#supposed to just be a paragraph

[xf-cases-solved]

headcanon/fic idea where during the cancer arc, mulder is over at scully's place on a saturday morning going over a case file (that probably could have waited until monday, but he wanted to check on her, and scully knows that, and mulder knows that scully knows, but they both just keep it to themselves). and at one point, scully checks the time and sighs and says she needs to call and cancel her nail appointment for that afternoon, and when mulder asks her why, she says it's bc her dr prescribed her a new med and it's giving her slight double vision, and "it's a common side effect and it's temporary, but i don't want to drive until i adjust to it, and it's not worth it to pay for a cab just for a manicure"

and mulder is like, "i'm not doing anything today, i'll take you"

and obviously scully dismisses the offer, but he keeps insisting, and the truth of it is, with all the constant med adjustments and (occasionally gross) physical side effects of medication and just being sick in general, she hasn't felt particularly attractive in weeks, and while it's not like she is trying to impress anybody, she takes a lot of pride in her appearance and how she presents herself to the world, and her nails are so brittle and the polish has completely chipped away from her last manicure, and honestly, this one little thing, no matter how inconsequential, really would go a long way to making her feel more like herself

so she eventually relents (which pleasantly surprises mulder bc she is stubborn af)

on the way there she's already apologizing for how boring he'll probably find it -- how frivolous and feminine -- and "it shouldn't take too long, i'll tell her to skip the hand massage," and mulder is like, "if you tell her not to give you a hand massage i will hold you at gunpoint until you let her do it" bc he is NOT about to let her skip out on some self-care bc she's worried he'll be judging her for indulging in something "girly"

(he knows she constantly walks a fine line between expressing her femininity and keeping it to herself bc she's worried it will make her male peers view her less seriously)

her nail tech immediately asks if mulder is her husband, even tho she knows damn well he's not bc she asks him if she's found a man yet at every gd appointment, and when she says no, the nail tech is like, "why not? he's handsome and he took you to your appointment, he seems like good husband material"

(they side step out of the conversation, but she is painfully aware of mulder's smirk)

her nail tech asks mulder if he wants a manicure too, and scully thinks she's probably joking, but mulder is like "hell yeah," and scully feels like how she does when he talks about aliens with random cops and witnesses with a straight face -- like, a little embarrassed, but also in awe of his complete lack of giving a fuck

so they are seated side-by-side and get manicures at the same time

mulder doesn't get any polish, but he lets his nail tech shape his nails and apply cuticle oil and, yes, give him a hand massage

he and scully have a brief debate about her nail polish, bc she always gets a super light pink or just a glossy finish (bc anything bolder would feel like overindulging in her femininity and she doesn't want to give any of her misogynistic peers more ammo), but mulder is mercilessly persistent, saying shit like, "that peach color would look good on you" (it wouldn't, she thinks, she's too pale for it) or "that burgundy one would match the new dark lipstick you got a while ago," and she's sat there wondering when the fuck he noticed something as trivial as the shade of her lipstick, and does that mean he's paid attention to other aspects of her appearance? and if so, what does he think of them?

(eventually she lets him talk her into an insanely light shade of baby blue, mostly bc he said it would complement her eyes and she was too caught off guard to tell him to stuff it, and the nail tech makes another casual quip about how good of a husband he would be, and a teeny tiny voice in the back of her head that she can barely hear is saying, "yeah, actually, he would")

when they're finished, he slips the nail tech his credit card while she is searching for her wallet in her overcoat pocket, and he does not look remotely remorseful when she reprimands him, that bastard

in the car, she can't help laughing at the way he keeps checking out his nails, tilting them so the sunlight hits them through the window and he can see how uniform and shiny they are (his nail tech talked him into a clear top coat)

he offers to drive to the chinese restaurant a few blocks from the lincoln memorial, bc she mentioned to him two weeks ago that whenever she is too nauseous to want food, she can for some reason always stomach that restaurant's egg drop soup, and even tho she's not nauseous rn and has also eaten enough egg drop soup lately that it actually sounds a little abhorrent, she says yes anyway, bc she's so touched that he remembered that small detail

they end up getting an order to go (she orders a full entree of vegetable shrimp along with her soup, and the look of relief and delight on mulder's face when he realizes she has an appetite for once makes her blush)

they go back to her place and watch The Thing, and then a rerun of jeopardy (they're pretty evenly matched in terms of useless trivia knowledge, but the final jeopardy question is "this man is the only doctor in history to have a 300% mortality rate," and scully was saying "dr. liston !" before mulder had a chance to process how that was even possible)

she gets drowsy early (another side effect these days), and mulder is discreet in not pointing it out, and instead makes an excuse about needing to feed his fish so he should probably get going, and once again, they both know what he's doing, but they both keep it to themselves

she walks him to the door, and before he leaves, he takes her hand. she lets him raise it up beside her face, even tho she's not sure what he's doing, until he says, "yep, i was right, these make your eyes even prettier," and like ??? what is she supposed to do with THAT??

in the end she does nothing except let him kiss the tips of her fingers, right on the light blue polish, and then lets him kiss her on the forehead. (she tries not to think about where else she'd like him to kiss her, and fails miserably)

they part with shy goodbyes, and it's only in retrospect that she realizes she hadn't actually thanked him, not really

when she is dressed and ready for bed, she slides under the sheets and calls his cell

"mulder, it's me," and somehow he sounds delighted to hear from her, as if they hadn't just spent the entire day together

"i just wanted to thank you for today. i really needed it"

she isn't able to express her gratitude in full, bc that would require being emotionally vulnerable and she's not v good at that, but she suspects mulder hears what she isn't saying anyway

"anytime, scully," he says, and she knows he means it sincerely. "my hands are so soft, i might have to make this manicure thing a regular occurrence"

she laughs

"goodnight, mulder"

"goodnight, scully"

in the morning, the first thing she notices is the blue of her fingernail polish, and the warm feeling it gives her stays with her through breakfast and all the way through the afternoon

[r3ynah]

Yoo, same

Kon stood nervously beside the shut front door of his family home (which was currently empty due to every single family member of his were busy), he fiddled with his fingers, his senses seemingly becoming more and more sensitive as time went on, glancing up at the grandfather clock Mr. Bruce Wayne gifted to them every so often.

