#king sugar bush

[helluvatimes]

Two Kings One Bush

King Sugar Bush (Protea cynaroides) blooming in autumn in the spring environment of the Flower Dome. Photo credit: Jonathan Chua.

[thebotanicalarcade]

n592_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: The botanist's repository, for new, and rare plants :. London :Printed by T. Bensley, and published by the author ... :1797-[1815]. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/36004439

[nkogneatho]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

—a/n: ngl i cooked. overcooked even, so imagine some of the nastiest shit, this has it all. if i studied this much in my exams i would have a higher CGPA. anyways. hex codes are given. hope you like it.

—cw: dick+pubes+balls+cum analysis (kill me pls), monsterfucking in sukunas, creampie and breeding, never heard phrases from my dicktionary, not proofread plus it's 4 am i am half asleep

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

code: length: #ffe8d6 , tip: #f2aab7

We all know it. King of long dick. okay but no fr he has the longest dick in jjk. but let's get to the details. so size?? a whopping 7 inches. but you know his dick does this thing that when it gets hard, it curves slightly so hey!! maybe the true size is 7.2 or something. about color...his cock has the same color as his normal skin tone but as it approaches to the tip, it falls under a blushing pink gradient. and god his tip is so pink when he's hard, it feels likes all the blood in his body is settling there. his pubes hmm? white bush. he does trim it tho. but c'mon man!! it's gojo satoru we're talking about. he gets off seeing your nose rubbing against his white trim when you deepthroat him. also it's very rare for people to deepthroat him because as i said, longest dick. which is why when you actually manage to take him all the way in, the rare feeling of the throat sucking in has him shooting his translucent load down your throat. how does his cum taste? slightly sweet. duh. he's a sweet tooth and the reason he doesn't get diabetes is because all the sugar goes into his semen.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

code: length: #ad8272 , tip: #875f54

*long inhale* bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock. incase i wasn't clear. he has a BIG FAT FUCKING COCK. he has the cock of our dreams. his size is long and girth is thick asf. length would be about 6.8 or 6.7. well about the girth...3.5 inches. yeah. good luck sucking that in your hole lmao. let's get to the tone. his cock has much darker color than his body. he has one of those milktea brown cocks. and the cockhead is even darker like coffee. oh wait! the cockhead. right. so hear me out. DID YOU KNOW HE HAS A FAT MUSHROOM TIP? the kind that is so thick that it gets lowkey stuck in your hole when he pulls out. my man has to tell you to breathe and relax so he can get it out. about his balls, bitch they're as the same size as big lemons. like you know why he wears those baggy bottoms otherwise everyone would see those nuts easily. they're not even nuts. nuts are dry. his have so much cum inside that if he doesn't shoot his load in you or on you once a day, they'll actually explode. cum taste? i said it before here but incase you're new here, it tastes like if someone put a little lemon and msg in thick and creamy alfredo sauce. bye.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

code: length: #c99a89 , tip: #fcd7ca

*evil laugh* i am not holding back on him but hear me out. HORSE COCK. have you seen it?? it's like curvy girthy cock. me thinks he has long hair and broad shoulders. and have you seen his hands??? it all sums up. isn't as long as gojo but god that meat is fat as fuck. his size has to be around 6 inches and the girth from a 2d angle is about 2 so i found the pythagorean theorem of his cock which is like 6.324 inches. so his tip starts at like 5.324 inches. about the tone...his dick starts darker—or maybe it's cuz of his pubes—at the base but as it reaches towards the head, it blends into the color of his skin tone. geto likes to clean shave sometimes but you know when he saw you drooling over his happy trail when he came out of the shower with a flimsy towel wrapped around his body, yeah he couldn't get that drooling expression of yours out of his head. so he trims it to the length that wouldn't get in the way and is easy to keep it clean but also enough to make you salivate. his balls are very similar to a fig in shape. aren't really fat but they grow hella tight when he is close to cumming. the taste of his cum is sour. i am telling you. like not too sour but it sorta has the acidic taste to it. but nonetheless it tastes good on your tongue. on his too, when he kisses you after shooting a load in your mouth

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

code: length: #e8cca9 , tip: #b59267

chooo choo mfs. i am about to go off. dw i won't slander him, he has already suffered enough. #justicefornanami but anyways back with my girthy cock agenda. now listen. he is not long. i mean he has an average size but the girth??? sheesh! that makes up for it. his length has to be like 5.8 or max to max 6 though gotta love that 4 inches girth, big fat meat, exceeeding half the size of his length. now if you don't understand this concept in numericals, let me indulge you in a scenario that might help. imagine him coming home frustrated from work and all he needs is a warm shower. but there you are all slutty in your outfit and all he wants to do is blow your back out. so he gets hard...like really hard. and it's so painful for his cock to stay put under all those layers of cloth that if he doesn't free it, it will tear it's fat way out. so when he finally decides to unbuckle the belt, pull his undies down with the waistband, his cock jumps out and slaps against his shaved pelvis. so loud that you can hear it over the noise of the tv. now you get it? no? okay hear this one. when he wears an underwear coming fresh out of the shower, his dick takes up about the area similar to a size of a bowl. about his tip, he has a fat tip bruh. not too fat because the base is much thick but yeah. now time for the taste, mixture of citrusy and salty. like when he cums in your tongue it has that salty flavor but the after taste is sweeter and falls more of the citrusy side. maybe like a tangerine. wow i really went off. apologies everyone.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

code: base: #805149 , length: #f5d7c6 , tip: #edc8bb

i am in my monsterfucking era so this is gonna be monster kuna. so we all know four arms, two dicks yada yada yada but did you know sukuna has a special ability?? like we all know he can summon his mouth anywhere but did you know he can summon his dick too? anywhere on his body. he does this thing where if you act too bratty, he'd throw his palm your mouth and you'd think he's just blocking your voice but this mf pops out a whole ass 8 inch monster cock in your mouth that has you gagging and choking, eyes rolling back. *728 dead. 263 injured* there's no size for kuna since he can adjust the size but if we're talking tones, the base of his cocks (wow. plural. would you look at that) have reddish undertone. like tomato red but the actual dickbod has like peachy pink color. his cockhead is long and kinda blends into the length. his cum tastes bitter and sour. not repellent but the taste is still strong. don't underestimate this man though. he'll rip your holes apart yet have you begging him for more. that's what simply is the power of the king of curses. he has you compelled. but i gotta give it to sukuna fuckers. y'all have some of the strongest pussy/ass.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

code: length: #f2e7c4 , tip: #d6b596

chosito's cock represents a shampoo bottle. now you might ask which one. the retail shampoo bottle that you use as your mic in the shower. he has a pretty and perfect dick. his girth is thick enough for you to wrap your fingers around you and his length enough to fill you up. whenever you stroke his cock, you can't stop looking at it. it just fits right. like it was made for you. so perfect. his size falls under 5.6 to 5.9 inches and the girth is 2.5 inches, so it's like a good ratio. he has an olive undertone and a darker mushroom tip. his pubes aren't trimmed but he keeps them extra clean. you know it because whenever you give him a blowjob and you take him all the way in, there is a floral smell lingering around the area. he doesn't naturally sweat a lot plus he has a very bouncy skin with slightly soft texture so his cock is always pleasant to suck. choso also has very visible veins. and when i mean very...i mean very. like i mentioned his skin has a soft texture so the skin on his length is flimsy and kinda see through. so when you are settled between his legs, stroking him, your eyes are so indulged in watching the blood rush through them and when he cums, his veins start slightly moving and his balls tightens. Oh! Balls. can i say it?? okay i'll say it. Breeder balls. i told you he has a 5.6 inch cock, y'all would have been disappointed. but see the creator of this universe took a few mass off his dick only for it to be filled in them breeder balls. which is why, he cums a lot. when he shoots a load, he almost gives you a facial. his cum is sweet with a metallic taste. but hey! it's a pleasure to swallow his cum. but you know why i compared his cock to a shampoo bottle? it because when he is so horny and hard and you give his base a few big squeezes, he'll spurt out a thick load of cum like your shampoo.

