#Cage wm

[wildemaven]

common thread | frankie morales

wm masterlist / frankie masterlist

-> pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

-> words: 2060

-> content warning: 18+ blog; smut smut smut, there might be a plot- there might not be, benny’s fighting, alluding somewhat to anxiety but no real mention of it, established relationship, unprotected p in v (not mentioned but reader is on BC, otherwise wrap it folks), mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of drinking, reader wears Frankie’s shirt but no other descriptive features of reader, nipple play, labeling dubcon just to be safe, consent not mentioned but implied within their established relationship, implied somnophilia but very vague, kissing, shared orgasms, I think that’s everything- please don’t hesitate to let me know if I missed anything.

-> notes: was this born purely from the fact that I own said shirt and that I might have had thots of stealing it from frankie… yep! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to my thots and helping me make sure some things worked together. And for enlightening me on the word spooge. Anywho, I don’t even know what this is really— hopefully you enjoy it.

You're lost in the moment. Grateful for the way your mind is able to lend such vivid imagery. Manifested  bursts of him against the darkness, intermittent flashes of Frankie dancing across your eyelids.

His unrestrained smile you so frequently witness, teeth and dimple bared with an exuberant ease. His eyes, packed with millions of different shades of brown and gold into the smallest little pools of warmth, express everything he needs to say without uttering a single phrase. His voice wraps around you with a smokiness, a tonality that seeps deep into your bones, metastasizing himself in every bit of you. But it’s nothing compared to the real thing. 

*

A memory from earlier in the evening trickles in. Frankie’s shoulders relaxed, his laugh unobstructed by lingering weighted thoughts. Completely surrounded by the sweeping lights and obnoxious yelling that’s accompanied by one of Benny’s fight nights. 

His hand rests comfortably between where your legs cross, tucked in and with zero desire to move unless necessary. His body slumped back in the metal folding chair that sits next to the one you’re occupying, Santi in one flanking the other side of him. Even while deep in a conversation with Santi, he still manages to oscillate his attention between his best friend and you, never once making you feel unnoticed by him. 

Once Benny takes the ring, Frankie’s reserved demeanor shifts into sobered excitement. His fists clenched and slightly jabbing the air out of pure ritualistic habit, mirroring every punch delivered to the bloodied opponent sparring against Benny. 

Frankie hangs back after the final call is made and Benny’s arm is thrown upward in victory. Late nights at the gym with the blonde fighter had paid off. He’d googled rigorous drills to run Benny through nightly for a month straight to prepare- jab, cross, jab to the body -Playfully showed you his own wonky technique in the middle of the kitchen while you stirred garlic into the simmering marinara sauce you had started when he called to let you know he was heading home one evening. 

Benny’s bruised body dangles over the metal cage, a triumphant wail rips from his throat as Will and Santi grab at him, engrossed in their own fight to congratulate Benny while fending off other spectators and screaming women. 

Frankie pays no mind to the celebratory explosion shared between his buddies. A squeal of surprise comes from somewhere within you melds with a growled C’mere as Frankie’s arms pull you closer to him. His arms forming a net around you, stronger than any fisherman had ever thrown out to sea, sheltering you from the dispersing crowd. You grab onto his tan canvas jacket, the material rough and gritty, but it withstands the stress of your grip grounding you to him as your breath is stolen from your lungs. Frankie’s lips fuse to yours, pursuing a more secluded adaptation of celebrating. His mouth still tastes of the tapped beer he’d been sipping on throughout the fight, the hoppy bitterness coated on his tongue is no rival for the sweetness that is Frankie. The kiss coming to an unhurried close, soft lingering pecks breathe into him thanking you for supporting him, supporting Benny. I love you’s and Let's head home lead to rushed goodbyes and rain checks for drinks later in the week— no time wasted milling about with only you on his mind. 

*

Your lashes flutter in an unrushed manner, kissing the tops of your cheeks with each crisp fatigued breath you take in. Brief glimpses of his brawny silhouette move just outside of your closed off vision, melding with the soft light that pours in from the hallway. 

His whiskeyed tone cuts through the hazed filled air, pulling you back into this real time pleasure seeking dimension. 

“Baby— fuck! Fuck, Babe you feel so goddamn good!” Hot and humid syllables fanning across your neck, mixing and reformulating  with the brininess of your skin. 

He shows you he means it with each intentional move he makes. Every bit of him in motion, diligent and relentless. 

The weight of Frankie settled snugly between your legs. His hips flexing against your inner thighs with each calculated thrust, exerting a carnal like rhythmed pace.  

He’s intoxicating, a divine ambrosial tonic. The fiery elixir is so addictive and sweet, you slowly sip your allotted daily servings. Always selfishly craving more of him. Everywhere. At once. 

There’s an eagerness that drips from his saccharine tongue, intent on pleasing you sufficiently. His words drumming against the hollow channels of your ears. Begging. Coaxing. Praising. 

“That’s it, Babe— c-can you give me one more? I need you to come with me!” His lips brush over yours. All full and red from how you like to draw them in your mouth, ardently sucking and rolling them between your teeth. Your tongue soothing over the fleshy skin, offering a tempered smile at the way he grieves the sensation. “I know you can, Hermosa, you’re almost there. Fuck, baby! Love watching you fall apart— one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

Frankie’s never showy or boastful. It’s not even luck that he relies on. It’s endless learning and knowing exactly what makes you tick. His own desires secondary to yours. The steady drag of his cock is  sturdy enough, your velvety walls claiming him as their own for the time being. 

Something pricks at you. Somewhere below the surface. A euphoric flame alit. Ignited by Frankie’s earnestness. Burning slowly through your cresting body. 

It’s a mirroring of pleasured expressions. Brows contorted. Mouths softened, hanging open. Lips grazing the other’s briefly. Noses bumping and nudging. A synchronous exchange of explosive breathy moans, reverberating through your chest. 

“Mírame. Let me see you— all of you.” 

Your vision is fuzzy. Slowly adjusting to the scene before you. There he is, your Frankie. More beautiful and handsome than you remember. His skin flushed with a twinge pink. His own eyes are heavy with an emphatic desire. A single clump of sweat drenched hair curls to a point, swaying against his forehead. His jawline sharp and nearly unhinged as he stares down at you— a man with a need to satiate and protect you.  

“Francisco—“ A breathless plea. His namesake called out to him. The sweetest sounding voice he could ever hear, mesmerized by the way it dances off your tongue. 

“Yeah! You look so fuckin’ good like this, Hermosa. Wearin’ my lucky shirt and lookin’ so goddamn sexy in it, too. Love it when you wear my shit.” 

*

His shirt. Or so he thinks. Technically it did start out that way, being his shirt and all. It came about as the result of a beer mishap a few years ago. A rowdy group knocking into his frosted cup, ice cold beer sloshing over the brim, soaking his shirt completely. 

With only minutes until Benny’s match, it was a mad dash to a closing thrift shop across the street. Nearly turning their closed sign on him, Frankie flashed his pearly whites, pleading with the sweet woman for just a shirt to replace his beer soaked one. 

The announcer's voice echoes into the night sky, signaling the next match was starting soon. Frankie grabbed a single hanger from the rack. No time to inspect or deliberate on the last minute purchase, tossing more than enough cash on the shop counter and bidding the shop owner a thanks ma’am, goodnight. Frankie frantically ripped the soured shirt from him, tossing it in the trash can outside the event doors. Pulling on the new-to-him threadbare t-shirt and slapping his worn hat back on his head as he went in search of you. 

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. A soaked in beer shirt replaced by a beer branded one. No mistaking the faded Budweiser logo printed across the back. A smaller, less in your face, but still obvious enough, strategically positioned on the front. He wouldn’t have hated it initially if he actually liked the stuff, preferring Stella Artois that got him into this situation. 

