#tips and tricks apparently

[clairethecutepup]

Okay, so from now on I guess I'll be "faving/upvoting/etc" my own content on social media 'cause that actually does help with stats and algorithms. 🤔

I mean, I'm already pretty good at coming off as pathetic and whatnot on my own, so...

So, I guess if you'd also like some help in getting yourself to "trend" and encourage engagement, also do it yourself? 🫤

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

as the resident anxious oldest daughter in my little group, wrangling five boys to coordinate the tailgating plan for the stadium series while having the week from hell at work is testing my patience

and before you say “oh the game’s not for two weeks why are you worrying about it from now?” i direct you to the adjectives i’ve used to describe myself 🫠

[pavlovianfuckery]

Pretty much decided to take another break from writing, when someone literally spamming "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" in the entire fic and nothing else is apparently better than what I do, what's the point

[thebibliosphere]

My husband and I were discussing how the first felon is defending the FDA and how the quality control of our food is gonna basically disappear and I proceeded to have so much anxiety about it that I didn't sleep last night. How do we prepare for this? Is there a way to make food safe at home? How can we avoid getting poisoned from the grocery store? Sorry for bringing this anxiety to your inbox but I'm exhausted and scared and I'm hoping you've come up with food safety tips what with your general food complications.

I’m afraid I don’t have a solution for something of this scale and am just as equally terrified, but that said:

Check your local state regulations. Some states actually have strict testing that the FDA when it comes to certain things like milk. See if they are listing any recalls.

Stop eating things raw for the foreseeable future. Wash and cook everything thoroughly, even if the bag claims it’s pre-washed, wash it again. Cooking will also help eliminate any remaining pathogens. It means no more salads for a while but that’s okay.

For things like fruit, try to go with things that have an outer skin that can be taken off. If it requires you to cut into it with a knife, give the outer skin a scrub and rinse to reduce the chances of your knife being contaminated by anything like e-coli and then contaminating the insides by cutting it up.

For fruit that can’t be peeled, make sure to inspect and wash them thoroughly. If you are immunocompromised like me, consider cooking it down into a jam or pie filling to reduce further risk. Not as fun as eating it fresh for some people, but it’s a valid way of still getting the flavor and nutrients.

For things like milk, only drink pasteurized and ultra pasteurized. Try to get pasteurized eggs if you can too.

If you don’t have a meat thermometer, now is the time to get one. Make sore everything is cooked to its required internal temperature. For poultry, the recommended temperature is 165°F (74°C), while for beef and pork, the recommended temperature is 145°F (63°C) with a 3-minute rest time. Ground meats should be cooked to 160°F (71°C). Eggs should be cooked until the yolk is set. No more runny egg yolks for a bit until we get a competent source of information back about bird flu.

For things like flour, try to go for reputable brands that have their own independent testing facilities for things like gluten. They also usually test for other things and clean their facilities thoroughly. My go to is King Arthur atm.

Also, stop eating raw cookie dough if you’re not going to toast the flour in the oven first. That’s how a lot of people get sick, not necessarily from the raw egg, though stop eating raw egg right now if you do. Again, bird flu. [Addendum] I learned the flour trick in a job I used to work, but apparently, the pre-defunded FDA didn't think toasting the flour made it safe, so maybe just don't eat raw cookie dough. And I know someone's going to be a cunt in the notes like "I don't care I do what I want" good for you, hope saying that made you feel better.]

This is a dwindling possibility with the tariffs but try to buy food imported from other countries that still have food quality control. I get my masa harina from a small company that imports directly from Colombia. They can’t afford the gluten free label required to be classified as such in the USA, but considering Cheerios in the USA can afford to buy that label and the celiac foundation certification logo and still routinely sells contaminated produce due to not using gluten free oats and a mechanical sorting system that can’t be certified gluten free (1) (2) (3), I’m more inclined to go with other countries labeling right now.

With clean water under threat, use a filter for your drinking water. We currently use the ones by Life Straw. They don’t fit into your faucet but the LS filters are better than most of the ones that can be attached that way and the housing of the jugs and countertop filters are easy to clean. Make sure you do so once a week and change the filters as directed.

Most of this is just basic food hygiene stuff combined with what it’s like to be immunocompromised, but it’s always worth repeating in case someone didn’t know, but especially worth repeating right now with all our rules and regulating bodies going out the window 😞

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m waiting in a VA waiting room for a family member and they’ve got a tv playing tips and tricks for veterans in here. Apparently one of the perks of being a former prisoner of war is free dental coverage.

[sukeruton-san]

Sorta Maybe Blind pt 2

First Next

It has been four hours since the initial discovery of his appearance and he's come to figure out it's not just that he looks like he'll kneel over and die with a small breeze but he feels like it too. side effects just keep coming!

Apparently his eyes are extremely sensitive to the light now. he opened them fully once and it hurt like hell, even with the smog. his internal temperature has always been a little bit on the cold side but now he feels like a freezer and his rugged t-shirt and jean combo is not helping. he's a little frustrated with how much he's shaking especially on his left side

Oh he thinks he forgot to mention that his left side now has a huge lichtenberg figure on it, starting from his hand going all the way up his arm and spreading across his back and chest swirling where his heart should be it also goes all the way down his left leg into the bottom of his foot, some of it is even peeking across his neck. He thinks it's the scar that was supposed to show itself when the accident happened but it didn't.

it's here now and it constantly aches too, another aspect of the ectoplasm levels here. He thinks he's become more fatigued but his sleep schedule was already shity to begin with, 4-5 hours a week can do that to a person. same with his appetite, food was more dangerous than edible most of the time at h- Fentonworks.

He ducked into an alleyway to search through the duffle bag that was packed for him, squinting to lessen the light in his eyes. and he found a lot. Hygiene products, a new phone and modified Phantom-phone courtesy of Tucker, notebooks, files, a lot of snacks, bottled water, Med kit, wild survival kits courtesy of jazz, bunch of the Fentonworks inventions now phantom-tech that he and Tucker modified and improved together, some clothing items courtesy of Sam, and a bunch of other miscellaneous items/small bags he didn't want to look into right now except for

Oh. . .

Oh ancients the fuck Sam!?!?

