#Happy 69th comic

[kittydeliverycomic]

(The cat did not go into the restaurant. One of us stayed in the car with her at all times!)

[secretsofdisneyland]

Disneyland Secret # 436

Happy 69th Anniversary. To celebrate here is a bonus secret this week.

There is the ooze that is on the ground leading up to the Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout Attraction. This ooze is called the Kirby Krinkle in an homage to Jack Kirby, the wonderful Marvel Comics artist. Within that Kirby Krinkle you can find hidden Mickeys.

Photo found on internet.

[imnotgoinganywhereok]

This week passed by faster than I'd like it to. I suppose free time always ends quickly, like a dream. I, however, still had a lot of opportunities to indulge in my hobbies!! I read a lot of comics and books, and bought more - who would I be if I didn't have at least 15 unread positions on my shelves? XDDD The point is that I need time off the Sims 4 content because it seems to me I'm speeding through it and don't enjoy it as much as I could... So I'm gonna play the Sims 3 instead XDDD And pace myself in having fun!! (๑•ᴗ•๑)

The Owl family gained two new lives but had to let go of the oldest three. It's almost comical that I have to use mods to kill my Sims and get their tombstones/urns but it's worth it in the end. The cemetery is being filled up and it brings me comfort - however odd. The unfortunate thing is that nearly all the Owl ghosts kinda... disappeared from their urns!! I can't strengthen their connection to physical world, or see them leave their urns to hang out, or let them go. I was very careful to visit the cemetary regularly so I'd blame one of the game updates for that, I suppose. Now there's only these three left as of now; AKA Vanessa, Deryn, and Maria. ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

It's always hard to let go of the previous generations. I really liked these three. Vanessa had an interesting career and style, and Deryn's apartament was one of my favourite houses to play. I hope my enthusiasm to play S4 will be back soon. I actually love the newest kits and the recent bug fixes will certainly affect my gameplay positively!! I write these posts mostly for myself and my besties, and it's a good way to express myself as well - that's why I don't want it to become a chore. So, with that, see you around... eventually!! And a happy Chinese New Year!! ୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅₍ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ₎

PS. This is my 69th post with "the sims 4" tag. For the extra funni!!

[lasagnaislife]

#69: August 26th, 1978

[leona-florianova]

DC comics biggest mistake was not letting John Constantine age with our times after the vertigo 300 ended... They just Had to reboot him, while all they had to do was pump him with some more demon blood or some other b*llshit and it would have been perfect... Ok ill excuse Spurriers run because the universe hopping and the old Constantine thing got us fooled...but othervise... He really should have aged in real time, it somehow just adds to his character. 

Anyway.. Happy 69th birthday to the trash magician!

[clambuoyance]

Written May 15th, 2019

==========

Stage Three is flirting with John, or ripping on Tavros, all in the name of your pedantic irony. It’s that weight in your stomach, it’s the sweat on your palms. It’s the creeping thought of the truth behind the joke, of a truth that threatens to get louder and louder until you come apart at your seams.

Stage Four is the panic and the denial of such a truth. It’s the fear of acknowledging something deep inside of you that challenges what little understanding you have of yourself. It’s the reassurances that this truth is irrefutably false in a measly attempt to deflect onlookers’ curious eyes, though really it’s to convince yourself.

Stage Five is the attempt to fling yourself into a relationship to prove you know what you want. It’s making friendly banter and comics with the sharp tongued girl, whose mind’s eye peers beyond the shades you hide the truth behind.

Stage Six is the resurfacing of what you thought you could bury. It’s meeting the shameless fool who gets under your skin and flaunts his flaws about. It’s looking at a mirror that forces you to face the image of everything you try to ignore about yourself. It’s fighting for something you both think you need.

Stage Seven is the realization that no one could understand you more than the one idiot who’s going through something more alike than you think. It’s discovering that the flaws you share could help each other grow. It’s finding a friend in an unlikely place.

Stage Eight is the return of that booming truth within your mind, except this time, you aren’t alone. There’s your friend by your side as you watch a Dane Cook movie on the couch for the 69th time. You could tell him everything—almost everything, at least—and he would offer rambles of advice that only you could understand. It’s the desire to face the truth that grows with every song you share with him, with every movie you watch with him, with every new can you place in the Can Town you two have built.

It’s realizing that the truth might not be that bad.

Stage Nine is coming to fully accept that truth to the extent that you understand it. It’s living in a limbo with the person you like the most as you try to really understand the truth you’ve buried your entire life. It’s the time it takes to undo a childhood of denial.

Stage Ten is just as beautiful and confusing as Stage One. It’s the happiness that comes just from being by his side. It’s being content as long as you’re together. It’s the pure desire to simply exist with the other. Isn’t that what love is?

[dswcp]

Extra panel today to wish a very happy 69th birthday to Mark Hamill! This short-story manga is my second favorite Luke comic, after “The Night Beast.”

“I, Droid,” in “The Legends of Luke Skywalker: The Manga.” January 14, 2020. Original Story: Ken Liu. Writer/Penciller/Inker: Haruichi.

[landfilloftrash]

🏳️‍🌈 HAPPY PRIDE MONTH !! 🏳️‍🌈 ✨My dnd character died ✨

Bury your gays momence✨✨

ANYWAYS SARCASM AND HUMOR TO DISGUISE MY DISTRESS OVER LOSING HIM ASIDE; wAAAAAHHHHHHHHH my boyyyyyyyyy ,,,,, HE’S NOT EVEN SAFE WHILE DEAD MAN I LIVE IN A SOCIETY.

This is technically second part of a comic, which explains how my boy died, but I am not gonna be lining/coloring that for awhile so have Charles and Addrus in their last canon interaction.

I’m so so so sorry Charles :,,,D

small edit; lmaoooo this was my 69th post

[bollywoodirect]

Happy 69th birthday #MithunChakraborty.

Gouranga Chakraborty, better known by his stage name Mithun Chakraborty, informally referred to as Mithun Da, is an actor, singer, producer, writer, social worker, entrepreneur and a Rajya Sabha Member of Parliament. He is the recipient of three National Film Awards. He made his acting debut with the art house drama Mrigayaa (1976), for which he won his first National Film Award for Best Actor.

He began as a dancer and went on to establish himself as a popular actor, particularly recognized for his role as the street dancer Jimmy in the 1982 Bollywood movie Disco Dancer where he became a household name for his role in Disco Dancer. He later won two more National Film Awards for his performances in Tahader Katha (1992) & Swami Vivekananda (1998). Chakraborty has appeared in about 350 films including Bengali, Oriya, Bhojpuri, Telugu and Punjabi pictures.

Chakraborty owns the Monarch Group, which has interests in the hospitality sector and educational sector. He has also started the production house Paparatzy Productions In 1992, he along with Dilip Kumar and Sunil Dutt, set up a trust to help needy actors called Cine & T.V Artistes Association (CINTAA). He was also the Chairperson of Film Studios Setting & Allied Mazdoor Union which take care the welfare of cine workers and resolve their demands and problems. The Television show Dance India Dance where Chakraborty is the Grandmaster has already entered in Limca Book of Records and Guinness World Records Chakraborty played a crucial role of mediator between Pranab Mukherjee and Mamata Banerjee, winning the Congressman the support of the Trinamool chief in the 2012 presidential election.

A comic book named Jimmy Zhingchak also has been made based on Chakraborty.

[arcticficialbanana]

Dominate Me

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 9,686 (Worth it, if you ask me.)

Warnings: swearing, physical restraints, commands, teasing, alcohol, biting, licking, sucking, smut. Graphic smut. Graphic descriptions of sex.

A/N: I started this about a month ago, after I was inspired by this post. In celebration of my 69th day after creating this fiction blog, I decided to finish and release this baby. Enjoy.

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You knew he secretly wanted to be dominated. Well ..there is no way you could possibly know that, but you really hoped your plan would work.  “Okay, buck up buttercup, you’ve got this. You are a powerful, confident woman.” You splash cold water over your face and stare into your eyes in the mirror. You stand up straight and put your hands on your waist, admiring your favorite piece of lingerie. 

 Right now, you don’t care about your body. You don’t care about the shape, the bumps, the discoloration. You know that the secret to confidence is faking it-and the secret to sexiness is confidence. Ergo, you look at yourself up and down and state, “You are one sexy fucking woman.”  You’ve had this body for decades so you had every single day to notice differences; speculate every line, every hair, every fading part of you that looking back on photos you think have lost their luster.  But guess what. Dean hasn’t seen any of it. You think, hoping that a fresh pair of eyes will be so blinded by the glamorous parts that they won’t notice anything else. He’d better be fucking happy I decided to show him any of myself at all. You decide, determined.

 Alright! It is time! You get dressed and pour yourself a glass of Glenfiddich. You swirl it in front of your nose and inhale deeply. Mmm, sweet.  You take a swig and gag a little - not quite sure how you’re going to hold back your reflexes out there. But I WILL do it!  It’s not that you don’t like the burn, it’s just more comfortable to let your body react than trying to suppress yourself.   You grab the handle, close your eyes, release the breath tightly pent up inside of you....and turn the handle.

