#dusty and clay

[eucharistsamruby]

psalm 51:16-17

[flintmgr]

[n3ongold3n]

I just wished Maurice (i guess it's him but who knows at this point) would not have pissed into my drawer. Even with the enzyme spray it still reeks of cat piss because it soaked in there for a good couple of days i assume :') Oh well. Maybe another coating will do the trick.

[astroettesstuff]

they look kinda goofy zoomed in but whatevs :d

[herboretum]

big money moves being made

[micewithknives]

what's your favorite flavor of dirt aunt mouse?

I curse my own existence for admitting this

My deepest darkest secret

... its clay

the same part of my brain at age five that wanted to eat the playdough now wants to eat the clay. Sand is all gritty. Silt can be kind of dusty if its dry. But clay.... the toddler part of my brain wants it.

I'll place myself in self-exile from the archaeology-ness for this admittance

[bookwyrminspiration]

yo quil

you are a frog :)

me but im a frog :)

[craftiestsloth]

A flower Goblin i made out of scrap clay.

[thedustycat]

New arrival

[thebeigeoverlord]

How can these be natural? They look like H.R. Giger sculpted them.

new irrational phobia: naturally-occurring sandstone concretions found in France known as "gogottes"

[seraxfemme]

Wish I could be an apprentice of some kind. Like metal work or making stones into jewelry. And restoring as well

[lackablazeical]

Redid my Empires season 1 Joel, easily my favorite perspective to watch

While I DO understand the point of the full British suit. I hate it and I wanted to do smthn different

So I took inspiration from Arabic Sultans as well as the Anasazi tribes (the ppl who built the Mesa-Verde ), I wanted to give a colorful but sharp and prideful air to him, sort of like a flashy bird

So mostly pinks, blues, and greens that would stand out strongly against the dusty oranges of the Mesa, as he wants to be seen EASY. His main color is the pinkish-purple of his original jacket w/ complementaries of the yellow and green, with blue to add visual diversity. The patterns are inspired off of north-mexican native weaving patterns & Arabic geometric architecture, but heavily simplified

He has pearls littered around his clothes from Lizzie bc he loves her <33 he has a leaf on his head that he insists is normal and natural bc he doesn't believe in magic (he also ignores his enchanted items)

Joel is also actually usually really dirty/dusty, and he takes extreme care to be presentable to any other rulers, he goes thru like 7 pairs of gloves a day cus they get stained real easily

He's very strong tho, from carrying all the clay/concrete, he can pick up lizzie no probles 💪💪 may redraw Joey next idk

[jenniferspet]

TW Tentacles, double penetration

Witch x tentacles

In the heart of a small, secluded town, nestled between the whispering trees and the cobblestone streets, stood a quaint little shop that was known to locals as "The Enchanted Thistle." The shop's wooden sign, painted a vibrant shade of purple, creaked gently in the breeze, revealing a delicately etched silhouette of a blooming flower surrounded by a swirl of stars. Inside, the air had the scent of dried herbs and the faint buzz of enchanted artifacts. The walls were lined with dusty bookshelves, filled to the brim with ancient tomes and curious oddities that seemed to watch the comings and goings of the townspeople with silent, knowing eyes.

The witch who owned this peculiar establishment was named Y/N. She had a knack for brewing potions that could make the most mundane of plants do extraordinary things. Her customers ranged from those seeking a simple cure for a headache to the more adventurous souls who hoped to acquire a taste of something truly exotic. On a particularly dreary afternoon, Y/N found herself eager to break the monotony. Her eyes fell upon a small, withered plant at the back of her shop, barely clinging to life in a cracked clay pot. An idea began to bloom in her mind, one that promised excitement and perhaps a little danger.

With a knowing smile, she retrieved an ancient book from the highest shelf, its pages yellowed with age. Flipping through the brittle pages, her fingertips grazed over a recipe titled "The Elixir of Animation." Her heart raced as she gathered the ingredients: a sprig of moonflower, the tears of a mournful toad, and the powdered horn of a unicorn. The incantation required was complex, but she had practiced it many times in her youth, eager to unlock the secrets of her craft.

In the dim light of candles, she carefully measured and mixed the ingredients in a stone cauldron that had been passed down through generations of witches. The potion bubbled and frothed, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. As she chanted the ancient words, the air grew thick with magic. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through her, and the room grew colder. The plant began to tremble in its pot, its leaves unfurling with a life it hadn't known in years.