This was the day, the day Kon will tell his first ever long time 'normal' best friend his secret, finally after so many years he could really free himself from the guilt of lying and hiding his identity to Dani, he imagines the hilarious shocked face Dani will make when Kon tells her his Super boy, and how excited she will be not even sparing him a minute to answer her dozens of questions, Kon chuckled to himself as the idea swam in his mind.

But his chuckles, were stopped as a thought floated up in his head 'What if it'll be the other way? what if she'll never talk to me ever again?' Kon silently thought as he tapped his foot overwhelmed by the thought of his best friend not seeing him as a regular human being anymore and just a clone freak, he didn't want that the black hair blue-eyed girl despite her features was not part of the Wayne family, which shocked Kon upon their first meeting due to the fact Dani also lived in Gotham.

But Kon found out soon enough that Dani lived with her older siblings, a cool older sister named Jazz, Jazz had red hair, but her smile was the same as Dani's, and an odd older brother who Kon thought at first was her Twin brother, it didn't help that their names was also very similar Dani having an i, while her older brother Danny had a Y, they were cool people, Kon would like to hang out with them more often, but that'll will only happen if Dani still sees Kon as Kon after this discussion.

But is it all worth it? to just reveal it his life, his identity? after all Dani was the only time Kon ever felt normal, he wanted to be happy, he wanted to be understood, he wanted to be normal, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted Dani.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door which startles him greatly, he knows who's at the opposite of door, after all only one person can ever go sneak up on him a surprise him to death, 'Dani' was the only thing he can think about as he turned the doorknob to open the front door.

And "Dani" was the only thing he breathed out as he faced the girl that stood Infront of him, Dani always liked to put on comfy and edgy clothes that makes people mistake her for a boy if it weren't for her long hair, which Kon realized Dani never cared if she was called the opposite gender she finds it as a compliment, her regular long side bangs that usually resides on the right side of her face was put up with a hair clip, her face was in full view, and even the gods can't fathom on how pretty she was.

She smiled at him with her oddly crooked sharp teeth, and Kon knew he was in danger right there and then, but for the reasons you don't think it is.

"Heya Konnie, what made you call me in like the middle of the semester?" Dani asked as she tilted her head, "Just want to talk with you." Kon stated as he moved to the side to give her room to head in, after letting Dani walked in Kon closed the door behind her.

"Come follow me, let's go to the balcony" Kon said as he grabbed Dani's wrist to drag her where she complied easily and just let Kon do his thing, Kon breathed out the trust Dani had in him, made him want to just breakdown right there in the middle of the living room floor, because he knows that after this there will be a chance Dani won't want to be there to spend the life they had imagined in the past together in the near future.

But he kept himself strong after all there was still the other positive half.

They had reached the balcony in less than 3 minutes, Kon sat silently on one of the sofas placed, Dani following and sitting on the left side, Dani put her head on top of Kon's shoulder, and Kon let's her, Dani took Kon's hands and played with them putting his ring on different fingers, Kon let's her, she tangles her hands with Kon's, and Kon let's her.

"Dani..." Kon let out, Dani hummed in response

"I need to confess to you about something." Kon mumbled, this time Dani looked up at him.

"What is it?" Dani asked, Kon looked down at her, meeting her eyes was hard, did it ever get this suffocating when talking to her in the past?

definitely not. there was no time, place, or event Kon ever felt uncomfortable with her next to him. Kon slowly got onto his knees Infront of Dani making her confused.

"Konnie? why are you kneeling" Dani giggled as she found the scene Infront of her utterly funny but stopped when she saw how serious Kon looked and how his hands that were still holding onto Dani's was trembling. "Kon, are you okay?"

"Danielle, I have been hiding something from you for a very long time, and I can't handle keeping it for much longer" Kon's voice trembled, there was no turning back the consequences can come later, he needs to let this guilty burden out of his chest. he looks up at Dani with her eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes that glinted in worry.

she looks ethereal and only heaven knows on how Kon yearns for his best friend.

"I'm Super boy" Kon uttered out his voice cracking but only slightly.

He yearns to tell her the truth.

"I have been Super boy even before we met"

He yearns for her approval

"Not only that, but I'm also a clone of the one and only Superman"

He yearns for her acceptance

"I'm sorry for lying and hiding my identity from you."

He yearns for her forgiveness

"Dani, I love you so much it hurts." he went quiet his body full of anxiety his knees became weak as he observed any signs of emotion in the black-haired girl's face.

He yearns for her.

And he has a feeling she know it too.

Is this it? everything they worked hard for this friendship disappearing just like that, on this day, here in the balcony? please no, his heart couldn't possibly take that, she wants her beside him, he'll take any route of destiny as long as she stays, even if she turns to despise his very being, he'll take it with no hesitation.

As long as she's with me, everything's worth it.

He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt a pair of hands caressing his face wiping his tears in the process, Dani made him look at her, she smiled at him softly then she opened her mouth and uttered "It's okay I forgive you, thank you for telling me." Dani held him close and let Kon's head rest on her chest. "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere, after all any place I'll go will be painstakingly boring without you beside me."

Finally letting go of the mixed emotions that had built inside of him, Kon cried, he cried until his throat became sore and his eyes became red from the tears, and Dani stayed until the very end just like she promised.

PLUS SCENE

Kon laid on the sofa tired and lazily staring at the ceiling, a random cartoon show played from the TV, one of his hands was holding onto to Dani's Hand, as the girl looked focused on the show, Kon let his eyes close for a second succumbing to the peace, until Dani opened her mouth.

"You said earlier that you were a clone, right?" Dani asked her eyes remained on the TV

Kon hummed "yeah why?"

"Yoo, same" Dani laughed, her reply made the exhaustion from Kon's body leave immediately, he sat straight up and his mouth open as he looked at Dani in surprise.

