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I'm beginning to think you're only reblogging those *adorbs* little pictures is because you know it lures icky mommy doms into your inbox to be perverts <3 <3

Icky? The maid instincts will kick in if you're icky...tidy up tuesday friday....

annnnnnd maybe i am! cant prove nothin'.....

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you bring your mommy GF home for the holidays, and it's a little awkward. neither of you really like that you have to call her your girlfriend while there, but your parents wouldn't understand. If they'd understood you maybe you wouldn't...

...

It's not worth rehashing right now. You go home because you always do. Your relationship with your parents is a bit tense, but it's acceptable. and this is what people do, right? go home? you do it because you're supposed to. because they'd be upset if you didn't. because going is easier then dealing with the fallout...

maybe.

they're pleasant, but interrogative. They can't stop asking questions. details, personal things of your partner that they have no right to know. you try and interfere, but you don't know how to tell them no. you never have. But she's strong. her strength, her will, is part of why you love her. she withstands their barrage with more dignity then you would've. she doesn't seem bothered. they're not the first.

That first night wears on, the alcohol getting everyone through the uneasy tension that seems to linger just out of sight. you feel small. its one thing to deal with them on your own, it's another to be witnessed. it's another to see your little home world through your partners eyes. none of it is quite what you remember anymore.

as the night winds down, the first slip finally happens. it's not you or her, but them. one of them makes a comment, something so casual and offhand that by the time the last word has left their lips they've forgotten the rest. but it lodges in your heart. it slowly creeps through you brain and traps you in a tiny cage. a pattern, a cycle present all your life, a fear you know you can't show because they couldn't understand. because they put it there. you change. you shut down. you keep talking, but there's nothing left in your voice.

they don't see it. they do, but they don't know. it's normal. it's you. it's what they know of you. it's how you react when words are said, and in their eyes it means nothing anymore. She sees it though. suddenly the person she came here with is gone and this weird, timid, joyless shell is babbling on next to her. Her hand on your back roots you again, and you fall quiet as the others talk. She winds the conversation to a close, prompts a goodnight from the room, and gently guides you back to your room.

it's changed. it's not yours anymore. if it ever was. it never really felt like your space, they were always in and out, it was really just the room where you slept. anything that was yours was hidden, tucked in the backs of drawers or shoved under your mattress. privacy was earned through subterfuge. Now that you're gone, that you've been away for years, it's just another space. an office, a den, some quiet space. it's completely different. it's exactly the same. it's just as much yours as it ever was.

she helps you undress and lays you down on the fold-out couch where your bed used to be. you can still hear them outside. the walls were always thin. you learned to cry silently. you still do. you're doing it now. she pulls the blankets over you both and holds onto you tight as you cling to her. you forgot. you forgot that this is what is was like. you knew it was bad, but the nostalgia of childhood is still powerful. you forgot how much it hurt to go home.

her hand glides gently through your hair. it traces little circles on your back and drifts back and forth across your shoulders. the lights are off, the sun is set, the world is dark. it smells like her. you cling to her as your mind begins to float through that abyss. she leans in to you. her breath is hot against your cheek. her voice soft in your ear. her whisper a bare mote above silence.

"I would've raised you better."

[flortnite]

you bring your mommy GF home for the holidays, and it's a little awkward. neither of you really like that you have to call her your girlfriend while there, but your parents wouldn't understand. If they'd understood you maybe you wouldn't...

...

It's not worth rehashing right now. You go home because you always do. Your relationship with your parents is a bit tense, but it's acceptable. and this is what people do, right? go home? you do it because you're supposed to. because they'd be upset if you didn't. because going is easier then dealing with the fallout...

maybe.

they're pleasant, but interrogative. They can't stop asking questions. details, personal things of your partner that they have no right to know. you try and interfere, but you don't know how to tell them no. you never have. But she's strong. her strength, her will, is part of why you love her. she withstands their barrage with more dignity then you would've. she doesn't seem bothered. they're not the first.

That first night wears on, the alcohol getting everyone through the uneasy tension that seems to linger just out of sight. you feel small. its one thing to deal with them on your own, it's another to be witnessed. it's another to see your little home world through your partners eyes. none of it is quite what you remember anymore.

as the night winds down, the first slip finally happens. it's not you or her, but them. one of them makes a comment, something so casual and offhand that by the time the last word has left their lips they've forgotten the rest. but it lodges in your heart. it slowly creeps through you brain and traps you in a tiny cage. a pattern, a cycle present all your life, a fear you know you can't show because they couldn't understand. because they put it there. you change. you shut down. you keep talking, but there's nothing left in your voice.

