#they are only teeny razors

[idontknowreallywhy]

*writes fluff*

*rereads fluff*

*goes back and hides razors in the fluff*

[poirott]

SHERLOCK 2x02 "The Hounds of Baskerville"

[bemusedlybespectacled]

proposing what I'm going to call Gaylor's Razor, which is: never explain normal shit as being part of a secret message that can only be decoded by over-analysis.

"These Taylor Swift lyrics are actually coded messages saying that she's a lesbian and is forced to stay in the closet! Any lyrics that are clearly about being attracted to a man are just to throw us off the scent!" Sometimes people, like Taylor Swift, are straight and write about being straight, because they are straight.

"The fourth series of Sherlock was deliberately bad because it was actually a coded message to us fans that there is a secret fourth episode that will make Johnlock canon and will actually be good!" Sometimes writers (even experienced writers who are normally good at their jobs) will write something that's not good, because no one is perfect. They're not going to waste everyone's time and money and energy creating something terrible on purpose as part of a grand master plan.

"Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the Canadian Olympic ice dancers, are secretly married (with kids)! Their public relationships with people who are not each other and them repeatedly saying 'we dated as kids and now we're just friends' are just to hide the truth! Which they need to hide for some reason! Their relationship is obvious just from their physical chemistry when competing! JUST LOOK AT THIS TWO SECOND CLIP OF HIM BLINKING AT HER!" It seems counterproductive to put all that thought into hiding a relationship that doesn't need to be hidden but then also telegraph that same relationship in front of millions of people through planned choreography.

"But BB, what about times that people really are speaking in code or hiding something due to outside influences?"

If it requires huge leaps in logic, like adding all the letters in a sentence together and dividing by seventeen and that number matches the binary sequence for the color yellow so YELLOW MUST BE SIGNIFICANT, it's not a secret code.

If it requires focusing on teeny tiny details but discards huge ones, like analyzing someone's micro-expressions but handwaving away what the person is actually saying out loud with their mouth, or focusing on one specific line instead of the entire scene or song or whatever, it's not a secret code.

If both supporting and contradictory evidence are used to come to the same conclusion (ex: when Taylor says something that I interpret as gay, that means she's gay, and when she says something that I interpret as straight, that still means she's gay and just hiding it), it's not a secret code.

Trying to apply fandom meta analysis techniques to real life is a really good way of fall into conspiratorial thinking that can be easily exploited. You can totally try to predict what's going to happen in a story or choose to interpret a scene in a specific way; you can't do that in real life with real people. That way lies the kind of nonsense that leads to shit like "this image of pizza on a children's toy is actually subliminal messaging by The Cabal™ that proves that Pizzagate is real."

[lizleeships]

C a s u a l  I n t i m a c y  is my jam, I have no excuse

(Don’t repost)

--> Buy me a kofi? | Become a Patron to see the Mipple version 

Teeny contextual ficlet below the cut: 

“Cas, lay off already,” Dean huffs from the motel bed. 

He crosses his bruised arms behind his head and tries to force back a wince of pain as he slings a casual grin. 

“We’re in one piece, aren’t we?” 

The angel seems dangerously ruffled, and Dean really wants to focus on that like the awesome boyfriend he’s learned to be. The thing is though, Cas is stripped down to his boxers and an old black undershirt in preparation for his shower and it’s more distracting than a train crash. A sexy, sexy train crash. 

Okay yeah, he’s probably a bit concussed; maybe Cas is right for chewing him out. 

“You have to be more careful,” Cas insists, his voice doing that deliciously growly thing it does (which, again: not the time, Winchester), “I’m not what I used to be, and neither are you.”

“Wow, okay-”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re not getting any younger, and I’m not getting any more useful. On most days I barely have enough Grace to heal your razor nicks.”

A pang of irritation surges at that - because Dean is excellent at grooming, thank you- but instead of clapping back, Dean opts for a far more entertaining option. He reels the angel in by the towel ends draped around his shoulders, and plants a kiss right between his severely pinched eyebrows. 

“I’ll be more careful, okay?” is his murmured promise, “I swear on my Old Guy honour.”

“That’s not fair,” Cas complains, though he doesn’t move an inch. 

“What?” 

“You can’t just distract me when I’m trying to make a point. It’s extremely patronizing.” 

Dean chuckles and kisses the wrinkles which pleasantly frame Cas’ eyes, then the speckles of grey at his temples. 

“Yeah? Does that mean it’s working?” 

“Dean, this is serious.” 

The consternation on Cas’ face has only mildly ebbed through the affection, so Dean frames his features with his hands, bumps their foreheads together. 

“I know, sweetheart. I hear you.” 

Cas nods against him as he stands down, shoulders sinking on a deep exhalation. 

“Really. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Alright.” 

“But next time, maybe try making your point when you’re not half-naked, speaking of distractions. That’s playing dirty and you know it.”

Finally, Cas’ grave  expression breaks into a grin while Dean pulls him all the way down onto the bed.

“You’re ridiculous; I’m wearing clothes,” Cas objects. 

He makes himself at home in Dean’s lap, his fingers trailing absently over warm freckled skin. Dean looks up at him with a smirk.

“Yeah well, we’ll see about that.”

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥

Cw: sleep deprivation, hallucinations, suicide, self harm, poly!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, force feeding but not in a fetish way, vomit (only mentioned), drugging, selective/situational mutism, the hallucinations catholicism related (sorry I'm hispanic), kinda comfort at the end?

Notes: Tumblr wouldn't let me upload this?? I tried several times so I decided to just post it alone. Anyways, this happens after a variation of the events in Even as the void consumes them but the reader didn't succumb to stockholm syndrome

"Open. Up" Gayatri's voice was nothing but an echo, a disturbance in the sound waves. You can feel she has her hand on your jaw, trying to force it open. You had vomited everything that had entered your system the las three days, it's not even intentional at this point, it's like your body rejects whatever its presented. It makes sense, in a way. Your body is rejecting them, just like you do.

You stubbornly clench your jaw in a silent protest. Not that there's other way to oppose her, the second your lips are slightly spread, she'll force the food down your throat.

You recognize their patience. They have been trying to feed you for, an hour? You are tempted to leave it uncertain, as time is not something your tired brain can afford to care about.

Every escape plan has failed so far, the one time you could leave the building, you were returned by the police. And after your second attempt, you moved, they got a house instead of an apartment, you could see through windows, it was a completely unknown place, you assumed it was Mumbattan since Pavitr had "work" here, but aside from that, is hopeless.

Gayatri's hand lets go of your jaw, she's getting increasingly frustrated at your resistance. You see her holding back tears. You could go on a whole ramble about how she must feel seeing you starve, and sleep deprive yourself, a person she loves dearly, in theory. However, you don't allow yourself to be moved by their sob stories anymore, you're too tired, you're too damaged.

"Have it your way. This little stunt won't be successful, you won't die." She says as she gets up from the chair and exits the living room, have you been rested and functioning properly, you would've listened to her whispering something more. "I can't let you die"

As of late, you only sleep when you're passed out, only get nourished when they leave you no choice. You really wished there was a less painful way to go, but they made sure you couldn't hurt yourself, no knives, no razors, no pills (not even ibuprofen), they baby-proofed the entire house so you wouldn't hurt yourself with the corners of the furniture, Pavitr wanted to remove the door from your room so he could watch you 24/7, but Gayatri talked him out of it. You don't know if it's genuine respect for the little privacy you had left, or just because being exposed also meant that they were exposed as well, and you've seen how she storms out because she doesn't have the strength to keep her tears from falling, you hear their endless rantings at night, it always ends the same way: they wail about the lost time, about the things you said or did, or about the teeny tiny impression that they might have screwed up, it's all the same, they'll end up curled up in each other's embrace, conjuring excuses and hope-filled speeches about "things going back to how they were".

You see the plate laying beneath you. Full of maggots, you gag and feel the now familiar burn in your dry throat. You fight the urge to slam the plate away, this happened before, everytime they leave, food turns to maggots, they can't see it, but you know what they're really feeding you. It's better, you definitely have no appetite now.