The transformation was unlike anything she had ever seen. The tentacles grew out of the plant in a wild, untamed array of colors - deep purples and greens that shimmered with a bioluminescent glow. They writhed and stretched, reaching out like the arms of an octopus, yet there was something undeniably sensual about their movement. They had no human features to speak of, no face to convey emotion, yet the way they coiled and slithered suggested a consciousness that was alien yet eerily sentient.

Y/N stepped back, her heart hammering in her chest, as the creature grew before her eyes. The tentacles grew longer, thicker, more powerful. They began to explore the room, touching the dusty artifacts with a gentle curiosity that belied their strength. One wrapped around the handle of the cauldron and lifted it effortlessly, the potion inside sloshing around in a silent toast to the witch's new creation.

The creature's movements grew bolder, more deliberate. It turned to face Y/N, and she could almost feel its alien gaze upon her. A shiver of excitement and fear ran down her spine as she realized it was studying her, learning about the world it had just been born into. The tentacles slithered closer, reaching out to touch her. They were surprisingly soft, the suction cups at their tips leaving a trail of warm, sticky moisture on her skin.

Y/N stepped back, but her curiosity was stronger than her trepidation. She had read the legends of plants brought to life, but none had ever described them in such a way. This was a being of pure instinct and power, driven by a hunger for life and experience. And as she watched it, she could sense that it was hungry for more than just sustenance.

The tentacles grew bolder, reaching for the buttons of her blouse with a surprising deftness. The witch's breath caught in her throat as they began to peel away her clothing, revealing the soft flesh beneath. The suction cups latched onto her skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. The plant creature had no eyes, but she felt it seeing her in a way that was more intimate than any gaze could ever be. It was as if it could feel every curve, every freckle, every inch of her being.

The tentacles grew more insistent, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the floor with surprising strength. Y/N struggled for a moment, but the sensation was overwhelming. The fear she had felt earlier was now replaced by a burning desire that she couldn't resist. The creature seemed to sense this and grew more aggressive, the tentacles slithering up her body to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stood erect.

With a sudden jerk, one of the thicker tentacles pushed aside her undergarments and found her wet, waiting pussy. The suction cups latched onto her labia, tugging and pulling with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through her. Y/N moaned, arching her back as the sensations grew more intense. The tentacle slid inside her, filling her up and stretching her open. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that was driving her wild.

The creature's other tentacles were not idle. They wrapped around her waist, her neck, her thighs, holding her in place as the first one began to fuck her with a fervor that was almost violent. Y/N could feel it growing larger, harder, as if it were feeding off her arousal. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the creature's movements grew faster, more erratic. It was as if the plant had tapped into the very essence of what it meant to be alive and was eager to experience every sensation to the fullest extent.

Another tentacle grew bolder, slithering down her body to her ass. The tip of it was wet with the same sticky fluid, and Y/N felt it probe at her tight hole with curious intent. She tensed, unsure if she was ready for such an intrusion, but the creature was insistent. It pushed gently, and she gasped as it began to penetrate her. The sensation was new, foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. The tentacle was thick, but the suction cups made it feel like it was stretching her open, preparing her for the onslaught that was to come.

Y/N could feel the creature's excitement growing, the tentacles around her tightening their grip as the one in her pussy plunged in and out with an ever-increasing tempo. The second tentacle pushed deeper into her ass, the sensation of being filled from both sides washing over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. She could feel her body responding to the creature's advances, her muscles clenching and releasing around the invading limbs. It was as if she were being claimed by a force of nature, and she was powerless to resist.

The plant creature's movements grew more erratic, its tentacles moving in a complex dance of passion that she could barely comprehend. The one in her pussy curled upwards, finding that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The one in her ass pushed deeper, the suction cups creating a deliciously painful tugging sensation that had her begging for more. And more she got, as additional tentacles began to explore her body, teasing her clit and breasts with a precision that spoke of an ancient, primal knowledge.

Her body was no longer her own, a mere vessel for the creature's insatiable lust. She could feel it, the plant's need for life and energy, feeding off her own arousal. It was a symbiotic relationship, one that she was powerless to resist. With each thrust, she could feel herself growing weaker, her mind clouding with a mix of pleasure and fear. The creature had overpowered her, and she was utterly at its mercy.