Sam gave him a crossbody satchel filled with big money, and when he says big money he means probably thousands in big money!?!? taking two 50s out and shoving the satchel inside his chest he looked to see what the notebooks and files were about.

One of the files was the necessary paperwork for his new identity that Tucker and Jazz helped create together, and judging by the glowing green sticky note Clockwork helped them too, probably about the sorta maybe blind thing he got going on. The other files containing pretty much all the Fenton works blueprints and or recipes for chemical compounds like the ecto-dejecto and the cleaning spray for ectoplasm.

The notebooks were small but thick, they hold a variety of things ranging from tips and tricks, locations that may be useful, information about Gotham in general, several were blank, and others had other little things he won't get to. One notebook was dedicated to everything he has done as Phantom, his battles, achievements, and things they learned about his weird biology. some of it was clearly done by Clockwork cuz he hasn't told anybody the full story about Dan or the clones or the other fights and challenges he faced.

Did he forget to mention that besides the necessary paperwork everything was written in Braille? No? because it was.

Deciding that he was done searching through the bag for now he put on a black hoodie with blob ghost sewn on the front, took out his new phone, and put the Phantom-phone in. He turned on the blind aid in the accessibility function and turned the brightness down significantly. He pulls up Google to look for a place to rent. They all begrudgingly agreed that they won't call or text until a month has passed so suspicions won't be as tight on them. Finding something close and cheap and pulling up the directions to speak audibly he goes on his merry way.

Hopefully the owner will be nice enough to him even though he's barely 16 trying to rent an apartment.

--------------- *Hour and a half later*------------------

The building fucking abandoned

No like the top half of it looked like it exploded years ago and Google still says it's for rent!?!?

Why!?

You know what fuck it! he's already made his way over here and it geting dark fast. he'll find a decent corner in there to sleep tonight.

Squeezing his his way through a hole that was supposed to be a door, tripping, and landing face first on the broken disgusting floor below him.

_______________________________________________

Batman and Robin were investigating a weapons deal that was happening later tonight in an abandoned apartment complex, half the building gone from an explosion courtesy of Two Face. 30 minutes before the deal they were doing a quick sweep of the two floors that remain when

*Smack*

Someone face planted 5 ft away from them.

"Ow " they rub their face for a minute before sitting up and

" That's a blind child " Robin was slightly bewildered by the black haired, blind and before closing his eyes he was able to make out the dull icey blue color. He was ill looking 13-14 in age.

A blind boy that was deathly pale, warringly skinny and most importantly alone.

He points in the vague direction of Robin before stating "I'll have you know I'm almost 16 and you don't sound much older than I do" he feels across the ground searching for the phone that was a few inches away from his reach.

Batman grabs the phone off the floor before standing the boy up himself and handing it to him. " The apartment building you have been following is out of service "

" Oh, why is it still operational on Google?"

" Tch, It seems someone has failed to inform the online networks of this buildings status, which is a incompetence on their part" Robin walked up to be beside the boy.

" what's more important is why you were looking for an apartment building in the first place. You're alone as well, when someone should be there with you when you cannot see or you should at least have a cain. It is also heading to a time of night where you should not be walking outside."

" What is this an interrogation, why should I be telling you what I am doing, who even are you." The boy crosses his arms backing away slightly

" We are Batman and Robin and we are only concerned of your safety" the big bat himself States in a softer than usual for his Batman growl.

Robin looks over at him giving him a look before signing ' are you serious ' then folded his arms. Batman ignores him.

Multiple footsteps could be heard across the floor, Batman grabs a hold of the child before grappling up and away from sight. Robin does the same in a different direction.

_______________________________________________

Holy SHIT

Fenton luck strikes again because he just walked in on The Batman and fucking Robin on an investigation and he interrupted. Being held in Batman's arms he realizes that either he's tiny or Batman's huge because he's at least three times his size.

This is turning out to be one of the more fucked up situations he has ever been in. Let's hope he won't fuck up the situation even more then he already has.

(sorry for the cliffhanger I need to rest my brain a bit with writing, but here is what I've written Hope you enjoy also I saw the reblog from @athyriaceae and took it into consideration thank you for rebloging)

[kismetlotts]

cw: accidental ejaculation, cumming untouched, colleague Simon Riley, he gets told off, harsh and vulgar words, mild mention of sexual assault (but no sexual assault at all), angry reader, cocky Simon, Simon has a big ego, mentions of catcalling, sexual content, perhaps degradation kink? Simon is a little obsessed with you

Dark, chocolate brown eyes locked onto yours as he slumped down opposite your desk. His wide back and muscles greedily swallowing up the chair he sat on. His dominant figure unmoving- legs parted with his arms crossed over his torso. Trying to act unbothered but the little bobbing of his leg assured you otherwise, he'd been waiting for this.

Simon had been a bad, bad boy around base- for numerous reasons and it really was rather annoying. The rules that were set in place were there to provide a safe and respectful atmosphere within the dangerous workplace- there was no room for mistakes, personal quarrels or anything that could negatively affect work performance. Some measures may seem drastic and some rules even ridiculous- but it was something everyone had to follow and did follow for the most part. Everyone but Simon apparently.

A huff fell from your dampened lips and Simon scooted closer in his chair. Watching patiently while your fingers traced and flipped over a thick, overflowing folder in front of you. The segments jam packed with papers of previous warnings, rule breaks, inappropriate actions-on and off of the field. Verbal abuse warnings, physical abuse warnings- unnecessary comments he had made and you could believe it.

You could believe it because he had broken such rules around you, often.

You sighed as you sat back and looked up at him again. Feeling your mouth run dry at the way his eyebrows softened and your words tumbled on the tip of your tongue. It was insane- he must have magic powers or something: how else could he just trick you into being so vulnerable? So submissive and shy- so offering.

“Look- Simon, you know what you’re here for..” You murmured out shutting your eyes momentarily, shaking away the thoughts echoing in your head. Voices of your inner desires, kissing up your collarbone and along your jaw before whispering in your ear to let yourself go. Submit to him and let him have you right here at your desk.

Simon’s large frame didn’t move a fraction from what you could see, it looked as if he didn’t even blink. His teeth sunken into his bottom lip beneath the mask as he waited for you to continue, longing for more words to come out of them tight, juicy lips. He was into it, he was so fucking enjoy this moment with you alone in your office. It smelt like you, you were staring through him: aiding him with all your attention just like he imagined in his late-night fantasies.