Tags: @bluberrimuffintop @anxious-chick @yuujispinkhair @osamwah @arisaturn @multistan-247 @sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast @mrskokushibo @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @crescentmoontsuki @dianagracesworld @ariachaos @pu-re-love @trueformsukuna @loyal-to-my-dilf @baizzhu @w0nderbeluga @splatmastr   @vuggevise @makisslut @moonish-en @lufemia @jeanboyjean @marshadowstea @frustrated-kitten @katsukichu @sir-kuroo @aleks-chan @dreadsuitsamus @justiceforquentin @kitashousewife @jiaspoon @sintiva @dawn-bunni @mostlyhornyandsad @dilfslayer3000 @shadowy--night @palebananafury @shutyourwhoremouthbecky @figlia-della-luna @marenalee @aoitoge @lahniu @kayjayxx @seraphinaivy @megumistoehair

[luv3rrx]

Let's talk about cum and cock with the kings and a bonus at the end

Mdni or I will eat your kidneys

Lucifer; So...let's start with Lucifer since he is big, he's 30cm (11 inches) which will kiss your cervix/prostate,he has a pretty tip pink-ish like blush it's faint,he's also a few veins on his cock and yes he trims,he doesn't have a full bush he trims and his cock is curvy,like it curves but it's also straight not like a ruler

Mammon: So your sugar daddy is 27,5cm (10,8 inches) another cervix/prostate kisser,so for him he has pink tip, visible veins but he doesn't have too many of 'em,also he trims,his cock isn't straight it bend at the right angle making you cum many times. His cum is thick like gold get it,I'm so funny but srs it's thick but it's not too salty

Leviathan; Pretty boy alert, so Leviathan is 18,5 cm (7 inches) he is the right amount of cock okay? You don't need any further than that,he has a pretty tip,a faint blush pink,but ngl he looks like he has straight cock, because he goes straight to the point. Veins and they are visible also this man shaves so no trim/happy trail. His cum is slightly liquid like milk liquid in a way

Satan; Okay for Mr. Possessive he's 19cm (7 inches) the right amount that you need!! Trust me, anyways,hot pink tip,curvy cock and he trims,you will see that happy trails,lots of visible veins. His cum is dense,I mean it stains your cloths and when you swallow you can hear it

Beelzebub; So Pussy eater is 21 cm (8 inches) perfect size okay? No one needs too much cock okay great!! His tip is tan and he has a happy trail,a little bush never hurts anyone and he has a few veins not too many veins,for his cum it's also dense like Satan and it's salty (bc he smokes)

Bonus!;

Michael the seraphim; ...this man is 38 cm (14 inches) no one needs to pack that amount of cock in theirs pants,is he trying to kill people with it? Anyways,pretty pink tip,has veins,he shaves. His cum is liquid

[decodedlvr]

smut-fluff-angst (includes other ST characters) [MDNI]

As long as I’m with you- Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had (tw)

King Steve doesn’t exist- (Steddie) ft. Billy Hargrove

Steve Harringtons deepest secret gets revealed, but will the freak accept him? Will he runaway from him like everyone else? Does size really matter?

Shy my ass - (short) Steve Harrington x you - you’ve always imagined riding your boyfriends big nose

Bio- (short) Steve Harrington x you - Steve watching you fuck your self on his c*ck

The band-aid to my wounds- Older Eddie fic (ft. Steve x kurt kunkle x reader)

After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

Headcanons / blurbs / imagines

Trans Steve getting his groove back

Convincing Steve to take your v-card

Hot and bothered by their black gf (steddie)

Grinding yourself innocent perv self on Steve’s hand

Struggling to get wet (steddie)

Soft Stevie

Perv cyclist Steve

Steve’s nickname 4 u

Older Steve loves a bush

Fucking Steve while thinking about Eddie

Dilf Steve discovers new kinks

(Steddie) helping chronically ill reader feel better

Sugar daddy Steve moodboard

Sweater weather moodboard, strangers to lovers

Dancing with R&B Steve

Angelic Stancy

Beefy Steve

Hunt me down

Bi Steve

Businessman or dancer Steve imagine

Smash? Smash.

———— extras

Billy Hargrove loves plus size women

Dom Nancy / fruity four headcanons

Robins an angel

Argyles favorite positions

⤬ reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ⤬

[deluxewhump]

Pride of Princes

4. Forget Your Perfect Offering

Prev Masterlist

CW: medieval fantasy, torture mention, threat of execution, kissing, lightly implied sexual content, bed sharing, arguably dubious consent

As his physical state improved, the prince took him out of castle Blackmuir. Not far, but outside the keep, which he’d never seen since he arrived at night. Aedric showed him some of his favorite horses, who Roan fed cubes of sugar from his hand. He took him to the glass garden, a timber frame structure with walls and a roof of clear glass Aedric had commissioned for his second peaceweaver, Miline, so she could have southerly fruits year-round. Inside was an orange grove, and when Roan admitted he’d never tried one fresh, only dried, Aedric insisted he pull one from a branch and try it right there.

Despite the court undoubtedly knowing all about Roan Barrowfen’s refusal to convert, no one outside the keep gave him a second glance. Some would look at the prince, in his black and silver doublet and his kidleather boots, but that was because he was the prince. The late summer air was soft, and still warm. He thought of the raspberry bushes that grew on the southern walls of his own keep, and how they would be fit for picking now, the fruits ripe and swollen with sunlight.

As they sat on a bench in the grove, Aedric asked him questions about the reaches, about his father’s house. He wanted to know who shared his father’s stalwart loyalty to the Tercet, and who might be more inclined to the old ways. Roan was less than forthcoming, at first. If it was such a crime now, why would he implicate his own countrymen? Prince Aedric sensed the mood had grown uneasy, a little too close to an interrogation. He eased his questions. “I promise I don’t ask for any odious purpose,” he said.

Roan nodded curtly at the clarification. “Thank you.”

Prince Aedric was nothing if not clear. And Roan was starting to think he might be honest, too.

Every night, Roan found himself warm and dry in the prince’s suite, waiting for him to return. He assumed there was a litany of things that kept the prince busy during the day, though he never spoke of what. Only later would he understand what kept him out so late, returning only when it was long past dark and the candles were lit.

To avoid the scrutiny of those inside the keep, Roan took his meals at the table beneath the window in the prince’s rooms. He was afraid of wandering the keep by himself, even though the king himself had granted Prince Aedric full custody of him until his trial. The thought of recognizing a soldier, guard, or even worse, the pale-eyed cleric Alfonsus sent ice through his veins.

Sometimes it was a servant from the kitchens who brought his meals to him, sometimes a girl called Juliana, who Aedric said was Miline’s handmaid. He’d not yet met Esther, Miline, or Aedric’s young daughter, Esti. He supposed he was a prisoner on borrowed time, and it would be easier for them to ignore his presence. Perhaps Juliana was sent by Miline, just to bring back any details or gossip she could about him.

He’d begun sharing Aedric’s bed, but not intimately. He slept on the far right, and Aedric on the left, several feet between them that may as well have been a chasm, and never with the curtains drawn. Aedric insisted he sleep on the bed after he’d spent the first night on a stiff wooden couch. I won’t touch you, the prince had promised, and Roan had balked at the mere mention of intimacy between them, even if it was the lack thereof being mentioned.

But as one week turned to two, and his trial neared again, he began to wonder if Aedric might be sincere in his wish to help him. Roan still could find no ulterior motive behind his actions, unless it was some intricate court plot that was out of his reach. Aedric spoke more poorly of the Tercet clerics as the days went on, and his reasons for distrusting them were sound, even before Roan had entered the equation. This widening gap in power he’d spoken of was troubling him more than ever, and Roan wondered if maybe the stars had aligned to make him a catalyst for the prince acting in his own political best interest. If so, he’d like to curse them.

From across the vast bed, he asked, “did you intend for us to sleep together?”

“When?” came the prince’s reply.

“Before I upset the King, and everyone else. Was that your intention?”

The prince rolled in bed to face him. It was strange still, seeing him in just a loose-fitting, plain tunic. “Yes. But I thought you wanted to come. That has its own implications.”

“And did I meet your expectations?”

The prince grinned. “And exceeded them. I had no idea you’d commit treason immediately upon your arrival and then refuse to apologize.”

Roan huffed softly. He’d learned to take the prince’s jests for what they were—blunt but unserious teasing.

“You wanted a male peaceweaver, though? That was not something pushed on you for someone else’ convenience?”

“I think that would be a difficult thing to convince someone of, if they were not at all inclined,” said the prince. “I was very interested in you, specifically. They sent a portrait with that letter.”

Roan raised his eyebrows. He’d wondered these things for weeks, and it had been such a simple thing to ask, after all.

“What about you?” Asked the prince. “Do you have highly specific inclinations?”

“No. I think I might even have agreed to it, if I’d been asked. If I was not forced to convert, that is. That’s the problem. It’s not you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you still want me in that way?”

Prince Aedric searched his eyes, a slightly crease appearing between his brows. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I might offer.”

The crease disappeared, replaced by a surprised exhale of laughter. “It would be well received, if you truly meant it.”

“How else would I mean it?”

“Mmm.” The prince rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at him. “You might offer it because you think I expect it, or that I will work harder to help you if you offer yourself to me in the meantime.”

“Would you?”

“No. I’m already doing everything I can think of. And some things others have thought of.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to tell you. Not because I want you in the dark, but because what you don’t know can’t hurt us.”

Roan’s relative ease curdled into a familiar, weighted dread. “You think they’ll hurt me again? And I’ll tell them things?”

“Not necessarily. And certainly not if I have a say in it. But… do you agree it might be best if I didn’t tell you the details?”

“Yes,” Roan said grudgingly. He was right.

“Did I sour something between us, just now?” asked the prince.

“No.” In fact, he might want it more than before. To bring back that feeling of ease, or the possibility of feeling some comfort or pleasure in this borrowed time of his. He would be shocked if Prince Aedric was rough or inconsiderate in matters of intimacy, especially considering Roan’s wounds from torture. Still, he would proceed cautiously. “How would it be, between us? If I offered?”

“However you wanted.”

Roan tamped down the nerves that wanted so much to rise. His wounds and bruises still pained him, but they were not so immediate and debilitating as they had been a fortnight ago. He could imagine enjoying Aedric’s touch, after spending time observing him, learning his disposition, his humor.

