#how to use onion to grow beard

[eddies-ashtray]

white hot forever

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Most days exhaustion plagues him. But tonight, with his last dregs of energy, Logan cooks for you. Though he’s hungry for something far more enticing.

WC: 5.6k

Category: Smut (18+ ONLY, minors dni)

Content: Implied (non-specified) age gap, kissing, Logan throws reader over his shoulder/carries her, cunnilingus, unprotected pnv, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, petnames (baby, old man, etc), beard burn, 1 single spank, some light nipple play, spitting, kinda dom logan/sub reader, light teasing/mocking, a dash of humiliation kink, lots of manhandling, an inordinate amount of animal metaphor/simile, mentions of logan’s exhaustion/aging due to the adamantium poisoning.

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His biceps strain against the thin cotton of his white button-down–the sleeves rolled up–as he finely chops a red pepper. His heavy hand lends to the particularly booming sound of the knife landing on the wood cutting board. But you don’t mind, content to observe from your ideal spot on the countertop of the island. 

A half empty wine glass sits in your palm as your gaze lingers on the smattering of dark hair beneath the low-cut tank he wears under the button-down. 

The kitchen smells of the sweetness of the cooking oil he used and the warmth of nostalgia. Faint memories from childhood of your mother bustling around the kitchen as she prepared dinner linger at the edges of your mind, brought on by familiar scents. When you breathe it in, you also catch lingering traces of Logan’s shampoo and, faintly, sweat. 

“You ever…Ya know,” you pause, swirling the white liquid around. “Use the claws to chop an onion or something?”

Doing your best to suppress a smirk when Logan looks up at you from beneath his brows and pins you with a stern gaze, you hold his eyes. 

You quirk a brow, waiting for his response as a snort threatens to bubble up. 

A smirk cracks through his intense facade, crows feet deepening slightly. With an endearing shake of his head, he huffs a laugh through his nose. Logan’s a bit of a grump—even more so now that his hair has greyed and he’s let his beard grow somewhat unruly—but he’s not without a sense of humour. 

“No,” his voice, though signed with a note of playfulness, is as gruff as always when he rests the knife on the cutting board. “But as you know, they’ve been useful for…other things.” 

The word ‘other’ is loaded with intensity as the hand that previously gripped the knife handle lands deceptively gently on your right knee. It skates roughly up your thigh to thumb at the edge of your skirt. 

You only hum in response. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, a chill runs up your spine and you shiver involuntarily. You’re not sure how he does that. Dial things up to 100 before you can even blink. It keeps you on your toes, even a few years in.  

Now it’s his turn to quirk a brow–ever expressive–when his heavy gaze finally lifts from your legs.

Warmth begins to seep into your chest and stoke a small fire in your belly.

But the growing tension vanishes the moment a timer dings, shrill and intrusive. 

Pulling himself away from your skin to tend to the sound, Logan bends at the knees to pull a steaming dish from the oven. 

The crack of his joints is a quiet popping sound compared to the low grunt he releases when he stands back up to his full height to place the dish on the stovetop. 

He tosses a worn out dish towel over his shoulder–the same one he’d used to pull the food from the oven. 

Watching him carefully as he spins around in search of his whiskey glass, you remark, “You look handsome like this.” 

You pass him the liquor, his large hand wrapping around the glass. 

“Handsome like what?” he asks, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. 

It’s not often Logan has the energy for this. Long days drain him now. Like sweet syrup from a tapped tree, a slow drip that takes and takes.

“Just–in the kitchen with me. Cooking…Taking care of me,” you say. 

Another soft smile graces his lips and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, a hand at your hip, and your face warms. 

Gulping down a healthy sip of his drink, his throat bobs as he swallows the auburn liquid. When the glass clinks against the marble as he puts it down, you notice droplets linger in his beard. Once you’ve placed your own glass down you reach to thumb away the beaded liquid.

“Hm?” he hums, though it’s more of a growl when he does it, the sound rumbling up from deep in his broad chest. 

“Just got some…” you trail off, expecting him to come to the natural conclusion himself when you lean in and cup his jaw. Feel the roughness of his beard against your palm as you swipe away the small droplet. “There.” 

Logan leans briefly into your touch to kiss the soft skin of your palm in thanks. The gesture makes your heart ache. 

You’re about to pull away, but Logan grasps your wrist in one strong hand, savouring your touch. He’s looking at you with an unexpected hunger behind his eyes as he feels the skin of your wrist beneath his rough palm. You can’t deny the way it revives the searing heat in the pit of your stomach. 

“What?” The word comes out more breathy than you’d intended. 

“Nothin’.” Logan shakes his head, holding your gaze. He releases your hand gently. 

The word lingers in the air between you. 

The way he says it–like it’s not really nothing–wires you right up again. You know he knows it too–his overly keen senses able to pick up the rhythm of your heart hammering against your ribcage. 

You need to expel the energy or let the tension snap but can only think of the intoxicating scent of whiskey on his breath. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey.”

He’s quick to respond. “No? You want to?” 

“Okay.” It comes out in a whisper. The atmosphere feels too fragile for any other tone.

Logan grabs the crystal glass, just another sip or two remaining. He steals another as he steps in front of you, his left palm falling to your knee to push your legs apart so he has room to stand between them. 

He lingers above you and you lick your lips in anticipation, catching the way hazel eyes darken beneath furrowed brows. 

Then, Logan looks away and you watch as he places the glass down on the counter and his palms flat beside your thighs, effectively caging you in so you’re trapped in his space. Logan is all you can breathe, all you can see, all you can smell as your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. 

Eyes finally returning to yours, his head tilts to the side–cocky, challenging. “Then give your old man a kiss.” 

A whimper nearly escapes you before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and hungrily pressing your lips to his like it’s an order. It may as well have been, gruff as he is. 

Logan grunts in response to your quick action, pulling your leg around his waist so your heel digs into the small of his back. 

The roughness of his beard rubs your chin and cheeks, a pleasant sting against sensitive skin. Though you’re soon distracted when his hand leaves your calf in favour of greedily running up your thigh. They leave heat and tingling skin in their wake, and you gasp into the kiss when he gives the meat of your thigh a generous squeeze. 

His desperation for you is matched only by yours for him as you wind your other leg around his hips to tug him closer. Grunting at your forcefulness, Logan finally slips his tongue into your warm mouth.  

The whiskey on his tongue is overpowering as he kisses you like he’s starving for it–the meal he was making long forgotten. Warm hands brush up the length of your spine, eliciting a subtle shiver, before one of his large palms cradles your skull like you’ll shatter without the support. 

His nose bumps yours as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervour now. When his spare hand coasts over your chest to grab at your tits over your top, you arch into his touch with a moan like he demands it. 

When you bite his bottom lip he growls, long and deep. A renewed sense of desperation claws at your skin as your kisses become increasingly wanton and sloppy. Tangling tongues generate sounds bordering on obscenity. 

His claws may as well be dragging down your body, leaving bloody marks in their wake with the way his touch makes your skin sing. You hope he leaves bruises when he grasps at the flesh of your hips, pulling your lower-half flush against his pelvis. 

You can feel him, hard and straining against his black slacks. It’s impossible not to moan, lips leaving his as your mouth falls open to release the breathy sound. 

For a moment, you grind against his cock with your forehead pressed to his, using your hands wrapped around his neck as leverage. Feeling back muscles flex under your warm palms. The delicious slide of your soaked panties against his hardness is enough to drive you wild. 

A gasp is pulled out of you when your clit catches briefly on his tip beneath clean slacks. Logan growls through clenched teeth, pressing you into him harder, fervently rolling his hips. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Logan,” you whimper, aching for him as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Please.” 

“Fuck,” he rasps before he’s scooping you up off the counter, hoisting you up over his shoulder. Squealing at the surprise demonstration of his great strength, Logan strides through the kitchen and towards the living room. 

Desire burns deep in your belly as he carries you across the house like it’s nothing. He’s all broad chest, bulging biceps, and thick thighs. It makes you dizzy. You can’t help but reach out and pinch the meat of his thigh. 

“Hey!” He barks. 

Unsurprisingly quickly, Logan delivers a sharp smack to your ass and you yelp in shock, jolting against him. “So fuckin’ naughty.” 

The lingering sting coupled with his gruff tone has you squirming in his hold, whining low in your throat. 

In a single sudden motion, Logan manoeuvers you off his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch. And suddenly you feel deliciously small pinned beneath his hooded gaze. He towers over you. His staggering height emphasized from your perspective where you lay against the cushions. 

He’s assumed that authoritative stance that has every atom in your body buzzing–his arms crossed over his chest. This paired with his hard gaze is a lethal combination. He’s got that look in his eyes, like what am I gonna do with you? 

“Sorry.” Insincerity bleeds through your tone. You like to get him like this. To rile him up until he is more animal than man. 

Hazel eyes narrow as he grunts, disbelieving your weak apology. 

“You wanna be sorry?” He asks with a quick flick of his chin in your direction.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod. His chest rumbles with a deep sigh.

Unable to avert your gaze from his face, you bear witness to the glorious sight of Logan shedding his button-down. Your hips wiggle subtly in anticipation–though Logan would call it impatience. The cotton article is tossed carelessly over the chair by the couch.

He crouches down with a soft grunt, nods. “Okay.” 

Swiftly, you are tugged to the edge of the couch by Logan’s hands on your hips. Your skirt gets rucked up your waist, exposing you to the warm air of the house. Though it feels far more jarringly cool between your legs where you’re hot and wanting, pussy weeping for the older man before you.

“So fuckin’ soaked already,” He mutters, more to himself than to you. The comment has pleasure boiling low in your belly. 

“Logan.” He glances up at you briefly then returns his eyes to your cunt.  

You watch with rapture as his nostrils flare, no doubt overwhelmed by your scent this close to your centre. A predator ready to devour its prey. 

For the briefest of moments, Logan admires the wetness seeping through your panties, presses his thumb against the clothed, leaking well just to see your hips jump. Biting back a pathetic whine is far more difficult when his lips twitch into a faint smirk. 

There’s a change in his eyes in a split second where brows lower and pupils dilate. It’s then that he rips your panties down your legs and you swear you hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing. Gasping, you toss your head back between your shoulders, panting and warm all over. 

His chest rumbles with a guttural sound, savouring the sight of you spread open wide and dripping for him. 

Logan’s rough hands rub up and down your thighs, hungry. When they pause you swear you can feel his gaze burning a hole into the column of your throat. 

“Eyes,” He demands.

You obey, catching a glimpse of him stuffing your panties into his back pocket from where he kneels on the floor between your legs. 

The anticipation eats you alive, hips flexing, unable to remain still. Logan pins them down in an instant. 

Everything quiets. Tunnel vision casts out any and all sound or sight besides him. 

“Don’t move,” Is all he says before he’s diving in and devouring you, tongue hot on your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck!” you cry, hands plunging into his hair. 

He’s groaning the second his tongue licks up your cunt, dining on your taste. He gorges on you like he’s been deprived of your taste for far too long and he’s hollow without it. 

You’re drunk and dizzy on the way his beard scratches against your skin. The way the thick hair rubs against your cunt and sensitive inner thighs. A carnal craving satisfied. He’ll pull away after and be covered in you, unable to kiss you without smearing your desire across your own chin. 

The rough tug you give his hair causes him to grunt into you. He eats you out with zeal, an energy that so often eludes him these days. 

“Feels so good…Shit…So-” you babble on, only half aware of the praise spilling from your mouth.

For now, you are not sorry about his overzealous approach. But you will be. After, when the burn becomes a sting. When you are unable to walk for a week straight without feeling the roughness of his beard between your thighs. When he’ll reach over while he’s driving and squeeze your thigh meanly as a reminder. 

For now, you moan unabashedly as he nips at your clit harshly. Free roaming hands find warm skin, grabbing fistfulls of you. Rubbing your thighs, grabbing at your hips, spreading possessively over your stomach. Soon, his hand snakes under your top to squeeze at your tits, and you gasp sharply when he pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger. 

The fire in your belly rages on, burning bright, spitting ash. 

“Logan,” You whine, long and drawn out, when he shakes his head back and forth animalistically, coating more of his beard in your wetness, your scent. He grunts against your pussy at the sound of his name hot on your tongue, the vibrations it causes driving you mad. 

His roughness makes your cunt throb. You derive as much pleasure from the sensation of his tongue licking up your slit and circling your clit as you do from simply watching him like this. His eyes shut in concentration, locked in as he laps up your juices like it sustains him. Like he is taking his fill of you before he hibernates for the winter. 

Just the obscene sounds of his hunger, the slurping and the groans emanating from deep within his chest are enough to prompt your hips to grind up into the pleasure his mouth provides. And he accepts all of it enthusiastically. 

You get lost in it, his wet muscle prodding at your entrance, licking up your slit to spread the wetness he’d collected over your clit. He sucks it between his lips, causing you to groan. 

Briefly, Logan pulls away, and you whine in protest. But his pause allows you to glimpse the parts of his beard that are now matted down with wetness. The sight causes warmth to spread across your chest, equal parts humiliation and pleasure. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he pants against your thigh, warm breath fanning over your puffy cunt. “Look at you,” he slurs, thumb rubbing over your pussy, spreading the wetness all over. 

Your hips jump and you whine again. Logan growls a quiet, desperate sound before diving back in, practically making out with your pussy and inserting two of his thick fingers into your heat. 

“Shit! Lo-” his name gets cut off with a girlish moan, a high sound only he could pull out of you, body completely overwhelmed by the excess of pleasure. 

“There she is,” he drawls, voice muffled and thick with lust before enveloping your clit in the warmth of his mouth and sucking. Your grip in his hair tightens as your hips grind into his mouth and down onto his fingers. Fingers which curl up into the gummy walls of your cunt, languidly brushing that sensitive spot inside over and over. 

Soon, slow movements evolve into quicker, but still consistent and deliberate, pumps into your weeping hole. It is precisely then that the ever-growing fire in your belly begins to consume you entirely. The moment Logan’s jaw goes slack and he begins to desperately lap at your cunt with a near entire loss of coordination, your vision goes white. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, an all-consuming force as Logan continues to fuck you with his fingers. It’s like you are bursting at the seams, coming apart in his hands. Every cell in your body catches fire as you roll your hips into his hand, riding out the waves of your climax. 

You’re panting as you come down, hips slowing to a stop as your body becomes over-sensitive to his touch. You twitch as Logan slowly pulls his fingers from you, his head falling to rest on your trembling thigh. 

“You know…For an old man, that was-” 

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jumping at the harsh sensation of Logan intentionally rubbing his beard over your already burning inner thighs. He chuckles lowly at your reaction, but is quick to soothe you, laying tender kisses across heated skin. 

Your hands trail down from his hair, and stroke a thumb softly over his cheek. He allows the sweet touches to continue for several moments before he pushes off his knees with a grunt. Logan falls onto the couch next to you, legs spread wide. Eyeing him in your periphery, you can tell he’s just as exhausted as you; his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.  

You’re still panting softly as you watch him, your limbs like Jell-O, skirt hastily pushed up past your waist, and top askew. The sight of him licking his fingers clean of you makes your clit twitch despite its sensitivity. 

Finally, he finds your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Logan rasps, patting his thigh. 

It takes great effort for you to crawl into his lap, and you don’t do it without some assistance. Logan’s hands grip your waist, pull you so you’re seated sideways over his thighs so as not to further irritate the burn. 

You wind an arm around his neck, tenderly stroking the hair at his nape. 

Logan rubs over the dough of your thighs, thumbs caressing between the split of them. Later, he’ll help you gently rub soothing lotion into them, but for now he’s all desire as he gazes down at where his hands press lightly into your legs. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks quietly. 

You can’t help but squirm in his lap a little, feeling him hot and hard beneath your thighs.

“Mmh,” you muse, staring down at his hands on you, legs raw and tingling. “Good.” 

You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, the warmth of his body beneath yours. “Yeah?”

You nod, meeting his eyes before cupping his jaw and scratching softly at his beard, feeling the lingering wetness there. Briefly, his eyes drift shut and he groans quietly. 

“How’s that feel?” you repeat his question back at him, teasing. 

Logan growls, grabs the back of your head, and desperately presses his lips to yours in answer. 

You moan softly into the kiss, holding his face in your hands as you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue more than the whiskey now. 

Then you’re trailing your hands down his chest and pulling away only briefly to tug his white tank off before your fingers deftly begin to undo his belt. The metallic clink it makes, the sound of leather sliding against cotton as it comes off, only makes your pussy clench around nothing as you whine into his mouth. 

Your ardour makes Logan chuckle, breaking away from your lips in favour of kissing roughly down your neck. His hands now cup your jaw, allowing him to tilt your head back as his lips leave a trail of wet kisses across heated skin. You sigh as his beard tickles your neck. 