You head to your room, now filled with the floral wallpaper you hate. When you saw it for the first time, you made your nails bleed from scratching the walls, you hated it, you yelled at them, berated them in every way you knew how. It was the only thing you'd ask for in this hellhole. If you can't have freedom, please let the yellow flowers stay with you. Eventually they got some, but not enough to cover the whole room, no longer 5,128 flowers. You said you wouldn't speak a word to them until they got you the rest, but you know that's not the real reason why you don't talk anymore.

"Don't talk, go make bread" an old man whispers

"Your eyes taste like how the color purple tastes like"

You hear a knock on the door, followed by more voices.

"You're ungrateful."

"Break the door"

"Don't answer the door"

"I really want to sleep"

"Pigeons are nice because they know things"

Voices always calm down when Michael shows up. The glow hurts your eyes, the divine light hurts the sinner.

"Father shall not leave thee, you face the calvary for those who are innocent"

Those who are innocent.

Pavitr is not innocent, you recall it now.

He gave you a spoonful of something, then he pecked your closed lips. You don't know you weren't moving, it feels like you were watching a movie about yourself.

Pavitr is not innocent, so you aren't doing this for him.

What are you doing?

Y/N collapsed on the floor, the loud thump alerted the other two people.

"They'll be better now, you can rest" Pavitr reassured to the woman next to him

"They keep trying to hurt themselves, they won't let us nurse them back to health" there was an audible tear in Gayatri Singh's voice, cracking, a little hoarse, tired.

"We can't blame them for being ill. Remember, love, in sickness and in health" Pavitr picked the body, it was malnourished, skin thin like a sheet of paper, multiple little injuries that never healed properly. He put them in the bed, freshly made, no one has slept there in a while.

"In sickness and in health" Gayatri repeated, with hope, as she tucked her lover into the bed, she made sure it was comfortable, even for someone who won't know the difference.

They kiss their slumbering lover's hands, then sit down, in well needed silence.

"We need to call the physician to see if they can put them in IV therapy or something" Gayatri said, her worries still exacerbating

"One day at a time, jaanu, one day at a time."

[kpforpresident]

from the prompt list - time travel 💫😌 please

Clarke slams into the ground so hard her teeth rattle. Every muscle aching with effort, she manages to fling out a shaking arm to hinge herself onto her back, teeny rocks biting into her palm with sharp edges as she flops down again, arms screaming.

With another desperate burst of energy she manages to curl her fingers around the knife that is digging a razor tip into just above her knee, bringing it to clasp over her chest as her lungs burn from the abrupt change in both altitude and oxygen content.

The sky is a bright ceramic blue, puffy white clouds lazily sailing by as birds chirp merrily in the background, the sounds of an idyllic marred only by the loud wheezing Clarke found herself emitting as she struggled to catch her breath.

Why the fuck is that time jump so goddamn hard? When I go forward it doesn't give me a rib stitch like that, Clarke finds herself thinking as she massages her right rib absentmindedly.

Three large breaths later Clarke finds the fortitude to peel herself off the ground, staggering upright as she shakes the pins and needles out of her leaden feet. She surreptitiously checks the glowing map that surrounds her wrist, noting the golden, pulsing dot in the middle is moving steadily closer to her location.

Nodding decisively, she moves forward, finds a slightly rotten, moss coated log to settle onto by the side of the road, and settles in to wait, eyes glued to the glowing orb that is moving from the crook of her elbow to the green x that is projected above her wrist.

///

Lexa rolls her next side to side slightly, straightening up and nodding infinitesimally back towards Gus's direction when he tilts his head in her direction, eyes questioning.

Yes, I'm ok.

Stiffness from her neck alleviated slightly, Heda settled into the rhythmic movement of her horse, Laika's gentle walk, and resigned herself to a boring ride north, mentally preparing for the mind games and underhanded treachery that two weeks of all of the ambassadors in Polis for their annual meeting held.

At least Luna is coming this year, that's something.

Lexa was so entrenched in the thoughts of her dark eyed friend that she almost missed the flaxen haired girl, curled up slightly off the path on a crumbling redwood log.

Her guards, however, did not.

Lexa was unable to bark an order to stand down before Ryder drew his bow, a lethally honed arrow whistling through the arrow with deadly speed before Lexa could raise a hand in warning.

Before she could breathe, a blue glow washed over the clearing as an orb, crackling and pulsing with energy, encompassed the girl. Ryder's arrow fell to the ground silently at Laika's feet, arrow tip compressed cleanly into a flat disc where it had come in contact with the energy field.

Brow pressed tight in silent disbelief and worry, Ryder silently stooped to scoop up the arrow and hand it to Lexa, both chastisement and concern etched into his features.

The clearing was completely silent, dusk rapidly creeping into the forest as purple smudged the horizon.

The girl was awake now, expression blank behind the wavering energy as she stared silently back at the company before her. She stands quietly, every muscle clearly on alert as she raises her hands in deference to Lexa, either somehow knowing or assuming that she was the one to address. Lexa makes a mental note of her observation skills,

"Hello. My name is Clarke Griffin."

Lexa turned the arrow over in slender fingers twice, thumb gently worrying the downy soft fletching of the owl feathers before coming to a snap decision.

She speaks the language of the mountain people.

"Hei, Clarke Griffin. I am Lexa."

Something akin to recognition washes over Clarke's features, intelligence clear in her bright eyes.

"Lexa."

Confused, Lexa cocks her head, Laika stamping uneasily as Lexa's hands tighten unconsciously on the reigns.

"Lexa kom Trikru." The trig words trip uncomfortable, foreign, off of Clarke's tongue.

Gus's head snaps up at this, hand tightening around his sword as he looks at Clarke Griffin with renewed suspicion.

"The only people who refer to me as that are my familiars or my advisors, of which you are neither, Clarke Griffin. Explain yourself, or you will not be so lucky as for Ryder to miss a second time." The words come out colder, tighter, than initially intended. Clarke's tech and her appearance among a trail that was a tightly kept secret as Heda's preferred traveling path was unlikely to be a lucky guess.

The blue orb flares again around Clarke at Lexa's threatening tone, Lexa's guard blinking against the bright glow that once again surrounds her figure. Despite this, Clarke takes one, then two hesitant steps towards Lexa. Laika

"Lexa. I'm here to help you, to help protect you."

Lexa can feel her eyebrow quirk in amusement and disdain as a ripple of laughter ran through her men. Lexa, clad head to toe in leathers with two swords strapped to her back, black war paint smudged down her cheeks in a fearsome mask, hardly conjured images of helpless maidens in distress. Lexa had staunchly curated her image in defiance of her stature as a slim young woman since the day she had climbed bloodied and victorious out of her Kongeda.

"Protect me?" Lexa snorted in derision, though not unkindly. This Clarke Griffin clearly meant well, although mistaken. While they would have to question her on her knowledge of this trail, there was nothing to be concerned about, Lexa decided as she settled back into her saddle once again. "I highly doubt that, Clarke Griffin."

"I come from a future where you are killed by an unseen assassin at the last night of the yearly ambassador meeting, Heda. With your death the conclave falls into disrepair, triggering the start of World War Four. I was sent back to save you, and I intend to do my job."

The reins slip from Lexa's hands as she is unable to stop the shocked breath from escaping her lips.

A steely blue gaze meets a dazed green stare as Clarke hesitantly lowers the force field, stepping foward into Lexa's path.

"I believe we have much to discuss."

[gloomgrl9]

is this vore? or just gore? ig both🤷‍♀️

um i hope this is good, beel's jaw anatomy is a headcannon, not canon. it resembles ghat of a moray eel. (my fav animals😍)

angst-y, vore-y, gore-y

The Avatar of Gluttony was a sweet soul. Some argued that he was still the angel he once was, just with a monstrous appetite. To show just how much he cared about people, he used every ounce of self control to stop himself from devouring that teeny little human now living in his house. While at first, all he saw was a takeout bag, now he saw that, in his twin's absence, the little creature had a heart of gold and did everything they could to help him.