As if reading his mind, Aedric asked, “are you healed enough? Your injuries.”

He meant physically, of course. Though the other part was Roan’s larger concern. He worried his resolve would slip and he would not be able to bear a touch. The word injuries sounded wrong, too. It sounded accidental, and his were anything but.

“Can we try something… noncommittal?”

“Can I come over to you?”

Roan agreed, and the prince pushed himself closer so he was nearly touching him. “I think you’re very beautiful,” he said, and raised his right hand to touch the side of Roan’s face.

The movement was slow. He was prepared for it, and he did not flinch away. Other than the healer, everyone here had only touched him to hurt him as deliberately and strategically as they could. The prince’s hand was warm. It cupped his cheek, thumb stroking slowly near his mouth. “What would you like?” He asked.

Roan swallowed. “Is a kiss appropriate to ask?”

The prince smiled broadly. “Of course. Are you asking for one?”

Roan nodded into the prince’s hand, and was rewarded with a soft, affectionate kiss to his lips. The prince pulled back, still stroking his thumb on his face. “More?”

“Yes,” he said, and was given another, and another.

[spacehostilityy]

rewatching the OVAs (netflix s2)

low key one of my fave intros art wise (we all know howling by granrodeo is my fave intro song lol) like the suits !! are so !! cute!!!

and this frame is adorable !!

I love the search for hawk sm theyre all so fucking cute

Meliodas casually dropping “you are my purpose in life” to Elizabeth like a month after they met is INSANE. Bc from his side, makes sense. Fell in love when they were young from opposite sides of a war, risked everything to be together, have been finding and losing each other for 3000 years. But from her side, he is a cool guy she has a crush on (who is at least 15ish years older than her) who she might have known as a child. He also just described her as his entire life’s purpose. Like bro THATS CRAZYYY

Seeing Meliodas destroy the horn of cernunos is such a badass moment to me. The way he responds to her taunting with direct action and violence rather than his usual merciful beating around the bush. My favorite Mel moments are when he is using his silly goofy little guy façade and suddenly has to drop it. This is when we see a glimpse of who he was when leading the 10 commandments: arrogant, powerful, and constantly full of rage

it just so happens that arrogant, powerful, and constantly full of rage are my most prized qualities in any character

WAIT HOLY SHIT IS THE “HEINOUS SIN” MELIODAS IS CONSIDERING THAT THE GODDESS SAYS WILL DRIVE EVERYONE HE LOVES AWAY REFERRING TO HIS PLAN TO BECOME THE DEMON KING ?!?!?!?

THAT WOULD MAKE SO MUCH SENSE AND ADDS LOWKEY A TON CHARACTER MOTIVATION TO EVERYTHING ELSE MEL DOES FROM HERE ON OUT

maybe everyone knew this and im late to the game but damn that would be so cool

im pretty sure ban switches out his red leather for the long burgundy coat is bc he keeps getting stabbed front to back and the coat has a hole in the back so the weapon wont tear it lolll😭

i feel like their faces (esp meliodas’s) look a tiny bit janky in the OVAs

once again appreciating the intro 😌

They’re so fucking cute !!

Merlin and Ban clearly don’t rlly like each other much yet and it’s so funny to me

Like these are Meliodas’s closest friends and they just kinda annoy each other a lot

it’s like fuckin icarly

Gustav: the captain and one of his fellow sins going one on one? We might neve see something like this again!

hahahahaha nooo. i mean gustav didn’t, he’s dead. but the rest will el ol el

Gil is the biggest dork to ever live and howzer is concerned. Mans is crying at watching them fight and howzer is just like … ok ??

Bartra: where the fuck is my daughter

his daughter: literally watching a cage fight

MELIODAS RIPS OFF BAN’S FUCKING ARM AND SMACKS HIM WITH IT AHSDBFKSKFSDHFFK LOLLLL

theyre literally the cutest

bestiesss (boyfriends)

every one of these bitches is a fucking alcoholic

ban’s whole character is that he’s a depressed, violent alcoholic and I love him

my horrible secret is that im skipping through a lot of ova 3 bc im just not a kiane girlie😔

i do love diane tho she so babygirl

nakaba’s not even thinly veiled size kink strikes again. Seriously, i can fuck with it, but its so funny that every single main ship has a significant/abnormal height difference

hendy and dreyfus are so gay for each other im genuinely surprised it’s not canon

like look at this scene and tell me something lgbt is not happening here

omg my pfp !!

Howzer’s dad is such a dick i love it

Meliodas using the sugar spoon to full counter is literally so fucking cute, i love when they have to use dumb weapons

but also vivian lost to a tiny spoon hehe

bet gil regrets not killing vivian after she kidnaps and permanently fucks up his son ahaha🥲

Merlin being fucking terrifying saying that vivian should have realized that she is a monster is why im gay

Meanwhile Meliodas:

I love when his face does that he’s so baby

KASDBFKLHDFNWDKF GIL, HOWZER, AND GRIAMOR ALL BEGING HORNY ABT “MATURE WOMAN” MERLIN

anyway time to start season 2!!

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Tales from the Wyrd Museum by Robin Jarvis

In a grimy alley in the East End of London stands the Wyrd Museum, cared for by the stranger Webster sisters -- and scene of even stranger events. Wandering through the museum, Neil Chapman, son of the new caretaker, discovers it is a sinister place crammed with secrets both dark and deadly. Forced to journey back to the past, he finds himself pitted against an ancient and terrifying evil, something which is growing stronger as it feeds on the destruction around it.

Cobble Street Cousins by Cynthia Voigt

Meet the Cobble Street Cousins!

Lily, who wants to be a poet Tess, who wants to be a Broadway star Rosie, who wants a little cottage with flowers by the door

Right now, though, the cousins are sharing an attic bedroom in their Aunt Lucy?s light blue house on Cobble Street, and happily making plans for the summer. A cookie company seems the perfect way to make a little money, but it turns out to be much more -- an opportunity to meet some very special neighbors!

The Tiara Club by Vivian French and Sarah Gibb

On the first day at the Princess Academy, everything goes wrong. The girls' ball gowns are ruined. What will Princess Charlotte and her friends do without their beautiful gowns?

Help I'm Trapped... by Todd Strasser

Jake Sherman used to be your average, ordinary twelve year old, until he became a completely different person. Tall, skinny, balding, nerdy. . .OH NO! Jake's turned into his weirdo teacher, Mr. Dirksen!

It's bad enough that Jake's an adult now, but a teacher? The geekiest, most made-fun-of teacher in the whole school? Jake's sister Jessica is the only person who'll believe him--and even she's a little suspicious.

Jake and Jessica better find a way to get things back to normal fast--not only because Jake's going crazy, but also because dorky Mr. Dirksen is running around in Jake's body! The nightmare is only beginning!

The Incredible Worlds of Wally McDoogle by Bill Myers

Twelve-year-old Wally, a computer whiz who is a "walking disaster area," ends up in a competition with the bully of Camp Whacka-Whacka, and when they find themselves fighting for their lives, Wally realizes that even his worst enemy needs God.

Silly Verse for Kids by Spike Mulligan

Silly Verse for Kids - a hilarious collection of silly poems by Spike Milligan! A collection of the absurd, ridiculous, sublime and characteristically anarchic verse from the brilliant Spike Milligan. With his very own illustrations, this collection, which includes the famous On the Ning Nang Nong will make you laugh from the bottom of your belly - just like Spike did.

Minoan Wings by Wendy Orr

The little girl found under a bush has no name and cannot speak. Is she a miracle child who escaped the raiders, or is she a bad-luck child, the one who called the Bull King's ship to the island? No one sees the mama-stone around her neck, with the sign of the dragonfly. And only Luki, in training to leap the bulls, knows that she charmed the viper who would have killed him. When the girl turns twelve, she discovers her name - Aissa - and she knows that her one chance to live freely is to become a bull dancer, and be taken away to the island of the Bull King.

Candy Fairies by Helen Perelman

In Chocolate Dreams , Cocoa the Chocolate Fairy is blamed for the missing chocolate eggs—but really it’s the sour troll Mogu who stole them! Can Cocoa save the chocolate eggs and restore the balance of Sugar Valley?

Little Old Mrs. Pepperpot by Alf Proysen

Waking up one morning to find you've shrunk to the size of a tiny pepperpot isn't an ordinary, everyday event for most people - but then Mrs Pepperpot is a very extraordinary person! When she's around little things can turn into great big adventures - especially when they involve getting stuck in a draw full of macaroni. . .

The Doll Shop Downstairs by Yona Zeldis McDonough

Nine-year-old Anna and her sisters love to play with the dolls in their parents' doll repair shop. But when World War I begins, an embargo on German-made goods-including the parts Papa needs to repair the dolls-threatens to put the family's shop out of business. Fortunately, Anna has an idea that just might save the day.

[sirowsky]

--Meeting Expectations--

Alright, we're off! Today's the big day and this is the first of the six stories that I'll be posting. I won't beg and plead for people to reblog or comment, but I really would appreciate it, as this is my attempt to celebrate myself, on this one crappy day of the year.

