the birds of prey not the fun kind)

Beetles

Scorpions

Locusts

Coyotes

Camels

Lizards

Tortoises

Surviving a Hot Desert

Shelter: It is imperative to stay out of the direct sun if possible to conserve energy.

Keep an eye out: In the shade, there are other creatures who want to get out of the sun. Venomous snakes, scorpions and other critters could be lying in wait so it is best to make sure your shelter isn't already occupied.

Travel: Moving when it is sunrise or sunset or night is best as it isn't as hot and you waste less energy.

Water: Limit water intake in case your character doesn't reach a water source soon. If there are cactus around, your character may find water within it.

Know your plants: Your character might feel the urge to eat any vegetation they come across if they are hungry and weary. There are edible plants in the desert but there are also poison ones. Your character shouldn't eat any strange plant without knowing what it is.

Getting help: Signalling using something reflective or creating a large symbol might signal for help from above.

Clothes: A character should remember that the desert is hot and dress accordingly. Light, loose clothing is best but the nights in a desert are extremely cold. If your character is modifying their clothes, make sure they remember this.

Cold Deserts

Features of Cold Deserts

Ice Sheets: Unbroken sheets of permanent ice.

Glaciers: Immense sheets of moving ice.

Permafrost: The ground that remains frozen all year round. It is barren and nothing can grow here.

Icebergs: Vast lumps of ice that break off from larger sheets of ice to float in the ocean (and kill Leonardo DiCaprio)

Rocky Outcrops: Exposed rock formations.

Crevasses: Deep cracks in ice sheets and glaciers, very dangerous.

Seracs: Ice formations created where multiple crevasses meet.

Erratics: Large rocks deposited by glaciers seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

Rocks Commonly found in Ice Deserts

Basalt: Grey/Black. Smooth.

Granite: Grey/Pink/White. Coarse to the touch.

Shale: Grey/Black. Smooth and brittle.

Gneiss: Striped with greys/pinks/white. Rough texture.

Schist: Silvery-green. Flaky and layered.

Till: Of many colours. Rough.

Common Vegetation found in Ice Deserts

Lichens: Crusty spots that grow on ice and rocks. Can be edible.

Mosses: Soft green plants that grow in the damp. Some kinds are ok to eat.

Arctic Willow: A shrub. Edible.

Saxifrages: Flowering plants growing in rocky areas. Some are edible.

Bearberry: A shrub. The berries are edible.

Grasses: Grow in tundra areas. Edible.

Wildlife Commonly Found in the Ice Desert

Bears

Foxes

Wolves

Deer

Elk

Walrus

Moose

Reindeer

Seals

Whales

Ice worms (the spice must flow....)

Rodents

Surviving in an Ice Desert

Clothing: Wearing layers is crucial. Base layer, insulation and a waterproof layer. Boots and gloves are a must. But you should dress to be sweating, it is a waste of energy. Stay dry always.

Shelter: You can find or build shelter, especially if the winds are high. If sleeping on the ground, use insulation.

Food/Water: Melting snow and ice is fine, eating snow is bad because it will lower your core temp. The best food to eat in this weather is high in fat to keep your body working to keep warm.

Keeping an eye out: Ice fields can break apart easily, crevasses are lethal.

Flag for help if lost: Flares or fires can attract help so always carry something to spark up a flame or two.