#silken genetics

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Do you have a snoot noodle or other variation of sighthound? If yes, there’s new heart health research for the breed happening!

A researcher at Texas A&M whose work I’m familiar with is starting a new study looking at genetic factors contributing to heart disease in Borzoi and related breeds. They just put out a call for dog owners who are willing to submit saliva samples & (noodle) medical records. Studies like this need a big sample size! They’re accepting new sign-ups starting now until March 1, 2025, for dogs both in the US and internationally.

Let’s help make some science!

From the study page:

“Background and purpose

Recent research in Borzoi dogs has revealed that dogs of this breed experience sudden, unexplained death. About 85% of sudden, unexplained deaths in humans are linked to an underlying heart disease. Our existing research in Borzoi dogs has shown that they are predisposed to developing arrhythmias (abnormal heart rhythms) and dilated cardiomyopathy (a heart muscle disease causing dilated heart chambers and weak pumping function).

Due to our documentation of the frequency of these conditions in Borzoi dogs, we seek to identify responsible genetic variations similar to what is seen in humans with electrical cardiac diseases that trigger arrhythmias and dilated cardiomyopathy.

The objective of our study is to identify genetic mutations associated with heart disease in Borzoi dogs and document their existence in other sighthound breeds.

What happens in this study

We are collecting saliva samples from both healthy Borzoi and Borzoi dogs affected with arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. We will also collect saliva samples from any other sighthound breeds.

We will extract DNA from these samples and perform genomic sequencing on a select number while retaining the remainder for further screening.By analyzing the sequencing data, we can compare the genes of healthy and affected Borzoi dogs and identify variants linked to their heart conditions. We will also compare the findings in Borzoi dogs to results from other sighthound breeds.

Pet owner responsibilities

A swab kit will be sent to you for at home use along with a link to an instructional video on how to properly obtain a swab of the mouth. The kit will contain equipment to collect the saliva swab, a history form for your pet, a client consent form and a shipping label to return samples to us.

Participation requirements

To participate, you must have a Borzoi dog or a sighthound breed that is either healthy or affected by arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. Pets may be any age or sex. Electronic or paper veterinary medical records will need to be provided.

Benefits and risks of participating

There is little to no risk for taking a brief swab of the mouth for saliva collection if procedures outlined in the video are followed. No individual genetic test results will be provided to study participants.

Compensation

There is no cost to the owner for participating in this study. No compensation will be provided.”

[gnomishcunning]

bg3 companion camp habits

ft. astarion, karlach, wyll, shadowheart, lae'zel, gale & halsin

Astarion

earliest to bed, earliest to rise. it leaves more time to sneak around at night. unfortunately for him that means lae'zel has him on hunting duty, in order to find something substantial for dinner the next day.

insures team tadpole camps within walking distance of some source of running water. if not running water, a lake; if not a lake, a pond. after tagging around with tav all day and coming home covered in blood, his daily soaks are sacred

despite actually not needing to sleep, his tent is the cushiest in camp: his bedroll is piled high with luxurious furs and silken pillows

trances with curlers in his hair. that coif doesn't maintain itself y'know, as much as astarion would like you to think it does

Karlach

her tent is open-air in order to reduce the likelihood she catches it on fire overnight

simultaneously a super-light sleeper while retaining the the ability to fall asleep within five minutes in any given environment, on any given surface. ten years in avernus have honed those survival instincts into a sharp edge, and she can be up and ready to brawl in an instant

banned from contributing to dinner on account of infernal taste buds: the amount of chili powder she'd added to the group soup that one time almost killed shadowheart and made astarion get the night sweats for the first time in 200 years

her contributions to camp including anything involving copious amounts of hot water. unfortunately, this usually has her stuck on laundry duty with halsin

Wyll

next to halsin and karlach, wyll's the most comfortable camping in the wilderness on a day-to-day basis. seven years as the blade of the frontiers meant wandering the sword coast looking for monsters, and not all of that was near civilization

crippling addiction to tea. picks up local varieties at every settlement the party passes through; it's what you see him swirling in that silver cup of his night to night.

while gale's in charge of dinner, wyll's in charge of breakfast. he's got a carafe of coffee on the fire when people start to rise, and there's always a pan of something delicious-smelling and ready to dish out by the time someone manages to wake up halsin.

he's had that ripped-up crop top he sleeps in since his teens, and it's been worth to that point of sweet age-soft. he has trouble sleeping in anything else at this point

Shadowheart

doesn't need as much sleep to function at full capacity the next day: she's perfectly fine on five or six hours. whether that's a lucky genetic twist of shadowheart's genetic heritage or a blessing of shar is anyone's guess - this usually has her as the second one awake

tends to volunteer for first watch and uses that time to pray

has a bit of a second sense for finding good campsites: places with highly defensible positions, a fresh water source, carefully tucked into the shadows of natural glades or high rocks

has one of the more elaborate hair routines in the group, second only to astarion's curl-care. she and the vampire spawn have a silent agreement to assist with setup and share haircare products when necessary.

Lae'zel

self-assigned camp commander (not camp mom - astarion tried to make a snide comment once and was glared down). her militaristic upbringing has left her the only one with enough organizational skills to insure the motley crew of team tadpole don't accidentally starve themselves to death in the wilderness

keeps an exacting inventory of what they have on hand, from food to spell-scrolls and spare socks and tadpoles in brain-jars, must to her chagrin. anything taken from the traveler's chest must be noted so she can keep track of what the team needs

created a chore chart. the chore chart is holy. it plays to everyone's strengths and evenly distributes labor. astarion once tried to fuck with it: he was left doing his own laundry for a week, much to his chagrin

as much as she'd like to brag about githyanki endurance, she requires an exacting eight hours of sleep to function. the rest of team tadpole insures she gets it, since nobody likes a grumpy githyanki

Gale

self-assigned camp cook within days of joining team tadpole. to his surprise, lae'zel completely agreed

has a few cookbooks stacked among the piles of literature around his tent, including a dog-eared recipe book from mama dekarios. his travel spice-rack was an additional gift from her as well, one he covets with all his heart.

could care less about his lion's mane and mostly resolves to slicking it back with whatever oil or grease they have on-hand first thing in the morning, but takes exacting care of his beard

has a bad tendency to stay up too late sleeping, and is subsequently the last one to rise first thing in the morning\

Halsin

doesn't even bother to set up his tent half the time, perfectly willing to spend the night in bear form. this has caused some confusion first thing in the morning when an actual bear wandered into camp one morning and wyll greeted it warmly, much to halsin's amusement

will grow goodberries to add to the morning's oatmeal or pancakes; secret weakness for coffee

tends to tackle laundry duty with karlach, mostly since the giant mountain of a druid is the best at actually toting mountains of blood-spoiled linens across camp.

assists with hunting duties, even if the meat he tends to bring backs is a little more roughed up compared to astarion's exsanguinated prey

bonus:

Tav

group oddball, usually ends up doing whatever odd chore lae'zel assigns them

unofficially in-charge of campfire entertainment, including breaking up fights between lae'zel and shadowheart over go-fish, or insuring astarion doesn't cheat during poker

the camp keeps meaning to buy them a tent. they never do. tav's been crashing around the campfire since the beginning, and they only actually get a tent once they have a significant other

not allowed to assist with dinner since the Noodle IncidentTM

[vampyrial]

thoroughbred. | pt. ii: spring

summary: Levi’s precious genetic material can’t be wasted even when it can’t go inside you.

warnings: nsfw annnnndddd, I don’t think anything else that wasn’t in the first part?

contains: masturbating, a fleshlight essentially, Levi’s… ‘genetic material’ being collected, vaginal sex, breeding, Levi really wants to get you pregnant, hange is a pervert

author’s note: surprisingly, Levi’s cum being collected via a weird machine has been on my mind the past few days.

part i

The next afternoon was your second meeting. Neither of you had been able to stop thinking about each other or the awkwardness of your situation. Still, somehow you were able to get back to the task at hand.

He had you bent over the edge of the bed, fully undressed while he was mostly clothed, his typical neat clothing wrinkled and half unbuttoned. It was shameful how turned on you were, in the same place you’d been prodded at like a dairy cow, in the same position no less. But even so, you could hear the slick sounds of Levi sliding in and out of you. This time, he’d tasted you, working you up to a breathless edge before he slipped his tongue out of you and waited for you to relax before he worked you up again.

You were glad you could bury your face into the sheets, you didn’t want to know what seeing his face as he watched you take his cock would do to you— what kind of lasting embarrassment it would inspire. Levi had his hand curled around your throat, not yet squeezing but still holding you firmly. You were grateful to feel his warm, calloused hand on your skin, it was a little sentimental but it made you feel a bit more reassured. You could trust those hands, you could trust him with your body. Levi was making such pretty sounds from behind you, cursing when your cunt hugged his cock or when you throbbed around him and left him feeling dizzy. Your cunt steals the air from his lungs with each squeeze.

