#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.

[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

[circle-of-mushrooms]

Mammon x autistic reader perhaps? 🥺

Mammon x Autistic Reader Headcanons a/n: autism is a spectrum and everyone is different, so i just based these off my own experiences and tried to keep things vague. but i love mammon and this was a great ask

♡ Mammon is an old, old man . . . He's been around for ages and while he stays on top of things to keep his products relevant, its likely he hasn't delved too deep into new research surrounding disorders. ↳ That said -- you probably have to be as patient with him as he has to be with you and be prepared to explain things several times to him. ♡ If you're super particular about something, there's no doubt that he's able to make sure everything is up to your standards. ↳ Imagine they changed the recipe to one of your favourite store-bought foods and while no one else can really taste the difference, you sure can, and it's effectively ruined your whole month. Boom. Mammon's got that company sitting in the palm of his hand and he's made them change it back to how it once was.

↳ If you prefer a certain texture/fabric for your bedsheets or clothing, he's making sure everything in your house is made out of it. Only if you please. His idea of love is making all your wants a reality. ♡ It's easily to be overstimulated in a circus.

↳ The first time you attended one of his shows, the crowds alone were overwhelming - but then the sickly sweet smells of stall food hit you, followed by the sound of repetitive horns honking and bells jingling. The popcorn was overly greasy for some reason, making your hands feel unpleasant and impossible to use. ↳ When you shut down, Mammon didn't understand what was going on. He was a little pissed at first, thinking you were causing a scene but upon seeing your face, he quickly teleported you to somewhere more quiet.

↳ It took some explaining, but he understood soon enough. He still wants you to come to the shows he hosts - even if you're both just in the audience - but he ensures you're comfortable first. Noise-cancelling headphones? Check. And you get there early to avoid the crowds and can stay well above them when you cuddle with him up on his spiderweb as you watch the show. ♡ Mammon is undoubtedly an enabler.

↳ If you have an interest that calls to you to buy merchandise or paraphernalia that relate to it, he's encouraging you to buy it! Hell, give him some sugar and he'll buy it for you himself!

↳ Greed is king and he's the king of Greed, baby! If you want to make an unreasonable purchase, he sure as hell will let you.

↳ "Go on, ya know ya want it. What's a couple a' fifties if it makes ya happy!" And you complain you don't have the cash to spare. "Yeah, alright, alright. Then how about you give me a kiss, and we can see if Mamz can get it for ya?" And he's got the widest grin ever.

♡ Surprisngly, he's a decent listener . . . ?

↳ You want to ramble away about something, you can. It was originally annoying to him that he wasn't the one controlling the conversation but when he saw how happy you were when he shut up and listen once, he learnt that sometimes being quiet wasn't so bad. You're cute when you ramble.

↳ "Eh wait, so run it by me again, doll. What's this thing all about?" And he already knows, but he wants to hear you say it again with the same passion.

♡ Misunderstandings can happen.

↳ If you're unable to read tone all too well over text, then you at least have the comfort of knowing that Mammon doesn't hide his emotions - even through messages. He tacks on lots of smileys and emojis so it helps a lot for indicating his tone. You find it cute that his emoticons have eight eyes sometimes. ::::)

↳ But there's still times when you misunderstand something he says or even vice versa, and you both have to scramble to make some sort of amends. He isn't too good at accepting blame but does his part to not push it on to you either.

↳ Another thing you like is that he's pretty straightforward and doesn't beat around the bush, so there are no guessing games. If you're the same, then he thinks it's great! Maybe even hilarious if you have the balls to be upfront with a Sin. Maybe that's what made him interested in you.

♡ If anyone gives you shit, they're dead. No question.

♡ But otherwise, nothing changes! Once you tell Mammon all your boundaries and preferences, he's incorporating them into your now shared lifestyle and dates - anything to keep his fav around!

But he isn't babying you or treating you any different from anyone else. The special treatment you do get is because he loves ya and loves spoiling his doll rotten!

[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

[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

[helluvatimes]

One Honeypot

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

[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.

