#that only spreads occasionally now instead of overwhelming me

[bringbackmaes14]

My mom has her TV on in her room almost 24/7 and it's always on some news outlet or other. We talk a lot about politics and world/national/local events. And we do have a lot of varying views on a lot of things but we're both adults who are capable of saying "well we've both stated we have differing opinions and it's clear that we're actually arguing at this point and not just talking so let's put away the topic for now." But there are also other times where I'm just too overwhelmed by my own life to think about what's going on in the bigger world around me, so my mom knows to be hesitant to bring up news stuff with me (i.e. she doesn't just start talking about politics/world events with me rather she'll ask if I'm in the mindset to discuss things when she wants my opinion on something). This is all relevant.

We've always been able to talk about nearly everything from the economy to the school system to human rights to human tragedy and we've never tried to censor ourselves around each other (outside of getting too emotional with our language). But about two weeks ago when the United Healthcare CEO was assassinated, my mom, who is in her 50s, came to me and she said "Did you see that the CEO of United Healthcare got unalived?"

And I just sat there and looked at her completely confused and she was like "did you not hear about it? It's all over the news. It happened in clear view on the street." Like the problem was that I hadn't heard of the event not that my Gen-X mother had just in a real life conversation said the word "unalived".

And I told her as much. "Yes I've heard that. Why did you say 'unalived' instead of 'murdered'?

And she told me that she just thought that since I'm touchy about heavier topics sometimes (which is definitely true, that does occasionally happen) she thought it would be better to just not use the "heavy" words. I asked her if she realized, honestly, how stupid that was because regardless of the word she used, she was still talking about a murder, it didn't change the subject matter, she was only making the subject matter seem less significant and severe by changing the word to baseless internet lingo that a bunch of misguided, clout-chasing influencers spread.

She hadn't. She's doesn't use the Internet replacement words a lot, online or otherwise. This was a first. She thought this was a different situation, and a fine one to use it in, and like the above stories people shared, it's still not.

I'm allowed to say there are days where I want to avoid heavier topics because I'm overwhelmed. I'm allowed to not ever really discuss certain topics because they actually trigger me based on my own experiences. But people who are out here living their whole lives like just talking about about difficult or controversial topics, or asking questions about it, or enjoying media where it's portrayed (especially when it's actually portrayed respectfully) are being ridiculous, and they're handicapping themselves. They're never going to learn how to talk about hard things, or how to handle hard things. And honestly I feel bad for them.

Luckily, in my case, once I explained why my mom saying what she said was incredibly weird and honestly devaluing to the conversation, she backtracked and told me that (like I said above) she doesn't talk like that regularly and she has no intention to start; it's just that this was a huge news event and that day had been particularly rough for me emotionally and she wasn't sure how to approach it. So her intentions were good and I'm very lucky that she understands and also agrees that the Internet censorship language is incredibly unnecessary.

we have GOT to kill tiktok/twitter self-censorship i just witnessed a grown adult say the word “smex” out loud to our professor

[kawaii-kushami]

having one of those mid-20s moments where you're like well damn. im really not a teenager anymore i dont hate myself anymore actually. like its insane

sorry i gotta ramble but this feels too silly to post anywhere else

[hanasnx]

Just found your Noir content. Glad someone is writing for him. Noir and breeding kink? Been thinking about Noir fucking me in a mating press ever since he attacked Starlight in season 2. He can hold me down and choke me out like that any day.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: babe that fuckin mating press goes hard doesn’t it? goddamnnnnn. noir putting you in a mating press <333that whole thing with starlight was fuckin crazy i was clawing the walls

Rough grunts expel from BLACK NOIR’s nose with each sharp thrust, plowing into you from the angle the position provides. Folded up over yourself with no regard to your comfort, he’s got you bunched up in a way that pleases him. Heavy body leans over you, harsh hands on the backs of your thighs keeping you good and spread from him. You’ve certainly gotten more flexible since you’ve started fucking him. The edges of his armor dig into you, but you can’t even register it over the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Fat cock drives into you at a reckless pace, forcing air from your lungs as if its piston defines your diaphragm’s every move. You can barely breathe from being crushed.

There’s something different about his angle, not only is it mind-bending, tremors wracking through your body as your eyes roll so far back in your head they ache, but it’s the way he handles it. Grabbing you like he owns you, redirecting your body in any way he desires, muscling you into submitting underneath him so he can fuck your hole in peace when you squirm too much. Your cervix gets kissed by his tip occasionally, but he wants you to be still and take it. For his dick? You’ll do anything.

You let him mate with you. The way he’s fucking you reminds you of an animal. Pinning you down as if you’ll escape at your first chance, growls escaping him, possessively filling up your cunt with the wet sounds of a cock finding its home. Usually, you’re the dirty talker in the bedroom, but he’s effectively silenced you, yanking you into his bucks with his firm hold on your thighs.

It used to be difficult to tell what he’s thinking, but he can’t be more clear now. The stutter in his hips is a dead giveaway to his impending load, and usually this would be the point in which he’d pull out and fist his cock to cum on you. Stomach, face, ass, he loved to paint you. Instead, he’s keeping it in, not only that but he’s still moving. Like he wants to fuck a baby in you.

“Noir— Noir!” you scold, but he continues. Swollen cock bullying your insides as it twitches with need to cum. “Don’t you— don’t you dare—“ you’re able to get the words out, concentrating hard on forming a sentence when your brain is so empty. The idea of him cumming in you is appealing, but you don’t know how Supes work. You’ve never had that conversation with him. What if he’s not sterile?

Lips slot against your ear, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn they form and mouth the word “baby.”

[xxsunoosprincess]

Reunion

Jake x fem!reader

Your first night with Jake after months apart.

MDNI, 18+, not full out fucking but pretty close, college!AU, fem bodied!reader, talks of consent, humor, fluff, smut, long distance couple, reunion sex, feeling overwhelmed, not edited because I didn’t feel like it sorry

“Fuck, baby Fuck” Jake is panting hotly against your mouth, desperately pawing at your top. He’s going at it blind— he’s too busy drinking in your beautiful face being so close to his after so long— so sue him if he stretches out the neckline of your top to get your tits out. It’s some cheap cami you packed to sleep in during the long weekend you are spending in Jake’s dorm. Secretly he is happy that stupid tank top is gone, anyway. ‘Opportunistic’ feels like too sophisticated of a word to call a man that is actively humping against the meat of your ass, but he grins to himself as he pictures ruining every single shirt you brought so you are forced to wear his shirts instead.

He’s on some brain dead, gooner train of thought about maybe ruining your panties, too; soiling them with his cum; having you soak through them until they are unwearable; tear them apart trying to get to your cunt; anything so that you spend the weekend not only in his shirts but with no bottoms so he can fuck you whenever; when you notice the mess he has made of your top.

“Jakey” you whine, feeling silly trying to scold him. Especially because his eyes are trained on your boobs when you talk to him. It makes you giggle when he mindlessly hums out in acknowledgment. “D’ya forget my eyes are up here?” Your voice is gentle despite the heat building in your tummy.

“You say something hun?” He says, and you have no time to think about it if was a joke or not because he’s hardly done talking before his he is taking a nipple into his mouth. His eyes roll back as he feels you keen into him, as if he hasn’t spent the last thirty minutes mouthing at the skin on your neck. But spending so much time apart is hard. It’s so hard. He talks to you on the phone every night, texts you all day long, jerks off to the thought of you at least once every day, and maybe all that pining makes his dick grow fonder because having you in his lap is so much better than whatever image his mind could conjure up.

Maybe your nipples aren’t even all that sensitive, but the way that he licks, and sucks, and bites, and pinches… fuck it would take a lot less to make you moan the way you are now. His eyes flutter closed as he hums against your tit, and his hands greedily run up and down your back. Occasionally, he detours when he reaches the bottom, taking your ass into his hands and spreading you so he can slot the bulge in his pants between your cheeks. The dry friction of your panties and his shorts somehow makes this feel so lewd. I mean fuck he’s literally drooling, a hot line of spit slowly searing its way down your stomach.

“Fuck I missed you baby. Missed the way you taste, missed your soft skin, missed the way you moan so sweet for me. You feel that? Feel how hard I am for you. You are the only person that could ever make me feel like this.” His coos and babbling is endless, already pussy drunk, already leaking a downright obscene amount of tacky precum and making a mess of his boxers, and he hasn’t even undressed you properly. It’s all so hot you can’t help but desperately grasp the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. He’s practically suffocating in your chest, but still he gazes up at you, unfocused eyes and a dopey grin, and god. Your hips grind down with extra intent.

He coos at you before he’s moving to lay you back. It’s a twin xl, but he has really tried to make this as comfortable as possible for you. He swapped out his single, flat pillow for three memory foam ones after you laughed at his set up the first time you visited. It makes a perfect backrest as he lays you out like feast. And as he sits back onto his calves, his gaze is so intense that it leaves you blushing despite being in this position many times before. It makes you nervous; the way your sweet and dorky boyfriend now looks so intense. Not even the Lego sets on the shelf you catch a view of just over his shoulder distracts you from how hot he looks.