“No clue.” Simon grumbled, breaking the prolonged silence and shuffling in his seat to get comfortable. He was doing it the hard way- this meeting only needed to last five or so minutes because both of you knew the SAS needed him more than they’d admit- they would never dream of firing or dismissing The Simon Riley. He knew this didn’t need to be anything other than, ‘Just please don’t do it again.’ or 'Next time there will be serious consequences.' But of course, nothing was easy when it came to him. He liked prolonging things to waste your time. He liked the hassle and loved the stroppy little pout you made in his direction.

“During training, someone reported you being verbally abusive to Johnny and physically threatening to him- It is unacceptable.” The tone of your words made Simon internally shiver in delight. Pissing you off- making you grumble, whine and huff turned him on more than anything.

Almost every small mistake he made was with you in mind, imagining what you’d say if you walked in and saw him causing such a ruckus. What you would do to him after catching him being naughty and rule breaking. There was another small silence between the two of you as his mind raced back in the words you said, snatching himself away from his thoughts and focusing on what you were actually talking him about. Someone reported him?

“Tell me who reported it.” Saliva ran cold down your throat as you swallowed, choking back the scoff that was about to slip at the audacity of his demand. Simon was in no position to be sat there giving you orders instead.

“So you can go threaten them as well? Not a chance.” He couldn't help but grinned beneath his mask at your snarky response but still he held his eyes sharp onto yours. Blinking as he shifted his head to the side ignoring your words.

“Was it one of the newbies?”

“It’s irrelevant who reported it-” You shunned him harshly, raising a hand and squeezing your thighs together to silence the needy ache forming in your pussy. How can he be so infuriating and so pathetically hot at the same time? You weren't sure if you were crosser at Simon or at yourself for succumbing and allowing yourself to fall victim to him. Allowing yourself to get so wet and horny while you should be scolding him for his actions.

“Actually, love, it is relevant. Whoever they might be they are spreading misinformation about me and things I'm doing. I don’t break rules.” An involuntary laugh escaped from your mouth and the sound shot straight to his groin. Feeling his cock twitching up against his cargos as he grew hard and frim the more he watched you. Eyes of fire, with a bitten back tone to refrain yourself from exploding in anger; hands trembling in a silent rage.

“You cat-call me everyday I enter the building, I think that alone breaks the sexual misconduct policy and could also count as misogyny or harassment against your colleagues.” The whites of his eyes became more prominent from shock- shining back at you like a pearl. He definitely was not expecting you to actually ever address the comments he made every morning.

The things he would whisper, so cautiously and swift so no one else can notice; his hot breath seeping through the fabric of his mask, warming your neck and ear in the process. Alerting you on what he’d do to you if you gave him the chance. How he would strip you, tease you and taste you until every thought inside him was taken up by you. If only you gave him the opportunity, if only the two of you were alone and there was no risks.

His hand would fall to your waist every time you passed each other in the corridor- fingers tracing the smooth fabric of your skirt, threatening to dip lower and caress your thigh. He would tell you what he liked- complimenting your ass, your thighs; your divine figure. He would tell you what skirts were his favourite one and when you wore them the next day- he couldn't hold back his groan. You were just as bad though, feeding to the fire.

“You got any proof of that?” He asked.

-What?

“You seem a bit up your own arse, love. Wouldn’t you have brought it up already if I was breaking that many rules-” The slapping noise of your soft, palm hitting the wood of your desk shut him up instantly. Your hand stung from the force of the smack and it fuelled you more; gritting your teeth as your blood burnt hot. The fury inside you was agonising and you were done with his bullshit. His lies, his deflection and all the fucking teasing.

You were done with the way he’d throw you a shovel and watch as you dug yourself into a hole- you were done with how slimy and sly he was. A petty little cunt- a fucker. You were done with everything and for once in your life you didn’t care about the consequences. Your words cutting through the air like a bullet hitting glass, emotions spilling out with no time to process.

“Shut the hell up or get out of my office. You are pushing my buttons and you know it. You dirty fucking prick. You’ve broken almost every rule written because you think you’re so high and mighty. I don’t know what you smell of more- sweat or self-entitlement.” The vulgarity of your words and the sharpness to your voice jabbed and twisted something inside him. His eyes watched as you rose from your chair, your eyes shut as the irritation and pent up annoyance spewed out of you again.

It was so different, it was so different to how you usually were and it was making Simon feel so fucking different. His mouth ajar, listening as you insulted him, shamed on him, degraded him by calling him names; he should be fuming. He should be breaking at the sound of your meanness but holy shit- he was sparking. He was actually fucking cumming.

His cargos warm and eyes glossing over as he orgasmed from your harshness alone- stomach knotting with an unexpecting amount of pleasure. You opened your eyes to look into his- to show him how infuriating he was being and the affect it had on you. To shout at him and make him feel guilty for being difficult but the words fell flat on your tongue. The previous grit and frustration in your throat dying down as you noticed something wasn’t right.

You noticed the way he fought back the uncontrollable need and urge to rolling his eyes back in delight, struggling to keep contact with yours. You saw his body trembling with aftershocks he tried to hide and if you didn’t already catch drift of what just happened- the change in his breathing gave it away entirely.

You studied him, face and body frozen in disbelief- he could feel the embarrassment in his face and he knew you could spot the blush of his cheeks seeping through the bottom of his eyeholes.

He threw his head back against the chair with a sigh-like grunt, shoulders raising a little with every inhale and exhale. The bland, white office light caught his boxers shamefully, giving you a full view of the wet patch settled right above where his dick was. Its thickness and hardness still outlined against the material and you swallowed back your moan. Oh fuck, he really did cum.

The thought sent shivers down your back and suddenly you could feel every hair on your body rise as scenarios piled up in your head. Would he shiver and shake like that if you blew him? You chewed on the inside on your cheek, leaning against the desk to level yourself. You were losing the will to stay professional- fuck! He came to the sound of your voice alone.

Without moving his head from its lopped back position, his eyes flicked downwards to stare at you and catch your reaction. Expecting to see disgust, even more anger- maybe this time he would seriously get in trouble, but when he saw that look- that feeling- the unspoken desire and connection in the air between both of you.