“So needy,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You groan and feel his smirk against the skin of your chest before he’s pulling your skirt and top off over your head and tossing them aside. 

Wanting hands find their way into his hair again when he pulls away from your skin momentarily. He enjoys having you completely naked in his lap while he’s still mostly clothed. You can tell from the way his nostrils flare when he drags in a deep breath, the way his tongue wets his mouth before he pulls you close and latches onto your nipple. 

He greedily licks and sucks and bites at one while palming the other in one large hand. 

“Logan,” you breathe his name like a prayer, pulling him closer with hands locked in his hair. 

His teeth graze your nipple, tugging it gently. Gasping in shock, your face twists up at the intense mix of pleasure-pain that swirls around in your gut. He releases your breast, breathing harshly over your now damp skin. 

Impatient and needy, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, rubbing yourself over his hardness. Surely, you’ll leave a damp patch on his clean slacks. The thought only spurs you on, movements becoming desperate. 

His cock twitches beneath you, tip probably an angry red and leaking sticky precum you selfishly wish to lick up. “Fuck, need to feel you, sweetheart.” 

The whine his proclamation elicits borders on pathetic, and in a rush you’re helping him tug his slacks down just enough that his cock can spring free. 

“So pretty,” you whisper, dragging your middle finger across prominent veins that run down his length, prompting him to twitch and hiss through his teeth.

Saliva begins to pool in your mouth, but you’re tugged back to Earth when Logan grabs your waist, ordering you to ‘turn around’. 

Body buzzing in anticipation, you allow him to manhandle you into the right position, savouring the feel of his hands manipulating your movements. 

“There ya go,” He praises, pulling your back flush against his chest. His hand sneaks up your chest. When it reaches your neck, he presses gently so your head falls against his shoulder. 

Your eyes meet as your chest heaves. 

“Open.” 

Eyes remaining on his, you part your lips. 

“Don’t swallow,” Logan instructs gruffly, brow quirked. He may as well have pointed a finger in your face, stern as he is. 

You nod quickly, and he leans forward slightly to spit thickly onto your tongue. It’s so obscene a tremor wracks through your body as heat spills into your gut. 

Hand below your chin, Logan closes your jaw for you, allowing his saliva to mix with your own before putting his hand in front of you, saying, “Spit.” 

You obey a little messily, some ending up dribbling down your chin. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he says, smearing the sticky mess over your already messy cunt. You whine, all high and breathy. Still slightly sensitive. 

Finally, he adjusts you, shoving you forward in his lap so he’s at the right angle to thrust into your wet heat. 

Tandem groans are released into the air the moment he fills you. A millisecond to adjust. To savour how deeply he fills you before his hands are at your waist to help guide your movements.

Using your own hands on his legs as leverage allows for slow, deep thrusts that make your body quake. Those first sweet drags of his cock against your slick walls are enough to make you shudder. 

Reaching a steady rhythm, you begin to pant, the exertion it takes to ride him like this tiring you out quickly. Though Logan is quick to help, supporting you with strong hands as he guides you up and down. Still, you’ve yet to lose your vigour. Entranced by the slow roll of your hips, the way his cock reaches the deepest parts of you in this position. His strong thighs bracketing your body. 

“That’s it…That’s it.” Logan grunts lowly, nearly delirious and wholly mesmerized by how your body takes all of him. How you stretch around him to accommodate his size. Hypnotized briefly as he hungrily watches the place where you connect. 

A gasp evolves into a moan as one of his hands leaves your waist in favour of seeking out the sensitive button at the top of your cunt. Clumsy fingers toy with your clit, slipping around messily. Flames lick at your nerve endings. On occasion he loses his place, unable to maintain a perfect rhythm from behind you, but just as quickly returns to circle the bud.  

Another hand moves to your belly, pulling your body backwards, his sweat-slick chest now pressed up against your back. You wish you could drag your nails down his broad chest, watch as he loses himself in the feeling. But the closeness this position allows is worth the sacrifice. 

Being nearly immobilized pressed up against him like this, giving him full control of your body, it feeds some deep desire. It’s the reason your head has gone a little fuzzy. He knows it too. He knows it when you let a whine slip past your lips. When you begin to grind back against him needily. 

“Feel good, baby?” he rasps. At the same time, he rubs his middle finger over your clit in time with a deliciously deep thrust. All you can do is throw your head back against his shoulder, another wanton moan clawing its way up your throat, directly into his ear. That’s all the answer he needs. 

Logan grunts in response. Pistoning hips setting a rhythm that is both intimate and punishing, making you dizzy. His closeness makes you dizzy. Those low grunts in your ear are enough to drop pearls of pleasure into the pit of your stomach. All of it contributing to the growing fog in your mind. 

You writhe against him, an arm wrapping around the back of his head, keeping him close with a hand buried in his hair. Your other hand remains locked onto his forearm as it flexes with each rub of your sensitive clit. 

Logan begins to grunt animalistically into your ear, unabashed about his desire for you. You feel it in the way his strong arms grip your body, ensuring your security. In the way he lets moans and grunts and groans rumble up from his chest, unafraid to let you hear what you do to him. 

His hands all over your body, the deep strokes of his cock that reach the deepest parts of you, his soft grunts in your ear–it all feeds the flames in your belly. 

“Fuck. S-so full,” you mewl, overwhelmed tears springing to your eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he placates, tone edging on mockery. His voice sends shockwaves through your body. The sweet humiliation it brings presses into your skin like a brand, leaving it white-hot. 

More. You need more of him. 

Desperately, clumsily, you grind back into him enthusiastically, writhing in his grasp. The rhythm turns staccato and messy as a result. But it doesn’t matter. You just need more.

You whine, turning your head towards him and he gets the hint, meets you halfway and licks hotly into your mouth the moment your lips meet. Your hands twist in his hair. 

It’s messy and uncoordinated and your neck hurts twisted to kiss him like this. But then there’s the fiery taste of whiskey. And you. And him, his cigars. And the pain–it’s worth it. It’s necessary. 

When you break away, only a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths now, it’s to gasp. Your brows furrow, pleasure twisting your insides. 

You go cross-eyed trying to hold his gaze, and he grins. It’s a wolfish thing. A flash of his teeth, lips kissed red and puffy. The sight makes your pussy clench around him. 

A smile tugs at your own mouth, probably fucked out and hazy with pupils blown wide. It only grows when the hand gripping your waist skims over your hot skin. On its journey, he grabs at your tits, pinches your nipple. Every sensation now blends together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

His hand pauses at the base of your neck where it grazes over the stretched expanse of skin. 

A teasing squeeze. Once. Your brows knitting together. Twice. Your mouth dropping open. His grip not quite tight enough to cut off airflow and elicit that floaty feeling. But enough to make you whine low in your throat. You are at his mercy.

Eyes drifting shut, you cry out, feeling your climax building at the pit of your stomach. Breathy moans escape you with each rub of his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves, edging on overstimulating. Each sharp thrust drives you closer to that edge, setting your body alight. 

“Y’gonna come, honey?” Logan pants, voice hoarse. 

These escapades exhaust him now. You’ve witnessed the way it sinks into his bones after. But there’s also the hint of a grin in his voice. Along with desperation. Desperation to feel you fall apart. An indication that the pleasure he provides, the pleasure he receives, is worth the exhaustion. It’s rewarding for him. 

Your answer is the most pathetic whine, high and wanton as overwhelmed tears blur your vision, threatening to spill over. “Uhuh.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, and you swear his fingers were made to make you come apart at the seams when he rubs over your clit like that. Like it gives him pleasure too.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless, barely moving over his cock as he pounds into you from below, his strong legs beginning to tremble. 

“Yeah,” Logan repeats. Mockery is thick on his tongue, a faux pout playing at his mouth. You lose it. 

Everything else falls away. Tingling heat spreads beneath your skin as you finally let go. Your body thrums with your release, the feel of his damp skin at your back, his hands on your body, how full of him you are. 

 Logan has little room to be cocky. Because the moment you begin to clench around him–cunt pulsing with each wave of your orgasm washing over you–he’s grunting curses into your shoulder, leaving bite marks on the tender flesh as his warm seed spurts into you. 

He shudders with his release. 

“Fuck,” he growls, grinding up into you, his grasp on your body tightening. 

In a flash, he removes his hand from your throat. And, distantly, past your post-coital fog, you hear the sound of metal unsheathing rapidly. You glance to your right.

Retracting claws reveal three deep holes pierced into the faux leather, showcasing thick wire springs and white stuffing. 

Blearily, you drag your hand down his arm, running over hair and slowly aging skin. Reaching his wrist, you bring his hand up to your mouth, cup it in both of yours. You smooth your thumb gently over the edges of his knuckles, watch for moments as the holes very slowly begin to close. 

You kiss his knuckles thrice. Once over each slowly healing wound. 

Eventually, the skin will mend. The wounds will be nonexistent. They will heal in time. But his body is exhausted. And every time the claws come out, the cracks in his skin take longer and longer to repair themselves. 

He collapses beneath you, rugged breaths pulled from tired lungs. 

Carefully, he slides out of you and you help him tuck himself back into his boxers. Press a kiss to his forehead. 

A whisper of, “Be right back.” against heated skin before leaving on unsteady legs to clean yourself up. His desire is a slow leak down your thighs now. 

If he were a younger man, still full of strength and agility, he’d have done this part for you. You know he wishes he could. Part of you wishes he could too. But you like to take care of him too. 

When you return, he’s still sunken into the couch, chest bare and sweaty. He accepts the glass of water you bring him, gulps it down thirstily. 

Cuddling up next to him now, you brush the sweat-damp hair back from his face. You’ll allow him to pull you close. You’ll hold each other, stroke the skin beneath his eyes tenderly. The fresh dark circles there. And he’ll press soft kisses against the lingering bite marks on your shoulder, whisper praise into your ear. 

When his honeyed eyes catch yours, you know he longs to spoil you. To scoop you up in his arms and take you to bed. 

But this takes a lot out of him now. It will be days–maybe more–before you’ll be able to do something like that again. 

So, you’ll take care of him. He’ll insist on having you underneath him. Begrudge the fact that the exhaustion will have yet to be leached from his bones. But acquiesce the moment your hands reach beneath his belt. 

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[bump1nthen1ght]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing:Trans!Male!Reader x Male!Centaur

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Fluffy Smut, Established Relationship, Breeding Kink

Warnings: AFAB terms used to describe anatomy.

Word Count: 1646 words

Summary: After many nights of diligent practice, you saddle up and take your boyfriend all the way.

FiRequest: could i possibly request male centaur x trans male reader?? they’ve been dating for a while and working up to it but it’s the first time reader has managed to take his boyfriends full cock 🫢 afab terms for anatomy are fine and maybe a little breeding kink thrown in if you’re comfy with it!!

A/N: Y’all know I had to give it this title

You think tonight is going to be the night.

There’s an energy in the air as you watch Samuel cook, perched on your shared couch. He’s always been a handsome centaur; a finely cut jaw with a well-maintained beard, dark caramel eyes set behind long lashes, and silky hair that falls down in luscious curls all the way to his back, but something about tonight had every step he takes stirring something hot in your gut. The way his back stretches out his t-shirt, the way you can see the muscles of his shoulders move as he dices his onions, the way the more human torso arches and his front legs bend as he takes a mini stretch.

Your engine is revved by the time dinner is served, and you know tonight will be the night.

The two of you are locked in a sloppy makeout, dirty dishes still in the sink as you sit on the counter, legs wrapped around Samuel’s ribcage. His long piano fingers dance up your sides, playing with your pajama shirt. You grind against his navel, and he chuckles against your lips.

“Someone’s eager.”

“You’re so hot.” You say between messy kisses, feeling up his muscular lower back. “How could I not be?”

Samuel chuckles again, ignoring your whines and pulling away to kiss at your neck. His hands move from your waist to your butt, sliding under to pick you up. Your ankles cross behind him.

“Need you.” You moan, grinding onto hum like a horny teenage. “Need your cock.”

Samuel’s eyes grow dark, licking his lips as he looks you up and down.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Your voice keens. “I think-” you suck in a breathe, knowing this a hold claim to make, “-I think I’m ready for all of it”

Samuel’s brows shoot up, taken slightly aback.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wanna try, atleast.” You pout, fingers carding through his long tresses. “I’ve been practicing so much.”

And you have, both with and without him. You had bought appropriately sized dildo’s to masturabte with, cockwarming during long edging sessions just to make sure. Last time you had been able to take him until 4 inches were left, but you're confident in your practice.

Tonight is the night.

Samuel stares at you for a long time, probably wondering if you’re too crazed on lust to be trusted, but then he smirks.

“Ok, babe. We’ll try.” Samuel hikes you up on his chest, pulling you closer, face-to-face. “Same position as usual?”

You nod, eyes practically full of stars at the thought. Samuel smirks and gives you a peck on the lips, before carrying you to the bedroom.

Samuel is gentle as he sets you down onto the bed, pulling open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and your knee pillow. You stay close by his side, drawing your finders up and down his chest. You bite your lips as you pull up the hem of his shirt, admiring his treasure trail and solid stomach. Samuel shivers when you press a kiss right below his belly button. Your mischievous hand wanders down his lower half and across his front, slipping between his two front legs and petting at his fur. Eyes glance down as well, catching a peak of his cock coming out of its sheath. You wolf-whistle, sliding off the bed and shimmying off your shorts in one motion.

“You’re insatiable, babe. I haven’t even touched you yet.” Samuel says, voice low as his hand brushes between your thighs, just missing your aching hole. You whine, throwing back your ass and laying your torso onto the bed.

“I told you.” Your voice is salacious, lower lip bitten between your teeth, “I need your cock, badly.”

Stars shoot behind your eyelids as Samuel rubs two lubed-up fingers between your lips, middle finger circling your clit. He simpers.

“Yeah, you were made for this dick, huh?” Two fingers slide in easily, scissoring outward to stretch your walls. You just nod, knees digging into their pillow as you sink into the feeling. “Didn’t know my boyfriend was such a cock-tease.”

Samuel climbs up the bed, his two front knees resting beside your shoulders as he aims his cock up with your entrance. He leans forward to grab the bar you two installed just for this position, something to grab on to as he humps. Samuel’s hot head presses against your hole, as girthy as ever.

“Ready?” Samuel whispers from above, neck craned to look down between his legs, always double checking to make sure you're not crushed under his weight. You nod and give a singular pat to his fetlock, your signal to go ahead.

There’s always a slight burn when Samuel enters you, having a nearly 10 inch dick will always do that. But your body falls into position easily, your muscles relaxing to allow for easier entry, no pain causing you to clench up.

“F-uck.” Samuel’s voice drawls as the first inch, then the second, then fourth, then sixth feel your walls clench around him. You bite down on the blanket below you, toes curling into the floor. But you can do it, you can.

He hesitates a bit at the 7th inch, knowing that's usually your limit. But you give him another single pat to the leg, and he keeps going, extra slow.

It takes a tortuous amount if time for both of you, legs shaking from the tension and palpable desire, but then-

“Holy shit.” Samuel says, half amazed and half relieved. You wiggle your hips, and feel Samuel’s balls snug against you.

You’ve fit him to the hilt.

“Well?” You laugh, trying to act as if you're not on the edge just like he is. “What are you waiting for?”

You thrust your hips back, eyes rolling back as Samuel’s dick presses against the deepest part inside you. His breath hitches, stomach trembling above you.

“Oh, you asked for it.” Samuel growls, steadying his hooves.

Despite the sassy tone, Samuel’s first thrusts are tentative. He only pulls out an inch or too, moving at a glacial pace. It’s good for getting you accustomed, but you quickly yourself wanting more. You throw your hips back again, wining like an animal in heat.

“So desperate.” Samuel pants.

“Please, Sammy.” You give him your best puppy eyes from below. “Fuck me.”

That's the straw that breaks the centaurs back, Sam pulling out halfway and slamming into you with enough force to send you a couple inches across the bed. A dumb smile spreads across your face.

It’s no more Mr. Nice Guy as Samuel starts fucking you for real, heavy balls slapping against you with each hump. Your vision goes spotty every time he hits your g-spot, mouth wide open and tongue lolled out in a pant.

“Oh my g-od.” Your voice trembles as your fucked harder than you’ve ever been fucked before, feeling not unlike a fleshlight, yanked down again and again in your boyfriends massive cock. The bed shakes under your weight.

“Take it, take it.” Samuel grunts, his knuckles turning white as they grip on the bar. “Such a good boy, taking my cock all the way to-” a thrust, “-the” and another “-hilt.” and another. Your stomach presses into the eye of the bed, mind slowly losing cohesive thought. His weeping head hits your sensitive spot at the perfect angle every damn time, and you feel jolts of electricity shoot across your nerves with every hump.

