#There are some I'm just not into

[growth-opportunities]

How about, before-bed ass expansion? Could be fun..

It was a guilty pleasure. I never told her about it because I didn't want to make it a big deal. It was just a nice little treat at the end of my day. I figured she had to be aware of it at least to some extent; it was her body, after all. But I kept quiet and simply watched, night after night. See, it was part of my girlfriend’s routine to brush her teeth every night, just before bed. She’d already be in her pajamas, invariably some kind of tank top and a pair of loose pants, which is what brought the whole show together.

My girlfriend, to put it bluntly, had a really nice ass.

It wasn’t huge, but it had a great shape and really fit her figure nicely. It was big enough to grab hold of or, when I needed to get her in the mood quickly, give it a firm smack. While her exercise regimen meant that there wasn’t a ton of jiggle to it, there was just enough to really captivate me. And it did, every night, watching her brush her teeth.

My bedroom was laid out in such a way that I could see her standing over the sink from my bed, albeit if I leaned forward slightly. She would rant, her words garbled by the brushing and the foam, and I would not along and make little “Uh huh” or “No kidding” responses, just to encourage her to keep going. For three minutes or so, she’d move her arm back and forth, twist her body at her slender waist, and her ass would wobble back and forth. It was fucking hypnotic. I couldn’t look away from it. Like I said, I don’t know if she did it on purpose, but I wasn’t about to say something and risk losing my nightly treat. It always put me in a playful mood for when she finally climbed into bed and that made her feel sexy and attractive (which she absolutely was and is), so it was a win-win. Why mess with a good thing?

On this night, however, things would go a little different. I was, once again, not really listening to her story. Something about a cake that someone brought into the office that she said tasted funny. I was a little distracted. It really was hypnotic; I couldn’t take my eyes off of it as it subtly swung back and forth, her pajamas tight over her ass as each peak of the swing. It took a few seconds for me to notice that her pants were getting tighter. And tighter. And tighter. My brow furrowed, watching her pants draw taut over the wobbling globes that made up my girlfriend’s lower half. The wobbling, too, was getting more intense, despite the increasing tightness of her clothing. Her ass seemed to fucking ripple as she swung back and forth. I opened my mouth to say something, but my throat was dry; nothing but a hoarse whisper came out. And she was so wrapped up in her story that I doubt I could have gotten a word in edge-wise.

All I could do was watch as her lower half ballooned outward, growing softer and thicker before my eyes. It usually took her only three or four minutes to brush her teeth, but each second seemed to drag on forever. The growing thickness spread, too, clearly widening her hips and thickening her thighs, pushing her poor pajama bottoms. I could start to hear the fabric creaking, the seams straining. I had to say something.

“…and it’s like, y’know, stick to favorites? Don’t bring in whatever papaya-mango-pickle juice bullshit you like. If it’s for the group, get flavors that everyone will like!”

“Um… babe?”

“I mean, that’s what I did! Last month? I brought in chocolate and vanilla. Basic, maybe, but you know that everyone is going to find something they want!”

“Babe! Hang on a sec!”

“But, nooooo, force us all to swallow down your bullshit while we all force a smile and say that the flavor is ‘interesting’. And then we have to hope you don’t see when we shovel that shit into the trash where it-“

“Jennica!”

She jumped, rolling her eyes as she spat out the toothpaste and slammed her brush down on the counter. “Jesus, Tom, what?”

I didn’t know what to say but, thankfully, her ass did the talking for me. At that moment, her pajama bottoms finally gave way, loudly tearing, soft flesh spilling out through the opening. As soon as there’s an opening, the fabric is no match to the growing onslaught of her ass, shredding around her widened hips, her fatter ass, her thickened thighs. She twists at the hips, turning to look at her ass sticking out behind her, a hand reaching down to grab it and verify that it really is part of her body and it really is growing. Her eyes look towards me with panic and lust.