He wasn’t leaving this office anytime soon.

[epicdogymoment]

god my brain is so fucking hilarious

[dcxdpdabbles]

Does Menace Danny have a favorite pastime?

Clark is reassigned against his will to cover another story about the Waynes. This time, Perry had to fight tooth and nail to get a exclusive interview with the eldest Wayne child, and if Clark messed it up, he could kiss any dreams of writing on the front page goodbye.

Despite the difficulty in securing it, it was a simple piece. If anything, it was less journalism and more tabloid gossip since the topic of the article was going to be Fenton-Wayne's hobbies and the Meet the Star theme.

Perry wanted Clark to dig further and find out if the young man was willing to give any details away about his new Heir Apparent status or his love life. He didn't fulfill out state it, but Clark could read between the lines.

He wouldn't pry because Clark hated gossip on a good day, and trying to trick a child into giving him gossip to make money off made him down right evil.

Perry was just going to have to be disappointed that Clark was too boring to get his meaning. It helped that Bruce Wayne was unwilling to let any other reporter cover the stroy, so Perry couldn't send one of his less straight lace reporters.

"You're back." The voice is low, nearly a whisper but with a steel that has every hair on Clark's body raise. Its not the sound of someone cowering, but rather someone about to pounce a victim.

He whips around to find Daniel Fenton-Wayne standing in the ajar door, staring at him with a tense bleak set of blue eyes. They don't quite glow, but they stand out in the darkness surrounding the boy and give the impression of spotting a predator waiting to attack in the long grass.

Clark has always been told his eyes were unnaturally blue, thats why he hid them behind such tick glasses design to make him appear as bug eyed as possible.

If people noticed the strangeness of his irises, they would just dismiss it to his glasses, magnifying his eyes.

He almost wants to share the tip with Fenton-Wayne but holds back. "Yes. I'm going to be doing your interview today. It's good to see you again."

"Bruce won't be joining us." The boy states, not moving closer. Half his face is hidden by the shadows, and were Clark a regular human, he wouldn't have been able to make out his moving lips. "It's will be just us."

"If you prefer to have your guardian or another trusted adult present for the interview, I don't mind coming back at a later date." Clark offers instantly watching the boy's face twitch. He attemps a disarming smile, but it only causes Fenton-Wayne's expression to flatter into an impassive one that rings warning bells in Clark's head.

"No. I can handle being alone. Can you?" The boy tilts his head slightly "Follow me."

Clark scrambles after the child, grabbing his bag. He has to pretend to stumble into a low table since the boy hadn't bothered to turn on the lights of the windowless hallway. They go further into Wayne Manor at a brisk fast pace without a word, though. Clark notices Fenton-Wayne glancing at him every once in awhile over his shoulder.

"Bruce said you were going to write about teenager hobbies and wanted to ask me questions about mine," the boy says in that same near whisper speech.

The pair stop before a large door without warning. It stands out for the green fairy lights hung on the doorframes, painting the hallway in an errie glow.

Clark's mind jumps to horror moives, especially with the light disoriented instrumental music playing that he can hear through the thick double doors. Against sense, he grows a little uneasy as Fenton-Wayne's large blue eyes train on his face, looking horrifyingly more blue in the green light the boy is bathed in.

"Um yes thats right." Clark coughs, shifting his feet. "I- what do you do for fun?"

"I make dolls of my classmates." Fenton-Wayne rasps,"and then I set them on fire."

Oh.

" I made one of you." The boy continues hand on the door handle. He starts to turn it slowly, but not once does he remove his gaze from Clark's, pinning him in place with his intense stare. "It can cry."

Oh.

Clark throws a wild look at the door, almost unsure if he wants the boy to open it. "W-why would you make a doll of me?"

Fenton Wayne's smile is more of a baring of teeth as he finally pushes the heavy door open. The wood groans heavily as it swings open, echoing around the sound of Clark's heartbeat in his ears. When it swings open, it reveals an equally dark room, but this one has a projector throwing a spectacular display of the Milky Way swirling on the ceiling.

Drapes were strung all over the room, and small twinkling purple lights were woven behind the clothes of a few, creating a path to a lone circular table in the center.

Unlike the door's green glow, these lights bathe the room in various blues and purples, drawing Clark's eyes to the dolls on the wall-to-wall shelves. They seemed made of yarn, with detailed clothes and sweet little smiles. Clark would almost call them cute if it weren't for the fact that he could see a replica of himself sitting on the shelves and a very telling voice box sewn into it once he activates his e-ray vision.

"Amigurumi," Fenton-Wayne remarks, making his way to the Clark doll. He gently lifts it up from the shelf, stopping to adjust a display next to it.

Clark is horrified to realize that the display is a replica of a class photo, complete with little bleachers and a sign declaring the year and school name. The twenty dolls are organized in the same positions as the life models shown in the frame photo next to them.

"What?"

"It's the type of doll I make—amigurumi. My hobby is crocheting amigurumi figures, and this little guy is you," Fenton-Wayne said, pressing the little button on the box. In an instant, the room fills with weeping interrupted by broken breathing, as if the doll were choking on its tears.

"That's the sound you'll make when I set you on fire for sleeping with my Dad." Fenton-Wayne places the doll on the center table, admiring it like a proud father. He then reaches under the table and pulls out a deck of cards, shuffling them without a care that the Clark-Doll has fallen silent. "I also dabble in cartomancy, with the help of ghost cards. Would you like to learn how you die? I'm hoping it has something to do with flames."

Clark gets his article, but when Perry complains about not having any gossip-worthy material, he slams the sobbing doll on his desk and then leans in to demand time off. His boss grants it the moment Clark starts retelling his fortune-telling session.

Perry also grew uneasy when Clark pressed the play option on his tape recorder, and Fenton-Wayne's raspy whisper blares in the otherwise silent office. "Clockwork's tower upside down, Pandora's box ripped open, and the three of Pariah Dark's artifacts. Do you see the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep? It means you will likely succumb to fatal wounds. Pity, it doesn't look like fire will be the cause. Now I'll never know if the crying audio was close to the real thing."

As Clark heads home to enjoy his paid time off, he wonders again how someone as dizzy and well-meaning as Mr. Wyane could wind up with a creepy little kid like Fenton-Wayne.