As for the human themselves, they were always told that Beel was perhaps the safest demon to be around. Just not when he's feasting. The Avatar if Gluttony is relentless, and on one fateful day, when something had to interrupt every single one of his meals, he lost it. The human's bedroom, being right next to the kitchen, could hear the banging of pans and the deep, primal growls of the beast. it was utterly terrifying.

Though, if our dear readers know anything about MC, they know that they have no sense of self-preservation. And as always, curiosity killed the cat. So there they were, sneaking their head around the kitchen door to see the nine foot tall creature covered in animal blood and shoving a carcass into his mouth. Until suddenly he stopped, and begun to sniff the air.

Blood.

Meat.

Food.

He turned around faster than any human world creature and pounced. his outer jaw came foreword and grabbed the human, while the inner jaw sprang from behind, it's razor sharp teeth piercing straight through the prey's abdomen, cutting his dear friend cleanly in half, their blood mixing with the animal's as it flows down his chin. Though this doesn't last too long, as the demon quickly swallows the human's lower half, slurping intestines down like spaghetti, and the top half close behind. He moved on his gluttonous rampage without thinking anything of it.

Until about five minutes later. It's worth mentioning that Beel is home alone, and has been the whole day, minus the exchange human. None of his brothers are aware if his feast. As Beel suddenly regains control of himself, he does a mull over of his blurry, foggy memories from the last hour or so. Everything seems normal, he'll just have to stop at Hell's Kitchen to replace the food he ate. no biggie. Wait, what was that thing he ate? Why was it moving? Was it a mouse? He can't quite tell. He hopes it's not one of Satan's cats, or he'll be yelled at for ages. He began to leave for the restaurant to restock the house when his memories clear up. Oh no.

Oh no.

If he had done anything else, slowed down or even sped up so they would have been swallowed whole, he could have still saved them. If only he had been thinking straight, or used a protection spell beforehand. When he was an angel, he was a protector and even now he still makes it his job to protect his family. So how could even his animalistic side do this? As he's panicking, he's sobbing. How could he do this to them? They were so sweet, and they had only checked up on him to make sure he was okay. How scared were they? How much did it hurt? But he had to protect his family. If he was outcasted, who would save them? He had to hide what he had done. He cleaned up every last drop of blood, restocked the fridge to perfection, and even planted texts between himself and MC, saying that MC had taken a walk and simply never returned. He broke their DDD and hid it in the woods, where no brother would find it. He feels horrible, but what can he do? Hiding his crimes and lying is the best thing he can do for the family, even if it leaves them all heartbroken for a few years, they'll soon forget all about their little exchange student, and everything will be right again, won't it?

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Two.

Thank you so much to all those who offered commentary, reviews and reblogs on the first chapter, beautiful ones! Now that I have the mamoth story of BTBT out of the way, I can pretty much post each chapter of this as soon as the previous one hits 40 notes to unlock, and they’re nice, short reads too, so people aren’t likely to fall behind. If you do require a break, though, just let me know. If not, if you want it, you got it! Your author aims to make her audience happy :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One

Taglist - In the comments

Words - 2,225 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“So, you’re a rare breed of woman, honestly being so into football. Any other sports out there you like?” Manny asked her, his timing a little off, Hannah taking a gigantic bite out of her burger.

“UFC,” she muffled through a mouthful of cheddar laden beef, ending up with a smear of barbecue sauce at the corner of her lip. He reached forward, wiping it away with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and sucking. It was a tiny action, but god, it made her pulse quicken. “I watch all of it, but I have such an affinity for the female fighters. I might not take crap easily – well, Michael aside, I guess – but those girls? They’re next level tough. I went up to Vegas to watch a match recently, Jennifer Cora versus Lily Romero-Reyes. Shit, Jennifer got her ass handed to her!”

“Yeah, I was there, too. I know Lily, actually. She’s married to one of the guys in my club, and the daughter of another,” he spoke, Hannah swallowing her mouthful of food with widened eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here! Oh my god, that’s awesome! What’s she like? She seems scary as hell!” she cried, picking up a fry and popping it into her mouth. “Actually, now you come to mention it, I’ve seen her being walked out by MC guys, but I didn’t put two and two together!”

“She’s scary in the octagon, but outside of it, she’s the sweetest girl. She and Angel, that’s her husband, by the way, they’re two of my favourite people, and their baby is adorable. She got all of us wrapped around her teeny tiny lil’ pinky finger,” he smiled, thinking of Willow, who he had a definite soft spot for, loving kids as much as he did.  

She finished her mouthful, sipping her drink before nodding in his direction, reaching to tap the patch upon his kutte. “By all of us, I take it you mean the guys in your MC, right?” He nodded through a mouthful of burger. “So, what’s that all about, then? I hear so many differing stories about you guys. Some say you’re all criminals up to your asses in illegal activities, and some say you’re merely a group of motorcycle enthusiasts who happen to run the only scrap metal yard in Santo Padre.”  

He contemplated his options, knowing that she wasn’t stupid, but then again, neither was he. “We sit somewhere between the two.”

“The straight and narrow more of a winding road littered with potholes and razor wire?”

He cocked his head, rolling his tongue around his inner cheek to retrieve a stray piece of tomato. “You got it, darlin’.” It was nice, that she didn’t quiz him over it. She knew what he was, and was smart enough to know that despite her question, he wasn’t going to embellish further any more than she was about to sit and pick for more details, of which she didn’t. “So, what about you, Hannah banana? What do you do to keep yourself in expensive looking shoes?” His eyes cast down to where her legs her crossed, the pointed toe of her stiletto brushing his calf every so often. He knew pricey when he saw it.  

“Bookkeeper. I work freelance from home as opposed to just for one firm. I do smaller businesses, like bars, salons, boutiques, restaurants, places like that. I’m cheaper than keeping someone on staff to do it, but I charge enough that I can indulge my fetish with nice shoes such as these,” she replied, waving her foot in a way that made her legs muscles flex from where she’d hitched her dress up a little, trying to get some air from one of the jaunty old upright fans over in the corner onto them. A fully lined lace bridal gown wasn’t the coolest of items to wear within an establishment with no air conditioning, a sign upon the bar apologising for the fact it was broken. In July of all months.  

“And what do you do to keep those stems looking as mouth-watering as they do?” he then asked, sipping his beer with a wink. Oh, she could get used to this. A man who was complimentary of her. Boy, how she’d missed that.  

“Apart from the ballet, I run, do a little pilates and yoga, too. That’s about as much as I like to put myself through, since my natural happy state involves sitting on my ass.” Grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar, she began to fan herself, finding the heat a little much. “If you’ll excuse me for just a few moments, I’m going to head to the bathroom, and then go up to the small store I saw further on up in the row. I noticed clothes in the window, and I desperately need to get out of this gown!”

“N’aww, shit. And I thought it’d be me getting you out of that dress.” He winked at her, Hannah shaking her head as she slid from the stool, resting her hand to his arm. It was surprisingly firm, his muscles not big, but certainly well formed.  

“You’re bad.”

His grin widened. “But you like it.”

Her eyebrows twitched, licking her top lip in a way that made his insides pulse. “Never said I didn’t.” She left him then, heading to the restroom first before exiting, attracting looks from people parking up along the narrow street, to see her there, resplendent in her wedding gown. That was another reason for wanting to change, since a few more people entering the bar had offered their congratulations.  

In truth, it was starting to eat at her a little bit. Hannah Gray was the furthest thing from a bad-mannered person, and no matter how poorly Michael had treated her in the past, she knew he didn’t deserve to be jilted quite so unceremoniously. Her fear of being alone truly wasn’t enough to justify her actions that morning, but if she knew one thing about herself, it was how impulsive she could be.  

Entering the store, she drew stares from all around, people whispering in hushed tones as she walked to one of the racks and shuffled through the items, finding something perfect and in her size more or less right away. A simple, and very short, black wrap dress. On the next rack, something else she needed, since the slight sheer quality of the fabric would mean her oyster silk bridal lingerie would show right through; black underwear.  