 As soon as you step into the room, Dean turns to face you, “Hey, Y/N have you seen this-” he drifts away and slowly drops his jaw.  You keep your head up and don’t say anything, allowing him to absorb your whole physique. You can tell he can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about you is different. Yeah, mother fucker, take it in, figure it out.  Dean averted his eyes and cleared his throat, “Scotch, Y/N?”  You smile after you walk past him, giddy inside, but solid as a rock on the outside, “My favorite.” You say in what you imagine is a seductive voice.  “12 year?” You catch him checking out your ass as you turn back around, “Actually, it’s the 18.” You wink at him and walk over to his side.  “Well haven’t we refined our tastes?” He chuckles but stops dead when you lean over his shoulder and ask in a hushed voice, “So what were you asking me about? Something I haven’t seen?”  “Oh, well, yes this article- um, articles rather. About,” he pauses as you can tell he is smelling your perfume, “well actually here, you can just read them.” He puts them on the table and stands up, screeching his chair backward.

 You pick up the small stack of clippings and smirk to yourself. Going pretty well, maybe?

 You hold one article in front of your face as you twirl the glass in circles with your other hand. Partially taking in the information presented in front of you in writing, you use your peripheral vision to take in information of another kind. You tap the side of the glass and bring it to your lips, pausing for a moment to think- you’ve got to keep the ball in your court. You settle your bottom lip on the edge of the glass, curling your lip up and down unintentionally.  You hear a grunt over by the window and snap back to the moment. “Hmmm.” you murmur and take the sip that’s been preparing itself under your lip. Without changing expression you swallow slowly and put the article down. You get out of your chair and walk toward Dean in time to see him gulping hard and looking out the window.

 You slide into the armchair and lean back comfortably, crossing your legs in a relaxed manner. You rest your fist under your chin, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.  That’s not very confident, is it Y/N? You unfurl your lip before Dean can notice your nervous habit. He’ll be able to tell right away that you’re nervous. You’ve been hunting together for way too long to hide your usual tendencies from him.  Now just let him stew in the silence. Silence makes people uncomfortable, and you are in control of keeping it going. You purse your mouth a little to keep your smirk from growing too obviously.  Deep inhale. You finish off your glass and set it audibly on the wooden side table, bringing Dean’s attention to you again.

 “Man, I could use one of those.” Dean suggests and you wait a moment before tilting your head and holding out your glass toward him, “Great, I’ll take another.” He looks at you stunned but you keep your hand extended and your face still.  He takes the glass and walks away with a twisted, confused face. That’s right fucker. You must be used to me always jumping to bring everybody drinks and clear the plates from the table. Not today, sweetheart. You can bring me drinks for once. Not that he was ever rude or refused to get his own drinks, he was usually too focused on research to pay attention to cleaning up after dinner.

 You stay unmoving in your seat, with the exception of leaning your head back and closing your eyes to give the illusion of deep thought or resting. Let him think whatever his mind wants him to think.  “So this series of unexplained deaths year after year, what do you think? Something there for us to look into?” breaking the silence in his usual husky, gruff voice.  Your stomach tightens but you keep your eyes closed, God knows how he probably looks right now. No need to get you drooling over his concentrated hunting persona. This is your time, and you add, “Same month every year? I don’t believe in coincidence.”  You hear ice clinking by your face, but you don’t flinch. After a moment Dean clears his throat and switches his weight from one leg to another, “Here you go.” he says curtly.  Slowly unfurling your eyelids you stare directly into Dean’s eyes. His eyebrows raise slightly and you express a, “Thank you.” continuing to bore into him as you take the glass and drink a gulp.  Dean breaks eye contact and looks up at the ceiling before bringing his own glass up to his face to take a deep drink. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his hip and he chokes on his scotch and stumbles a few inches, but not before you managed to unlatch the strap on his blade and slide it out of his belt.

 “You could have just asked,” he wipes the side of his mouth, which is covered with a few drops of scotch and spit, “you didn’t have to scare me.”  “Scared?” you asked innocently but in a low voice. “You - I mean, not scared, just surprised while I was drinking. I could have choked.” he stutters.  “You did choke.” you say evenly as you inspect the blade between your hands and uncross your legs purposefully, “I think this kind of hunt could use a blessed dagger. Do you have any more?” You say matter of factly as you pop out of the armchair and flank Dean, “Sorry for scaring you.” you say, not sorry at all, and you tuck the dagger back into Dean’s holster.

 Assessing Dean’s reaction you keep your heart rate steady so as not to blush, this close to his face. He doesn’t move and doesn’t make any faces of his own. It seems he’s figured something out, but what is he thinking?

 “Y/N,” he starts as you walk back to the table with the articles, “Is something on your mind?” he follows up a few steps behind you.  “This seeming ritual sacrifice is at the top of my mind,” you place your hands on the table, framing the articles between your palms. You stick your ass out a bit, planning your next move here.  He leans over your shoulder, breathing over your ear, “That’s not quite what I’m talking about.” You stop your body from shuddering, turning excitement into pure anger and tilt your head in his direction, facing him.  You don’t want to say anything too fast but if you don’t say something at all you will seem a lot less confident than the past 15 minutes.  “You’re different.” he unknowingly rescues the situation.

 “What is different?” You turn around and lean against the table, crossing your arms under your chest and leaning your head back just enough to look defiant.  “It took me a few minutes, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels.” He mirrors your crossed arms, quickly glancing down at your pressed up cleavage framed by your biceps.  “It’s our first day off hunting for a while, and I don’t make a habit of comic-girl heeling it when we’re fighting.” You smirk.  “I wouldn’t know I guess.” He thinks a moment, looking deeply into your eyes, “That’s not all.” he continues.  “Oh?” you ask, amused. Surely he isn’t going to say ‘you are usually a quiet scared shit unless we are fighting demons or spirits’ But that is kind of it, isn’t it?

 He steps closer to you and you keep your muscles loose and relaxed, refusing to tense up like he expects of you.  “You’re not usually so ..direct.” He twists up his face as though this wasn’t a satisfying answer for himself.  “I was only saying what I think about the case?” You say mock confused and shake your head a bit. He thinks twice about approaching you and turns to pace a circle around the table.  “Not about the case. Not with your words is what I mean.. you’re not usually so direct with your actions.” He rounds in front of you and continues his circle around the table. You see from the corner of your eye he eyes you suspiciously as he steps behind the table.  “I’m only standing here, Dean.” you can tell that your lack of movement and minimal speaking is bothering him, but he hasn’t realized that being the one doing all of the talking and moving is making him uncomfortable.

 He stops across from you at the table, you could tell even though your back was turned to him, from the reflection in the television on the wall.  “Are you mad at me or something?” he struggles to figure out the situation.  You turn around and furrow your brow at him, “Have you done something for me to be mad at you?” What a ridiculous question. What could you possibly-when have you ever done anything that’s merit any anger from me? But you see he isn’t sure what to think. He looks up at the ceiling in a recounting manner, thinking of his past actions.

 His freckles are illuminated under the cheap motel chandelier and his green eyes reflect the tiny light bulbs shaped like candle flames. He is mouthing to himself and his kneading lips make you feel a bit hot all of a sudden. You turn away and go back to the armchair for your abandoned scotch glass. You sway your hips in a way that you know the heels will accentuate the lift and curve of your ass, hoping to scramble his thoughts so that you can gather yours.

 You go back to grab the bottle of Glenfiddich and glance down to see your nipples, hard like two pebbles in your shirts. Well, I suppose I’d better make my way to the point soon.  You sashay over to Dean with the bottle, his thoughts sufficiently scrambled. “Okay Dean, let’s just talk then.” You pour a generous amount of liquid bliss into his glass and top off your own, “I feel like we never get to just talk.” you pout as you slide his glass toward him.

 “Talk? We talk a lot.” He lifts up the scotch whiskey and shrugs before going in for a swallow, “DEAN.” you say strictly.  He glances at you and puts his glass down, “That’s almost twice you’ve made me choke. Will you just do and say what you need to say when I’m not drinking?”  “Well then I wouldn’t get to do or say very much.” you tease and he fake laughs before you continue, “Dare to drink before me?” reaching out your glass in his direction.  “Ahah is that a challenge little one?” He chuckles and clinks your glass.  “Don’t call me little one.” You command. Quizzically he nods but doesn’t protest. “We talk about hunting, we talk about strategy, we talk about what we found during research.” You glide toward the edge of your seat and slope over the table, resting your elbows and forearms under your chest, exposing a fine twist of lace under your loose shirt.  “Alright. Well, I notice,” he says minding not to look down your shirt as it falls open more than your clothing is used to doing, “You don’t normally dress girly.” he finishes rather lamely.

 “Girly? Ribbons and dresses and flowery hats? What are girls supposed to wear, my dear?” you mock with a frown.  “Not like that. I mean... you are wearing heels for the first time, I don’t even know where you’ve had them-and while you normally wear your denim and t-shirts, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than a sports bra?” 