Time seems to lose all meaning, words melting into grunts and whines, breathy voices blending together with heavy balls slapping against your thighs. You think you’ve forgotten where Samuel ends and you begin, forgot what it feels like to be empty of his cock. Drool is pooling in your mouth, threatening to dribble down your jaw in an erotic display of decadence.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Samuel grunts, nails grating against the bar. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside.” A voice that must be yours begs, pleads. You can imagine Sam’s smug, sweaty face already.

“Yeah? Want me to breed you?” You nod into the sheets, a dumb smile coming across your face. “Imma fill you up until you're gushing, baby.” Samuel’s hooves presse against the hardwood as he steadies his back two legs, throwing everything into his thrust. “You’d be so cute, my little house-husband, full of my kids.”

Samuels shudders as your hole clenches around him, his dirty talk only working you closer to the edge.

“Sh-it” Samuel draws out his syllables, balls feeling tight against your ass cheeks as his hips begin to stutter. A drop of sweat falls from his chest, rolling down your arched back as his breathing picks up the pace. “Here it comes, sweetheart. All for you. Fuck!”

Your back arches and toes curl as your orgasm hits, gushing with Sam’s cum as he finishes inside of you. Streams run down in rivulets across your thighs, the squelching of skin as Sam pulls out his softening cock.

You lie limp as Sam slowly hops off the bed, his front legs still trembling. He collapses next to you not soon after, laying his upper torso on the bed as his lower one rests on the cold floor. The fur around his legs and back lay datk and slick with sweat, his face flushed.

A calloused palm brushes the side of your face, dragging you out of dream-land and back to reality.

“You did great, babe.” Sam chuckles. “Think I might grow addicted to being all the way in.”

You throw him a lazy thumbs up.

“Not a problem with me.” Your words slur, lips half-pressed against the damp sheets, no doubt an imprint of your sweaty torso on them.

He leans over and kisses your neck, his hand moving to massage your neck.

“Fuck, we forgot about the dishes.”

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Fuck I'm tired of being a smart twink that can only put on a slight layer of muscle.

I've got brains to spare, would you take them as trade for my dream body?

I want you to turn my IQ into a body covered in thick muscle, a chubby gut that never stops pumping out raunchy gas, a ruler busting horse cock, and massive balls that produce so much cum they need to be milked several times a day. Take as much as you want, I don't care if it leaves me a horny stinking beast. I don't want to care about anything except eating, lifting, farting, and dropping load after load after load in any man who can take my meat.

You really want yourself cursed to the full extreme don’t you ? We will definitely use all those wasted points on making you the gas machine you want to be. the first change you are going to notice is uncontrollable that seems to keep coming out of you. you cant stop it no matter how hard you try and even when you manage to squeeze your cheeks together to hold one in it makes your stomach have shooting pains that go through it. you stomach begin to balloon out slowly while being rapidly covered in hairy along with the rest of your chest and your arms being to thicket with muscle but become covered in a layer of fat. you legs begin to get covered in a dense forest of hairy while the same happens on you back. a long beard begins to grow from your face while you begin to sweat profusely. keep water near by you are going to need it because you are never going to be dry again. you begin to smell onions and cheese. you feet stretch forward going from an 11 to a 14 1/2 wide almost instantly as the cheese smells gets stronger. coming from your large thick soles. You try to keep you arms down because the onion smell burns your eyes and nose, but you can escape the manly scents you wish for. even when you shower you will be stuck with this smell. try as you might every time you get out of the shower you will look like the dirty sweaty jock you are supposed to be. and now for payment. you said you are willing to give up some iq points. well with a body like that you know that you cant have any brains. lets drop that iq to a shaky 65. perfect for someone who looks like an animal like you. and with that you shaft grow thicker and longer and your tennis ball sized nuts begin to churn leaving a wet showing on the front of our already damp shorts. You'll need to satisfy that new meet 5-7 times a day with the amount of testosterone you're going to be pumping out. and you're going to be drooling like an ape trying to find whatever hole you can to shove it in.

[aaknopf]

You can be born in Atlanta, GA, but you know you’ve become a New Yorker, @ poet Patrick Phillips, when you’re writing a poem about what we call, in this city, “a slice.”

Jubilate Civitas 

I will consider a slice of pizza.

For rare among pleasures in Gotham, it is both      exquisite and blessedly cheap.

For its warmth is embracing, its smell the      quintessence of hope.

For it can be found in all boroughs, every few blocks,      yet never two slices the same.

For its makers speak many tongues.

For dusting the counter with cornmeal and flour,      without looking down, they pummel and roll out      the dough.

For they heap out the still-steaming sauce and, with a      touch of the ladle, paint it in rings like a bull’s-eye,      or a tree-stump, or a thumb.

For they smile at each other’s jokes, grasping great      handfuls of cheese.

For wiping both hands on an apron, they nod at the      phrase “not too hot,” and start one of a hundred      little clocks in their heads.

For their corded forearms reach deep in the oven with      a long-handled paddle, giving each pie, with a flick,      its requisite spin.

For heat bubbles and blisters and browns the      miraculous crust.

For even in the tiniest shop you can find every style:      sagging with mushrooms and bacon, broccoli and      pineapple, chicken, and sausage, and onion.

For time passes slowly awaiting a slice, and reminds us      how sweet it is to be alive at this moment on earth.

For it slides to a stop in a little city of shakers, where      with pepper and oregano, garlic and parmesan, we      citizens make it our own.

For you can fold it in half like a taco and eat it while      standing or driving, or walking and working your      phone.

For I have seen the bearded young men of Brooklyn      sit upright to eat it, riding bicycles through      redlights, at midnight, in the rain.

For with each bite the paper plate grows more      translucent with grease, till it glows like stained      glass over the trash can.

For it has nourished our children and soothed many      sorrows.

For in a time of deceit it is honest and upright,      steadfast and good—beloved and modest and      known.

For its commerce makes nobody rich and nobody      poor.

For that, to us, it is home.

. .

More on this book and author: 

Learn more about Song of the Closing Doors by Patrick Phillips.

Browse other books by Patrick Phillips and follow him @patrickphillipsbooks on Instagram. 

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[jukeboxcwb]

Rolling Stone EUA lista as 50 melhores músicas de artistas e bandas da ficção

Foram consideradas apenas canções originais, e excluídas produções que envolvem músicos interpretando a si mesmos

A Rolling Stone Estados Unidos publicou uma lista das 50 melhores músicas de artistas e bandas fictícias, criados para filmes e séries de TV. Foram consideradas apenas canções originais, sem covers, e excluídas produções que envolvem músicos interpretando a si mesmos.

O ranking levou como inspiração o lançamento da série Daisy Jones & The Six, baseada no livro de Taylor Jenkins Red, que chegou ao Prime Video na última semana.

A lista é assinada pelos jornalistas: Jonathan Bernstein, David Browne, Mankaprr Conteh, Brenna Ehrlich, Elisabeth Garber-Paul, Kory Grow, Brian Hiatt, Tatiana Krisztina, Angie Martoccio, Alan Sepinwall, Rob Sheffield, Brittany Spanos, Larisha Paul e Lisa Tozzi.

Confira:

50. ‘Time To Change’, The Brady Bunch - série The Brady Bunch (1972) 49. ‘A Little Bit Alexis’, Alexis Rose - série Schitt's Creek (2019) 48. ‘Catalina Breeze’, The Blue Jean Committee - série Documentary Now! (2015) 47. ‘Werewolf Bar Mitzvah’, Tracy Jordan - série 30 Rock (2010) 46. ‘Let’s Go to the Mall’, Robin Sparkles - série How I Met Your Mother (2007) 45. ‘Give Him Something He Can Feel’, Sister and the Sisters - filme Sparkle (1976) 44. ‘Baby on Board’, The Be Sharps - série Os Simpsons (1993) 43. ‘Sweet Talkin’ Candy Man’, The Kelly Affair - filme Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970) 42. ‘Walk Hard’, Dewey Cox - A Vida É Dura - filme A História de Dewey Cox 41. ‘5000 Candles in the Wind,’ Mouse Rat - série Parks And Recreation (2011) 40. ‘I Love U So Much (It’s Scary)’, Boyz 4 Now - série Bob's Burgers (2015) 39. ‘Edge of Great’, Julie and the Phantoms - série Julie And The Phantom (2020) 38. ‘Spend This Night With Me’, Nick Rivers - filme Top Secret! Superconfidencial (1984) 37. ‘I Enjoy Being A Boy’, The Banana Splits - programa Banana Splits (1968) 36. ‘Can you Picture That’, Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem - filme The Muppet Movie (1979) 35. ‘She’s So Gone’, Lemonade Mouth - filme Lemonade Mouth (2011) 34. ‘Fever Dog’, Stillwater - filme Quase Famosos (2000) 33. ‘Tear Me Down’, Hedwig and the Angry Inch - musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch (1999) 32. ‘He Still Loves Me’, The Fighting Temptations - filme The Fighting Temptations (2003) 31. ‘Way Back Into Love’, Cora Corman e Alex Fletcher - filme Letra e Música (2007) 30. ‘Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)’, Daisy Jones & The Six - série Daisy Jones & The Six (2023) 29. ‘It Don’t Worry Me’, Winifred Albuquerque - filme Nashville (1975) 28. ‘We Are Sex Bob-omb’, Sex Bob-omb - filme Scott Pilgrim contra o Mundo (2010) 27. ‘I2I’, Powerline - filme Pateta: O Filme (1995) 26. ‘B.P.E.’, Girls5eva - série Girls5eva (2022) 25. ‘Earache My Eye’, Alice Bowie - filme Cheech and Chong: Queimando Tudo (1978) 24. ‘Please Mr. Kennedy’, The John Glenn Singers - filme Inside Llewyn Davis - Balada de um Homem Comum (2013) 23. ‘Big Bottom,’ Spinal Tap - filme This is Spinal Tap (1984) 22. ‘I Think I Love You’, The Partridge Family - série A Família Dó-Ré-Mi (1970) 21. ‘When the Right One Comes Along’, Gunnar Scott and Scarlett O’Connor - série Nashville (2012) 20. ‘Nobody Like U’, 4*TOWN - filme Red: Crescer É uma Fera (2022) 19. ‘Bashir With the Good Beard’, We Are Lady Parts - série We Are Lady Parts (2021) 18. ‘Sugar Sugar’, The Archies - série The Archie Show (1969) 17. ‘Falling Slowly’, Guy e Girl - Apenas Uma Vez (2007) 16. ‘Cheese And Onions’, The Rutles - Os Rutles: All You Need Is Cash (1978) 15. ‘You’re So Beautiful’, Jamal - série Empire (2015) 14. ‘Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young’, Ellen Aim and the Attackers - filme Ruas de Fogo (1984) 13. ‘On the Dark Side’, Eddie and the Cruisers - filme Eddie, o Ídolo Pop (1983) 12. ‘A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow’, Mitch & Mickey - filme A Mighty Wind (2003) 11. ‘Drive It Like You Stole It’, Sing Street - filme Sing Street: Música e Sonho (2016) 10. ‘Straight Outta Locash’, CB4 - filme CB4 (1993) 09. ‘Light of Day’, The Barbusters - filme Luz da Fama (1987) 08. ‘Finest Girl’, Conner4Real - filme Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016) 07. ‘Best of Both Worlds’, Hannah Montana - série Hannah Montana (2006) 06. ‘School of Rock’, School of Rock - filme Escola de Rock (2003) 05. ‘It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp’, DJay - filme Ritmo de um Sonho (2005) 04. ‘3 Small Words’, Josie and the Pussycats - filme Josie e as Gatinhas (2001) 03. ‘Shallow’, Jackson Maine e Ally - filme Nasce Uma Estrela (2018) 02. ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’, Lustra - filme Eurotrip (2004) 01. ‘That Thing You Do!’, The Wonders - The Wonders: O Sonho Não Acabou (1996)

[libidomechanica]

I took him out

A limerick sequence

               1

I took him out. While times endure to give up smoking for the iewell. And    none a word. For Love may    die. That a matter what you say. To me aside each other.

               2

Is worse from God than from all high places, lived upon the swamp for a frog.    With meaning to you changed    yourself arriving at your lovesick land that quickly fades.

               3

And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne at me: for pittied is mishappe,    that Ill may turn beside    remote Shalott. With somebody else all night not go free, ah!

               4

The garlands fade that hour with love. With anguish in. That soothe the same. And struggle    on without a toga    or a scarf on a couch as dare approaching, were at all.

               5

A pear from a tamarisk near two Proctors leapt upon us, crying:    help! A honey tongue; which    watch not one; a touch of all these forests, my state more be said?

               6

As to do no thing admir’d! In another skin: I am pure onion—    pure union of outside    and Prejudice, in which the hungry generative error.

               7

Or whether or not the cause of her pap and gum, rich beads of amber here.    My sister and my star!    Which all worn out, a man I came home, the crowd.—First look, first child?

               8

But buried in the river among the taxing rocks. What the other’s Eyes,    and almost spent, all is    Venus, save unchaste. Before their bodies merely for babble.

               9

No sun, but a shell in. With Heydeguyes, and Counter-turn, and Strokonoff,    meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew    of modern preacher, and then the same men of the wise, and me.

               10

They say, into her beauties which is inseparate, discontinuous lanterns.    And by their enemy    is beat or beaten, if you would find some way we belong.

               11

Goes by to tower’d Camelot. From hence immortal man, as purple pomp,    nor ride a moon-white steed.    Example field to follow thee. Last nights a funeral fire.

               12

More fear’d than all the water-side, singing shreds. But dreams the final sign the    cob. The hand had collapse,    a small knuckles and the noon’s repose. Ears: how he’d had a wish.

               13

Long since I see my blisse, till a morbid hate and scorn fill with tears like a    woman. But if you’d express    train passing hour, till thy wished smile thy mother’s pangs o’erpay.

               14

Of thee, that nas remedie, but wilt new warre vpon thine own influence, from thee!    All you what is not always    face, and drank the air of her sorrow, has e’en right without.

               15

No shape suggested this, t is truth, the ground with a hangman’s snare strangle    with their caps; you are    divided loves and the forests. Beard, and fruictfull flocks from straying.

               16

No more shall if that dainty cheere thou toldst mine eyes, like glitter. To cut the    tear comes to this old thorn,    this pond and beauty, and up the words thou sing, and, in its snare.

               17

Not let you grow. But for the little urn. The God of shepheards other three    long years they bene hyred    for thine arms, be mine; and I remain with my favorite vow.

               18

But say there were thus honour once; she wept her true eyes blind but with some grand    fight to see. The Warders    strutted up and down to overtrodden transport rose and fell.

               19

Whether from the spheres their pupils like when some one in his face was far as    I could to where shepherd’s    tongue, these days, and see a drunkenness. The passing hour, till then?

               20

Not often when you are shepheards hart made bleede, that this is so much for all:    and the while his brutal    scorn—what if that sickening thirst for glory! Let’s contend no more.

               21

The chiel maun be patient—all for thee. There is no thoroughfare. Alone and    pale, no sun, but a simple    flower, and heavily from heaven is withereth too.

               22

Which prisoners called but half a kiss, the brave man with his learned hedde, I soone    wasted: the blossom’d sloe    my dear, so make the Past so sweet a sleep. That hand, with a sword!

               23

High on a mountains; meseems I feel a noisome scent, the mortal looks at    you again. To carry    into Deed mine own land, ’ she said, but shortly he had forgot.

               24

The pin at the days that are mute! But by the greene leaues, the rail has been a    thing as a perfect ore    limbs, its little infant thus! Thy maysters mind is changed to know.

               25

But oh, ye goddesses of war, or, falling hot and rot, within a    cannonade alone in fact,    I put a chair against whole million dye. Nature’s deep being!

               26

And landskip, have I wonne. My face in the very weel aff to be woo’d and    married the fondness of    noble thought, to march in ranks of better, then others glory.

               27

His crickets stirred from her lip? Palms and fox-terriers. For he to whom none    spake, half-sick at heart,    remembered kisses drying up his rays from your bonny blue een.

               28

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, and did think that seeth faults, not with flutes of    Fear, and binds one with his    mayd. Time drives the lovers, made new, prepared fascines, and rain.

               29

Ah deare Lord, and all thy spirit seem. I can create Ideas in the    dark kept itself with her    sobs, melissa: trust me, Sir, I pitie. She only warmth of loue.

               30

Such end perdie does all hem remayne, that some good bits are in every limb, what    should still reigne. All these ill-    changed to long since, before and could not been Hercules his shape.

               31

That in the noon-sun, with every prison fare, for fear that glister’d in due    order. Ah, what can ail    thee, when the batters after deathsong, the Lady of Shalott.