"Excuse me, WHAT??" Kon stated in disbelief, Dani bent over clutching her stomach as she laughed at his reaction.

[serpentface]

A braithuvi horse at rest under the close protection and watchful, scary, pale-eyed gaze of her herd's guardian, a dírgrahdain. Both are landraces developed within the Highlands. The ancestors of braithuvi (and other Highlands native horses) were brought overseas by the ancestors of the Hill Tribes, while the dogs were obtained from native livestock guardian landraces used by proto-Wardi tribes. Each have become distinct over their centuries of living in the Highlands, and dírgrahdain are have a particularly unique place in the cultural schema.

Braithuvi are a woolly horse breed (and one of many, wool horses are widespread, second only to camala in value for textiles) that are also somewhat specialized for milk production. Their meat is relatively poor (other horses are preferred), but they produce high yields of milk and thick, continuous growths of wool.

Horses are not as culturally significant as cattle to most in the Highlands, but are still highly valued animals that are critical to subsistence. Few plant-based textiles can be produced in the Highlands, and almost all in the region are made with braithuvi wool. They can eat a greater variety of forage than cattle, more efficiently converting energy intake from pastures into milk and wool. Their milk is considered to be the very best of all livestock, and is usually what is used to make the prized murre beverage.

Dogs have a very small specific place in the cultures of the Hill Tribes as utilitarian working animals (specifically for livestock and occasionally as home/village guardians), and rarely ever fill other functions. The practice of keeping dogs purely for companionship is virtually nonexistent (though affectionate bonds between people and their herding or household guard dogs will be fairly common), and their meat is considered worthless. Most dogs are not elevated within the cultural schema, and tend to be merely appreciated as useful, loyal animals. Livestock guardian dogs are an exception to this, and tend to be of more significant cultural import. They are animals that exist to protect the herds on which all subsistence depends, and thus have an elevated cultural status and roles in religion and folklore as uniquely protective entities.

Dírgrahdain are the key livestock guardian dogs in the region, and the only natively developed LGD. Their name means 'lion dog', both in reference to their maned appearance and their ability to fend off and even kill the largest of predators. The dogs are characterized by tall, long-legged builds, deep chests, a curly tail, thick hair (and a thicker winter coat), and a shaggy mane. Their bodies tend to be thinner and lankier than their fur coat suggests, but still well-muscled and powerful. Their coloration can vary wildly, but a black mask with a brown or reddish body like this is most typical. Unnerving, pale eyes are prized in these dogs, with the belief that they not only intimidate predators but are uniquely potent at fending off malicious spirits.

The dog's exclusive function is to protect livestock. They are used primarily for the defense of horses, which are small and very vulnerable to predators (lions, hyenas, king hyena, wild dogs, jackals, nechoi, and even eagles can be threats), though some dogs will usually be posted up with cattle herds to deter raiders.

Pups are most commonly born in the field among their herds. They will be carried in their master's coat while still nursing, but will be allowed to join their mother in her duties from the moment they are strong enough to follow. Dírgrahdain live with their herds day and night. Most will never see the inside of a home, and most seem to prefer it that way. They form close and protective bonds with their charges, and will thoroughly integrate themselves into the social fabric of the herd.

These dogs are not human-oriented, and will usually only form bonds with people that they have imprinted on as puppies (and will merely be cool and polite to those met later in life). They are highly aggressive towards strangers, and introductions must be done incrementally and with great care. This is desirable, as this trait makes them an excellent line of defense against livestock raids. Their loud, booming barks can alert of intruders from a great distance, and they can often successfully intimidate khait, causing some mounted raids to end in humiliating failure. Dírgrahdain are often killed in raids, either to fend off the attacking dog or to silence it before its master can be alerted. This is not outright dishonorable, but not something one will be commended for. Cattle raiding culture here values swiftness, stealth, and strategy- such smash and grab tactics are seen as brutish (and will often result in harsher retribution).

Like most LGDs, they primarily defend their herds by displays of aggression and power, using their loud bark, fearsome growl, and powerful bodies to chase and intimidate predators away without physical contact. Even so, it is necessary for all working dírgrahdain to be willing and able to physically confront predators when necessary. A well-trained, well-bonded dog will defend their herds with their very life, and is often effective in combat against even very large wild predators. Their dense ‘manes’ offer a degree of protection from wounds to the throat, and may be supplemented with spiked collars.

If a mother dog kills a predator, it is often customary to open the carcass and lead her puppies to feed on it. This is thought to teach the pups to be fearless against their enemies, and that they will grow up to be uniquely powerful and brave adults. Pups are given names upon reaching adult size, and ones who have consumed the flesh of predators will get unique names related to their mother's kill, or epithets as supplements to a given name (the exact details of this practice culturally varies). One might encounter dogs in the Highlands named things like Lionsbane, Hyena-killer, She Who Bites Jackals, Lion-Fed Shaggy (Lion-Fed being the honorable epithet, Shaggy being the dog's name, possibly given by a very small child)

The mere gaze of a dírgrahdain is said to fend off malicious spirits, and their thundering bark can scare away even the most dangerous of mountain devils. Their shed hair is needle felted into little dolls (usually into the form of dogs themselves) and placed into the cradles of infants and worn as charms by children to protect them from harm (both mundane and supernatural). Manes taken from dead dírgrahdain have uses among some of the Hill Tribes, and are typically only allowed to be used by their masters (unless recieved as a gift). The most prominent usages are being worn to fend off evil spirits and predators while traveling alone, and some traditions involve placing the manes around the necks or across the bellies of women in labor as a means of spiritual protection for mother and child during birth.

The Hill Tribes and Wardi both identify the same constellation along the ecliptic as a dog. In the case of the former, this stellar dog is identified as Mak-Urudain, a gigantic dírgrahdain with fur the color of flame and eyes as bright as stars, who is the eternal guardian of the Celestial Fields. He allows the souls of the worthy dead to pass into the afterlife and for esteemed ancestors to descend back to the land to guide the living, while preventing malicious spirits, devils, and the dishonored dead from entry.