 Bingo.

 You leer at him with a sly smile on your face, “Seen me in anything other than a sports bra?” Flushing red he quickly shakes his glass in front of his face, “No, not seen, well you know. You change quick, but you’re just,” he stumbles and takes a deep breath.  Silence is your friend here. He takes a swig of the whiskey and you decide to put him out of his misery.  “So you watch me when I’m changing, or are you saying that you only see me in a sports bra and nothing else?” Okay so you’re adding to his misery not putting him out.  “Obviously not.” He grumbles and you burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself anymore.

 “What do you mean, other than a sports bra? If you don’t mean what I said before, then you must mean,” you lurch over the table toward him and tug your neckline down with a single finger, exposing your laced and designed torso, “Are you talking about my current lingerie?” You lick your incisors, ready to devour him at a moment’s notice.  His look of sheer terror is absolutely delicious. To see the great, self-assured Dean Winchester sheepish and awkward is an unimaginable delight.  “Fucking hell.” Dean grunts in a moment unsure of if he should look away or lunge at you.  You return to your side of the table but remain standing, hands on the edge of the table.  “I guess I won’t ask how long you’ve noticed, but I suppose I can’t blame you, I do find it pretty hot myself.” You grin, bemused.  “Ahah..” Dean awkwardly laughs in his seat, unsure of what to say.

 “Come here.” you point at your chair and take a few steps back. He looks at you amused, which annoys you. I’m in charge here. Do you think this is about you right now?  “What exactly are you going to do?” he sneers.

 You frown and grind your teeth a moment. Think. You push your hair out of your face and look down at him with a determined stare.  “I see we’ve finished the bottle. I’ve got one more in my bag.” You grab the chair and start dragging it with you, “I’m going to get my bottle. If you are in the chair when I come back, I will share. If you are not, I suppose you won’t know what I was going to do after all.” You leave the chair in the middle of the carpet, facing away from the bathroom.  Dean perks up and you turn on your heel toward the bathroom door and disappear behind it without so much as a glance over your shoulder.

 Shit, okay. This had better work. If that didn’t work I am about to make a fool out of myself. You unbuckle your jeans and yank them down your legs, then remembering you are wearing a garter with stockings you gently tug them the rest of the way off and step out. You shove your hand into your bag, searching for the bottle, kissing it once you pull it into sight. That’s not way to think now. You’re too far in now. You’ll make a bigger fool of yourself coming out if he is in the chair and you say ‘just kidding ha ha’ You gaze at yourself in the mirror and remind yourself again, you are one BADASS WOMAN. Men will die at your feet and you will step over their bodies and keep on walking. You nod. A bit extreme, but it’s got your spirits up again. 

You smooth out your bodice and tighten up your stockings to the top of your thighs, ensuring the garter clips are secure. Better keep the heels on, it makes me so much more powerful and womanly feeling.

 You walk out and smile to yourself to see Dean seated in his place. Everything is perfect. You cradle the bottle and make a wide loop around the chair and in front of Dean.

 Dean starts to mouth out words but he can’t seem to find his voice. Unable to make a snarky comment he simply looks at the floor to the side of you.  Pleased, you go to the kitchenette to retrieve his glass, only to find that yours sits alone on the counter. You raise an eyebrow but pour yourself half a rock glass.  You take the bottle and your drink and slink back over to Dean, who seems to be chewing his lip nearly through the skin. You spot the glass, as you imagined, between his thighs, right up to his crotch on the chair.  You think you’re so fucking clever. You pop open the top of the bottle, and tip it over his thigh as though you are about to pour but then you tilt it back up and say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” you leer down at Dean.  “Please?” he suggests. You scoff, “Cute. But your thighs are getting this glass pretty hot.” He wiggles and eyebrow and you frown at him, “Bring us some ice.”  He gets up and throws his hands in the air, “Okay.” he says mock exasperated.

 “Leave this.” you latch a finger into his belt. He looks over his shoulder at you and shrugs. He starts to undo his buckle but you pull him back firmly by his belt loops and slide your finger along his waistband as you circle in front of him, “I’ve got it.”  Without breaking eye contact you pull the tab of the belt tight, making a tiny bit of air escape Dean’s lips. You flip the clasp out of the way and drag the belt out by it’s buckle end with one hand. Once you’ve extended all the way behind you, it becomes apparent it is much longer than your reach. You step back and slide behind Dean as he stands quietly in place.

 You meet the two ends of the belt in your hands and bend it in half so it forms a puckered loop. You loudly snap the belt and say, “Ice.”  Slightly startled he goes to the fridge and pulls out a single tray. He avoids meeting your gaze as perplexed expressions muddle his face. He drops cubes into his own glass and looks around the counter for a second.  “Here little tiger.” you slosh your glass too and fro before stopping him, “Why don’t you just hold a couple in your mouth for me?”  “What?” He chuckles. Your expression turns dark and you motion toward the chair, “Am I unclear?”  He scoffs and smiles at you, amused. He shakes his head and pops a couple of cubes in his mouth and you place your arms on the back of the chair, awaiting his return. He sits down and looks up at you for the next request.

 “Okay, you seemed to have earned a sip.” You roll the neck of the bottle around the rim of his frosty glass. You allow half a shot to pour in and he stares at the glass in disappointment.  You crouch down in front of him and put the bottle down. “You’re going to have to earn it bit by bit baby.” He lightly nods and starts to open his mouth to let out an icy breath. “Cw-ow-lh” He incoherently speaks and you place your glass under his lips, “Well go on, give them to me.”  He spits them out carefully and swallows back the melted remnants. “Man that was cold.”  You place a finger to his mouth and shake your head. He grazes his bottom lip with his teeth and you lift up the bottle again, “Good boy.” You splash some more brew for him and put the bottle back down.  You give him the glass and spot some curtain tie holds and you walk over to the drapery and release them from their restraint. Dean’s eyes widen as you return to him and kneel to secure Dean’s arms to the chair. It doesn’t have to be particularly tight or well latched, since no matter how well you tie him up he is a hunter after all.  You stand back up and slide the belt through your hands. Smooth, worn leather. You turn your back to him, although at his eye level it’s more like you turn your ass to him.

 You snap the back strap of your garter and turn your head over your shoulder, “Are you watching, little tiger?”

 He seems in a trance, swaying his head lightly as he watches your form, until he raises his eyebrows and possibly smirks a little.

 You hold the belt against your waist, circling it behind you. The cold leather tingles your skin, and you think about how this holds Dean’s jeans up every day. You want him to think about it holding you, as well.  You slide the belt along your lower back, allowing it to curve along your hips. You loosen your grip so that it can drop to your ass, and fall further in an achingly slow pace. You cradle your bottom with the belt and give it a bit of lift by pulling on the leather strap.  As you pull a bit harder it glides up off your cheeks and your ass bounces without the pressure.

 Once more you place it just above your thighs. When it is in place you give the belt a good crack, spanking your ass with it’s leather snap.

 Dean moans in his chair behind you and you hear his feet shuffle on the floor a moment.

 You keep the belt at your thighs as you waggle your behind left to right, making your whole body shimmy around. You drop one end of the belt and put your hand around it’s neck, pulling the buckle upwards over your head. It slides through your fingers until you catch the other end, once again. You pull the belt fully overhead, raising both arms in the air.  You stretch your body back, arching your chest, and sliding a leg back to keep you balanced.

 You see an upside-down Dean with his jaw dropped to his chest and his eyes a swirling disbelief of crazed appetite.

 Using your core muscles, you slowly bring yourself back up to standing and form the belt into a circle again. As you turn you pinch the ends of the belt to make a thin loop again.

 You snap the belt with a loud CRACK.

 Dean flinches.

 You lick your lips and make measured strides of one foot in front of the other. You come up in front of him and crack the belt again.  This time Dean doesn’t flinch. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth, and you’re sure if you waited a few more minutes he would be drooling.  You release one side of the belt and bring the hand that is still gripping the buckle onto Dean’s shoulder.

 You place one leg to the side of his knee. You wait.

 He releases his stare from you just to run his eyes down your body. He soaks up all of your figure. He devours your lingerie with his eyes. He gets down to your hips and his mouth clamps shut with a loud clunk. His teeth are exposed in his grin, but obediently he does not make a comment.  His jaw works as he continues down your legs, all the way down to your heels. He moans a little impatient whimper.

 You place your other leg on the outside of this thigh, squatting down to sit in his lap.

 He bites his lip hard as he watches you lower yourself onto him, paying particular mind to your lacy crotch.

 You wrap the belt behind his neck, allow it to slither behind his shoulders. You grab a hold of the flickering end before it drops behind him and you tighten up on Dean.  You look down at him, divine power running through your veins. He was obeying you. He was hungry for you. You were swelling with seduction and suspense.  His green eyes sparkled as you inspected them closely. Those eyes you’ve always wanted to stare into, but you were afraid to look too long. You took your time now, noticing each speckle like freckles in his iris.  You pulled the belt harder, leaning him into you, bringing his lips right in front of you.  His eyes, although too close to your face to focus, you could see they were still open, looking at you.  The moment you prolonged between you made him glance down at your lips instinctively. You wondered if he would break and kiss you. You wondered if you would want to punish him for breaking or fall in to his kiss.  Hot breath swept against your lips, and you smelled the Earthy, sour smell of whiskey.