What if this was the time that did it? What if he got you pregnant right then? The thought was unreasonably appealing to you at the moment. Why hadn’t you imagined that it could feel this good? Each thrust pushed you forward on the bed, slightly. The rub of the sheets against your nipples, already carefully teased and made hard, was maddening. How would it be if you were pregnant? Would he like to see the soft curve of your stomach? The swell of your breasts?

Levi’s thoughts ran parallel to yours, the purpose of the two of you being like this could never escape him fully. He just couldn’t help imagining your belly swelling with the proof, the image of spilling all his cum inside you where it belongs was nearly overwhelming. He wanted it so badly, it disgusted even him. He felt like he was looking at you the same as your higher ups did, as just something to breed for the benefit of others and he hated himself for that. Still, it didn’t stop him from nearly spilling over at the very thought of getting you pregnant.

You were moving your hips back to meet each frantic thrust. You two were really no better than animals in heat the way you shameless rutted against each other, incapable of words. Serving your country this way was humiliating, invasive and yet you were doing it without complaint, enjoying it more than you should. This should have been a matter where both of you grit your teeth and went ahead with resignation like you had before, it was lucky for you that it wasn’t like that but even so…you felt a bit whorish for spreading your legs so gladly for this purpose.

Levi was gripping your hips so hard, you knew he’d bruise you. There was typically never a moment that he wasn’t aware of his own strength and you doubted he’d hurt you on purpose so truly, he had to be lost in the wet, silken squeeze of your cunt around him, in the sound of your skin meeting his. That was a very pleasing thought, you didn’t mind the pain, not when it came from him being so lost in the pleasure you were bringing him. If anyone deserved to be able to forget their strength, forget their burden, it was certainly your captain. What pretty embellishment the bruises would make later on, hidden under your clothes.

His hips moved fluidly though they twitched and stuttered every now again when he hit the spot that made your whole body tense and nearly fucking sob with the unbearable pleasure. When he did so again, with another graceful movement of his hips, you could no longer handle it. In a strained voice, as his hand had begun to slightly squeeze your throat, you begged him to cum. Incessantly, near incoherently.

“You’re talking too much” Levi groaned, he was trying to hold back until he could make you cum. The words were pushing him too close to his own edge, carelessly babbling out things that made his need near unbearable to resist. He put a hand over your swollen lips, blocking your noises.

He set a more intense pace, pressing right against your sweet spot repeatedly. Desperately trying not to embarrass himself by cumming early. You looked back at him, your eyes wide and teary, continuing to convey without words what you wanted from him. You were on the verge of coming, your body tensing in anticipation and the muffled noises from his hand over your mouth come louder and easier.

He was uncharacteristically messy, skin sweaty and hair out of place. The blush spread across his skin matched the shade of his swollen lips. His half lidded eyes seemed darker in the low light, he appeared like an incubus. The absolute personification of arousal.

He took his hand from your mouth, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his hand ran down your skin back to your throat. He pushed you forward onto the bed and made you lay flat on your stomach. He climbed over you again, pressing his body onto yours, forcing you down against the mattress.

Pushing your legs wider, he fucked you deeper than he did before; he’s so much closer right above you, you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin before he kisses you, just below your jaw. He’s slower though, trying to avoid cumming before you. But you are no further away from your end with the proximity, the smell of him, the weight of him pressing down on you. “Cum for me, yeah?” he murmured against your skin and you just couldn’t resist him.

It was almost painful after having been teased and denied, Levi let you cry out freely. You moaned and panted like an animal, your cunt clenching around Levi. “Please, please, Levi” were the only words you could manage as you did. He certainly understood.

Through gritted teeth, he lamented his loss of control, “Godammit.” He came inside you with a gasp, painting your walls with what he swears is the most he’s ever came in his life. The noises he made might have embarrassed him if only he could ever hear anything but your heavy, satisfied breathing and your little whimpers as he moved his hips to ride out his climax. You, however, had the privilege to be able to hear his lovely, breathy moans and sighs.

You pulled away from each other for a moment to rest before he fucked you again, this time with you in his lap. He’d had to help you take his cock, the position made you feel him far more deeply and with the near overwhelming stimulation, you struggled to keep moving your hips. Your captain, with the flinty look his eyes he had when you were too slow for his liking in training as a scout, bounced you onto his cock, hard. “Don’t you intend to do your duty? You should at least be able to handle this much” He’d said in a low voice that made you jolt from the authority conveyed in it. “Seems like I have to do everything as always.” Already rubbed sensitive from the first time, you unraveled shortly thereafter.

After the six fertile days assigned to you for breeding, Levi was required, as all male candidates were, to report to the fertility center. While actual fucking was reserved for the fertile days of their partner, genetic material could still be harvested from male candidates for preservation outside of that timeframe. A task Levi looked forward to much less than he had actually having to consummate. He imagined he’d be masturbating into a cup in a tiny washroom and handing it over to a stranger to put in a freezer alongside a million other samples but not before being forced to sign off on some ridiculous form promising that it’s definitely, 100% his sperm. How humiliating.

No such luck on the stranger part. Hange was his practitioner, who greeted him with a smile as soon as they walked through the door.

“How are you even allowed to be assigned to me? They don’t even allow attendants be assigned to people they’re connected to.”

“That’s because with attendants, there’s always the potential to spoof the results if one were so inclined, confirm that someone fucked even if they didn’t. They pay them well enough and threaten them severely enough that bribes aren’t likely but if one were asked by a friend to let them off the hook…” They laughed. “Well, you know. But around here, it’d be hard to fake anything with how methodical everything is. And people feel more comfortable with people they know, they ice up with doctors they don’t know suddenly lecturing them about sperm counts and everything.”

Levi blinked. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hange went to a cabinet behind them and pulled out some strange device, attaching glass bottles to a hollow part of it in the body of the machine that sat on the floor. A long tube connected it to a clear, hollow apparatus with an opening pointing toward him. “You’ll be using this. I came up with the design myself and I had no complaints during the testing phase.” They smiled, somewhat mischievously.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s what you’ll use to collect your semen” they said, as if that fact should be obvious. “You’ll slide it on, stroke the canal there over your cock until you finish and then let it suck up what you put out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. C’mon smalls, it won’t bite. I know it won’t feel as nice as what’s between your partner’s legs but from the feedback I heard, it should still feel good enough to get the job done.”

“Shut up, there’s nothing nice about having to fuck some designated random with some grinning psycho waiting outside, treating you like an animal.” He scoffed. “And why don’t you have a match of your own? They’re playing favorites?”

“I’m a special case, my genes are just as ideal as yours if I do say so myself but at this point, it’s not recommended I put strain on my body with labor and pregnancy. So I’m freezing my eggs for preservation, so that my genes can still be passed along by someone who can safely give birth. It’s a little appealing, I think. Someone will eventually wind up pregnant with my kid. I hope it happens this generation.” They looked excited, genuinely excited.

“You don’t have to be so happy about it.” He scowled.

“Oh, please. Like you aren’t happy about getting to hump away at that partner of yours, like you wouldn’t want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

“I don’t think about those things, it’s just another job” He grumbled. “Not everyone is a pervert like you.”

“Oh? And I suppose you just lie back and think of Paradis when the time comes then, huh? You’re not attracted to her in the slightest?” Hange raised their eyebrow at him, with an annoyingly smug look.

“Just tell me how to turn this shitty thing on. I just want to get it done so I can leave” Levi asked, suddenly fidgeting with the device in front of him.

Hange was effectively distracted at the mention of their invention, one they were evidently very proud of and stopped teasing to explain. There were several settings, pressures, pulses, things too intricate for anyone but a pervert to think of, in Levi’s opinion. “Don’t worry, with these devices, there’s a disposable part in the place you’ll put your cock and they get cleaned out each use. Though, you’ll be the first one to use this particular machine so don’t think too much about it either way.” They patted the body of the device, sitting on floor, which housed the empty bottles.

Levi sighed. “Got it. You can leave now.”

“If you need any help, I’m in the hall, just give me a shout.” He would absolutely not be shouting for Hange even if his cock got stuck in the damn thing but it was nice of them to be so courteous.

Once they left and closed the door behind them, he locked it and flicked on the machine which made a whirring sound, softer than he was expecting. He still really didn’t want to put his cock in it, honestly just being asked to jerk off in a cup would have been less humiliating than having a contraption built for it. Why had he ever treated that like it was so bad?

He stuck two fingers in experimentally, feeling the inside of the hollow chamber. It was wet, lubed with a clear, thick liquid which allowed his fingers to slip in easily. The opening was of a soft, flexible material but it was tight, not unlike…He was starting to see where Hange’s head had been when designing it. There was pressure but it didn’t feel bad, it felt like a slight pull, like sucking.