Her outfit choice, she couldn’t one hundred percent say wasn’t borne of wanting to maybe get a little more attention from Manny, crazy as it was that she was even thinking about a dalliance with another man on the day of her would-be wedding. Paying for the items (plus a new crossbody bag with chain straps she decided to treat herself to, she asked to use their changing room, the woman behind the counter offering her a big, sturdy bag to stow her dress in, which she thanked her for before going to change.  

The dress fitted her well, if not a tiny bit risqué in so much that it barely covered her butt cheeks. Hell, she had nice legs. It could be worse. She could be Michael’s wife. As it was, she’d had a lucky escape, on the back of the Harley belonging to the outlaw whose eyes almost fell out onto the bar floor when she walked back in.  

“Yup,” he almost growled, “those are some fuckin’ quality stems.” Oh, what he wouldn’t give to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around him.  

“Why thank you, sir.” She inclined her head to him, jumping back up onto the stool and finishing her drink, Manny immediately ordering her another, turning to see her suddenly wince, reaching to rub at her ankle. “Cramp.”  

He jerked his head back, making a wiggling motion with his hand. “Gimmie your foot, I’m good for this shit. Healing hands, so I’ve been told.” She hesitated only for a second before gently toeing her shoe off and lifting her leg, Manny grasping her foot and resting it a mere inch from his crotch, fingers beginning to softly squeeze her upper ankle. “There?”

“Yeah,” she hissed, the pain shooting up her calf, the muscle tensing. “Thank you.”  

He winked, only pausing briefly to pay the bartender before returning both hands to her leg, squeezing warmth through the taut muscle. Just his hands on her leg, and Hannah felt her skin tingle pleasantly, the action seemingly quite innocent, but definitely charged just beneath the surface. Even more so that she could feel the heat of his crotch against the sole of her foot, knowing that one little move would end up with her brushing against his cock.  

Just the thought of that made her bite her lip, Manny catching her do it, his hands travelling a little higher as he kept eye contact with her. “How’d those hands feel, beautiful?”

“Absolutely perfect. I might have to get your number so I can call you up to do this for me again at any point in the future where cramp easing is required,” she spoke, her voice a little thick, slow like honey for just how good his fingers rubbing over her felt.

He snorted softly, purposefully letting his fingertips drag in tickle over her leg before squeezing once more, easing the cramp away. “If I’m giving you my digits, it’s for more than to come rub out a cramp.”

“I’m sure I could think of a few more places.” His eyes didn’t leave hers as she pulled her leg from his grasp, Manny sliding from his stool, fingers gently resting to her knees as he manoeuvred himself between her thighs.  

He let his lips touch against her ear, his voice steeped in gravel when he finally spoke. “Now who’s bad?” Leaning back, he winked, excusing himself, heading for the restrooms and leaving her so scorching, she was surprised she didn’t pass out from the heat that had begun to blaze between them. This man? He had game in shades, and he knew it, but he wasn’t arrogant with it, not at all. Manny was the exact opposite of Michael, who had never really come back down to earth after his glory days as the most adored high school jock.  

Speaking of jocks, there was a pile of them working their way into the bar loudly just as Manny was returning from the restroom, one not watching where he was going, bumping into a woman carrying a glass of wine back to her table, the glass knocked from her hand and shattering on the floor. The young guy didn’t even acknowledge his fault.  

“Hey yo, you in the yellow shirt!” Manny called, his cadence suddenly filling the bar like a foghorn, yet his voice was barely raised. “You gonna apologise to the lady? You just knocked her glass clean out of her hand, man.”  

He shrugged, turning back. “It was an accident; I didn’t mean it.”

“Be that as it may, it was an accident you caused. Be a fucking gentleman and apologise.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “I don’t need a moral lecture from some scummy biker! Get the fuck out of here.”  

“Seems you do, homie. I said apologise.” Manny suddenly straightened, making himself look much broader than his slight frame alluded to, the guy laughing before balling his fist, his arm shooting out. The punch aimed never made contact, though, Manny grabbing his wrist and squeezing. “Nah, son. I’m gon’ give you this time to reconsider your actions here, save you missing any teeth, because if I swing at you, trust and believe, yo’ bitch ass is going down hard, and those aforementioned teeth are gonna be all over the damned floor. All you gotta do is say you’re sorry.”

Hannah sat rigid in her seat, watching it all unfold, her nerves tingling with excitement at how coolly Manny handled himself, not even raising his voice once.  

The guy considered his options, trying to yank himself free of the iron grip around his wrist. It did not yield, Manny yanking him closer with ease, placing his other hand atop his head and physically turning it in the direction of the woman who was standing there speechless. “Apologise. Now.” His whisper was delivered in a serpent like hiss, the guy gulping.  

“I’m sorry.”  

“Finally,” Manny chirped, letting him go. “Next time, don’t let it be the threat of a better man than you to make you do the right thing, bro.” The man walked away, looking sheepish, Manny sniffing casually before turning to the woman with a megawatt smile. “Chardonnay? You look like a chardonnay girl.”

“Yes, but really, you’ve done enough! Thank you!” she gushed, Manny waving her words away and heading to the bar, where he bought her and her friend a bottle, placing it along with a fresh glass upon their table. “You ladies enjoy.” He winked, the women bowled over by his manner, Hannah smiling softly. He didn’t have to do that, he had absolutely no reason to than out of being a decent human, and it only made her feel pulled into his orbit further.  

Chivalry. Big dick energy. She’d begun to forget what they looked like.  

[burnwater13]

Grogu receiving the control stick knob from Razor Crest from the Mandalorian (out of frame). Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 6, The Prisoner. Calendar by DataWorks.

Grogu sat in his hammock and tossed the knob from the control stick of the Razor Crest from one hand to the other. Well, that’s what he told other people he was doing. What he was really doing was using the Force to have the knob make short swooping trips around the bedroom, getting closer and closer to the Mandalorian without actually touching him. 

It was challenging and a lot of fun. Sure, once or twice Din Djarin managed to wake up just in the nick of time. The nick of time for Grogu, that is. He snapped that ball (knob? Who even came up with that word) back into his hand and pretended he hadn’t been doing anything at all. He didn’t want his dad to take his powers for granted and get in the habit of asking him to do more repair work around the cabin or  Jedi Ancients forbid, the N-1. 

He’d tried to help Din Djarin with some work on the N-1 once. Just the one time. He realized that the task that the Mandalorian was trying to complete required more hands than a Mandalorian was typically outfitted with and set aside the work he was doing to help his dad. Like any good son and apprentice would do. It went pretty smoothly at the start. He floated the strut up to the right height so all the bounty hunter had to do was gently push it into place and then apply the fasteners and Bobu Frik’s your uncle, it would be all done.

But, ah… that’s not how it worked. Nope. Apparently his dad had been too focused on reviewing the installation directions and hadn’t noticed that Grogu had prepped the strut for him already. Then he swung around to call for Grogu and slammed the strut with his right chest plate. That probably would have hurt anyone else but since Din Djarin was wearing his armor his chest was fine. 

However, Grogu had become slightly distracted by the progress a small flying insect had made in traversing the Mandalorian’s helmet. So Grogu was just as surprised at his dad’s sudden movement as Din Djarin had been at hitting the floating strut, which sent the strut spinning away before Grogu had it under strict and proper control again. Oops. 

What was worse was that the strut hit some ridiculously delicate part of the outer body panel of the N-1’s fuselage, putting a teeny, tiny scratch in the polish that the Mandalorian made sure was thick enough to stop a Mudhorn. Grogu could barely see it with a work light and squinting. But apparently it was the only thing the Mandalorian could see. Dank farrik!

You can imagine that after that incident, which became known as ‘How Grogu Scratched the Womp Rats out of the N-1’, Grogu had been told two things pretty emphatically. No using the Force without his dad’s permission and no helping with the N-1 without his dad’s permission. Grogu was fine with the later. He didn’t really like doing that sort of work and he sure wasn’t going to do it if he had to beg his dad for the opportunity to help. Sheesh.