His hair has grown out since the last time you saw him. FaceTime didn’t do him justice. Now, it nearly obscures his eyes and comes to a soft curl at his ear. You resist the urge to sit up and tuck it away, instead you grip at the white and blue striped comforter beneath you.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the air and his hand falls to rest on your hip, thumbing the elastic band of your panties. “You okay? Lost you there for a second.”

His smile reminds you that this is still Jake. He looks just a little more mature, a little more buff but it’s still Jake. You nod a bit, reaching down to interlace your fingers with his. It was only 3 months you had spent apart, but right now, it feels as if it has been so long you are laying bare beneath him for the first time.

“Yeah just…” you shrug. He squeezes your hand. “It’s been a while”.

His smile fades a bit, a small frown coming across his face. “Yeah…” he says, confusion lacing his tone.

There is a beat of silence, “I like… I don’t know. You look different. Hotter.”you clarify before he draws an incorrect conclusion. There is some slack as his grip on your hand loosens and you are quick to tighten your own hold. “Like so hot I’m nervous” you admit easily, though your laugh as some strain behind it.

His frown deepens, “Do you wanna stop? You know I would never be upset about that.” His head tilts to the side, the same way it does when you guys study together on a call and a problem set stumps him.

“No I don’t think so…” you start slowly “unless you want to!” quickly follows, and just as fast he is shaking his head ‘no’. His dick hasn’t flagged once in the last hour.

“Okay” he drawls out, “if you aren’t sure then why don’t we stop for a second? We can just cuddle for a bit and talk until your nerves are calmed down. And if you want to fuck later, we fuck later.” There is a gentle smile on his face that feels like home, even as your heartbeat hammers in fear of disappointing him.

“It’s our first night together in months though…” you trail off, your voice is quiet and your free hand reaches for the plushie jammed between the wall and his bed absentmindedly in search of comfort.

He picks up your leg and swings it to the other side of his body so he is no longer trapped between your thighs, letting go of your hand only briefly as he lays down next to you. His head is propped up in his hand as the other caresses your stomach “I know… and I want you, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not putting my dick in you until your mind is in the right place”

You nod, as your eyes flutter closed “yeah… yeah. I just got a little overwhelmed, I think. It feels silly, like I’ve seen you jerk off over FaceTime about a thousand times, but actually seeing you… touching you… it was so much more intense.”

He looks over your face, heart skipping a beat as he recognizes the vulnerability you are showing, and then aching as he registers the sheepish tone in your voice. “If this means anything… I was really nervous about tonight too.” You open your eyes to see his crooked smile.

“Really?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He nods.

“Y/n, I went with Sunoo to get my dick waxed.” He says flatly, knowing it will make you laugh. It does.

“Oh? I didn’t mind your pubes.” You say honestly, although, it is through giggles. He smiles big, showing all his teeth and giggles with you. He reaches down to tug his waistband down a bit, and now that you are looking, his happy trail is gone and the sliver of skin you can see just under his hipbones is bare.

“I know you didn’t, pervert.” He teases. You make an affronted noise and smack his chest lightly. “I just got in my head about how this had to be really good sex. Like out of a romance novel, mind blowing, reunion sex. I started thinking about… if you would like how I looked and I got a little carried away.” He blushes but doesn’t look away from you.

“Jakey…” you turn to face him “you know I don’t care about stuff like that. Just being with you again is enough.”

He nods as if to say ‘exactly!’ And your mouth hangs open in understanding. “Oh.” you say, eloquently.

“I just want you.“ he says, bottom lip pulling into a pout and the corners of his lips tug upwards the way they do right before he breaks into a shit-eating grin, knowing his weird waxing story would make you understand.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You laugh. He wiggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated display of lust. You let out a grown of faux exasperation as he rolls you onto your back and kisses his way up your neck to your lips. You exchange a few slow kisses, smiling against his lips as he grips under your thigh to ruck your leg up against his waist.

“You’re so sexy it kills me. Even if we don’t fuck tonight, know that I find you irresistible” he whispers against the shell of your ear, grinning as you giggle and shy away from his ticklish breath.

“Such a sap” it’s a cheap deflection, but he pulls back to grin down at you and you smile back, reaching up to cup the back of his head before pulling him into a series of short kisses.

You squeal as he flips the both of you over, now having you straddling his lap, just as you guys started. Something sweet settles low in your stomach, a gentle and pleasant weight that grounds you. Reminds you. This is still your Jakey.

A/n: reunion… hah… get it… because I’m back and reunited with you guys. Realistic and awkward smut scenes make me smile. That’s all byyyee come say hi to me in my requests :p xx - princess

taglist: @criminalyun @jungwon-wife @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (message me to be added)

[youknowwho-mustnotbenamed]

November 23: The Dorm Room | word count: 953 | @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius never imagined he would get anything like this. The comfortable domesticity of lying in bed, curled around somebody else, not a care in the world. No overwhelming thoughts or memories, no residual pain lingering, nothing except him and the boy he loves. They lay tangled around each other, limbs indecipherable, bodies pressed as tight as they can go. Remus is carding his fingers through Sirius’ hair, drawing the occasional moan from his lips.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Sirius speaks into the silence. It has been weighing on his mind for a while now, this idea, and he needs confirmation that he is not alone in these too-big feelings.

“Have you now?” Remus replies, only halfway mocking.

“I have. It’s about us.”

“Us?”

“Nothing bad.” Sirius rushes to assure. He won’t let that small seed of doubt get planted in Remus’ mind. Sirius isn’t going anywhere, not unless he has quite literally no other choice. And even then he will go kicking and screaming. “I… well… I’ve been saving up my allowance for years now, ever since things started getting really bad at home. And I… I’ve… I have enough saved now for us to get a flat. Or at least, get us started.”

“Oh.”

“Unless that isn’t something you want. Because I understand if it is too early or you need some space from me. I know I’ve been clingy, but I can stop. I just… you make me feel so good, and you keep me from going to dark places. I’ve never had anybody like that before, so I—no, it’s okay. I know I’m too much; I can stop. I won’t be so pushy. I’ll—oumph.” His rant is cut off by Remus’ lips against his. As always, he melts into the kiss, dragging himself impossibly closer to Remus.

“Never stop.” Remus commands when he breaks the kiss. “Do you hear me? Never stop being you.”

“But—”

“No. You will not change for anybody. And you will certainly not change yourself for me. I love you just how you are.”

“Did you just—”

Remus’ whole body goes rigid, his beautiful autumn eyes flying wide open. He looks so young and innocent like this, even as fear holds his body captive.

“I love you, Remus. You have no idea how much I do. I was afraid I would say it too soon and rush things. James said it’s never too early to say it, but you know how he is. He practically proposed to Reggie on their first date. Remus, Godric, did you really think I would ask you to move in with me if I didn’t love you with every fiber of my being?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—It was supposed to be special.”

“It was special.” Sirius promises. “It was special because it was you. No matter how or when you said it, it would be special, because you are special.”

“Sirius…”

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Each proclamation is punctuated with a kiss.

“Siri—no, wait!” Remus shrieks, trying to duck under the covers, but Sirius has his mind set on kissing every inch of Remus’ face, and he won’t be swayed from this essential mission. So, he loops his arms around Remus’ neck, and rolls his weight over him. His heart swells at the sight of the boy spread out below him, giggling and trying to squirm away from the overt affection.

Godric, he is the luckiest man on earth.

Seemingly having had enough of the pecking kisses, Remus ducks his head, moving to capture Sirius’ lips with his own. He eagerly follows Remus’ lead, glad to do anything he wants. He would walk to the ends of the earth if the other boy declared he must. He would go against his own morals if Remus asked with a smile. He’s fully lost in the whirlpool of love, but he isn’t desperate to get out any time soon, instead willing to drown himself in it.

“So, about the future…”

“Yeah?” Sirius asks, leaning his head on Remus’ chest. He is still laying fully on top of him, but he is far too content here to move, and Remus doesn’t seem to want him to move either if the arms looped around his waist, are any indication.

“I’ve been thinking too.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Well, I think we have a cabin. I don’t care much for the city, and I think you would like a change in pace after your childhood. It’s not too far from town—a muggle one, where we don’t have to worry about my status. We are far enough that the Full Moon doesn’t pose any risks, but close enough that we could take walks into town if we want.”

“A cabin up on a hill so we can watch the sunrise and sunset together?”

“Of course. The windows are always open, and there is no dark hidden corners. Nothing that would remind us of home. This is ours. I would have books everywhere. You would try to organize them for me, but I would just take them down again. And you would have your own studio, in a room full of windows and light, where you could paint anything and everything you could imagine.

“We would have to have a floo, so our friends can visit whenever they want. And we would have to have game nights, can’t leave all our habits behind when we graduate.”

“Your mind is beautiful.”

“And yours is brave enough to get us there.”

