#whitewellness

[jutenium]

Okay, it's a hard one to explain... But I'll try

When I checked the text of the Tumblr post with a translator just in case, it translated Simon's collar as a pet collar in my language. I looked at the design of the collar from the official comic and thought it really looked like a pet collar lol

So, this is Jessica Whitewell pointing to Simon's collar and asking "What's that, a collar?", referring to its resemblance to pet collar

Simon Lovelace's white-toothed smile slowly disappears, and he blushes, raising a trembling hand to his collar to adjust it slightly

And then he gulps nervously and looks at the camera like on the office (he looks at his thoughts with shock and disgus, but can't stop thinking)

Oh, yes, and I ship them (disrespectful to both. well, to Simon more than Jessica)

[graytaloty]

draw your characters

[libearyn]

One Voice

The fear of human opinion disables;    trusting in God protects you from that. ~ Proverbs 29:25 “How lovely that everyone, great and small, can make a contribution toward introducing justice straightaway!”  ~ Anne Frank Sometimes we get lost in the crowd, in the muck, in the atmosphere of uncertainty around us.  We forget whose we are.  We forget that one person can make not just “A”…

[artificial-transmutations]

Replacing Prince Alaric

This is a sequel to "Nothing but a jest" that was requested by one of the mighty subscribers of my page! If you, too, want to see your idea come to live, don't hesitate to visit my riot page!

"You can hardly be serious, your majesty!" Lord Darius Whitewell protested.

The king was looking down at him with a stern expression on his face. "I am most serious, Lord Whitewell. Even though I agree with you that prince Alaric's behavior was not tolerable, and I even agree with the punishment, the fact remains that the kingdom needs a prince."

Lord Whitewell stood in the middle of the throne room, surrounded by several ministers. He had been brought before the king for punishment, for cursing prince Alaric and turning him into a jester.

"So, for you, the situation is simple. Either you replace the prince, or you will be beheaded for bewitching royalty." The king continued.

"And if I choose to replace the prince, how would that even be possible?" Lord Whitewell asked. "I certainly possess the magic necessary to change the body and mind, but I cannot instill the intricate knowledge needed to be a fit ruler into a fool!"

"And that is why you will replace the prince yourself, Lord Whitewell. The choice is yours. Turn yourself into the prince or suffer the consequences of your actions."

Lord Whitewell looked around the room and saw all eyes on him, judging him. There was only one answer he could give.

"I accept," he said slowly.

"Then get to it immediately!" The king ordered.

"Right here and now?" Lord Whitewell said in surprise.

"What else did you think you were brought here for?" the king said angrily. "Your life depends on this, Lord Whitewell! No time like the present."

Lord Whitewell sighed. There was certainly no way out of this. He would have to pose as the prince for some time and would need to come up with a better solution later. With a bit of concentration, he summoned a ball of magic in his left palm and brought it to his heart. Immediately, the magic washed over him, starting to change him.

First, his hair turned a bright blond, similar to that of the late queen. He put his hand on his face, which was changing too. His cheekbones got more pronounced, his eyes greener. It was not perfect, but it was a close enough look to fool people who didn't look at him closely for more than a minute. His skin straightened up and cleaned, which gave him a youthful appearance and hid the scars that years of experience had left on his skin. He felt his body growing as he continued the process, becoming more fit and well-shaped. At the same time, his height decreased somewhat, until he matched the height that prince Alaric had before he became a fool.

Inside his robes, he felt his privates stir - a feeling that had become rarer with each passing year. But now the virility of youth returned to him. Prince Alaric had counted twenty summers, so the body Lord Whitewell was changing into was in his prime of masculinity. He felt his cock hardening slightly as he thought about the possibilities this body gave him in bed.

Finally, he opened his eyes again. The room around him looked the same, but he knew he looked the same as the prince.

"Your majesty, I present you prince Alaric Thornehart," he said and gave a low bow.

