#Religious school in Los Angeles

[wndaswife]

centre of attention | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Ex-wife of a church preacher and a member of a popular parent-teacher group, Wanda Maximoff is one of the town’s most infamous figures, but you soon learn that she is much more than she seems.

Word count: 13 783

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap, jealousy, allusions to slut-shaming, mentions of a gangbang, brief cunnilingus, strap-ons, fingering, brief masturbation, hair-pulling, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, power bottom!wanda maximoff. MINORS DNI.

gif credit to vanessacarlylse

Pitchy hums of singing cicadas greeted you the moment you drove into the small northern Californian town you were to spend the next few months in. 

None of it was really ideal for you’d wanted to land a placement as a teacher’s assistant at least somewhere in southern California as you’d lived in Los Angeles your whole life. But the moment you drove further into the town and saw groups of families walking hand-in-hand down the surprisingly-lively streets and children retiring towards their bus stops after their days at school, you knew your stay wouldn’t be as dull as you imagined.

The only thing that gave you pause was passing by the town’s local and only church that was as bustling with people as the schoolyard was.

What you could already tell was that the townspeople were certainly close-knit, valued their communities, and were a rather religious group of people.

In worrying about your interactions with the town’s church, you hadn’t meant to be crass, but rather sincerely concerned for the possibility that you might truly have found yourself stuck in a strictly old-fashioned and highly religious town hours away from Los Angeles for the next several months.

When you met with your assigned teacher and principal of the schoolhouse to go over some extra paperwork upon your arrival the next day, you met Agatha Harkness, a woman you immediately pinned as the town gossip. She was the vice-principal of the elementary school and she was quick and very kind to go over what you needed to know about the town you now resided in — which ended up being everything she knew from secret divorces to scandalous affairs.

Honestly, you were grateful for her warm welcome, even if the way you secretly mused at all of Agatha’s gossip would certainly be interpreted as rather unseemly for such a new resident of the town.

On Saturdays, the church held breakfasts after early-morning mass for there was also a specially-run youth program that was managed by the church every week on the same day. Eager to introduce you to some of the town’s families, some of whom were involved in the school’s particularly active parent-teacher group at school, Agatha took you to the breakfast.

As you expected, the spacious church basement where the breakfast was taking place was bustling. Families that crowded the buffet tables were dressed in their formal church attire, mothers with their hair done and husbands well-coiffed, and children in clothing that looked proper for the occasion though they were most definitely forced into them. 

“Oh, there’s Monica,” Agatha told you before calling the bright-faced woman over.

She greeted the vice-principal then turned to you and stuck out her hand with a large grin. “Hey there,” she beamed. 

“Hi,” you answered with a nervous smile, slightly intimidated by the crowd and in stunned admiration of the charming woman in front of you. You shook her hand. 

“Monica is likely the greatest science teacher one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in all of northern California,” Agatha said with confident sincerity.

The cheery brunette waved her hand at her dismissively. “Oh, please, Agatha,” she uttered bashfully. Then she turned to you with a smile. “Are you new to the church?”

“I just started my placement as a teacher’s assistant here for my teaching degree in LA,” you said.

With raised eyebrows and an intrigued nod, Monica replied and crossed her arms as if impressed, “Is that so? It’s been a good while since we’ve had visitors come up here, especially from the Valley.”

You’d been living in Los Angeles for so long that you hadn’t ever really considered how renowned it was in the more rural areas of California; even Agatha had been surprised when you’d told her where you were coming in from.

“I don’t mean to hold you up,” Monica told you. “Help yourself to any of the food.” She exchanged a few words with Agatha before you were led further into the large room, and for the next forty minutes you stood by Agatha’s side eating and being introduced to the local families.

To your dismay, Agatha excused herself for a moment to greet what looked like a family who’d just entered the dining hall. You were forced to stand alone by one of the tables, busying yourself by looking around and playing with the hem of your shirt in a desperate attempt not to look awkward or out of place.

When two young boys and their father approached the table you were leaning against, you quickly straightened and stepped back to allow them to pull out the chairs. 

You saw Agatha reapproaching when you turned around, but she was walking back with a woman you hadn’t yet met. She looked a few years younger than Agatha, but still older than you. Her hair was wrapped in a neat French twist, blonde strands that’d become loose from the hairstyle curling lightly around her face.

With her perfect done-up hair, the dark brown lip colour, a pair of black flats, and a dark green blouse tucked into black high-waisted straight-legged pants, she was a bit hard to take your eyes away from. 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice what an obsessive idiot you must’ve looked like for she was busy balancing a few platefuls of food as she approached the table behind you with Agatha. She set the plates down for the young boys and the man you saw earlier, and you then realised that they were a family. 

“This is Y/N — who I was telling you about just a moment ago,” Agatha brought you into the conversation then stepped to your side, wrapping a supportive arm around your shoulders. 

The other woman she was with carefully placed the plates of food in front of who you supposed was her husband and children then straightened to look at you. She brushed the strands of her hair out of her face and smiled at you after taking a breath. 

“Wanda,” she introduced herself then extended her hand to you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” you replied then shook her hand. “Y/N.” You kicked yourself internally for bringing your name up again when you recalled that Agatha had just mentioned it. 

Wanda nodded then ran her palms down her hips. “So I’ve heard,” she said, a tinge of gaiety in her tone as her smile widened. “Are you starting your assistant position at the school on Monday?”

You nodded and attempted to return her smile though you were a little overwhelmed by the crowds of families you were currently standing in the middle of. Wanda caught onto the bashfulness of your tiny awkward smile and thought it was endearing.

“Well, don’t you worry. I think you’ll fit right in,” she reassured, the unbroken eye contact making you take a deep breath that you hoped wasn’t as obvious as it felt. 

Before you could answer, one of Wanda’s young sons tugged at his mother’s blouse and asked in an adorably mousy voice, “Momma, can I please get a ginger ale?”

“Of course, moya zvezda. But just a little,” she answered, reaching down to stroke her son’s chin with her fingers. Then she looked back up at you with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N.”

You straightened and hoped you were only imagining the way you felt yourself blushing at her undivided attention. “L-Likewise, Mrs Maximoff,” you managed to say. 

It was just over a week until you saw Wanda Maximoff again, much to your disappointment. 

During the first week of your placement, you learned a whole lot of things. Firstly, dull heaps of information that you hadn’t said was anything but wholly interesting when the baker by your new place dumped years and years worth of the small town’s history on you when you were purchasing a loaf of rye bread, then more gossip shared with you from the teachers’ staff, suggestions for where the best hiking trails were around town which you happily utilised, and most importantly that there was a parent-teacher association that volunteered twice a week at the school.

At first that last bit seemed unimportant until you were given a sheet of the association’s members so you could familiarise yourself with them as you’d be seeing much of them throughout your time there, one of which was a familiar ‘Wanda Maximoff.’

Out of all the gossip Agatha had told you since you arrived, the resident she talked the least about was the one you were the most interested in. You supposed it was because they were close friends, and it would make sense that certain things about someone’s life — including their friends — were naturally private, even if not consciously.

But you didn’t think Agatha would mind if you asked about her, so you subtly brought her up while you were helping her clean up some of her things after school, a habit you picked up after the first time when you planned to go out for coffee together after work.

With the sheet of the members’ names in your hand, you asked Agatha as discreetly as you could, “Is, um, this the same Wanda I met on Saturday? At the breakfast?”

“Only one Wanda in this town, bumblebee,” Agatha replied and hung her purse from her shoulder. It was obvious she held her to a high regard, and that the two women were good friends. “Why do you ask?”

Continuing on with your goal to know more about Wanda, you answered, “I was just curious. I don’t know a lot about her compared to everyone else.”

“You’d like to know more?” she asked then led you out of her office, locking the door behind her. As the two of you walked out of school, she offered, “What would you like to know about her?”

The opportunity made you feel a little giddy as you recalled the image of Wanda when you met her earlier that week and thought of all the things you had been curious about since then. But you didn’t want to come off as obsessive or like you’d been thinking about her as much as you had, so instead you simply asked, “Were those her kids? The two young boys?”

Agatha nodded. “Tommy and Billy. They’re the sweetest four-year-old angels.”

The two of you approached her car and slid into your respective sides — Agatha in front of the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat.

“And that was her… husband with them?” you asked, buckling yourself in then tucking your hands under your knees.

“Her ex-husband,” Agatha corrected and started the car. “I don’t know if you’ve been to any of the masses, but Vision’s the church’s favourite preacher, so you’d see a lot of him if you attended regularly.”

So she wasn’t married. 

You recalled calling her ‘Mrs Maximoff’ the last time you saw her and you shrunk a little in your seat in embarrassment.

While you tried to imagine Wanda marrying and divorcing a church preacher, not that you knew much about her to begin with to have anything to imagine, Agatha added, “The divorce was, you know, as scandalous as you’d expect in a small town like this, especially given how important the church is here and that both Wanda and Vision are such well-known residents.”

That was the first time anyone had mentioned any sort of distaste for how traditional the town seemed to be and it felt like your first breath of relief, for you’d felt so different from the crowd here since you arrived.

The weight from your shoulders was lessened exponentially when she also said, “But this town is full of younger families of a different generation, and there were more who offered their support than not.

“Although age isn’t entirely indicative of beliefs, so there are still a few younger parents both in the congregation and the parent-teacher association who harbour some distaste towards Wanda and her personal life.”

Up until now, you hadn’t said very much besides uttering a few hums of affirmation and acknowledgement. 

“You alright over there, sweetie?” Agatha asked after not hearing your voice for a while. She looked over to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Just listening,” you told her with a reassuring smile.

She looked back to the road. “If you want to know more about her, I could give you her number and you could send her a message.”

A fervent blush formed on your face and you looked through the window to avert your face from Agatha. Something about being given Wanda’s number from someone else because they’d known you wanted to talk more with her made you feel awkward. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll… probably see her again.”

God, you felt like an idiot. 

No matter what you said, it felt like it was only becoming more glaringly obvious how much Wanda was on your mind. And with the two women being close friends, you could only imagine the things Agatha would tell her about how you were acting like a giddy little schoolgirl thinking about her. 

That was sort of what you felt like, anyways.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her we talked about her,” Agatha reassured and winked at you. “I know you’re a shy one.” 

You were grateful for that, but still pretty embarrassed.

Dottie was the first PTA member you had a real conversation with. It was on a Tuesday, and you were walking your class of twenty fourth-graders to the church alongside their teacher — you were assigned to assist Bruce Banner, an awkward but brilliant science teacher you came to enjoy the comfortable company of. A few times a month, students attended mass with enough time for the service before school ended, after which their parents would pick them up in front of the church.

You ended up sitting beside a blonde woman who immediately started a conversation with you when she recognised your face from the breakfast last week. After introducing yourself and mentioning a few of the people you’d met so far, Dottie seemed to perk up at the sound of Wanda’s name.

“Oh, that woman is trouble, Y/N,” she warned, her voice low as the two of you were still surrounded by churchgoers patiently waiting for the mass to start. 

Though you were well-aware of the things Agatha told you about Wanda and how she’d been interpreted by some people in town, you were curious to know pretty much anything about her. 

So you asked, “Why?”

Dottie turned her head to you so her chin was brushing her shoulder as she kept herself quiet when she said, “What kind of woman divorces a church preacher of her ex-husband’s regard?” She said it with a kind of humour and a small disbelieving scoff. “It just isn’t proper, especially not for a woman with children.”

Suddenly you felt pretty regretful for being so desperate to know things about Wanda, because now you were feeling rather offended and uncomfortable hearing the things Dottie was telling you, even if what she was saying wasn’t at all about you.

As if it couldn’t get worse, Dottie ducked her head and looked at you, uttering, “Have you caught word of her little… expeditions once she got her divorce finalised?”

You bit down along the side of your tongue with your molars and looked up at the altar, silently hoping that the mass would soon start, but the church chatter between students only continued as the congregation waited for the priest to step onto the podium.

“It was all rather hush-hush because of her…” Dottie trailed off with a disapproving shake of her head, seemingly feeling some contempt simply speaking of any form of esteem for Wanda. But she continued after readjusting herself on the pew, “Because of her standing in town.”

She quickly regained her confidence when she picked up her badmouthing of Wanda again. “Allegedly,” she said with a sly grin and a demeaning chuckle, “Wanda broke out into some sort of midlife crisis and had an affair with four younger men. Four men, one of her, one measly hotel room. I mean, we’re both adults here — you do the math.”

You stuttered out an awkward hum and turned your body subtly, making sure no one around was paying attention to your conversation. No one was. It seemed to you that Dottie’s words were a lot louder than they were due to their subject matter.

“Well… Wasn’t she divorced by then?” you asked.

Dottie laughed and waved her hand. “That’s as good as an affair, honey. Marriage is for life.” 

Then she placed a supportive hand on your knee that sent shivers up your arms before advising, “Besides, it’s good you know early which people to befriend and which to avoid, and Wanda Maximoff is nothing but trouble, junebug.”

Though the general consensus was that everyone liked her if not admired her, there were rumours of similar concerns about Wanda as she seemed to be much less of a conservative woman compared to the rest of the town. It wasn’t necessarily that every resident was a traditionalist, but that even those second to Wanda’s independence from the constricting life of an upper middle-class suburban housewife simply lacked the confidence only she seemed to have in choosing to live a life by her own freedoms and little else.

