#Slaking
LightNews LightNews
archeaids.bsky.social
I've mentioned & shown what shell slaking can do to ceramics. This shell bead was fired too hot for the shell temper. This is exactly how I found it. #ceramics
White speckled red tube bead with rows of crescent punctations. Pile of crumbled red ceramic & white shell
November 18, 2025 at 2:14 AM
archeaids.bsky.social
Damn! Shell usually calcines above ~700° C, with 600° C being the very minimum. The Barton pot was fired at 685° C & is now slaking. #ceramics
Shell-tempered incised & punctated pot with shell flaking off.
November 14, 2025 at 7:29 PM
draggro.bsky.social
The English version cover of volume 2 of the Norio Sakurai manga "The Dangers in My Heart", featuring a young girl with long dark hair offering, ostensibly the viewer, a helping of some snack food in a cup. I have cruelly defaced this work by replacing existing snack with an image of English sausages. The title has likewise been altered to replace the word "Dangers" with "Bangers". I believe this new transformative piece highlights both my thoughtless caprice in wantonly slaking my lust for using destructive change in the pursuit of the sublime comedic epiphany of the intentionally malformed, as well as how it's weird that the 'g' in banger and danger is said differently when the words are spelled almost the same.
November 10, 2025 at 3:10 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
Gonna find a way to sneak Slaking into this list.
November 6, 2025 at 10:35 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
Slaking only like to mating press.

They only have to use half their body and just hold you down with those meaty arms.

I'm sure you'll be fine getting slamfucked for days.

#SakasPosts
November 5, 2025 at 2:24 PM
lorenzohall.com
Song of the Hart

Horror/Fable
Song of the Hart Long ago, when I was young, this was a story my mother told. She spoke of days long ago, when animals spoke as men and the spirits communed with those of flesh. The line between the natural and supernatural would at times blur and ebb, especially in places of thin air. One such place was a forest filled with life. With trees that reached the heavens and vast mountains beyond. Between the mountains where heavy mists hung was a deep valley that the forest extended into. All knew it was there, none knew what laid beyond. Villagers from nearby, just outside the thin place, would sometimes send hunters to harvest unruly beasts and plentiful fruit. Many a prideful person would journey to capture the biggest creature they could so their praises might be sung. Even so, the clever creatures knew the forest well and would only be caught by the most talented among the humans. One day, an archer with a quick wit was deep in the forest, with sharp eyes that saw what others would over look. It was during the hunt that the archer spotted a fox laying in wait, its fur hidden by shade and leaves of the brush. A single arrow pierced its tail, causing the fox to yelp and keeping it in place. Proud of the catch, the archer strode forth proudly, but once the archer was near, though, the fox spoke. “Fair hunter, please, spare me I will tell you a secret,” the fox offered. “One that will make your name legend among mankind.” A cornered beast, of course, would lie, the archer reasoned. They thought to dismiss the words and notch an arrow, but curiosity was its own snare. “What is this secret? Tell me and I give you word you will go free.” The fox, despite its position, smiled before speaking. “Deep in this forest a creature bearing death itself. We call it the Hart of Decay, for all crumbles within its wake.” The archer, while unfamiliar with the creature spoken, grew more enthused. Surely if such a being existed, the archer’s discovery would cement their place as l… The creature that ambled forth was shaggy, covered in mold. Its matted fur hanging as dirt clung to it. Each hoof digging deep like a shovel into the lifeless soil. It became as drumming. Constant, echoing, moving through the hunter’s body, affecting it. There was a slow motion that was dire, as the archer became cold. Their eyes were fixed on the creature, making the hunter’s vision faint. Suffocation came too, the air too putrid to breathe. With what strength they had, the archer notched an arrow before focusing, their eyes seeing those of the monster before loosing their arrow. There was a sickening thud as the arrow buried itself in the creature’s forehead, though it did not stop. Baleful black blood bled from the wound, dying its gray fur and slaking the earth momentarily. The trail of pitch-dark fluid flowed on, until another arrow and a last gasp came from the archer. With that breath, the arrow trailed, before it lodged itself in the antler of the Hart of Decay. Finally, the creature was near and the archer fell to their knees, only to hear a voice when the beating hooves stopped. ‘Stranger, why have you come to strike me in my domain?’ Though it was a struggle, they spoke. “I was told that hunting you would allow my name to live on to immortality. That all would know of me.” The creature let out a low, pained laugh, its blood continuing to drip, staining the ground below. ‘A gift you would perish for? That you would take a life so yours might be known?’ There was no reply. The hart bowed its head. ‘Tell me, should your life be mine?’ “N..no. Spare me so I might live,” the hunter begged with the last of their strength, barely clinging to the world. The Hart of Decay, with the shaft between its eyes still, shook its head. From it fell the wounded antler, the arrow remaining in the part that had not broken. ‘Take my antler and show it to your kindred. Then, when you see the next dawn, fashion it into a flute. For every day you wish to keep this life … For a time, the survivor’s name was praised. Truly, only one with great skill would have such a keepsake from their outing. Yet, while this happened, the Hart’s words rang in their head. The moon hung high as they took a knife and began to carve and hollow the antler. Little by little they felt guided as holes were made until it was an instrument, held in their hands hours before dawn. Once the first crimson rays of sun crept over the black-tinged sky, the hunter began to blow, their fingers guided, their breath hesitant, but a haunting tune called out to the wind. As they did, a chilling sound was heard. The beating of the Hart. Its approach as steady and solemn as before, heralded by the music. What few humans were called by the flute also looked over to the one horned creature, awed by its sight and the dark path that trailed it, darker than night. All who looked upon it were transfixed, until it was upon them, and the herald could stop. The beating continued once the Hart was there, stamping one foot until it had seen them all, only to stop when it stared at one, a boy on the cusp of manhood. That boy’s eyes went loud as the beat ceased, and so too did he. His body slumped over before the Hart bent its head and dragged the fallen away, taking it back into the dark of night away from the sun. For the herald, all came to know their name. Day in and out, the tune would play and another would disappear. Whispers flew through the air in day while the flute and procession would greet the dawn. By the time the Hunter had been home a week, they were driven from the village and forced to wander. Other villages, too, came to know them and would shun the Herald of the Hart. Some would travel, only to befall the song if they were out in the day. The legend says even hundreds of years later, the Herald of the Hart continued to play. When all was dead silent at dawn, the dirge would creep out into the world. With arrows exchanged for a solemn song, the Herald’s hear…
November 8, 2025 at 5:44 AM
bristlebum.bsky.social
Slaking feels like the obvious pick, I think Duskull would be neat
November 4, 2025 at 12:08 AM
pkmnupdatesbot.bsky.social
Noivern has become friends with Slaking to start a fashion line.
October 31, 2025 at 3:25 AM
smolzwildin.bsky.social
By all means, it's not even close...