However, asking to use the Force… well, that was a big problem. Grogu used the Force all the time now. He had to. That’s just how life worked on Nevarro. Need to use a privy anywhere other than the cabin or the High Magistrate’s offices? Use the Force. Make any meal for himself when his dad was off doing something, like polishing ‘The Scar’ on the N-1 trying to make it less noticeable, use the Force. (R5 had agreed with Grogu that only an electron microscope was able to sense that scratch and R5 was amazed that the Mandalorian’s sensors had setting that fine). Clean himself up after going fishing in the pond and falling in because he misjudged the slipperiness of the mud on the banks, use the Force. 

Half the time he used the Force during his daily lessons and practice sessions. It seemed silly to ask his dad for permission to a do a thing that he did at same time in the same place every day. The other half of the time he couldn’t anticipate when he might need to use the Force. Like that whole fishing fiasco. Uff.

He was just a little hungry but they already had dinner. He didn’t really want another serving of ‘rations surprise’, the surprise being that Din Djarin had managed to add some veggies to the rations that Grogu had never eaten before. Blech. So he’d gone outside to see if something tasty was hopping or swimming around. The frogs weren’t hopping but the fish were, so he went and got his fishing rod and some bait and began to fish. Now of course the bait were tiny little critters that burrowed into the side of the pond where there had been some erosion during the summer rainy season (who knew) and digging the little blighters out had made that patch of soil kind of slick and muddy but since Grogu knew it was there, he was okay. To begin with. 

Then as he worked harder and harder to catch the fish, without using the Force mind you, he kind of lost track of where that slippery patch was. That of course corresponded with the moment that some poor fish finally decided that the grubs or whatever they were, were in fact tasty and enticing. The fish struck! Grogu took a step to the side to get a better point of leverage and Womp Rats! Grogu slipped and then slid right into the pond with a substantial splash! That his dad did not hear. 

Nor did his dad hear him splashing to get out of the pond or squishing around the borders of the pond because the slope was kind of steep now that he was soaking wet, covered with pond grass and slicked up with mud. When he finally made it up to a safe place to stand and not slip, slide, slither, skid, or skate right back down into the water, his dad had just come around the corner of the cabin, holding something that Grogu couldn’t quite make out in his arms. 

Grogu decided right then that he had to use the Force to get clean before his dad got the idea that Grogu needed a quick, brisk shower in icy cold water to help with the problem. Quick because the Mandalorian never did anything slowly, other than polish the N-1 and brisk because the hose on the outside of the cabin didn’t provide warm water and no way was Din Djarin letting him in the cabin with so much mud attached to him. 

With time to reflect, Grogu realized that he should have waited for his dad to put whatever he was carrying some place safe, as well as, give him just enough time to go after the hose, which was on the other side of the cabin from the pond, before he cleaned up. But that’s not how things went and the Mandalorian had spent a week picking mud and pond grasses out of his vambraces and helmet after Grogu used the Force to remove all the junk from his coverall. Well… it had to go somewhere… conservation of mass and all that. But the real problem was the thing his dad was carrying was a very delicate and complicated bit of the N-1’s navigation control panel that he wanted to work on inside the cabin to keep it from getting dirty. Oops.

That of course was why he’d tried to help his dad with the N-1 at all. To make up for ‘Mud-ageddon’. It seemed like a good idea at the time. At least he tried. Right? How was he to know that the Force had a sense of humor?

[badlydrawnmanic]

more stuff from my paint folder under the cut with varying levels of explanation

my owlfolk rogue d&d character as a shitty little baby because baby birds look miserable and it's funny

shut up

a square full of bugs

weird arcade cabinet thing from a dream i had. i didn't draw it on here but it had sonic underground decals and stuff and as prizes it'd print off stickers and random screenshots from the show that'd come out that side thing. i don't know why but it had a trackball

i was doodling a bunch of critters for some reason. i think it was low-key inspired by @mossworm's art and in my head it was for some kind of critter collection game idea

i forget what this is about but i think it speaks for itself. despite being in the paint folder it was very clearly not drawn in paint

dinosaurs in love

again not a paint drawing but a manic i drew on drawception

tails lost in the sauce (a plant poofed a fuck ton of pollen right in his face and he is not having a good time)

i drew this while sleep deprived and proceeded to break down into a laughing fit. no i don't know what it is and it's called god.png

a miscellaneous character i have named gordy gatorman. he's gay and owns a bakery

the same doodle of my owlfolk rogue plus two more things (she hates everyone)

i don't have an explanation for this one i just thought the belt attached to scourge's coat was stupid (you know this is old because of my "colored lineart only" phase)

i think the original text for this was slightly nsfw but this is funnier actually

"hjpt ;leg.png"

one of my many interpretations of a human sonic, this one leaning more into "grumpy teenager" than anything else. i usually don't draw humans so this is surprisingly nice looking

there's 3 more panels to this but i just wanna acknowledge those sad lobsters in the dirty ass tank at the grocery store. they looked so sad and i always wanted to take them home

it me

me and my @kinslee-the-normal-human's oc. we used to rp a lot and they'd get into all sorts of bullshit with mr. tall echidna always being like i told you this would happen and being generally upset about it but his teeny tiny girlfriend could not care less. this time it was about vampires but he's just vibing

one of my ocs just kinda turns into fire when he goes super and i thought the idea of his clothes burning off was hilarious

hard to explain but my friend made an au where like every possible fusion of two characters that could exist did exist all at once in a weird little sci-fi society and we roleplayed it a ilttle bit. my main character for it was an amy/manic fusion named pippin and they had anxiety

in the background you can see salyut (he was actually made for this au as a shadow/biolizard fusion), maroon (a shadow/knuckles fusion), and... man i forget his name but he was a sonic/shadow fusion. the character in the second to last panel is a mephiles/tikal fusion who was part of the evil sci-fi government or whatever and she scared pippin a lot. i might repurpose pippin because they're very cute

@kinslee-the-normal-human told me that you can tell if someone is a furry based on how they draw dogs so i drew a dog and she said i was a furry based on how i drew the back legs. she was right but i don't get the test lmao

one of my ocs sort of got sucked into amy's family unit and he's in a sort of younger-ish sibling role to her (despite being older) and she makes him very happy and he loves her very much. they are friends :)

pov you are talking to razor on discord and he is happy to see you

this is called "scourge peep.png". i don't know why it's holding a knife

me and my friend drew pokemon from memory at a sleepover. i think from the different art styles you can tell which ones i drew nsjkdgs

i was playing the sims and made a version of gyro on it and he just kept getting abducted by aliens. i couldn't stop him

[wanderingblindly]

💕if you get this answer with three random facts about yourself and send this to the last seven blogs in your notifs. Anon or not doesn’t matter, get to know the person behind the blog.

Ooooh fun!!!

1. My feet are two different sizes, which was only an issue when I used to buy soccer cleats (had to buy two pairs rip)

2. I’m pretty sure my first words were Taco Bell?

3. I have two ‘fake’ teeth, and have since since the sixth grade. (Related: I had two teeny tiny, razor sharp vampire style teeth. Yes it was when twilight was popular. Yes I’m from the ONW. Yes it was embarrassing))

[bloodshowers]

in solitude, we walk.

teeny drabble for some xiv-month challenge that i prob only did one day of lol. cherry lore.. before she got extra traumatized as the wol.

Even beneath the endlessly blinding rays of the star and its scintillating light burning holes into her eyes and searing her flesh, a thousand suns more could not bring warmth deep enough into her soul, nor lift the shroud of darkness enveloping her in a miasma of poisonous despair, bereft of hope, of any color to paint this dismal realm. Her mouth is filled with the bite of acid, the metallic taste of each loss left to leave its burning mark upon her being still fresh upon her tongue. No matter how persistent she was in trying to rid herself of it, the taste remained as strong as ever. It seemed that with each attempt to swallow it down or spit it out brought it back in spiteful force, to serve as a reminder of her failures, of the sting of loneliness that would, until the dawn of the day her soul splinters into the aetherial sea, follow her like a shadow stitched to her feet.