The rumour Dottie had told you was entirely true aside from the missing detail that her expedition — as she had put it — with the younger men could be accurately construed as a gangbang instead of an orgy or any form of tame sex. But Wanda was so cherished by her community that one would become instantly disliked if their suspicions of her scandalous life reflected in the way they came about interacting with her. 

Some were shocked and almost insulted that anyone could take such accusations about the most warm and charismatic woman in town so seriously, and others lacking in the confidence to outright say there was nothing wrong with a sexually-adventurous woman but nontraditionalists nonetheless would come to her defence albeit in slightly ambiguous ways.

Moreover, the men she’d fucked were so proud of their performances and achievements in sleeping with her that the most they did to indicate what had happened between them was walk with their chests out and chins tipped up in public, feeling proud of the accomplished little secrets they had with her. Sharing dirty secrets with a woman like Wanda, and keeping them secret, amounted to a lot more pride received than repeating what had happened in the shared hotel room that afternoon.

The mass was painfully dull and all you’d been able to think of the last few days was Wanda, and that afternoon was no exception. Your thoughts of her only intensified after your conversation with Dottie and to make matters worse, at one point when you looked around at the pews, you spotted that very woman on your mind sitting between her two sons at one of the seats lined up horizontally in front of one of the side staircases leading up to the altar.

With Dottie’s words still echoing in your mind, your thoughts then wandered to Wanda being fucked by a group of younger men, cum adorining whatever gorgeous body you knew she had under all her conservative clothing, fingers wrapped around erect cocks while she took another one down her throat and another fucking her ass, fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy.

You felt terrible for having your mind travel there, so you looked away from her and readjusted yourself in your seat. But from the corner of your eye you noticed her tuck her hair behind her ear and fix the collar on one of her sons’ blouses. She caught your attention again.

By then it was hard to stop thinking about her, especially when you watched her whisper an inaudible forewarning to her other son that was getting particularly squirmy in his seat. You watched the parting and movement of her lips and you couldn’t help the way you imagined how she’d look with her lips wrapped around a strap fucking its way into her throat, your fingers buried in her soft hair.

Then you imagined unbuttoning her jeans and revealing her smooth legs, pulling her shirt off and uncovering perfect tits that made you shift uncomfortably when you envisioned burying your face in them and kissing up the soft swells, making Wanda moan and grip at your shoulders while your other hand groped one of her breasts.

When you began imagining the view of her sore red ass while you fucked her from behind — her head thrown back as she cried out in long groans and whimpers, her cunt constricting around your thick cock — you forced your thoughts to come to a full stop.

You felt like an awful person thinking such things anyways, for it somehow felt like you were taking advantage of her. Trying to pretend like Wanda wasn’t on your mind was practically impossible, so you just decided to focus on something else.

Wanda was wearing a cozy-looking brown knit pullover. From the angle of your spot on the pews, you could see she was wearing a pair of jeans and butterscotch ankle boots. She had her hair combed neatly and tucked behind her ears and with it let down this time, you could see that its length reached just above her shoulders.

For the most part, she paid attention to the sermons with a still expression unless she was tending to her sons’ squirming and playful whispers, a testament to the impatience of young children.

When another man stepped up to the microphone after the priest stepped down and took a seat, Dottie leaned to the side and whispered, “Wanda’s ex-husband.”

Your attention was suddenly piqued and you looked up at the man. He was slender and tall and had blonde brushed-back wavy hair that swooped around his clean-shaven face. He had a pair of aviator glasses perched on his straight and jutted nose, and he was dressed in a beige blazer, navy blue slacks, a knit vest that was a few shades darker, and underneath, a grey blouse with an orange tie.

By all accounts, he was a pretty decent-looking guy. 

His smooth and animated tone of voice that emanated through the church as he read a parable from a small leather-bound notebook made it clear that he was passionate about the church and his position there, and with his appearance that made him seem friendly and introspective, it was no wonder why Agatha had told you he was the church’s most popular preacher.

Wanda’s expression was ever-still and indifferent with no indication that she harboured any remaining emotional sentiments towards seeing her ex-husband in public nor any hint of being bitter towards him.

The service finally came to an end and it was then time to help the class line up by the church parking lot to have their parents pick them up. 

When you stood up, you looked for Wanda but lost sight of her in the crowds of people filing out of the church. So you said your goodbyes to Dottie and led the class out of the building and towards the parking lot with their teacher.

It was about thirty minutes later waiting by the church’s front doors when only three students remained to be picked up. One of the students’ mothers were engaged in conversation with Bruce, the remaining children were talking amongst themselves, and you were standing by the side, just waiting for the rest of them to get picked up so you could walk back to school with Banner.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” a voice spoke behind you. You turned to see Wanda smiling widely at you as she approached. She stopped in front of you and leaned her shoulder against the brick wall of the church. 

You smiled, feeling happy to see her. She really was charming, and so warm. “Hi,” you said. “Were you here for the service?”

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he continued to talk with one of the students’ parents. He was glad you were getting along with people in town so well, and felt a little impressed that you seemed to be so friendly with Wanda so early into your stay. He was a shy and rather soft-spoken man, and the most he’d ever outwardly expressed his thoughts about Wanda was in the privacy of his wife's company. He had friendly feelings towards the renowned preacher’s ex-wife, and if the town had to be divided into groups, he’d certainly be categorised as a nontraditionalist.

Wanda replied, “Tommy and Billy’s father had a scripture reading today and he has them for the rest of the week, so I picked them up early after lunch to spend some time with them. I just said goodbye to them a few minutes ago.”

“About that…” you said and curled a lock of your hair between your fingers nervously. “I didn’t know you weren’t married last time we talked, and I shouldn’t have assumed…”

She ran her hand down your forearm, the one that was lifted so you could play with your hair. Her hand was so close to your face, and you caught a whiff of her perfume. “Oh, don’t worry about it, honey,” she reassured. “I completely understand, and you didn’t offend me.”

Wanda squeezed your forearm gently before her hand returned to her side. She straightened away from the wall and tucked her hair behind both ears. “Anyway, I saw you a bit ago and wanted to come up earlier, but I caught up chatting. I’m glad I could catch you.”

You fiddled with your fingers and perked up a little. “R… Really?”

Wanda hummed in what was either confirmation or amusement from your nervous response. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for coffee,” she offered. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we met on Saturday, and I’d love to get to know you more.”

“Today? Now?” you asked.

“If that works for you.”

“It does,” you told her cheerily. 

She nodded with a wide smile. “Alright then, great. I can wait until you’re done here.”

Bruce, as if partially-listening into the whole conversation, turned and told you, “You can leave early if you want, Y/N. Just waiting on two more students here, so it’s no big deal.”

You asked, “Are you sure?” 

He reassured you it would be fine, and you soon found yourself walking through the church parking lot to Wanda’s car. 

Since Agatha picked you up from home that morning, Wanda only had to stop at school so you could get your things from the classroom before the both of you were on your way back to her house.

Wanda’s house was just off the edge of town, surrounded by farmland. In spite of that, her house was rather modern and of contemporary architecture. A white-picket fence extended down the grove of trees that surrounded the long gravel driveway. From afar where her expansive backyard was visible, you could see a sizable in-ground pool and what looked like a tennis court beyond that. She parked her car in front of the dual parking garage and you looked through the car window at her house.

When the two of you stepped onto her porch, Wanda told you, “The property used to be mine and Vision’s, but after we divorced I kept it for myself and he moved into town.”

“It’s a really nice place,” you complimented as you followed her lead, placing your shoes by the door and setting your things down on the table in the foyer.

“Thank you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you. “I’ll make us some coffee and I can give you a tour?”

You nodded and Wanda smiled at your leniency. She had you sit at the kitchen island counter while she made coffee with a pretty-looking French Press.

“So, darling, how are you liking it here so far?” she asked, setting up two mugs by the steeping coffee. She turned and leaned back against the counter, her hands resting against the edge. 

“I’ve really been enjoying myself,” you replied, sitting up in your chair.

Wanda appreciated your almost innocent enthusiasm as she regarded you with a smile. Then after a second, seemingly momentarily distracted by whatever was running through her mind as she stared at you, she inquired, “Have you made friends with anyone yet?”

“I talk to Agatha a lot, but this is my first time seeing anyone out of work or anything like that.”

There was a glint of pride in her smile when you said that as if she felt satisfied that she was the first person you were truly getting close with. It was almost territorial.

She turned back to the coffee once it finished steeping and you watched as she slowly pressed the top of it down, separating the grinds from the coffee. She poured it into both cups and discarded the grinds and rinsed out the press as the drinks took a moment to cool. 

“How do you take your coffee, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. It made you feel sorta giddy when she used those kinds of names on you. She then placed the mug in front of you when she made it how you liked it. 

As promised, she gave you a tour of the house which ended up feeling more like a casual stroll as you were outside with her more than not, walking the expanses of the tree groves out by the gardens and through her sizable backyard together.

You were largely an occasionally-stuttering and slightly-embarrassing mess with Wanda, but she didn’t seem to mind at all and led most of the conversation with you. In fact, she found your shy demeanour rather attractive, and she was delighted every time she caught you blushing or stumbling over your words.

Talking with her was so simple in spite of how awkward you felt, and if you didn’t have anything to say, it was just as easy to listen while she did the talking. She was different from other people you’d met thus far, because she was bold and not at all shy about being honest. She was adept in balancing the weight of being a single mother to two children while also being a leading figure in both the church community and in the school’s parent-teacher association. But she was also radiant and warm, and most especially, a huge tease.

When the topic of her divorce came up, Wanda made a joke about how her sex life with Vision was dull and how she’d been indulging in leaving her husband to get properly fucked months before the divorce papers were ever served, and though she did promptly say she was joking, you had an inkling that she was being at least partially honest. She made no further effort to convince you that she was simply jesting.

She then told you more seriously that her marriage with Vision had simply become less passionate over the years and that they confessed to each other that neither of them would feel particularly anguished if they ended up divorcing, which was reason enough without their other existing troubles. Essentially, their divorce was amicable and they still worked well enough together in order to raise their children.

Additionally, Wanda confirmed your impressions of her ex-husband from the service earlier, that he was the sensitive type who was reflective and intelligent. She told you she was impressed by how proficient you were in reading people.

The compliment flattered you, but you were secretly a bit insecure as you thought about her and Vision’s marriage. You knew fully well that they were divorced, but you couldn’t help comparing yourself to him and wondering if Wanda had a type — more precisely, if you were her type.

Another thing that you distinctly enjoyed about Wanda was that she was a very physical person. When she thought something was funny, she laughed in a rich way that crinkled the corners of her eyes and pulled her lips back into the prettiest of smiles. She touched you when she felt like it, without hesitation, running her hand down your arm or squeezing your shoulder. She was expressive with her body language and facial expressions and never made you feel for a moment that she was doing anything else but listening with undivided attention when you were speaking. She wasn’t very much withdrawn at all; she was a very sociable and confident woman.

“And you, Y/N?” she asked, placing both mugs, empty of coffee, into the sink once the two of you made it back into the kitchen. 

Wanda turned to you and leaned forward against the island counter you had sat back down at. Her hips were pressed against the edge of it and her forearms rested against the countertop, her hands folded in front of her. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows from earlier when the two of you had been walking out under the sun for a while.

You stuttered under her focused gaze, “M-Me? What about me?”

“Do you have a special someone?” she asked with a teasing little grin, resting her chin in her palm and looking straight at you. 

Discussing the topic of your love life with Wanda made you feel flustered and you looked away from her, fiddling with your fingers and looking down at your thumbs. “No, I don’t,” you answered.

“But you have someone in mind?” Wanda playfully pressed, raising her eyebrows at you curiously.

You looked back up and told her honestly, “Not really.” You attempted to be more honest with her given that she’d been so open and warm with you. “I haven’t had much of a chance to meet anyone.”

She straightened and ran her hands flat down against the counter. “Oh?” she questioned. “But you’re such a sweet girl.” Wanda rounded the island counter until she was standing behind you and laid her hands on your shoulders. “I figured that you would’ve had boys all over you, honey,” she whispered.

You knew she was teasing, or at least that was what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself slightly overwhelmed and rather overheated with Wanda’s hands on your shoulders, her thumbs slowly sliding up the sides of your neck.

“I’m just poking fun at you, sweetness,” Wanda giggled and squeezed your shoulder before stepping away from you. She walked out of the kitchen momentarily and came back with her purse. She laid it down on the counter and pulled her phone out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I let the time get away from me,” she apologised. “I have to meet Vision and the kids for dinner in about an hour.”

To avoid thinking of Wanda getting all ready and dressed-up to see Vision, although it was for a dinner with Tommy and Billy, you stood up from your seat and answered, “It’s no problem at all. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you more. And the coffee was really great. Thank you.”

Wanda led you to the door, a gentle hand on your lower back. “I’d love to have you over again,” she told you. Her hand slid up your back, making you straighten immediately before she took her hand away from you to unlock the front door.

Though you looked away to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the contact, Wanda caught sight of your embarrassed expression and felt a flurry of adoration for you.

After saying goodbye to each other, Wanda called you back before you could step off her porch. “Would you be able to put your number in my phone?” she asked, holding her cellphone out to you.

Sounding a little too excited, you walked back over to her and answered, “Sure!”