               32

When the grueling mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. Memory deathless tree, of    blood he cleansed the shroud in    which he doth these male thunder of a poet’s debt; and therefore?

               33

I wish is understood and tear our pleasure scawled still, but the night we    walked, with all alacrity:    the first Man took him out. But ah false freendship bene fayne.

               34

Who watch him night away, there is nothing could be ne’ertheless a slight    substratum. And now tis buried    deep her wide eyes fix’d on Camelot. ’ Skimming down the bough.

               35

Which I new pay as if not paid before. But in her a Jonah’s gourd, up    in one of those by    hopelessly as I, that many a thing I know; but to my fate.

               36

On Death and love. Lovers, forget you present poem—of—I know not whether    he came to be disposed    of in a way so new, although our hospitality.

               37

Hears her ever chanting cheerly, like a nick in a knife, driven by your    being crown’d with many    a fine boy. Dead, long debate; but I began to thrid the muse!

               38

And thother for the faring stars. Beauties mine did draw, and to gain her bed.    Haste, little weeks in which    dwell on Parnasse hight, doe make their time, till Christ came down to save.

               39

And then not understand, simple and faithful as we are. Trapped your heart which    is not here; false-flatt’ring    hope, that soft incense hangs upon them his slow brow and his guide.

               40

No leaves returning, the while the vegetable love should he haue ioyed at this    shall sound my boyish dream    involved and dame, to the other’s Eyes, and gold and grieve to see.

               41

And change the law, but the steps, and thee. The invisible echo, and why    he looked, the animals    of your soil, that nought so deadly sweats; now an ague, then walking.

               42

With Daffadillies dight, that he was wildly clad; her eyes I stood and I    love you my nudist the    new way. He deal in frolic, as tonight—the song might have guessed?

               43

Nearly strangers, from so pure, so keen her sense, that Christmas when it is clomb    on high in his body    displaie, how would have been together drinking soul. He with the knife.

               44

Painfully quivering sealed off in a tin box. Stella, whence doth fill the    valorous Smiths’ whom were    drawing their smell into a camp: I know of a babe you trace.

               45

A motherly care of her face, in truth in every star, and ev’ry life    but mine recall. And in    their flockes fleeces, them to araye. I found, whome winter’s wreckage.

               46

Knight and morn the flocke, so that might be undone. Sad case, as you can using    giraffe stretch of mud and    saw. I want to arrive this seed, this wretched a vulture throat.

               47

She answered coldly, Good: your oath is broken heart into the hearts were mute    among green leaves; Fled is    that are ye? From the while thy mother’s right. If I had despise.

               48

Will doe, as did befall, led forth her gaunt and blind the whole thing, whose pleasures    doth reproue, my fancy. Is    worse from God than from all others, and the griefs alike resign.

               49

No things are blest. A faint pink-bronze glow. Life, whom you ignored for another’s    guilt! Or I shall be new    and nerve-twitched pose, fingering day; but I never will you serve?

               50

Your sickness made me a grave so rough, me, that watches there is love had brought    her mantle and good? Least    night and known at last my work and full of weak point: my Lady.

               51

And honey wild, and comes out, first just casually cantering water. It’s    a journey … and I want    to love, or how: but be glad as soon wither, soon forgotten.

               52

But now is come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad,    o whistle, an’ I’ll come    to ye, my lad. That I want to say too: I take it all back.

               53

Whose power to reach my mind. As I all others, I’ve heard her character’d    with mine do overflow    this work, not one; a touch of all the water was freezing way.

[mywildandpreciouslife13]

Jubilate Civitas Patrick Phillips

I will consider a slice of pizza.

For rare among pleasures in Gotham, it is both exquisite

      and blessedly cheap.

For its warmth is embracing, its smell the quintessence of hope.

For it can be found in all boroughs, every few blocks, yet

      never two slices the same.

For its makers speak many tongues.

For dusting the counter with cornmeal and flour, without

      looking down, they pummel and roll out the dough.

For they heap out the still-steaming sauce and with a touch

      of the ladle paint it in rings like a bullseye, or a tree-

      stump, or a thumb.

For they howl at each other's jokes, grasping great handfuls

      of cheese.

For wiping both hands on an apron, they nod at the phrase

       "not too hot," and start one of a hundred little

      clocks in their heads.

For their corded forearms reach deep in the oven with a

      long-handled paddle, giving each pie, with a flick, its

      requisite spin.

For heat bubbles and blisters and browns the miraculous crust.

For even in the tiniest shop you can find every style: sagging

      with mushrooms and bacon, broccoli and pineapple,

      chicken, and sausage, and onions.

For time passes slowly awaiting a slice, and reminds us how

      sweet it is to be alive at this moment on earth.

For it slides to a stop in a little city of shakers, where with pepper

       and oregano, garlic and parmesan, we citizens

       make it our own.

For you can fold it in half like a taco and eat it while

      standing, or driving, or walking and working your phone.

For I have seen the bearded young men of Brooklyn sit

      upright to eat it, riding bicycles through red lights, at

      midnight, in the rain.

For with each bite the paper plate grows more translucent

      with grease, till it glows like stained glass over the trash can.

For it has nourished our children and soothed many sorrows.

For in a time of deceit it is honest and upright, steadfast and good--

      beloved and modest and known.

For its commerce makes nobody rich and nobody poor.

For that, to us, it is home.

[mfhl-e-store-india]

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[cryptid-killjoy]

Dapper? Oh yes, Thomas was that and more. Valerie did so love Thomas in a suit, almost as much as she liked him in jeans with his toolbelt... almost. There was just something about those jeans and his boots. But woo-wee when that man went for dashing he actually pulled it off. Not all men could. Suits often wore men and guys all had a tendency to look like these poor things attempting to look grown up, mature, or that they have more grace than they actually do. It never works. The suit wears them. Not Thomas though. He can wear damn near anything and pull it off as a true gentleman even though Val knows quite well he can be quite the naughty fucker in bed. Yeah, he handles his suits and wears them well along with everything else including his beard at every length he'd let it grow.

No matter how cliche it might be there was hardly a more beautifying feeling than seeing such a composed man as this jaw drop and then realize it was because he set his eyes on you. Valerie looked down at herself. She'd been saving that dress for awhile wishing for a proper occassion for it besides one of their own backyard dates as fun as those might be to make up reasons to dress up. Watching his face made her own jaw slack, her chin tilt down. She pushed her hair behind her ear as a way to stabalize the high this man sending through her with just his face. His expression was priceless. Then he opened his mouth. Oh lordy, her private poet was at it again...and quoting Poe during a Halloween Ball of all times. She didn't always know if he was quoting, usually was, or if they were his own words, but Poe was one of the few he sometimes recoginized since Val tended to read darker tales when reading on her own. So, she couldn't hold back her grin at all.

"I feel far more precious than Annabelle Lee when you look at me."

It was true. She had a way of knowing she could slay, but her under-the-bed days despite being shed and long past, still lived somewhere under her skin like something in her wasn't always sure it was okay just to simply exist. Thomas's eyes always fixed that. He was her onion picker like in Holes and her personal poet. She hoped she contributed something here.

As they rode up in Treebeard's branches to the castle Valerie couldn't help but whisper, "I still feel like Merry and Pip on our great adventure whenever we get to do this. It must mean tonight's going to be special." She decided traveling in Tree had to have been a good omen.

On the bus Speed was going on overhead. Who didn't adore Keaneu or Sandra B? Win-Win. Dale was actually paying attention to it about the time Ellie and Babyface showed up and it all the emotional hugging and cussing commenced.

Chip's wives really could not stop staring at Iorek. They were very used to Chip and him continuously bringing more animals than one family would normally take care of, but a polar bear? Yeah, okay... Fig had him beat with that one. This was a first for them. One even slapped him and asked why they didn't have a polar bear. Koda would give her the evil eye like she was being offensive just to fuck with her. Pippin was going to be watching her bear language use for the rest of the evening. At least Elsa wasn't the only one distracted by the polar bear in some kind of way.

Scout would look GoGo up and down and quirk her right brow when she saw her Morticia outfit. "Classic. My Dad loves dressing up as her." She meant Flotsam though she didn't specify, but that quirk did not come down out of her hairline. She was unabashedly checking her digs out. "Damn girl. You look... like...excuse the Paris Hilton speak, but seriously... just really hot tonight." Scout couldn't not say it. She always called 'em like she saw 'em, just like the rest of her family.

That's why Dale chimed in after. "Let me see." If Scout thought so he wanted a better look. So he absolutely let himself take Laveau's worth of eyeballing her. "Damn GoGo. She's right. What'd you go and do? Grow up while I was away in Peru?" He said acting like he hadn't seen her since. "You are looking fly."

Then Chip would say, "You could also be good at being the other mother on Coraline. She was so spindly like a spider. You just need buttons for eyes."

Yup the Laveaus were in the house always calling 'em out alright.

Jenna said, "How about we sew buttons on your eyes Chippy?"

Chip would give one of those blank looks like he had no idea he inadvertantly put someone down and they weren't really sure GoGo's threshold for it. "What? It'd be a good group costume. I was thinking I'd be Wybie."

Dale shook his head. "Oh you mean the character who gets his voice sewn shut because he doesn't know when to shut up?"

Chip's wives were giggling. Koda laughed too until he heard what Ellie called out as she was saying her hellos to her Aunt Elsa in the middle of all this. Should she call him uncle yet? Oh geeze. Oh geeze. So maybe they were starting to be a thing, but that was probably a little too soon.

Koda almost balked though. He got thrown and had that wiggle wobble neck people get when they're anxious about whatever is about to come out of their mouth. "Oh, I don't know....depends..." Then he managed a comeback. "I would say definitely yes if you're looking for a wrassling match. You'll be calling uncle with me faster than anybody you know."

Babyface wanted to Kelso burn her so bad but held off because he was trying to do the stick by his lady thing. So, instead he said, "You clearly haven't ever seen my Hell's Ells in action. You're gonna be calling her uncle."

Everyone paused for a moment because he didn't say it quite right, but that was Babyface. He knew what he meant. So, did everyone else. Dale was cracking up. It was so good to have everyone back in the same room again. Dale's spirits went from emo-depresso to wanna get his drank-on real quick. He was having and they weren't even at the castle yet. They were only on Figaro's bus.... with the polar bear... and his Coke... watching Speed... and taking jabs at one another. Oh yeah, this was the life.

Koda would turn after all the rukkus and say, "You always look pretty, Nizhoni." He felt the need even though it was just a teenage niece bagging on her fashion sense.

Frank was right about this being important to Delta. She always said she'd be happiest if she could just go home with Frank, but as that wasn't an option of permanence she gave long thought to making the best of being in this earthly realm. She access to a few a portals that could wisk her away to other places like Christmas Town, Halloween Town, even a fairy realm. She had friends who had friends on the other side. She had her mother's grimoire in reach. She knew demons. Death. This didn't have to be like before. She referred to Flotsam often in her mind, but that was because she was angrier than him about the past.

This disturbed her. Watching Valerie/Flotsam make so much headway with Thomas in what that family calls progress boils her blood. She doesn't get it. When she let's things go she does so for completely different reasons and she's just not over her father and mother. She can't quite let it go. All of it. To see one of their most affected victims move on is mindblowing for little Delta. It dawned on her it's probably because it's not family that did it to them. Any grudges she holds against her father or mother are more easily comparable to what Flo holds against Jetsam. There's a love/anger relationship there just like she has with her parents. But, she's damned determined to not let King Triton or Maleficent's past ruin anything about her second life with Frank this go around. The same goes for Boogey, Sally, or Jack, anyone relative to the circle of their story. So, fuck yes this ball is important to Delta. She's invited the people back into her world when a little part of her hates them all for existing and not fixing everything for them while they were just kids, and all she really wants is Frank. This ball is her admitting it's time to move on.

She'll still only move on her way. Some people job. Some people drink. Delta dances.

As the bus came in and more guests filled the ball room she noticed more of her dancers had arrived. A couple of Chip's wives were in her crew now. Ray and Jenna were dancing sort. The other's not so much.

Dale was enjoying being introduced to Black Arts and Nebby. "More Beagles. I don't think the world feels right without thinking there's Beagles out there to call."

Black Arts smirked, "If Grandpappy had anything to do with it, there's more out there than we know yet."

Babyface sneered his nose as he put together what that meant. "Ew dude. Just ew." It was true though. Grandpappy got around. He knew the guy wasn't wrong.

"Where's Nebs?" When Black Arts turned around to look around the ball room to where she'd gotten off to she'd already found someone to be silly with. She'd made a quick friend in Scout. Like attracts like and the willingness to put themselves out there started to heavily ensue. Throwing Beagles and Laveaus together had a tendency to do that. So they quickly added to the dance floor. "Come on GoGo." Scout would try to lure her in so she'd have her usual big friends circle Scout tended to have. At least in her own circles.

Delta had found Piper first and told her that she wanted to get the whole dance number over with so they wouldn't have to worry about outfit changes for the rest of the night and just have fun with everyone. So it was Piper's job to rally the rest of the troops. They were all to meet in the dance room upstairs shortly so they could make their entrance, do their thing, and then they could back there to get fixed back however they wanted for the rest of the evening. Delta wante to make sure the most of the guests were there before they did it. It seemed like a good bulk of them was here. Hopefully Figaro didn't have too many more bus loads left on call.

So that's when Piper went up to Maddy in her eyeball outfit and Bastien got a good look at all those eyes. "WOAH!" He started looking all over the place, not just at Piper like her costume extended beyond her actual outfit.

"They're watching." At first he sounded haunted or spooked by it. Then the grins came to life.

"They all wanted to come to Delta's Ball. Holy shit."

He'd yet to acknowledge Piper was even there. He was totally just tripping on the eyes. Her face wasn't viewable in the costume but her voice was crystal clear, not muffled at all.

"It's me Bastien."

"I know." He answered but still didn't seem to be talking to her directly.

Piper couldn't tell what was happening with him. She leaned into Maddy and whispered, "Um we're wanted up in the studio to get ready for the dance. Should I change into a normal dress after I can't tell.. He looks so happy."

Thomas actually had to get ready for the ball in a separate room. He knew that if he didn’t, he’d be dropping things, buttoning up buttons wrong, not getting his tie set in place, or getting the swoosh of his hair right. Valerie would be far too much of a distraction. So he would leave her with a graceful kiss to the hand, and a ‘Try not to look in the mirror too much, or I’ll be stuck staring.’. It was easier for him to get dressed that way, plus he was a man and only a suit was really needed. He tried to look sharp. Dapper. The collar showing off beard that was growing back in nicely after the wacing fiasco. That didn’t keep it at bay for too long.

His first reaction at seeing Valerie? Jaw dropped. No, like, actually. Dropped. Down to the ground. It was close to popping. He was speechless for the first couple of minutes, and finally, the back of his fingers made their way against the mesh layer that exposed the beautiful skin beneath, feeling it. “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven went envying her and me,” He spoke softly, quoting Poe.

He treated Tree as an old friend, when they met once more. He held onto Valerie’s hand to make sure she was comfortable before he moved onto the one side and even then, his hand wrapped around the back of Treebeard’s head so he was ready to grab her if she started to fall backwards in the momentum of being carried up.

And everyone else took the bus which did not look like a normal bus anymore. It had become Figaro’s little project, keeping their mind away from the missing of their father, of their friends. Losing Lance, Arthur and Wulf had been a ttough blow. Forever fucking grateful that Willem wasn’t there, though. It wasn’t anything that a youtube video would be made on, the bus wasn’t a house but instead of seats, comfortable couches stolen from neighboring homes were screwed right down. Made it a bit more cozy. More speakers. A television where Speed was always showing. “I heard you like buses so you could watch a bus while you ride a bus,” They’d say, trying to sound like XZibit. And they still very much wore their Gilbert Garfield costume. And they very much brought Iorek, red scarf still on, as their plus one. He was housetrained and dignified and the invitation didn’t say anything about not bringing an animal. Iorek lounged in his own special air conditioned section in the back of the bus, with his own couch that took up the whole width of the back.

As for Frank, he was with Delta through all the preparations, only leaving her side once in a while to take care of something on his own, and he was dressed to the nines tonight. He nearly wore the costume again, the leather had always had a nice feeling against his skin, the braces too, but he went for something more luxurious, more worthy of a ball. He’d walk with his other head, large hand against the small of her waist, eyes scanning everyone as they came through, catching every thought. Like Thomas, he was used to being on a security detail at all times, only he used his telepathy rather than his sense of hearing or smell.

He wasn’t pleased by the Cheshire situation, his face remaining in it’s usual dead-eyed stare. He wanted this to go perfectly, for Delta’s sake. This was the first big event in Feral. The first time everyone was getting together. It mattered to her more than she would express, he knew that, so he was putting work in, or at least attempting to. Cheshire’s mind was too maddening to really read.