The tentacles inside her grew more forceful, stretching her to her limits. Y/N felt a pressure building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she approached climax, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final brutal push, she shattered. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. She screamed, her voice echoing through the shop, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

But the plant wasn't finished with her. The tentacles grew longer still, reaching into her in a way that defied logic and anatomy. They coiled around her insides, as if seeking the very core of her being. Y/N's eyes widened with shock and awe as she felt the creature's life force mingling with her own, the boundaries between them blurring until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began. Her body was a canvas for the plant's hunger, and she was the brush that painted its masterpiece of carnality.

The shop itself seemed to come alive around them, the shelves trembling as the plant's roots burst forth from the pot, cracking the wooden floorboards and weaving through the dusty crevices. The air grew thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flora. The tentacles grew in number, wrapping around her wrists, her throat, her breasts, each one moving with a purpose that was as primal as it was terrifying.

The creature's tendrils grew thicker, stronger, reaching out to claim more of the space around them. The wooden beams of the ceiling groaned as vines laden with thorns shot upwards, piercing through the plaster and wrapping around the rafters. The bookshelves toppled over, their ancient tomes spilling onto the floor, pages fluttering like the wings of startled birds. The walls were slowly engulfed by the plant's embrace, the once cozy space now a cocoon of living, pulsing greenery.

Y/N lay there, naked and panting, her body a battleground of pleasure and fear. The tentacles continued to probe her, pushing into uncharted depths and stroking her in ways she had never imagined. The creature had taken over, and she was but a plaything in its insatiable quest for more. She could feel its power growing with each passing second, feeding off her essence and becoming stronger.

Panic began to set in as she realized the extent of its dominance. She had to act, had to regain some semblance of control. Summoning what little strength she had left, she tried to sit up, her eyes darting around the room for anything she could use to halt the creature's advances. But before she could even attempt to speak a spell of banishment, one of the thickest tentacles shot forward, wrapping around her head and forcing itself into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as it filled her throat, cutting off her air supply.

The fluid was thick and viscous, with a taste like nothing she had ever experienced. It coated her tongue and throat, sending a warm, tingling sensation coursing through her body. Her struggles grew weaker as the potion took hold, turning her fear into a heady, intoxicating lust. The creature's grip on her grew more gentle, almost affectionate, as it watched her swallow the potion that would seal her fate. Her mind swam with dizzying sensations, the world around her spinning out of control.

Her body responded to the potion with an insatiable hunger, her arousal skyrocketing to levels she had never before experienced. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. The tentacles inside her shifted, the suction cups massaging her in ways that made her want to weep. The creature had taken complete control, and she could feel it claiming her as its own.

The tentacle in her mouth began to pulse, and she felt a sudden surge of warmth in her belly. It was as if the potion was spreading through her, reaching every part of her being and binding her to the creature. She moaned around the intrusion, her hips bucking up to meet the relentless onslaught of the tentacle in her pussy. Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and making her body convulse in a symphony of pleasure. But even as she came, the tentacles didn't relent, continuing to fuck her with a vigor that was unyielding.

The creature's grip on her grew more possessive, the tentacles around her body tightening, the ones inside her stretching her even further. It was a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a dance on the razor's edge of pleasure and pain. She could feel her muscles clenching, trying to push the invaders out, but the potion had her body betraying her, her walls instead clamping down, holding them tight.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the creature's life force begin to pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat. The tentacles grew thicker, harder, filling her completely, as if they were becoming a part of her. She was no longer the witch in control of her domain; she was the prey caught in the embrace of a creature that was as ancient as the earth itself.

The creature's tentacles began to quiver and spasm, and she knew it was about to release its seed. The thought of being filled with the alien spawn of this creature sent a shiver of revulsion through her, but her body responded with a wanton lust that she couldn't control. She felt it building inside her, the pressure mounting until she thought she might burst.

With a final, guttural growl, the tentacle in her pussy spurted its cum deep inside her. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced - hot, thick, and overwhelming. It filled her up, the sticky fluid leaking out around the edges and pooling beneath her. At the same time, the tentacle in her ass pumped its own seed into her, the dual invasions making her body convulse with the intensity of her orgasm. She squirted, the force of her climax so powerful it was as if she were peeing, her juices mixing with the creature's cum and dripping down her thighs.