[bloodstainedsapphic]

marigold crush

gardener ellie!au. what you thought would kick off a petty neighborhood feud ends up turning into something a whole lot hotter than the summer sun above. the reason? it starts with ellie, the cute employee at the garden center—who knows a thing or two about getting her hands dirty. thank you to my @meganegatari for providing input and proofing as always <3

wc 3.1k minors dni - making out, dirty talk, fingering (r!receiving)

with summer rapidly creeping up, you set your sights on a new project—upgrading your gardening skills. it sounded simple enough at first. plant a few things, water them, watch them grow. oh, how wrong you were. you realized, much too late, how surprisingly demanding it all was. soil types, lawn maintenance, what plants thrived where, which ones were perennials, how to keep them alive with proper care like watering, pruning, and mulching. before long, you were making an embarrassing number of trips to the nearby garden center.

not that it had anything to do with the pretty employee who was always ready with a new tip just when you needed one.

miss ellie—as per her name tag—carried herself professionally, politely enough. always eager to explain answers, she sometimes skipped over beginners’ tricks, then circled back to catch you up. everything she suggested, though, ended up helping immensely. you liked that. she was sweet.

you told yourself it was a coincidence, how often your visits lined up with her shift. you weren’t memorizing her schedule—god, no. you just… noticed a pattern. for advice purposes. obviously. she had the best advice.

while the trial and error of gardening took up most of your time, another thorn lodged itself in your side—this one not literal. your newish neighbor had apparently taken up the same hobby, and, enragingly, their results far outshone yours. how was everything so lively? why were their perennials already blooming? their yard looked freshly trimmed and popping with color every single day. yours, a work in progress, wilted a little more every time you glanced at the progress next door. you couldn’t help but sulk from time to time. it was starting to feel personal.

a part of you really wanted to give your neighbor a piece of your mind. in your opinion, there was absolutely no way they weren’t doing this on purpose. ever since they moved in just under a year ago, it had been the same infuriating pattern—everything you did, they somehow managed to do ten times better. halloween decorations, holiday lights, even their progressive political flags had wittier slogans than yours. and the worst part? you’d never even seen them. not once. this silent gardening supremacy—that you weren’t even sure they knew was a competition—was the final straw. how they pulled it off while staying completely out of sight was beyond you.

granted, your competitive streak might’ve been clouding your better judgment, and you were, admittedly, acting a little unhinged—but you had to know their secret. you had to meet them, to understand the method behind the madness of their picture-perfect flower beds.

so, in a move wholly unlike you, you got up early one sunny morning and baked cookies. warm from the oven, stacked neatly in a sewing tin—just a friendly, xenial gesture. no ulterior motives. none at all.

you step out your front door, ready to march up their porch and put an end to the mystery once and for all—only to freeze in place.

imagine the shock when there, in the garden next door, kneeling in the dirt with gloved hands and a quiet hum under her breath, was the very same ginger woman who had been giving you advice all summer.

ellie.

suddenly, it felt really personal.

she must have witnessed you struggling in your yard at least a dozen times by now. the tips. the encouragement. her uncanny ability to know exactly what should go where. the conveniently timed suggestions that always hit just right. and not once had she mentioned she lived next door?

diabolical, honestly. ellie was gradually unfurling under the strain of the heat and her work, of course. her white tank top, drenched in sweat, clung to her like a second skin. she tugged at the fabric to fan herself off. her flushed, freckled skin glistened under the early morning rays, and her auburn hair was plastered to the back of her neck. your gaze shifted to her arms—tense, fit, and tattooed—then to her hands skillfully handling the tools.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you huffed, louder than intended, managing to reach her ears. 

ellie looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. and then—she grinned. of course she grinned, like she hadn’t just upended your entire understanding of reality. like you weren’t standing there, tin of cookies in hand, suddenly feeling ridiculous, and very underprepared for whatever this was.

“well, hey there, neighbor.” she greets you far too warm, too chipper. 

you stared at her. “you live next door?”

“mm-hmm,” she said, standing up slowly to stretch out her legs and dusting her earth-covered hands off on her thighs. “for, like, ten months now. give or take.”

you glance down at the sewing box of cookies in your hand. despite ellie’s state—sweating, smudged with dirt—you hold it out for her.

“a welcome gift,” you offer. “just… ten months late. give or take.”

ellie breaths a laugh and takes the box, peeking inside, nodding in approval.

“damn. look at you. thanks,” she mutters, setting it down on a nearby plastic chair cluttered with gardening tools. your eyes flicker between your sad little yard and her perfectly maintained one.

“did… did you know? all this time? when i came in to ask questions?”

“yep,” ellie says, totally unfazed, hands settling on her hips. “it was kinda cute, watching you take my advice and, y’know… try it out.” she pauses, then adds to soften the blow, “i thought about coming over a few times. offering a hand. but you looked so determined, hacking away at weeds, replanting flowers i suggested, i didn’t want to interrupt...” she trailed off. 

you blinked, trying to recalibrate. “that’s okay, i just… wow.”

ellie notices your stupor and an idea comes to mind. “well. since you’re already here—i was about to head to the shed. wanna stick around? i could show you a few things. if you’re cool with that.” then, teasing, “no charge. this time. cookies count though.”

you find yourself trailing after her into the backyard—just as immaculate as the front—to a small shed tucked in the far corner of the lot. it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside, it’s packed chock-full with every gardening item you could imagine, from seed packets, terracotta pots, and shelves lined with tools. half of them, you didn’t even recognize, which only made the sting of your amateurity more potent. 

thankfully, ellie’s easygoing explanations help ease the mood. she’s showing off her tools, fertilizers, and offering tips, and you’re taken aback by seeing her in this new light. she was always cute, which is why you’d kept timing your visits to the garden center a little too well. but this? watching her work in the summer heat, flushed and confident, completely in her element—it ignited something new in you. here you were, ready to start a petty squabble with your new neighbor, but instead, your stomach was full of butterflies. ellie added a few well-loved, indiscernible tools to a bag, slung it over her freckled shoulder, and ushered you outside before closing the shed door behind her.

“alright, so. show me the damage,” she said, jerking her chin toward your yard.