Unable to help himself, Sirius dives in for another kiss. “To our future together, may we grow old and grey.”

[viv-hollande]

Ok, so this is a post that I should have made sooner. I've been somewhat out of the loop with regards to current events and the state of discourse on this website courtesy of a pretty serious depressive episode from which I am only just now recovering. As I have emerged from this state I have been pushed towards a conclusion about this website and the state of discussion around the ongoing Israel-Gaza War that I had thus far avoided due in part to my barely possessing the energy to keep myself alive and due in part to my denial that the conclusion could be true. But that denial can no longer hold.

It has become openly apparent that the pro-Palestinian camp on this website has become popularly infused with a degree of blatant, aggressive antisemitism that I, in my naivety thought impossible in the days just after October 7. I am trying to avoid turning this into a mea culpa because that would be unproductive and feel self-serving, but I do feel an obligation to admit that I disregarded prescient warnings from Jewish users whose warnings I dismissed as over-blowing a problem that I felt was real, but more limited in scope than they made out.

I'm neither an idiot nor am I ignorant. I am well aware of the long history of antisemitism in leftist politics and in the Palestinian Liberation movement. Back at the beginning of this crisis I was prepared to see the occasional instance of antisemites using the inevitable, overwhelming Israeli retaliation as an excuse to air their hateful politics. I was prepared to see both the well-meaning but ignorant and the malicious alike sharing tweets from antisemitic pro-Palestine accounts, spreading and normalizing low-grade, subtle antisemitism. Make no mistake, this should have been condemned. Antisemitism, like all bigotries, has no 'safe' level. There is no background level of antisemitism that society should just accept as normal. But I was more focused on the inevitable cacophony of suffering that Israel would almost certainly begin meting out, and so I failed to act.

The fatal blow to my denial was the increasing prevalence of the use of quotation marks around the word "Israel" and "Israeli". The first few times I saw this, I didn't really understand what it meant. Still laboring under the belief that antisemitism was a manageable problem on the left, I was certain that most of the users on this site, well-intentioned, goodhearted, critically thinking people that they were, would have recognized and called out even disguised antisemitism before it took over a good 20-40% of all posts about the conflict. I was a damn naive fool. For those, like past me, who have not cottoned on to the meaning of the quotation marks, they have become a way to express the denial of the legitimacy or even existence of, individually or all together, the State of Israel, the Israeli people, or the right of either Jews or Israelis to identify as Israelis.

CONGRATULATIONS TUMBLR! You have successfully revived from depths of 4chan neo-Nazi boards the (((fucking echoes))).

Are you serious? Are you fuckers for real? This, right here, encapsulates the pitch-black absurdity of this whole situation and why I remained in denial for so long. Never, in a million years, would I imagine that the proudly pro-Social Justice, anti-fascist, 100% Certified SAFE-SPACE(tm) website would end up using the same language as the goddamn Nazis on 4chan. I thought this website was smarter than that. But noooo, it turns out that I was a damn naive fool.

This was where the post was originally going to end. I say my piece, hope to change a few minds, and commit myself to actually fighting antisemitism instead of sitting back and dismissing the problem. But I figure, while I'm here and while I still have the driving forces of anger and guilt pushing me along, I may as well put pen to paper and spew forth my other thoughts on the ongoing crisis. I am thus compiling a much longer post detailing my thoughts on some aspects of the current situation. [EDITED ~1:25 AM GMT, 5 Dec 2023: add link to finished post] That post will definitely be long, probably be angry, possibly wrong on some aspect of fact, and will absolutely be pretentious, preachy, self-righteous and hubristic to a positively Hellenistic degree. Brief, non-comprehensive summary so you can decide whether or not get mad at me ahead of time;

Israel does apartheid, or near enough for government work.

Israel is definitely conducting a campaign of forced displacement, possibly amounting to ethnic cleansing, but I remain unconvinced of the claim of genocide.

Hamas may or may not be a anti-colonialist revolutionary group, but it definitely is an antisemitic terrorist organization with genocidal aspirations and actively supporting them is morally indefensible. Yes, this includes the Al-Qassam Brigades.

Anti-colonial and other revolutionary movements do in fact have fundamental moral obligations and suffering oppression does not give you carte blanche to do terrorism, even when an oppressor attempts to render peaceful opposition impossible. There is a middle ground between peaceful marching and 850+ dead civilians; aim for that.

The left is just as prone to unhinged conspiracism as the right.

Verify your sources, for fuck's sake.

Use nuance. It won't kill you.

There's more, but it's a little difficult to summarize an unfinished post. If you want to argue with any of these points, go ahead, just keep in mind that a longer, more comprehensive post is in the works that might have the answer to your argument/complaint/insult/intellectual disagreement. If that post isn't up by midnight GMT on Friday, assume I forgot about it and argue away. In conclusion, antisemitism is bad, apartheid is also bad, Tumblr is a hellsite (derogatory), "From the river to the sea" is, in fact, antisemitic, seriously, stop saying it, take Jews seriously when they warn you about antisemitism instead of writing them off like a damn naive fool, and last but not least, free Palestine.

[v3nusxsky]

Hi I was wondering if I could request a pretty detailed lesso smut

Basically it’s dom lesso x sub reader and r is originally very innocent and inexperienced so she’s a very good and obedient sub for lesso but recently r read fanfics abt bratting and found brat taming very attractive so she wanted to try it w lesso

R starts off by not wearing the remote control vibe that lesso told her to wear, sending explicit videos to her in the middle of work and when lesso gets her in a room at the end of the day, r doesn’t assume her usual position of submission and instead touches herself on their bed

Leonora is probably more of a quietly strict dom and manhandles r over her work table and makes r spread her legs and spanks her w a belt, occasionally smacking her cunt (ofc it would be super hot of lesso to make r count and thank her for each stroke)

After that it’s just a lot of cockwarming and and Leo putting r in her place w the vibes of “my sweet slut just needed a good fucking, didn’t she?” HHHHH and yes all that good stuff, would love it to be a longer fic so I can drown my sorrows in lady lesso

P.s would be amazing if u included an authority/ strict dom kink and r is only allowed to call Leo Lady Lesso or mistress

SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS REQUEST I just had a very specific daydream, with that said Tysm for hearing me out and have a lovely day <3

Breaking rules 18+

*Authors note~ Birthday fic:))) never be sorry for a longer prompt request, I absolutely love the detail to it which helps me ensure I don't stray from what you desire unless you want me to go nuts on it. However I will admit some of this I changed slightly due to personal reasons, enjoy the fic*

Trigger warnings~ strict mommy vibe dom leo brat subby r, mistress kink mentions corruption kink and virgin r remote control vibe phone sex? Videos ;) submissive positions. Punishments, spanking (hand and cane) cock warming edging Dacryphilia kink manhandling praise and degrading kinks I think that's it.

Prompt~ see ask^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You remember the first time you and Lady Lesso slept together, how she taught you everything you needed to know, how she mollified you until you were no longer the innocent woman you were but now a perfect submissive for her. Every single action was carefully crafted to have you being a good girl for her. You'd never had a taste of punishment so maybe that's why the fan fiction enticed you so much. You'd never considered the outcome of what would happened to you if you broke the rules. But here and now you sat hot and bothered by the idea of that very thing.

You knew what she expected of you, the directions were clear, and normally you'd do exactly as asked but the fic had awoken the bratty beast inside you. You got dressed for your day but forgoing on the remote control vibrator which caused excited chills to run through your body. How could being so bad feel so good? You couldn't help but wonder how much more you'd escape with. What would be the consequences to your actions?

By your lunch period you were ready to do some more rule breaking, the overwhelming thrill you received from disobeying your lover was certainly indescribable, you were so sure that this is your best idea yet. Perhaps that's why you snuck off to your old room and began to touch yourself after setting up the camera. You made sure to be vocal and after the camera capturing exactly how much you were enjoying your mid day fun. With a quick press of a few buttons, Leonora was graced with those video's just a few moments before she was expected to teach curses and death traps. For the life of her she couldn't work out why you were doing this. After all the first time lesso touched you, you were a virgin, and so willing to do whatever she demanded out of you. To submit so easily just to please her. And that was so unusual but not something she couldn't handle.

The final straw for Leonora was when you didn't kneel by the bed as she entered the room, no. Instead you lay there lazily circling your clit and teasing your soaking slit. Back arched and head tilted back in pleasure. It was as if she'd never even entered the room. "What the hell are you doing" she growled snapping you out from your blissed out mindset. "I uh I'm sorry Lady Lesso, I just I wanted to-" you mumbled trying to explain the situation. "I don't care. Up" she cut you off immediately reaching down to grab your arm and drag you where she wanted you. "Leo" you whimpered causing the red heads eyes to darken. "Excuse me?! How dare you address your superior so casually. You're below me and it's about time I reminded you do that fact."