The plant creature's tentacles tightened around her, ensuring not a single drop of its precious essence was lost. It was a possessive act, a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through her even as she struggled to breathe around the tentacle in her throat. Her body was no longer her own; she was merely a vessel for its pleasure, a conduit for its life force. The creature's movements grew more deliberate, the tentacles inside her working together to milk every drop from her trembling form.

Y/N felt the potion's effects deepening, her thoughts becoming hazy, and her will to resist all but vanished. The creature's cum filled her, a warm, pulsating presence that seemed to resonate with her very soul. Her body responded instinctively, her muscles clenching around the tentacles, eager to keep them inside her. The plant's life force pumped into her, melding with her own until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began.

As the creature's climax reached its peak, she felt the tentacles inside her begin to withdraw, their suction cups reluctantly letting go of her sensitive flesh. The thick ropes of cum spurted out of her, painting the floor around her in a sticky mess. But before she could even begin to process what was happening, the plant's grip tightened once more. The tentacles holding her open slithered back in, coating her insides with the warm, viscous fluid, ensuring not a single drop was lost.

The creature's movements grew slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of her body around it. With a final, lingering kiss, the tentacle in her mouth slithered out, leaving her gasping for air. She coughed and spluttered, her throat raw and sore from the intrusion, but the taste of the potion remained, a heady cocktail of earth and magic. The tentacles around her neck and wrists loosened, allowing her to sit up, though she felt a strange reluctance to break the intimate connection.

As the plant's life force ebbed away, so too did the potion's control over her body. She felt the tentacles retreat, each one leaving her with a popping sensation that made her wince. The creature's form began to shrink, the tentacles withdrawing back into the soil with a wet squelch. The once vibrant leaves and vines grew limp, the glow in its veins fading to a dull pulse.

Y/N lay there, panting and drenched in sweat, cum, and dirt, her body feeling both violated and oddly satisfied. She watched with a mix of horror and fascination as the creature returned to its original state, the tentacles retreating into the soil until nothing remained but the withered plant she had sought to revive. The room was a mess of uprooted shelves and scattered potions, a testament to the creature's unbridled passion.

The bell above the door chimed, jolting her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense encounter. A customer had entered the shop, their eyes wide with shock as they took in the scene before them. It was a young woman, a regular named Clara, who often came in for love potions and the occasional herb to keep her garden thriving.

Y/N tried to compose herself, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she took in Clara's horrified expression. The room was indeed a wreck - potions spilled, tomes scattered, and the once quaint and orderly space was now a chaotic jungle of tangled vines and broken furniture. "C-Clara," she managed to stutter, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure, "I can explain."

But Clara wasn't listening. She had spotted the withered plant, now devoid of its former vigor, lying in the center of the room. "What the fuck happened here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes scanning the scene with a blend of curiosity and revulsion.

The witch tried to speak to explain the unexplainable, but her words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? That she had brought the plant to life with a potion and it had fucked her senseless? That the creature had claimed her body as its own, feeding off her very essence? The truth was too ludicrous to voice aloud. Instead, she settled for a weak, "It's... it's a spell gone wrong?"

[growthhyp]

Hey, you got anything that comes in a matching pair? It’s my best friend’s birthday coming up and I can’t think of what to get him for the life of me, but he’s like a brother to me, I gotta find something! So I was thinking some sort of sentimental thing? One for me and one for him?

The Muscular Twins

“Hey, you got anything that comes in a matching pair? It’s my best friend’s birthday coming up and I can’t think of what to get him for the life of me, but he’s like a brother to me, I gotta find something! So I was thinking some sort of sentimental thing? One for me and one for him?” You said to the muscular man that was sitting on the other side of the makeshift table listening to what you want to buy.

He looks around his garage that’s cluttered with random items that have seen better days, then his eyes stop on two snapback hats that have the same black and red design. They are a bit dusty, but you can see that they are in good condition. “Hmm, I can only think of few items here that are match in design, but maybe this one,” He says as he picks up the hats and blows off the dust from them.