 You thought of putting in an ice cube for fun, to experience an icy numbing kiss. But not now. Not for your first kiss with Dean Winchester.

 You inhaled a deep breath and pressed yourself to him. Your whole body. Your mouth to his mouth, your chest to his chest, your legs to his legs. You wanted to entwine into him, like a vine spindling around another vine until it’s impossible to untangle.  You exhaled through your nose and you felt dizzy. His tongue was soft, but kind of cold from hanging his mouth open the past few minutes. It wrapped around your tongue like a wave extending and receding.  His lips were succulent and you wanted more than anything to bite them. So you did.  You sank your teeth into his bottom lip, making him gasp a quick moan of pleasure.  “Y/N...” he warned.

 “Patience.” you whispered against his lips.

 You lean back and observe his tasty expression. He is filled with restraint, almost bursting with every last bit of what he has left. Your eyes land on his luscious lips, temporarily bruised with the marks of your teeth.  You raise your eyebrows in satisfaction and reach down to the side of him where his glass sits, awaiting more reward.

 You sip what’s left of the liquor and he opens his mouth to protest, but you shake a finger at him.  You reach to other side for the bottle and pour a hefty serving into the glass. He smiles and nods his head.  Until you take another large gulp, leaving him only half of what you poured. He frowns but you put the glass to his lips.  “Be grateful for what you’ve got.” you say as you tip the glass toward him, allowing him to drink up the remainder.

 He smacks his lips in delight and you put the glass and bottle down.

 You straighten up and lean back a little, resulting in a scent wafting from your moist panties, up to his nose.  His muscles tighten underneath of you and you place your hands on your thighs, grabbing the fatty insides until it slightly stings, “Do you want to touch me?” You gently shake your fists full of your legs, until he breaths heavily and nods.  You scrape your nails up your thighs, outward toward your knees, until you hit your garter. Dean’s eyes run along the light red trails you drew and he can’t stop himself before saying, “Why don’t you let me scratch that for you,” as he reaches his hands as far within the restraints as he could, nipping at the outside of your thigh and part of your ass with his fingers.

 You stand up quickly, outside of his reach, “Uh-uh. Bad little tiger.”

 You place a foot between his thighs, on the seat. You glide your fingers down your garter reaching the top of your heel. You lick one of your fingers, to be able to catch the tight hose that wrap your legs, which has the unintentional effect of making Dean blush.  You pinch part of the hose and rake your fingers up your leg to straighten out your tights. You put your leg down and replace it with the other side. You lean in and make sure to keep Dean’s eyes as you place two fingers halfway into your mouth, pressing them into your tongue, and drag them down slowly until they’ve lightly pulled your lip out. One final flick pops your lip back into place and Dean closes his eyes tightly for a moment, licking his own lips in imagination.  You fix your hose and make sure the garter is lined up nicely along your thigh.

 You kneel down in front of Dean, allowing him to look down at you for once. His eyes are hypnotized to follow you, so you feel just as much power from below, as from above.  You lean down to one of his hands and pause your mouth in front of his dangling fingers. He cocks an eyebrow at you and tilts his head. You stick the tip of your tongue out until it is just under his finger and you turn your head toward his face, “Kiss me.” you whisper.  He leans down as far as he can and you meet him the rest of the way, allowing him to suck your bottom lip. This time his tongue is hot and thrusting with urgency. He is becoming very impatient and you wonder how it is you can keep it up as well. Something about having Dean Winchester eating out of the palm of your hands makes you want to take your time.  You lean away from him, down toward his fingers again, and this time he wiggles one toward you, gently flicking your bottom lip. You snap at him playfully, “I’ll decide.” is all you say.

 You incline your head to take the tip of his thumb between your wet lips. Light suction as you cover more of it with your mouth causes Dean to release a low breath. You tingle with excitement and graze your teeth along the underside of his thumb as you pull back. You run your tongue along his thumb with a warm, wet massage, nursing it lightly. Dean wraps his other fingers around the side of your face, rough and cold. He touches you delicately, with great restraint.

 You grab the bottle again and pull back from him. You pick up the glass, and start to circle the opening of the bottle along the rim of the glass in circles.

 “Or would you rather have it off of me?” You suggest to Dean.

 “Oh, please.” he breaths out in an astonished little beg.

 You place the glass back down and you put the bottle to your lips. You push yourself up and stand very closely in front of Dean. You let the whiskey pour into your mouth, not minding as some sloppy liquid trails from your lips down your chin.  He watches a drop of whiskey flow from your neck to your clavicle, and divert to your sternum, falling down the middle of your ribcage.  He swallows loudly and you bring the bottle away from your mouth, watching his expression carefully.  You put a hand behind his neck, giving him a quick tug to come toward you, “Start from the bottom.” you instruct.

 He immediately goes for the spot just above your belly where the end of the trail is about to trickle down again. It tickles as he uses his tongue to reverse the pathway the Scotch took on you. He kisses your sternum, creating a shiver across your skin, that he seems to like. He smiles against your chest and he traces his tongue above the band of your lingerie. You prop yourself down on him so that he can reach the remaining remnants of alcohol on your body.  Dean kisses a fleshy part of your breast and you hit the bottle against his shoulder, “Stay on track!” you order.   Submissively he returns his path to your collarbone. You clutch a mass of hair in the back of his head as his route waves back and forth around your sensitive skin. He nibbles on your neck where it is slick and sucks lightly at a particular spot that makes you mewl with arousal. You run your hand up and down the back of his neck, occasionally pressing your nails into him.  As he reaches under your chin, he makes eye contact with you, his eyes sultry and hypnotic. You swoon as he moves his lips to the outside of your lips, watching your reactions to his movements.  You moan as you kiss him, allowing him to nibble and lick as he pleases. His kiss is less urgent this time, more intimate and knowing. Knowing to kiss you in ways that it affects you, that it arouses you, that it makes you almost unable to bear teasing him any longer. Because a tease for him, is almost like a tease for you.

 “Ready to get me naked?” you raise a brow at Dean, happy to see him light up with excitement.

 You give him one last peck and shoot up to place the remainder of the bottle on a side-table, “That’s enough for now.” you say, not sure if you are feeling swirly from intoxication of Scotch or Dean. You know your limits, so the buzzy feeling should fade in about half an hour, just enough for you to be experimental without getting sick.  You twirl in front of him, facing your ass to his nose and you lean down to grab the sides of his arms. You use them to steady yourself as you slowly drop down onto him, landing your ass comfortably onto his lap.  “Take it off.” you say over your shoulder.

 Dean starts pulling at his restraints, starting to loosen them when you correct, “Not that.” you tuck an arm behind your back, pointing at the hooks latching your piece together, “Figure it out any way you can.” You add, tauntingly.  Dean buries his face in your back, you feel his teeth reaching all sorts of ways at the clasps. You giggle. He is not going for sexy here, he is trying to figure out any way whatsoever to get that damn thing off of you and he doesn’t care how it looks right now.  After a little bit of strategic calculation with pressure and his mouth he managed to unlatch the top hook. Once he figured it out, the remaining hooks followed. He victoriously grazed his teeth along your now bare back, letting you know he’s completed his task.

 “Good boy.” you smile as you slide the the straps off of your shoulders, taking one arm off at a time in painful anticipation.  You place your hands on top of Dean’s hands and tap the tops with your fingers. “You can take these off now.” you instruct, looking down as he very quickly and sloppily pulls the curtain ropes off his wrists.  You take your hands on top of his and guide them to your waist. You let them go and feel him carefully and hesitantly slide up your ribcage. As you didn’t stop him he continued on to cup your breasts, releasing a primal growl and biting down on your neck.  You reach your hand back and grab his neck as well, lacing your fingers through his hair.  He grabs at your tits, massaging and squeezing them, all the while kissing into your neck without regard for poise or coordination. He is slipping his resolve to continue holding himself back, but something about his actions shows he enjoys taking orders from you.

 You lean your head back and to the side, nipping at an available ear in front of your face. He turns to you and starts kissing you deeply, while scratching at your chest, and running his other hand down your belly. You feel his teeth hit against yours, the awkward angle difficult to maneuver around, but you love the way his hands feel on your body. He grasps at your thighs, squeezing the fleshy mass with vigor, bruising you in his wake. You may have control over him, but he still wants to leave his mark on you. He wants you to own one another. He wants you to boss him around, and have his name all over you so that he will be the only one on you.  He reaches his hand over your hot panties, rubbing the moist spot that is spreading along your thighs. You moan into his mouth, seething air escaping your lips as he puts more pressure where he feels blood engorging your clitoris. He twirls a thumb around your nipple with his other hand, gripping at any skin he can reach with his fingers.  You turn your head away from his mouth and he bites hard on the muscle between your neck and shoulder. “UHHNNHH!” you let out in a yelp, arching into his hands.  “Stop!” you command, and he immediately halts, whispering with worry, “Did I hurt you?” He puts his hands on the sides of your arms, holding you carefully.