"Only better behaved", the king said in a satisfied voice and dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

As Lord Whitewell made his way out of the throne room, he felt strangely proud and satisfied with his new body. Initially, he didn't want to become the prince, but he had to admit it had its perks. Prince Alaric was certainly handsome and fit and being a member of royalty had certain perks as well.

The first thing he had to do now was to change his clothes. He could hardly walk around in some old man's robes. With a shrug, he did not return to his own quarters but to those of prince Alaric. For everyone who did not see the events, he *was* prince Alaric now, so why should he not use the proper wardrobe?

When he arrived at the room, he disrobed immediately and regarded himself in the big full length mirror. What a body! A nice set of muscles on his arms, his chest and his back. A well-toned abdomen. He admired the view for a while, running a hand across his body and feeling how different his touch was to that of an old man. Without further thought, his wandering hand reached his manhood, stroking it lightly. The touch alone brought a slight flush to his cheeks and he could feel himself harden under his own hand. His eyes grew dark with lust, and he began stroking himself slowly.

Suddenly, he heard a high pitched gasp. When he turned around, he saw one of the maids who had come into his room to clean up and had seen him stroke his royal meat.

Lord Thorn... no, Lord Whitewell was conflicted. His first impulse was to be ashamed, cover himself and hope that the maid hadn't seen too much. It was quickly replaced by a second impulse that his throbbing manhood seemed to dictate: Take advantage of the situation and lay the maid right here and now. To the advisors surprise and dismay however, the thought of fondling the full breasts of that women filled him only with abhor. And thus came a third impulse, the one that the newly minted prince at once acted on:

"What are you staring at?" he said in an arrogant voice. "This is not for you! But quick, go and fetch Worric the stableman, I am in need of his immediate assistance!"

With those words, he shoved the maid towards the door, closed it and turned back towards the mirror. He quickly got dressed in some loose pants and threw on an open vest. He knew the stableman was well built and handsome, and today would be his lucky day. It was weird to think of men as he used to think about women, but this new urges were just too strong to resist.

It didn't take long until there was a knock on the door. When Darius Thornehart opened the door, Worric stood there in all his glory.

He was tall, strong and well-proportioned, and had a rugged look about him, similar to that of a soldier. His muscles strained against his clothes, and stubble framed his handsome face. Apparently, he came right from his workplace, since he was covered in sweat and did not wear any shirt. Alaric felt his stiff member throb at the sight.

"You requested my presence your grace?" the stableman said politely.

"Yes, come inside," Alaric said with an easy smile. "You're looking quite... sweaty today, Worric."

"Yes, your grace. The horses need some attention. Especially the stallions when it's breeding time," he said.

The prince nodded. "Yes, it is breeding time indeed. That is why you are here. Get in and close the door!"

With that, Alaric threw his vest on the bed and pushed down his pants. He was naked, but the stableman didn't seem to mind. The young man's eyes widened at the sight of the prince's manhood, which was straining to be set free. Alaric smiled and slowly stroked himself, making sure Worric saw all of it.

The stableman quickly approached him and got down on his knees. With his head low, he began kissing Alaric's leg and worked his way up to his inner thigh. Then he grabbed the prince's cock and took it into his mouth.

Alaric smiled down at him as he felt the stableman suck on his shaft, loving how warm and wet it felt. He placed a hand on Worric's head and began to move his hips lightly. He was fully erect now and was getting impatient.

"Stand up and get naked", Alaric ordered.

As Worric stood up, Alaric grabbed his pants and threw them to the side, followed by the man's shirt, leaving him completely naked. His muscular chest and abs were gleaming with sweat, and his bulging member pointed up in the air like a mast.

"Bend over, peasant!" Alaric said as he pushed the man towards his bed. The stableman obliged immediately, leaning over the edge of the bed and sticking his ass out in front of Alaric. He quickly grabbed the stableman’s cheeks and pulled them apart to reveal his virgin hole. Alaric wasted no time and thrust himself into his target with no further warning.

Worric let out a high pitched moan as the cock of his prince filled his ass for the first time. Alaric moved his hips back and forth, enjoying how tight the stableman’s ass felt. The man's hole was so hot, he could barely think. He felt like his whole body was on fire and it was almost impossible not to let loose. He kept going, slamming himself in and out of the man's ass, who just moaned with pleasure.