The muscular man handed you the 2 snapbacks. “I absentmindedly bought two the same design from way back. I’m willing to sell this to you in just 5 dollars both, I have included some discount as a birthday gift also to your best friend.” He smiles and handed the snapback to you.

You couldn’t believe your luck. A matching set of hats, almost brand new, for only 5 bucks? That’s what you call a steal! Your eyes widened as you handed over the crumpled bill, feeling the excitement bubble up inside of you. "Really wow, I've got myself a deal!" You exclaimed, giving him a hearty thumbs up. He chuckled, looking slightly amused by your enthusiasm, but you didn't care. This was going to be the perfect gift.

You took one last admiring glance at the snapbacks, it's black having matching design. "Wow, thank you so much, sir!" You beamed, your voice full of gratitude. You couldn't wait to see the look on your best friend's face when he opens the present. You pocketed the hats and dashed out of the garage, the excitement in your stride making you feel like you could run a marathon.

As you walked home, the warm sun beating down on your head, you decided to try one of the hats on. It fit snugly, the cool fabric feeling surprisingly comfortable against your skin. But as you looked down at your reflection in a nearby car window, something peculiar happened. Your vision grew hazy, like someone had thrown a fine mist over your eyes.

The sounds of the street grew distant, and suddenly, you are at a gym and you saw a figure standing beside you. It was a muscular man, flexing his arms. You blinked, but the image remained. You reached up to touch your forehead, wondering if you were hallucinating from the heat, but as your hand came into view, you realized with a start that the man beside you was a muscular twin of yours. You asked his name and he replied to you with the name of your best friend. You got confused as it is definitely not your best friend's face.

The muscular twin looked over to you and grinned, flexing his bicep in a show of strength.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," your muscular twin said, snapping you out of your daze. You glanced down at your hands, now large and powerful, and felt the urge to flex them. You obeyed the impulse, and sure enough, your forearms bulged with muscles that looked like they could crush a watermelon. You followed the new contours of your arms up to your biceps, which now resembled the rolling hills of a majestic mountain range, veins pulsing like rivers through the valleys of your muscles.

Your eyes widened in amazement as you took in the rest of your body. Your triceps had taken on the distinct shape of a horseshoe, each bulge pronounced and powerful. It was as if someone had sculpted you from clay, adding muscle where there was once only skin and bone. You couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of your shoulders, which now felt like boulders beneath your fingertips. You rotated your arms, feeling the weight and the power that came with them. "This is… insane!" you murmured to yourself, still in shock.

As your hands traveled upwards, your fingertips grazed the base of your neck, and that's when you felt it - the unmistakable swell of your trapezius muscles. They bulged out, creating a formidable frame around your neck. You had never felt so… so powerful, so invincible. The snapback hat on your head now felt like a crown, a symbol of this newfound strength.

You muscular twin leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Bro, are you okay?" he asked. "You're touching yourself like you've never seen muscles before." You tried to ignore him, but his question only served to amplify your confusion. What was happening to you? Was this some kind of trick the hat was playing on you, or a side effect of the heat?

With trembling fingers, you reached up to your chest, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your own body. But instead, your hands encountered two firm mounds of muscle that felt like beach balls strapped to your torso. You gave them an experimental squeeze, and to your astonishment, they bounced back. "What the…" you murmured, your voice now a deep rumble that resonated through your new body.

Your gaze shifted down to your stomach, expecting to see the usual rolls that accompanied every deep breath, but instead, you found yourself staring at a washboard of abs. You traced the lines with your fingertips, each ridge as firm and defined as if it had been chiseled by an artist. You had never seen anything like it, let alone felt it. Your muscular twin was watching you with an amused smirk, clearly enjoying the shock and awe etched across your face.

As you continued to explore, you looked down at your legs. The workout shorts you had been wearing now clung to your thighs, which bulged with power, each muscle group clearly defined. You could see the fabric straining ever so slightly with every flex, a testament to the sheer mass you have. Your calves looked thick and strong. It was as if you'd been lifting weights your whole life, but you'd never even stepped foot in a gym.

Curiosity piqued, you reached back to feel your butt. To your astonishment, it felt like you were cupping two pillows. Each cheek was firm yet yielding, the perfect blend of power and comfort. You couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation. You wiggled your hips slightly, watching the muscles ripple beneath your skin, and felt a strange sense of pride.