Benny won his fight that night. Was it all his hard work paying off? Surely. Or was it a newly acquired beer shirt bringing him some extra luck? Frankie thinks a bit of both. From then on that shirt was worn every fight night, whether Frankie was in attendance or not, Benny winning his first title at the end of the season. 

Frankie was wearing the shirt tonight, too. Until he wasn’t. Picking up where he had left off as soon as the front door clicked closed, now alone, with zero onlookers and strobing lights. The dim lit hallway was as far as you both made it before he had you pressed against the wall. Your hands scrambling to remove every stitch of clothing from him. Needing more of him, more skin to touch. His shirt thrown onto the pile of your already removed clothes. 

It wasn’t long before Frankie was unwrapping your legs from his waist, your back slowly sliding down the wall until your feet hit solid ground. An agreement made to order from your favorite restaurant as you both slipped on an article of clothing from the heap of clothes— Frankie grabbing his black boxers and you swiping his lucky shirt. 

Your shirt. For now, your shirt. Parading around the house in only the vintage loose knit beer branded shirt. The neck and sleeves tattered and frayed. All these years you and Frankie had possessed it, only added to its distressed appearance. Frankie’s musky pheromones now the only thing this beloved shirt is ever saturated in. 

It’s how he finds you hours later. After you had called it a night, eyes were too tired and body beyond exhausted to focus on the movie he picked out. The t-shirt being the only thing veiled over your sleeping form. Its thin worn material leaves little to Frankie’s ardent imagination. The hem hardly draped over your bare hips. 

Frankie watches you shift in your sleep, the shirt sitting higher now, exposing more of you to him. His cock twitches. A steady drip of his spend slips from your soaked cunt. He’s transfixed by the sight of it. Palming himself through his boxers, not even fazed by how hard he is already. He suppresses the urge to wake you, savoring how serene you look all splayed out on the bed. 

“Fuck—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. 

*

A choked sob is the only response you can give him. Your brain far too flustered to conjure up any sort of coherent argument about the shirt belonging to you at this moment. 

The well loved garment now cropped over your chest, all bunched and twisted. The logo, now broken lines of illegible letters, lost in the rolls of fabric. Frankie had slowly peeled it higher for his own viewing pleasure. Losing himself in the soft bounce of your breast, brought on by the way he rolled his hips at a languid pace. 

It begins to emerge. A coiling tension forming, building, tightening with every tempoed thrust Frankie delivers. Massaging that sacred spot, triggering your inner walls to grip him with an immense force. 

He senses it instantly. The telltale signs of the cresting moment.  An inferno of heated arousal  burns through his lower abdomen. 

“Fr-Frankie! I’m close— oh god!” 

Surrendering. Dissolving into a puddle of pleasure. Back rigid, arching off the bed. Your nipples damp and taut, as Frankie’s tongue traces around the hardened peeks. Breath hitching as your orgasm splinters through you. White noise cutting into the air. 

“I can feel you, baby— fuckfuckfuck!” 

Time slows. Your name on his lips. A single word he recites delicately, an intimate poem for only you. His release is a welcomed warmth as it coats your pulsing cunt, filling you for the second time tonight. 

Your finger trails down his back. Gliding through the pool of sweat that’s gathered at the base of his spine. Dame un beso, Francisco. A lazy slow press of his lips, your mouth naturally parting to him— an unhurried kiss, your tongue reacquainting with his. 

Collapsing into the bed, Frankie pulls you into his depleted body. Too tired to care about anything but sleep. His hand finds its way under his shirt that you’re still wearing, resting where your heart beats for him forevermore. 

[themidnightcrimson]

familiar ࿏ wm

summary: in which you are agatha's gift to wanda.

words: 6.1K

warnings: f!reader, magic, drugging, transfiguration, angst, captivity, meow meow, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), strap-on (r receiving), meow meow meow, witchcraft duh, i wish i was a cat, this is not a furry thing i promise

this post is for 18+ only. minors: dni.

masterlist.

It’s cold. You can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin, your body shivering as you come to.

It’s dark. You open your eyes and see nothing at first, nothing but total blackness in front of you. Something feels very strange, and a flare of anxiety roars in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing fast in your ears. You feel cold metal beneath you, and as your eyes adjust, you see the shape of metal bars in front of you.

A cage. You’re in a cage, and there is a blanket thrown over it. Leaning closer and blinking your eyes wildly, your focus comes to, and you can see through the veil of the thin blanket covering the cage. You only see shadowy hunks of furniture, a table covered with some sorts of tools and objects, a staircase nearby leading towards the only source of light. Your breath comes fast through your mouth, chest heaving as panic surges through you like electricity.

How did you get here?

You remembered being on your daily morning walk through the Westview suburban neighborhood. You did that every morning. It seemed like it was always spring in the little town, always sunny with cool breezes and chirping birds. You soaked up every second at the rise of dawn when the town was still sleepy and quiet.

You minded your business. You didn’t talk to anyone except for your neighbors, Wanda and Agatha. There was the occasional conversation on the street. Wanda’s hand waving politely to you from her porch as you passed by on your walks. Agatha helping herself to your front door, always visiting you and inviting you over, which oftentimes you declined just out of being antisocial.

They were both different shades of nosy neighbors. Agatha was confrontational and upfront, wanting to hold lengthy conversations every time she saw you, always snooping around and asking personal questions. Wanda was a different kind of nosy. She watched you from afar, always. You’d learned to live with their eyes on you, but you didn’t always mind Wanda’s. She seemed like a nice woman, though you hadn’t been able to understand why she seemed so interested in you. You also didn’t understand why you seemed equally interested in her.

That morning, Agatha had caught you on your morning walk right as you were quickly jogging past her house, wary of her stopping you as she always did. Of course, it seemed like she knew the exact schedule of your walks and came outside right as you passed.

“Why don’t you come in for tea, dear!” she had said, boldly grabbing your hands. You remembered how tight her grip was. “I make the best tea in town!”

You were tired of always declining her invitations. You didn’t want to seem rude. You were just the lonely girl next door who minded her business and didn’t want to get mixed up with anyone in town, but she was persuasive and consistent. So, you said yes. You went into her house and found it quaint but charming inside. She led you into the kitchen to make the first cup of tea, and you sipped it slowly as she talked about random things.

She offered to make you another, one to go that you could sip on your walk.

You remembered her saying in the kitchen that she didn’t have any tea left in there but kept some in stock downstairs in the basement. She ushered you to follow her so she could show you her wide tea collection. You remembered stepping down those concrete steps into cold darkness. You don’t remember ever seeing her tea collection.

Shivering in the cage, you tried to cross your arms around your body—something suddenly felt very strange to you. For the first time, you glanced down at yourself. At first, you thought you saw your normal hands and normal arms and legs. Your brain was used to seeing the same body every time it looked down, so it tricked you in the dark. As you looked closer, the horrifying realization washed over you as you realized that your hands were now small paws wrapped in black fur.

You tried to scream, but it was like something was wrong in your throat. You only let out an animalistic shriek, a sort of growling and hissing screech. You stumbled in the cage, your back hitting the metal bars. It was then you saw your cat tail, and your hind legs, and you could see the shadow of whiskers in the corner of your eyes, protruding from your own face.

Your entire body, much smaller now, trembled and shivered, and you could feel the line of fur rising stiffly on the strip of your back. What the hell happened to me?

Your heart rate was faster now, faster than you had ever heard it in your entire life, and your ears flinched and stretched as they picked up noises nearby. Your hearing was shockingly acute—you could hear birds somewhere above the ground, outside of the basement you were now caged in. You could hear a car drive past, the sound of a phone ringing in someone else’s house down the block.

You crumpled into the corner of the cage and bent your body into itself, dwindling your new body down into a pathetic ball. You could smell everything—the iron in the metal cage, the dust on the walls, perfumes of strange potion-like smells from inside the basement.