This is the one story that's based on a prompt, by the fabulous @bilibiche You asked for Whiskey, and that's what you got!

Rating: Mature Warnings: Not much, but perhaps a little self-doubt and self-image issues? Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x female reader, established relationship. Word Count: 580 Author’s Masterlist

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   “Oh, come on now, doll. You look positively scrumptious,” Jack drawls as his eyes shamelessly roam over your features.

   He looks hungry enough to mean it, but you’re still unsure about the dress. It’s a damned celebrity wedding, there’s gonna be paparazzi in every bush, and professional photographers inside both the church and the venue.    Looking good to the man who still thinks you’re gorgeous even when you’re wearing worn old sweats and you’re covered in dirt from tending to the horses and haven’t brushed your hair in a week, isn’t filling you with confidence at all.

   “I don’t wanna look edible, I wanna look respectable and elegant,” you shoot back, but that just prompts him to rise to his feet, approaching you with pure honey diluting the already smooth chocolate of his eyes.

   “Sweetheart, if looking only the way that the rest of the world expects you to look is what matters to you, then by all means, go change.    But I, for one, would much rather see you look like you, and be comfortable all night, than torture yourself in clothes that’ll make you feel disconnected and shallow.”

   Crap. He always knows exactly what to say to break down your defences.    And of course, he’s right as well. You are thinking only of not embarrassing yourself in front of the world press and hundreds of influential rich people, not about what you actually want or feel good about.

   The dress that you’re wearing is quite tough. Deep green with sections of creamy white and green leather, discreet contrast stitching in bright yellow and small lace detailing here and there, also in green.    When you’d tried it on at the store, it had felt so right on you, perfect for your figure and your personality, and when you’d taken it out earlier that morning while you were trying to decide what to wear, it had instantly spoken to you.

   You have other dresses, simpler and with cleaner lines, almost business-like in their restraint, as well as real red-carpet pieces that would certainly not be sneered at even by the most high-browed snob.    But those aren’t appropriate for a wedding, and they’re also just… not you.    You sigh heavily and step over to the far side of the closet where your shoes are stacked.

   “Don’t you dare pick heels, now, sugar,” he warns, knowing how much you hate wearing high heels, since you spend your days in boots or sneakers while working outside.

   You pick a pair of flat white ballerina style shoes, slip them on and then stare poignantly at your husband for a verdict, to which he simply smiles and nods his agreement from where he’s standing at the foot-end of the king-sized bed.

   “Perfect. We’re gonna be the hottest couple at the wedding,” he purrs, and you can’t help but smile.

   “Well, you’re certainly hot enough,” you hum, eyeing him up and down appreciatively, to which he proudly puffs up his chest.

   “Only next to you, darlin’. Only ever next to you.”

   “Oh, aren’t you full of praise today,” you say while playfully bumping your hip against his as you pass him on your way to the bedroom door.

   It makes him huff a laugh and before you know it, he’s caught up to you and has his hands on your waist, whispering in your ear, now with honey in his voice too.

   “What else is there to say? I just love you that much.”

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma

[paperlovesadness]

I've been tagged by the lovely @perfectly-clear-from-here to shuffle my automatic Spotify On Repeat playlist (or Heavy Rotation mix on Apple Music apparently) and share the first 10 songs that come up 💛

So here goes!

Heaven In Your Eyes - Jamie Bower

This Woman's Work - Kate Bush

Call Me - Blondie

It Gets Better - Counterfeit

Run On - Jamie Bower, King Sugar

Still - Ben Folds

One Point Perspective - Arctic Monkeys

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

Jenny Wren - Paul McCartney

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Not a bad representation of my recent life actually.

I'm not entirely sure, as usual (or maybe even moreso lately) who's done it before, so I'll just tag a bunch of you guys who come to my mind first and feel free to ignore if you so please, or to do it still if it sounds fun but I forgot to mention you 💖

@kiray1991 @homoirrealis @haemoglobinheights @misskattylashes @i-m-a-leaf-on-the-wind @barmans-fault @bandomgay @boyeurism @the-thing-about-life-is @joshus-lobster

[helluvatimes]

One Honeypot

Protea cynaroides or Honeypot or also known as King Sugar Bush flowering again in the conservatory. Photo credit: Jonathan Chua.

[danieljreboot]

A World of Your Own

The Cast of Wonka, 

Timothée Chalamet

🎶Close your eyes and count to ten Make a wish, now open them Here's a store that's like no other If it were, I wouldn't bother

Chocolate bushes, chocolate trees Chocolate flowers and chocolate bees Chocolate memories that a boy once saved Before they melted away

A world of your own, a place to escape to A world of your own where you can be free Wherever you go, wherever life takes you This is your home, a world of your own

Here is the child that you left behind Here is the kid with the curious mind Here is the wonder we used to feel Back when the magic was real

A world of your own, a place to go when you're Feeling alone, feeling unsure Embrace the unknown, enjoy the adventure

Let's go strolling in the clouds Grab a handful, it's allowed Clouds are made of cotton candy Just keep your umbrella handy

'Cause there's a hard rain gonna fall Humbugs, gumdrops, and aniseed balls Fireworks bring sugar string, to chew All the colors of the rainbow and some others too

A world of our own (a world of our own) A place to escape to (a place to escape to) The world of our own (a world of our own) Where we can be free (where we can be free) Wherever you go (wherever you go) Wherever life takes you (wherever life takes you) This is our home (ooh), a world of our own🎶

Songwriters: Neil Hannon, Paul King, Simon Farnaby

[pinkpoweredpunk]

———

It’s a quiet day in Accumula Town.

The sky is blanketed by a silvery layer of clouds, with nothing but small streams of sun casting light onto the gray concrete and asphalt streets below. There’s talk amongst the townsfolk of a storm due to blow in, so everyone seems to be out and about, getting their errands and daily tasks done before the downpour hits.

Blake and Cheren were getting their own days started after spending the night in a rented out room in the nearby Center, sitting on a small wall outlining a garden patch of rose bushes located not far from the cherry red building. The former was currently munching down on a blueberry muffin, watching people pass by, while the other currently seemed invested with the X-Transciever strapped to his wrist, tapping away at the screen. The pair of starters remained close to their respective trainers’ sides, King draping loosely over Blake’s shoulders like a scarf and Ignatius nibbling on Cheren’s shoelaces to stimulate himself, puffing out a tiny snort every now and then.

King stirs from her early morning nap, awoken by the sweet scent of her trainer’s breakfast wafting into her nostrils. The Snivy rises with a lazy stretch, before she snaps forward in an attempt to nab herself a bite. Blake’s reflexes are too quick for her, though, and they jerk their hand away from their mouth with a disapproving noise.

“No, the lady at the café already gave you one for free,” they scold, calling back to the other muffin their mischievous little grass snake had practically inhaled on the way here. “The one she gave you because you were trying to steal it from the display rack, by the way. This one’s mine.”

King gives a hiss, as if their trainer is a subject who just unabashedly offended their ruler, before promptly jumping down from her perch on them to go sulk about a foot and a half away from their lap. Blake gives the dramatic display nothing more than an eye roll.

“Here, she can have mine,” Cheren says, never looking up from his watch as he digs into the bag at his side, pulling out the paper-wrapped muffin Blake had bought for him without even asking if he was hungry.

King gets back up to go graciously accept the offering, but is stopped when her trainer pushes the wrapped pastry back towards them with their index finger. “No, you eat,” they say firmly, like a parent lecturing a child.

That’s enough to pull the young man’s eyes away from his screen, as he looks up with this incredulous glare, like they just told him with a full chest that the sky was magenta. “I already told you I’m not hungry,” he scoffs, swatting their hand away.

Blake doesn’t budge. “I don’t care, eat,” they insist, prodding the food back in his direction a second time. “We’re on a journey, the last thing you should be doing is skipping out on meals.”

“I’m not a toddler, Blake,” he grunts, yet again denying them as he moves to get up. “Besides, I don’t have time. I have training to get done.”

Ignatius snaps to attention at his feet, pointed ears perking up as he tapped his hooves against the sidewalk, eager to get moving. Blake didn’t seem ready to give in, though. “Don’t think I didn’t see you forgetting to eat yesterday at Juniper’s lab, too. If you keep neglecting to give your body the nutrients it needs, you won’t have the energy to train.”

“It’s sugar and processed fruit, how much nutrients could it possibly be?” Cheren retorts, fixing the strap of his bag.

“It’s better than nothing.”

With a series of incoherent grumbles, Cheren whirls and rudely snatches the muffin from their hand. “Fine, I’ll eat it on the way there, now will you give it a damn rest?”

Blake nods at him with an impish smile, clearly satisfied with themself.

He could hardly believe the absurdity of it. This trainer that was older by him no more than a year, and almost half a foot below this height, was nagging him like he was a toddler acting out. He wanted to scowl, thinking about how ridiculous the scene must’ve looked to passerby’s.

“Call me when Bianca comes back from her little shopping spree,” he requests as he begins to turn and leave. “There’s not much for us to do in Accumula, so I’d like to waste as little time here as possi-”

“Humble citizens!”