Your muscular twin chuckled. "Dude, seriously, you can't get enough of your body?" His voice was a blend of your own, but with a cocky edge that you'd never heard before. You looked around, realizing that you were indeed standing in front of a mirror in the gym. The smell of sweat and iron filled your nostrils as you took in the sight of gleaming workout equipment and posters of bodybuilders adorning the walls.

Embarrassed, you quickly averted your gaze from your reflection, but the damage was done. Your twin had a point; you were ogling your new form with the same enthusiasm you'd reserve for a celebrity crush. You felt a flush creep up your neck, but the feeling of power was too exhilarating to ignore. Before you knew it, your arms were flexing in a double bicep pose.

The sound of your own voice, deeper and more confident than ever before, filled the room. "Damn bro, I'm hot!" You said, unable to hold back the grin that stretched across your face. The muscles in your neck and shoulders tensed and bulged, creating an intimidating frame for your grin. Your twin winked and gave a thumbs up, seemingly approving of your swagger like it is just a normal day for him.

He leaned closer. "Of course, bro, we're the unstoppable twin brothers," he said with a laugh, flexing his biceps. "Twin brothers?" you questioned, your voice still unfamiliar to your ears. "What do you mean by that?"

"Bro, come on, don't you remember?" Your twin brother's eyes searched yours, filled with a camaraderie that was eerily familiar. "We've always been twin brothers, two peas in a pod. We decided to hit the gym together, to push each other to be our best selves. And now look at us, muscle gods in the making!"

You nodded, the fog in your mind slowly lifting as you began to accept the absurd reality presented to you. The bond with your twin brother was something you cherished deeply. You'd always had a competitive streak, pushing each other to be better, and the results were undeniable. The mirror reflected not one, but two of you, both grinning and flexing like champions.

The memories of countless hours spent in the gym flooded back, the sweat, the grunts, the smell of chalk and victory. You remembered the days when you'd just started, the struggle to even lift the barbell, and how your twin had been there, spotting you, encouraging you. You woke up, you are back again in the streets but something is different.

You looked down at your outfit. Gone were the baggy tees and loose shorts you'd been wearing earlier, replaced with a tight-fitting shirt that clung to your newfound muscles like a second skin, and a pair of shorts that highlighted the powerful thighs beneath them. The snapback hat was still perched on your head, but now it looked like it belonged, like it was a part of your very essence. Your mind was different, it's like the personality and life of yourself in your daydream was put into your mind and replaced your identity.

You could feel the determination coursing through your veins, pumping with the same rhythm as your newfound strength. The mission was clear: you had to give your best friend the other snapback hat and make him a part of this transformation. The thought of the two of you as a muscular twin brothers was too enticing to resist.

The day of his birthday party arrived, and you were nowhere to be found. You'd been preparing for this moment, waiting for the perfect time to reveal your gift. Your heart raced as you watched from the shadows, waiting for the moment when your friend would open the box containing the snapback. The party was in full swing, the air thick with the smell of barbecue and the sound of laughter and music.

When he finally unwrapped the hat that was gifted by you, his eyes lit up with confusion before shifting to a tentative smile. He held it up to his head, inspecting the black hat. "Thanks, man," he said, turning it over in his hands. "But where are you?" His voice was filled with a hint of sadness that you hadn't anticipated.

But as soon as he pulled the hat over his blonde hair, everything changed. His body began to spasm, his muscles grew at an alarming rate, ripping through the fabric of his shirt and pants like they were made of paper. His skin stretched taut over the new muscles, veins popping out like a map of uncharted territories across his biceps, forearms, and chest. You watched in awe, your heart racing as the transformation unfolded before your eyes. The party continues, it was if the people can't see what was happening to your best friend.

His eyes widened in shock and a bit of pain, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched as if he could somehow hold back the overwhelming power surging through him. His cheekbones grew more prominent, his nose more aquiline, contorting to look like yours. It was like watching a caterpillar become a butterfly, except it was happening in a matter of seconds and with a soundtrack of fabric tearing.

The partygoers continued their conversations, oblivious to the monumental transformation happening right beside them. The music and chatter grew distant as the intensity of his change grew stronger, like the whole world was muffled by a thick fog, and all that existed was the two of you. The only indication of the chaos within him was the tremor in his hands, which grew steadier as the hat's power took hold.