Being forced over the desk in your shared bedroom all exposed while she remains fully clothed only added to the power play here. You had no choice but spread your legs when she kicked them apart. "Mistress please! I'm sorry" you whined unhappily. "Oh no pet, no. You can't act like a little slut and play the innocent card now darling. You will count your punishment and use my titles. Should you fail we will restart."

The first crack sounded across the room causing a sting to run over your ass. "One mistress" you mumbled gasping as three hits of her hands rained down on you. "Fuck two three four lady lesso" your tears now falling. The next hit was something different, the cool feeling of her cane touching your sore globes. The cool sensation only providing a small bit of relief before the pain outweighed the cool feeling. Hit after hit you counted every one bent over her desk. "Lady lesso" you sobbed unhappily. "Shush shush shush little girl, just a couple more okay?" She whispered before yanking you to lay on your back before three quick hits were placed on your aching clit. "Mistress, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" you blabbered hiccuping through your tears. "Shhh I know you are sweet girl, you have to learn this isn't okay darling. Be my sweet little girl, and then mistress can reward her good girl."

You were swiftly guided to lay on the bed, your ass on fire as it rubbed against the sheets. Only to watch Leonora strip to show her favourite strap on. "Now be a pretty whore and let mistress use your pretty holes" she purred before teasing your slit with the bulbous head of her faux enchanted cock. Lesso immediately set a punishing pace as she drilled into your aching cunt, "fuck so pretty when you cry sweet slut" she murmured when she noticed the tears falling slightly, "pretty tears."

Leonora continued to fuck you ruthlessly until she came first. Spurting cum from her faux cock as she painted your insides white. "Mistress" you whined hoping she'd finally let you come, after all the punishment and being used for her pleasure left you hanging on the edge. "Okay darling, this is your chance to be a good girl, I'm gonna fuck you so well darling, you'll forget your own name." Leonora was the one to keep to her promise. You came over and over again, some just on her cock and others with a small little vibe that would sit on your puffy clit.

"Oh my sweet slut just needed a good fucking? Didn't she?" She cooed looking at your pupils being blown wide and eyes glazed over indicating just how deep in your sub space you truly are. "Okay love, I'm going to pull out now" you whined in response. "Okay okay we can stay like this but let's get comfortable beautiful" she murmured shifting to settle you both comfortably for the night as she held you, you both drifted off for the night.

Word count~ 1368

[marleysfinest]

geto x fem reader idk this got away from me!!!

cw teasing, masturbation with toys, 69 (almost), fellacio

ok but suguru WOULD have you pinned beneath him on the sofa, almost 69'ing but instead of him being the one to pleasure you he's making you fuck yourself while he watches with his cock in your mouth.

making sure you don't move your toys for a second while he watches you slide them in and out of yourself, slick slowly building on the silicone, and listening to the wet rhythm in between moans. admiring how pretty and helpless you look underneath him, legs spread with your heels resting on the back of the couch, tits bouncing as you maintain steady strokes in and out of your pussy with your favourite toy. he's pushing himself into your mouth agonizingly slowly, making sure you take every inch of him as his tip grazes the back of your throat. your concentration is unsteady as you struggle to focus on everything at once, something suguru never fails to pick up on.

"keep going, baby, you can take both at once, can't you?"

he purrs with a groan as he prompts you to pick the speed back up with your toy, all the while sliding in and out of your mouth and taking the occasional break to coat your lips and chin with spit and precum. you suppress your gag reflex when he slides back in faster than usual, hitting the back of your throat hard and staying in place for a moment as he lets out a louder moan.

"fuuuuck," he whispers as he twitches against you. being able to feel how hard he is coupled with tasting how much he's enjoying you only fuels your own arousal, and you feel yourself getting wetter and closer. suguru is always the more controlling one, the more dominant one, and so whenever he lets the façade slip just for a moment to lean into being more verbal, you can't help but get excited with him. noticing how loud your strokes have become, he pulls back slightly to let you lick his tip and coat your tongue in his salty release, and slowly your core begins to tighten.

"that's it," he praises, "keep me right here. I want to feel you moan when you cum, baby."

you switch from languid strokes to a quicker pace, flicking your wrist back and forth to repeatedly hit that sweet, sweet spot over and over again. the only way it would ever feel better was if it was him. suguru watches intently as you quiver and shake beneath him, the heat rising to flush his chest and cheeks as he attempts to hold off his own release. when he leans down to brush his lips against your stomach it's too much; the warmth of his breath, the way the stray hairs tickled your skin, the way he throbbed as he leant forward, and in seconds you cum hard around your toy. your beau's gaze is hungry as he watches you coat your pink rabbit, and in a matter of seconds he's unable to hold back any longer. he pulls himself out of your mouth, leaving a trail of slick and spit across your face, to reposition you so that your ass rests on the arm of the couch, and your feet rest on his shoulders. he thrusts himself into your still throbbing cunt and firmly grips your thighs to keep you in place as he begins to piston into you. the breath is almost knocked out of you, but you still can't help but moan loudly, spurring him on. he's out of praise now, as he revels in your warmth and overstimulation. you're still so tight for him.

you instinctively arch your back in pleasure, and the sight of you overwhelms suguru. with a final thrust he spills into you and collapses onto your chest, panting with exhaustion. as your heartrates return to normal, he fetches a towel and flicks on the kettle to make you a steaming cup of tea.

graphics @/cafekitsune

[muffinsin]

well hello there 👋🏼

I'm wondering if you could do a hc on the sisters.

after a long and frustrating day they just want to relax and sleep with their S/O so they go into their room...annnnnnd...

They are meet with their S/O asleep wearing a FLIE ONESIE!!!!!! With some of their flies curled up in their arms!!

(unfortunately I don't think flies onesies exist.... BUT let's just image one 💭)

Just think how adorable it would be!!

This has me hella curious whether such a onesie exists!👀 And awh, my cold little heart. How adorable XP

Using this as an opportunity to make an occasional reaction post again🙌

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

She doesn’t believe what she’s seeing, at first

In fact, she barely makes out that it’s you in the beginning, rather than some…bug pile with the occasional limb

She is careful as she steps closer, as though to inspect the strange pile on her bed

When she sees your face poking out, and hears her own flies buzzing back at her, she feels as though she melts and her heart aches with the love she feels

You look adorable!

Carefully, she pulls the blanket up to your shoulders

She giggles when she spots the fly wings at the back of the onesie. How cute, indeed

All her worries melt away instantly

No more annoying sisters

No more incompetent staff members

No more screaming prisoners

No more expectations from Mother

No more

In this moment, she exists with you, only the two of you

As she moves on the bed, you stir and whine in your sleep. For a moment, she worries she woke you up

Then, you keep sleeping, but are not entirely unaware of the cold nose pressing into your neck and the long arms wrapping around you protectively

She smiles, and with this smile, she falls asleep and rests at last

Cassandra

Truly- she doesn’t quite recognize the figure sleeping on her bed as you, at first

Her first thought? A mutt, a lycan, that somehow found its way into her room

For a few seconds, a wide grin spreads on her lips at the prospect of gutting the creature on her bed, of taking it out and crafting with its skin

It excites her so much, she forgets about her awful day in an instant!

She no longer thinks of Bela scolding her, of Daniela annoying and teasing her over small mistakes and clumsiness

She no longer thinks of Mother’s loudly spoken- yelled- words when she intentionally failed to catch the intruder

Then, however, just as she is about to pounce..she stops herself

Lucky you, and your perfect damn face, she thinks, as it sticks out from the onesie

Her own flies buzz at her aggressively, as though protecting you from her

She merely rolls her eyes at the little bugs

“Scoot!”, she snaps at them, a satisfied smirk spreading on dark painted lips when they follow her command and she is able to slip into bed with you instead

She chuckles a bit to herself, eager to scold you lightly for this in the morning

This, and the stupidly cute wings at the back of your onesie. She doesn’t even look like that!!

Huffing, she decides to curl against you for now. She supposes , she will have to kill you another day for another dangerous idea of yours

Daniela

She huffs and whines as she swarms into the room, positively riled up and overwhelmed from the day she’s had

Not only did she get scolded by her Mother! Of all people

But even Bela wouldn’t see her side of the story,

and Cassandra refused to break Mother’s rules for her this time! She just wanted to go hunting too!

Her sister never cared that she was technically grounded!

Until today, it seems…Daniela groans at the mere thought

Then, on top of that, she lost her sickle!

And displaced her favorite book!

Ugh! What a nightmare of a day!

Still, all her annoyance and trouble is thrown out the window when she swarms into her room and finds you like this

Your knees tucked to your chest, your face partly covered by the hood of your fly onesie

She definitely gushes over you. You look so adorable! Like a mini-her!

She loves it!

And her flies, all over you? Adorable!

She pets them gently and presses kisses to your face lovingly

Maybe, she’ll wake you up

She doesn’t quite mean to, she’s just excited!

Really, she can’t help jumping on the bed!

Or squeezing your cheeks

Or straddling you and turning you to get a good look at the onesie!