“Holy fucking shit…”

A flicker of recognition passes over her face, her eyes going wide as she staggers forward. Her ass jiggles like never before, each footfall rippling upward through the softest parts of her body. She stops short at the door frame, realizing that she’ll need to turn sideways to fit through it. As her ass brushes against it anyway, she lets out a needy whimper, making the rest of the journey to the bed and flopping down onto it. Her ass jiggles for what feels like an eternity, wobbling like gelatin, sloshing like a water bed. It finally stops moving and, at that point, I can tell that it’s stopped growing. My girlfriend buries her face in a pillow, clearly embarrassed.

“I think… allergic reaction? Maybe?”

I let out a non-committal grunt. I still cant take my eyes off of her eyes, her cheeks swallowing her panties between them. My hand tingles. I can’t help myself. I reach up, hand hovering in the air for a few moments before-

SMACK!

It comes crashing down on her doughy rear. I  watch the impact in slow motion, watching it sink into her flesh, watching it spread out over her softness, rippling back and forth, taking forever to settle. For a moment, the sound of the spank hangs in the air only to be interrupted by my girlfriend, throwing her head back and letting out a howled moan. Her cheeks clench together, leading to more sloshing, a red handprint blooming on her skin. She looks up at me, lust in her eyes, her breath coming out in ragged puffs.

“Again. Please. And, uh… h-harder this time. Like you fucking mean it.”

[robyn-i-guess]

liking someone platonically is so embarrassing like. yeah i admire you. yeah i think about you all the time. yeah i look forward to every time i see you even if it's only for a minute. yeah it's all platonic and yeah i couldn't explain this because it'd sound romantic. fucking hell

[beaft]

do genuinely find it fascinating how indeed.com is like the biggest job-hunting website out there and yet manages to be profoundly useless in every possible way

[bookwyrminspiration]

sometimes a theme recurs in your work without your permission. and sometimes it reaches a threshold where you're like. well now i think this is saying something about me against my will. don't know what though

[darlingofdots]

my parents are on holiday in their mobile home

they're expected back this upcoming weekend

I just spent ten days in my childhood home to keep an eye on things

I have hidden 100 small yellow ducks all over the house

I am very excited for my parents to be back

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[agnesandhilda]

in the past 48 hours kendrick lamar has:

used a picture, apparently taken inside of drake's house, showing various medications including ozempic (which drake has dissed other people for taking!) prescribed under drake's legal name, as cover art for a single

implied that members of drake's entourage are acting as his informants

claimed he would be a better role model to adonis, drake's son whose existence was publicized via a previous rap beef, than drake is

claimed that drake also has an eleven-year old daughter that he's been hiding, and likely other illegitimate children

claimed that drake and his entourage are part of a sex trafficking ring

said drake should die so women can be safe

called drake a colonizer who appropriates black american culture

directly called drake and his entourage pedophiles

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[kensatou]

(✿◕‿◕) die (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)

[egophiliac]

gargoyle Mal is everything I've ever dreamed of and more. his little raincoat! his umbrella! I hope he really does have big ol' stompy rainboots to splash around in puddles in. I hope they have little faces on them.

(Twst please give me Malleus having a rainy day adventure, this is everything I need right now)

[a-method-in-it]

You know that Chris Fleming line that goes "Call yourself a community organizer even though you're not on speaking terms with your roommates"?

I honestly think every leftist who talks about the "revolution" like Christians talk about the rapture needs to spend a year trying to organize their workplace. Anyone who sincerely talks about building a movement so vast and all-encompassing that it overwhelms all existing power structures needs the dose of humility that comes with realizing they can't even build a movement to get people paid better at a badly run AMC Theaters where everyone already hates the manager.

[wiisagi-maiingan]

You are allowed to exist alone in public btw. You're allowed to go to the movies alone and go out to eat alone and hang out in a park alone and go for a walk alone and whatever else. It isn't weird or creepy, it doesn't make you lonely or a loser or whatever. You are allowed to just exist as yourself.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

"Canon divergence" but it's giving characters the close friendships I think they would have had if canon had expanded a little more.

[chelfaust]

✦Flower Sword✦

print

[iwieldthesword]

I need to talk about this because it's making me feel insane.

Last week, my white leftist goyisch friends sat me, a wholeass antizionist Jew, down for a "talk" because they "needed to check in about Palestine" and make sure "our values aligned before we hung out again". They apparently needed to "suss out" where I stood on Palestinian rights, despite having had several conversations about Palestine and them being some of my closest friends. They needed to check, to search for and uncover my true values, because I had said some "disturbing things" that had made them "suspicious".