After a moment, he managed to make himself hard and psych himself up to actually let Hange’s contraption near his cock. As he slid his cock into the sleeve, he sucked in a breath. It was so strangely, warm. It was warm as you were, almost. Although the stupid thing didn’t hold a candle to the way it felt inside you, it was softer, tighter than he thought. It was clear that the intention was to mimic that feeling and his body reacted accordingly. He stroked it over his cock in slow, gentle passes. His cock was absolutely weeping but the situation was distracting, he was very aware that he was alone in a room with Hange’s device clinging to his cock with plenty of people milling about outside.

He can get too in his head, lose his arousal quicker than a candle in the wind. But he desperately needed to get the fuck out of here so he needed to cum and get it done. He closed his eyes and tried to tune out his surroundings. Despite his wishes, he recalled Hange’s words. “Like you wouldn't want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

Somehow the thought made him shudder, it made his cock come back to life. He did, he did. He wanted to see it, he wondered how you’d look, pregnant with his child. The thought got him stroking his cock again, his cock being periodically squeezed by the soft machinations of the device. He imagined his hands roaming over your body, running his hands over the perfect curve of your stomach. He had heard that pregnant women were prone to having a stronger sex drive, in such case would you beg for him to make you cum? If he already had, would you beg for more? He’d have you sit on his face, even if you were too shy to truly commit to it, he’d move your hips for you and fuck you onto his tongue until he was a mess.

He moaned at the thought of you starting to show. At the thought of your breasts, swollen and tender. The thought of everyone knowing whose child you were carrying, who you’d laid with so many times. The thought of you needing him more desperately than before, making your pretty little noises when you begged for him. A guttural groan comes from deep in his throat. He strokes more quickly, the pace is near painful for how sensitive he’s become, it’s punishment for using you as masturbation fodder, for conjuring up the thought of driving his cock into you as he cradled the bump in his hands.

In an uninhibited moment, he thinks that he just can’t wait for you to be pregnant. He accidentally pressed a switch on the machine that made it seem to throb, he was mid moan when he felt the walls seem to twitch and he broke off with gasp. He thought of you, close to orgasm, throbbing and clenching around him. All of his attention centers on coming, on this facsimile of you. His head was tossed back, his lips parted and letting out his faint moans.

He chokes back hiccups as he comes close to coming. How long had he even been at it? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes and he was already embarrassingly close, straddling the edge. He was tangled up in his illusion of you, halfway phased out of reality, simply enjoying the comfort of your tits filled with milk, of your warm skin, of your taste always being at the tip of his tongue. This alternate reality where he and you were a possibility. He’s even muttering to himself, to your illusion’s self, almost imperceptibly.

He imagines, lastly, your drooling little cunt leaving his lap slick as he bounces you onto him. He’s so immersed he can hardly think or manage anything other than a harsh, strained “Fuck” as the sleeve squeezes suddenly and your facsimile does the same, making him finally release, spilling for several seconds. He shoots everything, every drop of his cum– and there is a considerable amount – into you, into the machine. The pressure increases so that he spills more, a method imparted to make sure that they collect everything, prolonging his orgasm to a painful level until the machine clicks off and frees him.

The three little bottles sitting in the machine are filled with his cum, their lids are mechanically drilled on tightly as the machine shuts off completely. Levi was again awakened to reality. Post orgasm clarity hits him in the worst way. He’s red all the way to his ears in a matter of moments as his breathing slows and disgusted with all that he craved.

He waited a few minutes before seeing Hange and signing out, until he feels he can pretend to be his usual self again. He waited for that yearning and the guilt in his chest to fade, for disgust and humiliation to take its place completely. But even after another few minutes, the moment never came and he needed to get up anyway.

[baronessblixen]

Whatever The Future May Bring

Combining prompts again: 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge prompt: snowed in with only a fireplace and Eight Nights of Mulder Day 2 is: heritage

Summary: Mulder's doubts hit him at the worst moment imaginable. Luckily, Scully knows exactly what to say. (IVF arc, angst; wc: 849)

Tagging @today-in-fic @eightnightsofmulder

Fire crackling in the fireplace, engulfing them in a cozy heat. He stands there freshly showered and watches Scully warming her hands in front of the fireplace while the snow that brought them here rages outside.

Her hair curls against her cotton-candy pink cheeks and the soft smile she's wearing melts him. As if knowing he's watching her, she turns around, reaching out for him. They don't utter a single word, their eyes doing the talking. She's wearing a satin pajama, one he's seen plenty of times, but this time, she's left an extra button undone, tempting him.

"Help me get warm?" Scully asks, her voice silken. Speech still evades him, but he nods, his fingers working on the remaining buttons on her top. Excitement shoots through him with the anticipation of what is going to happen.

Finally.

And soon.

While his hands are on their journey, Scully's hand starts wandering, too, and finds its way into his underwear.

"What's the matter, Mulder?" she asks, her voice still gentle. He tries. He really tries, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on this moment, on his dream come true.

"This isn't working." It's Scully's voice and it's not. Mulder sighs, and opens his eyes, staring at the egg-white wall before him. Gone are the cabin, the fireplace, and worst of all, Scully. His fantasy a mere bubble that has burst.

His own hand lets go of his soft penis, the sense of failure pricking his mind. He told Scully that he's a pro at this part and as it turns out, he's not. Giving himself a moment, he sits down in the plastic chair and flips through the provided magazines. His mind, however, is elsewhere.

What is a father? And what will he be, if this works?

He and Scully haven't talked about it yet, both too scared to mention it. Neither of them dares to bring it up, fearing it will cause an avalanche of questions with consequences for their relationship. It's easier to push it aside, and up until now, he's managed. Now, in this room, where it counts, he can't stop thinking about it. About who he'll be in the child's life. About what shadows of his heritage will fall over this new life.

Once, years ago, Scully asked him about his family, his genetic makeup. Back then, he didn't know what he knows now. Can he still do this?

His timing - and location - suck, but he needs to talk to Scully. And he needs to do it now. She picks up after a few rings, seemingly happy to hear from him.

"Are you, um, finished with your... donation?" she asks and he wonders if she's blushing on the other end of the line.

"Not quite," he admits with a sigh. "I'm not- I'm lacking inspiration."

"And you called me to help you?" She doesn't sound as shocked as he would have expected, and for the first time in a while, his penis throbs, giving a sign of life.

"Not quite that either."

"You're not making sense, Mulder. Is there a problem?"

"There is. I- I started thinking about the implications of what we're doing."

"You've changed your mind." He thinks he can hear her heart break through the phone.

"No," he stresses. "I want to do this. That's not it. But what if... Scully, you know who my father is. I'm scared I'm not your best choice after all."

"I know who you are, Mulder. That is the only thing that matters to me. You're nothing like him. Nothing at all. Our child won't be either."

"Our child," he murmurs, closing his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. An idea with wings, ready to fly.

"It doesn't have to be," Scully says, falling over her words. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be."

"I want to be," he admits. A father. A parent to this child that's half him, half Scully. He thinks of his own father - the man he grew up calling dad - and how he's shaped his life, and who he is. There are shadows in his biology that he may never shed light on. Maybe, he thinks, they don't matter much anyway. He trusts in what Scully sees in him.

"Thank you, Scully. I knew calling you would help."

"I should thank you. For doing this. Do you- do you need help with anything else?" He grins, wonders what she'd do if he said yes. But he has a date for this already. His fantasy Scully is still waiting by the fireplace.

"I'm good. I'll call you later, if that's okay. We could grab something to eat?"

"I'm sure you'll be hungry," she teases and Mulder knows he'll have no problem doing his duty now.

"See you soon, Scully," he says and hangs up before she can say anything else. His eyes fall closed as his hand closes over his manhood. He's back there at the cabin, with the snow and the fireplace, and there's Scully smiling at him, still waiting for him. And this time he's ready.

[hermaphrodog]

Unnecessary otherkin sideblog, main is sirenium (link)

basics: I support contradictory labels, endo systems, etc. I am queer and neurodivergent. Before you come after me for my username, I am intersex and reclaim the h-slur. More on my identity outside of alterhumanity is in my main's pinned post.

Why did I make this blog? So I can have a blog for purely otherkin related content. I may still use the other one for this stuff as well. Now with that out of the way, it's time for the comically long explanation of my alterhuman identity, featuring every single creature that I have been connected to at one point or another.