Each day the sun comes to rise high in the sky, and each night as the moon returns to place its gentle kiss softly upon her skin and with it the quiet murmur of every star strung in the veil around it, she reminds herself of the new resolve she has promised upon the ashes of her village in ruins, upon the ashes of all those who burned beneath the rubble and debris, and upon the corpses of her own family buried in untimely graves far more shallow than what they deserved. She promised to avenge them, to pluck ripened revenge into her blood-stained palms until a sea of red flowed from betwixt her fingers in a cascade from those felled by the serrated-edged talons razor-sharp at her fingertips. The imperials did not look upon her people, nor the homes they have built for centuries with warmth and love deep in the pit of the hearth, with a lick of compassion, and they did not regard them even as things deserving of life. When she takes her blades upon them, it will be cold, without compassion nor sympathy, nor any care for what lives they led once their bodies have been shed of the shells they call armor.

Even now, with all the moons that have passed her by and through the seasons’ changes, the mark of every river of blood and harrowing cut torn through the bed of earth and stone remains ever present in the forefront of her mind. A punishment, perhaps, for being one of few survivors ( if there were any others at all — she certainly did not come across anyone ) of such a tragedy, or for not being enough, for not being in her place.

From the day she uttered her first words to the day she could crawl, walk, run, Cherry has been a rebellious spirit. It isn’t to say she rebelled in spite of the life she lived, nor the people in her life or where she lived, but that she lived in ways of her own without care for the opinions of others, finding her own methods to accomplish something in ways she felt best suited her and her goals, even if it went against tradition. It is more efficient, she would say. Or, perhaps easier, more lucrative, or sometimes, even more challenging if she felt something to be insultingly simple. Stubborn, most would call her. A tempest unlike any other whose flames could engulf the sun itself, perhaps even the waters of the sea until they fizzled into nothing. She has always been fiery, larger-than-life, living in her own world whilst everyone lived within. It was the arrogance in her ambitions that kept her farther from her village than she normally should have been on her hunt that eve, and she will regret it for as long as she lives.

She could smell the unmistakable scent of smoke carrying with the wind down her way, and it was not long after that the guttural, piercing screams and screeches of metal and gunfire and explosions shattered the earth and its atmosphere. No matter how fast her legs ran, with all the desperation and panic in her body, they couldn’t carry her fast enough — all was in ruin by the time she made her return. Her legs were frozen in place, feet cemented in the earth — her entire body was petrified into stone. Already the scent of decay hung heavy in the air with the unmistakable odor of burning flesh, leather, and metal.

Villagers around her were still fleeing, and those who remained fought back as valiantly as they could, but their efforts were all for naught. Cherry eventually gathered the strength to move, and thankfully, her family was still alive and attempting to evade the collapsing structures and rings of fires enclosing them within like rats in a cage. Even the men had returned home, and amongst them was her father. As much of a blur as these events were, she’ll never forget them. When she saw her parents, they were fighting together, and she swears she only left for a moment to find her siblings. The next time she saw her parents, they were collapsed on top of one another, bloody and lifeless with soot and the stains of dirt on their skin. She did not want to leave them, not as they were, but she needed to find her siblings. It felt like forever before they were reunited, and she sent them off to safety before running off for her parents’ remains, bringing their bodies to where she left her siblings, one by one. On her final trip back, her sister and brother were lying face down in the muddied river bank, trickles of blood flowing into the water.

In an instant, she’d lost everything.

Deep down, after a year had passed her by, she still blamed herself, even if realistically there was nothing she could have possibly done to prevent the tragedy that befell her village, home, and family. At the very least, perhaps she could have saved her family if she had only been there. Or, perhaps she, too, would have perished in the Garleans’ onslaught upon her home in their bloodthirsty conquest.

It’s in moments of silence, much like this one, where she finds herself pondering the past and feeling awash with inescapable waves of guilt, regret, and agony. These sensations tear throughout her insides, hot and cold and like twisting hands gripping her entrails with icy fingers and tar-coated nails. Her entire heart sinks into the depths of her stomach, her lungs collapse, and she feels the panic settle into the marrow of her bones. 

Cherry embraces chaos so that she is never left alone in silence in order to keep her mind from derailing off its tracks. What others may call peace is her personal hell; she will never allow herself to relax, not in a thousand summers. Her journey across the endless seas was difficult, more arduous than even the trips she’s taken climbing and scouring the most perilous mountains and ravines, simply because she could not trust her own consciousness to not destroy her.

The ship comes to what feels like a sudden, jolting halt as the waves around the vessel lurched while the anchor sinks down towards the seafloor. The smell of the sea is different, here, compared to the scent of the Ruby Sea. It isn’t particularly bad, but — certainly different. Sitting up at long last, the viera peers over the edge of the deck, then stands fully upright when she feels the sea breeze roll in to tousle her deep, burgundy locks filled with as many waves as the churning waters below, kissed with ripples of rich, sunburnt orange. Dark, thick eyelashes turn aflutter as her eyelids lower, and she takes just this brief moment of respite to relish in the fresh air upon her skin. That moment, however, is short-lived when she runs lithe fingers through her hair, and frowns. Already, she feels the salty moisture clinging to her hair and the beads of sweat forming upon her forehead, just above her brow.

If Thanalan was to speak to the rest of Eorzea and its climate, she’s beginning to wonder if journeying west was the best course of action, but it’s far too late, now. The journey from Kugane to Horizon was a long one, monotonous and uneventful, dreadfully silent filled with naught but the sounds of the waves lapping at the hull of boat and the creak of the wheel, the fluttering of the sails when the winds blew in their favor. The crew wasn’t much for chatter, but it wasn’t as though she minded; neither was she.

And as though the journey by sea hadn’t been long enough, another awaited by carriage to take passage to Ul’dah. What met her upon her arrival was nothing like she expected, but truthfully, she didn’t know what she had been expecting. It is vastly different from the home she once knew, devoid of lush forests and hidden oases tucked betwixt the undergrowth lying beneath the canopies of deciduous trees blooming bright in the spring and wilting into a beautiful mural of colors in the autumn, and the great evergreens towering above filling the air with the lingering scent of fresh tidings and crisp air. Here, all she smelled was earth and stone; not that that was a bad thing, mind you. It is simply . . . different.

Her home was one of more tempered climates, though its winters could be something of a feat to survive ( it had nothing on Coerthas’s eternal snows, though ), and just a few minutes in Thanalan drew glistening beads of sweat to the skin of her face, forcing her to tear off loose threads to tie into a makeshift band for her hair. There is no coin left in her pockets — she had none to begin with. Every piece of gil she had to her name likely melted into a pile of metal wrought in the flames of destruction, just as everything else had. Somehow, some way, Cherry would arise from the ashes and make her way. If not for herself, then for those she had lost, for those who would some day be in need of her hand, or perhaps purely out of spite and bitter vengeance.

No matter the purpose, her journey would not end here. No, there remain many malms left to travel, but for now, she will find the fraying ends of every seam and stitch them anew.

[multitec001]

Garden Tools Review: Unveiling Multitec's Cutting-Edge Pruners

Introducing Multitec's Garden Ninjas

Greetings, fellow green warriors! Today, we're going to dive into the world of garden tools, explicitly the unrecognised yet truly great individuals that keep your plants looking sharp. We're looking at pruning shears, those smooth, scissor-like weapons of mass vegetation. And who better to direct us through this verdant maze than the geniuses at Multitec Tools?

Overview of Multitec's Pruning Shears

Model

Size

Cutting Capacity

Blade Material

Handle

PSA02

210mm

25mm

Stainless Steel

CA

PSA06

210mm

25mm

Stainless Steel

CA

PSB04

210mm

15mm

Alloy Steel

Plastic

PSB08

216mm

19mm

Stainless Steel

TPE

PSB09

190mm

15mm

Stainless Steel

Acetate

Precision Cuts, Effortless Slices

Can we just look at things objectively, gardening can be a genuine torment in the stems some of the time. You're out there, fighting rebel branches and uncontrollable shrubs, furnished with only some dull scissors and a ton of determination. But, fear not, my friends, for Multitec has heard your sobs for help (or was that the sound of you cursing at that stubborn rose bush?).