Finally, he reached his peak. With a few final thrusts, he felt his orgasm coming and slammed himself deep into the man's ass, causing Worric to cum as well.

"Yes! Fill me!" he cried out.

"You filthy animal", Alaric said and gave the man's ass a playful slap. "Now go to your work and be grateful for having received my cock!"

The stableman nodded, picked up his pants and shirt and left the room. Alaric laid back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He has been mistaken: Being the prince would be most enjoyable indeed. Prince Alaric could hardly remember having been anyone else anymore.

[ohnonovaki]

The Great Whitewell Conservatory

༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺

"Nestled within the graceful grounds of Duke Whitewell's estate, a conservatory blooms as a verdant sanctuary, a gift of natural splendour bestowed upon his wife, Florentia Whitewell."

"Lovers of nature and art, this conservatory was loved by the couple and their two children."

"In the current century, it is a beloved museum for art and nature lovers alike."

༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺

Hi everyone! Sorry for the lack of posts, but here's an old contest submission for a greenhouse contest! (I lost T_T)

I based this conservatory off The Crystal Palace in London!!

Hope yall like it :)

[haveyoureadthispoll]

Sharp-tongued (and secretly soft-hearted) Kiki Banjo has just made a huge mistake. As an expert in relationship-evasion and the host of the popular student radio show Brown Sugar, she's made it her mission to make sure the women of the African-Caribbean Society at Whitewell University do not fall into the mess of "situationships", players, and heartbreak. But when the Queen of the Unbothered kisses Malakai Korede, the guy she just publicly denounced as "The Wastemen of Whitewell," in front of every Blackwellian on campus, she finds her show on the brink. They're soon embroiled in a fake relationship to try and salvage their reputations and save their futures. Kiki has never surrendered her heart before, and a player like Malakai won't be the one to change that, no matter how charming he is or how electric their connection feels. But surprisingly entertaining study sessions and intimate, late-night talks at old-fashioned diners force Kiki to look beyond her own presumptions. Is she ready to open herself up to something deeper?

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: Must-Read Humorous Fiction

Honey & Spice by Bolu Babalola 

Sharp-tongued (and secretly soft-hearted) Kiki Banjo has just made a huge mistake. As an expert in relationship-evasion and the host of the popular student radio show Brown Sugar, she’s made it her mission to make sure the women of the African-Caribbean Society at Whitewell University do not fall into the mess of “situationships”, players, and heartbreak. But when the Queen of the Unbothered kisses Malakai Korede, the guy she just publicly denounced as “The Wastemen of Whitewell,” in front of every Blackwellian on campus, she finds her show on the brink

They’re soon embroiled in a fake relationship to try and salvage their reputations and save their futures. Kiki has never surrendered her heart before, and a player like Malakai won’t be the one to change that, no matter how charming he is or how electric their connection feels. But surprisingly entertaining study sessions and intimate, late-night talks at old-fashioned diners force Kiki to look beyond her own presumptions. Is she ready to open herself up to something deeper?

A Thousand Miles to Graceland by Kristen Mei Chase

Grace Johnson can’t escape the feeling that her life is on autopilot—until her husband announces he’s done with their marriage. Grace has a choice: wallow in humiliation . . . or reluctantly grant her outlandish mother’s seventieth birthday wish with a road trip Graceland. Buckle up, Elvis. We’re on our way.

Now the two are hightailing it from El Paso to Memphis, leaving a trail of sequins, false eyelashes, and difficult memories in their wake. Between spontaneous roadside stops to psychics, wig mishaps, and familiar passive-aggressive zingers, Grace is starting to better understand her Elvis-obsessed mama and their own fragile connection. She may even have another shot at love. Apparently the King really does work in mysterious ways. But after all these years, will it ever be possible for Grace and her mom to heal the hurts of the past?