When you do eventually wake up, she merely giggles shyly and rubs her cheek against yours

“I’m sorry, love, go back to sleep”, she whispers with a smile

You aren’t about to fight this in the slightest

[kstewdeux]

@inukag-week | InuKag Week 2024 - Personal Space | Also on Ao3

Panic began to rise within him. His chest tightened, and he struggled to find a way out of the throng of villagers with their mudslide of praise for having defeated the weak ass demon who’d been hurting their harvest. Something about fears over winter, starvation, disease and god only knew what else because his own thoughts had turned to static. Dozens of voices melting together into a noxious soup that drowned out all else. A veritable ocean of bodies clawing at him, rushing him, attempting to pull him under and drown him.

‘Can’t hurt them. Can’t hurt them.’

Inuyasha could feel his palms sweating while his mind raced to come up with a plan of escape. But every direction he looked, there were only more people. Tightly packed together, packed against him, and all moving as one. Snapping pearly whites far, far too close to his hands, his arms, his face.

‘Can’t hurt them. Can’t-‘

The putrid stench of sweat and the sound of shouting were overwhelming. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't find a way to break free. All he could focus on was the need to find space, to breathe freely again but-

‘Can’t-‘

Someone grabbed his wrist, tugging him sideways with all their might, managing to make him stumble and in a blind panic, he roughly pushed them away with a hard thrust of palm.

Blood.

Panting heavily, dilated amber eyes darted over the waves of people in the overly crowded street to try and find the source but his vision blurred instead and a high pitching ring had his head swimming. He found himself mindlessly trying to back away only to be rudely reminded he was surrounded. More hands. More voices. More more more-

And then, without realizing he’d moved at all, he was inside a dark hut. A door slid shut behind him as he trembled out of control and tried to regain his bearings. He collapsed onto his knees instead and it was then, only then, as he stared down at his bloodied palm, that he realized…

“Kagome,” he breathed as he scrambled to his feet to go fix the damage he’d apparently caused at some point only to nearly trip over the girl herself who apparently was sitting next to him with two pieces of cloth stuck in her nostrils.

“No.”

“I’m fine. It’s not even broken,” she soothed as he dropped into a crouch and frantically tried to inspect the damage, "I just...fell. That's all. Not your fault."

That was a lie, he was sure it was, but Inuyasha couldn't even remember how to form words much less get into a fight about that right now. He wasn't even sure if he could stand again. He-

A furtive glance towards the door confirmed the rest of their friends, save one, were here. Sango was blocking the door and outside was the mob and if-

“Miroku is outside trying to calm the crowds down,” Sango replied to the unspoken question with an exasperated sigh, “I’ve never seen a village get this worked up. You would’ve thought we handed them a lifetime supply of rice. Gold. Riches. Something.”

“The relief must’ve made them crazy,” Shippo offered shakily. Kagome started trying to catch Inuyasha’s panicked gaze.

“Just focus on me,” she hummed sadly as Inuyasha continued to twitch out of control – his head whipping occasionally to the entryway like he half-expected the mob to break in here and swarm him again. A warm hand cautiously reached out before gently taking the shell of his ear between two fingers and lightly massaging the downy flesh. Oxygen flooded the room and Inuyasha's eyes fluttered closed. 

"There we go. Just focus on me," Kagome's warm voice soothed as her other hand reached up to give the neglected ear the same treatment, "There we go. Just breathe."

The room began to spin and with a miserable groan, Inuyasha spread out on the ground so he didn't just careen there. Kagome applied slightly more pressure and the tension started to melt out of his locked up muscles.

"There we go. Just focus on me," she repeated. His head was gently lifted and deposited into a warm lap. Fingers carded through his hair.

"Just focus on me."

[holytrinityofdisgust]

Contains: Noncon, intoxication

Version 1, the victim has a vagina

Imagine a drug that causes uncontrollable horniness, given to a victim by force. The captor had injected it into them while they were tied to a chair. "Don't struggle, it will only make it hurt worse," the captor cooed as he depressed the syringe's plunger, the needle an inch deep in the victim's exposed rear.

The drug began to work quickly. The captor stood back, watching. The victim in the chair started to shift in their seat as the heat spread from their cheeks to their groin. They were naked and each leg was tied to a leg of the chair, so they couldn't hide when they began to visibly drip. They breathed heavily even though they sat as still as possible, trying to become invisible while helplessly exposed.

But the sensation grew more persistent, and the victim could not sit still anymore. They rolled their head back and groaned through the cloth tied around their mouth. They felt their thoughts begin to melt and be subsumed by one singular animalistic drive.

The captor walked in front of the victim and ran a hand along their thigh. "My, aren't you worked up," he purred. The captor's touch electrified the victim's whole body. The victim could only glower at the captor, but their body wanted more of the captor's delicious touch!

Then the captor stood behind them and rested his chin in the crux of the victim's neck as his hand caressed a hard nipple, then continued down, playing with the victim's bush.

The victim felt so desperate they could cry. They were now shaking and whining. The captor's scent and body heat was too much. They hated how badly they wanted to fuck this demon they weren't remotely attracted to before the damn drug took over.

The captor started gingerly massaging the victim's clit and occasionally inserting a finger deep inside, slowly, teasingly. The victim moaned and couldn't help but buck their hips into the captor's hand. Their clit ached like it never had before, it was excruciating.

Then, the captor withdrew his hand. The victim growled indignantly. "Oh, did you like that? But you said before I'm disgusting and you hate me and don't want to be touched," the captor said with a childish pout, and moved to stand in front of the victim with his arms crossed. "You hurt my feelings, you know."

The victim didn't respond, instead looking at the ground, wheezing through the cloth around their mouth. They could hardly formulate words anyway, their mind totally clouded with overwhelming need.

"How about this," said the captor. He began to unfasten his pants and slide them off, exposing his erection. Then, he removed the cloth from the victim's mouth and untied the restraints from their legs and arms, but left their wrists tied together behind their back.

The captor laid on the ground as the victim stood shakily from the chair. "You can leave if you want, I'll unlock the door." He smiled sweetly. "Or, you can fuck me."

The victim stood trembling, eyes fastened on his cock like a hungry animal. They felt imprisoned in their body. The last vestige of their conscious mind knew they should deny him and demand to be freed. But he had total control of them at that moment without even laying a hand on them. It felt like if they did not come, they would legitimately die.

They growled in rage and desire, and quickly impaled themself on the captor's cock and started riding him furiously. They shut their eyes, and tears began to stream down their face and onto the captor's chest, who just laid back with a huge grin. He winced a little because the victim was thrusting so aggressively, the captor's spine was being pounded into the hard floor, but the victim's cunt was so unbelievably wet it felt amazing. The victim's tear-streaked face contorted with rage, shame, and desperation was the hottest thing the captor ever saw.

It didn't take long for the victim to come, their guttural grunting getting louder and their eyes opening wide but looking upwards, still avoiding the captor's eyes. But the victim did not stop thrusting. The relief from the orgasm was short-lived. They needed more. They would keep the captor pinned down, even with their wrists tied together. They could bite the captor if he tried to throw the victim off. No, the captor was going to stay there on the ground for as long as it took for the drug to wear off. Maybe he would be a bruised-up dehydrated husk by the time that happened. He should have thought of that before.

[the-purple-shirted-tickler]

First Session megapost!

As requested, I’ll go into more detail!  Not only did I finally get to have my first tickling session, but I had the honor of being part of a group gang tickling none other than @yourlittlettoy !  Earlier in the day at that little gathering, @theswitchfinch and @mikoz6916 had taken their turns getting wrecked and were looking for some revenge, and Cece said she wanted multiple lers so they invited me to join them in destroying her!

She shyly admitted she didn’t want a safeword, so we agreed that when she was desperate enough to say “tickle” instead of “t-word” we’d take that as a safeword!

We started with her in spread eagle cuffs on a bed, mostly upperbody but all over really.  I’m more of a feet guy personally, but in this first session I was pleasantly surprised just how fun tickling Cece’s upperbody was!

Sometimes it was hard to tell who was getting which reactions with the absolute chaos of three lers overwhelming poor Cece, but on occasion I’d notice the other two had stopped to enjoy the show and what I was doing really was driving her nuts by itself!  You know that incredulous reaction lers have where they’re surprised just how ticklish a lee is?  Yeah, that’s real. (At least this time)

Cece wasn’t blindfolded, but half the time she might as well have been from squeezing her eyes shut and her hair getting increasingly messy from all of her thrashing.  However, I did treasure the moments where we’d slow down and she’d plead with her eyes for things not to get worse.