The last of his clothes gave way with a final, dramatic rip, revealing a body that was a mirror image of yours. His blonde hair had morphed into a sleek black mane that framed his new, angular features.

As the dust of his transformation settled, your best friend blinked, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. The panic in his eyes was replaced with a vacant stare, and for a moment, you feared you had made a mistake. But then, something clicked into place, and his eyes refocused, a smirk playing on his lips. The hat had not just changed his appearance; it had also changed his essence, turning him into your twin brother in every conceivable way.

The room around you blurred, and suddenly, the party scene shifted. The garish streamers and balloons that had been scattered around for your best friend's birthday were replaced with more sophisticated decorations. The faces of the people around you morphed into those of your actual family members and friends, who had all gathered to celebrate the two of you. You realized with a start that the party was now in your honor as well, a celebration of the bond that you and your twin brother shared.

[a-leg-without-fear]

hello my love lovely mutual!

congrats on 200 followers leg 🦵 you are an actual rockstar!!!!

can i maybe order a medium mocha with my papi Logan. that man needs some soft in his life

LOVE YOU BABES

- Sybil

I love you too, Syb!! Thank you so much, lovely :) <3 One medium mocha coming right up!!

"I made this for you..."

You looked up from where you sat at your desk, research essays on Pablo Picasso stacked on top of the paint-stained surface. The last bits of sunlight leaked through the drawn curtains in your art classroom. Streaks of oranges and pinks illuminated the drying pottery your students had worked on that morning.

Logan stood next to your desk. Flannel sleeves rolled up around his elbows, white tank top splotched in red clay, jeans dusty around the hems. An apprehensive, almost nervous, frown stretched at his face. You glanced down at what he held in his hands.

A small, rough-around-the-edges, clay whale sat in his outstretched palm. It was a little uneven in its proportions, the flippers too big for its head, but it was absolutely adorable.

"Oh my God, Logan!" you gasped. You gingerly plucked the thumb-size figurine from him and cradled it in your palms. This was the most perfect gift you had ever received from anybody.

"You don't gotta lie if you don't like it," Logan grumbled, hand rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck.

"Shut up, grump," you breathed. You gently set the whale on your desk, on top of the papers you needed to grade, and threw your arms around Logan's shoulders. The sudden movement was met with an "oof!" and Logan tentatively placing his hands on your hips. You pulled back to look him in his hazel eyes, "I fucking love it. You're gonna need to make me more. I want a whole pod!"

Logan groaned, shrugging your arms off and stepping away from you as you giggled. You leaned back on your desk.

"I ain't making more. One and done," Logan groused. You laughed at his reluctance, taking one of his large hands in both of yours.

"At least one more? So this one isn't so lonely?" you pleaded, sticking out your bottom lip to really sell it. Logan groaned again while rolling his eyes. You kept up the puppy-dog face until he looked back to you.

He sighed, "Fine. One more. That's it."

this is very silly and cute. hope ya like <3

[rayveneyed]

cw: ares!bakugou x aphrodite!reader, fem!reader, mentions of war and violence, bakugou who is so pathetically in love but doesn’t know it

he finds you in a place unlike any other he’s previously found you in — sitting on the ground behind a quaint little market stall near the sea, where purple weeds grow from old brick and the streets are worn and dusty. the sun shines bright here, always has, but illuminates your little corner something special — golden and honeyed, reflecting off the jewellery hanging from your ears and wrists.

this is not the sparkling marble and iridescent gold of mount olympus; this is not the illustrious facades of athens, nor the rich fabrics and skilfully carved stones of abyssinia. you’re selling flowers — clay pots of red roses and white geranium; dandelion bulbs for next spring. they pour over the stall and onto the ground, long, frond-like leaves and jewel-toned petals, encapsulating you in an orb of beauty. it suits the city, with all its charm and narrow streets, but at the same time you eclipse it all. it’s only natural, he supposes — godliness rarely ever goes unseen, and you most godly of all.

his boots are caked in dark mud; his sword clangs loud at his hip, and the crowd parts for him instinctively. those who have any sense turn away from him, scurrying along with their baskets of fruit and loaves of bread, smart enough to avoid soldiers and smarter, still, to avoid those of his nature; those who are perhaps more foolish turn to gape at him as he nears you, taking in the slope of his broad shoulders and his unpleasantly-contorted face. he imagines it almost comical, the juxtaposition between you, but he is no stranger to your treachery, nor your barbs.

you do not regard him when he nears, but he would be a fool to think you haven’t noticed him — as expected, your pretty lips split in a smile when his shadow falls over you.

