#they share a bed and a dog

[breeberrypies]

saw deadpool and wolverine in the theater for a 3rd time yesterday i’m totally fine

[tempestaurora]

i watched the pitt in two days. spent the two days after that reading approx 300k worth of fan fic. i am now going to start the pitt again. maybe then, i will write the langdon x mel fic of my dreams

[somegrumpynerd]

Okay I know I'm the most biased person about dadmare, but you can't honestly tell me that if Cross started to mention the way xgaster treated him and his brother as children - the way an adult bullied and belittled and abused them - that it wouldn't make Nightmare see red

[soukokuforthesoul]

the walls were quiet. the ceiling was the same as ever. atsushi was restless.

he turned over on the bed, staring at the desk on the wall opposite to him. a nightlight glowed blue, sitting there unblinking. he watched it for a moment, until his eyes protested and he blinked, shifting his gaze away. the ceiling called to him again. he stared.

the door to the bedroom opened, and atsushi jolted up. the clock read something past midnight.

akutagawa paused at the movement, standing still at the doorway. he frowned, probably, and the blue light squirmed on his expression. “jinko,” he said, so quietly, so uncharacteristically soft.

“r-ryuu…” atsushi started, the rest of the name dispersing on his tongue. “you’re home.”

“i’m home,” akutagawa repeated. he seemed amused now, and padded into the room. he still wore his work clothes, still smelled faintly of blood. he paused beside the bed, and atsushi was sitting now, gazing up at him.

the blue light pulsed, casting more shadows, drawing akutagawa’s gaze to it.

“you didn’t have to leave that on. were you waiting the entire time?” he asked, with a sigh.

“i didn’t know if you’d come back here.”

“i moved in a month ago,” akutagawa said pointedly. “i don’t care the apartment is small, i’ve already told you.”

“i know, but—“

akutagawa flicked atsushi’s forehead with rashomon, and he flinched back. a hand pressed to his forehead, shielding it from any more warning pokes, atsushi looked away.

“i’ll shower, now. go to sleep, i’m not going to run away through the bathroom window.” akutagawa turned, checking that atsushi was laying down again, before he collected a few comfortable clothes from the closet with his ability. the door closed behind him as he headed towards the bathroom.

atsushi gazed at the door, after akutagawa, ears perked for the sound of the bathroom door clicking, and then the stream of water. he relaxed slightly, eyes threatening to close. but he made himself watch and wait, not bothering for the blanket lest he did fall asleep.

some time later, the door reopened cautiously and akutagawa stepped in, studying the room. he looked incredibly disappointed to see atsushi’s eyes trained on him.

“i told you to sleep,” he said flatly, closing the door and glancing at the time. he approached the bed and climbed in carefully as atsushi moved over to give him space.

“couldn’t,” atsushi attempted, but his eyes were already closing with the promise of akutagawa. he hadn’t realized how empty the bed had felt without him until they were both tucked in, shared warmth blooming under the blanket akutagawa pulled over them.

“you’re a terrible liar.”

atsushi smiled to himself, and wondered when he’d gotten so used to akutagawa’s presence, when he’d grown to yearn for it as much as he did.

“g’night, akutagawa,” he murmured, almost unintelligible in his tired state.

“goodnight, idiot,” akutagawa returned, and a smile read faintly in his voice. his arms fit perfectly around atsushi. the room thrummed contently.

[ahollowgrave]

i have so many gpose ideas but unfort it takes me approx 12 hours to do even simple gposes because i am an easily distracted bird in a trench coat, you know??

[dinosaurwithablog]

We're all tucked in and ready for bed!! Petey is swaddled in her binky, and she has her heating pad. She's feeling very relaxed. I am, too. Nighty night to all!! See you in my dreams... ✨️✨️ 💤 😴 💤

GOODNIGHT!! SWEET DREAMS!! ✨️✨️✨️

[snzydarling]

ooooo, prompts you say??~

knowing how much I love when someone requests one of my lil guys so I can write them in a fun situation, I'm gonna toss you a f/ukuzawa, aaaaaaand add to it a side of cat allergies +M/ori involvement

do with that as you will, you can choose if the M/ori involvement is minimal, antagonist, helpful, anything you want, just gives you a lil thing to work with~ <3 excited to see what you may cook up if you so choose to!!~

hello !!! you gave me this and i ran with it so hard. thank u for the ask and i def had a lot of fun with this,...... i hope u enjoy it too !!