One Bernike tale describes her attempting to fly into the Celestial Fields to steal the heavenly cattle who graze there. She took the form of a golden eagle, pretending to be an ancestor returning from a sojourn to the world of the living in order to get past the guardian hound. Mak-Urudain was not fooled for long, and led her on a long chase through the night sky before capturing her and hurling her out of the Celestial Fields.

She was never able to even touch the ground of the Fields (much less take any cattle), but had just enough time to take a single seed of heavenly grass in her beak. She returned to her mountain (missing most of her tail feathers and much of her pride) and planted the grass in her then-barren slopes. This is why the grass on Bernike's mountain is so tall and abundant and why cattle there grow so fat and healthy, like all cattle will in the afterlife. The howling winds heard from the mountaintops are playfully suggested to be the barks and howls of Mak-Urudain, calling down from the heavens to keep the witch grounded in the world of the living.

[cryptidfuckery]

Today I got to tell our waiter that yhe tattoo of a Dinosuar he has is of an anklyosaurus

[meownotgood]

the neon pink rabbit dildo was aki's idea.

technically, you were the first one to mention using toys in the bedroom. you've been dating for quite a while now, and although everything with aki is always fantastic, you've been wondering if maybe the two of you should try to make things more... interesting. aki is polite. tightly-laced. pretty vanilla, to put it bluntly. you honestly weren't sure what sort of things he'd be into, if anything at all.

your coworkers had plenty of office gossip about the new fancy adult store they're opening down the block — it has two floors, they're having specials on all their products for couples. you figured it was worth mentioning to aki, just for the hell of it. you tell him as you're both relaxing in the living room after work, like you normally do.

everyone at your job has been complaining about the new surge of traffic to the nearest parking garage. it must be because of the new giant sex shop. ha ha, very funny. aki gives you an all-too serious once-over, before he gently asks, "did you want to check it out?"

you fumbled through your next words, and swiftly explained to your boyfriend that yes, sure, you wouldn't mind checking it out with him. it'd be exciting, really. honestly, you're all for experimenting, but you're unsure, you aren't very knowledgeable. the problem with the whole thing is that you don't know exactly what you'd like to try. it's a bit stressful to imagine getting lost in a huge adult store, with no idea what to purchase.

"I could try to pick something out. maybe that'd be less stressful." aki suggests, his slightly flushed face betraying his level tone. he crosses his legs and leans back into the couch. "only if you're interested, though."

you confirmed you were very, very interested.

part of you assumed aki might back out. he's been busy with work lately, so you had plenty of time to mull it over before your next date — but you honestly had no idea what sort of toy he might pick out. you know he'd put thought into it. he would choose something for a specific reason, or purposefully pick a toy he assumed you would like. perhaps he'd imagine how he might use it on you. would it be something small? large? super adventurous or overly simple?

still, despite all your thinking, when the day actually comes, aki manages to surprise you.

he comes over to your place shortly after you text him an invite. sure. I just got done with work. I'll be over soon, aki replies. he sends another string of texts shortly afterwards, while you're busy tripping over your pant leg, trying to quickly change into your lingerie. I missed you. I'm bringing a surprise.

maybe it was that text, or maybe it was because you haven't seen him in close to a week and you're practically dying to feel his touch, but once he arrives, the two of you barely last a few innocent minutes together before you're stumbling into your bedroom.

aki allows you to pull him forward and on top of you by his tie when you flop back onto your bed. your hands run through his soft hair to tug it free of its hairtie. you kiss his lips and brush your tongue against his with fervor, and you don't protest when he shifts to trail tingling, affectionate kisses down your neck.

you curl into his touches — his mouth on your collar, his palm gliding over your lower back — and you make quick work of a good third of his work uniform: his tie, his jacket, the first few buttons on his dress shirt. aki is much more efficient. he discards your clothes with careful movements, between soft kisses. he sighs when he pulls back, nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy at the sight of your pretty body held tight by the thin, perfectly fitting lingerie.

"you look beautiful," he hums, completely earnest. you shudder, your arms held around his neck and shoulders. your thighs spread wider for him as his warm palm brushes in between them.

you'd almost forgotten about the surprise, until aki reminds you of it.

he pulls himself off of you for a moment to reach into his bag. the dildo is moderately sized, a handful of inches in length at most, but it doesn't seem cheap. it's made from bright pink silicone, long and thick with two different sections. the smaller portion is adorned with two small knobs, shaped like rabbit ears.

it's meant for double stimulation, aki explains awkwardly, between a handful of uhms and stutters. you could certainly gather as much from the shape.

he places a hand on your waist ever-so gently, and when he asks, are you okay with this? you're swift to answer with a nod of your head. you're more than okay with it. what you couldn't figure out is how it might feel — until aki finally opts to show you.

he has you sprawled out beneath him, completely pliant. your arms are above your head, hands clenching tight as he glides his palm from your waist to your thigh with reassurance. he squeezes, and he fiddles with the toy for a moment, gauging the various controls. as he leans in closer, he presses a kiss to your cheek, he breathes a low instruction to relax. then, he flips the toy to press just the small, vibrating, rabbit-eared attachment to your still-clothed clit.

you can feel the faint vibrations, even through your lingerie. the toy must be on the lowest setting; it's more of a tease than anything else. still, your eyes flutter. you let go of a satisfied sound, and eagerly grind your hips up to meet the toy.

aki sighs. "you want more?" he murmurs, already sitting up and hooking his thumb around the string of your underwear. "can I take this off?"

you nod hastily, and lift your hips to allow him to pull the garment down your legs and all the way off.

aki's jaw clenches. sweat is forming at his brow and his palms, as you coo his name and spread your legs wider for him. you're so wet — he can tell without touching, but he's entirely sure once he guides the thick head of the toy over your cunt, and sees your arousal glistening on the silicone. he gives you another soft squeeze, another gentle touch on your side, a final, are you sure?

when you whimper and plead, please, aki, I want to feel it, he hardly hesitates to give you exactly what you've been hoping for.

the dildo is just the perfect size. it slides into you effortlessly, filling you perfectly and snugly. the length of it is curved slightly, and you can feel that curve as he slowly eases it in — nudging your walls, the thick tip deliciously meeting your sweet spot.