The sound of a voice booming over the town square brings Cheren to a quick halt. Confused, he and Blake swivel their heads in unison towards the commotion. Standing on an elevated, grassy patch of ground overlooking an open space, were a group of people in hooded uniforms. Specifically, ones reminiscent of medieval knights. They stood in a single file line, stiff as if they were an army awaiting a command.

“Please, if you will, gather around!” One of the knights in the front announces, waving her arms urgently. “Our lord Ghetsis has come to bless you all with his voice and his presence!”

“Uh,” Blake eyes the emblems printed onto each of the knights’ suits with bewilderment and a twinge of caution. “Is there some kind of renaissance fair going on, or did I miss something?”

“No clue,” Cheren mouthed, just as baffled as they were.

The knight steps aside and takes a bow, and the row behind her does the same, making way for whoever this “Lord Ghetsis” could be.

When he steps into the sunlight, Blake gets this weird feeling settling over them, crawling up their spine and activating their inner “danger” instincts. They’re not sure why. Exchanging a look with Cheren, they rise from their seat, moving to join the gathering crowd of curious civilians who’ve come to see what the ruckus is about and hanging near the back.

The man that takes the stage is peculiar, is the first impression that crosses Blake’s mind. His most noticeable attribute is his attire- a draping cloak, vibrant with purple and gold shaping a pair of eyes on either side of it. Over it, he carries what they can only assume is some sort of hefty armor piece on his shoulders, gold with square prongs like a crown and the same symbol as his knight buddies embedded in the center. It looks more decorative than practical. Over his left eye, is a white monocle with a red lens.

He exudes this strange vibe. One that Blake immediately decides they don’t like.

“Greetings, Accumula Town,” he begins, voice steady and carrying well over the crowd. “I hope you do not mind my small disturbance in your quiet lives. But today, ladies and gentlemen, I come representing Team Plasma, hoping to speak to you about Pokémon liberation.”

Blake’s eyes are briefly averted to the sides, where they see knights setting up banners displaying their emblem loud and proud for everyone to see.

“I’m sure many of you believe that humans and Pokémon are partners, who’ve come together because we want and need each other,” Ghetsis goes on, closing his eyes thoughtfully and letting his words linger in the air for a moment. Then, they open again, something challenging behind them. “However… is that really the truth? Have you ever considered that we humans… only assume such is the case?”

Cheren’s brows furrow. The corner of Blake’s lip twitches. Neither of them like where this is going.

“Pokémon are subject to the selfish commands of trainers,” He raises a hand, clenching it into a tight fist. “They get pushed around while they’re our ‘partners’ at work… Can anyone say with confidence that there is no truth in what I’m saying?”

Worried murmurs flutter here and there throughout the crowd. “You think he has a point?” “Is that true?”

Blake briefly acknowledges the feeling of King’s tail brushing up against their ankle, glancing down from the spectacle to see her and Ignatius coming up to join them. Intimidated by the large crowd, Iggy jumps to cower behind Cheren's leg, where he bumps his foot urgently with his snout, signaling his desire to be picked up.

"Honestly Ignatius," Cheren sighs, but fulfilling the Tepig's request and bending down to scoop him up by the stomach. "Do you need me to coddle you every five minutes...?"

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, Pokemon are different from humans," Ghetsis continues to preach, never wavering once. "They are living beings that contain bountiful, unknown potential beyond our wildest imagination. Pokemon are beings from whom we have much to learn. Tell me, what is our responsibility towards these wonderful creatures?"

He pauses, giving the listeners a moment to discuss it amongst themselves. "...Liberation?" "I guess so..."

"That's right!" He nods solemnly. "We must liberate the Pokemon! Then, and only then, will they be equals with us humans. Everyone, I end my words here today by imploring you to consider the relationship between people and Pokémon... and the correct way to proceed. We sincerely appreciate your attention."

The grand peroration of his speech draws to a close, and Ghetsis turns to take his leave, his lackeys marching close behind with their banners held high. Not long after their departure, the crowd disperses to go back to their routines, but it's clear there's been a stir in the atmosphere of the quaint little town.

King wastes no time returning to her usual spot on Blake's shoulder, gliding up their arm with grace. Ignatius oinks something to her, a sound that comes off as anxious, and the Snivy replies to it with a nonchalant hiss. Blake can't help but wonder what they're saying.

"That was..." Cheren starts, but can't exactly find the words to conclude his thoughts.

"Total bologna?" Blake scoffs, eyes trailing after the receding entourage of knights as they disappear around a corner.

Their friend stifles a snort. "Yeah."

"What a bunch of wack-jobs..."

-

He only picks them out from the crowd for a half a second, at first.

His only thought them is that their hair color is kind of obnoxious, and that little acknowledgement of their existence is gone as soon as it crosses his mind, their presence fading out and becoming background noise with the rest of the gathering humans.

Lingering there at the very back of the crowd, he soaks in his father's words, the gospel that has been ingrained deep into his brain from a young age. The truths about the world’s wrongs he held close to his chest, that sent his heart crackling with passionate sparks of fury and the need to right them.

Eventually, the knights and the old sage make an orderly retreat from the scene, leaving their message to linger in the minds of the average people. He's about to dip away from the open space himself, and then he hears it.

"Are they going to take me away from Cheren?"

He stops, slightly turning an ear towards the meager little voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," An untroubled hiss that carries to his ears laced with vanity and disgust. "A group of humans parading around in costumes don't speak for what all Pokemon want. Arrogant fools swallowed in their own self-righteousness like that aren’t worth your concern."

His brows lift. His interest is piqued.

He turns. The owner of the voice is a Snivy, lax on her trainer's shoulder. Such bold and certain words to come out of such a young looking creature. Although, after a moment more of looking, he realizes the small grass snake looks beyond her years. Faint scars litter here and there across her hide, and her eyes carry a hardened glare that tells a tale of past experience without needing words.

His attention flicks to the trainer. So do theirs. Deep brown, stoic and unmoved, like wood on a rising bonfire. The other beside them seems at least a little perturbed by the speech, but they don't, holding themself up in a sturdy posture as if the carefully crafted words just preached to their ears only bounced off uselessly like a brick wall. A hand on their hip, a miffed expression.

He observes longer than he intends to, the sense of familiarity creeping up on him. He's seen them before.

The gears click and begin to turn in his brain, but nothing comes of it, and he's left with that gnawing feeling of an unknown answer. It doesn't matter, his mind mainly lingers on the claim from their grass type friend. The anomaly that so abruptly through a wrench in his formula.

"Your Pokemon..." The words whisper from his mouth before he can stop them. "Just now, it was saying..."

The trainer's scowl alleviates, and their head rotates to him, mouth parting in a quiet "huh"? He stiffens and looks up, not expecting their eyes to lock. Their gaze has softened, now, the billowing blaze now having dimmed down into a candlelight, flickering with curiosity.

"Sorry, did you say something?" They ask, and he tenses up more.

His mouth is dry, and he just stands there, awkward tension bubbling up quicker than he can keep up with as seconds tick by. Eventually, he just tilts his cap down, anxiously averting his gaze to the direction he intends to make his retreat. "Nothing," he coughs, turning with haste. "Sorry to disturb you."

-

King’s attention follows the strange man who seemed to leave just as quickly as he’d made his presence known. At first, out of nothing more than boredom. From the glimpse she caught of him, he had an interesting appearance; long tea-green hair flowing out from a black and white cap, odd jewelry donning his neck and his arms.

Her concern only rises once he scurries and disappears down some alleyway. As soon as he’s out of sight, the shadow of the building he vanished behind begins to warp, and she swears she sees some shadowy being materialized from the once empty darkness casting over red brick.

It’s hard to discern its shape. It looks spiky. Maybe fluffy? She notices a pair of blue eyes blinking after the man.

Whatever the entity was, it creeps behind him. King is left wondering if what she saw was anything more than a figment of her imagination or not.

“Anyways, you think we should go and track down Bianca so we can get a move on?”

“Yes. I’ll go ahead and shoot her a tex-”

The conversation between her trainer and her former one disappears as she takes a swift leap off Blake’s shoulder, nimbly pursuing after the creature. Whatever it might’ve been, it had her danger instincts going off in her head like alarm bells. Something was amiss, and she had to figure out what.

“Wh- King!”

Her trainer’s shout falls upon uninterested ears as she takes a sharp right turn, light on her feet as she combs through the alleyway she saw the man and his shadowy companion go down. Leaping over trash cans, crates, fences, a car, and all manner of obstacles present in the city streets, she follows the scent trail all the way until she tracks down where it’s strongest.

She’s found herself stopped at the archway entrance of a heavily wooded area, dense with flowers and greenery inside. A park, or a communal garden, by the looks of it. Maybe both. Her search doesn’t end there though; after a moment of consideration, she lets the scent lead her inside.

Scaly paws follow a cobblestone path, weaving through the garden like a ribbon. It isn’t long before she’s forced to leave it behind, though, veering off to the side as her search takes her into the bushes.

“It’s pleasant here, isn’t it?”

The voice she immediately recognizes as the mysterious man up ahead makes her stop. She looks up from her hiding spot, seeing his green hair resting along the back of a wooden bench.

“It’s nice that humans at least cared enough to preserve one spot of nature while building up this city,” he muses, seeming absentminded as he looks over the lush landscape around him.