Then you heard the front door open inside the house upstairs. Your eyes widened, pupils constricting as your ears twitched to listen. Footsteps down the hallway, the muffled sounds of Agatha’s voice, then another’s.

Wanda’s voice.

Your tail fluffed up when you heard the heavy door to the basement squeak open. You wished you knew what time of day it was, but it was completely dark in the basement. You could just barely see through the blanket as two pairs of legs walked down the stairs and towards your cage. You tried to back further away, but your fur was touching metal.

“The entrapment itself wasn’t so difficult,” Agatha’s voice spoke languidly. It was so much different from how her voice usually sounded—endearing, pleasant, charming. It was harsh and deep now, like she had pulled off a mask and was happy to be her usual deviant self again. “A few drops of draught in her tea, and she surrendered.” Her harsh laugh hurt your ears.

She poisoned my tea? you thought to yourself, fear broiling hot and deep inside you. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this afraid.

“I will admit,” Agatha said as her and Wanda’s legs stopped right in front of the cage. “The transfiguration itself was…difficult. Her body resisted, the stubborn little thing. I thought maybe she’d do well as a bunny, or even a turtle… Well, I hope you’re not allergic to cats because…”

The blanket was suddenly lifted from the cage. Even in the dark basement, the adjustment of light burned your eyes, and you let out an instinctive hiss, jumping up on your legs and turning your side flat against the back of the cage, back and tail fluffed into black, pointy spikes of fur. You felt a flare of passion in how intimidating you probably looked, but as you looked up at Wanda and Agatha who towered over you like giants, you realized just how small you were now.

Agatha crossed her arms and looked disdainfully at you, pursing her lips in disappointment. Wanda, on the other hand, was staring down at you with wide, misty eyes, her mouth forming into a soft, “Oh… y/n.”

Your eyes darted between the two women, and the dark of the basement grew even brighter as your pupils swarmed wide, your vision throbbing with your own fear. Your entire body was quivering and tensing uncontrollably, your back starting to ache.

Wanda leaned down slowly so that she came closer to the cage. Through the bars, you saw the teary look in her eyes. “Is she… still…”

“She’s still there in the head, unfortunately,” Agatha said, looking at you like you were rodent. “I know that’s what you wanted.” There was venom in her voice, but then she sighed and spoke happily again. “This is your first step to becoming a proper witch, not that you need my help in the power area.” She clicked her tongue jealously. “But a familiar is necessary for a witch’s emotional wellbeing.” She looked over at Wanda, eyes flickering down her to try and read her.

You stared up into Wanda’s big green eyes that looked now like shimmering full moons. You wanted to scream, to ask them what the hell they were talking about, to undo whatever Agatha had done to you, but all you could let out was a little catlike whimper.

“Oh, baby,” Wanda cooed, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t be scared.” She started to put her hand through the bars of the cage slowly, her fingers passing between the metal. A hot instinct struck you from the inside, and without thinking, you hissed and swatted your paw towards her hand. You felt your claws, which you didn’t even realize you had, tear at her skin.

Wanda gasped and withdrew her hand, clutching it to her stomach. You saw a long, jagged scratch mark on the back of her hand, and felt overwhelmingly shocked and guilty at how fast it started to bleed.

“Bad kitty!” Agatha exclaimed and kicked the cage. The jolting motion scared you and you lost balance, clambering to crawl back into the corner of the cage into a defensive little ball.

“No, it’s okay,” Wanda quickly said, looking up to Agatha. “She’s just scared.” She looked back to you, forgetting all about her hand which was now dripping blood on the floor. “Can she transform back…into human?”

Agatha subtly rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said reluctantly, “But it would probably take me days to do it. It would involve a lot of magic—”

Wanda cut her off by raising her hand, red embers flowering between her fingers. You suddenly felt a strange motion inside you, your body stretching and skin changing as you started to swell in size. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out an ear-piercing snarl, and slowly it turned into a human scream.

It stopped, finally. You opened your eyes and found that suddenly the cage was too small for you, and Wanda and Agatha were normal size again. You looked down—you saw your human hands and arms and legs, your normal skin. You were human again, bent nakedly in the small cage. You wrapped your arms around your body to cover yourself.

Agatha looked shocked and infuriated at the fact that Wanda had so easily changed you back, after all the work Agatha had done to transfigure you. “Well…” She cleared her throat and adjusted her shirt. “Just do that when you want her to be a cat again.”

You shivered in the cold of the cage, too afraid to speak in fear that the only thing that would come out were unintelligible meows. Even now, back in your human state, you felt unimaginably different, like something had shifted in your DNA. You could still hear and smell everything, down to the metallic scent of the blood on Wanda’s hand, and the sound of her own heart beating to make up for the lack.

It shocked you how differently Wanda was looking at you compared to how Agatha looked at you. Wanda looked mesmerized, hopeful, and guilty all in one. Her eyes flickered over you, and she started to slide her hand through the cage again. You felt the urge to scratch her again, but you realized your claws were now dull fingernails, and you didn’t like the way you had so primally swatted at her and how easily she had bled.

“Kitten,” she whispered, bringing her hand to your face. You cowered away but she continued, gently moving your hair with the tips of her fingers. Something in you wanted to purr, but you didn’t. “I’ll call you Kitten.”

The first few days of being Wanda’s familiar were tough. While she politely kept you in your human form, she kept you in a cage in her bedroom, a larger one that you could fit in, and told you rather apologetically that she must keep you there until she can trust you. You were silent at first, pained and confused by what had happened to you, until you started to break. You grabbed at the bars of the cage and jumped at her, screaming, “Let me out! Please let me out!”

You could see how much her heart broke at your refusal and denial, but what did she expect? You had been captured and sold like a slave. Even then, screaming at her and shaking the bars of the cage like an animal, you could feel that something had been bonded between you. Something changed—not just within you, but between the two of you. There was some kind of link connecting you.

She would open her mouth to say something, outreach her hand to comfort you, but you would not stop screaming. So she flicked her hand, and you shrunk down into your feline form again, your screams turning into wily meows and screeches. She would throw the blanket over the cage again and leave you there until you stopped making noises, until your throat burned and you tired yourself out.

Eventually, you calmed. The realization began to sink within you that you had been living around witches and fallen dumbly into their trap. Wanda called Agatha a few times, and through the walls of the house you heard her speaking. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done this… No, I am grateful, Agatha, I know it took a lot for you…I just feel like she’s not happy…I know that it takes time, but… Okay.”

Within a week, you stopped lunging at her from the cage, and though you had refused the food she offered you at first, whenever you were in feline form you could not resist the fish and milk she offered you in little bowls, lapping hungrily as if it was the last thing you would ever eat. Eventually, while she fed you, you felt her reach through the cage and comb her fingers through the fur between your ears. You froze for a moment, but you acquiesced, continuing to eat and let her pet your head. It was soothing, more soothing than you’d like to admit.

She let you out of the cage during the day and kept you in human form, giving you her clothes to wear around the house. There was one rule that was obvious—no running away. Of course, you tried, but the entire house was hexed so that no one could get out or get in except for Wanda. You started to wonder what her intentions were for keeping you here. From her phone calls with Agatha, it was apparent that you were meant to be some sort of companion to her. But she hardly spoke to you, even when she let you out of your cage and you sat on the couch watching TV together.

The bond started to grow stronger. You realized that you could hear her thoughts. When she dropped something on accident, you could hear her say Oh, shit even though the words never escaped her lips. When she prepared food for you, you could hear her thinking I hope she likes this. You had a feeling that she caught on and was now protecting her thoughts from you, because you could hear no further than mundane thoughts.

But she couldn’t protect her emotions from you. You started to realize, as you slept in the cage in the corner of her room at night, that something tragic and painful radiated from Wanda. It was grief, cold, and menacing. It gripped her helplessly. Although your life before being her familiar was fading away from your mind, you could remember that her house, which you could see across the street from yours, usually had two little boys and a man running in and out of it. Now it was totally empty besides her and yourself. Picture frames were turned on their faces, making it appear as if no one had ever lived there but her.