Yinka, Where Is Your Huzband? by Lizzie Damilola Blackburn

Meet Yinka: a thirty-something, Oxford-educated, British Nigerian woman with a well-paid job, good friends, and a mother whose constant refrain is "Yinka, where is your huzband?"

Yinka's Nigerian aunties frequently pray for her delivery from singledom, her work friends think she's too traditional (she's saving herself for marriage!), her girlfriends think she needs to get over her ex already, and the men in her life...well, that's a whole other story. But Yinka herself has always believed that true love will find her when the time is right. Still, when her cousin gets engaged, Yinka commences Operation Find-A-Date for Rachel's Wedding. Aided by a spreadsheet and her best friend, Yinka is determined to succeed. Will Yinka find herself a huzband? And what if the thing she really needs to find is herself?

The Singles Table by Sara Desai

After a devastating break-up, celebrity-obsessed lawyer Zara Patel is determined never to open her heart again. She puts her energy into building her career and helping her friends find romance through the wedding season. She's never faced a guest at the singles table she couldn’t match, until she crosses paths with the sinfully sexy Jay Donovan.

Former military security specialist Jay has no time for love. His life is about working hard, staying focused, and winning at all costs. When charismatic Zara crashes into his life, he's thrown into close contact with exactly the kind of chaos he wants to avoid. Worse, they're stuck together for the entire wedding season.

So they make a deal. She'll find his special someone if he introduces her to his celebrity clients. But when their arrangement brings them together in ways they never expected, they realize that the perfect match might just be their own.

[dndorkdoggo]

Sweet as Cherry Wine

Sariya loves Twist. Twist loves Sariya. What does it matter if Twist is possessive? They are happy together and that’s what matters.

Twist Floramora/Sariya Venleth (728 words) TW for abusive relationships

~~

It is a peaceful day. The sun is pouring threw the open window, the room was warm, the house smelled of freshly baked cookies, and Sariya was laying on top of her beautiful girlfriend. Twist is gently carding her fingers through the elf’s hair as she hums some wordless tune, and Sariya can’t think of anywhere else she would rather be.

“So, my dear,” Twist says suddenly, breaking Sariya out of her half-asleep state.

“Yes?”

“A little birdy told me that you bought flowers a few days ago,” she begins, “And yet, I never got any flowers.”

Sariya shifted so she could look up at Twist. “Oh yes, I got them for Doctor Whitewell.”

Twist hums. “Why?”

The elf smiles as she lays her head back down. “It was his birthday and he was working an extremely long shift.” She giggles before adding, “He didn’t even know it was his birthday!”

“He didn’t?”

“No,” Sariya laughs. “He was so confused when I gave him the flowers and I had to explain what they were for!”

Twist kisses the top of her head. “You are so sweet, my love.” She runs the tips of her nails soothingly against Sariya’s scalp, and the elf feels as if she could melt. “How long have you known this ‘Dr. Whitewell’?”

Sariya gives her best attempt at shrugging. “A long time. We became friends around 200 years ago.”

“Really now? You’ve never mentioned him,” Twist says.

“I haven’t?” Sariya asks. “Not even when we first met, Maude?” She goes back through her memories, trying to remember any time her two friends met.

“No, I don’t believe you ever mentioned him.”

The elf shifts so she can look up at her beautiful girlfriend as she thinks. “Odd, I would have sworn you’ve met him. He’s a gnome. Brown hair and a well-groomed red beard. Does he really not sound familiar?”

“No,” Twist says as she wraps a strand of hair around her finger before unwrapping it. “And you know I have a good memory.”

Sariya smiles dopily. “Yes, far better than mine.” She leans up to kiss her. “Well then, you’ll need to meet him.”

Twist kiss her back. “I would like to meet him since the two of you seem so close.”

There’s something in the way she says “close” that makes Sariya pull back and look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Sariya, I’m not stupid,” she says, her voice taking a dangerous lilt.