“A feeble attempt to atone for their crimes against nature,” a second voice hisses. This one makes King’s nerves stand on end. “A bandage on an open, bleeding wound.”

The man hums, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She creeps forward a bit more, trying to get a closer look at his companion. She can see spikes of red fur sticking out over the back rest of the park bench, tipped lightly with black, but not much else.

What is it about this man and this creature that has her so on edge? She can’t help but wonder. But deep down, she is a creature of instinct rather than rational thought, and her troubles will not be eased until she’s certain this duo presents no threat.

Extending one paw forwards, she moves with the intent to sneak closer. That is until a small, concentrated weight presses down on her tail fan, holding her in place. She whips around with a hiss, eyes honing in on a pair of narrow green ones.

“And where do you think you’re going, little sprout?” A menacing voice purrs.

The Purrloin holding her captive grins wickedly, claws unsheathing and ever so slightly digging into the leafy membrane like little pinpricks.

“Release me,” she demands.

“And why would I do that?” The feline counters snidely. “It’s quite rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

Her gaze briefly flicks back to the man and his hidden company. “You know them?”

“I know that you are being a disturbance,” the cat’s voices shifts from playful and taunting to an irritated, low growl. “You would have done best to mind your own business, snake.”

“I will tell you one more time,” King warns, exhaling slowly through her nose. “Release me. Now.”

The Purrloin’s muzzle curls up in a smirk, and her paw only squeezes down harder.

The refusal is clear, and King’s retaliation is quick. In a heartbeat, her vines are lashing out like tentacles, coiling themselves around the cat’s torso. With one, almost effortless tug, she’s plucked the thing right off the ground, sending it careening out of the bushes.

A shriek escapes the Purrloin as she flies, flipping about wildly before she lands on her feet on the far side of the cobbled road, back rising up and down as she heaves.

King jumps out after her, crouching down in a prowl as her now free tail swishes from side to side furiously. The Purrloin snarls and takes a similar position, hackles raised and stance wide.

“You WRETCHED little-!” the cat hollers dramatically, as if she’s had some horrible crime committed against her. “I should shred you into a leaf pile where you stand!”

“Wait!”

Both Pokémon’s head snap towards the voice, where they see the man rising up from his seat, worry plastered over his expression. King tenses, only just now realizing she’s blown her cover and thrown herself directly into his line of sight. Damn anger getting the better of me.

Strangely, he’s alone this time. The creature previously accompanying him is nowhere to be found. It must’ve left during her and the Purrloin’s little dispute.

To her surprise, his posture carries no anger. Instead, his shoulders fall, before he lowers himself to take a kneel on one knee before the pair of Pokémon. “Please, there’s no reason to fight,” he softly pleads, before his mouth turns up into a kind smile as he moves his focus to Purrloin. “My friend, who is this you’ve found?”

“This impertinent reptile was snooping,” Purrloin informs him, casting King an indignant side-eye.

“Hm,” the man presses his lips together in a firm line, before deflating a little through a sigh. “That’s no reason to go jumping into a fight, you know. I’m sure this little one meant no harm.”

He’s talking to her, King realizes. How?

His warm expression returns as he turns back to King. The Shiny shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, still not completely trusting of his intentions yet. “I’m sorry about her aggressiveness, she only means to protect me,” he explains. “You’re safe here, friend. No need to look so tense.”

That does get King to lower her guard a little. Wary, she rises up from all fours.

He stands, moving back over to the bench. Purrloin quickly trots to join him once he takes his seat, hopping into his lap and curling up there. He gives the feline a gentle stroke along the back, before he looks to King and pats the empty space beside him. “Come, sit.”

She finds herself willing to indulge him, against her better judgement. She stays vigilant, of course, but decides to give this puzzlingly kind stranger a chance.

The Snivy settles next to him, and he keeps a respectable distance, keeping one hand at his side and the other rested on the Purrloin’s back. “I heard what you said before,” he starts. “Back at the plaza.”

She tilts her head. She can’t recall what he’s referring to.

“The things you said about Team Plasma,” he elaborates, eyes never leaving Purrloin’s bristly fur as he runs his fingers through it. “You said you find them… arrogant?“

She twitches her tail, the name irking resentment in her. “Yes,” she confirms. “Fools like that who claim to speak for us when they’re actually doing the opposite… I can’t stand them.”

“I see,” he nods, and seems to be processing something deeply. After a beat of silence, he resumes. “I saw you were with a trainer before.”

“Blake,” the moment her human’s name leaves her mouth, she partially regrets it. Maybe revealing their name to a stranger isn’t wise. She silently reprimands herself for her carelessness. “I haven’t been with them long.”

“A pampered little pet,” the Purrloin sneers, licking at her paw. “Shouldn’t have expected any less.”

“You’re one to talk,” King immediately jabs back, baring her teeth at the insolent cat and nodding to the lap in which she currently occupies.

“I am not bound to one of those dreadful capsules your master confines you in,” she trills, grinning smugly. “I’m here by my own volition, pesky weed.”

“Are you implying my trainer holds some sort of power over me?” King scoffs, puffing her chest out proudly. “I am no one’s lap dog. I could turn tail and abandon them at a moment’s notice, if I wanted. If anything, they are a servant to me.”

That statement seems to intrigue the man. “Your trainer... what are they like? How do you feel about them?"

How do I feel about them? It’s a question she realizes she hasn’t quite prepared an answer for. Her eyes drift off to one of the flower beds just across from them, as she sifts through her memories and the impressions she’s gotten from Blake so far.

At first, she found them ornery and annoying, when they chased her all the way across Nuvema Town over something as measly insignificant as a muffin. But then, they proved themself as much more than that when they jumped to aid her in fighting back that furious storm of Pidoves. Reckless, was the word that came to her at the time, but over time it’d been replaced with brave. Selfless.

Up to now, she’s had a few battles alongside them. There’s always a passion blazing in their eyes. The way they shout commands with such intensity, like nothing else matters to them more than the thrill of the fight at hand.

They have the overflowing energy of a green trainer. Yet, there’s something else there that shows they’re much more than that. Outside of battle, their eyes carry an oldness, contradictory to their age. In the middle of the one night she’s spent with them so far, she’s seen those same burning eyes when they’re extinguished. Faraway and despondent, awake but lost deep within the world of their thoughts. She spent that night wondering what is was they were seeing in there.

They carry themself with true, unwavering confidence, not the blind arrogance kind, either. The kind that is built up over time, brick after brick, until it is an impenetrable fortress. They battle with unbridled excitement, yes, but there’s control and expertise behind it. The way they seem to think up strategies on the spot, good ones. Or at least not-half-bad ones.

All in all, they’re... strange. Unable for her to describe in a few simple words or descriptors, like she can with most humans. Bianca is finicky, a people-pleaser. Cheren is studious, with a know-it-all attitude. Professor Juniper is optimistic, maybe overly-so at times, and fixated on her work.

Blake... she hasn't quite figured out yet. Their eyes tell a history unbeknownst to her. She isn't sure why they're such an enigma to her, why they seem to have so many more layers than everyone else to her- maybe it's because they're the first human in a while to catch her intrigue.

"They're... something," is the word she finally settles with. "I haven't been around them long enough to give you a solid answer."

"I see," he accepts it. "Do you like them?"

"They aren't intolerable."

His mouth tugs up in amusement at that, but it's gone quickly. "Do you think you'd be better off without them?"

The question is rather blunt compared to his previous ones. King eyes him skeptically, wondering where exactly he's going with this.

"...That's an odd question."

"You seem generally neutral towards them," he states, not seeming to find any peculiarity in his question like she did. "And you seem capable of providing for yourself, seeing as you appear to have left their side."

She clicks her tongue, head lolling to the side as she crosses her thin arms across her chest. "Having a trainer or not has never made much of a difference to me. The former just so happens to be more convenient."

"That's so?" He still doesn't seem convinced. "They keep you in a metal ball, ask you to fight in their name... Is that truly a fulfilling existence for you?"

There's something provocative in his voice, like he's not just asking questions anymore, like he’s trying to persuade her of something. This interrogative turn in the conversation strikes one of her nerves. This rhetoric that’s suddenly starting to spew from his mouth like venom, it reminds her too much of-

“King!”

The voice of her trainer carrying past the trees is what saves her from snapping at the nosy young man. Her eyes follow the sound, and soon enough a head of pink hair comes into view down the path.

“There you are!” they huff, leaning forward and catching themselves on their knees as they pant for air. It isn’t long before Cheren appears behind them, one arm holding Ignatius in a football carry. “Why the heck did you take off like tha-”

They quickly take notice to the stranger at her side, and straighten themself. “O-oh! Didn’t see you there, sorry.”

“It’s… fine,” he replies meekly, suddenly seeming unsettled by the presence of two more individuals.

King is scooped up by the armpits before she can protest. She doesn’t do anything to resist, though, just carrying a dry scowl as she’s cradled like an infant. “She didn’t bother you, did she?” Blake asks.

“Yes,” The Purrloin spits bitterly from her companion’s lap.

“Not at all,” the man assures them, giving his Pokemon another pat. “I was just surprised to see a Snivy out here all by itself. They’re not a common sight in the wild.”