“my what?” “your flower bed,” she called over her shoulder, already walking ahead. “gotta check if you actually listened to me.” before you can say anything, ellie’s already knee-deep in your garden, pulling up the weeds you missed and fixing the patches where your mulch is spread too thin. you’re not sure what hits harder—the embarrassment from the sheer number of mistakes she’s quietly correcting, or the way her initiative turns you on.

your role is mainly reduced to handing her tools and keeping her hydrated. water swiftly proves to be necessary as ellie worked diligently, showing off her mastery, the early morning sun rises to a brighter, more oppressive, sweltering heat. you try stepping in to help a few times, but the firm swats from ellie’s palm—quick, pointed, and slightly amused—make it clear she’s not about to let you much of the heavy lifting.

still, she doesn’t treat you like a helpless maiden. eventually, she has you kneeling beside her, guiding your hands, her calloused fingers splayed atop of your own, instructing you through the same techniques she’s spent the season explaining in passing. her voice is low, sure, and steady beside you, her skin warm where it brushes yours under the sun. 

she starts with the marigolds, helping you replant them first—their vibrant yellows and oranges thriving in this full-sun corner. from there, it’s onto the petunias, where she fusses over spacing, then the dusty miller and the salvia. her encouragement is doing the opposite of helping. you try to stay focused, to press the soil like she showed you, but your thoughts keep drifting to the feel of her hand on yours.

"no—don’t just pat it down like that, you need to press a little firmer with the trowel. yeah, like this." she shifts closer, her hand curling over yours, both of you bent low over the bed of marigolds. you can feel her breath at your temple, her voice gone a little quieter, more raspy now. "there you go. knew you had it in you."

her sheer determination shouldn’t affect you the way it does, but damn. the moment your thoughts start lingering on the idea of licking the brine off her neck, you know you desperately need to cool off—literally and figuratively. it only gets worse when her hand holds the small of your back for half a moment too long, steadying you as you dug further into the soil. the simple touch sent a shiver through you, making your pulse race. it wasn’t just the heat anymore. did she know what she was doing? there was no way ellie wasn’t this self-aware. given she had let you try and fail at this garden all summer, she was probably more aware of her actions than you could easily wrap your brain around.

the rest of the adjustments come together quickly after that, both of you worn out and damp with sweat, but working in sync. at long last, ellie straightens up with a groan, wiping her glossy brow, appraising your now vastly-improved flower bed with lazy pride. “muchhhh better,” her eyes glint with approval, tossing the trowel practically molded to her hand aside. then she stretches, slow and unbothered, muscled arms rising overhead until they’re drawn taut, her off-white tank lifting just enough to entice your most lewd thoughts into wanting to see more. then she runs a hand through her damp, disheveled auburnette hair, leaving it even more a mess. “may i ask the lady for a drink? and a chance to wash up a bit?” your yes is obvious. you leave your tools just as they are on the ground and motion for ellie to follow you inside. of course she needs a rest, probably dying of thirst—though you’re probably the thirstier one in that moment.

the space is filled with the sound of the rush of crisp water and the clink of glasses as you both scrub dirt off and pour drinks. ellie mutters a soft thanks, taking hers after drying her hands on a dish towel.

she looks hot here. out of place, certainly—sun-streaked and a perspiry mess in your nearly spotless kitchen. but it only makes you want the cute gardener turned hot nuisance of a neighbor-turned... whatever this is... even more.

you swallow your nerves, chasing them with another sip of water.

“you know, i always thought you were cute,” you tease, eyes flicking to hers. “ever since you helped me pick out my first supplies.” you reflect like you’re feeling nostalgic, though you’re definitely up to something.

“yeah?” ellie quirks a brow. she’s smart, knowing exactly what you’re doing. the cute, tentative girl from the garden shop was gone- this was someone confident in every move. her voice dips low, eyes narrowing with a flirtsome gleam. “you still think i’m just cute now?”

“well,” you murmur, voice low, a little shaky, trying to match her coy pitch, “i wouldn’t say just cute.”

she tilts her head, flashing a zealous, lopsided grin. “i’ve got a lot more i could show you. with my hands. can i?”

when she then takes a step closer—your heart seizes.

was this really happening? were you about to get fucked into next week by the cute gardener turned next-door neighbor? your mind races a million miles a minute, the whole scenario unraveling like a scene straight from fanfiction.

well, you were right! just like that, ellie closes the space between you, her hand sliding around your waist as she nudges you back against the cool, angular side of the kitchen island.

the marble presses against your lower back, forcing a half-giggle, half-stunned, shaky exhale from your lungs. you realize you’re probably not hiding the gleeful expression on your face as well as you thought, especially given the cheesy grin the hot dork returns.

her roughened hands trail along your jawline, the juxtaposition of her tough-feeling skin with the most gentle gesture makes you feel woozy. “you know,” she murmurs, voice low and almost amused, “i thought about you a lot. the clueless girl always showing up on my shift, asking the kinda questions you knew i’d love answering.”

your face warms, and ellie clicks her tongue, clearly satisfied. “and here's the thing. i didn’t mind. kinda liked knowing you’d come find me.” she pauses, smirking as a vexing fire ignites behind her eyes. then she adds, “figured you’d eventually need help with the yard. saw you out there, all hot and frustrated trying to figure it out on your own. guess i was right, huh?”

the reminiscent teasing is cut short when her lips connect with your own, tossing the last of your inhibitions aside and letting blind instinct take over. all nerves melt, and your mind goes blank as her teeth catch your bottom lip and tug. you grab at her waist, hands sliding up to her ribcage — one curling into a fistful of her auburn hair, the other slipping beneath her dirtied tank top to caress the warm skin at her side.

time ceases to matter. all you feel is her hands, fervid and searching, and her hot, wet mouth moving against yours — heaven. the soft, immodest moans she lets slip only pull you deeper in. ellie traces your lips with her tongue, coaxing them open, chasing breathless sounds from you. the kiss is messy, to say the least. your front teeth collide with hers, noses bumping, spit dribbling down both your chins— it was clear she wanted you just as much as you wanted her. the waiting paid off. 

but, you feel a pause, and then loss of contact.“fuck i—” ellie huffs. she's breathless, her voice scratchy with need. the voracity at which she pulls away, breaking the fragile strands of spit that webbed across your mouths— it concerns you. 