they don't see it. they do, but they don't know. it's normal. it's you. it's what they know of you. it's how you react when words are said, and in their eyes it means nothing anymore. She sees it though. suddenly the person she came here with is gone and this weird, timid, joyless shell is babbling on next to her. Her hand on your back roots you again, and you fall quiet as the others talk. She winds the conversation to a close, prompts a goodnight from the room, and gently guides you back to your room.

it's changed. it's not yours anymore. if it ever was. it never really felt like your space, they were always in and out, it was really just the room where you slept. anything that was yours was hidden, tucked in the backs of drawers or shoved under your mattress. privacy was earned through subterfuge. Now that you're gone, that you've been away for years, it's just another space. an office, a den, some quiet space. it's completely different. it's exactly the same. it's just as much yours as it ever was.

she helps you undress and lays you down on the fold-out couch where your bed used to be. you can still hear them outside. the walls were always thin. you learned to cry silently. you still do. you're doing it now. she pulls the blankets over you both and holds onto you tight as you cling to her. you forgot. you forgot that this is what is was like. you knew it was bad, but the nostalgia of childhood is still powerful. you forgot how much it hurt to go home.

her hand glides gently through your hair. it traces little circles on your back and drifts back and forth across your shoulders. the lights are off, the sun is set, the world is dark. it smells like her. you cling to her as your mind begins to float through that abyss. she leans in to you. her breath is hot against your cheek. her voice soft in your ear. her whisper a bare mote above silence.

"I would've raised you better."

[flortnite]

stop asking "why are strange women dressing me up and treating me like a doll?" and start thinking about how great this will look on your resume

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These horny tgirls practically begging for a mommydom to make them their babies and then when you try to give them three meals a day, a bed time, and make sure they complete their chores they get bratty. "Wahh I wanted to be diapered and humiliated" sure thing babygirl, right after you pick up your room and have some lunch.

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So girls, when are you going to stop pretending and let mommy take over?

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Is it heresy for our catholic gf to have a worship kink ?

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It must be nice to live in your fantasy world where everything can just be magically fixed overnight by some grand revolution, instead of actually having to acknowledge the state of things around you and doing as much good as you can within the bounds of what is physically and logistically possible.

Finally a "glorious revolution" shitlib

It wasn't until 2015 that every household in the PRC had a toilet. It took 20 years to build 40,000km of HSR. The CPC, starting from a mere 6 people in 1921 only finally won the revolution in 1949, after almost being wiped out several times; after 28 years of work, agitation, failures, and successes.

Lenin, writing "What is to be done" in 1902 participated in the failed 1905 revolt before helming the 1917 October revolution. The USSR won the civil war in 1924, 22 years after the political program of the proletariat was laid out in 1902.

Does this sound like "overnight" to you? Simultaneously, they did that. Their revolutions succeeded. In conditions and countries far FAR more autocratic and authoritarian than liberal democracies. So it is within the bounds of what is "physically and logistically possible" so long as we build the groundwork for it.

You dismiss revolution because you are looking for an excuse to maintain the status quo; to not do meaningful political action. You dismiss the mountains of work to be done before and after the revolution because you cannot imagine anything outside of voting; not organization, not armed resistance, not general strikes, not even third parties. You dismiss successful revolutions because you don't view the liberation of the proletariat as a significant enough goal.

Crying defeat before you have even tried a single thing.

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"Kiosk" is a really good loanword, nice mouthfeel. Thank you, ancient Persia.

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Seems to be bunny in the trough Thursday

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*goes to Coachella in a white linen suit like an antebellum lawyer, sweating profusely and dabbing at my forehead with a handkerchief* now, I’m no fancy scientist, but would you folk know where a simple gentleman such as myself could obtain some acid? Now, I’m no big city lawyer, but could any of you fine youths point a country boy such as myself in the direction of some fucking acid?

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This may be the most cancellable thing I post, but I legitimately owe a thank you to all the weird trans girls who made incest a big thing on this site for a minute there. That was my moment of learning to step back and be like "okay, but who is this harming, really?" It genuinely helped me untangle a bunch of internalized shame around my weird kinks. Like, if I can be okay with this, then surely there are other people who will be okay with my weirdness.

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The fwirst rule of being a little is: make sure everyone is comfortable and consenting

Da second wule is middle aged alcoholic butchs can be both a momma or a dadda ! Wow :3

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I think there might have been glyptodons or megatheriums surviving in the interior of South América during historical times

(if you think about it the tatú carreta is a kind of glyptodon)

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Yes, I dedicated an entire page spread to Rory in this months Good Dog 2 update. I need to draw her to live is the thing.

You can see the uncensored version of this page on my bluesky and all the pages of the full update on my Patreon~

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rule