Thomas and Valerie, Thomas leading her in by holding her hand up in the air as if they really were the fancy people that they looked like. “Ahh - there she is, I was wondering why I hadn’t seen her around our Lothlorien lately,” He said, pleasantly surprised.

And there was Maddy, dressed like the starry night sky with that corsage on her wrist. Did it match her outfit? Not at all. Did she still accept it proudly and with a flush on her cheeks when Bastien had brought it out? Absolutely. It was a Halloween ball. Not everyone needed to be matchy matchy. She had her eyes on her husband, making sure he didn’t get too far, while her phone was tucked neatly into her bra, an app connecting her phone to the baby monitor down in their dungeon-home, ready to vibrate if crying started up.

And there was Clopin. Still in his Beef costume, rips and asscheek sticking out … tastefully. Stitched up makeup that he’d say was an homage to the King of Franks himself. He’d give a full on bow as he walked in, on his husband’s arm.

Elsa had grown a little distracted by the polar bear in the back. One would think she would be used to bears, considering who she was with. Who she had been spending all of her time with. But the woman in red did look a little confused as to why there was one on the bus. And was it -

Was it drinking a coke?

GoGo definitely joined Scout since she wanted to see Feral in all of its glory. She heard the stories about New Orleans, the way that it had been, but this was their first time in this new, darker place. She came inspired by Morticia Addams, taking a day off from studying and work - thank fuck for that. Elsa greeted them all, giving Dale, Chip and Scout large hugs. She had missed them. She wasn’t going to pretend that she wasn’t. Koda had been good for her - she was visibly more happy, almost glowing, than she had been before, rocking that sexy but still more on the conservative side dress.

Ellie came on the bus, grinning at Figaro’s costume. “Do you have a powerpoint about … what this is?” She asked the person who was dressed as a cat behind a mask of some old guy. The only way that she knew Gilbert was his voice in the Aladdin movie, so the face was totally unfamiliar.

“I’m working on it,” The muffled voice behind the mask.

And then the shout from Dale made the redhead turn her head and there he was. Her best friend. Her person, other than Babyface. There was a big hug, in which she totally wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, nearly tackling him to the ground. This was one of the reasons why she wore shorts. She knew she was going to be in a tackling mood when it came to Curls McGee over here. “Fuck you for never coming to visit!” She balked back, her grin stuck on her face.

She waved to Scout over Dale’s shoulder, and then proceeded to ruffle up Dale’s hair even further. “Yeah, I know. He loves me,” She grinned, cheesily, and finally let her legs down but kept her arm around the Laveau, her eyes then settling on her Aunt. “Hey Aunt Elsa. Hey Koda. Should I call you Uncle yet?” She teased.

Elsa tutted and rolled her eyes, though they shined with delight at finally, after ten months, seeing her niece again. She was growing up so fast. Almost looks like she went from a teen to an actual young woman. Probably came from dealing with adult problems like not having a home, and dealing with loss and yet - Ellie looked Happy. Which was all that she could wish for. “I see your attitude hasn’t changed.”

“I see your fashion sense has. You look great,” Ellie said, taking in the appearance of her aunt in formal dress. And not just stuffy old lady clothes, like … cardigans. The two women met then in a hug, and it was probably one of the few moments that she would be away from Dale or Babyface’s side all night.

[vilaspatelvlogs]

आधी-अधूरी दाढ़ी से हैं परेशान, इन घरेलू नुस्खों का करें इस्तेमाल, फर्क देखकर रह जाएंगे हैरान!

आधी-अधूरी दाढ़ी से हैं परेशान, इन घरेलू नुस्खों का करें इस्तेमाल, फर्क देखकर रह जाएंगे हैरान!

नई दिल्ली: युवाओं में दाढ़ी बढ़ाने का ट्रेंड और फैशन चल रहा है, लेकिन कई लोगों को दाढ़ी बढ़ाने में दिक्कतें आती हैं. आज हम आपको कुछ ऐसे घरेलू नुस्खे बताएंगे जिनकी मदद से आपकी दाढ़ी की ग्रोथ पर असर पड़ सकता है. प्याज का रसदाढ़ी बढ़ाने में प्याज का रस काफी फायदेमंद है. एक रिपोर्ट के मुताबिक प्याज के रस में बालों के विकास और उन्हें उगाने में मदद प्रदान करने का गुण पाया जाता है. बढ़िया दाढ़ी पाने की…

[thoselethalarts]

Leona and Ruggie as Unus Annus Quotes

Leona: (kneeling in front of Ruggie and blowing up an inflatable cushion he’s wearing) Big boy... Wow, who’s a big boy! Ruggie: I’m about to be~ Leona: (wheezes with laughter)

Leona: ...I have a Brita filter. Jack: WE have a Brita filter- Do not PEE in our Brita filter, Leona! Leona: We’ll just replace the filter!

Leona: Look man, I don’t always know the right way. Sometimes you’re correct and me trying to correct you is wrong and I’m trying to be better about that. Ruggie: Well thank you, I appreciate that- Leona: Also you’re a CUNT.

Ruggie: You’ve always been BAD! You’ve been a bad boy~ Leona: ...I’m a man. Ruggie: You’ve been a bad man~

Ruggie and Leona: (rapidly slapping a raw chicken on a countertop while panting from the physical exertion)

Leona: (slowly and menacingly walking towards Ruggie) I’m going to kill you! Ruggie: I’ll get another egg! I’ll get another egg!! Leona: I will kill you. I get to kill you.

MC: (sobbing) My life is in the hands of an idiot...! Ruggie: N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no, TWO idiots!

Ruggie: When did you start growing a beard? Leona: Out the womb. Ruggie: No but actually. Leona: I popped out the womb with a beard and then I lost it in the war. Ruggie: (falls back in his chair laughing)

Ruggie: (cooking down a pound of onions) So do you have any plans for what you’re going to do with the remainder of the onions? Leona: BITCH! You’re not gonna steal my onion plans, you onion plan stealing biiiIIITCH! Ruggie: I’m not gonna steal your- I’m just trying to strike up a conversation! Leona: Bitch! Ruggie: Well I’m not gonna listen to you if you’re just gonna belittle me- Leona: (flipping off his phone camera and dancing) Bitch! Bitch.

Ruggie: (kneeling down in front of a collapsed pile of hay) Okay... I’ll use my... dainty hands. Leona: ...You don’t have dainty hands, I know this for a fact. You have the fuckin’ boniest death grip hands. Fuckin’ gymnast slammin’ into the ground, grabbin’ bars and HOOPS... God help any woman you ever finger. It is a death sentence. Ruggie: (BURSTS out in unexpected laughter)

Leona: (wearing a clown costume) Well... I am a clown. So, by definition, I am hilarious.

Leona: Mira. Call us “Daddy” Mira: I don’t see a father in your contacts- Ruggie: (covers his mouth to muffle laughter) Leona: WELL... ABOUT THAT...

Ruggie: (gesturing at parts of an expresso machine) With this machine here we’ve got so many options, ya know, you can have less HEUWAAAOU or more UWAAAOUGH depending on where the dial is- Leona: (slowly falls off-camera trying to contain laughter) Ruggie: -so it really depends on what you want for the day...

Leona: You know how you say you hate what I say a lot? I have to endure... every word that comes out of your mouth. Ruggie: So do I. I have to live with me every day.

And of course, the ever-infamous:

Ruggie: Listen to this though. You got a buncha meat, right? You wanna put it in your body in a better way. What do you do? You put it in a weird sock, you cook it up on a sssskri-ttle...! (laughing awkwardly) Skittle? Skrittle? Leona: No, you’re right, skrittle, yeah. Ruggie: Hold on, that’s not it. Wha’s...? Grittle. Grittle! Wait... What’s uh- what’s the other one that starts with an “s”? Leona: You’re gonna get there. I believe in you. Ruggie: Ssskimmer... uh sskih... ssk-skeee...? Skizz... Leona: Oh this is painful... (chortles) Are you serious right now? Ruggie: Oh I’m SUPER serious right now. Leona: (tosses his head back in laughter) Ruggie: This is really bad- Leona: I’m not gonna help you.

Ruggie: A skid- a skiii- a skrittle... a skim- skir- a skib- a skibble? No! What is it? Tell me. Leona: You can do this. Ruggie: A skittle. A skitter- Leona: You keep going in circles-

Ruggie: A SKRITTLE! Leona: NO! Ruggie: Oh my god... ah, I’m gettin’ there. Leona: You’re not!

Leona: What happens when you level up and you need to put your points into your...? Ruggie: Skill tree! Leona: (motions expectantly) Ruggie: ....Skid- Skill-trle. Leona: (puts his head in his hands incredulously) You can’t be forreal right now... Ruggie: I’m 100%...! Oh my god...! Leona: (breaks down in laughter) Ruggie: (between laughter) Skill tree..! Skill..... SKILLET!!! Leona: YES! There you go...!

[navalcriminalimagines]

Every part of you

Request: Something just fluffy and domestic would be so nice...missing that old man. Maybe something like baking with him? Fluffy smut or just fluff, I would be really happy to see you write either. 💕

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex, kitchen sex

Words count: 2,4k

Joel Miller x Reader. Insecure Joel. No virus, no apocalypse. Divorced!Joel.

* * * * *

After his divorce with Sarah’s mother, Joel entered years of celibacy, except for the occasional hookups. He didn’t want to go down that road again, his marriage wasn’t the best one but he loved his wife and expected it to last forever, like they promised each other.

But things changed when he met you over a year ago.

It was one of those nights where his brother Tommy dragged him to a bar. You were there with some friends and the first thing he noticed about you was your smoking hot body. And before he knew it, Tommy brought you to their table to have a drink with them.

It was supposed to be one of those hookups. No strings attached. In the morning, he would’ve left and you probably wouldn’t have never met again.

But he broke rule number one on the first night anyway: never take someone home. He always found a way to go to his partner's place, or at least, found a place to do it, but never at his place. His home.

Until you.

Once you were done, he realized how young and innocent you looked. He could see the struggle on your face, as to whether you should leave or stay. He felt bad about himself and told you to stay. You warmly smiled and faxed yourself under the covers, your warm form curled up against him.

In the morning, he woke up to the smell of coffee and French toast. As you had breakfast together, you told him a bit about yourself and Joel found himself to be interested.

You left your phone number and two weekends later - he spends every two weekends with his daughter - Joel invited you for a drink. Which turned into a few ones. Which turned into taking you home again.

That was over a year ago. Now, you’re moving in with him.

He didn’t expect for it to happen. It’s just that when you mentioned wanting to move out from your crappy apartment, he simply told you to come live with him and Sarah. His teenage daughter is very fond of you, and Joel is deeply in love with you. There’s no reason this could go wrong, is there?

But somehow, it caused your first fight.

It was hard to fit two homes into one, and Joel wasn’t compromising at all. He didn’t want to get rid of anything.

“You have to meet halfway, Jo.” You told him, clearly annoyed.

“I am. I just don’t want to get rid of my couch. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, for starters, mine is fairly new, bigger and way more comfortable. But it’s not just about the couch. It feels like you don’t want me to move in after all,” you said with such sadness in your voice, Joel felt horrible.

“I asked, didn't I?” He answered, defensively.

“Probably because you felt bad about my struggle to find a new place. Just like you felt bad after our first night together.”

“…What?”

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I know you didn’t want me to stay at first.”

“But you did.”

“Well, yeah. Because it was my first time hooking up with someone I just met. And—“ you took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to compliment you right now, but the sex was—mind blowing.”

You obviously were still pretty mad but Joel couldn’t help but smirk in his beard. Sex with you is indeed pretty mind blowing. There’s love, trust, passion, and you’re open-minded concerning his kinks. He never witnessed that before. Actually, he discovered new kinks with you, pretty much like if you were his very own kink.

“Take that smirk off your face. That’s unfair.” You breathed out.

Joel closed the distance between your bodies, and gently kissed your forehead. “Letting you stay that night was the best decision I’ve made in a very long time,” he kissed your nose. “I’ll get rid of the couch.” Then he kissed your lips and moved to your neck. “Let’s ruin it before.”

You chuckled and you did ruin his old couch.

A few weeks later, you were all moved in. Joel was exhausted, he fell asleep on your - extremely - comfortable couch. You covered him with a blanket and took care of the last details before cooking dinner.

Your parents had been owners of a restaurant for the past thirty years, your father being the chef and your mother doing pretty much the rest. You spent most of your time in the establishment as a child, and your father happily shared his know-how with you.

In the past year, Joel had barely spent time in the kitchen, as it became your space. Not that he minded.

He does mind the weight he’d been gaining though.

He woke up to the smell of one of your dishes, two hours after falling asleep. He could hear you doing your thing in the kitchen. He smiled, stretched himself and when his mind seemed awake enough, he joined you.

You felt his strong arms wrapping your middle, and took advantage of your messy bun to plant wet and sloppy kisses in your exposed neck. You felt shivers all the way through your body. “Hi handsome. Sleep well on the couch?”

“Bite me.” He growled against your skin and you chuckled.

“Did that last night.” You said, referring to the bite mark you left right on top of his shoulder. He had made you cum so hard, you didn’t control yourself.

“I love when you mark me.” He whispered in your ear, nipping your ear lobe.

“Good, I’m taking you for a scarification tomorrow. My name, right above your penis.”

“Hmm,” Joel was still planting kisses anywhere he could and you could feel his growing erection against your ass. It was getting really difficult to focus on the marinade in front of you. “I can meet you halfway and agree to get a tattoo.” You laughed but somehow imagined it. It would ruin any relationship for him if you two ever break up. “Only if you do the same, obviously.” He added.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He hummed in answer and you felt his hand playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. But you slapped his hand away before he could slide it in. “Put your hands to other use for now. Cut the onions for me,” you playfully rubbed your ass against his crotch but only to push him away.

Joel let go of you and looked around to find the onions. “Wow. I like punishment but only if I know what I did wrong.”

You laughed before throwing two onions at him, which he almost missed. As he began to peel them off, you gently grabbed the knife from his hands and squeezed a lemon on the blade. Joel looked at you, lovingly. “There. You won’t cry.” You said, handing him the knife.

“Huh, we’ve been dating for a year and you’re only telling this trick, now? I thought you loved me.” He used his best complaining voice, and he felt your hand slamming against his ass.

“What will we talk about in ten years if I tell you everything now?” You casually asked and it caught Joel off guard. He stayed silent while cutting the onions in small squares and you didn’t push it. You focused on your marinade and checked on the steamed vegetables.

“Are you picturing us still together in ten years?” He finally asked once he was done. He gave you the bowl with the onions in it.

“Well—yeah. Don’t you?” You took the bowl from his hand, preparing the pan in order to cook them.

Joel sighed. It had been a struggle since you two started to date. Your relationship had been so perfect, you had been an amazing partner, it almost feels surreal to me. “I guess my marriage broke a part of me.” He paused, staring at you cooking. “It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

As you ditched the onions in a hot pan, a soft smile appeared across your face. “That will happen when your alien friends will come to pick you up, in order to bring you back to your home planet.”

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn’t believe you were real. He stared for a moment. You are so beautiful, young, funny and smart, with the biggest heart. How did he got so lucky?

He jumped on the part of the kitchen plan you weren’t using. “Or when I got so fat from your cooking, you’re not attracted to me anymore.” He finally said and you stopped everything you were doing.

“…what?”

“I gained a few pounds lately.” He confessed, avoiding your eyes this time.

“Yeah so?”

“Oh so you’re agreeing? Not even something like ‘honey that’s crazy, you haven’t changed a bit.’?”

"I'm sorry. Let me do this again.” You took a step back and got into character. “Joel! Are you crazy? You didn’t gain any pounds. Are those masculine magazines making you feel bad, again?”

“Wow. Don’t quit your day job to become an actress.”

You playfully punched his shoulder and he let out an “ouch!”. “But seriously love,” it was your loving and smoothing tone again. “Do you really feel bad about this?”

“Kinda. I’m already older than you, I can’t have that too.”

“Baby,” you settled between his legs and tiptoed to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect to me. I don’t care about your age, your weight, your height, the size of your—okay that, I do care but still.”

Never a woman made him laugh like you manage to. No matter the subject, the time of the day, his mood or your mood, you’re always able to bring a smile to his face. He’s so in love with you. “Do you get my point or do I have to take you upstairs to show it to you?” You stroked his beard and Joel leaned into your touch, humming in content.

“I won’t mind the show. But I’d rather have you showing me—here.”

“I better stop cooking and focus on my other hobby then.” You turned off everything and invited him to get down. “My favorite actually.” You whispered, before kissing him gently.