 “No, little tiger, you were treating me just right.” you blink and nod to regain composure.

 “You just needed a breather before you lost control.” you remark, taking a deep breath of your own.  Dean chuckles behind your ear, “Oh, I think you’ve got me under control just fine.” he roars in a low gravely appreciation of you.  “Well then, let’s keep testing those bounds,” you smolder as you stand up off of him, still facing away from his face.

  You lifted your hair above your neck and let it drop down like a small waterfall to your back. You put your hands to your breasts and grazed them outward to the sides of your rib cage. You swiftly moved them down along the curve of your waist, out to your hips, down your sides, and you bent down as you continued your hands down your thighs to your knees and folded all the way forward as you reached your ankles. You were tucked as much in half as you could manage and you looked past your calves to Dean, chest rising heavily up and down as he observed where your ass met your vagina, still covered in soaking lace.

 You snapped upward, and twirled around to expose yourself to Dean. A little bit more than half naked. He drew a slow breath in, gasping at your beauty. He loved every bit of you. He wanted to run his hands all over you, bumps and curves and sink his teeth into it all as well.  You curved your hands around your breasts and looked down to see how your fingers traced their shape. You twirled a finger around your nipple, and you looked back to Dean.

 You kneeled down in front of him again, this time reaching for his zipper. You attempted to undo the button, but with the tension of sitting down it was pressed tightly into his hips.  “Take them off.” you say and faster than you even realized he stood up, he’s already undone them and pulled them halfway down. You smile but only say, “Sit.” to him and he falls back into the chair.  His boxers have a flap on them, so you pull back the slit with one finger and watch Dean as he eagerly watches your fingers  pull him out of his boxers. His heart is racing and you can feel the blood pumping in his penis.  You lick your lips and tilt the head toward your mouth, so that you can keep your eyes locked with Dean.  You press your lips to his cock, squeezing the tip through your puckered mouth.  “Oh my, fuck.” he swears as you rub the underside of his head with your tongue, swirling it the way you illustrated on his thumb earlier. You traced your tongue along the curves of the head, sucking as you pulled it out of your mouth. You kissed the side of the head, and slid the tip of your tongue along the slit of his head.  He roared with delight and you lightly grazed your teeth along the head, just enough to titillate him. Dean places his hands on the top of his head and wrinkles his brow as he keeps your stare.  You wet your lips again and plunge your mouth as much as you could down his shaft, making him grab the sides of the chair with surprise, “JesUS FUCKING CHRIST”

 You take your time bobbing up and down his cock, inhaling as you go down to take in more each breath. Saliva starts pooling out your mouth and you use a free hand to grab his shaft and move along with your mouth using the lubrication.  Dean lets out a string of cursing, but never puts his hand on your head, not wanting to do something to make you stop.  You use your other hand to feel his testicles through the cloth, rubbing as much under them as you could reach. You even grabbed under his thigh and squeezed hard, releasing some of your own pent of tension.  You decided to make good use of your tonsils and let go with your working hand, taking one big breath to push Dean’s dick all the way inside your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you gag in response.  It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so you did not expect the intense gagging that came next. You pulled off of Dean and covered your mouth, spitting up as you gasped for air.  Dean lunged forward, patting you on the back, making sure you were okay.

 “I’m fine,” you shook your head, but you kept covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see what a saliva-covered mess you are.

 “No, don’t hide, Fucking Hell that is so Fucking sexy.” Dean says, taking your hand away from your mouth. You don’t know what he finds so sexy about it, but his eyes and pupils widening told you he wasn’t just making it up.  “Dean, I want you to cum for me.” you say right before you take his dick back into your mouth, squeezing with your hand as you go down again. You watch his face as best as you could with all of the movement, seeing his head throw back and his face squirm into different configurations.  You suck and squeeze as you go down, and release pressure as you come back up, over and over, twisting your hand lightly to a rhythm.  Dean begins to wail steadily as you feel his testicles retract a tiny bit, and you prepare your breath and throat for an incoming explosion.  “Y/N, Oh,” Dean moans your name with desire and arousal, “Y/N, Oh, FUCK. Y/N-” He warns you and you continue your pace as best as you can with his writhing around.  His orgasm reaches it’s peak as he ejaculates into your mouth, hot and thick. You eat him up and continue to slide your tongue along his erection, until he pushes on your shoulders exclaiming, “Woah, hold on, I can’t-” he squirms underneath of you, “too sensitive!” he shouts and you smirk as you pull back, covered in spit, sweat, and some semen.  You swallow deeply the remainder of his fluid and run your tongue along the inside of your mouth. It feels silky and sleek, a thin film of Dean’s slickness left behind. He tastes kind of bitter but you revel in the thought of taking in Dean’s semen, taking pleasure in the idea more than the flavor.  You put the tip of your finger along the spine of his dick, using the faintest touch to slide up along a vein lined on the top. It follows the sense of your touch, pulling up slightly by reflex as you reach the head and pull away.  You take the erection, still quite hard in your hand, rubbing the bottom of the head with the tip of your thumb, where semen drizzles one last drop out the head. You run your tongue from the base of his cock, along the vas deferens, to lick up the last bit of cum from Dean’s dick.  You place your mouth one more time on his head and suck ever so lightly, making him grit his teeth and clench the arms of the chair. You take one last deep plunge on his penis and as you come back up you graze your teeth along his sensitive skin, exposing goosebumps along his thighs.

 You sit back and look up at him, wasted in the chair. He glances at you and starts to talk, “Wow, your mouth-” but you put a finger to your lips and stand back up.   “You’ve been doing a lot of staring at my ass,” you reach for Dean’s hands, placing them on just the top of your garter, “but you have yet to show your appreciation.” you let go of his hands and he looks down at your garter straps. He rubs your thighs delicately and inspects the garter where it connects with straps to your garter belt.  He looks up at you as he runs a finger along the belt line, somewhere halfway between your waist and the biggest part of your hips. His tongue slides between his teeth, moving left and right between them. His hands run up and down the sides of your hips before sliding around back to the chunky part of your butt.  He grips your ass hard in his hands, on the borderline of painful, but as he releases you release your breath. Unaware you were holding it as he squeezed more forcefully. He places his hands at the top of your hamstring, just under the glutes, and bounces your ass playfully. He gives it a little spank and your eyebrow jerks quickly. He pulls your hips toward him and bites your hip bone, protruding at him enticingly.  The sensation of Dean’s teeth on you again drives you wild and a noise rolls up through your body and out your throat, making him hug around your hips with intensity. When he releases you he gives your ass cheek a loud slap, which to his pleasure made your booty jiggle deliciously.  He digs his hands into your hipbones and spins you around with force, resulting with your ass in his face. He slid his hands down your booty, then back up and gave them a little lift. He made a crisp chomp on a part of you, and then rubbed his face between your ass cheeks.  Man, he really likes ass. You smile and thank the heavenly creature that gave you an ass for Dean Winchester to play with right now.

 “Please.” Dean hugs you from behind and rests his face in the crook of your back.

 “Yes?” you place your hands on his arms and curiously peek behind your shoulder.

 “Please, can I Fuck you?” he pleads so sweetly and kindly that the words don’t seem to line up with the meaning.

 “Let’s go-” you start and you are shocked by your body being forcefully thrust into the air. Dean lifted you with the vigor of a bulldozer on steroids and twisted you to your side as he dropped you into his arms.

 You never felt comfortable with people trying to lift you, but with his giant bicep tucked under your kneecaps, and his powerful hand digging into your ribcage, you threw all caution to the wind and let him turn you into a damsel.

 A damsel ready to get fucked.

 Dean fell on top of you as he threw you onto the bed, but strategically had his hands land on either sides of your body.

 You reached for the edge of his shirt and pulled it above his head as he lifted his arms. He hungrily kissed your neck and all around your chest as he kicked off his boxers. He sat up, fully erect again and reached for your delicate panties. He scratched your legs all along the way as he pulled them off of you and threw them over his shoulder.  He lifted your ass into his hands as he adjusted himself as close to you as he could get, placing you on his thighs as he leaned back.

 “Any orders?” he asks and you smirk, unable to bear it any longer.

 “Go wild.” a sly smile across your face.