Nothing Beyond my Grasp

fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs characters: Fukuzawa Yukichi, Mori Ougai cw: sneezing kink !! mess, vouyerism, implied character with kink notes: hi it is 3 am i am so tired goodnight. you guys are lucky imm too tired to be embarrased rn because this is the horniest thing ive written so far !!! its a little kinky. i really like to explore their dynamic in a kind of unconventional way. i dont know if alot of people know about fukuzawas ex-assassin stuff because it was never really directly stated in anything besideds the novel but thats !! why !! hes basically silent throughout this whole thing. in the novel it says he walks compltelty silently most of the time so i think thats such an unconcious habit and it also splays out through most of his life. enjoy. iam going to pass out now gutten night !!!!

Very quickly, Fukuzawa had turned into one of Mori’s favorite people to study. In his unique line of work, he met plenty of unusual people, but none quite like him. Fukuzawa was mysterious- nearly silent, prone to snarling when provoked, and reminded him altogether of a caged wild dog. Really, ‘Silver Wolf’ was the perfect name for him. 

Earlier in the evening, Elise had dragged in a bedraggled-looking stray, and entirely susceptible to her, he allowed her to keep it until she got bored with it. Not that they had much choice, anyway- it had taken to whipping its tail about in the corner and hissing as soon as she released it. Mori found himself glancing at the time more often after that. This was a new chance to study Fukuzawa. How would he react? Would he open his heart to another stray? He already had one. 

Ever habitual, punctual as a means of politeness, Fukuzawa swings the door to his humble office open as soon as the clock strikes 9 p.m. He looked weary, the combination of preparing to open his agency and body guard work clearly taking its toll. Mori liked to see it- it lowered his guard. 

As Fukuzawa moved to his usual spot he passed the spot where the cat had chosen to reside, which took his closeness as a threat and started to hiss and swat. Mori honed in on Fukuzawa’s face, watching the softness in his eyes. He kneels down, palms open, posture soft. 

Mori snorts as Fukuzawa slips a treat from his sleeve, holding it out in offering. He doesn’t expose his hands very often, so Mori studies them closely. Calloused from years of sword fighting, etched with fading scars and an array of scratches. Clearly, this is a hobby of his. 

He watches as one hand slowly stretches the treat forwards as the other one seriously knucks the underside of his nose, pulling at a particularly long scar. Mori wants to know what its from, but he knows better than to ask. He would never receive an answer. Fukuzawa appears to be making some progress, as the cat starts slinking along nervously, gaining confidence, until Fukuawa twitches into himself. It hisses and jumps back, pressing into the wall as he does it again. The movement leaves Mori quirking an tebow. Fukuzawa moves in a way that is meticulous and calculated, and something so unintentional is novel. Is exhaustion getting to him that badly? The thought sends a shiver down his spine. 

Regardless of whatever is weighing him down, Fukuzawa appears to be undeterred. He fully sits down, placing the treat on his lap, and fixes Mori with his usual cold stare. “Where did she come from?” he asks, sounding almost.. Concerned? It's hard to tell with him, and Mori’s not quite familiar enough to parse every micro-intonation, yet. He gives a lazy shrug. “Elise brought it in. Feel free to take it, I dont like dirty things.” He lets the implications hang in the air, relishing the way Fukuzawa’s brow furrows. Always so easy to push. He might not be the only source, he realizes, because he soon scrunches up the bridge of his nose too, and shutters into a raised hand, twice in succession, before sniffing and giving his head a small shake.

Suddenly, Mori realizes what happened the first time. He decides to stay silent, and 

feigns interest in his work while watching Fukuzawa from the corner of his eye. He observes him as he tends to his nose repeatedly, staring off with a hazy kind of expression. He also bears witness to the stray bringing itself to Fukuzawa again, settling in his lap, and makes sure to note down the look of joy. 

He chuckles at the absurdity of the scene in front of him. “Looks like you’ve got quite a way with strays.” he muses. Fukuzawa starts, apparently haven forgotten about him altogether. How irresponsible. “Are you going to manage to keep me safe like that?” He teases, tiring of this silent treatment. Fukuzawa scrubs at his nose again, answering with a curt “I’ll manage.” that’s a bit fuzzy around the edges. He doesn’t bother to bring up what they both know- Mori doesn’t need his protection. 

He finds himself developing a particular interest in Fukuzawa’s nose, which has started to crease, and develop irritated redness around the rims. The abuse is certainly doing him no favors- he watches it be crushed against a palm when it starts to twitch. Fukuzawa even, almost meditative, breathing has started to stutter, just barely visible underneath all of his layers, but Mori knows better than to think he’ll get a show that easily. He’s going to have to work for it. 