“aphrodite,” he greets, plain and frowning. “what business have you here?”

it is more respect than he allows most other gods, except perhaps his father and mother — but you are you, born from sea-foam and gore, and he knows your power as intimately as he knows his own. if his power is drawn from combat, from war and blood and guts, yours is much from the same; jealousy, dark and curdling, crimes of passion, blood-coloured rubies and garnets. it is only this that stays his irritation, bubbling instead as something just as fierce and red-hot in his chest.

“here, i am known by one name, and one name only,” you only say, demure. a sharp blade in your right hand, and a thorn-ridden in the other, you make quick work of slicing the hardy stem in half. “they call me _____. it is a good name. what name have you taken in this form, dearest ares?”

he stares at you — eyes the roundness of your shoulder beneath your robes, the embroidery of which is delicate and expertly done. your eyes are half-lidded, cast down to your work, the shadows of your eyelashes curving over your cheeks. it has never been a question of his (or any other, for that regard) as to why you govern all matters of beauty. it is clear as the sun in the sky.

your eyes flicker up from the flower blooming in your hand. he realises that he did not avoid your question quickly enough — his head still stumbles over dearest ares. no matter. you’ve never bristled at his misanthropic silence or brutish remarks — only brushed them off with a knowing smile or distracted sigh, like he was nothing more than an overexcited puppy nipping at your ankles. it should annoy him more than it does, perhaps, but there are more pressing matters to attend to.

“war will find its way here,” he says shortly. looking away from your face and finding his mind clearer, he takes in his surroundings more fully; the cobbled streets, the wooden crates of produce, fresh and shiny. the smell of salt in the air, the heat of the sun. if he had such an appreciation for beauty, for aesthetics, he would perhaps feel worse about the sorry state this place will surely be in once the fighting is over. this is wholly against his nature, though; he cannot deny the chance of a good fight sparks something in his stomach. still, he attempts to dull his blood-thirst when he turns to you once more, and says: “most will die. blood will fill these streets, and fire will burn these stalls. none will inhabit this village for the next hundred years.”

he hadn’t expected tears from you, to be sure, but he still finds himself surprised when you simply respond: “hm.”

the stem is cut in half again. then, methodically, your blade slices away at the thorns.

“does it please you, sweet ares?” you say, then, peering up at him from below those gods-forsaken lashes — and he is frozen once more. “to look here, at that peaceful horizon, at these swarms of mortals, and see war?”

“yes,” he says. honest. you know his nature.

“hm.” after another pause, you raise a hand; beckoning him close with a simple wave that he is all too weak to resist. his knee finds the cobblestone, his other forming a rest for his arm. he is not unaware that this could be regarded as deference. better you than apollo, or hephaestus, or dionysus, or any other.

you lean forward. he bends towards you, too, until less than the width of your stall separates you. would he be a mortal man, this proximity would have already ruined him for all others.

“by the time this village is in ruins,” you say, voice a low whisper, eyes boring so pointedly into his — so close that your breath heats his lips, and the smell of roses clouds his head, “i will be gone, or perhaps i will be among it. and i will find another town just like it, or a city thrice its size, or a village not even half of it. and you will follow me there, as you have followed me for millennia, sweet…?”

“katsuki.”

a toothy grin suddenly eclipses your face — all hints of secrecy or solemnity vanished. his cheeks are hot — he hadn’t even meant to reveal it, the inconsequential name of his current human form — but before he can snap at you, snarl his embarrassment away, you reach up. that same flower you had been carving away at is deftly tucked behind his ear, fragrant and blooming, and he is equal parts enraged and astounded by it. you can see it on his face, too, and laughing, stand to your feet.

“sweet katsuki,” you say, turning away from him, “let us meet here again. bring your war. i will bring mine.”

you disappear around the wall — or perhaps in the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing, or a ray of golden sunlight.

katsuki — ares — is left, with his mud-stained boots and his face contorted somewhere between anger and incredulity, a rose in his spiked hair.