you open your mouth to inquire, but she cuts you off by grabbing your hips with her muscled hands, and fleetly turns you around so you're facing away from her, and are bent over the counter. its hard surface is chill to the touch- your only reprieve from the heat between you two. 

your mind practically short-circuits. even though she isn't too forceful, the motion still makes you yelp. you want this, no— you crave it, and ellie’s animalistic side takes over, leaning over you with her front pressed flush against your back, one hand perfecting the arch of your back and then finding purchase at your waist. she starts shamelessly sucking purpled marks into the side of your neck and rutting her pelvis against the swell of your ass. pushing your hair further to the side, she bites down on your skin and soothes with her tongue, the acts sending goosebumps all over you.

you were completely at her mercy, no thoughts occupying your head other than everything about her: her voice, her touch— you couldn't get enough.  “ellie,” you moan her name, and she damn near purrs into your ear. you brace yourself against the cool surface, clinging onto it for respite, grounding yourself to keep steady as your legs grow weak. 

her right hand is pawing all over you, stopping to fondle your clothed breast, then snaking down your stomach and into your pants. hooking your panties aside, ellie lets out an unholy sigh at how wet you already are. 

her greedy fingers graze your slit, then begin steadily circling your clit as you mewl. ellie groans like she can feel it herself. her voice breaks, but she mutters against the nape of your neck, “fuck, damn baby. all this f'me?”

you weren't going to last, all the build up was about to bubble over momentarily. but you had to try, because it was all too good to end so soon.

descending further, she pushes her two middle digits inside your eager, sopping hole, curling as she fucked into you, your body gradually rising like a crescendo to a dizzying peak. “come on, cum for me,” ellie encourages, her free hand reaching out and landing on top of yours to share in your pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. she soothes you with a placid squeeze, a silent reminder she's got you. the pressure in your lower abdomen builds, until one last thrust sends you spilling ecstasy all over her fingers. she helps you ride it out, lightly rubbing your twitching clit and mumbling praises all the while. as your body shudders, ellie’s rutting against your ass slows, mirroring your panting and humming some encouragement.

upon coming down from the buzz, you rest your forehead on the counter's surface, trembling whimpers leaving your fucked-out form. the fingers just inside you meet ellie’s lips, tasting you on her like you’re something ambrosial, already addicted to your essence. her hands then run over your form in calming passes as you fully return to reality. “you know…” after some comfortable silence she starts, voice smug, “this could’ve happened a lot sooner—if you’d just said something instead of memorizing my whole damn work schedule.”

“oh, shut up,” you manage, still catching your breath, but content nonetheless.

ellie grins, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “what? i mean it. you're sweeter than anything i’ve ever grown.”

[tired-teacher-blog]

Adult Bakugou is worlds apart from how he used to be as a teen.

His prominent scowl is now replaced with a more relaxed expression, and his tense shoulders are now a lot looser.

He is no longer on edge and wishing for everyone's demise, as his years of experience in the pro hero world have taught him patience and empathy.

He's had fan girls lining up for a chance to receive some kind of acknowledgement from him since his first years as a UA student, and it's been -for the longest time- something that further pissed him off and ruined his mood as he didn't need the added attention.

_ "I still cannot believe you're the same guy who yelled at me and stormed out when I first confessed my feelings, at that moment you were as bratty as you used to be when we were still in school." you murmured softly in remembrance, tracing the faint scar on his right cheek, the same one he acquired years ago during that ruthless war everyone still remembers to this day.

To you, he was that one annoying friend whom you had to sit down and listen to while he complained about the countless love letters clogging up his locker, so when the day came -not too long ago- that you shyly revealed your feelings for the man, his reaction was nothing short of expected.

_ "Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?" he tilted his head to meet your gaze, blinking a few times as a hint of blush dusted the tips of his ears, "besides, I already told you I only reacted the way I did because I thought you were making fun of me."

_ "That's fair, but I'm glad you gave me a chance to explain myself.." you paused for a second to adjust your posture and straddle his slender waist instead of leaning against him like you had been moments before, a smile found its way to your lips as you carried on, "you've really come a long way from the brat you used to be."

His thin eyebrows raised in apparent surprise, but his firm grasp on your thighs remained unshaken, "I have?"

_ "You truly have." a giggle escaped you as you cradled his handsome face, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling back to admire the mysterious smirk curving up his lips.

_ "Care to explain?" but he didn't really need the clarification, he is one of the most intelligent people you know, and is sure to have noticed the change occuring in himself without anyone spelling it out, but you still went along with his charade, just to please him.

_ "Well, let's see.." your gaze shifted and lips pursed as you tapped your chin in fake contemplation before continuing, "you're more tolerable now, I mean you're kinda tame and boring like a sweet grandpa, and also.."

_ "Hey come on," he interrupted your obvious trick with an amused chuckle and a playful smack on your butt, "well I still got the girl didn't I?"

_ "Yes you did."

His eyes gleamed hearing your words, and his arms slid up to surround your back and bring you closer to himself before groaning the demand you knew was coming, "kiss me then."

That was all it took for you to close the remaining distance between you two and claim his lips in a breathtaking lip lock.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Teaching the Unteachable

Aegon Targaryen x Wife

Summary: When all else fails, Aegon's wife employs drastic measures to teach the unteachable.

Warnings: 18+, banter, (slight) dom/sub, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, dirty talk, Aegon being horny and in love

A/N: So, apparently this smutty drabble I wrote in December turned out to be canon? Anyway, have some more 'Aegon being bad at High Valyrian', but with a fun, sexy twist ✨

Word Count: 1200

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　

“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes” 

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”. 

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered. 

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?” 

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look. 

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his. 

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, tone sincere yet playful, “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”. 

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers. 

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him, pulling your hand away from his grip. 

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice, “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor” 

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face. 

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”. 

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness. 

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts, “Call me husband”

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside. 

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.  

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth. 

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart. Your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip. 

“Then teach me” 

His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steady on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief. 

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your noses almost knock together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair. 

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently. 

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you. 

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes. The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the undershirt he’s wearing. 

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “And if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly. Aegon watches you expectantly. 

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face in pride. 

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly. 

“Again”, you demand. 

“Ābrazyrys”, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin. 

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses, pressing a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look and continue, 

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to. 

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core. 

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss. 

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor? 