I am a polymorph, which causes my kintype list to look like this as a lot of these are forms: Borzoi, Border collie, Blue brindle pit bull, Coyote, Coastal wolf, Doberman, Dhole, German shepherd, Ibizan hound, Maned wolf, Norwegian elkhound, Silken windhound, Werewolf, Asian golden cat, Bombay cat, Bengal tiger, Black footed cat, Cougar, Cheetah, Oriental shorthair, Ocelot, Serval, Sphinx, Basking shark, Bull shark, Black-tipped reef shark, Greenland shark, Lemon shark, Leopard shark, Whale shark, Chital deer, Caribou deer, Sika deer, Taruca deer, Thorold's deer, White tail deer, Alternate (Mandela Catalogue), Bearded vulture, Black bear, Bracken (Lethal Company),Coconut octopus, Golden-capped fruit bat, Genet, Giant isopod, Incubus, Irken (Invader Zim), Kitty (Backrooms), Lynel (Legend of Zelda), Leafeon (Pokemon), Loot bug (Lethal Company), Naegleria Fowleri (commonly: brain eating amoeba), Orca, Opossum, Rook, Raccoon, Sylveon (Pokemon), Striped hyena, Spotted hyena, Vampire, Vulture bee, and Zonai (Legend of Zelda: Tears of The Kingdom).

again, a lot of these are simply forms I have taken, though others stick with me more than a face I will occasionally wear. For example, when I say I'm canine therian my mind always goes to being a doberman and a german shepherd, occasionally a coyote or a maned wolf. That does not mean I do not see myself in the others, it only means that those seem to be the most prevalent.

I am a polymorphic god specifically, meaning my polymorphism and godhood are linked. In fact, I am a god of polymorphism. As for being a vampire, my vampirism feels physical and as though it has very much carried over into this body. These things are part of my base identity as nonhuman, and so is being canine therian. As you can probably guess, my alterhumanity is highly complicated and often confusing, as I'll feel like, say, a bearded vulture one moment and a cheetah the next. It can feel unstable and chaotic. I don't have the luxury of a more stable and simple nonhuman identity, nor do I really want to. Because in finding this chaos, I have found myself.

yeah. anyways no DNI but I block literal bigots and assholes here for the sole purpose of being assholes at light speed.

[criminalmimic]

Intro Post

Lacrymosa (Mosa for short!)

Mid-twenties

Autistic lesbian is my gender

No pronouns (just my name) > ey/em > they/them (Fox may call me she/her, they have special fiancé privileges)

Disabled

Likes: animals, genetics, writing, web programming, drawing, horror movies

I primarily made this blog for myself to look back on as Mimic grows up, but also to hopefully meet some new friends! Feel free to send asks or DMs, I'm a little awkward but I promise I'm friendly!

LivTru It's Showtime // "Mimic"

Silken Windhound

8 months old (Born 7/20/2023)

Intact Bitch

Likes: stealing, hugs, theft, NYOOM, robbery, snow, trespassing, squeaky toys, heists, woodchips, escaping custody, tiny scraps of paper

Current Goals: Earn SPOT title, be baby

Longterm Goals: Become a service dog. Compete in Rally, Obedience, Conformation, Lure Coursing, Agility, and any other sports she enjoys. Steal the Declaration of Independence.

Here's How Bernie Can Still Win RI // "Bernie"

Golden Retriever

7 years old (Born 10/28/2016)

Neutered Male

Service Dog

Competes in AKC Rally, has competed in 4-H Obedience and Showmanship, now helps teach the next generation of 4-Hers

Likes: swimming, object-in-mouth, fetch, Mickey Mouse, food, being chased (by friends)

Dislikes: not being pet

Current Goals: Earn Rally Advanced title, start competing in AKC Obedience

Longterm Goals: Eventually transition from service work into retirement. Continue getting Rally/Obedience titles for as long as it's still fun!

Tags

dogs: mimic || bernie

medium: photo || text post || video

source: mine || reblog

misc: nyoom (for speedy behavior) || creachur (for cryptid behavior) || snuggle || training || meme

I also tag photos with each dog's breed and age!

[ask-ikevamp-faust]

Dearest Faust, I also find that intelligence and passion are two of my favored traits in a romantic partner. I also value someone who can be protective and respectful. In truth, my ideal partner is someone who I can also seek out when I require shelter from the world. I find that I don't even mind when they're slightly… possessive.

I must also add that I’m pleased you enjoy my scientific musings. I was gifted a microscope as a young girl, and I’m afraid I’ve been an incorrigible scientist ever since that day. I could ramble on about genetics, neurology, hematology, or immunology for hours.

As for the final topic of our recent discussions, somatosensory experimentation with you sounds dangerously alluring. Not only do I not mind going first, but I can easily imagine the sensation of a silken blindfold gliding against soft skin and how a curtain of darkness would cover the world as you drew it over my eyes.

Testing vibrations, pressure, and pain sounds like a delightful place to start, but I wonder…. which implements will you will choose for the task?

- L

Your ideal partner reflects just how well you understand yourself. I’m sure it helps you filter through potential candidates. I believe it’s only natural to be possessive of what’s yours. I’ve often been told that I’m not very good at comforting others due to my “cold nature”. I disagree, everyone has their own idea of what brings comfort to them. What traits in a person make you feel safe and comfortable?

I truly do enjoy it, you’re quite fascinating. I can feel that flame of passion that flows within you, it’s lovely. Whoever gifted you that microscope deserves a reward for igniting that fire in you. Please ramble to your hearts content.

I’m pleased that you volunteered. Choosing silk as the fabric of the blindfold, you have good taste. As for equipment, I’m aware that there are stores that specialize in this sort of thing. Finding something for vibration won’t be difficult. For pressure and pain though, I believe it’s important to have a range of your pain tolerance before settling on anything. Hmm, different materials can cause different levels of pain despite being the same product… I suppose we’ll have to look over our options and hypothesize your tolerance to individual products. Unless, you already have an idea of what products you’d like to try? If that were the case I’d be interested in hearing them.

[sintwerks]

About that chair...

>>Your first fantasies included a random, dark room, a kitchen chair, and a tied-up twink, blindfolded with his arms tied behind it. HOWEVER, you had a few minutes to marinate on it, and came to a much more Hermes-core conclusion. As you look down upon your delightful, softly writhing guest, a wide, sharp-toothed grin spreads across your face. Lithe of frame and looking even more slender, half-sunk into an extremely plush chair, one with a base wide-enough for your generous legs to straddle him, Simon's situated with his hands softly tied to deep-purple loops in the chair's arms, fastened with wide, silk straps at the wrists; his legs are likewise tied to the forelegs of the chair with similar, dark-purple, silken straps.

>>With Simon spread eagle like this, but left in his in simple black boxers, you drop to your knees and lean into the cushion of the chair, tenderly walking your fingertips up his thighs, whispering as you go, "Ohhh, what a good chair you'll make, Simon. Now remember," one hand draws a soft line up his stomach, "Noooo cumming (if you can help it)~" That's when your fingers, slender in your human form, easily pry their way through the buttonless-fold of his briefs, one finger tracing a tender, feather-light line under his balls before being joined by the rest, lifting his entire package from the briefs like a delicate treasure from a velvet case. Your other hand has spent the time tracing slow lines up and down Simon's length, teasing it to erection. You make sure to drag this process out, your mouth too close to keep your warm breath off the head, but you never touch him with your tongue, never put your lips to his tip.

>>Eventually he's hard as a rock, and that soft writhing is a tense bodily-shudder, Simon's dick is diamonds in your hand: flushed, stiff, hot. He's got great size, you can't keep your teeth from digging into your bottom lip. "Now this is a toy!" Your words are hot breaths, too excited to be sultry this time, before you're lifting yourself up; first to your feet, and then up, onto the chair. A muffled, huffy chuckle is your response, cock throbbing as you you give it a parting stroke. Simon's been left un-blindfolded, but you've given your guest a delightful, deep-green ball-gag, solid at the core, with just a bit of a gel-layer to really bite into. You look into his eyes, your own practically alight with lust, "Now, my toy..." You lean your weight onto Simon, modest, heavy breasts pressing onto his chest as you balance one hand on his shoulder. The other hand has gone south.

>>You spread your generous ass apart, slowly, eagerly parting your cheeks with your fingertips, until a wet, puffy asshole is revealed, spread apart with your index and middle fingers. Millennia of body-modifications have lent themselves well to your backdoor, one particular mod giving rise to a natural lubrication. Your cheeks part with a wet squelching noise, but they descend with such silence the entire room seems to echo with the combined noises of ragged, harsh intakes of breath. You're in, so fast that you forgot to hotdog him a little bit; but that's alright, as you say out-loud: "Th-that wasn't too fast, right? Not that toys really need time." You give Simon a warm smile, your dirty-talk hollowed-out by horniness anyway, and lacking teeth.

>>You're... actually really enjoying this particular dick, it turns out, sitting nearly upright on Simon's lap with your hands clinging to his shoulders for dear life, eyes crossed and staring into the blurry upholstery of the chair for what feels like... minutes. After what was only about thirty seconds of sitting with the tip of Simon's dick stabbing your prostate (your genetically modified, incredibly sensitive prostate), you feel like you've got to get this show on the road for Simon (briefly forgetting he's a roleplaying a toy for you), but as soon as you've lifted yourself to the very bottom border of his glans, your already-shaky legs drop you back to his lap with a soft thud, and like that, you've already spurted all over his stomach.