"there, that's it," aki praises. once the toy is all the way inside you, he lets go of a sigh that sounds thoroughly satisfied. "god. you take it so well."

your spine tingles at the sound of his smooth voice. he adjusts the toy slightly, and as the flexible rabbit-eared piece presses against your clit, vibrations a little stronger than before, your whole body tremors.

aki fucks you on the toy with slow, shallow thrusts, enough to keep the vibrations on your clit. and it's intense, it's so much; the toy fucks you so well and hits your sweet spot with its perfect curve on every thrust in. the vibrations are low and constant, thrumming against your sensitive, puffy clit.

wet noises fill the room as you dirty the toy's pretty pink shaft. aki keeps his pace slow, deliberate, never pressing it in too hard or too fast. all you can do is quiver and whine, your voice already becoming strained and loud.

he clicks a button on the dildo, and it begins to vibrate with strong pulses.

you're so beautiful; pleading his name, keeping your heavy, warm gaze locked on his despite the way your eyelids flutter. aki swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen as he watches the way you take all he has to give you. you have no idea what this is doing to him, how his heart is pounding and his mind is racing and oh, you were made to take this toy. you're all his, he has complete control over every facet of your pleasure. and god, does he want to make you cum for him.

aki increases the strength of the vibrations. "you're irresistible," he murmurs, and you don't fail to catch the small break at the end of his voice. he's falling apart too, just from this. "say my name again, please. want to make you cum for me, beautiful."

he trails soft kisses down your jaw while the dildo pleasures your cunt and your clit — and when you cum, you cum quickly and hard.

you tremor, you hold onto him tight, you soak the toy as your legs shake and your voice gives out. aki slows while you struggle to regain your breath, a hand slowly caressing your side, guiding you to breathe again. his heart feels like it might hammer out of his own chest.

"f-fuck..." aki swears, his breath shaky, his brows pinched. "you've never- that was-" he sighs. you're so lovely, so pretty. he's definitely going to lose his mind if he hasn't lost it already. why didn't he think of something like this sooner? "god... can you take one more for me?"

for @violet-turning-violet

[muirmarie]

tos mcspirk pre-relationship - thinking about mccoy having to beam down to go help save kirk's life, and he's informed right before he leaves that the planet kirk's currently bleeding out on (that is only allowing one doctor to beam down to) doesn't allow any adornments, so right before mccoy steps onto the transporter pad he takes his ring off (for the first time spock's ever seen) and he grabs spock's hand, and slides it onto his finger, and says, "hold onto this for me, will you?"

and spock doesn't generally fidget, but the entire time mccoy and kirk are gone he finds his fingers returning to the ring, and spinning it around his finger, and it's almost like a talisman, because mccoy never takes it off, so it's almost like it's a part of mccoy, and as long as spock can touch it then mccoy must be all right, and if mccoy is all right then spock knows - knows - that the good doctor will keep kirk alive, too.

and eventually the original landing party + bonus mccoy beam back up, and mccoy rushes kirk into surgery, and spock stays on the bridge handling the diplomatic fallout, twisting the ring around his finger again and again and again

and it's not until mccoy calls spock down to sickbay in time to see kirk's eyes slowly blink back open, alive and safe and out of danger, that spock realizes that mccoy still hasn't asked for the ring back. it's not, in fact, until kirk's eyes almost immediately are drawn to the ring, his eyebrows slightly raised, that spock realizes at all.

spock's finger feels surprisingly bare when he tugs the ring off - the metal warm from his skin - and presses it into the palm of mccoy's hand.

"thanks for keeping it safe," mccoy says, folding his fingers around it, his fingertips brushing spock's fingertips as spock slowly pulls his hand away.

spock raises an eyebrow, tilts his head towards the captain.

"i was about to say the same," he says.

"something you two want to tell me?" kirk asks, reaching out and tapping mccoy's fist, and the moment kirk touches it, mccoy's hand falls back open, like a flower uncurling.

"no rings planetside," mccoy says easily.

kirk's eyes are dark as he looks at him.

"you look naked without it," kirk says, his hand closing around mccoy's hand, ring and all, and tugging him a step closer to the hospital bed. "mind if i do the honors?"

and it's not until spock's gaze is locked on kirk's fingers deftly sliding the ring back where it belongs that spock finally understands the tightness that's been inhabiting his chest, this tightness that's been suffocating his lungs.

"looks good, doesn't it, spock?" kirk asks, something knowing in his eyes.

spock could stop himself from reaching out, if he wanted. he could stop himself from touching the ring, touching the hand, touching kirk's hand, too, where it's still holding mccoy's. he could stop himself, if he wanted.

he finds, as is so often the case with these two men, that he doesn't want to stop himself.

this time, he doesn't even try.

[sergle]

may I just say: I feel immensely powerful being able to make my shitty posts non-rebloggable.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

ok picture it.

steve and eddie both work at a small cafe in the city that specializes in light sandwiches and pasta dishes. steve is the opening manager, off before eddie, a line cook, makes it in for the closing shift and the evening rush.

every day, steve leaves a “friendly reminder” note on the break room whiteboard for the closing shift and every day, eddie’s blood boils when he reads it. it’s not like the closing shift leaves the place looking like a dump; it’s difficult to juggle the dinner rush and pick up the morning shifts slack when they’d left all their dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast and done absolutely no prep for the closers.

in august, one of the cafes busiest months, when tables are full of rude tourists and college students, the closing manager goes on maternity leave and steve’s forced to cover for her. eddie and steve meet for the first time ever and eddie’s even more annoyed by the fact that steve is gorgeous and fuckin cheerful, even after long days where he’s constantly stepping in to defuse conflicts between horrible costumers and the waitstaff.