Their line of pruning shears resembles having a group of little, razor-sharp gardening ninjas available to you. With sharp edges created from high-grade stainless steel and alloy steel, these fantastic young men can cut through even the hardest of twigs with the finesse of a samurai champion. Express farewell to those bothersome hand spasms and hi to easy cuts that would make Edward Scissorhands jealous.

Ergonomic Enablers

But wait, there's more! With Multitec you acknowledge that gardening is a marathon rather than a sprint (unless you’re competing with that one neighbor who always has a perfect lawn). It's because of that their pruning shears are knobbed with ergonomic handles to accommodate your hands like a cradle for a newborn (without the spit up, we promise).

Be it acetate, TPE, or CA handles, you can enjoy the strong but gentle grip that won't make you feel like you wrestled with a grizzly bear. It feels as if some teeny, tiny finger is massaging with each cut.Ah, the luxury!

Our Priority Safety First

Now, we know what you're thinking: "Nay! But don't they seem somewhat, um, sharp to you?" To be fair, you have a point. These pruners are really sharp, even sharper than the scissor hands of Edward. However, Multitec is prepared for any eventuality.

It is handy to have a locking mechanism on each prune as it guarantee that your new gardening BFF is well secured when not in use. No more incidental cuts or playground injuries – just plant-pruning goodness. Not only that, but they also have thought of giving a playful notice: 'Keep your blades away from wires or curious kids'.Safety first, pun intended!

Maintenance Made Easy

Additionally, caring for your pruning shears is just as simple as watering your plastic plant (we all have one; don’t we?). Just coat those blades with some oil after every use, and sharpen them better than a sarcastic remark from your mother-in-law could ever.

And when it comes to storage, it's just a matter of tucking them away in a dry and warm hide, and ti will be in shape to go for an operation on that defiant hedge the next time you decide to wage war. It's like having a low-maintenance, plant-pruning pal who's always game for a little garden therapy.

Cut to the Chase

Let’s not boast more about Multitec pruning shears features and benefits, as you may have plants that need pruning and hedges trimming. So, let's cut to the chase: They are sure to be everyone’s favorite.

From the most weathered gardeners to the people who have just shown up, the Multitec pruners will soon become your dearest cutting things. Their sharp blades, ergonomic handles, and safety features that work perfectly, you will be the one to snap and cut your way to paradise in no time.

Conclusion

Thus, what are you waiting for? Jump into the action with this brawling duo and you will soon get to know what it means to dominate your weeds. Through gardening, you will not only learn and practice new skills, but also cherish the peace provided by it, plus the sunlight will benefit your hands as well. Happy pruning, folks!

Visit for more at: Multitec Industries

Contact us: 8037402470

[kpforpresident]

In plant shop au, has Hiro ever interrupted sexy time? Like Clarke and Lexa are getting hot and heavy after a date and head to their bedroom. As they fall on the bed, all of a sudden Hiro jumps up on their bed because he's curious and wants attention. He sees them holding each other really close and snuggling each other like what they do with him. He's purring because he also wants to cuddle with his mommies.

Lexa closed her eyes in absolute bliss, feeling Clarke's fingers card soothingly throughout her hair as she laves sucking kisses on creamy thighs, paying special attention to Clarke's left hipbone as she sucks gently on the protuberance.

Candles flicker softly around the room, bathing Clarke in a golden glow that makes her look otherworldly as she tilts her head back, sunny highlights shimmering in her hair.

"Lex, stop teasing please, you've been gone at that stupid flower conference for an entire week. I need you." Lexa can feel herself clench at the needy thread that twines its way throughout Clarke's grumpy plea, how her tone quivers as Lexa slowly pebbles kisses onto her mound. Clarke's hands twist restlessly into the linen duvet, impatiently wiggling down slightly and dropping her hips so that the shiny, swollen hood of her clit is roughly 3 inches from Lexa's face.

Unable to deny Clarke anything she wants at any singular moment in time, Lexa boosts herself up slightly to get the optimal angle, letting her feet dangle over the end of their bed as she settles in, tongue extending in preparation to lick into Clarke--

Only to collide skull-first into Clarke's knee as she shoots straight up in the air, thrown into momentum by a set of razor sharp teeth sinking into the meat of her big toe.

"OUCH! Ugh, FUCK. HIRO."

Clarke also flies upright in bed, hair rumpled and eyes questioning at Lexa's sudden potty mouth.

Both peer over the edge of the bed as Lexa clutches her toe in agony, tiny beads of blood appearing on the pad of her toe.

A tiny, unrepentant Hiro sits calmly on the floor, blinking up at both of them with luminescent green eyes before bending over to clean her back, soft black coat rippling as she twists herself.

"Teeny fucker. Little piranha," Lexa mutters darkly under her breath, seemingly immune to the way Clarke soothingly rubs a hand over her shoulder blade, mouth twitching valiantly with the effort not to burst out into giggles.

"She's just a baby, Lex," Clarke coos softly, bending down to scoop Hiro up and nuzzle into her affectionately. Hiro gently bites Clarke's nose before settling into her bare chest, blinking sleepily up at Lexa's scowl.

"No, Clarke. No. I will not negotiate or be bullied by a 12 week old kitten. Last week she tried to climb onto my back when I was fucking you with the strap, for chrissakes. This is not the first time she's tried to sabotage our sex life, and I will not be clit blocked by a cat!"

Lexa, nostrils flaring in determination, stalks out of their bedroom stark naked and is gone for a long moment. Clarke, curiosity piqued, settles onto the bed to wait with Hiro purring loudly as she makes biscuits on Clarke's thigh.

Lexa stomps back in a few minutes later, skin between her eyebrows still pinched as she stares at Hiro for a long moment.

She sets a silicone mat on the dresser, gently scooping Hiro out of Clarke's arms to set her on the dresser. Hiro nudges into her hands with an affectionate chirp, and Lexa gives in and pets the kitten quietly for a moment before turning back to Clarke.

"I knew she was going to do this, so I froze half a can of kitten food onto that silly little silicone puzzle mat. Lay down, we only have around 20 minutes before that little gremlin manages to pry that snack out. "

Clarke's giggles are swallowed into Lexa's mouth as she kisses her ardently, settling back between her thighs with a contented sigh.

[psych---ologically-deranged]

Psychfacts & commentary 1x01

The "they spelled it wrong on mine" bloodthirsty tattoo was bc the makeup department accidentally spelled the car-breaker one's tattoo bloodthristy, which is where shawn's "they spelled it wrong on mine" line came from.

"sweet" was an improv.

"But everything funny you hear is what I wrote" (they don't have captions so I can't hear as well & the voices all sound kind of swimmy sometimes, esp with other noises or through a screen, yay deaf+adhd, so I can't tell who is talking.)

Improvises just to entertain the ppl behind the camera XD

Ooh the interview was the audition scene for omundson (& the director said "nah" to half the stuff he liked abt it XD)

Steve franks: writer, director, producer, creator, music, main cast member, yes he plays both lassie & lucinda

I agree, hearing the background. Chris says "psych" too, love that.

That stubble is... James Roday Rodriguez was very intent on having stubble, the network was very intent on Not. & won that battle!

"He has this thing where he gets the makeup lady to stand on set in view of everybody & pretend to shave him, so it's kind of like air shaving" (it's just like wrestling & you realize the razor is 6-8" away from his face)

Sage Brock is great & he was supposed to only be here for this ep or this scene, but when he raised his hand, they said that's the guy & kept him on

Dang it was 3c here!? That's cold!

One of the prisoners should also raise his hand XD

the foot wiggle, which JRr came up with that day! Huh! He came up w a physical thing for every psychic thing!

Oh yeah, look look look, editing is an art!

may 3 the wedding is dule hill's bday XD

MY MAN RAISED HIS HAND FOR 4 MINUTES?

That's acting! Soft cuddly person playing an angry dude? Love it

magic finger was an improv XD. I love how all the good stuff was written, but then the stuff in between is there too.

Pouring rain? If you listen very closely you can hear the rain on the tarp.