You learned that Wanda had only recently started to become a witch, though her powers already ten times that of Agatha’s. The Scarlet Witch, Agatha told her over the phone. The most powerful being in the universe, but she was baking you cookies and feeding you treats and putting a blanket over you at night and giving you all the space you needed and crying herself to sleep every night. For someone who could cause total destruction, all she seemed to you was soft and sad.

The urge to comfort her was strong. At night, she preferred to keep you in feline form in the cage so you wouldn’t be able to reach the latch and unlock it. Before you walked into the cage, you would butt your forehead against her ankle, twisting around her leg so that your tail curled around her knee. She was so moved by these little moments of affection, and it warmed you to bring them to her.

Wanda often studied from a big, old book during the day. She would sort of transform, her sweatpants and hoodie fading into a deep red suit fitted with a crown. She looked so majestic like that, hovering above the air, flipping through the pages of the book without even touching them, encompassed in her own red glow of magic. You would watch her curiously, between the glimpses of your attention grabbed by birds outside the window.

Wanda started to let you have more freedom. The cage is tucked inside the closet now, and the only time she turns you into feline form is when she takes you on walks outside, holding the red leash she had bought to connect to your red cat harness. It was a wonderful delight, experiencing the world that way, stimulated by every single movement and sound and smell. She had to keep you in that form on your walks because to everyone else in the town, you had simply disappeared.

Wanda gives you your own bedroom in the house, which you used for a couple nights, but you found yourself sneaking into her room and sleeping on the cot made up beside her bed on the floor, and one time you even woke up to find that you had crawled onto the bed and curled up on her feet in the night. It all happened so quickly and mindlessly, your love for her, your attraction to her, your loyalty to her. You weren’t just a familiar now, bound to her by magic, but you were her friend.

You started to fall in love with the way she smiled. You had a habit of knowing just how to make her laugh, and you basked in the glow of her giggles. She confessed to you that she had a crush on you ever since you moved into town, but she was too afraid to pursue it, even after Vision was gone. One intimate night by the fireplace in the living room, she said that she regretted telling Agatha about her crush on you, because it gave Agatha the idea to give you to Wanda as a familiar, as a gift. She said that she didn’t want you to be taken by force, that she wanted you to want to be with her. She even glanced to the unhexed door and told you, without thinking, You are free to leave. I will not hold you hostage.

It was then that you placed your hand on her thigh and tilted your head, looking at her wavy red hair and absorptive green eyes and trembling pink lips, and thought to her, Never would I want to leave you. It was then that you kissed for the first time, a slow and careful one. She was scared to kiss you too hard, to upset you, to make you want to run away since she had given you the option for freedom. Truth be told, you’d never felt freer in your life than when you were with Wanda.

She was happier after that. Your relationship, which had been rocky and reluctant at first, bloomed into something more than just a witch and her familiar. Your love grew like wildflowers in the pit of your bellies, deepening the spiritual bond that was already there between you. The relationship turned into something romantic, intimate, and special. It turned into desire that showed its head one night.

Although Wanda was happier now, she still had her moments when she missed her boys. You were sleeping beside her that night in her bed, arm cast over her, when you awoke not to a sound, but to a feeling. It stirred you awake forcefully, and the grief radiating from her stabbed you in the gut. You opened your eyes and gently turned her to face you—she was quietly crying.

“Wanda,” you whispered, gently holding her face and wiping her tears from her cheeks. “What is it, my love?”

“Detka,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke your cheek with her thumb. “Everyone has left me. My parents, my brother, Vision, my boys…” She stopped, a cry choking her throat. “I don’t know if I could take it if I ever lost you, too.”

Your heart broke at the sound of hers. You took her hand in yours. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m sorry that you ended up here,” she cried, sniffling and looking anywhere but you, too afraid to look at you and see hatred in your eyes. She had a habit of letting her mind get to her. “I’m afraid that you’re only with me because I forced you to be.”

Leaning closer to her, you looked deeply into her eyes, hoping that she heard how loud your love for her screamed from within you. “I want to be with you,” you told her firmly, and she listened, staring up at you with such vulnerability and conviction it made your eyes water. “I love you. Even if I hadn’t ended up here this way, we still would have been together. I love you in a million lifetimes and a million universes. I will never, ever, ever leave you.” You meant every word.

Wanda’s hand caressed your cheek and brought your face to hers, kissing you in the same soft, sweet kiss she always did. You always felt that twinge of desire within her, waiting for her to unleash it one day, desperate to seal your romance. But she was too scared to hurt you, too afraid of scaring you away.

Resting your body on top of hers in the quiet, dark bedroom, you kissed her deeply, running your tongue along her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, feeling her tongue slide against yours. Her body grew hot under you, her chest moving with the weight of her intensified breaths. She made a sort of strangled noise, her hand coming to your throat. You melted under the feeling of her fingertips dipping into your neck, but then she gently pushed you away.

Your mouth was wet with her kiss, and she was breathing hard, looking at you with both lust-filled and pain-filled eyes. It isn’t fair to you, she thought. She felt that the position of power was unbalanced, and she feared taking advantage of you even though she had thought about it so many times in her mind, had even blocked you from hearing her thoughts as she laid beside you at night and touched herself to the sight and smell of you beside her.

“It’s unfair for you to deprive me,” you whispered to her, pressing closer on her, feeling her hand tighten around your throat. “I need you. I want you.”

There was hesitance in her eyes as they scoured your face, looking and feeling for any sort of dishonesty. She wanted you to truly want her.

“Please,” you begged, trying to lean forward and kiss her again, but her hand on your throat held you away from her. You clawed at it, letting out a mewling sound that embarrassed you a little. Even in human form, you felt the urge to purr her for.

“Kitten,” she whispered, eyes falling to your lips and looking at them with desperation as her teeth bit into her own. “Are you sure?”

You nodded feverishly. “Yes, please. Yes.”

Finally, she gives in with a whimper, pulling you towards her to kiss you again. Her hands run over your waist, pressing you close to her as her tongue deeply explores your mouth. The blankets fall over your bodies as you move together, clothes coming off one by one until your skin is flushed together.

“Kitten,” Wanda moans when you move your lips to her neck, leaving butterfly kisses on her sensitive skin there. Her hands tangle in your hair as you move your mouth downwards, desperate to please her, desperate to love and cherish her body as much as you love and cherish her soul. Your mouth explores the expanse of her chest, the concaves of her clavicle, the rise and swell of her breasts which you grope and suck into your mouth, delighting in the noises she makes as your mouth lingers there. You go further down her body as if drinking down the winding expanse of a river, leaving trails of wet kisses down her stomach and hips until you’re stationed between her legs that open for you.

“Please,” she begs, urging her hips upwards as you bite and kiss at her thighs, inhaling the scent of her arousal that already sweetens the air. You don’t hesitate to give her what she wants, letting her hands in your hair guide your head to her slit. “Oh, fuck,” she breathes, her chest arching off the bed as you lap at her sensitive nub and suckle at it, feeling her juices cling to your chin.

Her breathing gets faster as her hips buck hard against your mouth, her fingers clutching your hair to push your head down harder. She seems to remember herself and loosen up, not wanting to hurt you, even in her pleasure. You moan at the taste of her, swallowing down every drop that collects on your tongue as you fervently pleasure her with your mouth.

“Kitten,” she cries, her voice rising in pitch as she grinds harder against your tongue, pulling your face impossibly closer to her. “Fuck, fuck,” she whispers in the most delightful string of curses you had ever heard as she comes to a climax, her thighs trembling around her face that is hot from the heat of her desire. You soothe her through her orgasm, lapping softer and sweeter, until finally she sighs and pulls you up.