about two weeks into steve covering the closing shift, he rounds up all the line cooks, hostesses, and waiters and personally apologizes to them for thinking the closing shift was easy. this shit is hard! infinitely harder than opening the store in the morning. he promises them that when he returns to his morning shift duties, he’ll be much more conscious of the way the staff leaves the kitchen for the closers.

after the staff meeting, eddie’s cold feelings start to thaw. it’s clear that steve means what he said. eddie’s never seen a restaurant manager working with the dishwashers at the sink after close. and steve even agrees to let eddie stay after hours to try out some of his own recipes, in hopes they might make it to the menu someday.

after the closing manager returns from her maternity leave, there’s a remarkable shift in the atmosphere of the restaurant. prep work is done before the closers come in, no dishes pile up in the sink, and if there is ever left over work from a particularly busy morning, steve always stays after his shift is over to help take care of it. eddie can’t help but feel a growing fondness for the guy.

one night in december, when eddie’s stayed late to try a new recipe for christmas cookies, the little bell above the front door starts to jingle as it swings open and then closes. it’s not that unusual. sometimes a manager or one of the shift leads has forgotten something or a late delivery is set to arrive and someone has to be there to sign for it.

just as eddie is setting the cookies on a cooling rack, steve walks in to the kitchen, looking… really good. like, date night good. eddie briefly mourns the loss before he calls out a greeting from across the kitchen. steve looks up at him then, smiling wide.

“oh hey, man. forgot my phone in the office,” steve tells him in explanation, moving through the open door next to the walk in freezer. when he reappears in the kitchen, he holds up his phone triumphantly for eddie to see, grinning. he walks around the counter to stand next to eddie. “so what’s on the menu tonight?”

sometimes, when steve was still working the closing shift and had stayed late after mostly everyone had gone home, he’d ask eddie what he was cooking. and eddie, after the pivotal staff meeting, would tell him and sometimes, if he was super confident, he’d even offer steve a taste. steve would compliment him and tell him how awesome it was and, for a few shining moments, eddie would pretend that he could feel something between them.

“just some christmas cookies. trying to work out the mint-to-chocolate ration. wanna taste?” eddie looks up at steve then and thinks he must imagine the way the other man’s eyes dart to his mouth.

“yeah, sure,” steve murmurs softly in the quiet kitchen. eddie clears his throat and takes a small step back, out of steve’s space, and picks up one of the freshly baked cookies, holding it out to steve. steve takes it and takes a bite so big, he’s practically eaten the entire thing in one go. he chews, a contemplative look on his face, before his eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “fuck, dude,” steve practically moans, mouth full. “i think you nailed it.” it’s a testament to how hot steve truly is that eddie can watch him speak with his mouth full and not be disgusted by him. not even a little bit.

“yeah?” eddie can feel the grin on his own face, practically splitting his cheeks in two.

steve steps a little closer, eating up the space eddie had tried to put between them. “you tried one yet?” steve asks, voice low. eddie swallows and shakes his head. steve’s eyes dart back down to eddie’s lips again, slower and more purposeful this time. “well, you gotta have a taste, eddie.” steve’s voice is practically a purr and eddie can feel the other man’s breath on his lips. neither of them moves to reach for another cookie. instead, steve lifts the remaining bite he has in his hands and lifts it to eddie’s mouth. eddie drops his jaw, obedient, even without being told, and feels steve place the cookie on his tongue. he chews, swallows, all while maintaining eye contact with steve. “good, right?” steve whispers. all eddie can do it nod.

and then, suddenly, the space between them is non-existent. eddie feels steve’s lips against his own, firm and so much softer than he could’ve imagined. steve has him pressed against the counter, his body firm against him and his hand plunged into eddie’s hair, loosening his tight bun. steve’s other hand is on his hip, inching up under the hem of his jacket. eddie let’s out an embarrassing little squeak before his own hands curl into the front of steve’s shirt.

as quickly as it starts, steve’s pulling away, placing a much more chaste kiss to the corner of eddie’s panting mouth.

“been dying to do that,” steve confesses, eyes meeting eddie’s searching. “i forget my phone here at least once a week. keep trying to run into you.” steve huffs out a little laugh. it’s eddie’s turn to look surprised, but he recovers quickly and pulls steve in for another kiss.

[ryllen]

Look what came through the mail today! The letters & ( •̀ω•́ )σ 3 little gremlins from letterstoear.

Just wanna say i adore the flower stickers on the letters too much, they are that much worth mentioning.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

lucy loves playing scrabble with team natsu bc while they were all busy being enslaved or failing at avenging their parents or being raised by dragons and shit like that she was reading the entire thesaurus back to back on repeat

sometimes she even invents nonexistent words, just for funsies. gray is onto her but natsu is so ride-or-die for her that every time gray dares to question her honor or even allude to her cheating ways it devolves into a brawl, successfully distracting from her (indeed very much) questionable honor and cheating ways - if it doesn't just end the entire game alltogether lol

levy starts keeping count of how many words lucy just pulls out of her ass. she has a whole-ass betting pool going. (she and lucy are in cahoots and split the wins 50/50, though they avoid winning too often in order not to awaken suspicion)

[largemandrill]

Alrighty girlies, I won’t let us ignore him any longer.

This guy. This fucking guy. He’s a great summon, good health, AMAZING damage, and most importantly: Messmer lore.

WARNING: This joke post got super out of control. Get ready for a mini-essay below

He was second in command to his commander father, Andreas. Both served Messmer until Andreas discovered his “serpentine nature”, this lead to a rebellion that the commander led. Naturally, his son follows him to the end, that end being imprisoned deep within a catacomb. All pretty standard lore, shows that Messmer’s troupes weren’t entirely cool with the genocide they were doing. What I want to talk about is this line that is only on Huw’s description, and not his father’s.

“Messmer mourned the loss of a brother-in-arms”

If this line was on both Ashes, I would assume that Messmer mourned the lost men in the rebellion, despite their betrayal. Yet it’s only present on the captain’s description, not the man who led the rebellion in the first place. You know damn well what I’m about to do with this.