“Got a tickle?” Hw pried, not like he needed to confirm it. His response comes in a rough head-shake, and he rests his head in his hand, sighing. “Use your words, Fukuawa.” He chides. The man in question curls his lip, but obeys anyways, a breathy “No.” that catches in his throat. He presses another harsh knuckle to the side of his nose, eyelashes fluttering, and flinches into his hand again. A breath escapes this time, stuffy and unsatisfied, and Mori has to swallow down his delight. Fukuzawa is so easy to manipulate- he can’t help but try his luck. 

“Really? You look awfully itchy, though. What's gotten into you?” Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get a response, though the more accurate notion is that he can’t, because Fukuzawa jolts into his shoulder again. 

“hH'EHSCHHh-!” it’s greater than any other sneeze Mori has heard out of him, desperate to break free. Fukuzawa’s whole face sparks with irritation, and he pinches the next one between his thumb and forefinger. It squelches with the pressure. 

With another shuddering exhale, he glares at Mori. “Nothings wrong.” he declared, but with congestion thick in his throat, so it came out all wrong. Mori scoffs. “Use a tissue, atleast.” He doesn’t get a response, unless a ticklish, smothered cough counts. 

Mori actually focuses on his work for a couple of minutes, and when he turns his attention back to Fukuzawa, he can’t contain his shock. His condition has considerably worsened. He’s mid sneezing fit, crushing release after release between pinched fingers, and a tear rolls down his cheek. He looks so utterly pathetic, heat starts to pool in Mori’s gut. Fukuzawa manages to quell the fit without a single noise leaking through, a rather impressive feat. He tends to his nose again, now a dark pink. When he angles his face just right, Mori can see wetness threatening to spill over. 

All this abuse seems to do him more harm than good, because not even a minute after his previous attack is he hitching again, canine teeth catching the light, and choking down another volley. He’s not as lucky this time- sound starts to leak out between his fingertips, a preview of what is surely soon to come. Husky gasps and stuttery exhales announce the start and end of each sneeze, only agitating Fukuzawa more. He almost seems to growl as he pants for breath, scrubbing at his nose once again, like it’s offered him any relief thus far. Mori watches the skin crinkle and stretch. He frowns down at Fukuzawa, itchy and irritated and so extremely allergic. What a fool. 

“You really shouldn’t stew in an allergen. Really, Fukuzawa, I thought you were smarter than that.” He bites his cheek, watching how the word alone is enough to make his breath catch again. Oh Fukuzawa, the master of self-control. He’s waging a war against his own nose, fighting tooth and nail to maintain his usual mask of indifference. It makes every quiver so much more noticable. 

When he’s promptly ignored, Mori makes an effort to remove the mangy cat himself, but Fukuzawa quickly shifts back. The sudden movement breaks his concentration on wrestling control over himself, because he tears forward with a “eH'RSCHHh-oo!” What an incredible sound. So desperate and unrestrained. Mori wants to hear it again, wants to watch Fukuzawa hopelessly to himself, wants to pick apart every piece of it. And he’s always been one to make sure he gets what he wants. 

Fukuzawa straightens his spine, face flush with irritation and perhaps a bit of embarrassment. He stares at Mori with a challenge in his expression, like he’s daring Mori to come after him. Mori’s not afraid of him, however, especially not in that state. He just needs to make him crack. 

“I can’t believe you’re so willing to put up with such a tickle for a stray like that. Look at all of the fur, Fukuzawa. It’s all across your robes.” he’s smart enough to know what Mori’s doing, and make sure he knows it, but that means nothing. His breath still stutters. “It’s on your hands, too. You’ve been rubbing it all over your nose.” Mori clicks his tongue, scolding. “How careless.”’hiH-!” Fukuzawa’s eyes flutter closed, hands rising towards his face. The anticipation is almost too much. 

“That must tickle, Fukuzawa. You look awfully itchy, like there’s fur in your nose.” That sends him over the edge. Mori’s stomach twists with anxiety. Fukuzawa takes in a ragged gasp, head tilted back towards the light, and gives Mori a glorious show. 

“eH'RSCHHh-iewh! ‘RSZHHIh-! hiA'ESZHHUh-! hH’RSZHHh-oo!!” With each wretched sneeze, Fukuzawa is thrown further forward, bringing in more dander with every inhale. He’s hopeless to it, hands hovering uselessly, giving Mori a full view of the mess he’s made. 