“Yeah, this one’s just trouble,” Blake snickers, giving King’s head an affectionate ruffle. “Sorry again. I’m Blake, by the way, and this is Cheren,” They gesture back to their fellow trainer.

The man looks a bit stupefied, like he was expecting them to just apologize and leave, not introduce themself. He tugs a bit on his cap, before deciding to give them his name in return. “My… name is N.”

“Like… the letter?” Cheren quips in behind them, and Blake gives him a combination of a glare and a nudge.

“Um. Yes, like the letter.”

“It’s nice to meet you, N,” Blake quickly tries to compensate for their friend’s rudeness. “Sorry for the trouble, and thanks again for keeping an eye on King for me. Catch you later!”

They swivel around to leave, and King thinks that’s the last she’ll have to see of the man and free from his incessant pestering. He stands, though, in a stumble-y way that makes it look like his legs weren’t moving on his own accord.

“Wait,” he calls out, and Blake stops. King peers over their shoulder with a twinge of annoyance, wondering what else he could possibly want.

“I…” He opens his mouth, closes it once, awkwardly curling and uncurling his fingers before he finally speaks. “I… saw you at the rally.”

They blink. “The huh?”

“The speech my- mhm,” he catches himself. King wonders what he was about to say. “The speech that man Ghetsis made.”

“Those Team Plasma bozos?” Cheren huffs. “Or whatever they called themself.”

King detects a slight irk in N’s face when he hears Cheren refer to the group so flippantly, but it’s only there for a moment. “Oh yeah, that,” Blake says as if the event was a faraway memory even though it was a mere thirty minutes ago. “You looked like you were trying to talk to me?”

“I-I was mostly just musing to myself,” N murmurs almost inaudibly under his breath, but then he shakes his head. “I-I mean, um, yes, I… just…” He pauses, bouncing his finger rapidly against his hip as he tries to formulate words. “I… thought… that I recognized you.”

“Oh?” Blake tilts their head inquisitively.

“Blake’s an ex-champion, so that’s probably why,” Cheren reveals oh-so suddenly, without any build up, causing his pink-haired peer to flinch.

N seems disconcerted by this revelation for a moment, unsure of how to react to it. “An ex-champion?”

“Yeah, from Galar, but still.” Cheren continues, totally unconcerned with the details he’s spilling like water from a pitcher. “They also helped stop the Macro Cosmos and Team Flare crises, didn’t you hear about those? They were all over the news a few years ago. People are still talking about the-”

“Okay Cheren, I think he gets it,” Blake mutters urgently, trying to elbow the young man away. “Would you can it for a second?”

He grimaces at them, annoyed, oblivious to what the problem is. “What?”

“That… huh,” N murmurs to himself, soaking in this new information as the two engage in a small whisper-argument. “You… must be a very powerful trainer, then.”

Blake cuts off mid-scolding Cheren to reply to him. “I- I mean- I guess so, yeah,” they concede modestly, tugging at their collar with their index finger. “I don’t have any Pokémon on me besides King right now, though.”

“Why so?” N can’t help but ask.

“They’re all back home in Galar for… reasons,” they try to explain without dumping their whole messy, complicated story on him. “I’m kind of starting over from scratch.”

It’s hard to tell whether or not this answer eases the man’s confusion. His face is slightly creased, like he’s contemplating something. Whatever the case, he decides not to press it more, and changes the subject. “So, you’re both on a journey, yes?”

“Yep!” Blake confirms, seeming to lighten up significantly. “Me and Cheren here are gonna help fill the pages of the Pokédex for Professor Juniper.”

“The Pokédex…” He repeats, and King observes noticeable disappointment settle on his features. “…So in order to do that, you���re going to have to confine many Pokémon in Pokéballs…”

“Oh- I mean…” Blake stutters upon taking notice to the shift themself, wondering if they’ve offended him somehow. “Yeah, but any Pokémon I catch that I don’t keep on my team, I’ll probably release.”

He perks up, but only a little. “You will?” That edge of uneasiness in his voice isn’t absent for long. “…And what of the ones that you do?”

These strange questions and remarks get harder, or more accurately, more awkward for Blake to answer. They’re not sure what to make of this man’s apprehension to something so ordinary to them, and many others. “Keep them on my main team, like I said. You know, probably train them and use ‘em in battles… If they want to join me, anyway.”

Another uncomfortable quiet ensues, N staring the shorter trainer down analytically while Blake just kind of floats there, pupils darting from him to the bushes lining the path. Cheren, hanging to the side much like an impatient child waiting for his mother to finish conversing with a friend at the grocery store, taps at his watch and breaks the silence for them. “Blake, Bianca just texted. Says she’s done and waiting for us at the Pokémon Center.”

“Oh,” Blake turns to him. “Okay, tell her we’re on our way-”

“Wait.”

“What now?” Cheren groans, speaking King’s mind for her. Why’s this guy seem so all up in our business?

He swallows, fidgeting in place again. He reaches for the cube-shaped accessory dangling from his hip, running a thumb over its ridges and pointed corners.

“Before you go,” he centers his full attention on Blake. “I… was wondering if you had time for a battle.”

That aroused King from the slumped, sluggish position she took in her trainer’s arm. Now this was going somewhere.

Blake’s interest seemed piqued, as well. “A battle? Sure,” they agree, maybe more eagerly than they should, but the glint of enthusiasm that sparks in their eye just then is undeniable.

Despite being the challenger, N doesn’t seem to carry the same excitement. He looks more conflicted with his own request, like he’s doing this to figure something out, rather than the enjoyment of it. King doesn’t pay it much mind. He’s signed himself up for an ass-kicking, he can get over it if he’s upset about it after.

“The relationship you display with Pokémon interests me,” he admits, shoving the hand he previously had on his void cube into his pocket. “I would like to know more.”

That remark seems to leave Blake puzzled, but they don’t dwell on it as N makes a come-here gesture to the Purrloin that had previously been snuggling on his lap, having stationed itself on the arm rest of the bench. The feline arches her back up in a stretch, before bouncing down and prowling at his feet, tail swishing with anticipation.

“Blake, do we have time for this?” Cheren grumbles, bumping his friend on the arm with his elbow to get their attention.

“It’ll be quick,” they assure him, before moving back a few paces to get a battle-suitable distance away from their opponent. “N, does one-on-one sound good to you?”

“Fine by me.”

King doesn’t even need an order, once Blake takes position she’s swiftly back on the ground, assuming a combat-ready stance. She only somewhat acknowledges the whir of Blake’s Rotom Phone flying out of their pocket in the background, likely to start filming without prompting from its human again, a habit she noticed with the little ghost inside. She didn’t care. Having her soon-victory over this vexing little cat would be a memory she’d be happy to have recorded.

“It’ll be nice to finally show you your place, weed,” the Purrloin jeers.

“Likewise,” King rebuts.

After a few more words shared between the opposing trainers, ones she doesn’t catch as her ears are too busy seeking the shout of Blake’s first command, the match begins.

———

[crushcandles]

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Way behind, but thanks and kisses to @samstree for the tag. Passing the tag v. optionally to @major-trouble @kuwdora @candybarrnerd @shiftylinguini @ex0rin @likecastle

It's a videotape that changes Robin's life. (They Must Not Speak, ronance)

There's no real reason for him to do it. (Extinguish, obikin)

"There." (Wrapped Around Your Finger, geraskier)

Link swims to the other side of the pool like a green frog, skimming the surface, the wetness of his exposed back glimmering in the room's cool light. (Be a Throne, Hold a King, link/sidon)

Geralt's alone at the fire when Eskel comes through the bushes at midnight. (Watch a While Longer, geralt/jaskier/eskel)

"Geralt…" (Sugar, geraskier)

As far as Geralt's ever known, Jaskier is a human, but the way he's clawing at Geralt's forearms would make Geralt wonder, if he had the attention for anything else but this. (Wasn't Meant to Hear, geraskier)

"Here." (Pearls, geraskier)

The blood in the pool is heavy, clinging to Zagreus' legs as he wades through it. (Proving Ground, zagchilles)

Yennefer rides into town with saddlebags weighed down with coin, monster parts, and gear in need of repair. (Old Flowers, Old Friends, yennskier)

Sometimes when I start a story, I have a clear image in mind, someone swimming towards a point of interest, blood dripping down a leg, but most of the time, me starting a story is just me jumping onto whatever rock is in front of me in the pond so I can start working my way to the other side: the end. Is there a version for this for last lines? I'd love to see people's last lines! Also would love to FAAFO on WiP first lines if that's a thing.

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

Touhou 18.5 mod "lost Market" by "some guy in paradise"

Footage by: The Eternal shrine maiden:

Among other characters, and the animal realm, this mod adds Sannyo to 18.5, complete with a new nonSpell and Spellcard.

Her new fan made Spellcard "crown of cynaroides" cleverly follows her trend of basing all her Spellcards on extremely tough flowers.

Protea cynaroides also goes by names like honeypot, king sugar bush, giant protea, or king protea.

The king protea actually isn't Japanese (as far as i know), it mostly prefers southern regions. In fact, it's the national flower of South Africa. It is however, an incredibly beautiful flower to base a Spellcard pattern on. As for it's incredible toughness, in addition to other things it's most famously, uniquely adapted to survive wildfires.