The main reason I’m jumping straight to “they were probably like a little gay” and not that Messmer was close to the leader of his main offensive force is the fact that Huw is a second in command. I would assume that a lord would have a better bond with the lead commander, there are less steps of hierarchy in between their positions. Messmer would have also known Andreas longer, (Let’s be real Huw got that position via nepotism) thus there would be higher familiarity.

What should also be mentioned is that Messmer’s feelings about others (excluding his mother) are hardly lingered on. Rellana was his sword, yet we only know her motives, not his. He was friends with Gaius due to both of them being cursed and also being mentor figures for Radahn, but there’s much more about Gaius and Radahn’s bond than between him and Messmer. This is the only (?) time that Messmer’s feelings on the matter are mentioned so bluntly. “Comrade-in-arms” in the context of Elden Ring is used much more frequently. If I remember correctly, this is what Freyja calls you if you summon her for the Dancing Lion. I’d argue that using brother is a signifier of a deeper relationship. To view someone not as an ally but as family, someone you couldn’t live without, a loved one. There’s also the fact that it’s mentioned that Huw followed his father. That reads like he was hesitant to betray Messmer, but his blood came before any affection he had for his Liege. Isn’t that the most classic of Tragedy? To choose your flesh and blood over your heart’s greatest desire? I’d hate to get poetic here, but the story writes itself.

Huw’s coffin was more beautifully decorated than that of his father. There were active guards, flowers, the room was larger. It’s quite gaudy when compared to Andreas’ open coffin in what could be described as a closet when it comes to size comparison. One was buried like a champion, beloved by a lord. The other buried with minimum respect given his status, but with the bitterness of betrayal.

Brother-in-arms.

[varpusvaras]

Fox and the Guard first learn about sugar once they start to do rounds in the Senate. They have these nifty little caf machines in the halls there, with these little cubes you're supposed to mix in to your liking. Thorn steals few of them once and puts one in Fox's morning caf. Sugar becomes the most trafficked substance in the Guard.

Some time later, after one really, really long day, that had included dredging in the lower levels, running up and down more stairs that was humanely possible, and being hosed down in cold water multiple times (why was all the water always cold on Coruscant?), Commander Fox goes to report to Senator Organa. He's one of the nice Senators (the nice Senator, if you ask Fox), and the man gives him one look and makes Fox sit down, and hands him a cup of something warm.

"I'm not really a chef", Senator Organa says, "and my office doesn't really have cooking equipment, so this is all I have at hand, but you really look like you need some warm food inside you, Commander."

It's against at least seven different protocols and regulations to accept anything from the Senators, let alone food, but Fox is tired and cold and the last time he has had something warm to eat that wasn't caf was...honestly he's not sure anymore.

The liquid in the cup looks to be some sort of soup, and Fox takes a sip from it. He stops and stares at it.

Senator Organa tilts his head.

"Is everything alright, Commander?" He asks.

"Yes, Sir", Fox answers quickly. "I just wasn't expecting the taste."

Senator Organa looks a bit puzzled, even if he is doing his best to to hide it.

"Well, it is rather easy to make, if you like it", he says then. "The ingredients are really basic, so I could bring some down to the Guard. It's just some roots and salt-"

"Salt?" Fox interrupts before his own thoughts have even finished. "Like, from the ocean?"

Senator Organa looks both really puzzled, and kind of like he wants to laugh. What Fox wants to do, is to die immediately.

"Well, some places do get their salt from the ocean", Senator Organa says, and then pauses. "...am I correct in my assumption that salt isn't widely in use on Kamino? Senator Burtoni complains every time her food has even touched it."

"It appears so", Fox says, trying not to sound like his next step is jumping out from the office's window.

"I see", Senator Organa nods. He then looks at the cup in Fox's hands and smiles. "Do you want some more, Commander?"

Fox also looks at the cup in his hands. It's empty. Fox doesn't remember finishing it.

Senator Organa already has more soup out, and Fox feels like it would be more impolite to say no.

"Yes, Sir", he says.

He finishes three more cups before he has to go, and Senator Organa looks vaguely like he has been robbed of a great joy in life as he cannot continue feeding Fox more soup. Fox also vaguely feels like he's been robbed.

(The rest of the Guard also seems to feel like that, judging from the looks on their faces when salt appears in their base's mess one morning, and their food starts to...have a taste.)

("Do you think it's too soon, if I introduce spices to them?" Bail asks the hologram of his wife on his desk.

"Start slow", Breha answers. "And no chilis without warnings.")

[starry-bi-sky]

random facts for my Dead On Main childhood friends au:

Danny's ghost form changed when he was with Jason in the ghost zone, and then reverted back to how it was after he died when Jason disappeared.

Danny as a human has blue-green eyes. As in, his eyes are blue with the lower half being green, and they bleed into one another at the middle. This is entirely because of Danny being a halfa, its meant to represent how he's no longer completely human.

In contrast, Jason's eyes are teal with hints of green. This is because he was revived. One half crawled out of the grave, and the other never left.

If you stare at Danny's eyes for too long, it sometimes looks like the green and blue are swirling together but never mixing, like water and oil. People agree that its very beautiful, but very unsettling.

Danny's lichtenberg figures as a ghost are black, and when he cries his tears float and disappear when they fall off his face. The tears have a thick, almost gel-like substance to them if you touch it.

Danny's ghost form is pretty unsettling - he fully embraced the fact that he died and in turn strongly shows it through his ghost form, plus the additional effect his grief has on his form. He's not who you would think of when you're told "we have a ghost hero protecting the city". he looks like someone the hero would fight. Danny usually keeps his goggles on over his face for this reason.

The black space on his suit, naturally, has stars on them. they shift and move as he does, and sometimes there are nebulae that swirl into view.