 He takes your suggestion very seriously as he grabs your hips with one hand and takes his dick in the other and rubs between your lips to get to the vaginal opening, without waiting a breath he pushes inside of you and both of you swear at the ceiling as he fills you up.  He leans an arm forward and places his hand beside you on the bed, while still holding your hip in his other hand. You grasp at the sheets above your head, gasps escaping your chest in desperation.  His dick rubbed all along your canal, getting drenched in your abundant juices. He moved vigorously beneath you, heavily panting as he felt your soft velvety insides slide along his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He rasps out between thrusts. Sweat ran down his temples and dripped onto your stomach as he lurched over you.  He stopped and tucked his palm under one of your knees, raising it into the air and pulling your thighs apart. He rammed into you, groaning with rumbling grunts as he slid between your thighs, now wet with a combination of your lubrication, his sweat, and probably your sweat as well.  He kissed your knee as he lifted your calf to his shoulder, repositioning you on one of your sides. He smacked your ass and growled as he rubbed your clit with his thumb, making you feel sparkles inside of your head. You were breathing so heavily you were practically hyperventilating, and the lack of oxygen was already affecting your brain when lack of blood also added to your high. Your clitoris rushed and pumped heavily with blood as he put his thumb in his mouth to soak it and then circled it with pressure on your engorged flesh.  One look at Dean fucking Winchester, muscles covered in sweat, the look of concentration on his face as he pumped his fucking COCK inside of you, while taking care to pay attention to pleasing you with his hands - it threw you into a whirl. Your heart was bursting so hard that the adrenaline finally washed over you - you came so fucking hard that you felt your body convulse as you arched backward. You felt his dick inside of you, as your muscles squeezed around his shaft, as your body contorted toward his hand - the perpetrator that pushed you over the edge of the cliff to orgasm.  You felt after shocks as he continued to push into you and pull slightly out of you, making figures with his hips to feel new parts of you.  He took your leg off of his shoulder and he scooped his arm behind your shoulder, forcing you up alongside him.  Dean moved his legs under him, making you crouch on top of him, legs tucked underneath of you and your knees around his hips.  You bounced to his rhythm, helping to take some of the work off of him. He put his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down harder each time you came down on his dick.  You took the opportunity to put your hands around him on his back, scratching deeply each time he pushed you down. He bit his lip, hard.  He looked from your bouncing breasts to your eyes, pulling you in to a kiss. He had a hunger, you had created an appetite in him, and he was trying to sate himself.  You leaned back, grabbing along the sides of his slick abdomen. You ran your hands along his rigid muscles and moved your fingers along the grooves as he contracted them to thrust into you.   You put your hands behind you on the bed for stability, making your breasts jut out and bounce in his view. His cock began hitting a particular spot it hadn’t reached before and you shuddered with gratification. He looked down to watch your genitals connecting and the sight of his dick moving up and down inside of you made him lose whatever control was left.

 He pushed you back and he fell down on top of you, his stomach grinding against yours. He held himself up on his elbows, but he couldn’t hold himself up to look at you for the moment. He sunk his teeth into his favorite place on your shoulder and you grabbed his back with a sharp intake of air.  You spread your legs and wrapped them around his lower back, sliding around in sweat but gripping at him as best as they could.  He really rammed into you, but in this position you couldn’t get the full pleasure from his intensity that you wanted.  “Move,” you say as you give a push to his shoulder. Confused, he sits back and slides out of you. You groan in agony, but flip around as quick as you can, leaning on your elbows and waving your hips in the air, “Okay, now.” you say.  “Yes,” he groans in ecstasy and grips your fleshy hips.  He attempts to penetrate you, but with all of the slip and slide going on he needed a little bit of help. You reach your hand underneath and between your legs and you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.  You guide his penis to your cunt and you push yourself back onto him, earning a, “Y/N, FUCK YES.” and he continues his crusade behind you.  Your face falls into the pillow as you feel every muscle inside of you moving around from this position. You love the way it feels like his dick is practically pushing out your stomach from there. You love the tiny blip of pain as he possibly hits your cervix. You love that you can scream literally as loud as you want, and from this position, the only noise you make is a muffled unintelligible wail into the pillow.  You spread your knees out a little so that you can reach your clitoris and give yourself another happy ending.  You barely even have to do any rubbing, as Dean’s thrusting bobs your hips back and forth enough to rub along your fingers if you just keep them in place.  Luckily due to the mixture of several different body fluids you are just slick enough for comfort, but also not too wet to subdue your friction.  Out of curiosity you stick a finger slightly farther back, feeling as Dean’s dick slides in and out of you. Again the concept of Dean-Fucking-Winchester slipping his ridiculously rock-hard erection in and out of your pussy aching from his constant and rampant pounding sends swirls through you. As you bring your finger back to your clit you feel the coil in your abdomen tighten so tightly that it breaks and unwinds and you are conquered by a rush of waves all over your body. Your final orgasm again makes you clench your muscles in spasms all over your body and the pressure on Dean’s dick sets him over the edge, releasing himself into you practically right after your orgasm started. He clenches your body in his hands, you’re not even sure where, because you’ve lost feeling in most of your muscles.  All of the tension of the night, with a final release exhausts you, and extinguishes your ability to go on any further. Dean seems in agreement, as he falls beside you after you plant your body completely into the bed.  “You did it,” Dean said in a gravely victorious voice, “You conquered me.” he said, although you feel he sounds much too pleased with this.

 You roll your head to his side and soak up his state of pure bliss.

 “Just wait until we try the 21 year Glenfiddich.” you moan and he turns his head to you with a wide grin and expectant eyes.

[dipulb3]

Sweet memories of Eddie’s as Witt’s - Forest Hills is known for tennis music and of course ice cream! Eddie’s Sweet Shop at 105-29 Metropolitan Avenue is likely the longest continuously operating ice cream parlor in New York City. In July 1979 art...

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Sweet memories of Eddie’s as Witt’s - Forest Hills is known for tennis music and of course ice cream! Eddie’s Sweet Shop at 105-29 Metropolitan Avenue is likely the longest continuously operating ice cream parlor in New York City. In July 1979 art...

Three generations of the Citrano family.

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Forest Hills is known for tennis, music and, of course, ice cream! Eddie’s Sweet Shop at 105-29 Metropolitan Avenue is likely the longest continuously operating ice cream parlor in New York City.

In July 1979, artist Randy Jones sketched “The Great Ice Cream Safari” comic strip for The New York Times, which featured an elephant touring ice cream parlors. Eddie’s Sweet Shop was saved for last, and a patron on a stool said “This antique parlor would make a fine trophy in the Smithsonian!”

That is just as true today, as patrons encounter vintage Coca-Cola signs and stained-glass windows reading “Candy” and “Ice Cream.”

Visitors can sit on the same cast-iron swivel stools their great-grandparents sat on and enjoy a sundae or a float at the mahogany-and-marble counter facing one of the first electric Frigidaire freezers.

The authentic ambiance also features a honeycomb-pattern mosaic floor, tin ceiling with rose-stamped molding, leaded glass windows with a sunburst-and-tulip motif, and tapestry appointed woodwork topped off by a wall clock made by the Seth Thomas Clock Company.

Built in 1925, around the mid-1940s the shop was renamed Witt’s Ice Cream & Confectionery after owner William Witt, a German immigrant. When Witt retired in 1968, he sold the shop to the Citrano family.

Giuseppe and his son Vito Citrano and wife Angelina are cherished Forest Hills personalities. Three generations worked alongside one another until Vito’s grandpa, also Vito, passed away in 1995.

“We feel so happy to see that Eddie’s Sweet Shop served generations of customers through the years we have been here,” said the younger Vito. “My father showed me not to be afraid to work hard. When it’s time to make hot fudge, I will keep stirring until it’s right, no matter how late it is or tired I am.”

“We had many proposals at Eddie’s, and the first wedding ceremony in front of our doors a few months ago,” added Angelina. “We were honored!”

Much of the shop’s history prior to 1968 is undocumented, but is being rediscovered thanks to the memories of patrons.

Michael Dillon has lived around the corner on Nansen Street since 1953, and after playing ball in the street with his friends, Witt’s was the go-to place.

“In the mid-60s while working at Associated Food Stores on Metropolitan Avenue, I was fortunate to deliver sugar and get a glimpse of all the wonderful ice cream-making machines,” he said. “The Witts were always such kind and lovely people, who always reminded me of the ideal grandma and grandpa.”

“My father, Joseph proposed to my mother Clara at Witt’s,” said Joe Burchill, who lived on Greenway Terrace. “It was a fine treat for our parents to take my sisters and I on a walk there in the summer, and we always sat in mom and dad’s booth, which was the first towards the back.”

John Mattis lived on Loubet Street and now lives near Tampa.

“I remember watching Mr. Witt pack the containers, really pushing the ice cream into them as hard as he could,” he said. “Later on, when I would get ice cream from other places and watched them pack it gingerly, I realized how much the Witts always did the right thing for their family of customers.”

Northern California resident Nick Covell feels fortunate to have lived in Forest Hills.

“I delivered the Long Island Press there in 1956,” he said. “When I collected for the 40 cents a week bill, Bill Witt used to give me a 35-cent malted for a tip, a big deal for a 13-year-old kid.”

Paul Hettler was raised on Kessel Street.

“My dad and I would walk there every Saturday, and he would buy me a vanilla ice cream soda which cost about a quarter,” he recalled. “A few years later, when I was old enough to walk alone, I would get the ice cream soda and give Mr. Witt a quarter. This went on for several weeks, when finally he quietly told me they haven’t been a quarter for several years.”