Disturbing things included:

Supporting IfNotNow which is a "liberal zionist organization" because it normalizes Jewish heritage in the Levant

Not bringing Palestine up enough, despite them also not bringing it up (this was apparently a test)

Mentioning that the Houthi's flag talks about cursing all Jews

Saying Stalin was antisemitic because of the "all the paw-grihms"

...and apparently other things they wouldn't specify, but had been tracking for months.

To clarify, I am an antizionist Jew from three generations of antizionist Jews. I have been vocal in my support of Palestinian liberation and in my condemnation both of Israel's actions and its violent founding as a state, and of zionism in many of its forms. I am a regular donor to Palestinian and Jewish NGOs and advocate for Jewish antizionism in person, at temple, and online. I have been talking about Palestinian liberation before they could point to Gaza on a map. But they needed to make sure, they needed to "suss out", they needed to check. And it's notable that the majority of moments that made them suspicious of me were times where I talked about antisemitism: not about Palestinian liberation, not about Israeli decolonization, not about anything actually relevant to Palestine. It was talking about antisemitism that made them check to see if I was a cryptozionist.

One of the most pervasive and insidious forms of antisemitism is the idea that Jews are inherently untrustworthy and suspicious. You have to constantly be on guard, track what they say and do, "suss out" the real truth. You have to keep them in line and and watch them carefully because they're liars and sneaks, and if you're not looking closely they'll return to their real values (and drag you down with them). This is where the idea of "cryptozionist" comes from and what it's directly building off of: the inherent untrustworthiness of Jews and the need to check. Because no matter how close you become you can't actually trust them, and any upstanding gentile should make sure to avoid associating with Jews before "sussing out" their real allegiances and intentions. You have to make them turn out their pockets, just in case.

I'm the first and only Jew they actually were friends with; I know because they've told me (strangely proud of it in the way white Americans are proud of that kind of thing). They've asked me questions about Judaism and fawned over how beautiful and unique it was for me to be connected to my community and culture. Pre-October 7th, one of them had even mentioned being interested in coming to services at my temple. She still has my copy of our siddur. But now she needed to "check" before she could be seen with me in public. Which is what it was: it wasn't a "you're my friend and I need to give you some feedback because you're fucking up" kind of intervention (which is normal and important to have), it was a trial. It was a last chance for me to prove to them that I'm clean-enough that they could afford to risk being seen with me in public, just in case someone noticed them fraternizing with a hypothetical Enemy and their leftism was compromised. It was a test to make sure that I behave properly when required to, that I'd play along and do what I'm told and turn out my pockets if asked (because any refusal would validate the notion of having something to hide). And above all it was an opportunity for them to reaffirm their own cleanliness by putting my imagined immorality in its place.

I did what I needed to do: I smiled. I apologized. I "didn't know that". I "appreciated the feedback". I turned out my pockets because what else could I do? They'd decided who I was and what I believed, regardless of what I said or did, so there was no point in explaining that they were wrong about me. If I had told them they were being antisemitic, it would just have been proof that they were right. Caring about antisemitism is a dogwhistle in the spaces they've chosen: it's not a real form of oppression, it's a tactic for sneaky, lying Jews to weasel out of admitting their true alliances. There was nothing I could say.

Nothing's really changed for me. I'm going to continue my activism for Palestinian liberation rooted in my culture and my faith. Antizionism is still not antisemitism. But I got a reminder that many white goyisch leftists fundamentally just don't trust Jews, and that the activist spaces they're in not only exacerbate their antisemitism in an increasingly insular echo chamber, but also allow them to finally vent their internalized bigotry in a socially-acceptable way. In my former friends' eyes, what they did was activism—disavowing a Jew (and making me feel humiliated, scared, and unclean in the process) as a cathartic stand-in for doing fucking anything for actual Palestinian liberation—but for me it was a grief that I'll be feeling for a long time: not only over losing friends I loved and trusted, but also over my sense of belonging and security in leftist spaces.