“Please do.” He pleaded, sticking out his tongue in order to meet yours.

As you kissed, you brought him against the wall of the kitchen. He moaned at your sudden dominance, and you felt his semi hard cock against your belly. Joel tried to travel under your tank top with his hands but you prevented him access. You quickly worked taking his tee-shirt off, throwing it on the floor. Your lips immediately crashed against his hairy chest, while your hands were softly caressing it. “I love you, Joel.” you whispered against his skin. “I love every part of you that you don’t.”

It was overwhelming. Never in his life has Joel felt this loved, this attractive. It was such a mix of feelings, he could have cried on the spot as well as fucked you senseless. But he only stood there, panting hard as you were taking his sweatpants and briefs off. He stepped out and you threw it away, next to his shirt. He was dying to undress you, to feel your smooth skin against his, but he knew better.

You kneeled in front of you, taking his hard member in your hand. You looked up to him with your big and loving E/C eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamt of,” you said. “Call me crazy but I’d follow you to your damn home planet.” you confess, referring to what you said a moment ago.

Joel intensely stared at your mouth when you gave him a first lick. This view was so damn perfect.

You teasingly played with your tongue against his cock before taking him in your mouth. Joel moaned, deeply and you sucked him for a moment, not taking all of his length yet. Your jaw needed to relax first. No matter the amount of time you’ve seen his cock, you’re always amazed about how thick and long he is.

Joel’s hand grabbed your hair bun into his fists, guiding you. When you were ready, you took all of him inside your mouth, your nose buried in his pubic hair. “Fuck, baby!” he growled as his cock hit the back of your throat. “God I love your mouth so much.”

You kept going for a moment until you felt his urge growing. Joel was basically facefucking you, thrusting his cock deep inside your mouth. But you weren’t done with him yet, so when only a trail of saliva was connecting you to his length, you took advantage and got back on your feet.

You passionately kissed him, allowing him to taste himself. “Sit on the chair.” You ordered him and Joel obeyed.

You striped in front of him as he was lazily stroking his painfully hard cock. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.” he said before you straddle his lap.

“So are you, Joel.” He almost didn’t catch that - maybe because a part of him didn’t want to - as you guided his cock into your wet cunt. He was stretching you open, it almost hurt but you kept going until he was fully inside you.

“So fucking tight.” he growled against your neck.

You settled for a slow pace at first. Joel’s face was buried in your chest, assaulting your rounded breasts. One of his hands was in the small of your back, following your hips movements. “You feel so good inside me.” you moaned, your hands buried in his hair. He was so deep inside you, you two almost could hear every time he reached your end. “I’ll never be able to be with anyone else but you.”

His urge was coming back and yours was building up. You quickened the pace, and Joel furiously rubbed your clit with his hand. “Yes Joel, right there!” he looked up at you and crashed his lips on yours. You could feel his fingers digging on your hip, while yours did the same on his scalp.

“I’m gonna cum.” he warned you, thrusting as fast as he could.

“Me, too. Don’t stop,”

“Never.”

It was a closed call but you came practically at the same time, both crying each other’s name.

You stayed in the same position as you and Joel came down from your high. You held him close against you, feeling his cock softening inside you. You were both panting. “Every part of me, huh?” he said.

“Every single one.”

[wondersofdreaming]

Edible Love

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader

Word count: 1.206

Warnings: Fluff, sexual innuendos, filthy thoughts, sarcasm.

Author’s note: A request from @littlefreya​ after I showed her the vagina/breast look-a-like dessert I made in culinary school. I hope you like it <3

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

Thank you so much to my muse, my inspiration, my sanity, you give me motivation to continue writing when I’m lost - @radaofrivia​, a thousand thanks to you, love <3 Go read her stories from her masterlist!

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

You were rarely allowed in the kitchen. Every time you would try to cook, Sy’s 6th sense alerted him of your sneaking around. He would storm into the room, throw you over his shoulder and manhandle you towards the bedroom.

He had tried to teach you once how to make a baked pasta dish, and when you had tried to make it by yourself to surprise him, you had forgotten the dish in the oven, and it had been burned to a crisp, definitely un-edible. Sy had a strong stomach, so he at least tried the food, but as you watched his face forcing to swallow the nasty pasta, you threw the rest out and ordered a large pizza. You had since that time been determined to at least make him something tasty, and you were going to succeed one day.

On your wedding day, he had written in his wedding vows that he would cook for you until death do you part, and then he had whispered in your ear that the only way you were allowed in his kitchen was naked and willing for him to taste your peach and cherry on the counter.

You bargained with Sy for over an hour the day before your 1st anniversary. He still wouldn’t let you use the oven, the stove, and even the microwave had become forbidden to use. But you argued for your case, promising him that you would only make a dessert that would use minimal use of the oven or the stove.

Sy had relented in the end and had helped you go grocery shopping. You had put all kinds of things in the basket to trick him, like radishes, pickled red onions, olives, and black garlic.

“You’re not trying to kill me, are you, buttercup?” Sy asked nervously.

“If I were going to kill you, my love, then you would have already been dead by my cooking years ago.”

Your dear husband roared with laughter, gaining attention from a few other customers in the supermarket around you.

At home, Sy went to work in the backyard, while you started the prep in the kitchen. The captain was standing just outside the back door that led to the kitchen. He was close by in case you needed him or if you were injured. You read the recipe that you had received from your mother-in-law, who had been secretly teaching you the dessert you were making, just so you could surprise your big handsome husband.

You grabbed the peaches from the mountain of fruits you had brought. Peach was your husband’s favourite fruit, so it was the obvious choice. You peeled the peaches and took out the pits before cutting them into bite-size cubes. You looked through the door, watching your big burly man cutting the grass. Almost forgetting your task at hand, seeing his muscular arms pushing the lawn-mower. Your mind turned to mush as you watched sweat dripping from his concentrated forehead.

You went back to the dessert before you did something you were going to regret, as you really wanted to make something for your husband to eat for once. You put a pot of cream on the stove, waiting for it to come to a boil. You added the gelatine, that you fished out from a bowl of cold water, into the cream and poured the warm mixture over some egg yolks and honey you had whipped together earlier. Pouring the cream-mix in small ramekins you set them aside to cool down, while then concentrating on the peaches.

After a while of blending the peaches, it had become a coulis that you wanted to pour over the set panna cottas. You peeled some mandarins to decorate the dessert with.

You hadn’t noticed the time had gone by quicker than expected. In no time, Sy called you to the backyard for dinner. He had set the table there with a white and blue table cloth and had served your dinner on the plates.

Dinner was eaten hurriedly because Syverson always made tasty food. Everything had been made on the grill, the spareribs smeared in homemade barbecue sauce, the corn dripping with butter, and the big baked potatoes covered in tinfoil and smothered with crispy bacon bits, chopped chives and sour cream. You couldn’t wait to bring him the dessert that you had made with love. The panna cotta had set, you thanked your lucky stars for that. You poured the peach coulis on top and set the mandarin slices into somewhat of a circle.

“Dessert is served, captain,” you teased and set the ramekin down in front of him with a spoon next to it.

Sy looked down. The first thought that crossed him was that the mandarins were arranged in a fashion that it looked like… a vagina.

His jeans suddenly grew snug around his hips. His boner growing steadily harder and painful. He looked at his innocent wife, so eager to please him, not even knowing that her efforts alone made his heart soar to the skies.

He had to make a plan on how to make you as lustful as he was. He watched as your eyes grew sad that he wasn’t digging into your dessert right away.

“This looks amazing, love,” he smiled. He grabbed the spoon and dug a large chunk of the panna cotta with the peach coulis out. He opened his mouth and closed his lips around the spoon, moaning as the sweet custard with the peach touched his tongue. Sy slowly moved the spoon out, languidly carving out another bite of the sinful dessert.

All he could think of, as he ate the dish his wife had created for him, was to have your spread out right before him. Legs wrapped around his hips, while he pounded into you with such vigour, you would break the table, and perhaps even break the deck too. He wanted to hear your moans and screams, hear his name falling from those lovely lips of yours, hear you tell him that he was the only one who could make take you into oblivion.

“So… do you like it?” you asked, arousal slowly pooling between your closed thighs. You watched as the big guy ate another bite, groaning, the rumble coming from deep within his chest. His eyes were looking at you with such intensity that you had to look away before you threw the dishes from the table and assaulted him.

“It tastes great, babygirl,” he told you in a low voice, lust filling his deep sound. “But I do want a second dessert.”

“Oh?” you looked at him perplexed, but you knew exactly what was on your husband’s mind. The smirk on his bearded jaw was imminent, while he slowly moved up from his chair.

Sy watched as his angel-wife stood up and watched him through hooded eyes, if you looked up innocence in the dictionary, a picture of you would be front and centre. But in the bedroom, you were a sexual goddess, a vixen of lust, and you left your virtues on the threshold.

“Then you must follow me to the bedroom, where I will serve you, your favourite dessert.”

[pepperonitimeline]

There is an interesting emphasis on timelines in Steven Universe

but like. Why?

Hypothesis: Steven Universe is made up of multiple timelines, but shown in an order that makes the events seem linear. read part 2 here!

I'm not the first person to speculate this at all. A lot of this stuff has been pointed out by @dogcopter​ @arrozbrillante​ @stevenutheories and many others on various platforms!

I just gathered the most conspicuous "evidence" into 1 post. If you’re interested in SU theory and analysis you should check out their blogs. :o) This was as short as I could make it..

And a big thank you to @love-takes-work for her podcast summaries!!! 

So, most ostensibly there’s Garnet, who can see multiple futures. In Pool Hopping she begins to call her visions timelines specifically.

Garnet: In this timeline, we do the opposite of that. Hey, you! Have a pizza!

Steven: Hey, Vidalia's house is around here. Let's bring her the last pie.

Garnet: Now, that would be nice. She must be upset that her son was taken into space by those Homeworld Gems. (referring to the events of I Am My Mom)

Steven: You mean Onion? He isn't in space. He's right over there. *points*

Garnet: Sorry, I-I must be thinking of a different timeline.

-

Garnet: My bad. I was sure we were in the pepperoni timeline.

-

Garnet: It's important to keep in mind that all these horrible things did happen to you in alternate timelines. Safety is fun.

In Steven and The Stevens:

Yeah

It was confirmed on the podcast that the Steven we see from that episode on is a different Steven than the one from episodes 1-21. In “The Fantasy of Steven Universe” Sugar explains:

"I think, early on, we knew for sure what we wanted to do was to create episodes that feel self-contained but give you a new piece of information or change the characters fundamentally. So, Steven and the Stevens, is tight but Steven does change fundamentally after having that experience. He's not the same- in THAT case he's LITERALLY not the same character..."

It’s muffled because they're all laughing but right after they say this Matt Burnett goes “He died.” 

Link to the episode

Love-takes-work also has a text summary of the episode

But something I haven't seen discussed very much is the time travel chase scene. Granted it’s very blink-and-you’ll miss it, there are some Stevens who witness the other Steven’s fighting but that don’t end up in the Sea Shrine at the end.

Way back in 2015 @stevenutheories already did the math as to how many alternate timelines may have stemmed from the time shenanigans: 3 to 5. Not counting the original one who is definitively gone. 

Technically quantum mechanics don’t work like that and those Stevens should have been Thanos’d too. I’m not going to pretend I understand physics, that is just what I’ve been told by someone who does. But then again the magic time thingy wasn’t bound by rules of real-life physics in the first place… so ??

Let’s cross-examine SATS’ accompanying KBCW post.

“At any given moment, if you asked me what I was thinking about, the answer would be one of two things: katana swords, or THE POSSIBILITY OF ALTERNATE TIMELINES RUNNING PARALLEL TO OUR OWN!

Proving the existence of these timelines can be pretty tricky, even for a seasoned paranormal investigator such as myself.  An inter-temporal incursion caused by the momentary weakening of the time-space continuum doesn’t really photograph well.  And all the cross dimensional time travelers I know don’t want to go on the record about their experiences.  Frankly, the only thing I can submit as evidence of alternate timelines is the fact that THEY ARE PROBABLY JUST SO COOL AND AWESOME THAT THEY HAVE TO BE REAL.

Think about it!  What about a universe where that asteroid missed Earth and we had DINOSAURS for pets instead of dogs?  Or a universe where someone was like “Hey, zeppelins are way cooler than planes, let’s just do that!”  Or a universe where AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ME CAN GROW A FULL BEARD?!  What an amazing life that Ronaldo must have… in THIS stupid reality I have a really hard time getting my moustache to connect to the rest of my facial hair and it’s incredibly frustrating.”

KBCW and Ronaldo’s commentary in general are usually half-right. Like the “Polymorphic Sentient Rocks are aliens who want to hollow out the earth… to make it lighter so they can transport it back to their star system” thing.

I can't help but think the "Dinosaurs for pets instead of dogs" is a reference to the live action Super Mario Bros. movie- where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs sent them to a parallel universe instead, causing mammals to go instinct in said universe. (Don’t know about the zeppelins.)

And then, and THEN there’s Keep Beach City Safe, KBCW’s more obscure rival blog run by (most likely) Onion under the pseudonym "The Observer". Apparently he’s planted cameras all over town to record Steven’s adventures. There's also a "Recruiter" and second mystery narrator calling themselves "Marco Díez", it's a whole thing,

Assuming it’s real, here’s one of the posts I think are the most relevant.

“I have been on zero gem hunts over the years, and what i have learned over the years is: always be prepared for anything, and everything. Connie’s already knows that and this her first mission. I, wasn’t so fortunate on my first mission. It was a crisp Autumn morning, - with notes of cinnamon in the air. I was the mountains, the air temperature, humidity and level elevation levels, were perfect.

Then, I noticed the creature, it was charging me. I tried to evade the gem monster, but it just kept on coming, and coming! There was no escape! And then- Wait! I just remembered. I never been on a gem hunt! So where did I get that story from?”

This was posted on August 1st alongside Gem Hunt… and the day after the Greg The Babysitter post, which was deleted earlier this year, right after people started interacting with it again.

Being a Babysitter is hard, especially if your Greg Universe. This guy, in the picture above me. Wait did I just become self aware? Hey, I did! Haha, I always knew I was more to me than just a narrator. Actually this is the first time I thought about, Because I'm self aware baby! Woohoo, yeah! Wait, what was I talking about? Ah yes, Gregory. So this Greg guy,Has to Babysit this cool baby, because he owes her for letting him mooch off her. And Greg, is like totally irresponsible, he some how lets the baby climb a Ferris Wheel. How does that even happen? This dude is so not getting payed. And what's up with his hair!?!

So here it is, another story, told by Greg, about his past self. I wonder how many times I started a paragraph with the word so. And when he was telling this story, we got some clues that could finally tell use when all of this started. We know about the gems and what happened  thousands of years ago, but we don't know about the hems and  what happened thousands of years ago. They wee being very vague about the whole thing. Almost intentionally, well it was obsessively intentional.

?

There are subtle inconsistencies in Beach City's layout. ("The Observer" points this out, too.)

Remember Danny’s? In Bubble Buddies and Joking Victim, there’s a shop named Danny’s Salt Water Taffy.

Then in Watermelon Steven it’s gone.

As for a prop: Chaaaaps used to just be Chips

That’s from Monster Buddies, the episode right after Steven and The Stevens.

It's just as likely someone on the show simply thought the background/chips looked a little too busy or whatever. But re-doing stuff costs a lot of time and money, yknow? Neither of which is the animation industry very generous about. Did you know even props have model sheets?

Of course it could just be another brand of chips. Maybe Utz got involved somehow.

Lastly I want to highlight a quote from a Rebecca Sugar interview regarding SU ending.

“The story is continuing off screen and I do know what happens next, at least in certain timelines, for the characters,” Sugar says. “But I would have to decide how and when I’d want to dig into that, or if it’s best to give them their privacy.”

yeah so like what the fuck

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

I just...want to work in the garden and do nothing else. Stop only to eat and pee. I go in when the daylight’s done. And then all I want to do is look at more plants I can order and talk about my garden. All my plants are native to Ontario or nearby. All with edible parts except one. So. Plant species I have/am getting this year are:

001. Achillea millefolium (common yarrow) The red-flowered cultivar seems to have died over the winter, but the non-cultivar is growing strong and is also creeping past the stone border to become one with the grass. lol

002. Actaea racemosa (black snakeroot/black cohosh) Next weekend!

003. Agastache foeniculum (anise hyssop) Literally migrated from the place I planted it to a place it likes better, I guess. As in, there is no plant where I planted, but there is an anise hyssop in another part of that bed. You do you.

004. Allium canadense (meadow garlic/Canada garlic) Spreading slowly but reliably and super tasty.

005. Allium cernuum (nodding onion) It has flowered each year--this is year 4--but hasn’t spread at all. Very tasty, and I’ve bought some friends to help it along.