For the next little while since you exchanged numbers that late afternoon, you’d had a few conversations with Wanda over text message. She was a busy woman though; she was always the most free to talk in the evening or rather early in the morning when you weren’t often awake. 

You talked a lot about Tommy and Billy, your assistant position and how you’d been finding things, what Wanda did on a day-to-day basis, and a few other leisurely things when you both had time to discuss things like recent movies and favourite books. 

It was incredible what Wanda took on in a day. Sometimes she was organising the youth church events or in meetings with the parent-teacher association — during which you sometimes passed the meeting rooms they were in, but never got the chance to see her because they were always so busy. 

She went out of town a few days a week for any sports or clubs either of her sons were in outside of school as there wasn’t much availability regarding extracurriculars in town, which was also something she’d been trying to bring up to the municipality.

If she didn’t have to tend to the PTA, the church, or her sons, she had errands. She was always doing something from dropping something off at someone’s place to picking something up, going out of town to get something fixed, or doing one thing or another for someone else.

She always apologised for it as she’d told you that she wished she had more time to talk with you or at least be able to make a plan to get lunch together.

Though you also desperately wished to see her again, you didn’t mind at all. In a way, you really admired her drive and how capable she was, and  how readily available she was to those who needed her while also being the most friendly and warm woman in town. 

Plans to see each other again either fell through or never had the chance to be made for the both of you were beginning to have busier schedules. 

Wanda was virtually always busy, but for you, since the season had begun to reach some of its warmest temperatures, there were more school events being organised from field trips to sports’ days which took up a majority of your time as you planned with Banner both during and out of class. 

The next time you saw Wanda in person was on a Thursday, nearly three weeks since you had coffee with her. But in spite of that, you felt a lot more excited than the last time, for you now had three more week’s worth of having been able to get to know her. In fact, you were almost certain Wanda considered you a friend.

She was friendly with a lot of people. Nearly everyone in town knew her and held her in high regard. She’d take on extra work just to cover for a committee member who couldn’t make a meeting or cut an off-day short to do errands for anyone who’d ask her to, but from what you knew, she was only really friends with Agatha.

And now, you hoped she felt she was friends with you too.

Today was one of the hottest days of the season so far and also the day of the biggest school event. In association with the church, the sports festival equally divided their earnings from the festival and put it towards the school, church, and municipal government. 

It was perhaps one of the biggest events in town for local businesses would also set up their stands and sell their products and services, and along with the carnival games and freshly-cooked food that stretched all the way down the expanse of Main Street under the sunny warmth of a budding summer, the festival was an attraction that had the small Californian town bustling with both locals and tourists alike.

Needless to say, the planning for the festival was extensive and it was one of the primary reasons both you and Wanda had become so busy over the last few weeks, planning completely different portions of the festival at the same time.

The festival was teeming with families and couples and it reminded you a lot of home; you felt a bit nostalgic. But mostly, you felt proud for having taken part in such a successful turnout. You looked around at the game and food concessions and small-business booths that extended down the long stretch of the lively street. 

On one side of the street, a grassy clearing with a large playground and plenty of picnic tables served as a seating area, mostly. People ate and chatted with one another, watched their children as they swung around on the playground, and were overall just enjoying spending such a cherished event under the sun in the charming town. 

Some that occupied the grassy plain were sprawled out under the sunny green expanse, some were sitting together with loved ones on picnic blankets they’d brought, and some, including a familiar woman sitting with a group of less-familiar women, were sitting at the picnic tables.

You approached the table of women after spotting Wanda and saw that her hair was tied back and that she was wearing jean shorts that revealed smooth legs, tennis shoes, and a white blouse that she had rolled up to her elbows.

By the time you’d gotten to the picnic table you felt a bit regretful, for you didn’t know any of the other women she was sitting with and you felt rather awkward walking up to the group of women, some of whom were sitting with their husbands.

But Wanda had already caught sight of you. She turned when you came into her peripheral and called out your name cheerfully, waving you over so you really couldn’t walk back now.

She stood from her seat and wrapped an arm around you. “Hi,” she then said after pulling away from the embrace to meet your eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, it’s been pretty nice,” you answered. 

Her eyes ran over your face for a moment longer before she stepped back and allowed the rest of the picnic table to see you. With her hand resting on your shoulder, she introduced, “This is Y/N. She’s moved here from Los Angeles for the time being to work on her teaching degree.”

While you and the table exchanged hellos with each other, Wanda turned to you and said, “This is the school’s PTA. Most of it.”

Then she offered, “Why don’t you come and sit here with us, honey?” She sat back down and moved over to the side, one hand on the empty space beside her. 

You quickly looked over the picnic table of couples and single mothers as they’d resumed their conversations, then over at the empty spot. 

“Oh… Well, I wouldn’t want to bother any of you, and I think Vision is around here somewhere looking for a seat,” you answered and looked around for him. 

Wanda then stood from her seat again, enough to be able to reach over to you and take your hand. “Nonsense, darling. Come here,” she told you. She pulled you to the table and took the small plate of food from your hand before setting it down on the table. She sat you down beside her.

Discussion around the picnic table continued and Wanda poured you a glass of water from the pitcher at the middle of the table. You smiled gratefully at her and she was quickly reined back into the table’s conversation.

Unsurprisingly, she was pretty talkative with the table. You’d known how open and social Wanda was, you’d seen it yourself, but you hadn’t seen her interact with other people yet. 

She was as charismatic as ever. She told jokes that everyone laughed at, and when she spoke, everyone at the table listened with their full attention. She was actively part of every conversation that took place between the table of mothers and their husbands. 

It was comforting in a way, because with Wanda leading every conversation, you didn’t have to feel pressured to do anything but sit beside her and listen to everyone talk. You spoke when you were spoken to and felt completely content sitting beside Wanda, eating your food and occasionally participating in discussion. 

Wanda was rather happy to have you sitting beside her. She looked at you with an adoring smile every time you answered a question or voiced your opinions on something, and she rewarded you by running her hand down your back or squeezing your shoulder, and a few times, she even grazed the back of her fingers against your thigh. 

A voice called your name from behind and you turned to see Bruce waving you over. You stood from your seat and Wanda looked up at you.

“Come right back when you’re done, honey,” she told you.

You promised you would, then threw out your empty plate of food to head over to Banner.

From the picnic table, Wanda eyed you as you dashed around doing favour to favour, first starting with you being asked to bring back some papers from the classroom, which was only just down the road. She was eager to have you back the moment you handed Bruce his paperwork, but you were soon caught up being asked to run around only further by people who suddenly needed your help, from parents who wanted to talk with you to being asked to fetch things from inside the church.

“Wanda?” a woman at the table said, trying to get her attention. She waved her hand in front of her face and Wanda looked away from you, blinking out of her concentration.

With a superficial laugh, she replied, “Sorry. I must have zoned out there.”

Tommy and Billy came from playing carnival games with their father to settle down for a moment and sit on their mother’s lap. With her arms wrapped around her twins’ waists securely as they drank from her cup of water and ate from her plate, they told her how eventful their day had been and that soon their father would let them help one of his friends run his game booth.

After filling their bellies and hydrating themselves, they slid off of their mother’s lap and were nearly about to run back to Vision before Wanda took hold of their wrists and had them stand still while she reapplied their sunscreen in spite of their whines.

When she was finished, they ran back over to Vision and were practically hopping around anticipating the chance to help with the ring game.

Later, Monica came up to Wanda and tapped her on the shoulder. She was holding a clipboard in her arm and looking a tad flustered. “I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Wanda, but one of the booths are about to run right out of food, and normally we’d just have them close for the day but there’s a line for it right down the street, and—”

“I understand,” Wanda interrupted her frazzled rambling with a warm smile and stood from the picnic table. “What do you want me to do?” she asked with a supportive hand on the brunette’s upper arm.

“Oh, thank you.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “There’s a rice cooker and a few vegetables they need diced in the church basement’s kitchen. Would you be able to cut a few of them and get some rice going? That’s all, and I’ll be down in a little to bring it out for them.”

Wanda nodded and squeezed her arm gently. “Of course,” she said and reassured Monica again when she was a flurry of apologies again. She excused herself from the table and walked over to the church, which was just across the road. 

As she walked, she looked for you, hoping that perhaps she could get you for herself, even if that meant just dicing some vegetables in a church basement.

When she caught sight of you with a particular blonde standing by an inflatable bouncy house Dottie was put in charge of to watch the kids, Wanda felt a wave of scorn come over her. She watched from the church steps as you conversed with Dottie, the wide grin on her lips as she discussed God knows what with you.

What business could she possibly have with you?

Did she even have anything interesting or intelligent to say, anything that warranted the friendly smile that formed on your lips as you spoke with her?

Dottie never liked Wanda, which never concerned her too much until she began to question what kinds of things Dottie must’ve said about her to you. Wanda was self-assured in her reputation and confident in the relationship she’d developed with you, but the image she created in her head of the blonde’s snarky little smirk as she got in close to you made Wanda’s blood boil.

It’d been hard to make plans with you for the past few weeks and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d seen Dottie, and for the first time, Wanda felt strongly remorseful for how much time she put into things other than her personal life.

Have you ever visited her house for coffee? 

Did you have her number too?

Tearing her eyes away from the two of you, Wanda continued up the stairs and into the church, where she felt her teeth clenching tight against each other in irritation. She headed downstairs and into the kitchen where she took out the refrigerated vegetables and set them out on a cutting board. 

Then she looked through the cabinets for the rice cooker and immediately became increasingly vexed when she couldn’t find it. She knelt down by the bottom of the shelves where a mess of boxes and tupperware made it impossible to find the rice cooker if it were hiding there on the shelves somewhere.

Unbeknownst to her, Agatha had come in following behind her when she saw Wanda heading into the church in hopes of finally taking some time to catch up with her friend. When she went into the basement, she saw Wanda crouching down beside one of the kitchen cabinets, arms deep in a clutter of plastic tupperware and storage boxes.

She was making quite a mess, chaotically sorting through the cabinets with less of an intention to find whatever she was looking for and instead with the intention of simply taking out some form of anger on the poor boxes of plastic spoons and serving napkins.

“I can’t find this goddamned rice cooker,” Wanda hissed when she saw Agatha standing by the kitchen door frame. 

“Cursing the name of the Lord in a church,” Agatha said in feigned disapproval then whistled.

Looking over her shoulder, Wanda shot her friend a poisonous glare then went back to searching for the rice cooker. After a moment, she stood up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “It’s not in here,” she snapped and brought a hand up to her forehead as she sighed out.

“I’ll look. Just cut the vegetables,” Agatha told her and looked through the kitchen while Wanda began rinsing the vegetables. She had no luck with finding the rice cooker either.

From behind her, Wanda was dicing a carrot slice especially aggressively and Agatha turned to see it practically diced to a sad little orange paste. “Honey…” Agatha muttered, leaning against the counter and staring at her. Wanda didn’t respond as she continued to dice the carrot slice into mush. “Wanda.”

She snapped her head up and bit, “What?”

Agatha pointed at the half-paste, half-solid pile of carrot. “I think you got it,” she said, her nose scrunched up. 

Wanda looked down at it as if really seeing it for the first time then flicked it off the cutting board and into the sink. She continued dicing the rest of the carrot.

“Something on your mind, sweetpea?” the brunette asked and pulled off a bit of washed broccoli from its head before sticking it in her mouth.

“No.”

Agatha hummed, unconvinced. She continued to watch Wanda dice up the carrots and move onto the bell peppers with startling focus as if she was revenge-chopping the poor things. Then, feeling the need to tease her, she said, “I saw Y/N and Dottie talking outside.”

Wanda visibly bristled and she cut down particularly hard on a slice of yellow pepper so the edge of the knife met loudly with the plastic cutting board. “Did you now?” she asked with a steady voice.

“Have you gotten a chance to speak with her today?” 

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?” she asked and looked up from the cutting board.

Slightly amused by seeing her friend so occupied by the thought of someone, Agatha admitted, “I was just wondering, because a few days ago Y/N asked how you were doing.”

“She did?” she inquired, untensing for a moment. Then she looked back down to the bell peppers and continued slicing them. “And what did you say?”

Agatha replied, “I said that you’d been busy. She said that she’d been texting with you but she wanted to know how you were.”

After some silence, Wanda asked, “Has she ever asked you about Dottie?” 

It’d been such a long time since she’s seen Wanda behave like this. Repressing a little laugh but not being able to hide her grin, Agatha insisted, “You’re jealous.”

With a scoff and a mockingly amused smile, Wanda replied, “I am not jealous.” Then after a moment she added, “Who would I be jealous of? Dottie? Please.”

“I’d understand if you were. They seem to be quite close.”

At that, Wanda visibly tensed and set the knife down before saying, “How about you pick things up here, and I’ll head back home to fetch a rice cooker? I think I have one in my kitchen.”

It was more of an instruction than a suggestion, for she immediately rounded Agatha before waiting for her response and stormed out of the basement and out of the building.

When Wanda stepped outside, you were no longer standing around with Dottie but instead chatting with one of the teachers from the school’s staff. But Wanda was impatient and now set aflame by Agatha’s purposefully-baiting words, and she walked towards you until she could place a hand against your lower back.