Nancy Jeanne O’Connor was raised on Manse Street between 69th and 70th avenues.

“Our Lady of Mercy had processions of the little girls, usually on Holy Thursday and the Feast of Corpus Christi, and many of us went to Witt’s afterward with our friends and parents,” she said. “Now my siblings and I have the pleasure of introducing the next generation to Eddie’s, and it is always a special treat for them.”

Phyllis Pellitteri Cush especially remembers marshmallow sundaes and quality time at Witt’s after swim meets at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs.

“My friends and I used to storm into Witt’s at one time and take over the whole shop,” she said. “Sometimes there weren’t enough seats for us. I cannot forget the icicles in our hair!”

Andrea Stone also recalled swim meets followed by banana splits and chocolate egg creams. Witt’s was also a tradition after middle-school dances at The Community House.

“I told a friend in Colorado that Witt’s is now Eddie’s Sweet Shop, and he said that he can’t wait to try it the next time he goes to New York City,” she said. “I love that it still looks the same.”

[twodollarlatefee]

Happy 69th birthday to Lou Ferrigno! Before Bana, Norton, & Ruffalo cgi’d their way into the role of the mean green machine 😉, Lou was the one and only real life version of Marvel Comic’s monster! Besides playing The Incredible Hulk, Lou has been in several fun action adventures including the cheesy but entertaining Sinbad, Cage w/ Reb Brown, & of course Hercules! What’s your favorite LF movie/tv/role? 💚📼💚 • •• ••• #louferrigno #actor #birthday #twodollarlatefee #vhs #vcr #videostore #podcast #80spodcast #80s #1980s #90s #2000s #theincrediblehulk #hercules #sinbad #marvelcomics #pumpingiron #hero #muscle #gym #stud #cultmovie #cheese #rebbrown https://www.instagram.com/p/CHX4vkWlceL/?igshid=bhq9ib4g1cgj

[adambstingus]

The fake stories hitting the headlines – BBC News

Image copyright Suffolk Gazette

Image caption Suffolk Gazette’s story about David Bowie was published three days before his death was announced

On the day of David Bowie’s death, a national broadcaster reported the rock star had performed at a Suffolk curry house just days earlier. For some, the fine line between spoof and reality is increasingly hard to detect – so what are the key components of a successful send-up?

During the hours after Bowie’s death, journalists scrambled to gather details of the music icon’s last days.

When a story emerged about the singer “giving curry house diners a treat” in Bungay, Suffolk, a media frenzy briefly ensued.

“I was watching the news, and people started picking up on the curry house story and tweeting it,” said Simon Young, a former Sun journalist based in Suffolk.

“As I was watching Sky News, Eamonn Holmes read out about how the Suffolk Gazette was reporting Bowie had performed in a curry house.

“My jaw dropped into my cornflakes. You don’t get much bigger than Sky News on breaking coverage of a high profile person’s death – and they mentioned my site.”

Sadly for Holmes, the Suffolk Gazette is not a genuine newspaper. It is, instead, a spoof created by Mr Young to “satisfy creative desires” and “raise a bit of beer money”.

He had written the Bowie article on the singer’s 69th birthday, three days before his death was announced, and later put a note on the story to explain.

The episode highlighted the prevalence of one of the internet’s growth industries – spoof news – and the pitfalls it can create for its more sober cousin; the actual news media.

Image copyright Southend News Network

Image caption Southend News Network was created in October 2015 and has attracted thousands of social media followers

“Morris dancers and blind footballers in mass brawl” cries one headline. “Dartford tunnel closed due to thousands of Kent residents trying to enter Essex illegally” screams another.

These stories might seem ludicrous or plausible, depending on your point of view. Each treads carefully the fine line between reality and ridiculousness, relying on the reader’s moment of uncertainty for its satirical punch.

Broadcaster Fraser McAlpine, who wrote a book called Stuff Brits Like, said in recent times it had become increasingly difficult to tell which stories were fake.

“You’ve got David Cameron and Jeremy Corbyn having their spats in Parliament, making awful jokes. You’ve got Donald Trump – he’s beyond parody – saying the worst possible things.

“News outlets are behaving like spoof sites, and they’re making spoof sites look like sensible news.”

In the world of spoof news, there are a few big-name players. There is US site The Onion, of course, the granddaddy of all spoof sites, which began publishing online in 1996.

In the UK, websites such as The Poke, The Daily Mash and NewsThump have been offering up spoof news across the nation for more than a decade.

Mr McAlpine theorised that news parodies were about “banding together and cocking a snook at people in power”.

“Sometimes spoof news feels like a righteous sword in the side of something you’re bothered about, and sometimes it feels like flicking Vs at a policeman – it’s a release and a relief.”

Image copyright Tim Telling

Image caption Editor of The Daily Mash Tim Telling said the internet had changed the game for spoof news

Tim Telling, editor of The Daily Mash, said the internet had played a huge role in what was being published, and who was publishing it.

“The Daily Mash is a kind of DIY thing done by a small group of people,” he said.

“As a kid, I was into Viz comics, and there was a spirit in Viz that’s also relevant to The Daily Mash – it felt like it was just some guys doing it in a shed, rather than coming through the existing comedy establishment.

“It’s a kind of punk ethos – I think Viz used to sell their copies at punk gigs – and that’s the kind of thing the internet has allowed to proliferate.”

Image caption Satire legend Armando Iannucci reads another legend of the form – Viz

Fifteen years ago, a group of friends from Chelmsford, Essex, decided they would harness the power of the internet after seeing the success of The Onion and satirist Charlie Brooker’s spoof television listings site TVGoHome.

The Framley Examiner took the form of a newspaper, but was displayed as though each edition had been scanned and uploaded to its website.

The brainchild of Joel Morris, Alex Morris, Jason Hazeley and Robin Halstead, the site was set up in 2001 at a cost of 25.

Headlines included “Local museum to be put in a museum”, “New library: the dream is over”, “Fluff misery” and “Cycle lane ‘not even as long as small cycle'”.

Image copyright Framley Examiner

Image caption “It wasn’t a joke about news – it was a joke about the way news was reported”

Image caption Joel Morris and Jason Hazeley honed their spoof news craft on The Framley Examiner

For the Framley Examiner, the joke was as much about the stories as it was about how local news media worked.

The site had the look and feel of a real newspaper, but was never intended to be mistaken for one, Mr Morris said – it was pure parody.

“In the beginning, we wrote about stuff that was quite close to reality. As it went on it got much sillier,” Mr Morris said.

“It wasn’t a joke about news – it was a joke about the way news was reported.”

The Framley Examiner’s popularity led to a book and launched the comedy-writing careers of Mr Morris and Mr Hazeley, whose credits include That Mitchell and Webb Look, Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe, and a series of spoof Ladybird books.

To make a site seem as authentic as possible, spoof news creators agree the style of writing is key.

The creator of Southend News Network, a site recently officially recognised by Southend Council, said his stories were often compared to those printed by local media.

The Chief Reporter, as he is known, reckons about half of the people who read his stories realise they are fake, with the other half indignantly commenting and sharing his stories on social media.

Spoof success

A Suffolk Gazette story about an old lady getting trapped in a council toilet in Felixstowe for four days was picked up by several national newspapers and publications, including The Express, The Daily Mirror and The Debrief

Former Fifa vice president Jack Warner appeared to be taken in by an article from The Onion about the World Cup being held in the USA in May 2015

The Onion’s story on North Korean leader Kim Jong Un being the sexiest man alive was picked up by a Chinese newspaper, which reprinted satirical comments and a photo gallery

In 1957, an April Fool’s Day report by the BBC on Swiss spaghetti crops prompted viewers to try to find out where they could purchase their very own spaghetti bush

Suffolk Gazette’s creator said his intention was never to trick people into falling for his stories – people believing them was a “happy side effect” which generates hits, rather than the main aim.

“You do get people commenting, saying ‘haha, that’s hilarious’, but then there’ll be that one person who says ‘I think it’s disgusting’.

“Those who are in on the joke get a double kick out of it – you enjoy the moment other people are taken in.”

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/the-fake-stories-hitting-the-headlines-bbc-news/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/174163237647

[allofbeercom]

The fake stories hitting the headlines – BBC News

Image copyright Suffolk Gazette

Image caption Suffolk Gazette’s story about David Bowie was published three days before his death was announced

On the day of David Bowie’s death, a national broadcaster reported the rock star had performed at a Suffolk curry house just days earlier. For some, the fine line between spoof and reality is increasingly hard to detect – so what are the key components of a successful send-up?

During the hours after Bowie’s death, journalists scrambled to gather details of the music icon’s last days.

When a story emerged about the singer “giving curry house diners a treat” in Bungay, Suffolk, a media frenzy briefly ensued.

“I was watching the news, and people started picking up on the curry house story and tweeting it,” said Simon Young, a former Sun journalist based in Suffolk.