[yourmomxx]

who wants to live forever?

The Corinthian, gn!dream!reader (unlabeled relationship)

Summary: While the Dreaming is falling apart in its Lord’s absence, the Corinthian seeks you out to convince you to come with him into the waking world

Warnings: none, nicknames (sugar)

Word Count: 2k

line dividers by @maysdigitalarts

Immortality is both a gift as it is a curse. But, then again, words like those would only ever be spoken by someone who was immortal.

Weighing the pros and cons of endless life was not exactly something that made sense in the small minds of someone whose time of living was limited.

Humans, for example, would never be able to truly understand what of a burden it was, being immortal. Maybe that was why they weren’t.

Although you had heard of a human, just one time, that was granted the gift of never ending life. Death itself should have given it to him.

But those were just simple stories, legends even. At some point you had stopped opening your ear to those kinds of fairytales, and at some point they had faded. You had never heard of the immortal man again.

What humans did not expect from immortality, was the change. Their families and friends vanishing from their lives, getting taken by Death themselves.

They did not expect to see their world reshaping around them, new buying build, and old getting torn down and crumbling around them.

Their world, and in your case, your realm.

You were a dream, had been created as one. To say that you possessed immortality, either as a blessing or a curse, would presumably not be entirely correct, considering that you were not living.

You were undying, present in the subconscious of those very mortal humans. Over centuries you had roamed their thoughts and dreams, through different generations, ages and times.

You existed as long as their fantasies did.

Which was where the ‘curse’ part came in.

You were standing in what once had been the overgrown garden of a small, cozy house in the midst of your home - the realm of the Dreaming.

But where once tender rose bushes bloomed and fairytales danced around lilies like magical mist, were now only withered bushes, flowerless and cold.

The stone walls of the small cottage to which the garden belonged to were covered with dark vines of ivy, clawing into the strong material and eating their way into the walls.

Carefully, you raised your finger under the hanging head of a dried-out rose and tilted it up just a bit in an attempt to examine it. But the second you pulled away, the blossom dropped back into its original position.

You held back a sigh and the corners of your mouth dropped into a sad frown.

It had been like this for a while. At first, the grass had started to dry out in the relentless heat of the sun, no matter how much you tried to heal it.

Eventually the sun had disappeared behind never ending walls of grey clouds, but the plants had continued losing their lives as time went on. No magic you possessed had been able to heal them.

You looked at the dry rose. With its head hung low and no colors left, it looked just as the dream realm felt: abandoned. Left alone by its caretaker.

You did not know how long it had been since someone had taken notice of the Dreamking’s continuous absence. Time had a different definition in this realm, and you had never cared to learn to understand it - now you wished you had done different.

But at some point, the residents had started to give up on the thought of their king ever arriving home. You had seen them leave, abandon their duties and their realm just as their ruler had done. And with every gone resident, the Dreaming had lost an important source to life aswell.

You were the only one that had stayed, though. At least as far as you knew. Taking care of your beloved garden and cottage home, you had not really found the time to stride through the Dreaming and check who still lingered and who didn’t.

A part of you believed, hoped, that the King would return back to where his duties lied and that all would find its righteous order again.

But hope grew dim in your heart, as you found yourself wandering your garden every day with no prospect of improvement.

But this day, something shifted.

When you noticed it, you came to an abrupt halt inbetween the branches of a rhododendron when you noticed the atmosphere change.

You felt his presence before you heard him speak. A sudden shadow of paranoia, shakiness, anxiety hovering behind you, making your skin turn cold and goosebumps run down your arms.

“Corinthian.” You spoke his name lowly, announcing to him that you were aware of his showing, before turning around to face him.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted you back politely, your name gliding out of his mouth like golden silk.

He looked well. With his blond hair cut short and a beige suit to match his skintone. You noticed the dark-shaded sunglasses he was wearing. Perhaps two set of teeth for eyes were not necessarily accepted in the human world.

He smiled, and it made your heart beat faster and your head feel uneasy.

“What now? No warm ‘hello’s? No hugs? ‘How are you’s?” He opened his arms for you to embrace, but you stayed still where you were.

“What are you doing here, Corinthian? Have you not recently been having your fun in the Waking World?”

He dropped his arms with overplayed disappointment. “How rude. That is not how I remember you, sugar.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“But yes, you are right, the Waking World is … definitely something.”

He leaned down to place a fallen lantern back into the hands of a broken garden gnome.

“And humans are just a wonderful species. I could eat them up.”

“Why are you here then?” You watched him as he stepped near one of the faded perennials and bent the remains of a blossom closer to his face.

“I could ask you the same question,” he retorted in a slow voice. “I mean, it’s not exactly the Garden of Eden here, is it?”

He looked around. Then he added: “Or anywhere in this realm, really.”

You straightened your back and tried your best to glare at him.

“Well, I am giving it my all. And besides, when Lord Morpheus returns then I am sure he will help me rebuild the done damage.”

The Corinthian scoffed in amusement. “When he returns?” He repeated your words and looked at you. “That is such a sweet thing to say, Y/N. When he returns. So hopeful. So … you.”

You clenched your jaw. Self-assured asshole.

“What do you want here, Corinthian? If the Waking World delighted you this much, then why did you come back?”

He sighed and dropped the plant he had been looking at. It floated as dust to the ground. “I didn’t come back. I am here for a mere visit. And as to that…” He stepped closer to you. “I am here because I wanted to offer you to join me.”

You couldn’t help it, your face dropped in confusion. “Join you?” You repeated. “You mean in the Waking World?”

He nodded. “Exactly there, sugar.” He raised a hand to brush his fingers along your cheek.

“I mean, think about it. What we could do. What we could see. What you could see.” He shook his head. “The Waking World is full of colors, of beautiful things to experience and relish in, gardens to stride through.”

He emphasized the last sentence with a dramatic spread of his arms and by taking a few steps back.

You bit your lip. You had to admit, you had thought about it. About the Waking World, and what it would be like. But going with The Corinthian, as charming as he was?

“But you are not there to simply enjoy the landscapes, are you?” You asked him. “You are there to … kill them. The humans.”

He clicked his tongue. “Yes, well, you know how it is. Top of the food chain, predator and prey, all of that.”

You shook your head. “Lord Morpheus created us to serve them, not to hurt them.”

The Corinthian threw his head back and groaned. “You sound just like the old man. If he weren’t locked up in some psychopath’s basement, I would downright think he’s standing directly here before me.”

“How dare you talk like that about him, he’s our king!”

“He’s a narcissist!” The Corinthian yelled back, and you quickly took a step back.

He realized, and softened his voice. “Think about it. What the Waking World has to offer for you. For us. We could finally be free out there.”

You shook your head. “I do not understand you,” you muttered, ignoring his words. “How do you think bringing humans pain in the Waking World is more enjoyable than in here?”

The Corinthian raised his eyebrows at you, questioning.

“I mean, they expect it when they’re awake, do they not? From what I’ve heard, there is an excessive crime rate amongst humans. But when they sleep?” You asked.

“That is when they think that they are safe, right? Wouldn’t it be much more fun to … terrorize them there, instead of doing it like some other regular human murderer?” The Corinthian smirked at your words.

“Are you turning the cards on me, sugar? Are you trying to convince me to stay here?”

He leaned down to you. His low voice was lazed with just the slightest amusement, and made you avert eye contact with him, almost in guilt as if you had just been caught by your parents doing something very bad.

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and drew them back in with a smack.

“To answer your question, sweetheart: no. Because I do not want to just terrorize them. At least not only their minds. Because their minds and their dreams they can escape. I can put them in physical danger. I can hunt them, I can make them feel real fear, I can know what they know, see what they have seen, feel what they have felt.”

You crinkled your eyebrows and shook your head at his behavior. “Did the King not make you to be the perfect one?”

“Yes exactly, I am!”, he exclaimed, stepping even closer to you. “And that is why I see his flaws, the flaws in his reign and in how he treats us! I am perfect and that is why I see that he is not.”

“He doesn’t care about us. Look at this!” He spread his arms as an urging for you to look around, to realize what has happened to the place you once called a home. “This … this kingdom, his beloved realm, or whatever, completely left alone, abandoned. He abandoned us. Staying here would have no purpose.”

Your eyes dared to flicker around for a second, to look at the place that used to be your favorite one in the entire realm of the Dreaming, which was now unrecognizable. A mere shadow of it’s former shape.

But then, as soon as the thoughts of doubt threatened to enter your mind, clarity washed over you like a wave of ice cold water. You clenched your jaw in determination and raised your chin, fixating the point where you assumed his eyes should be, with your own.

“I am loyal to Lord Morpheus,” you said. Firmly, almost as if the Corinthian wasn’t the only one you wanted to convince of that statement.

The nightmare in front of you dropped his arms, a scoff leaving his mouth in unbelief.

He shook his head. “Then you are loyal to a dead man,” he said.

You pressed your jaw harder together and he finally turned around, walking away and leaving you standing between the ruins of what once was the most beautiful of all realms, surrounded by black sand and the debris of a world.

Ever the loyal soldier to a broken crown.