If you’ve followed Cece’s tumblr for more than five minutes you’ll know most of her reactions: loud laughter, “pleeeeaaaaase!”, “stahahahahahap!”, and the like.  There were plenty of those, and everyone in the other rooms at the gathering surely got to hear it live from where they were, but we discovered a new one too!  Eventually certain reactions included her giving this lower groan as if to say “UGH this is so embarrassing how flustered and ticklish I am right now” so of course we lers were happy to mimic and tease her for that as well!  Still not sure exactly what was prompting that reaction, so I suppose we’ll have to do more science later

Any tag readers on her page will know that Cece claims to be an escape artist.  That’s partially true.  She could occasionally get her arms free from the wrist restrains, but she was no match for the fact that at least one of the three lers would be more than happy to pin down her escaped limbs while the others continued to tickle the sensitive spots that couldn’t quite escape

Speaking of sensitive spots, totally don’t read the classified information in the following strikethrough but I noticed her upper inner thighs, neck, underarms, and soles got some great screams out of her

When she got to the point where she was begging and saying she’d “do anything” to stop her current predicament, I curled the monkey’s paw and had her agree to move over to the bondage table/stocks and have that be a breather for her as we applied the new bondage.

A previous session that day had broken the latch on Clay’s stocks, but the new shin straps on that setup were the MVP keeping her feet in place.  The toeties weren’t the greatest but I suspect Cece was a good sport playing along like her toes really were stuck there for a while because she loves it

I’m told one of the other lers was at her head for the table portion whispering teases into her ears to fluster her even more, but you’d have to ask Cece what was said!  I’m sure she’d love to tell you and won’t at all be blushing and flustered, right?

I went to grab the baby oil, at first originally planning to go straight to her feet with it, but then the other two suggested I should come put it on her underarms while they had them nice and vulnerable!  “Well, don’t mind if I do!” was went through my head.  And don’t worry, I was sure to make plenty of eye contact as I spread it, and Cece being the excited masochist she is was all to happy to reciprocate

I did wind up returning to her feet with the oil and got a good amount of finger tickles on them while the others continued with her upperbody, but I only got about five seconds of hairbrush tickles on one of her feet before the other slipped free from the previously-broken stocks and our session’s timeslot was up!  I think we need more time with that next time, don’t you?

While we were cooling down, Cece was saying "I hate you guys” and she was totally for real and we totally believed it, it’s not like she loves being a ticklish masochist or anything, right?

I did throw in a nice little foot massage during the cooldown, I hope you liked that Cece

Hope you had half as much fun reading all that as I did being part of it!  Thank you so much to everyone there for including me and finally making my dreams come true!

[aparticularbandit]

Agatha and Stephen Go on a Trip: Chapter Two

Summary: At Wanda’s request, Agatha questions Stephen about too-long absent members of their family.  When she recasts an old spell, they end up going on a journey that neither of them really wanted.

Sequel to Finding Family.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

“Can you quit calling me wonder boy?”

Steven makes a flourish with one hand, and his clothes shift from lounge pants and a soft blue hoodie into his typical Avengers costume wrapping.  He makes to hook the chain with the Space Stone around his neck, just as he’d spent so much time with the Time Stone there unknowing, but Agatha reaches out one hand, mutters a quick spell under her breath, and transports it easily around her own.  The Stone finds itself covered with a protective mesh in something that looked like that same dark steel but is actually much stronger, and it settles on her chest just below her brooch.

“And can you give me that back?”  Steven gestured for the Space Stone.

“No.”

Of course, despite her ability to do so, Agatha makes no such similar motion with her hands, makes no soft murmuring incantation to shift her current outfit into the billowing robes she occasionally wears when she wants to be intimidating.  Instead, she suppresses a subtle shiver.  Out of the many places she has been, Neverland is one of her least favorites. At the time, it looked wonderful on the surface – a utopia where everyone was happy – but it was run by a child (regardless of her age, when compared to Agatha herself, Wendy had still been a child, just like Strange, so much her senior, still is), a child who, by the end of things, wanted nothing more than to die than to keep this broken, lump-sided wheel turning.

And now?

In the absence of the one who kept everything running, in the absence of the other Stone and the chaos magic she’d combined to do it, everything had come crashing down.  They hadn’t stayed for the explosion, for the aftermath, and this—

It’s been nearly two years now, for them.  Maybe longer, for the world that was once Neverland.

“Do you even know where we are, hon?”

“Knew I would win you over eventually,” Stephen says as he steps forward, hands spread to either side of him, fingers in a ready stance as though he expected an oncoming attack.  “Now, give me that back.”  He raises a hand, golden spirals of sorcery crafting in the air between them.

Agatha just rolls her eyes.  “Oh, Stevie, my poor, poor boy.”  She raises a finger, tucks it around the simplest thread of magic, arcs it through with a gold to mimic his own sorcery, and cracks the spell he’s begun to cast. “You forget that I’m not some lowborn alien you can distract with your wit and overwhelm with your mystical tricks.” Her gaze meets his levelly as the golden circle falls in pieces to the ground – not the way a spell should disintegrate, not the way she thinks he’s ever seen a spell disintegrate. “I’m a witch, wonder boy, which means I’m the super star around here. Got it?”

Stephen just stares at her.  “You just used sorcery.”

“Oh, I did?”  Agatha flicks something out from under her thumbnail.  “Didn’t notice.”

His eyes narrow.  “Where did you learn—”

“Think before you ask that question, hon.”  Agatha’s eyes don’t move from her thumbnail.  “You wouldn’t want to look like a fool.”

“The Ancient One taught you.”

Agatha smiles, but she can’t keep the smile from being achingly fond.  “Yes,” she whispers, “they did.”  She doesn’t mention that for the centuries since they met, she’d been using that power to keep the scars in her back from causing her a near-unending ache, from spiking whenever they were brushed against the wrong way, from causing her to lie in bed unmoving on others, and she certainly doesn’t mention that her current use of sorcery, despite being something she’s suddenly been able to do again in the past two years, is still more than a little rusty.  Wanda might have healed her back and left only thin white lines like tattoos where her thick, rippling scars once were, but she didn’t suddenly give her centuries of experience using her sorcery for more than back pain.

Stephen doesn’t need to know any of that.

But as she lifts her eyes again, Agatha notes how Stephen’s view of her has changed.  His fingers flinch the slightest bit, but he doesn’t try to make any new spells as he stares at her, examining her curiously.  “Who were you?” he asks.  “To them?”

“No one,” Agatha lies with a smile.  “Just a very nosy neighbor.”  Her brows raise.  “Gonna try and take the magic stone away again, wonder boy?”

Stephen lowers his hands.  “You really don’t have to call me that.”

Agatha grins.  “I know.”  She grasps her elbow with her right hand and gestures around them with her left. “Now, my sweet, sweet boy, why don’t you tell Agatha where we are?”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person,” Stephen answers, letting his hands relax at his sides.  He strides forward, past her, walking in what looks to be an aimless direction, following an unsettlingly familiar dust road that looked like yellow brick, and nods to the road itself.  “We’re in Oz, obviously.”

Agatha’s face freezes.  “You don’t know where we are.”

“What, and you do?”  Stephen turns back to her.  “Are you coming, or not?”

“I’m sure you would love to see that, wonder boy,” Agatha says, not even grinning at Stephen’s shocked face and sudden feigned gagging as she taps her chin with her free hand, “but you’re going the wrong way.”

Stephen raises one brow.  “You know that how?”

“This is Neverland.”  Agatha glances at the empty expanse surrounding them, broken only by the yellow dust road cutting a thin path between it.  “Or, at least, it used to be.  It shouldn’t be anymore, but, well.  When you throw someone into the multiverse without being very clear about where you’re going—”  She cuts herself off, brows raising briefly. “I’ve been here before, dear, and trust me—”  She turns her head over one shoulder and sighs.  “—we want to go that way.”

~

It certainly isn’t Neverland as Agatha remembers it.

Mostly because Agatha’s memories of Neverland are scant and vague.  Sure, yes, there was a lot of following a dusty yellow not-brick road just like this one, and a lot of big expanse spread out on either side of said road, but then there was an equal amount of time stuck in the back of her own mind while Agnes had prattled on about her – their – life before Wanda broke them out of Westview.

(On occasion, Agatha wonders if anyone they’d left behind misses them. It’s a futile wondering.  Agnes had born the brunt of the citizens leftover hatred for Wanda and had been unable to protect herself from it.  The only thing anyone in Westview missed was an excuse.)

But Wendy had let her talk with Agnes.  Wendy had let her stretch out and take control of her body again.  Wendy had let her meet the descendent the version of her here had…even if Wendy had tortured the poor soul in much the same way that Wanda had tortured her.  (Wendy had also let her free her, in those last few moments before she should have died.  Again.  Because Wendy, too, had been in the curious and unfortunate business of bringing people back from the dead.)

They’d left, the four of them – Agatha, Wanda, America, and Wendy – before they could see how the magical aftereffects would tear apart this world, before they could see how the loss of a much more well-crafted Hex (albeit with some of the same flaws) would change everything.

If this is the same world, it looks like that loss hasn’t changed much at all.

If it isn’t the same world—

The Space Stone gleams a bright cerulean blue crumpled through with sharp lightning-like strands of a brighter neon.  It remains gentle just beneath her brooch, but where the two touch, the strands stop – like a plasma ball in reverse; instead of lightning sparking out from where it touches, nothing. A sharp absence.