[thecastleschangians]

Oak( Horrortale Sans)

How he became a member:

* Oak was the 3nd member to join

* The gang ran into him in a forest located on the surface

* The concerns of his injuries and his handy cooking skills convinced Midnight to let him join

Personality:

* friendly despite his appearance

* Though is a bit awkward around new people

* Very slow to anger, you gotta royally f up to get him angry at you

* Attacks are more passive, prefers to detain the attacker than outright ripping them to shreds-

Other Facts:

* Oak can control the plants around him

* Though can’t do this too often due to it taking a toll on his already low magic

* Does still have his axe, it’s buried in the backyard in a safe place

* You can find Oak either napping outside or working around the castle, likes to keep himself busy

* Main maintainer of the bitties, assisted with Fail and Lavender

* Bitties like to hitch a ride in the fluffy hoodie :3

* His memory fades here and there sometimes so castle has random sticky notes he left to remind himself of things

* One of his favorite hobbies is making/experimenting with different teas

Backstory:

* Plant manipulation is a popular way of magic expression in his au, Boss Monsters have it stronger

* But Oak and his brother, Willow, inherited another ability from their late father, the ability to see possibilities

* When they were young it came in dreams they didn’t understand fully at the time

* They didn’t see a need to use it though till the human came …..

* Similar story of Horrortale happened Underground after the disappearance of the human and the king

* They did eventually make it to the surface, but not to a warm welcome,….

* The monster race’s actions underground were seen as a war crime

* After a few months of being cooped up in a camp in the foot of the mountain the race was sentenced to a mass genocide

* Oak was ready to give up but Willow wasn’t….and Willow’s determination to keep his brother safe caused Oak to be the lone survivor

* He hid in the forest near the mountain, mainly due to the injuries he had were too great to do much….

* Then someone accidentally fell in the bush he was sleeping in one afternoon

* Aka blades-

Relationship with Other Members:

Blades

* Status: Good

* Relationship was a bit rocky at first but things are better now

* Complete opposites

* Confused on why he senses a touch of guilt from Blades

* A combination of Peppermint and Ginger with honey

Soot

* Status: Good

* A bit awkward since both aren’t much talkers

* Soot doesn’t seem to like to hang out with him much because of it

* Plain Chamomile tea

Fail/ure

* Satus: Good

* Occasionally helps him around lab

* Fial helps him with the bitties, mainly maintaince

* Prefers coffee but occasionally gives him Black with 3 sugar cubes and milk

* (It’s practically coffee at that point-)

Cyan

* Status: Very Good

* Cooking buds !

* He gives Oak tips on the most * magnificent* teas

* Earl Grey with 2 sugar cubes

Lavender

* Status: Very Good

* Likes to hang out with him in the afternoon, not too shady or sunny, perfect for naps and conversations

* Though one sided-

* The barn also has lots of cool critters to hang out with and Lav likes to show them to him

* Rooibos with 2 sugar cubes and some cream

Ten

* Status: Good

* Hardly sees him but on friendly terms

* Lemon Balm with 5 sugar cubes, honey, and drowned with milk

Midnight

* Status: Very Good

* Leaves a cup of tea for him in front of his door every morning

* Turmeric with a single sugar cube

[total-television-productions-act]

Last night I had a dream wherein I joined a discord for old cartoons where I was the resident King & Odie fan (as is usual). I got somebody else into it and they wrote a fan fiction about The King & Odie where I cameoed in it. I loved this cameo so much that dream Ale started daydreaming about it (as is usual).

What that lead to was this elaborate dream that the Ale that was canon in that fic was a supernatural demon, of some sort, that could quite literally control what was going to happen in that world.

I never dreamed back about the real world that the fic was written in, so what follows are notes about the world of the fic and what the Ale did to it.

Here's what my sona looks like, for reference:

King Leonardo's castle was my grandparent's house, but this is pretty standard fair for dreams.

The starting plot was that there was some sort of standard "steal-the-kingdom" plot by Biggie and Itchy. Leonardo was scared and asking his knights about what to do about it. One of these knights was our dear little quadruped Ale.

Leonardo then suspects Odie of something. We learn that this Odie is 54 years old and is about to get married to another knight named Sanrio. This was supposed to be a surprise to Leonardo. Real!Ale gets very excited about this, saying, "I was hoping for my rarepair, Odie/Charlie, but I'm excited to learn about your rarepair!"

This makes in-universe!Odie get suspicious of in-universe!Ale. The fic stops updating, and we forget about it to focus on ourself.