>>Hermes St. Germain is not a well-endowed woman, you've always known that, its part of why you got into body-mods, but you've also always been a quick shot with that three-and-a-halfer of yours, doubly-so with an ultra-modified prostate. Your naked ass is also still hornier than all hell. There's still a hard dick on your prostate, a hard dick you're clenching around.

>>Like a little trooper, like a drunken lightweight trying to prove she's sober, you raise your ass back off Simon's dick, and force yourself into a proper rhythm, bouncing like it's the last dick you're ever gonna ride. In the following five minutes, you're not sure exactly how many times you've had to stop and catch your breath, hanging onto Simon's restrained body for dear life as you cum, or as he cums. You set a rule for the man, but you also set out to break that rule FOR him, clenching like you've never cum before, every time you orgasm. There's at least one load, probably two, inside of you, as you ignored both of your refractory periods the entire time, though Simon doesn't seem to even really get winded after his first load; as you finish bouncing (having long-since abandoned any rhythm or style for an erratic, frantic rutting), you stop laying your weight against Simon, stop pressing him between your tits and the chair, and look down.

>>You've PLASTERED the man's stomach and chest with your tiny loads, leaving a pearly-white, sloppy mess between the two of you. The first thing you think to do is snap your fingers, a long, drawn-out motion that takes more energy than you realize; when it sounds out, though, the ball gag, and the ribbons, vanish in a small burst of green light, letting Simon go slack under you, while you attempt to stand up, off of him. Instead, your left knee gives out as soon as you've POPPED, off of Simon, and you roll into the nook of the chair, to his side. You're a sloppy mess, front and back, top and bottom, your hair sweaty and stuck to your face, but you scramble out of the chair, leaving Simon to massage his jaw during the second it takes you to grab as many green towels as you can carry (a lot). You hear him say something, smirking at you, but the eyes on you are hungry, and you can only giggle as you stumble your ways toward the shower.

>>You're in a different part of the room after your shower, and after mind-blowing shower oral (the fact that Simon took your length so easily is still playing in pictures on your brain), lying on your bed, itself somehow MORE plush than your fuck-chair, stroking Simon's hair. "You've been simply wonderful tonight, Simon." This time, in bed, you've shed your human glamour, and while you're STILL not any taller than your bean-pole guest, your Vosi form easily dwarfs Simon in terms of mass, and despite the bluish tint, you're MUCH warmer in this form, a veritable cuddling machine as you while away the time. Sure, he'll have to leave soon, but for now, this part is almost as good as the sex.

((@22tiime2 A little drabble for you!!!

[charlesandmartine]

Saturday 11th March 2023

The Brisbane City Hall was built in 1930 and was the largest clock tower in Australia at 92 metres in height, the tallest building in Brisbane until the 1960s. Cannily this beats the clock tower at the GPO building in Sydney which tops out at a mere 73 metres. No competition there then. The tour of the tower needs to be quick to get 4 people at a time up the top in a very old clanking lift, wave a hoof at the view and the bells and back down again before the clock does its Westminster chimes all over again. There's always going to be casualties in a tour program with limited time available. In this case having been able to view the views from the top it was thereafter basically: there's the bells made in the Loughborough foundry and there's a clock down there somewhere now all back in the lift, we're off. Um, is it weight driven and is it still wound by hand? Don't really know much about the clock as such. I expect you could look that up he said. For the horologists, the tower has 4 x 3 ton bells for the chimes and 1 X 4.3 ton bell for the hour strike. Lovely tones I must say. The clock itself is electric driven and operates from a master pendulum on the same basis as the Greenwich Observatory.

We then crossed the river to have a flat white in the Art Gallery Café. It would appear that the streets on the North Bank of the Brisbane River are named after English monarchy and across the river after British Prime Ministers. One person said, and I thought this was quite witty, they don't have a Truss street because there aren't any streets short enough! Anyway we had our coffee, popped into the Queensland Museum and popped back out again rather quickly because it was crawling with kids, then went to check on the theatre situation at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre to see if there were by any chance any tickets that had become available for tonight's play. No luck so we crossed the river again to do a bit of shopping. We really like the South Bank complex of theatre, art galleries and museums. It has a lovely relaxed feel about it and you can just meander around soaking up the atmosphere and today also the rain.

Being Saturday the shopping area has a bit of a carnival touch and with St Patrick's day not too far away now there was an Irish Band, possibly called Silken Thomas, playing sentimental tunes from the Emerald Isle. It's a universal ting that all nationalities seem to unite with a tear in the eye to the playing of an Irish ballad, as though we all have a longing for the old country. We've seen it in New York, Australia, Scotland, Birmingham and most weirdly in Amsterdam! How do these Celts do it? Just hope for Ireland's sake they don't all feel the pull and decide to return home. Martine who is half Irish had a lump in her throat. Even I did and I'm Anglo Saxon. (I think). So to the strains of Danny Boy, Whiskey in the Jar, Leaving of Liverpool and feeling all didley didley we ambled off to take a look at the next celebration, that of the Pakistan Australian Cultural Association that is setting up in George Square. We were hoping they might have food. No genetic ties there. (I don't think).

Our last evening here we began with a one venue pub crawl involving some Aussie beer. It wasn't one of those pub restaurants that Martine was hoping for as they are in the outback where everyone goes quiet when you walk in. Quite the opposite, it was very noisy but very atmospheric. Then we moved on to Betty's Burgers for, well a burger actually. It's our first time with Betty's and we wondered if we would be safe with her but I have to say, a burger with king prawns on board was rather nice. Then back to the hotel to pack again ready for a really early Virgin Australia flight to Sydney tomorrow morning. Yawn.

Brisbane is a very pleasant modern city which I can see would really appeal to a younger generation with the opportunities it offers. She appears to strive to present herself as a contemporary place to live, work and play although there have been times in the past when the town elders have been accused of sacrificing some of the old in order to facilitate the new. Bold new schemes are underway to add three new river crossings including a CrossRiverRail connection. This is indeed a city of investment in its future. We have had a brief but good time here. It's a shame that we view Brisbane at the moment of our trip as we prepare, with great regret, to returning home on Wednesday.

ps on the eve before our little flight to Sydney, we were watching Sully on the telly.

pps look how small and insignificant the Albert Street Congregational Church looks against the skyscrapers

[suiyuun-archive]

on appearance - body type, hair, tattoos, etc

it is no secret that the kamisato siblings are both immensely attractive in both conventional and unconventional ways. pale skin, bright eyes, and uniquely shaded hair make the kamisato family stand out from most other inazuman clans - but ayato, specifically, has always turned heads. while obviously masculine in most characteristics, his face holds a subtle amount of androgyny that has been commented on in the past. ayato actually looks substantially like his mother in his facial features, refined and beautiful, while inheriting his father’s physique and arduous temperament. 

up until rather recently, ayato kept his hair very, very long (waist length in a ponytail long). the maintenance of silken tresses was something he previously took pride in - and was one more symbol that portrayed his unique control over the things around him. only after a particularly bad day do he take haran geppaku futsu to it on a whim, and left thoma and ayaka to pick up the pieces AKA give ayato a better hair cut. he maintains the one long strand out of fondness.  

the cut of ayato’s clothing belies the strength of his physique - honed from years of intensive combat training and lucky genetics. while still rather slim in the waist - most of his strength rests in his core and arms - a byproduct of swinging a katana so often it’s as easy as breathing. his is not particularly tall - around 5′11′’, but for whatever reason holds himself in a way that often makes him seem to be the largest person in the room. 

after ayato became head of his clan, after he had more or less solidified himself in a position of power - ayato granted himself the privilege of two tattoos. given the nature of his garb, they are obviously rarely seen outside sleeping robes or pure nudity - but in honor of both his element and patron flower, ayato possesses the following designs inked upon his flesh in startlingly beautiful renditions:

left bicep/shoulder area right side, from hip to pectoral

honorable mentions include the kamisato crest on his left shoulder blade. 

[from-dre]

Concrete Bride: A Reverie

Part 1

Back to living in a box. Back to wishing it was different. I hear the call through the airwaves out beyond the clouds in the distance;

‘Find me…’

I see thunderstorms outside my studio window as lightning cracks across the sky. I crash on my bed letting chemicals rewire all parts of my mind as my frontal-lobe explores further. Outside there is so much life—, inside there is only grey ash. I walk her streets at night in ever-search of self-gifted curses, like always.