You crawl up her body, shocked to see the flame of red in her cheeks, the tremble in her lower lip as she kisses you roughly. Whining, you wrap your arms around her shoulders as she sits up, her hands snaking down your waist and over your hips to grab the swells of your ass, squeezing you closer to her. She grunts into the kiss, breaking away to catch her breath.

“Did I please you?” you ask her breathlessly as she starts biting at your nipples, bringing a squeak from your throat. Your hands swim in her curls of hair as she groans a sound of confirmation, her tongue licking at your nipple before she bites it again, her hands on your ass tightening their grip.

Before you know it, she flips you around so that you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, her mouth now biting at your shoulder and neck. “Can I touch you?” she asks, her fingertips quivering over the lower expanse of your tummy.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling your face go hot as her hand dips down eagerly between your legs to cup you. You hum, feeling sparkles of pleasure fill you as her fingers rub at your clit perfectly, as if she somehow already knows exactly what pleases you. “Oh…” you moan, trying to pull her closer to you as her hands slip down over your folds, collecting your immense wetness that you hadn’t even realized was there until Wanda moaned at the feeling of it.

Looking down at the sight, Wanda slowly pushes two of her fingers inside you, listening to the way you gasp and moan as she slides them all the way in, spreading them out and moving them around to gauge your tightness—tight. Pumping them in and out, she feels for your sweet spot, finding that ridged spot tucked deep inside you and pressing at it.

Your hips jump suddenly from the feeling, back arching off the bed as she feels you from the inside. “Wanda,” you moan desperately as she thrusts her fingers slowly at first, until they pick up speed and her mouth is at your neck again, sucking dark spots into the fair skin there.

Something carnal unlocks inside Wanda at the way you moan her name, the way your hands are pulling her desperately closer, the way your walls clench and throb around her fingers. She lets out a whine and fucks her fingers harder into you, her own hips thrusting eagerly.

“That’s it, Kitten,” she whispers when she feels you tightening, your thighs trapping her hand between them. “Cum for me.”

A cry escapes your throat as hot, searing pleasure washes over you, Wanda’s fingers ushering your orgasm along within you. She shudders at the feeling of you cumming around her fingers, whining in desperation to be even deeper inside you, stretching you out even more, needing to be even closer to you.

You’re panting and still coming down when she pulls her fingers out of you, and glowing red magic flares from them, illuminating your bodies in momentary crimson light in the darkness. Suddenly, in a flash of red, there is a large dildo strapped to her hips, and she starts to lubricate it with your wetness on her fingers, stroking around the tip gently.

Anticipation fills you as she settles between your legs, pausing to look carefully at your face and stroke some of your hair away softly. “Are you okay? C-Can I?” She’s trembling with desperation.

“Yes,” you smile, gently running your hand up her arm. “I want it.”

Licking her lips, she smiles a little and leans down to kiss you gently, letting her body weight settle over you. She breaks the kiss to look down, her breath heavy, as she lines the tip of her strap to your wet entrance, slowly pushing herself into you. You take a deep breath as she slides deeper, your walls stretching around the widening girth. It becomes a little painful, and you let out a strangled whine.

Wanda stops suddenly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you whisper, placing your hands on her face. “Just go slow, please.”

She nods, pressing her lips to yours again as she pushes her cock even slower inside you, one arm wrapped around you and keeping you close to her. She keeps her mouth on yours as she fills you deeper and deeper, stretches you out even more and more until her cock is lodged fully inside you, resting so deep that you can feel her in your lower tummy.

Your breaths fall shakily against each other as she dares not to break the kiss, as if for every ounce of the pain she is kissing it better. She stays still for a moment to let you adjust before she starts to pull out, and the pain comes back again, but so does the immense pleasure. She does this for a minute, just barely pumping inside you, kissing you gently.

After a while, you can tell that she’s holding back. Her hand swipes over your lower tummy when she is at her deepest, feeling the bulge of her cock there, and she groans, breaking the kiss to bury her face in your neck. “Kitten…” she breathes, her body moving on top of yours as she retracts her hips and then buries deep inside you again.

Your hands run up her bare back to find that she is incredibly tensed, using every ounce of her strength to withhold from absolutely ravishing you. You goad her by hooking one leg up around her and bucking your hips. “Faster,” you whisper, feeling yourself throb with need. “Fuck me, Wanda.”

Wanda instantly obliges, her hand grabbing your thigh that is hooked around her as she pulls out and then snaps her hips harshly into you, bringing out a gasp from your lips. She growls and does this again, and again, and again, until she is pounding you into the mattress and squelches from your wetness fill the air.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, arching your chest against her as she drills into you, letting out her own symphony of noises. She is desperate and animalistic, driving herself into you with the force of something primal and carnal. You become a melted mess of nothing beneath her, barely able to keep up with her power and hunger as you scratch helplessly at her back, feeling cuts form there on her skin.

“Kitten, fuck,” she growls into your neck. Your bodies are pressed flat against one another, humid skin rubbing smoothly against each another as she forces herself into you fast and hard. She’s shaking again, grabbing your thigh so hard it bruises under her touch. Her teeth sink hard into your neck, but you don’t even feel it from the blinding force of pleasure coming over you. You’re both feeding off each other’s pleasure, soul and body and mind and heart connected, tangled so deeply with each other that you wouldn’t even know where your body starts and hers ends. You can tell she’s been waiting for this night, as much as she has held it from you. She is letting it all out now, her love and her pain and her desire and her grief. You’re the vessel for her soul, taking in every single thing and inch that she’s giving you.

You can feel pressure twisting within you, and your hips start to move and legs squirm against her, but with two hands bruising into your hips, she holds you still and pins your hips to the mattress. “St-still,” she says, leaning up to press sloppy kisses to your mouth. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is open, and it’s the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

“Fuck!” she groans, dropping her face back into your neck as her hips stutter, thrusting wildly and aimlessly into you.

“Wanda,” you whine as your climax crashes down on you, and with another string of curses and growls from the witch, hers does too. You’re blinded as she fucks into you as she cums, your nails scratching hard at her back.

It’s an orchestra of grabbing, thrusting, and moaning until you both slow down, and her weight rests fully on top of you, her body going limp as she breathes hard into your neck. Panting, you close your eyes and just feel her, her heart beating hard against your own, her body warm against yours, her cock still tucked deep inside you, a bundle of wetness between both of your legs, both still trembling.

Eventually, she moves up, looking down at you with a placated look in her eyes, as if she has been hungry for years and is finally fulfilled. “Are you okay?” she asks sweetly, as if she isn’t still ten inches deep in you.

You nod, reaching up to stroke her face. For the first time, you don’t feel grief radiating off her, nor do you hear painful thoughts of insecurity and trauma. She is just Wanda, your satisfied little witch, and you her loyal familiar, bound to each other in life and in death, in spirit and in flesh.

She smiles widely, those green moons filling with euphoria.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

I got myself started lmao.. rant incoming

#1) Ok so boom JIMMY should have eliminated Jey... ok hear me out,

It would have gave Jimmy something else to boast about leading to their WM match.

cost jey the tag titles

cost jey the IC title

eliminated jey from the RR

that would have been a great build up, but we got jackshit

#2) The writers that the WWE have now SUCK! There's no way in hell fans on this site, tik-tok, and all other platforms are making better storylines & outcomes than y'all DO BETTER! One thing i can say about the V**** era is that his stories were entertaining and most of them made sense (theres no way HBK's tag partner should have been GOD but I digress) but now it feels like they're just going with the flow and not trying to make good storylines anymore. They're just throwing shit to the wall and seeing what sticks.

#3) LET RANDY TURN HEEL! for the love of GOD let that man be a vicious as he was in 2009. He forgave one of the main ppl who shelved him? oh hell nah! Randy should have walked in that cage and BOOM RKO! no talking just straight revenge. Drew has been on Jey's ass more than Randy. AND DREW WASN'T OUT FOR 18 MONTHS!