Nobody ever mentions she is pregnant & they actually added a line (bc she was pregnant during the audition tape) but then they cut it out because ss "you're.........." kv 'In charge.' was honestly less funny than just not acknowledging it & I think it's great too, people get preggo somtimes. Script was made, & they just decided, they don't need to acknowledge the pregnancy.

"Her improv was being pregnant"

The windowsill?

He decided to eat XD "nobody was bothered by it but me!"

He ate but they just cut around it

Gus just has his bible on the jurassic temperature windowsill XD, occasionally look over & read a psalm.

"But you're not getting your coat." (improv)

The circle XD. Always ended up adding something fantastic

Forensics guys. Gus? Why do you like that? (Lenny face)

They shoot 40% of their beach stuff in whiterock BC.

This whole oceanfront drive, nice, but why so many fish/chip places.

Wow you can see their breath!

Watch the palm trees, you'll see them everywhere bc they are not real. Only had six.

I like how most of the characters share a name with people irl. Lassiter is from a friend of Franks'.

Heck yeah! Stage Swing sets!

He can Never be caught as a psychic. The only way they'll know is if I tell them.

When he pulls him aside, that wasn't written but it was exactly what they needed & saw in their visions. This is a good pilot.

Canada <3

Oh the mccallum girl was trying to be Lucinda but they liked her so they made her katarina too! Steve franks: bring her back bring her back, put her in another episode, she's great we like her (but by the end of it shawn sends her dad to prison) "couples have tough times, we can make this work, your dad WAS guilty it's ok!"

"At a halloween party dressed as a cat"

Whoever drew that sketch <3

This scene was in the pitch

My man is six foot eight! The tallest person I've ever met was a 6'7" woman (altho she did have a tie with another guy I ignore that fact). Teeny drama room, in a couch 4 feet away & this guy is on his feet acting out his mind, what he thought through.

Twin peaks fans <3

Dulé in b/w takes *running to the coats off frame*

The seatbelt was good, they made it WORK.

The sound design <3 <3 <3 as a deaf musician... yeah

"like shawn is in there baking a cake or someting, & he's just making coffee. Though making a cake is smth he;d be doing"

Oof filming at 2 in the morning on thanksgiving.

Blocking <3

Why would shawn be there in the middle of the night? He apparently hooked up with Kat mccallum, spent time in her room, & then went to gus at 4am.

...??? They chose their actors from the pot they received, & then... got JRr & DH together at JRr's house the weekend before filming???

WHERE'S THE PINEAPPLE

Dule, hands on the dashboard while the cop is there in the car wasn't script, "that's just what you do"

Henry doing his thing, henry style. He was laughing at the end but they were able to cut it!

Lunson lake?

Matt <3

the fog XD

sports illustrated binoculars

"Just Auburn?"

Yes you so need to punctuate scenes!

I like how they have sunglasses.

Named after my sister in law & brother in law <3

The same palm tree

Billy Camp! Hay fever! Line cook! Workin the grill! Hold the chicken higher! Higher!

(practicing the surprised face)

There is a 2h version of the pilot? Gimme!

Doolittle?

Swat team on the funny little comedy

"Oh they weren't real?"

"the dog did kind of look vicious cause it kept going for james' face"

'idk who is in charge of dog face blood. Makeup?' (it was like he dipped his head in a bucket of blood)

Dog runs right into the crime scene

Suddenly shock all the children watching

Pardon me. Ladies. Gentlemen. *runs out screaming*

JRr puts his head down. *an eighth of a second later everyone was laughing*

His screams woul turn into michael jackson songs XD

"this police station is in what like to call the Haunted Insane Asylum" Actually a lot of prison scenes are filmed in dementia wards & mental hospitals bc they have similar layout, even occasionally in schools. Institutional buildings, yk? (it is what inspired scary sherry)

Annie built her own ouija board & they went to the basement in the underbelly & no lihts in the wing?

heck yeah pansies

strawberry festival? No cinnamon! They have arguments that last 20 years!

I do give up, all the time, but only when the moment is right

Aw, I love family. He doesn't believe in santa...??? & tell children that???? whwat???? I mean I grew up without santa. The way the commenters say "He doesn't believe in lying, & since he doesn't believe in santa claus (i don't know why) he says that" & they treat him like he's crazy for not believing in santa.

The head turn XD

Fake sky & a fake palm tree & a fake roof, but a real motorcycle. (I can't believe I watched so much of the show without knowing shawn had a motorbike. It was more important in the first season)

Can't front in front of your father

Ok so in s8 he says he paid insurance when he bought his bike eight years ago, but we all thought he had his bike forever, like in the psych teen shorts where he fails the exam & says he'll just drive a motorcycle (you still need to be licensed, in fact, a different licence) but it is a different bike, or at least that is how it looks.

The "I'm not ounting the one in your pocket" was added on set bc henry put on a hat when he left the house & is not wearing it in the restaurant. Yes, all the bloggers WOULD be mad. I'm blogging right now! "It's for the bloggers!" You're so right besties.

The hat scene was not supposed to be seen ,it was just backstory, but they added it to the script & I am happy for that.

Yes, everyone DID love the flashback, it IS fortunate! Thank you!

I can't hear what they are saying! Weasle Sloan & Jackie Dungeoness?

Shawn's apartment is directly below the barbeque place (at least the set)

You brought your newbrn 9w old, to vancouver! Your kid has canadian citizenship? Good for you bro XD

Oh all that graffitti? Yeah that's vancouver.

Yeah it IS so cold.

Kelly Catering, warm turkey cranberry stuffing sandwiches in the freezing cold. Warm thanksgiving dinner on wheat bread.

This is the action aspect of our show *shawn running ditzily, stealing a bag*

(one whose name I forget bc they don't have it in captions): Dule really really attacked james, absolutely linebackered him. Is linebackered a word?

Just... sixty feet away

This man plays The Heavy in Canada???

How psychouts started: they get stuck in the car together, they always just start singing songs, but um. They would sing about what they did the night before to a michael jackson song. Right they would be in the car with their mics on & we'd be fifty yards away under a tarp in the rain & they probably forgot that we could hear them & they'd start chatting & they'd start harmonizing with each other. It's very sweet. Romantic.

XD wanted to buy a 48c jacket but his price threshhold was too low. My man threatened him with a hanger

Jumps into the car thru the window. Stunt guys!

friends selling each other out, as they do

All eight dollars were my money. I;ve heard it IS illegal to have money shown fully onscreen. "If it is then it's fake money I happen ot have"

My man was accidentally sitting on the folder

that's a real gun & she's firing real rounds /j

JRr *not wearing ear gear* (& never flinched)

They went back & re-edited it for her dad who was a gun nut

this guy CAN do these htings, he's just a goof. He had to fight the network to get that.

My man's a good shot.

*looking to the side* marketing moments

Two page episode wrapups flawlessly? Incredible.

We see bodies but not murder

poor stunt actor hitting his head on the table, weather below 0, looks more & more painful every time, & then the table BROKE

SF, taking really dramatic moment & mixing it with comedy

Shawn knows exactly where to go "put on the fan & flush" if you're going to throw up in the murderer's house

SF I've always wanted someone to call the cops on themselves

spet the morning getting the snow off the grass

Tim likes any time you allow him to pull his gun or manhandle a suspect

Holding him up. Like a two year old not wanting to go into his car seat.

Pregnant, 2am, smoking & drinking /j, bungee jumping /j

Hooray editing

"I wish I knew" lassie will never believe him

Ah the palm scenes

Oh no I'd love to see this with the focus group? "Oh god! My dad! I may be out of a job & in jail"

Rest your teamug on your tummy

Does vick believe him? You never sort of know

She's already hiring him again!

Was the scene with dad in the og script?

His dad is thinking about accepting him. He has the newspaper.

The shows are so often about the cool car. night rider? kit? super cool. hill street blues. supernatural. Magnum PI. This one has the blueberry.

PSYCH NOT SIKE FUCKING THANK YOU

Fizadribble? SF: Making up drug names is impossible because no matter what name you make up, it actually exists as a drug & is registered to somebody. (antidepressants or tolkein)

Yayyyyyy