“e'ETSZHHh-! ‘ESCHHUh-! heH'RSZH-! ‘rRSZHHh-oo! hiH-! hiA'ETSCHh-!” They’re pitchy and vocal, unconstrainable. One particularly sonorus “ ‘RSCHHEUHh-!” sends the cat scampering off, and Mori almost purrs when its bushy tail runs directly under Fukuzawa’s nostrils. Oh, he's helpless. 

“ hI'RSZHHh-! ‘ESCHHh-oo! hH'RSZHHEUHh-! ‘RSZHHih- hH'ESCHHh-oo! ‘DSCHHhih-!” He’s entirely doubled over now, and some small, still human part of Mori worries he might smother himself. He makes no motion to help. He never wants this to  end, each release so pressure inducing. It’s simply too much. 

All good things must come to an end, though, and Fukuzawa manages to wrangle himself under control. Raw, desperate sneezes are replaced by clipped stifles that still rock him forwards, and almost a full minute passes before he emerges, deeming himself out of the woods. Lord, he is wrecked. If Mori were a weaker man, his arousal would’ve been much more obvious. He manages to keep himself under control. 

Fukuzawa’s face is flushed and swollen, his eyes red rimmed and eyelashes heavy with fat tears. Every panting breath he takes in has the slightest wheeze, so Mori takes pity on him and deicides to play his role as doctor. He makes short work of acquiring an anti-histimine, holding it out like a dog treat. 

Fukuzawa doesn’t meet his eyes as he takes it, but hes polite enough to nod his thanks. He swallows it dry, throat clicking, and there’s silence once again until it breaks it with a snarling “‘RSZHHh-oo!” that escapes his clutches. 

“Silver Wolf” was most certainly a fitting name. 

[ratsoncats]

I'm worried

Hi, I'm Gabe, I'm 19, and I live in the U.S.

I am a trans man. This is something that has been apparent to me for years now, and something I have suspected (or, in a way, hoped for) for most of my life. I have always felt a joy in aligning myself with the masculine as opposed to the feminine. There are countless personal experiences I could point to in order to show you how I know I'm trans. If you're curious, I could do that. But, for what I aim to say here, I don't think that is necessary. What's important to know is that I like living as a man, being seen as a man, and it burdens me with a deep discomfort and practical disgust to be perceived as anything but.

I've made a sort of peace with my body. My face isn't something I'd consider to be pretty and I keep my hair short. Baggy clothes cover my chest and the rest of my body well. Most days, no one has any idea that I'm trans and simply see me as some boy picking up a gallon of milk. I'm happy that that's the case; I know many others aren't as lucky. I still have my share of reservations about my body, though. I am perfectly fine with being short (to the extent that I even celebrate it), but my chest, my hips, and my thighs bring me dysphoria. (Genitals are a different story that I'd rather not get into on the internet with strangers.) These parts of me are usually easy to ignore, but when I focus on them for too long, sadness overtakes me. I don't want to look like this. I want to be flat, boxy, small. The image of myself in my head doesn't align with what I see in the mirror, and it drags me down.

Another part of me says that cisgender men can have bodies like this, too, and that I shouldn't feel like any less of a man because of it. A third part says that curvy and top-heavy trans men are still men all the same and that stressing over it won't bring any good. As much as it feels good to listen to these voices, I still long for my ideal body. I long because it's a personal desire of mine to look that way, plain and simple. I also long, however, to make day-to-day public life to go smoother. I want people to mistake me for a girl less and call me "sir" and "young man" more; I'd prefer my body to read as a more convenient physical shorthand for manhood.

So, for the sake of my comfort and continued enjoyment of my time on this earth, I'd like to change how my body looks. One way to achieve this would be through the use of testosterone, which, on top of rearranging the stores of fat in my body, would also provide me with the welcome bonus of increased facial and body hair. I am also very interested in receiving top surgery to make my chest more masculine. It lifts my mood just to think of what my body would be like after these treatments, even moreso to know that there is a real possibility that they could be done.

The current climate around trans topics worries me. All I want is to live comfortably, but discussions about criminalizing transness have me fearing the worst. I don't want to force anything onto anyone, to limit or in any way alter anyone's speech, insert myself someplace where I'm endangering others or putting them at a disadvantage, or publicly indulge in a fetish. I'm a simple man with simple desires of a flat chest and he/him pronouns, but there's an army formed against me and people with similar stories.