“Hi, honey,” Wanda greeted with a soft smile when you turned your head to look at her. She looked over to Pepper, who you were in the middle of a conversation with. “I apologise, but I have to steal her away from you. I’m afraid I need Y/N’s assistance with something.”

Pepper was more than understanding and bid you a goodbye before Wanda circled her hand around to your hip, bringing you against her.

“Busy, are we?” she asked, looking at you as the two of you headed down the sidewalk to where Wanda’s car was parked.

Not picking up on what she was implying, you replied with a smile, “Not too busy, so I can help you. Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. There’s a rice cooker I need to pick up for the church and I need someone to help me look,” Wanda answered and let go of you to round the car and unlock the doors. She slid into the driver’s seat.

You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and immediately felt more comfortable having a break from the bustling crowds of people. And you were finally able to spend some time with Wanda again. 

“Let me get you a drink,” Wanda offered when arrived at her house and passed by her kitchen. “It’s hot out there.”

You didn’t decline, for when you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth you realised how thirsty you were, especially after doing not much else but talking with people the whole time.

While Wanda poured what looked like homemade lemonade into a glass, she said, “I wasn’t aware that you were so popular, Y/N.”

You looked up, but her eyes were focused on the pitcher of lemonade. “I’m not popular,” you said, laughing a little at the mere suggestion. You stepped into the kitchen in front of the island counter where Wanda was pouring your drink.

“No?” She looked up from the glass and set the pitcher down. She chuckled a little and did away with your suspicions that she was upset with you. “It looked like everyone was lining up just to talk with you.” She slid your glass of lemonade over to you. “You didn’t notice?”

“I, um… Well, I guess not.”

Pleased with your simplicity, Wanda leaned against the counter and rested her cheek against the heel of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she reassured and watched you take a drink of the lemonade, her eyes focused on the way your lips parted around the rim of the glass. She felt far more comfortable than she was before now that she was alone with you, having you to herself and not having to worry about the next time you might be stolen away from her.

After a few moments of watching how cute you looked sitting at the island complimenting how good her homemade lemonade was, Wanda said, “Shall we start looking for the rice cooker? I believe it’s in the storage closet.” 

You set the glass down and Wanda led you forward to the storage closet, which was just by the doorframe of the entrance to the kitchen. You searched through it then crouched down to start digging through the set of boxes on the floor.

Wanda’s phone buzzed with a text and she turned to take her phone out of her purse on top of the kitchen counter. The text was from Monica that read: ‘Agatha and I found the rice cooker!! I’m so sorry that you had to drive all the way back home.’

Keeping her expression still, she tucked her phone back into her purse then turned to you as you continued to dig through the lowest shelf of the storage closet. Her eyes were trained on your ass as you had your back turned to her unassumingly. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching you from behind.

“I found it!” you said and carefully manoeuvred a box out from the back of the closet. The rice cooker was still in its box, likely having been used about a handful of times since it was purchased. 

To Wanda’s dismay, you stood back up and closed the closet door. But when you turned around with the most eager little smile on your face from having found what she was looking for, she felt warmed.

“Thank you, honey,” Wanda cooed and took the box from you. She set it down onto the kitchen counter by her purse. She turned back around and her breath hitched when she felt herself fueled with a twinge of adrenaline at the sight of you. 

After weeks of being away from you and a chaotic day of watching you talk with nearly everyone else but her, Wanda reached out and wrapped her fingers around the corner of your shirt, gently tugging you towards her.

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, but the closer she brought you, the more difficult it became to do anything but look into her eyes that were trained on your face.

“Y/N, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you. It’s upstairs,” she whispered when you were close enough to hear the quiet hush of her voice. The tip of her tongue peeked out when she ran it across her bottom lip and she asked, “Would you mind coming up with me?”

You swallowed and felt yourself nodding, but you weren’t entirely sure if you really did nod or if you just imagined it; you sort of felt a bit lightheaded.

A ghost of a smirk formed on Wanda’s lips and she let go of your shirt before she led you towards the staircase and up to the second level of the house.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as you continued to follow behind her nervously. You hesitated a moment when Wanda opened her bedroom door and stepped in, but eventually you forced yourself forward and followed her to the closed closet.

She turned around suddenly and asked, “Can I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“S-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling out of place.

Wanda stepped forward so her face was just inches in front of yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before, sweetheart?”

You felt no need to lie, and you felt no need to be embarrassed around Wanda although you felt that your face was warm and flushed.

When you nodded, Wanda added, “More than once?” She seemed increasingly interested at your second nod as she raised her eyebrows in piqued interest, a small intrigued smirk forming on her lips. 

“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, now overtly teasing you as her fingers ran down the collar of your shirt. 

You nodded once more, and she was appreciative of your willingness to answer her questions with little hesitation. Then her eyes flickered up from your shirt to your face, curious juniper irises sinking into your focus. “And men?” she inquired with a slight tip of her head. 

This time you shook your head and Wanda’s breath seemed to hitch, her interest now at an all-time high. 

Her fingers tightened around the collar of your shirt and she pulled you towards her, crushing your lips against hers. She was quick to take control of the kiss and tip her head to the side. Her hand let go of your shirt and she wrapped her fingers around the back of your neck, releasing a soft moan in the form of a warm exhale into your open mouth.

She pulled you backwards with her as she reached for the knob of her closet door. She opened it and pulled you in then momentarily disconnected from your lips to search for something. 

You were distracted by the sight of her lips that were parted to allow her to pant softly. You leaned forward and pressed kisses up her neck, causing Wanda to stumble back slightly and hum out with pleasured appreciation. Her fingers ran up the back of your head and were interlaced with your hair, encouraging you to continue kissing her neck.

Her head pulled back enough to uncover your eyes and she lifted an all-black silicone cock already attached to its harness up to your face. Your eyes widened at the sight of the toy and Wanda leaned down to press her lips against your ear so she could whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

When she read in your expression that you were more nervous than shocked that Wanda had brought the topic up to you, she reassured, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey.”

“B-But I want…” You raised your head and looked at her with a determined look in your eyes. “I want to. I want to make you feel good.” 

Wanda grinned and she kissed you. “That’s sweet of you, but I want you to enjoy yourself too. We can go as slow or fast as you’d like. How about you start whatever speed you’re comfortable with, hm? And we can work from there.”

“I know you’ve had better…” you said quietly, bouts of your insecurity evident in your soft, unsure tone of voice. Though you didn’t explicitly mention it, the both of you knew exactly what you were referencing. 

Wanda wasn’t surprised and instead just grinned and asked in a teasing way, “Who told you about that?” 

You looked away, embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to bring it up. 

She leaned forward and kissed the corner of your mouth before grinning against it and saying, “Does that make you jealous?” She was looking up at you mischievously. Then you look away again, the other way so she disconnected from the corner of your lips.

Wanda walked forward so you were forced to walk back out of the closet and into her bedroom again. She closed the closet door behind her and nudged you backwards so you were forced to sit at the edge of her bed. She placed the strap down by your hip.

“Does that interest you?” she asked and began to unbutton her blouse as she looked down at you sitting on her bed with the most innocent little eyes. “Thinking about how I had a cock shoved down my throat while I jerked two more off with my hands, watching them stroke their dicks to how I was getting my ass fucked underneath them, cum in my hair and on my tits, being violated by all those braindead men just so I could get off until I was — almost — just as fucked stupid as they were.”

She giggled when you were in a deep stupor, eyes following her fingers and listening to her every word. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders and let it slip to the bedroom floor before working on her shorts, unbuttoning the top then unzipping it, revealing a maroon pair of panties that matched her bra.

“Well, you don’t have to think about that anymore,” she said when she was now only in her lingerie. She held your chin in her hands and tipped your head up to look at her. She stepped forward between your legs so your face was perhaps only an inch or two away from her tits. “Because what’ll be far more interesting is what I’m going to do with you.”

Wanda leaned down and kissed you, and with her other hand, began undressing you. You helped her and she couldn’t help but blush seeing how eager you were to have sex with her. She kissed down your body as she continued to undress your body. 

“Besides, honey, it’s different,” she muttered against your shoulder as she kissed up to your neck. “It matters to me who I’m having sex with. Sex isn’t just a thing you do. It’s more than that. It’s about connection and passion, though sometimes it can be purely shallow. Like it was that time.

“But it’s far sexier doing it with someone you connect with. Don’t you feel the same?” 

You met her eyes when she lifted her head, her hair coming loose from the hair tie that had been holding it back neatly through the day. “I agree,” you said to her.

Though you spoke little sometimes, overtaken by feelings of nerves and overwhelming libido, Wanda understood you completely. She liked how soft-spoken and sensitive you were. She couldn’t wait to have someone so delicate and gentle rough-fuck her from behind. How terribly she wanted to have you moan in her ear, telling her how much you loved her pussy.

She ran her hands up your sides, caressing your body with gentle admiration and affection. She kissed the swells of your breasts. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/N,” she cooed and stood up once she fastened the harness around your hips. She brought your head against her chest and kissed your temple. She was so affectionate and was full of so much passion. Her touches were so soft as she led you further up onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Her hands rounded her body and she unclipped her bra so she could discard it onto the floor. 

“Wanda, you’re so gorgeous,” you uttered as you ran your eyes up her body.

She allowed herself only a moment or two to blush at your compliment before she ran her palms up your chest and rubbed her still-clothed centre against your cock. “Are you just going to lay there and talk about it the whole time?” she questioned.

You gripped her hips harshly and pulled her down onto you so you could reach her lips and kiss them. Your hands adjusted their positions and you flipped her around and got on top of her, eliciting a tiny giggle from the older woman.

Moving down her body, you gently flicked your tongue across one of her erect nipples before you suddenly bit down on it, causing her to yelp and reach up to cradle the back of your head. You kissed the plain of her stomach, nipping at the soft flesh and running a flattened tongue over the stretch marks over her hips. She made a noise of appreciation and continued petting your head, watching you cover her body in your delicate traces of adoration.

Her hand moved to the side of your face and lifted your head, allowing her to turn onto her stomach and lift herself onto her elbows. When you straightened onto your knees, she lifted her ass into the air and pressed back against your strap.

Wordlessly, Wanda looked back at you over her shoulder with eyes that dared you to go further and an ass that stroked the length of your cock in the most mesmerising way you’d ever seen. 

With shaky fingers, you pulled her panties to the side and found her wet cunt sticking to the fabric, pink folds glistening and sticking out from between gorgeous smooth thighs. Not being able to help yourself, you leaned down and ran your tongue through her pussy, making Wanda shudder. She tasted unbelievably good. 

Your own cunt throbbed and you knew you had to do more. You parted from her sticky mess and pressed a kiss to the hood of her clit before straightening again.

Wanda hastily dug through the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a clear bottle then reached back and handed it to you. Quickly, you squirted the lube into your hand then lathered your cock in it. Wanda took the bottle back and discarded it somewhere on the bed, uncaring of where it ended up for the time being. 

She whimpered when you ran the length of your cock along her cunt, especially when you took her folds between your thumb and forefinger and ran it right through. The lubed strap slid beautifully across the delicate pink and Wanda felt herself trickle down onto her throbbing clit.

Wanda encouraged, “Don’t rush if you don’t want to. That makes me feel really good.” 

Her panties threatened to slip back into place and you became impatient and pulled back a bit, tugging her panties down her thighs and from her ankles.

“Someone’s impa–” Wanda was cut off suddenly when you shoved your cock into her without warning, making her gasp and flinch forward, eyes squeezed shut as she was forced to adjust to your size. It didn’t help that you immediately began thrusting into her, making Wanda nearly lose her balance and fall forward. But she kept herself up with her ass in the air for you. 

She didn’t have time to think of how shocking it was that such a quiet and docile girl like you had such fire brewing within her, for she was immediately overtaken by her desire. 

“Pull my hair,” she instructed between groans and you obliged, reaching forward and taking a handful of her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. “Tighter,” she said, and you tightened your fingers into a stern fist, pulling Wanda backwards and watching as her back curved into a beautiful arch.

“Oh, that’s right, Y/N!” she yelped as you quickened your hips against her. “Perfect.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you watched her ass redden and bounce from the harshness of your thrusts. 

Wanda reached back to get your attention. “Spank me,” she told you.

Following her instruction, you brought your hand up and back down to deliver a harsh spank to her ass. You truly couldn’t believe the effect it had on her. She lost balance and laid flat against the bed, her arms being unable to hold herself up as she squealed out. 

You spanked her repeatedly like she wanted, each time eliciting a tiny whimper from her with half her face buried in her blankets. You pulled your cock out of her and rubbed her throbbing clit with the pads of your fingers. She groaned when you left her and she looked back at you, watching as your eyes ran over her pussy. 

Her cunt was swollen and so beautiful, the trimmed tuft of dark hair and the shade of soft pink glistening from the juices dripping from her hole that squeezed around nothing, desperate for more of your cock. 

Her pussy was so, so perfect.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, speaking with a gentle rasp to her voice. “I can only be patient for so long. I need your cock.” She said it with a soft smile on her lips, and although her shoulder partially-shrouded it, you could see her cheeks were tinted a soft pink as she’d watched you look her over with such overwhelming admiration. 

You pressed a kiss to her opening then straightened back up, repositioning yourself against her. You were distracted momentarily when you looked down and saw her looking up at you, green eyes still so full of appreciation for you. 