His lair in the ghost zone is an observatory, but like one of those fantasy looking ones that you'd see in some kind of solarpunk ghibli movie. it's huge on the inside, with a long hallway with polaroids strung along the walls, and doors leading into different rooms. The main room is the 'observe floor' with a large domed ceiling and furniture littered around near the walls, and more polaroids. Danny can press a button on the side wall to 'open' the dome ceiling and reveal a night sky above his head that he can float up into. some of these stars are danny's memories that play when you touch them. danny can move the night sky around like an interactive screen, and find new stars. This observatory has a hammock.

Danny's got his 'Kill The Clown' corkboard in his lair as well, it mirrors out into his apartment.

Oh. The hole in his heart. You can stick your hand into it. Or try to. Danny's gonna shove you back immediately though, because it feels weird. And also it's gonna leave a Substance on your hand that's gonna be really hard to take off, stains afterward, and has the consistency of semi-thick ink and oil. His tears are made of the same stuff.

Danny's Ghost Forms below (without his mad scientist goggles bc i forgot to add. them) Left is after he reunites with Jason (both times), and the Right is pre-reunion (both times).

[ariavar]

I need Tyrion to become a dragonrider in TWOW through horse girl hijinks just so I can repost this a thousand times

[lord-squiggletits]

"To Children Ardent For Some Desperate Glory": A War Story Reading of Tarn's Death

From a narrative perspective, Tarn's death in this scene as a long-running antagonist of MTMTE is extremely cathartic in that, because he's evil, his death is satisfying: the dramatic irony of how Tarn was made by Megatron and now is unmade, that he trapped himself in the means of his own death, and, most importantly for this meta post, that he talked a big game about being willing to die as a Decepticon, only to falter and panic once the moment of his death was actually upon him. As a reader, there's a sort of vindication that you get from seeing Tarn, a supposed zealot, suddenly too cowardly to die for his own ideals, and so Tarn's death is satisfying to read under this judgement of his cowardice.

Cowardice? Perhaps not. Although it's definitely valid to read Tarn's panic here as the last of many signs of hypocrisy he's demonstrated throughout MTMTE, the tragedy of his death comes when you read this scene from the lens of the war story genre: That is to say, I read Tarn's fear in the face of death not as a demonstration of cowardice/hypocrisy, but as the moment that, for him personally, "the old lie: Dulce et decorum est / Pro patria mori" was finally pulled from his eyes (literally, as the mask Tarn used to hide himself was ripped off by Megatron to expose his fear) and he realized that it was not, in fact, worth it to rush headlong into his own death for the sake of ideology. The Old Lie that it's glorious to die for one's ideals protected Tarn for that one moment of him declaring "At least I'll die a Decepticon," offering him that comfort/delusion that his death would have meaning... then, of course, having that ripped away as Megatron informs him, "Everything you did was for nothing."

Bringing this quote forth from War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges:

And like every recovering addict there is a part of me that remains nostalgic for war's simplicity and high, even as I cope with the scars it has left behind, mourn the deaths of those I worked with, and struggle with the bestiality I would have been better off not witnessing. There is a part of me-- maybe it is a part of many of us-- that decided at certain moments that I would rather die like this than go back to the routine of life. The chance to exist for an intense and overpowering moment, even if it meant certain oblivion, seemed worth it in the midst of war and very stupid once the war ended.

Tarn's choice to pursue revenge against Megatron was his "intense and overpowering moment" that won over choosing to retreat like Nickel and Deathsaurus did, as they, unlike him, realized that throwing away soldiers' lives in a grinder for the sake of a useless grudge was the wrong thing to do; they went "back to the routine of life" and failed to be claimed by The Old Lie.

Another interesting part of WIAF is that, throughout the book, Hedges makes comparisons between the illusions of power, meaning, and righteousness that war brings and drugs/narcotics/addiction, which brings to mind that Tarn is actually canonically an addict of multiple substances, meaning that the "drug of war" is both literal and metaphorical in his case.

So, when recognizing that Tarn was peddled The Old Lie not just as one of many generic soldiers in a lifelong war, but as a target for brainwashing Megatron personally singled out, it becomes impossible to view his death simply as a karmic death for a hypocritical jerk. The idea that Tarn is a coward for not being able to "die as a Decepticon" being brave and unafraid relies on the assumption that dying in battle for a Cause that doesn't care about you is a demonstration of bravery and sacrifice rather than a pointless destruction of life in service of propaganda.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in [...] My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

I would argue that the fact that Tarn was drawn so heavily into Decepticonism (and indeed, a smaller cult-- the DJD-- based on worship of Megatron himself) that he would choose to fight, kill, and die in a crusade of revenge against people who wronged his Cause (Megatron) is not a fault of his moral character, but rather a tragedy of his conversion into a rather common lie of war, exemplified by the poem above: It's all well and good to talk about how awesome a glorious death in battle is until you're the one dying and witnessing other people around you dying. In my mind, it's not cowardice or hypocrisy that made Tarn terrified of "dying a Decepticon": it is, and has always been, a moral fact that life is greater than death and that choosing to live in peace is better than fighting a perpetual war. His terror came from the fact that the veil-- or rather, the mask-- convincing him otherwise was ripped away from him. He did not experience a fall from principled morality into hypocritical cowardice: he experienced a revelation from propagandistic lies to hard, tragic reality.

To those who swallow the nationalist myth, life is transformed.... They can abandon even self-preservation in the desire to see themselves as players in a momentous historical drama. This vision is accepted even at the expense of self-annihilation.

Tarn's story basically follows the formula of the war story genre near-perfectly: The beginning of his life as an otherwise ordinary person (Damus/Glitch), his fall into a militant group as part of a desire for meaning and battle against an oppressor, his committing and excusing of heinous acts in the name of that false meaning-- and finally, his inability to detach from The Old Lie and the subsequent terror and futility he faced upon dying for the sake of that Lie.

All this to say that, as vindicating and fun as Tarn's death is from a pure entertainment/satisfaction perspective, I do like to look at this scene and remind myself that it's not cowardice to be afraid of dying, especially to be afraid of dying for no reason and in the service of an ideology (and in Tarn's case, person) that does not and never did care about you.

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.