I'm an American. I believe in freedom. A deep respect for the freedom of speech is something my dad has instilled in me from a young age and that freedom is something I'm thankful for. I believe that if someone wants to say something, they should be able to, and that if someone wants to do something, given that it doesn't bring harm to anyone else (or their property, etc.), they should be able to do it.

There are gray areas that come with that idea, yes, but those are outside the scope of this discussion. What I want to address here are procedures that improve a person's quality of life, procedures like gender-affirming surgery. If this so-called "mutilation" is as bad as some would say, why are so many people happier for having undergone it? Should consenting adults really be kept from personal pursuits like top or bottom surgery? Cis people get cosmetic surgeries all the time, but I don't see the public uproar about those procedures being mutilation. I would also like to ask, what does it matter to you whether someone's genitals could cause or support a pregnancy? The decision to raise a child is a very personal one, and I don't think the general public's ideas need to hold much weight in a potential-parent-to-be's decision making process. If someone is okay with the fact that their body may not work as before and will have visible scars, I think they should be completely within their right to have a surgery or take hormones.

I'd like to revisit the topic of free speech. Someone speaking about their experiences and feelings in their body and about their gender should not be considered pornographic. The average conversation about trans people in no way serves to provide sexual stimulation. Topics regarding genitals and sex should not be confused with explicit content; sex ed is taught in schools, isn't it? Education on these topics is important for many reasons and can prevent unwanted, painful, and dangerous situations. Conversations about transness are simply a dialogue about people's experiences, often with the intention of educating their audience. Given that they aren't intended to get the audience off, they are not porn. People living their lives is not porn. Transness isn't porn.

It deeply concerns me to see people misconstruing what it means to be trans and trying to limits trans healthcare and voices. I have hope for the future, but recent discourse has buried that under a layer of anxieties.

I'm just a boy, sitting at his laptop, worrying about if he's going to have to live with B-cups for the next ten years of his life. Being vocal about issues like this is important. This is how change happens.

The conditions were just so that I decided it was about time I write this. This is my first time posting something like this, but I don't think it'll be my last. Let's keep this conversation going, and let's make this country and this world a place we're happy to call home.

[spongelll]

IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE

AAAAAAAHAHHHHAHHHH

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet, now I've read all of the books beside your bed -> Your location, you forgot to turn it off, and so I watch as you walk into some bar called The Black Dog and pierce new holes in my heart

[neigepomme]

rising from the dead just to say that every single time i see someone turn into a caleb hater/disliker to a caleb neutral to a caleb lover as they reblog my posts i gain +70 HP. i think im at around +490 HP now

[ferdieylisse]

I find it incredibly fucking hilarious that in 'the rain king' in the ending scene where all the couples at the high school reunion are slow dancing and kissing, the camera zooms in on a woman with the exact same haircut as scully, leading you to believe for exactly one second that it IS scully, making out on the dance floor, before pulling back and revealing mulder and scully standing amongst all the couples side-to-side. These overtly shippy episodes make me feel like im being toyed with, but I'm not complaining.

[anticidic]

The way Chuuya sleeps sprawled out while drooling. 🥹 Makes you wanna poke him like Dazai.

[pifabo]

Not to cringepost about problematic old man yaoi, but upon my rewatch of The Gang Inflates.... errrr I'm gonna cringepost about problematic old man yaoi, sorry:(

Dennis, after finding out that Charlie has been hiding a secret room in his apartment, goes "So you truly have no reason to be sleeping with Frank???" before, immediatley (like SO immediatley), throwing out all of his furniture for literally no reason to share an inflatable couch-bed with his roomate while he experiences anaphylaxis.  What is WRONG with you.  When will you be NORMAL.

How, in that man's mind, does it make sense to ridicule Charlie for his behavior, while at the same time consciously and willingly choosing to do something EQUALLY if not MORE unnecessary in order to share a bed with his short-distance high-commitment long-term homosexual roomate.  Truly words cannot express how unecessary throwing out their furniture was.  Not to mention the fact they clearly had more inflatable furniture they could have blown up in order to sleep separatley.  It was a choice and a decision and on purpose. because he felt like it?? he wants to?? for fun???

Buddy don't throw stones from your glass closet.  YOU are the problem

[seabeck]

Juniper just walked up to Bimbap and gave her a lil sniff while she headbutted her back. 🥹

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I am only thinking about Chris and Seb having a conversation before that Jinx advertisement was shot in which Sebastian is continually reminding Chris that he is going there to say hello to the dogs, pet them, and give them treats. He is not there to adopt another dog. No. Do not come home with another dog.