Then suddenly she repositioned herself and turned onto her back. She sat up for a second and wrapped her arms around your waist before pulling you down onto her. Her lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss.

Wanda was amused by how distracted you were by her and she kissed your cheek while she reached down and entered your cock into her opening herself. Her legs wrapped around your hips and she tightened them around you, moaning into your ear as you slowly entered her again.

“Say that I’m a desperate slut who loves to get fucked.”

“W-Wanda,” you panted. “You’re a desperate slut that wants nothing but to get her pussy fucked.”

“That’s right,” she purred, her thighs tightening around your hips. “Mommy’s just a dirty bitch who’s nothing without a cock filling up her filthy fuckholes. Ah… Don’t you like that, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on fucking her how she liked, and a part of you almost felt bad for the way she degraded herself for no other lover you’d ever had has ever spoken like that. But fuck, Wanda was right — it was hot. 

“I-I like that, mommy,” you confessed.

“Oh, I know you do.” She pet the back of your head. “Make mommy come, angel. I’ve had such a hard last few weeks, baby. Doesn’t mommy deserve to feel good? She does, doesn’t she?”

You opened your eyes and nodded, the sincerity in your eyes as you agreed that Wanda needed to feel good after the last few weeks making her melt. “I wanna make mommy feel good…” you mumbled. “Make mommy come.”

Wanda groped her breast then twisted her nipple between her fingers. You leaned down and wrapped your lips around her other hardened bud, making her moan out and arch her back up against your body.

Feeling her lower stomach tighten with a familiar, beloved pressure, Wanda wrapped her legs around your firmly and crossed her ankles against your lower back. She manually fucked herself up against you, bringing her hips up and meeting yours repeatedly in desperation. It was a messy out-of-sync attempt at first as you continued to thrust into her, but the both of you soon found a rhythm with Wanda fucking herself and you pounding her back into her bed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she mewled into your ear. “I’m–”

She was cut off when her orgasm was wrenched out of her, and she arched her back up and clung onto you, her arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. Her fingernails scratched down your back and she cried out loudly, throwing her head back and exposing her neck.

You released her nipple and kissed up her neck until your lips reached her cheek and you could watch her orgasm come over her, your other hand cradling the side of her head as her eyes clenched shut and her jaw was slack, a guttural cry being pulled out of her.

Then finally she slumped back down onto the bed tiredly, her body a sore and sweaty mess of weak limbs. She shook with the tremors of her orgasm’s aftermath and you fell to her side, hugging her around her waist and burying your face in her sweet-smelling hair. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with your hair, fingernails gently scratching at the back of your head.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in a very, very long time,” she huffed out. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have sex wanting to have every string attached. 

Wanda turned her head and looked at you. “Y/N,” she said seriously. She cupped your cheek with her hand and stroked her thumb against your soft skin. “I want to commit to you. And you only.”

You perked up and lifted yourself onto your elbow. “So we can… date?”

She laughed and pulled you down so she could kiss your cheek. She spoke against it, “You are the most unassuming, sincere person I have ever met.”

“I-Is that a yes?” 

“That’s a yes, honey.”

You practically beamed and Wanda could only laugh again, feeling such a warm burst of joy spreading through her at the sight of you and how happy you looked.

“I’ve never started dating someone right after having sex with them,” you said, looking down at her with your head above hers. Your hand was on her stomach, drawing gentle shapes against it.

“Does that bother you?” she asked quietly, lifting both her hands to either side of your face.

You shook your head immediately, the happy smile reminiscent of a small puppy. 

A large smile pulled at Wanda's lips. “You are a terribly, terribly lovely girl, Y/N,” she said then kissed you. When she laid her head back down and looked up at you, the both of you exchanged a silent stare in which every hope for your relationship was conveyed in the silent fondness you shared looking at each other.

Wanda turned her head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “I think we can get away with making me come one more time before we have to go back.” She moved herself closer to you and had you lay down beside her. “Make me come with your fingers.”

She spread her legs and rubbed her fingers against her wet folds while she tucked her other hand between your legs and met your cunt with them. She slid two manicured fingers into her pussy at the same time she entered you. 

Eventually after a few moments when she’d become bored of herself, she pulled out and took your wrist, placing your fingers against her warm pussy. You started fingering her while Wanda continued with her own hand still tucked between your thighs, gentle and smooth and ensuring you could follow her lead, feeling with your tight walls the way she carefully fucked her fingers in and out of you.

“You feel amazing,” she uttered against your lips. “So wet.” She leaned forward and tugged at your earlobe with her teeth. “I wanna see you come for me.”

Wanda quickened her fingers and you did the same, following her obediently. Soon, the both of you were exclusively reliant on each other for your releases, mutual pleasure tying the two of you together in the sweaty meshing of your bodies amongst Wanda’s soft bed sheets and heavy exhales from your mouths.

Finally, with Wanda holding herself back until she felt you near your orgasm, the both of you came together, tightening around each other’s fingers and for a moment making it seem like you shared a body, crying out against each other and feeling the other come around their fingers as they felt themselves riding through their orgasms. 

A few minutes later, the both of you were a cluster of two warm bodies, limbs entangled with each other. Your head was on Wanda’s chest as she stroked your hair and held your hand, your other idly running its thumb across the stretch marks that went up the side of her stomach.

The strap had been removed and was laying by the bottle of lube Wanda eventually found so she could be reminded to clean it properly later. 

“Why all of this so suddenly?” you asked, looking up at her from her shoulder. “I mean, bringing me home and then confessing and everything.”

Wanda hummed and circled a lock of your hair around her forefinger. “I’d just had it on my mind for a while, and it’d been so long since I last had you to myself,” she explained. “So I suppose when we got time alone, I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Agatha said you were jealous earlier.”

Her face contorted and she looked down at you as if she thought she hadn’t heard it right the first time. At the sight of you and realising you were serious, she looked away and attempted to conceal her embarrassed expression with a laugh. 

“What? Why would she–” She tried to chuckle, but it came out sounding nervous. “Agatha doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

Then after a moment, more seriously albeit still hesitant, she asked, “Why did she say that?”

“She said you looked jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Wanda asserted. “I wasn’t.”

You smiled, and for the first time, Wanda didn’t catch onto the subtleties of your expression because she was occupied trying to obscure her own. It didn’t take long for you to catch onto the fact that she truly had been feeling jealous earlier.

“Besides,” she said, “you’re mine now, so…” She looked over at you and pulled you close so her body was against yours. “No reason to feel jealous anymore, is there?”

With a grin, you climbed onto her lap and Wanda placed her hands on your hips. You leaned down so your foreheads were pressed against each other. “No reason at all,” you answered.

Wanda kissed you and you felt her grin widely against your lips. 

“Good,” she said.

Neither of you realised nor would you care if either of you remembered that you’d both been expected back at the festival nearly forty minutes ago.

[m0ssrat]

arcane music headcanons expect I'm objectively correct

Jinx

Ghost and Pals, Will Wood and the Tapeworms, Mother Mother, Melanie Martinez, Corpse, Set It Off, Poppy Nightcore, Gorillaz, etc.

You know those really bad playlist for characters with like, extremely unfitting songs that have an abnormal amount of Mother Mother in them? Yeah. She's the one making those.

If it was a TikTok audio for a Danganronpa cosplayer in 2020 she probably has it on loop

Listens to shitty modern day Hyperpop and it sounds like ASS

She listened to a undertale fansong nightcore cover on her school Chromebook and it genuinely changed her life for the worst. She was on Wattpad with Angel with a Shotgun BLASTING through her skull candy earbuds she stole off of a kid.

She's never been to a concert and that's for everyone's sake. She would have the absolutely worst concert etiquette to ever exist.

Once she matures she becomes an IPC diehard. She is at a Juggalo concert with her shirt off throwing Fuego and probably getting pulled over after.

Vi

Twenty One Pilots, Hozier, Florence and The Machine, Weezer, The Smiths, Ghost, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Queen, System of a Down, Nancy Sinatra, etc

She says she's not a big music fan and that she just listens to whatever's on the radio but that is a lie.

She's not normal about Florence and The Machine. Anytime she's about to have a breakdown she puts Dog Days Are Over on full blast inside her truck. She's been in the top percent of her listeners for 5 years straight now.

She listens to exclusively bands that a guy in a guitar store would brag about listening to saying they were totally indie and no one would know them. She owns a vinyl player. She's not as pretentious, but still.

Hozier is like, the one guy in all of history that she somewhat is attracted to. His music is a borderline religious experience. She went to one of his concerts with Ekko and cried so hard she got sick. As soon as they were in the hotel she chugged a bottle of honey whiskey and passed out. She has not been the same since.

She HATES Jinx's music with like, a genuine passion. She will smack Jinx's hand if she tries to change her music. they are fighting like rabid dogs for who gets the aux cord

Caitlyn

Taylor Swift, Chappel Roan, Mitski, Kate Bush, The Cardigans, The Crane Wives, Sabrina Carpenter. Billie Elish, etc

She's relatively normal about music. Most of the time she just has white noise on whenever she's working. However, if she needs to do a long drive or something and doesn't want to listen to the radio, she WILL be playing all of Taylor Swifts discography

Shes not a Swiftie, but she listens to it enough that she got Jayce into it. She's way more a fan of her older music though.

Most of the music she listens to sounds like breakup music. Like it's always weirdly somber and full of anguish. She will also occasionally listen to a song about family issues and clearly not be okay.

Again, not really a music fan. However, this has not stopped Jayce from seeing her in her car scream-crying to Good Luck Babe. He is so worried for her and she just acted so calm after.

She thinks Vi has such unique tastes and will end up growing to like a lot of Vi's music too. Disgusting. I think they kiss during a Hozier song playing and everyone thinks they're disgusting.

Ekko

Tyler The Creator, Gorillaz, Poor Mans Poison, Los Campesinos, The Oozes, Pavement, AJJ, The Front Bottoms, Jhariah, Jack Stauber, Djo, etc.

The only one with objectively good music tastes in the entirety of this group. He's the kind of person to genuinely mean it when he says he listens to everything. The only music he doesn't really love is modern country, but he fucks heavily with almost everything.

The only artist that's super consistent and someone he actively gets excited for when there's a new release is Tyler the Creator. He enjoys music as an art form rather than something to just listen to, and he loves Tyler's vision and how he makes it an experience.

He listens to a LOT of Legend of Zelda soundtracks. If his favorite video game has a soundtrack he will have that on loop for days. His Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because of this.

He took Vi to the Hozier concert because she kept asking and he got into Hozier before she did. He has a video of her drunk-crying in her hotel bed about it. It was genuinely such a magical experience for them both though.

He got Jinx into Gorillaz as a way to try and get her to like. better music. And it backfired so bad. He's the one pushing her to like ICP.

Jayce

Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Chappel Roan, Charli xcx, Doja Cat, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Ayesha Erotica, Shakira, P!NK. etc

Do NOT take away his basic white girl music he will DIE!!!!!! he will die SO BAD!!!!!

He got into Taylor Swift due to Caitlyn and now he's the bigger Swiftie. Genuinely has started collecting all her albums. He is so obsessed with her music it is a little concerning.

He will blast Juno by Sabrina Carpenter on full blast while working and it annoys the genuine fuck out of Viktor. He is not doing this to annoy him, he's trying to get Viktor to like his kind of music.

Vi has been begging him to listen to literally anything else. Viktor is also begging, but he's starting to give up.

He went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Mel and he ended up getting the fuzzy pink handcuffs and he will NEVER stop talking about it. He has them hanging on his wall alongside a picture of him on the screen.

Viktor

The Hoosiers, The Oh Hellos, American Murder Song, The Taxpayers, Poor Mans Poison, Orville Peck, Gene Aubrey, Johnny Cash, Hozier, etc

Again, objectively good music tastes. He tends to listen to old country or folk music. He likes a song that tells a story and has a lot of heart in it.

If you put modern day country on the radio he will die. If he has to listen to a "I LOVE BEER AND TRUCKS" song one more time he's going to throw himself onto the highway full speed. He despises that genre of music more than anything else on the entirety of this Earth.

He is also a huge Hozier fan, and has been since Take Me to Church blew up while he was in his religious guilt era. He went to the same concert as Vi but they didn't know they were there. He cried so hard at that concert he got sick. It was more than a religious experience for him.

He has been trying to get Jayce to listen to Orville Peck or Hozier for MONTHS. He's not allowed Jayce to play his music ever. It's working very slowly.

He thinks about Jayce while listening to Hozier and contemplates ending it all while Jayce is playing BRAT in the lab. Genuinely couldn't be a worse situation for him actually.

Mel

See, I know most will say she would have amazing music tastes but I can't agree. I don't think she cares. She listens to whatever is on the radio. Her Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because she uses her phone as a speaker at like parties or during long car rides.

She doesn't have a preference when it comes to music. Her liked playlist of songs is close to 500 and it's just whatever songs anyone has sent her. She will put it on shuffle and get Halls of Illusions by Insane Clown Posse back to back with fucking Someone New by Hozier. It's bad.

She is not paying attention to what she's listening to. She blocks it out so well that she can't really pay attention to it. If she's forced to pick music, it'll just be whatever Jayce has made her listen to in the past week and a half.

She went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Jayce purely because she saw all the videos and thought it would be fun. Her and Jayce were dorking out. She could not match his energy though, and she loves him so much but she is never going to a concert with him again.