The city becomes my church—, an industrialized nature with permanent smoke gliding across its surface. Her curls cascade down in flowing rivers of taxi cabs and speeding hearses. Her lips part the water and its coastline before swallowing my body’s inner-pulp. My bride’s alive in the electric wires powering our cement sanctuary with trillion-watt bulbs. Through the commotion and constant multi-dimensional regression of self—, I rehear the promise;

‘Find me…’

It flies through the fog like an emotional homing missile. Deep within a dark stare, an inner-spirit slowly points towards me as her eyes whisper, that’s mine.

Above an autumn-rainfall’s freshly soaked asphalt shine the peaks of high-rise rooftops projecting an outline of shapes I’ve never seen before—, eclipsing the laws of mathematics; Divine Geometry.

She’ll appear like a siren in the seas of forgotten memories; Mnemosyne, reawakened. Throughout the moment; a portrait of future potential by way of rising phoenixes wrapped in Oak Street leather jackets.

Sparks will fly off the rails as L-trains thunder down their tracks toward the Loop. Three-inch heels will keep perfect time of our tapered lives through rhythmic-clicks off alleyway-bricks below her stilettoed metronomes. Louder with each step; power sounds of an elegant season will surround us in stereo, ever-guided by the speakers’ bass-driven beats.

We’ll enter our dimly-lit kingdoms and take the two tallest thrones with pulled-patent cushions, like always. Lights of fire-glowing lava will branch off in strange sporadic angles through their glass-shaped cages; all restoring life to the smallest parts of the darkly-painted walls with such class-made patience.

She’ll sit while looking the room over and silently read its vibe.

Part 2

Some dreams I actively seek out in hopes that their hauntings are ever-abstractive and self-implanted deep within the maze of crossed-wire encryptions that maybe—, they might just be real. My chemically-altered lifelong-coma comes with an imagination that remains in a constant state of flux throughout the mixed-media thought-tunnels running on only the highest, if not sharpest—, of stoner frequencies.

I gently slide the tip of my finger across the soft edges of her ankles where sole and topside separate for an entire night and not think twice about going any further. I pin her up against the wall by softly biting pierced-earlobes as jeans ease over paralleled-hips in slowed motions before falling to the floor beneath our bare feet below.

I am both sinner and saint at once.

I feel the cold metal zippers of her open leather jacket repeatedly smack against my chest; the only piece of clothing on either of our bodies as we out-best the breaking of each others’ backs from the Kama Sutraesque-motions upon the same chair for the past hour plus.

Amidst the room; a sensual intuition that turns our two genetic buildups into counter-reactive towers of sexual energy impatiently waits to rip-through by megaphone-amplified moans we’d make certain that the world itself can feel with a diamond’s worth of clarity—, and shine.

Dream-wave expanding;

Two souls of the same sign—, watching all sides as we hear billions of beautiful gunshots blaze through the night sky marking the start of our week-long royal-wedding event—, it’s official.

Her finely stitched bulletproof vest of silken-threaded wires reflects back a past through mastered alchemy of the very Sun’s satin-flowing fire; an ever-beauty bleaching out darkness. Her wreath whispers beginnings of the long-awaited fulfillment under regal soils of a promise stemmed from paralleled-lineages; a potential ever-reaching its markets.

Ancestral aims refined through Cupid’s love-arrows, guided by Heavenly Eagles soaring high above in multi-sphered flashes of future ascendence as she nears Her Most Holy Alter & I Mine.

“The bride has arrived!,” voices out the gathered loved ones through bouts of loud cheering and commenced celebration as the first gleaming pieces of a mile-long motorcade rolls down in leisured convertible movements accented by thumping sounds of pounding subs coming from out the dozens of duffle bag-sized trunks.

Cherry paint-drops sprinkle the ground in Pollock-channeled brushstrokes like the melting lollipops of a humid-conquered Houston Summer from the swerving procession of Princes and Princesses, Kings and Queens—, all sitting atop freshly-coated four-wheeled floats leaving behind midair energy-streams telling the cryptic tales of rival meetings between ivory and burgundy castles through in-rhythm waves set to the chopped and screwed remixes of A$AP and Thugger.

Each backseat—, a temporary council of familial aristocracy. Everything; primped and proper. Nothing left to falter. Festivities thrown in the name of revolutionary suicide-pacts by permanent spotlight-stealing martyrdom.

The centerpiece is pulled by pure-bred quarter horses. The chariot slowly slides into view. She is not an image of mere perfection nor solely radiates the inner-strength of beatific love; no—, The Bride is Beyond Beatrice.

A backdrop of bright blue and red bursts merged through golden lava-filled fireworks light up the dark sky behind the dual-airing dynasties accepting their celestial roles, taking up eternal thrones; setting the stage to a sacred joining of ancient bloodlines with unresolved mysteries that remain in play as the plot continues to thicken. Forever searching for the exact point in our shared dreaming that put into motion the metaphoric split-off and the exact point that it’d re-found itself further down below watching their shapes realign in real time into the symbols of an ever-monarch’s permanent shine; like always—, river; re-merged.

Then I wake up.

[just-some-random-blogger]

NAUURRRRRRRR

THIS WAS EVERYTHING AND EVERYTHING I EVER WANT IM GOING TO CRY

"Is something the matter?" Aemond had already risen from his seat at one of the dusty tables, several scrolls of parchment spilling to the ground as he moved to take your hands in his own. "Why have you sought me out at such a late hour?"

He's so concernnnneedddd😭😭😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 [pushes hair behind ear] down worry daddy im good now that ive seen you

You took a moment to bask selfishly in the light of his concerned violet eye, his prominent brow furrowing, those plush lips of his pressing downward as he scanned your features.

She like me for real 👀👀👀👀👀👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️

Aemond followed your movements with a turn of his head, the rest of his body remaining still. "What has happened? Your face looks pale. Is there someone who has wronged you, my wife? I will exact swift vengeance if need be."

Sir- ur so dramatic 💀💀💀💀💀

You laughed softly, raising your hands out to him. "Nothing so drastic, my dragon." You hesitated a moment, waiting for Aemond to uproot himself from where he stood and take your hands again. "I am with child."

MY DRAGON 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 MINE MINE MINE

"Where?"

😶🙂🫣🫥😷😵🤡🤓🤠🙈💀👁️👄👁️👎 you did not aint no way

AEMOND LOOK AT ME WTF LOOK AT ME❗❗ HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU PLANNING ON SEEKING VENGEANCE ON SOME HUH❓ YOURE GOING TO BUY A COLORING BOOK AND BORE THEM TO DEATH ❗❓❗❓ CAUSE AINT NO WAY SOMEONE DAFTER THAN A CARDBOARD CAN THINK UP SOMETHING BETTER 😭😭😭😭😭😭 SIR IS THIS GENETIC 😭😭😭 FUCK WERE GOING TO HAVE DUMB SMART KIDS NO NO NO NO 👎👎👎👎👎👎

"Where is the child?" Aemond looked searchingly around the darkened room.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 AEMONNNNDDDDD

You brought the palm of his hand to rest against your abdomen. "For a man of such intelligence you can be downright daft at times. It grows inside me, Aemond. I can feel its fires licking my womb."

Girl for real kick him in the face he's so annoying for that 😭😭😭😭😭the fact she had to spell it out for him 👎👎👎👎👎👎👎ok ok maybe dont kick him he still needs his other eye to see his baby sorry aemond im being dramatic

"Rūs zaldrīzes...īlvon." He murmured as you ran your fingers through his silken hair.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i will never recover

Aemond turned his head, kissing the fabric of your dress that draped over where your baby grew. "Ao issi nykeā zaldrīzes." He spoke reverently, his hands coming to cup your pregnancy bump. "Bōsa emagon īlon jeldan ao."

NAAUUUURRRRR

You listened to him speak in his mother tongue, enjoying yet not quite understanding. When Aemond looked up at you, his hands still placed reverently on your body, the look on his handsome face took your breath away.

"You will be a wonderful father, Aemond."

hE WOULD WHO CARES IF HE'S A DUMMY I LOVE HIM HES MY DUMMY HES OUR DUMMY 😭😭😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💗💗💗💗💗

can you do a pregnant!wife with aemond talking to her belly in valyrian (she doesn’t understand it, only some thing he has taught her) maybe to calm the baby ‘cause they’ve been kicking all day or something? you write so good btw!!! love to see you writting for aemond so soft ☺️🤍

Oh my gosh thank you guys so much!

I live for sweet father-to-be Aemond moments, especially after that last artwork I posted of him with his baby I'll never get over that.

And yes I paraphrased that line from Alys

Aemond x pregnant!reader | fluff | High Valyrian | peek into domestic life with dad Aemond

You smoothed your hands over your skirts, feeling the growing bump of your belly beneath your fingers. It was time to tell your husband.

"Aemond, are you in here?" Your feet had found their way by habit to the library, where Aemond often decompressed after a sword-training session.