“As I was watching Sky News, Eamonn Holmes read out about how the Suffolk Gazette was reporting Bowie had performed in a curry house.

“My jaw dropped into my cornflakes. You don’t get much bigger than Sky News on breaking coverage of a high profile person’s death – and they mentioned my site.”

Sadly for Holmes, the Suffolk Gazette is not a genuine newspaper. It is, instead, a spoof created by Mr Young to “satisfy creative desires” and “raise a bit of beer money”.

He had written the Bowie article on the singer’s 69th birthday, three days before his death was announced, and later put a note on the story to explain.

The episode highlighted the prevalence of one of the internet’s growth industries – spoof news – and the pitfalls it can create for its more sober cousin; the actual news media.

Image copyright Southend News Network

Image caption Southend News Network was created in October 2015 and has attracted thousands of social media followers

“Morris dancers and blind footballers in mass brawl” cries one headline. “Dartford tunnel closed due to thousands of Kent residents trying to enter Essex illegally” screams another.

These stories might seem ludicrous or plausible, depending on your point of view. Each treads carefully the fine line between reality and ridiculousness, relying on the reader’s moment of uncertainty for its satirical punch.

Broadcaster Fraser McAlpine, who wrote a book called Stuff Brits Like, said in recent times it had become increasingly difficult to tell which stories were fake.

“You’ve got David Cameron and Jeremy Corbyn having their spats in Parliament, making awful jokes. You’ve got Donald Trump – he’s beyond parody – saying the worst possible things.

“News outlets are behaving like spoof sites, and they’re making spoof sites look like sensible news.”

In the world of spoof news, there are a few big-name players. There is US site The Onion, of course, the granddaddy of all spoof sites, which began publishing online in 1996.

In the UK, websites such as The Poke, The Daily Mash and NewsThump have been offering up spoof news across the nation for more than a decade.

Mr McAlpine theorised that news parodies were about “banding together and cocking a snook at people in power”.

“Sometimes spoof news feels like a righteous sword in the side of something you’re bothered about, and sometimes it feels like flicking Vs at a policeman – it’s a release and a relief.”

Image copyright Tim Telling

Image caption Editor of The Daily Mash Tim Telling said the internet had changed the game for spoof news

Tim Telling, editor of The Daily Mash, said the internet had played a huge role in what was being published, and who was publishing it.

“The Daily Mash is a kind of DIY thing done by a small group of people,” he said.

“As a kid, I was into Viz comics, and there was a spirit in Viz that’s also relevant to The Daily Mash – it felt like it was just some guys doing it in a shed, rather than coming through the existing comedy establishment.

“It’s a kind of punk ethos – I think Viz used to sell their copies at punk gigs – and that’s the kind of thing the internet has allowed to proliferate.”

Image caption Satire legend Armando Iannucci reads another legend of the form – Viz

Fifteen years ago, a group of friends from Chelmsford, Essex, decided they would harness the power of the internet after seeing the success of The Onion and satirist Charlie Brooker’s spoof television listings site TVGoHome.

The Framley Examiner took the form of a newspaper, but was displayed as though each edition had been scanned and uploaded to its website.

The brainchild of Joel Morris, Alex Morris, Jason Hazeley and Robin Halstead, the site was set up in 2001 at a cost of 25.

Headlines included “Local museum to be put in a museum”, “New library: the dream is over”, “Fluff misery” and “Cycle lane ‘not even as long as small cycle'”.

Image copyright Framley Examiner

Image caption “It wasn’t a joke about news – it was a joke about the way news was reported”

Image caption Joel Morris and Jason Hazeley honed their spoof news craft on The Framley Examiner

For the Framley Examiner, the joke was as much about the stories as it was about how local news media worked.

The site had the look and feel of a real newspaper, but was never intended to be mistaken for one, Mr Morris said – it was pure parody.

“In the beginning, we wrote about stuff that was quite close to reality. As it went on it got much sillier,” Mr Morris said.

“It wasn’t a joke about news – it was a joke about the way news was reported.”

The Framley Examiner’s popularity led to a book and launched the comedy-writing careers of Mr Morris and Mr Hazeley, whose credits include That Mitchell and Webb Look, Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe, and a series of spoof Ladybird books.

To make a site seem as authentic as possible, spoof news creators agree the style of writing is key.

The creator of Southend News Network, a site recently officially recognised by Southend Council, said his stories were often compared to those printed by local media.

The Chief Reporter, as he is known, reckons about half of the people who read his stories realise they are fake, with the other half indignantly commenting and sharing his stories on social media.

Spoof success

A Suffolk Gazette story about an old lady getting trapped in a council toilet in Felixstowe for four days was picked up by several national newspapers and publications, including The Express, The Daily Mirror and The Debrief

Former Fifa vice president Jack Warner appeared to be taken in by an article from The Onion about the World Cup being held in the USA in May 2015

The Onion’s story on North Korean leader Kim Jong Un being the sexiest man alive was picked up by a Chinese newspaper, which reprinted satirical comments and a photo gallery

In 1957, an April Fool’s Day report by the BBC on Swiss spaghetti crops prompted viewers to try to find out where they could purchase their very own spaghetti bush

Suffolk Gazette’s creator said his intention was never to trick people into falling for his stories – people believing them was a “happy side effect” which generates hits, rather than the main aim.

“You do get people commenting, saying ‘haha, that’s hilarious’, but then there’ll be that one person who says ‘I think it’s disgusting’.

“Those who are in on the joke get a double kick out of it – you enjoy the moment other people are taken in.”

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/the-fake-stories-hitting-the-headlines-bbc-news/

[recentanimenews]

New Year, New Manga

2017 may be in the rear view mirror, but comics bloggers are still compiling their best-of lists. Among the longest and most diverse was The Comics Journal’s, which was more of a round table than a listicle. Though many of the contributors focused on indie comics, a few mentioned 2017’s best manga, from Jiro Taniguchi’s Venice to Yuichi Yokoyama’s Iceland and Nagata Kabi’s My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness. Sarah Horrocks contributed the least stuffy list of the bunch, giving top marks to series such as Girls’ Last Tour, Golden Kamuy, and Happiness — the best vampire manga you’re not reading — as well as H.G. Wells’ The Hound and Other Stories and Kakegurui: Compulsive Gambler. Can I get an “Amen”?

ANIME AND MANGA NEWS

Get ready to vote: polls for the annual Crunchyroll Anime Awards will open on January 22nd. New this year is an award for Best Manga of 2017. I’ll be joining judges Brigid Alverson, Deb Aoki, Valerie Complex, Zack Davisson, Megan DeYarman, Johanna Draper Carlson, and Jason Thompson in helping determine the final list of manga nominees. Stay tuned for more details! [Crunchyroll]

For a crash course in music copyright, see Justin Sevakis’ excellent column on when and how anime studios are required to license classical music for use in television shows and movies. [Anime News Network]

What can manga readers expect to see in stores this year? Krystallina offers her predictions for 2018. [The OASG]

Translator Jocelyne Allen sings the praises of Kamone Shirahama’s gorgeously illustrated fantasy series Tongari Boshi, which she views as a shoo-in for Most Likely Licensing Announcement of 2018. Oh, and while you’re gawking at the beautiful illustrations, be sure to wish her a happy anniversary — her blog turned four last month. [Brain vs. Book]

Steve Foxe argues that Shiver “showcases [Junji] Ito at his best, touching upon his recurring themes: disturbing body horror, imminent apocalypses and inescapable doom.” [Paste Magazine]

Not manga, but of interest to manga readers: Professor Kathryn Hemmann reviews Apparitions: Ghosts of Old Edo, a collection of Japanese ghost stories compiled by Miyabe Miyuki (Brave Story) and published by VIZ’s Haikasoru imprint. [Contemporary Japanese Literature]

As of December 2017, Hajime Isayama’s Attack on Titan has sold 71 million copies worldwide, and may soon overtake Tite Kubo’s Bleach as the best-selling manga of this century. [Comicbook.com]

November 2017 sales figures for the direct market are in, and Dragon Ball Super, ranked 26th on the overall list, is the best-performing manga. Other strong sellers include My Hero Academia (69th), One Piece (98th), and Junji Ito’s new horror anthology Shiver (115th). [ICv2]

COMICS

Heidi MacDonald and peers named Emil Ferris (My Favorite Thing Is Monsters) the 2017 Comics Industry Person of the year. [The Beat]

Good Comics for Kids celebrates its tenth anniversary this year. [Good Comics for Kids]

Alex Hoffman posted his annual Comics That Challenged Me list, which focuses mostly on indie comics and graphic novels. If his title seems provocative, it is; Hoffman is clear that he dislikes the annual exercise of writing “best of” lists. “I generally dislike the idea that any one book can be the consensus pick of any given year when there is so much art being made,” he explains. “I dislike the implied authority critics claim when they make these lists… I think it’s better to celebrate the comics that made me work harder, the comics that opened my eyes, the comics that broadened my definitions, and the comics that showed me the breadth and depth of the artform.” [Sequential State]

By: Katherine Dacey