[icemankazansky86]

Jewish Tom “Iceman” Kazansky Headcanons

(Yes, I fiddled with Ice’s age because I headcanon him as a bit younger than he is in canon)

Tom’s legal name isn’t “Tom” at all, it’s actually Tomer (תּוֹמַר) or Toma meaning palm tree.

Tom was born in Honolulu, Hawaii on the 5th of August 1963, and moved with his father, Ivan, mother Katherine, and sister, Ana, to San Diego, California at age five. In Los Angeles, California he began attending Yavneh Hebrew Academy.

Tom wears a Magen David tucked into his shirt at all times, and even while religious articles and jewelry are not to be prohibited from being worn in accordance with the criteria of AR 670-1, Tom does not wear it openly out of caution.

Tom’s mother, Katherine’s, father and grandparents perished during WWII, having been rounded up and taken to the camps shortly following the liquidation of the Kraków Ghetto in March of 1943.

Tom’s mother’s father’s name was Yaakov Horowitz, a factory worker from Łódź. Tom’s great-grandparents were Mordechai and Miriam Horowitz. Miriam was a seamstress and Mordechai a musician.

His father’s mother, Feodora, was born in Nizhny Novgorod (Gorky) Russia and married her husband, Georgiy Kazansky in 1926. Georgiy was from Rostov-on-Don, Russia. He passed away March of 1973.

Tom is fluent in English, Russian, and Polish. He can read and hold a conversation in Hebrew.

Every Friday (when he’s not deployed), Tom drives over to his parent’s house for Shabbat.

In 1976, Tom and his family traveled to Jerusalem to visit cousins and friends. There he also had his Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall.

While in High School Tom participated in a production of ‘Fiddler on The Roof’ that was put on by the Drama Department. He was cast as Perchik. Emotionally Tom has always related to Tzeitel and her inner struggles.

Tom attends Congregation Beth El (located in San Diego) when he can, but always tries to attend High Holiday services.

Every year on the anniversary of Goose’s death, Tom goes to the cemetery and places a small stone on top of his grave and says the Mourner’s Kaddish.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with the Los Angeles Times (2024)

“This is where all the cruising happened.”

Jonathan Bailey and I are standing in Pershing Square on a bright, blustery spring afternoon, nearing the end of a homemade queer history tour of downtown L.A.: One Magazine, Cooper Do-Nuts/Nancy Valverde Square, the Dover bathhouse, the Biltmore Hotel and this, the city’s former Central Park, a haven, since before World War I, for “fairies” and “sissy boys,” servicemen on leave and beatniks on the road.

“Is it still happening now?” he asks.

“Probably not as much,” I venture.

“Well, you let me know if it’s happening,” he teases, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

Bailey understands the uses of the charm offensive. As Sam, the handsome Lothario of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful pre-”Fleabag” curio, “Crashing”; Anthony, the romantic hero of “Bridgerton’s” second season; and John, the jerk of a protagonist in Mike Bartlett’s love triangle play “Cock,” the English actor, 36, has swaggered up to the precipice of superstardom. With roles in such studio tentpoles as “Wicked” and “Jurassic World” on the horizon, he may just break through. Yet he delivers career-best work in Showtime’s queer melodrama “Fellow Travelers,” as anti-Communist crusader-turned-gay rights activist Tim Laughlin, by leaving behind the self-assured rakes and tapping a new wellspring: soft power.

Tim may be, as Bailey puts it, “an open nerve,” but as it turns out, the devout Catholic and political naïf — who falls for suave State Department operative Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) just as Sen. Joseph McCarthy tries to purge the federal government of LGBTQ people — is formidable indeed.

Stretching from the Lavender Scare to the depths of the AIDS crisis, in scenes of tenderness, cruelty and toe-curling sex, Bailey’s performance communicates that little-spoken truth of relationships: It takes more strength to submit than it does to control. The former demands discipline, courage, trust; the latter requires only force.

“In ‘Bridgerton,’ [Bailey] is like a Hawkins Fuller character — he is very sexy and has lots of power, has that kind of confident charisma that absolutely is not Tim at all,” says “Fellow Travelers” creator Ron Nyswaner.

But any doubt about Bailey’s ability to mesh with Bomer, who boarded the project early in development, was put to bed with the actors’ virtual rehearsal of a meeting on a park bench in the pilot. “‘Well, that’s a first,’” Nyswaner recalls an executive texting him. “I cried in a chemistry read.”

‘Am I inviting people in?’

Bailey grew up in a musical family in the Oxfordshire countryside outside London, and this, coupled with an appreciation for the morning prayers, choir practice and Mass he attended as a scholarship student at the local Catholic school, fed his precocious talents. (“I loved the performance of it,” he laughs. “Not to diminish the celebration of religious process, but I did love the idea of wearing a gown.”) By age 10, he’d appeared in the West End, playing Gavroche in a production of “Les Misérables,” an experience he now recognizes as an encounter with a queer found family — albeit one shadowed by the toll of the AIDS crisis, which peaked in the U.K. in the mid-1990s.

“When I’m asked about my childhood, there’s so much I don’t remember, and I think that’s true of anyone who’s been in fight or flight for 20 years,” he says. “I would have been in a cast of people whose friends would have died in the last seven years. I think of where I was seven years ago. I had all my gay friends then. It’s only retrospectively that I can retrofit a real gay community around me [in the theater], that I just wasn’t aware of [then].”

During the late 1990s and early 2000s, American and British culture presented queer adolescents with a bewildering array of mixed signals. As beloved celebrities came out in growing numbers, and the battle for marriage equality became a central locus of LGBTQ political organizing, the media continued to propagate harmful stereotypes of gay men as miserable, lonely, perverted or worse — and, Bailey remembers, callously turned George Michael, arrested on suspicion of cruising in a Beverly Hills restroom in 1998, and Irish pop star Stephen Gately, who revealed his sexuality in 1999, fearful he was about to be outed, into tabloid spectacles.

No wonder Bailey, like many LGBTQ people of his generation, should feel the “chemical” thrill of “validation and acceptance” during London Pride at age 18, then embark on a two-year relationship with a woman in his 20s.

“Dangerously, if you’re not exposed to people who can show you other examples of happiness, you think that’s the easiest way to live,” Bailey says. “It’s funny. You look back and you can tell the story in one way, which is that I always knew who I was and my sexuality and my identity within that. But obviously at times, it was really tough. I compromised my own happiness, for sure. And compromised other people’s happiness.”

Disclosures about his personal life have become particularly thorny for the actor since the premiere of “Bridgerton,” the blockbuster bodice-ripper from executive producer Shonda Rhimes.

“The Netflix effect does knock you off center completely,” he says, recalling the experience of finding a paparazzo waiting outside his new flat before he’d even moved in. “Suddenly, you do start having nightmares about people climbing in your windows... Even now, talking about it makes me feel like, ‘Am I inviting people in?’”

He is also critical of the media for churning out headlines about the smallest details of celebrities’ private lives, often detached from their original context. In an interview with the London Evening Standard published in December, Bailey described a harrowing encounter in a Washington, D.C., coffee shop in which a man threatened his life for being queer — and, in recounting the experience, offhandedly mentioned the “lovely man” he’d called, shaken, after it happened. Although Bailey acknowledges that the original story handled the subject with aplomb, he felt dismayed that more attention wasn’t paid to the intended warning about rising anti-LGBTQ sentiment: “The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,” he sighs. “It was kind of depressing, if I’m honest.”

Still, Bailey, who once turned down a role in a queer-themed TV series because it would have required him to speed along revelations about his personal life he wasn’t ready to make, is prepared to embrace the power of vulnerability when it feeds the work. Although a member of his inner circle expressed doubts about “Fellow Travelers’” steamy sex scenes, for instance, the actor intuited that they were what made the project worth doing: “I was like, ‘I’m telling you, they are the reason why this is going to be brilliant.’”

‘He’s changed my trajectory in my own life’

To those who would complain about the state of sex in film and TV, “Fellow Travelers” is the perfect riposte. All of it matters, from Tim’s first flirtation with Hawk to the finale’s closing minutes, because the series, at its core, is about the importance of soft power: the strength required to bend, but not break; to adapt, but not abandon oneself; to survive without shrinking to nothing in the process.And depicting that through sex, specifically gay sex, makes “Fellow Travelers” radical indeed.

Bailey understands that baring so much comes with certain risks. When I tell him that research for the story has filled my algorithmic “For You” feed on X (formerly Twitter) with speculation that his onscreen relationship with Bomer has a real-life element, he notes that “shipping” fictional couples and costars alike has long been part of Hollywood fantasy. But he bristles at the implication that he and Bomer are anything but skilled actors at work.

“I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—. It’s actually about us leaning into the craft,” he says. “It’s a vulnerable situation to be in, talking about it on record. I don’t want to rob people of their thoughts. But I do have a set of values, and as an artist, you don’t need to be f— to tell that love story.”

Underlying that craft, Bailey adds, is the confidence to speak up, as with one scene in “Fellow Travelers” that was adjusted because he said, “I don’t want to be naked today.” He learned to use his voice the hard way: In his early 20s, he recalls, he was once “bullied” on set when “someone was threatened” by him and vowed to himself, “I’m never going to do that to someone. I’m never going to allow that to happen.”

This impulse to direct his influence in support of others has blossomed further with “Fellow Travelers.” On the day of our interview, Bailey enthuses about an upcoming meeting with legendary gay rights activist Cleve Jones and shares his idea for a docuseries recording the stories of elders in the LGBTQ+ community while they are still here to tell them. He describes lying in a hospital bed on set on World AIDS Day, in character as Tim, surrounded by gay men who had lost friends and lovers during the crisis, and finding himself thinking, “What do I want to leave behind?”

“I think he’s changed my trajectory in my own life,” Bailey says.

This is, perhaps, the most common reaction I know to diving deep into queer history — the understanding that we, like our forerunners, are responsible for shaping the queer future, whether in politics, society or art. No one is going to do it on our behalf.

As we stand on the nondescript corner now named for her, I relate the story of the late queer activist Nancy Valverde, who was arrested repeatedly while a barber school student in the 1950s on suspicion of “masquerading” because of her preference for short hair and men’s clothing, and later successfully challenged her harassment by the police in court.

“What a hero!” Bailey exclaims, wondering at Valverde’s bravery. “The thing that’s so interesting with power battles is, ultimately, identity is the thing that gives you the most strength and power in your life, isn’t it?

“Because that’s one thing people can’t take away from you: who you are and how you express yourself.”

Source

[unsolicited-opinions]

On the fires in the Los Angeles area:

American right-wing fundamentalist "Christians" Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell pissed off extraordinary numbers of Americans when they shared their views of what brought about the terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001.

Said Falwell:

"Throwing God out successfully with the help of the federal court system, throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools. The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked. And when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad." "...[T]he pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way — all of them who have tried to secularize America, I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'" "Well, I totally concur," responded Robertson.

They asserted that their own (supposedly omnibenevolent) God visited these Islamist terrorist attacks on the United States...because God didn't like the direction politics had taken (away from Christian Nationalism, towards religious freedom, and towards the bodily autonomy and legal equality of women). God, in their view, hated what/who they hated, and that's why God brought these attacks upon the United States.

People were outraged by this for many excellent reasons. Among them was how these men abused a terrible tragedy in order to attack the things they always attacked. Islamist terrorists attacked the US, they claimed, because the US did not sufficiently persecute American women, LGBTQ+ Americans, or the enemies of Christian Nationalism. It was a monstrous, disgusting thing to assert and they were rightly excoriated.

That excoriation was so intense that Falwell (a man who had no conscience whatsoever) actually had to apologize. The apology, however, wouldn't stick because Falwell pretended at being a victim of a smear campaign.

...two weeks after Falwell apologized to God and Geraldo, the Jerry Falwell Ministries sent out a fundraising letter written by Falwell's son, the Rev. Jonathan Falwell. The letter charged that "Satan has launched a hail of fiery darts at dad" and that "liberals, and especially gay activists, have launched a vicious smear campaign to discredit him." The younger Falwell suggested that supporters could assuage the elder Falwell's "personal hurt" by sending "a special Vote of Confidence gift for Jerry Falwell of at least $50 or even $100."

Falwell was a garbage human being. When he died, Christopher Hitchens found a polite way to say on national television how incredibly full of shit Falwell was:

“If you gave Falwell an enema, he could be buried in a matchbox.”

My thoughts keep returning to Falwell and Robertson when I read about Code Pink and JVP (Jewish Cosplayers for Peace) blaming the fires in the Los Angeles area on Israel.

Code Pink reportedly posted on Instagram:

“When US taxes go to burning people alive in Gaza, we can’t be surprised when those fires come home.”

The post about it on their web site never really makes a connection, except to also accuse Israel of environmental crimes, so just as Falwell asserted that God was punishing the US for politics Falwell didn't like, Code Pink believes the universe is punishing the US for for politics Code Pink doesn't like.

JVP also blames Israel for the Los Angeles fires.

Firefighting is not funded by the federal government and if the Los Angeles area firefighters had twice the budget, this still would have been a massive, horrible, tragic disaster...which JVP, just like Falwell and Roberts, crassly and disgustingly tries to leverage for their own political purposes.

But JVP isn't done. They also blame Israel for failings in Hurricane Helene relief for Appalachia

And now Israel is also, says JVP, responsible for global climate change.