#4) GIVE THE WOMEN A SECONDARY TITLE GODDAMN IT! There is way too many talented women on the main roster for them to be sitting in catering wondering when they're gonna get back on TV. Give them something else to fight for, hell bring back the DIVAS title, shit give them something.

#5) STOP BRINGING UP NXT TALET JUST FOR THEM TO SIT IN CATERING. Baron Corbin went back down to NXT and made himself a STAR just to get a second main roster run and WE HAVENT SEEN HIM IN WEEKS! oh and don't get me started on Dijak, he was on NXT TV everydamn week now what!!! He's wrestling Pete Dunn on Main Event... I FORGOT MAIN EVENT WAS EVEN A SHOW!

JUST LET NXT BE ITS ON THING. IT CAN STILL BE A DEVELOPMENTAL TERRITORY BUT ONLY CALL UP SUPERSTARS WHEN YOU HAVE SPACE FOR THEM!

🙃

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 3 — Dark fic.

Rating: M to be safe.

TW: kidnapping, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, kind of forced relationship and captivity (at least implied for the future).

Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black; mentions of James Potter.

Additional Tags: dark Sirius Black, Slytherin Sirius Black, first war against Voldemort, good friend James for what we have of it.

Summary: Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

Words count: 767.

A/N: -wave hand- enjoy, I guess ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. He’s wearing only a shirt that isn’t his and his pants, which isn’t exactly that reassuring; when he moves, he feels a strange weight around his wrists, and finds there some sort of padded cuffs we've never seen before. They’re not tied together, but it’s still worrying, and his mind is scrambling trying to parse what happened to land him in this situation.

He was on a mission, maybe? He’s not sure about this part — but he was ambushed by a group of Death Eaters, and he wouldn’t have gotten away if not for the help of an unlikely source. Black — the eldest son — had appeared out of nowhere and saved him in the nick of time. He has never officially joined Voldemort as far as anyone is aware, but still his presence was surprising.

Without him, Remus would be dead — which is quite strange, as they’ve never been close during their school years. Sirius has been a Slytherin, like the rest of his family before and after him, and if he has struck an unlikely-kind-of-friendship with James, the same can’t be said for the two of them. Even his relationship with James has fizzled out during their fifth year, which his friend has always been cagey about; he did say, back then, that Sirius is fun and smart but maybe it doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Remus has only been around the Slytherin the few times he helped James with pranks, during classes, and those times they had class projects together — but that’s not enough to know someone.

Sirius saved Remus, still. He sighs, sits up on the bed — he’s still missing something, so what happened next?

They ran, perhaps. Knowing himself, he thanked his savior — he must have been grateful. Sirius has always been an intense person — he was looking at him, smirking—

The voice, soft and deadly like a poison, comes back to him at once.

“Oh, I know exactly what prize I'm getting out of it.”

And then Remus blushes despite himself, because Sirius had caged him against a nearby wall and kissed him, and he let him, and he liked it—

And then he wasn’t holding his wand anymore, and Sirius had apparated them away, and Remus must have passed out at some point because he doesn’t remember anything beyond, well. Beyond being kissed and kidnapped, apparently.

“Shit,” he swears out loud in the silent room; as if to answer, the door opens to let Sirius in.

He’s still absurdly (and unfairly) handsome, smiling almost softly at him while holding a tray of delicious looking breakfast food.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, satisfied. The tray goes on a bed, just beside Remus, but he doesn’t dare touch it; Sirius almost scoffs at his hesitance. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Where am I?” he asks instead of keeping up with this line of discussion.

“Home,” answers Sirius simply — as if it is this simple.

“Why?”

“Why what? You should eat, you’re skinny.”

“Why am I here?” He tries not to feel flustered by the attention, he does, but Remus is probably just doomed on that front.

“Ah.” Sirius is looking at him, still so intense it almost makes Remus shiver. “This.” He hums a bit, and then grins, wide and smug and proud and a bit concerning at the corners, too. “Well, see, I was always wondering how it was to have a pet werewolf — for some reasons, James didn’t seem happy when we talked about it that one time.”

… It does actually explain the bit of overprotectiveness James sometimes has.

“But,” continues Sirius, suddenly much closer to him, and Remus backs off as far as he can, up until he’s pressed against the wall and wishing the bed to be larger. “I specifically wanted it to be you.”

“I’m not a pet,” he dumbly mutters, and Sirius laughs.

“Maybe not. Let’s settle on boyfriend for now, then.”

A noise comes out of Remus’ throat, surprised and confused and a million other complicated emotions he can’t parse through yet, because Sirius is already on him and kissing him again. He’s everywhere, lips on his lips and tongue in his mouth and hands on his hips and in his hair, tugging and caressing and holding him, and Remus is frozen in place and unable to do anything.

And as suddenly as he was there, Sirius is gone; he’s back on his feet, almost at the door still wide open’ eyes shining in satisfaction.

“Eat up now, darling.”

The door silently closes behind him.

Remus is royally fucked.

[dalekofchaos]

Liv is playing Dom or the Liv and Finn grand conspiracy theory

Have you ever noticed that everyone in the Judgement Day but Dom has benefited from Liv's infatuation with Dom?

Dominik Mysterio is currently the only male member of The Judgement Day without a title.

Meanwhile she’s done nothing to help him but everything to help Finn and JD who she’s been seen with multiple times before the whole Liv & Dom storyline even started and Finn who took her hotel key card

Ask yourselves. Why wouldn’t Dom and JD be champs that’s who's been tagging since December so why all of sudden it’s Finn and JD now? Don’t add up, especially since they've been seen with Liv in backstage scenes...

There are so many facial expressions after he's walked away that she's doesn't like him and is using him to hurt Rhea. Just so many.

She costed his match twice with her antics but she doesn't even care about it.

Like it's been clear to me since these Liv and Finn interactions that Finn Balor and Liv Morgan have been plotting together since Finn joined TJD.

As for Damian. There is so much dissension in TJD and tension between Finn and Damian and Liv is fanning the flames.

Here's what I think will happen. Damian will lose the title to Gunther and that's when Finn strikes. They kick Damian out of the Judgement Day and that's when Rhea comes back.

"You think I didn't see this coming, Finn? You think I don't watch the show? I've been seeing you, Liv and JD plotting since after Wrestlemania. And Dom? How are you so stupid enough not to see you're being used? Think for one second. You haven't benefited from a damn thing since Liv dug her claws into you. Finn and JD are the tag champions. You have lost every match you've been in. But since you're too dumb to see that, I brought someone who can help you"

"THIS IS MY BRUTALITY"

Out comes Rhea. Rhea and Damian rush the ring and beat the living shit out of Finn and JD. Rhea tries to get her hands on Liv, but Liv uses Dom as a shield. Rhea hesitates and Liv leaves with her champion and leaves Dom behind.

Throughout the next few weeks, Dom tries to weasel his way back into Damian and Rhea's good graces.

We get a big match at let's say Survivor's series. Damian, Dom and Rhea vs Finn, JD and Liv. Rhea and Liv are the last women in the ring and Rhea is throttling her and has Rhea where she wants her, that's when Dom causes an "accident" and Liv hits the riptide.

Finally we see Rhea vs Liv. Dom costs Rhea the match AND BOY IF YOU THOUGHT THEY HATE DOM NOW, THIS BOY IS GONNA START A RIOT TURNING ON RHEA.

The Raw after the big match. Dom finally declares himself to Liv and fully leans into his Guerrero heritage. He says he was tired of being subservient to Rhea and being treated like a child and that Liv finally treats him like a man and like he's somebody.

And finally in the blowoff match, either at RR, EC or WM. It’s Rhea and Liv in a last woman standing with Dom in a cage(hanging above the ring. If Liv wins, she stays with Dom and Rhea can never fight for the title again. If Rhea wins, Dom is left at her mercy.