“What exact spell did you use to bring them here, hon?”

“You mimicked it,” Stephen says, fingers fidgeting at his sides, unable to remain still.  “You should know.”

Agatha sighs and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.  Cian, you taught him nothing.  “There is a difference between mimicking a spell and crafting a spell, you insolent—”  She swallows.  Tries to tell herself that she isn’t really mad at Stephen here, that she’s really dealing with a bit of traumatic reaction to the last time she was in Neverland.  It’s not him at all.

Except, yes, it is very much Stephen she is mad at because if he hadn’t placed that spell, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

And he doesn’t even know where they are.

“Mimicking a spell involves crafting something similar to a counter spell, only instead of directing the effects back at the caster, you direct them back at yourself.  Yes, you should probably know the sort of spell you are redirecting, but unless you are paying very close attention, you usually don’t know the exact—”

“Then you should have been paying closer attention.”  Stephen doesn’t even look at Agatha as he says it.  “Only a great fool would test a spell on themselves without knowing exactly what it was going to do.  That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”  Now, he looks to her; now, he gives her the most patronizing of looks.  “You’re not a death-seeker, are you, Agatha?”

Agatha grits her teeth.  “No spell you used on those kids would have killed them, wonder boy.  It sent them somewhere.  I wanted to go where you sent them.  Where didn’t matter.  Finding my family mattered.”  She does not glare at him.  It will do her no good.  “Context matters.  Remember that the next time you question my methods, boy.”

Stephen chuckles.  “No wonder this time?  Only boy?  Is that a compliment?”

“Do you want to be called boy?” Agatha asks, voice laden with tight warning.

“No.  I want you to call me Stephen, but I don’t think it much matters to you.”  Stephen sighs, but before Agatha can say anything else, he holds up his hand.  That certainly doesn’t make her feel any better towards him; if anything, it makes her feel as though she is a child being chided. At least he didn’t say shush.

“America comes from a place she calls Utopia,” Stephen says, finally. “That could be the name of another universe, that could be the name of a pocket dimension, that could be the name of a planet for all we know. Despite her now impressive control over her powers, she’s never been able to return home.  I thought, with the use of the stone, we might be able to send her back there.” Then he glances down – it is unfair how tall he is – at her.  “Don’t you think it would be nice to find Utopia here?  In our universe?  Or, finding it somewhere else, she might be able to find it here, too.  Couldn’t we learn a lot from a place called Utopia?”

Agatha raises an eyebrow.  “No, Stephen. We’d just fuck it up if we did.” She waves a hand much more dismissively than the one he’d held up to keep her from talking.  “Neverland isn’t in our universe.”

“It could be.”

“And it isn’t America’s original home.”  Agatha crosses her arms and glares at him.  “It’s Wendy’s.”

“She volunteered,” Stephen explains, gesturing outward with his hands. “She wanted to make sure whatever spell I cast didn’t hurt America.  And it didn’t.  It just sent them here.  Where we are.  We aren’t hurt.”

Agatha’s anger bubbles up within her, and her hands clench her arms tight where they’re still crossed to keep from casting something at the foolish sorcerer next to her.  “Wendy didn’t tell you anything about Neverland, did she, wonder boy?”

Stephen sighs with resigned acceptance.  “When we first met, Wanda told me that Wendy was another Scarlet Witch who came from Neverland—”

“So clearly, Neverland can’t be in our universe—”

“Unless it’s on another planet,” Stephen counters.  “In a multiverse of possibilities, there have to be plenty where she wasn’t born on Earth—”

“If you sent her back to her point of origin—”

Stephen holds up a hand, cutting her off again, and he turns around behind them. “Did you hear that?”

Immediately, Agatha stretches her mind out.  She’s tentative – mindplay in Neverland had been not great the last time she was here – but if this is truly Neverland, if this is truly Wendy’s Neverland, then unless Wendy has decided to rewrite and control everything again, then there shouldn’t be anything to fear.  As she reaches out, something else, something in the opposite direction, brushes against Agatha’s mind, like a finger skimming light along her spine, something familiar, and she focuses on that instead of whatever Stephen has heard.  She does not open to it, strictly speaking, but she reaches back, holding out a hand to the familiar.

The presence doesn’t say anything, only curls up warm within the palm of her outstretched hand, rubs against her fingertips like a kitten begging to be pet (and rubbing her scent of ownership all over her), and shivers once before lying quite still.  Agatha runs her thumb along the presence’s metaphorical back, and the presence begins to softly purr before turning just enough to lick the tip of her thumb.

Wendy?

“Agatha—”

Stephen’s voice is loud, and strong, and Agatha pulls out of her own mind long enough to see something – or someone – touch her arm and grab tight onto her sweater before dashing away with her faster than any human person should be able to move.  She acknowledges this just as his other hand moves to cradle the back of her neck, as he speeds up, just in time to ask, pointedly, Pan, where are you taking me?

Somewhere safe, he shoots back in a gravelly sort of growl.  None of you were supposed to come back.  And that new friend of yours—  He grits his teeth together.  Why can’t you just leave us alone?

I would have loved to do that, Pan, dear, but Stevie Wonder over there—  Agatha pauses, eyes narrowing, and despite the wind whipping in her face, asks, How are you still alive?

The boy slows with her so as to not break her neck with the sudden stop and turns to her as he places her, gentle, in front of a familiar tree that also should not exist.  He steps, gentle, away from her and pushes a hand through his shock of white hair – whiter, somehow, than it had been before, although that doesn’t make any sense either.  He meets her eyes and gives her a steady look.  “We can’t die.”

Agatha’s first response is something like pity – or would be, if she got a word out before he says, “Go down there.  I’ll get your friend.”  Then his head tilts, and he says, “And it’s Pietro, if you don’t mind.  Pan’s just a figment of her imagination.”  Then he zooms off, leaving Agatha alone with the tree.

Agatha turns back to the tree.  It’s burnt now, broken, a hunk of half-melted plastic with branches that seem to have been dripping themselves before they froze solid, more a weeping willow than the great oak it might have been before.  She stares at it, at the hollow just on the inside, and sighs.  “When in Rome….”

Then, without another word, Agatha steps backward into the hollow and falls into the abyss.

[ruminativerabbi]

The Jewish Wind Phone

All of us for whom prayer is part of daily life have occasionally been challenged to justify our practice—possibly even just to ourselves—by saying clearly whom we think we are actually speaking to when we pray. It’s not that easy to know how to respond. There are numerous traps to avoid when answering. Saying simply that we are talking to God seems inevitably to lead to two derivative questions, both unsettling to address: how exactly we know that and why it is we think all-knowing God needs to be told anything at all. And a third question too, equally disquieting, also surfaces regularly, the one that asks why it is, if prayer is dialogue, that God never seems to talk back in the way we would consider perfectly normal with any other interlocutor.

The problem, however, lies not in our answers but in the questions themselves: all are rooted in a simplistic understanding of what language is and the role it plays in our human lives. Yes, language is communication: you ask the nice lady in the store which aisle the paper towels are in and she tells you. But language is also self-expression, a means of ordering the world, of grappling with the unfathomable by addressing it, by naming it, by interpreting it. And it is that latter definition of language that we bring to prayer: the world feels overwhelming in the wake of disaster and, instead of withdrawing into our shells like terrified turtles, we face the darkness by naming it, by labeling its parts, by addressing it from the depths of our consciousnesses. We thus allow language to serve as a kind of bridge that connects our inmost selves to the terror just ahead…and, instead of trembling in our boots or shutting our eyes, we speak. And thus do we subdue the raging world with language, with words, and, yes, with prayer.

Almost entirely forgotten—at least by Americans—is the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan on March 11, 2011, a nightmarish disaster in the course of which 15,894 died almost instantly, most from drowning. More than 2,500 simply disappeared and were never seen again.

In the wake of that disaster, I remember reading about an older man named Itaru Sasaki, who lives in a place called Ootsuchi where over eight hundred people were washed out to sea in less than a single minute. His town was devastated by the tsunami, but he himself was in mourning for a cousin, someone he truly loved, when the disaster struck. And so, feeling bereft and totally alone, he came up with a very strange way to deal with his grief: he purchased on old phone booth and set it up in his garden. Then he purchased an ancient rotary phone, a black one, and put it on a table in the booth. There was no dial tone because the telephone wasn’t attached to anything. But on that phone, Mr. Sasaki would talk to his cousin and tell him about his life now that he was carrying on alone and without someone he truly loved. He called it the kaze no denwa, the “wind telephone.”

And then, the amazing part. Word spread about this thing, this crazy, unconnected, telephone in a phone booth in a garden by the sea. People started coming. In droves. From all over Japan. NPR sent a reporter to cover the story and he got permission to record some of what people were saying into the phone.

“Why only me, dad? I’m the only one left alive. People don’t realize what it’s like,” a teenage boy said to his missing father.