Slaking is beloved🙏
October 29, 2025 at 8:10 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
You did good, you just gotta

make sure your cum has viscosity.

Another week in the Slaking pits should fix that.
October 30, 2025 at 12:25 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
I wanna do more character stuff for Roc and other sonas because the well is dry for them

But then I am hit with Slaking Beam

And apes dominate the headspace.

#JustSlakingThings
October 29, 2025 at 12:39 PM
pakratmaniac.bsky.social
Isaac loves taking pranks to the next level on Halloween. He'll dress up as his favorite killer and reaps on unsuspecting victims, drag them by their waistbands and hang them like trophies. Beware of the Slaking Bully or you'll be next~!

Thanks again @brieflyy33n.bsky.social for this amazing piece!
October 28, 2025 at 8:22 PM
sunshinex.bsky.social
Lore: evitar que snorlax e slaking durmam nos bancos
October 28, 2025 at 12:21 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
I managed to catch the bus straight home all 4 days of my work week so now I'm imagining all my mutuals getting sneakfucked on a crowded bus by a Slaking.

#JustSlakingThings
October 28, 2025 at 11:25 PM
mpregbestpreg.bsky.social
Creativity may be on fumes

But Slaking is forever.

I will preach this gospel until all of you have been enlightened.
October 28, 2025 at 2:33 AM
okrizo.bsky.social
Slaking dance
Commission for @theowilder108.bsky.social
October 25, 2025 at 9:30 PM
katemarblez.bsky.social
"Omg my daughter who is on her first year of university is slaking off during the weekend, how can this be? She does nothing on the daily! She can't be tired! It's not like she spends her days after school working on projects and sleeping due to how exhausted she is! Sacrilege!"
October 25, 2025 at 8:39 PM
isaacsart2005.bsky.social
Commission for @spcrossing.bsky.social ! Thank you So Much! 💫🐱🐶📙

#OC #art #artwork #cat #dog #commission #ArtistOnBluesky
Quincy judging Kodi for reading comic books and slaking off, instead of reading academic books!
October 22, 2025 at 12:51 AM
solidarity.pizza
not a metaphor, not not a metaphor gemini://gemini.estradiol.cloud/~rumblestrips/fragments/limekiln.gmi
limekiln _for s.o._ slaking into mortar clarifying to sweet enrobing nixtamal engulfing the plaster bury me, slowfire the lazy kiln, await my bones as kindling, for your duty peals in cycles
October 22, 2025 at 4:54 PM
bluejaesart.bsky.social
Pokédex: Days 289-294 🦥🦟🤫🔊

Poor Whismur is always crying in all the references I found lol

#pokemon #sketchbook #pokédex #coloredpencil #artchallenge #doodles #Slaking #Nincada #Ninjask #Shedinja #Whismur #Loudred
October 21, 2025 at 10:55 PM
fluffbuffjams.bsky.social
#gbcamtober Day 19 - Gaming

A scattered pile of Pokemon Cards to sort, collect, and make strategic decks with.

#gameboycamera #gbcphotography
A pile of pokemon cards scattered around. There's an Ampharos Card, a Latios Card, a Slaking Card, and a Cyndaquil Card in the frame. A pile of pokemon cards scattered around. There's an Ampharos Card, a Latios Card, a Slaking Card, a Pupitar Card, and a Cyndaquil Card in the frame.
October 21, 2025 at 10:19 PM
beetle.zone
those are like my automatic rude sleazy pokeboy thoughts, there are totally more than six who would lovingly bully the fuck out of me. gengar, perrserker, salandit, slaking, cragunk, scolipede, okidogi...
October 18, 2025 at 10:18 PM
shinygloom.bsky.social
No Nidoking
No Seaking
No Kingler
No Kingdra
No Slaking
October 18, 2025 at 10:04 PM
ojamapurble.bsky.social
289. Slaking

Didnt feel like finishing this one. Too busy loafing around :P

#pokemon #art #fanart
October 17, 2025 at 2:30 AM
mistray.art
a Pokémon a day keeps artblock away
#289 Slaking
Illustration of Slaking. The Pokémon is lounging down on its right side, supporting its head on its right arm, while its left hand is formed into a fist behind it. Its mouth is open, like it's lazily threatening us.
October 16, 2025 at 9:11 AM