"Is something the matter?" Aemond had already risen from his seat at one of the dusty tables, several scrolls of parchment spilling to the ground as he moved to take your hands in his own. "Why have you sought me out at such a late hour?"

You took a moment to bask selfishly in the light of his concerned violet eye, his prominent brow furrowing, those plush lips of his pressing downward as he scanned your features.

"I have something I wish to tell you." Hiding the way your lips twitched with a duck of your head, you sidestepped your husband and sat on a rickety wooden stool.

Aemond followed your movements with a turn of his head, the rest of his body remaining still. "What has happened? Your face looks pale. Is there someone who has wronged you, my wife? I will exact swift vengeance if need be."

You laughed softly, raising your hands out to him. "Nothing so drastic, my dragon." You hesitated a moment, waiting for Aemond to uproot himself from where he stood and take your hands again. "I am with child."

"Where?"

You tilted your head, a bemused huff escaping your parted lips. "Excuse me?"

"Where is the child?" Aemond looked searchingly around the darkened room.

You brought the palm of his hand to rest against your abdomen. "For a man of such intelligence you can be downright daft at times. It grows inside me, Aemond. I can feel its fires licking my womb."

Aemond's eye swiveled to your face where he held your gaze a long, breathless moment.

"You..." He seemed to be grasping for words that would not come as he sank slowly to his knees before you.

You nodded, tears pricking your vision, parting your knees, allowing Aemond to lean into you, pressing his ear against your swollen belly.

"Rūs zaldrīzes...īlvon." He murmured as you ran your fingers through his silken hair.

"Yes." You agreed, looking down at where he lay against your body. "Ours."

Aemond turned his head, kissing the fabric of your dress that draped over where your baby grew. "Ao issi nykeā zaldrīzes." He spoke reverently, his hands coming to cup your pregnancy bump. "Bōsa emagon īlon jeldan ao."

You listened to him speak in his mother tongue, enjoying yet not quite understanding. When Aemond looked up at you, his hands still placed reverently on your body, the look on his handsome face took your breath away.

"You will be a wonderful father, Aemond."

An unreadable expression flickered across his face. He rose to kiss your lips, pressing his chest flush against yours, feeling the curves of your body through his clothes.

The embrace quickly became heated, fingers tangled in hair as tongues and teeth nipped at delicate skin. You were glad the hour was late, and the library had long since been emptied of all other persons. Aemond had never been a patient man, and he would hear nothing of waiting to return to your bedchambers.

(Aemond Valyrian lines translated: "A hatchling. Ours." "You are a dragon. Long have we wanted you.")

[skradooshhh]

Assignment -3 draft 2

In the vast expanse of a desolate future, Dr. Kael Mercer awoke from restless slumber, his body a fusion of human flesh and mechanical fragments. His existence bore the scars of a world ravaged by radiation, where newborns emerged with missing parts, their voids filled by cybernetic replacements—a haunting testament to the relentless march of decay.

The laboratory hummed with the melancholic symphony of machines, casting eerie shadows on the walls adorned with flickering holographic projections. Dr. Mercer, amidst this dystopian expanse, labored ceaselessly with a fevered determination—a man at the mercy of time, wrestling against the specter of humanity's imminent extinction.

Outside, the world was a canvas painted in shades of desolation—a barren landscape where once lush forests withered under a relentless sun, rivers ran dry, and the whispers of extinct creatures lingered in the winds. The atmosphere, a testament to humanity's hubris, bore the weight of cosmic disdain—a fractured echo of what was once a harmonious existence.

In the heart of this dissonance, Dr. Mercer dedicated himself to an audacious pursuit—to breathe life into the lost fragments of the natural world. Night after night, amidst the mechanical symphony, he delved into the art of genetic resurrection, striving to restore balance between humanity and nature.

It was on a night shrouded in silken darkness that Eirwen, the deer born anew from Dr. Mercer's relentless endeavors, stood before him—a manifestation of hope amidst a landscape painted in despair. The deer, with eyes as ancient as the stars, seemed to hold the universe's secrets within its silent gaze.

"Dr. Mercer," the voice echoed, not as sound but as a haunting resonance that penetrated his augmented consciousness, "In your pursuit to reclaim what was lost, have you contemplated the cost of disrupting the celestial harmony?"

The doctor, a living amalgam of man and machine, faltered under the weight of Eirwen's profound inquiry, the truth unraveling like tendrils of existential dread within his being.

"Eirwen," he responded, his voice a tremor woven with despair and yearning, "Have you beheld the fractured spirit of humanity amidst this cosmic turmoil?"

The deer, an ethereal embodiment of wisdom, spoke of humanity's detachment from the sacred weave of life, of the consequences of arrogance and exploitation, and the haunting echoes of nature's lament.

As their discourse unfolded, a crescendo of emotions surged within Dr. Mercer—a whirlwind of sorrow, awe, and spiritual awakening. He realized that the missing parts of humanity weren't merely physical voids, but the severed connections to empathy, symbiosis, and the sanctity of existence.

With trembling hands, Dr. Mercer embraced his metamorphosis—a fractured reflection of a fractured world. He vowed not merely to resurrect species, but to guide humanity on a spiritual odyssey—a journey of redemption, a cosmic reconciliation that transcended the boundaries of flesh and metal.

Eirwen, the deer resurrected from the abyss of extinction, emerged as a spectral guide—a beacon of hope amidst the dystopian abyss. And Dr. Mercer, a Kafkaesque fusion of man and machine, emerged as a harbinger of transformation, a sentinel seeking to mend the ruptured ties between humanity, nature, and the celestial fabric of the cosmos.

[kataria07]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Oil Cleanser for Acne-Prone Skin

Do you find yourself grappling with the challenges of acne-prone skin? The unwelcome presence of pimples, blackheads, whiteheads, and occasionally severe cysts and nodules can be a persistent source of distress. Delving into the intricate factors that contribute to acne-prone skin is essential for a comprehensive understanding. From heightened sebum production to hormonal fluctuations, let's embark on a closer examination of the elements that render certain individuals more susceptible to developing acne:

1. Excessive Sebum (Oil) Production: A significant contributor to acne is the overproduction of sebum, the skin's natural oil. This excess oil can lead to pore blockage, creating an environment favorable to acne-causing bacteria.

2. Pore Clogging: The combination of sebum and dead skin cells can result in clogged hair follicles and pores, giving rise to blackheads and whiteheads. These can further become inflamed, evolving into full-fledged pimples.

3. Bacterial Influence: The presence of Propionibacterium acnes (P. acnes), a bacterium on the skin, can multiply in clogged pores of individuals with acne-prone skin. This bacterial activity contributes to inflammation and pimple development.

4. Hormonal Shifts: Fluctuations in hormones, whether during puberty, menstruation, pregnancy, or menopause, can impact sebum production, elevating the likelihood of acne breakouts.

5. Dietary Factors: While ongoing research explores the link between diet and acne, some studies suggest that high-glycemic-index foods, such as sugar and refined carbohydrates, and certain dairy products may exacerbate acne in specific individuals.

6. Stress Dynamics: Stress prompts the release of hormones like cortisol, stimulating sebum production and triggering acne flare-ups.

7. Genetic Influence: There's a hereditary aspect to acne. If acne is prevalent among your family members, you might be genetically predisposed to it.

8. Cosmetic Product Impact: Makeup, skincare items, and haircare products may contain ingredients that clog pores and worsen acne for some. Opting for non-comedogenic products becomes crucial.

9. Environmental Elements: Exposure to pollutants, high humidity, and increased sweating can play a role in the development of acne in certain individuals.

10. Medication Effects: Some medications, including steroids and lithium, can either cause acne as a side effect or worsen existing acne conditions.

Now, let's dive into the world of oil cleansers specially formulated for acne-prone skin. These cleansers are designed to help you combat acne breakouts while maintaining clear, hydrated, and radiant skin.

1. SEELOVE — Oil cleanser for Acne Skin:

Introducing SEELOVE's exceptional 2-in-1 Makeup Removal Oil and Cleanser, a must-have addition to your double cleansing routine. This extraordinary formula has been meticulously crafted to cater to all skin types, including dry, sensitive, and acne-prone skin.

Enriched with lightweight botanical oils like Japanese Camellia and Plum Kernel Oils, our product goes beyond just makeup removal. It delicately wipes away greasiness, waterproof makeup, and sunscreen, without the unpleasant oily residue. No more worrying about stripping your skin of its natural moisture.

What sets our product apart is the remarkable Skinlov-4 Blend, featuring active Prickly Pear Extract. This powerful combination not only removes impurities but also soothes and calms your skin, leaving it with a luxurious, pillow-soft texture that feels absolutely silken and perfectly balanced.

Say goodbye to clogged pores and keep acne at bay with our all-in-one solution. Our 2-in-1 Makeup Removal Oil and Cleanser is your go-to for a deep clean, effective makeup and sunscreen removal, and the unclogging of pores.