006. Allium schoenoprasum (chives/wild chives) Absolutely yum and doing very well.

007. Allium stellatum (prairie onion/autumn onion) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

008. Allium tricoccum (ramps/wild leek) It will be quite some time before it even makes flowers which hopefully let it spread, so I won’t be able to reap the benefits for a while. But, both plants did come up this year and have now died back as expected. Hopefully they’ll continue to come up.

009. Amelanchier canadensis (Canadian serviceberry) Caterpillars. Are. EATING IT. Gypsy moth caterpillars. This is going to be a problem for some time until they pupate, I guess. Plant’s generally okay, though. I won’t be getting fruit anytime soon, though.

010. Anaphalis margaritacea (pearly everlasting) Very healthy plants keeping the sunflowers under some control. This spring was my first year eating the shoots. Can’t say anything about the taste specifically, as they went into a pasta sauce, but that sauce was delicious.

011. Andromeda polifolia (bog rosemary) Next weekend!

012. Aquilegia brevistyla (smallflower columbine) Growing very well, more flowers this year. Next year I’ll eat some (flowers, only the flowers are edible).

013. Aquilegia canadensis (Canada columbine/red columbine) Flower stalk doesn’t seem as tall this year, but it still has a lot of flowers. They’re a lovely refreshing sweet snack (just the flowers).

014. Arabis alpina (alpine rockcress) Next weekend! I had one last year, but it didn’t survive the winter. The poor thing was so root-bound there was no soil in the pot, so I’m not surprised it didn’t make it. Hopefully the new one will be in better condition.

015. Arctostaphylos uva-ursi (bearberry/kinnikinnick/pinemat manzanita) Not doing great and I’m not sure why. That area is reasonably well-drained and it gets part sun, part shade. Oh well. Maybe I’ll move it to the hill in the back. It seemed to like the hill I had it on at my old apartment.

016. Argentina anserina (silverweed cinquefoil) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

017. Arisaema triphyllum (jack-in-the-pulpit) It came up! I was sure it had died last year. But no, it’s fine. Male this year. Hopefully female next year (I’m trying to see if the berries can be dried into edibility like the corms, and if they can I want to make jam or something with them).

018. Armeria maritima (thrift sea-pink) Drooping! It’s a drought-tolerant plant that will die if over-watered so I don’t water it more than once a week and I don’t water deeply, but it’s been hot so maybe it needs more or maybe I managed to overwater it anyway. Frick. Flowering very nicely though.

019. Aronia melanocarpa (black chokeberry) Doing just fine. No flowers and I don’t expect them for another couple of years at least, but it’s growing well.

020. Artemisia frigida (prairie sagewort/fringed sagebrush) Already spreading in the bed. Should look very nice when it fills in.

021. Aruncus dioicus (bride’s feathers/goat’s beard/buck’s beard) Growing more quickly than the internet told me it would! And going to flower this year too, which will be lovely.

022. Asarum canadense (Canada ginger) Doing fine for now, but burnt a lot in the sun last year. Likely to do so again. I’m going to plant something in front of it to shade it better. See, I wouldn’t have put it there if it was full sun because it’s a shade to part sun plant, but that area isn’t full-sun, it’s part sun; however, the sunlight it does get is very strong in the summer and the poor thing gets burnt.

023. Asclepias incarnata (swamp milkweed) Growing like a beast! Flowers were gorgeous last year. I don’t expect this to be any different, and maybe some monarch butterflies will pay it a visit.

024. Asclepias ovalifolia (oval leaf milkweed/dwarf milkweed) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

025. Asclepias syriaca (common milkweed) Mine seemed to come up much more slowly than those I’ve seen elsewhere, but it is a fairly young plant. I expect it will come up earlier next year. And it’s doing fine now.

026. Asclepias tuberosa (butterflyweed) Hasn’t come up yet, but they can take till middle of June to start emerging, so I’m not going to worry about it yet.

027. Asimina triloba (pawpaw) All three trees are alive, though with very different rates of growth. I got them at the same size at the same time, but in trying to figure out what the best thing was for them, I planted one on a hill next to the door of my at-the-time apartment, one by the fence at the opposite side of the yard, and the third I kept in a pot, which I brought in for the winter. That spring, the potted tree leafed out first at the end of April, and the one on the hill in the middle of May. The third didn’t bud at all. I continued to water it, but I was sure it was dead. Then the house my apartment was in caught fire so I had to go to a new place (same landlords, so still allowed to plant on the new property) and didn’t want to leave my plants behind. It was the end of June. All my plants were potted. and I was going to leave the lifeless stick behind AND THEN IT SUDDENLY HAD BUDS. So I potted it and took it too. All three survived the transplant, but the tree I had initially taken inside (but is now outside) is the biggest, and that little stick is still the smallest. lol

028. Asplenium trichomanes (maidenhair spleenwort) Very little still, but seems healthy. I hope for its fronds to spill over my newly constructed garden wall when it’s bigger.

029. Athyrium felix-femina (lady fern) Doing very well, as a fern that can tolerate full sun.

030. Caltha palustris (marsh marigold) It is a marsh plant and there is no pond on the property to plant it, but there is a leaking eavestrough, which I thought would do well enough along with heavy watering. So far I have been correct.

031. Campanula rotundifolia (harebell) Very lush and green. I struggled to keep it alive that first year, but three years later it’s perfect.

032. Cardamine concatenata (cutleaf toothwort) Sometime this summer!

033. Castilleja miniata (paintbrush) Sometime this summer!

034. Ceanothus americanus (New Jersey tea) Not ready to use in tisanes yet, but growing well.

035. Cerastium arvense (field chickweed) The first two years the thing was barely alive, but this year’s it’s moment to shine as it spreads and flowers.

036. Cercis canadensis (redbud) No flowers this spring, but wonderful foliage. Fingers crossed for next year.

037. Comptonia peregrina (sweetfern) Next weekend!

038. Coreopsis lanceolata (lance-leaved tickseed) The first plant I attempted died, but this one’s doing very well.

039. Cornus canadensis (bunchberry) Next weekend! I mean, my plant from last year would likely be fine if the squirrels hadn’t dug it up, as would the one before that (because that one came from the old place and had survived the winter just fine!). So, I’m going to plant the new one in a different spot and hope the fluffy-tailed rodents leave the poor thing alone this time.

040. Cornus florida (flowering dogwood) Just a baby still, but its leaves are nice and green. I had one before it that really liked the hill I had planted it on back at the old place but died in the pot before I could put it in its new home.

041. Cystopteris bulbifera (berry bladder fern) Doing just fine. I love my ferns.

042. Dalea purpurea (purple prairie clover) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

043. Deschampsia caespitosa (tufted hair grass) Not doing too well. Was fine last year, so I’m not sure what’s going on.

044. Echinacea purpurea (purple coneflower) I’ve always loved these. They’re edible, medicinal (with caution), have lovely flowers, and attract lots of pollinators including bees and butterflies. Mine is doing perfectly. No flowers yet this year, but very green healthy foliage.

046 Erythronium americanum (trout lily/dogtooth violet) Still no flowers this spring, but they did come up, so maybe next year.

047. Eupatorium purpureum (sweet-scented Joe Pye weed/gravel root/purple Joe Pye weed) Soon! Also, do you know how this is eaten? Its root is literally burnt and then you use the ashes to flavour your food. The plant is otherwise poisonous, so how it was found out that it could be used this way conjures up amusing scenarios for me.

048. Fragaria vesca (woodland strawberry/wild strawberry/alpine strawberry) I have strawberries! They’re far from ripe yet, but developing well. They’re also spreading over the hill I planted them on and will hopefully give the garlic mustard and dog-strangling vine a run for their money.

049. Fragaria virginiana (wild strawberry/Virginia strawberry/common strawberry/mountain strawberry) Because one native species of strawberry isn’t enough, I have both. This one is also making strawberries and nicely filling out the area I put it in.

050. Galium boreale (northern bedstraw) Newly planted! The first one of these I planted didn’t survive the winter, but I hadn’t been able to plant it until autumn (because I hadn’t yet been told where I could plant). This one has the rest of spring, the whole summer, and fall until frost to establish itself, and I’ve seen a number of them growing wild at the edge of the ravines, so it should be fine.

051. Gaultheria procumbens (American wintergreen/eastern teaberry/boxberry/checkerberry) Next weekend! I actually already have one and have had it for a couple years, but it’s another that came so root-bound there wasn’t any soil in the pot. I planted it hoping for the best, but it seems to be in a very slow decline. So I’m going to plant another one, hopefully not so root-bound and that will maybe either give it a boost (plants of the same species will often help each other when sick by transferring nutrients) or else take over when the first one dies.

052. Geum aleppicum (yellow avens) I didn’t plant this, and I can’t find it for sale anywhere anyway, but it’s a common plant that shows up as a weed. Being native as well as edible, it’s allowed to stay wherever it isn’t directly in my way.

053. Geum canadense (white avens) Same as above. lol Anyway, both species have attractive foliage. They’re likely not used as garden plants because of how common they are as weeds and because their flower stalks are long and leggy. But I’m happy to have them.

054. Geum rivale (purple avens) Newly planted! This one is offered as a garden plant, though fairly rare, and I’ve finally got my hands on one! All of the Geum species in my garden seem to be doing just fine, so I expect this will fine too. It’s the first plant I’ve put in a new area that doesn’t drain very well which makes it perfect for plants like this one that grow in clay on stream banks.

055. Geum triflorum (prairie smoke) Green leaves. Flower stalks up. This is a pretty reliable plant because it doesn’t die back in the winter, it just sort of sits there waiting for spring and then resumes growth like nothing happened. The first year it drooped a lot but once it established itself there was no stopping it and the transplant went smoothly too.

056. Grindelia squarrosa (gumweed) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

057. Helianthus divaricatus (woodland sunflower) This is a sunflower that can actually stand a fair bit of shade. I thought mine had died last year due to the foliage and stemming dying back after a squirrel broke it and it and it was still summer. But it’s come up this year and I’m starting to think nothing short of cooking a sunflower’s roots will actually kill it.

058 and 059. Helianthus nuttalli (Nuttall’s sunflower/common tall sunflower) and Helianthus pauciflorus (stiff sunflower/beautiful sunflower) All I know is, I ordered both, I received two small plants, by the time I got them in the ground they were barely alive, that area is now being overtaken by sunflowers, and it could be one species, or it could be both, I don’t know. I did thin out some shoots this spring and add them to a very flavourful pasta sauce. I also thinned out a bunch of their roots last fall. To look at them, you wouldn’t know that either of these had happened, and I’m going to have to thin out more. They’re also putting up shoots between the stones of the cement path. There will be sunflowers here until the end of time.

060. Helianthus tuberosus (sunchoke/Jerusalem artichoke/suntato) Because I don’t learn, I planted yet another sunflower species last year, in a different area, because dammit I want my suntatoes that taste like artichokes. I planted one last year. I took and ate a bunch of tubers in the fall. There are currently five plants. This should be interesting.

061. Heliopsis helianthoides (false sunflower/sweet oxeye) After getting off to a rocky start last year, this one’s doing just fine, and also looks to be living up to its resemblance to sunflowers in more than just appearance.

062. Hibiscus moscheutos (swamp rose mallow) One of them appears to have died so I hope the other isn’t headed the same direction. Seems to be coming up normally though. Also I learned the flowers can change colour from year to year which was a huge surprise to me from the first year to the second. No idea what it will be like this year.

063. Hierochloe odorata (sweet grass/vanilla grass) It flowered last year, which was lovely. I hope it does so again this year. Foliage is nice and green anyhow.

064. Humulus lupulus (common hop) Growing nicely now, though its first several shoots died this year. It seems to just be a very impatient plant in the springtime despite not being very frost hardy. So it put out shoots, which died in the frost, and then put out more, which also died, etc. until finally there was no more frost so it just kept growing. That’s one way to do it, I guess. lol Most other frost-tender plants tend to be more cautious about when they put out new growth.  had a hop plant at my old apartment, which really liked the place I put I put it in, but it died when I potted it to try and take with me.

065. Impatiens capensis (jewelweed/spotted touch-me-not) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

066. Juglans nigra (black walnut) This tree has likely been on this property since before I was born. I tapped it spring before last. I’ll tap it next spring too. Seems to be a healthy tree.

067. Kalmia latifolia (mountain laurel) They’re not native to Ontario but they are native to eastern North America, in the Appalachian mountains. I figured if they could survive mountain weather they could handle south Ontario winters, and so far it has. It’s not edible but I fell in love with them a long time ago when reading David Attenborough’s The Secret Life of Plants. And they’re making buds this year!

068. Lactuca canadensis (Canadian lettuce) Yes! We have a native lettuce. Most people will pull it up as a weed along with dandelions and thistles, though. I let it stay wherever possible. It’s not like I can just buy a new one, so I count myself lucky when they come up in my garden.

069. Lilium michiganense (Michigan lily) It made smaller ones, but they don’t seem to have survived for whatever reason. The older ones are very robust this year, though, and are budding with what looks like will be many flowers.

070. Lilium philadelphicum (wood lily) Newly planted! I have not had much luck with these, but hopefully this year’s the year. I have two plants, so maybe they’ll help each other.

071. Lindera benzoin (spicebush) No flowers or butterflies yet, but it’s a healthy bush and lives up to its name.

072. Linum lewisii (blue flax) Newly planted! I’ve wanted these for a long time but the places that carried them either wouldn’t deliver or didn’t have them as plugs or potted stock (I find seeds too unreliable). But now I have a couple in the large stone garden pot that I specifically filled with dirt that would allow for good drainage, for those plants that can survive the cold but not sitting in water.

073. Lupinus perennis (sundial lupine) Soon! Or I already have it. Not sure. See, I was sent an email by the company saying I’d probably accidentally gotten a bigleaf lupine instead and they gave me a coupon for the following spring to get a confirmed sundial lupine, but there is a chance I already have it. Either way it’s a nice plant, so whether I have two plants of the same species or two different species is fine.

074. Lupinus polyphyllus (bigleaf lupine/common lupine) I actually haven’t been able to find this species available for delivery anywhere, so if that is what I currently have, then I’m delighted and this is the best plant mixup that could possibly happen (there have been a number). Whatever it is is a very attractive plant even with just the foliage. I hope it makes flowers this year.

075. Mahonia repens (creeping Oregon grape) Speaking of plant mixups! The first time I ordered this I got a Potentilla nepalensis instead. I didn’t know it at the time, as it had a tag saying “Mahonia repens”, but then it flowered...I wouldn’t have minded terribly much if it had been a native Potentilla species, but “nepalensis” is definitely not that. Well, I emailed the company with a photo and they promptly delivered not one, but two creeping Oregon grape plants, and both seem to be doing okay, making new growth, survived the winter, which the potentilla did not.

076. Maianthemum stellatum (starry false Solomon’s seal) They seem to be doing well! They flowered, but I don’t know if there will be berries. Next year maybe, but then you don’t really see Maianthemum berries until late summer, so maybe there will be a couple this year.

077. Mentha arvensis (wild mint) It’s doing exactly what mint does. Tastes wonderful, which is a great reason for thinning it out and pulling it out from between the sidewalk stones.

078. Mertensia paniculata (tall bluebells) Currently flowering. Despite the name, though they do grow taller than their cousin the Virginia bluebells, I wouldn’t say they’re a bigger plant overall. Very nice though. The flowers are a delicate light blue.

079. Mertensia virginica (Virginia bluebells) When I planted the rootstock in the early summer and nothing came up at all, I thought they had died. But nope! They came up vigorously this spring, with huge leaves and incredibly blue flowers. The flowers are don and it’s starting to die back now, but what a gorgeous springtime plant it is.

080. Monarda didyma (scarlet beebalm) My theory is if you put two members of the mint family next to each other, they’ll keep each other at bay. I’m probably wrong. Anyway, this is already spreading in two directions. Last year caterpillars at a lot of its flowers. I hope that won’t happen this year.

081. Monarda fistulosa (wild bergamot) Has become a very big plant, but politely hasn’t really left it’s immediate area. They make great dried flowers after the winter, by the way, as the seedheads retain the scent. Especially if you squeeze them.

082. Monarda punctata (horsemint) This is starting to fill out now, but compared to the other members of its genus took a very long time to go past a teeny tiny little growth. Last year it got huge shortly after I planted it, so we’ll see if it does that this year. I hope so. The bees, wasps, and other pollinators absolutely loved it.

083. Myosotis laxa (smallflower forget-me-not) I didn’t plant it, I can’t even find it available for sale. It just grows as a weed. It’s just as blue as other forget-me-nots, but with stems that are very leggy and even smaller flowers than the popular garden species. But it’s native so it stays where it’s not directly in my way. It’s very prolific, lots of plants in the garden.