“Everyone’s good here. We are all trying hard,” an elderly lady told her long-time spouse, a man who disappeared when the sea overwhelmed his town.

“You were going to buy me a violin. I just bought it myself finally,” a girl says to her vanished parents through tears.

“I’m building a new house but without you or our little girl and boy, there’s no point is there?” The words choked up in the throat of a middle-aged man who lost his entire family.

It’s a touching story, but the big question—to me, at any rate—is why this thing worked at all. Shouldn’t it not have worked? It’s an idiotic thing, after all: an ancient rotary phone that isn’t connected to anything in a phone booth that is also not connected to anything in a garden in front of someone’s private home. But what makes it interesting to me is that it somehow does work…and not because it really does anything at all. These poor people in Japan found in that phone booth not a portal to the afterworld, but a way of using language to communicate with the universe and all of its parts, a way of facing the unimaginable using the tools offered by language itself, a way of speaking into the dark and finding, not silence and not nothing, but glimmers of hope, of light, of promise. For me, that is what prayer is, almost by definition. For more about the wind telephone, click here or here.

It was this story, which I first read about years ago, that came to mind when I first visited the remarkable website called Coming Home Soon (click here to go see for yourself). Currently a real-space exhibit at the Jewish Museum in Amsterdam and created in Holland by people consumed with worry about the hostages being held by Hamas, the on-line version is remarkable. The front page of the website offers pictures of every single one of the hostages held or still being held in Gaza, presenting all 253 and not distinguishing between the 110 who were released in a prisoner swap a few months ago, those still being held, and those already dead: all are or were prisoners of Hamas. (Hamas is holding the bodies of the deceased hostages to use as the most ghoulish of bargaining chips to use in future negotiations.)

Who thought of setting up this website, I don’t know. But the idea couldn’t be more simple: on the front page of the site are on display color photographs of each of the hostages. The dead have tiny “forever in our hearts” badges attached to their pictures; the ones already freed have “welcome home” badges. But otherwise they are all mixed up together on the page—just as they are in our hearts. And each photograph has just behind it a biography you can read of the hostage and—and now I get to my real point—and an opportunity to write to that hostage. The hostages don’t get mail. They don’t have access to email or to text messages. The letter you write and send off does not go into some cosmic in-box to wait for the hostages to log on and see what you had to say. The messages you send to the dead will not be any more unread than the ones you send to the living.

This is not a real mail service; this is the Jewish kaze no denwa, the Jewish wind phone. You write not to communicate—or at least not to communicate in the normal manner of people dashing off emails or dictating text messages to tell other people this or that—but to express, to pray, to use language as a kind of bridge between despair and hope, between the dismal reality of where we are and the bright light that beckons in the distance—the flickering flame of faith, of courage, and of confidence in the future.

When this is all over, all the hostages will come home—some, surely most, to their families and others to their graves. But, until that happens, the job of the righteous is to pray for their released and for their survival. Language is the bridge to God; that is why prayers are constructed of words. Sometimes, it feels right to turn to God directly in prayer. That, we do all the time. But there are also times when you can use language to pray to God by addressing a human party, living or dead. That is the opportunity the Coming Home Soon website affords: a way to pray for the hostages through the medium of language directed not directly to God but to those of God’s creatures in the most need of redemption.

[expectantdaddies]

Coldfang was an ordinary peasant farmer, eking out a meager living from the unforgiving soil. He supplemented his meager income by occasionally hunting in the dense forests surrounding his village. It was on one such excursion under the light of a full moon that Coldfang's boring existence took a drastic turn.

A weakened werewolf had taken refuge deep in the woods. Driven mad by hunger, it attacked anything that wandered too close. Coldfang was unlucky enough to be one such victim. As the beast lunged, he managed to fend off its initial assault and received a single bite on his shoulder before the werewolf retreated.

Initially, Coldfang believed himself fortunate to have survived the encounter without contracting lycanthropy. He resumed his quiet life in the village, unaware of the dark fate that awaited him. However, as the next full moon approached, an insidious change began to take hold within him.

As the full moon rose, Coldfang was overwhelmed by a primal urge he could not comprehend or resist. As the transformation took hold and his body contorted into something monstrous, he fled into the wilds, leaving behind the only life he had ever known.

Coldfang soon found himself among an all-male pack of werewolves, that lived in the wilds. They revealed that the beast that had bitten him was once one of their own, driven off and exiled for its violent and cruel behavior towards both the pack and nearby villagers. Feeling responsible for Coldfang's fate, they took him in as one of their own.

During the day, when the pack resided in human form, they showed Coldfang how they lived in harmony with nature, far removed from civilization's constraints. He struggled to adjust to this new way of life, wondering if he would be condemned to a celibate existence due to all-male composition of his pack.

However, fate had more shocking revelations in store for Coldfang. On his next transformation, he discovered that despite being biologically male, he was a werewolf carrier, capable of conceiving and birthing cubs just as any female wolf. The implications were staggering. That same night, Coldfang fell into his first heat, and found himself pursued by every member of the pack, each eager to relieve the urges of Coldfang's body. Instead of hunting, the pack took turns mating with Coldfang, who eagerly accepted his packmates' seed in his womb.

From that point forward, Coldfang's life was irrevocably altered. His pack members took great care to ensure he did not overexert himself, aware of the precious cargo growing in his womb. As news spread of his impending motherhood, the pack's dynamics shifted dramatically. Coldfang found himself at the center of their attention and affection, his opinion given considerable weight within the group.

Even when in human form, Coldfang could no longer resist the overwhelming instincts that drove him to seek out physical intimacy with his packmates. Coldfang became more flirty with his packmates, and it was not an uncommon sight to see Coldfang rutting with one of his packmates at camp. The boundaries between wolf and man became increasingly blurred as he struggled to adapt to this new existence.

Now, as Coldfang cradled his swollen abdomen, filled with the lively movements of the litter of cubs that were eager to be born, he found himself excited about the future that lay ahead.

Happy Halloween!

If you like my work, Buy Me a Coffee.

Coldfang, pregnant werewolf.

If you like my work, Buy Me a Coffee.

[thedisneychef]

Make Your Own Cinnamon Glazed Almonds from Disney Parks

Sometimes the things that Disney has recipes for absolutely stuns me. For example, I knew when I asked for The Grey Stuff at Be Our Guest, I’d be told that it wasn’t available (and it isn’t… They gave me enough hints that I could copy it, but no exact recipe). But when I was given a recipe for the famous glazed almonds instead, honestly, I was completely shocked. I didn’t realize that they were made on property and not bought in, but secondly, I didn’t know it was something that you could even make at home. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Indulge in Delicious Chocolate Peanut Butter Sandwiches - Try the Flavorful Coconut Almond Chicken at Kona Cafe - Coconut Rice Of course, now having seen the recipe and made it myself, I feel really dumb for assuming that this was some complicated recipe or drawn out process.  It’s actually stupidly easy and I had all the ingredients on-hand, save for the almonds. Cinnamon glazed almonds have been at Disney for as long as I can remember… I’ve always gotten these at the nut cart in Adventureland at Magic Kingdom and at a little cart tucked away between France and Morocco in the World Showcase at EPCOT. I find them occasionally at fairs and festivals here in New Hampshire pretty regularly, but honestly I think they taste way better at Disney. These will have a special place in my heart because, on my last trip, we were on our last trip to the park before the dreaded Magical Express… We still had most of our snack credits left, so on impulse, we bought like 5 bags after finishing our last ride of the trip (Pirates of the Caribbean…  Sigh). They were also the only food I brought back home so that I’d have a memory of Disney at home. The memory didn’t last long… I ate the whole bag while unpacking the next day.  So sad! The big key to this recipe is to make sure that the egg whites and sugar are beaten very, very well. While the mixture will be close to stiff peaks, it’ll be more like the consistency of Cool Whip. As far as cooking goes, the more spread out the mixture, the better it will cook. The first two, maybe even three times I checked this, I was certain I’d ruined it. But by the time I came back for the 4th check, they looked just like what I see around Magic Kingdom and EPCOT’s snack wagons. They are amazing fresh out of the oven, but just as good at room temperature. Conclusion Based on the use of the Cinnamon Glazed Almonds product, it can be concluded that these almonds are a delicious and satisfying snack. The recipe produces almonds that are coated in a sweet and crunchy glaze, with a warm and comforting cinnamon flavor that is sure to please. The almonds themselves are high in protein and healthy fats, making them a nutritious snack option. The glaze adds just the right amount of sweetness to the almonds, without overwhelming their natural flavor. The cinnamon provides a warm and comforting taste that is perfect for fall and winter months, but can be enjoyed any time of the year. The Cinnamon Glazed Almonds are also very easy to make, with a simple recipe that requires only a few ingredients. They are perfect for snacking on-the-go, or for serving as a party snack or appetizer. Overall, the Cinnamon Glazed Almonds product is a great option for anyone looking for a tasty and healthy snack. They are easy to make, delicious to eat, and offer a satisfying combination of sweet and nutty flavors. In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article