“No, no we really are just friends!” she says quickly, trying to soothe her loving girlfriend. “I knew him before I had even met you or Gid-”

“Don’t say his name!” Twist snaps, her magenta eyes burning brightly before suddenly dimming into something loving. “But I don’t worry about you cheating,” She cards her fingers through Sariya’s hair, waiting for the elf to relax, laying her head back on the vampire’s chest. Sariya breathes deeply, feeling the warm sun on her back, smelling the freshly baked cookies, and knowing that she is being held by the woman that loves her more than she loves anything else in the world.

Suddenly Twist grabs a fist full of hair in the back of Sariya’s head and yanks her head up, ignoring the elf’s pained scream, and pulling her until they are at eye level.

“Because you know you belong to me, isn’t that right?”

Tears prick at the corners of Sariya’s eyes as she nods. “Of course.” She says with a watery smile.

“Good,” Twist responds softly before her brow pinches in confusion. She grabs Sariya by the chin and angles her head up. “Why are you crying?” she asks as she wipes away the tears with her thumb.

“I- I don’t know,” the elf says shakily. “I just love you so, so much.”

Twist smiles as kisses her cheek. “I love you too, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sariya responds shakily as Twist guides her head back down to lie on her chest.

It is a peaceful day. The sun is pouring threw the open window, the room was warm, the house smelled of freshly baked cookies, and Sariya was laying on top of her beautiful girlfriend. Twist is gently carding her fingers through the elf’s hair as she hums some wordless tune, and Sariya can’t think of anywhere else she would rather be.

[malec-ao3feed]

Jace gets the D (Dad) (Working Title)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/s64STyo by ParanormalRomanceFan89 Jace Wayland makes yet another rash decision that leads to a fellow Shadowhunter being injured, Alec now the new head of the New York institute after the Dark War with Sebastian is defeated had had enough of Jace's rash behavior and not thinking things through has decided that if Jace is going to behave like a child then he'll be treated like one. With spanking's and all that being a child Shadowhunter entails. A/N: Feedback and comments are very much appreciated Words: 2755, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen, M/M, Multi Characters: Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane, Jace Wayland, Isabelle Lightwood, Original Characters, Liam Whitewell-OC, Eliot Whitewell-OC Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Jace Wayland & Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Jace Wayland Needs A Hug, Jace Wayland Needs A Dad, Alec Lightwood assigns Jace Wayland a Dad, Non-Consensual Dad Assignmanet, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Corporal Punishment, Jace Wayland Feels, Jace Wayland Deserves Nice Things, exhausted Alec Lightwood, Non-Sexual Age Play, Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, OC Dad character read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/s64STyo

[couldnt-think-of-a-better-name]

Not only does shirai have references from western mediums in tpn, but also his ashley goeth one shot (according to your recent post). Have you seen shirai's comment in a shonen jump issue? It mentioned that he watched umbrella academy and enjoyed it! I've also seen a reddit comment from you talking about why shirai has so many western references, so can you develop on that?

Posuka Demizu is an accepted, and clearly Japanese artist outside of TPN as well, although some of her art is clearly TPN inspired. (Btw, have you noticed the RAY in the last image? :D)

What about Shirai-san though? Could he be a foreigner, and if so, would it make sense for him to use a penname to hide it?

The surroundings with the building hidden inside the forest, and big grassy areas is also eerily similar. Although none of this is unusual for England tbh…

It’s all just speculation in this case, no real evidence, I’m just curious about it.

I was also interested in how there is a place called Pendle hill nearby, that looked familiar to me as some of the demonic landscape we have seen.

[madesht]

Обои Designers guild, коллекция Whitewell

https://www.mayster.kiev.ua/oboi/designers-guild-whitewell.htm

Профессиональная поклейка обоев в Киеве

Мастерская декоративных штукатурок MADEsht

[celticwaterwitch]

A dark temple that rests among the sacred landscape. A hidden place full of mystery and magic. Dedicated to the old Gods, the Faery King and Queen. A true temple of water where clothing is optional, candle light dances upon the walls and shrines, water fills every corner and the energy of the underworld swirl around with powerful healing for those that seek to enter through the mysterious gates... #whitespring #gwynapnudd #gwyn #bride #brigid #stbrigid #morgana #morganlefay #fairyking #fairyqueen #watergoddess #watergod #glastonbury #whitewell #waterwitch #waterpriestess #waterwoman #healing #temple #sacred #witchesofinstagram #pagansofinstagram #lightworkersofinstagram #shadow #shadowworker #healer #healersofinstagram

[artificial-transmutations]

Nothing but a jest

The doors to the throne room were closed, which was unusual for this time of day. Especially, since it was audience hour, and there was already a queue of people waiting outside.