084. Myrica gale (sweet gale/bog myrtle) Only just started making new growth. It seems to be on its way out and I’m not sure why, but it makes me sad. I think last year was really hard on it being so hot so early and I didn’t have a hose then, so I was stuck carrying buckets of water up from my apartment in the basement. But I have a hose this year and I’ve been watering regularly, so maybe, just maybe, it will spring back into action this year. It’s such a pretty bush when in full foliage and the leaves taste like green tea.

085. Oenothera fruticosa (narrow-leaved sundrops) Next weekend! I’ve grown another species which has finished its lifecycle (they’re biennial) and sadly doesn’t seem to have successfully reseeded itself. But maybe this one will.

086. Onoclea sensibilis (sensitive fern) This poor thing struggled hard last year. I planted it between a tree and the house, but it still got a lot of sunlight. Still, it came up this year, and in my experience, second year plants tend to be much more hardy, so we’ll see. It’s doing fine for now.

087. Opuntia fragilis (fragile prickly pear) I did put it in a fairly dry area that gets full sun, but it does struggle in the winter and spring. It is starting to bounce back, though, just like it did last year, and the pieces it scattered are making roots of their own. All of whom are spiky bastards.

088. Opuntia humifusa (eastern prickly pear/devil’s tongue) This did just fine. I had it in a big stone pot which I moved to an area that gets no rain or snow on it, and it’s making new growth now that I’ve moved the pot back into the full sun. It like to spike me whenever I move the pot.

089. Osmundastrum cinnamomeum (cinnamon fern) Next weekend!

090. Oxalis stricta (yellow woodsorrel/sourgrass) It’s not technically native to Ontario, but it is native to Michigan and moved up here decades or possibly centuries ago. I didn’t plant it and you can’t find it in stores because it’s considered a weed, but it is coming up in my garden, it doesn’t hurt anything, and it is a delicious little plant, so it stays.

091. Parthenocissus quinquefolia (Virginia creeper) I didn’t have to buy this because it was already in the yard (it’s common in the ravines), but if it wasn’t I would have, because it’s gorgeous and I like the taste of the berries. It’s a native relative of Boston ivy, so if you’re wanting a wall climber, please get Virginia creeper instead. They’re available at a lot of garden centres and online.

092. Phlox divaricata (woodland phlox/blue phlox) It’s growing, but I think one of the white avens is overcrowding it, so I’ll probably dig that one up and eat it so the phlox can have more space.

093. Podophyllum peltatum (mayapple) Three plants in last year. One plant up this year. Oh well. It’s growing nicely, so hopefully it will spread.

094. Polygonatum biflorum (smooth Solomon’s seal) Hopefully coming by the end of this month!

095. Polystichum achrosticoides (Christmas fern) It doesn’t die back in the winter! I mean, the leaves get kind of yellowed, but otherwise just hangs out and makes new growth in spring. My first attempt with ferns (ostrich ferns) was a failure, but so far all my other fern species have been successful and are currently thriving.

096. Prunus americana (American plum) It’s very top heavy when leafed so it flops over whenever it rains which is kind of funny, but it seems to be doing fine.

097. Prunus nigra (black plum/Canada plum) My first black plum died, but this one seems fine.

098. Prunus pumila (sand cherry) Soon! And it better bloody be a sand cherry and not a purple-leaf sandcherry, which is a hybrid, like the last company I ordered one from sent me. But that company didn’t specialize in native plants and carried both plants, whereas this company does specialize in native plants and does not advertise the hybrid at all.

099. Prunus serotina (black cherry) This is the very cherry that is used to flavour black cherry ice cream! But my little tree (not that little anymore lmao) hasn’t made flowers yet. It has nice foliage though it keeps trying to grow into the neighbour’s fence. Don’t know why. The sun doesn’t come from there. Maybe it will flower next spring.

100. Pycnanthemum tenufolium (slender mountain mint) Despite being part of the mint family, this is actually a very polite plant so far that stays in its immediate area.

101. Pycnanthemum virginiana (Virginia mountain mint) Just as polite as its cousin. My first died and I blame the person who lived in another unit who decided that garden bed was an ash tray. I managed to put a stop to that, got all the cigarettes out, dug out a stump, added new dirt, and planted a new Virginia mountain mint as well as bride’s feathers. That particular tenant isn’t there anymore and nobody else does anything with the outside, except to put a garden hyacinth there, which I’ve left in its pot and been watering. I’m not just going to leave the poor thing to die. Anyway, the Virginia mountain mint flowered last year and I hope it does so again this year.

102. Ratibida columnifera (yellow coneflower/upright prairie coneflower) Newly planted! I don’t like to get the cultivar versions if I can avoid it, but I will if that’s all that’s available, or in this case, to get the plants I really wanted, I needed to get something that would put me over the minimum cost. But I didn’t want to leave it at that, so I bought a non-cultivar this year so they can be friends.

103. Ratibida pinnata (gray-headed coneflower/yellow coneflower/pinnate prairie coneflower) This almost flowered last year and the I accidentally broke it with the hose. That will not happen this year. I don’t see a flower stalk yet, but the leaves look healthy.

104. Rhus aromatica (fragrant sumac) It’s putting out flowers, but it did so last year and nothing happened, so I guess we’ll see this year.

105. Rosa blanda (smooth rose) A rose without thorns! Or almost. It’s got leaves out, but it’s a slow grower for a rose and hasn’t flowered yet.

106. Rubus occidentalis (black raspberry) This was supposed to be a red raspberry because black raspberries are easy to find in the ravines, but that’s okay, and I did order a new red raspberry which will hopefully actually be red. lol

107. Rubus strigosus (American red raspberry) Soon! Sometimes considered a variety of Rubus idaeus, which is the one you find in grocery stores. There is one patch I’ve found of them in the ravines, but they’re not nearly as common here as the black raspberry. Hopefully this new plant I get will actually be the red raspberry.

108. Rudbeckia laciniata (cutleaf coneflower/green-headed coneflower) There are two plants with very different leaves growing there. One of them I hope is the plant I intended, but won’t know until they flowers. They’re both doing well, whatever they are.

109. Sambucus canadensis (common elderberry) It’s making flowers this year! I learned the hard way that this species does NOT like being transplanted to a pot, which I had to do to take with me to my current apartment. However, it did eventually bounce back and didn’t mind being transplanted to its current location, which it likes just fine.

110. Shepherdia canadensis (Canada buffaloberry) Next weekend!

111. Solidago canadensis (Canadian goldenrod) I tried to buy this plant but they accidentally sent me an aster species instead. However, there are a bunch of goldenrods growing a different area that I didn’t plant and I believe to be this species.

112. Solidago nemoralis (gray goldenrod) Droops a lot but bounces back quickly.

113. Solidago simplex (spike goldenrod/sticky goldenrod/Mt. Albert Goldenrod) I’ve tried this once before and it died, possibly from being small enough that the ledge it was next to prevented it from getting enough sunlight. I’ve planted the new one far enough from the ledge that it does not get shaded by it, so hopefully that will do the trick.

114. Spiraea alba (meadowsweet) The first year in the new place it struggled a bit, but it’s fine now and it flowered last year.

115. Symphoricarpos orbiculatus (coralberry) Next weekend! It’s also the first time I’ve seen it available anywhere.

116. Symphyotrichum ciliolatum (fringed blue aster/Lindley’s aster/northern heart-leaved aster) A very polite aster, or maybe it’s just being kept under control by the sweet grass (055). Its foliage is that lovely gray-green colour often referred to as “blue” when people talk about holly, spruce, and hosta leaves, and its flowers are that pale blue people often think of as purple or periwinkle but shows up digitally as light blue.

117. Symphyotrichum cordifolium (heart-leaved aster) Doing fine where I planted it.

118. Symphyotrichum laeve (smooth aster) I didn’t have the tag and thought this was a violet when I planted it. It now thinks it owns the space, but looks very nice when it’s in bloom.

119. Symphyotrichum lanceolatum (panicled aster/lance-leaf aster/willow aster/tall white aster/eastern line aster/white-panicle aster/narrow-leaf Michaelmas daisy) Lots of common names. It decided it belonged on the sidewalk last year, but surprisingly agreed when I placed its branches behind the stone line of the garden. We’ll see if we can come to the same agreement this year.

120. Symphyotrichum novae-angliae (New England aster) Not flowering yet this year, but looks it’s getting ready. They’re such a lovely rich violet to purple and I love that they flower so late into autumn too.

121. Taraxacum officinale ceratophorum (fleshy dandelion/horned dandelion/rough dandelion) Obviously didn’t buy it. lol But it is in my garden along with non-native subspecies. Since they don’t harm the plants they grow among, they can stay as long as they’re not in my way.

122. Trillium erectum (red trillium) Next weekend! And I possibly already have one. See, I ordered three trillium species last year as bulbs and planted them, but lost two of the tags. Only two species came up and only the one with the tag flowered this year. So I don’t know if the one that didn’t flower was erectum or grandifolium, so I ordered both again.

123. Trillium flexipes (nodding trillium) It came up this year and it was lovely. Died back now though.

124. Trillium grandiflorum (great white trillium) Next weekend! And I might already have one: see 109. Ontario’s provincial flower. I once made a set of coat of arms style designs with each of the provincial flowers and animals.

125. Urtica dioica gracilis (stinging nettle) Planted itself in my garden back at the old place and if I didn’t trust the other plants would be safe after I left (I was right, by the way; the whole backyard has been turned over) I definitely didn’t think this would be either, so I potted it to take with and got stung for my trouble, but it’s happy in its new home. Lives up to its name, of course, but I did eat a few of the tops earlier this year in soup and later in pasta sauce, so I suppose we’re even.

126. Vaccinium angustifolium (lowbush blueberry/wild blueberry) When you see “wild blueberries” in the grocery store in Ontario, it’s this. It always seems to struggle with mould in the spring. Every year I’ve had it. I got it a friend in hopes it would help, but they seem to both be dealing with it now. I’ll have cut back the bad branches and hope that helps. It usually does, but I don’t know why it starts in the first place. None of the neighbouring plants are suffering.

127. Vaccinium corymbosom (highbush blueberry) This is the species you’ll most often see in the grocery store in Ontario as “blueberries”. My bush always makes some flowers and berries, but it’s not doing great right now. Not sure why. It doesn’t get mould the way the lowbush blueberries do. I hope it’s not on its way out. You can get them at a lot of garden centres, but there’s usually a minimum amount of plants or a minimum cost, and garden centres that specialize in native plants don’t often carry these, while garden centres that don’t often don’t have any other native species or at least not any I need or have room for. So for my purposes they’re kind of hard to get.

128. Verbena hastata (blue vervain) Was off to a slow start this year, but it’s doing just fine now.

129. Viburnum acerifolium (mapleleaf viburnum) Next weekend!

130. Viburnum lentago (nannyberry) It’s doing fine, just fine, but I doubt I’ll get any berries for some time yet.

131. Viburnum nudum cassinoides (Witherod viburnum) A lovely little bush so far. Maybe I’ll get flowers next spring.

132. Viola adunca (hookedspur violet/western dog violet/early blue violet) Hopefully coming by the end of this month! My first go with this plant was not successful. Hopefully better luck this time.

133. Viola blanda (sweet white violet) Exactly what it says on the tin. There’s a delicate pink to the centre, and the foliage is nice too.

134. Viola canadensis (Canada violet) It’s tall for a violet, and spreading nicely with lots of flowers.

135. Viola labradorica (purple Labrador violet) Next weekend! Despite it’s name, it is also native to Ontario.

136. Viola sororia (wood violet/blue violet) This is most common violet you see generally, which makes it hard, though not impossible, to find in garden centres. However, they’ve planted themselves in the yard and I’ve successfully transferred one to one of the beds. I have other place I want to put the rest before I dig up that area.

137. Vitis riparia (riverbank grape) I have two plants because I didn’t realize when I bought it that hiding among the weeds in another part of the garden there already was one. Oh well. Guaranteed cross-pollination of two genetically diverse individuals. They’re both doing well.

138. Zizia aurea (golden alexanders) They’re doing well. It looks a lot like wild parsnip, which it is related to, but it’s much more friendly, and I ate some this spring.

I may be able to order more. We’ll see. One of my go-to places says they won’t ship until “opening day”. I guess they mean when their area reopens, but that might not be till next year. Meantime, I will continue to construct my garden wall in the back.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Harry Onion

Debut: Rhythm Tengoku, or Game & Wario, if you’re looking for a Mario-series debut

We’ve on break for quite a while, haven’t we? Truth is, I’m not sure if we’re even off-break yet. I’d have to ask the other mods. But anyway, today is a Friday, possibly funky, possibly not funky! It’s honestly hard to tell which, since we’ve been on-break for so long, and I’m not willing to check, so instead, let’s talk about an entity that could be viewed either way: Harry Onion!

Harry Onion is a hairy onion. This much is clear, I mean. Look at him. He has a mustache, he grows hairs on his chinny-chin-chin, sure it’s not much hair, but to be fair: onions don’t usually have this much hair! They usually don’t have hair at all! That’s what peaches are for! An onion that can grow a mustache and a beard is almost certainly a hairy onion. And what better name for a hairy onion than Harry Onion? None I can think of.

As it is known, there is a LOT of cross-over between Rhythm Heaven and WarioWare. It makes sense, really, they’re two games made by the same developers with the same artists that happen to both be minigame collections! Would someone not versed in both series even know what game that picture is from?! (The correct answer is Rhythm Heaven Megamix.) This means that characters from one often appear in the other, and vice versa!

While Harry Onion is technically a Rhythm Heaven character, they have made a few appearances in the Wario series!

I mean LOOK! Do you see him? Riiiiiggght...

There. Bam! Harry Onion was in Game & Wario so Harry Onion is legally a Mario character. This is how this works. Do not argue with this.

Sure, this is a blink-and-you’d-miss-it cameo, but consider that Harry Onion has his name listed in the credits. He has his own artwork for this game (seen at the top of the post). Maybe we underestimate the importance of Harry Onion. Maybe Harry Onion is the only thing holding this entire game together. Maybe if Harry Onion didn’t appear right there, at that exact moment, Game & Wario would’ve fallen apart and it would be sad and it would be bad and no one would give the game good reviews! Imagine that. A universe where a Wario game doesn’t get good reviews. That universe sounds terrible, and I’m glad I’m not living in it.

Despite his role being (seemingly) minor in this game, however, the next game in the series decided it was Harry Onion’s time to shine. Why, in WarioWare Gold, he gets his own microgame! Let’s take a look!

wait isn’t this just rhythm tweezers from rhythm tengoku

I guess you can’t really talk about Harry Onion without talking about the game series he was born in. It’s just not right. It’s not ethical. And so now it’s time to flip our focus from WarioWare to its weird sister of sorts, Rhythm Heaven. It is from Rhythm Heaven where Harry Onion was born, and it is in Rhythm Heaven where Harry Onion will die. I must agree with Mod Chikako that Rhythm Heaven is one of the best game series ever, I only got into it back in late August, but since then, I’ve perfected nearly every minigame in the series, save for Wii Remix 10! I heavily recommend it, especially since Nintendo needs to take a hint that we need more Rhythm Heaven in this world.

Harry Onion is the star of the Rhythm Tweezers minigame, a call-and-response minigame where Harry Onion will grow hairs to the rhythm, and you must pluck them to the rhythm. Though, saying it’s just Harry Onion would be kind of misleading, given there are plenty of different Hair Vegetables!

Beets, potatoes, turnips, and even fruits like pumpkins and watermelons have all been hairy before! But you must pluck ‘em all the same.

The Rhythm Tweezers minigame returns in Rhythm Heaven Megamix, where they’ve moved to a purple void and have been slightly redesigned, but it doesn’t play any differently. The same game gave us the Machine Remix, which has Hairy Lightbulbs!

DO NOT TRY TO EAT THESE

Of course, before you pluck off their hairs, you must pluck them out of the ground, which is what a DS minigame called Crop Stomp is about!

In this game, you are the Stomp Farmer plucking Hair Vegetables (including Harry Onion) out of the ground, as I just said. And I just think that is delightful. I think the Stomp Farmer is delightful. I would let him pluck hairy vegetables out of the ground for me.

However, reading material in Rhythm Heaven DS suggests that apparently these vegetables are also eaten, which I do not want to think about!

That’s about all I have to say about the Hair Vegetables, aside from one last thing, which is that some people find their faces disturbing. I guess I should’ve mentioned that before the end of the post. But originally, they were meant to have actual, human faces shopped on, and the developers found THAT too disturbing, so if you find them disturbing, feel glad they settled on this compromise. Still, I can’t help but wonder what the human faces would look like...