valkyriecrane

[valkyriecrane]

Hitting the gym (AC6) (for Make a Terrible Comic Day 2025)

[valkyriecrane]

[valkyriecrane]

Happy pride month to my dad. When I came out as bi to him, this man googled what it ment, look at me and said "ohh. Yeah. You get that from me. You'd have far more siblings of I only shaged women." And went right back to his work emails.

[valkyriecrane]

When your girlfriend first told you she wanted to put you in a Poké Ball, the first thing you did was laugh. You felt a little bad, seeing the expression on her face afterward, but it was just silly, you know? Poké Balls were for Pokémon, for pets. Obviously she couldn't do that to you, you were a person.

It was a while before she said it again, but the next time was when she had her teeth on your neck and your hips in her hands. She whispered husky against your skin about how badly she just wanted to catch you and keep you in a way that no one could separate you two ever again. It was cute - the gesture, at least - but that was what pet play was for. You already had a collar with a little bell on it, she guided you around by a leash sometimes. You told her that, and she went quiet, her eyes dark and intense and fierce.

After that, you couldn't help but find yourself... looking, sometimes. Staring at the way trainers and their Pokémon interacted. The way an Eevee would snuggle up into their master's lap, or how pretty a Furfrou would look after a grooming. Even those Pokémon in the wild that you'd pass by started to feel....... hollow in a way you couldn't understand.

Some criminal gang showed up on the news one day, and they started boasting about their Poké Balls (designed after some old weird black Poké Balls with eyes on them that showed up at some ruin somewhere) could catch Pokémon that already had an owner, and even worse, could possibly catch more than Pokémon. Officer Jenny decried this and publicly stated it was an impossibility, but as you watched the news, you could feel the tension in your girlfriend, her intense stare boring holes into the TV set.

A week later, a night of passion, tugging your collar as she buried herself in you over and over, and near the end with you dazed and panting and practically unconscious, she reached to the side table. It was silly, you thought, she didn't wear condoms - no. Not that. Sleek and black, obsidian purple lines and a glaring eye, the Poké Ball was intimidating in a way that went beyond the fear you felt in your gut. A primal, dangerous fear, the fear only a prey can comprehend when it sees the gaping maw of a predator.

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream and tell her no and thrash against her and tell her that this was stupid and illegal and... But you didn't. You didn't protest as she pressed the button to your neck, a needy, keening whine falling from your lips as it flashed and-

In a flash of red, you were back on the bed, blinking in surprise, panting and disoriented. You must have gone in and come back out, with no perception of the time in between. You felt... fine. No. That's not it.

You felt wrong. Different. Broken.

When you wore your collar for her, there was something beyond the physical discomfort of leather tight against skin. There was something deeper there. A feeling of domestication, a feeling of ownership. The knowledge that the collar can be grabbed or clipped by a leash and you will always comply. She didn't overpower you physically - she didn't need to. The implication was enough. The subservience was enough.

This was that, tenfold. In your gut, in your heart, in your brain you felt a complete hold on your psyche. Every atom in you was drawn to your girlfriend now, Poké Ball in her hand, like a magnet. You wanted to be against her, you needed to be touching her, you needed to be hers.

"Up," she said. You sat up. You didn't even think, your body moved before conscious thought. "Off the bed." You did. Legs swinging over, even as your mind struggled and bent against the commands. There was a lash around your heart. "Stand." Up you went. Trembling, gasping, sweating with tears pouring down your cheeks. You could move, you twitched your fingers to make sure of it, but you could not go against a command your girlfriend made, not while she was the one holding the Poké Ball.

You could never disobey her again.

You sobbed, falling into her arms as she stood beside you, trembling like a leaf as she held you and scratched your back, kissing needily up your jaw and neck. You didn't need the leash anymore. You didn't need the collar or the promise of pet play or the implication of subservience.

You belong to her, now.

Forever.

[valkyriecrane]

holding them so gently

[valkyriecrane]

there’s a lot going on here

[valkyriecrane]

My dad raises grass-fed beef cattle and I help him sell it, mainly by maintaining an online presence. For a while, I kept having the most ridiculous conversations with people who I assume were marketing students. I didn't want to be rude so I'd try to let them down gently but this one guy just kept insisting that with his magical marketing skills he could grow our business.

What he could not seem to comprehend is that we could not grow our business, at least not without significant time and monetary investment. Cows take two years from pregnancy to the size that you can sell. If we buy adult cows, our margins become razor thin or even negative. Even if we somehow could acquire some cows, our barn and hay fields are already near maximum capacity. Renting another field would be relatively easy, building a bigger barn not so much.

Cows are living animals, they aren't widgets that can be produced infinitely. Besides that, many businesses inherently cannot grow, because if they do they'll become something else. The delicious bakery down the street cannot produce much more than they do, if they began mass marketing and production they'd eventually be selling the equivalent of Twinkies. We grow grass-fed, organic beef, if we expanded how long would that last? Eventually we'd become the very factor farms that we hate. Some things can only ever be made on a small scale and they are usually the best things.

But also, what are they teaching them at marketing school and how is it so disconnected from reality?

[valkyriecrane]

Dame Archer kicks McDougal’s Scots ass there in the rain at the Washington Midsummer Renaissance Faire - August 11, 2018 - Photo by Douglas Herring

[valkyriecrane]

two INT builds fighting over starlight shards

[valkyriecrane]

Ringu by Carles Dalmau

[valkyriecrane]

we need to bring an end to the nostalgia industrial complex

[valkyriecrane]

via @swatercolor [insta]

[valkyriecrane]

[valkyriecrane]

Btw you should hug that t girl who's always putting others before herself

[valkyriecrane]

what if you matched my freak AND my loving heart huh

[valkyriecrane]

heart to heart ❥

[valkyriecrane]

she will revolutionize the world