Odie tries to figure out what Ale's deal is, and discovers a recipe. This recipe is a pretty standard cookie recipe, except it's a sort of 3d-thing, made top-up in it's loaf. It's sort of shaped like a sheep from above, and now it's Odie's job to decorate the wool.

The recipe calls for powdered sugar icing, gold powder, and cinnamon. These come back later, but for now, without thinking about it, Odie powders cinnamon over the wool and pipes out some very standard wool-like swirls, then covers the swirls in gold powder and more cinnamon.

Odie keeps searching until we learn that, at some point, Odie and The Hunter were dating, The Hunter used to be a knight, and The Hunter baked the previous Ales. For some reason he makes six Ales, but only decorates five of them.

Watching these memories, Odie figures that Hunter didn't decorate the last one because that's when they broke up. As soon as he thinks this, Hunter decorates the final one: it's artistic, with clouds, straight lines of icing, and an icing-picture of a very sad frog in the middle. There is a song here.

This makes Odie sad, but it also makes him realize that Horris, who is a child and also currently a knight, has a very good chance of baking the next Ale.

More importantly, here is when Odie realizes the current Ale is a doughish color with a cinnamon-colored wool--the exact thing he baked. (It is not, physically, but we'll take the dream's word for it.)

This is when Odie realizes that Ale is the threat he was looking for. Ale decides to make itself a threat. Odie sings a song here that is called "Unwool Yourself" but i think "Shear Yourself" would've been a better pun.

For some reason, Odie questions Leonardo about his backstory. He reveals that he had a sister named Dawn, and recounts an adventure of his two moms driving him to school. In the stand-still traffic, an old Ale lures his moms out of the car and into a couple of bushes to make love. This works, and soon, two more of Leonardo's siblings spawn into existence.

One is a gold-and-cinnamon color, an Ale, with the given name "that's right baby, 'Stone Cold Steve Austin!'"

Odie reasonably does not trust that sibling, but sees the backstory Ale change things, and make one of Leonardo's moms a gold color, and one a cinnamon color.

Despite all this, that Ale dies in a car crash. This leads Odie to realize that Ale respawns through the baking of the sheep. This is fucked, because as King, Leonardo is the only person allowed to have powdered sugar icing, gold powder and cinnamon.

Ale realizes that it has been caught and changes things. Most notably, shoves Odie away and kidnaps Leonardo into a limbo-zone to hang out with.

One of the things Ale does is bring Leonardo to its group of friends, who I think are the previous Ales, who are watching the entire Spongebob series. (Which is something real!Ale is doing). Being Ales, they all discuss their personal rewrites of each individual episode. Leonardo does not understand this way of thinking.

The other Ales start embarassing the current Ale about a "Squidward's Suicide"-type fic that it wrote when it was young, and they plan on showing it to Leonardo. Ale insists that they watch the build-up episodes to buy itself more time.

While doing this, Ale steals Leonardo away and brings him to a ferris-wheel. Leonardo is annoyed now and demands to know why Ale is doing this. Ale dodges the questions, but there's comedy here wherein their seats on the ferris wheel are so far apart that they can't hear eachother and keep yelling "WHAT?" Every time the ferris wheel turns, they swap seats. Evenutally, Ale and Leonardo are sitting right next to eachother.

Ale tries to threaten Leonardo by shifting its face, until it feels guilty about shifting into a telephone. This is apparently relevant because the fic Leonardo was going to be shown was actually a King Leonardo "Squidward's Suicide"-type fic where there was a telephone. And despite not being shown it, now, by spending so much time with the Ales, Leonardo remembers what happened in it and is pissed.

Leonardo derails the ferris wheel. It crashes into a big thicket of cartoonish green weeds, and Ale is crying and sad. It just wanted to have new King and Odie stuff that it liked :[

Leonardo does not forgive it and demands to be sent home. Ale makes a door, but when Leonardo opens it, it finally shows Ale's backstory: an actual sort of thing from my life where Ale is always shown to be the comic relief and victim of slapstick.

Leonardo looks at Ale with pity but still wants to go home. Ale sighs and makes another door, this one leaning to a castle backroom. Leonardo leaves through it with his dignity in tact.

Ale, at the moment, is too injured to move. But Ale changes things one last time, and leaves the door open.

That's when I wake up. It may not be as awesome of a dream as I thought it was when I woke up, but I, for one, love my new lore.