In Our Lifetime is also getting in on the action.

Fatima Mohammed, a leader of the hardline anti-Israel group Within Our Lifetime, posts an image of the fires and says, “The flames of Gaza will not stop there.” “Dropping hundreds of thousands of bombs on Gaza, turning it into a blazing inferno, has consequences,” she says. “There are climate consequences that will find us all.”

God (Code Pink, JVP, and In Our Lifetime seem to say) hates who they hate: Israel.

This is a new antisemitic low, even for these Jew-hating groups.

New York Democratic Congressman Ritchie Torres said it well:

"The nature of Antisemitism is to scapegoat the Jewish People and the Jewish State for everything wrong in the world-no matter how tenuous the causal connection. Toward that end, the antisemites of Code Pink are blaming the Jewish State for the wildfires in California.

The modus operandi of Antisemitism is slanderous scapegoating: when in doubt, blame the Jews."

This is naked, obvious antisemitism.

It seems, though, that only a tiny fraction of non-Jewish liberals (like Torres) see these as analogous to Falwell and Robertson and see the obvious, historically consistent Jew hatred staring them in the face.

But this is worse: When they are called out for their antisemitism? They, like Falwell, will claim to be slandered victims and decry that their critics are slandering them to discredit their righteous crusade against Israel, and they'll raise money on it.

And it'll work. It's been working beautifully for them for about fifteen months.

[areacodefan]

The fires out here are so terrible. I'm currently safe from the flames (relative to many others) because I live in an urbanized, flat portion of the San Fernando Valley called North Hollywood. But so many of my friends and family are severely affected.

I know that everyone thinks of places like the LA coast as being the home of only super-rich celebrities, but I can assure you that there are many folks in Pacific Palisades, Altadena, Pasadena, and all the affected areas who are not going to be able to recover from this devastation. There are also many businesses, religious institutions, and schools destroyed in those areas and therefore the livelihoods of workers and security of children. This catastrophe is happening all over Los Angeles.

I have at least two friends who lost everything in the Eaton Fire and many more are waiting to find out. I get messages every few hours from friends suddenly getting evacuation orders or trying to figure out if they should just leave before anything gets too close to them. I'm feeling stress and fear for my family, friends, and neighbors. Plus, officials are telling us that EVERYONE should be in some state of preparedness to evacuate, even areas like mine that are usually exempt, because the situation is so unpredictable.

This horrible situation is far from over. It's still very windy, it's smoky, fires are still erupting in places, it's insane. I'm doing everything I can to stay calm and support others, but it's hard. My stomach is in knots and I'm scared for what may still be ahead.

[art-allegory]

Philosophy and Christian Art

Artist: Daniel Huntington (American, 1816-1906)

Date: 1868

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, CA, United States

Description

Although most of Huntington’s long career was taken up in painting more than one thousand portraits, he also painted landscapes and probably thought of himself as a painter of allegories and ideal subjects. His interest in religious and allegorical painting had been kindled by the Raphaelesque Italian and German ideal subjects he had seen in Rome on his first trip to Europe in 1839. By the 1860s his models were the Venetian artists of the High Renaissance, especially Titian (c. 1488-1576), whose example can be seen in the costumes and figure types depicted in Philosophy and Christian Art. The model or the type of the old man also appears in Huntington’s Sowing the Word, 1868 (New-York Historical Society). The influence of the Venetian school can also be seen in the rounder forms and richer palette of his paintings of this period. Even the half length format seems to echo Venetian examples. The model for the painting to which the young lady gestures, however, appears to be The Adoration of the Shepherds, 1650, by José Ribera (1588-1652) in the Louvre, Paris. The painting is conceived as a conversation between embodiments of opposing, but equally worthy points of view. The wisdom of the aged scholar, reading a book by lamplight, is contrasted with the intuitive perceptions of the young woman who examines a work of art by the daylight signified by the window.

[loneberry]

news

I was offered an incredible position: Assistant Professor of Poetry at Brown University. Now I must make an agonizing decision.

Leave: Los Angeles, USC, and the world of scholarship. A politically solid department with incredible PhD students. The sun. The Pacific Ocean. The kelp forests. My friends. The Museum of Jurassic Technology, which is where my soul longs to reside.

Go to Brown, become a full-time poet, return to my wild and freaky self, get a house with a garden, have total control over my teaching and publications, smaller classes with incredible students, and be at a university that values both aspects of my work (the poetic and the critical). I wouldn't have to worry about tenure. My teaching load would be lower. I would be at an Ivy League school with tons of resources. Plus, some of my closest friends in the world would be only an hour away.

When I consult my soul I must admit: I was put on this planet to write (poetry and lyrical prose), not produce scholarship. That's the truth, though I initially gravitated toward the world of scholarship over the literary arts because I am fundamentally a hardcore nerd who is sometimes frustrated by poets who don't have deep knowledge of political economy, theory, history, religious studies, geopolitics... I like that scholars know shit! I want to discuss ideas, to be a creature of the world, a Marxist!

And yet. And yet.

I will always believe that poetry is the highest form of knowledge production. My nerdiness longs for expression outside the confines of traditional scholarship.

If I leave the scholarly track, there might not be a way back, though I would keep one foot in the scholarly world by seeking a cross-appointment (likely with MCM) and publishing my academic monograph.

This is not a decision I will make lightly.

[aziraphales-library]

do you know of any fics set during the 70s 80s or 90s with a splash of punk!crowley

Here are some for you...

Think We're Alone Now by wonderlandiscrumbling (T)

Crowley has to admit there is an excitement to the punk rock scene in Los Angeles, CA during the 1980s. They love the fights, the loud music, the booze, and the fashion almost as much as they love Aziraphale.

It's the Beginning of a New Age by fluorescentgrey (T)

In August 1970, Aziraphale and Crowley attend one of the Velvet Underground's final shows at Max's Kansas City.

how to pay for my own life too by MostWeakHamlets (T)

"Growing up, Aziraphale knew long skirts and waist-length hair in braids."

Aziraphale is raised in a religious cult that promises its members will all become angels when the rapture comes. He learns all the things a girl should know, but problems quickly begin to form when he attends school on the Outside. He starts doubting that girls his age are actually supposed to know how to deliver babies, mend clothes, and cook dinner for their 10 siblings as he's always been told.

And he highly suspects that he's never been a girl in the first place.

Infernal Harmonies by Aspiring_Eccentric (T)

Rock ‘n’ Roll turned out to be Crowley’s favorite invention of the twentieth century. He may lie and say it’s the internet, but it’s not. He has always been a music fanatic, and it has informed his fashion choices for as long as there has been music. It wasn’t any wonder that the raucous genre of Rock’n’Roll took off after the shock and awe of the Second World War. Make all the arguments for “that’s just the way music was already headed” that you want, Crowley will tell you that wasn’t entirely true. After so much Death, People wanted to Live. Music, after all, has always been one of the greatest ecstasies of sentience. And Crowley is determined to make Rock the most popular music of the century. An unsanctioned bet with his angel certainly has NOTHING to do with it! ...But will he have the guts to collect if he wins?

Finisterre, Sometimes by sheffiesharpe (M)

It begins with a snake, and a garden, obviously. No, not that beginning, and not that snake, and not that garden, either, to be perfectly honest. This beginning, this link, this closed and independent little loop, begins in 1980, as we said, with a snake. [A little bit of punk rock, some interludes across the ages, and what happens immediately after the first day of the rest of their lives, which is something neither of them would ever expect.]

Minor chords in a major key by Sani86 (T)

Azirapahle Felton transfers to St Francis' Academy for his final year of school, stepping into his older brother Gabriel's illustrious shadow with the firm knowledge that he could never measure up. Anthony Crowley is his roommate; he would rather be a musician, but his father has other ideas that he's determined to enforce, and school is as much an escape from his family home as a means to an education. This story tells the tale of the year that they shared a room; a year that would change the trajectory of both their lives forever.

- Mod D

[dullgecko]

Some moments between the bad kids and the other parents

(Freshman) Sklonda seeing Fig sitting on the curb at like 11am and offering to take her home, but Fig doesn’t want to go so she lets her spend the night. Sklonda did end up calling Sandralynn and found out what was going on at home. Fig was allowed to come over whenever she wanted after that.

Sandralynn taking Gorgug with her to see some griffins that have been resting in the mountains it was a long hike and Gorgug let it slip that he wanted to be Druid at one point, Sandralynn was so supportive. The griffins were probably the coolest thing Gorgug’s seen.

Hallerial and Adaine having an elvish dinner together, it gets really deep and they start talking about existential stuff, like how they’re both gonna outlive their friends and family, Hallerial lets it slip that she’s not ready for Fabian die because she wasn’t there for a lot of his childhood.

(Freshman year) Kristen asking Gorthalax a lot of religious stuff. Like did he think falling was worth or if he knows any deities that he thinks would accept her. Gorthalax want to get emotional because he used to be angel questions stuff divinity.

Riz going to the Thistlesprings to help him modify some of gadgets and he leaves with things like smoke bombs, poisonous bullets, and coming to realization that the Thistlesprings are bad ass as fuck.

Fig doesnt want to go back into the appartment with Gilear, and she doesnt want to go home to her mom, so she just sits outside of the Strongtower appartments in the middle of the day on a Sunday with nowhere to go. Sklonda is on her way to work, spots this kid that she knows is in her sons adventuring party (which only three weeks ago got attacked by a horrific corn monster at school), and offers to drive her home on the way to the station.

Fig is clearly upset about something but she refuses the ride so Sklonda gives her her house keys and says to at least stay inside her apartment if she has nowhere else to go. Riz is in there passed out asleep on the couch anyway so its not like she'd be left to her own devices in her apartment while she's at work it's fine. Coincidentally this is also the first time any of the bad kids see Riz actually asleep so when the conspiracy theories start up among the rest of the bad kids later that goblins dont sleep Fig is able to refute the claims. With proof. She took pictures. Mostly because it was also the first time she saw him wearing anything other than his suit (he had actual pajamas on).

She eventually goes back to Gilears appartment to get her stuff when Sklonda comes home later that night, and her and Riz have their first sleepover (even though Riz was asleep most of the day already).

--------------------------------

Sandra Lynn agrees that Gorgug should look into being a druid. Baxter clearly likes him so he has a bit of an affinity for animals, and their party really needs one if they're going to be doing any sort of adventuring in the wilderness. She gives him so many pamphlets when they get home. She's a bit disappointed when he ends up multi-classing as an artificer because thats two strikes she's had trying to help a kid be a ranger (Fig is so terrible at it she's banned from using projectile weapons). Oh well, she still has four other bad kids she could try converting... maybe she'll try the goblin next time.

-----------------------

Fabian is there for the beginning of the dinner but his mother and Adaine start getting so philosophical that he ends up excusing himself. Honestly he can't stand the whole you're dying so fast talk full elves tend to devolve into whenever talking about him. It makes his chest hurt in a way that he cant quite work out why. Its probably the fact that his mother and grandfather seem to have both been mourning his death from the moment he was born (his mothers favorite coping mechanism being drinking herself senselees) rather than enjoying the time they still have with him.

---------------------

Kristen has a lot of questions, and is constantly doubting herself, so having Gortholax there to get at least SOME answers is very comforting. Gortholax does get a little quiet with a far off look in his eyes when she asks him if he ever doubted the convictions that lead him to falling, and he can only ever give her half answers. He doesnt doubt that what he did was right now because he likes how his life has finally panned out.

----------------------

Riz really likes visiting the Thistlesprings. Other than the fact that Gorgug is there the Thistlesprings are so nice, and their house is full of furniture actually scaled for a creature his size (his apartment and office are furnished with human-sized furniture simply because its cheaper to buy second hand). There's still a lot of furniture for Gorgug too of course, they wouldnt force him to sit in gnomish sized chairs, but its nice getting to just sit and chill in a world thats his size while his friends parents tinker with his weaponry. He's pretty sure half the stuff they give him isnt stricktly legal, but they just pat his head and tell him not to let anyone find out about it and he'll be fine.

Plus, they seem to be on a mission to overfeed the hell out of him every time he visits which is always awesome.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

TODAY IN HISTORY

22 November 1963

John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States, was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.

Lee Harvey Oswald, a former Marine, was charged with the murder — shooting from the Texas School Book Depository.

Oswald was then killed two days later by nightclub owner Jack Ruby.

The Warren Commission concluded in 1964 that Oswald acted alone, but this sparked skepticism and numerous alternative theories about the day arose.

The new administration has promised to release the classified files regarding the assassination, so potentially we’ll know the true story very soon.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy 

(29 May 1917 – 22 November 1963)

22 November 1963

C.S. Lewis passed away at the age of 64 from kidney failure.

He was a scholar at Oxford and Cambridge, known for writing the Chronicles of Narnia and other Christian apologetics.

His death happened on the exact same day as John F. Kennedy's assassination, so he did not receive the attention he deserved.

His works were an incredible blend of imagination and theology, and remain influential in literature and religious thought to this day.

Clive Staples Lewis FBA 

(29 November 1898 – 22 November 1963) 

22 November 1963

It turns out that this was an extremely dark day in history in 1963.

Not only did John F. Kennedy's assassination and C.S. Lewis's passing occur, but Aldous Huxley also died at age 69 in Los Angeles from laryngeal cancer.