Rhea destroys Liv in the blowoff match and regains her title. Dom is lowered and is trying to play face, in full Eddie bullshitting his way back into Rhea's arms and say he was always on his Mami’s side and that he loves her. Rhea riptides the little shit to cement her babyface turn and NUCLEAR pop.

Mami is back on top.

[shitmanwhyamistillhere]

realized another thing

It's about Tsukasa (again, sorry) and his A Sorrowful Farewell at the Curtain Call card

Others have mentioned that it's strange that his card is literally the exact opposite of the events' name - it's not a curtain call, he is heading *towards* the stage - in the beginning of the show, and this corresponds to the unit name "Showtime", and the fact that he is gripping onto the Flag from his initial, liking representing WxS itself while the hourglasses remain caged and ignored and almost seeming like the flag is being used to hide them from Tsukasa's view (my interpretation)

But it was literally just as I was listening to The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical, that I realized....

...a Tsukasa Tenma card featuring a curtain call DOES exist. Already exists.

WMS untrained. Which is weird, because WMS was the closing of the first arc and the opening to the arc where WxS are ambassadors to Phoenix Wonderland.

Then in Curtain Call - an event with a heavy TIME theme, gives us a Tsukasa card that seems to intentionally do the opposite of everything else about the event (the colors too, compare the warm oranges to Nene and Rui's cooler tones), and then announces that WxS are no longer doing the promotional performances???

I am JUST SAYING, it seems to line up a little too well, colopale team is definitely trying to communicate something to us

[mjfass]

There’s a rumour going around that, because his match with Bray is off, Bobby Lashley might wrestle Brian Cage at WM, which is doable because Cage is currently out of contact in spite of being 1/3 of the ROH Trios Tag Champs.

All I ask is that, if this is true, please let Big E referee and call it the Big Meaty Men Slapping Meat Invitational.

Okay, yes.

And not only that, make this “Big Meaty Men Slapping Meat Invitational” a new Wrestlemania tradition.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"COMMIT PRESTON SUSPECTS POST EXTRA POLICE GUARDS," Toronto Star. October 13, 1933. Page 3. ---- Inspector Admits "Tip" Jail Delivery of Wells and Pelley Planned ---- PAIR IDENTIFIED ---- Special to The Star Preston, Oct. 12. - Without entering a plea Willis Pelley, 26, alias Kelly, and Edward Wells, 31, alias Green, alias Davidson, of Toronto, charged with robbing the Imperial Bank here of $2,037 on October 4. were committed for trial in the next assize court at Kitchener by Magistrate John R. Blake of Galt. Russell Webster, accountant, and C. S. Wismer, of teller, gave evidence of the hold-up and the and Wells in court. Inspector John Miller, C.L.D., told of finding the money on the prisoners.

H. B. Weir appeared for Wells and R. P. Ottewell of Toronto for Pelley.

Questioned about a report that there were two automobiles with men near the jail one night this week, Inspector Moore denied this also.

The prisoners were rushed away to Kitchener jail at 3.15 in two police cars followed by the Toronto police.

Rumors that an attempt would be made by an armed gang to rescue Pelley and Wells came to Inspector John Miller, criminal Investigation branch of provincial police, and Detectives Arthur Harris and Wm. Hutchison, on their arrival here at noon to-day

Inspector Miller of the provincial police stated police h had been definitely advised by a Toronto source a jail delivery of Wells and Pelley would be attempted. He stated seven extra guards had been placed on duty at the Kitchener jail, but that no attempt to release the men had occurred.

Wells and Pelley arrived handcuffed, and were bustled through the crowded court-room while scores of men and women clamored to get in.

"Did you bring the whole army?" asked Magistrate Blake as the constables walked into the courtroom.

Ask Trial by Higher Court Wells and Pelley were charged individually with robbing C. Wismer, teller of $2,037. "How do you want to be tried?" asked Magistrate Blake. "Before a higher court," answered Wells.

Pelley, after consultation with his lawyer, R. Bottwell of Toronto, also elected to be tried by a higher court.

D. S. Dowlby, K.C., of Kitchener acted for the crown.

Pelley was given his hearing first. C. Wismer, teller of the Imperial Bank, first called, said Miss L. R. Binkley, Charles Hollaway and and Mr. Webster were in the bank with him at the time.

"I was in the cage working away when I heard a noise and someone said, 'Stick up your hands," said Wismer. "Another man ordered us in the vault."

"Was he armed?" "Yes."

"Who was the man? Is he in court to-day?" "Yes, that gentleman there," pointing to Pelley.

Wismer said the staff were herded into the vault.

"What happened then?" "We heard one chap say to the other, "Hurry up. The steel door was closed. As soon as we heard the front door closed we ran out. The men were gone." Wismer said he had sent away to the clearing-house $4.375. in Kitchener

"Yes."

""The first occasion you saw these men was when they came into the bank?" "Yes, sir." "When was the next time?" "When I had to identify them last week at the county jail in Kitchener." "What happened there?" "I recog nized Wells and Pelley among the line-up. "The men who are here in court?"

"Yes."

R. P. Ottewell, counsel for Pelley, waived examination of Wismer.

Inspector Miller said $1,010.65 was found on Pelley when he was arrested in the apartment on Queen St. W. in Toronto. The money was produced in court. Pelley was committed for trial after this and Mr. Ottewell and he had no objection.

Picked Him Out of Line-up Wells then was given a hearing. Russell Webster, accountant, said the two men came in. "I saw one, he had a gun and one covered me with the gun. Wismer came out of the cage and the man covered him."

"Who was the man that covered you?" "A short dark man."

"Where is he?" asked the magistrate and Webster pointed to Wells.

"He ordered me to stick 'em up."

Webster said he picked Wells out of a line-up at Kitchener jail as the man who covered him.

H. B. Weir, counsel for Wells, waived examination. Inspector Miller said Detectives Harris and Hutchinson found $1.010 on Wells.

Magistrate Blake asked to recall Wismer and Webster. They had re- turned to the bank a few yards away. "I want to know if there was a robbery at the bank. No one has told me so yet," he said.

Wismer, recalled, stated the robbery took place at 12.15 and $2,037 was stolen and he identified the money.

[ostensiblynone]

One of the reasons a Squirrel Cage Jail was constructed in Daviess County [Missouri] was for its apparent security. But despite its unique design, there were instances when prisoners did, in fact, escape. Here are the most noteworthy:

JANUARY, 1899

Two prisoners from Pattonsburg, lodged in the Daviess County jail to serve a 90-day sentence for carrying concealed weapons, performed the magical feat of walking through the bars of “chilled steel to liberty and a return the freedom of plying their pilfering vocation” in January, 1899. And nobody knows how — and a grand jury later describes the rotary jail as “not safe for the safe keeping of prisoners.”

Ed Conley and Adam Brown were partners in crime with a tramp hoodlum called “Moxie,” who was responsible for the death of Constable Wm. Parker on Oct. 29, 1898. During court proceedings, Conley was shown to have provided Moxie with the pistol used in the killing. Both Conley and Brown are suspected of several robberies.

The Pattonsburg Call reported that Conley and Brown were arrested by Police King and Newman at Port Arthur depot. A robbery raid on Pattonsburg had just occurred the night before, and the men arrested were thought to be a part of that band. Another man who was with them during the nighttime melee had gotten away.

When searched, officers found a complete outfit of skeleton keys which labeled Conley and Brown as being more than just ordinary bums. They were locked up in Pattonsburg’s calaboose. But when the marshal checked a short time later, he found the suspects had sawed one of the hinges nearly off the door. A search, however, revealed no saws. The two suspects were then handcuffed together, and in a short time it was found that they had cut the handcuffs.

Conley and Brown were searched again before departing with authorities from Pattonsburg. A number of saws and burglar tools were taken from their clothing. “How they got their implements of destruction (while in jail at Pattonsburg) is as much of a mystery as what was done with the bars of chilled steel that Daviess County paid the contractors to put in the cages and gratings, which Conley and his pal went through like a rat through a cracker box, cutting a hole wherever they desired and carrying off pieces of the grates as mementos.”