Experience the transformation in your skincare routine today. Embrace clean, fresh, and beautifully balanced skin with every use.

2. Hanskin Pore Cleansing Oil:

Hanskin Pore Cleansing Oil is tailored to clear your skin and prevent acne breakouts. It's a powerful option for those with acne-prone skin who want to ensure their pores stay unclogged.

3. Erborian Black Cleansing Oil:

Erborian Black Cleansing Oil doesn't just cleanse your skin; it leaves it feeling silky and beautifully balanced. It's a reliable choice for those who want a thorough yet gentle cleansing experience.

4. Skinfood Black Sugar Perfect Cleansing Oil:

Skinfood Black Sugar Perfect Cleansing Oil provides the ultimate clean, suitable even for the most sensitive skin. It effectively removes makeup and impurities, leaving your skin fresh and clear.

5. Missha Super Off Cleansing Oil:

Missha Super Off Cleansing Oil is a top-rated option for those seeking effective makeup and sunscreen removal. It's a reliable choice to ensure that your skin stays clean and radiant.

Summary:

These oil cleansers including the best Seelove products are carefully selected to cater to your unique skincare needs, ensuring that your acne-prone skin remains clear, hydrated, and radiant. It's important to patch test any new product to ensure it's suitable for your specific skin type. Say goodbye to breakouts and hello to a healthier, glowing complexion with these trusted options.

Incorporating oil cleansers specially formulated for acne-prone skin into your skincare routine can help maintain clear, hydrated, and radiant skin. Discover the ultimate guide to these cleansers and how they can benefit you.

[blogs0728]

Radiant Complexion: Your Guide to Oil Cleansers for Acne Skin

Are you grappling with the challenges of acne-prone skin? The persistent presence of pimples, blackheads, whiteheads, and even severe cysts and nodules can be quite distressing. It's crucial to delve into the root causes and contributors to acne-prone skin. Let's explore the factors that make certain individuals more susceptible to developing acne:

1. Genetics: There's a genetic component to acne. If your parents or siblings had acne, you may be more predisposed to it. 2. Cosmetic Products: Makeup, skincare products, and haircare products can contain ingredients that clog pores and worsen acne in some individuals. Hence, it's vital to opt for non-comedogenic (non-pore-clogging) products. 3. Environmental Factors: Exposure to pollutants, high humidity, and sweating can contribute to acne development in certain people. 4. Medications: Certain medications, including steroids and lithium, can have acne as a side effect or exacerbate existing acne. 5. Inflammatory Factors: Inflammation within the body can worsen acne. Conditions like polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) are associated with acne due to increased inflammation.

let's explore the realm of oil cleansers specifically crafted for skin prone to acne. These cleansers aim to assist you in addressing acne breakouts while ensuring your skin remains clear, well-hydrated, and luminous:

1. SEELOVE - Oil cleanser for Acne Skin

Introducing SEELOVE's exceptional 2-in-1 Makeup Removal Oil and Cleanser, a must-have addition to your double cleansing routine. This extraordinary formula has been meticulously crafted to cater to all skin types, including dry, sensitive, and acne-prone skin. Enriched with lightweight botanical oils like Japanese Camellia and Plum Kernel Oils, our product goes beyond just makeup removal. It delicately wipes away greasiness, waterproof makeup, and sunscreen, without the unpleasant oily residue. No more worrying about stripping your skin of its natural moisture. What sets our product apart is the remarkable Skinlov-4 Blend, featuring active Prickly Pear Extract. This powerful combination not only removes impurities but also soothes and calms your skin, leaving it with a luxurious, pillow-soft texture that feels absolutely silken and perfectly balanced. Say goodbye to clogged pores and keep acne at bay with our all-in-one solution. Our 2-in-1 Makeup Removal Oil and Cleanser is your go-to for a deep clean, effective makeup and sunscreen removal, and the unclogging of pores. Experience the transformation in your skincare routine today. Embrace clean, fresh, and beautifully balanced skin with every use. Discover our range of products, also available on  SEELOVE’s Amazon store

2. Kose Softymo Deep Cleansing Oil Kose Softymo Deep Cleansing Oil is a go-to option for those looking to maintain the natural moisture balance of their skin while effectively removing makeup and impurities. Its lightweight formula makes it an ideal choice for those with acne-prone skin.

3. Neutrogena Ultra Light Cleansing Oil Neutrogena Ultra Light Cleansing Oil is fragrance-free and specially designed for sensitive skin. This oil cleanser is gentle on your skin but tough on makeup and impurities. It's a reliable choice for those who want to prevent acne flare-ups.

4. Boscia MakeUp-BreakUp Cool Cleansing Oil

Boscia MakeUp-BreakUp Cool Cleansing Oil comes highly recommended by dermatologists. It excels at unclogging pores and reducing breakouts, making it an excellent addition to your skincare routine for acne-prone skin.

5. Tatcha Pure One Step Camellia Cleansing Oil Tatcha Pure One Step Camellia Cleansing Oil is a luxurious experience in a bottle. This oil cleanser provides a deep clean that refreshes and rejuvenates your skin, ensuring it stays clear and radiant.

6. Klairs Gentle Black Deep Cleansing Oil Klairs Gentle Black Deep Cleansing Oil is enriched with active Prickly Pear Extract, making it perfect for achieving a beautifully balanced complexion. It effectively removes makeup and impurities while soothing and calming the skin.

7. Banila Co Clean It Zero Cleansing Balm Banila Co Clean It Zero Cleansing Balm is your go-to choice if you're looking to unclog pores and prevent acne breakouts. Its effective cleansing power and pore-clearing abilities make it a favorite among skincare enthusiasts.

8. Shu Uemura Cleansing Oil Shu Uemura Cleansing Oil offers a luxurious cleansing experience. It leaves your skin feeling exceptionally soft and velvety after each use. It's a treat for your skin while effectively removing makeup and impurities.

9. The Face Shop Rice Water Bright Cleansing Light Oil The Face Shop Rice Water Bright Cleansing Light Oil is your ultimate solution for makeup and sunscreen removal while ensuring acne breakouts are kept at bay. It effectively cleanses your skin, leaving it refreshed and clear.

10. Hanskin Pore Cleansing Oil Hanskin Pore Cleansing Oil is tailored to clear your skin and prevent acne breakouts. It's a powerful option for those with acne-prone skin who want to ensure their pores stay unclogged.

Summary

These oil cleansers including the best Seelove products are carefully selected to cater to your unique skincare needs, ensuring that your acne-prone skin remains clear, hydrated, and radiant. It’s important to patch test any new product to ensure it’s suitable for your specific skin type. Say goodbye to breakouts and hello to a healthier, glowing complexion with these trusted options.

Incorporating oil cleansers specially formulated for acne-prone skin into your skincare routine can help maintain clear, hydrated, and radiant skin. Discover the ultimate guide to these cleansers and how they can benefit you.

[buzzerbeaterbin]

Status -

I've been experimenting a ton since classes started last week with all things routine and studying. Attending lecture, not attending and watching recordings, taking notes, making anki decks, using pre-made decks, trying different spaces (to the surprise of no one, I CANNOT stay at home alone bc I will doom scroll), working out right after mandatory commitments (noon), working out at night, working out before dinner time, eating a filling breakfast, eating just a protein shake for breakfast, snacking, etc. The good news - this first anatomy block is so cool that I've been able to rely on intrinsic motivation alone to keep myself moving. The bad news - after my anatomy exam at the end of next week, we're moving into more foundations material aka PREMED content like biochem and genetics 😵‍💫 While I hope and do anticipate that things will be reframed more pertinently this time, it will be extremely important for me to have a routine down so I don't accidentally waste 5 hrs one day, so let's hope I nail this in the coming days.

Today I had a really great (read: pushed more weight than usual) lower body workout right after class which immediately boosted my mood, self esteem, and energy despite the suboptimal amount of sleep I got last night. These days are rare because leg days feel so foreign to me ever since my injury/PT journey started. Reminded me briefly of why I started lifting in the first place :') I had been feeling intense gym anxiety prior to starting school but now that it's been a regular thing, I feel so much more settled despite consistently running into several of my male classmates (I even worked in a quad/hammy superset w one of them today lol) and I'm v proud of myself for that bc imposter syndrome goes harddd as someone who was never an athlete

I'm on the hunt for no-bake/easy & cheap & micronutrient-rich & plant-based PROTEIN SNACKS (now that I type all of that out, I realize I am truly asking for a lot lmao)!! My favorite this week has been silken tofu straight from the container w scallions, toasted sesame seeds, fly by jing chili oil and a lilllllll soy sauce for depth of flavor. It's so summery and light but satiating and takes mere seconds to whip up. Dare I call it a savory cheesecake?