He’s best known for his 1932 novel Brave New World, which is a dystopian vision of the future.

Aldous Leonard Huxley 

(26 July 1894 – 22 November 1963)

22 November 1718

The notorious pirate Blackbeard, real name Edward Teach, died in a battle off North Carolina's Ocracoke Island.

He fought Lieutenant Robert Maynard in a sea battle and suffered multiple wounds before being killed and beheaded.

Blackbeard's death was a huge victory against piracy in the Atlantic.

He was the embodiment of the Golden Age of Piracy, and remains one of the most iconic and well-known pirates today.

Edward Teach 

(or Thatch; c. 1680 – 22 November 1718)

[pupcherub]

welcome to my blog < 3 3 ! !

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i’m a therian , sfw regressor / caregiver , irl yandere , fictionkin , system host , and non—religious angelkin . <- DNI if any of that bothers you ; those things are listed because they are important to my identity ! !

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[beardedmrbean]

When Sara Tasneem started high school, she dreamed of joining the Air Force and attending law school. Living with her mom in Colorado, she participated in JROTC, attended basketball games and had a boyfriend her own age.

But while visiting her dad in Mountain View at age 15, she was forced into an arranged marriage with a man nearly twice her age. Because her father believed she had broken the rules of her strict religious sect by having a boyfriend, she was married without her consent.

Her dad introduced her to the man who had been chosen for her at a coffee shop one morning. By that night, they were married in a spiritual ceremony in a Los Angeles hotel room. Six months later, she was legally married in Nevada.

From the day of her forced wedding, Tasneem said, her life became unrecognizable. She was withdrawn from school. She was forced to become pregnant with her first child at 16. She was taken out of the U.S. to her husband’s home country for six months.

“I was basically handed to this stranger,” Tasneem said. “All of my reproductive rights were taken from me that night, all of my bodily autonomy was taken from me. My entire childhood was taken from me.”

Tasneem, who is now 43 and lives in El Sobrante, was trapped in her marriage until she was 23, when she was finally able to initiate divorce proceedings after eight years and two children. She had to leave her children with their father while she figured out her next steps but was eventually able to get them back.

In California law, there is no age limit to marry. A minor must get the permission of at least one parent or guardian and approval from a judge to obtain a marriage license or domestic partnership.

Now, Tasneem and other survivors of child marriage are drawing attention to a bill in Sacramento that could ban all child marriages in California by setting the minimum marriage age to 18 — a bill that stalled in a committee controlled by a South Bay legislator.

Tasneem is not alone in her experience. California is one of only four U.S. states that does not set a minimum age for marriage, allowing individuals of any age to marry with the permission of a parent and a judge.

AB 2924, which would strike existing legal language that allows provisions for marriage under 18, was introduced by Assemblymember Cottie Petrie-Norris, D-Orange County, in February.

The bill received opposition from Planned Parenthood Affiliates of Northern California, ACLU California Action and the National Center for Youth Law, which argued that it would drive abusive relationships underground and limit the rights of those under the age of 18 who willingly want to marry.

In April, the bill’s hearing in the judiciary committee was canceled at Petrie-Norris’ request, according to the bill’s legislative history.

However, anti-child-marriage activists blame Assemblymember Ash Kalra, the chair of the judiciary committee, for the bill’s withdrawal, stating that he supported amendments that would gut the bill.

These amendments included banning marriage under the age of 16 but allowing the court petition process for 16- and 17-year-olds and emancipated minors, Petrie-Norris said.

Though she said she believed this would be a “meaningful step” that would have made California’s marriage laws stronger than 37 other states, Petrie-Norris said that she ultimately decided to pause the bill because the survivors she was working with believe there should be no exceptions.

“I have tremendous respect for the lived experience of the survivors and advocates who I was working with on this bill,” Petrie-Norris said. “After considering our options for this legislative session, I decided to pause the bill rather than move forward with a compromise proposal that they do not support.”

Kalra declined an interview request from the Bay Area News Group. ______________________

Was looking for a non paywalled version of this, when I ran across this one

California, a solidly Democratic state, was on track to be the first to pass an absolute ban on marriages for children under 18. But the legislative proposal was met with opposition from liberal organizations like Planned Parenthood, the Children's Law Center and the American Civil Liberties Union. The pushback comes out of concerns that imposing an age requirement could set the stage for a slippery slope when it comes to constitutional rights or reproductive choices, specifically that an age requirement could impede a minor's ability to seek an abortion.

Now they worry about slippery slope.

Main article keeps going under the cut, archive link here

No exceptions

A California law passed in 2018 added stricter restrictions for minors to obtain a marriage license or domestic partnership, including separate interviews of the spouses and parents by a judge and family court services to determine if coercion, child abuse or trafficking are a factor, according to its text. The law also implemented a requirement that counties track and report the number of marriages involving minors.

Petrie-Norris’s bill would remove the ability of minors to marry at all, setting the minimum age to 18 with no exceptions. The bill had 20 co-authors across both parties and houses. Petrie-Norris began work on the issue in 2021, she said.

“This was a wildly popular bill,” said Fraidy Reiss, the co-founder of Unchained at Last, which provides direct legal, social and financial services to survivors and those escaping forced marriages and advocates to end child marriage in all 50 states. The organization worked with Petrie-Norris on the bill for more than a year to build a coalition of support, Reiss added.

The U.S. signed onto a United Nations pledge to end child marriage by 2030, but only thirteen states have made marriage under the age of 18 illegal since 2018. According to a 2021 study by Unchained at Last, 300,000 minors were legally married in the U.S. between 2000 and 2018.

California’s child marriages

In 2021, more than 8,000 minors in California between 15 and 17 years old reported becoming married during the previous year, according to Unchained at Last’s analysis of data from the U.S. Census Bureau’s American Community Survey. In 2022, the number increased to more than 9,000, according to Unchained at Last. About 86% of these marriages involved underage girls marrying adult men, according to Unchained at Last’s 2021 study.

California state data collected since 2019 has reported fewer than 15 children marrying each year, according to Unchained at Last. Currently, only marriage certificates that are returned to counties with a court order are required to be counted.

The discrepancy in data is interpreted differently by Unchained at Last and the organizations opposing the bill.

The data collection mandated by the 2018 law regarding child marriage is unfunded, and many counties are not complying, Reiss said, leading to inaccurate data. Planned Parenthood, the ACLU and National Center for Youth Law said in a letter of opposition that they believe that the numbers indicate that minors are marrying in spiritual or extralegal ceremonies instead of through the legal process.

Since Unchained at Last was founded in 2011, “more and more” girls under the age of 18 have been seeking assistance, Reiss said.

“We realized there’s almost nothing we can do for someone who is not yet 18,” Reiss said. “The only thing we can do for them is change the law.”

Girls who get married as children often have worse economic and health outcomes. Child brides are more likely to experience domestic violence and less likely to stay in school, according to UNICEF. Pregnant teenage girls are more likely to have complications during pregnancy and childbirth. There are also negative mental health impacts due to isolation from family and friends.

“Child marriage destroys almost every aspect of a girl’s life,” Reiss said, calling it a “nightmarish legal trap.”

The stalemate at the statehouse

ACLU California Action, Planned Parenthood Affiliates of California and the National Center for Youth Law wrote a joint letter to Petrie-Norris opposing AB 2924, arguing that a ban on marriage under 18 would drive abusive relationships underground, and limit the rights of minors willingly entering marriages, according to the text.

The three organizations each sent the letter in response to interview requests from the Bay Area News Group.

“We support what we believe are the intentions of the bill, to address the harms of coerced and abusive relationships on young people and protect them from abuse,” the letter reads. “However, we also strongly believe in and support self-determination and bodily autonomy for all people, including young people who are pregnant and/or parenting.”

Petrie-Norris pointed out that the International Planned Parenthood Federation supports legislation setting 18 as the minimum age for marriage.

“Forced child marriage is a practice that strips children of their autonomy, sexual and reproductive freedom, forces them into adulthood prematurely and shields rapists from criminal charges — so I find opponents’ arguments a bit ironic and misplaced — particularly when they have supported the same legislation in other states,” Petrie-Norris said.

The letter cites protections put into place by the 2018 law, including that marriages of minors are screened by a judge and Family Court Services counselor. It also points to California law that considers relationships with a “very young teen” or a “significant” age gap to be child abuse, adding that this should “prevent any such marriage from passing the existing legal test.”

Unchained at Last critiqued the safeguards provided by California law, saying in its “Reality Check” document on child marriage in California that “when an individual is forced to marry, their own parent almost always plays a crucial role in facilitating it.”

Reiss said that allowing abusive parents to marry off their children or allowing children in abusive relationships to marry their abusers provides no benefit to the child.

Tasneem added that a child marrying an adult “in and of itself is abusive because one person is holding power over another.”

The organizations also argue that removing the ability to marry under the age of 18 would have consequences for minors who “willingly enter a marriage,” according to the letter, especially young parents.

“Denying these young people the right to marry — without compelling evidence that it will solve an existing problem — further stigmatizes their circumstances and does not allow them to make health decisions for themselves and their families,” the letter reads.

The opposition letter adds that, because the nationwide right to get an abortion was overturned in Dobbs v. Jackson, it is important to invest “in approaches that expand, not remove, access to care and resources for young people.”

Both Tasneem and Reiss, who spoke about how their own reproductive and bodily rights were taken from them when they were forced into marriage, said that this argument is unfounded and that marriage should be treated as a separate issue from reproductive rights.

Reiss added that 96% of minors who enter into marriage are 16 or 17 years old.

“I’d rather you pass nothing than make it 16 or 17, and then wash your hands and say, ‘Wow, we solved that problem,’ ” Reiss said. “Why would you even bother passing a bill that’s going to help approximately 4% of the people it’s supposed to help?”

The path forward

Tasneem testified about her experience with child marriage in Sacramento in support of AB 2924 and met with Kalra about the bill.

She recalled Kalra being “upset” by her experience with child marriage but said that he told her that she needs to come to the table with Planned Parenthood because they should be on the same side.

“To me, it’s Planned Parenthood that’s standing in the way,” Tasneem said. “I just don’t understand — we really should be on the same side in this situation.”

Tasneem is one of several advocates who has met with Planned Parenthood multiple times about this bill, she said.

“They have kind of seemed to dig their heels in a little bit and made this a little bit more of a political issue versus looking at this as an actual issue that affects children,” Tasneem said.

Petrie-Norris said that the bill will not move forward this year due to the legislative calendar and committee deadlines, but she is “confident that the issue is not going away.”

“I like to believe that there is always an opportunity for compromise,” she said.

Tasneem and other survivors plan to continue to push for change at the statehouse — through legislation and protest. On July 18, Unchained at Last hosted a “chain-in” protest outside Kalra’s San Jose office, dressed in wedding gowns with chains around their wrists, calling attention to the bill and its stall.

“I want to protect the people with the smallest voice in this process, and that’s the minor,” Tasneem said. “Nobody looks out for them — not their parents, not the law, not lawyers, not politicians. Nobody..”

[eretzyisrael]

by Adam Kredo

President Joe Biden's Department of Education reached an agreement with the University of California system to settle civil rights complaints that alleged widespread discrimination against Jewish students. To do so, the university system agreed to develop voluntary campus "climate surveys" and take other underwhelming measures.FreeBeaconBob Menendez's Lawyers Say Senator Hoarded Cash, Gold Because of 'Intergenerational Trauma'Read more

In the agreement, released Friday, university leaders made no admission of wrongdoing. Instead, they agreed to "provide training" to campus police officers and "employees responsible for investigating complaints and other reports of discrimination." They also agreed to "create a plan to work with respective campuses to develop climate surveys" meant to evaluate "the extent to which students are subjected to or witness discrimination, including harassment, based on actual or perceived race, color, and/or national origin."

The settlement comes in the wake of shocking scenes that played out at the University of California, Los Angeles, in the spring. Anti-Semitic radicals at the school physically prevented Jews from accessing portions of campus if they didn't denounce their religious beliefs. 

Three Jewish students subsequently sued the school in June, arguing that UCLA officials "routinely turned their backs on Jewish students, aiding and abetting a culture that has allowed calls for the annihilation of the Jewish people, Nazi symbolism, and religious slurs to go unchecked." Judge Mark Scarsi agreed, issuing a scathing ruling that ordered the school to ensure its Jewish students had equal access to campus.

"Jewish students were excluded from portions of the UCLA campus because they refused to denounce their faith," Scarsi wrote. "The fact is so unimaginable and abhorrent to our constitutional guarantee of religious freedom that it bears repeating."

In a Friday statement, the University of California said it was "pleased to share that it has entered a voluntary resolution agreement … furthering UC's commitment to cultivate a respectful and welcoming environment free from discrimination and harassment based on national origin." In addition to UCLA, schools impacted by the agreement include the University of California, Santa Barbara, the University of California, San Diego, the University of California, Davis, and the University of California, Santa Cruz.

"The University of California unequivocally rejects anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and all forms of harassment and discrimination," the statement read. "Ensuring an inclusive University environment requires sustained focus and action."

Under Biden, the Department of Education has opened dozens of investigations into schools accused of discriminating against Jewish students. While many are unresolved, settled cases have resulted in insignificant changes like the employee training and anti-discrimination statements seen in the University of California agreement.