Royal advisor and court wizard Lord Darius Whitewell frowned. The king was away for a few weeks, and during this time, it fell upon the oldest son of his to manage the royal affairs, including, of course, the audience hour. Sadly, Prince Alaric Thornehart was... difficult to say the least. He wouldn't say he was unfit to be a king, but only because it was not his call to make. He knew that behind closed doors the whole castle shared his doubts, down to the lowest maid. Lord Whitewell sighed. It was probably best if he looked after the prince, perhaps he could assist him.

As he approached the door, he noticed one of the armed guards making eye contact with him and shaking his head lightly. From behind the closed doors, Lord Whitewell could hear stifled moans and slapping noises.

He made a short prayer that he wouldn't see what he was fearing to see and pushed open the door, entering the throne room with his usual confident stride.

It was worse. Prince Alaric was completely nude bare for his crown, and stood next to the throne, his hands on the hips of another man, who was bend over the royal throne, getting his ass pounded by the prince's cock. Just as Lord Whitewell entered, the prince's faces contorted in orgasm, as he no doubt came buried deep inside the man who was tainting the throne.

Lord Whitewell was speechless for a moment but felt his anger raising. This was an insult to both himself and the kingdom!

"Your highness!" Lord Whitewell barked, causing the two men to freeze. "What are you doing?"

Alaric turned around slowly, his face flushed red from passion, and sweat dripping down his body. There was no hint of shame or awareness of wrongdoing on his face. Instead, he addressed the other man (a stable hand, as Lord Whitewell noticed) who was hastily trying to pull his pants up:

"Leave us alone!"

As the servant left, prince Alaric shamelessly had his eyes on his behind, until he had left the room. After that, the prince, not bothering to cover his privates, sat down lightly on the throne, one leg over the armrest, and flexed his arm.

"My dear Lord Whitewell, what did it look like I was doing? Holding an audience of course. That good man needed royal consultation, preferably from behind. And that's what I gave him."

The prince grinned at him, while Lord Whitewell struggled to keep his composure.

"That is not how we do things here," Lord Whitewell said carefully. "You're supposed to hold audiences from the throne, dressed appropriately. Under no circumstances are you to fornicate, even less so on your fathers throne. Or with another man."

Prince Alaric waved a dismissive hand at him.

"I am tired of these formalities. I am the prince here, and you are just my advisor. I will do as I please and you... will shut up." The prince was grinning smugly, so sure that he was invincible. Lord Whitewell's anger was burning white hot in him. He struggled to keep himself under control but ultimately failed.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" His voice echoed through the hall and startled everyone present. Even Prince Alaric seemed taken aback by his outburst.

"You forget yourself, old man." The prince pointed a finger at him angrily. "You are nothing more than a servant in this palace now. You have no right to speak to me this way."

That was it. Something inside Lord Whitewell's head snapped. He knew fair well that he would have to answer to the king for what he was about to do, and with any luck it would just earn him some time in the dungeon, but this had to stop here. He looked at the prince coldly.

"Prince Alaric, your rule has been nothing but a joke since your father left. You are a joke of a prince and a joke of a man. So, it comes only naturally that you should make that joke your vocation." Lord Whitewell raised his arms and dark purple magic began to form around the prince.

"No longer shall you taint the royal name with your perverse behavior! No longer can you sit on the throne and pretend to be a king. For you are no king! If you need to follow your dirty urges, then so be it! If you think you need to entertain aristocracy with your depravity, then so be it! No longer shall you be named prince Alaric Thornehart! You shall become what you are inside already! You shall become Jockularic Thornwit, the jester!"