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Thank you for reading! 🩵

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

[hansoeii]

Hullo! I’ve been watching a bunch of your Timelapses and I was wondering how do you always come up with the colours for your pieces? They’re always so cohesive and pleasing to look at (I almost exclusively work in greyscale so if I’m using colour it’s always a lucky guess and it never looks quite right)

Hey there!

I have to be honest that most of the time I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I have no idea how most of my pieces are gonna turn out. My work process is usually based on "Fuck around and find out", haha. I'm happy to know that it apparently doesn't come across that way, though.

A lot of it comes very naturally to me simply because I've been drawing non-stop for so long, but I can give you some small tips that really help me:

1. Have as many references as possible!

Here's what my reference sheet looked like for the Jayvik piece:

It helped me a lot to understand the overall color scheme I wanted to convey. Lots of very cold tones, pinks and very light blues and greens. These colours sorround Jayce and Viktor throughout all of season 2 and I wanted to keep them, especially since in my piece they are lying in the glowing hexcore.

Don't shy away from using references, get as many as you possibly can! Look at other poeple's art too and try to understand how they work with colours.

2. Work with complementary colours!

Since I paint a lot of romantic illustrations I want them to look pleasing and comforting, which I can accomplish by using complementary colours! You see this a lot with couples that are blue and red coded, for example. And I wanted to do the same thing in the Jayvik piece! For that I used the highlights in their hair!

Viktor's highlights are a soft pink hue.

While Jayce's are a soft blue hue.

The colour wheel works perfect for figuring out if two colors compliment each other because they are literally right across from one another!

3. It doesn't have to be true to life.

Pretty self-explanatory, but I thought I'd add it in here anyways. It's important to understand how colour and light works, but you don't always have to follow the rules. Does the rim light look cool but it makes zero sense? Who cares! Keep the cool rim light! Just have fun and fuck around.

4. A little trick to make your life easier!

I'm not excatly the best at colour theory, I still struggle with it quite a bit, but here's a little trick I like to use from time to time:

If you want all your colours to look coherent, take one specific color as your flat colour. Choose a hue that you would like your piece to have. Like this:

Now you choose whatever colours your characters have and paint them in. For example, here are the skin colours I chose for Jayce and Viktor:

Looks off, right? These colours don't fit the overall piece at all. So what do we do?

Turn down the opacity! It's that easy, wahoo!

I went from 100 Opacity to 72 for this specific illustration. And look at that!

It's so much nicer already! Now you know what colours to use as your actual flats! Just repeat this with every other part of your illustration and you'll have a great starting point. :)

I really hope this was helpful! I'm not an actual teacher and I don't have a proper illustration degree, so some things might not be completely accurate, but I thought I'd try my hand at this anyways!

[miniatureredtoaster]

Some Wl tips bc I have a million

1. Exercise! Anyone who is telling you do pilates or yoga is lying to you! (or it’s not a actual pilates/yoga) Low intensity cardio is the way to go! Walking burns the most kcal out of most workouts! Running surprisingly doesn’t, because it more urgently needs something to fuel you so it’s normally whatever you are today. When walking it dips in to reserves of fat like thighs! ITS SO IMPORTANT TO GET 10,000 STEPS A DAY! It’s one of the best kcal burners, and so easy. Take 2,500 step walks in increments if that helps! I personally am an early bird, so I do 4 miles every morning by a park near my house. (It can get me pretty close if not I get there through regular day to day activity)

2. Mental fasting! Everyone knows that when you’re in an extreme deficit or fast that after the beginning the real challenge gets in your mental state. I’ve found that after a while it’s pretty hard to distinguish fullness and hunger. You can trick your brain into not being hungry! I personally love to repeat, “I’m so so full.” There are other things you can say, so test around and see if it works for you!

3. Diet! If you’re a young girl like me (Tween-Twenties) getting a lot of protein and meat is essential! Now, the downside is they have a bunch of saturated fats. I personally recommend opting for fish as meat! Try limiting eating all meat to 3 times a week. Not only is it better for wl, but also the environment! When doing full fasts the benefit is going into ketosis after a few days. Obviously this can get difficult, but apparently if you eat boiled egg whites sparingly and certain veggies it shouldn’t break your ketosis!

4. Eating habits! Like I said earlier try to convince yourself otherwise, but sometimes that rumble in your stomach isn’t gonna get fooled. Try eating as intuitively as possible! Low kcal high space! Kale is a great one! It’s super low kcal, but if you eat a bunch of it you’ll feel full. Same with watermelon. (Most fruit and veg. Go off your preference just do some research to make sure it’s low kcal bc some aren’t like grapes!)

5. Feeling like you want to binge? Watch some mukbang videos like Nickacado Advocado. Also shows like 600 pound life. I also like going on pinterest and if you get the right algorithm, and the right keywords it’ll show obese people next to thin people. You don’t want that to be you? Do you? Listening to chewing sounds also help ruin appetite!

Let me know if you guys want more 💗

[druidfolk]

Mizzrym 🎭

Mizzrym, better known as "Mitzy," was born into a normal Githyanki crèche but it was immediately apparent that something was different about her. Other Gith eggs were hardy, with thick healthy membranes and a vibrant acid green color; her egg came out a sickly green-gray, the membrane visibly thinner and leaving her developing embryo visible throughout her time in the egg. Fearful of the consequences of birthing such an anomaly and presenting it to her crèche, the Gith who laid her egg sold it off to a desperate, hungry street urchin citing that he could, in turn, sell off whatever hatched from it... if it hatched at all.

To his surprise, it did, and out tumbled a skinny, malnourished, pinkish-white little alien with a mouthful of sharp teeth and fingers tipped with claws. She gazed up at him with blood-red eyes as round as a coin, strange slitted pupils expanding and contracting as they adjusted to the light, and he decided right then that he wanted nothing to do with her. She was promptly sold to a traveling circus in town where she would eventually perform acrobatic and aerial shows for thousands, as well as use her inherent Githyanki psiionics to perform "magic" tricks.

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this girl has been living in my brain for months now and i think it's time she finally be set free and realized!!! took a bit for me to come up with lore for her but ultimately i knew i wanted her to be a dancer or performer of some sort, and with her pearly-colored skin and unnatural strength and flexibility, she is surely the main attraction of her circus.