This jail escape prompted a grand jury investigation, and condemnation of the jail as “unsafe for the safe keeping of prisoners.” The county court approved the condemnation, but provided no means for repair.

— rewritten by Darryl Wilkinson from newspaper clipping of the Gallatin Democrat on Jan. 12, 1899

source: [Davies County Historical Society]

[saintmeghanmarkle]

DM for some reason thinks Wm would be obligated to fund Harold and his family if they should return to the fold by u/Von_und_zu_

DM for some reason thinks Wm would be obligated to fund Harold and his family if they should return to the fold Why would this Ephraim Hardcastle think Wm "would have to fund" Harold and his lifestyle should Harold return to the UK? https://ift.tt/RTvd7Bb, as Prince of Wales in receipt of £24million a year from the Duchy of Cornwall, enjoys a surplus which will diminish as he eventually bankrolls the households of his children. But it would quickly disappear should Harry and Meghan return to the gilded cage. Willliam would have to fund their duties, housing costs and schooling of Archie and Lilibet.The infantilization of Harold continues. Unreal. post link: https://ift.tt/CePIAyT author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: July 25, 2023 at 03:12AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[scumvomica]

There's no hell more harsh than a memory

[com4tableinyourskin]

I am the MANIAC. I am the fool. I found a monster in me when I lost my cool. It lives inside of me, eating what's in his way. I put black spray paint on my windows during the day. I want to spend time with it. I think i'm losing it. Or I found it and i'm using it. I wear my shades at night so I can look at the abyss. You'll see something of nothingness if you can picture this. I put black holes in my jar lid. I'll climb the wall. I'm too high now, i'll die from the fall. Before the water to our knees, we can't climb in the trees, wash away, you and I are a disease.

Cage

[jasvvy]

Roman, beat cleanly at WM, gets another title shot.

Why?

[murfeelee]

Maximalism INSP Set

Included in this set are 31 items; my super secular take on doing a December Advent holiday collection:

Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Download set (packages only): Mediafire | SimFileShare

Download 2 Pianos as Decor (basegame): Mediafire

Descriptions & preview pics under the cut:

Birdcage as Perch (Pets EP) V2

FLAWS: The birds fly in and out of the cage through the bars, they tend to float in the air when pecking at the invisible bell toy, filling the bird feed looks ridiculous, etc etc. Look, I just wanted a generic effing birdcage, okay? It’s janky AF, but I like it.

Bird Cage as Decor with Slots

As I said: I just wanted more birdcages. I just took the skull out of this cage, and added a decor slot inside. Found under Misc Decor, IIRC.

TS4 to TS3 EsmeraldaF Renaissance Piano as Late Night EP Keyboard (with slots)

I converted the TS4 piano here, but changed the art from Medieval to Renaissance, cuz I just love Botticelli & Michelangelo, sue me. (And I threw in Baroque Domenichino cuz unicorns.)

TS2 to TS3 Simnuts French Harpsicord as Late Night EP Piano

I converted the TS2 piano here, but changed the art to images I personally wanted. Recolorable.

TSB Round Screen as Television

I took TSB’s decorative screen and made it a TV, cuz I want one IRL. XD

The backs have the same variations as TSB, with a recolorable variation too.

TS2 to TS3 Tassel Table Lamp & TS4 to TS4 Divider Tassel Throw as Decor

The decorative Tassel Throw needs OMSPs to use with different dividers you have.

TS4 to TS3 Fur Stool as Dining Chair

That’s the Fur Stool in the above preview pic, I’m too lazy & tired to do more. Converted from here. Recolorable.

WM Tungsten Dining Chair RETEXTURED and CLEAR

This TS3 dining chair is one of my absolute favorites, but I desperately wanted a recolorable fur throw on it. So I added one, but I also decided to add different fur types, AND made the chair clear with recolorable glass, because why not.

TS4 to TS3 Geode Coffee Table

This is from one of Daer0n’s long gone sets that I converted from TS4, and made fully recolorable (then, of course, decided to also make as a dining table.)

2 TS4 to TS3 Geodes as Dining Tables

Geode 1 is fully recolorable.

Geode 2 has several color variations that aren’t recolorable.

TS4 to TS3 SKCR Dining Chair

Converted from here, and made fully recolorable.

TS2 to TS3 Geode RECOLORABLE & Tall Geode as Table Light

Still on my geode kick, I also revisited a TS2 oldie but goldie that has been converted a bunch of times, but never made recolorable. O_o So I made it recolorable, you’re welcome.

TS2 to TS3 Steffor Pampas Grass Vase

That’s the Vase in the above preview pic, I’m too lazy & tired to do more. Non-recolorable. My bad. Found under Plants.

2 PXL Ostrich Feather Stands as Decor + SV Angel Lighting LOWERED

I heavily modified the TS4 version, which was waaaay too high poly, and I didn’t like the stand, so I replaced it with one of EA’s generic lamp stand meshes. Then I decided I didn’t like the shape of the plumage on the original Ostrich Stand, and made a Part 2 Version rearranging the feathers more to my liking. And THEN, I took this original Ceiling Light and lowered it to be used with the MoveObjects On cheat, to create a very snazzy art deco look.

2 TS4 to TS3 EA Bar Globes as End Table (Open & Closed)

More art deco type stuff, I desperately wanted bar globes, but couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to make them functional. So instead I just settled for making End Tables. U_U (The drinks are these here.) Recolorable, etc.

Tiger Rug for Surfaces with Misc Slots

This mesh was modified from the Bioshock rug converted here -- I made it in different color variations, and of course changed the mesh, so that the Tiger Rug could sit “naturally” on top of most dining tables. I also added 3 extra decor slots.

2 Tiger Rugs for Couches (with slots)

“I live for furs! I worship furs!” So I decided to add even more fur stuff, and made these 2 Couch Throws based off the same tiger rug. They can be used on loveseats & sofas, but you’ll quickly notice that they’re only suited for particular couch shapes of particular back & arm heights. Sorryboutit.

TS4 to TS3 S4L Fur Rugs

That’s the Fur Rug in the above preview pic, I’m too lazy & tired to do more.

Fringe Rugs 2x3

The fringe is recolorable. I also added a fully recolorable version.

EA Mosaic Rug

I modified this from EA’s mosaic rug here, cuz I just wanted the stencils. EA’s Store version isn’t needed, no worries.

Zebra Head Mounted (with & without Alicorn) as Wall Art

The zebra mesh I took this from was converted in TS2 & TS4 from some other game, IDER. Non-recolorable,

2 Bohemian Wallpapers (non-recolorableish, found under Paints) (+ a more RECOLORABLE Wallpaper I threw in as an extra, you’re welcome)

Peacock Wallpaper (semi-recolorableish, found under Paints)

Because I’m weak.

Y’all know I love peacocks.

_________________________________________________

And that’s everything! *exhausted panting*

Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Download set (packages only): Mediafire | SimFileShare

Download 2 Pianos as Decor (basegame): Mediafire

[galaxygermdraws]

Please please PLEASE tell me if there’s a impulse hamster that worm man has! I will die of love if there is one, also the tango one just looks so happy and zed is so chill I- aaa!! I gotta see more of these little fluffs! <3 <3

Canonically? No. But in some timeline there may be.

The hamsters are actually canon, specifically shown in an adventure map that Zed n Tango played on stream once(the map was literally themed just for them to play it's rlly neat). And like, in Wm's room u can see hamster cages labelled after them so yeah.

But in some timeline, there's prolly also a Hamsterpulse.

And yes i needa draw hamster ZT more.

[gimmesumde4th]

The album my headline thing on here came from turned ten today!

If you haven't listened to depart from me by cage, you're fuckin up.

This album has made me feel so many things and helped me through so much. Simply amazing.