With that last word, Lord Whitewell unleashed all of his power into the prince. A blast of dark magic hit the prince square in the chest, knocking him off the throne, where he landed flat on his back. The crown rolled away on the ground, and the body of the prince began changing at once.

His hair turned dark, with clearly colored highlights in red. Dark hair began to erupt all over his body, giving him a scruffy look. At the same time, an unpleasant smell of dirt, dried sweat and semen surrounded him, fit for a peasant who had not seen a bath since last Christmas.

His cock grew to an obscene size, forming a sizable bulge in his new red and blue fools pants that appeared around his legs. He would never be able to hide any arousal like that. Finally, the light behind his eyes dimmed down to a vacant look, as the magic spell took away almost all of his intelligence. Even forming complicated sentences was a challenge for him now. He did not make people laugh, people laughed at him.

Jockularic Thornwit slowly scrambled to his feet. He felt dizzy and stumbled forward, nearly falling again, before managing to stay upright. He looked around, confused, wondering why no one was laughing at him anymore. Apparently, his job here was done. He gave a low bow and slapped his own ass while doing so (that usually got him one or two laughs) and said: "Thank you very much, Your Highness." Then he walked out of the throne room door, not without unabashedly scratching his groin on his way out.

[blogkennethratcliffeposts]

Pastor James McConnell

It was at the tender age of 7 that, as a young boy, James McConnell trusted the Lord Jesus to be his Saviour. Kneeling down at an old bench in the Iron Mission Hall, together with his Sunday School teacher, Sammy Jamison, he prayed the sinner’s prayer, little realizing the calling that the Lord had on his young life.

Difficult years lay ahead for the young James McConnell. He would find…

[nadiajustbe]

OK, I got permission from the coauthor (@leeemontreethesun , by the way a lovely person with lovely drawings to sign up for, I'm not implying anything at all) and now I can tell you more about this AU.

It's a modern, no magic, sns AU, so the character descriptions I'll give for a quick read will have pages attached that I'll figure out how to post.

I would like to say that the pairing here will be a secret, but come on you're on my account, what kind of pairing can be here?

So, here, enjoy a little bit of the information

1. John Mandrake, aka Nathaniel:

17 years

chronic fatigue hey yo.

lives in foster care with Jessica Whitewell, but only has a really warm relationship with Ms. Lutyens

three accounts: a base, a closed one with only Kitty, and an even more closed one where only he

goes to art college, is into photography.

has a single but precious friend, Kitty Jones, and he treasures her very much

loves coffee and evening London.

Give him sleep and a psychologist, pls

2. Kathleen Jones aka Kitty:

17 years old (yes her and Nat are the same age here)

goes to college with Nathaniel.

but went there at her parents' request.

not really into art college because she has different interests.

community activist.

wants to be a political scientist.

feminists

has friends from her old school

values her friendship with Mandrake more than life

doesn't know his real name.

likes to draw posters for peaceful rallies

watches cartoon shows with Bartimaeus until the wee hours of the morning as her raison to live

lingering at Nat's home library, too, by the way.

3. Bartimeus:

19 years old

Is a university student in the history department.

Has a particular love and focus on Ancient Egyptian history

(Don't) joke about becoming a history teacher

just the basic account, because "why the extra account?"

will eventually have a close account

moonlights as a barista near Kitty College, often guffaws with customers and co-workers

"Explain to me grandpa what swag and slay are, and what's the difference!"

truly magically manages to combine everything and anything

bestie with Kitty.

loves atmospheric movies

and also the faces of the customers after the next prank.

loves emoji from symbols:3

4. Rosanna Lutyens:

28 years old.

teacher at Nat's art college

"Selling a painting..."

- figure maser for Nathaniel

really loves her job and the kids

can give extra lessons if a student doesn't understand something

not very active on Twitter, but writes to John

Is especially attached to John, who obviously lacks caring

Gives him less homework if she sees the boy is tired

"Mr. Lovelace, I think I made myself clear: one more time you give John extra homework without explaining the material..."

Nat once even drew her a portrait for her birthday